#to be the dove grey one we love so much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hidden-poet · 4 months

Text

Commander Snow

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

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

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Coriolanus was back at the lake house, gun raised and hunting.

"Lucy Gray!" he called out.

A flash of her colorful dress dashes by. He takes aim.

BANG

One shot was all he needed.

A yelp. A sound of victory.

He keeps his gun raised as he stalks towards where she lay.

Branches scratch his face as he walks, pushing through the harsh forest to his victim. Goodbye Lucy Gray. We hardly knew you.

He breaks a large branch with this gun, pushing it down and quickly raising his gun again to finish the job.

Only it wasn't Lucy Gray laying dead. It was you.

The mockingjays sing out, laughing at Coriolanus’ mistake.

He feels frozen, stuck in time, as he gapes down at your body. Unable to even drop his gun.

You lay on the soft bed of grass. Your beautiful eyes still open, looking at him as blood gushes from your stomach.

He calls out to you. Begging you to be alright.

The gun drops as his knees did, and he cradles you in his arms.

"SHUT UP!" he screams at the birds circling his head.

"Ha-ha' he heard back, "Ma-Ma".

His eyes shoot up at the sound of his dead friend.

And then they start whistling the tune that has been playing in the back of his head since he was sent back to the Capital.

"Are you, are you, coming to the tree-" he felt Lucy Gray’s lips upon his ear.

Coriolanus shoots up from his bed, drenched in sweat. His breathing is heavy and uncontrolled. He struggles to restrain it.

He reaches out beside him, his hand hitting the soft pillow. He scrambles around still, looking to make contact with your body.

He wanted you to be there. You are not dead. He didn't kill you, you were safe.

Upon hitting the edge of the bed, he awakens enough to remember you were never there. You don't sleep here yet.

Sweat rolls down his back and he takes his singlet off, using it to wipe the sweat off his face and throwing it to the ground.

The adrenaline of the dream was still coursing through him. It felt so real, he could feel the weight of the gun in his hands, the weight of your body as he picked you up. Lucy Gray’s wet lips against his ear. Taunting him.

The Covey played their last night at the Hob tonight. He had decided. He would send Peacekeepers over their way tomorrow to destroy their instruments and give notice.

He can't will himself to lay back down, even after that. He remains hunched over his knees, fingers locked and rigid.

If you were here, he would have woken you. You would have asked what he dreamed and he would say he didn't remember. You would make him a cup of tea and he would lay in your arms as he drank it.

When he was ready to return to sleep, he would take you back into his arms and you would rub the hand he rested on your stomach until he fell asleep.

But you weren't here.

And even if you were, he wasn't so sure you would be willing to comfort him.

You were still mad about your mother. He felt it when in your presence. Your eyes would float to the back room where she lay, when your attention should have been focused on him.

You tore yourself from any touch he offered. Kept conversation limited. Jumped only through the hoops you needed to in order for a morphling dosage.

He caught you sometimes slipping into your natural state of nurture. You would give him the biggest slice of pie. If he dropped something on the floor, you would automatically bend to pick it up.

One time he burnt his hand on the kettle, and you leapt into action, washing his hand under the cold tap. Telling him how much that must have hurt. He must be careful, it was an old pot and leaked if you didn't know how to handle it. How you would do it from now on.

When he kissed you, you went back to your default mode of a robot and gave him the cold shoulder. But it didn't matter, after so long of fighting bitterly, a little taste of love felt like a mountain of it.

He understood you needed time. That perhaps whipping your mother crossed a line. In time you would see that he used a violent hand to spare you violence.

Under his wing was the safest place for you and he was going to get you there one way or another. He tried gentle persuasion first, but you were resistant. Withering away before his eyes. Washing the dirty laundry of others. You had shown that you wouldn't listen any other way.

He rests his head back against the headboard, resting his body a bit more. He wished he could touch you to ensure you were alright. He was sure he wasn't going to sleep any other way.

His eyes caught sight of his commander's uniform that was hung up.

He is Commander Snow of District 12. Not Academy student Coriolanus Snow who ate cabbage for dinner and breakfast.

If he wanted to take a car and see you, he could. If he wanted to take a car and drive it into a ditch he could.

He leaves his commander's uniform hanging, grabbing his black cotton pants used for his day off, and another Capitol-ordered fresh white singlet.

He takes his keys off the kitchen table where he dropped them after a late meeting that ran well overtime. His boots were left laying on the floor just below them, being too exhausted to clean and shine them.

He was glad he didn't now, as he put them back on. The walk would only muddy them again.

The compound was quiet. It made him feel suspicious on his journey. He turns back to vacant walkways. Unconsciously, he avoids every room with light, choosing to take a darker path.

He would have to be back before drill training at nine. Most people wouldn't even know he had gone. He would like to keep it that way. Running off in the middle of night to see a girl is not the image he would like his soldiers to have of him.

Thankfully, the office building is void of workers so Coriolanus could unlock the safe with the car keys and take one in peace. He pauses thinking he could hear someone coming but they never did.

It took him two goes to correlate the number on the key to the one of the cars in the dark. He was pleased to find it was an everyday Jeep and not a guard car. It would bring less attention.

He stops by the gate and the guard on duty flashes a light in his face. The light being held up to him drops immediately, the soldier replacing it with a salute.

The soldier speaks into his communicuff and the gate swings wide. Coriolanus drives right through without looking back.

He doesn't feel his anxiety shift even knowing he was driving to you. Until he felt the softness of you, your gentle breaths, he was preparing for the worse. What if his dream was foreshadowing your death? He would turn up to your house to find you dead in bed.

Lucy Gray and Sejanus are dead, yes. But not all other rebels were. No, if no one hurt Mayfair why would they attack you?

You were well-liked in the community. Normally when Coriolanus asked questions, the answers were given freely but when the topic came to you people were more resistant.

Besides, hasn't he made it abundantly clear that any strike against you is a strike against him. No, they wouldn't dare.

Still he drove rather fast. Parking in his usual spot in the woods behind your house, he found himself flinging himself out of the car where he would normally sit for a few minutes to collect himself.

Your door wouldn't be unlocked. You weren't that stupid, he thought as he jogged down the hill. He would have to find another way in.

His hands touch the wood of your house. You were safe in it, he assured himself. Tigress and Grandma'am were safe in the Snow penthouse. He hadn't failed.

It was a hot night. Surely you had left your window open. The leaves crunches as his boots walk on then, rounding the house to your bedroom window.

It was open slightly. He could push it the rest of the way. Your house was only small. Your window came just above Coriolanus's head.

He lifts himself up on the window ledge, pushing your window up slowly trying to quiet the groan it gave as it went up. It was up enough that he could pull himself through.

You roll on to your other side, and his anxiety leaves him. You were alive and asleep.

He begins to unlace his shoes, anything else and you would lose your mind the next morning. His first one comes off without hassle, but he looses grip of his next shoe and it falls to the ground with a harsh thud. He instantly knows it's going to wake you.

You screech as any woman with a dark shadow of a man standing over her bed would. Your knees went up to your chest for protection, your hands clung your blanket to your chest.

His hand went to your mouth to stop the sounds. He hated the sound of your terrified screaming, even more than the sounds of the mockingjay.

"Shh, darling. It's me. It's me". He keeps his hand covering your mouth, and the other at the back of your head forcing you to look at him.

You stop, recognizing the voice.

"Oh my darling, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He pressed your face into his neck and could feel your big wet tears that sprung to your eyes.

"It's ok," he rocks slightly back and forth, "It's just me".

You snapped out of your daze. You push against him with strength that surprised him.

"What's going on? What are you doing?" You still sounded startled.

"Did you have a bad dream?" he asks, he smooths your hair back out of your face. Were you that innately connected?

You blubber looking for words and he waits patiently for you.

His hand goes on top of yours and you yank it away.

"It's okay" He repeats, sliding into bed with you.

He slides you both down so you are laying together on top of your small mattress.

"Get out" you try but you make no attempt to wiggle free. You still sounded tired and disoriented. You weren't sure if it was a dream or not.

"Just go back to sleep. It's all alright".

Your small mattress meant that only one of you could sleep on your back, taking up most of the room while the other was forced to lay on their side.

Coriolanus laid on his back, pulling you across his chest. He had taken your pillow for his own, expecting you to find one in him. With his arm curled around you, pressing you to him, you felt yourself so secure that your fear fades and sleep returns.

He rubs the arm that was exposed to him. He could still feel your goosebumps.

You lay a heavy head right across his heart, somehow knowing what he needed. He could feel every breath you took under his fingers, feel your eyelashes flutter against his chest.

You were alive and you were his.

Coriolanus found that's all he needed to go to sleep. The hanging tree tune faded from his head as he counted the seconds between your every breath.

When he wakes the next morning, he finds himself cuddling a pillow. Your side of the bed was cold. You better still be in the house.

He checks the time on the wall clock. 7:30. He still had time before he had to be back.

He gets up following the sounds of a fry pan sizzling. He passes your mothers door. The old woman was still in the land of the dead due to her morphling dosage.

Dean Highbottom had one that was quarter the strength and it left him dazed for hours on end. The old women would have got by with the same but it was better this way. To have your undivided attention.

He enters the living room to see you over the stove, dressed in your jeans and white top again. He would have preferred it if you had remained in your nightdress, giving the atmosphere a cozier presence.

You had made scrambled eggs, and cooked up some ham for him.

"Good morning." He greets.

He walks past the table where you had set his place.

"Good morning, Commander." you return, you flip over the ham letting the other side cook.

Taking your waist into his hands, he bites your ear, "Coriolanus."

He lets go as you shake your head. He was only playing.

"I was surprised to find you here this morning" Your voice was tense and unhappy. He had startled you greatly.

He couldn't tell you about the dream for many reasons.

"I couldn't sleep." he misdirects.

"I know the feeling." you mutter.

The ham was done, he could smell it. His stomach grumbled as you plated it equally to two small plates.

"Thank you." he says as you pass it to him.

You follow him back to the table. He could feel you following so there was no need to turn.

He couldn't wait, picking up the hot ham between his fingers and taking a bite. Finishing it before sitting down.

He starts on his eggs, noticing that you didn't carry the other plate but a bowl of cut up apple.

"You aren't having any?" he asks.

"There's not enough for three."

"There's only two of us."

Your eyes pierce him. You did not think he was funny. But you still needed a favor from him.

"I am not that hungry," you lie, "I'll see if mum wants it and then I'll eat what she doesn't".

It annoyed him that you were choosing to starve for no reason. He brought the food for you. If you wanted food for your mother, all you had to do was ask sweetly.

You wait for him to almost finish to bring up a sensitive topic. That way there was nothing keeping him here to continue the fight.

"So both my work and my mothers work have said that I can have the jobs back if you give them permission."

You get up going to the kitchen bench and bringing back a piece of paper and pen. He watches you, already displeased with the topic.

"I've already written it out. All you need to do is sign it." you lay the paper and pen on the table next to him.

He eyes it while he continues to eat. The food was losing flavor in his mouth.

"Why would you need them? I take care of the rent, the food, the medicine."

You were looking for independence from him and he would not give it.

"There are other expenses. I need at least one of them."

He throws his fork down on his plate. Was there a need not covered by him?

"Like what?"

"Like food for my mother. Clothes for the winter. I need to replace the items destroyed by your peacekeepers."

You push the paper closer to him. It was common sense that you needed a job to live.

He didn't see it that way. You needed him to live.

"You could ask me for them. Breakfast has earnt you at least one of those things."

"I don't want to ask for them. I want to earn them."

"Are we not saying the same thing?"

"So you won't sign it?" Your hand knocks against the table harshly.

"No." he resolves, getting up from the table. If he left now he could take a shower before he had to be at drill training.

You stood up, looking upset with your jaw clenched and shoulders locked.

"I'll be back tonight with a bigger box. Have breakfast, I'll bring something for your mother".

He kisses your cheek, and you walk with him to the back door letting him out. You offer him no goodbye as you usually do. But you were hungry, he figured. Even Tigris got moody when she was hungry.

He makes it to drill training on time, only to count down the hours until he was back at your house.

Two days later you figured you still had your stall. Or at least your place in the market still remained.

Your bakery stall was still ruined. You had worked hard to get it to what it once was, only for the Peacekeepers to destroy it. You had no table, no shade, not even a chair.

Still, people came for your cakes, not for the aesthetic of your stall. And now with you back in Coriolanus’ favor, people didn't avoid you like the flu.

Your cake sale will be down for sure, just by association with him, but something would be better than nothing.

Using the very last of your baking ingredients you manage to scrape together a couple of sellable items and pack them away carefully in your basket.

The sun was so hot as you walked. By the time you reached your place, you were flushed and out of breath.

You quickly make-shifted a table out of what was lying around and went to hide in the shade casting over by a nearby stall, waiting for a customer.

None came for the first half hour.

Your eyes scan the crowd, smiling brightly as you try and invite a sale.

Your eyes catch another and you feel as if you've been dunked in ice cold water.

Edmund Flare, an old friend of your brother, came bouncing over to you with a smile.

He was a tall handsome man with big brown eyes, and dark flat hair that he kept short. He was a lot of girls' first crush but he had always mentioned he never had time for a girlfriend. He flirted on nights out, unlike your brother, sometimes even disappearing with a girl but would always return alone.

Archie would complain about the female attention his friend attracted all the time. He worked hard, when he went out for a drink with Edmund, he just wanted to finish the drink with his friend and go. But Edmund always entertained himself, causing his drink to go untouched for most of the night, and he wouldn't let Archie go until it was finished.

He was your brother's only friend. Archie was stoic by nature. He preferred to be alone. Only ever giving people polite responses in passing. Edmund was the exception. Archie nearly always went straight home from work. If he was even two minutes late, it was because he was talking to Edmund.

Archie preferred his own company, and that remained true with his friendship with Edmund. They were both so alike, it must have been like talking to himself.

They both worked at the mines together, and both became the man of the house at a young age after their fathers passing. They could both carry the weight on their shoulders without complaint.

They both wanted to go to District 8 for the higher wages but both had agreed that one of them had to remain to look after their families. You remembered they fought for weeks over who it should be.

Choosing to settle it in a game of cards, in which your brother won and Edmund was destined to stay.

While he stayed true to his word, you hadn't seen him in a while as the mining company sent him up into the mines for weeks at a time.

He did look after you and your mother, bringing back game he hunted, and loaning you money you could never pay back. He never wanted you to. When he came back from the mines he visited your house frequently, fixing up anything broken.

You had hoped that by the time he came down from the mountains to clear the dust from his lungs, that Coriolanus would have been a distant memory.

But he stood before you now, the faded bites on your neck still sore.

Only the voice of another, close, could cause you to take your eyes off him.

"Well if it isn't the whore of District 12". It was an older woman. Her face was hard from the years, covered in aging lines, not helped by stress. Her hair was thin, lumped in a bun on top of her head.

Edmund had been close enough to hear it, and picked up his pace to get to you.

"Whore of District 12? My Y/N? I think you have the wrong person".

He had scrubbed himself clean from the muck. His freshly clean hair fell softly in front of his face. He was lean and strong from his mining work.

"That’s the whore, alright. I heard Commander Snow is over her house nearly every night. Doesn't leave until late." The older woman turned her attention to him, but jabbed her finger at you.

You shake your head no. Edmund was dear to you. You couldn't stand the thought of him thinking badly of you.

Edmund's eyes freeze, looking at the women. Although you could ask him what she looked like and you don't think he could answer correctly.

You felt the need to justify to him.

"For dinner, that's all." Your neck bites throb, "A little conversation and that's all. He's gone after that."

"What choice does she have? You saw what he did to her mother." The man in the neighboring stall called out in your defense.

Edmund looked as if someone had punched him, knocking his breath out.

"Her involvement with him makes it harder for the rest of us. Every Peacekeeper now thinks for a handful of apples, they can have a little ‘conversation’ too!"

The woman takes a step forward and points to the cakes.

"She breaks bread with him and now wants us to buy cakes made from the spoils of her rendezvous. Me and mine won't buy a thing from a traitor."

"I'll buy one," Edmund interjected, pulling out a coin from his pocket.

You resist his money. Everything you baked had his name on it, free of charge.

He smacks the coin on the table and takes a brownie. Never bringing it to his mouth. He looked too sick to eat it.

"I'll buy one too." the neighbor came over and placed a smaller coin on the table, replacing it with a slice of pie.

You thank him, and an older woman watching the scene trades a bag of spices for a cupcake.

"You all are fools." the women spat.

"Leave." Edmund dismisses the woman, who huffs but does disappear into the crowd.

He comes around to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pressing you to his chest.

You sobbed a little as you hugged him back. You missed him. You missed your brother.

"I am sorry. I didn't know Y/N, I swear I didn't know."

You shake your head, pulling back to look at him.

"Commander Snow? Fuck. How did- It doesn't matter. Has he touched you?".

Your face burns up ashamed.

"No" you still wanted to be pure in his eyes but Commander Snow's voice rang in your head.

“Not until I get back to the Capital.”

Could you hide something that large from him? A few kisses and bites were not here nor there. Allegations were easily denied and hard to prove when it came to other forms of sex. But virginity came with such a tell tale sign.

"Good. There's lodging for the workers in the mountains. I know the guy that holds the keys. We could-"

You cut him off. God knows what would happen to the people you care about if you went missing.

"You don't understand. He's insane. He would find me, and you and-" you hyperventilate at the thought.

"Okay. Alright. What do we do then?"

You see Peacekeepers making their way down the stream on patrol and you push Edmund off you.

"Nothing. He'll be bored soon. He already is starting to. He doesn't come as often, and his boxes are getting smaller. Soon he won't bother to come at all with them".

Edmund looks appalled. "So we let him run free and hope he doesn't hurt you? And what's this about your mother? Is she alright?.”

"She's fine. Just a little scuffed up. He just likes the chase, that's all. He'll get over it".

The Peacekeeper walked by without a glance. With this assurance you take one of Edmunds hands into your own.

"The chase? He's not chasing anything. I'll-"

"You'll what? What will you do to the Commander of District 12?"

He falls silent. He could do nothing. Anything he does will get him killed. Nothing he could do would even deter the Commander, and Edmund still had mouths to feed.

You squeeze his hand in reassurance.

"He hasn't touched me".

"He will." Edmund seethes.

"Will you think differently of me?".

You tense at the thought of him shunning you. Nothing the Commander could do to you would ever compare.

He touches your cheek, "No. God, no. Of course not".

Your eyes shoot up to him, "Then it doesn't matter. Mum will understand. My brother won't know. You three are all I care about."

He takes your face into his hands, his brown eyes bore into yours.

"After him, I swear no one else will touch you." He could protect you against all others.

He wasn't a man who was afraid of violence for a reasonable cause. You try and stir his mind away from the brutal images.

"How long are you around for?" you asked.

"As long as you need." he answers.

"What about your family?" His mother hasn't worked since his father died. Too ill from grief. And his brother was too young to get any meaningful work. Edmund was their sole provider.

"I have savings.” As hard a worker as he is, he may lose his job if he went away for too long.

"You should go." you said as the Peacekeepers circle back.

He eyes them as they make their way. Understanding that Coriolanus had ears and eyes everywhere.

"I ought to get home anyway. They'll be wondering where I am. I just came to tell you I am back".

"Take them this" you pass him the bag of spices, "I have nothing to cook with them anyway".

He takes the small bag in his big hand, "I'll go hunting this afternoon and bring you back something."

You shake your head no. "The Commander brings me food at night. If he finds out..." you trail off.

"So he'll starve you then until you give him what he wants".

"I am hardly starving" you assure him, "He just doesn't like when I have extra to give away".

He sighs, "I wish there was something I could do."

"You can wait him out with me."

It was hot as he stood in the sun, teaching the new recruits how to shoot.

He spent most of his time behind a boy barley 16 from another district. He missed again and again.

It was hot as he stood in the sun, teaching the new recruits how to shoot.

He spent most of his time behind a boy, barely 16, from another district. He missed again and again.

The target didn't move, rebels would.

The young boy laid on his stomach with the gun pressed into his shoulder. All he had to do was scrape the side of the cut out figure. Coriolanus wasn't even expecting him to hit it fully.

He aimed too high and the bullet went over the top.

Coriolanus moved the gun with his boot, kicking it lower and more to the right. He then bent down and squeezed the boys shoulders together. They went limp every time he pulled the trigger and he lost control of the gun.

The young boy seemed afraid. The longer Coriolanus stood behind him, the worse his shooting got.

"One eye closed, the other on your target," Coriolanus ordered, "Shoulders tight and back. It's going to recoil into you and you need to brace against it otherwise you'll lose aim."

His mind went to the day in the woods. The ghost of the ricochet is felt against his shoulder. He knew he would have the dream again tonight. Maybe he would stay with you tonight.

"If you miss this time," he warns, "you'll be on dishes for the next four months".

Coriolanus had never touched a gun before he was a peacekeeper and even he wasn't this bad at his first try.

The young boy had a look of determination as he readied himself. A deep breath and a sharp ping resounded through the air. The bullet had hit the cut out’s foot. If it was a rebel it would have least got him down.

Ecstatic, Coriolanus slaps the boy's shoulders, and stands up. He shares the young boy's joy. Coriolanus couldn't wait to tell you tonight. What a leader he was.

His joy disappears seeing older peacekeepers returning to base from their day off. Two of them held a brown paper bag, another had taken to eating his cupcake.

The young boy tries to lift himself off the ground, his body sore from laying in his position for so long. Coriolanus' boot finds his shoulder and presses him back down.

"Keep practicing," He demanded.

He storms over to the group of peacekeepers, calling out for them to halt. They salute him as stands in front of them.

''where did you get those from?". The anger was hard to hide in his voice.

"The market, sir. There was a stall" one of them answered.

He feels his blood rush as he burns a hole in the boy with the cupcake on his lips. He wanted to take the cakes back but he couldn't be seen losing his composure. A district girl would not be seen having an affect on Commander Snow.

"I see," he seethes, ''carry on."

He turns, walking back over to the boy and grabbing his gun. He wasn't sure why he did. Maybe the sound of the repeatedly missing shots was getting to him.

He doesn't finish training. He needed to get to the markets. Surely it wasn't you. Others could have a bake goods stall.

But those bags are the same ones you used. You packed a sandwich once for him. You used them for everything now that you no longer used them for your stall.

And the cake. It looked like one of yours. You never skimped on the icing. It was thick and delicious.

He could have taken a truck to get there sooner but the walk to the market allowed him to think. He slung the rifle over his shoulder.

It wasn't you, he assured himself. You knew better. When he reached the stall and saw an old woman he would laugh.

He would tell you someone had taken your stall at the market, you would laugh too. No matter, you had him, you would say.

He pushes through the people who begin to part as whispers made their way to the front that Commander Snow was coming, and he had a gun.

He was not dressed in his usual commander’s uniform. The sun was too hot for it. He wore his sleek gray trousers but only his white t-shirt that was normally hidden underneath. People took a second to recognize him.

You didn't. You recognized him right away, your hands wrung in worry. You were not expecting to see him.

His eyes were wide as they examined the situation. You had made a table out of old milk crates and a worn table cloth. You had no canapé offering you shade like before so your face was hot and red. There were only a few items. Three plates people could choose from. The cupcake that tipped him, a small cherry pie that was cut into equal pieces, but his eyes stilled at the sight of his apology brownies.

Chocolate and macadamia. An ode to a moment of softness they shared now in the mouth of others.

"Would you take a handful of mint?" The man asked.

You had no change to give the man so you were trying to haggle.

As far as Coriolanus was concerned everything at that table was his.

He rushed over, yanking the bag out of the mans hands and giving him a harsh shove away. He only takes one look at the Commander and runs away with his mint.

You look around at the crowd. You were worried about their approval at this time?

He felt his blood run hot. He had told you no, he would look after you, and here you were selling what was his.

"Pack up your things" he said coldly.

"I have a permit until 2." You reach into your basket to show him but he grabs your wrist before you could fully turn away.

"Pack it up now." he seethes. He takes a deep breath to calm himself. If he shouted at you, you would freeze.

Your wrist buckled under his pressure, and you nodded your head.

He doesn't let go even as you pack your cakes into your basket with one hand. He helps put them in quickly and without care.

He takes the handle as you put the last cupcake in and yanks you back through the crowd. You stumble behind him from his quick pace and he pulls you every time you falter.

"What were you thinking?" He demands to know. Talking freely away from the market.

"I told you. It wasn't enough. I need money".

"So instead of asking me for money, you did the one thing I told you you couldn't do?".

He tugs you impatiently forward, "Hurry up".

"I am sorry. Please let go of me. You're hurting me".

He continues to yank you along, spotting an alleyway between two buildings. Traffic was light and people avoided the peacekeeper with the gun as he made way. He takes you until you hit the back brick wall of the alleyway.

With one final push he releases you to the wall and lets go of your wrist. He drops the basket by his feet and unloads his rifle by cocking it so no accidental discharge or rebel shooting could happen. He drops it alongside the basket, and comes up in front of you.

You try to defuse him by placing a hand on his neck but he knocks it away. You weren't going to get off easy this time.

He digs into your little satchel that you carried across your chest, looking for the money earnt.

You take his wrist into your hands but make no real attempt to stop him.

''You want to earn this back?" He holds out the few measly coins in front of you, "get on your knees then".

He wasn't particularly hard but he felt like he had lost significant control over you. If you couldn't take the hint, he was going to show you how you were to earn money.

You shake your head no. More disobedience from a girl who only ate because he fed her.

He gripped your shoulder harshly and spun you into the wall. Using one hand pressed between your shoulder blades, he uses the other to take his cuffs off his belt and attach them to your wrists.

He spins you back around but you still don't move, causing Coriolanus to push down on your shoulder.

He gets you eventually to the ground where you struggle underneath him. He places the coins in his pocket.

"Don't" You beg but he works on undoing his pants.

"You want to earn money, right?" he frees himself and holds it out for you, "Then earn it."

Your eyes were not focused on him but at the passing traffic. You were too far in to be noticed by passing goers but It would only take one wrong turn and they would come across your situation.

Irritated at your lack of focus, Coriolanus takes your jaw in his hand and guides it to his cock.

What choice did you really have? Cuffed and on your knees with no one around to help. Not that they would.

Gingerly you do place your lips around him but hating the taste you pull back. He slaps you firmly across the face, just as your bruise had healed. He didn't hit you as hard as he did that day on the hill. That was a proper slap. These were just warnings.

"Spoilt aren't you?" He takes hold of the top of your head and leads it back to him.

He pushes too far, hitting your gag reflex, and you pull back again only to be met with another slap across your cheek.

He gives you another go. You can only take half of him comfortably. It was your first time and yet he expected you to be a well-versed whore. You gag around him and he lets you pull back but not off, before shoving it back in.

You gag again, and loosen your lips, letting the excess moisture drip from your lips. He slaps you harshly again. Your whimper as he drives his cock back to your throat.

His hips rock forward into you, causing you to choke. You pull back, certain that you were going to be heard as you regained your air.

He lets you gasp for air, you spit next to his shoe but don't receive a punishment. Two light taps against your cheek and you're pulled back again.

Your teeth graze gently down as you struggle for air and he lets out an annoyed groan.

Seeing you struggle, he pulls back, letting you regain your breath and lose some more spit from your mouth. He pulls you to his balls, letting you just hold them in your mouth as you control your breathing. You can hear the blood rush to your ears, surrounding you with your own accelerated heart beat.

