Pretty Please Send In Requests! My Brain Is Dried Up Of Ideas

Pretty please send in requests! My brain is dried up of ideas 😭

I may start rewriting my Steel x reader story soon, bit in the meantime I'd love to hear from you guys! :3

last christmas man me a sand but the very next day man car door hook hand

*girl whos scared out of her mind* i think what matters is love and being kind and thats it

Yandere Kenobi Homeless Clone x Plus size! Reader

Warnings:

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Smut

18+

Very mild Yandere content. Really only one instance of obsessive/protective behavior. More Hurt/Comfort than anything else.

@professional-yearner

Y/N had just managed to lock down her own studio on the scummier side of Daiu.

It wasn't her first pick, but it was hers. She had been rushing around, trying to get to her apartment in time to sign off for a delivery, or really just to make sure it wasn't stolen, when she had accidently tripped over the sleeping mans leg.

Y/N stumbled, ungracefully managing to regain her footing and looking back at the man, who was now awake.

"Sorry, sorry!" she called and continued towards home.

"That's okay" He replied quietly, observing as she went on her way.

The veteran settled back in for a nap, not quite being able to relax again down on the cold, busy street.

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Y/N saw him again the next day.

Work was long and grueling and she was dead on her feet, stumbling home.

The clone was in the same spot as yesterday and when he saw her, he pulled his leg up to avoid another run in.

Y/N had been daydreaming when the sudden motion caught her attention. She looked up and saw it was the man she tripped over yesterday.

Upon a closer look she realized it was one of the old Republics clone Troopers, battered and beaten down, begging for credits in the street.

Her heart ached for them. They didn't deserve to be thrown aside by the empire. It was because of a trooper that she was even alive today.

Y/N didn't have much, but today had been a good day for tips. There had been a group come in who took particular liking to her... "proportions" in their words.

Y/N wasn't proud, but she grit her teeth and did whatever they wanted when she saw their planned tips for her, completing every unreasonable request and laughing off every comment as best she could.

Reaching into her bag, Y/N pulled out some credits, enough to get a decent meal, and dropped them into the clones helmet.

He looked up at her, nodding his thanks and she moved on.

It went down the same way the next day. Apparently the sleezebags from yesterday had decided they liked her, and came back. They promised to come back every day until she agreed to go out with the leader of their little pack.

As long as the tips kept coming, Y/N could swallow her pride and what little self respect she had.

On the way home, the trooper was in the same place.

Once again she dropped enough into his helmet to buy a meal. Again, he nodded his thanks, but this time there was recognition in his eyes. as if a recurring face wasn't one he saw often. `

She went on her way, and the trooper watched her go. She was a pretty thing, he thought off handedly.

A round, sweet face and luxuriously soft body housed, from what he had seen so far, a kind and generous soul. In another life he might have tried his luck with her.

But he wasn't a gleaming, strong hero anymore. So he let her walk away without saying a word, only hoping to see her tomorrow.

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He saw her tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that. For what seemed like forever to the trooper, the pretty lady would walk by him at night time, looking exhausted and run ragged, drop some credits into his helmet with a gentle smile then continue on her way.

He never said a word to her but every day he grew more attached, looking for her arrival and sorrowfully watching her leave.

He suddenly came to a startling conclusion one afternoon.

Kriff, he was starting to fall for her. He was too old for this, too destitute, too HOMELESS.

What would she see in him anyway? She was so pretty and young and soft and not scarred up and beaten down like him.

But he had been on the streets along time. He knew good people and bad people. Saw them day in and day out and she was the only one who was familiar, who spared him a second glance, looked and saw more than just gutter trash.

He couldn't help it, he started to imagine. Imagine what might have been had he met her under different circumstances.

The woman was clumsy, she day dreamed a lot. He imagines that he could have swooped in and saved for from an accident, maybe stopped her being hit by a speeder.

He imagines being able to flirt with and woo the lady. A handsome, decorated soldier in shining armor, fresh off of his victory in the war, serving under a great General.

He'd charm and seduce and care and protect his woman.

He'd hold her close, the feeling of her soft belly and thighs an absolute godsend against the plush flesh that once covered his strong and capable body.

The clone would love up on, massage, rub, kiss and caress every inch, every roll, dip and valley the temple of her body had to offer.

He'd watch her squirm, make her pant and mewl under dedicated, strong and gentle hands...

He stopped himself there, noticing that for the first time in a long time, there was a heat and stirring in his lower belly and a familiar twitching between his legs.

The clone sneered, self loathing shooting through him and scaring a few children passing by.

Any arousal at his own thoughts was immediately put out at the reminder of his situation.

He was homeless.

Disgusting and begging like a worm. She was out of his reach and he should just be happy he got to see her at all.

In the end, however, he was still a man. A man whos decade long loneliness was single handedly being fought off by the woman of his dreams, and she didn't even know it!

Caught in his own mind, he didn't see her approach, earlier than usual.

Y/N cleared her throat, trying to get his attention without spooking the veteran.

He looked up, startled and confused.

The clever girl must have read his mind because she began a nervous explanation.

"Uh, my workplace closed early because of an incident with a staff member. I, uh, don't have any credits, but I managed to swipe this from the kitchens, if you'd like?"

She sounded nervous. He hoped it wasn't because of him. He never wanted to scare her.

Y/N pulled a sweet bun out of her bag and the clones mouth watered. He hadn't had anything like that in years.

