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Marriage is, at first instance to Coriolanus, an institution and an act that he doesn't quite see the point of.

The legal and financial benefits, sure. But committing himself to one person, to be bound to them body, heart and soul for the rest of his life? That level of vulnerability and permanence feels too foreign. Too abstract, even, that thinking about it quickly makes his stomach churn with sickness.

Coriolanus spends the majority of his upbringing, consoling himself that he doesn't have the time to worry about such things as romance. After all, there was always the next bill to pay and the next threat of eviction to dread.

Not to mention, he thinks, no one will truly ever get him. Not even grandma'am or Tigris understands his inner being. The man deep within his guts, the cunning voyeur who enjoys violence and manipulation. And if they only knew, he believes, they'd be horrified.

No one really knows Coriolanus for who he is. And no one will truly be able to understand what it's like to feel and think like him.

So marriage is completely out of the question for him.

At least for a long time.

Until he meets you.

------------------------------

the beginning: "must be a coincidence."

You're the first person (other than the wide-eyed idealist, Sejanus) to treat Coriolanus with kindness at the academy.

You come in as a transfer student mid-way through the semester and he comes to notice the small ways with which you show your appreciation for him. Slyly backing up his answers in class discussions. Smiling at him in the hallways. Sticking up for him in conversations, not caring if the others give you odd looks for defending a 'clear outsider' amongst them.

"If you ever need anything, you can always count on me." you'd once told him after school, his knees barely brushing against yours in the car you've invited him into so that he wouldn't have to walk home in the freezing cold.

Suppressing the urge to interrogate the reasoning behind your kindness, his numb fingers felt sudden warmth when you delicately placed a crumbled up note into his fist with your address in it.

"Stop by whenever you need something. Don't suffer alone, okay?"

He never takes you up on your offer.

At least, not until a few months later, when he finds himself knocking on your door late at night. Three in the morning to be precise, with a busted lip and dark red stains blossoming across his white shirt.

And when you open the door, you don't react to his disheveled state in the same way he'd expect from his family. No pity and shock like grandma'am, nor is there a trace of light apprehension and fear like there would be from Tigris.

Instead, your eyes crinkle with kindness as you invite him inside your home and sit him down on a nearby chair in the living room.

"How bad is it?" you ask, cutting him off with a stern glare before he can lie. "And don't lie to me, Snow. I need to know if you're going to need a drive to the hospital instead of my attempts at first aid."

Sighing, the blonde gives in, his bones aching too much to put up a fight.

"Not that bad, I promise." he grumbles, trying to keep his breathing normal as you lean in closely to examine his injuries. At this proximity, he can see the reflection of the overhanging yellow lights in your irises, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration before you leave the room and return with a soft towel and warm bowl of water.

"Could you look up for me?" you question, your cold fingers steadying his neck to carefully crane it upwards.

The warm, wet fabric in your hands then trace the edges of his jaw, picking up the droplets of blood scattered across his face.

Keeping his eyes forward at the line of bookshelves by the fireplace, time seems to slow down. His senses are overwhelmed by your hairwash - rosemary and vanilla, he thinks - and the room is awfully quiet. All he can hear is the muted sounds of your soft breaths and the rustling of leaves outside, the pale moonlight creeping in through the gaps of the floral curtains in the dead of December.

"Do you mind me asking what happened?" you ask, now switching your attention to the trail of blood buried into the crevice of his neck. You cringe right afterwards, almost wincing at your audacity. "Sorry, you don't have to say if you don't want to."

If anything, it just makes him smile. He likes seeing you embarrassed, he thinks.

"No, it's fine. I'll say. It was just... a party gone awry. Felix managed to convince everyone to go downtown."

You frown at the mention of the downtown area - it was common knowledge that it wasn't safe to wonder the south of the Capitol this late at night, especially if you were obviously from central.

"And then?"

"Got jumped. Felix and his friends ran away quickly. Sejanus got caught up in the mix and I couldn't just... leave him."

Coriolanus hates admitting the slightest sign of weakness, that perhaps he had a friend he cares for, so he's eternally glad that you don't dwell on it. Humming in response, you squeeze the towel in your hands, the water below now a murky shade of brown.

"And how much of this blood is your own? Do I need to get the sewing needles out?"

"I-"

His response is staggered by brief flashes of the fight playing in his mind. He recalls there being a lot of heavy breathing and fast movements. A slash there. A broken nose there. His feet driving down onto the man's chest repeatedly, down, down, down - he hears bones cracking at some point and Sejanus is suddenly pulling him backwards, begging him to stop but Coriolanus can't-

"Coriolanus."

Your voice snaps him out from his dazed state. He then swallows nervously, not knowing how much is safe to disclose.

"I'm fine. Really. Just some bruises and a split lip. The blood is from dodging a few knife attacks and the criminals stabbing one another."

It's a half-truth, really. Coriolanus had dodged a few stabs his way, but only because he tripped the man charging him and grabbed the knife instead to drive it into the man's sides. Enough to severely wound, but not kill. He feels the soles of his left shoe drag on the floor, the fabric nearly coming off from the repeated force with which he'd stepped on the other accomplice's ribs. It makes his jaw clench with embarrassment.

If you notice it's a lie, you don't say anything.

You ask him if he can undress, so that you can wash his clothes for him. After all, you tease in a lighthearted manner in an attempt to lift the mood, you still have school tomorrow at eight.

"You can leave the dirty clothes hanging by the chair outside the bathroom. I think you're overdue for a long, hot shower."

All arguments die in Coriolanus' mouth when he realizes how nice this feels. The foreign comfort of being cared for by someone else, of having his guard down and following someone else's lead for once. So he wordlessly follows you to the bathroom in the back and discards of his dirtied clothes outside.

The hot water is a nice luxury, the scalding temperature starting to erase his memories of the fight. He rubs his scalp raw and watches the water beneath his feet fade into the drain, the steady dripping of water droplets calming his mind.

When the blonde finishes, he comes out and sees that you've folded a set of new, clean clothes for him by the door of the bathroom (your father's old clothes, he learns). Once changed, he wanders outside and finds you hanging the freshly washed clothes outside on your front lawn.

"You should go home, Corio." you say quietly. "Your cousin and grandmother must be worried sick." you look back at him, a reassuring smile on your face.

"How... how can I ever repay you for all this?" he finds himself asking, desperate for an answer. Surely, you'll want something back for this. Certainly, this was all to get something back from him-

You shake your head sideways, waving your hand in dismissal.

"There's no need to repay me. I like to think you help me out every day at school, so think of this as more of... a much delayed gift."

Once you're both back inside the house, no longer shivering from the cold, he finds the silence to be oddly tense. You're in your sleepwear, after all, a silky night dress stopping right above your knees with a gray knit cardigan on top.

He swallows, nervously. He hopes you can't tell how fast his heart is beating.

"Uh, thank you. Seriously. I owe you."

"You really don't."

"I really do."

You roll your eyes playfully.

"The only person who owes me anything is Felix. He shouldn't have suggested you all go to downtown when it's dangerous, and he especially shouldn't have left you and Sejanus to nearly get stabbed to death." you spit, and your angry expression makes him chuckle.

"Ah, well, but he is the president's son. What can we do." he jokes. A small grin flickers onto your lips for half a second at that comment.

"So he is. Good night, Corio. I'll see you tomorrow."