Another slap against your cheek tells you it's time to go again.

"Come on," he urges, leading your mouth back to him with a tug at your hair.

"Come on, pretty thing, show me what you got."

He rocks into you, hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes spike with tears, and you struggle to pull back as he keeps you there with his hands twisted in your hair.

You hear your chain rattle as you pull it every time he rocks himself into you.

He pulls your head back to his tip and then slowly back again, showing you how to do it. You gag around him and he holds himself still at that pace allowing you to adjust before continuing.

He takes you to the base holding you there. You don't struggle, trying to focus on breathing through your nose. He shakes your head side to side before continuing to drive his length.

You try to pull away again after a particularly hard drive but he stomps a foot beside you and follows your head back.

You were a whimpping mess on the floor. Every time his cock gave you room to you whined.

He turns your head against his thigh, letting it rest there with half his length in your mouth. A deadly smile cuts across his face, as he lays two harsh slaps against your cheek.

He pushes all the way in, laying you at the base again. He moves his body as you move yours so there was not a moment's rest.

He pulls you back upright to rock his hips harder.

As he comes, he pulls you forward on his cock. The warm liquid shoots down your throat.

You try to pull back, not wanting to swallow it. He groans loudly, still holding you in place. Even after he was done, he kept you there as he rested his head on the wall behind you.

He regains control of himself again, readying himself and picking up his gun and the basket. Only then does he collect you.

He helps you up by the arm to your feet. You ask him to uncuff you but he doesn't, leading you out of the alleyway and back home with the grip on your arm.

You complain the whole way. Begging him to release you so you could walk properly. You were worried Edmund would see you in such a state.

Coriolanus is deaf to your pleas. He makes no indication that he could hear you as he walked. He didn't look at you, only at the road ahead. He made no demand that you be silent or show displeasure upon his stone face.

When you do reach home, he marches you to the door, only letting go of your arm so he could unzip your bag, dropping your basket at the door.

He searches in your bag again for your home key, unlocking the door and shoving you inside. He still does not free you from the cuffs, instead leading you to your dining room table.

He pushes you down once more on the floor and kneels behind you, only undoing one cuff and reattaching it to the slim table leg.

'What are you doing?." You tug at the chain.

"Stay put." he spat as he headed to the door.

"What about my mother. She needs her morphling soon."

He slams the door, relocking it. It wouldn't keep you in if you could get to the door but would keep others out.

"Coriolanus, please!" he could hear you scream but it was muffled by the door. He picks up your basket, taking it with him.

He eats all the cakes on his walk back to the compound making him feel sick. But they were his.

He comes back later at night.

"My mother" you say as soon as you see him.

She was calling out for you. Screaming to be more accurate, he needs her to be silent after his long day so he walks past you on the floor and enters her room.

She was still on her stomach unable to get up without help. He sees now that the whip marks reach her legs. Some had reopened again as she attempted to rise. You would need to clean and redress them, but only after he was done with you.

She turns her head weakly in the dark room.

"Where's my daughter?"

He kneels by the bed and unscrews a bottle of morphling from his pocket.

"She's in the living room" he answers.

"Is she alright?"

"Fine." He tries to push the bottle through her lips but the mother resists.

"Bring her too me. I want to see her".

Your mother weekly attempts to get up but is forced down from the pain.

"She's busy at the moment." He again tries to force the bottle to her lips.

Your mother instead chooses to shout your name.

Coriolanus places a hand on your mothers back and presses down. He could feel the blood rising under his fingertips.

Your name turns into a scream and Coriolanus whispers in your mothers ear.

"Take your medicine and go to sleep."

He forces it one last time to her lips, this time she drinks it.

Once passed out and ensured to make no more noise, Coriolanus wipes the blood on the bedsheet and returns to the living room.

You try to get up as much as you can upon seeing him, but it is only a squat on the floor.

"Is she ok? i heard screaming?". You sounded worried. Your voice is a little shaky.

“She's asleep." He grabs the chair closest to you, angling it so you would be between his legs as he sat.

You sit back down on your knees and peer up at him. His face had not changed from the marketplace hours ago. His sharp features were stone on his face. His jaw was clenched, showcasing its sharp cut.

"You disappointed me today," he finally said.

“I know," you say, the chain rattling as you move closer, "I am sorry."

Your body ached from being sat on the floor all day, you wanted nothing more than to get up and check on your mother.

So you appealed to his softer side by resting your head against his thigh. He reciprocates by laying a warm hand on your cheek, it was slightly sticky and a familiar metallic smell lingered.

''Make a list of the things you need the money for and I'll get them for you".

A slight brush of his thumb left a wet patch of your mother's blood on your face. He did it again just to get rid of the smear.

You nod your head against his thigh. It would come at a price of course. Something he could hold over your head and withdraw as he pleases.

Your leg tingled from the lack of blood supply. It was a good sign as you had lost feeling of your legs in the late afternoon.

"Are you hungry? You've had a big day. Let me make you something".

God, you needed to get up from this floor.

He stops holding your cheek, digging into his pocket and pulling out the key. You lean back as he leans down to uncuff you.

You stand, your dead legs buckle as you applied pressure. He caught you as you went down and places you in his chair.

He tells you to sit for a bit. To let the feeling come back to your legs before you tried to walk on them.

You sit stretch your legs for a bit, feeling better as the painful tingling fades and return to your feet.

He follows you as you go to the kitchen, watching you pull things out of the fridge.

Tigris used to make his meals after long days at the school library. This felt so similar, he wanted to cry. He had gotten used to long days ending with returning back to his commander apartment to nothing by silence.

He would strip down and just fall asleep on his bed. Now as the smell of your cooking invaded his nose, he felt cared for again. A loving hand was preparing his food, and he would sleep with a full stomach.

''I taught a boy how to shoot today," he leans next to where you chopped an onion.

"I've personally always preferred when peacekeepers don't know how to shoot."

He straightened up off the counter top, you had put him back on defense.

"No one is going to shoot you."

"I know. I am only joking." you place the chopped onion in a frypan, and move on to dicing a pepper. Your sore wrist screams.

His hips go back to leaning on the counter top. You're relieved to see it, as your wrist was a painful reminder of his temper.

''There's nothing to worry about with this one anyway. He couldn't shoot you if you were standing a foot in front of him."

You smile at him as he attempts to make a joke. You even tried to laugh but the sound wouldn't make its way up. It was weighed down by your anxiety.

You drop your knife as you move your wrist the wrong way. Pain shoots through your arm.

You let out a sound of pain, trying to massage the kink out of your hand but the job is taken over by Coriolanus.

"Are you alright?".

You wanted to spit at him but the words that came out were reassuring. You asked him to get the eggs out of the fridge.

He moves quickly to do so. You only had two eggs and half a bottle of milk left in the fridge so he found them easily.

He cracks them into the fry pan for you, disregarding the shells on the counter. You continue to make his omelet with your other hand.

It broke apart as you flipped it weakly in the pan. You apologize as he takes over, flipping the pan on a plate.

He asks if you were alright again as he leads you to the kitchen table.

"Still stiff," you answer.

You both sit at the table and Coriolanus offers you one of the two forks. You take one starving and share the omelet with him.

You feel him glance at you as you eat.

"I have tomorrow off. I thought I might stay the night".

Was this it? He didn't bring a box, maybe he was going in for the kill.

Maybe the Capital promise was something he said to throw you off guard, letting you warm up to him a bit.

It was for the best you decided. Edmund was around to help you heal and care for your mother.

"I think that's a good idea." you state, forking another piece.

He looks up, surprised at your welcoming nature. He leaves you the rest of the omelet, getting up and going to your kitchen to retrieve an ice pack.

He sits back down and presses it against your cheek.

"You may have thought I was harsh today."

An understatement, you believe.

"But where I am from, women who belong to men don't work".

The capital seems more barbaric than the districts. They hide behind their new technology, but socially they were centuries behind.

"If a woman returns to work, it marks the end of a relationship. It shows she doesn't trust him to take care of her. It's the biggest insult a woman could give another capital citizen."

You wanted to remind him that here in District 12, where you currently were, working only meant that food would be on the table by the end of the week.

But he doesn't stop talking to give you a chance.

''And you trust me, don't you? To take care of you."

"Of course," you answer. Your eyes were wide with fear, he could see it.

He takes the ice pack off and kisses you. You stay still, unable to move your lips back.

"No more market stall, yeah?" he is two inches from your face. You were sure he could see your lips quiver.

You shake your head no, earning a smile.

"I am doing a good job, aren't I?" he pushes.

"Yes, Coriolanus. Thank you."

You wished Edmund was here.

Another kiss and you push him gently back.

"i am so tired" you quake, "I still have to clean up and check on my mother".

You rise and he rises with you, taking the plate you picked up.

"I'll clean up. You tend to your mother." he offers.

Dirty dishes don't scare him. He saw mountains of them during his early days as a peacekeeper. He actually got quite good at them.

You accept the offer, rushing down the hall to your mother.

You gasp as you see rivulets of blood across your mother's back. She must have been desperate to get to you, you thought.

Her back looked unbelievably sore. It was your fault. You had hit him and set off this chain reaction. You had fought with him that night and she had to intervene.

And it was all for nothing. Soon you would lay down and let him take what you fought to keep.

You grab a bucket of cold water, a rag and some wound dressing and bandages from the bathroom. You could hear him cleaning the kitchen as you crossed the hallway.

Your eyes fazed with tears as you cleaned the blood off your mothers back. The water turned red, staining your hands. You had to stop upon seeing it. The tears on your mother's back wouldn't help.

You stood over her crying as Coriolanus entered the room.

"Oh mum," you cry. He takes the bandages off you, doing the work himself. You take a seat on the bed, holding your mothers foot as he works.

He layered the bandages with the wound dressing and laid them in the direction of the whip marks. It takes him five minutes before it is done, and he places the leftover items on the floor, keeping the bucket and rag.

He takes you with bloody hands into the bathroom, placing you in front of him at the sink and runs your hands under the water. He sets the bucket down and rubs away the blood from your hands with his.

He leaves you with your hands running under the tap as he tips the water down the drain. You want to thank him for doing it for you but you can't.

He comes back, turning off the tap, resting his chin on your shoulder.

''Let's go to bed." he suggests.

Let's get this over with, you agree mentally.

"Where's your toothbrush?"

You pull it down, holding it out for him. He could see the paste next to where you took it from and he lays it on.

You figured he would like to kiss someone with nice breath so you scrub your teeth clean and rinse.

He takes your toothbrush off of you and uses it in the same manner. It doesn't bother you, you had his dick in your mouth at lunchtime, what's sharing a toothbrush in comparison.

Finishing, he takes your hand and leads you into the bedroom.

You don't undress, just lay down on your back, watching him undress down to his underpants.

"Is this okay?" he paused, taking his pants off from around his ankles to ask.

You assume he means undressing himself, taking the job away from you, so you nod your head.

He kicks his pants in the corner and his shirt follows.

You wait patiently. If he wanted you to be fully undressed, he would have to do it. You hoped he would just hike up your dress.

You breathe hitches as he crawls on top of you, bringing himself to your eye level.

"Did you want to change?" he holds up your night dress that he took off your broken chair.

Why would you get changed if he was only going to take it back off? Was he true to his word, did he not want to sleep with you yet?

You take the night dress and he rolls off of you allowing you to get up. Stiffly, you do and walk to the bathroom to change. It still smelt of blood and you were quick to get out of there again.

There was no hunger in his eyes as he held out his arms to you. Only a tiredness that you shared. It calmed you immensely. Not tonight. You weren't as ready as you thought.

You lay on your side with your back facing him and he spoons his body around yours.

He takes your wrist into his hand and gently rubs down along it, trying to ease the tightness from being locked up all day. You fall asleep before it stops.

He has the nightmare again. Back in the woods with his gun. BANG.

The rebel goes down. He stalks towards her but this time he hears your voice calling out to him, "Coriolanus."

He points his gun in the sound of your direction and calls out for you to come to him.

"Commander." you call him.

"Coryo!" Sejanus's voice sounded close to yours. It panics Coriolanus. He was dead, you were not. Your voices should not be coming from the same direction.

"Where are you?" he screams. He walks in the direction he thinks the sounds were coming from but the Mockingjays scramble Sejanus's 'Coryo', disorienting the sound.

"Commander, please!" Your voice was loud and he took off running to it before it got lost. Pushing through the forest to where he hoped you would be, he came before Lucy Gray with a hole in her throat.

"Wake up." Lucy Gray opened her mouth but your voice came out.

He yelps as he awakens. He feels a cool rag against his forehead.

"Hey," you greet. When he first started to wiggle and sweat you left him. He deserved bad dreams.

But the worse he became, the more you began to worry. Soon your compassion overtook you and you were tending to him without a thought in your head.

"It was just a dream." you wipe more sweat off his head with your cool rag.

He looked pale and sick. You thought he might have caught something, but his wide, scared eyes told you that he had seen something in his sleep.

You run the wet rag down his neck to his shoulders, trying to cool him down.

He falls into you, laying down on your chest as you move the rag across him. You could feel his heavy breathing against you.

With his arm hooked around you, you had limited movement. You wiggle trying to get back to the bathroom to rewet the towel, but he grips your arm, pulling you closer.

“It was just a dream,” you tell him.

It wasn’t, not really.

His mother used to run her finger through his curls until he fell back asleep. But much like her, they were long gone.

His weight kept you pressed down on the mattress with your hand trapped wedged between your body and his.

Similar to his mother, you run your fingers up and down his neck. He stretches it to give you more roaming space and you turn off the lamp, sure you could get him back to sleep.

He was still so hot. Sweat ran down him and onto you. You ran the rag up his face to cool him. Repeating the action of dragging the rag up and your fingers down, you feel him settle beneath you.

He lays a kiss just above where his head rested on your chest. Then his breathing evened, you counted the seconds between his little huffs of air. They patterned at five seconds apart and you feel safe enough to pull away.

You wiggle from beneath him slowly as you lower yourself to the floor. You hit it and he twitches but doesn’t wake.

Laying your head on the hard floor board you watch as his hand laying over the bed reaches for something. As if he knew in his sleep where you were.

You don’t fall asleep for a long time. Your cheek ached from where he assaulted it repeatedly.

Your mind raced with thoughts. How long would he drag this out for. You had been caught. You were caught! Hurry up and take a bite. So long as he remained around, you wouldn’t be able to see Edmund. It would be too dangerous for him.

He had cornered you in every aspect of your life. Even as you slept he remained over you. You wanted it to be over already so you could return to your life. But his appetite was insatiable.

Every time you gave an inch to fill his need, he took a mile. How much more before you had no more kindness to give?

Your eyes close and you sleep, remaining aware that you had to wake up before him.

The sunlight streaming through your window was a mercy as it woke you before him.

You try to quietly get back into bed with him, but wake him in the process.

He groans and holds your hips tightly. It was his day off, he didn’t have to get up early.

You sigh. At least he thought you were getting up and not getting back in .

Now rising to avoid suspension, you get out of his weak hold.

“I have to check on mum,” you tell him.

He doesn’t raise his head from the pillow or open his eyes as he huffs.

You stop by the bathroom to relieve yourself and dress back in proper clothes. You put back on your dress from last night, ensuring the buttons from the bottom to the top were all done up.

The smell of blood no longer lingered. You could stand to take the time to brush your hair in it.

You hoped he wouldn't stay long today but knew he was going to.

After last night, you would focus more on your mother today. It looked like a lot of her scars had opened back up again.

You had to take a look to see if any were infected. It was a higher risk now due to the prolonged morphling dosage.

You turn to her room to see a closed door. You never close your mothers door in case she needs you in the middle of the night. Maybe Coriolanus closed it on his way out.

You turn the handle, double taking when you see two figures on the bed.

You almost scream upon seeing him sitting next to your mother. Had he seen you with the Commander in bed? You wanted the earth to open and swallow you whole.

“Edmund- I didn’t”

“I saw you on the floor,” his voice didn't carry relief but an uncharacteristically hard tone.

“A little scuffed up you said?” he places a hand on your sleeping mother’s head.

“She’s okay. The morphine keeps the pain away and there’s no sign of infection.”

“I could go in there and kill him while he sleeps. No one would know. Bury him outside the fence line. Who would look?”

You knew he was serious from the look on his face.

“You would kill me too. If he went missing I would be the first to hang.”

He knows it too. You watch him swallow his rage and it goes down as a lump in his throat.

“You need to leave.”

“I am not going anywhere while he is in the house.”

“If he catches you here-” you begin but stop. You wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

You freeze as you hear Coriolanus call out for you. He was up.

You yank Edmund up and push him to your mother’s standing cupboard. He goes willingly, hiding in the cramped space.

You got him there just in time.

Coriolanus opens the door to check on you.

He had put back on his uniform pants and shirt. You were grateful that a near naked Coriolanus was not present under Edmunds watchful eye..

"Are you alright?" he asks.

You rush to the door, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him slightly back.

''Fine. I don't want to wake her".

You push him outside the door and shut it behind you. He looks tired, and still pale from last night.

"Darling, she had two ounces of Morphling less than 12 hours ago. She wouldn't wake up if the house was on fire."

He pushes past you and opens the door again. He looks around the room. His steps are slow as he circles the space around your mother.

"So what is it in here you don't want me to see?"

You freeze. Don't come out, you silently beg.

"Nothing. It's my mother's room that's all. She wouldn't want you in here".

His eyes peered down at the sleeping lady, but his hand reached higher to the metal plates stacked on the bedside. He pushed one side of the stack and a plate went flying to the floor, making an awful clanging sound.

You eyes shoot to the cupboard, Edmund doesn't fling himself out for a fight. He was too smart for it. Your eyes return to Coriolanus who bent down to pick up the plate from the floor.

"You're right," he says, 'let's go. We can spend some of those coins you earnt yesterday on breakfast."

Earnt had a different meaning to Coriolanus then what it did to Edmund. You were so glad he left before the commander showed up.

You were glad too that Coriolanus suggested leaving the house. It would give Edmund a chance to escape.

But you knew he would wait. Edmund could hold a grudge like no one else. He would sit in with your mother all day and stew.

He couldn't be trusted to hold his temper if you returned with Coriolanus. It would also be too much to bear. Having him listening in as you played puppet with Coriolanus.

You wait until you reach the living room to talk so Edmund wouldn't hear where you were going and follow.

"I know a place. A little waterfall just out of town," you suggested, " We could spend the day there. Out of the heat."

"What about your mother?"

You knew Edmund would tend to her.

"I'll leave a bottle of morphling within her reach. An apple, a bottle of water. It's all I normally give her until dinner time."

His eyes roam you distrustfully, but make their way back to your face with his normal icy stare.

"Whatever you want." he concedes.

You dash around your home packing your basket while Coriolanus laces his shoes. An old blanket, two bottles of water in heavy metal flasks, and sun protection is all you pack.

Coriolanus holds his hand out for it once you were done, and you give in. You yank your boots on as he holds the basket, waiting.

All you had to do was lay a care package for your mother. You act as if kicked your boot accidently against the door as you take it to her.

Edmund either took the warning or never came out of the closet at all.

"Mum" you call to the unconscious women, "I am going out, and won't be home until late. Here's your morphling that you'll need when you wake up soon. Make sure you eat your apple before you take it".

You place the items on the bedside table for Edmund, giving one final look to the cupboard door before shutting the door and walking back to Coriolanus.

He was waiting by an open door, watching you as you came to him.

You don't touch the door, but it closes and you lock it with Coriolanus standing over you.

You walk in silence along the road to the town center. You pass the alleyway that will now forever cause you to shiver.

The walk was quiet. Most people were already at their jobs at this time. But as you enter the town square, the hustle began to pick up.

You could feel the town people's stares, hear their quiet whispering as you passed with Coriolanus in tow.

He begins talking to you asking you where you wanted to go first.

The bakery, you answered. You let him lead, trying to fall out of step with him.

He notices that you do almost immediately. He lasso his arm around your shoulders to keep pace. It felt like he was leading you around town on a leash.

The bakery is only small. It had aged terribly but retained some of its charm. You never went in there, always baking your own things.

It could only fit five people in at a time but it didn't matter, you two were the only ones there. You take a look at the glass display counter. Their cakes were small and barely had any icing. You could tell they were over-cooked from how they sat. No wonder your stall was so popular.

"Commander Snow, sir!"

Your eyes rise abruptly at the voice. The women from the market now serves you. The lips that casted judgment now smile sweetly at Coriolanus.

"We'll take two rolls of grain" he remarks, like talking to her was painful.

You cringe at the usage of ‘we’.

"Of course, sir," she wraps the bread up and passes it over the counter. He takes it, putting the fresh loafs in the basket.

''Free of charge of course. Can't thank you enough for cleaning up these streets for us right living folks".

Coriolanus doesn't buy the act. His face hardens as he digs into his pocket and throws a coin on the counter for her.

He tugs your arm gently to get you to retrace back to the door. You follow eagerly. You hoped she would mention how you whored yourself out for him so you could mention this encounter.

''Where to next?".

You barely heard him over your rage.

"The butcher. He's next door to the fruit and vegetables stall. Maybe I could get the meat and cheese, and you could get some peaches if there are enough coins."

"Are we in a rush?"

"No". ‘I just don't want to be seen with you’ is the unspoken end of that sentence.

"Then we'll go together. The waterfall won't float away will it?"

Today you would be stuck at his hip.

He holds the butcher’s door open for you, and a little bell goes off.

You only glance at the man behind the counter before he disappears.

The butcher takes one look at Coriolanus and takes off through the back door. He runs faster then his short body would let on.

Coriolanus watches him as he runs off. It was his day off, he wasn't chasing anyone.

He passes you the basket so he could jump over the counter and help himself to the meats and cheeses. He grabs a good handful of ham and a few slices of cheese.

“I’ll never understand why they run.”

You hum back in response, but could definitely understand the desire of running.

He jumps back over the counter, places the items in your basket and then takes the basket back off you. Not looking to go without paying, you stop Coriolanus by his arm and in an action that surprised you both, reach into his pocket and pull out his coins.

You leave what you think would cover the costs and keep the rest in your palm. Your touch seemed to have frozen Coriolanus who stood there.

It gave you a chance to distance yourself. You are out the door and next door at the fruit and vegetable stall. You grab the first two peaches you see, not even checking to see if they were ripe.

Giving the man the money and thanking the man for the peaches, you keep your head start, walking quickly through the market.

You remain three feet in from him until you reach the next stall in which Coriolanus had caught up to you and tugged you back.

"How far is the waterfall?" He was always finding new little areas of District 12. He should have made the fence smaller.

"Just past Dead Man's creek".

Coriolanus mentally groaned. Just the walk to Dead Man's creek would take at least 45 minutes over a rocky path.

But once they were there at least they would be alone. Coriolanus was elated not only to be spending the day with you but ecstatic to be away from the district.

You lead him to the back forest of the district, to a rock path that marks the start of the trail to Dead Man's creek.

He takes your hand into his as you begin the walk.

"How do you know about this place?" He tries to make idle talk as you walk.

"My father used to take my brother and me on weekends."

Coriolanus wished he didn't ask.

"I am sorry. How did he die?"

You rip your hand clean from him, and Coriolanus flexes his hand from the lack of touch.

"He died in the mines. A tunnel collapsed, he didn't get out in time."

His hand felt empty so he reached out and plucked a flower off a tree, twirling the stem in his hand.

"I am sorry," he says again, "My father died at a young age too."

"Are you? Most of our materials still go to Capital use".

Coriolanus flicks the flower away. He didn't want to chase people through the streets and he didn't want to talk politics on his day off.

"We all play our part for the betterment of Panem." he says.

"All hail the mighty Capitol."

That attitude would not go down well in the Capitol. He had to get rid of it before he started his presidential journey.

But that's a job for another day. Today they were going to spend a peaceful day at a waterfall.

"All hail the mighty Capitol," he mutters back.

The Capitol chewed him out too. You should be bonding over your shared resilience, not fighting over the Capitol’s use of the districts.

"So are you going to tell me who was in the closet this morning?"

He snapped a branch that was pushing into his shoulder as he walked by your side. He hated nature, and would rather be back in his temperature-controlled apartment with you. But you had wanted to take him to a place you held dear. He would make the effort to please you.

You stumble over your next step. Could he have heard you talking to Edmund? Was his life now in danger?

"When I dropped the plate this morning your eyes went straight there."

You had been tricked by him again. He had dropped the plate to startle you into giving away your secret.

"She's just a friend." You emphasize the 'Sh' in she.

"A friend you keep in the closet?"

"You spooked her. She came over to check on my mother and heard you coming."

"Well I don't bite."

You knew for a fact he did.

"She was afraid. You are Commander Snow of District 12".

He takes your hand back in his, pleased with your answer,

"Well, any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

You knew that did not extend to Edmund. So you keep quiet, allowing him to hold your hand in peace.

It kept him from asking anymore questions at least. He remained for the rest of the trip trapped in his own head, and you remained trapped in yours.

By the time you crossed the creek and continued up to your destination, the waterfall was a well earned sight.

You find the shade of a big tree and smooth the ground from rocks before reaching into the basket and laying the old blanket down.

The laces of the shoes come off and you both plop down, tired from the walk.

Coriolanus lays back, watching as you make the sandwiches. You tear into the bread with your hands and fill it with the meat and cheese.

You pass the first one to him. It tasted like love to him. Your stomach growled too but your hands give before they take. If he could just get your speech right, you would be perfect.

You down your sandwich quickly having little to eat in the past 24 hours. Feeling immensely better as the food fills your stomach, your body brings to attention another need.

You lay down, closing your eyes and letting your body relax into the peaceful atmosphere.

“Tired?" he asks you. You feel him turn to his side towards you.

"Too hot to sleep". You don't mention the ailments to your sleep that he caused.

"You're welcome to sleep in the Commander's quarters with me. Air conditioned, bigger bed. I even have a television that works sometimes."

You turn away from him as you feel his head dip down to you.

"I should stay with mum."

"Maybe once she gets better." He now regrets causing your mother more harm last night. It would delay the healing process.

The cool breeze drifts you to sleep. Coriolanus waits until your breathing slows before he shuffles closer.

He felt a sense of pride as you dozed off. That you trusted him enough to protect you as you slept.

During the war Tigris would stay up during bombings, letting Coriolanus get some sleep. He wouldn't otherwise, too worried that he would miss a warning and be buried underneath rubble.

He shuffles so his body is over yours in a protective stance, his leg slung over you, and his eyes watch around you for nearby ants.

It was a tranquil moment shared while you slept but it lasted less than 20 minutes before you shot up in a panic.

You don't get far with Coriolanus curled around you. Movement only became harder as he squeezed you in his arms.

"You're alright. Go back to sleep". He wasn't ready for the moment to be over but you were, turning his arms off you.

"I shouldn't sleep. No, I shouldn't sleep".

You turn to your back on the blanket and reach up to touch your ring on his dog tags.

You turn the metal between your fingers. You wondered if you begged enough if he would give it back.

He catches your hand and brings it up enough to kiss. You hear the birds chirp as they fly past.

''It's peaceful here," he comments.

"It's my favorite place," you admit.

Coriolanus felt his heart swell with pride. You had taken him to your favorite place because you wanted him to see it, not in actual reality because it was the first place that popped into your head.