Gently, he took the food from the woman, avoiding brushing his calloused, dirty fingers against her clean, soft ones.

she once again gave him, what was now, his favorite smile and was just about to leave, when they heard someone shout.

"HEY, Y/N!"

Y/N grimaced. It was the sleezebag that frequented her work.

In a moment of weakness and loneliness she had taken him up his offer to com each other, and now he wont leave her alone.

The clone clocked in on her uncomfortable, nearly panicked expression, his eyes as sharp and observant as they had been years ago.

"I'm sorry about this" she hurriedly blurted out. He said nothing, just stared at her.

Suddenly she ducked down behind him, pressing her front into his back and bowing her head down to lean against one of his shoulders, face hidden.

She didn't notice the look of shock that came cross the clones face.

Recovering, he quickly handed her the ratty blanket he used at night to cover herself with. She didn't seem to notice the smell of the unwashed fabric, too busy trying to not be seen by the owner of the voice.

The Veteran saw who had to be the owner of the voice. A tall, lanky boy with greasy hair and five day patchy stubble. He shoved people out of the way, sneering at him when he met the veterans sharp gaze.

The clone could sense his superiority complex a mile off.

Not seeing anything here worth his time, the man slunk away into the crowd.

Waiting a minute or two to make sure the sleezebag was gone, and to selfishly indulge in the closeness of a woman he had been pining for, the Veteran gently nudged the ball of nerves tucked up on his shoulder.

For the first time, he found his voice for her.

"Its alright, little one. He's gone."

The mans voice was rough from disuse, but Y/N still thought it was comforting nonetheless.

To the clones absolute amazement, the woman didn't move immediately.

"Are you sure?" Her voice sounded so small and tired. He ached to sooth her.

Pulling up some courage he didn't know he had, the clone gently pressed the side of his face against the top of her head, noting how perfectly they seemed to fit together.

How good it felt.

Y/N whined, she brought her hand up to rest under her forehead, laying it palm down on his shoulder piece.

"I hate that guy."

The clone could see why. He went to say something, to reassure her, gently rubbing his cheek against her hair in a light nuzzle.

Suddenly the woman jerked up, her head leaving his shoulder and her body jumping back from his.

The clones blood ran cold. He had crossed the line, now he'd never see her again.

"I-"

"I am so sorry, I didn't mean to. To..." Y/N cut him off, gesturing wildly at him, as he stared in amazement at her.

Was she apologizing, to him?

Y/N finally managed to get herself together enough to articulate what it was she was apologizing for.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten all up in your space like that, I just... It was the first thing that came to mind and I... I'll just go" She ducked her head, a furious blush rushing across her face at her babbled apology to the man.

Swiftly, the veteran reached out to his jumpy love, lightly taking her wrist and rubbing his thumb against the soft skin there. It was an unfamiliar gesture now, but it seemed to do the trick.

She let the veteran pull her back down and she just bared her soul to him right there in the street. Breaking down as he slowly and gently pulled her into his side, rubbing her back as she wept.

It turns out the poor, sweet woman had been harrased and stalked by the scumbag for weeks. He would com at all times of the day and come into her workplace any time she was on shift, her boss having given up her schedule in exchange for a few credits.

Y/N hiccupped s she explained that she had tried to get help, but "This was Daiu, that's just how things are here"

He was the reason they closed early. Apparently he had cussed out the wrong staff member and there was an all out fist fight. The boss closed when the property started getting damaged.

Her story made the clones blood boil. All this time he had been imagining them together and happy, while she had been in danger? Unacceptable.

When the woman stopped crying, her eyes red and itchy, she peeled herself away from the safety of the clones warmth.

The veteran mourned the fact that she was distancing herself. He also cursed his armor for preventing him form truly feeling her softness.

Y/N sniffed and rubbed her eyes, mumbling that she was going to go home now, before stumbling off.

The clones eyes followed her. Keen and concerned they watched her round the corner.

Tonight, he was going to be what he never thought he'd be again. He would be the hero, for his sweet Y/N.

The veteran picked up his old helmet, putting it on for the first time in a decade.

Time for one last hunt.

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Things had been looking up for Y/N.

After the incident with the clone she went home and decided to look for other employment options.

She found an opening in a slightly less shady part of town as a cleaner for a speeder saleroom. A job where her pay didn't depend on the whims of horny incels, and so far, she was loving it.

There were no customers to deal with and she was mostly left alone to do her work.

And, more importantly, her stalker had seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet.

The drawbacks were that she had to start and finish later than what was usually considered safe on Daiu, but she wasn't too concerned. There was always someone out and about and the nightlife in her area ensured that her way home was always lit.

Then there was her friend.

Y/N still didn't know his name, he never offered it, if he had one at all.

He was always there, looking out for her. watching after her with his deep, intelligent and sharp gaze.

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The first time she saw him in his different spot had been not much longer after she started at her new job.

The weather had just started to turn. Daiu winters could be bitter even in their earliest stages and that night there was a raging wind with the promise of an even worse storm.

Y/N was currently moving at a fast clip, trying to beat the weather home when she saw her friend. stopping she did a double take to make sure it was him, although she hadn't seen any other clone on Daiu before.

He was hunkered down in an alcove between two buildings, protected from the wind in front of him and he rain from above.