It's initially an uneventful day for Coriolanus the next morning when he walks into the academy, naturally catching your eyes from across the room. You give him a reassuring nod from behind the door of your locker, where the majority of your attention is being held up by an overeager Felix - your assigned partner for the week.

Due to his schedule, Coriolanus doesn't see you again until lunch time. By which the newest rumor sweeping the academy has been the sudden violent illness which has fallen upon the president's son.

"I heard he was puking blood." he hears Clemensia whisper to Arachne, who nods furiously.

"Sejanus had to carry him to the medic's office - Felix looked like a half-dead ghost."

He's itching to speak to you as he quickly rounds the corner and runs up the flights of stairs leading to the library, where he's shared many lunches with you before. He knows your favorite sport by heart, that being the cozy seat under the large arched windows overlooking the front lawn.

As expected, he finds you there, sitting cross legged and gazing out towards the lawn. Upon closer inspection, he sees that you're watching Felix get escorted into a dark vehicle, an unreadable expression on your face.

"Have you heard that Felix is sick?" Coriolanus carefully asks, sitting down from across from you. You turn to him, your face scrunching up in sadness.

"Yes I have. Terrible news, really. Something about nasty nausea and uncontrollable vomiting."

Your tone is sympathetic and your face has all the features of genuine worry, but there's a small twinkle in your eyes that indicates a secret.

It makes Coriolanus delirious with want.

"And would his illness have anything to do with you being close to him as his project partner?" he questions, sliding in closer towards you to keep his voice down.

He looks down at your lips then back up at you, smirking.

"Just seems strange, don't you think? Given that he seemed just fine last night?"

A half-second smile, you shrug.

"Must be a coincidence."

He kisses you right then and there.

---------------------------------------

the point of no return: "you're quite a messy lover, Coriolanus Snow."

Finding you is a miracle to him.

And now that you two are officially dating, he sees the glimmer of hope for something permanent like marriage in the future.

But Coriolanus is still unsure of the publicity of that kind of arrangement, which leads him to request that you two keep the relationship under wraps. At least until graduation, he justifies, to keep the romance hidden away from the judging eyes of the faculty and fellow classmates.

You don't seem the least bit bothered by the news, your lips only quirking up into a warning smile as you tease that you may then have to bring other men as dates to public events to save face.

At the time, he'd just shrugged at that, playing it cool. "I don't get jealous easily." he'd said confidently.

Oh, how he was wrong.

It's only after he becomes your boyfriend that he becomes acutely aware of and sensitive to how desirable you are to others. Visitors to the academy flirt with you openly, not knowing that Coriolanus is watching from the background, fuming with anger. Your male classmates are too eager to carry your books for you, their body leaning ever too close towards yours when you ask them to pass on the papers in class.

But this, right now, seeing you with another man at the spring gala... It feels different.

Those people, the strangers and classmates, you let down firmly but gently. Those people, you wouldn't even let their hands hover above your skin, always placing a firm distance between you and them. Those people-

Fuck.

You didn't smile at those people like you're smiling at this date of yours. The tall, dark haired man's arm is lingering just above your waist, too close for Coriolanus' comfort, and his thoughts turn lethal when the man leans down to whisper something in your ear that seemingly makes you laugh.

It takes everything within him to not lose control then, when Sejanus speaks up.

"You alright?"

His friend's voice cuts into the tirade of violent thoughts playing in Coriolanus' mind, the whiskey starting to taste sour in his mouth. Forcing another sip of alcohol, he meticulously coaches himself to nod along, feigning disinterest in you and the mystery man.

"Just fine, Plinth." he grits out, but with his steely blue orbs not deviating from where you and your date are standing, it's obvious to any bystander that he's lying. So Sejanus chuckles, nudging the blonde playfully.

"Yeah right. Though, I'm not surprised that (Y/n) brought him along." Sejanus takes a sip of his wine, before pausing at seeing the blonde's expression remain hardened. "You do know who he is, right?"

"Am I supposed to?" Coriolanus scowls.

"That's Harrison Bramford. His grandfather was one of the main generals back in the days of the war and his family single-handedly leads the weapons manufacturing industry in Panem."

"Hm." is all Coriolanus says in response, the revelation doing little to appease his anger. His left arm rises in a reflex to force more alcohol down his throat, only to find the glass half empty.

"I need another drink." he announces, not caring to hear his friend's response.

Sliding into the bar, he hears your soft laugh and whisper before you disappear into a nearby hallway, leaving your 'date' alone. Out of the corner of Coriolanus' eyes, whilst he leans forwards and pretends to watch the bartender grabbing him another glass of whiskey, he sees the tall dark haired man also beelining towards the bar.

"Vodka on the rocks." Harrison growls, nearly slamming his glass down onto the counter. It's only then that Coriolanus lets himself look into the man's light green eyes, taking care to keep his expression fairly neutral and his voice calm.

"Rough night?" Coriolanus asks, deciding to play the unassuming role of a concerned stranger. Harrison chuckles, wiping his hands on his thighs whilst shaking his head.

"You have no fucking idea. Women are such pieces of work."

The blonde tastes blood with how hard he bites his cheek in an effort to stay silent.

"Your whiskey, sir."

He's grateful for the interruption of the bartender sliding his drink down towards him, as with every word leaving your date's mouth, Coriolanus is feeling his rage boiling and threatening to spill over like toxic waste.

"This chick asked me to come here tonight, you know? Me. A Bramford. I put up with her annoying stories and stupid questions all night, I even held her fucking bag for her to go to the bathroom." the man rants, his skin starting to twinge red with how fast he was speaking. "But will she even let me kiss her? Nooooo. Apparently it's too quick. Wouldn't even let me grab her ass."

It's then that your boyfriend finally loses it, and there's a muted sound of something shattering and the feeling of something sticky and hot running down his right hand. There's a few gasps of shock, the bartender hurrying over with a spare napkin as Coriolanus' blue eyes adjust to the blurry scene in front of him.

He's shattered the glass in his hand.

"Shit, you alright?" Harrison asks, leaning over to see and then pulling back with a disgusted expression after seeing the bloody sight. Remaining calm whilst pulling out the chunks of glass, Coriolanus chooses to play nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yep. Sorry, not used to..." he pauses, trying to find the right excuse. Instead, he finds a brilliant plan. "Not used to going so long without smoking."

The dark haired man nods in agreement, seemingly sympathizing.

"Ah, I get you. Nasty withdrawal symptoms, huh? Seen a lot of my buddies get them whenever they try to quit smoking."

Securing the makeshift tablecloth wrap around his injured hand, Coriolanus pushes his chair in with his legs, his uninjured hand strategically reaching into his pockets.

"I think I need a cigarette. Care to join?" he asks, already knowing the answer from the overwhelming scent of cigarettes spayed over the man's clothes.

"Why not."

Suppressing a smile, the blonde leads the drunken man out the door and far away from the venue, down a few shady alleyways and into narrow dirty streets crowded by graffiti and trash bags.

"Uh... you sure this is the right way?" the man behind nervously asks, and Coriolanus almost wants to roll his eyes at how pathetic he finds the man's fear.

"Don't worry, Bramford. Just avoiding the 'no smoking' signs and security guards by the venue."

Once the blonde is sure that they're both sufficiently far away from the venue, at a dead end alleyway sandwiched between a run down bike shed and abandoned dumpsters, he stops in his tracks. Coriolanus then uses the split second of confusion felt by the other man to strike him directly in the chest, forcing the taller man's entire body down.

