#without her instrument she can't do much

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow

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

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

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

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

"Lucy Gray!" he called out. 

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

BANG 

One shot was all he needed. 

A yelp. A sound of victory. 

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

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

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

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

The mockingjays sing out, laughing at Coriolanus’ mistake. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Ha-ha' he heard back, "Ma-Ma". 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you weren't here. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop, recognizing the voice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were alive and you were his. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good morning." He greets. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I couldn't sleep." he misdirects. 

"I know the feeling." you mutter. 

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

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

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

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

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

"You aren't having any?" he asks. 

"There's not enough for three." 

"There's only two of us."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like what?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Are we not saying the same thing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

None came for the first half hour. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt the need to justify to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You all are fools." the women spat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your face burns up ashamed. 

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

“Not until I get back to the Capital.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squeeze his hand in reassurance. 

"He hasn't touched me".

"He will." Edmund seethes. 

"Will you think differently of me?".  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"As long as you need." he answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You can wait him out with me."

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

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

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

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

The target didn't move, rebels would. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Keep practicing," He demanded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pack up your things" he said coldly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He tugs you impatiently forward, "Hurry up". 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pulls you back upright to rock his hips harder. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He comes back later at night. 

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

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

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

She turns her head weakly in the dark room. 

"Where's my daughter?"

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

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

"Is she alright?"

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

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

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

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

Your mother instead chooses to shout your name. 

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

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

"Take your medicine and go to sleep." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You disappointed me today," he finally said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you needed to get up from this floor. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No one is going to shoot you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you alright?". 

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

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

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

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

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

"Still stiff," you answer. 

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

You feel him glance at you as you eat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sits back down and presses it against your cheek. 

"You may have thought I was harsh today." 

An understatement, you believe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head no, earning a smile. 

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

"Yes, Coriolanus. Thank you." 

You wished Edmund was here. 

Another kiss and you push him gently back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stood over her crying as Coriolanus entered the room.

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

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

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

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

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

''Let's go to bed." he suggests. 

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

"Where's your toothbrush?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Commander." you call him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was just a dream,” you tell him. 

It wasn’t, not really. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Edmund- I didn’t” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need to leave.” 

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

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

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

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

You got him there just in time.

Coriolanus opens the door to check on you. 

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

"Are you alright?" he asks. 

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

''Fine. I don't want to wake her". 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What about your mother?"

You knew Edmund would tend to her. 

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

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

"Whatever you want." he concedes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Commander Snow, sir!" 

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

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

You cringe at the usage of ‘we’.

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

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

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

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

''Where to next?". 

You barely heard him over your rage. 

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

"Are we in a rush?"

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

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

Today you would be stuck at his hip. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll never understand why they run.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just past Dead Man's creek". 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus wished he didn't ask.

"I am sorry. How did he die?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"All hail the mighty Capitol." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A friend you keep in the closet?"

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

"Well I don't bite." 

You knew for a fact he did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I should stay with mum." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's my favorite place," you admit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How about a swim?" he suggests.

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

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

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

"It will cool you down". 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You can see. You can touch me." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why carry the knife?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you for walking me home, Commander." 

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

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

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

"Goodnight, Commander".

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

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

You nod. It appeased him enough to kiss you. 

"Goodnight" he bids. 

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

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

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

"I made dinner. It's in the oven." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You throw your arms around his rigid figure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

Taglist:

@sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw

@mrsjobarnes

@greekyoghurtwithberries

@namelesslosers

@urfavnoirette

Next chapter

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

[talesofely]

Save My Tears (2)

A Sequel (Part 2) to The (Wo)Man Who Can't Be Moved. (Part 1)

Pairings : Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary : Natasha's your ex-girlfriend, she broke up with you without giving you a solid reason as to why. Obviously, you want her back. One problem, she's unofficially dating Bucky Barnes. So you decided to solve it with a little performance.

Warnings : Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending (or is it?😏), swearing, one line used 'her' as reader's pronouns, pls tell me if u see anything else

Word Count : 2.1k

Note : here's pt2 ! pls let my family go now :c

Natasha.

Natasha didn't want to attend tonight's party. 'Cause the last party she went to was with you. The last party she went to, she was clinging onto your arm. The last party she went to, she slept in your arms.

Unlike you, who always asked if you could be her date for the night, Bucky asked her to be his date for tonight. Normally Natasha wouldn't notice those miniscule things, but it was just so different from you.

Unlike you, who always insisted on picking her up from her room, Bucky just waited for her at the elevator.

Bucky brought her a bouquet of roses when they met at the elevator! You never bought her a bouquet of real roses... cause you always gave her paper ones, ones you knew she would appreciate more since they don't wither.

Bucky asked how he looked and said that Natasha looked perfect to be his date. You always told her she looked amazing, and joked about not looking good enough to be her date.

Bucky bought her a drink and a stronger drink for himself, like a gentleman. You always got the lesser alcoholic ones since you wanted to stay sober enough to take care of her in case she gets drunk.

She hated comparing him to you. But she couldn't help it. His arms just don't compare to yours.

She shook her head to clear away any thoughts about you, wanting to focus on her night with Bucky. She subconsciously searched the crowds for you, but she couldn't find that y/h/c hair that she could always find in the midst of the crowds.

Bucky asked her to dance. They stood in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor. Everyone's eyes were on them, she didn't like it. You always knew she felt uncomfortable being the center of attention. Bucky seemed to like it, though.

She saw how Bucky signaled Steve to sing. Mouthing a song title she wasn't able to read. Steve seemed skeptical at first, but the questioning look from Bucky caused him to concede and sing the song.

When 'Wonderful Tonight' started playing, Natasha's eyes winded. It was your song. The song you always sang to her. The song you two danced together. She's dancing it again, just not with you.

She tried her best to smile, and tried her best to not imagine you as she danced with Bucky.

She remembered how you used to sing the song in her ear as you two slowly danced around the kitchen, at 2am, using the refrigerator light as light, whenever she had nightmares.

"Oh, my darling, you were wonderful tonight" You—Bucky—whispered in her ear as the song came to an end. You—Bucky—kissed her forehead as you two pulled away.

She was going to excuse herself to the bathroom to clear out her thoughts when the next singer caught her attention.

It was you.

I saw you dancing in a crowded room

You look so happy when I'm not with you

You looked so breathtaking, she thought. Oh how she would've loved to arrive and leave with her in your arms. But she couldn't. She was in Bucky's arms.

"Hey, everyone. I hope y'all are having an amazing night. I do hope you enjoy these songs I'm about to play." You said as you clicked the instrumental version of the song you chose, on the tablet.

She couldn't deny how much she missed your voice. How much she longs to hear that voice say those 8 letters she used to hear everyday from you.

But then you saw me, caught you by surprise

A single teardrop falling from your eye

When your eyes met, she didn't know what to feel. She didn't know whether to feel happy, to feel sad, to feel hurt, or to feel angry that she let you go.

That bittersweet smile you gave her, hurt her in ways she didn't even know was possible. She got shot before, she got stabbed, she got punched and kicked multiple times before, but this type of pain is something she's never experienced before.

She wanted to run up to the stage and beg for your forgiveness while hugging you tightly when she saw the single tear falling from your eye.

I don't know why I run away

I made you cry when I run away

She left before the song ended. She ran away, again. She ran to the rooftop. The place where you two always ran together to.

She didn't even notice Bucky following her.

Wanda Immediately approached you when you got off stage. She pulled you into a hug before pointing at the stairway up to the rooftop.

"She's up there. Go follow her, please. Bucky followed her, I'm worried it might not end well for Bucky." She said with a wince, remembering the last time someone tried to approach Natasha while she had so many emotions running.

You bit your lower lip, your hesitation was strong. But the worried look from Wanda was enough to make you run up.

"Leave me alone for a minute, Buck." You heard Natasha say, trying to control her emotions. Her hands are gripping the rails so tightly, her knuckles were turning white.

"What's wrong Tash?" The nickname he used wasn't helping. You used to call her that all the time.

"Please, Bucky, just 5 minutes. Please." She pleaded, you noticed her grip was getting tighter.

"Just tell me what's wrong, Natasha!" He raised his voice. Something you never did in all your years you two dated.

"For fuck's sake I still love her! I still fucking love Y/N so much, that it actually hurts! Is that what you wanted to hear?!" Natasha finally screamed back, turning to face Bucky directly. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Я так скучаю по ней, Bucky, which is stupid cause I was the one who broke her heart. So I have no right to act like it hurts me more, but it still hurts so much." She murmured, not even caring that she was crying in front of Bucky. (translation : I miss her so much.)

"What?" Bucky couldn't believe it. He thought they were both in love, he was even going to ask her to be his girlfriend officially tonight. "Leave, please." Natasha forced herself to calm down, glaring at Bucky as he shamefully walked towards the stairwell where you were.

When Bucky saw you, he tried his best to give you a genuine smile. "Her heart's still yours. Don't lose it." He said as he gave your shoulder a pat and walked away.

You took a deep breath before approaching Natasha.

"Tasha." Just one word from you was enough to gain Natasha's attention. She turned around in surprise, wiping her tears hastily.

"Y/N? What're you doing here?" She tried her best to act calm, using all her spy skills to act collected in front of you. But you both know that you could see right through it.

"Was it true, Natasha? You told Bucky you still love me. Were you telling the truth?" You asked carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her. You leaned your back against the railings beside her, she had her arms leaning against it as she looked at the busy streets below.

"What are you going to do if I said yes?" She answered your question with her own question. You just shrugged, staring up into the stars.

You felt her shiver when a particularly strong wind blew past you. Instinctively, you gave her your jacket.

You could've asked me why I broke your heart

You could've told me that you fell apart

"Why aren't you asking me why I left? Why I ran away? Why aren't you screaming at me? Why aren't you mad at me?" She said after you placed your jacket on her shoulders. She was frustrated at herself for ending things with you. She was also frustrated as to why you weren't hating her like she thinks she deserves.

"What's the point of getting mad? Being mad at you won't get you back, it won't help me understand why you left either." She hated how understanding you were. It made her guilt grow bigger with every word you say.

"I really want to ask something though," She looked at you expectantly, thinking of possible questions you could ask. "Why'd you run away?" You felt her breath hitch when you finally let those words leave your tongue. You were also nervous yourself, not knowing what to expect from your ex-girlfriend.

"I was scared." She took a deep breath before continuing, "You're just too perfect. We were so perfect that it terrified me. Nothing stays that good that long. Everything had consequences. Maybe the consequence for me was that you moved on so quickly."

But you walked past me like I wasn't there

And just pretended like you didn't care

Your brows furrowed. 'You moved on too quickly'?

"But I haven't moved on, Nat. What gave you the idea that I already did?"

"You just walk past me everyday at the compound ever since you returned. I thought you didn't care about it anymore." She finally looked at you, both your eyes meeting like they were always destined to meet.

"'Cause I didn't want to hold you back, Natasha. I thought it'd help us both move on if we acted like nothing happened. I guess it didn't, I'm sorry." You were always so nice. Natasha hated it. She hated the fact that she feels like she's abusing your kindness and that she couldn't do anything about it.

Take me back 'cause I wanna stay

Save your tears for another

"Does that mean you still love me?" Natasha hesitantly asked, biting her lower lip.

"Of course, Tash." You said with a small sad smile. A smile immediately made itsm's way to her face. But when she saw your smile, her's faltered and her brows furrowed.

"I'm assuming there's a 'but' to that sentence?"

You nodded slowly, giving her a smile that made her worries grow.

"I never stopped loving you, Tasha, just... not in the same way as before." Natasha felt her heart drop. No matter how much she tried to stop the tears from falling, she couldn't stop them when she heard those words from you.

"What do you mean, Y/N?"

Yeah, I broke your heart like someone did to mine

And now you won't love me for a second time

You bit your lower lip, trying to find the right words to explain it properly to her.

"I still love you, but you hurt me, Tasha. I understand you got scared, but if you really loved me you would've told me. You should've explained your feelings and worries to me. We could've gotten through that together." You hated seeing her cry, more so being the reason she's crying. But you needed to tell her this, you both needed it to move on.

"I'm sorry. Does that mean we— you don't want me back anymore?" She asked in a voice so quiet you could barely hear it.

I realize that I'm much too late

And you deserve someone better

Your smile broke all her hopes. She started sobbing quietly, something she's never done before. She's a silent crier, so hearing her sob hurts you way more than you expected. You immediately pulled her into a hug, confusing her but her mind was too foggy to even question it. Her arms instinctively went around your neck as she buried her face into the crook of your neck.

Save your tears for another day

"Of course I want you back, silly. I'm just saying that we need to work to get back to where we were before. I won't ever let you go again, Natasha, so please don't let go either." You whispered into her ear. Every part of Natasha came back to life the moment those words left your lips.

You felt her hug you tighter. You continued to whisper comforting words to calm her down, as she whispered promises to you as well.

"You are the only sure thing in a world filled with a thousand doubts, Natalia. Please don't walk away again." You murmured, feeling her nodding her head hastily.

"Never again, my love. You're the only thing that keeps me sane. I love you." She pulled away from the hug to cup your cheeks and close the gap between your lips.

That's when you knew, you're never going to see her in the arms of anyone besides yourself, ever again.