Quickly she ducked into the alley, ignoring the stares of the other homeless as she crouched before him.

"Y/N" he said, looking up to her in greeting and concern.

What was she doing down here?

"Hi. Thought that was you"

He tilted his head, his eyes trained on her as she tried to piece together why she was in the alleyway.

"You here because of the weather?" she asked

The veteran nodded. He still wasn't a man of many words, preferring to communicate with her through gestures.

It was difficult enough to get him to call her by her name.

"Okay, stay here, I'll be back"

Y/N cringed at herself.

'Stay here?' As if he'd be stupid enough to wander out into the weather.

Unlike her, it would seem.

The veteran sent her a look that screamed 'Don't be stupid, stay at home', but Y/N missed it.

She stood up and trotted back out into the wind, catching a heavy gust to the face.

The clone watched her leave, admiring how her winter clothes hugged her generous figure.

Too soon, she was out of sight but the veteran was on edge.

Y/N said she was coming back, but it was already dark, the weather was setting in.

Doesn't she realize its dangerous for her out here.

Apparently not.

Y/N rounded the corner to the alleyway a few minutes later with a backpack and a pile of fabric in her arms.

Him and the three other homeless looked up.

She once again crouched down in front of him, handing him what turned out to be a rough, robust and warm looking blanket.

"It's not much, but I noticed that your old one wasn't looking too good a while back so..." She bashfully rubbed the back of her neck, not quite meeting his eye.

The veteran on the other hand, couldn't look away.

'Kriff, she's too good for this place. too good for me.' he thought. She then took off her bag and pulled out some food.

The veteran thought he would cry. No one had taken care of him like this in a long, long time.

He then noticed that her bag wasn't empty, and that there were more blankets under her arm.

She smiled sweetly at him. A rosy, chubby cheeked expression that never failed to warm his heart and make it long like nothing else.

She stood up and walked over to his three 'companions'. Other homeless people seeking shelter in the same alleyway as him.

For the two other men and one woman she had a blanket and some food. They took the offered gifts with various thanks.

"Your too kind child, thank you!" He heard the elderly Pantoran say as he wrapped himself in his new blanket.

"Thank you, sweet thing, but you shouldn't be out this late." The woman said, taking her food with cold, shaking fingers.

The third man looked at her, taking the blanket and food silently.

The veteran was weary. He had bunked with this man before and while not overly dangerous, he was usually in a foul mood, and wanted to be left alone.

The man accepted the items from his sweet Y/N and she had seemingly picked up on his want to be alone so she went to move on when he grabbed her wrist.

The startled sound she made had the veteran jumping himself, ready to kick him of of her if need be.

"You shouldn't be out here, little lady. These streets aint safe." his words were rough and condescending, but his face showed thanks.

Y/N nodded and the man let her go. The veteran relaxed.

He watched as his darling went to exit the alleyway, reaching out to him in a small wave goodbye.

The clone liked to think she was reaching out to take his hand, and to be taken into his arms.

Y/N had just turned the corner when the first crack of thunder rang out. The clone heard the rain start to come down with fury and he was suddenly very concerned for his sweet girl.

He didn't have to worry for long though, she came bolting back around the corner, backpack over her head as she slid to a stop in front of him.

He looked at her, questioningly. Surly she wasn't afraid of the rain, was she?

Y/N shook her backpack out.

"It's, uh, its hailing, not raining." she explained. He saw the golf ball sized spike drop from her back pack. Poor thing nearly got hit.

"Can I, well, can I wait out the storm here, with you?"

The veterans heart was beating a mile a minute.

She came back to him, TO HIM. She sought comfort and protection from him.

He shakily reached out to her, inviting her to come sit down next to him. She did, snuggling up to his side to escape the cold.

The veteran wrapped his arm around her, grateful that he had managed to grab a quick shower at a speeder stop earlier.

The lovely, soft woman snuggled into his side, burying her face in his shoulder under the blanket and muttered out a thanks.

"Your welcome, sweet thing." He muttered back, leaning his head on hers.

His mind was going a mile a minute, his thoughts a whirlwind of love and devotion.

'That's it, pretty, you just burrow in next to me I'll keep you warm. Kriff, you're shivering, lemme just, uh, there we go, all better now.

I'll always help you, sweet Y/N, you can have any part of me you want. I'll hold you through any storm ever, you just say the word, my love.'

They shuffled around a bit to find the best position. She ended up sitting between his legs, her back to his chest and cradled close by both his arms and his thighs.

The clone was glad he had chosen to keep the lower part of his armor on that night. Not only was he actually able to feel his woman's luxurious softness and gentle warmth against his chest and in his arms, but she also couldn't feel the erection that definitely would have been straining against her round ass, branding her with its heat.

That train of thought led him back into his imagination, as the clone wrapped himself and his darling in the large blanket. His arms tightened around her as his head came down to rest on top of hers.

He imagined them in a different place. A cozy, warmly lit bedroom.

It was still hailing and storming but they were safe inside, snuggled together on the bed under a mountain of blankets. Her naked body would be relaxed and pliant, his woman so willing and wanting and trusting as she leaned back into him, mewling as he rubbed his aching need up and down her flushed womanhood.

He'd kiss and smooch at her eyes, cheeks and nose, his hands lightly massaging at the lovely rolls on her side as she sweetly mewled and whined.