Grabbing the nearest object next to him - a wooden crate- Coriolanus smashes it into bits on the man's head, whose face is now pressed up against the dirty cement.

"You absolute piece of shit." Coriolanus swears, adrenaline pumping through his veins in irregular rhythm as his boot kicks into the pained man's ribs repeatedly. "You disgusting, vile, privileged piece of shit."

Each insult is compounded by a stronger kick, the three glasses of whiskey and pure rage emboldening his thoughts and strengthening his attacks. Coriolanus thinks he may have heard a bone or two cracking, but he isn't sure. He can't even bring himself to care, not when his mind's fixation switches to the enticing sight of a broken glass bottle laying to his right, the jagged scars glistening under the moonlight. Coriolanus snatches it up in half a second, before pressing the edges of the makeshift blade against the whimpering man's throat.

"W-why are you doing this?" Harrison barely gets out, mouth already filled with blood, his gasps stuttered in pain.

The blonde only chuckles, his left knee coming down to press the man further into the ground, right hand beginning to trace the edge of the glass down the man's neck.

"Because, Bramford. You denigrated the love of my life. You dare try and place your filthy hands on her. Hell, for the crimes of your family and your disgusting behavior tonight, I should do the Capitol a favor and ki-"

"That's enough, Corio."

Your boyfriend nearly drops the bottle in his hand out of shock at hearing your voice ring out from behind him, the development so unexpected that for a second he almost wonders if he's hallucinating. But no, when he tilts his head backwards, he sees as clear as day you standing there with an amused grin on your face.

"Darling, I-" Coriolanus begins, stepping back up carefully and setting the glass bottle aside (but far away from Harrison's reach).

You just shush him, that ever-so-understanding twinkle in your eyes, your heels clicking on the uneven cobblestone as you stand with your body right up against his.

"I warned you about this, you know." you sigh. Coriolanus frowns, confused.

"What?"

"That you'd be jealous. He's just a toy, love. Nothing happened nor was ever going to happen tonight." you assure him, taking his uninjured hand in yours and squeezing it in comfort. You frown at the sight of his other bloodied hand, but he waves it off as an explanation for a later time.

"It's not that I don't trust you, petal. It was just... this scumbag was speaking about you in a revolting manner. I just couldn't contain myself." he slowly explains, a mix of guilt for being caught and anger for not being able to finish his actions creeping in. "He deserved it."

"Not denying that, love." you assure him again, smiling. "But goodness... What a mess you've made. You're quite the messy lover, Coriolanus Snow."

Coriolanus then can only watch, mesmerized, as you walk up next to Harrison's squirming body on the floor. Crouching down next to the man, you tut, as if you're saddened by the sight in front of you.

"Here's what's going to happen. We'll do you the favor of making it looking like you had too many drinks and got robbed. We'll take your wallet and expensive jacket. You'll survive, only a few major injuries but nothing life-threatening, and that's the story you'll tell your father and his friends." you pause, letting out another sigh, as if explaining this whole ordeal is tiring you. "In return, I will keep quiet about your nasty drug addiction to your father. One more strike and you're out, as your daddy said, so let's not aggravate him further. Deal?" you ask, smiling sweetly.

When the man stays silent, only letting out pained breaths in response, your right hand snaps out to press his face further into the concrete.

"I said, do we have a fucking deal, Bramford?"

Coriolanus finds himself completely transfixed by the attractive sight playing out in front of him: your pretty face scrunched up in fury, your delicate fingers dipped in blood as the man beneath you pathetically sobs and agrees. You then smirk, harshly dropping the man's head back down. Your boyfriend is by your side immediately, taking off the man's jacket as you pocket the wallet, your eyes finding Coriolanus' once more.

"I think I'm in love with you." the blonde confesses, the words coming out faster than he'd anticipated. It's a mix of things that causes the sudden confession, the adrenaline from having beaten a man nearly to death, the way your hair is being caressed by the harsh winds, the smell of your sweet perfume mixing with the harsh stench of copper in the air...

It's all making him dizzy and lovesick.

But all you do is roll your shoulders back and chuckle, kissing him quickly on the lips.

"I know."

But, Coriolanus thinks, you can't know - the real depths of his love, the unbridled fire now lapping at his skin, the overwhelming desire to claim you as only his.

And when he finally comes back home, he digs through his cabinets and finds the family ring. Swallowing thickly, he stores it in a small jewelry box and tucks it right underneath his bedroom's windowsill.

One day, he knows. He'll marry you.

----------------------------------------

the final act: "sorry for worrying you."

He'd meant to propose sooner.

He really did.

But then the games happened, his victory came with the assistant position to Dr Gaul and a full ride scholarship to university from the Plinths, and you'd be called away to District 2 to assist on your family's business operations.

Coriolanus missed you, fiercely. No amount of blurry phone calls and monthly visits lasting no more than the short weekend could satisfy his ache for you. Your melodic laugh. Your soft touch. Your witty observations and jokes, your soft breathing on his chest when he'd hold you at night.

But it's necessary, you'd remind him, lips trailing across his cold skin. It was how you and him were going to conquer the Capitol. Together.

On an assuming Tuesday in April, on the day you were due to arrive in time for Tigris' birthday, the phone rang in the mansion. The housekeeper, mid-way through dusting the library in preparation for your arrival, had come running into Coriolanus' room without even knocking. He'd woken up bleary eyed, a few swear words of annoyance on the tip of his tongue, all of which dissipated upon seeing the alarmed look on the housekeeper's face.

"It's for you, sir. Says it's urgent."

Brows furrowing, but not thinking anything much, Coriolanus answers the phone.

"Coriolanus Snow speaking." he mutters into the receiver, eyes still foggy from the remnants of sleep. The voice on the other end chuckles, a dark and pompous sound which makes him scowl in annoyance.

"Mr.Snow... when was Miss (L/n) set to arrive in the Capitol?"

The sinister question jolts the blonde awake immediately, a quick glance at the clock hanging by the door confirming his worst fears. It was four am, at least three hours past the time you were set to arrive.

"Is this a ransom call?" Coriolanus growls into the phone, his fingers clutching the receiver so tight his knuckles were beginning to redden. Teeth aching with how tensely he's clenching his law, his frantic eyes find the housekeeper's worried ones, before he urgently signals for the older woman to fetch the guards roaming the front of the property.

The stranger on the other side only chuckles in response, clearly gleeful at the distressed sound of Coriolanus' voice.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Snow. Would you like to perhaps ask her instead?"

The string of curses and violent threats bubbling under his throat never get spoken when he hears the sudden shuffling of feet and muffled arguing on the other side of the phone, before your voice fills his anxious ears.

"Hi, Corio."

Huh.

You seem awfully relaxed for someone taken as hostage.

Yes, he recalled having numerous discussions with you about such a scenario occurring once Coriolanus' status was elevated in the Capitol and you'd agreed to take on some share of the family business. And your boyfriend also knew that you'd grown up training in archery and fencing, so it wasn't as if you were wholly unprepared to defend yourself.

But still, it shocks him how your voice is completely aloof and calm, with even a hint of a smile at the end of your sentences.