Save your tears for another day (ah)

Save your tears for another day (ah)

note :

surprise ! the original ending was that bucky and natasha ended up together cause y/n didn't want to take natasha back. buuuut i didn't wanna hurt myself that much while writing it so yeah, u guys get this. enjoyyyy!

taglist (i won't do taglists but i will be doing it for fics w/ diff parts) : @taliiiaasteria @itstashaswife @username23345 @wandanatlov3r @esposadejoyhuerta @marvelwomen-simp @artm99 @d3adp00ls @freewaysigns-underpasses @unique0003 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @spid3rfan @ellieromanov @mikookaaaaaao @miky40s @ncsdlr @unknownfanfic @pipsipey17 @tarathia @kyky-maximoff @graceher07 (i didn't know if the people who asked for pt2 wanted to get tagged so if u didn't, i'm so sorrryyyyy)

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x female #bucky barnes #gay gay gay #ely !! ★ #by ely !! ★ #avengers x reader #Spotify

[madwomansapologist]

doubt comes in | bg3 companions

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: You knew exactly what would welcome you back to camp. The alluring smell of Gale's cooking, the awful noises of Lae'zel working on a sword that don't need to be sharpened, Wyll practicing his dance moves. You clearly weren't expecting to see yourself. Or to be forced into fighting the companions you swore to never harm in order to prove Orin was playing with their minds. [3.4K]

warnings: orin being orin. well, you, actually. "prove who's the real you" trope. i mean imagine the level of anxiety that scenario induces because you want me to act like me? kitten, mommy don't fucking know who she is. bg3 level of violence. a lot of blood. body horror should be a tag? tav suffers slashing damage, but orin suffers psychic damage. angst. happy ending. shadowheart x tav x halsin. companions (lae'zel, astarion, gale, wyll, karlach, jaheira, minsc). camp followers (yenna, scratch, grub). background (orin, gortash, mizora, shar, cazador, silvanus).

Reaching Baldur's Gate didn't made life easier, but Gods did it helped. Danger is near, sometimes closer than a kiss, but this city is still your home. They can try, but no one can take that away from any of you.

Mizora can bargain and dissemble, but no lie coming from her burning lips will ever change the fact Wyll would do anything for this city. He had his first kiss in one of those bars. Gortash is a threat, but did he started counting his days? Karlach is coming for him, and he had it coming. She can still remember the vinegar taste on her mouth after her first spree.

Shar had her time to mess with Shadowheart's memories, to turn goodness into fear and desires into guilty. Shadowheart is learning how to swin. Long ago, before Cazador could even think of looking at him, Astarion walked on those streets. Cazador can see him as a walking corpse if he so desire, something that fell into decay, but Astarion is alive and free forever and evermore.

The world is a freaking mess, but so be it. That won't stop you from living. That won't stop any of you.

"Soldier! Over here," Karlach called for you, up on The Blushing Mermaid's balcony. You dodged the drunkards and ran upstairs to their table. They saved a seat for you. They always do. "What took you so long?"

They're always teasing you for being so controlling with their gold. That was an act of survival, to save for what matters, but now that you reached the city... You're still controlling it, Silvanus knows Astarion would waste it all without noticing, but you can allow your party some luxury from time to time.

You put the bags under the table, careful to not let them see what was inside them. "Just lost track of time," you sat between her and Minsc. "Did I miss much?"

You turned around, looking for a waiter, but a glass was dragged from across the table towards you. Halsin, sitting across from you at the round table, had already ordered your favorite drink. He always knows what you want even before you say it.

Your smile was subtle, the glass already rising to hide your mouth. You didn't use words to thank him, but your foot met his under the table. You dragged it along his leg, a hidden affection. A secret between you two.

"Oh, yes, Boo. Minsc agrees, her smile really seens different," Minsc whispered. Boo moved on his shoulder, sniffing around. "What are you hiding, my gentle friend?"

Perfume of night orchids, clothes fit for a vampire or whatever Astarion means by that, a recently released tome of evocation, instruments to improve weapons, a music box for a dancing hero, owlbear cub plush, new whittling knifes, a book about adventures Jaheira wasn't part of but is still somehow the main character, and stone sculpture of a certain miniature giant space hamster. "Nothing," you answered.

Halsin chuckled. "There is nothing you can't do, my heart. Except by lying, I must add."

"I just bought a few presents," it sounded almost defensive. Alright, maybe you really were a bit too controlling of the gold. Just a bit. "I'll give them after dinner."

Karlach chocked on her beer. "Are you feeling well, soldier? Have anyone forced you to waste your precious gold?"

"There is a hero coming through to help you, my friend," Minsc hit the table with closed fists. Your drink almost fell on your lap. "Tell Minsc who forced you and his boot shall find your wrongdoer!"

Karlach and Minsc tried to see what were in the bags during the walk back to camp, and you protected them with your life. They started a game of guessing what you had bought, never realizing you weren't participating on it.

Halsin took the bags from you, and with his free hand caressed yours. He kissed your knuckles, then your forehead. You melted against his touch. "Is it duck related?"

You chuckled, eyes still closed. "Fuck off, Bear."

Finally at camp, Halsin followed you to your tent .You saw when Wyll walking out of his tent, hair dripping wet, and smiled at him. Karlach and Minsc sat by the bonfire, still arguing about the possibility of receiving an ax as a gift.

You told Halsin to close his eyes so you could hide everything. "Alright, done."

You walked towards the bonfire, but Halsin grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. You linked your arms around his neck, ready to stand on tiptoe. "It's on your black chest, isn't it?"

You sighed, walking away from him. He tried to stop you, but you dodged Halsin easily. "Of course not," you lied. And he could tell.

You used a branch to stir the fire. You had the feeling it would be a cold night. Yenna was near it, stroking Grub's fur, and smiled at you. So young, so innocent. So unfair.

Lae'zel and Jaheira carried pans with food to the large table Gale conjured, and nodded on your direction. "Fifteen minutes, cub," said Jaheira. "Weren't you on watch?"

You denied with a movement of your head. Jaheira isn't the one to get confused with watches, neither are you. After all, you both organized all shifts.

"Are you hungry?" You stroke Yenna's hair, ignoring Grub in order to not scare him away. Kneeled in front of her, you threw the branch far away. Scratch ran to catch it. "I have strawberry and hon..."

"What the fuck is that?!"

You turned to Karlach, your sword suddenly so heavy on your side. She looked perfectly fine. Following her gaze, you understood it.

Shadowheart had her spear on hands, back from first watch to supper. And besides her, with a hand on the half-elf's waist, stood you.

One thing you can't deny Orin: that bitch is creative. You admit, it was smart. Half of the party left with you, half stayed at camp. It was only a matter of chosing the right moment to appear, making sure to say only the right words, and everything would work on her favor.

Smart, until she wasn't anymore. Because instead of aiming your companions quietly without raising doubts, you are back now. She is surrounded by the enemy. Cornered by her own actions.

You smiled to Yenna, her scared eyes shone upon you. "I need you to close your eyes. Can you do that for me?" As she put her tiny hands in front of her face, you raised from the floor. The smile was still there. "Orin."

She was behind you, but you knew Karlach made Nyrulna find a way to her hands. He's not on your vision field, but you promise Silvanus you'll kill yourself right then and there if Minsc and Boo aren't ready to fight and die beside you. The golden light on your periphery in theory could be from anything, but you knew it was Halsin waiting for your command to transform and attack.

The things you couldn't see didn't surprised you. Quite the opposite.

Jaheira's eyes shone, and without hesitation she turned into a fire myrmidion. Wyll, before careless, casted an armor on himself. Lae'zel had her sword on her back, but her movements showed she was nothing but ready.

They were looking at you.

As easy as that you understood. You're always thinking on the great scheme of things, careful about every movement and choice so at the end nothing will stop you from defeating the Absolute, but this isn't a game of Go. Orin didn't proposed a bet, one where all moves matter and any choice could change the final outcome. No. This is as simple as tic-tac-toe. The results depends only on doing the right first movement.

Orin isn't surrounded here.

You are.

Shadowheart hesitated, the spear uncomfortable on her hands, her skin paler. She gazed at you, at that thing, and you could almost see the doubt replacing the new found glow in her eyes.

"You finally decided to show up again," Orin said. She could immitate your voice perfectly. Even the words were something that could've been said by you. "Now we don't need to hunt you down."

You kept on staring at Shadowheart, ignoring her stained words. "Lua, you know who I truly am." You drew your sword, the golden glow illuminating your face within the light of the setting sun. "Fight beside me, my love. Like you have always done."

"Don't fall for her theatrics," replied Orin. If you didn't knew better, even you would fall for her tricks. "She is playing with your mind. Trying to control it like many attempt to before. Don't allow it."

In a quick motion, her spear cut through Orin's torso. Orin, you, stumbled back. You stood in front of Shadowheart, protecting her with your body from the changeling's response.

All Orin did was to add pressure to the cut. "Get away from her!" A necrotic energy came from her fingers, the same you are so used to control. You shouldn't have left your shield on your tent. "My love, she'll only hurt you."

Jaheira aimed at you, lava dripping from her transformed hand, but didn't attack because of how close Shadowheart was of you. Karlach got further away, now with a better view of camp. Minsc had his sword in hands, just as Wyll had a cloud of darkness aiming at him. Lae'zel was in front of Orin, eyes filled with determination.

They moved faster than you wanted to. The board getting new possibilities, and you worst problems to deal with. What strategy can overpower hers?

"On sight, soldier," Karlach screamed from distance. You could picture the spear on her hands, ready to be throw right in Orin's eyes. "One word."

"Ckh. Enough," ordered Lae'zel. "Pull yourself together before I pull you apart."

"That changeling is playing tricks with your mind, Lae'zel," said Shadowheart. Light came from her fingers. "Don't let her fool you."

"I know my leader," was her response. "You should know too, cleric."

"Can't any of you see her true goal?" Your voice echoed through the camp. "She isn't just trying to end me. She could've done this before, we all now she had chances. Orin wants you to fight one another, to break our bonds and divide us. Stay still, stay alert, and she won't have a choice but to end her disguise and attack with her own claws. Patience: that's the only thing she does not have."

With the noise, Gale and Astarion came out of the kitchen. "Who is..." Astarion didn't even had time to finish.

"It's me," you yelled. You had even forgot about them. Just more players for a game that should be won alone. "For Silvanus, I even said goodbye to each and every of you befo..."

You swear you saw a smirk on your duel's face. She fooled you too. "You fucking bitch."

You barely had closed your mouth when red strings of energy passed right beside you. Shadowheart's illuminated fingers were surrounded by darkness now. Gale's work, you knew.

"She is right," Lae'zel's words made you breath easier. It was more than just a smart move, it was a great plan, but Orin won't suceed for a very simple reason: her main goal is to hurt, and yours is to prevent it. Lae'zel stepped closer, her longsword in hands and eyes on Orin. "The wizard shouldn't have aimed at the Shadowheart, neither was she supposed to fight."

A sign of trust coming from her of all people could convince them all. Lae'zel cares, deeply, and wouldn't do something without being sure of it. You glared at the others, hoping Lae'zel's words had calmed them down. And it did. Their eyes were softer towards you. But those weren't the eyes you should've been watching closely.

You didn't saw when she moved. Didn't noticed the smell of danger floating on the air so near you. Didn't heard anything that would've warned you to defend yourself.

But you felt as Lae'zel rip your chest apart.

So much blood. You never would've guessed a mortal vessel could carry so much blood. It stained the silver, dripping from the longsword, splashed her face. It ran down your body, penetrated the ground and its roots, fed the plants..

Red. It was all you could see. All you could think about. Your lungs only had space for it. They burned. Your trembling hands moved towards your ripped belly, your insides staining them, and held the sword. It cut your palms.

"Bloodlust won't solve our problems," someone said. You knew that voice. Was it yours? Lae'zel forced the sword down, then pulled it out of you. "The changeling's is all we need to spill."

You were on your knees. Did you fell? Were you kicked? Are you praying? You must be. You probably were. Who do you pray to? Have you ever prayed before?

Kneeled beside you, a woman talked to you. Her mouth moved, a red liquid dripping from her face and hands. Her touch was warm. She felt like home. Shadowheart. Her eyes reflected a golden light, but they dissapeared so quickly.

"Let me go!" She tried to fight Lae'zel's hold, but the warrior was stronger. "She'll die because of you. She'll die and I will never ever forgive you for that, you damned gith!" The screams turned into cries. "She saved me, let me save her!"

"It's me," the doppelgander said. She held Shadowheart by the cheeks, trying to get her to calm down. "Lua, love, it's me. Just me."

"Get out of me," Shadowheart spat on her face. Lae'zel pushed her away, trying to prevent Shadowheart from doing something she would regret. "Why no one here listen to me?!"

"Stop squirming," Lae'zel hissed. "Look into her eyes. Look and tell me you don't see our leader."

Shadowheart eventually stopped fighting, her body exausted from crying. The changeling was in front of her, you were in front of her. She smelled like you. Talked like you. Felt like you.

"Is that really you?"

"Of course it's me," lied Orin. "Please, look into my eyes. We were together all day. You know I haven't left camp. Please, please, trust me."

Spikes grew, surrounding Orin. She hissed, the ivy twining around her legs and tearing the skin open. Halsin were throw to the ground before he could end the healing spell.

"Halsin!" Shadowheart screamed. She almost escaped Lae'zel's hold. "No!"

"She was with us all day, Halsin," Wyll said as he paralised the druid. "We know it's her. Don't fight back."

That didn't stop Karlach from throwing her spear near the Blade's feet. "You fucking idiot!"

Mizora clapped, enjoying the show.

Jaheira burned Mizora before losing her wild shape. She will come back, she always does, but that never stops Jaheira. At least they will have some moments of respect.

She wandered towards Minsc. He kneeled on the floor, and for a moment she feared something happened to him when she wasn't paying attention.

"She told me not open my eyes," cried Yenna. "I can't open they yet. She told me not to."