He'd shush her and nuzzle into the side of her face as he slowly slipped his cock in, not moving too much, just holding her as she kept his cock warm. The two would bask in each other. Her feeling him in the most intimate and loving of ways. They'd stay like that for hours, listening to the strong winds outside, loving up on each other and he'd hold her close.

The clone could almost cum in his pants at that mental image alone. However he was all too aware of where he was. This was not a soft apartment, and the two were not in a loving embrace.

She was here out of necessity, nothing more.

That didn't stop him from gently nuzzling into her hair as he brought his legs up, cocooning her in his warmth and protection.

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It had been a week since that night.

Y/N woke up in the veterans arms. she must have fallen asleep waiting for it to stop hailing and they somehow managed to shuffle even closer to each other, not an inch of space between them.

She had blushed furiously when he woke, his eyes bleary and tired, before snapping to awareness at how they were intertwined, an uncomfortable tightness in his groin making itself known. He hoped he hadn't rutted against her in his sleep.

Despite the awkward situation, both of them were unwilling to pull away, Y/N finally having to peel herself off him to go get ready for work.

The clone mourned her warmth after she left.

Y/N still blushed at the feeling of the man wrapped around him.

She had definitely felt how strong he was, despite him being homeless. It seemed he never really lost the broad, chunkiness all clones seemed to have during the war.

Her mind would often drift while cleaning. Trying to figure out what he would look like under the armor and thick body suit. Would he be unhealthily thin and sunken, or would he still, somehow have that tank like build.

She remembered learning about how the clones' metabolism was sped up, that they could develop and grow a lot of muscle if they had enough food to do so.

So it would be Y/N's best guess that while he may not have his old strength, he might still be big and soft. Perfect to cuddle on.

She had certainly felt comfortable leaning against him.

Y/N was well aware of this little crush her attachment was turning into.

she wasn't sure if she should acknowledge it or not. On the one hand, he was homeless. On the other hand, that didn't make him any less human, didn't mean he was any less deserving of companionship.

She just couldn't get a good read on him, or if he'd reciprocate, or even react positively to her affection.

then one night, she had been walking home, expecting to see her clone friend with the other homeless in their winter spot. except when she got there, there were police and a body being carted in a bag. She couldn't see any of the other homeless there.

Starting to panic she looked around.

Fuck, she couldn't even call out to him. She didn't have a name to call.

Y/N just kept turning and wondering around, desperately looking for any sign of the white and blue armor.

She was panicking. Her friend could be dead and there was no way to find out. none of the people on the street cared to look at the homeless too much so they wouldn't recognize him, even though he had been a regular in that area for nearly ten years now.

Her breathing was shaking and her eyes were so blurred up with unshed tears that she didn't realize the man she was looking for was approaching her.

The veteran gently placed a hand on her shoulder when she didnt respond to her name, startling Y/N.

Seeing who it was, that her friend was alive, Y/N threw herself around him in relief.

Shocked, the clone hugged her back. Noticing for the first time how small she felt compared to his tall standing frame.

Y/N had had enough.

She had left her friend out on the street for far too long. It could be him in a body bag next.

Sniffling she pulled away slightly, the clone tenderly brushed some hair away that was stuck to her face.

"Please come home with me. You can live there." She asked simply.

The veteran was floored. Never in a million years did he think she would want him to come with her. To live with the love of his life seemed like a faraway dream. He would have sworn that he was asleep and he'd wake up any moment.

But the clone was very much awake. The biting wind making Y/N grimace and shiver was proof.

Tucking his love back into his chest, he whispered a shaky 'Okay' into her hair.

she took his arm and led him down the street and to her apartment complex. It wasn't the nicest of places, but it was far more secure than what he would've expected form this area.

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her home was cozy, like he imagined it would be. it was a small studio/one bed setup, with the bedroom area being lofted an the living space being one big, open plan area with a door that he assumes, led to the fresher.

It wasn't big or luxurious but it was hers, her home.

She made it beautiful.

With her here he couldn't see the ugly building across the street, its neon lights blaring obnoxiously into her kitchen. He couldn't hear the sounds of sirens and yelling from outside the street. He was too caught up with the sense of being in a place that was soft and gentle and comfortable and just so, Y/N.

She was flicking around, picking up bits and pieces and throwing them into random corners to be dealt with later.

As she moved she was babbling out to him. Her voice like a sweet birds.

"I't's not much, but its a roof, four walls and some actually pretty decent locks. Freshers through that door, there's a washer dryer that you can use in there as well.

You'll have to wash and reuse what you've got on until we can figure something out, get you some new clothes. Speaking of figuring out, I only have one bed. ummm, you can sleep on the couch, but its not very nice, fair warning. But, Uhh", she looked embarrassed, red, at what she was about to suggest, "I wouldn't mind sharing the bed, it should be big enough so there would be plenty of space between us and, uh, yeah... I mean, if you want to. If you dont that's fine too"

He knew he should have taken the couch, but he was weak. Years of loneliness had worn him down, and the thought of his love being so close, yet so far, when he had the option to be up in bed, snuggling under the covers with her, pained him.

"If your comfortable with it, I'll sleep in the bed"

she seemed to light up at that. He hadn't turned her down at her somewhat ridiculous idea. then again, she had just brought him home off the streets so maybe it wasn't so ridiculous after all.

