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saintescuderia · 1 month

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pancakes (pt. 4)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :)

A/N: apologies if this isn't 100%. i wrote this in between travelling to japan to attend suzuka. and then i got sick and couldn't even go lol.

P4 - L-sits and pull-ups

Charles Leclerc was known for being a nice guy.

All the boys knew it. Lando experienced it when he saw how Charles was genuine with service staff whenever they went somewhere. Alex had experienced it in how Charles treated his family, leaving the F1 boys to spend time with Arthur whenever F2 joined the schedule - or when his mother visited the Paddock. Whereas George had just done a quick FaceTime to his mother on Mother’s Day, Charles had sent Pascale Leclerc a luxury basket with a surprise yacht trip and a massage.

“She was having a bad week.” The Monegasque reasoned when the boys found out.

Pierre’s PS5 was a result of Charles’ kindness; sourcing it for his upset friend who had missed the drop. Max's apartment was a result of Charles' kindness; helping him look for places in his home city for the Dutchman looking to buy property in the foreign Monaco. Max owed Charles a lot.

If not for his apartment, then for his F1 seat.

Mercedes were taking too long. Charles knew someone at Red Bull's junior team who could help him score an interview with Helmut Marko. And when you told Charles to stop being so nice to Max after all the drama that happened in F2, he shrugged and said it was the nice thing to do.

So you, a Torro Rosso trainer, helped Max Verstappen with an interview.

Because Charles was kind and he asked you.

And there was nothing you wouldn't do for Charles Leclerc.

Charles’ circles especially were all aware of you before he even joined the grid. It was just that sort of thing. Everyone knows everyone in motorsports. All those boys had seen you hanging around him at the karting races. Were it not for the stark difference in appearance, some might’ve thought you were family. Some did. Because for the longest time, that’s what you and Charles were. Family.

You were always there for him. You celebrated him when he won. You supported him when he didn’t. You were always the first person he went to when he finished his race. Not his parents, not Jules, not anyone - you.

He would come to you and you would quickly repeat some key English phrases for the interviewers who would surely come for him. You would pat him on the back and offer a warm smile - no matter the result - and offer some feedback based on what you saw. Performance was your speciality after all.

Then, after everything, you guys would finish with a homemade plate of your pancakes. No matter what. That’s how it went and how it would always go.

Until 2018.

That had been a shit fucking show of a year. The rookie trio had been super confused when they finally arrived at F1 and saw you dressed as Hospitality. Charles gave no answer to Lando, Alex or George, no explanation to why he barely acknowledged you. It had been Pierre, the one who had been there through it all, who had quietly explained to them what had happened.

For a while, Alex had a hard time talking to Max when he found out.

Charles hadn’t been surprised that the grid had found out. Nothing ever stayed a secret in this fucking place. NDAs were a joke. The whole agreement between him and Charlotte had been unearthed by some lower ranking Ferrari employee who didn’t know how to keep shut. Then again, Charles had expected it to come out eventually. Half the drivers were dating for PR anyway.

Ferrari were already on his case about finding a new replacement, a pretty girlfriend for him to post boyfriend material pictures with so it can ‘increase his numbers’ with the female fanbase. Since Drive To Survive had done well to popularise the sport with a whole new demographic of F1 fans, teams were trying to capitalise on this as much as possible. Charles quietly suspected that this was part of the reason why Ferrari approached Carlos.

That and they probably wanted to get rid of Seb as quickly as possible after he found out what happened between to you and raged.

Though, Charles could understand Seb’s stance on it. He himself was conflicted about it, half the time unsure if he had made the right call to listen to Mattia. He had just been hurt and upset and his father had just passed away and the press had been vicious and Charles was just desperate to fulfil his dream of getting the coveted seat.

Well, your joint dream.

It had been the dream of the both of you. It was why you worked just as hard as he did. You had taught him English. He had taught you Italian. He networked and raced. You built cars and trained. He had helped you get a job in Torro Rosso. You had helped him get a seat in Alfa Romeo.

Which, of course, led to him getting a spot in Scuderia Ferrari.

Except by the time he was putting on the red, you two were no longer speaking to one another. Or, he was no longer speaking to you and you finally accepted he had cut you off. Gone were the days where he was searching the crowds for your face, rushing to you after the race finished.

Six years ago, he stopped eating pancakes.

He knew you still made them, of course. And not because pancakes had been your everyday breakfast since you both turned fourteen and you started weightlifting and tracking your macros. He knew because he had seen some Alpine reserve driver eating them.

His name was Oscar Jack Piastri. F2 Champion who also won F3 and the Renault Cup. He had more trophies than anyone else his age. For a moment, Charles thought it was because you back training drivers and were working with him.

Arthur later refuted this when Charles was grilling him that no, you weren't training Oscar Piastri. You actually hadn’t had much interaction with him when you would come down to F2.

“Does this mean you’re talking to Y/N again?” Arthur had asked, assuming that’s why Charles was asking about you. “Can we be friends with her again?”

“No.”

“You know maman still doesn’t believe what happened.”

Charles was known for being a nice guy, but he hung up on his brother. Charles really was one of the kinder drivers, but when Alex told them about the tweet, he had scoffed and sneered. When Oscar Piastri himself arrived in orange and held his hand out to greet the nice Monacoan driver, Charles glared and kept his arms crossed. Fuck this. He was not going to shake Oscar Piastri’s fucking hand.

Even though, deep down, Charles knew there was no need for this. Arthur had confirmed that Oscar really was just a really talented driver - Y/N hadn’t trained him. This was no Max Verstappen situation.

Moreover, it wasn’t like Charles was in Daniel Ricciardo’s position.

If it weren't for the million cameras recording the first meeting of the two Australian drivers, Charles could only imagine Daniel's reaction to the rookie. It was one thing that Oscar essentially took Ricciardo's seat.

The other was that everyone had seen him with you.

Admittedly, Daniel had a reason to not want to shake Oscar’s hand, Charles could reason. Even if he still thought Ricciardo was an espèce de putain merde for what he did to you.

Still, Charles couldn’t explain it. He wouldn’t explain it. He didn’t need to. The grid had so far understood it perfectly fine; you don’t go near Y/N. When Logan had joined the grid, Alex had the good sense to quietly fill him in on what had happened.

Why the fuck couldn’t Lando do the same?

Which brings us to right now: Bahrain 2023. A control unit failure meant a DNF for his first race of the season. When is this bad luck going to end? Charles retired his car, managing to make it past the McLaren garage on his way to the Ferrari red at the end of the Pit Lane.

It was just as well that his car was slowing to a stall. It meant that he managed to catch a glimpse of the McLaren garage - and the naive Australian rookie stood with a plate in his hands, very clearly eating some pancakes.

Charles almost drove into a mechanic.

It was 3am. $uicideboy$ was playing through your headphones. You weren’t wearing any shoes.

This could only mean one thing: you were doing calisthenics.

Your arms were shaking slighting as you bent your elbows and tucked your legs in before straightening them. Your grip on the parallette bars was slipping but you engaged your core tighter, hoping to keep balanced as you straightened out your legs and held the L-sit position.

Oscar had DNF’ed on lap 13. The media was already going wild with questions about his decision to ditch Alpine for McLaren and whether or not this was just karma. McLaren looked horrible. Even his teammate had finished 17th. No matter your feelings on the young Brit, even you had to admit Lando Norris was a decent driver.

During the course of pre-season preparations, wind had carried the gossip that Zak Brown had revealed the car to the team earlier this year with a sub-par level of enthusiasm. Whilst it wasn’t uncommon for cars to arrive at Sakhir with plans for future upgrades… you hadn’t thought it would be this bad. For McLaren. At this rate, the MCL60 was looking like a back of the field car.

What’s more the team was struggling. One only needed to look at their qualifying session to see how bad it had been. Engineers giving mixed reports. Oscar’s radio not working and getting out in Q1. Lando getting mixed tyres and getting out in Q2. A whole ass clusterfuck, in your opinion.

And Daniel had been there, smiling smug whenever the camera decided to pan to the Red Bull garage.

The song changed in your headphones. Your arm strained. You dropped, fell forward. Cue the stream of expletives that would’ve made even Guenther blush.

You knew that going to the gym after the race had finished up - a night race that - was going to mess up your sleep schedule. However, you were too wired after everything to go to sleep. You needed the dopamine rush. There was too much going on for you to process any other way.

Because, firstly, you needed to get rid of the image of Daniel’s smug smirk that was currently etched into your brain.

You had skipped your post-dinner protein shake and had your coffees black today. You had started your session with a series of HIIT sprints on the treadmill before you did as many pull ups as your body would allow. It had been quite some time since you had done calisthenics training so religiously but you were already internally creating a new program for yourself.

That is, you were already mentally preparing for the cut you had decided to undertake the moment Daniel Ricciardo had walked into the gym after finding out he'd lost his seat. And blame you for it.

You pushed yourself up off the ground and came to your parallette bars again. You grabbed each one and then lifted yourself up again. You closed your eyes and willed your brain to focus purely on the lactic acid running through your body.

Because, secondly, you were stressing more than you should about Charles’ DNF.

You had watched the testing sessions carefully. You always did. Always keeping an eye out on the red car with the black T cam. Charles hadn’t done too bad but, obviously, it was hard to give a genuine judge. Everyone always sandbagged.

For example, Red Bull didn’t look as strong in testing, but then came out on race day and finished as they did. You could be happy for Max, especially since Jos was in attendance and knew just what that meant… but you also knew how it would look for Ferrari that Carlos had finished fourth and Charles hadn’t even finished the race.

The car did look strong through. That was evident by how Ferrari had done in qualifying. Charles had out qualified Carlos, a narrow Ferrari 3-4 behind a Red Bull 1-2. However, your former childhood best friend had a bad luck streak unlike anything you had ever witnessed.

And even though the word ‘former’ was in the equation, you never liked seeing Charles like this. Even if he was likely the reason no one in the grid spoke to you anymore.

Well, until now.

Because, thirdly, Oscar Piastri threw a spanner in the works.

You knew how it was going to look. You knew. It was one thing for you to interact this closely with a driver. It was another thing entirely for you to unofficially train him. However, as Zak Brown had found out, there was no way you could be allowed to join McLaren as a performance trainer for Oscar.

When the young driver had filled you in about his meetings with Zak Brown and his particular stipulation, you called him an idiot and told him to sign. When Oscar filled you in about his new plan to be able to work alongside you through all the loopholes his father's lawyer found, you called him an idiot and told him it wasn't worth it.

"I beg to differ. If you don't want to, that's fine. But not because of whatever drama happened."

He knew the drama. It was impossible that a team principle had looked into having you as his driver 's trainer and not found out what had happened. It was also impossible that Oscar Piastri, former Prema driver - as in, former Arthur Leclerc teammate - and current teammate to loose tongue Lando, didn't know about you and Charles.

You had honestly just waited for the moment he would bring it up. He never did.

Because Oscar, you were coming to learn, was far more level-headed and mature than most the drivers on this grid. And he was so young. You didn't want to see anyone fuck that up. You really, really didn't.

Still, you said no.

Then a week later you saw that fucking tractor make him DNF.

You leaned forward and brought yourself down into a handstand, counting to ten before bending your elbows and lowering yourself slowly. You lifted yourself up and then tucked your legs once more. Your whole body was shaking more and more know but and you fought to breathe through it. You finally lowered yourself and let out a deep huff. Whilst you weren't pleased with how out of practice you were, you were a little pleased that you finally managed to lower yourself - instead of falling down.

You looked ahead at the mirrors and then saw a familiar face of the driver walking into the gym. Oscar dropped his gym bag near yours and went straight to the treadmill to warm up. You kept your eyes on him as you held yourself up on the parallettes and watched the young driver fiddle with his phone and earphones before starting a light jog.

You took a moment before you pulled yourself up and went over to him. Oscar met your eyes as he continued to jog. He pulled down earphone but you said nothing as you pressed the button to increase the speed. Oscar raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"45 seconds on. 15 seconds off. 20 repetitions." You said. Oscar nodded and put his earphone back in. You shook your head. He frowned and pulled them down.

"You don't drive with music so don't play anything." You said. "Feeling something in your ear needs to become second nature."

He nodded and you went to his phone and pressed pause. Then you made a voice when you noticed that Ed Sheeran was playing.

"Don't judge me." Oscar said.

"I am. You're working out to fucking Ed Sheeran." You responded with a scrunched nose. Oscar shook his head, smiling slightly, but said nothing else. In the silence, you observed his form and counted his breaths. You noticed slight irregularity with his inhale and exhales and immediately pulled him up on it.

And so you spent the rest of the night training Oscar Piastri.

By the time you both finished, and he gave you a tired and sweaty high five, the clock read five thirteen in the morning.

taglist: @eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3 @hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej @bookstore-of-dreams @itsjustkhaos @sam-is-lost @laneyspaulding19

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as-is-above-so-below · 5 months

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The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Blurb 2: Too Fast

I'M ALIVE! Thank you all for your patience :) I've had so many big life changes in the last four months (and in the coming months) - it's hard being an adult, people. I've been traveling (mainly visiting @lethalchiralium a bunch <3), planning a big move, looking to land a new job...all the things. Anyway! Please enjoy. Blessed be, and Happy Yuletide!

<< Previous | Next >>

“Si…”

“Hm?”

“He’s getting too big.”

Simon turned his chair slightly away from his desk to peek over his shoulder. In the doorway to their office stood Freyja with a six-month-old Arthur on her arm, clad in a cow-print onesie. The little hood was pulled up over his head, sporting fluffy little ears on top, along with a pair of horns.

He just about melted when Frey pouted at him and sniffled, rubbing their son’s back. Simon was up in an instant, padding across the carpet to stand by her side, a soft, sympathetic smile gracing his features. He bent his head a little and attempted to get the baby’s attention, gently brushing his back with his fingers “Art. Artie…” he hummed, the last syllable drawn out a bit. “Look at Dada, Art.”