He lets you rest while he takes a look out at the scenery.

The water from the rocks cascaded into a plunge pool that looked relatively deep. The water leaked slowly down a stream of rocks away. It was no great waterfall, only about a meter high, and the water followed at a steady pace instead of a gush.

The bank was muddy but opened to a large dry field, surrounded by trees. He was yet to see a mockingjay but he knew from experience that it doesn't mean they are not there.

“It's so hot," you complain, throwing your arm over your eyes.

He turns back to you and fiddles with the buttons on your shirt, twisting your top button between his fingers.

"How about a swim?" he suggests.

You shake your head no but he starts undoing your buttons anyway.

You catch his hands in yours, they only follow him as he undoes the rest. You feel your dress fall off your shoulders as the last button comes undone.

Fear freezes you, your eyes close and your hands lose movement. He doesn't deter, placing a kiss on your shoulder as he takes the dress off completely.

"It will cool you down".

He shifts off you to take his own clothes off. You feel his hands upon you once more picking you up.

The splash of the cold water woke you and as you came up to the surface you pulled free from his hold. You swim away only to be pulled back into his chest.

"Feel better?" he asks. You wiggle against him feeling indecent in only your underwear.

"Where are you going?" he laughs as if it was a joke. As if you were friends playing in the water.

He twists you in his arms so you are facing him and you place your hands on his shoulders to keep up.

"This isn't right." You push against his tight hold.

"No one is around. No one to see," he consoles.

"You can see. You can touch me."

You thrash in his grasp, almost drowning yourself from your struggle.

He tries to reassure you but you won't hear it. Your kicking underwater lands into his soft stomach. With a huff of pain, he releases you and you swim back to shore.

You can hear him following you in the water. Nevertheless you reach land first and run to put on your clothes.

"What is your problem?" He seethes putting back on his pants.

"I can't-can't do this," you said, meaning him.

Without your shoes you take off in the direction of the trail path.

"Wait. Wait" he beseeched, he takes your shoulders into his hands and bends down to your eye level, "I am sorry, okay. I moved too fast. Let's just go back".

He shoves you towards the blanket again. Bringing you down with him on the floor. He removes his hands once he realizes you were frozen again.

Taking a peach out of the basket he puts it into your hands.

"Eat. I’m sorry." He puts back on his t-shirt, only to turn back to see the peach still not eaten.

He sighs, taking a knife from one pocket from his pants. You flinch as it flicks up and he takes the peach back off you, cutting it up.

"It's okay. I am not going to hurt you." He passes you a slice of the peach.

“Then why carry the knife?”

Coriolanus shugs, taking a slice of the peach for himself. “Part of the uniform. Eat”.

The uniform that was designed to kill you and your people. A uniform that gives those who wear it a free reign of terror. It almost whispers to you to know your place.

Your lips shake as they bite into the soft peach slice.

You stay at the waterfall until late afternoon. Coriolanus teaches you how to make a fishing rod and you fish for a large part of the time.

You ask him if he learnt how to fashion a rod from the earth in the Capitol.

"No. Not in the Capitol." He didn't elaborate, quickly changing the subject.

He catches one catfish which you cook and wrap in large leaves to take home, while you catch nothing but rocks.

It's nightfall by the time you reach your house again. Edmund was sure to be gone.

You wait by the steps, waiting for his direction. He makes no move up the stairs leading you to think he wasn't interested in coming in.

"Thank you for walking me home, Commander."

"Thank you for showing me the waterfall. We'll go up there again soon" he promises.

You didn't like the sound of it. It was your strength against him up there.

He passes you your basket and relief floods you knowing he wasn't coming in.

"Goodnight, Commander".

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Next time, invite your friend out of the closet. Don't ever let them lead you to lie to me".

You nod. It appeased him enough to kiss you.

"Goodnight" he bids.

He watches as you run up the steps, only turning to leave once you were safely indoors.

Your relief turns into horror and then just shock causing you to drop your basket at your feet.

Edmund waits for you at the kitchen table with his head resting in his hands.

"I made dinner. It's in the oven."

He must have gone hunting at some point in the day.

"Are you crazy?" you raised your voice as much as you dared, "What if he decided to come in?"

He remains emotionless, "Your mother and I have already eaten."

You make sure the door is locked behind you before you venture over to him.

"You can't come around here until this blows over," you scold.

''I promised your brother I would keep you safe," he sounded defeated but his balled fists suggested it was anger.

"I don't think he meant to kill the Commander of District 12 to do so."

His eyes harden, and his head nods, 'Yes, he did."

You throw your arms around his rigid figure.

"You did good, okay? You are doing good. He wouldn't ask anymore of you."

He scoffs and with little force he moves you off him, “Good? I've been up in the mountains while you've been fighting for your life down here."

"Earning money to support your family. Us. How many times would we have been dead without you? I would have died last year if you didn't give us money for the doctor."

"Maybe I should have let you. At least then you wouldn't be food for the Commander"

"He's really not that bad". You regret the words as soon as they come out.

"You don't think kindly of him do you?" his face contorts with disgust.

You shake your head no. You could never disappoint him. Not after everything he has done for you.

"He is a storm for a season. We've outlasted storms before haven't we? Together."

You lace your fingers with his. His hold is strong and protective.

"After him. No one else," you repeat his words back to him.

If you are to survive him, it will be true.

-------

I put some easter eggs from the book in there. For funises.

Taglist:

@sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw

@mrsjobarnes

@greekyoghurtwithberries

@namelesslosers

@urfavnoirette

Next chapter

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dead dove do not eat #hunger games #tom blyth #commander snow

471 notes · View notes

dragon-watcher03 · 8 months

Text

Mk1 x Milf! Reader

3/3

Intro dialogues

Ft: Scorpion (Kuai Liang), Sub-Zero (Bi-han), Smoke (Tomas Vrbara), Reptile (Syzoth), Johnny Cage.

D/n= Daughters name

Note: you have a 15 year old daughter. You are not human, you are of a species that can reproduce asexually. There will also be some dialogue with the daughter as well. (so the daughter is basically a clone of you physically so just imagine her looking like how you did when you were 15-) And I'm making the daughter have my personality so if you don't like it, too bad.

Scorpion: Your species' ability to reproduce is quite fascinating... Y/n: Are you upset I have no need for a mate, Kuai?

Scorpion: Are you sure you aren't looking for a husband? Y/n: I'm sure I can make an exception for you, little flame.

Scorpion: You truly are a Goddess, dearest. Y/n: Oh stop, you're making me blush!

Y/n: D/n seems to be warming up to you, little flame. (pun intended-) Scorpion: I hope she is, I truly wish to bond with her.

Y/n: I appreciate you trying to bond with D/n, Kuai. Scorpion: I don't only do it for you, but for her as well.

Y/n: Are you going to propose anytime soon or must I do it? Scorpion: I... I will get to that, my dearest.

Sub-Zero: I will prove that I am a worthy husband for you, lovely. Y/n: Oh? Then you better make it worthwhile.

Sub-Zero: A woman such as yourself deserves a strong and honorable man to love. Y/n: Might you be that man, little wolf?

Sub-Zero: D/n has been teasing a lot recently... Y/n: That's just how she treats the people she likes, Bi-han.

Y/n: I see you've been spending more time with D/n. Any particular reason why? Sub-Zero: If I'm going to marry you one day, I need to earn your daughter's trust and acceptance first.

Y/n: Behind that cold exterior is a man I deem worthy of love. Sub-Zero: Only if that love is from you and D/n... (platonically ofc-)

Y/n: It was you who killed him, wasn't it? Sub-Zero: That bastard deserved it for thinking he could have you...

Smoke: You don't mind if me and D/n head to Madam Bo's, do you? Y/n: sigh Just make sure she doesn't start any fights, okay?

Smoke: The fact you don't even need a male to reproduce is just... awesome. Y/n: Yes, although we can reproduce the fun way as well...

Smoke: You looked stunning in that dress last night, Dove. Y/n: Why thank you, angel.

Y/n: D/n seems to really like you, Tomas. Smoke: Really? Oh, thank God! I was worried she didn't!

Y/n: giggles You're so cute when you're nervous, angel. Smoke: groans Please dove, don't tease me like that...

Y/n: No words can express how much I care for you, Tomas. Smoke: I...wow, I'm really a lucky guy, aren't I?

Reptile: So you're telling me you're a virgin with a daughter? Man, I hit the jackpot. Y/n: You truly have no filter, Syzoth. But I like that in a man so you get a pass.

Reptile: Goddamn... Y/n: Something caught your eye, sweetheart?

Reptile: You have too many admirers... Y/n: But my heart only belongs to you, sweetheart.

Y/n: The idea of a mate is rather intriguing... Reptile: chuckles Is that your way of telling me you want me?

Y/n: You and D/n are a dangerous duo... Reptile: What can I say? Like father, like future daughter.

Y/n: Your bond with D/n is truly like a father and daughter. Reptile: Just as it should be, my mate.

Johnny: Woah, you're a total milf if I've ever seen one! Y/n: A... what?

Johnny: C'mon sweetcheeks, we'd make the perfect couple! Y/n: Sorry love, but you need D/n's approval as well.

Johnny: The grey hairs, the eyes, the body, you are literally the work of Gods. Y/n: Well, you surely know how to make a woman feel good.

Y/n: D/n is making awful puns now because of you! Johnny: Awful? Those things are a work of art!

Y/n: Well hello there handsome. Johnny: Now that, that is something I won't get used to. But I'm not complaining.

Y/n: Wow, you actually got D/n to like you. Johnny: Yep, now I got a hot milf girlfriend and an awesome daughter.

D/n: So you wanna marry my mom? I don't blame you. Scorpion: Who wouldn't want to marry a woman like her.

D/n: Tell me, do you prefer Dad or Pa? Scorpion: I... I haven't even asked Y/n to marry me yet.

Scorpion: Let's see how well Y/n trained you. D/n: Maybe one day, you could teach me a thing or two.

D/n: in an Australian accent Ello there Frosty! Sub-Zero: For the love of God, please stop doing that!

D/n: You wanna go chill at Madam Bo's after this? Sub-Zero: sigh Yeah sure...

Sub-Zero: I told you to dispose of the body quickly, now she knows we killed him! D/n: Alright, calm down Dad.

D/n: So what did she say? Smoke: She said we can go, but no fights!

D/n: Say...Do my puns annoy you? Smoke: What? No! Who told you they were annoying?!

Smoke: I think Y/n is starting to catch on... D/n: Don't worry, I'll make sure she doesn't find out about the proposal!

D/n: Dude, I just found out I can also shape-shift. Reptile: Oh, the power we both hold right now.

D/n: Wouldn't it be cool if we swapped places for a day as a prank? Reptile: Oh. My. Gosh. That's the most brilliant idea I've ever heard.

Reptile: I'm not offended that you called me Dad earlier, D/n. D/n: I know... But it was in front of everyone though!

D/n: She said my puns are horrible!?! Johnny: I know! The nerve of that woman!

D/n: I don't know John... Me? In a movie? I'm just a kid... Johnny: C'mon! You'll have the crowd's heart in seconds!

Johnny: Hah, now I have two people calling me- D/n: Finish that sentence and your "Dad card" is revoked.

#mk1 #mortal kombat #mk1 x reader #sub zero x reader #scorpion x reader #smoke x reader #reptile x reader #johnny x reader #kuai liang #bi han #tomas vrbada #johnny cage

991 notes · View notes

joelhoney · 7 months

Note

do u take requests? if u do, could i have an outbreak au where reader rides joel in his truck? thank u! i LOVED #1 girl btw

open road

wanted to practice my writing skills again so here! :)

warnings: 18+ !!!! smut, pwp, implied age gap, feminine reader, daddy kink sry, pet names galore

“One of the guys called you scary.”

The sky is dull, something bland and colorless in-between blue and grey—something that’s become a norm. A clear, cloudless sky comes once every few months if a trickle of luck happens to dwell upon the area, but even for a pair that travels as much as you and Joel do, the memories of that kind of weather have become few and far between. Joel is grown, though, and he’s wise, and he knows there isn’t any good that comes out of complaining over something as trivial as this.

Anyway, he’s got a whole little ball of sunshine beside him, feet propped up on the dashboard clumsily.

“Hm. What’d you say?” He grunts back, trying to hide how the comment has begun to make him think. He’s not new to the entire scary bit, but every time the comment arises he finds himself wanting to know your thoughts, if you agree, if you know he doesn’t mind the reputation as long as you find him the opposite.

“I said no, you’re just old.”

You’re in your socks because you hate the weight of the boots you wear, and you’re wearing one of his old shirts, from years and years ago, thin with wear and the collar cut off so it hangs across your collarbones. It’s your favorite, this ratted brown color with a band on it that performed when you weren’t even born yet, you think. Joel likes this one, too, he won’t tell you just how much; he just hopes you don’t pick up on the fact that he fucks you all the more harder whenever you wear this around him.

“I’m not old, sugar.”

“You are old. Older than me and the guy who said you were scary.” A lithe hand comes twisting at the grey hairs on his temple. He tuts and you pull back, giggling out an apology. “When’re we getting there?”

“Slow down. The open road is a blessin’, don’t you think, sweetheart?” To Joel, everything is a blessing in the height of such an uncertain time—a blessin’, in his vernacular, his drawled-out twang. It’s his turn, now, to reach across the console and wrap a hand around your thigh. It tickles, and you tense through the material of your jeans. Sometimes you wonder if you can wear your dresses on tasks like these, ones not so high in urgency, but with a destination nevertheless. You want a clicker gnawin’ off your leg, be my guest, he said once, and that was that.

“I guess,” you muster half-heartedly, fingers skating along the expanse of Joel’s hand. Two of your fingers align with one of his own. Outside the scenery is mostly grey, barely green, lifeless, but interesting anyway, the ruins and the rot, blatant reminders of what you’re all living in the thick of.

You swallow and wrap a hand around his wrist. “Do we need to be there now?”

He huffs out this laugh between exasperation, and quickly he presses two fingers to the crotch of your bottoms. “So soon?” He’d just eaten you out before you left less than two hours ago, the hem of your shirt stuffed into your mouth so nobody would hear. You buck up into his hand, which has now left, and whine lowly in your throat.

“That wasn’t fair,” you bemoan, chasing his hand. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“I’m jus’ try’na enjoy the road, dove. Back then, this’d be drownin’ in traffic. People beatin’ the five-thirty rush. Now it’s jus’ you and me.” He hums some song, this soully little thing, one he likes to sing on the road when it’s just you in the car. If anyone else tags along, he’s silent.

“Jo-el,” you whine. “No fair. You got me all wet.”

He sucks air in through his teeth, pats you lightly on the smooth surface of your cheek without even having to spare you a glance. “Be patient with me, sweetheart. We need to get there in time.” There’s an edge to his voice, hardened a bit; he’s not reminding this time, he’s warning. You pout and peek out the half-cracked window. Open road and the dim horizon, no sign of the building you’re supposed to stop at.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out like a sneer.

He clicks his tongue. “I said patient.”

“I am being—” you huff, crossing your arms and lowering your feet noisily. “It’s not fair that you touched me and then won’t even let me—let yourself—whatever.” You shuffle, bumbling irritatedly by yourself for a minute.

If you ask Joel, some of his best moments come from getting you to behave.

Because you are virtually impossible to wrangle into some semblance of obedience. It used to be next to impossible to even get you to shut up, but over time it got easier—thumb on the pad of your tongue, knee shoved in-between your legs, hand wrung into your hair. Just like that, and you’re his pliant little baby again. If you ask Joel now, he’d sigh contentedly, say how proud he’s become that you’re no longer the bratty minx you once were.

But that would be a lie, he figures, once he hears the exaggeratedly breathy moans from his right.

He doesn’t need to look to know what you’ve wrapped yourself up into, your hand shoved into your unzipped jeans, rubbing slow circles along your pussy. It probably doesn’t even feel as good as it sounds, even if you make noises with everything he does to you. Feels so good, Daddy, you whisper into the air, and he trails a hand down to squeeze himself through his jeans.

“How good, baby?” He grunts, eyes flitting over to you. You, in that goddamn t-shirt and everything, looking delicious enough to eat. He’d told you once never to wear shit like skirts and dresses, but God the amount of times he hoped you’d wear them anyway, so he could bounce you up and down on his dick and have you barely undressed. He swears he has dreams of his favorite pink number, the one that barely even touches the middle of your thighs, tied at the back with a pretty ribbon. He loves tugging on that ribbon, watching the material loosen around you so he can grope you up and make you both feel nasty, listen to your jagged moans of daddy, don’t rip the dress while he’s toying with your clit.

“Not enough,” you say breathily. “S’your fault.”

“Mine?” He echoes with a grunt. “You’re the one whorin’ herself out t’me for a lick of my attention, baby girl.”

“Please, I’m—just a minute,” you heave out, voice wet and desperate. He wonders what’s gotten you this antsy, this restless, this needy for a taste of him. The thought gets him harder than ever, and before he even thinks to palm himself, your tiny hand is already there, and he’s shuddering from it. You know him so well, know exactly what to hold, exactly what to touch to get him to give in.

“Jeans,” he orders, eyes zeroing in on a blank patch of grass to swerve into.

Your jeans are loose already, and you barely have to shimmy before they hit the floor of the truck, tiptoeing your sock-clad feet out while he parks and wrenches his seat to a semi-lying position, dragging you over to him to sit on his lap, your thighs quivering on either side of his jeans.

You adjust yourself so the thick of his cock is pressed directly to your panties, and grind forward. He stops you, his hand coming down to slap against your half-bare ass. “I just wan’ed to get to the damn meeting on time, get the shit we needed, and go the fuck back to the zone.” Another spank. “Do you have to be such a goddamn brat, sweetheart?”

“I just—I needed you,” you half-lie, the lace of your pretty underwear delicious friction with what little movement you’re allowed. “Even wore the pair you like, Daddy.”

“Yeaaah, you did.” He sucks air in through his teeth, watching your cunt swallow the thin material of his favorite pair of yours. Pink and lacy, looted from a mall two cities away. “You know Daddy can never resist her, can you?” He thumbs roughly at your pussy, coercing the panties through your folds. “You know he’s dyin’ to fuck ‘er real bad, too.”

“Need it, I need it,” you babble, your movement causing the shirt to droop off. He gropes at your barely-covered chest, a low growl thrumming out of him.

“What’s got my bunny all revved up, huh? Your energy beats the truck’s damn engine.” He lifts you up so he can let you drop onto his cock, bullying his tip into you until tears sprout at your eyes from the size of him. He’s always going to be huge, and it’s always going to be a whole thing, having to bottom out inside.

It helps that you’re wet, sopping and dripping onto his cock, his balls, his spread thighs, your own inner thighs—your slick is everywhere and it’s obscene. Every movement either of you make causes a squelching sound to resound across the stale space of the truck. “Fuuuck,” he grunts, watching your cunt swallow him whole. “I love this pussy, you know that, honey? Could lick her up for days, mark it as mine. Bully her when you’ve been bad.”

“I haven’t been bad,” you protest highly, eyebrows knitted and pink lips bitten. “You really are scary.”

“But you like it, don’t you?” He places two decisive hands on your hips and thrusts upward, so hard your head almost hits the roof of the truck. “Like it when Daddy’s a l’il bit scary, sugar? Like it when he spanks you, plays around with you a tiny bit? Hmm?”

Ah, ah, ah, uh, mmmf are all the sounds your mouth can produce, drunk on his huge cock, fat and splitting you in half. Ye yea yeah yeah please yes Daddy love it, you moan, each whimper punctuated by the tip of his dick kissing your cervix. You do love it when he’s bossy, a bit scary. He knows so. He knows how wet you get when he’s got your chin in his hand, cheeks smushed together. How much you drip onto the sheets when you’re bent over, spread open, and he’s deciding which hole to fuck.

“Makin’ a beautiful mess on my dick, baby, come on, give it t’me. Give Daddy your cum, I’ll give you mine back, won’ I, princess?” His gruff voice is demanding and rambling and all at once, you’re beginning to convulse around him.

“Close,” you whimper, “gonna cum, Daddy—”

“Yeah, come on, that’s a good bunny,” he grunts as you begin to gush slick around him. “Daddy’s gonna give you the milk you’ve been wantin’.”

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller tlou #the last of us #tlou x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #pedro pascal x reader #tlou smut

571 notes · View notes

waynes-multiverse · 1 year

Text

Love On The Brain

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean and Y/N – hunting partners, bunker roommates & idiots in love. Sam is fed up with their constant “will they/won’t they” bullshit and decides to move things along with his own plan until these two fated lovers’ paths finally cross one night – naked.

Warnings: +18, smut (mentions of masturbation f & m, oral f, fingering, p in v), crack of the adorkable kind, nudity, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: Happy V-Day, babes! 💖 The V stands for... Welp, you know me well enough by now to know where I’m going with this 😝 This is a lot of moronic crack mixed with some sweet smut and fluff. We all know how much I love the “idiots in love” trope, and I fully dove into this one. So, grab your glass of favorite liquor & let’s settle in, shall we? ❤️😘 Written for a request by @imagine-all-the-fandoms after making some adjustments. Found Rihanna’s Love on the Brain fitting for this one, so that’s what we went with as a general mood. Hope you enjoy, m’ladies! 🖤

Feedback is highly appreciated! Get me drunk on it and fill my writer’s juice 🤓🥃

Main Masterlist | Dean Winchster Masterlist

Freedom! Thank fucking God…

Y/N exhales a blissful sigh as she saunters to the Dean Cave with a bag of still-hot microwave popcorn in her arms. The Winchester brothers have decided on a little overnight road trip to the next, bigger town over to see a movie – and for some brotherly bonding or whatever – which means Y/N can finally enjoy some goddamn alone time in the bunker. Not that she doesn’t love Sam and Dean to bits and pieces, especially the latter one. They are like family to her, the only one she’s ever truly known, but even family can grow exhausting sometimes.

Living with two boys can grow exhausting, honestly, so Y/N has decided to spend her alone time doing a bunch of girly shit she can’t do with Tweedledee and Tweedledum around – at least not without enduring some judgmental looks.

So, first on the agenda? Watching a bunch of chick flicks, aka any movie the oldest Winchester wouldn’t approve of. Mean Girls, Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You, You’ve Got Mail, and so on – you get the gist.

The second order of business is a long-ass bathroom time for a little much-needed self-care, including a hot and relaxing bath with an abundance of pink bubbles and soap that smells like the goddamn Queen’s flower garden. Then she’s going to shave and wax… everything. Admittedly, things got a little hairy in recent weeks. There wasn’t a lot of time between hunts and sharing close quarters with two men in motel rooms, and every time she did attempt a proper shave, Dean would yell outside the bathroom door, needing to pee or God knows what else, so she dropped the razor again. Honestly, it’s not like she’s being followed around by an array of suitors these days. It’s been months since anyone has seen her private parts or even her bare legs, including her. On the upside, at least her vibrator doesn’t mind the extra locks.

Oh God, she’s fucking sad, isn’t she? Yeah… It’s a sad affair all around, really.

Regardless, the mention of some self-love reminds her of her third to-do item on her list: sex. Well, technically masturbating to Ryan Gosling’s pictures. Maybe even Andrew Garfield, Sebastian Stan, that hot dude Jackson from Grey’s Anatomy… Leo in his prime. Brad Pitt – young and old. Seth Rogen… Whoa! Don’t judge, okay? It’s not all about looks. She loves when a guy can make her laugh, and his laugh is so sweet, deep, and… bear-y, alright?

Yeah, fine, she knows she needs to get fucked properly by a real dick instead of a fictional one – rather sooner than later before she goes for… the dick that’s been living right under the same roof, only three doors down from her own bedroom.

Shit.

Yep, Dean fucking Winchester – God of all Gods, monster hunter extraordinaire, hero of all innocent damsels, and idiotic clown of all clowns, shamelessly stole her heart since… well, pretty much the minute they met and she first laid eyes on him. It felt like being blinded by the sun, the golden freckles on his cheeks and nose resembling the twinkling, starry constellations in the night sky. In an instant, she was an unsuspecting, innocent moth to a blazing flame. How could she possibly resist that irresistible, boyish charm? There’s no vaccine against that green-eyed virus. She swears she’s seen women faint and gasp before him, and she certainly isn’t immune, either. No one truly is, not even other men, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately, Dean will never ever look at her in that way and see more than a friend in her. The thought alone is so ridiculous it makes her snort before she starts to uncontrollably sob and whine. But God, does she wish more than anything he could be hers and she could be his.

Admittedly, she feels a little lonely, especially with the ominous Valentine’s Day looming around the corner, or as Dean likes to call it – unattached drifter Christmas.

Dear fucking God, why did she have to fall in love with that dork? Why can’t it be some nice, normal guy without an abundance of commitment issues?

On the other hand, it’s a good thing the oldest Winchester isn’t here tonight, even though he’d probably love the fourth part of her evening: naturism.

Yup, walking around naked while you’re alone is the best fucking thing in the world and so goddamn freeing. Tits out. Let the ladies breathe a little, you know? Having the girls constantly locked up in bra prison is no way to go through life. And Y/N knows for sure Dean would not only agree with that sentiment but also highly support it. After all, he was the one that suggested Naked Tuesdays when she first moved in. Sam then established a rule that the oldest Winchester wasn’t allowed to “sexually harass” her. It was completely unnecessary but sweet nonetheless. Y/N knows Dean’s just a teasing goofball 99% of the time and would never seriously harm her or make her feel uncomfortable. In fact, she loves that the brothers are always looking out for her and have her best interest in mind.

So, as soon as she hears the big metal door of the bunker slam shut, Y/N excitedly begins her girl’s night alone, trying not to think too much about the green-eyed hunter and focusing on Gosling on the silver screen instead.

“So, this movie… is it like Zombieland?” Dean inquires with a wide grin, wiggling his eyebrows as he grabs a couple of beers and snacks from the fridge for their road trip to Wichita.

Sam’s brow furrows in confusion. “What? Dean, no… It’s not an action movie or a comedy. It’s an environmental documentary about how soil can counteract the climate crisis,” the younger Winchester explains, chuckling in amusement.

Dean’s face drops, his features morphing from excitement to shock as his eyes blink in rapid succession. “What?! But you said Woody Harrelson is in it! You lied to me!”

“Nooo,” Sam laughs, shaking his head, and corrects, “I said Woody Harrelson narrates it. It’s a good documentary. Trust me.”

“Fuck no! I don’t wanna watch a movie about dirt,” the older brother whines, his plump lips shaping into a pout. “Can’t we go see something with action and blood and guns? You know, something fun?”

“Dean, our whole life is action, blood, and guns. Would do you some good to care about the Earth and climate every once in a while,” Sam lectures him.

“Screw that! We’ve already saved the planet multiple times. All that Al Gore shit ain’t my problem,” Dean huffs, pops open a beer and takes a sip. “‘Sides, I don’t trust these environmental clowns. I know the first thing they’d wanna do is get rid of Baby, and then I swear I’m gonna start shootin’. I can’t stand for that insanity.”

“Fine,” Sam frowns and lets out a resigned sigh. “Then I guess you’ll have to stay here because I wanna watch that movie.”

“Fine by me,” Dean agrees with another sip of beer.