"Cool. Yeah, so I'll, um, I'll let you get cleaned up. Here's a towel, and feel free to use anything in there, and just throw your clothes in the wash while in the shower."

she handed him a large fluffy white towel. The veteran couldn't remember the last time he held something so soft, that wasn't his love.

"And don't worry about being too long. For all this place skimps on costs, they are surprisingly generous with their water and heating. So take all the time you need."

The veteran nodded. Somewhat awkwardly. This was all so new to him and he wasn't so sure how he should be acting. But if his discomfort was perceivable, his darling wasn't letting on.

"I'll be in the kitchen. Give a shout if you need anything." With that she left him to his own devices. He entered the fresher and looked around. It was small, but functional. Like the rest of the apartment Y/N had taken it upon herself to make it more homey.

He could get used to this place.

The Clone stripped down, throwing his thin, ragged blacks into the wash and setting it to a short wash/dry cycle. Turning to the shower he turned the hot water on. It was an old water shower/bath combination and he hoped he could use the bath later on, maybe with his love in with him.

Ignoring his cock twitching at the though of them sharing the bath, the veteran observed himself in the mirror as he waited for the water to heat up. It was a reflection he hadn't seen in a longtime.

He was older now, and it showed. His face was lined, his hair greying. His body looked somehow thin and full. Weak and strong. He supposed a constantly changing state of health would do that.

There were times when he was able to get some sort of seasonal help job, working in factories and the like. These were the times when he could eat properly, and that led to his muscle mass being somewhat restored by the manual labour.

Then there were times when he had to beg and scrape for food, desperate for a bite to eat.

The mirror had fogged up now. The clone tested the water and it was boiling hot against his skin. Adjusting the heat so it was a comfortable temperature, the man stepped under the spray.

The sound he made as the water cascaded over his aching body surprised even him. A long, loud and low groan escaped his lips as the spray soothed his muscles and washed away days worth of grime. It felt like bliss to him.

He was going to take his time with this one. Usually the veteran had to get in and out of an icy weak shower in less than two minutes, leaving him barley any time to just roughly scrub his skin with whatever soap he managed to acquire.

But now, he could go slowly. Enjoy himself.

He started by browsing the soaps and shampoos Y/N kept. Smelling the scent of each one. They were all feminine, divine, HER.

He had no issue at all using them. Being able to smell like his love, a constant reminder of her, invisible on his skin, sounded like heaven on earth to the clone.

He started with his hair, lathering a generous amount of the sweet smelling shampoo into his long locks and, seeing no other option, into his beard as well.

He knew they were matted. Maybe he could ask Y/N for some help with brushing and shaving later, looking forward to the possibility of having her hands all over his face and through his hair.

Next, he moved onto his skin. Her body wash had a sweet vanilla smell to it, not too strong. The Veteran saw a clean washcloth on a shelf next to the bath, and reached out for it. He'd clean the water that dripped from his arm later.

The clone shut his eyes in pleasure as he ran the body wash over his skin, rubbing away the sweat dirt and grime. For the first time since he could remember, he didn't smell foul. It seemed like such a luxury to him, and he had to remind himself that he lived here now. His love had said so. He could indulge in this every day.

The thought made him feel bubby inside.

Opening his eyes after rinsing off all the soap, he took a look down at his own body.

He had gained some weight over the last few weeks, having managed to swing a help job at a somewhat shady junk yard. The result was that he was stronger and fuller now, having had constant meals.

This pleased him. Seeing some colour in his skin, seeing some chub around his belly and thighs and arms pleased him.

Idly reaching up to his chest, he groped at his pecs. They weren't as strong as they used to be during the war, but they were far from flat or weak.

The man continued to feel himself up, admiring how he was looking pretty good, despite the circumstances. He went to move his hands lower, run them up and down his torso, when they brushed past his nipples. He sucked in a breath. The man hadn't had the privacy to do this since before the war ended and he was extremely sensitive to any stimulation.

Gently, he circled his nipples with calloused fingers, blood pumping to his cock.

The clone imagined his love in here with him. On her knees, laving his lower belly and the tops of his thighs with little kitten licks and kisses.

The veteran ran his hands up and down his tummy and waist, groping and massaging at his own flesh, trying to convince himself that it was his loves soft hands playing with him, feeling him up.

Finally, he brought a calloused palm up to his mouth and licked a stripe up it. This was not something he had indulged in for a while, and he knew it wouldn't take long.

He had to take the edge off of his pleasure, or he would explode.

Softly, he took his hardening cock in his hand, lightly cupping his balls with the other one, feeling them draw up slightly at his touch.

He slowly started to jerk his cock, smearing pre-come along the shaft as it started to drip from the spongy head.

Already the veteran could feel his pleasure building. The heat in his stomach growing as he saw his darling Y/N, mouth lovingly caressing his need, one soft warm hand tending to him, while the other one played with her glistening pussy, swollen and flushed with her own arousal.

The veteran grunted as he imagined her whining and sighing, content to play with him and bring him to his peak.

Suddenly, he felt a jolt of pleasure run down his spine. He sighed as white, thick pearls of cum dribbled out from his cock, the head hypersensitive to his touch as he worked himself through his orgasm.

It wasn't the most intense one he'd had. But it didn't matter, he could now walk out of the fresher without worrying about scaring his love off because of his unquenchable attraction to her.

The veteran stepped out of the shower after cleaning himself up, running the towel over his face and body before wrapping it around his waist.