Arthur did eventually turn his head, after a moment, preoccupied with gumming his toy and confused by the interruption. The hood that used to hang over his face and block his vision now sat snug on his fine hair. There was no need to adjust it back to meet his big, curious eyes.

“Hi, pup.”

Simon wasn’t his preferred parent by any means; that privilege was reserved for his mum. Still, on seeing a familiar face, the baby smiled around his teething ring, and his fat cheeks chubbed up as he cooed and wiggled in Freyja’s hold. He pressed his hand between the two, his palm against Arthur’s chest, and took the infant onto his forearm, his little back against his chest.

Simon let out a dramatic huff, kissed Art’s head, then patted his belly. “Oh, yeah,” he said, giving his wife a playful look. “Look at those big, manly legs of yours. Thing’s a bit tight on ye, now.”

The baby craned his neck, trying to look back at his dad as he spoke, and quickly getting frustrated and crying out. Simon chuckled and turned him around, supporting his neck and peppering kisses on Art’s rosy cheek. When he was satisfied, he leaned down for a quick kiss from Freyja.

“It lasted longer than I thought it would. He’s nearly busting out of it.”

“Simon!”

“What? He’s six months old, Freyja. He’s been wearing it since he was born. Oversized, might I add.”

“Shut up. It’s my favorite. My little moo cow.”

“We can buy him a new one.”

“He’s growing too fast. I hate it.”

Don’t I know it?

To Simon, it felt like Artie had only been born yesterday. Where did the baby in front of him, who was sitting up on his own and already using a sign or two, come from? He had no idea, couldn’t say where the time went. God forbid he blinks, and suddenly he’ll be walking and chasing after his sister-

No. It’s fine. That’s what babies do, yeah? They start eating solids, learn to crawl, then walk. Then they go to their first day of primary school, then…secondary…

Stop it.

He settled for a soft, “I know, love.”

Arthur cooed up at him again, a sound known to pull easy smiles from the man. He would listen to it forever, if he could.

“Yeah? Do you like that idea?” Simon asked, tracing patterns on Art’s back with his fingers again. “Do you want a new cow onesie?” A little smile from Art. “Alright, pup. Dad will get you one.”

taglist: @esthervalea, @miss-leto, @sweetestcowboy, @blueoorchid, @apocalypticseagull, @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction, @covenlovenn, @330bpm-whiplash, @gnoccheyy, @jaggernauticals, @dwkfan, @untoldshortsofthefandomsdoms, @bobfloydsgf, @maviee, @thomaslefteyebrow, @kyovy, @prodyng, @scout-fang, @avalkyrieofparis, @misshoneypaper, @berryjuicyy, @voteforpedropascal, @beakami, @addictedtothefictionalworld, @kaghost, @witchy-writing, @67-angelofthelordme-67, @thychuvaluswife, @mysticalpandabear, @cabreezer0117, @halfmoth-halfman, @peachesofteal, @nirvanaaaonly, @ysljoon, @ssoliva, @fenixyrie, @voodoo-writer, @eleazarkate, @tomhardy41, @glitterypirateduck, @cringeycookies, @captainquake42

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #as is above so below #the captain as is above so below #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x sniper!reader #husband simon riley #simon riley x wife!reader

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honeybadger16 · 11 months

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Charles Leclerc! Boyfriend Headcanons

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: sexual themes, swearing, Charles being a simp for his GF

Word Count: .6k

a/n: Im thirsting over this photo so hard. I want them around my throa-

Charles is such boyfriend material

the first date would include a tour around Monaco with Charles showing you his favorite spots growing up

Extremely attentive to your mood and feelings

would actively listen and get angry with you when you come home and vent about the stupid people at your job

“yeah fuck her”

if you get a period he’ll get you ten different kinds of chocolates and all the types of pad or tampons the store has

fusses over you

“you need to stay in bed!”

“Charles I’m just on my period not dying”

“shh you need all the rest you can get”

when he’s away for races he’ll text you good morning and night every.single.time.

sends you photos of what reminds him of you

this included the pink tulips in his mom’s garden, the baby deer he spotted on his run, and the delicious strawberry gelato he got with Arthur

his entire camera roll is photos of you off guard

to you, the photos should never see the light of day, but Charles could stare at them all day

expect all the pet names in the world with him

“Mon amour, Mon Chéri, princess, my love, etc.”

speaking of princesses, expect him to treat you like an actual princess

likes to tie your high heels before you go out, so he can sneak a few kisses on your body

when he had a rough day he likes to sit at the piano and play for a bit

you usually sit by him resting your head on his shoulder as he pours out his emotions through his self-written songs

you would encourage him to release his music on his platforms, giving him the courage to share his creativity with the world

at home dates are a must

these dates would include binge-watching 2000s romcom movies and eating sugary and fat foods Charles’ nutritionist would not approve of

you would also convince him to let you do skincare on him (face masks, moisturizers, toners, etc.)

he secretly loves the attention you give him and looks forward to stay-in date nights

this man is so dramatic

would get offended if you watched an episode of a show without him

“I’m so hurt mon amour how could you do this to me.”

fighting is inevitable for any couple, and yours would most likely stem from the stress of racing and the effects it has on Charles

Sometimes when Ferrari’s strategy or engineering goes to shit, Charles will come home in a bad mood

This will cause him to respond in a curt and rude manner

After a few hours have passed he will come and apologize to you, kissing you all over your face asking you to forgive him

he loves when you use flavored lip balm, it gives him an excuse to kiss you more as he tries to guess the flavor

his favorite color on you is red, especially when shopping for lingerie

the first time you wore red underwear for him, he nearly came in his pants

his mom would approve of the two of you seeing how happy you make Charles

this man is whipped

he’s constantly heart eyes towards you

will buy you all the nicest perfumes, jewelry, and shoes

got you a necklace with the initial C and wears a matching bracelet with the initial of your first name

loves when you wear his name on your shirt during racing weekend

people would know that you’re dating regardless of the shirt because he’s attached to you in the paddock

whether it’s holding your hand or wrapping his arm around your waist he loves feeling you next to him

always looks for you first in the crowd when he stands on the podium

considers you his rock and would do anything for you

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fandom

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mulligans-tavern · 24 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/doomed-to-wanda/747617028751474688?source=share

Inspiration above

TW death, grief

---

Five Funerals

They lose Fig first.

Comes with the territory when you're an archdevil - somebody's always looking to take your spot. "Don't worry about it," she says, opening a Planeshift to the recording studio. "It's just the usual rebellious fiends. Icythorz and Bolhondrus and the rest. I'll be back before you know it." She looks resplendent in black leather, the Unfaithable Bass slung across her back, riding the fiery Daymare surrounded in jagged red shards.

Adaine knows before everyone else, but can't believe the vision to be true until she learns that Ayda is gone, too. She scratched every memory of Fig out of her notes before starting over - it was too much pain to bear. The five of them know how it feels.

---5---

It's a few years before they take another hit. Another mission to the Mountains of Chaos, another world-ending calamity to be stopped because Who Else Is Going To Save The World? A small misstep, a miscalculation (six where there should be five, they're only five now) and suddenly the routine becomes deadly.

Riz takes the fall. "It's easier this way," he says, in his last moments. "I'll still see you." And he does. Agent Gukgak Jr., now, with some extra responsibility. But he still comes by. Sometimes. Every so often. Often enough.

---4---

Kristen is next. Only one thing could bring down the most gifted cleric of the age - sacrificing herself for her friends. Third time's the charm when it comes to death, it turns out.

Gorgug is the most hopeful that she'll come back, that she'll find a way again, like in the Nightmare Forest. But Adaine knows this is the end. Even Arthur Aguefort agrees. He quotes Alanis Morissette at her funeral. The followers of Cassandra pull out all the stops.

Adaine, Fabian, and Gorgug have their own ceremony at Ashgrove, next to the Gukgak family plot. It's quiet. Bucky cries into Ragh's shoulder. Aelwyn, Jawbone, and Gertie collect flowers. Tracker stays for a few minutes to say goodbye.

---3---

They quit adventuring after Kristen's funeral. And they don't lose anyone else for a long time. Riz still visits, every few years. They talk about the good old days, how silly it was that Baron was so terrifying when at the end of the day it was an honest conversation that finally did him in. There's rumours that Kristen has ascended to goddesshood herself - Adaine doesn't buy it. She's not the type to be revered.

They come out of retirement for the only reason they would - to bring back one of their own. They finally found Fig's soul, trapped in a ruby in the darkest levels of the Abyss. They can't ask anyone to come with them - it's too dangerous, it's too personal. It's missions like this that kill people.

And when it's all over, when Adaine carries Fabian's burnt, unconscious body back to Morded Manor, they have another funeral to plan.

Gorbag and Roz have already passed, and Wilma and Digby are too old to make preparations, so it falls to Jawbone to organize it. He knows they don't want a lot of fanfare. It's at Ashgrove again, just Adaine and Fabian and the Thistlesprings, and Aelwyn and Ragh. Sandra-Lynn is back in Solace - she sends Adaine a heartfelt text saying she appreciates the invitation, but she can't bring herself to come.

Riz doesn't show for the ceremony - he's desperately scouring the heavenly realms, trying to make sure Gorgug ended up somewhere he wasn't afraid of. Orcish heaven doesn't have him, he reports, and neither does Cassandra.

If he's trapped in the Abyss with Fig, at least they have each other.

---2---

Adaine sees Fabian's death the night of Gorgug's funeral. She needs to prepare, she tells herself. She knows it's going to be hard. She needs all the time she can get, and she needs to know which goodbye will be their last.

They grow old together. Not romantically, although some speculate. Fabian becomes a multiclass advisor at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy. Adaine works in Bastion City as an archivist, with occasional trips to Fallinel for Oracle services. They go for vacations sometimes, but never for too long. The memories find them no matter where they go. Sometimes Adaine wishes she could be Ayda, scrape off the old wounds and start fresh. Arthur talks about her sometimes. She's never had the same spark as that one lifetime, he says.

Adaine watches the wrinkles grow beside Fabian's eye, watches his hair turn grey, watches the Future of Dance become its Mentor. He trades his Battlesheet for a cane-sword, then a regular cane. He takes to wearing the Gregorian necktie to classes, no matter how much it clashes with his outfit. They both wonder how many of their own teachers lost party members.

Adaine holds Fabian's wrinkled hand on his deathbed, in his old room at Seacaster Manor. He grins, flashes the same perfect teeth as on the first day of Freshman Year. "Bet you didn't see this one coming, did you?"

"I did," she whispers, tears streaming down her young elven face. "I knew it would end like this. But I always hoped it would last forever."

They're the last words he hears.

It's not the first funeral Adaine organizes. All the Bad Kids held one for Buddy Dawn, back in high school. She and Fabian worked together on the services for Jawbone, Ragh, and Chungledown Bim - who finally caught up to Fabian in both of their old ages. It is the first funeral she has to organize alone.

Some of Fabian's students attend. Arthur Aguefort gives a short speech, and a few students hear the story of Kalvaxus' return for the first time. Adaine sits with Aelwyn in the front row, a few seats down from Hallariel. Gilear records the service to show Telemaine later. Riz is somewhere deep undercover - he maybe hasn't even heard yet.

She always knew she'd be the last. She didn't expect it to hurt so much.

---1---

Adaine stumbles through a few years before she finds herself again. They pass so fast without a mortal lifespan to hold up against them. She drifts between Fallinel and Bastion City for the most part, with occasional return trips to Elmville. Aelwyn always has a place for her to stay. Seacaster Manor was turned into a dormitory for Aguefort students who needed a place to study, or sleep, or stay away from home for a while. Tracker converted Morded Manor into a temple/bed-and-breakfast for worshipers of Galicaea. Strongtower Luxury Apartments was demolished soon after Fabian started teaching at Aguefort. It seems like everything is different now.

Adaine visits Leviathan once, on a whim. The Compass Points hasn't changed a bit. On a chance meeting in the stacks, Ayda looks at her with a spark of familiarity.

"Adaine Abernant?"

"Yes... you remember me?"

Ayda shakes her head. "There are mentions of you in my journals. I leave journals for when I regenerate-"

"I know. I remember."

Ayda looks intrigued. "I wrote that you were a great wizard, and a good friend. I hear from other sources that you are the Elven Oracle. Perhaps you can shed some light on why the pages around yours are torn to shreds or redacted to the point of unreadability?"

Adaine places a gentle hand on Ayda's shoulder. "I don't know if you'd want that. You lost someone you cared about, so much that you thought it was better to forget her than to bear the pain of losing her."

Ayda considers this. "Is it better to forget?" she asks. "Would you give up the memories of those you lost, in order to keep a logical mind?"

"No. Not for anything."

"Then we should talk."

Adaine smiles. "I'd like that."

---2---

*end

Thanks for reading all the way through! I wrote most of this at 2am and the conclusion the next morning. Please take a reblog to share with your friends or drop a like to let me know you enjoyed - or hated - the story!

Ask me anything about it, please, I love discussing these kinds of theories!!!

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johnpriceslamb · 2 months

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hey! i really love ur writing! are your requests open?? if they are would you maybe write another arthur x reader fic? maybe something with arthur introducing his new girlfriend to the gang for the first time? thank uuu!!😊

𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓻𝔂 ,

❥ ˚₊‧ swishswishswish prattles the pink-tinted brush within your nimble hold. Each delicate tap against the swell of your soft cheeks swell even more with colour, adorning a scent you were far too familiar with— cherry-kissed by love herself. ˚₊‧

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 ! ꒰ ❥ hyper-feminine ! reader ❥ female ! reader ❥ reader is mentioned to be physically shorter than characters mentioned below ❥ lovesick Arthur Morgan ❥ super-shy reader ❥ rugged cowboy bf x mini baker gf ❥ fluff ❥ Age gap implied ❥ 7k words ꒱

❥ arthur morgan x female! reader

꒰🍰꒱ “SWEET GATEAU” Written in all bold, the colour pink, carved in cursive. The board swings heavily amidst the top of the pole that sticks out to show off the demure place.