"Hi, darling. Are you alright?" he carefully responds, pondering if you are perhaps being held at gunpoint and forced to speak in an unnatural manner. But you just hum in response, the same noise you'd make if he'd asked you something simple like what you wanted on your toast, nonchalant as ever.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Just don't forget to water the lilies, they get very temperamental this time of the year. Wouldn't want a repeat of last April, now would we?" you joke, and Coriolanus feels himself slightly relaxing into the conversation.

"Of course not."

"And don't forget you promised me pancakes the moment I came back to the house. I've been missing your banana pancakes dearly."

He can almost picture your smile at that comment.

"Well then... you should hurry back soon." he calmly responds, only for the phone to then be ripped away from you and the stranger's voice returns - grating and aggravated. Coriolanus can tell that your kidnapper is frustrated and dumbfounded by your seemingly calm disposition and mundane conversation with your boyfriend, a revelation which fills him with great satisfaction.

"If you still want her alive, leave a suitcase of $20,000 by the coordinates sent to you. You have two hours."

As if on cue, the housekeeper rushes back in with a note - tied to a bird sent over to the house, she says - and the security team behind. Unravelling the coordinates written onto the piece of paper, and looking back at the clock, Coriolanus' mind whirls with endless possibilities.

Explaining the situation in brief, he directs three of the guards to go out into the location with a briefcase loaded with fake cash - one to drop off the bag, the other two to keep extensive watch to see who picks it up. The other two, he commands to stay by watch at the house.

Sitting in an unmarked van whilst staring at the spot where his security guard had placed the suitcase, Coriolanus' leg won't stop bouncing up and down.

He's riddled with anxiety and doubt, hating himself for being unable to protect you, worrying about your whereabouts. As even if you sounded awfully calm and capable on the phone, a part of him can't help but wonder if that was all for show, to prevent him from worrying too much.

A torturous hour passes before Coriolanus gets a call from the housekeeper.

"Sir, she's home."

He nearly drops the phone.

"What?"

"Miss (Y/n) is home. She is sitting in the kitchen, having a cup of tea as we speak."

It's a blur as Coriolanus commands the car to race back towards the house, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as he bursts through the doors of the main hallway.

And there, calm as ever with a light grin on your face, is you.

You're sitting in his favorite velvet cushioned chair by the dining table. Your face smeared with blood, your clothes are torn and hanging in loose threads, and your hair is wet, red crimson droplets falling onto the floor in steady drips. And as the sun rises over the estate, the golden light illuminates your hairline and Coriolanus swears he sees a halo above your bloodied form.

"Hi, love. Sorry for worrying you."

Without a single word, he rushes over to you and nearly yanks you up to a standing position, backing you up against the wall to kiss you fiercely. Your knees almost buckle from the force with which he grabs your neck, his shaky breaths so desperate, his hooded eyes still looking into yours as his left hand suddenly shows a ring box in his hand.

"Marry me, darling."

You blink twice, surprised at the sudden action, as he chuckles and laces his fingers with yours - blood on blood.

"We're perfect for each other. You are my soulmate, my perfect pair: body, heart and soul. Truthfully, I've had the ring with me for almost two years now, but it never felt... quite right." he pauses, taking in your shaky, happy smile. Your cold hands warming in his embrace. "Not until now. You're the one for me."

"Even if I bleed all over your kitchen?" you croak, as he slides the cool metal onto your ring finger, before kissing your bruised knuckles.

"Especially if you bleed over my kitchen. As long as it's not your own blood, of course."

It's you who closes the gap this time, nearly tackling him with the force with which you kiss him, arms encircling around his back. Smiling into the kiss, he tastes the mix of your strawberry lipgloss and the metallic hint of blood on your lips, an intoxicating combination.

When you two finally part for air, the silver band now glistening on your ring finger, Coriolanus chuckles.

"Now, would you like those banana pancakes?"

------------------------------------------

epilogue: "nonsense, darling. I'd clean blood off of you forever."

"I think I'm starting to see a gray hair. on you, Corio."

Your husband scowls at the playful joke in the bedroom mirror, standing up to straighten his tie as you get changed in the walk-in closet.

"Please, I'm barely 30. Are you sure you're not hallucinating, darling?" he fights back, and you peek out half-dressed from the closet, pouting.

"You're questioning my eyesight now? How could you be so cruel."

Your faux sour expression is quickly kissed away by two cold hands cupping your cheeks, and you would've lost the balance in your heels had he not steadied you immediately, his hands dropping to your waist.

"Aw, I'm sorry, petal. Will you ever forgive me?"

You pretend to think about it, cocking your head sideways.

"That would depend."

"On what?"

"Mom! Dad!"

Your snarky response is cut off by the sound of small feet pattering on the marble floor, the front doors swinging open as a small figure runs straight to you and crashes into your legs. A spitting image of you and Coriolanus, your daughter, looks up from your knees before grasping onto her father's hand.

"Up, please."

Clearly amused by the sudden burst of energy in the room and his daughter's politeness even in moments of silliness, he crouches down and picks up the squealing child who comfortably settles into his arms.

"Guess what."

"What is it, honey?" you ask, brushing the stray hair out of her eyes.

"I got the highest score in my entire class on my math test."

"Wow, that's incredible, sweetheart." Coriolanus practically melts on the spot, bouncing the child up and down as she giggles into his neck. "You are the smartest person ever, Belle."

"Not as smart as mommy." she sasses in response, looking up at you for approval. You coo, ruffling her hair affectionately before looking up at your husband with raised eyebrows.

"See, Corio? Even our daughter is kinder to me than you are."

He rolls his eyes in response, left hand sneaking out to pull you in close as his lips kiss the top of your head.

"Nonsense. I love both my girls equally." he says, only for the picture perfect moment to be interrupted by another figure rushing into the room.

"Mrs Snow, the car's just arrived for you by the fr-" the intern freezes in his steps, having clearly caught the Snow family at a private time. You of course don't mind, just being amused by the situation, and your daughter is just curious at the new person who just walked in. All the while, Coriolanus' reaction couldn't be more different, his glare sharp and mean.

"I thought I made it clear, I don't want to ever be disturbed when I'm with my family. Unless it's an absolute emergency." Coriolanus states, his tone icy and unforgiving.

By the furrowing of his eyebrows and the cold stare in his eyes, you can already anticipate the flurry of murderous thoughts filling his head before you cut in. After all, the interrupting intern, a 17 year old boy by the name of Elijah, is only trying his best. And you find him oddly endearing and sweet, particularly with how badly he tries to impress your husband.

"It's fine, Elijah. Please ignore my husband's rude comment. I'll be right out."

Setting your daughter down, Coriolanus leans forward and growls into your ear, watching the young boy scatter away quickly.

"You're too nice to him, darling. Don't you think we should dispose of him and get a new intern...."

You slap his shoulder.

"What do I always tell you? No need to create unnecessary messes. Besides, he's really good with Belle and easy to control."

He smirks at that, irises filled pink.

"You're probably right. Can't have another bloody mess on your hands to clean up."

"Or vice versa."

He leans in close, cold lips touching your forehead.

"Nonsense, darling. I'd clean blood off of you forever."

And he truly means it.

a/n: andddd that's another major Corio fic down! thank you to everyone who showed me love on my last Corio oneshot ("melting snow") and for those who answered my poll - dark soft! and possessive Corio won out but girldad!Corio also got a TON of love so I included it a bit here and will probably write a whole standalone fic with girldad!Corio as the concept. thank you again to everyone for remaining patient, I had writer's block for a bit and I've just had the most awful few weeks ever (mental health wise and life wise) so it was difficult to find moments to write.