"Have you ever seen my miniature giant space hamster?" Yenna didn't react to him. "No, Boo, she nee..."

Jaheira kneeled beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. "You did well, cub," she forced herself to laugh. "You were so brave. Let's get you and your red cat something to eat, alright?"

A dry sound reached their ears, stopping every and each one of them. You fell to the ground, as firm as an empty sack, whimpers leaving your mouth as you slipped into unconsciousness.

No fighting. No yelling. A quiet end. A peaceful one.

So easy.

Astarion grabbed Gale's shoulders, whispering so the others wouldn't notice. "It smells like her," Astarion swallowed hard. "I know it."

"Are you really sure of that?" Gale watched you, saw all your blood spreading through the ground, and looked into his eyes again. "Because if you're not, if your guess is wrong, then it will be our guts on the ground. Do you really trust your nose that much?"

Astarion gave him a smirk, but Gale could see the fear he was trying to hide. "Will you cover me, darling?"

"What's your plan?"

"Please. If you think I have one, then you don't know me at all."

As the spike dissapeared, Orin held Shadowheart's face again. "Think of everything we faced together. The nautiloid, the grove, the shadows. Wasn't I beside you all this time? Have I ever turned my back on you?"

"No." That Shadowheart knew the answer. "Never."

She looked up to the moon, praying for assistance. When her eyes fell down, she saw the body on the floor. And what surrounded it.

Scratch sad down beside you. He nudged your shoulder with his nose, waiting for you to stop with that game. He didn't like it. It wasn't fun like the others. But as he moved your body, she saw something reflecting the sunset. A flask. Concentrating, Shadowheart saw the contour of something. Of Astarion's body.

Gale had blue rays of light coming out of his eyes.

"Exactly, my love," her cheeks were pinched. The long nails digged on them for so long. "I've never turned on you. Not when you tried to kill Lae'zel. Not when you lied to me again and again. Or when you showed us how low you would go for your goddess. Remember the fear on the Nightsong's eyes? Remember how I pretended not to know all you would do to her if I wasn't there? A cleric who doesn't know where to lay her faith, a torturer so easily deceived, a coward unable to make the right decisions. That's why you never turned on me, right? Because I make the decisions you can't. I carry all the guilty for you. Because it's easier when I control everything. Don't you like it? That you don't need to use your brain when I am around? Wouldn't you give your memories to me if I asked? I know you would. I know you will."

Your head fell. The bone cracking, the skin stretching. They could hear as it moved, as it turned into something else. The shoulders falling, elbows breaking in half, the spine bending until it touches the bloody ground. The last snap, deep and long.

And from a thin cloud of dust, Orin appeared.

"Look at it. Crawnling under my fe..."

Nyrulna wasn't near Wyll, deep on the ground, neither did it came back to Karlach's hands. With accurate aim, the trident pierced Orin's ribs. Her blood joined yours, and the pale body fell where yours once lay.

Taking your time, you walked towards her. Stepping on the changeling's stomach, you ripped the trident from her insides. "I will give you a glorious death," you growled. "I'll make Bhaal wish I was his chosen."

You kneeled beside her, pressing the trident against her neck, then lowered your face until her ear. "I'll make him regret ever settling for you," you whispered.

Her eyes shone. "How... you know," she could barely say anything. "My... sib..."

You squeezed her cheeks, shutting her up. Then you caressed it, getting her skin dirty with your blood. "I know shit about you," you replied. "But I can tell you would never be anyone's first choice."

Orin can believe she escaped, if it's that what she desires. That you were too slow to stop her from teleport to wherever she deemed safe. That you were all bark and no bite. The truth is that she was wrong about you from the start.

You like the hunting.

You dropped Nyrulna to the ground, and threw yourself into Shadowheart's arms. “She lies,” you whispered. "She deceives and hurts and maims. Nothing was true. You're nothing that she said."

Quietly, Shadowheart hugged you. She breathed in your scent, felt your touch, heard your voice. You, you, you. She cried against your body. You.

Looking at the rest of your party, you breathed in. "We need a code," you said. "If we ever get into this sort of situation again, we need to say..."

You bite your lips, trying to think of something. Something you wouldn't use in another situation. Something that would be unique, impossible to confuse the meaning.

"Gold," you chose. "Or the rest of us are allowed to go for the kill."

Lae'zel cleared her throat. "Fair enough."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#oc: liliana wilde #kind!druid!tav #orin the red #shadowheart #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel x tav #lae'zel #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 x tav #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin #wyll ravengard x tav #wyll ravengard #karlach #karlach x reader #karlach x tav #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x tav #gale dekarios #jaheira #minsc #orin the red x reader #shadowheart x halsin #halsin x shadowheart

[drastrochris]

Ok, stick with me on this one:

Harrow is born, and Priamhark and Pelleamena are overjoyed. The Ninth is saved!

But there's this weird redhead baby who rudely didn't die. The horrible great-aunts don't like it, and over Aiglamene's objections, send the child up with Crux to the top of the shaft where he opens her protective suit and watches as she insolently continues to live. So he chucks her down the shaft, where she bounces a few times, cries for a bit, then eventually crawls over to a basket where she steals a leek to chew on.

A few years later, they give Harrowhark the bones, and she immediately can manipulate them, again saving the Ninth. They give some to Gideon too, and she uses them to drum on every surface, including Harrow's head. She's told "the Reverend Daughter is not a percussion instrument," before Aiglamene takes her away to start her proper Cavalier training.

"You can't die," Aiglamene informs her as she slides a sword through Gideon's stomach, "so you must do whatever you can to protect Harrowhark."

"This still hurts, you know," Gideon replies.

Instead of growing up hating each other, they're brought up as a team. They still go into the Tomb, of course, because they're kids, and have been told explicitly never to go into the Tomb.

Harrow can't understand why Gideon can't die, but as long as she agrees to sign off on delivery orders from the Cohort of "periodicals, misc" and "cookies, assorted," Gideon is perfectly happy to let her drain a bit of blood and feed her deadly poisons. Eventually, she's watched Gideon not-die from nearly everything she can think of, and picks up on a slight resonance that sings out when Gideon doesn't die.

The letter arrives, Ortus has no part in this story, and Harrow and Gideon arrive at Canaan House without incident.

Until they walk down the shuttle ramp and see everyone else staring at them. "It's like these people haven't seen an immortal hero before. Or maybe you're just too much of a butt-hurt nun for the other houses." Chaos erupts as the Seventh House cav and necromancer immediately attack them, but the body of Protesilaus falls apart quickly under Gideon's blade, and the Lady Dulcinea is subdued with only minor structural damage. Even when she screams out that she's Cytherea the First, and that she "will not be stopped by children," it's clear that she has been.

In the aftermath, Teacher is delighted. "May I call you Harrowhark the First, with your living cavalier, Gideon the First? The first perfect lyctor. No, the first lyctor of any kind to see these halls for a myriad?"

Palamedes is torn between "my beloved penpal is definitely dead" and "this angry scrungle rederived lyctorhood alone, on a planet with no resources, and with a cav who seems to be most interested in eating everyone's desserts."

Ianthe is furious, but can't quite identify why, other than she /hates/ Harrow the First's cav.

#the locked tomb #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #gideon the ninth #perfect lyctor au #I've got the brain rot again

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

FIRST PLACE part 3

pairings: Xavier thorpe x Fem!reader summary: hating each other doesn't really work out when there's different feelings hiding beneath it. warning: swearing, them being assholes to each other. note: reader is Wednesday's cousin. again. pretty long. I told myself this would be the last part but I got carried away. sooooo part 4 tomorrow so comment if you would like to be tagged in that

part 1 part 2 part 4

Xavier's POV

"Y/n!" I knocked on her window "can we talk"

the lights were off but there was noise coming from inside

"you can't ignore me forever" I sighed.

the window was slightly open so I took my chance and pushed it open more. climbing into her room.

I looked around and walked to her desk. looking at the statue of a frog playing an instrument. It was an odd concept but it seemed like something she would like, I picked it up and examined it closer until I heard footsteps coming to the door, I quickly put the frog down and made my way out the window again.

---

"you snuck into my room" you said walking up to Xavier

"what?" he questioned, Looking at you confused

"you broke into my room last night" you stated

"no I didn't" he denied quickly

"there's no point in lying, Xavier. there's proof. you're an amateur in that department"

"what proof do you have then?" he asked, getting annoyed

you pulled out a little zip-lock bag with a single hair in it

"is that a strand of hair?" Xavier spoke surprised and shocked

"a strand of your hair, yes" you nodded

"that could be anyone's hair" he defended himself

"It could've been, that's why Wednesday got it tested" you insited

"what the hell do you mean you got it tested?" he replied

"i think you know what it means" you huffed

"you're insane"

"I got to my room last night only for my room to smell like you, I find my frog in the wrong place and a single hair my floor. not to mention my window was an inch more open than when I left it. and when I looked out of it, I find that you're not at you painting on the wall, but your supplies are" you investigated "care to explain why?"

"again, you're insane" he scoffed

"no, I'm just observant" you spoke dully

"right, ok" he rolled his eye

"why were you in my room?" you demanded an answer

"I wanted to talk to you" he shrugged

"what is so important to tell me that you had to break into my room?" you huffed, crossing you arms

"wel- how do you know what I smell like?" he trailed off

"what?" you furrowed your eyebrows

"you said you got to your room and noticed it smelt like me. how do you know what I smell like?" he smirked

"because it smelt shit just like you"

"are you sure about that?" he chuckled

"I'm certain" you said before you turned away.

as you walked off, you and Xavier both took a deep breath and gulped.

---

During Outreach day, you snuck away from your group to go to the cafe

"what do you want?" Xavier asked

"A coffee, that's what everyone comes in here for" you told him simply

"what type of coffee?" he sighed

"one without your spit in it" you shrugged

"why would I spit in your coffee?" he shook his head in disappointment

"I don't know, the look on your face said it"

"what coffee would you like?" he questioned

"maybe a frappe" you said, looking at the menu at the top

"maybe? it's a yes or a no" he huffed, getting impatient

you smiled sarcastically "first of all, you're not getting a tip anymore. and yes, I'll have a coffee frappe"

"7.50"

you gave him the money and walked to your table. looking out the window to the street

you pulled out your phone and scrolled through pages, seeing Enid's page was updated with the latest 'gossip'

it was a photo of two people taken from a distance, you couldn't recognise the people in the photo so you read the description

'these two seem to talk a bit too much for them to be just enemies' it read

it was only posted a minute ago, with only one like and a single comment

as you looked at the comments under it you saw a comment from Xavier

'Enid take this down right now'

it was until then that you noticed it was you and Xavier in the photo

"here's your Coffee frappe without spit" Xavier put down the drink

"thanks" you mumbled

you messaged Enid, telling her to take the post down as soon as possible, not even a second later she gave in and said she would take it down. you thanked her and put your phone away, taking a sip of your drink.

----

"what the hell are you doing?" Xaviers voice called out from the rain. you looked up at him to see him with an umbrella

"why are you here?" you glared at him

"Wednesday told me you planned on going around here." he explained

"that doesn't answer my question" you blinked blankly

"just get under the umbrella" he moved closer to you, trying to get you under the purple umbrella with him

"I don't need protection from the rain" you stated

"I don't want you to get sick" he pleaded

"since when do you care if I get sick or not?" you investigated

"fine" he grumbled

"what's wrong with you?" you rebuked

"nothing?"

"stop. you've been acting weird lately and I don't like it" you spat

"what do you want from me?" he quizzed

"to act like you did before, like you hate and not care about me" you declared

"I do hate you" he nodded his head

"that's not what logic says" you pointed out

"what logic?" he retorted

"you have a drawing of me in your notebook, you're always around me now and you kissed me the other day" you announced "any logical person would say that you have feelings for me, but I refuse to be under your trap"

"trap? what trap!?" he said loudly

"the one where you think you can trap me into thinking I don't hate you" you explained

"you're insane! you know that? I'm basically serving my feelings to you on a silver platter here and you say I'm trapping you?" he yelled at you

"yes, that is what I said" you nodded

"what is wrong with you?!" he screamed as the rain got heavier

you stayed silent, you didn't want to answer him anymore so you just stared at him blankly.

"I could ask the same question" you mumbled, walking past him

----

It was quiet in the quad as you stared at the boy from afar.

he was oblivious to you behind him as he painted the wall

"I hate you" you must of scared him for a second time and made him mess up for the second time

"oh yeah? care to share why that is?" he huffed, mad at you

"you are an asshole"

"yeah? you're not the nicest person either" he rolled his eyes

"I have done nothing to you!" you yelled at him

"is that really what you believe in your twisted little mind?" he growled. putting his paintbrush down and backing you up into a pillar

"It's not a belief, It's a fact" you corrected

"you know what else is a fact?" he took a short pause, not caring for your answer "you're being a bitch"

"I've always liked dogs" you glared at him

"you can't be serious? I tell you I like you and you just walk away like I don't matter. Like my feelings don't matter!" he yelled "and the sad part is that you don't even care, you think you're treating me fairly!"

"I hate you, how else am I supposed to treat someone I hate?" you questioned

"yeah, right, why do you hate me again? because you're afraid of showing your emotions? afraid of the true feelings you have for me?" he laughed dryly

"you scared me" you stated

"I scared you" he chuckled, licking his lips while looking down at his feet, he shook his head amused as his dimples became more defined

"that's pathetic. I scared you one time and you hate my guts and torture me for years? I apologised for doing it a million times!" he yelled hysterically

"why are you so mad?"