“Good. Since you’re not coming, I might even check out the Mid-America Fine Arts Museum,” Sam shares, the excitement gleaming in his hazel orbs.

“Yeah, nerd yourself out, little brother,” Dean snorts. “Did you know Wichita has a Pizza Hut Museum?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, you tell me that every time we go to Wichita, Dean,” Sam reminds him and suppresses the laugh. “Well, uh, have fun alone with Y/N then,” he smirks slyly, and Dean’s short-lived relief disappears as realization dawns, his brow knitting. “Who knows? Might even be a good opportunity for you to tell her you’re madly in love with her.”

“Wha-, uh, pffft, no?” Dean brushes his little brother’s lunatic accusations off the kitchen counter and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, clearing the fluster in his throat. “Dude, are you drunk? I’m so not in love with her, alright? Don’t be ridiculous, okay? Do I find her incredibly hot, smart, sweet, brave, kind, adorable, and funny? Sure… That’s why she’s our friend, right? But that doesn’t mean I like… love “love” her, okay? At least not like that.” He forms sarcastic air quotes around the cursed word and grimly swallows his uncomfortableness and the lies down with a big gulp of beer. “And for crying out loud, keep your voice down when you say shit like that. I don’t want her to hear us,” he hisses, his green orbs nervously eyeing the kitchen door. “It’s echo-y in here, you know?”

“Sure, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam casually shrugs his shoulders, clearly not buying a single one of the green-eyed hunter’s words, and it only annoys the older Winchester more.

“Don’t-… Nuh-uh, don’t gimme that fake ‘whatever you say’ bullshit shtick. There’s really nothing going on, alright?” Dean assures anew, growing more irritated by the minute.

Sam twitches his shoulders once more and then cockily folds his arms over his chest, a teasing smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, so you won’t mind if I set her up with Matt, right? It’s just-… She seems a little lonely lately.”

“Lonely?” Dean arches an eyebrow in apprehension and scoffs, “She’s fine, Sam. She’s got us.”

Sam frowns for what feels like the hundredth time during this conversation. “Dean, you honestly don’t think that’s enough for her.”

“Why not?” The older Winchester shrugs, refusing to see clearly. “It’s enough for me. Our life is awesome. You don’t see me complaining.”

“Yes, you’re obviously the golden standard for healthy relationships,” Sam mutters sarcastically and rolls his eyes back.

Dean purses and smacks his plump lips, scratching the bit of scruff on his throat. “Well, uh… shut up, okay? And don’t set her up with Matt. The guy’s a douche.”

“Alright, what about Josh? You like Josh,” Sam suggests next.

“Yeah, as a hunting partner, he’s alright, not as a boy toy for our friend, Sam,” Dean grits bitterly and rolls his eyes, chugging the rest of his beer. “Seriously, what is wrong with you? You’re not her pimp. Just leave her alone, alright?”

“Look, if you don’t wanna date her – fine. That’s on you. Just don’t stand in the way of her happiness because you can’t stop self-sabotaging yourself, man,” Sam argues with a judgmentally raised brow.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Dean grumbles, the offense clearly written in every deep wrinkle on his face.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam deadpans and grabs his laptop bag, making his way out of the kitchen.

“Stop saying that!”

“Look, I’d love to discuss all your weird issues in detail with you, but I still have to pick up Eileen on my way to Wichita,” Sam notes nonchalantly as Dean trails behind him through the bunker’s corridors. “I’ve watched you two beat around the bush for years. It’s getting annoying. You guys are worse than Ross and Rachel.”

“Wait, Eileen? Did you plan all of this on purpose? Were you trying to trick me?” Dean’s voice rises with his exasperation. He hates when Sam puts his nose where it doesn’t belong, mainly in his business. It’s the typical little brother shit he had to deal with all his life. Siblings, man…

“Me? No, I would never,” his younger brother replies with feigned innocence, marching up the metal stairs to the exit, but Dean can hear the goddamn deceit in his words.

“I don’t believe you,” Dean grits with a sternly creased brow, narrowing his juniper eyes at his younger brother as he halts at the bottom of the steps.

“Okay, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam grins complacently and opens the door. “Just don’t be an idiot. Make the first move, alright? That’s all you need to do. Trust me. It’s gonna be fine. She likes you, too.”

With that, the youngest Winchester closes the door behind him, leaving Dean to ruminate in his convoluted misery.

The hunter then stomps through the hallways of the bunker, furiously mumbling to himself as he passes the Dean Cave on his way to his room. Hearing sounds coming from inside, he stops by the cracked door for a moment and realizes Y/N is watching a movie in there. He considers joining her before recognizing Gosling’s voice, a deep sigh leaving his lips. Of course, she’s watching chick flicks again, so he decides against his plan, knowing some silly rom-com could potentially be a slippery slope and lead to some dangerous innuendos.

He downright refuses to play into his little brother’s evil scheme. Sam’s not goddamn Lindsay Lohan, and this isn’t the fucking Parent Trap. It’s better and safer if Dean stays far away from Y/N for the entirety of Sam’s absence, so the hunter quietly retreats to his room.

Dean decided to watch a bunch of his favorite horror movies until late into the night, ignoring the boiling feelings under the surface. He then closes his laptop with a heavy sigh, ready to call it a night after a nice, warm shower.

With headphones on and some classic rock music drowning out his hammering thoughts, he takes off his clothes and wraps a towel around himself. During an earlier snack run to the kitchen, he noticed the Dean Cave had already been deserted, the room quiet and dark. Y/N luckily has withdrawn to her own room again, so he knows he won’t accidentally run into her. She still hasn’t left his mind, his head in a constant swirl since his stupid conversation with Sam.

So, naturally, Dean comes to the conclusion that only some self-completion down the shower drain might help to clear his thoughts and flush the huntress out of his mind for good. He’s not proud of it, but it’s certainly not the first time since he’s known her that he thinks about her while jerking off. Usually, it only happens when he has to spend too many nights in a row with her in a small motel room without a way to escape, but this time, though, he fully blames Sam and his big mouth for it.

Wandering down the hall to the bathroom, his head bobs to the rhythm of the music flowing through his ears, his green eyes fixed on his phone screen as he scrolls through his playlist. Mindlessly opening the door, he suddenly freezes as another body bumps straight into him.

It all happens pretty fast from there. There’s a loud, high-pitched shriek that filters through the music, his hand drops his phone, and his headphones fall down with it, severing the connection and leaving him in silence as his palms catch a taut-skinned body in his arms while the towel around his waist glides to the tiled floor. And then, he just stares into two big and shocked pupils, which are probably as wide as his own.

Fuck…

For a second, Dean feels incredibly exposed before noticing the warm skin that’s pressed flush against his own body. Yep, he doesn’t dare to check, but he’s certain Y/N’s completely naked, too.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…,” Y/N’s panicked voice chimes in his ears as both of them awkwardly avert their gazes in different directions to the ceiling and avoid eye contact at all costs while still clinging tightly onto each other, aware that if one of them moves, it’s game over and they’d see each other in their full glory. Basically, they’re each other’s damn shields – as uncomfortable as that may be. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

“I, uh…” That’s when Dean realizes Y/N probably didn’t even know he stayed behind and let Sam go to Wichita alone. “Sam wanted to watch a documentary.”

“I know!” Y/N yells in annoyance and grits, “You were supposed to go with him! Granted, I was surprised you agreed to it in the first place, but still, you’re not supposed to be home!”

“He didn’t tell me it was a documentary about dirt, alright? Otherwise, it would’ve been a straight-up ‘no’ from the start,” Dean explains and tries not to get hard as he feels Y/N’s tits press against his chest. Judging by the precise feeling that’s poking him, she must be somewhat cold.

“Yes, he did! I was right there when you agreed,” Y/N argues. “He talked about it for over an hour.”

“Oh,” Dean stumps and clears his throat rather awkwardly. Who could blame him for not listening, huh?

“You never listen to people! It’s so goddamn annoying!”

“Y/N, you need to stop talking, sweetheart,” Dean begs her, squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrates on anything else for dear life.

Baseball, Sam drinking green smoothies, a scratch on Baby’s new coat of paint… He attempts to distract his mind from the unavoidable, but it’s no use. The skin-on-skin contact is his final nail in the coffin.

“Oh, I’m sure you would love that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N continues in a furious huff, “It’s not always about you–”

“Y/N, please… All that angry shaking isn’t helping, sweetheart.”

The huntress cocks an eyebrow high, almost reaching the messy bun on top of her head. “Helping with what?”

“Uhm…”

And that’s when he can’t control it any longer. There’s a distinctive twitch against her thigh, and he’s sure she’s felt it, too. Shit, shit, shit…

“Oooooh.” Y/N awkwardly presses her lips into a thin line, her fingertips tapping a nervous melody on his skin. Her single utterance makes his heart stop. It’s game over. She’s going to call him a gross perv, move out of the bunker, and then never speak to him again. “It’s-, uhm, it’s okay,” she says surprisingly, her head bobbing with a thick swallow as she reassuringly squeezes his biceps where her palms rest.

“Y/N, I’m-, uh… oh God… I’m so, so sorry,” he stammers, deciding to keep his eyes shut to escape some of the awkwardness.

“I-, no, it’s not-… This is a weird situation we’re in… It’s fine. Completely normal, right? Like, uhm, like a reflex?”

“Uh, yeah, guess so,” Dean gulps, his eyelids slowly fluttering open and gaze drifting back to the ceiling. It’s not a goddamn reflex, though. It’s all her. It’s the effect she has on him.

“We should, uh, probably, uhm, detangle…”

“Uh-huh, yup, nope, agree,” he says and clears his throat once more, hoping the fluster will leave his body soon. “You, uh, wanna bend down, and we both can grab our towels?”

Fuck, it’ll probably be awkward between them for months now. They’ll avoid each other during breakfast, lunch, dinner… They’ll stop watching movies together, Sam will have to be their buffer and hate it, and they probably won’t look directly into each other’s eyes till Christmas – and it’s only fucking February.

“Oh, uhm… I actually, technically didn’t, uh, come with a towel?”

His eyebrow twitches upward, head slightly tilting to the side as he thinks about her words. “Oh, uh… Wait… Were you, uhm, walking around like… naked through the bunker?”

Well, there’s an image Dean’s never gonna get out of his head. Now, he’ll forever wonder if she takes off her clothes as soon as he walks out the door.

“Look, I thought I was alone, okay?! Again – you’re not actually supposed to be here! Don’t judge me!” Y/N defends, the panic returning to her voice, and then adds something in an almost inaudible mumble, “Just wanted to let the girls breathe a little. Sue me…”

“What?” His head tilts some more, the fine creases on his brow deepening.

“Nothing… never mind,” she quickly splutters, her cheeks flushing bright red as she visibly swallows.

Dean snorts. He’s in love with a dork, isn’t he? God, she’s adorable.

And then, it fucking happens again. Dammit…

“Was that…”

“Again – I’m so, so sorry,” he apologizes once more, although he’s sure he can’t do it often enough. His dick is an escaped zoo animal and clearly on the prowl tonight.

“No, uh… So how do you wanna do this? We could, uhm, maybe turn 180 and then close our eyes and let go… I could, uhm, run really fast down the hall, and you could just quickly back into the bathro–”

Y/N doesn’t get to finish laying out her plan. Dean’s lips on hers stop any further words from spilling out of her mouth. The featherlight kiss doesn’t last longer than a painfully anxious second, his mind racing a mile a minute, his brain positively fried.

What the hell is he fucking doing? There’s only one rule in the bunker: don’t sexually harass Y/N. Dean’s pretty damn sure he’s breaking that rule right now and crossing too many goddamn lines. How’s he supposed to ever recover from this?

“What, uh…” Y/N’s speechless, every muscle frozen stiff in his embrace. Her eyebrows draw up and reach her hairline, eyes blown wide in shock. “Or that… you could do that…”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Dean groans in defeat and shame, hoping the Earth opens up and takes him straight to the burning fires of Hell. See? There aren’t enough apologies in this world to make up for his stupidity. “You know, this is all Sam’s fault… He just got into my head… I mean, this is obviously the wrong first move… I-I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just have a, you know, teeny-tiny crush on you, but still, this is obviously inappropriate.”

“You-, uhm, you have a crush on me?”

Dean swallows the hard lump in his throat. “Uh, yeah… Yeah, I do,” he admits bravely. “But don’t worry about it, okay? It’s just a temporary thing, alright?”

Y/N nods slightly in understanding. “For how long have you felt this way?”

“Well, uhm, like I said – not that long… Just a very short period of time… Like, since November 29th… 2012,” he gulps and shrugs sheepishly, watching her brow furrow in confusion.

“But… that’s the day we met,” Y/N points out.

Dean chuckles uncomfortably and rebuffs her concerns. “Is it? No…,” he rasps. “Well, uhm, anyways, that doesn’t change anything. Don’t worry, alright? No need to make this weird. I’m sure if we give it a couple more years, I’ll be completely over you.”

Y/N’s head bobs again, her lips pursing. “Okay, uhm… But what if you, uh, you know, maybe get over me in the literal sense… and I could get under you?”

The gears in his head start turning as he musingly squints his pine green eyes at her and studies her features. She seems nervous. There’s a bite of her lower lip and a light swallow in her throat, her pupils flickering insecurely. “Uhm, well… is that something you would like? I mean, to get-, uh, would you wanna get under me?”

“Uhm… yes? Yeah?” She looks up at him and meets his gaze, their eyes fully connecting for the first time since they have catapulted themselves into this mortifying situation.

“Is that a question?” Dean checks and chuckles lightly. “Because you kinda need to be sure about this, y’know?”

Another swallow and Y/N nods, determination gleaming in her eyes. He feels her weight shift forward, her feet rising on tip-toes as her palms move from his upper arms to the back of his neck. Her soft, pillowy lips catch his, a tender touch as their mouths carefully mold together. She sucks on his upper lip, nibbles on the bottom one before he feels the tip of her tongue lick between. He opens his mouth wider, lets her slip inside.

Dean’s hands then begin to travel, his confidence growing as Y/N’s fingers tug slightly on the short strands of hair in the nape of his neck, trying to draw him closer. One large hand cups her neck, the other one smoothing down her spine and pressing into the small of her back. He pushes her closer, deepens the kiss, and both of them moan needily while their tongues dance with each other. His grip on her becomes stronger, their bodies melting into one. Y/N gasps into his mouth, her hips pushing against his, skin on skin, as her bare pussy brushes his bulging dick.

“Shit…,” Dean mutters breathlessly against her lips, and Y/N breaks the kiss and meets his eyes with a hint of a smile.

Her lips are red and glistening, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. He cups her blushed cheek, thumb ghosting over the kiss-swollen flesh of her bottom lip as he mirrors her soft smile.

“You okay?” Y/N checks, giggling slightly.

Dean chuckles, palm still caressing her cheek. “Yeah, uh, just realized we’re incredibly naked.”

She snorts and nods, “Yeah, guess that doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination, huh?”

“Definitely not,” Dean agrees and laughs a little, his cheeks blushing with bashfulness. “But, look, we don’t have to do anything tonight, alright? We can take it slow.”

Y/N thoughtfully chews on her lip, her dimples showing a smile before she shakes her head. “No, I think we’ve been taking things slow for long enough.”

Dean’s face breaks into a grin before he pulls her back to his lips for a searing kiss. Y/N’s hands lock around his neck, allowing him to lift her up, and her legs instinctively wrap around his waist. His hand weaves into her hair, still damp in the back of her neck from her bath, as the scent of her delicious body wash and lotion seep into his nostrils with each intake of air.

“You smell nice,” he notes, his mouth trailing along her jawline and down her throat, leaving wet kisses in his wake as he sucks her pulse point black and blue. “Like a flower garden…”

Y/N giggles, the cute sound in his ears causing his heart to flutter. She clasps his jaw and draws his attention back to her face, nuzzling her nose against his, whispering, “Bedroom. Need you inside me…”

“Jesus, Y/N… Going in for the kill, huh? You can’t say stuff like that to a man in a compromising position,” he jokes, making her laugh more. “Okay, hold on, sweetheart. You ready?”

She confirms it with a nod, and Dean adjusts his grip on her body, grabbing her a little tighter before bolting down the bunker hallway like a little kid on Christmas morning. The huntress squeals and giggles in his arms as he kicks the door open to his bedroom, gently laying her down on the mattress. She lets herself fall back and stretches out on the bed, her shoulder blades indenting the memory foam, and he hopes the thing does as advertised and fucking remembers her forever.

“You’re fast,” Y/N teases him as he quickly makes his way on top of her.

Dean chuckles, placing soft kisses on her lips in between his laughs. “Yeah, well, I’d run a mile just to get a taste of you, sweetheart. But don’t worry – not all of it will be this fast, alright?”

“Oh, I didn’t think it would be,” she giggles and licks her lips. “Can you just do me a favor?”

“Anything, sweetheart,” Dean assures her and lovingly brushes her hair behind her ears.

“Just judging by, uhm, size-,” she interrupts her sentence for a giggle, and he joins in. She’s so fucking cute. “Can you go slow?”

“Oh, trust me. I would’ve taken my time either way, but tell you what – I’ll even do you one better,” he says. His fingers then slide up her arm, along her collarbone and down to one breast. She shivers underneath him, her skin breaking into delicate goosebumps, soon soothed by his warm lips. His thumb brushes her bud, plays with it until it hardens and then alleviates the sensation with his hot breath and wet tongue.

“Fuuuuck,” Y/N sighs blissfully, her toes curling as a smile shapes on her lips, fully relaxing under his care. “Feels so good, De.”

His chuckle vibrates against her ribcage, his mouth traveling down her upper body, his kisses not missing an inch of smooth skin. Every rib, every beauty mark, every freckle gets the attention they deserve, even teasingly dipping his tongue into her navel. The last tender kiss is placed on her mound as he moves between her legs and spreads her thighs a little wider.

A smirk forms on his face as he leers at her pussy, bright pink and already glistening with her arousal. He catches her watchful gaze, sees a bit of insecurity shimmering in it as she nibbles her fingernails and bottom lip almost bloody, so he cheekily wiggles his eyebrows and sends her a wink, causing her to giggle and roll her eyes at his antics before she lets herself fall back into the mattress with a calming, deep breath.

Licking his thumb pad, he presses it against her sensitive nub, her thighs jolting for a second at the initial touch as a hiss escapes her throat, followed shortly by a strangled whimper. Y/N’s hands fist the bedsheet a little tighter, her knuckles turning white, every muscle wired to the nth degree. Her chest heaves frantically as her breathing grows more erratic with each little circle of his digit. His index finger then stretches and reaches her dripping entrance, rubbing at the tight ring before he easily pushes inside and curls it, poking the spongey spot.

“Fuck, Dean…,” she manages to croak out, biting down on her tongue.

Dean only chuckles, a giddy feeling spreading in his stomach and loving how responsive she is to his touches. There’s a loud whimper when he kisses her pussy lips, tongue dipping between and giving her clit a kitten lick, distracting her enough to shove his middle finger inside her cunt as well, scissoring them once he’s knuckles-deep.

“Oh God… shit,” she groans and whines above him.

He laughs lightly and curiously observes the torment on her face. “Wanna cum, huh?”

“Dean, I swear… I-… please,” she begs, her initial threat morphing into a soft plea for mercy.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he assures her amusedly and swiftly presses his mouth back on her pussy, sucking her sensitive bundle of nerves between his plump lips and thrusting his digits harder and faster inside her. It only takes three, four pushes and one skilled suck before she convulses, trembles, and soaks his face and fingers in her juices. He groans at the sweet taste of her on his tongue, his cock twitches gleefully between his bow legs, only too eager to slide in next.

“Oh God! Fuck… shit… D-Dean!”

The green-eyed hunter grins broadly up at her, his face almost split in half as he bathes in her blissed-out expression and the rosy cheeks that accompany it.

“Wow,” she breathes and shakily catches his swollen and wet lips as he comes back up to her eye level, propping his arms up on the sides of her head.

“I think you’re ready for the big gun now,” he laughs and places a loving kiss on the tip of her nose and another one on her forehead.

“Uh-huh, I’m not so sure after this,” she giggles, still catching her breath. She cups his jaw, kisses him deeply, and licks her arousal from his pillowy lips. “You’re… amazing.”

“Right back at you, sweetheart,” he winks, the softness of his smile contrasting his cockiness. “Do we, uhm, need–”

Y/N shakes her head, anticipating his question. “No, uh, I’m on the pill. I just need you.”

With a smile, he nods and ducks his head, entangling her in a blazing kiss as he devours her lips. His hand pushes between their heated bodies, fisting his achingly hard cock before he threads his dickhead through her folds, coats it with her slick before it catches at her entrance. His thick and leaking tip pushes inside, slowly entering her drenched cunt inch by inch till he’s buried deep and touches her cervix, stretching her tight walls around his impressive girth and hearing her little gasps of sheer pleasure.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasps at the feeling of her pussy enveloping his cock and gently brushes her hair out of her face, kissing her deeply. “Taking me so well… Such a good girl f’me.”

“God, you feel like heaven,” she whimpers and wraps her arms around his neck.

As he languidly pulls out to the tip, he kisses down her neck, sucking a mark into her skin. His hand wraps around one of hers, pinning it above her head to the mattress, fingers tightly interlocking before he thrusts back into her heat. His hips then work up a rhythm, a slow and soft song, as he fucks her deep and slams home harder at just the right spot.

Her second orgasm builds slowly yet deeply, aiming to shatter her from within as she hears the ticking of a bomb in every muscle of her body, counting down the seconds before a massive explosion. She moans loudly as the earth-shattering climax hits her at full force, booming and wild as she curses his name over and over.

His fingers grip hers tighter, his thrusts growing sloppy as he lazily fucks her, her pulsating walls clenching around his firm cock. His hips begin to stutter, broad shoulders quaking as he spills deep inside her and stills. He grunts, her name falling from his lips, loud, strained, and primal when he cums, painting her walls with his milky seed.

“Wow,” Dean repeats her earlier sentiment, her giggle causing his heart to soar higher than the moon in the sky. “You okay?”

A wide smile spreads across her face, a tired nod moving her head. “Yeah, more than okay,” she assures him and seeks out his lips.

Dean places one last kiss on her hairline before removing his limp and drenched dick from her center, rolling to his side and pulling her onto his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around her frame. “Hey, Y/N?”

She wearily lifts her heavy head to meet his green eyes. “Hm?”

“Were you, uhm, lonely?” Dean asks, his fingertips drawing tender patterns on her back.

“I guess… a little, yeah,” she admits. “Why?”

He kisses her forehead and pulls her closer. “Nothing. Just… I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere, okay? You wanna move into my room?”

Y/N’s beam is blinding, her cheeks blushing brightly pink. “Yeah, I’d love that,” she replies and snuggles back into his chest.

Dean then notices her eyes falling shut, losing the battle against sleep as her breathing calms in his embrace, his own mind following her into dreamland soon after.

In the morning, Y/N and Dean are still soundly asleep, entangled in sheets and limbs, when there are a few abrupt knocks on the door before it pops open to its full extent, the youngest Winchester’s voice drowning in from the hall.

“Hey, Dean? I’m back! Look, I figured we could talk. I’m sorry about yesterd–… ay… Whoa!”

“Wha-!” Y/N jolts up from the bed at the unexpected intrusion, her elbow hitting Dean straight in the face as he rises behind her. The force of the blow knocks him out of bed, the hunter tumbling to the cold ground.

Y/N clasps her palm over her mouth, staring at Sam’s shocked expression, their eyes both wide before she glances over her shoulder to her lover on the ground.

“Ow! Jesus…”

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Sam,” the huntress smiles awkwardly at the younger Winchester, sheepishly shrugging her shoulders as she hides her naked body underneath the sheets. “Good morning. How-, uh, how was the documentary?”

“Uhm, good?” Sam doesn’t look any less freaked out by what his hazel eyes are witnessing, though.

Dean groans behind her, rubbing a palm over his aching face before sending his little brother a lazy grin. “Hiya, Sammy.”

Sam then lets out a long sigh through his nose and mutters, “About damn time…”

“Yeah, about that, little brother… Might call Eileen and book yourself a room for at least a week somewhere,” Dean tells him, smirking.

Sam’s brow furrows, “What? Why?”

“Oh, because I’m gonna rail Y/N in every room we have,” Dean explains casually, watching Sam’s eyes widen.

“Oh?” Y/N sends her boyfriend an intrigued look, which he responds to with a sly wiggle of his eyebrows and a wink. “Even the dungeon? Are you, like, gonna tie me up and stuff?”

Dean’s eyes look at her lovingly, causing her cheeks to flush with heat. “Where have you been all my life, sweetheart?”

“Oh God, what have I done…,” Sam groans with a thick swallow.

PHEW! And we’re done with one shot week, babes! 😮‍💨 I honestly hadn’t planned this but found some inspiration over the weekend and finished some WIPs, and since they were all about different kinds of love, I figured they were perfect for Valentine’s Day 💖

Hope you enjoyed these various journeys, and if you did, please consider telling me here and leaving me with some kind words 🥰 Now excuse me while I go work on a few Soldier Boy one shots. I’ve missed my toxic Ben-Ben. Read you soon, babes! 😝🖤

Everything Jensen Tags: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @recoveringpastaaddict @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @avanatural

Dean Tags: @parinarain @hobby27 @fromcaintodean

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fic #dean winchester reader insert #dean x reader #dean x y/n #writing request #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic

1K notes · View notes

dreamingofmarauders · 4 months

Text

I'll Always Love You

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which Y/n feels unloved and isolates herself from the rest, and Sirius wants to know what is going on in his gorgeous girl's mind.

Warnings: Anxiety, feeling low/depressed, isolation, sad, angst, panic attack, points of fluff here and there throughout

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Y/n lay down on the ground, the grass providing a soft yet weak cushion, as she stared up at the sky. Looking up into the outer world, a sense of hopelessness filled y/n. She put a hand out, to reach for the sky. A sky that stretched out wide, out of her reach, just like her happiness and love. Only sadness and dread filled her. Her eyes glossed over.

She was all alone.

It was all fine at first, and her heart ached for the days where she smiled naturally, laughing and enjoying her life so much with friends and family, that she had felt like the luckiest person in the world.

It was the sixth year at Hogwarts and everything was wonderful. Y/n had an amazing group of friends, Lily, Marlene, Alice and on the other side were the Marauders. She would study with Lily and Remus in the library in the evenings, sneaking in laughs in between. Y/n played Quidditch alongside, James, Marlene and Sirius, sparing no effort as she was the best on the team, making James grumble at times but he was proud of her nonetheless. Y/n would listen attentively while Peter explained weird facts no one ever knew. All in all, she was happy.

A soft padding caught her ears and beside Y/n plopped down a figure.

"What are you doing out here, darling?"

Y/n's gaze slowly moved from the blue sky to the striking grey eyes of her beloved.

It was near the spring break and when Y/n thought things couldn't get any better, they did. Sirius and Y/n were out at the astronomy tower, and on their way back, the two were walking peacefully until a pair of footsteps began to echo up ahead. Y/n looked at Sirius with wide eyes, who grazed his eyes over the landscape until they halted upon a wooden door. Sirius grabbed Y/n's hand and ran for the broom closet, ushering her in before closing the door behind. Sirius lit up his wand and felt the breath leave his lungs.