"It's your day off, stop scrolling through Instagram comments." You set down the cups of hot chocolate on the coffee table before taking away his phone, hiding it away in the drawer. He raised his brow as his hand found the curve of your hip, tugging you to sit beside him. "I'm taking away your phone privileges for the rest of the day."

"A day off with my wife if I stay away from the internet?” He tapped his chin in thought as his free hand went under your calves, pulling yours legs over his lap. “I think I like that idea, Mrs Blyth.”

His accent nearly made you swoon. You loved him for who he was, and the additional accent was a bonus you got lucky with.

You would never get tired of how kind Tom was to you — even after two years of dating, one year of engagement, and one year of marriage — you still were head over heels for him.

Meeting his iridescent blue eyes, you lean in for a proper kiss and smile when he pulls you closer. Tom tilts your head up to his with a finger, kissing you with the same passion he always used. You follow suit and only separate in surprise when he nips at your bottom lip.

"Rude much." You giggle and rest your head on the cushion behind you, hand coming up to touch your lip. “Such a tease, Blyth, such a tease.”

"It’s not my fault you’re so irresistible." Tom took your hand away from your face and began to individually kiss each and every finger, slowly moving higher and higher until he was back to your lips. “Would kissing you make you feel better?”

You pretend to think about it for a second, holding back a smile when you see him impatiently waiting for you to say yes. But the second he heard the beginning syllable of the word, he cupped your face with both hands and met your lips, enjoying your short yelp of surprise.

Tom pressed short kisses to your lips and smiled when you pressed a hand against the left side of his chest. He knew exactly what you were listening for, you did this every time you felt so much love from him.

When he finally pulls away, he glances down at your lips and smirks when he realizes that your lips were a shade deeper than they were earlier. He thumbed your cheek and tucked a piece hair behind your ear, kissing your cheek.

“You know what I’m thinking of?” He murmured, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder.

You shrug and look up, “What are you thinking of, Tom Keir Blyth?”

He rolled his eyes at the full name and kissed you silly again before speaking, hiding another smirk from your dazed look before you shook it off. "I think we would find each other in every universe. Fall in love just like we are now."

You hum and play with his sweater, thinking about the possibility. Even if you did exist in different universes, the chances of finding each other in every lifetime was slim, maybe even zero. But your love for one another was a flame — a magnetic force that always attracted.

After a few beats of silence, you finally say something in regard to the thought with a benevolent smile, wedding and engagement ring shining from the sunlight hitting it.

"I think so too."

“Hey, how was— What’s that for?” You start to ask him about his daily ride when you look up and see the bouquet of wildflowers, an array of pinks, blues, and purples. You grin at him and take the flowers from him, fingers gingerly touching the petals while silently questioning him.

Billy grinned back and his hand found its home on the curve of your hip. “Saw em’ by the forest as I was coming back. Figured m'pretty girl deserved all the pretty flowers.”

Your cheeks were starting to hurt by how hard he was making you smile. He was so infinitely lovable and you just knew when you got married to him, it would double by millions. He slowly began to thumb your hip and tilted his head down to accommodate your height with how close you were both standing.

“You’re sweet for an ex-outlaw.” You whisper and cling onto the flowers, eyes lighting up in mischief. You pull yourself impossibly closer, your lips dangerously close to his. "You are so in love with me, Bonney.”

“Am I now?” He murmured and noticed the hint of mischief in your eyes, a small smirk gracing his lips.

You went to answer but got cut off when he pressed his lips to yours, your initial shock fading into desire. One of your hands finding its way to his chest, feeling the heartbeat you felt so much love from. But as Billy’s hand slowly traveled south, your brother made the unfortunate decision to enter the living room.

“Didn't you say Billy was— Oh, ew!” Adam’s recoiled and turned around, gagging into his hands. The memory was forever going to scar him. He heard gasping and quick steps away, making him shut his eyes in revulsion. “Why are you touching her like that!”

“Adam—“ You try to speak over him, but he just kept going on about all the different things he would never do when he got older and how your parents would totally freak if they were the ones to walk in. How your dad would kill Billy if he ever saw whatever he was doing to you.

He continued to babble and babble, eyes wide in sickness. “Does pa know he touches you like that? He would have a day with Billy! I—“

“Adam, turn your ass back around and head into the kitchen. We’ll be over in a second.” You clamped a hand over his mouth, voice strict and eyes annoyed. Adam nodded swiftly in horror and quickly made his way back into the kitchen, wincing when you shouted again. “And you don’t say a word!”

You turn back around to find Billy standing there with the bouquet, his brows raised in full amusement. He sent you a wink — which you rolled your eyes to before approaching him and his smug face.

“William Bonney.” You stood in front of him and crossed your arms, tapping your foot on the wooden floor like a mother.

He tilted his head to the side and handed you the bouquet again, grinning when you snatch them out of his hands. Billy crossed his own arms — noticing your eyes drift down to his exposed arms. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

You scowl and yelp when he pulls you in his arms. Looking up at him, you push a finger to his chest and reprimand him. “Pull a stunt like that again and our shooting lessons will be turned against you.”

“I didn’t think he would walk in here, sweetheart.” He buried his head into your neck and pressed soft kisses to your neck. "I'm sorry,"

“In every universe, I’m sure someone would’ve walked through those doors, Billy.” You mumble and accept his kisses, running your free hand through his brown hair. "Trust me."

Knock Knock Knock

“Come in.” Coriolanus' voice rang out in his office. In the few seconds the door open and shut, he didn't hear the person announce who they were, his jaw ticking in annoyance. He looked up from his paperwork to maybe see an Avox until they softened at the sight of you. You were in the dress he just bought you, making him smirk in satisfaction.

“I brought lunch.” You smile and move to place the tray down on the side table by the small library in the room. "You didn't come down for lunch and I was getting worried."

Coriolanus sighed and ran his fingers through his blonde hair for what seemed like the nth time in one hour. “I needed to finish reading all the paperwork the Districts mailed earlier and I couldn't just discard it in the middle of completion. Even if it's all complaints." His piercing eyes watched as you grabbed a plate and handed it to him before you pulled yourself to sit on top of his desk, careful not to disturb the organized mess of papers. "How are the twins' studies?"

You crossed your legs and play with your rose necklace, watching the white snow coat the trees and ground outside. “Their governesses said they are doing exceptionally well today. Celine’s working on her long division and Lio is working on his poetry; which, by the way, is about you."

He hummed and took a bite out of the steak, his free hand finding your knee and thumbing the skin there. Coriolanus looked over your face, watching you mess with the necklace he got you all those years ago. Even after he offered to buy a new one, you refused to let go of the old one. It was your favorite thing he ever gave you.

Well, besides Celine and Aurelio of course.

"They'll be as smart as their mother in a few years." He glanced over at you, raising his brows when you shake your head, pearly whites peeking through in doubt. "What? You and I were practically tied for the Plinth prize before they changed the stupid rules." You still gave him an unimpressed look. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Your soft smile falters and your eyes darken as old memories resurface. “You really want me to answer that?”

You didn't mean to say that out loud — regretting it instantly and internally wincing when you saw his own eyes darken to the dark azure you knew all too well.