That was the name of your workplace. Located in the most populated city in the state of Lemoyne, Saint Denis. It was an obvious spot for cakes and pastries, considering that the literal meaning of ‘Gateau’ was cake in French. It stands out from most buildings surrounding it as do the connected shops beside it- large windows to display the sweet delicacies of riches on little shelves for those to glance at when passing by.

More-so.. advertising then teasing, you'd say.

The comforting, delicious fragrance of vanilla extract fills the air. You have yet to work on other requests commissioned by customers, though you focus solely on this particular order. Mainly because it was the easiest and much quicker to prepare.

A simple sponge plain cake with vanilla icing. Couldn’t be too hard.

You’re quite tempted to take a little swipe of the wet cream and taste it yourself- fortunately your temptations resist yet again because of repetition and practice. tiktiktik does the whisk in your hand go as it constantly scrapes against the bowl, the mixture hardens and becomes more of a fluffy-like texture rather than a wet clump of nice smelling liquid.

The comforting sound of the fire crackles with faint embers floating amongst the brick-encased oven. Inside the oven lay two lovely little flat cakes. Just exactly twenty minutes ago you’ve bestowed them upon a wooden flat board to dish out near the heat to harden up.

“Ten more minutes..” You mumble to yourself. Enough time to finish whisking the vanilla icing and pour into a pipe-bag.

You admire the prettiness of the sweet-tasting icing which was coated inside the surface of the bowl, before glancing at the paper-filled request again to make sure that you’ve been following the guide correctly. Thankfully enough, the woman who requested the small two layered cake wrote it on a piece of paper rather than verbally out loud. Her hand-writing was lovely, and so was she. At the end of the piece of paper, her signature was written out—

‘Mary-Beth. :-). Please do not forget the cherry on top !!!!’

You can’t help but giggle softly at the absurd amount of exclamation marks she wrote down. She was quite bubbly, and that lady was- very excited. From the looks of her- you were just at least a year or so younger than her. You remember she adorned a long skirt, dark pink in colour.. with her hair in a half down half updo. Freckles prettily placed on her skin. You recall stating to come pick up her order at around 8 in the morning tomorrow. The clock strikes 6 A.M. Two more hours until she can pick up her cake!

Long, dewy lashes tinker at the sound of the bells at the door jingling as a person enters. You were quick on your feet, miniature ribbon-tipped slippers softly tapping on the ceramic floor of this building, curiously peeking your dainty head from the corner. Another rich man seemed to peer around curiously at all the pastries and such inside, pondering if he should buy a few sweets. You weren’t one to really socialise, neither was he- from the looks of it. You could only offer the sweetest smile you could etch onto your face and shyly nod as he turned to you to acknowledge you, before returning back to the kitchen hidden from customers to work on the cake.

He could just ring the bell on the front counter to get your attention.

It was common for people to enter the little bakery, though at around 10-2 is when chatter becomes louder and you become more frantic.

And with that- ten minutes has passed. You clumsily get the cakes out of the oven and place it on the kitchenette's bench. Hot and rough-looking around the edges.. You could probably cover it up with the icing.

Before you do, you cover the first layer with the fluffy icing, before plopping the second layers on. This job was very therapeutic, you considered.

Droop does the vanilla sweetening go as you drown the plain cake with the sweet icing. Delicate swipes of a butter knife allowing it to smoothen amongst the hardened surface of the spongy delicacy. Plop! One little swirl of icing on top. And another.. and another.. Until it surrounds the whole edge of the cake. Oh, don’t forget! One big swirl in the middle of the cake, where the cherry shall be placed upon.

You can’t help but decorate the sides with little frosted hearts, the piping bag in your hand ever so sturdy as it squeezes most of the remaining out and onto the lovely decorated cake.

Was the decoration necessary? No, not really. But did it make you feel bubbly? Yes.

Ding!

You hear the sound of the silver bell reverberating against the metal itself just a few times from outside the kitchenette. You blink a few times, before toddling out and back at the counter. Seemed like the man from earlier had already decided on what to buy.

The sound of your meek, tiny voice can be heard echoing about and bouncing back to you. It was rather empty, considering that it was 6 in the morning-

“Welcome to Sweet Gateau! Where all your tastebuds experience sweet wonder and satisfaction. How may I help you?” Recitation of the same line allows you to memorise the whole thing completely. Sometimes you do change it up a bit just to have a bit of fun.

The man blinks at you.

He looks around before narrowing his eyes at you, sizing you up- albeit.. confused.

You want to ask what's wrong, did he perhaps get the shops wrong?

Perhaps it was his old eyes, or the way he perceived people by appearance. Maybe the tuft of pink on your uniform, or maybe the way you style your hair with ribbons and such. But looking at you, you looked as if you were just a..

“...Does this business support child labour?”

You stammer.

꒰🍰꒱ You are not one to argue with customers. Or argue at all.

But you’ve had to greatly convince the man that this place does not in fact, recruit people under the age of fourteen to work. He stumbles over his words as he realises that you were not actually in early adolescence, and to affirm his apology, he tips you a dollar. The wooden door which was pulled back allows the sweet little bells hung on top to jingle gently yet again as you see his retreating form with the paper bag of biscuits and sugary delicacies.

You smile happily. Another customer satisfied! though.. confused.

The clock strikes 7. One more hour until the lady can pick up her cake.

With a hum that sounded more like a serenade, you pack the cake into a small frilly-looking box, a sort of see-through material shaped in an oval which was built inside the frail box to allow the person to see the decorated cakes. Your beady eyes shimmer at the leftover frosting inside the piping bag.. maybe you could just have a little..

Your temptations are yet again disrupted by a flood of customers coming in. It was a Saturday, of course people were shopping at early dawn. The small crowd amidst the bakery mainly consisted of young ladies in friend groups admiring the pretty delicacies around, rich elderly retrospectively adorning the sweets from their childhood.

A squeak and a babble of incoherence once many line up, you're quick on your tippy toes to heat a tea-pot up with water near the brick-encased oven and organise many distributions of loose tea leaves.

Sometimes, you wonder if people did genuinely acknowledge their health since eating cakes and biscuits and other sweet stuff in the early morning wasn't really considered the healthiest breakfasts. Though, at least you earned a fair paycheck at the end.

A pretty smile feigned on your face until your apple-blossomed cheeks strained, as you recited the line over and over again to many customers who pointed at the delicacies they wanted to buy and eat. The fragrance of chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, it swirls into one and becomes a potent scent which drives more and more to eat up. You can’t help the giddy smile and the apple-blossom swelling with colour on your cheeks as you shyly peer at everyone who eats the pastry with delight. You’ve baked a few of the treats that linger in the bakery, and the soft moan at the end of the bite which signifies great pleasure in eating your own baked sweets allows your tummy to flutter with butterflies.

The tip jar starts to slowly fill every ten minutes. Quarters shine and tinker within the glass container, bidding every donation with a pleased 'thank you!' and a little wink.

It’s been an hour or so. Mary-Beth has yet to pick up her cake.

As if on cue, the bells attached on-top of the door chimes, producing the same little melodic drag. You look up to see the lady you were thinking about! Mary-Beth, if you recall correctly. You wave at her with a happy smile, and she reciprocates with a big grin obviously excited to see the order. From behind her slightly taller figure in comparison to you was followed by three more ladies, admiring the shop with a soft coo and a gasp.

“I told y'all this bakery was cute!” Said-woman falls with a bemused smile on her face.

“Twenty-five cents for a whole brownie! What a catch,” One nudges another.

“It has caramel in it!! C’mon Abigail, we oughta!” The lady with blonde hair almost whines, “It’ll be a good surprise for lil’ Jack!”

“Mh, I don’t know Karen..”

Mary-Beth eagerly comes to the counter, her dark rosetta coloured skirt swishing around as she does. “Hello, miss [name]!”

You smile in return, wiping your powered-up hands on your frilly light-pink apron, “Hi, Miss Gaskill. Your vanilla glazed cake is done. Are you here to eat in or to take out?” As nimble as you were, you can’t help but be comforted by the lady’s presence. A sunshine amongst a field of closed sun-flowers.

She almost seemed surprised at your words. Perhaps the usual shops that she went in did not offer such things. She ponders, before calling out to the three women who still stare at all the sweets on display, arguing with each other whether or not they should buy a few sweets, “Would you all mind quieting down!?”

You can’t help but softly giggle under your breath.

You patiently wait for Mary’s answer, that small grin still plastered on your face.

“Hm..” She hums, “Do you perhaps have spare plates and serviettes..?” She meekly asks.

“Of course!” You nod sweetly, “Give me a moment to prepare a table would you?” “Oh! Okay,” She beams.

As you pass by, all of the girl’s bid you a “hi!”, “lovely place!” “hello!” You respond to them with a wave and a smile.

“She’s very pretty,” The black-haired girl whispers to Mary-Beth. She nods immediately at her response.

“She really is,” She agrees, “So lovely too! I think she's got to be the nicest girl I've ever met in Saint Denis.”

As the chatter in the bakery by other folks becomes a tad bit louder, you're too busy preparing four serviette-adorned plates. You nod to the lady waiting, she bickers with the others and allows them to toddle on over and take a seat. The legs of the chair scrape at the floorings below, some are mindful about the fact and instead of dragging it, they slightly elevate it to eliminate the scratchings.

“Oh! Right, would you like me to cut the cake?” You graciously ask.

She smiles and politely nods, “Yes please!”

Their prattling drowns out in silence as you waddle away back in the kitchenette to cut the cake.

Mary-Beth smiles at the other girls.

“So? How do y’all like it here?”

“It’s real fancy in here,” Abigail responds calmly, “Real pretty, though.”

“Mhm. Anywho.. How much did you pay for the cake?” Her blonde haired friend asks. She fiddles with the napkin on the plate, before placing it beside the food holder. She inhales the scent of the bakery, sighing sweetly.

She sheepishly grins, “Err.. five dollar.”

“I— Mary-Beth! My goodness..”

“Tilly, I promise you. It’s gon’ be real good!” She nudges the girl in the yellow dress.

"I better see miracles happening once I take a bite out of the cake," Karen- the blonde haired woman scoffs, allowing herself to get comfortable in the chairs. The two women beside her softly giggle at her bluntness.

The bold, sweet odour of the sugary vanilla glacé hits their nose, arriving with a slight wiggle inside the box as you carefully place it in the middle. Mary-Beth was the first to gently take the lid off, she gasped at the small decorations at the side. Little piped hearts.. "My, oh my.."

"Now, ain’t that just the cutest little thing i’ve ever seen?" Tilly coos.

You do a little curtsey, tipped with a sugary smile and doll your wispy lashes. "Enjoy, ladies!"

"Ah ah, wait a moment now- hold on!" Mary-Beth frantically stammers and tries to get your attention with a squeak once your small back is turned to them. It does, fortunately.

You turn back around, curious. Your head is slightly tilted to embody your confusion, beady eyes staring at the ladies whom seem to also want to keep you back here.

"I've seen you runnin' all about and uhm.. Do you ever take breaks, miss?" She curiously asks.

You blink. Was she offering..?

"I do," You respond truthfully, albeit shyly.

She sheepishly smiles, "Would you perhaps.. Like to enjoy this with us?"

You stammer, "I-I uhm, I'm not sure about that-"

The woman in blonde cuts you off, "Awh, c'mooon! C'mere and sit, girl. You need a damn break."

You hesitate again. "No, really-"

"Ahh, give us a break- c'mere now!" She cuts you off easily. The one whom insisted on you sitting down with them grabs a chair from an empty table, before easily plopping you down.

"What's yer name, lil' lady?" She asks with a smile.

You grin with a docile muse, saying hi to the other girls, "It's [name]."

"Ooh! Purdy name for an even purdier girl." She cheekily pats your pixie-like shoulder. Your cheeks pop with colour at her low-toned flirting

"I'm Karen, that's Tilly, Abigail, and of course, Mary-Beth. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, little miss [name].”

Another girl pipes up, “Do you work here all alone, [name]?” Tilly— the one with the pretty yellow sundress asks with interest. She admires the interior of the building, how the edges of the roof had little floral pastry designs, on-going around the whole building and to the hidden kitchenette behind.

“Mhm!” You nod. Abigail raises her brows up, leaning slightly on the table. She has the mother-like aura which makes you feel ever-so giddy. She’s hushed in her tone, worried that she might make a scene if she spoke too loud, “Excuse me for intrudin’ but.. Ain't you a little… too young to be running this store all by yourself?”

“Ah!” Your cheeks become darker in hue. “I’m of legal age to work, miss. It’s just the frills ‘n the bows.”

Tilly was the first to serve herself a slice. She takes a small bite from the sweet delicacy, icing oozing out inside as she lets out a delightful hum. She finishes chewing it, before her eyes twinkle and she turns to you, “My goodness! And you baked this all by yourself?”

“Uhuh, I’m so glad you like it.” You clasp your hands together happily. Mary-Beth is eager to get a slice, then Abigail, then Karen.

“Okay, maybe the dollar was kind of worth it for this cake..” Karen mumbles quietly, poking her fork at the sweet cake.

Mary-Beth cheekily nudges Tilly’s shoulder, “Seeee? I knew you’d like it.”

You look around, noting yourself that you should give them something to drink to drown that sucrose-filled treat. You excused yourself from the table, the little frills etched on the back of your small skirt bobbling about like a tiny princess toddling about. You’re quick to bringing a teapot over, with a few porcelain-like cups stacked on top as you gently place it on the table.

“Wait- er.. Does the tea cost extra?” Mary-Beth asks, raising a finger before lowering it down as it catches your attention.

You raise a brow, “It’s free.”

“I could quite literally kiss you right now,” She beams, allowing you to pour the hot tea in the cups which were given out to the women around.