"I was trying to impress you! I have always tried impressing you but you don't get it. you just flip out. I was excited to show you what I could do. I didn't draw or animate for months after that. you hurt my feelings and you didn't even care!" he shouted

"why should I care?" you grilled

"do you seriously have no emotions or feelings whatsoever? it is so pathetic how little empathy you have for others." he scoffed

"feelings are a waste of time and emotions show weakness" you explained dully

"you are" he took a deep breath "a horrible person"

"I'm trying to not hurt your feelings" you said

"you already did! did you seriously think you can treat me like shit and not hurt my feelings!?" he screamed, running his hands down his face in frustration.

"it's not my fault I can't interpret you're emotions, it's nothing personal." you shrugged

"No, it never is with you, is it?! and you can't even apologise, you just come out with an excuse! I'm done with your bullshit. I should've been done a long time ago" he sighed angrily, hitting the pillar he had you against

"why haven't you sooner?"

"Because I love you!" he disclosed loudly "it's kind of hard to just forget those types of feelings for a person and leave"

"you should've told me" you swallowed a lump in your throat

"why do you think I came to your room that night, and even if I did you would've turn me down. every. single. time" he smiled sadly

you didn't know what to say. you couldn't form words. you didn't love emotions, but you couldn't stop them, it was a human right to have feelings.

"I'll see you around, Y/L/N"

he walked away from you one last time.

------------------------------------------------

taglist: THERE ARE SO MUCH OF YOU I SWEAR

@apollo3475 @jiyaisdope @ihrtsabrinaclaudio @kpop-core @xavi-thpe @sammarvel123 @1201pm @ur-mom-is-h0t @barryswifey @ilovethesmiths111 @honey-with-tea @l-3rk @meankim @your-left-sock @thorpin @gx0sty @yayaistime @ygyofoyyxo @users09 @meme-queen-1999 @czeniess @gutterrataesthetic @parkersmyth @absurd-raven @lnnlove @aureliapappa @idccc @sstilinski @beautifuldisasters-things @gengen64 @issy1554 @mxltifxnd0m @spooky-bitch420 @dyhlanobrien @pauphs @soobin-my-beloved @herejustforjj @lovurryy @diorheaven @karagrace @pepswag10 @pockeymcmockey @mogli-bear @finnwantsmefr @ttayl0rswift @error404-energynotfound @renn-pumkin-head @lieutenant-roos @satan1cwh0r3 @sanzusmile @harrys3rdnipp @theprettytragic @aunicornmademedoit @dahliamae @mxgvmiii

I hope I got everybody! I'm sorry if i got everyone! there was so many of you I had to get through.

#xavier thorpe headcannons #xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #ajax petropolus #wednesday addams #wednesday series #netflix wednesday #wednesday 2022 #enid sinclair #percy hynes white #jenna ortega #imagine #part 4 #angst #enimies to lovers #enimies to friends to lovers

[aevallare]

excuses

light plot. heavy smut. mind the warnings. you can read on ao3 here

pairing: astarion/f!tav

word count: 4424

warnings: Aphrodisiacs, Semi-Public Sex, Squirting, Gags, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Dom Astarion, Wall Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Biting, Hand Kink, Inappropriate Use of Tadpole | Illithid Parasite Powers, Established Relationship, Rough Sex, Hair-pulling

preview:

“Go.” Auri's voice is hoarse. “This isn't your problem.”

Astarion's eyes narrow. “If you really think that I'm going to leave you here by yourself–”

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

enjoy!!

-----

The orthon’s dead and his stronghold is now their camp for the evening. It’s a nice change from the usual; after barricading the entrance, they won’t even have to take watches. It’s well-fortified and Auri’s reasonably confident that they’ve wiped out anything in the immediate area that might want to kill them.

So spirits are light.

When Wyll jokingly tells her to lick the spider, Auri rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t be stupid. We’ll take it back to camp and cook it.”

Astarion won’t partake regardless, but he does afford her two raised eyebrows in response. Shadowheart grimaces and Wyll barks out a laugh that fades when Auri doesn’t join him.

“You’re joking,” Wyll says weakly. Auri sets her mouth in a line.

“There isn’t much else to eat down here.”

“Unless you’re Astarion,” Shadowheart snorts. It’s true enough, though it makes Auri blush. The marks on her neck are testament to that.

Wyll stares at Auri as she harvests meat from the spider with a dagger she pulls from her belt, and he says, “I’ll stick with what rations we have, I think.”

Auri shrugs. She ate worse when she was on the street. Her knife cuts into the spider’s corpse with a sickening crack through the exoskeleton before Astarion asks, “What are you doing?”

Auri looks up at him. “I told you I wasn’t going to let it go to waste.”

“No, that’s not–” Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose and crouches down next to her. “Move. You’re mutilating it.”

Auri’s barely started and he’s criticizing her. When he shoos her to the side with a flick of his wrist, Auri lets herself be dismissed. She stands, and behind them, Wyll and Shadowheart get to work setting up camp.

They’ve all long shed their armor. Astarion’s careful to push up the sleeves of his shirt before pulling a dagger of his own from his boot. The veins of his forearms thread down into his hands, thick and protruding, and as Auri watches, he gets to work.

“Did you moonlight as a butcher while you were a magistrate?” Auri asks.

Astarion exhales a laugh. “No, but as you might have guessed, taking things apart was an oft-used skill of mine after my time as a magistrate.”

The joke is dark, but Astarion doesn’t seem upset. In fact, he continues, “Are you really going to eat spider meat?”

“I put vampire in my mouth all the time and you never seem to complain about that.”

“True. Your exotic appetite is one of my favorite things about you.”

His dagger filets with grace; no movement is wasted. When he’s finally picked the spider clean, he looks up at her. The dagger’s still in his hand and he toys with it absently.

Auri’s always been enamored of his hands. Her own are calloused, roughened by years of playing every instrument she could get her hands on. They’re a lyrist’s hands. There’s nothing wrong with them; they’re nothing but tools.

His, though.

Astarion’s hands have never made music as far as Auri knows, but they make the world sing at his discretion anyway. Flesh and skin bow and warble at his fingers’ mercy, and gods know that her body’s sung under his touch more times than she can count.

Her hands are tools. His are art.

Astarion’s thumb brushes over the hilt of his dagger a final time before he stows it once more. Auri’s mouth is dry and it occurs to her that she’s staring. Astarion’s eyes catch hers and he smirks.

“See something you like, darling?”

His hand drifts up to push his hair out of his eyes. Auri’s gaze follows the movement like it’s a compulsion.

“Always,” she manages, and Astarion laughs for real then, a soft, secret thing that she’d never be graced with if Shadowheart or Wyll were nearby.

“Be careful staring like that. I might get the wrong idea.”

Auri blinks at him, finally pulled from the single-minded fixation she’s had on his hands. “What do you mean? We had sex just a couple of days ago–”

“Details.”

Auri gathers the meat in her hands and walks to the campfire. No one bothers her as she stokes the flames before skewering the meat on a sharpened stick and setting it to roast on the fire.

Shadowheart settles in next to her, and when she does, she wrinkles her nose. “That smells awful.”

“Everything down here smells awful–”

Astarion’s taken a seat and cracked open a book, but without looking up, he says, “You’re both right. This place absolutely reeks and that filth you’re cooking is making it worse.”

Wyll laughs. Auri frowns. Shadowheart huffs.

When the meat, for all intents and purposes, appears cooked, Auri pulls it from the fire. “You two are sure you don’t want any?” She looks at Wyll and Shadowheart in turn.

Wyll, at least, says, “No, thank you.”

Shadowheart just scoffs. “I’d rather starve.”

Auri shrugs. Her teeth tear through the spider meat, and if Auri doesn’t chew, it doesn’t taste so bad. Shadowheart’s grimace grows more and more disgusted, but Auri’s got a full stomach, so she doesn’t particularly care.

-----

There’s been little time to be unfocused in the Gauntlet of Shar. Everything is a potential or actual threat, and though he’s more or less convinced of their safety in this fortified pocket of ground that the orthon carved out for himself, Astarion still trances with a dagger in arm’s reach.

Still, his trance is light, and it’s been less than a day since he’s fed. He’s so much more when his senses are thrumming with Auri’s blood–

And it’s the sound of Auri that wakes him.

It’s a stifled, strangled, choking noise that pulls Astarion from his trance. It’s not close by, but he’d recognize Auri anywhere. It doesn’t sound like she’s in danger, exactly–

But Astarion slinks out from his tent anyway. Wyll and Shadowheart are nowhere to be seen; if he focuses, he can hear them both, breathing heavy with sleep in their tents. It’s hard to do that, though, when Auri’s gasping grows more and more labored.

So he follows it. And he finds her. And the reason she’s so far from camp isn’t hard to deduce once he does.

Auri’s slouched against a crumbling stone pillar. She’s managed to find a place free from bloodshed and gore, and her mind is entirely elsewhere (though she almost certainly wouldn’t have noticed Astarion anyway). From this angle it’s difficult to make much out, but Astarion doesn’t need to be able to see her in order to know what she’s doing.

Even from here, he can hear her ragged whimpering. He can smell the heat between her legs.

There’s something in Auri’s mouth, but when she slumps further down the pillar with a moan that dances on the line between relief and frustration, there’s no mistaking what she’s doing. She’s just made herself come, and she’s unsatisfied with the result.

She pulls the cloth from her mouth and whines, “Fuck.” Her body heaves and she fists both hands in her hair, leggings loose around her hips.

The idea of just watching her is appealing, but as Astarion looks on, tears prick at Auri’s eyes. He can see her bite the inside of her cheek in the way that she does when she feels that things are hopeless, and when he says, “I hope you don’t mind me saying, love, but you’ve looked better,” Auri doesn’t even startle. That’s when Astarion knows that something is truly wrong. He’d guessed, of course – there’s a feverish sweat beading on her brow and it’s unusual for her to wander off alone – but when she greets him without her usual bright smile, there’s no room left for doubt.

“Go back to camp. Please.”

There’s desperation in her voice. Astarion tilts his head to the side. “Darling–”

The pet name barely leaves his mouth before he feels her parasite push into his mind. It doesn't ask permission before it enters; Auri's lost control entirely. Astarion grunts in shock and then the assault of her tadpole on his comes into focus.

What afflicts her is lust incarnate.

“Please.” Auri struggles to form words but she tries anyway. “I'm not… myself. I can take care of this on my own. I swear.”

She's whimpering, filled with so much desire that it's causing her physical pain. When Auri tells him to leave, it's not for her own benefit. He can tell because of what the tadpole pushes into his mind, Auri's will be damned.

I could think about his hands forever. If he was the only one to touch me for the rest of my life, I'd be satisfied.

Astarion doesn't recognize what magic this is exactly, but her lust is unnaturally strong. “Not that I'm not flattered, but–”

There's a stone slab that was probably used as a table. I'm bent over it. Astarion's behind me and neither of us has bothered getting undressed. His cock pushes into me and when it does, there's finally some sense of relief. If it weren't for the gag, I'd scream loud enough to attract every enemy from here to the Underdark when he thrusts.

Astarion, suddenly, is also finding it difficult to form coherent thought.

“Go.” Auri's voice is hoarse. “This isn't your problem.”

Astarion's eyes narrow. “If you really think that I'm going to leave you here by yourself–”

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

Auri lets out a muted moan. When Astarion steps forward, she does her best to shrink away, but the pillar she'd been using for support stops her. She doesn’t want to ask. She doesn’t want to put him in a position where he’d have to say yes or no.

He puts his palm on stone in the space next to her head.

“Would you feel better if I touched you?” Astarion asks.

Auri’s fingers shake. Her eyes flit between the hand that he isn’t using to support himself and his face.

“I don’t know,” she says. Her pulse throbs in her throat. “You don’t have to–”

He interrupts her, ignoring the latter half of her words. “Would you like to try?”

A sob wrenches itself from her body. “It’s the only thing I can think about.”

And at last, he won’t be the one at the mercy of her kindness. Maybe he’d feel used if it were someone else. But it isn’t. It’s her.

Astarion dips down to kiss her, and again, Auri’s lust pours into him. She bites at his lip greedily, hips bucking forward gracelessly into his.

When he pulls away, hand sliding beneath her waistband, Auri says, “The gag.”

Somehow, Astarion had forgotten about that. “The gag?”

Auri nods her head, a moment from falling apart without him even having touched any of the places she likes best. “The others– I don’t want the others to hear.”

When a finger slides inside her, Auri’s eyes roll to the back of her head. She’s warmer than usual, but other than that and the desire rolling off of her body, she doesn’t seem to be in any danger.

Yes. He can take care of this.

Astarion’s palm pushes up against her clit as his finger gets to work, and with his other hand, he pulls Auri’s makeshift gag up from around her neck. “What is this?”

“I stole a clean bandage from Shadowheart’s things. Another finger, please. It’s not enough–”

The Auri he’s used to is a tender thing, though she’s more than capable of playing rough. He punctuates the second finger that she asked for by stuffing the cloth bandage into her mouth. She was wet already; when the gag’s back in place, she clenches around his fingers.

“Do you want to talk or do you want me to take care of you?” he asks.

There’s fire in her eyes. Auri can’t speak, but the images she pushes into him are obscene. Astarion doesn’t even have time to process them all before he says, “Well, we can certainly try a few.”

Astarion feels the tension inside her play up with each touch. Her leggings have fallen to her ankles and the hand that’s not buried in her cunt massages her breast. He gives her nipple a delicate twist, and the strangled moan that escapes her is more than worth his trouble. The other breast falls prey to his mouth instead, and when he bites at the soft flesh there, Auri’s knees buckle.