Coriolanus raised his brows at you and carefully stood, full six feet standing in front of you. He firmly grasped your jaw in his hand and tilted your head up to meet his eyes. You hid all fear away, knowing he wouldn't do anything to hurt you after you reduced him into nothing but a mess after leaving him long ago.

“You really want to ruin my day, beautiful? Because I can make this day worse.” Coriolanus murmured as his lips lightly grazed yours — almost daring you to continue.

“Noted.” You murmur back and earn a quick peck to the lips as a reminder that you solely were his before he removed himself from you. You watched him with careful eyes — almost like you were handling a stray cat — and continued to play with your necklace until you saw the storm clear from his eyes.

"Tigris is coming over tonight to fit us for the annual Christmas gala. She wants more leeway in case Celine hates her dress again." Your finger feels for the intricate details of the necklace as you remember the memory of a screaming five-year-old tugging at the dress her aunt took ages to make.

Coriolanus pursed his lips at the thought and shook his head. It was an absolute mess of a day, but luckily Tigris had made a spare dress for her. He pulled your crossed legs to lay across his lap, hand running up and down the space there without any care about the heels digging into his thighs.

“I thought we had a party to attend to tonight?” He tilted his head back and shut his eyes, still contemplating whether or not to even hold a gala this year.

You could feel his emotions radiating off of him. This time of the year was always bad for him, especially when he was already swamped with so much work. Slowly, you move closer to him until he opened his eyes again to find you sitting right in front of him, legs on either side of his.

“It's just Livia's get together, she won't care.” You murmur as your hands find his tie, tugging it ever so slightly. “Besides, tonight's a night.”

He brought his hands up to you waist and dragged you closer until you were sitting on his lap, eyes darkening once more. It was rare for you two to even have a night once a month, but it seemed like this month was going to have more than one.

"I thought we still had a week left." He rested a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to anything underneath your beautiful dress.

You put a hand on his chest and feel the rhythm of his heart, the one you knew loved you despite every obstacle you both faced. “Tigris is taking them afterwards, she wants bonding time with them.”

“A night it is.” Coriolanus murmured and met your lips, smirking when you let out a noise of surprise when he bites your bottom lip. Separating, he places on last kiss to your lips before helping you stand, adjusting your dress until you were decent. “I have a meeting in five minutes, I’ll come find you later.”

“I’m helping with decorating the manor. Again." You complain and adjust the ends of your hair, making sure they were perfect before adjusting Coriolanus' appearance. "The stupid Avoxes don’t know where the garlands go. They go in the same place they always do.”

“So picky, my love.” Coriolanus stood and placed another kiss to your lips, feeling you smile. He placed a few more kisses until you pulled away and rubbed the lipstick off his lips. “You just have to have your way no matter where you are, yeah?”

“Imagine in a different timeline I never got to decorate our house properly. It would be tragic.”

“Tragic indeed.”

When you went to get Alex from his room, you expected him to be ready to leave and just have a wonderful break from the school. But when you got there, he was still sitting at his desk, reading papers his students wrote. You roll your eyes at the man before knocking on the door frame.

“Alex, you realize today is the last day before winter break, yeah?” You give him a weird look from the doorway to his classroom, leaning against the frame.

“I do.” He flips the paper and reads the back, chuckling to himself at the sentences written down.

“Then what are you grading? They were due Wednesday.” You walked over to him and looked over his shoulder, huffing when you realize the papers were being covered by his frame. You waited a second to see if he even realize you were next to him before calling out his name again. “Alex?”

He looked up to the door only to jump back in surprise to see you standing next to him with an annoyed look. “Yeah?”

“If you don’t answer me properly, I will leave you here and decorate our place on my own—" You try to speak again when he looks down at the paper again, making you smack his shoulder with the back of your hand. “Alex Nilsen!”

Alex jumped again and packed away the papers into his messenger bag, standing to pull on his winter coat. “Sorry, done, I’m done.”

“You’re incorrigible.” You cross your arms and stare at him with an unimpressed look. As you watched the sun begin it's descent down, you didn't realize Alex took the opportunity to sneak behind you and press a kiss to your cheek. "Hey!” You whip your head around and send him a startled look before it softened into a joking pout. “That’s unfair. You didn’t even tell me what you were looking at.”

Alex hummed and let you rest your head on his shoulder, swaying side to side softly. “If you really want to know, I was reading letters my students wrote to you.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, pulling away slightly to meet his eyes properly. “To me?”

“Yes, you.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek again and smiled when you gingerly rested your forehead on his cheek. “They love when you come and visit me in the middle of class.” Alex nudged you softly. “Well, that and I stop teaching to talk to you.”

“Surprised you haven’t gotten fired for that yet, Nilsen.” You joke and squeal when he spins you around so your chest was against his, both of you wearing bright smiles.

“Maybe because I’m one of the best English teachers here.” Alex tilted his head to the side and sat down on his desk, letting you slot yourself between his legs. When you scrunched your nose at his comment, he sent you a confused look. “What?”

You shrug and you run your fingers through his hair, the small brown curls soft under your palms. “You have too big of an ego already for me to say.”

“Now you have to tell me.” He took your free hand and traced the lines adorning your palm. He waited for you to say anything, but when you didn’t speak and chose to continue running your fingers through his hair, he became impatient. “Come on.”

“I was going to say that you aren’t wrong. You’re one of the best English teachers in Linfield, Ohio.” You murmured and instantly regretted it when you say his eyes light up and a smirk grace his face. “Alex—“

“Oh, my ego just grew by a million.” He kissed the back of your hand.

“Shut up, I was being nice.” You complain and cover your face before realizing why all his students wrote you letters. “Besides, most of your kids do theater. They all come back to me at the end of the day.”

Alex pauses his teasing, thinking about his roster. “Holy shit, you’re right.”

You laugh softly and move to sit beside him on the desk, lacing your hand with his. You rest your head on his shoulder once more, squeezing his hand before you hear he speak in a much softer, loving tone.

“That may be why they love you so much,” Alex started and thumbed your hand, his warm smile reaching his eyes, crinkling their corners. “But never as much as I love you.”

You perch your chin on his shoulder and smile, blush coating your cheeks “You’re such a sap.”

“That loves you.” He turned his head and pecked your lips over and over and over until you put your hand on his mouth to stop him.

Your eyes brighten with so much love, your smile true to every word you uttered. “Love you too, Nilsen.”

Your copy of yesterday’s meeting notes is being printed. A note on top of his stack of reports to read through.

Good morning, sir. A second note next to his coffee cup. Something akin to a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he took the note into his hand, thumb rubbing over the dried ink before tucking it into a box in his desk. The box was nearly full of small notes; he’d have to get another. The coffee cup warmed his hand as he turned to look out the window, sipping in peaceful silence as the first sprinkles of spring rain set in over the Capital. The snow had cleared out early this year and had been replaced with a terrible chill and rain, but the sun returned when he turned to the sound of the door opening.

“Good morning, sir. Your meeting notes as promised. They’d have been here earlier if the new intern hadn’t tried to break the printer last night. I nearly broke my hand trying to unjam it,” you said as you set down the stack of papers precisely in the corner of his desk. He appreciated how much you respected his order of things.

“I assume your hand is intact?” 