The overall vibe amongst the interior was pleasant. The small, gossamer-bunched bonnet on your head tilts a bit as you lean down to tip the fragile teapot.

As you carefully pour the hot liquid, you hear them conversing with each other as usual. Though you tend to take a blind eye- or ear in this case, you can’t help but be a tad bit curious to their little gossip.

“D’you reckon we should’ve invited Molly over?” Abigail asks.

“Oh- Maybe. I feel like she'll like it here, but I also have this feeling she’ll just fan herself away and give us nasty looks the whole time.” Tilly mumbles, delicately cooing out a 'thank you' as you poured a cup of tea for her. The tea swishes and sloshes against the cup as she drinks from it with her pinkie out.

Karen snorts, "You're so right. Just one touch from Dutch, and she's ready to take over the world. Miss primp and polish she is till' mister Dutchie doesn't give her a lick of affection."

Mary-Beth gasps softly, "Karen!" She calls her name as if to scold her, only for a small chuckle to follow after.

Your curiosity is visible, but you don't say anything. You're one to entertain gossip, but you aren't one to prod- considering that you've only met these lovely ladies.

They finished the small cake in another hour. Currently, you were situated behind the mini counter serving a few customers amongst the treats they wanted to buy.

"Ah, that was real good." Abigail wipes her mouth with the napkin provided, in a more rushed sense- an underlying feeling that she wasn’t so used to these kinds of etiquette.

"Maybe we should buy sumthing! We ain't gonna visit 'Denis for a while unless if we like- beg Arthur or sumn' to come wit', so I reckon we should give ourselves a little treat after all the things we've been through."

"We should buy them caramel brownies.."

"C'mon, c'mon! Lets get it then," Karen ushers Tilly and Abigail out of their seats once they've finished up, Mary-Beth following after with a giggle.

"[name]! These brownies cost twenty-five cents a bar don't they?" Mary-Beth calls out, pointing at the display at the front. Oozing with caramel delight, encased with a delicious chocolate coating which makes her swoon at the beautiful sight.

"It does, yes." You nod with a shy smile.

"Goodness, [name]. These prices are kinda high.. Reckon' you can give us a lil'.. discount? Y'know! Since we're friends!" Karen winks.

You shyly ponder, "Mhh.. Alright, why not?" As said before, you weren't really one to argue. Besides, they were sweet girls.

"Woo-hoo!" They cheer with a giggle, before eagerly grabbing the little tong at the side to grab a slice.

"A bar of brownie.. 20 cents." You bargain.

Karen shrugs, "Good enough." And she hands you the coins.

You hear them all bidding you a good-bye, and a cheeky "Expect to see me here again!!"

The door closes, and you're left with the constant conversations on-going. You stare at the shining coins placed in your hands, and can’t help the pleasurable feeling of gentle-tipped joy flood your tummy.

꒰🍰꒱ Morning dawn comes.

Another day at the bakery.

You rise slowly from your beauty sleep. The silky gossamer curtains flow slightly from the wind, as the sun shines pink and yellow lights from the half open windows of your room. The wood creeks beneath your light footsteps as you grumble on to get ready for the morning.

Lazy pats of coloured light pink powder is gently flushed against your cheeks, the small ribbon-tipped brush rattles because of the amount of use it's been through. Your hair is done prettily, silky bows attached to the side which matches the coloured powder you put on your dewy face. It takes you a tad longer to arrange your morning routine into a real situation, until you're out of the door and walking on the path to the bakery.

Pushing past the entrance, you hear those bells chime a little ballad that was always memorable and will never be forgotten.

Though it may be a nuisance to look at the same things constantly, you are always reminded that this place was a safe-zone for anyone or anything. Mainly because at the entrance hangs a low sign on the door handle that entrees prohibit the use of weapons and must take it off before entering the store.

Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted as the entrance opens to the same women from yesterday. Though, two older men are accompanying them from behind, albeit.. begrudgingly.

"-I don't think this store is the right thing f' me.." He grumbles, you can see from behind the counter that Abigail was holding his hand, perhaps her lover. She glares and hisses at him, pinching his arm. "Quiet, you."

"Y'sure this place sells them biscuits I like?" The one in dirty blonde seemed low-key embarrassed to be in here, scratching at his head as he looks around. His hat is tilted to obscure his eye-sight. Your curious eyes widen a bit as his own stares at yours. You quickly avert your eyes with a soft blush etched on your cheeks.

"They sell all kinds of sweets 'n' delicates," Tilly pipes up, slightly hitching her long skirt up with her thumb and index finger. Shoes clack gently against the floral-designed tiles, eyes wandering around the familiar place. "I'm sure you'll find those dumb biscuits you keep talkin' about!"

"[name]!!" Mary-Beth was the first to run to the counter with a giddy smile, "Told ya I'd be coming back."

You have a small smile on your face, "Welcome back, miss Gaskill!" You do a tiny curtsey with your frill-bunched apron and skirt.

She giggles, "Goodness, [name]. You are too cute for your own good."

She perks up, "Ah! We brought a few friends over. This here's John," She points to the man who grumbled a 'hi', crossing his arms. He clearly does not want to be here. The woman who clings onto his arms scolds him quietly for being so ‘impolite’. You hide your lips behind your hand to stifle your soft giggle.

“That’s Arthur.” Mary-Beth points to the man who looks at the biscuits section. Topped with a black shirt and a vest which had a unique design, he seemed.. very determined to find those biscuits he mentioned earlier when entering the bakery. He looks around curiously, the little flower-y paint-job is something he expected for a small little bakery like this one here.

He’s holding onto his belt whilst striding to the counter lazily, before curiously looking at you. Cold, dark eyes peer at you like a lone wolf about to catch it’s prey for lunch. You meekly shrink just a bit as you feel him size you up with his daring gaze.

“Howdy, miss.” He greets casually.

You slowly nod, very shy with your greeting. Your quiet voice echoes loudly in his ears. He unconsciously has to lean just a bit to even hear you. “Hello, welcome to sweet Gateau..” A smile forms on your face as you see his brows relaxing slightly at your harmless form. Suddenly, he’s as bashful as a kid being told off for causing a ruckus. He looks around with a narrowed gaze, before looking back at you. A soft grunt escapes his lips.

“..Do ya’ll make uh.. Osborne biscuits?” He asks in a low tone.

You brighten up.

“Oh! Yes we do. Would you like a bag?” You ask with that same pixie-like smile which makes him soften up even more. Something.. catches his eye. He’s not sure what though.

“Ah, um.. Yes please, miss.” He tilts his head to obscure his eyes from your view.

You mumble a little ‘excuse me,’ to push yourself off your shoes to retrieve his request. He watches the way your fluffy-frilled skirt bobbles up and down.

Very.. cute.

A tap to his shoulder, and a soft snicker catches his attention. He turns around.

“Whuh.. What?” Arthur blinks at the three ladies who stare at him with a big grin. He was stunned at the abnormal behaviour they were currently showing off.

“Yer cheeks are real red.” Mary-Beth comments. Tilly has to hide her soft chuckle with her hand the corner of her eyes becoming alike of a crows feet to acknowledge her amusement.

“They are?” He quirks a brow, crossing his arms. Though imposing, he’s as docile as a lamb when it comes to the ladies, “Yer jokin’ with me.”

“Are not!” Karen laughs, “Don’t tell me you like her already. Ya’ll only just met!”

Arthur looks defensive, he narrows his eyes at the women in-front of him. “The hell you talkin’ bout?” He rests on the soles of his feet, nervously looking around. Anywhere but in their eyes.

“It’s as plain as daylight, cowpoke. No shame in hidin’ it, she’s real cute.”

Unaware of their conversations lingering in the background, you come back with the bag of Osborne biscuits. located within a transparent plastic bag and secured with a ribbon. A sticker in the middle with the bakery's emblem on it It rests delicately in your palm as you blithely toddle up front. The chatting suddenly ceases when you return.

“Apologies for taking a while,” You apologise sweetly, placing the biscuits on the counter. He brightens up entirely at the cute packaging of the biscuits he was craving for for so long.

“Don’t sweat it,” He opens the satchel hanging over his shoulder, “How much?”

“Fifty cents for a bag.” You watch him throw a few coins onto the counter. You smile sweetly, counting the coins before placing them inside the cash register. The swelling of your cheeks become just a tad bit more prominent as his fingers linger on yours to grab the bag out of your hand once you push it lightly in his direction.

You do a tiny curtsy. So much alike of a princess who expresses their gratitude to a king. “Thank you for ordering!”

He could only nod, scratching at his stubble as he awkwardly looked away. “Yeah. Uh.. No problem.”

“Do we really needa be feedin’ Jack all this? He’s gon’ be diabetic once he grows up if we keep feeding him this stuff..” John and Abigail bicker in the background which catches both of your attention. You can’t help the amused smile on your face at his comment. Though he was trying to be quiet, these walls echoed right back at you.

“Are.. They always like this?” You can’t help but question the sweet- or.. something couple from the back. It was cute in your eyes. Arthur can’t help the grin forming on his face.

“Their way of showing love I guess,” He leans on the counter with the biscuits in his hand. Then, he slowly turns his head to you, “Er.. What’s yer name?”

“[name],” You squeak in response to the handsome man.

He blinks. Without hesitation, he says with a soft hum— “Purdy name.”

Your cheeks become the same pigment of powder you apply on your temples. You look down at the ground, your hands behind your back as you can’t help the giddy smile on your face, “Thank you..”

Arthur is curious to learn more. He's fascinated by the personality you portray. With a pixie-like physique and a timid mindset akin to a doe, a stark contrast to his.

“How uh.. How long have you been workin’ here? In sweet..” He pauses awkwardly, trying to think of a way to say the final word in a mumble without looking or sounding ignorant.

“Gateau,” You finish his sentence for him with a light smile. He’s thankful that he didn’t hear a soft giggle at the end. Perhaps you were trying to save him from looking pitiful. Or maybe you were really just a decent-hearted girlie.

You do not notice the way the other ladies looked back at you and Arthur with a cheeky smile.

“Ah, yeah. Sweet Gateau,” He clears his throat with an oafish, low beam.

You can’t really remember the exact date you started working in this petite patisserie, but you give him a rough estimation of when you started. He nods with an interested hum, seemingly curious about your story. He didn’t seem like a man who would indulge in small-chat. But for you, he did.

“We’re leavin’, Arthur! We all got what we wanted!” One of the women calls out to him, causing him to be startled at the abrupt calling.

He clears his throat shyly again. “Ah.. Um.. I should get goin’. Only came here to see if ya’ll had ‘em in stock. Glad you guys did.” His words were nothing but gentle- waving even. As if Arthur didn’t want to leave just yet. You nod kindly, letting a tiny blossom of adoration to slowly develop inside your tummy.

“Come back next time,” You faintly add, shyly waving at him with a sweet beam.

He has a low smile, “Oh, I will.”

Your heart stammers a bit.

The door closes. The sound of multiple footsteps creaking amongst wooden floorboards is heard.

John’s looks at the cowpoke who strides next to him. He’s careful not linger near the dirt-path, noting to himself to not get his boots so dirty. A nudge to his arm is what gets Arthur away from his thoughts.

“What the hell was that?”

Arthur glowers. “What’s what?”

“Don’t play dumb, cowpoke. Saw how you looked at ‘er.”

“I don’t know what yer’ talkin’ about.”

The conversation ends there. Either John was becoming frustrated with his ignorance his words were stuck in his throat, or he gave up entirely to persuade the man’s attraction to the girl behind those doors.

꒰🍰꒱ To your utmost surprise, Arthur Morgan slowly yet surely becomes a common face within Sweet Gateau.

It’s not to say he was unwelcome in the premises, rather more.. how should you say this, amusing to say the least.

A man who stands firm and tall at a whopping 6’4 in height, who carries a gun at his side with a rifle almost as big as you- with a sharp gaze that could pierce your heart as quick as a glance in your direction, stands in a small bakery with light pink fairy-like cakes and floral themed walls. Perched up on a table with his little snack whilst scribbling down things on that journal he always took. You wonder what he writes about.

With his constant visits, it’s clear that you’ve down packed his order to your brain.

Osborne biscuits with a small cup of coffee.

You wonder if that man likes to torture himself with such blandness. No sugar, no milk, just coffee. It’s as bitter as it can be- if you can smell that bittersweet scent from just a few centimetres away.

Sometimes he would come up to you for a small chat to probably make you feel less lonely as you sweep away at a dusty corner for a few minutes straight. Other times he would just mind his own business, munching away on those plain biscuits he always orders.

It’s been a few weeks since seeing the other girls. Sometimes you ask Arthur to say hi to them for you, and he always comes back with a lazy grin saying that they miss you and hope you’re doing well despite only knowing each other for a few days.

The bell rings up front.

You know it’s him from the way he slowly strides to the counter, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as a faint jingle of spurs become evident the more he walks closely.

You truly cannot help the blossoming smile which etches on your face.

“Good afternoon, Mister Morgan. Welcome to sweet Gateau,” You welcome him with a slight lean on the counter. You can’t help that cheeky expression, “The usual?”

“Y’know me.” He nods at your words, “The usual, please.” Baritone and deep, his voice was. It almost sends a shiver down your spine.

You watch him turn his back to go sit at one of the more secluded spots in the bakery, deep into a corner. A diary in hand, with a pencil busily being worn down on the papers. The sounds of led scratching at the fibres of the white expansion of pages is heard easily from afar. It’s calming to say the least.

You’re quick with the order, almost giddy as you place the plate of those plain biscuits on his table with his bitter coffee. He gives you a small ‘thank ya’ kindly.’ before returning back to his sketching on something.

In just under twenty minutes will the bakery close. It’s quiet, with only a few people including Arthur relaxing in the wooden chairs placed within the interior.

You’re busy within the kitchenette, allowing the brick-encased oven to be put out completely. Washing up all the equipment you’ve used to make and create such food, soapy bubbles floating everywhere. The sounds of the door opening and closing is heard, many of the customers served leaving with a small tip inside that jar of yours up front.