“We can’t have that, love,” he says, and he heaves her leg up, the crook of her knee in his hand. She’s still technically wearing her leggings; they’re just in a pool around the leg still holding her to the ground. Auri’s eyes go wide at the new angle, but there’s no complaint. From here, Astarion can touch her easily, freely, and as his pace quickens, so too does her heart rate.

Please, Astarion– please–

The gag’s occupied her mouth, but she’s still able to beg through the parasite.

“I do love how you look when you come for me,” he says, and with his fingers hitched inside her, Auri shatters. It’s different from usual but no less entrancing, and for the briefest moment as Auri squirts into his hand, she almost looks like herself.

Her eyes are wide. Gods.

“That’s new,” he says, and Auri would probably laugh if the gag wasn’t still in her mouth. “Feel better?”

His cock’s hard, but that’s hardly the point of this venture.

Auri pauses before nodding, and maybe Astarion would believe it if her body language wasn’t completely at odds with her mind flooding him with the image of him spilling himself inside her as she's bent over the slab of stone that he can see from the corner of his eye. Astarion smirks, feathering his thumb over her hypersensitive clit as he pulls his fingers out from inside her. She whimpers for him, and he whispers in her ear, “Liar.”

This isn’t your problem, she says again.

Astarion licks the evidence of her orgasm from his hand. Her eyes lock onto the motion, and when he’s done, he lifts her into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Unfortunately, without you around, my meal ticket disappears. So you are indeed my problem.”

She’s bare from the waist down. Auri’s slick enough that Astarion can feel it through his clothes. His cock’s already straining against his trousers.

She’s his problem in more ways than one.

When he lays her down on her back, he’s careful to make sure her shirt’s pulled down. The slab’s rough, unfinished, but she doesn’t seem to care. She sits up, pulling the gag from her mouth, and she says, “Let me.”

Auri reaches for the laces that will free his erection, but Astarion takes a step back so that he’s out of reach. He plucks the gag from her hand, and says, “I asked before. Do you want to talk or do you want me to take care of you?”

A shiver runs up her body and she doesn’t answer.

And that's answer enough, really. Well. That and the picture of him pulling her to the edge of the slab, bottoming out inside her, her breasts bare.

With painstaking restraint, Astarion exhales through his nose. “Oh, darling,” he says through gritted teeth. “Lie back for me, would you?”

If pressed, he’d admit it’s not the most graceful way he’s ever pulled out his cock, but it’s difficult to care when Auri is quite literally dripping in front of him. Her throat quivers and her fingers twitch; she’s doing everything she can not to touch herself, though Astarion’s not quite sure why.

He strokes himself thoughtlessly, like it’s the only natural course of action, but he won’t leave her wanting. This isn’t a night for games, although they’ve both been having fun despite her condition if the state of her thoughts is any indicator. When he dips down and presses a kiss between her legs, Auri cries out.

The gag’s still in his hand.

He fills her mouth with it in the same moment that he fills her cunt with his cock.

To distill Auri down into one word is impossible, but when he’s inside her, Astarion would struggle to name any adjective but warm. She’s a billion things, of course, not least of all naive, gullible, and foolhardy, but more than anything, she’s the essence of the sun made flesh. She’s made warmer still by whatever it is that’s afflicting her, but her body always leaves him in awe anyway.

A marvel of mortality.

When he thrusts into her, the gag swallows up a squeal that Astarion would frankly have liked to hear in its entirety. Auri’s hand reaches up behind her, nails scrabbling for purchase against unrelenting stone. When she turns her head to the side, saliva pools under her cheek, her eyes half-lidded. The underside of her breast teases him from beneath her shirt, and it’s like she was made for him–

Rip the shirt. I don’t care.

Somehow, even through her addled haze, she’s still thinking about his enjoyment. He could wonder at it, but he’d rather spend the time doing as she says. Astarion fists a hand in the front of her shirt and pulls her close. Auri’s head lolls backward before she regains the wherewithal to support herself, and before Astarion can second-guess himself, his fangs tear into her shirt enough that his hands can do the rest.

He takes a breast in his hand and squeezes as he pushes her down onto her back again, but not before he lifts her legs up onto either of his shoulders. Auri folds almost in half for him, his hips grinding against her clit as he buries himself fully inside her.

Frantic need and desire ripple through her, and if Astarion isn't careful, he'll lose control himself. The new position's made her tighter, and she's close. Astarion can feel it in the way her hips match his rhythm and from the desperate want in her eyes as her walls clench around him.

“My beautiful, depraved thing,” Astarion says, thrusting deep. It's impossible to keep his voice unaffected, but it doesn't matter. It has its intended effect anyway. “Look at you, those pretty tits bouncing as you take my cock. What would the others think if they saw you like this?”

Astarion–

“Their pretty little leader with her shirt torn open, bare on her back, coming for me again? It's a sight beyond compare.”

He won't spend himself inside her yet, though the temptation is certainly there. She's been pouring images of him fucking her into his head since they started, and this time, he returns the favor. When Auri sees herself as Astarion sees her, pupils blown out, blotchy all over, gag soaked through, she unravels. The parasite explodes with her orgasm; Astarion feels it rip through her like it's his own even as she spasms around him.

His own eyes roll back as Auri’s scream fights against the gag, but he doesn't come, and even as the climax is still rolling over her, Astarion hears her.

More– I'm sorry; I need–

She never asks for what she wants – not like this. Auri's always thinking of what he needs.

And she'd shown him before what she wanted.

“You need my cum, don't you? You want me to fuck you until I empty myself inside you?”

Whatever other thoughts she might have had go mute. Her eyes lock with his.

And this really isn't about him, but it occurs to Astarion that that's exactly what he wants, too.

He pulls his cock out from her and misses her warmth immediately, but it's a necessary evil. The beautiful thing about the tadpole and all the time that they’ve spent together is that they’re always a little bit in each other’s heads. The thought is terrifying if Astarion considers it too long, but it’s convenient that they’re on the same page about her scrambling off of the slab. Before she can readjust, Astarion presses his lips to her neck. That, too, makes her moan, and the echoes of her affection rattle along their connection.

I adore you, Auri says, and they could have done all this without Auri’s feverish state as an excuse, but it does remove an element of vulnerability that makes things much easier for Astarion.

The feeling’s mutual, though voicing it still makes his skin crawl. He doesn’t have the vocabulary for it anyway.

His fingers trail up her jawline. Auri’s eyes shine. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs instead, and when she reaches down between his legs to take him in her hand, his nostrils flare.

She’s still the sun compared to him. Warmth radiates from her. His judgment’s impaired by his personal desire and the feeling of Auri’s hand on his cock, still slick from being inside her. Astarion’s eyes flutter shut.

Briefly, he registers that she isn't quite as warm as she was before, but there's no room for the thought.

Show me what to do, Auri says, as if she doesn't already know. It's the opposite of how this started, when she didn't want to put him in a position where he'd feel obligated to please her.

Auri's tadpole brushes up against his, and he'd known anyway, but it becomes crystal-clear.

Take what you want.

She makes him so fucking hungry.

In the fastest motion he can manage, Astarion pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the slab. The least he can do is make sure that it doesn’t mangle her.

Auri bites her lip as she releases him from her grasp, and Astarion wouldn’t say he’s being rough, but he certainly isn’t gentle when he turns her so her back’s flush with his chest. A thrill thrums through her, and then Auri’s bent over, upper body splayed across the stone.

When Astarion sheaths himself inside her again, it’s home. There’s no resistance. Auri’s body takes him like it’s what she was made to do.

There’s no patience left in him. Every time his hips meet the curve of her ass, he’s another moment closer to his own release. Auri whimpers and whines, and each sound that escapes the gag increases his pace. The freckles on her back are a constellation he’s rarely afforded the privilege of seeing while buried inside her, and his thrusts grow shallower, undisciplined–

Hells, Auri manages, half-coherent this time as he fucks her. Her singular word spurs something carnal in his gut, and he leans down, fisting a hand in her hair and pulling her face up and away from the slab.

When he does, she looks up at him from the corner of her eye. Her walls clench and his cock twitches as her gaze meets his, and she can’t really smile around the gag, but devilish pleasure is evident in her face.

He’s close. They’ve been in this position for barely a moment, but everything leading up to this moment has left Astarion close to undone as is. His grip on her hair tightens, and when she says, I can take whatever you give, Astarion’s last bit of self-control gives way.

He pulls her up, hand never releasing her hair, and when his other hand grips at her thigh, Auri knows what he wants. With only a little help from him, his cock never leaving her cunt, she kneels on the slab. Astarion exposes her neck and kisses the spot that’s his, the place he’s marked a hundred times over, and Auri shivers. Drink while you come in me– she starts, but his fingers interrupt her when they brush against her clit. Auri inhales sharply against the gag, airflow made more difficult by Astarion’s unloosened grip in her hair.

“Come for me again,” Astarion says. It’s almost a command but not quite, and Auri makes every desperate, needy sound all at once. His fingers rub at her clit, slow, deliberate, like he isn’t a hair’s breadth from shattering himself. “You taste better when you come.”

His touch quickens as he speaks, and he could lose himself in her. He already has.

Auri’s back arches, her ass pushing into him and her neck craning up until her head nearly rests on his shoulder. The artery in her neck sings its siren song, and Astarion’s not in the habit of denying himself what Auri’s body offers him.

This time when his lips meet her neck it’s a different kind of kiss, though it has Auri gasping anyway. Her saliva’s dripping down her neck in the same way her cunt drips cum around his cock. Auri’s blood pounds down Astarion’s throat as he fucks up into her, her climax pushing him to his own end. His teeth tear at her skin as he spills himself inside her, and Auri’s parasite radiates what he can only call unparalleled ecstasy.

Astarion doesn’t even want to think about what she can hear through his tadpole.

Auri shakes in his arms; her knees barely seem capable of supporting her. It’s always the hardest thing that Astarion’s ever done to pull his fangs from Auri’s flesh, and it’s made doubly difficult when he pulls his cock from her warmth at the same time.

“Alright, darling?” he asks, releasing her hair from his grasp. It’s a silly question. Astarion doesn’t know why he asks it.

Auri pulls the gag from her mouth and regards it with a look of disgust, dropping it to the ground. “When we do this again, can we get something a little more, erm–” Auri wrinkles her nose, but she hardly seems unhappy. “Dignified?”

“When we do this again?” Astarion teases, relacing his breeches. “Planning on eating more of that spider meat?”

When Auri turns to face him, she lets herself drop into a kneeling position. The adoration’s never faded from her eyes.

“If it gets you to fuck me like that, I’ll do just about anything.”

So, yes. She seems to be perfectly alright. Almost too alright.

Astarion’s eyes narrow.

“Whatever that was– it lost its grip on you after you came for me that second time, didn’t it?”

Auri smiles at him shamelessly. She’s made no move whatsoever to get dressed, entirely content to be here with him in a state that’s wholly vulnerable.

“We were having fun, weren’t we?” she asks.

Astarion laughs, soft and low.

“Yes. We were.”

#astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #tav x astarion #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion ancunin

[tcfactory]

Brainrot of the day is all about people mourning the OG Shen Qingqiu, it just happens somewhere where Shen Yuan can't see because he doesn't frequent the places where Shen Jiu used to withdraw when he got anxious or wanted to paint/play music/meditate in peace.

It all starts with Shang Qinghua setting up a kinda memorial - just a pile of rocks, really - but vibes and grief make it so that each time someone discovers it and remembers Shen Jiu they add to it. Someone carves a proper stone for the memorial - no name on it, obviously. Not a fan either, because the new Shen Qingqiu uses fans too. Bamboo stalks, a painter's easel and a pipa - he never played it in PIDW, so Shen Yuan has no idea that it was Shen Jiu's favorite instrument. The guqin is what they teach to the disciples when they are first learning music, so he sort of just assumed that's the one instrument Shen Jiu played.

Ning Yingying, Ming Fan, Mu Qingfang, Yue Qingyuan, Shang Qinghua... even Qi Qingqi starts missing him when his spy network starts falling apart without him. The list of people visiting grows until it becomes a whole thing to seek the memorial out when they miss the old Shen Qingqiu. To offer him a song or a snack or burn incense on his (chosen) birthday...

Cultivators are good at many things, processing grief is not one of them. If it was left to them they would still mourn him a century later as if he died yesterday.

Of course it's Shang Qinghua's fault when something changes. He's visiting the memorial after a very draining argument with Shen Yuan about how much Shen bro is neglecting his peak (he might as well not be a peak lord anymore because he wants to spend all his time with Binghe) when Mobei picks him up one day and takes note of the memorial. And the next time Mobei finds some miraculous rebirth plant (they've been keeping an eye out for something that can bring back Zhuzhi-lang and fix Tianlang-jun) he buries the spares there.

It should be nothing, without a body or even a soul to latch onto. Shen Jiu's presence is mostly gone from the world - except from this one place, where everyone hoards their grief in secret, sharing memories where they can't offend the new Shen Qingqiu.

It's not enough to call a drifting, shattered soul back to life.

Not until Tianlang-jun. He is on his way off the mountain after delivering a thank-you couched in the most infuriating wrapping he could muster to master Shen for his help in identifying what miracle cures were needed to fix him and his nephew up. He sought him out on Qing Jing because at least here his son can't pick a fight without consequences. Still, he's taking the scenic route as a form of spite, so that he can linger as long as possible without giving them an excuse to kick him off the mountain.

The clearing is thick with the presence of someone, a soul that is very much not the peak lord his son is so infatuated with. It's somehow familiar, in the way of people you used to regularly pass on the street remain, even after you no longer live on that street. It takes him a while to remember.