Y/n stared up at him with a sparkle in her eyes, her hands resting upon his chest, the two standing flushed together as the broom closet contained barely any space. Sirius reached down and brushed a strand behind Y/n's hair. Y/n let her eyes shut for a brief second, her heart pounding madly in her chest.

"Y/n," Sirius softly whispered out, "I fancy you." He said straightforwardly. "A lot." He paused awaiting an answer but silence greeted him as y/n processed his statement. "Shit, I genuinely hope I didn't just ruin our friendship-"

Sirius broke off as Y/n pressed her lips to his. It took Sirius a few seconds to process what was happening before he shut his eyes, his hands sliding down to Y/n's waist. It was a slow yet affectionate kiss, and the two slowly pulled apart, foreheads resting together, as they tried to catch their breath.

"I like you too, doofus." Y/n breathed out lovingly.

Sirius softly smiled, "I figured as much, love." Sirius paused, "Would you like to be my girlfriend?" Sirius felt himself melt entirely when he saw Y/n's face beam with happiness.

"I would love to."

Sirius returned her expression, "Perfect." He said, before pulling her in for a kiss again.

After that day, the two were together and strong as ever. Their friends were exhilarated when they found out, revealing they had even placed bets on the couple. Unfortunately, James and Marlene owed the others, for which they cursed the pair playfully as they were happy for their friends nonetheless.

"Y/n?" Sirius spoke out softly. He was beginning to get worried. He knew something was off. Ever since the start of the seventh year, his Y/n's been off and it's killing him not knowing how to help her. "Are you alright, dove?"

"M'fine." Y/n mumbled, closing her eyes once again.

Sirius frowned before speaking, "How about we head inside? We could work on our homework together."

"I already did mine." Y/n replied.

That was a lie.

Y/n had begun to lose her motivation, her energy. She performed well in school and met deadlines. However, now her grades were slowly dropping. She disliked going to class because she hated seeing people, when no one out of the many at Hogwarts truly cared for her.

"Alright then." Sirius drew out, and placed his jacket on the grass, laying down beside his girlfriend.

The y/h/c haired girl peeked through her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Spending time with my girl." He instantly replied, flashing a smile down at her. Despite the heaviness she felt, a very tiny warmth flickered in her heart for a second. A small yet brief smile crawled onto her lips, and Y/n reached out to interlock her fingers with Sirius'. At that, Sirius smiled.

His girl was still in there somewhere.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

"Miss. L/n, a word please." McGonagall said as the final bell of the day rang, signalling the end of lessons and the start of the weekend.

Y/n heaved a breath, already knowing where this was headed. Sirius slightly frowned, wondering what McGonagall could possibly want with his girlfriend, after all, she was one of the smartest students in the entire year.

Sirius threw a small smile at Y/n, telling her he would meet her back in the common room. Y/n nodded and headed to McGonagall's desk while Sirius left through the door.

"Yes, Professor?"

McGonagall studied Y/n for a moment before beckoning her to sit, the latter doing as instructed. "Miss. L/n, I am concerned about your academic performance. You are one of the best performing students and yet, suddenly, your grades have begun to drop, and not just in my class, but your other professors have expressed the same concern."

Y/n released a breath, "I just..." She trailed off, unsure of how to respond.

McGonagall's expression softened. "Have a biscuit, Miss. L/n."

Y/n politely accepted the one offered to her and nibbled on it as McGonagall spoke once again.

"Miss. L/n, I am not just your Head of House but also someone who cares about you, whom you can talk to whenever in need. How are you actually doing, Y/n?"

Y/n's eyes slowly glossed over, "I am sorry, Professor-"

"There is no need to apologize." McGonagall said, "Just remember to take care of yourself and that I am here for you. Do you want to talk about it?"

Y/n slowly shook her head.

"Very well, you may leave."

Y/n stood up. "Thank you, Professor." She said before rushing out, not noticing a certain grey eyed boy who had been listening in on the conversation. He felt his heart clench.

Y/n was definitely hiding something but he couldn't figure out a way to help her.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

"Everyone line up!" The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor yelled out, as all the students in the room scrambled into a single file line, pushing and shoving each other as they awaited their turn with the Boggart.

With the war coming, it was necessary to review and practice all skills, so even though the students had worked with a Boggart before, the professor thought there was no harm in trying again.

Each student went one by one, until it was Sirius' turn followed by Y/n's.

Sirius paled at what stepped out through the cupboard. It was his mother, followed by his father, dragging along his younger brother, Regulus, who looked so small and fragile and broken. Sirius had faltered, his hand beginning to shake but before he could succumb to his fears and insecurities, he flicked his wand while muttering "Riddikulus!" And the horrible sight vanished to be replaced with a black dog trying to chase his own tail, which managed from Sirius and his fellow marauders, shit-eating grins.

As Sirius stepped aside, Y/n stepped up, her hands beginning to sweat, not prepared for what was to come. In the blink of an eye, the black dog warped into what were Y/n's parents, whose usual faces of kindness and love were replaced with anger and disappointment, and Y/n felt all the breath leave her lungs. Sirius watched with concern, realizing something was wrong.

"How can you disappoint us like this?" Y/n's mother spoke. "We've given you nothing but love, and you can't even complete your education like a normal person!?" Her mother suddenly shouted making Y/n flinch as a tear slid down her cheek. Suddenly, another figure appeared, making Y/n whimper.

Sirius.

Looking broken, disappointed and angry.

Y/n began to shake her head.

"I've given you all my attention since day one and you can't even let me in!? How am I not good enough for you!?" Sirius screeched, making Y/n let out a sob as her body began to shake.

"That's enough!"

And the Boggart disappeared as the real Sirius appeared into Y/n's view as he wrapped his arms around Y/n, who was sobbing loudly. The whole classroom was dead silent, astounded by what had just transpired. Lily and the girls exchanged worried looks while James, Remus and Peter looked on with disbelief.

"It's alright, I'm right here." Sirius whispered into her hair as he rubbed comforting circles into Y/n's back.

Y/n hiccuped and broke away from Sirius, leaving the young Black slightly startled.

"I'm sorry." She said before she ran out of the room, wanting to get away from everything. She ran and ran and ran, until she got into the safety of one of the girl's bathroom cubicles.

Y/n slid down to the floor, crying her heart out. Why was everything so hard? She was being so unfair to the people around her and she hated herself.

Y/n felt her chest begin to tighten and she placed a hand on her chest as she felt herself unable to breath. Her body shivered uncontrollably and her heart felt as if it would jump out of her chest any second.

The door opened and rushed in Sirius, who surveyed the situation and realized what was happening. He knelt down, pressing Y/n's hand to his chest.

"Love, look at me, copy my breathing." He instructed, but Y/n could barely comprehend what he was saying, hell she could barely see his mouth moving as she felt her vision begin to blur.

"Dove, tell me five things you can see." Sirius said, and Y/n drew in a excruciatingly painful breath.

"Y-you, the door, your tattoos, the toilet a-and my hand." She uttered out.

"Good, darling. What can you hear?"

Y/n spoke out a bit slower this time, "Your voice, the sound of rain outside, students moving out in the hall." She finished, taking in a shuddering breath as she felt her body very slowly begin to relax.

"That's it baby girl, you're alright, you're safe." Sirius spoke out gently, rubbing comforting circles into Y/n's hand, which he softly held between his hold.

"I'm so sorry." Y/n said as she kept her gaze on the floor, too embarrassed to look at Sirius.

"Hey, Y/n/n, look at me, love." He placed a finger under her chin and moved her head until she was looking into his eyes.

"Y/n, I love you so much, and I really care for you. It's hard to watch you losing yourself. You will have to tell me what's going on if you want me to help you."

Y/n felt her eyes burn and she buried her face in his chest, as Sirius placed his head upon hers whilst murmuring reassuring words.

"I'm so sorry, Sirius. I don't deserve you." You said while crying. "I have been so unfair to you and everyone else and I'm sorry for it."

"Shh. You don't need to apologize. I'm sorry I didn't try harder." He pulled away to cup Y/n's face. "What's going on in that gorgeous mind of yours?'

Y/n let out a small watery laugh as she wiped her tears. "I just don't feel good anymore. I feel so... empty. So hollow and alone, I can't find it in myself to think that there are people in my life that truly do care for me. I can't find the motivation to keep up with school. I don't..." She let out a defeated sigh, "I don't see a point in my life when all I'm doing is hurting and disappointing the ones around me."

Sirius felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He knew something was wrong but he had no idea his beloved Y/n was going through so much. He placed a kiss on her forehead.

"I'm sorry, darling, I wish I had known sooner. But believe me when I say this that we all do love you. Lily's been worried and keeps asking me constantly what's on your mind but I had no answer for her." Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You matter a lot. You have no clue what would happen to me if I lost you, you're my life, Y/n. I can't bear seeing you unhappy." Sirius took her hands between his. "I promise you, we will work through this together, you and me, alright?"

Y/n nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over her, making her heart feel warm after a long time. For the first time in a while, Y/n felt loved and felt a certain satisfaction that she was in good hands.

She embraced Sirius tightly.

"I love you."

Sirius smiled, pulling Y/n closer.

"I love you too, darling. I'll always love you."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A/N: I hope you all liked the oneshot. I was going to do a birthday party for the reader and everything but I felt this was the best place to end it off.

For anyone ever feeling they are not enough, you are enough and deserve the whole world. If you ever want to talk, just send me a message. :)

I had begun writing this when I was feeling low. I felt unhappy, I couldn't smile, it was a bad phase. I felt that no one around me actually cared for me, but I know some people will always be there for me and others need to be let go (which I suck at doing). I still do at times feel that I will never be enough and no one wants to be around me, but I am trying. Anyways, I love you all so much and you all deserve the world and beyond! I hope you're all doing well and staying smiling! ❤

Love,

Serina

P.S. Also, can someone please get me a Sirius, like where can I get one from? He's too precious 😭

171 notes · View notes

middleearthpixie · 11 months

Note

Can you please write a fic where Thorin falls in love with a human girl, but he thinks she is disgusted by his looks? 🙏

Hi there, Nonny!! I know it took me forEVER, but here you go and i hope you like it! 💜

The Harp

Summary: You and Thorin are friends, but then you find out his feelings for you run deeper, and he’s holding back because he feels he is not good enough for you.

Pairing: Thorin x fem!Reader (post-sack of Erebor, pre-quest for Erebor)

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

He came into the dining room at the same time each evening and always sat at the same table—the one in the far corner, which was also the darkest corner of the room. He was polite, but kept to himself and you noticed how he always sat with his back to the wall and rarely did his eyes pause from scanning the room.

The other diners eyed him with just as much suspicion but then again, they all eyed each other with suspicion as well. It was second nature to this lot, as they came from all four corners of Middle Earth. No one was actually from Emyn Vanya. No, every warm body had come from somewhere else to this tiny village on the outskirts of everywhere and yet somehow in the middle of nowhere. Some came to start over. Some came to forget. Some came to do both and some were just passing through. But everyone was from somewhere else and almost no one wished to discuss where that somewhere else might be.

You couldn't help but notice him, for he was a dwarf and the Grey Gander did not see many dwarves in their dining room. And not only that, but he was a handsome dwarf, to boot, with black hair, touched here and there with hints of silver, that spilled over his shoulders in a long tangle of curls. His most striking feature was his eyes, however, for they were the most piercing shade of icy blue you’d ever seen. There was a hardness within those pale eyes, one belied by his polite demeanor and deep, if soft, voice.

Night after night, this man came in alone. He sat alone. He spoke to no one other than you when you approached to take his order, just as you did this evening. He was polite, if reserved, and spoke only when absolutely necessary, which was an interesting change from the patrons who grew louder and more opinionated as they dove further and further into their cups.

“Welcome back,” you said with a smile as you approached him. “Might I fetch you a drink to begin?”

“Thank you. A tanked of ale would suit.”

“Of course. And do you know what you’d like or are you still trying to decide?”

He looked up at you with those striking eyes. “The hunter’s stew.”

His order never varied and you were certain you could just bring him a bowl of the stew without asking, which was why you couldn't resist a bit of playing with him. “I think we should start calling that your usual. Perhaps we should change it on the menu itself.”

That earned you one of the dwarf’s rare smiles. “I am not so certain that is necessary.”

“Well, you’ve been in here eight of the last ten nights and have yet to order anything different.” You couldn’t help teasing him. You sensed a hint of sadness in him, one that might explain the hardness in his eyes. And while it was a bit of a risk, teasing this man you didn’t really know, you had to admit, his smile made the risk worthwhile.

“But,” you added, taking your teasing further than you normally did, “you would have to tell me your name first. I certainly cannot ask to rename it Dwarf Stew. That would give the wrong impression, don’t you think?”

A darkness flashed through his eyes and you knew you’d overstepped. Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with something to smooth over his obviously ruffled feathers, knowing your employer would be furious if your flippancy drove away a paying customer. “I mean… that is… I apolo—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, shaking his head, “there is no need to apologize. And you’re right, it would sound odd. So, I suppose then, it would only be fair to tell you my name, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart beat a little faster at that. Perhaps it was but your imagination, but his voice sounded lower than it normally did. Lower and bit growlier. Had he, by any chance, noticed you the way you’d noticed him?

No, that was madness talking. Very few people noticed you aside from being their serving girl. You tended to blend into the background far too easily and since so many people in Emyn Vanya were only passing through, they paid little heed to you.

Still, that didn't stop you from replying, “It would, yes.”

To your surprise, that earned you a laugh. A genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh and one that sent flutters through you as it rolled across the small table in your direction. Like his voice, it was low and silken, and those flutters made you forget your own name for a moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, his eyes meeting and holding yours, “I am Thorin.”

You offered your name in return and added, “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Thorin.”

“And yours as well.”

Heat climbed into your cheeks and you ducked your head, saying, “I will be back in a few moments with your ale,” you hesitated, then added, “Thorin.”

“I will be here.”

Thorin sat back as you darted off and couldn't believe his cheek. What had possessed him to even think to flirt with you? Your interest had to be only because he was a paying customer, because there was no way a woman as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in him.

The first time he stepped into the Grey Gander, he’d noticed you at once, noticed how easily you smiled and joked with the tavern’s patrons. Your laughter was a silvery melody that made everyone turn in your direction and smile even if they had no idea what it was that made you laugh.

He noticed everything about you—from that amazing smile and intoxicating laughter to your beautiful eyes and easy grace with which you moved about the crowded dining room. You never seemed impatience, or irritated, and even when someone gave you a hard time about something, you never lost your temper and somehow managed to defuse the most volatile of situations.

The second night he’d come in, he’d witness such a scene, almost reaching for his sword, propped against the table, when the giant of man actually grabbed you by the arm. He had no doubt he’d have intervened if you needed it, but you didn’t. You smiled at the man as you peeled his fingers from your wrist and very sweetly informed him that if he touched you again, you’d turn him from a rooster to a hen in one fell swoop.

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

A foolish notion at best, as you would never feel about him the way he did you. Why would you? He was a dwarf. He had no home. He had been in line for a throne, but now supported himself by moving from place to place, taking work where he could find it.

That was what brought him to Emyn Vanya. His trade was blacksmithing and the village needed one. So, there he was, in the dining room of the Grey Gander, admiring you from afar and wishing he stood a chance at winning your hand.

It was just as well, for what did he have to offer you? A king with no kingdom was no better than a pauper, really. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t compete with the men of Emyn Vanya, who were all taller, slimmer, and far more attractive than he certainly was. You would be a fool to even consider him.

But, he watched you from afar, watched as you moved from table to table, how you brought a beaming smile to the face of an old crone, how you soothed angry children bickering over a toy, how you made a crying infant smile by making silly faces until they could do nothing else.

How you focused on him as if he was the most interesting man in the room and not, for lack of a better phrase, a homely, homeless refugee.

If only…

He sighed as you approached with a tankard in one hand. His heart beat so much faster when you met his gaze. His mouth went as dry as the plains between his lost kingdom of Erebor and the city of Dale after the dragon Smaug torched it from one end to the other.

You set the tankard before him. “Your supper will be ready in but a few minutes, Mr. Thorin.”

Mr. Thorin. He smiled, shaking his head. “No Mister. Thorin is just fine.”

“Oh, well that wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Your eyes almost sparkled as your easy smile curved your lips. “After all, we only just met.”

“This is true,” he nodded, reaching for the tankard. Then, on impulse, he added, “Perhaps you might join me one evening?”

You looked taken aback and he immediately berated himself silently. You fool! What is wrong with you?

But then you smiled. “I think I would like that. I have an off night tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

He was stunned, not only by your agreement, but by your suggestion. No woman ever approached him that way. He’d always been the one to ask. You were bold and he admired that. So, he nodded. “That would work just fine for me.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

“Half seven it is,” you told him. “And I’ll be back in but a moment with your supper.”

****

What were you thinking? How could you just blurt out an invitation to him that way? He must think you a harlot, or a wanton woman for doing so.

But at the same time, as you smoothed a hand along your skirts, you had to admit, you looked so forward to seeing him without having to wait upon him. It was a nice change of pace for you. A break in the monotony of your life that was work, sleep, and more work.

You’d told him where you lived, a rundown little flat above the florist’s shop, and at half eight, when the knock came at the door, you nearly jumped clear out of your skin. Then, laughing at your foolishness, you hurried to the door, before he thought you’d changed your mind and left.

You smiled as you pulled open the door. “You are early.”

“I allowed myself extra time in case I found myself lost. I’m still new to these parts and this town takes a bit of getting used to.”

“If you remember the streets run east and west, and the avenues run north and south, you might fare better.”

He bobbed his head. “I would, but there are three florists on this street alone.”

“It is a very competitive business in Emyn Vanya.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

You hesitated a moment and then stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he stepped over the threshold, you tried not to dwell on how shabby your flat was, with its scratched and scuffed hand-me-down furnishings. After you paid your rent and made certain there was food on the table, there was not much money left for luxuries such as nice furniture. Normally, it didn't trouble you. This was your home and you thought it cozy, if a bit rundown. But, when you tried to see it through Thorin’s eyes?

You saw exactly how awful it must have looked to him. Threadbare sofa. The armchair had a hole in the cushion thanks to a broken spring, which meant that not only was stuffing peeping up from the hole, one received a nasty poke in the backside, should they think to sit there.

And of course, there was that awful water stain in the far corner. You had no idea from where it had come, only that no matter how much you tried to paint over it, it bled through. You’d given up trying when paint fell into the luxury category.

But, he reached up for the frogs at his throat and then whisked his cloak off to drape over his arm. “This is lovely.”

Lovely? You looked about, wondering exactly what he found so lovely about it. “It’s a bit… ah… worn, don't you think?”

“Lived in, is how I would describe it.” He smiled at you. “Homes should be lived in. That is how they become such. Otherwise, they are but houses, flats, nothing more than buildings.”

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.”

Then he looked back at you and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. Did he have any idea whatsoever as to how handsome he truly was? Because if he did, he certainly did not act as if he did.

Of course, you kept that to yourself, especially when that night, a deep friendship was born. You had dinner together on the nights when you weren’t working. You spent off days together, sometimes running errands with each other, sometimes just doing nothing. He had a knack for the acrostics printed in the village newspaper and the two of you spent your share of days or nights looking up which answers you thought would work. It didn't matter. He had quickly become your dearest friend and while you loved that, you’d also begun thinking that perhaps there was a bit more to your relationship than only friendship.

It was too bad he’d never given any indication at all that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

So you stayed quiet. Autumn gave way to winter and the Yule holiday was only a few days off when you made your way to Thorin’s forge at the northern end of town. A bitter cold wind whipped down the narrow alleyway where his shop was located and you didn't have to look to know you were near it. The carved wooden sign identifying the forge creaked on its hooks as it swung in the wind. Through the swirling snow, you could still make out the word etched into the wood.

Blacksmith

Beneath that word, Thorin had carved symbols as well, and when you’d asked, he’d smiled and explained that they were a language called khuzdul, which was his native language, actually. He’d attempted to teach you some of it, and showed nothing but patience as you fumbled over seemingly simple words. Little by little, though, it became easier and left you wishing you had something like that to share with him.

But then you found something. One night, over several goblets of wine, he confessed that he once played the harp, but had lost his when he’d lost his home, but that was all he would say about either the harp or what happened to his home. So, you’d saved a bit of your pay each week and put it aside and then went to the music shop at the far end of town and found what you’d hoped would be a suitable replacement harp. It wasn't a big, grand instrument, as those were far beyond what you could ever hope to afford, but you hoped he’d like it the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited and impatient to give someone a gift as you were this one, which was why you braved the worsening weather.

So there you were, at the far end of a gray-shingled building with a roof in need of repair, listening to the almost melodic sound of metal striking metal. The closer you drew to his workshop, the warmer the air grew and as you rounded the corner, a blast of heat hit you square in the face. It was a welcome sensation as your cheeks felt quite numb from the cold.

He had his back to you and heat shot through you at the sight of him, shirtless in deference to that blasted heat, the muscles in his back and along his shoulders bulging as he held a piece of iron in one hand, a hammer in the other. The clang rang through you when he brought the hammer slamming against the iron, again and again and you couldn't help but just stare.

Your eyes roamed over his naked back, heavy with obviously well-earned muscle, and inked with black lines of varying sizes that covered his entire shoulder, stretched across his back, and into the opposite shoulder as well. You had no idea what the symbols and lines meant, but they looked very similar to the ones carved into the forge’s sign, so your guess was they were dwarfish runes or words.

The heat in the forge was brutal regardless of how cold it was beyond the walls. Sweat prickled along your back as you stepped closer. You didn't want to startle him. The iron with which he worked began with an orange glow, but slowly, as he pounded it flat, the glow faded and when he set down the hammer and used a pair of tongs to pick up the flattened piece and thrust it into a tub of water, steam actually rose from the tub.

“Thorin?”

He jumped, letting go of the tongs as he spun around and now heat shot up into your cheeks at the naked chest you found yourself staring at. Like his back, his chest was just as broad, with black hair swirled from one nipple to the other and down across his belly. More symbols had been inked across it, meeting with the design on his left shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” you stammered, tearing your eyes from that impressive sight to meet his startled blue eyes, “I was trying not to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

You hugged the package close. “I had to go and pick something up and thought while I was out, I’d stop by.” You peered around him, at the iron still resting in the water. “What are you making?”

“A sword.” He reached for the towel draped over the workbench and swept it across his forehead. “You should not be in here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I will come no closer then. But tell me, who commissioned the sword?”

“No one. It is mine. I work on it when I’ve a bit of free time.”

“Might I see?”

“It’s not even close to being finished.” He came around the bench and stood before you. His black hair was damp at the temples.

“You don't have to stop on my account, you know.” You took a step closer to him, the urge to reach out and touch him so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed you. You wish you had the courage to tell him how you’d come to feel about him, as you’d had when you’d left your flat. You’d left there full of fire and determined to confess your feelings for him, but unfortunately, by the time you reached his forge, that courage evaporated like the water in the tub had.

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

“Not at all. I think it would be fascinating, watching you work.”

His gaze shifted slightly to his left and you followed it to see what he looked at—a heavy dark gray henley lay draped over a chair by his desk. Without thinking, you shifted the package to one arm and reached out to catch him by the upper arm as he stretched for his shirt.

“Wait, don’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t?”

You nodded. “I—what is this?” You traced your fingertips along the thick black lines curving his shoulder, unable to believe your own brazenness but unable to halt your touch as well.

“It’s my… my… it’s a raven,” he managed, his voice deep and huskier than usual. He cleared his throat. “The symbol of my clan, and my family crest.”

You could not keep yourself from tracing along those lines as little by little, the image of a raven wearing a crown slowly showed itself to you. You’d held back from telling him how you felt for so long, now that the opportunity to perhaps go beyond friendship had presented itself and you were not about to let it slip by. But… you had to be careful. It was a delicate matter and that called for delicate handling. The last thing you wished to do was destroy your friendship with him.

With that, you lowered your hand “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for you, by the by.” You pressed the package toward him. “I know Yule isn’t for several more days, but when I went to pick this up, I grew far too impatient to wait.”

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

“Well, you have to open it to find out.”

He took the package and slowly unwrapped it and then just stared, his blue eyes growing shiny as he murmured, “How did you know?”

“You told me, silly.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “Remember? We were talking about how my neighbor plays the harpsichord and how awful it sounds and you told me you once played the harp. So, I asked Mr. Trumble if he could find me a harp for you and he did me one better. He made this.”

“He—” those blue eyes met yours, wide and incredulous—“made this?”

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

He gazed down at the harp, and then back at you. “I—this—this is beautiful. I thank you.”

“There is one condition to it, however.” You nudged him once more. “You must play it for me.”

“Oh, I couldn't now. I’d be far too rusty.”

“Well, once you flake off all the rust.”

“Fair enough.” He offered up a smile brighter than any you’d ever seen from him. “You shouldn’t have done this, though. Save your wages, don’t spend them on me.”

“I didn't mind.” You shrugged as if you spent that kind of money all the time. “And it’s Yule, so it was but a small sacrifice.”

He stepped closer. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, you know. I will treasure it. And you.”

And with that, he leaned in and to your surprise, pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, caught by utter surprise, as this was the last thing you’d expected him to do. For one maddening moment, you wondered if perhaps you were just imagining it.

But then, his lips moved softly against yours and your toes actually curled in your sensible boots when he brought his hands up to cup your face, and you knew that this was, in fact, actually happening. And how wonderful it was! The sensations that rippled through you were soft and sweet, the crisp, coarse hair around his mouth tickling at first, but then you found you didn't mind it so much as it was a caress of its own.

Your head did a slow spin, his kiss leaving you lightheaded and when your hands came to rest on those massive upper arms of his, your fingers pressed into muscle that greatly resembled stone of their own accord. You were afraid your weak knees might buckle on you at any moment.

His kiss was slow and sweet, teasing and gentle and when his lips parted and his tongue swept gently along yours, your head spun even faster. A rush of heat swept through you. Your lips tingled. Your heart beat harder and faster and it took every bit of will you had to not melt right into his arms.

When he drew back, his eyes were soft, swirling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and he seemed as breathless as you were as he murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time now.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I do and I did and now I just want to do it again.” Then he paused, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, into his eyes, “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.”

“No, I’d not rather that at all,” you told him, smiling as you curved a hand against his cheek. “In fact, I’d like it very much if you would do it again. And again. And I think you should keep doing, no matter where we might be.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his chest. “So, I am not about to send you screaming into the snow?”

“Hardly.”

“Are you certain? I mean,” he rubbed his bearded jaw ruefully, a sheepish smile coming to his lips, “I know people whisper about me and poke fun at me behind my back.”

“They whisper about you because they are fascinated by you. And no one pokes fun at you. I know they think you’re quite an excellent smithy, judging by what I’ve heard. And I won’t even tell you what the women say about you.”

To your surprise, his sheepish smile faded and a darkness came to his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“Have I said something wrong? I thought I was complimenting you. Do dwarves not like to hear how handsome they are thought to be?”

“Handsome?” He snorted as he shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but I’ve seen my own face and that is not how I’d describe it.”

“Well, perhaps you should but have Mr. Sinclair examine your eyes, for you are not only handsome, but very handsome.”

He stared at you, clearly not believing a word you said. “Thank you, but you are just being kind, as you’ve been since we met.”