Slowly yet surely, you wipe down the benches of the kitchenette before putting the rag back down. You walk up to the counter with a soft yawn from the tiring day.

A soft clearing of a throat catches your attention. You blink a few times and see Arthur.

“Oh! I thought you would’ve left a while ago,” You smile. Though you’re not very keen on customers staying five minutes before closing time, you’ll be very glad to make an exception for Arthur.

“Sorry, uh..” He awkwardly scratches at the back of his head, “Reckoned It’d be better to give this to you in private.”

You tilt your head sweetly, almost puppy-like. His heart squeezes at the simple yet innocent gesture. What was he giving you?

With that, he hands you a piece of paper, folded in half just once with a small heart at the corner. Your eyes light up immediately, as you shyly take the piece of paper- one which was from his diary he probably torn off, considering that one edge of the paper was bumpy and rough.

You mumble out a shy ‘thank you’, very curious and opening it with one simple hand gesture.

You feel like the luckiest girl alive.

A pretty led-based sketch of you. You were drawn with your usual frilly outfit on, the bakery drawn in the background. He drew every single detail on your face so accurately, it sort of amazes you. The small beauty mark was in the correct spot, with your eyes big and sparkly.

You softly gasp, putting a small hand over your mouth to not look like a dummy in front of him, “Arthur..”

“It ain’t the best but..” He averts his gaze, “I couldn’t help but draw ya. You just looked..” Pretty. Beautiful. Adorable. Cute. “—..Lovely.”

“Ain’t the best?” You scoff. “This is so beautiful, Arthur. Y—You got the bow, too! And the outfit, and the background..” You beam sweetly.

“Thank you so much,” You keep the drawing close to your chest. You note to yourself mentally to buy a picture frame, “This is so beautiful, Arthur. I love it!”

He holds his gaze low, cheeks slowly burning from the praise you squeaked out. He awkwardly shifts, before bidding you a goodbye.

You open the piece of paper one last time, flipping it over to see a message written in cursive which read:

‘Kinda weird to write this but I heard you were free tomorrow. Would you like to walk around the park nearby with me? I’ll probably be around there at 8 in the morning, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. —A.M ◡̈’

For a man like him, you’d never thought his handwriting was alike of a fairy tale novel.

꒰🍰꒱ swishswishswish prattles the pink-tinted brush within your nimble hold. Each delicate tap against the swell of your soft cheeks swell even more with colour, adorning a scent you were far too familiar with— cherry-kissed by love herself.

You are very adamant in looking like a right pixie for today.

Last night you could not get much sleep because of the excitement your heart held. You were dying to meet Arthur again without being in the same frilly uniform you always wore, a face coated with powder not from your beauty products but from pastries you make and serve.

You adorn a floral patterned dress, with a pretty pearl necklace. The hat you wore was similar to a southern belle darling sun-hat, but less brim and less flowers, a simple laced bow tied around the rim instead. And of course, your signature laced bows clipped in your hair.

As pretty as a porcelain doll you were.

Your ballerina-like flats click gently on the cemented pavement down towards the park. The scent of steam and machine slowly transition to more of a petrichor-like smell as you near the park.

There he was, standing around the entrance, admiring the flowers from beyond. You can’t help the soft giggle escaping your lips as he looked behind him and went immediately silent at the sight of your beauty. It was almost coincidental on how the flowers around gently wavered by and shined more brighter once you passed by with a shy smile.

“Hi,” You greet him softly- almost too gentle for his liking. Your hands are positioned behind your back, with the soles of your feet resting on the ground as you tilt your head to maintain eye contact with him. You notice his hair was slicked back a bit, and his attire was more cleaner than usual.

“Hey,” He replies back. He lends out an arm for you to hold, and you do so happily. He looks everywhere but your direction.

He clears his throat with a bit of hesitancy. “Thought you weren’t comin’. Hell, I thought you didn’t even see the message I wrote on the back.”

“Why wouldn’t I go?” You smile eagerly, “It’s nice to be somewhere else for a change. Being cooped up in that bakery can sometimes make me feel dizzy.” That was the longest sentence he’s ever heard you mutter.

“I reckon smelling the same sweets over ‘n’ over again would make ya go crazy” He replies cheekily. His eyes size you up again. Slowly yet surely. A little fairy you were, with beauty no other. He opens his mouth to say something, anything- but he slowly shuts it.

And suddenly, he builds up enough courage to say something.

“You look.. Real pretty.” He quietly mutters. Lovely doe-like eyes stare up at him again- and how quick did his knees almost buckle was a good comparison to his latest duel.

“..You think I look pretty?”

He slowly nods, scratching at the stubble on his chiselled jaw with his other hand, “The prettiest.”

He’s not sure if the glittering pink powder on your cheeks becomes more prominent as seconds pass by. He watches you slowly become sheepish and giddy under his sharp gaze. You fight the curled corner of your lips to turn downwards, but alas you give up immediately as you quite literally melt under his touch.

You shyly stutter out a small “Thank you.” The grip on his arm becomes just a tad bit tighter.

The silence was nothing but comfortable despite it being a bit awkward at the start. After his compliment, you can’t help that fluttering feeling of love bursting inside, up in the skies lays an imaginary cherubim whom shoots those heart-shaped arrows quickly into your heart as you glance at him another time.

And it seemed that the cherubim shot his arrow in his heart, too.

“I loved that drawing you made f’ me yesterday,” You mutter. High-pitched yet so soothing in tone- was your voice. Almost mellifluous, like a serenade similar to those soft jingles heard in the entrance of the bakery, “I never knew you could draw.”

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, figured. I don’t really look like the type to draw, do I?”

“No, not really.” You softly giggle, “But it’s.. it’s cute.” The way your tone changes pitch at the end makes him conclude of how your intentions were supposed to be.

He quirks a brow. A slow smirk curling on his face.

You catch on immediately. Your cheeks become the same pigment of blush you used, “I-I didn’t mean it like that—”

His soft laugh interrupts you. “No, no. I get ya, I get ya.”

You can’t help but look away from embarrassment. Just a few minutes in and he’s unconsciously teasing you.

“Hey.. Look at me.” He narrows his eyes at your little show.

You don’t.

“C’mooon, it ain’t such a big deal..” He’s about to grab your chin to make you look his way. Though his hand backs away when he sees those beady eyes of yours slowly coming back to maintain eye contact.

He smiles unconsciously at your sweetness. “Yeah. Good girl.”

He unconsciously brushes your cheek with his thumb. You puff your cheeks out immediately, heart hammering in your chest at the title. You cross your arms in-front of your chest, hand resting on your fore-arm. He quietly notes to himself how pretty your hand would be if a ring was seen on your ring finger.

Suddenly, you feel your heart drop. You want to say something, anything.

“Arthur?” Your hand suddenly goes to his sleeve, tugging it softly to get his attention.

“Mhm?” He responds, tilting his head down to meet your gaze.

Suddenly, you feel like your tongues all tied up inside your mouth. Your mind is in shambles and you’ve suddenly forgotten every word in the English dictionary as his pretty eyes stare at you as if you were an ethereal being.

“I.. er,” You fiddle with the small frills of the end of your dress, “N—nevermind.”

“Hey, now.” He comes a bit closer with that boyish charm smile. The faint scent of hair pomade and wood makes you swoon just a bit more, “You can’t just back off like that, c’mon.. tell me.”

“I..” You hesitantly start off. “What.. What are we, Arthur?”

He seemed to be a bit caught off guard with the abrupt question. You catch onto his quietness, and immediately you shrink out of embarrassment. You feel ashamed, flustered for even asking that!

You dare try to look at him in the eyes once more, “I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t apologise.”

You slowly blink when he cuts you off.

He’s a bit difficult to read at this moment as he processes his words. He looks at you a few times, gosh did his heart beat fast.

Then, he slowly opens his mouth. “I.. I ain’t so sure myself. But I just..” He takes a deep breath, “I like you, a lot. Yer a real lovely girl, a good girl. But you shouldn’t be with a man like me, miss.”

You feel yourself falter, “Wh— What? Why?”

He shakes his head. He’s hesitant. He doesn’t want to answer, but for your sake he does.

“I.. ain’t a good man, [name].” He tries to explain to you. “Never was in the start. ‘N I don’t want you gettin’ into trouble just cuz people seen you with me.”

You narrow your eyes, allowing him to continue on and elaborate. You feel like the happiest woman alive, but the saddest.

“I’m..” He looks around to see if anyone was listening, and he leans in just a bit, “I’m an outlaw, sweetheart.”

“…And?”

He’s taken aback once again. The garden amongst you quietens as soon as you uttered out that single word. You feel awfully thankful because of the fact that no one was around you.

You feel like this’ll be the most stupidest decision in your life. Your heart and brain yearns for the man that stands in front of you, who holds you like a porcelain doll and who treats you like the prettiest princess alive.

“I— I don’t care if.. if yer an outlaw.” You stutter out, “You’ve made me feel things I’ve never felt before and I..”

Both his hands come to yours, fingers coming to intertwine with yours. The bold contrast between your skin and size told you everything. Calloused filled, scar-stricken hairy hands paired with hands that were always smoothened, delicately cared with little to no blemishes. He squeezes your hands firmly.

“Darlin’..” He sighs, “I don’t want you to get hurt ‘cuz of me, ‘s all I’m saying.”

“Please, Arthur.” You plead silently. You’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this moment. You want him, and he wants you. He looks so conflicted, his demeanour falls as soon as you use those puppy eyes you were blessed with. Long lashes slowly fall down, which rises and shows those glistening pearls of coloured irises.

“..Damn.” He kisses his teeth out of pure irritation over the situation. Not because of you, never. But because of the decisions which ultimately resulted in the worst. He looks at you one more time.

“You’re real needy thing y’know that?” He grunts lowly before leaning in slowly to press his lips on your forehead. Immediately do you melt in his arms, you cling onto him like the princess you were.

He holds you closely. Your face meets his chest, and his arms are wrapped around your waist, “You really wanna get with me huh?”

“Yes,” You reply, out of breath at the touch. “More than anything.” You continue on with a sweet whimper which makes his desires go crazy in his mind.

“You’re gon’ be in for a real long ride, sweetheart.” He mutters softly in your ear.

You don’t hesitate to answer back. “I don’t mind.”

“You really sure?” He asks one more time, “Y’can’t back out once yer with me. You’re mine from then on, y’hear?”

“All yours.” You nod once again.

꒰🍰꒱ “I’ve been thinking.”

The brush in your hand is slow in movement, before placed down gently on the table below. A brow is quirked at the sound of your beau’s voice which rattled in your head.

It’s been over few months or so since you’ve gotten together. When he couldn’t visit, he’d send letters with the sweetest words. You’ve kept them all in a small box which cheekily peaked out in the corner of your room, right on top of your mahogany wardrobe.

“You oughta meet m’ family.” He bluntly states.

“Your family?” You tilt your head.

He nods, scratching at the stubble on his angular jaw. Your eyes catch the slight tremble his hand had when it was coming to his jaw, and you can’t help but be even more curious.

“Lemme rephrase that.. Reckon you should come meet my gang. They’re my family, in a way.”

You hesitate at the word ‘gang’. Obviously, by that word alone it insinuated meanings which you were taught to be aware.

“Don’t you worry, they’re all nice people,” He brings up a hand to place on-top of yours, “You don’t have meet ‘em if you don’t feel ready yet, ‘m just saying.”

You shyly smile up at him.

“I’ll meet them.”

His crinkled eyes widen in surprise, “You will?”

“Mhm,” You nod, “Oh- Just give me some time to prepare, will you?”

“Right, right. You go do your little princess activities which’ll span for over a whole five hours.” He teases. He earns a glare from your puppy face, something he’s all too familiar with.

“Quiet, you.”

“The hell are you even doing in there? Does it really have to take you a whole two hours to pick an outfi— Ouch.” A sock clumsily hits his face.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take you a whole five hours to get ready. Before you could grab the necklace on your desk, Arthur reaches from behind to grab those dainty pearls of yours before clasping it behind your neck himself. He slowly leans in to delicately place a soft kiss on your sensitive neck before standing up to dust himself.

“Y’ready, sweetheart?” He asks with a low drawl.

“Mhm!” You smile happily, clinging to his arm.

Outside from the building you lived in has a small horse post outside to hitch said animals. He leads you to a horse far more taller than him, quite literally towering over you. With the least of efforts, he picks you up from the waist to plop you on the saddle, before he himself hitches on the magnificent mare.

It took over an hour to travel to some sort of densely packed trail. You can’t help but tilt your head at the location, tilting your head up to question the man who lazily rode the horse behind you. His chest was quite a good alternative for a pillow.

“..You live here?”

He snorts, “Er.. Kinda. You’ll see.”

Not long do you see a large campsite, you feel yourself shrink at the sound of.. new people.

Sure you worked at a job where you had to talk to people. But you weren’t the best at keeping up a conversation with.. criminals, you could say.

“Arthur’s back, Arthur’s back!” A little boy’s voice rings through your ears, you can’t help but curiously peak from his shoulder to see whom it was. A young boy with brown hair- blue coat and a tooth missing. He eagerly points to the man as he enters in the vicinity.

“Ooh, ‘n he’s brought a girl..” The young boy ushers a woman far too familiar to come over.

“He what now?” The sound of a few footsteps were heard- oh gosh did you feel as nervous as a doe trying to not stumble on its legs.

“A girl?”

“Don’t tell me we’ve got another mouth to feed.”

“She’s real purdy.”

“She seems fancy..”

“[name]?”

You jump at the sound of your name being called- you look behind to see.. Mary-Beth!

“Oh!” Arthur hops down, picking you up from the horse to settle you onto the ground. You eagerly smile at the woman you knew well.

“What are you doing here?!” The book-worm asks with a squeal, rushing to you for a hug.