Su Xiyan didn't have 'friends'. Even her 'not-friends' (very much friends in truth, his beloved was just strange about her potential attachments to others) numbered so few he could count them on one hand. Only one of them liked music and arts enough that she introduced them to each other when they met by chance at a recital. They have only met once or twice, but Tianlang-jun carved his memory into his heart, as he did with everything to do with Su Xiyan.

What a curious thing for another Shen to linger so prominently on this peak.

Perhaps it's nostalgia that guides his hand to spill just a few drops of his blood on the dirt. It's not a proper path back, but it's a handhold, if Su Xiyan's last lingering friend wishes to claw his way back to life. Perhaps it's spite, because among all the people that frequent this place and leave their grief dripping over the rocks and grass, he can feel neither master Shen nor Luo Binghe.

Tianlang-jun isn't around for the fallout when Shen Jiu makes his triumphant return, but that's fine. It sounds like it was an unnecessarily explosive affair (Maybe it wasn't his smartest move to add heavenly demon blood to the divine miracle lotus root, but in his defense he had no idea that was there. He assumed, from the general vibe of the clearing, that it was just a plain old grave with a soul that clings through guilt or regret or resentment or, because humans are fascinating and complicated, all of the above). Rumors are always better than reality anyway (especially the ones filtered through Liu Mingyan and the book club) and this one is juicy enough to keep the cultivators gossiping for the next century.

He'll swing around when things have calmed down again, eventually. He wants to meet the new heavenly demon of Qing Jing Peak.

#svsss #shen jiu #shen qingqiu #I'm actually kinda writing this so uh #I need to stop spoiling the twists in my ideas tbh

[sierrrraaawwwwwcgtcvh]

hiii sierra! i hope you’re having a lovely day! i’d like to request a rosie x reader where the reader is a rockstar from the 80s, and she really loves making music. rosie is more familiar with the inventions from 1920s so she’s a little confused when her s/o comes to her saying that she wrote a song for her on her electric guitar. maybe the reader explains to her what exactly it is and it’s just a really cute scenario with rosie being curious about what her s/o likes! thank you in advance if you decide to use this!

- 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐠 ❦

WOAHA I LOVE YOUR STUFF SM. I LOVE THIS AND HELLO I HOPE YOU ARE HAVING A LOVELY DAY AS WELL :D

(P.S. : I only play an acoustic guitar at the moment and I don't play an electric guitar so I apologize if the way I wrote for it isn't correct!)

—

You sat in your and Rosie's shared room as you used your guitar pick to play a song you recently wrote for your partner. You moved your fingers rather fast as you practiced the song. 

When playing the song, you carefully used your fingers and moved the strings up or down when necessary. The sound of the electric guitar resonating throughout the room as you finished up the song.

You were very happy with the way the song turned out. You couldn't wait to tell Rosie about it!

You smiled as you carefully, set the electric guitar on the ground. You put the guitar pick down next to it as you got up and hummed a tune. You almost forgot to unplug the electric guitar.

You and Rosie had a little apartment next to her shop. You were genuinely surprised she didn't just have it over her shop, you thought it would've made things easier.

Rosie told you that it was better this way because anyone could basically go waltzing up and into the home. You then understood why she didn't have the apartment over the shop. 

You locked the door as you left the home and headed out to her shop. It was just a couple minutes away as you walked along the sidewalk.

You hummed the song you made for Rosie as you entered her shop. You saw Rosie talking to a client as the client nodded and walked away to a different area of the shop. As you walked in, the bell above the door alerted Rosie of your presence as she quickly locked eyes with you.

"(Y/n)? (Y/n)!" Your partner called for you with a huge smile spread across her face. "I missed you so much!" She rushed over to you as she embraced you into a hug, squeezing you tight. 

"I missed you too Rosie!" You hugged her back as she pressed kisses against the top of your head and forehead. 

"Oh, what're you doing here? I thought you were busy! Not that I mind the surprise though." She smiled as she let go of the embrace.

"I came to visit you!" You smiled. "I wrote a song for you on my electric guitar!" 

Rosie tilted her head with a confused look on her face. "Electric guitar..?" She questioned as you quickly realized she most likely didn't realize what you meant. You forgot she was from the 1920s while you were from the 80s. Very big time difference for instruments. You thought to yourself.

"Right! An electric guitar is an instrument. It's kinda like a regular guitar but uh.. dang, how do I explain it..? Oh!" 

You quickly explained the difference between an electric guitar and a regular guitar. Rosie would nod here and there while you explained the difference.

"That's rather charming! I can't wait to hear it, even if I am a little confused on the matter." She chuckled.

"Hopefully it'll make more sense once you actually see the instrument." 

"I'm sure it will, darling." She reassured you as you smiled.

"I hope you like the song! I worked really hard on it. But, if you don't like it that's okay too."

"I'll love it my dear! I'm sure I will." She smiled.

"What time are you gonna close up shop today?" You asked as Rosie hummed while thinking it over.

Rosie didn't usually stick to a schedule for opening and closing her shop. It entirely depends on her mood.

"Maybe in an hour or two. Can't leave my clients without relationship advice!" She nudged you with her elbow as you giggled.

"Do you need help with anything while I'm here?" You asked.

"Hmm.. no, I don't think so. But! You can tell me all about this electric guitar of yours and the things you play." She smiled as she leaned down and kissed your cheek.

"Okay!" You eagerly replied as the two of you then sat at a table.

—

This is my first time writing for Rosie so I apologize if she seems out of character! I might make a part two bc this was sm fun to write.

Word count: 659?

#rosie x reader #hazbin rosie #hazbin hotel rosie #rosie x reader hazbin #Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader

[sagethefool]

I like the idea that Snow looked at Katniss and Peeta and gradually started seeing the first two people he betrayed. He sees the dynamic and effect they have on himself and others, and assumes Katniss must be like Lucy Gray, a songbird and performer, and Peeta must be Sejanus, loyal, soft-hearted, good Sejanus.

In reality, Katniss is more like Sejanus--she can't watch others suffer, she buries Rue when she dies and mourns her deeply, she's impulsive when it comes to doing what is right, and cares so much it hurts. Every action she takes is a decision made because she could not live with herself if she allowed others to suffer, period. I think that might be what makes her the more rebellious of the two, whether she realizes it or not. In a society that demands blood and cruelty, Katniss refuses and chooses kindness, chooses to give people a softer end, and what could be more rebellious than that? Like Sejanus, she is willing to see the suffering the Capital inflicts and say it is wrong, and then take action to correct it

It's Peeta, kind, fool-in-love Peeta, who is the upgraded Lucy Gray. He might not sing or play the guitar, but he plays the Capitol people for all they're worth just as well as any instrument Lucy Gray might have. He's clever and, yeah, a little manipulative, but never for his own personal gain. From the moment he steps into the Capital, he's plotting and planning how to keep Katniss safe, what strategies he needs to use, what words to say, because only one of them can make it home, can live, and he wants to make sure it's her. Ultimately, Peeta wants Katniss to be safe and to live in peace, just as Lucy Gray ultimately wanted to just live in freedom and peace.

And it's this misunderstanding of who they are that means Snow can't control or manipulate them. He's using the wrong tactics, threatening the wrong person. Katniss has no idea how to perform and manipulate, so much so that even the District 13 propos team struggle to make her their symbol without putting her in the middle of suffering to invoke the reactions they need from her. Peeta, on the other hand? I think if Snow had approached Peeta, threatening to hurt everyone he loves, and told him he had to appease the districts, Peeta would have managed it. But he sees Peeta as weak, simple, and, clearly, he's just been charmed by Katniss into throwing his life away for her.

#the hunger games #idk im rambling #tbosas #maybe snow also saw some of himself in peeta or at least in the dynamic of katniss and peeta

[ioniansunsets]

Hello!! I love all the heartsteel writings you have done recently , they are really delightful to read with the effort and time you put in thank you!! Would it be okay to request a secanrio i have in mind :

Where reader was listening to heartsteel kayns playing the guitar and she gets dreamy , he teases her and offer up to teach her how to play the guitar. He could also drag her close to his lap for close-up demonstration. Reader is very aware of his heartbeat and stuff and kayn could tease more!

Whichever you're comfy and feel free to change if youd like, and take ur time with it!! ♡

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Teaching Reader the Guitar ✖

✖ Word Count: 891

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: Thanks for waiting! Sorry this took a while teehee I tried to make it fun for you.

----

It was a nice cool evening, the two of you just had dinner and you were lazing on his bed. Kayn was feeling like rocking out so he set up his electric guitar and was having a hell of a time just a few meters from you. You lean against the headboard, watching him from the bed. It was beautiful. Without a doubt. The soft expression on his face as he hums and strums, the way his fingers glide over the strings, the way his arm muscles tense as he presses down on the frets. You were in love, and if you weren't, just seeing him like this playing the guitar for you would have your heart stolen anyway. For someone so chaotic, he was almost angelically graceful when he gets so in the zone playing the guitar. It was so unlike his usual stage self like this. Playing a different tune from the usual genre you were used to hearing from him. Kayn calmly vibing instead of his chaotic high. It was Kayn playing this time, not the Rhaast you were used to seeing on stage.

His brows furrowed in concentration as his hands work away on the instrument. The way he seems so...at peace when he's playing the instrument. The beautiful melody and steady tapping of his feet just further draws you in. You can't help it, you really can't stop yourself from staring. He was beautiful like this. The way sweat slowly drips down his face. The small step he takes back as he balances himself when he really gets into it. No wonder he had so many fans. If you weren't so distracted you would have grabbed your charging phone and tried to sneak in a few photos. Smiling to yourself, you watched him intently, doing your best to commit this to your memory when his voice snapped you out of your daydream.

" Starstruck my love?"

He gives you a smug smile as he puts the guitar down by his desk and walks over to you. You wave off his comment and tell him how much you loved watching him play. It wasn't that you were starstruck, it was just that you loved him and he had his charms. Especially over you. Especially when he looked so cool...

" Do you want to try playing something? I could teach you. I'm generous that way."

He bends over the edge of the bed, giving you a chaste kiss before smirking again. Hands behind his head as he looks at you.

"A private lesson from the Amazing Kayn of Heartsteel is something most fans would die for you know~"

You wanted to scoff and reject him but honestly, it was a nice way to understand him better. A pleasant excuse to get closer, share a new hobby, how could you say no. So of course you agree.

Excitedly, he grabs you and pulls you over to his chair by his desk. Sitting down, Kayn pats his lap, signaling you to join him. You raise a brow but his arms are already snaking around your waist, pulling you down. He adjusts some things on the sleek guitar before placing it comfortably on your lap. Your heart races as his arms wrap around you to hold the instrument. Sure he was just holding the guitar in place but you could feel his breath on your neck, his strong chest against your back, the small twitch in his leg as you adjust yourself, the rhythming thumping of his own heart. Ok, you were going to try and commit this feeling to memory too.

" Hmm...let's start with something simple. We'll get you used to like, some easy strumming pattern or something first. Easier stuff."

Kayn's fingers ghost over yours, gently moving your fingers into place, lightly pressing them down onto the frets for you. His other hand passing you his guitar pick as he gently holds your wrist. He leans his chin on your shoulder as he helps you move your hand. A shiver running down your spine as you feel his warmth slowly spread across your body from the close proximity. Kayn's hand begins to move, rhythming a slow down down up down beat. A simple beat that you've heard in other pop songs before. It was nice to listen to, Kayn already humming a little tune before he stops to speak.

" Wow you're doing good~ "

You almost yelp as his deep voice whispers into your ears. Way to close than you were used to. The way his breath hit the edge of your ears just send an almost instant blush across your features. He notices you jump a little, another playful smirk now plastered across his face as he sees you turn red.

" Oh? Feeling more than the music darling?"

Another accursed deep sultry whisper into your ears. Kayn leaning in closer to give the edge of your ears a teasing lick before you turn to glare at him flustered.

" Sorry can't help it, you were too cute all blushy like that in my lap."

He almost purrs into your ears, you can feel the deep rumble of his voice against your body in the closeness. Ah, what did you get yourself into by agreeing to this. You close your eyes and sigh as he lightly presses a kiss against your neck.

#van1shiro #Shieda Kayn #Heartsteel!Kayn #it was very cute #mans gunna be putting that guitar down to finger other things soon enough #Kayn League #SCENARIOS #League of Legends Scenarios #Kayn League of Legends #Heartsteel #KaynLeague #Kayn #Kayn LoL #Shieda Kayn x Reader #teehee shyshy #i want to give him a little kiss #i also think men playing instruments are very sexy so this was fun to write #also i am a ukelele player not a guitar player so #i hope this kinda makes sense LMAO

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

I liked your post a while back about MC just randomly singing in the LI's general vicinity, but what about a mini hc of when MC does it on purpose?