“Thorin,” you caught his hands in yours, “I’ve been wishing you’d notice me as more than simply your friend, that you’d kiss me, and perhaps I’ve been too brazen in taking the first step. If you wish me to leave you alone, I will.”

“Leave me alone?” His eyes went wide and he shook his head once more. “No, no, I don’t wish that at all. In fact, I—”

A scarlet flush swept up into his cheeks and he went quiet. You waited for him to continue, your heart hammering away at your ribs. All you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms, to tug you flush against that massive chest, and kiss you until you forgot your name.

“You what?” you asked softly.

“I lied. About the sword.” He smiled then. “It’s for you, actually. For Yule. I meant it to be a surprise.”

“For me? But I don't even know who to wield one.”

“Worry not, for I will teach you. When the weather breaks.”

“You did this for me? You would do that for me?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for you, you know.” His eyes softened then as he smiled. “I love you.”

This was the last thing you ever expected him to say and you could only stare at him for a long moment, as your stupid brain forgot how to process words. The best you could muster was a whispered, “What?”

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but how could I when I thought you would be embarrassed to be courted by me. So, I relegated myself to knowing we would only ever be friends, but now…”

“Embarrassed to be courted by you? Are you mad, Thorin? Are you absolutely and completely mad? Because you would have to be to think any woman alive would be embarrassed to be courted by you.” You shifted to wind your arms about his neck. “And no one has ever made something for me. At least, not something as beautiful as a sword. So, if I didn't already love you in return, I would have most definitely fallen at this moment.”

He smiled. “So, all this time, it would’ve only taken a sword to win your hand?”

“I’m a very simple woman, Thorin. You should know that by now.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he eased his arms about your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leaned closer, his lips just brushing yours as he murmured, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You tried to think of something witty to reply with, but then his lips met yours once more and rendered words unnecessary.

***

Like it? Love it? Reblog it! Comments are also welcomed!

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketchy-loo6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Richard Armitage #Thorin x reader #Thorin x you #nonny asks #pixie answers

665 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year

Note

i am obsessed with your kisses before dinner au, do you think you can maybe write something about what it’s like when the new baby is born or maybe how the older kids reacted to becoming siblings if yk what i mean? absolutely no pressure and ily!!

baby number four comes back from the hospital and steve tries not to cry about it (he fails) | kisses before dinner universe

afab!fem!reader x dad!steve (tw ment labour + pregnancy)

Steve sits down beside you on the couch with Beth in his arms and tries to calm his racing heart. To think your new baby is finally here, right here, safe and healthy and home, makes him want to throw up. He won't, obviously, but if he's a little grey around the gills that's his business.

Avery sits on your other side quiet as a dormouse. As the oldest, she's experienced this twice before. She can't remember when Bethie came home because she'd been so young herself, and Steve suspects she might not fully remember meeting Dove for the first time either, but she remembers to be quiet and gentle, and that's all she really needs to do.

Steve had wanted to bring them to the hospital to see you as soon as the baby was born, but Robin, rightfully, encouraged him to wait. He agrees now, because after labour you hadn't looked yourself. You'd been tired and sick. "You're having the next one," you'd joked. He had laughed until he cried, emotional from seeing you screaming and sweaty, his hand reduced to mush. Steve had been beside himself. He loves his girls, but he doesn't love how they came into the world. Seeing you that way… he can't regret getting you pregnant, not when he has all these beautiful babies, but he feels something similar. He feels better now that you're home.

"Tada," Steve whispers in Beth's ear. "There's your baby sister."

"Another one?" you'd asked when you found out the gender, defeated but not really. You'll love whatever you're given. He loves that about you, and he feels the same. "Steve, come on."

"It's not my fault!" he'd insisted.

"She's really small," Bethie whispers back.

"You don't have to whisper, sweetheart," you say, your face flopped against the couch cushions. You're still sapped. "She has to get used to all your voices."

Bethie stands on Steve's leg and holds onto your shoulder. He grabs her waist in case she takes a spill, letting her peer down into your arms at the face of her new sister. Her lips part.

"I think," Steve says, squeezing gently, "we finally have another one who looks like mommy and you."

"I think so too," Avery says quietly.

"Yea?"

"She's got mom's nose."

"Little," you joke, giving Avery a playful nudge with your elbow. "I think so three."

You swap. Steve gets to hold his new baby and you make as much room as you can in your lap for the oldest two, wincing when someone's knee jabs your sore stomach. He's about to tell them to climb off of you when you wrap your arms around them, hiding your face in Avery's soft, silky hair. She got nearly everything from Steve, including how much she loves being cuddled, and she melts like butter in the sun at your touch.

"I missed you, mom," she says. "Please don't have more babies for a while."

You laugh. You all know Steve wants an army. You also know Steve wants what you want. You could never touch him again and he'd be okay with it, somehow. Safe to say, you won't be having any more babies for a while, if ever again.

"I missed you too. Three days without you is three too many. And don't worry, my love. Me and daddy aren't having anymore for a long, long time." You peek over Avery's shoulder and smile. "I wish we didn't make such pretty ones. Maybe I'd be less tempted."

"That's all you," Steve says.

Bethie slouches to rest her weight on Steve's arm. God, he'd missed his girls. He'd been hoping your time in the hospital would be quick considering you've had three before, though they've been varying degrees of difficulty, and almost always made you poorly. That hope had been struck down fast, and Steve had just done whatever it was he could do to keep you breathing and smiling. He must be good at it, because four babies and eight years later he can still make you laugh between pushes.

He's, pardon his language, fucking amazed at what you can do. And he's so in awe of his life, his family, his girls, he finds himself welling up for the tenth time today, the perfect tiny face of your newborn a blur in his eyes.

Bethie pats his arm as he sniffles.

"You want a hug?" she asks knowingly.

"Yeah," he says. "I do. Thanks, baby."

"I'm not the baby," she says, draping herself over his shoulder. He drops his face against hers and sniffles some more.

Dove wakes up a little while after that, and when she calls, "Mommy!" from her crib you're thrilled to be able to go get her. You're still kissing her when you reach the bottom of the stairs, your nose sliding over her chubby cheeks as you coo praises at her.

"I missed you so so much, my love," you say, softly and brightly, affection dripping from every syllable. "Mommy missed you sooooo much. You've been such a good girl for daddy and Aunt Robin, I know you have." You beam at her tiny dimples. She beams back. "You want to meet our lovely new baby?"

Steve doesn't get too cut up about his family anymore, but he can't imagine his mother ever holding him so tenderly. He thinks she must have, once. Or maybe she didn't. There's no way to know, he only remembers growing up with that spearing sense of loneliness heavy in all his bones.

Robin, his best friend in the entire world, had absolutely healed him. When he met you, he didn't have to worry about being enough or being too much, he'd just loved you. You'd filled those last cracks, and his daughter's pretty much erased any trace of them.

He's so lucky. He could cry again, but the tears give him a migraine and he needs to be right as rain for the nights to come.

You sit down. You smell familiar, and your smile curves under his ear as you drop a kiss against his wane skin.

"Are you alright, Stevie baby?" you ask softly, one part concerned and three parts fond. You know what he's thinking.

"I've never been better." He reaches out to comb a rogue strand of hair from Dove's face. "Are you ready to meet your new little sister?" he asks her.

Dove glares at him. He wouldn't expect anything less.

#kisses before dinner universe #kisses before dinner #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #tw pregnancy #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble

914 notes · View notes

hidden-poet · 2 months

Text

Commander Snow; 7

Commander Snow

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

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

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

chapter 8

Coriolanus threw himself back into his work upon returning to the compound. It meant he was gone early before you woke up but he made an effort to return home for dinner. He was adamant that at least one meal had to be eaten together.

You would take walks often together to get some fresh air, leaving the dishes to soak in the sink after dinner.

There was not much to look at in the Compound. Makeshift tents and metal sheds with big locks. Everything was dull, with the colors matching the small gray rocks that formed the roads amongst it.

Only the men running around in their light blue peacekeeper uniforms offered a break from the monotone of it all.

You watched them as Coriolanus led you through the compound by your hand. They would never make eye contact as they went about their work. But it didn't bother you. The isolation imposed by Coriolanus grew on you. You had gotten so used to only ever talking to Coriolanus, that you weren't sure you could hold a conversation with anyone else.

He pulls you gently out of the way of an oncoming truck and takes you down a quitter path.

"You never ask about your mother," he comments as the noise quietens.

You remain quiet as if you didn't hear him.

''She never visits," he continues, "You never ask to visit her."

You feel your heart rate rise. Surely that has not tipped him off that your mother was safe out of his reach.

"Why would she visit? She thinks you want to kill her. And I know she is fine and even if she wasn't, you would lie."

A loud clanging sound turns his attention behind him, to where a large metal sheet had slipped off a pile onto the ground.

"Would you let me visit her if I asked?"

He turns his attention back to you as the embarrassed Peacekeepers scramble to put the metal sheet back on the bed of the truck.

You wondered if this was your chance to escape. A pass for a day trip to see your mother turning into your disappearance.

"We could go tonight if you wanted," he offered, but the choice of “we” made you reconsider your plan. He wouldn't let you go alone, and you couldn't let him see the empty house.

"No," you state, "I’m tired tonight."

He hums in response. "Let's turn back."

You circle back to your starting place. The walk was halved by your comment. The water in the sink would still be warm.

As you walk up the steps to the apartment you turn back to gaze at the far bins. Your freedom was just behind them but despite only being half a yard away, you were stuck in your chains.

With Coriolanus so close and so fast, you enter back into your prison willingly.

You start the dishes, scrubbing the pans free from their grease while making plans for your escape. Edmund would return tomorrow night if you weren't at the house. But the keys seemed impossible to get.

Coriolanus was clingy. He seemed hyper-aware of your movements. He somehow knew when you were faking sleep and when you had actually succumbed to it. The only way he would sleep was when he knew you were.

You would wake too late to an empty bed and a bedside table void of any keys. Even if you got the keys, it would take ages for you to figure out which one it was. They all looked the same.

As if he could sense your thoughts, Coriolanus came up behind you, taking your throat into his large hand, keeping you from moving as he grazed and nipped at your neck.

"I have to do the dishes," you complain.

''So do them." The hand from your hip reaches between your legs and slides up your dress.

You jolt but his firm hold keeps you still.

His hand goes to where you presumed they would, under the elastic band of your underwear.

"Stop," you command, wrapping your wet hands around his assaulting arm.

He bites harshly at your neck from your rejection, causing you to wince at the pain.

"Worry about the dishes."

He only inserts one finger as he tries to elicit a response from you.

"Dishes," he repeats as you don't move.

You obey and pick up the sponge again, attempting to distract yourself with them.

His lips continue to suck and bite as you scrub the cutting board. It's uncomfortable at first as his dry finger intrudes upon your dryness.

He kicks your feet apart to get better access. The feeling intensifies between your legs and you feel yourself unintentionally getting wet.

He inserts two fingers, feeling you pool, twisting and curling his fingers inside you. You throw the chopping board on the drying rack and pick up a plate. When his index finger drags your wetness up, it drops from your hands.

"I think you missed a spot," he taunts. You don't pick it up again, distracted by the tingling sensation, but he reinserts his finger and curls it harshly to tell you to continue.

Once the plate was clean and you were beginning on your second, he rewards you by coming up and massaging your pearl.

You yelp, gripping the counter of the sink as you try and move your hips away.

The hand gripping your throat moved to your wrist forcing them back into the water, before returning to ensure that he still had free access to your throat. The water from his hands dripped down over you.

You washed the dish but your focus wasn't enough to tell if it was clean enough.

He stops his circling and uses the two fingers to rub along your wet lips. The lack of friction was an unwelcome change.

You pick up a kitchen knife, attempting to wash it but it is yanked out of your grip and thrown back onto the counter. His hand returns to your neck with a tightened hold as he focuses on leaving red and sore marks, all while his fingers run up and down.

"Coriolanus. Stop." You choke out.

He inserts the two fingers but refuses to move them.

You cry out as he bites into your flesh, sucking and grazing the spot just where your neck ends and your collarbone begins.

It gave him a sense of satisfaction as you try and wiggle your neck away.

Your wet hands wrap around the wrist that encircles your neck. You could feel him hard against you as he took a step back, taking you with him.

It was a mercy when he moved his fingers once more, pumping in and out. His lips were no longer at your neck but ghosting behind your ear as you stood, locking your own hands around his wrist.

You could feel your stomach form the same knots that you felt the first night he came for dinner. Half of you didn't want him to stop, knowing the release that was about to occur.

His fingers push harshly up and with force, he circles your pearl once more. A strangled moan makes its way from your throat as the knots from your stomach loosen out.

He pushes you back towards the sink and you grip the edges of it as you pulse around his fingers.

The moment passes and you are left breathing heavily, leaning over the sink. You take the sponge back and begin to wash the same dish as if his actions meant nothing. But your head spun, and you felt so spent the sponge was weak in your hand.

His fingers intertwine with yours under the water and he presses them against the side of the sink together as he rests his head against your back.

You were grateful for the moment of silence to collect yourself.

"I am going to take a shower." He states, releasing you.

You retain your composure until you hear the bathroom door shut, immediately slumping over the sink.

--------------------------

Coriolanus wanted to fuck you, that was no secret. But he hadn't earned it yet. A woman such as you deserved to be laid in more than just a Commander's bed. It was old and reused from the last Commander.

He wanted you surrounded by riches, in the comfort of a brand-new Capitol bed. He wanted to be more than a Commander of this scummy district. When he fucked you, he wanted you to have a sense of pride about who was above you. President of Pamen, or just about.

He had not earned the right in any manner. But one day soon, he would.

Coriolanus was a man of restraint and strategy. But as he watched you make beds and iron clothes, he yearned for that intimacy that only sex could offer.

He wanted to lay naked in your arms and be held by you. It felt as if only then would all the thoughts in his head stop.

You were stingy with your love. Coriolanus had not earned it. But when he became

President, how could you deny him his reward then? He would have exceeded everyone's expectations of him: Dr. Gaul, Grandma'am, Tigris, all of his Academy classmates.

The goal was good for him, it motivated him to work harder and longer. It reminds him of his Academy days when the only thing on his mind was the Plinth Prize.

His mind needed a goal to fixate on. The presidency was all well and good but came with its own problems. The reward laid in the long awaited esteem from those who doubted him, or in your case, ran from him.

He would prove to them all that Snow always lands on the very top.

He would prove to you that he is a man worthy of your attention and care.

But he had pressing matters to deal with. He felt as if you teased him all day long. He went to sleep hard as a rock most nights. He offered you release anytime you wanted it, but you never gave him the same courtesy.

It interfered with his work. He thought about visiting the District call girls but the thought made him sick. Why should he do that when he had you? He had you. Tucked away in his apartment. Ready for him. He just needed to take.

He grabbed the letter that came for you days ago from his desk and made his way back to his apartment. He was self-conscious of his hard-on as he walked through the compound and readjusted his pants.

The sight of the apartment felt like water after a long day in the sun. He took the steps two at a time before regaining himself at the doorway. He couldn't look desperate.

You jump up from the couch as he enters, surprised to see him.

"What are you doing home?" you ask.

His heart flutters at the usage of 'home'.

"Delivering mail."

He holds the letter up in the air, tempting you.

“From your brother.”

You hold your hand out for it but he keeps it high.

“I’ll trade you for it.”

You doubted he would want any personal keepsake of yours. You could see the hunger in his eyes.

You turn back away from him to the couch but he grabs your wrist to keep you. It was an act of desperation that he scolded himself for.

“We can trade the letter for dinner.”

He places your caught hand upon his belt. And your hand stills.

You wondered if you really had a choice. He would just keep taking things away until you submitted. But Edmund would be here tonight to release you. Could you get away with resisting?

You wondered what the letter would say. You were sure it was full of written anxieties from your brother. Could you use the Commander's desperation to your advantage? Your fingers curl around the belt buckle as you think.

He leans back against the counter with the letter still in his hand.

He was desperate. You could see it from the way he clenched the countertop.

“I want to write a letter back.” You demand as you undo his belt.

Coriolanus nods hastily. It gave you a thrill of power.

With the belt unbuckled, you weren't sure what to do next.

He helps you by pulling his pants down to his ankles.

"On your knees,” he instructs.

It gives you a direction on what he wants, so you sink down and open your mouth.

You pull back at first but will yourself to give it another go.

His taste was nothing new to you. He lets out a shaky breath as you finally put him in your mouth.

“Go slow,’’ he demands and you try your best to accommodate.

His length hits the back of your throat causing you to pull off. He grunts in dissatisfaction but allows you to come back at your own pace. His face reads of his annoyance. His features turned to stone, and his jaw locked in place.

But he showed mercy by not forcing you back and keeping his hands wound around the counter.

Now knowing your limit, you go as far as you can before coming back again. It was enough for Coriolanus, who threw his head back and allowed you to take charge. His hips bucked slightly the more worked up he got, but with free movement of your head, you could adjust to his movements. Compared to your other experiences, this one was slightly bearable.

Having been pent up for weeks, the feeling of your wet mouth upon him had him coming quickly. He slaps the countertop with his hand as he comes into your mouth, only stopping when you have stopped moving completely, having taken his full load. You spit it out on the ground that you had just washed.

He remains leaning against the counter as he catches his breath. In no rush to give you what was promised.

You yank the letter from his hand, seeing that it was already open. It read angry. The pen was pressed harshly into the paper, the ink spilled all over the page.

The letter was not addressed to you. It opened with “bastard”.

Archie had promised to kill Snow. You had only called him Coriolanus in your correspondence, so you knew it wasn't only your letter that was delivered.

‘Don't take anything from him,’ the letter read to you. ‘I am coming home to you. I am so sorry. I never should have left. I'll be there soon, stay hidden with Mum.’

You turn to Coriolanus with anger, "What did you do?"

He stood in the kitchen, fully dressed again.

"I introduced myself."

"As Commander Snow?" you seethe.

''As your man. Your letter made it seem as if I was a friendly neighbor."

“You son of a bitch. Archie-"

"He'll kill me, yes I know. I read it."

"Archie will kill himself! And it will be your fault!"

"His life or his death, I can't imagine which is worse."

You slapped him for the way he spoke about your brother and instantly regretted it.

Within a second, he had you slammed against the fridge with his hands around your throat. The hold presses against the bites from the previous day.

"Get off of me,” you demand. The bites upon your neck felt like fire as he pressed on them.

He doesn’t move and you bring your hand across his face once more. He remains unmoved by your action and you attempt again. This time he catches it in a painful hold and twists your wrist away from his face.

You shout from the pain but he doesn’t release you.

With a harsh shove against the countertop, the strain on your wrist is gone.

He looks at you as you nurse your wrist and feels a pang of guilt. He thinks of someone saying something about Tigris. He surely would have killed them.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that about your brother. I didn’t mean it.”

He did mean it, but he loved your devotion to your family. You both shared the same values, he shouldn’t be training you out of them.

It wasn’t Archie’s fault he was born District, but to die District would be beyond pathetic.

Even the Plinths made it out, and when Coriolanus was stripped of his Capitol-born rights, he too fought to make it out of District 12. Archie had only swapped one district for another. It was pitiful at the very least and embarrassing at the most.

But he was your brother, whom you loved, so Coriolanus will watch his tongue around you.

“Are you alright? Do you need some ice?” He reaches out to inspect your wrist but you yank yourself away from him.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I want to help you.” It was the first time he had hurt you for something that wasn’t your fault. It made him feel terrible. He wasn’t a violent man, only a man capable of violence. He didn’t want you to think he was against you.

“Go away.” You push past him to get to the bedroom, where you slam the door behind you.

He goes back to his office to let you cool down. He apologized, what more did you want?

—------------

You wait by the window for Edmund. You felt foolish that you failed to get the keys. But since the Cabin, Coriolanus has harbored a quiet distrust of you. Every extra precaution was taken. You had learned that a 15-minute window of time opened just before Coriolanus normally finished for the day. Everyone was trying to avoid the path of the Commander as he made his way to his apartment. It was a blessing that he was so avoided, it gave Edmund a chance to appear.

You saw his shadow approaching with something large in his hands.

He calls out to you and you are quick to answer.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'll be better once you open the door," you admit. Your wrist still hurts from the afternoon.

He asks you to stand back away from the door, and you take three steps back.

You hear a loud banging noise, the sound of wood cracking but no spring of the door.

You felt as if you might throw up from the anxiety. He was causing so much noise, surely someone was going to hear it.

He curses but tries again.

You place yourself by the window to see what he was doing. He was trying to pry open the door with a large crowbar. It cracked the wood and left enough damage that the door would jiggle but not open.

A building light flicks on down the road. You can see a shadow of a man as he searches for something before his body appears in front of the doorway.

A flash of light jiggled as it made its way across from the Compound.

"Edmund, someone is coming," you warn.

He ignores you, continuing with the door.

"Edmund, you have to leave!"

"We won't get another chance." With more force, he tries to pry open the door.

You can see the light getting brighter as it approaches.

"He'll move me. So long as I am not trapped here, I can make my way through the fence".

"You were wrong last time."

"Edmund if you die, I'll never get out of here. Wait for me at home. I can make it, I know it".

He grunts as the crowbar slips from the door. Looking over his shoulder, he realizes that he isn't going to get it open in time.

"I won't know where you are!" he cries.

"Don't come back. Just wait for me. There will be an opportunity".

Edmund could hear the footsteps on the gravel. He had to leave now.

"Go," you encourage him.

He climbs down the railing, dropping to his feet and hiding in the darkness before the man reaches the steps.

A Peacekeeper examines the door before speaking into his communicator. A large siren sounded through the compound filling you with dread. They were locking the place down with Edmund inside.

"Miss?" the Peacekeeper knocks on the window, "Are you okay?"

You knew as soon as that man spoke into his communicator, Coriolanus knew of the events.

Could you take cover for Edmund? Tell Coriolanus that it was you who did the damage. No. The damage was on the outside.

Could you start a fire and tell him that it was a peacekeeper trying to break down the door to release you? But why would the peacekeeper run? He would surely press to find out who it was.

You wished that sound would stop so you could think. All you could hear was the siren, ringing through your head.

"Miss?" the Peacekeeper asks again.

“Yes. Fine.” you dismiss. You could feel your heart in your throat.

The Peacekeepers were quick on their feet. In two minutes, swarms of them combed through with their guns raised. Coriolanus was close behind, you could hear him running up the steps past the Peacekeeper.

He unlocks the broken door, leaving the keys in the keyhole as he rushes over to you.

He takes the back of your neck and presses it into his chest, using the other hand to press against your back.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

"She's fine, sir. I was ensuring the assailant didn't come back." the Peacekeeper spoke out of turn.

Coriolanus let go of you to take hold of the man's shirt and pushed him against the wall.

"What was he doing here in the first place? Where were you?"

"I don't know, sir. I was in my office. It's really the patrolls fault." The man looked like all the blood had rushed from his face.

Coriolanus throws the man out the door by his shirt. He lands harshly on the ground.

"I want him found," he demands.

The peacekeeper nods his head and rushes to get up and away.

Coriolanus turns back to you and you expect harsh treatment but his hands softly cup your face.

"Did you see what he looked like?"

You knew it wouldn't take much for Coriolanus to figure out it was Edmund, so you lie and pray it doesn't get anyone into trouble.

"He was short. Long dark hair. I don't know, it was dark and I was scared."

He pulls you back to his chest, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

"If you're ever in danger, you hide, okay?"

You had tried that but he found you within days.

"I didn't know if you were okay, " he spoke softly. You almost didn’t hear him.

Peacekeepers shout and you jump thinking that they have caught Edmund. You tear free of Coriolanus and rush out to see that the men are fighting over a flashlight.

Your relief came out in a sob. You silently beg for Edmund to be okay. The anxiety of him being found poured out from your eyes in the form of tears.

It was a good display for Coriolanus, who thought you were crying out of trauma from your supposed break-in.

He takes you by the shoulders and leads you back inside.

"You're safe. We'll find him," he promises.

With his hold, he presses you back against his chest.

He kisses you and you sob against him. Your lips part against his as you croak out a cry.

"Shh, it's okay,", he presses your face back against his shoulder to collect the tears.

You will yourself to stop. Edmund was safe, they hadn't caught him, he must be beyond the fence line by now.

You settle with three big breaths and Coriolanus pulls away to look at you.

"Okay?" he asks softly brushing away your tears.

"Yeah," you sigh, bringing your hands up to rub your eyes.

You pull away from Coriolanus as three Peacekeepers arrive at your door. They carried large cases and were dressed in protective gear.

Coriolanus takes your hand in his and gives a nod to his Peacekeepers, giving them the go-ahead to begin their work.

“Who are they?” You ask, watching one man run a blue light across the surface.

“Forensic crew.”

Panic rushes back up but you shove it down. Edmund hadn’t touched the door. Only the railing as he jumped but many others had covered his prints with their own since then.

You feel his hand take yours in a possessive hold.

He leads you down the steps and through the sea of Peacekeepers.

Officers with sniffer dogs pass you. You reassured yourself, it was nothing Edmund couldn’t handle.

He leads you to his office. It was dark and soulless.

Closing the door behind you, he turns to you once more, trapping your head between his hands, and forces a kiss upon your lips.

The kiss spoke of his anxiety; it was needy and possessive.

You try to pull back but he follows the distance you try to separate.

You try to speak his name to warn him to get off you, he sees it as an opportunity to capture your tongue.

When he does pull off, you turn your head quickly.

“You’re okay,” he comments.

“I am okay.” Wrapping your hands around his wrists you gently pull him off from around your head.

He goes to kiss you again but you are too quick for him.

“Do you have any water?” you direct.

He pauses with his head half-bent to your height.

“Yes. I’ll go get some.”

With a gentle touch to your shoulder, he leaves you in his office alone.

You think about making a run for it while the coast was clear but with the Peacekeepers searching, you wouldn't make it to the fence without detection. Tonight you had little chance of escaping, tomorrow was the better option.

The large office was eerie. The paper he was working on was thrown to the ground in his hurry. You asked yourself why you were picking it up but your nature just called for it. You looked after people. You never thought it would become your downfall.

He returns as you straighten his desk. The sight causes him to smile.

“I thought you might be hungry.” He holds up a military packet of savory biscuits. They were used for long journeys where fresh food was hard to come by.

Unscrewing the lid, he passes you the bottle and places the biscuits on the desk.

“I am not. Thank you.” The anxiety of the night ate away at your stomach. Even if Edmund got beyond the fence you were sure that Peacekeepers had been sent beyond the compound. Still, you had faith. He was smart and knew District 12 well. He would be okay, but only if you could manage not to blow his cover.

Coriolanus unbuttons his Commander's coat with his long fingers.

“Of all the places I thought you would have been safe, the Commander's apartment was my first choice.”

“I was safe,” you contend, “He didn’t get through the door.”

“How did he get in?” Coriolanus sighs, “Another hole in the fence?”

He was talking to himself but you felt the need to interject.

“His clothes looked torn. Maybe he climbed over top.”

He looks at you like you said something incredibly stupid. With the fence being 12 feet tall and wrapped in barbed wire, it properly was.

Coriolanus takes your shoulders into his hands, bending down slightly to your height.

“I don’t want you to worry about this. It won’t happen again.”

You place the water bottle down on the desk too hard, “I am not worried, and I am not hungry. I am fine.”