“I— I could ask you the same thing!” You stammer as you feel yourself getting lifted up a bit from the ground, hugging her tightly back.

Arthur coughs to interrupt the soft chattering, “I’d like you all to meet m’ girl. No touching, ‘cept for the girls ‘n Jack.”

“Ha! Knew you had a thing for her—” You hear a raspy voice from afar, near the little boy you presumed was named Jack. You’ve seen him before, and if you could recall.. His name was John. A flick to the forehead is what you see between your beloved and him.

“Tilly ‘n the others are here somewhere finishing chores up,” Mary-Beth beckons a few of the girls to come over. Karen was the first to bid you a ‘hello!!!’

“Y’got any cake for us?” She jokingly asks. Her eyes widen when she realises she’s spoken too soon when she sees the few boxes of treats which were stacked and tied with a pink bow neatly on top of Arthur’s horse.

“[name], I think ‘m gonna kiss you.” Karen walks away to grab one box for herself. You let out a giggle as you go and greet the other girls.

Fortunately for you, everyone was welcoming and homey well um, except for one. But you’ve heard from most that he’s always like that.

“It’s quite a surprise for Arthur to bring a woman back to camp,” An old man to which you’ve became comfortable talking with for a while sits next to you. Hosea was his name, for some reason does he remind you of your grandfather.

“Oh? How so?” You shyly question. His warm eyes stare at your figure endearingly.

“Well for starters, he usually scares them off.”

“Hosea.” Your love comes to your side, embarrassed at his words.

“It’s quite true! Here, let me tell her about the story of when you…”

For the rest of the day, you were treated carefully and lovingly. You weren’t sure what you’d expect from a gang filled with criminals and thieves, but you could surely say that they were a sweet group of people.

You’ll be expecting a large sum of visitors on the following days, and perhaps a small ring soon enough.

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lady-ashfade · 3 days

Text

All Is Far In Love And Farming

Chapter 1: Getting Started

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Yandere!Mha!Hybrids × Farmer! Fem!Reader. Chapter 1.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ storyline: The calling of being a professional farmer had been your dream since you were young. Growing up on your granddad’s farm was the best thing, many years later you happen to be back. And the property is now yours to restore. With some hard work, you want to restore hybrid caretaking back to what it once was.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Chapters: Previous // Next

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 2.5k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: short chapters, stardew valley au, yandere behaviors, obsession, stalking, hybrid abuse, slightly sick love, possessive, manipulative, gaslighting. platonic yandere, hybrid and human relationships, and future warnings when more chapters come out, spelling mistakes and grammar who?

╰･ﾟ✧☽ characters for now: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Mina Ashido, Ochako Uraraka, Tenya lida, Denki Kaminari, Kyoka Jiro, Tsuyu Asui, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, Hanta Sero, Mashirao Ojiro, Koji Koda, Momo Yaoyorozu

series masterlist

-`｡ﾟ˘: ��⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

Everything you once saw, the brightest of grass and the crops ripe and perfect, and the animals in the barns chirping of happiness— it was all gone. once a happy place you roamed in the summer as a kid was now a abandoned filthy place, old bards with holes and damaged walls. Nothing was what it used to be, the grass was as tall as small trees and it was going to take a lot of lovin.

But if your granddad taught you one thing is that; working for a better future would make everything you did it worth it.

And that’s exactly why you are here, to make your future. Everything in your life was about becoming a farmer, like your grandfather. and like him, you believed hybrids deserved to be in a safe and open land to roam, not such in some metal factory and enclosed to live their life.

“Come join the number one hybrid farm in Japan, The League.” the tv rung in your ears back at the college room, the place had been taking over everything and running all the local and good places out. at one point the only place you probably could work at was The League, since they seemed to be everywhere. “New locations, New Areas, And New Pay. Call the number on your screen for more information.” you had heard the commercial so many times you rolled your eyes everytime.

Never did you believe they would come out here, and be the competition.

Honestly, the first day your body was drained easily from all the work. The labor wasn’t exactly what you were expecting to start off with, moving the rooks and weeding. But you had supplies to start off with thankfully, the money he left you was so much, and ready for a new purpose. But the only thing that was helping you in all of this, your holy grail was a local store owner. Arthur, who happened to be your grandfathers best friend.

slapping the metal truck with the gloved hand, the old man smiled and stepped down from the back of the moving truck. you whipped off the sweat from your skin and catch your breath as the unpacked heavy boxes placed besides you and man.

“The old man used to buy twice as much as this and unload it all him, then complain when his back hurt afterwards. Lucky, he had me to talk some since into him.” the white haired man spoke breathlessly. you didn’t want him to have to help, seeing his age but he was in better shape then you by the looks of things. “Old bat was stubborn, you got that in you kid?”

taking a deep breath you arose from the bend down position you were in and look at the man, smiling a bit you commented back. “Used to give granddad a run for his money, I think I have it in me.” you were earned with a deep chuckle and a small one from yourself. starting back up again you closed the doors and gave the man who drove the truck the okay and he drove away.

the next day was worse then the first, your body was sore and tired, you wore sunscreen all over your body to protect you from the heat damage and the illnesses you could catch. unpacking all the equipment, getting them put together, and make sure the starter crops are taken care of. you took many breaks. and Arthur was the greatest help you could ask for.

you heard the story of how he met your granddad many times before, but you didn’t mind hearing it from his side. Arthur had moved from the United States to start his business with his family, and your grandfather was just started out in town. they were younger and bonded right away, and there for marriages, children and grandchildren. knowing he wasn’t as alone when you left was comforting in a away but you knew the full story. just before your tenth birthday you were moved away from the small town with your parents and left the farm behind.

“He talked about you every day.” The words perked up your ears. You looked at Arthur as he continued to work on a huge fan.

“Everything that happened in your life, he would tell me. What happened at middle school sport events, to dances and even show pictures of the dresses you wore. And man, when you went to college for Hybrid Education he was bursting with energy again.” It’s been a long time since he was able to leave the cabin. You knew that, but knowing still punched you in the guts.

“Was he proud?” asking was a waste of time.

“Proud as hell, there should be no doubt about it. His pride and joy was you, more then anything he did here, and now you have a legacy to continue.” smiling you continue to work to hold yourself from the weight building up in your chest. you missed him so much.

Each day there was something new to fix and call in, you knew granddad was rich from the bank account he left you. but boy, it sure was a lot of money. and now, you finally had a starting point. you had scheduled a barn repair on the electrical and building. the crops were set up along with the sprinklers and scare crows, even cleaned out the well…but not without getting algae all over you.

Smalltowns in the country side where the best, everyone in the community was helpful towards one other. And since The League had a location down the road, the people really came together. Businesses were losing in hybrid projects and animals, but the crops were the same. But this met more hybrids lost there homes, and had to be relocated elsewhere else or to The League…You hated it.

A big wooden sign at one of the joint shop centers made you smile and turn into the lot. today was the weekly event, selling of many things of local produces. you remember coming here as a kid and always getting blueberry jam from the market lady. and just like then, it was crowded. and with a lot of stalls and moving trucks. Arthur had told you they still had them and that you should check it out. of course you wouldn’t miss this for anything.

you shut the truck door and fixed your clothes before started the walk around. everyone was selling amazing things at their booths. the first table you saw was one cover in homemade soap bars and honey products. a sweet older couple ran that shop. some stalls were for hybrids for sale but you didn’t have room for them, at least until the barns are rebuilt. but milk, crops and seeds where your thing anyway to look at.

“how much for this?” the only person behind the table was a young girl who looked angry and ready to chew off your head, it was laughable. she was going to be hard to haggle, but a amazing work ethic. “I don’t know you, so twenty bucks.” your eyes widen and look down at the honey in your hand. it was a very small jar…and not worth it, I mean for the bigger bottles sure.

“Hmm, how about ten?” the small girl glared at your words and huffed. she shook her head in annoyance and pointed to the tag, “you trying to get out of paying hard working people lady? This is the best honey you’ll find in the whole country! Haggling is only for people I know,” her finger pointed at you and you back up a little at her shouting voice. “And you ain’t it!”

signing you pull out a twenty and handed it to her, she smiles so kindly you forget about the anger she had. placing it in your cloth bag you continue walking down the path, smiling and looking around. not much you could buy yet, though you did buy from groceries and loaded the up in the bed of the truck.

“well if it ain’t the talk of the town,” a sweet woman’s voice called out loudly. you turn your gaze and see a almost forgotten face, but one that filled you with joy and nostalgia. “Aunty Hoshiko.” You scream and rush over, the older woman comes out form her booth and takes you into her arms. only now did you realize the sweet small of jam and the jar’s decorated like they used to be, but this area was bigger and a extra tent was behind it.

“I couldn’t believe you moved back here after moving to the city, heard you got into a good college.” She smiled from cheek to cheek while pulling away. “Why come back here?” it was flattering how much she thought of you, but you couldn’t have stayed away from this place for much longer.

“Well, grandpa left me the farm and I needed to start my new life. Can’t get much better then a already laid for land, and with great soil.” she hummed but her eyes dropped a little and her smile became different. “I’m so sorry, he was a good man. you tell me if you need any help okay? Your granddad helped us a lot, so many people in town will be willing to do help too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smile and take a peek at the table, “mind if I look?” she is excited to show you all the new flavors and jars she has, letting you smell each one. she even offers you a discount for family.

you had a few jams picked out but you keep looking at everything, knowing you’ll come home with more. then there was a sign and paperwork around on a tables end.“Hybrid Rescues” is what you read and your hands reached for it immediately. seeing your interested, Hoshiko started to talk.

“The League has been running out businesses, hybrids are either purchased or…end up alone and abandoned. My friend runs a rescue company, we help her out here trying to give some of them a home.” you clinch the paper in your hand and want both more then to go punch the owners of the company. No hybrid deserves to be left alone.

“I usually have a few here with me, but today only one is for sale. He’s very special. And a house animal, or helper if you will since I know you don’t have much room for more yet.” the next step was to always get hybrids, but you weren’t sure if today was the best idea today…

“Oh!” that wasn’t your choice since she pulled your arm and lend you into the tent where only one hybrids sat. you struggled to look away from the hybrid laying in the floor.

He was huge. he looked peaceful tho, curled up on a bed and resting peacefully. he had long and pointed ears, a middle tail that curled. “he’s a special breed, no idea why they didn’t keep him since he must have cost a fortune.” there was a small scar on his arm and you hated to see, it looked like cattle whip strokes.

“tenya,” she called out quietly to wake the dog. you really didn’t know if you should get a hybrid, but seeing him already you knew you couldn’t say no. his furry ears twitched and his body rolled over ready to see what was happening. he was fast, and he was built. a pure breed for herding and hard labor. “I have someone here who needs a dog to help around the farm.” she patted you on the back and you got shy for some reason.

His tail was sticking up, his eyes glancing over and panicked. he was on high alert. “Hey buddy, my names y/n.” You smile softly. You don’t want to move until he gives you a sign. his nose sniffs into the air for a moment and his body freezes, you both stop for a minute too.

until the thumping of his tail was heard and he jumped up to greet you properly. you are taken aback and he gets excited and starts to shout, you can’t help but to smile. “My names Tenya, I am apart of the Iida breed. I have experience in herding, working and defending territory. I have many skills,” his hands reaches for hers and stuffs it into his nose to get a proper smell.

“Hello to you too,” you giggle. having some help now would be good, and a herding dog would the best thing.

“Tell me iida, are you okay with maybe coming home with me?” if it was only a dog he would for sure be jumping on you from how happy he seems to be.

Iida didn’t want you to leave to get things needed, saying it was his job to be with you now but you need to find food and things before leaving. he whined forever until he saw you again.

you came back to get him…like you said you would. he loved you, loved you so much. the kindest human he’s met.

Riding back to the farm was a journey. he was talking every second about all the things he could do, from each animal, hybrid or not. boy, was so happy to be by your side. and he was asking about you too. why you picked him? what you wanted him to do.

your heart broke once you got back to the cabin.

you held the door open and called for him to come in, but he just stood on the porch looking at you almost guilty. “Hybrids aren’t aloud inside, I must protect you from out here.” he was already looking for a place to set up for the night. it was a miracle you didn’t start crying again.

“Well, whoever told you that was a idiot. Many dog hybrids are aloud inside, and it’s my house so my roles go.” you tap the door again. he was hesitant, and it took about ten minutes to get him inside. and you told him to stay put while you get the things from the car…then told him it was a order to get him to stay.

you placed the things on the floor and smiled, proud of yourself. “Okay, so I got a large mattress for you. We can place it anywhere you want, also got you special food, hybrids approved.” he looked at the mattress for a long minute. Iida couldn’t believe it was his, he hadn’t slept on one of them since he was little, and then at the market earlier. And this one was his, made for his height and weight for him to sleep…inside.

“Your bought this for me?” He asked while poking at the bed, it’s softness amazed him. once he accepted his reality his tail starts to swing like crazy and crawled over to you, and hugged you lovingly.

“I’ll be the best boy I promise. anything you need I will do, anything.” his grip tightened around your waist and pushed his head into your plush stomach. you patted his head and thanked him, and told him he deserved to be loved and cared for.

That night, he placed his bed in front of your bedroom door and stood watch in his bed. to protect you, his master…his.

next chapter.

series master list.

Taglist: @serxinns @queenpiranhadon @hah-simp-acc-2 @imlonelyty @yourmommasworld @moonlight-dreamer04 @cherrysxuya @melody-deathnote @ladybug2235 @odevote118 @hrezx @androgynouszombiegentlemen @letmelickureyeballs @lovelystarstruckvoid @simpingmasterpiece

@ please don’t repost my stuff to any other platform. This is my writing so don’t claim it as your own.

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freuleinanna · 7 months

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I'm still confused about Verna.. I thought she was a demon?? Because why would Death be going around making a bunch of deals with people? After Verna told Pym she decided to go "topside" I thought she was some kind of crossroads demon since it implies she came from below (hell)

Oh! I feel you, and I struggled with that a lot too. She does seem a lot like a demon. I'm not saying I'm 100% correct in my thinking either, but here's why I personally think she's Death. Kind of a long post, sorry. I hope I make myself clear, but feel free to follow up!