He saw that his clothes still had some time left on the dry cycle so he decided that he'd look for a toothbrush to use, he was sure she wouldn't mind.

Finding a spare in the draw the clone cleaned his teeth, contemplating how the hell he was going to fix his hair up. The beard had to go as well. It was itchy and too long for him, his maximum length used to be no more than a few days growth.

He always though he looked good with some stubble.

As for his hair, if it could be brushed out, maybe he'd keep it long. if not, that had to go too.

Spitting out the toothpaste, the veteran heard the dryer beep, signaling that his clothes were done. He wiped his mouth and dropped his towel, using it to mop up any spare water on the floor.

Grabbing his old bodysuit out he took a moment to rub his face into the fabric. it smelt clean, and felt warm and welcoming.

Was everything about Y/N's home like that, or was he just incapable of seeing anything bad where she was concerned?

The man dressed and exited the bathroom, and was met with a delicious smell.

"You didn't take too long, did you?" Y/N chirped at him, putting a lid on something.

"I know its early, but I figured you'd be hungry so I just made some pasta. It's almost ready"

Not knowing what else to do, the clone sat on the couch. There was no table, the space wasn't big enough for that but there was a coffee table that substituted.

After a few minutes of watching Y/N work with a practiced ease, she came over to him, two plates in her hands. Handing one over to him she plopped down on the squishy couch next to him, digging into her food with gusto.

He smirked slightly. She obviously enjoyed her meal, and he found out why.

It was delicious. simple and filling and comforting.

He enjoyed every bite, hiccupping from the speed that he ate. she pushed her plate to the side, taking his with it, then reached up, hovering a hand over his head. He lowered his face and leaned towards her, giving the green light to touch him.

Y/N ran a hand through his hair and he whimpered, it felt so good.

The woman pretended not to hear but her slight hesitation gave her away. She cleared her throat.

"Ah, I think we should do something about your hair. Do you need any help, or would you just prefer to get rid of it and uh, start again"

The thought of having some more of her touching and scratching at his scalp pushed any idea that he might've had of shaving his hair away.

"I'd like to try and save it, if that's okay."

"I'll do my best"

Having a task, a mission in front of her, YN was able to clear her mind, immediately coming up with a list of things she would need.

"yeah, that should be fine. I'll just grab a couple of towels and some other things from the bathroom and we can get started."

The clone watched as his beautiful Y/N trotted off into the bathroom, admiring the way he body jiggled when she walked.

When she came back out again she had her hands full of towels, with various brushes and bottles on top, as well as some hair ties around he wrist.

Dumping the items on the end of the couch, Y/N cleared away the plates quickly, making room for her to work. When she came back she gestured for the clone to stand up, and placed various towels over the couch to protect it from whatever she was about to put in his hair.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly nervous.

"You can sit back down now, face the window, and I'll sit behind you" she said as she pulled up a stool to the arm rest.

The clone got as comfortable as he could at this angle, sighing when Y/N started to spray something onto the ends of his hair and gently begin to work a comb through it.

"By the way, this is going to sound stupid but, I never got your name." she spoke quietly, soothingly.

The clone backed his head up into her hands, immensely enjoying her care.

"Never took one" he stated simply.

The veteran wished he still had the social grace to answer in more than five words, but he just couldn't do that yet. It was like a muscle that had been frozen for a long time. He would need work to function properly again.

"You've never had a name?" Y/N asked, sounding surprised and sad.

He didn't mean to upset her so he tried to explain.

"I, ahem, never found the right one. Non seemed to fit"

That was good. A full sentence.

"That's, kind of sad. I'm not going to lie. All this time, and you never found any name that fits. At all? No nickname or anything to go by?"

The clone swallowed. she had unknowing touched a nerve.

"My brothers...They tried. Nothing stuck"

"Brothers...?"

"Other clones"

"I see. I'm sorry"

He was glad to be facing away from her. Touched bye the sincerity of her words, his eyes had actually started to fog up.

The veteran sniffed.

"Don't be. it was a long time ago"

Y/N was well aware of what the clones went through after the war. forced to exterminate the people they were bred to protect, than cast out alone into the galaxy without so much as human rights. And to think her poor friend didn't even have a name to call his own. Only the old, battered armor that was neatly piled in the corner of the room.

"You could choose one. It doesn't have to be now but, uh, can I be honest?"

The clone turned his head slightly, a little unsure of where this was going but he grunted his consent anyway.

"I was, scared, earlier. You weren't there, the others weren't there, just the cops and a body bag. I couldn't even call out to you. There wasn't anything for me to call. I don't mean to seem selfish, but please don't make me do that again. It, I don't know. It hurt, I guess. I thought you had died"

Her hands were steady, but her voice broke slightly. She truly did worry for him. The thought warmed his heart, and saddened him at the pain he caused, accidentally or otherwise.

The clone took Y/N's hand, placing a kiss on her palm. he heard her sharp intake of breath as he pressed her hand to his bearded cheek.

"I'm sorry, mesh'la. I never wanted to hurt you."

His sweet Y/N didn't say anything. she had nothing to say, so instead she dropped her head down on top of his, pressing into his hair for a moment before straightening up again, bringing the comb back to his head.

She had made it about halfway up. The tangled matts of his hair were lovingly worked out with patience, and they revealed soft, silky and slightly frizzy hair. Y/N suspected a curl pattern.

"Help me pick one?"