“Yes, thank you. Your lunch with the Secretary of Communications is today, and you have a call with the Head Gamemaker at three. Besides that, I’ve tried to give you time to catch up on reports.” He nodded in response, taking in the sight of your winter clothes with a soft look in his eyes. 

“Thank you. Please ensure you get to lunch today. I would prefer not to find my assistant on the floor when she forgets to eat.” You smiled with a firm nod in return.

“Of course, sir. I’ll be outside if you need me.” A small part of him hated watching you walk away, the same part of him that he forced himself to ignore so fiercely. He noticed the color of your skirt, a deep red, and a part of him wondered if you matched his signature jacket on purpose. It wasn’t entirely unlikely; you often had something red on since your first week, and he knew it couldn’t have been a coincidence. 

When he left for lunch, he found your desk empty and a single note left atop your keyboard.

Enjoy your lunch. I’ll be here when you return. He picked up the note to tuck safely into his jacket pocket, another for his collection. He hadn’t realized how protective he’d be of your notes when you started working for him a year ago, but when he couldn’t find the heart to throw them away, it became a growing issue for the space in his desk. You’d never know, but the note you’d left him on your first day was framed and pristine in the back of one of his drawers. Maybe one day, he’d get the courage to display it on his shelf. 

As promised, you were there when he returned and greeted him with a smile that he swore lit up the room. 

“Good afternoon, sir. How was lunch?” your voice was gentle and caring, a comfort unlike anything he’d heard before.

“Productive. His assistant will be reaching out to set another next month. How was your lunch?” He did his best to ask about you even on his busiest days, and how your eyes shined when he did always made it worth it. You told him about the cafe you stopped into during your break from the office with the same smile that took the breath out of his lungs. 

“Their coffee is quite good as well. Perhaps I could bring you one tomorrow to see if you’d like it over the cafe I’ve been getting your coffee from recently.” There it was again. The care you showed him from the first day you entered the office, never once thinking of anyone else there but him. You were a shark when you wanted to be for him, ready to rearrange anyone else’s schedule for his benefit. But to him, you were nothing more than the perfect kind girl he couldn’t help but be grateful for hiring every day. He enjoyed the fire in your eyes when you’d ramble about one of the interns getting in the way of your job and when you triumphantly announced the success of a hard-to-plan meeting. He was entirely infatuated with you, frowned upon or not. 

His call with the Head Gamemaker ran later than expected, the sun setting in the background from the conference room he had stepped into with another senator to discuss plans for the following year’s games. When he came back to your desk empty, a certain melancholy settled deep in his chest. No note was left for him, an uncommon occurrence, and a slight frown pulled on his features before he stepped into his office to finish the day. He wasn’t upset at you; he had nearly forced you to leave the office on time plenty of times. But a voice in his head still begged you to be there when he was. 

A small box sat on his desk, centered perfectly amongst the papers you had clearly straightened for him before leaving. Tied together with a red bow, he sat down to inspect it closer. He imagined your hands tying it so neatly together, and his fingers brushed against the ribbon as if it could cure the ache in his chest that longed to touch your skin. Undoing the ribbon and setting it aside, he relished in the smile that washed over his face. A sticky note stared up at him from where he had taken off the top of the box.

Happy birthday, Mr. Snow. I hope you had a good day. I’ll see you tomorrow. You hadn’t spoken a word about the day. You were perfectly familiar with his disdain for celebration and refrained from the theatrics you knew would drive him crazy. But when you scouted out the new cafe at lunch, you couldn’t help purchasing one small cupcake, knowing he would never indulge in a whole slice of cake. Lightly iced and small enough for him not to deny the sweet treat, he tore off a piece of the cake and imagined your excitement in leaving the gift for him before you left. 

You'd needed to be the one to tell him how you'd felt first. Simon wasn't one to open up about his emotions and mostly tried to ignore and bottle up his feelings, so he never would've been able to gain that courage to tell you first.

When you did tell him, he became super flustered behind that mask of his. You normally called him by his alias and never really used his actual name, so he knew what you were going to say would've been serious.

"Hey, Simon? I think I like you. And I understand if you don't feel the same way, I just figured I should tell you sooner than later."

...

"Simon..?"

He would let out a flustered grumble of "Yeah yeah,, I like you too." and you two would slowly, but surely, warm up to each other more.

He'd be a very gentle lover. Just the thought of him hurting you, even by accident, made him violently ill.

Ghost wouldn't be one to be touchy very early on in you guys' relationship, he kept a lot to himself and you respected that. At times you would hold back from trying to hug him, or hold his hand, or anything, but you didn't mind. You wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

He'd soon realised you were the cuddly, touchy type, so he'd begin making moves like wrapping his arm around your waist or linking his pinkie with yours while you were walking. Just those small touches alone would make your knees weak.

Simon faced a lot of trauma in his childhood so he had trouble opening up to you at first. Once he did start opening up to you, he realised he didn't need to ignore his feelings for once. You made him feel safe.

>:'(( he loves you so much.

He'd call you all the usual pet names such as 'my love', 'darling', 'sweetheart', etc.

You'd often be the only thing on his mind when he'd be on missions or back in the barracks.

He'd always keep a printed photograph of you in a pocket somewhere so he could remember who he was fighting for.

When he'd be upset, he'd always pull that photo out just to look at it. Just seeing your face brought him immense comfort.

His love language would definitely be acts of service. He'll gladly cook a nice meal for you, or tell you to sit down and relax so he could take care of the cleaning.

However, it goes both ways. You'll pack him a lunch for the day He'd be on his knees. Make his bed for him if he were to be too busy? He'll completely melt. It's those little things.

His father didn't care all that much for him as a child coming from an abusive household, essentially needing to take care of himself. Having that someone to pack him a lunch and look after him in such a way made him feel loved and safe.

Of course he'd never take his mask off in front of you. He never took it off for anyone, there were no hard feelings. He preferred his anonymity and you are completely okay with it.

You never asked to see him without the mask because

well,

you just didn't. That was his privacy and you weren't one to invade it unless he would offer or if he were to be ready.

You two were both very patient with each other and that helped build a healthy and trustful relationship.

You also didn't mind not knowing what he really looked like. You first fell in love with who he was as a person, not his physical attributes.

When he did show you what he looked like unmasked, it was ironically during a make-out session.

(He low-key planned it out)

"Bloody hell, this thing is getting in the way." He'd say as the balaclava kept slipping down and shielding his lips from yours.

Thats when he finally pulled the felt which covered his features off, taking you by surprise.

The face-paint was still there, but his beautiful features were completely exposed to you.

He definitely got flustered at just how much you were examining his face.

"You look like you've seen a Ghost, darling."

That snapped you out of it, earning a chuckle from you before you two were sucking each others faces off again without that irritation from the fabric.

While nothing was said in the moment, by the time you two were done, you'd already begun to gush about how handsome he looked. You'd cup his face in your hands like he would to you and place kisses on his nose, forehead, cheeks, everywhere. He'd just look away in embarrassment.

"Yeah, yeah, take a picture, it'll last longer... PLEASE DON'T-"

The hard, confident Simon you knew became a blushy idiot and you loved it.

He was your Simon

__________________

NSFW

Before you two had any 'alone time' together, he'd always make sure there's a large water bottle or an electrolyte drink on the bedside table because, man, his guy has a lot of stamina and a high sex drive.

He could easily shoot a some loads into you over the course of a couple of hours.