So, Verna. An anagram for Raven, that much is established. Ravens are wonderful - symmetrical even - creatures. Bringers of death in a wide understanding. Bringers of good luck in many cultures. The duality is amazing. To me, that also leans majorly into the theme of death being a concept of duality: an enemy for some, a friend for others. Each greets her differently. I'm not talking about the characters here, but people in general.

There's a proverb I came across a while ago that reads 'Death is a great leveller'. Meaning, everyone's equal before her. You have no leverage or buffer against death, and it doesn't matter if you're poor or blindly, feverishly, grotesquely rich (like our folks here). Everyone pays the last bill. For everyone, there's a day of reckoning. It's a major theme with the show, at least. Verna also says 'Buy now, pay the bill later' - although it can still read very demonic, I agree.

She's obviously ancient, and I was leaning toward the demon theory based on all of her talking. Yet - she also keeps ranting about Egypt and pyramids and Cleopatras and such. What's the one thing with Egyptians everyone knows of? They honored death. Death may have been a bigger part of their lives than life itself. The Usher Twins' obssession with all things Egyptian, antiquities, jewelry, swords and such, plays a nice parallel here too, because they're just collectors. They have no grain of honor for the real thing, for what these things are tied to. Kind of a nice thought, I guess.

Anyway, back to Verna. She says on multiple occasions how intrigued she is with us, 'adorable little things'. She saw the pyramids, the expeditions, and she wanted to see what else we do, she wanted to see what Roderick and Madeline will do (in her own words). It's all an experiment to her. She makes an offer just to see what we, people, do.

Here's where my beef with a demon theory comes in. No demonic creature I could think of, be it an actual demon, a trickster, or something else, is that sincerely intrigued. Something something death loving life something something.

Demons, in my understanding, are most interested in winning the deal. They come up with incredible challenges, they enjoy torture, emotional or physical, they never let anyone win. Verna has never once expressed this. Quite the opposite. She gives everyone a chance to step back. Even when the ink has dried and everything's decided, each Usher sibling is conditioned to make a choice: push forward, or step back. Neither of them steps back. Neither of them takes a long hard look at themselves (except Tamerlane, both literally haha and figuratively, as she's the only one to have realized how lost she was in her way - just at the end, when it didn't really matter anymore, but still). Verna is kind to those she takes (sincere pet names, regrets of having to do it this way, making sure they know it's not personal, etc). She grieves with them, just before. Grieving - 'The Raven' being about an expression of grief and trauma - ravens as synonyms for death... you get the gist. Oh! Except Freddie - cause Freddie struck a cord. Infuriated her. So he doesn't get an expressed choice. And he would've blown it like coke anyway, so meh.

And then Arthur Pym. Oh, Arthur Pym. I honestly couldn't imagine a demon kneeling and thanking someone who's refused them.

About Arthur Pym, by the way. It's the one story I hadn't reread, and I should have, it turns out! haha Anyway, a few notes about his travels:

In the story, Arthur Pym is expressedly afraid of white color (North Pole, yada yada, white being the absense of colors/life, and the absense of life is death).

Verna enumerates the moments she witnessed of his travels. Someone getting left in Sahara. Someone getting shot in the Arctic. Something bad that was done to an Inuit woman. Why would she follow Arthur so closely? She didn't know him, he wasn't her favorite. I think it's because she came to collect those deaths. If she is death, she would've been exactly there, where people died. She would have also seen Arthur not partaking.

Aaaaaaaand it makes her 'You saw me' line sound better, because he had sure seen death along his travels.

I think the part about a place of out-of-time, out-of-space creatures and hollow Earth was a bit unnecessary, BUT I can try and tie it in this way:

It showed us how Arthur might have coped with what he saw, and he 'saw a lot', even in his 70s it's difficult for him to recall, and it made him think of humanity as a virus, literally;

He might have thought up that ethereal realm simply because he was in an expedition? Exhaustive conditions for both body and spirit? Traumatic experiences? If he saw Death, he might have cloaked it in his mind to cope with it, thus came his stories;

Verna going 'topside' may just mean that she had to go take a look herself, actually be willingly present for the events - to see the brave little humans conquer the earth. 'Topside', as in, 'visible, present, participating'. If Death exists, I doubt it bothers with our boring human realm but lives downunder, among all threads that weave the world.

So that's that on Arthur Pym.

A few other references my mind is too exhausted to tie in nicely:

Death takes Lenore. THE Lenore from 'The Raven' (mostly) and 'Lenore' (secondary). That happened. Also, death talking to a child of life? Regretting having to take her? Not very demonic of dear ol' Verna, in my opinion.

Her mourning veil, her last toasts to the Ushers at the cemetery? Demons don't tend to grieve their players. Demons don't respect and love them enough, and 'what is grief, if not love persevering'?

Death is the last threshold. Before death, we look upon our legacy (major theme with the show), we remember our losses and loves (Annabel Lee!!!!! love the poem, brilliantly done), we get heavy with regrets. We face death as an enemy & fight, like Madeline did. As a friend, like Arthur did. We confess, like Roderick did. All that is too significant to me overall.

And the last thing. It's Edgar Allan Poe. The whole Death tribute is a giant, incredible, thought-through-to-the-bits hommage to his literature where Death, figuratively and literally, takes the throne.

I hope I managed to express myself alright there. Thanks if you read it through, and as I said before, feel free to follow up or elaborate on some ideas. There are oceans to discuss. <3

#tore a few veins typing it out ughhhhh the poetry #asks #long post #the fall of the house of usher #tfothou #tfothou spoilers #tfothou tv #netflix #carla gugino #verna #meta post #the fall of the house of usher spoilers #edgar poe #edgar allan poe

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kiankiwi · 3 months

Note

What would Jacob be like as a dad? I love him sm :(

FINALY SOMEONE ASKED ABOUT JACOB!

I'm gonna do hc's because I miss writing actual fics!

from the moment he finds out your pregnant, he's understandably scared bc DUH but he's also OVER THE MOON

he's constantly talking to the bubba and rubbing your belly (with your permission because he knows you might not always want to be touched bc of how much your body is changing)

Whenever we go to the store for ANYTHING, he has to take a detour to the baby section to grab the bubba a "present" and even if we're like "baby, we don't need to get all this" he gives us his famous puppy dog eyes that ALWAYS works on us and he KNOWS it does so he abuses that power whenever he can

He is SO grumpy whenever he can't make it to a sonogram appointment due to scheduling and filming and stuff so we make sure we're allowed to FT him during the appointments so he can still be "there"

I picture him being on the saltburn set during the anatomy scan (I don't see us doing a gender reveal party, we just find out at the appointment because jacob is so excited and can't wait) and when he finds out it's a girl (he's so girl dad coded) HE DOES THE NATE SCREAM (BUT IN A GOOD WAY) and he just walks around a bit screaming and cheering and we're like "don't make me laugh! I'm gonna pee! don't make me laugh!"

And because he's so excited, he goes to the store on the way home and buys ALL the cutest girly onesies and we have cupcakes in celebration

I feel like he'd LOVE old-timey names like Theodore, Arthur, Elanor, all the grandma/grandpa names lol

He turns into handyman Jacob and keeps the nursery a surprise from us and he does the whole thing himself so that we don't have to worry about it

That's the thing about Jacob as a dad, if he can do something to help us or take something off our plate so we don't get stressed out, he does it! Even when baby is born

Throughout our entire pregnancy, Jacob was reading all the books and researching all the things including how to help during labor and when we finally go into labor, he's a SUPERDAD. He distracts us, he asks us all the right questions and holds us and when it gets way too intense, he puts his face close to ours so the only thing we can focus on is his face

We're DEFINITELY scared to give birth because Jacob is a gentle giant and we're so scared to give birth to a baby giant ... spoiler alert, we're okay

JACOB IS SOBBING once bubba is born and is torn between focusing on us or the bubba

I feel like Jacob during our labor throws up from anxiety a few times because he's trying so hard not to show it but he's sooooo anxious

He takes ALL the nighttime feeds and changes and stuff, he calms the baby down whenever we need a shower or a nap, ANYTHING he can do to help us, takes bubba on walks while we go to the store and he gets us coffee and flowers and a card and stuff

He's basically the greatest dad

IMAGINE him babywearing that tiny bubba.... such a big boy and a tiny bubba napping on his chest while we do chores

God this was so fun! I hope you enjoyed. <3

PLEASE send me more Jacob dad thoughts !!!

@mooodyblue @arianatheangel-girl

#jacob elordi headcanons #dad!jacob elordi #dad!jacob #kiwiswriting #kiwisblurbs #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi x you #jacob eordi x yn

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hidden-poet · 4 months

Text

President Snow part 3

Previous chapters; 1 and 2

Summary; After Lucy-Grey there was you.

warnings; slavery, Uncon, angst, dark!Coriolanus snow.

3/3

"Did you hear? Y/n L/n was sold into maids standing by her father last year". Festus creed plopped another Hors d'oeuvre into his mouthlike he was talking about the weather.

Coriolanus feels his body still at his words. The drink he pushed to his lips couldn't make its way into his mouth. He had looked for you at every social function. Even called upon where you once lived, only to be turned away by a new family living there.

He had assumed you had married and your family followed to where your new husband lived. If he was a manufacture he properly lived closer to the districts. The thought made him sick.

But no. You had been waiting for him. Training for him for the past year in maid training.

"I was thinking of adding her to my collection of the fallen"

Coriolanus's blood boils at the thought.

"Who?" Clemensia asks matching the almost bored expression of Festus.

"You know Arthur's daughter. The Banker who was stealing from the Pamen National bank. His daughter was a few years below us. Used to play on the volley ball team".

"When does she go to auction?" Clemensia warms at his words. She remembered her after all.

"Why so you can steal her from me?"

"What use would we have for a girl trained in fine arts and history? it won't make her a better floor scrubber. Right, Coriolanus?"

"i am still not sure who you are talking about" Coriolanus lied.

----------

Coriolanus returns home later then usual. He had gone to a party but normally he only made a quick appearance for an hour or two before returning. But this time he returned well into the night.

You wouldn't have minded if it hadn't of got so late. You were tired and he hated to come home to find you asleep. When you heard the door unlock you knew you would only have to stay up for an hour more.

As he entered the room to find you laying on the bed watching TV, he doesn't crawl over to you or demand you help him undress.

Instead he takes a dress out of your closet, that was mostly filled with his extra clothes, and tosses it to you.

"I have a surprise for you. Get dressed".

You do as your told taking off your nightdress in front of him and putting on the dark blue sun dress.

He eyes you slowly before taking your hand and leading you down the hall to the living room.

You wondered about the surprise and the need to dress for it. Normally his surprises entailed the exact opposite.

It made sense when you turned the corner and saw an elderly man sitting on the large white couch.

You heart leaps at the sight of your father sitting in the living room.

"dad" you cry tearing your hand from Coriolanus . He gets up upon seeing you and you both throw your arms around each other.

"Oh my baby". His arms felt safe and secure.

Coriolanus is quick to breck up the scene, taking you back into his grasp with a tight hold on your wrist. He brings you to the other side of the couch, away from your father.

"given your rise i thought you might like the opportunity to buy back your daughter" Coriolanus spoke with a cold hard tone.

Your toes curled in excitement. You were going home and you were going home a lady.

Your father straightened his back and shook off imaginary weight from his shoulders.

"I sure would. How much did you pay?"

"Less then what she is worth and less then what she is currently worth after my teachings".

You shudder. He was going to make this more difficult then it had to be.

"Lets start at a thousand panars".

"Let me show you the door at a thousand panars. My shoes cost more".

You wrap your hand around Coriolanus's wrist as he held yours. That was a good offer he spat at.

"Please Coriolanus" you beg.

-------

Coriolanus had a private showing at the slave quater the very next morning.

It was the earliest he could convince the owner of the house to have a showing. Which still wasn't early enough for him.

He paced through lines of young girls trying to find you. He remembered what you liked like at the Academy but people had a awful habit of changing.

He stopped in front of one girl who could have been you. Roughly the same height as he remembered. Same color eyes, although he never saw them up close so he couldn't be certain. Her hair seemed a lighter shade of Y/H/C and her nose seemed larger.

He continued satisficed that she most likely was not the girl he was looking for. He continues through the line of girls all dressed neatly in simple white dresses. They were more like potato sacks with arm holes.

They were organized according to training and skill. The girls who had been with the house the longest and received the most training were shown first.

He skipped the queue, you wouldn't be amongst them. He started in the middle and grew more frustrated as he neared the end. He knew once he spotted you he would know.

He scanned ahead looking for your hair color and height.

He saw a possibility far off and bee lined for it, ignoring the words of the owner as he took off.

Once he stood in front of you, he knew without a doubt that you were her. His Y/N.

You had barely changed from his memory. You had lost a little bit of weight no doubt from the stress of it all. Your eyes had dulled over a tad and your hair was less shiny and neat, but all the same you were as he remembered.

"President Snow, she is only trained as a house maid. She wouldn't be trained adequately for you", the owner of the house explained.

"Good then I don't have to train her out of annoying habits".

You looked worried, and he wondered if it was at the thought of being chosen or at not being chosen.

"Open your mouth" His first command to you.

You do and he pretends to check your teeth. Not an unordinary practice for a buyer but not of interest for Coriolanus.

He had longed to exert control over you.

Walking to school he would day dream to make the trek bearable in his tight shoes.

He dray dreamed he would find you at school and pluck the flowers out of your hair. "Don't wear these. They make you look childish" he would say.

At lunch time he would take the liberty of filling both your plates with food of his choice while you trailed close behind him.