"What?" Y/N responded, confused.

"Help me pick a name. I cant think of any."

"Are you sure, its not too personal?"

"There's no one else I'd have pick one out"

Y/N was touched.

she struggled to think of any that may fit. after some umm'ing and ahh'ing, she threw a few suggestions out at him.

"Hmm, what about...Hail?"

"Hail?" he responded. Less than enthusiastic.

"I guess not. Torrent?"

The clone stiffened at that suggestion. Y/N decided not to bring that idea up again.

"What about you. Any ideas?"

"I think, I want an actual name. Not a thing. I was always called a thing. It's why they didn't give us names..."

If that didn't make Y/N want to cry and fight at the same time...

"Real names. Got it. Uhh, Mathew?"

"Eh"

"Ok, Andrew?"

"Nah"

"Ooh, what about Cody?"

"Absolutely not."

He seemed especially against that suggestion. Another thing Y/N would steer clear of.

"I have one more idea. How do you feel about Gabriel?"

"Gabriel?" He seemed a lot warmer to that suggestion than the others.

"Sure, why not. I think it suits you"

The veteran was a little choked up.

A name. An actual name. One that she chose for him. He liked it. It was, strong, pretty and had a nice ring.

"I think...I could be Gabriel. Yeah. I'll be Gabriel"

"Well then, Gabriel, it's good to finally meet you." Y/N greeted him, the first one to use his new name.

Gabriel felt like he could be a new man, now.

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

Afternoon turned into evening quicker than they thought it would. Y/N had managed to untangle Gabriel's matted locks, brushing them out and running some oil through them while giving him a scalp massage.

He tried to tell her she didn't need to do that, but then Y/N hit a good spot, just behind his ear and he groaned and melted, relishing in his darlings sweet giggle.

She was done with his hair too soon for Gabriel's liking though, so he asked her to help him with his beard.

"I want it gone, if you can" he had instructed. Y/N couldn't blame him. It must've felt uncomfortable.

So, once again going into the bathroom and coming back out, Y/N started to trim Gabriel's beard.

He took in her look of concentration, her steady hand and the fact she seemed very comfortable with her task.

"You've done this before?" He asked as she pulled away for a second, checking the length and finding it short enough for a razor.

"Don't move. I don't wanna nick you. And I do. I... I had brothers, once. Same as you"

He understood her meaning. All to familiar with the feeling of loss and emptiness and of something missing that never goes away.

"What happened?"

Y/N took out a straight razor.

“A home invasion. My family owned a house on the other side of Daiu. It apparently had gotten out that my father had some sort of Stache in his house. Jewels or cash or beskar. Something stupid like that,"

She took the razor to the top of his beard, carefully working in the same direction that it grew. Her hands steady, but her voice was once again breaking.

"My mother and I, we were out at the time. It was just my brothers and father. They tried to defend what little we had but they were gunned down anyway. They should have just let the thieves look. We had nothing of value.

That was 3 years ago now, my mother drank herself to death a few months later. It's been just me, ever since."

Gabriel didn't know what to say. He couldn't have imagined that this precious girl, working so sweetly and gently on his face could have such a bloody history.

"I'm sorry, little one."

Y/N pulled away. Wiping the razor off on a towel and trying to discretely wipe a tear away.

"It's okay. It is very sad, but, it's in the past now."

She went back to work on the other side of his face.

"Besides. It's not all bad. I've met you haven't I?"

"I don't think many would consider that a positive" he answered flatly.

Y/N, who had finished his beard and was now wiping his face, looked Gabriel in his eyes.

"I do" she simply stated. So sure and genuine.

Gabriel couldn't help himself.

She was so close. Her lips looked so soft, and for the first time in over a decade, he went in for a kiss.

It was clumsy and quick, but sweet. However, Y/N was so shocked she didn't respond.

Gabriel pulled away quickly, as if burnt.

'What am I doing?' He thought, disgusted with himself.

He couldn't stay in the same room as her, not right now.

With no pride left to spare he rushed to the bathroom, locking the door and sliding down against it, pulling his knees to his chest.

'I've ruined it. I was so close and I ruined it. She probably doesn't want me like that, she probably wants me gone now.'

His thoughts spiraled out of control as he heaved and panicked alone in the bathroom.

On the other side of the door, Y/N was getting herself together.

She wasn't expecting the kiss, but she was happy to know he felt something for her after all.

That made his rushed exit hurt more. She didn't want him to be scared to love her. So, gathering herself, she went and knocked on the fresher.

She didn't know if it was locked or not but Y/N wanted Gabriel to let her in, willingly.

There was no answer. She knocked again.

"Gabriel? Please open the door. I'm not mad at you, I promise. I was just surprised."

Gabriel heard her sweet call cut through his panic attack. He wanted to move but couldn’t bring himself to.

So he sat there, and answered.

"I...cant. Not yet. Please, Y/N, I'm sorry. I, I was...I'm sorry."

Gabriel could only apologize. His broken voice was small and scared and it broke Y/N.

"Don't apologize Gabriel. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I...I actually liked the kiss. I just, didn't think you’d want, well, me. Not like that”

Her gentle voice was starting to lull Gabriel out of his frozen state. His limbs uncurling and his head leaning back against the door.

it was a few moments before she heard him answer her.

"You... I can still stay here, with you? You still want me?'

He needed to hear it. He needed her to say that she wanted him to stay with her.