He takes your hand in his and pulls you along to the couch.

“We’ll sleep here tonight. They won’t be done until late.”

You couldn’t escape anyway. It didn’t matter where you slept.

You sink into the soft material of the couch. Another one sat directly opposite against the wall. Given the small space, it would be logical that you take one and Coriolanus would take the other but you knew he was going to want to share.

He bends down and begins to unlace your boots for you.

“Do you often wear boots in the apartment?” He throws the boot over his shoulder, eyeing you suspiciously. You knew the answer was no, you don’t wear your boots in the apartment. They hurt your feet after long periods of use. Coriolanus also knew this. He would trip on them coming home, or accidentally step on your bare toes with his big boots as you maneuvered away from him.

“I wanted to be ready for our walk,’’ you lie.

He seems to buy it, rising from his spot with no harsh motions.

Instead, he rubs his hand across his face.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you this afternoon, and I didn’t mean for you to be bait for zealous rebels.”

“Coriolanus, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“I want to talk about this. When I got the alert today, all I knew was the door had been broken, I didn’t know if they had gotten in. If you were safe.”

“Well, I am so…”

“And if you weren’t?” He pauses for a second before continuing,

“I’ve lost many things in my life, I won’t lose you.”

The promise sounded like a threat upon your ears.

Edmund had emasculated Coriolanus today. Made him feel as if he looked inadequate in your eyes. He was determined to prove himself to you. That he could and would, protect you better from now on.

“Nothing happened,” you spoke slowly and softly to him.

“I don’t want you to think I can’t protect you.”

“I don’t.”

Coriolanus sits down beside you on the couch.

“There’s paper on my desk you could use if you wanted to write that letter to your brother. Write one to your mother too. I’ll mail them tomorrow with a few panems. Would you like that?”

Protecting you meant protecting your family too.

Nodding your head, you take his invitation and take a blank piece of paper off his desk. He follows you off the couch and offers his office chair to sit in. Several pens were thrown around the desk, you pick up the black pen closest to you and begin to write as Coriolanus puts away files that he was done with.

The paper had the national Panem letterhead, it distracted you while you penned your letters. You wrote the first one to your brother, telling him to keep a cool head. Everything was under control. He must be grateful to be out of the mines. People disappeared all the time up in the mountains. You heard news that two miners went missing and were yet to be found. You were happy he was in District 8. He must stay there. Your family was always worried when he went to work in the morning, now everyone knew where he was: Safe in District 8. There was no need to come back, only to remain where you knew he was safe. All his friends from the mine wish him well and take turns in looking after mother. You finish by telling him to stop being so stubborn and take the money to look after himself.

The second letter to your mother was shorter and superficial. She wasn’t home to collect it. It just needed to appear like she was.

Coriolanus reads over your letters before sealing them with an official seal and a few coins. He leaves them on his desk to mail tomorrow.

You could still hear the Peacekeepers outside the window. Their vans and heavy boots and hard way of talking.

They still hadn’t found Edmund. You could sleep now knowing they weren’t going to.

For a few more hours, you remain up with Coriolanus. He talks of his family back home. How Tigris quit her job and now could focus on her designs. She was going to send you a few new dresses. You learned he called his grandma, ‘Grandma’am’ due to her upper-class upbringing. He talked about how she would dress Coriolanus like a doll, pre-war, and show him off to her friends. She grew roses of all colors. He was surprised to learn that you had never seen a rose.

“I suppose you wouldn’t have.” District 12 was bare and colorless. There was no place for fine roses amongst the suffering. The Snow penthouse is full of them, he says. Replaced daily with fresh ones.

When there was a lapse in his talking, you suggest that perhaps it was a good idea to catch a few hours of sleep before he was woken with news of the capture. In framing the suggestion for his benefit, he was much more agreeable.

He takes off his white t-shirt and pants, leaving him in his underwear before joining you on the couch. He needed to feel your warm skin against his after today. Despite not deserving it.

You are pressed between the back of the couch and Coriolanus. He looked to be sleeping but you could tell from his breathing he wasn’t.

The silence shared between you was interrupted by your gnawing question.

“Did you find what you were looking for out in the woods?”

“No. But the trip did give me closure.”

“Will we have to go again?” you wonder.

“No. It’s in the past now. The future is all that matters.”

The future for him was the Capitol. Where he would prosper and you would wither.

“I can’t go to the Capitol, Coriolanus,” you whisper. You were hoping he would realize it and set you free of his own accord. You could part as estranged friends.

His eyes shoot open to look at you.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers back, “Everything is going to be okay. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

You could appreciate that his words were supposed to be comforting but what good were his promises? They were nothing you could truly trust.

His lips hit the bottom of your chin in a quick peck.

You wondered if he could feel the wetness of your cheeks from where he lay.

“You’re my girl, I wouldn’t let any harm come to you. You’ll see, you’ll love the Capitol.”

Your answer was given when he wiped away a running tear from your cheek.

“We will turn our back on District 12. The Capitol is our future.”

You nod in the hope of getting him to stop talking. It works, and the silence returns.

He wraps his arms around you as you sleep. You wrap your hand around his dog tags. It felt as if your brother's courage was radiating off it. You would survive Commander Snow.

You wake the next day with Coriolanus’s Commander coat on top of you. Coriolanus sat at his desk writing a letter. His ears pick up on your movement. And he rises himself to see you sit up on the couch.

“Good morning.” he greets, getting up himself.

He flicks the leftover coffee from his cup into his waste bin and refills it from the streaming pot.

You watch him walk over to you with it in his hands.

“Here,” he says, carefully passing you the cup.

“Did they find him?” You take the cup but not a sip.

“No. But they are still searching.”

Your heart bounced up from its anxiety.

“Honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. It was probably a young boy searching for food. I had dinner ready, he could properly smell it.”

Coriolanus begins to pace in front of you.

“I am going to make an example out of him. Make sure everyone in the Districts thinks about starving to death before entering the Compound.”

“A hungry child is no need for alarm.”

“What if he had gotten through the door? These Districts are animals. He would have hurt you.”

Coriolanus cringes at his words, “I didn’t mean you. You are not an animal.”

“Yes, you did.” You rise from the mattress.

“No. I didn’t.” he grits.

“You treat me like an animal. Sit, eat, stay.”

“I don’t want to fight with you.” he dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

You had no interest in arguing with him either. Time was of the essence. You had to get back before the door was fixed and you were locked back up.

He returns to sit at his desk. He had work to do.

“I’ll go home and make breakfast. Bring something back for you.”

Goodbye Coriolanus, you thought.

“No.” he looked at you like you were crazy and you stared back similarly.

“No. You’ll stay here with me until he is caught.” He sits back down at his desk but you remain frozen in the middle of the room, “Or maybe you’ll just stay here forever, seeing as no one in this District seems to have a clue where he is.”

You had thought that the broken door would offer you freedom but it seems to have just caused Coriolanus to tighten his grip.

“I can’t, I have to, I have to-” your panic interrupted your sentence.

“You have to do, what? The dishes?” he mocks, “They can wait until we go home.”

He returned to his work, the conversation was over for him.

“I want to go back and take a shower and-”

He pushes his heavy folder over the edge of his desk.

“I’ve had a District break into the compound, new of which will makes its way back to the Capitol, I’ve got recruits coming and nowhere to put them, and lieutenants who can’t read. I just need you to be perfect today.”

He shuts his eyes and sighs, pausing for a moment. “Please, I just need to know where you are today. That you're safe. If you’re here, you’re not another thing on my mind.”

You wanted to kick and scream but it would only end with a bruised cheek. He wasn’t asking you to stay, he was telling you. District scum were only animals for him to herd. You just so happen to be his favorite sheep.

So you sit back on the couch and he reaches for his work and not your throat. Maybe he would send you to get something. A cup of tea for him, deliver a message, you would take any opportunity.

You lay down on the couch, back under his coat to keep warm, and he goes back to his work.

An hour later, his receptionist appears holding two metal trays of food. He greets her as she enters, and she offers the same back. You don’t exist. She doesn’t look at you once while she is in the room. You pass her as you make your way to the desk. She deliberately checks her red nails.

A gray-looking porridge, a slice of jam toast cut in half, and a cup of broth sat on the tray.

“I can see why you glorify my cooking.”

“I used to eat boiled cabbage and potato peels every day back home. When I came to District 12, I thought these meals were just great. Now I have you, and these meals make my stomach turn.” He pokes at the porridge with his spoon, “You’ve spoiled me.”

“I can still go and make you something.” you offer. The second you were out of view you were going to bolt to the fence.

He shakes his head ‘no’ and you sink into your chair. He felt clingy today, almost as if he could sense your plan to leave him.

“I need a reminder of the dangers of complacency.” He shovels a spoonful into his mouth. You choose half of the jam toast.

“How are you feeling after last night?” he takes the toast from your hand despite having his own in front of him.

“Fine.” You wished he would stop bringing it up.

“I am sorry he got so close.”

“These animals are my people. He wouldn’t have hurt me even if he got in.”

“I told you I wasn’t calling you an animal, and yes, he would have hurt you if he got a chance. You don’t know what people are capable of.”

The whole world is an arena and you are prey, he wanted to say.

“People are good.” you refute, although you are unsure if you believe that anymore.

Coriolanus definitely didn’t believe it. People were animals that needed the threat of violence to keep order. He thought back to a day during the war when he had collapsed in the street with swine flu. No one stopped to help a young child. Only Tigris, sick with the chills herself, picked Coriolanus up and nursed him back to health. He was sure you would too. You had picked up the child with the scraped knee while others walked around him.

“You are good. You are kind. The people around you were using you for their own benefit.”

“And you’re not?” you bite.

“What benefit would that be? A bruised eye? A fight every time I try to connect with you?”

You groan, rubbing your face aggressively with your palms. At this rate, he was likely to throw you in the compound jail. A fight with him would only derail your plans. He said it himself, complacency blinded him.

“I am sorry,” you sigh, “I didn’t sleep well on that couch. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

He reaches across the table to intertwine with your hand.

“It’s okay. Why don’t you finish your breakfast and go lie down again.”

You do finish your breakfast in a comfortable silence. Coriolanus was happy to be apologized to, and you were happy not to further the conversation that would surely turn into a fight.

You lay looking at the roof while Coriolanus tries to be as quiet as he can.

You barely hear him as he works. A stroke of a pen here, a shuffle of a paper there.

You think of Edmund and your mother. They would both be worried sick. But how could you get to them with Coriolanus breathing down your neck? By the time you broke free, would the Peacekeepers have found the hole in the fence?

The phone rang once before he could get to it. He speaks in a low, hush, tone. Seemingly calm he hangs up.

You hear his footsteps as he walks over to you causing you to sit up to see him come into view.

When Coriolanus raises his hand and brings it down upon your cheek with enough force to knock you to the ground, it surprises you.

“Edmund’s hair was found between the hinges of the door.”

He stood above you tall and angry.

“He and his family are nowhere to be found, along with your mother. But I suspect you already knew that.”

He crouches down and takes a harsh hold of your chin, “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Your answer earns you another smack to the face.

“I don’t know,” you cry, “I honestly don’t know.”

“Short with long dark hair, you said,” he laughs humorlessly, “I should have known it was him.”

“He came to say goodbye. I wasn’t going to leave, I swear.”

“Why should I believe you? Every chance you get you betray me.” He shoves your head out of his hold.

You shake your head ‘no’, and cautiously test how far he was willing to allow you to get up. You managed to a sitting position on the floor before you saw his body flex. You were level with his face. The proximity puts you on edge.

“He broke the door to say goodbye. You honestly expect me to believe that?”

“I meant what I said in the cabin about one more chance. I wasn’t going to leave. I told him I wasn’t going.”

“Why not tell me that? Why lie?”

“I didn’t want to upset you. Coriolanus, I didn’t betray you.”

“You’re a filthy liar.”

You shake your head ‘no’ frantically.

“Where has he gone to?” he asks again.

“Coriolanus, I wasn't going to betray you. I was going to stay!”

“Where is he!” he shouts in your face.

“I don’t know. Please-”

Your shaky hands take his face between them.

“I wasn't leaving you. I swear.”

He looks at you with soft, unsure eyes. You could tell he wanted to believe you. You just had to push him a bit further.

You bring his head towards your collarbone and he willingly follows, bringing the whole force of his body against you. The weight knocks you down on the floor, where he rests on top. You leave a hand on the back of his neck and the other pressed down on his shoulder blade to keep him there. In this position, you had the power. He positions his body on top of you, his leg over your hip and left arm over your shoulders.

He felt like a little boy pressed against your side. Nevertheless, it was the Commander.

Your face pounds from earlier assaults as a reminder.

You eye the door from where you lay on the floor.

“You were going to leave,” he sounded almost to be crying.

“I wasn’t. I was going to stay.”

“It was a mistake. I am going to find him and hang him up.”

He goes to get up in his anger but you clamp down on your hold.

“I didn’t leave you. Don’t leave me. Stay.”

He breaks free enough to raise his head over you.

“You would have if he got the door open.”

“No.”

“The doors open now. You could leave. I wouldn’t stop you.” He rolls his body off yours and onto the floor beside you.

He seemed earnest. You would at least get a head start. But you couldn’t be fooled by your eagerness.

“Go.” he offers.

You sit up beside him and look at the door. His violent temper made him poor company, but you could control it. Manipulate it until the opportunity arises, where you could get more than a 30-second head start.

“I heard there was a drink in the Capitol that tastes like apple pie.”

“There is,” he replies indifferently.

“Do you think I could try it when we get there?”

He turns his head towards you with a curious gaze.

“It can be the first thing you have.”

Taglist:

@sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw

@mrsjobarnes

@greekyoghurtwithberries

@namelesslosers

@urfavnoirette

@aleemendoza2425-blog

@hiatuswhore

@jacesvelaryons

@swimmjacket

@brooks-lin

@dawnissunnysideup

@astarborntowrite

@someonefromwutheringheights

@purriteen

@homopheli

@devils-blackrose

@poppyflower-22

@bruher

@dawnissunnysideup

@winter-bearv

@tempt-ress

@serinatly100986

@becauseseaotters

@aleemendoza2425-blog

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth #hunger games #dead dove do not eat #commander snow

317 notes · View notes

eternal-kosmo-ghoul · 5 months

Text

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 25. fuck party

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “merry christmas”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ the ministry is all decorated in festive decor and it truly feels like the holidays are in season! now… what do these ghouls want to do with you?

pairing: era iv nameless ghouls x gn!reader

a/n: first off i just want to apologize for the last few days being so late. i really did try my best to make sure that each day had a good fic. this is the only fic that doesn’t really follow the prompt, but i tried my best. consider this fic a nice little letter for the start of 2024. happy new year, and please enjoy !!!

cw: slight nsfw content. horny ghouls. poly ghouls. implied orgy near the end. there’s nothing nsfw that really happens, just mentioned.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

“we want to make this holiday special, dear. come on down to the nave of the ministry… you won’t be disappointed. merry christmas, sweetheart~” —❤︎

┅✦┅

the entire month has been a rollercoaster of emotions. each day you felt like something wild and absolutely ecstatic happens to you every day. it has only made your holiday season more and more interesting.

and now here you were, all cozied and nestled in your room, the scent of roasted chestnuts and currier ives lingering in the air. you sat atop your wooly quilt, with eight different letters in hand.

the slips were underneath your door when you came back from a long shift of working in the ministry. they were all decorated and colored differently, each envelope having its own unique flair and personality to it. you didn’t even have to read the names to know who’s was who.

smiling to yourself, you opened each letter one by one, excited to read what’s inside.

—

you had started off with the shiny white envelope. it was decorated in cute stationary stickers and the front was written in a glittery pink pen. at the bottom left corner of the envelope was a pink laced ribbon tied neatly with your name on it. if there was anyone that loved colors more than the entire human population, it was your favorite colorful ghoulette.

“aurora’s letter of thanks”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ to my dear y/n,

hello my darling! i hope this letter reaches you well, because i know how the others can get at times~ happy holidays, my love. i know that this month has been busy for you because of the constant yule traditions, but i’m delighted that you were able to make some time for me and that we could make gingerbread houses together like usual! and i gotta say… your tongue skills never fail to impress me~ you made me come so hard i swore i was going to pass out!! but really though… thanks for being such a sweetie to me, the ministry really doesn’t deserve you. i hope to see you soon for our little surprise~

with lots of love,

aurora ghoulette

—

the next envelope was colored in a dreamy grey, with cute hearts inked in pen on the cover, it gave off a much more serene and calm vibe compared to the vibrant letter of aurora’s. at the back was a little pocket that contained a written song. after careful observing, you had determined it belonged to an infamous air ghoulette. oh what a songbird she was.

“cumulus’ dreamy songbird”

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫༄ؘ hello darling ♡︎

what a beautiful winter night, is it not? i often like to be in touch with nature when i’m writing, helps me keep my mind at center. how have you been, darling? i hope you’ve been better after our little passionate night in bed. you were so cute with how you were eagerly trying to get my lingerie off… it was charming, really. though, putting the promiscuity aside, i just want to really want to send this love letter to you as a token of my thanks. you’re my little songbird, and you inspire me to do better, whether it’s songwriting or performing. so as a token of my gratitude.. i’ve prepared a … special song for you. i hope you like it. anyways… come see me later, i’ll sing it.. specially for you~ i love you, dove, and i wish you a happy new year ♡︎♡︎♡︎

your dearest,

cumulus ghoulette

—

the texture of the next letter was earthy and coarse, but it emitted the soft aroma of fresh pine leaves. it seems that this letter was specially crafted personally for you. just from the scent and touch alone, you smiled to yourself knowing it came from a certain earth ghoul. upon opening it, there was a little sunflower necklace attached to the sand paper letter.

“mountain’s delighted memories”

*:..｡o○ to y/n,

hope you’re doing well, and that this year has been treating you well. i appreciate you approaching me that night… and throwing me into the passions of bed. i gotta say, those faces you made when i came deep inside of you, filling you up with me seed, it still gets me going. just being honest here. the reason i’m bringing this up is well… i want to make more memories like that with you. ones that we can share together, and make ourselves feel like we’re ascending to the heavens we can’t reach. you’re really someone that makes me want to just go all out, and in many ways. which is why my gift to you this year.. is going to be imprinted into your mind for eons to come. so, if you want to find more… stop by soon please, i’ll be waiting. ‘till then, have a good christmas.

from your love,

mountain ghoul

—

this paper was crumpled and slightly torn. it looked like it was made in a rush, but it held a certain charm to it. there were little trinkets and treats attached to the letter, all of which had a cute homemade vibe to it. the faded streaks of purple pen gave away who it belonged to, and you couldn’t be more happy when a certain bug came to mind.

“phantom’s sweet treats”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ hi y/n!

i missed you :(( and i know that we live in the same ministry, but you’re so busy and i barely get to see you! which is why i dragged you out to ‘look for a christmas tree’ with me. i gotta say, i was nervous… but seeing how you reacted when i pounded you against that tree.. satanas, still sends shivers down my spine. after that night, i just can’t stop thinking about you. the way you reacted to my touch, oh it was so good. i put together some handmade goodies for you, hope you like them. think of it as my way of saying thanks for a good night :) on that note, i’m sure the other letters have talked about meeting in a special place. i’ll be there, and i’ll be sure to give you all of my attention <3

love,

phantom ghoul

—

closing the envelope shut, you grabbed the next one. lipstick marks stained the paper perfectly, imprinting kisses everywhere. looking at the particular shade of red of the lipstick, you instantly thought of a certain keyboardist. there was a soft pink rose attached underneath the slip, and you opened the envelope with ease.

“cirrus’ gratitude”

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤ evening darling,

i take that christmas has been well for you, huh? it certainly seems like it has been, considering how you were with me during that night in the log cabin ;)) we have to do that more often, sweetheart. you were so cute, with how your face was squished up against the window while i went to town on you… oh, still gets me wet, i can’t lie. it’s one of my favorite memories this season, and for that, i thank you. thanks for being such a delightful and loving partner. you’re honestly a saving grace for me, and you always make me feel good, both in and out of the bedroom. honestly, i’ve never met someone as good in bed as you are. so, as a token of my gratitude, i want you to meet me with the other ghouls tonight. it’ll be fun sweetheart, i promise.

from your dearest,

cirrus ghoulette ❤︎

—

looking at the next letter with intrigue, you were greeted with a faint smell of cologne, the scent of it was soft and reminded you of the beach. laced over the envelope was a red ribbon with seashells and shark tooth carved trinkets at the end. what a gorgeous sight. you opened it, and smiled upon recognizing the stunning calligraphy ingrained on the paper.

“rain’s poem”

｡･ﾟﾟ･ dear y/n,

having a good christmas? you better be, otherwise i’ll make sure you are. but for real though, i’m sure this year has been great for you. i would also like to thank you for.. ‘helping’ me with my own personal gift. you looked so goddamn good tied up in my bed like that. i’ll admit, i got carried away with my words, but i know damn well you were into me treating you like my bitch while i dicked you down on the mattress. though, that made me realize how much you love my honeyed words, so i’ll use this opportunity to praise instead to degrade. y/n, you’re an absolute starlight in my life, a treasure like no other. i’d move the heavens and pits for you. it’s cheesy, but it’s true, and i promise to show you how much i love you in any way i can. come by soon ❦

from your favorite water boy,

rain ghoul

—

the next letter had an ashy and brazened texture, but it shone with a brimstone-like layer to it. the paper was slightly calloused, and there was a fiery flair to it that could only be from one infamous firecracker you knew of. popping off the sloppily made wax seal, you opened it to find an equally burnt letter, but the sight made you smile.

“sodo’s confessions”

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒 to my y/n,

i’d ask you how you’re doing n’ shit, but i’m not good with words, or greetings nonetheless. so to get things out of the way, i’m going to be as straightforward as possible. y/n, i want to fuck you so badly this christmas right now. that night we shared, in my bedroom, fuck that was so hot. i loved the way you reacted every time i brought the candle wax down on your body. you looked so goddamn sexy covered in all of that… and the memory still makes my dick so hard. call me a pervert or whatever, but i’m proud to be one for you. i can’t help myself when i’m around you. your body, your scent, everything, it drives me fucking insane. don’t tell the other ghouls, but you’re my favorite, and i really can’t figure out why… guess i’m just so drawn to you. at midnight, when you meet the others, i’ll be sure to let them know who can make you feel the best in bed. and that’s not a threat, that’s a fucking promise. but ‘till then, i’ll be waiting for you, sweet thing

i love you,

sodo ghoul

—

the final letter had a reddish stain on it. bringing it closer to your nose, you got a faint whiff of red whine from the stain. the designs on the letter were intricate and creative, but there was a suave and sultry feel to this letter. if there was any infernal who knew how to be smooth, it was a certain multi ghoul with the voice of an angel.

“swiss’ invitation”

❤︎*♡∞:｡.｡ to my love,

welcome, darling~ i know how much you like the smell of wine, so i indulged you a bit in my envelope for you. merry christmas, and thank you for being such a passionate lover. gotta say, bunny, you looked so cute that one night when you were sitting on my cock. the way your rosy cheeks just got more pink every time you looked at me, desperate to stay warm… ooh, that’s what you call hot. good to know that i was able to keep you warm during that snowy night, and i got to get my dick wet too. so it was a win/win situation for the two of us, dear~ but all jokes aside, i had come up with the plan to treat my favorite sibling of sin to some… fun this season. i conspired with all of the other ghouls and ghoulettes to help me, and i’m sure they all mentioned in their letters that they want to meet up with you too. we want to make this holiday special, dear. come on down to the nave of the ministry… you won’t be disappointed. merry christmas, sweetheart~

forever yours,

swiss ghoul

—

folding all the letters neatly and piling them on your desk, you smirked to yourself, and got up from the bed to start walking over to the nave of the church. each step carried your eager body closer to a lustful, passionate and loving location.

whatever your lovers were planning… you knew it was going to be a good one.

eyeing up the tall, church doors, you pushed them open to be met with a glorious sight.

the moonlight streamed through the glass panes windows of the dimly lit nave. candles aligned everywhere with ribbons decorating every corner and crevice. but the best sight of all… were the infamous nameless ghouls themselves.

they were all dressed for the occasion, all dolled up to your liking. the ghoulettes were in matching lingerie, but in different colors. aurora in a rose gold, cumulus in white and cirrus in black. they all huddled together and perked up upon seeing you. you looked to the other side to see another group of ghouls. rain’s expression was neutral, but there was a promiscuous glint in his eyes as the red ribbon twirled between his fingers. sodo’s expression was as hungry as ever, eyeing like a piece of candy while holding onto a candle. phantom looked excited, but jittery, claws digging into his seat, and mountain looked as calm and collected as ever, albeit, not minding the little problem in his pants.

from the center, swiss emerged, and he looked down at you with a wicked, yet lustful grin. his tail flicked about to the side, and you looked up at him with curious eyes, chuckling, his long fingers traced around your jaw and gently clasped around it while craning your head up, making you look at him.

he smiled at you,

and in return you smiled.

“merry christmas, y/n.” he spoke suavely, his words still as honeyed as ever.

he then stepped behind you, gently massaging your shoulders and holding onto you. with a snap of his fingers, the ghouls and ghoulettes giggled and approached closer to you, lust on their minds.

this would certainly be a christmas to remember~

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

#holiday hoes event #swiss x reader #sodo x reader #rain x reader #phantom x reader #mountain x reader #cirrus x reader #cumulus x reader #aurora x reader #nameless ghoul smut #the band ghost x reader #the band ghost smut #smutty drabble #christmas prompts #christmas

118 notes · View notes

bruce-wayne-simp · 10 months

Text

Ok so I conjured up this little ficlet over the course of like an hour while eating lunch

Inspired by a pic of Tom I saw earlier today 👀

Glimpses of Humanity

Rating: M

Word count: 428

Tags: Dream/Hob, Fluff, Retired!Dream, vague body image stuff, romance, no beta we die like mne

Thanks to @chaosheadspace for the title ❤️

-------------------------

Hob leans against the doorframe, watching with a fondness as Dream studies himself in the bedroom mirror. He's dressed in a grey shirt, and those absolutely criminal skinny jeans he found at the shops last week.

He has the hem of his shirt pulled up to his chest, staring at the line of dark hair on his belly. Fingers lightly grazing it occasionally.

Dream has been retired for a few months now and is always discovering new parts of his body that he'd never noticed before, much to Hob's delight. And sometimes embarrassment, though most of that had been quickly squashed soon after Dream had shown up to Hob's flat.

"Hello handsome."

Dream's head snaps up, startled, from where he had been focused. He makes no move to pull his shirt down, Hob notices.

He walks up behind Dream to wrap his arms around him, resting his head on his lover's bony shoulder. Dream relaxes into his hold.

"What were you doing?" Hob turns and kisses his neck.

Dream runs a finger over his own abdomen. "I noticed it earlier this morning. While I was changing my clothes. I'm not certain how I feel about it."

"That's okay." Hob tightens his arms around him. "I can show you how to shave it, if you'd like. Or we can look into something else to get rid of it."

Dream nuzzles into his hair. "What about you?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you like it?"

Hob moves a hand down to run his fingers along Dream's fuzzy abdomen. He shivers in his arms.

He noses behind Dream's ear, "I love it, duck."