By this I mean serenading the M6 with a love song, possibly also accompanying said song with an instrument, possibly in a romantic setting for maximum flirtation >:)

The Arcana Mini-HCs: MC serenading M6

Julian: legit has to fight back tears because you're speaking his language!! covers it up with other theatrical ways of expressing emotions (big surprised face, clutching at his shirt over his heart, stage whispering your name) because this man doesn't know how to be the center of attention without putting on some kind of show

Asra: *surprised pikachu face* stays frozen while they blush all over because they are much more used to putting you in the spotlight than vice versa (and besides, anything that involves you returning their feelings is still a miracle to them). ends up staring back at you with an adoring smile until you're done and he can pay it back

Nadia: lights up with a grin so big and delighted that she keeps hiding it behind her hand. you're playing out one of her oldest romantic fantasies completely unprompted and it's a literal dream come true. goes out of her way to be the best audience/listener possible, clears the rest of her schedule to appreciate you properly

Muriel: the only way he won't immediately dip is if you do this in the hut, after dinner, as you're both relaxing by the fire. ends up sitting through it with his hand buried in Inanna's fur and his eyes looking at everything but you while he turns bright red and sweats buckets. he was listening to you though - he keeps humming it to himself quietly

Portia: squeals in surprise, blushes, and then sways in place while you sing, biting her lip with the biggest grin to keep from interrupting. keeps sending you happy, flirtatious looks with every romantic lyric and posing slightly with every compliment. bakes you cookies with her favorite lyrics stamped on them as a return gift

Lucio: this is exactly how he likes to receive his attention. reclines back like he's still on the throne in the old palace, idly petting the dogs while you sing and listening to you with a proud, happy smile. he does try to surprise you with the exact same setup the next night, but he has the dogs' howling as accompaniment since he can't play

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinavamuri #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[avatar-anna]

The Final Show

this is the first of a few oneshots i'm doing of harry's final show(s). currently working on ones for professor and latina!y/n, but those will come later. enjoy!

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader

"What are you doing over there?"

Y/n had been looking for her husband for the last fifteen minutes. Rehearsals were wrapped up a while ago, the sounds of fans waiting to enter the venue were echoing through certain hallways, and everyone had kind of scattered to their own corners before it was time to really start getting ready. Y/n had taken advantage of the downtime to put Natalia and Geneva down for a nap and feed her other children, and now that the twins were playing with their toys, and Simone and Collette were watching a movie with Jeff, she took it upon herself to look for Harry, who had quietly disappeared without anyone noticing.

She'd checked out all his usual hiding places—the kids' dressing room/playroom, craft services, his own dressing room—but he was nowhere to be found. Y/n wasn't even going to check the stage, but she'd heard noise coming from an open door and decided to follow it.

Harry was sitting by himself at a piano, playing a melody Y/n hadn't heard before. He didn't play the piano often, as he wasn't as confident in his ability to play as he was with the guitar. Even after all these years, he still got self-conscious playing in front of people, especially new material. Y/n knew he had no reason to be shy about playing any kind of instrument or showing off a new song, but she made her presence known to him before approaching anyway, giving her husband time to pause and collect himself.

"Just messing around," he said. Turning his head, Harry smiled, then opened his arms up toward her.

Y/n took the invitation and sat down in his lap, her arms immediately reaching around his neck to play with his hair. "You ready for tonight?" she asked, leaving the topic of the piano alone. For now. He'd open up to her eventually.

"Think so," Harry said. "I'm excited to come home and spend some real time with you and the kids, but..."

"I get it. It's okay to miss this," she told him, running the back of her knuckle against his cheekbone.

Their lives were so polarizing at times, and Y/n understood his mixed emotions about the end of the tour better than anybody. She knew how much Harry loved performing and traveling and creating such unique memories with his band and crew and fans, especially the fans. But he loved his family too, and while it was nice to have the kids on tour, it was a completely different thing to be a proper parent at home, and Y/n would be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to being a semi-normal family again.

"It's gonna be an emotional night, that's for sure," Harry concluded, leaning forward to kiss Y/n's cheek. "Got lots of fun stuff planned."

"I can't wait."

And, just because they were alone and she could, Y/n leaned in, hand tightening in the back of his hair as her mouth slid over his.

The kiss was long and slow, languid and easy, so unlike the hurried pecks they gave each other when they were running around doing a million different things. It made Y/n melt against Harry's chest, had him gripping her hips a little tighter.

"I'm gonna miss it too, you know," Y/n said, mumbling the words against the scruff on his jaw.

"Are you?" Harry asked, half teasing, half serious.

Y/n took her time answering, kissing his neck and around his ear first before going back to take his bottom lip between her teeth. "Of course. You know I love watching you perform. And I love traveling and showing the kids all sorts of things. And I love your post-performance adrenaline rush."

Harry chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind Y/n's ear. "Oh. So that's what you're going to miss."

"Among other things," she said with a playful shrug.

One thing Y/n could count on was the last of Harry's energy being spent totally on her. Whether it was the moment he stepped offstage and he dragged her into his dressing room for a quickie, or late at night once all six of their children were asleep, he always worked himself up enough during his shows that he had to dispel his adrenaline somehow, and that was usually with his wife. And after hours of being a mom and changing diapers and putting a stop to fights and making sure everyone ate their veggies and no one had strayed too far away, she loved being the center of Harry's attention. When he had a good show, she had a good night, when he had an excellent show...well, Y/n was usually left feeling like she'd been the one performing for hours.

Pulling her impossibly closer, he said, "I'll just have to find another way to satisfy you, then."

"You always do."

When they kissed again, Y/n's heart fluttered in her chest, excitement from a multitude of things putting her in a good mood. And she could tell Harry felt the same, his hands eagerly gripping what they could, just stopping short of reaching beneath her clothes.

"I think I'm gonna play something special tonight," he muttered against her lips after a few minutes passed.

Y/n nearly grinned at how well she knew her husband. She managed to contain it and pull back just enough to say, "Oh?"

Harry shrugged and tried to be casual, but his words were anything but. "I've had this melody playing in the back of my mind all day."

"You should play it then. I think everyone will love it," Y/n said, pushing a stray curl out of his eyes.

The corners of Harry's mouth curved up, dimples indenting his cheeks. "I think tonight is gonna be one for the history books."

Y/n smiled at him endearingly as she couldn't help but agree.

*.*

"I have people here tonight who have supported me in so many ways over the past thirteen years in which you can only imagine. I would not be on this stage without them and their love and support," Harry said into the mic.

For a moment, his eyes darted to the side of the stage where Y/n was holding a sleeping baby in her arms. Simone was standing next to her and cheering, with Collette on Simone's other side and waving at Harry with a big grin. The twins were on Y/n's other side, and GiGi was standing tiredly on her feet, a large set of noise-cancelling headphones on her head. One little hand was gripping Y/n's finger, though by the quick look Harry took, she was not a happy camper.

She wants you, Y/n mouthed with a shrug. Harry's heart squeezed for a moment, then quickly blew Geneva a kiss before continuing his speech.

The concert continued on, and Harry performed his heart out. Y/n watched from the side of the stage with Natalia in her arms, occasionally spinning Jules and Maeve around or dancing with Simone and Collette. It was technically past their bedtime, but Y/n decided that tonight was a special occasion. They would be home soon and back to their normal schedule anyway. What was one night of fun?

Harry kept looking over to where she and the kids were, and each time she gave him a thumbs up or blew him a kiss while the twins, Simone, and Collette waved at him excitedly and shouted, "Daddy!" GiGi was still in a bit of a mood, not quite understanding why she couldn't go to Harry when he was so close, but then again, she was turning out to be a bit of a daddy's girl, so Y/n wasn't all that surprised.

There was one point toward the end of the show where Harry became so overcome with emotions that he sank to his knees. Y/n didn't have to be a mind reader to know what was going through his head. It had been a very emotional few years, more than any of his fans would be able to understand. They'd gone through a lot—as parents and as partners—but everything they'd endured and sacrificed and experienced had led right to this moment. Y/n knew that this tour itself contained some of the happiest moments of Harry's life simply because of the environment and the energy created by his fans, but she also knew that having his family close by for a majority of it, and knowing that they were on the other side of a lot of the obstacles they'd previously been facing, played a part in that joy too.

A strong wave of emotion took over Y/n then too, making her throat go tight and her eyes well with tears. No one in the crowd except a select few would truly understand exactly what Harry meant when he talked about family and support. He truly would not be the same person he was today if it weren't for the seven people off to the side of the stage. Just a couple years ago, their lives were so different, there were so many unknowns, but right now, everything seemed to be perfect, and Y/n understood Harry more than anyone when he expressed that he wasn't quite ready to let it all go.

Caught up in her own emotions, Y/n noticed too late that Geneva had slipped her hand out of Y/n's. Before she could even utter a word, the two year old was running straight for Harry, who was still kneeling onstage with his hands covering his face.

For a moment, Y/n's heart stopped. This wasn't how this was meant to happen. It wasn't supposed to happen at all. Harry, Y/n, and Harry's team had been so careful about keeping their children's identity safe, out of the public eye. Things were slowly starting to change with Y/n going with Harry to the Grammys, and the documentary that was set to release a few months after Love on Tour ended would definitely bring their family out into the public. But those were all carefully selected events. GiGi running out onstage while one hundred thousand people, and possibly more, were watching was not part of the plan.

Y/n watched the scene unfold before her with slight terror and a boatload of anxiety swelling in her chest. She wasn't sure if Harry was too lost in his own head to notice his daughter run up to him or if she'd start crying as the screams from the crowd increased tenfold.

Thankfully, Harry's reaction was immediate. He looked surprised, like he couldn't quite believe Geneva was suddenly next to him onstage at his show. One look at Y/n's face seemed to tell him everything, though, and his smile was surprisingly relaxed for someone whose daughter the world didn't know about just ran out onstage.

*.*

"Hi, peanut. What are you doing out here, huh?" Harry asked, kissing Geneva's forehead gently, keeping his voice soft as he spoke to her. He was sort of freaking out on the inside, but he tried not to show it, seeing as Y/n was already visibly worried about the situation at hand.

"Home, Daddy," she said, her chubby baby cheeks making her pout all the more adorable.

"You ready for bed, my love?"

GiGi nodded, then promptly rested her head against his chest, making it clear she didn't want to be anywhere else at the moment. And part of Harry didn't want to hand her off to anyone else. He loved it when any of his kids came to him for comfort. It made him feel so fulfilled when all any of them wanted was a cuddle from Dad.

But at the same time, he still had a show to put on. In a split second, an idea formed in Harry's head, and all it took was one look to his band for them to catch his meaning. They started to play a melody, an early transition into the next song while he took care of Geneva.

As he stood up, Harry was careful to turn his back to the crowd so that as little of his daughter's face was shown to the crowd as possible. He trusted the camera team to focus themselves anywhere else but him right now, but that didn't account for the thousands of phones most likely pointed in his and Geneva's direction; though, as he paid a little more attention, he realized that the crowd was quiet, like they could tell that the baby in his arms was trying to sleep and didn't want to disturb her.

That thought brought a smile to Harry's face as he stepped offstage where Y/n was trying to position Natalia so she could hold GiGi too. When he reached her, Harry rested a hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. "Relax, Mama. I've got her."

"I'm so sorry, H. She took off so fast, and I—"

"It's okay. I promise," Harry said. "She asleep yet?"

Y/n looked at where Geneva's cheek squished against her dad's chest. "Getting there."

"Five minutes, then," Harry said simply, trying to relax Y/n, who still looked terrified. Leaning in, he murmured so that only she could hear. "It's okay, Mama. We'll figure it out after. Let's just enjoy tonight, yeah? Think of the post-performance adrenaline, hm?"

That got Y/n to smile and nod slightly. He waited until the tension in her shoulders eased, then looked at the rest of his family, who also looked a little surprised that Geneva ran onstage in the middle of the show. Julian was the first to recover his shock and launched himself at Harry, which caused Maeve to jump up and down around him.

"Did you see us, Daddy? We were dancing to your song!"

"I did, JuJu. You were so good!"

"What about me, Daddy?"

"Can I go onstage too?"

"I want to play music with Pauli!"

Harry sighed, knowing they couldn't go out onstage. He could only imagine how fun—and chaotic—that would be, but it was still important that his little family stayed safe and unknown to the public.

"You know what, Maevie? I think we should let Pauli focus on the show, but maybe you can play music with him tomorrow," Y/n said gently, running a finger along Maeve's cheek.

It was clear Maeve didn't love that idea, and Harry was worried that she was going to pitch a fit or start crying, but Simone walked over to her sister. "We can play band right here, Maevie. You can be Pauli, and JuJu can be Uncle Mitch and Collette can be Auntie Sarah and play the drums."

Harry couldn't have loved his oldest daughter more than he did right then. She was always so good with her brother and sisters, even though they were a lot younger than her. He gave Y/n a look, who had passed Natalia off to Glenne, who had shown up with Jeff backstage after the whole toddler-running-onstage incident. Y/n smiled and reached for Geneva again, but not before giving him a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze to the hand.

"Go. Your fans are waiting for you."

Harry passed Geneva to Y/n, almost a little reluctantly, even though he knew he had to get back out there, that the five minutes he allowed himself were almost up. Almost like she could see the hesitancy on his face, Y/n leaned in one more time. "Go, baby. That post-performance adrenaline isn't going to make itself, and I want to celebrate tonight."

That was enough for him to finally hand over Geneva. Grinning, he kissed Y/n, then kissed the heads of each of his kids. Harry shook his head and his hands, trying to get back into his performance headspace, trying to forget about the fact that his daughter just revealed herself to the public. All of that could be dealt with after the show. Right now, there was a crowd waiting for him to give them the finale they deserved, and Harry would be damned if he didn't give it to them.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA For Not Letting my younger cousin borrow one of my flutes?

Recently, my cousins' 10 year old daughter joined her school band and wanted to play the flute. And I guess when she told her grandmother (my aunt), she said "Ooh OP plays the flute too! Maybe you ask her if you can borrow hers!" Without me knowing so the next time my cousins came over, the 10 year old rushed up to me and said "I'm going to be playing flute in school band like you did. Grandma also said you had a flute I could borrow."

Now, I own 2 flutes, a standard student model and an intermediate model. The intermediate model is definitely not beginner-friendly, several of the keys are ring-style so there are holes in them that can be difficult to cover properly, it's also longer and heavier than a standard student model. It's also a very expensive instrument, when I bought it in 2007, it cost $1,194, today the same instrument costs almost $2,100.