You couldn't count how many times he'd make you cum over those few hours as you'd be a babbling mess by the end of it. No thoughts, just getting dicked down.

He wasn't exactly rough, but definitely not gentle. He'll be pounding into you like it was your last nights together for a while. And yeah, sometimes it was, so you two would need to make the most of it.

He wasn't one to inflict physical pain to you either unless it was the occasional slap on the ass or thighs.

He was one to grab onto you though. He'll grab onto any piece of your body he can.

Doggy? Bent over a table? Riding? He'll be digging his fingers into your fleshy hips.

Steamy make-out session? Or just feeling possessive? He'll gladly grab onto your thighs or wrap his arms around your waist.

The boy loves holding onto you, especially when he's in heat, leaving maybe just a few red marks from him gripping onto you so tightly. Maybe even a few scratch marks.

Missionary would definitely be his favourite position.

He'd be able to stare into that pretty face of yours for eternity if his life depended on it.

Missionary also lets him hold your hand as he pounds you into the mattress. The feeling of you squeezing his hand as tightly as you can while you cum makes him go absolutely feral.

Simon wouldn't make all that much noise in bed. Though when he's feeling desperate, he can't shut himself up. He'll let out soft moans and groans and growls into your ear just to let you know how good you're making him feel.

He also would love seeing your mouth full of his cock. The faces you'd make up at him as it slides down you throat could make him cum instantly.

Moan his name and he will also cum instantly.

"Oh, fuck- Simon~!"

He'll start pounding into you like never before, chasing both of your orgasms.

He’ll always make sure that you’re left satisfied. No point in pounding into you if you’re not going to be enjoying it the entire time.

He'd probably cum a lot too. Thick strands would shoot inside you or into your mouth, struggling to stay inside. He'd probably have a thing for pushing his fingers inside your hole to make sure his cum stays inside you.

He's a top and a soft dom so he'd have a bit of trouble getting used to bottoming and/or subbing. He wouldn't turn it away, not for you. But it would need some getting used to for him.

If he's subbing, you could very easily get him to start begging once he gets lost in the pleasure. Though he'd definitely feel embarrassed after. He's a grown, dominant, military man who engages in the most brutal and gore-y activities. He wouldn't have ever believed himself a couple of years back if the future Simon had told him he'll be begging his partner to let him cum as they jerked him off in the slowest, most torturous way.

If you two hadn't seen each other in a while, he'd be pushing you against the wall in an instant with your thighs on either side of him. He'd be practically begging you again to let him fuck you, and you'd of course let him.

Breeding kink? For sure. He LOVES to cum inside you and fill you up.

"F-Fucking hell, look at you, doll, completely stuffed." He'll say as he cums into you for the third or fourth time that night. Your entire body would for sure be shaking at that point.

Of course he’d be affected by the overstimulation as some point as well, he’d begin stuttering every now and again each time his cock would throb inside you.

He'd slam into you with such force, you'll be sobbing tears of pleasure by the time you two were done.

You'll often become extremely tired from sex from the sheer amount of stamina this man has, it can't be said enough.

This man will gladly take you to your limit, but the moment you show signs of passing out or feeling unwell, he'll stop and make sure you're okay, giving you some water and something to boost your blood sugar so you’re not passing out on him. He's not one to take such advantage of you while you're unconscious, and you respect him a lot for that.

Post-sex includes so much cuddling. He'll apologise for accidentally hurting you or if he was too rough and make sure you're all cleaned up and had water before you two head to bed or for a nap.

Post-morning-sex would include him bringing breakfast to you in bed which you thought was the most adorable thing ever.

Your legs would be jelly by the time you two were done, so just trying to make it to the bathroom would be a whole challenge.

Simon would always either carry you or provide you will that stability, it was sweet. He'd hold onto your waist as tightly as he could to make sure you wouldn't fall while your knees would give in.

He was very buff so it would be pretty easy to keep you from falling to the ground.

He'll make sure you're all squeaky clean, hydrated, and fed before anything else.

He truely was the best boyfriend you could ask for.

***************

I loved writing this so much, I'm about to go scream into my pillow. Goodnight, everyone <3

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Heads or Tails (Oneshot)

Summary: Ghost has undergone a lot of changes recently, many of which you find concerning. So you concoct a plan to try to bring the old Ghost back, the first and most crucial step: getting rid of that new mask.

Warnings: language, slight physical aggression

* Not With a Bang but a Whimper (Oneshot)

Summary: Simon has a tendency to be quiet in bed. But maybe, just maybe, you can get him to break his silent streak for once.

Warnings: language, SMUT

* The Scenic Route (Drabble)

Summary: You, your boyfriend, and his best friend go on a road trip together. One night, when his friend's asleep in the backseat, you and your boyfriend get up to trouble in the front. Civilian AU

Warnings: SMUT

* Beside (Drabble)

Summary: Simon was the perfect boyfriend, until he wasn’t.

Warnings: ANGST, brief mention of sex

Choice (Oneshot)

Summary: Simon forces you to choose. Him, your husband... or the other man he found in your bed.

Warnings: ANGST

* Inches (Oneshot)

Summary: It’s late, you’re tired, and you just want to turn in for the evening. Simon, however, has another idea in mind for how you can spend the night together.

Warnings: suggestive language, ANGST

* Having silly sex with Simon * Part 2 (Headcanon)

* Having clumsy sex with Simon * Part 2 (Headcanon)

* Having lazy sex with Simon (Headcanon)

Thoughts about Punk!Simon (Headcanon)

Girl dad!Simon during dinnertime During bathtime During bedtime (Headcanon)

Simon stuck in a time loop (Drabble)

SFW size difference with Simon * NSFW version * NSFW Part 2 * NSFW Part 3 (Headcanon)

* Simon fucking himself dumb * Part 2 * Part 3 (Drabble)

CBF!Simon who's secretly in love with you (Drabble)

Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley (Headcanon)

* Simon vs. Ghost (Headcanon)

Simon is left-handed (Headcanon)

Simon with dimples (Headcanon)

Simon with a broken nose (Headcanon)

Awkward!Butcher!Simon (Headcanon)

* Gentle giant!Simon (Headcanon)

Task Force 141

The 141 watching their partner give birth (Headcanon)

The 141 helping you build Ikea furniture (Headcanon)

Dressing the 141 up in a couples Halloween costume (Headcanon)

The 141 admiring your picture while deployed (Headcanon)

The 141 finding out they’re having quintuplets (Headcanon)

The 141 with a reader with tics (Headcanon)

* The 141 in a reverse harem * Part 2 (Headcanon)

The 141 with their very pregnant wives (Headcanon)

The 141 with a reader who’s always wandering off (Drabble)

* The 141 with a horny, pregnant wife (Headcanon)

The 141 helping you through a panic attack (Headcanon)

The 141 missing the birth of their child (Headcanon)

The 141 with a reader that does Japanese archery (Headcanon)

The 141 with an exotic animal veterinarian (Headcanon)

* How the 141 turn you on (Headcanon)

The 141 getting you to stay in bed (Headcanon)

The 141 holding their baby for the first time (Headcanon)

The 141 as types of dads Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 (Headcanon)

The 141 vs your shitty ex (Headcanon)

Annoying things the 141 do (Headcanon)

* How the 141 fuck (Headcanon)

The 141 expecting children at the same time (Drabble)

* The 141 being freaky in bed (Headcanon)