Dream turns in his arms to capture his lips in a searing kiss, one hand coming up to bury itself in Hob's hair, the other resting on his chest.

Hob walks them over to the bed, gently pushing Dream down onto it, breaking their kiss slightly before he climbs onto the bed as well, hovering over his lover.

"Truly?"

Hob runs his thumb across a cheekbone. "Truly, dove. I love every part of you."

Dream smirks, "How much?"

"Cheeky thing. I'll show you how much."

Hob kisses at Dream's cheeks and neck as he makes his way down his body. Dream's body lurches as he reaches up to snatch a pillow for his head. Once a king, always a king. Hob snorts and Dream lightly smacks at his head in response.

Hob acquiesces to his lover's will, pulling Dream's shirt up to kiss and lick at the newly discovered hair there, following it down to where it disappears under his jeans.

Fin.

#dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream/hob gadling #fic

156 notes · View notes

woklaza · 5 months

Text

Fyodor Analysis (Flowers)

Analysing THIS scene.

This scene from the season 4 intro featuring Fyodor is, blankly, flowers. But after obsessing over flower symbolism lately ( as an amateur, spare me), I figured that it would be fun to look into the meaning of flowers. This very unoriginal idea was probably done before but whatever.

Blue roses:

Blue roses symbolise secrecy and mystery, which, undoubtedly, suits Fyodor. So, moving on (help I suck at analyses it's a miracle I got an attainment badge for English).

Lily of the Valley:

Lily of the Valley symbolises purity, joy, love, sincerity, happiness and luck (Yes, I copied it from Google) But one interesting thing is that it even has connections with the Bible.

Song of Solomon 2 I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.

Jesus was also described as 'Lily of the Valley' for that He alone is sinless, holy, and separate from sinners. This, well... this seems to expand on Fyodor's motive of wanting the Book to eliminate and purify humanity's "sins".

Red roses:

On the surface, red roses symbolise love and romance which, Fyodor does not seem to express. But after some more research, I found that the deeper the colour of the red rose, the more ready you are for commitment. But this is just on the side of romance (Fic writers, take the notes). There are other meanings to red roses such as desire, longing, respect, admiration, courage, sacrifice, beauty and perfection.

Tithonia Rotundifolia:

Before I go into the meaning, I just want to say this one was very hard to do. There was a bit of a mind debate on whether these are Tithonia Rotundifolia or orange daisies. But in terms of the shape, I figured it would be the Tithonia Rotundifolia.

Tithonia rotundifolia is a hardy and drought-tolerant plant, often thriving in challenging conditions. As such, it can symbolize endurance, resilience, and the ability to thrive despite adversity. Also, giving or receiving Tithonia rotundifolia can be a gesture of admiration and appreciation, acknowledging the recipient's positive qualities or expressing gratitude. While I personally do not think Fyodor is a person who shows admiration and appreciation, he certainly was admired and appreciated by lots, such as Sigma, Nikolai, Ivan et cetra.

Magenta Roses:

Magenta roses symbolize deep, passionate love, echoing the fervent emotions often associated with red roses. They convey a profound sense of affection and desire. But considering Fyodor's personality, we'll move on. Magenta roses also represent gratitude, appreciation, and admiration. That links perfectly to my previous analysis of the Tithonia rotundifolia.

With a bit more research I found that the rich and vibrant colour of magenta roses evokes feelings of enchantment and mystery. They can also signify the magic and allure of love, adding a touch of mystique to romantic gestures. But again, considering Fyodor, let's not stick to the romance side of things.

Olive branches:

This one is more of an optional analysis since I'm not sure if they really are olive branches in the first place. Anyway, we are pretty familiar with the international peace symbol (the well-known one, anyway) being a dove carrying an olive branch with its beak. This symbolises peace and harmony, which at least, in my opinion, is what Fyodor is aiming for to create a "sinless" world without abilities.

Narcissus:

The Greek myth of Narcissus falling in love with his reflection and turning into a flower symbolises self-love and egotism. While this may not entirely suit Fyodor, I do believe he has self-confidence in himself, perhaps even too much that he didn't consider trusting his allies. In fact, that was how he reached his downfall. The Narcissuses in the scene, at the end, bloomed over the other flowers and caused them to grey and wilt. In my opinion, this may symbolise two things:

This shows some of the good qualities that were symbolised in the flowers that didn't suit Fyodor were ruined by his self-confidence and lack of trust. For example, Fyodor didn't have the love symbolised in the roses because his goal buried those emotions down.

This shows how all of his good qualities were soon consumed by his lack of trust and confidence in himself. In fact, the Narcissuses taking over were like how his confidence and arrogance in not needing another plan just in case (we're talking about breaking out from Meursault here) taking over him and resulting in his ultimate (hopefully temporary) downfall and death.

Anyway, these are just my silly rambles. Use this as a reference or whatever, don't take it too seriously I really don't know much about flowers lol. I'm trying to make more analyses cos they're so fun to read (/>^<\) Have fun with the new pieces of information, I spent 1 hour on this and opened 23 computer tabs (Yes, I am not very efficient)! Uhh... bub-bye?

#bsd #bsd analysis #bsd fyodor #seriously the romance and love for the flowers are screaming Kolya #Yeah should i tag this a fyolai?#Nah #what did fyodor do lol #I tortured Fedya-kun with my ass analysis #character analysis #scene analysis #bungou stray dogs s4 intro #HIS ANEMIA IS SHOWING THROUGH HIS FACE BIKHUJ #No offense to ppl with anemia :>

75 notes · View notes

quillthrillswriting · 2 months

Text

the gaang...as an indie rock band....? kataang, where aang's only way of confessing his feelings is by writing katara a love song....? 😏

💳💥💳💥💳💥💳💥

i present to you, excerpts from my new one-shot: Well, My (Not-Yet) Boyfriend's In A Band

⋆---––——––---⋆ ⋆ ---––——––------––——––--- ⋆ ⋆ ---––——––--- ⋆

Aang winced, shielding himself with his drumsticks as he walked into Sokka and Katara’s garage almost a full half-hour later than their agreed-upon rehearsal time, as if the two thin pieces of wood could protect him from the combined side-eye of his friends. Even Toph, who regularly rolled in ages after rehearsal had started with a tea in her hand from Uncle Iroh’s, was shooting him a glare, which is how Aang knew he’d really messed up. He ducked his head into the entranceway, silently cursing himself for being just a bit too tall for the garage doorway.

Katara shifted from her position against the opposing doorframe, where she had been judgmentally leaning as she echoed the look in Toph’s eyes. “Aang…”

He threw up his hands in preemptive defence, words tumbling one after the other from his mouth. “I know! I know, I know I’m late,” he tugged his high-top converse off awkwardly, stashing his skateboard in the usual crevice he leaned it against. “But I swear, it’s for a good reason.”

“It better be,” Toph scoffed. “I blew off homework to come here.”

“Toph, you wouldn't have done the homework either way.”

⋆---––——––---⋆ ⋆ ---––——––------––——––--- ⋆ ⋆ ---––——––--- ⋆

“I can feel you glaring at me, Zuko.” Toph smirked, then turned back to Aang. “You’ve been rustling around in your pockets for a while now, you sure you’re not stalling for a good reason on why you were late?”

“It is a good reason. Look!” Aang finally managed to tug out the crumpled piece of paper from his cargo pocket, unfurling it for Toph to see.

Silence filled the room, and then, in a tone laced so much with sarcasm that it was hard to tell when the tone stopped and the sarcasm began, Toph said flatly. “Well, it sounds like a piece of paper, but I assume you’re referring to what’s on the paper. Way to taunt a blind girl, Aang.”

“I-I didn’t mean, I-” Aang stuttered awkwardly, his cheeks flushing an embarrassed shade of pink.

⋆---––——––---⋆ ⋆ ---––——––------––——––--- ⋆ ⋆ ---––——––--- ⋆

“The only problem,” Aang added, “Is that the songs can’t be covers. We have to write something original. The idea of the music festival is to spotlight new young voices in indie rock.”

The others exchanged sidelong glances. “I’m sure that we can write something.” Sokka said with finality. “How hard can it be?”

Hours later, Sokka was sprawled on the couch, head stuffed between the dove grey cushions as he groaned at their utter lack of progress. Katara was perched on the arm of the couch, biting her lip as she tried to run through lyric ideas in her mind. Toph was (very un-subtly) preparing for a nap, curled up in the room’s vintage armchair, while Zuko paced with a hand on his chin, lost in thought.

Unsurprisingly, the five of them had discovered that writing original music does, in fact, require both skill and inspiration, something none of them felt they had at the moment.

⋆---––——––---⋆ ⋆ ---––——––------––——––--- ⋆ ⋆ ---––——––--- ⋆

“What about a love song?” Zuko suggested.

“Ick, oogies!” Sokka yelped from his position next to the mini fridge as he pulled out a pair of sodas. He moved as though he was going to throw one to Toph, then thought better of it and just gently placed it next to her as he sat.

“You have a girlfriend, Sokka.” Zuko pointed out as Sokka settled next to him.

⋆---––——––---⋆ ⋆ ---––——––------––——––--- ⋆ ⋆ ---––——––--- ⋆

“Aang, this is, this is great!”

“I like it.” Zuko nodded.

“Would someone please put text-to-speech on?”

“Let me read it out loud.” Sokka said, apologetically. “My bad, Toph."

♥ check out the (completed) fic & my ao3 here! ->

28 notes · View notes

drconstellation · 8 months

Text

More Half-and-Half-A-Miracle Thoughts

Part 2: The Dark side of Aziraphale

Updated 10 Nov 2023

Part 1: Miracle Power Ranking is here. Part 3: The Third Archangel is here

There was one that thing that struck me about the miracle working scene: why did Gabriel offer crossed hands to the duo?

Gabriel offers his right, his good, heavenly angel-sided hand to Crowley first, and his left, his sinister-sided demon hand to Aziraphale.

And this is NOT an accident.

Its been observed that Gabriel, in his amnesiac state like this, has reverted back to a more base-state angelic being, one of joy, and love, and curiosity. He's acting on instinct here.

Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. The demon has more light in him than the angel, and Gabriel and can feel that instinctively. This really shouldn't be a surprise to us, its been in our face all along. Now don't get me wrong - Crowley is still a demon, and Aziraphale is still an angel, I'm not saying that they aren't. Mostly we talk about how Crowley isn't all that much of a demon at heart, just "going along with Hell as far as [he] can," but we don't really talk about much about that other side of Aziraphale other than wishing to see more of his BAMF! side.

You know what - its a side that thanks to all of the rest you ops and meta-ists out that that I've come to both fear and appreciate. And let me tell you, if I found myself in a dark alley on a bad night I would hope to God it was Crowley I bumped into , because I feel he would at least give me the choice to walk out alive. I don't think Aziraphale would, I would be at the mercy of how ever he decided he wanted to manipulate the situation...and I find that rather chilling.

Crowley might be the charred demon with a heart of gold, but Aziraphale is the two-sided bastard of an angel he loves. All bright light casts a shadow. Its easy for us to be blinded by the shining light of goodness and right and the side of God (er, hang on, isn't the GO God an eldritch horror in disguise...?) and not be able to see what is hiding behind it.

We rarely see the back of Aziraphale's waistcoat, because he is rarely seen without an overcoat on, a covering of social propriety. There is the noticeable occasion in S2E1 when Crowley comes back to do the apology dance then they perform the hiding miracle (see screenshot below, and it was still hard to chose a good angle for all it went on for several minutes!) and perhaps in S1 when he spends all night reading Agnes Nutter's book. Both times its only in the privacy of the book shop, under the cover of night. So its easy to miss that the color of the back panel is a most un-angelic color: a dark viridian green. I know I keep banging on about this, but its important, and in more ways than one.

[Edit: Since I first wrote this, I've written a mega-meta on all the colours in GO, and some of the following interpretation has changed a little - but the significance of the green still stands!]

All the angels wear some form of a pale colored neutral palette, ranging from white to beige to taupe (white, off-white shades and shades of brown,) with dove-grey for the known in-show seraphim, Gabriel, Michael, Uriel and Saraqael. Gold and blue are also associated with Heaven. But Aziraphale is the only angel to wear green and shades of blue-green. He's quite unique in that department.

The colors of Hell are completely different. Black, lots of black. And red, different shades of red. The demons are actually quite a colourful lot, but do tend towards the darker shades. Red is a colour of passion, not just a demonic colour, although it can be associated with the demonic sinister left hand side. The main colour of Hell is actually green - the thick green light that you almost of have to swim through in the crowded halls of Hell, and examples like the green stag on Furfur's sash. It represents chaos, in competition to the rigid lawful nature of Heaven.

So while Aziraphale mostly presents a socially acceptable angelic front, its telling only Crowley has properly glimpsed that dark, shady, bit-of-a-bastard unpredictable side to him - and likes it. (More from Cobragardens about it here in 1793 Paris and 1601 at the Globe.) I mean, come on - this is a being that sent a man to his death so he could go on lunch date? A lunch date he practically concocted just so he could see Crowley. wtf? A being of love who was about to shoot the Antichrist to stop Armageddon? A being who quietly and efficiently discouraged the mafia who threatened to set the book shop on fire from ever returning? (See, told you I didn't want to meet him a dark alley...) Plus we saw him mind-control a whole roomful of people for his Jane Austen-themed ball, just to woo his beloved demon, with no thought of the possible collateral damage. I'm sorry, is this the same "guardian angel" we were all glowing over earlier?

The coat lapel as wings theory adds some weight to this hidden dark side of Aziraphale as well. Aziraphale's lapels always point downwards, towards Hell. Particularly when he has been discorporated and returned to Heaven, where frustrated about being told he has to gear up for war, he instead wonders out loud if he can return to Earth to a possess a body, reasoning that if demons can, he must be able to as well. lmoa! You are so not an angel, my dear! Yet...he isn't a demon either. He's almost...a bit of both. Two sides to a coin. A blend of light and dark. Shades of grey...although he doesn't like to admit it.

Image by lomiel

Back to the shadow-like green panel on the back of the waistcoat.

Actually, on second thoughts, I'm going to put that in Part 3.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #gabriel #the colors of Heaven and Hell #lunch date in Paris #the eldritch ball #God is an eldritch horror #coat lapel theory

105 notes · View notes

shadowbriar · 1 year

Text

Sirius Black - Dare You

Pairing : (F/M) || Sirius Black x Reader Word Count : 2.7k Warning : Drowning. Sirius being an idiot. I hate him. Prompts : “I couldn’t decide whether to kiss or kick you.” || “Oh? Oh.” Notes : I don’t really like Sirius in this story, he’s borderline toxic but he’s cute in the end, so I forgive him. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Happy tears and laughter would be the two main things that filled the group of friends’ summer break. Agreeing to join the Marauders and staying over at the Potter’s summer house would be one of the best decisions she’s made in her entire life. From the moment she stepped in the place, she knew that the days spent would be one of her greatest days, and she has been proven right so far.

Now they’re seated in a circle, cheeks rosy from gulping down the bottles of booze James was so kind to provide. Her knees were grazing with his, sending jolts of electricity through her spine. He was laughing, being the most beautiful version of himself in her eyes. She always loved to see him beaming in laughter. The way his hair would fall on his face, hiding the piercing grey eyes that would always strip her soul whenever they’re locked on hers. Sirius Black is the definition of magnificence indeed.

If she should ever point one flaw from him it would be the fact that he wasn’t hers. Sirius has always been so carefree, so nonchalant with every aspect of his life, including romance. As bitter as she should admit, there must be no girl in the castle that hasn't tasted those pink lips of his. No girl except her, of course.

“So, will tonight finally be my lucky night?” Sirius whispers to her ears “Can I finally land the chance of tasting those lips of yours?”

“Not with your alcoholic breath, you’re not.” She says, pushing him away in a friendly manner “You’ll never kiss me, Sirius.”

The boy pouts, “Why not? Everyone else would.”

Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? Everyone would and everyone had. She wouldn’t have any problem with his past lovers. No, the problem wasn’t of his long list of ex-lovers. It was the fact that he never meant the kiss he shared with anyone. And even though she would kill to have him kiss her, knowing that she would just be another tally to his list never sits right with her. Not when she holds the purest and most loving feelings for him.

“I bet you ten galleons we’ll have our kiss before this break is over.” He continues, still having that confident smug expression on his face “I’ll get it, one way or another.”

She snorts, “I’d love to see you try.”

“Oh, I will try, alright.” He nods in determination “Wouldn’t you be so kind and give me mental support? Small kiss on my cheek, perhaps?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Sirius!” Lily exclaims, making the two turn to the red girl “Your turn.”

“Oh, Merlin.” He mutters.

“I’ve got one.” Marlene says, her mischievous expression plastered all over her face “Never have I ever fancied someone in this room. And I meant by full on whipped, down bad, would kill for that person kind of fancy.”

James groans, “Come on, now, we all know the answer to that!”

“Do we?” Mary comments, her brows furrow “Cause I don’t.”

“I don’t either.” Lily says with the same confused tone, glancing at her boyfriend with a ‘you better explain later’ look before turning back to the raven haired boy “So have you or have you never, Sirius?”

“Of course, I have.”

“No,” The girl next to him gasps, making a disbelieved look “Who?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Dove.” He winks “Right, spin the bottle again!”

She was stunned. So much secret for someone who seemed to have always been an open book for her. And what did he mean she wouldn’t have believed it? Would the person be someone she would least expect? Could it be Dorcas, though she’s been with Marlene for the longest time? Or could it be one of the Marauders? Or could it be Lily, the girl his best friend has been pining for years?

So many possibilities for such a vague answer.

“Stop staring at me.” Sirius says smugly “You’ll fall in love if you don’t.”

She rolls her eyes, “Who?”

“Not telling.”

“Oh, come on!” She whines, pulling on the sleeves of his sweater “Who is it? Who did you fancy?”

He turns to see her, smirking, “I’ll tell you if you let me kiss you.”

“No.” She frowns “Never.”

“Your lost.” He snorts, acting offended “Could’ve been the best night of our lives.”

Indeed it could’ve been the best night of their lives, well her life for sure, she wouldn’t know if it would leave any remark for him. Being friends with Sirius for years had made her certain that the boy could never hold half as deep of a devotion as hers, yet with the new half confession he made, she’s starting to question everything she knew. Who could be the lucky soul he’s hoard feelings for?

—-

The sun was shining bright, birds chirping as if they were singing a pleasant song. If she should choose one thing she loves most about the Potter’s summer house, it would be their pool and the sun loungers around it. She loves feeling the warmth of the sun while listening to the banter her friends exchange or taking a quick dip to the pool to cool herself from the heat. All and all, the time spent at the pool has always been the pleasant highlight of her day.

Until today.

Her eyes were closed, the sunglasses she’s wearing don’t seem to do much of a help to block the striking light. Her skin was getting red, slightly burnt from the sun, but she wasn’t in the mood to move from her seat. It’s not like everyday she could sunbathe like this.

“Help! Someone!” A voice yelled, making her sit straight up “Help, he’s not breathing!”

She turned to the source of voice, Peter, frantically shaking Sirius’ soaked body.

“What happened?” She asks as she gets to the two, kneeling behind Sirius’ limp body “Sirius, wake up!”

In a panic, she begins to tilt his head and perform CPR on the unconscious boy. Her body was trembling in fear, afraid of all the bad possible outcomes of such a disaster. Worry and fright pollutes her mind that she didn’t even think for a second that Sirius is a brilliant swimmer. There would be no logical way to explain how such a skilled boy could drown in a pool that’s not even as deep as his height.

She begins mouth to mouth, counting on the seconds before doing the press on his chest. She begins with a light one, afraid of giving him too much pressure. Yet before she could do a third press to his chest, the boy bursts into laughter.

“You’re tickling me.” He exclaims, now sitting up as if nothing has happened “Merlin, I should’ve done this years ago.”

She pulled away, looking appalled and baffled at the situation, “You were- I thought- What’s just happened?”

“You kissed me.”

“What?”

“I said, you kissed me.” He said with a victorious smile “Told you we’d have that kiss before the break’s over.”

She blinks, letting out a disbelieved chuckle from the stunt he’s pulled, “You’re a dickhead, Sirius.”

She stands from her spot, walking away in angry steps. How dare he trick her that way? How dare he scared her to death, only to taunt her with the kiss that he obviously had no remarks of? How dare he hurt her this way?

“Wait, Love, I’m sorry.” Sirius called, trying to catch her “Hey-”

“Is everything a joke for you?!” She snaps, turning to him with teary eyes now.

Sirius gulped, understanding that he’s taken it too far this time.

“Do you understand the horror I felt? Thinking that you really drowned? Thinking that you’re really not breathing? Do you even understand how terrifying it was, Sirius?!”

He winces, her shouting was making the others to come out of the house, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Everything’s just a joke for you, isn’t it?” She says with a quivering voice, yanking his hand away from her “Just fuck off, okay!”

The group of friends gasps. Sure she’s never been a saint but she’s never spat on anyone, not unless they were exchanging a banter. They knew that Sirius had crossed the line this time, whatever he did. Just perfect to turn their blissful getaway into a living nightmare now.

—-

She’s been staying in her room, sulking over her pathetic state. Exactly why did her heart have to choose him? Why couldn’t she just fall for a more grounded boy? One who would be more careful with her heart. One who would take care of her gently. One who would never be as careless as Sirius is.

It was never meant to be, she knew it. From the beginning she could already taste the bitter ending her infatuation would lead her. Sirius would never take her more than a friend, let alone reciprocate her feelings. He’s never wanted to be tied to someone else. He’s never wanted to settle down with someone. He’s never wanted to grow old and spend the rest of their lives together. No, that was never and would never be Sirius.

But why is it so hard for her to hate him? All the tears shed over this morning’s incident was not of her hatred for him, it was for her hatred towards herself. How could she be so foolish to still love him, even after everything? Even after every blatant evidence that he would never be the one for her?

A soft knock was made from the other side of the door. Perhaps it was Lily again, coaxing her to get out of the room and take her dinner. She hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast, after all. Yet her appetite has gone out of the window and she certainly isn’t in the mood to meet anyone tonight.

“Love?” He says softly “It’s me. Would you please open the door so we could talk?”

Her head turns, not expecting to hear his voice.

“Pease?” He begs, knocking on the door once more “It wouldn’t take much of your time, I promise.”

Sniffling, she finds her feet closer to the door. Her brain was cursing her for it, for giving in so easily after everything he’s done, but her heart could never bear the plea in his tone. He knew exactly how to crumble her fortress with just one pleading. Another thing to add on the things that make her so pathetic tonight.

“What do you want?”

Sirius’ expression softens, noticing her still wet cheeks and the heartbroken expression she has all over her face, “Can we talk?”

She didn’t say a word as she walked back inside the room, not closing the door in a gesture for him to come. He did, quietly closing the door behind him and standing a few metres away from her, not wanting to invade her sheer tolerance for him.

“I’m sorry,” He starts “For everything this morning, I’m really sorry.”

She remains quiet, watching him as she tries to decipher his words.

“I thought it was a harmless prank, I didn’t think it through, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you so obsessed with wanting to kiss me, Sirius?” She asks, her voice still barely above a whisper “Am I one of the girls in your dating conquest?”

“No, no, of course not!” He exclaims fast, taking a few steps closer to her “I have never intended for you to feel that way. You’re far from the girls I ever dated from. You’re my friend, you're worth so much more than all of them combined.”

And there it is. A friend. His friend. As much as it relieves her to know that he thinks of her preciously, the bitter truth still hurts. She knew that he only sees her as a friend, she knew these all along. Yet having the confirmation served to her face now brought a whole different level of heartache she didn’t know one could even suffer from.

“Alright.” She says with a sharp breath, trying to maintain her composure so not to crumble completely in front of him “I forgive you. Would that be all?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Sirius turns his body, walking closer to the door before shaking his head and facing her again, “No, actually that’s not all.”

She raised an eyebrow, confused by his demeanour.

“I suppose I have to tell you the real reason why I’m so desperate to kiss you.”

“Okay,” She nods lightly, still not following the direction he’s heading “I’m all ears.”

“I like you.” He blurts “I like you, I love you, I want you, I pine for you, Merlin, I’m desperate for you.”

She blinks, taken aback by his confession.

“I’m the worst at showing my true intentions, believe me the boys have scolded me for years for it but I really don’t know what to do with all these emotions. I yearn for you and it’s maddening that you’re not mine and that I couldn’t kiss you or that I couldn’t hold you anytime I want.”

She’s still mute, trying to digest each of his words.

“I’m sorry for being the pathetic loser that I am. I know that you must hate me for everything. For being this pitiful and foolish with the whole dating quest but I tried, truly I tried to wriggle myself out of these feelings and I can’t. Everytime I try my best to suppress these feelings, it would only spit on my face and amplify instead.” He confessed, looking defeated and desperate from his own torment “So I beg you, please get me out of this. Please get me out of this torture.”

“And how would I do that?”

He shrugs, shaking his head, “I don’t know. Yell at me, tell me that I’m an idiot and that you hate me for ruining our friendship. Tell me that I’m the most pathetic bloke there is and that you’ll never reciprocate my feelings. Tell me that you’ll never love me.”

“Is that truly what you want?”

“No, but there really isn’t any other way, is there?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know, perhaps there is.”

Now it’s his turn to have his brows furrowed in confusion.

“The person you fancied, it was me?” She asks, trying to make sure that she wasn’t lost in translation “You fancy me?”

“Fancy is a far understating word, but yes, it was you. It’s always been you.” He reaffirms “And I never said I stopped fancying you. You’re the one who thought I no longer do.”

“Oh? Oh.”

An awkward silence fell between the two. As she tries to process his confession, Sirius is put on edge. He’s never seen her with such mannerism, so hard for him to understand what she would say next or what she’s thinking. He hoped that she would break his heart. Utter all the worst words she could probably say, he hoped that she would crush his heart to pieces, because otherwise he knew that he’ll be stuck loving the girl who doesn’t feel the same way about him.

“Is that all you could say? Oh?” He asked, still nervous of her response.

“So far, yes.”

He nods, “Right.”

“Do you really mean it?’

“Which part?”

“Every part.”

“I did.” He answers firmly, gulping “Except for the part where I wanted you to break my heart. I hope you wouldn’t, but there’s no other way for me to get out of these feelings, so if you would.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, completely lost from her words now.

“Merlin, I couldn’t decide whether to kiss or kick you.” She says with a bitter chuckle, running a hand through her hair “You stress me so much, do you know that?”

“I’m sorry?” He apologises “I think?”

She rolls her eyes, coming closer to him this time and resting her hands to his chest, “You’re a pathetic loser, Sirius Black.”

He gulps, bracing himself for the heartbreak he’s about to face.

“You’re the daftest bloke in history and I hate you for confessing your feelings to me now,” She continues, glueing her eyes to his now “Because if you’ve done it earlier, you could’ve kissed and held me for years already.”

“What-”

“Shut up and just kiss me before I get mad at you again.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

And so he leans in, finally getting the price he’s thirsted for the longest of time. She was the definition of perfection, the way her soft lips met with his. How her body’s now close to his, being held in his protective embrace just the way he’s always prayed at night. For a moment there all the years of silent pining and distressful yearns for each other doesn’t seem so bad. Never that bad when a happy ending is their reward.

#sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #sirius black scenario #sirius black scenarios #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black angst #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x oc

315 notes · View notes