You would wait for him after each class at his place of choosing. sometimes waiting just outside the door while he astonishes the classroom with his hard learned knowledge. He was sure he was going to get the Plinth prize and go off to university. There would be no need for you to do the same.

But his poverty kept him shackled and your money (however so dwindling) kept you safe.

Before if he told you to open your mouth for inspection you would laugh at him, now if he told you to hop on the spot, you would hop.

"how much?" he asked the sweaty little owner.

They agreed and you were tossed in the sold cage while Coriolanus filled out paperwork. He tired not to seem egger to collet you.

He had never personally brought a maid and had no idea it involved this much paper. He only glanced at whatever he was signing, trusting the person who explained each document to him.

When he was finally allowed to go collect you, he found himself stuck at the door.

How would he approach this? should he call you by your name to show he knew you or place the burden on you to make the connection.

You never even talked to him in school but perhaps you shared the same quiet fascination with him.

If not, he was still President Snow, and you were a loyal subject. He could image you would be awe-struck at the opportunity to serve him.

He yanked open the door and walked with powerful strides. You were sitting in the holding cell, curled into a ball on the floor.

You got up upon seeing him, and came closer to the bars.

"Here" he held out a cold water bottle that he got from the owners assistant. He wished he drank some of it. He would have spat in it if he had registered that he was going to give it to you.

his action took you both by surprise. But you take it.

"Thank you, President Snow".

He gained no sense of familiarity with your words.

He waited for a 'we went to school together' or a 'I always knew you were going to be President of Panem'.

But nothing came. You drank your water and even separated yourself from the bars.

You gave no sign you recognized him from the Academy days. You gave no plea to his sense of fellowship, or tried to give yourself false standing upon your upbringing.

When he had asked about your standing you had told him you were born into your situation. A bold move to someone who held your paperwork in his hand. The entire history of you, as well as your in and outs.

Still he didn't correct you. Perhaps you were waiting to pull the secret past card for a rainy day.

"Your name is Y/N? is that correct"

two could play the i don't remember game.

You nod.

"Well Y/N, in about 10 minutes two peacekeepers will come and take you to a van where you will be escorted to the Presidential estate. From there the Headmistress will make you presentable and begin your training as my servant".

His hands curl around the bars and he pushes himself closer to you.

"I have high expectations of you. Don't disappoint me".

-----------

'Coriolanus please. I'll come back any time you want me to. Do anything for you. But please let me return home".

Your words took his mind breifly to imagining a different life with you. They never caught him for cheating and with the Plinth prize under him, he took your hand in marriage.

And yet still, in his imagation you stood in the living room, perhaps better dressed, and said the same words.

He really did just want to own you.

Coriolanus said nothing and turned his eyes back to your father.

"You made a deal with Mr Grenge for 300 million panams. So my price for Y/N is 300 million panams"

"that's everything" he father mutters.

'She is everything". You didn't believe it. Not to him.

"I-I Can't. I'd be ruined again".

"You could always sell her back. At a discount of course".

'Please" you try again.

"It would be a fun 18 hours for you" Coriolanus taunts.

"we could pay in instalments" you father tries.

"Do i seem like a patient man?"

"Patient enough to wait for your time to strike" Your father is seething, "It wasn't surprise I felt about her being here, only dread".

Coriolanus smirks trying to hide it by rubbing his forefinger across his bottom lip.

" I saw you every time I picked her up from school. Lingering in the background like a parasite. Coriolanus Snow's got eyes for my daughter, I thought to myself, how harmful could he truly be".

He dad crosses the boundary of the living room table. His face contorted with anger.

"Then I saw you dangle that poor district 12 girl in the Hunger games. You were no harmless school boy, I realized, you were your fathers son. And that is a very dangerous thing to be".

"Careful. You don't speak to that school boy now. President Snow is who you address, and you've said enough to get yourself hanged".

You place a hand on Coriolanus shoulder as if to keep him pinned to the chair.

"Y/N I am so sorry. He was gone when I sold you. I thought you'd be house maid to one of the lady's. I never thought he'd get his hands on you".

The old man takes you into his arms. His baby daughter who he threw directly into the mouth of the wolf.

"No sale has been made yet" Coriolanus reminds him, "Do we have a deal of 300 million panems or are you touching some one else's property?".

--------

The first few months in the presidential estate were terrible and Coriolanus saw to it.

You were beaten for everything for quick training. Even things you were sure you did right were wrong.

He had to give it to you, despite your privileged up bringing, you were a hard worker. Every time he checked on you, which was often, you were never found sitting down. Always on the move scrubbing something, dusting something, organizing lien cupboards.

He only caught you once reading a passage from a poetry book kept in the library. Old habits die hard, he supposed. He remembered you loved to read.

You would often read stretched out in the sun during lunch time at the academy garden. Coriolanus would watch from the schools library window, when he should have been studying. You again were interfering with him being the best he could be.

He called upon you during your dinner time. Requesting your presence in his office.

When you entered you saw your headmistress standing on the opposite side of the desk.

Coriolanus sat in his chair, looking bored. His head resting in his hand, not looking at the headmistress or you. Just staring blankly at his desk.

As you enter you can see the wooden Cain and the poetry book laying flat on the desk. Your legs turn to jelly the closer you got.

"President Snow. Headmistress" you greet.

"Which poem was it that caught your eye?" The old women grumbled.

You bring your hands to your chest and wring them together. You were still sore from your beating last night. You weren't sure you could take another one.

"i was only checking the book. The pages seemed loosed".

"Are you suggesting that the presidential estate would house such a book?"

You try and back track on your lie. Blaming lack of sleep and food for your mistake of the falling pages.

Coriolanus reaches for the book, flipping it to a random page and placing it back on the desk.

"Place your hands on the desk and read it" The headmistress demands, picking up the cain.

You face Coriolanus who watches you from his seat. You eyes swell with tears that spilled on it the page. He would keep the book in his draw rather than the library.

''My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk''

The headmistress brings the cain down upon your back, and your sentence comes out as a yelp.

"Or, or, or emptied some dull-ll opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had-saH-Sunk!".

It strikes after each pause. Your hands curl into fists upon the page.

"Tis,not,through,envy,of, thy,happy,lot" You rush and two strikes come down upon your back.

"Cheeky girl!" your headmistress reprimanded.

"But being too happy in thine happines" you slow.

He closes his eyes to the sound of the Cain coming down and images the school garden. Both school children again in the red uniforms. You lay in the sun together. Coriolanus rested his head on your lap as you read out your poem. You stroke his hair and he feels the warm sun on his face.

Your desperate act pulls him from his day dream. He looks at the women before him. A women he owed.

No school children in sight; the President of Panem and a slave take their place.

You finish your poem looking up to him for salvation. You do not receive it.

"Again" he demanded.

He wouldn't leave during your nightly flogging. He would lock the door and free his cock from his trousers. He loved the thought of you so vunruable, so brusied and battered at his command.

He would image you with your dress down, tied to the whipping post as he brought the whip down on you. He imaged your squirming and crying for him. God, there was nothing he loved more than control.

He would wait until the flogging was announced to be over before he would return home.

He was always so sure that you would come to him the very next morning and beg for him to save you from the whipping post. Exchanging anything in return.

-----------

"I am so sorry. I have your mother to look after. She's not been well Y/N"

"Dad you can't leave me here"

"We'll visit" He insisted.

"No you won't"

You both turn to Coriolanus in his chair, half forgotten he was there.

"We'll write to you"

"It won't be delivered"

"I am sorry" your father finally accepted, 'Maybe once I make more money".

"Daddy please" you whine. He won't be given another chance, you know it. You weren't sure this chance was entirely truthful.

"I am so sorry" he repeats pulling away from you. He rushes to collet his things. You aim to go to him, to hold him one last time but Coriolanus rises from his chair.

He takes your hand in a tight grip.

"You'll find a maid downstairs. She'll help you to the door".

Your father looks at Coriolanus with hate filled eyes, but nodded his head in understanding. President Snow held all the cards, you both were nothing but pawns for him to entertain himself with.

'So sorry we could not do business together".

Your father doesn't answer too overcome with emotion of selling his daughter for a second time. He rushes away in shame and you fall to your knees.

Coriolanus lets go of your hand so you could curl yourself into a ball on the floor.

He lets you sob and heave on the floor by his feet. He knew telling you to stop would be a waste of breath.

He waits until you can control your breath again before he crouches down next to you.

He snakes a arm under your side to pull you to his chest. His arm curls around your shoulders to keep you there, while his hand cradles the back of your head. He rests his cheek against the top of your head while you sob. Loudly and painfully, you sob into his chest.

You can hear footsteps pounding down the hall way and you knew it was Clemessia.

"Get her to stop or I'll hang her by her feet in my study. She'll wake the children".

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows at her but does not uncurl his body from you to follow her command.

You quieten anyway. It's fine, you tell yourself, you've lost nothing.

You hold your breath counting to a slow ten and then release it a couple of times. It helped regain your composure.

Coriolanus unhooks himself from you and reaches into his breast pocket to pull out his handkerchief. He wipes your face clean from snot and tears with an emotionless expression.

You weren't sure you could walk so when he picked you up and took you back to the bedroom you were thankful to not have to find out.

----------

Coriolanus spits his tea back into the cup.

There was nothing wrong with it. But he loved how panicked you got.

Your lips would part, your eyes fell wide, your chest would puff up.

How could there be something wrong with the tea again.

'i am so sorry, President Snow. I'll make another" You go to take the cup back.

'What's the point? You disturb me every time you come with another pot".

"I'll try not to in the future, Sir".

"what good are your efforts. I've watched you try for the past six months. You only slightly improved".

'i can do better. I will do better".

He loved the grovel.

"maybe the night without supper would help to refocus your mind?"

Your body tensed, and he could feel the anger radiating off you, even if he couldn't see it upon your face.

'Is that a good idea?" he teased.

"Yes, Sir" You tried not to spit the words.

"Good. Then it's settled. Go about your chores".

The next day he offered you a biscuit from his tray, and said nothing about his tea. Even through this one was too sweet for his liking.

It was the first time your hunger overtook your pride. You took it with a small thanks, excusing yourself at the first opportunity.

he watched the camera link. You had gobbled the biscuit down as soon as the door closed behind you.

Once a lady now a beggar.

-------

He took you to the bedroom and laid you down.

You didn't move. You couldn't move.

He talked as he undressed you.

"I know that was painful for you but you needed to see it".

He yanked your dress over your hand, leaving you in only your panties.

You turn from him to your side but he flips you back.

tears still run down your face but you make no noise.

"Why. So you could see it?" you bit.

"At some point you have accept your life here".

He slides your panties down your legs, leaving them on the floor.

"was it true?" you ask, "that we both went to the Academy".

"yes. I had a terrible crush on you for many years". Crush he called it but it couldn't be further from the truth.

"i never even noticed you all those years". The sentence stung him a bit.

He places his lips on your neck and bites down. You wiggle under him, pushing on his shoulders.

"You are making me suffer because you had a school boy crush?"

He rises up and undresses himself from his many layers.

"i am making you suffer because I can". He makes haste with the many buttons on his vest.

His sentence quietens you. He could make you suffer just because he wanted to. he could make your family suffer just because he wanted to.

He rips the clothes from his body, leaving them a messy pile on the floor.

He drags you to the center of the bed and crawls on top.

"In any case who would you rather, me, President of Panem, or some old business man, bored with his wife. That's who you would have gone to".

You try and turn to your side again but his hands catch your shoulders and bring them flat on the mattress again.

"You should really say thank you". He pumps himself over you.

You don't say anything, and your ungratefulness resulted in a harsh hold on your chin.

"Say it. Say thank you" he demands.

"Thank you" You spit hard and fast.

"Thank you, President snow". He nudges your legs further apart and lines himself up to your entrance.

"Thank you, President SNow" he enters you without warning and starts a steady thrust.

It had been years with him. Sex with him wasn't something you even blinked at. On occasion you could have even been called a participant.

But not tonight. You couldn't even rock your hips for your own feeling. You just lay there and take it.

Something about night had made Coriolanus feel like a school boy again, and he took it out in his hard and rough thrusts. He was President Snow and you would remember it.

He begins to sing the national anthem of Panem.

"Oh, Horn of Plenty One Horn of Plenty for us all! And when you raise-ah- the cry The brave shall heed the call And we shall never falter, hmm"

He grunts in your ear. He pushes himself upright where with his new position he places both his hands on your hips and pulls you closer so your legs were hooked over his hips.

"And when we raise the cry-y the brave shall heed", he huffs, "the call and we shall never fall"

He new position gave him deeper thrusts. As the song ends his hips loose their rhythm.

"Oh, Capitol Your glorious diamond shine A tribute to' The darkest days behind Oh! One Horn of Plenty for us all"

He bucks his hips as he leans back over you on the bed, a hand resting by the side of your head to keep his weight off you and the other used to keep your leg over his hip.

He never fully leaves you before he slams back in.

He groans as he cums, letting you milk him of anything he had left. Even after that he remains in you.

Coriolanus lets out a short breathy laugh, dropping your leg and pushing his body down on you. You huff in protest but he doesn't care. Placing small kisses and bites along your skin.

You remain still. Numb from the events of the night. You didn't even say goodbye to your father. You knew you would never see him again.

Coriolanus spent by using you, rests his head on your chest.

"Someday some one will kill you for your wrong doings, Coriolanus". You warn.

He chuckles in response. It won't be by his doll.

----

Years later you stand in the crowd watching Katniss Everdeen raise her bow and arrow at Coriolanus.

You smile waiting for her to let go. You could see Coriolanus's eyes searching for you in the crown, unable to find you as hide amongst the people, before his settles on the eyes of his executer.

"MockingJay, may your aim be as true as your heart is pure".

The arrow flies but enters the heart of the Coin.

Coriolanus begins to laugh, blood spilling from his mouth as he does.

As the blood coats his shirt it is a reminder of his misdeeds. Against his people, his family, and importantly you.

You charge taking along a crowd of people with you.

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

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