Unfortunately the student model flute I have also isn't very beginner-friendly. It's a vintage instrument that has seen much better days. The last time I got a repair quote it was 2007 and the quote was "upwards of $500" and I can't imagine that number has gone down. It is playable, but it's very difficult to get a decent sound out of it and some of the keys don't go down all the way.

I sighed and told her "Unfortunately the instruments I have are very difficult to play and one of them is broken." She told me "Well you could get the broken one fixed for me." And I told her "It would cost a lot of money to fix." She asked "How much?" And I said "Five hundred dollars." She gasped and went "Five HUNDRED dollars!? That IS a lot of money. It's okay I don't think grandma knew your flutes were hard to play or broken."

The ten year old took things WAY better than my aunt did. She called up demanding to know why I was being selfish and not letting my little cousin borrow one of my flutes and about how my cousins are struggling with money and it was the least I could do. So I told her "one of my flutes is an almost $2,200 instrument that would be nearly impossible for [younger cousin] to play, the other needs at least $500 in repairs and is virtually unplayable. You never asked if I would be okay letting [cousin] borrow an instrument from me before telling her I would do so and you put me in a terrible spot." She responded "Couldn't you get the broken one fixed?" And I was like "I can't afford nor am I willing to take on a $500 repair bill for an instrument I haven't played since 2007. You and uncle are millionaires why don't you foot the bill so your granddaughter can join her school band?" She called me an selfish brat then hung up. So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[cowgurrrl]

Dancing Barefoot

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: this was slightly self-indulgent because Patti Smith is my personal god also baby Miller should be arriving in the next fic but this idea was stuck in my head and I HAD to write it

Summary: “I’ll never finish falling in love with you.” - Nicole Williams, Collared aka Joel helps you and the baby sleep ~800 words

Warnings: a little bittersweet, talks of Janey girl and Sarah bear, brief brief brief mention of a strained parent/child relationship, pregnancy, tooth rotting fluff

The moonlight streams from the windows, and the birds chirp sleepily outside. Ellie is safe in her bed, and Joel is lying on his right side beside you, occasionally mumbling something you never quite catch. You should be asleep. The baby should be asleep; instead, they're using you as their punching bag. You've been tossing and turning for thirty minutes, making the baby toss and turn just as much. You sigh and rub your face like it will be enough to soothe you and the baby to sleep.

"Can't sleep?" Joel mumbles, and you look at his back. You didn't even know he was awake, but you nod at the ceiling. 

"Your kid is doing laps." 

"Why is it my kid when he's misbehaving?" He asks as he turns to face you. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are heavy with sleep, but his hand still manages to find your bump in the dark. "Let your mama sleep." He says, poking at your stomach. 

"I don't think poking our baby in the face is going to get them to sleep," you say, and he hums, half-asleep. You run your fingers through his curls and smile when he cuddles closer to you. "I think they want a song." 

"The baby wants a song, or you want a song?"

"Both." You say. You catch the pull of his lips in the moonlight before he kisses your temple. He sighs as he gets out of bed and grabs his guitar from the corner. He perches on the edge of your bed shirtless, his silver scars on display without shame, and you remember each story associated with them— ghosts of the people you were before baby bumps and shared last names.  

"What d'you want to hear?" He asks, strumming a few times to check the tuning.

"Do you know any Patti Smith?" You ask, and he turns to give you a look. "What? I had a life before you." He chuckles, and you lean against your headboard, hands resting on your swollen belly. He looks at the frets like they're an equation for a few slow moments before the familiar ballad fills the space. You smile as he quietly sings the words, mouthing them as he goes. 

Little Miller seems to realize their dad is singing because you feel them move in time with the strums. If this kid loves music already, we're going to need more records, you think. You imagine little hands reaching for the guitar as Ellie or Joel play, adding their own dissonant sound to the song previously being played. Maybe you could hire someone in town to make tiny instruments for them to play with once they're big enough. The idea of a little jam circle with Ellie, Joel, and the baby makes your heart sing. As the song ends, Joel looks at you expectantly, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. The tiny heartbeat under your ribs has settled, only occasionally kicking to let you know they're still alive.

"Like clockwork," you say, and he smiles, gently placing the guitar back in its corner. "As judgy as you were with my request, you pulled that out pretty fast."

"I had a life before you," he echoes, and you roll your eyes as he slides back into bed with you. "Sarah didn't like most of the music I played in the truck, but she liked Patti."

"Smart girl." 

"What music did Jane like?" He asks, and the way he says her name makes you want to cry. He says it as if it were holy and sacred because it always will be to you. You smile and cuddle close to him. His arms envelop you in warmth, and his smell surrounds you, and you feel safe. 

"She was an old soul. She liked ABBA, Fleetwood Mac, and Janis Joplin. I'm convinced we played the Pearl album more than any other person on the planet," you say, kissing his shoulder. "Thank you for always asking about her."

"I like hearing about her," he says as if he were pointing out constellations— easy and undeniable. Her dad didn't even want to hear about her, and now this man who had never met her asks about her because you loved her. Because you still love her, and he loves you. This time, you do cry. You blame it on pregnancy hormones and a lack of sleep, but Joel knows it's something more. He kisses your tears away and rubs soothing circles into your back. "She'll always have a place in our home, d'you hear me?" He asks softly, and you nod. 

You fall asleep in his arms that night and almost every night, but this time you dream of little feet standing on your kitchen table, dancing along to Janis Joplin's crooning. You dream of teasing Jane's hair to match Stevie Nicks’ on the cover of her Bella Donna album. You dream of the day she came home, suddenly detesting ballet and wanting to take drum lessons instead. Something tells you she left some of her rockstar energy with you, and the new baby is taking it all in— pieces of her left in so much more than just your memory now. 

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Tag list: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts

#the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #Joel Miller x pregnant reader #he’s so girldad your honor #look for the light

[silverynight]

Class A loving the way Midoriya carries super heavy stuff without breaking a sweat and tricking him into doing it so they can watch and drool to their heart's content.

"Midoriya!" Kaminari rushes towards him in the hallway. "I lost my phone under the couch and I can't reach it! Could please help me?"

"Of course!" Midoriya beams, following him towards the common room. He's so happy to help he doesn't think about the fact half of the class is already there, looking at him intently.

He also doesn't find strange that Uraraka hasn't offered to help even though she can easily solve the problem by using her quirk.

Bakugo knows already what's going on, but he decides not to scold his friends for coming up with that plan because he also wants to see. He's very much interested and it's the perfect opportunity not to ask the nerd to lift something himself. He doesn't want to be too obvious about his crush, even though everyone knows he's in love with Midoriya.

"Which one?"

"I... don't remember, sorry..."

"It's okay! I'll lift them both!"

"Maybe we should get off then–"

"That won't be necessary, Kirishima!" Midoriya assures him, missing the way the redhead's eyes open wide in shock as Ashido squeaks with delight.

He carries one easily and since he doesn't see the phone underneath it, he uses his left hand to lift the other at the same time.

"There it is!" Kaminari takes his phone, face completely red as Aoyama blurts out a mon dieu! and Todoroki has to run outside as soon as Midoriya puts the couches back on the floor because he's already on fire.

After that they're constantly asking him to lift heavy things in front of them; sometimes they ask him to move the fridge, to carry Jiro's instruments from one place to another or to move their beds in order to find something they lost... Most of them have to be there to see it (they have an agreement) and it has to be during their free time so Aizawa doesn't find out.

One day, during his internship with Endeavor, Midoriya has to move an entire car with people inside out of harm's way and a fan (simp) takes a video of the moment with his phone and posts it online.

Hours later hero Deku is trending on Twitter and now class A students are not the only teenagers thirsting over Midoriya.

They don't like that at all. Sometimes Bakugo has to fight a couple of Deku's simps online while the others cheer for him.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #bkdk #class 1a #dekubowl #izuku midoriya

[milgram-tournament]

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 1, Match 3 THROW DOWN vs. THIS IS HOW TO BE IN LOVE WITH YOU

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for THROW DOWN:

silly point is that throw down was my top song for this past year and i havent even been into milgram that long so. good song. also i sang it on stage once so. anyway

Flower imagery!!!! god i love flower imagery

the vocals are good

it has a banger es cover too

"ethics are a delusion" is singlehandedly the funniest line to come out of the t1 songs

the mv is SO pretty like. holy shit

the first note constantly jumpscares me

also i like the clock sounds in the background of the verses

the instrumental,,,,

throwdown is just a really nice. calmish song that still has the whole desperation thing conveyed through his voice props to va for that cuz its relatively subtle but really adds to it imo

im reiterating that ethics is a delusion is the funniest thing to me

also i really like the bridge (the whisper part)

irrelevant to the song itself but i like his fit in throw down i'd wear that irl

gardening/pruning as imagery is so fun for a surgeon character

also vocally i just really like throw down its calm sounding yet theres a hint of like. desperation? despair? in his voice and thats really cool to me

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Jackalope's note: Only one propaganda piece... hmmhehe. Well, I'm glad our resident pretty girl got tons of asks! But I feel a little bad about Shidou, so let's let him argue his case at least! Oi! Shidou! Get over here! Oi! Sheesh, it's like he can't even hear me! This is why I need to send the reminders early...

(mod's propaganda: While I love both songs very much, Throw Down has a special place for me in that I can actually sing it. You sing way too fast, Mappi!! I also just think using flower imagery both made the MV one of the prettiest ones we have yet and helped distance both the viewer and shidou himself to the reality of his sin... I also really like the ethics is a delusion bit lol)

Propaganda for TIHTBILWY:

okay so like the thing im most in love with: the VOCALS!!!! this song has an absolutely AMAZING singer and AMAZING vocals!!!! the way the conversational talk-singing lines still feel so musical!!!! the cute cute cuteeeee mahiru voice!!!! it brings you so much energy!!!! its a song sung with so much love!!!! mahirus va brings such an amazing feel to the song with such amazing talk-singing!!!! its very skillfully done and it happens in i love you too!! mahiru songs r the QUEENS of musical talk singing

the silly phone call bit. kurururu~!

the little vocal flourish and the way her voice raises up like an excited exclamation in the final prechorus!! daijoubu nante kirai DA!

its such a fast song but everything flows so well!!!! it makes it feel so bright and cheery and peppy!!

the instrumental is so underrated just LISTEN to that catchy bass line thats so pretty in the verses!!!! no for real even if u dont vote this is how to be in love with you go listen to the bass line in the verses it works to move both the song and the listener forward at mahirus sweeping breakneck pace. and the cute keyboard sounding and synth instruments!!!! its SUCH a danceable song!!!! i cant listen to it without bopping along in my seat

the way the ominous bits are subtly hidden? it all sounds so cute but there are just these Things that she sings that are really kind of concerning and unhealthy when she sings them!! and the veiled desperation to be in her relationship- listening to that and the cheery tone and breakneck, quick song pace, it really does represent mahiru SO well. she throws in all these little bits that just go noooo teehee the relationships just fine!! when it REALLY isnt

i would listen to mahiru talk for hours

the MV!!!!!! HER FASHION SENSE THE MAGAZINE STYLE!!!! the magazine style especially works so well with her character!!!! its so cute and stunning and just looking at it you have a blast. also her birdcage!!!! her birdcage and the bright orange and the pink bars!!!! the way everything desaturates and becomes more sickly looking when she wakes up at the end!!!! its such a happy carefully curated and designed dream and then it drains away!!!! also god all her outfits are stunning. mahiru call me

the way she sings "overheat de~!" cutest thing in the WORLD.

the little faces she makes!!!! godddd shes so expressive

actually the whole songs so expressive!!!! shes putting her all into it!!!! her words have so much expression in them!!!! once more praising mahirus va the way her voice can soften and become bright or subtly desperate so quickly is MASTERFUL control of expression when singing and its so underrated. join me in being insane over miho okasaki delivers her lines. shes such a perfect mahiru.

funniest es cover. hands down. funniest es cover.

this is how to be in love with you is FREE serotonin!!!! free energy right there!!!! this is how to be in love with you sweep!!!!!

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-The song is so cheerful!! I always feel like dancing and singing when this one comes up in my playlists!! Absolute banger, mood definer, kicking sadness in the shin with those high-heels and then hitting its face with a cute purse -THE HIGH-HEELS STEPPING TO THE BEAT OF THE MUSIC IN THAT ONE SCENE (0:50). SIMPLY ICONIC. NO ONE DID IT LIKE HER. -👠💅👝👗 -She is slaying. Look at her outfits. She put so much effort there. She gave it her all. Absolutely serving. -SUKITTE KIMOCHI WAKATTA TSUMORI? NARA KONO MAMA FUTARI O-VA-HI-TO- DE -The storyline of the mv MAKES SENSE and you can form a COHESIVE TIMELINE OF EVENTS (unlike other unspecified contestants' mvs you know 🙄) -look at herr 🥺 she beby 🥺 all she did was love too much 🥺 we all love mappi don't we 🥺 she deserved more let her win this pleease 🥺 -No medical malpractice happened in the making of this mv 👍

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I care so much about This is How To Be In Love With You- it's visuals are brilliant in the ways it conveys its themes and narrative. I'm never normal Ever about the "Love as marketing" symbolism that is brought in by the use of magazines. It's a lovely upbeat song but the Horrors are Always Lurking under it, the breakup Ritual line is my Favorite Line cause its so horrifying but its said so casually and its so good oh its so good-

#milgram #milgramtournament #shidou kirisaki #mahiru shiina #(sorry for posting an hour late! I was waiting for some more propaganda asks haha)