"Yes. I want you Gabriel. I want you in my home and my life."

"Say that again, please?"

"I want you to stay here with me, Gabriel. In whatever sense you want. Whatever your willing to give, I'll take."

Gabriel did a double take.

"What are you saying?"

He understood her words, but couldn't process their meanings. She couldn't be saying what he thought she was saying, could she?

He dared to hope a little.

"Open the door, please. Let me in and I'll tell you everything...show you everything, if you want"

Gabriel didn't know if he groaned or sobbed.

"Yes. Yes, please Y/N. Please"

"Open the door, my love"

Y/N had her forehead leaning against the entrance, her hand over the panel. It seemed like an eternity before she felt the tell tale shudder before it slid open, revealing one very distraught clone trooper.

She reached out to cup his face, his eyes reluctant to meet hers for fear she'd see the pain and shame and love in them. Love for her.

"Oh, Gabriel. I could never want you to leave." Y/N wiped a stray tear away.

"For as long as you want, you have a home here with me. I'm my house, in my arms, my bed and my heart, if that's what you want. It’s yours. Just say the word"

Gabriel was crying in earnest now. She, did she love him?

He brought her in close. He plush, warm body like a safety blanket to him. Comforting and real. Gabriel buried his face onto Y/N's shoulder and sobbed.

"I...Y/N. My sweet, beautiful Y/N. I think your the love of my life"

He managed to gasp out, into her sweet smelling hair.

Gabriel felt the comforting action of Y/N's fingers massaging his scalp, and he nearly purred at the gesture.

"I am yours, Gabriel. Have been for quite a while." She pulled back from him. Gabriel tried to crowd into her again, not liking the distance but Y/N had other plans.

"Come to bed with me?"

He almost choked.

"Yes. Yes, please. I need this - you- so badly. Please"

"Sweet gods, you must've been so lonely all those years, you poor man. Come on, come to bed. Let me make love to you, my Gabriel"

Y/N had no idea where this confidence was coming from. She was neither the most confident or the most experienced. But this man, this beautiful man made her want to bring him so much pleasure and love that he never thinks about his hardships again.

Y/N took his hand, and led him up to her lofted bedroom. It wasn't big, but the huge window reached above the ugly neon lights, illuminating the room in a golden glow.

It hit Gabriel's face and Y/N sucked in a gasp.

"What's wrong?" He asked, spooked.

"Nothing, it's just, your so pretty!"

He whimpered.

"That's right, you! Your such a pretty, beautiful man that I'm going to take to bed, okay? You just tell me what you like and don't like, yeah?"

Y/N started to undress him, sliding the top of his undershirt up past his stomach and chest slowly. She felt the muscle and the fat there, playing with the sweet rolls at his sides, running her fingers through the salt and pepper hair on his broad chest, scratching lightly at his skin.

The man was panting by now, longing and pain screwed his face up and Y/N could tell this was an extremely emotional and vulnerable moment for him.

"It's okay to cry, my love. I'll hold you. We don't have to do anything if that makes you feel better" she explained, understandingly.

"No! I want this, I want this so bad it hurts. It all hurts I just...I need to feel it, feel you"

He didn't know how to explain it to her. He wanted her to love him while he cried onto her shoulder.

He wanted to feel her riding him, warm and wet and soft, while he shed tears of grief and love.

He felt so much, he wanted to explode, and he wanted to do it with Y/N, surrounded by her presence and her body.

He felt so safe with her here. It wasn't something he'd felt before, ever.

Y/N, amazing that she was, nodded understandingly.

"Alright, Gabriel. You do that. You cry and grieve as much as you want. I'll love you for as long as it takes." She pulled away, stepping back.

"I'm going to undress now. Then I'm going to go and sit on the bed. I want you to climb on top, into my lap okay? Trust me on this."

How could he not. She had every part of him. Mind, body and soul.

Gabriel tried not to stare. He REALLY tried. But he failed, openly gazing at his love as she stripped down to nothing. Bare and beautiful in the winters evening sun.

She was curvaceous, and lush and luxurious looking, her body straight out of his most beautiful dreams, stretchmarks and all.

She walked past him to the bed. Gabriel thought he'd pass out after seeing her naked ass and thighs jiggle.

She got herself comfortable, stacking pillows behind her and motioned for Gabriel to join her.

Swiftly, he discarded the rest of his clothing, his straining need bouncing out of confinement and twitching at the object of all his desired being right there, right there in front of him. Willing and lovingly enthusiastic.

Y/N reached a hand out to him, guiding him to sit in her lap.

The lotus flower position, he vaguely recalled. His brothers who had been smitten by their bed partners had said it was a religious experiance for them. He didnt understand then.

He does now.

He let Y/N settle him down. Rubbing and massaging and playing his body like they were always meant to end up here.

she messed around with the drawer in her bedside table, pulling out a bottle and squirting some of its contents into her palm.

Gabriel whined when sweet Y/N brought her lube slicked hand down to feel him up.

"Ooh, you're so big, so ready. Your perfect for me. Your such a good, strong man" she sighed out.

Y/N felt so good, even just her hand was so much more incredible than what he could have imagined.

Working his cock tenderly, she smeared pre come from the head around his shaft, and reached down to fondle his balls, when she spoke.

"Are you...when was the last time you were checked? Do you have an implant, or..."

He groaned, having forgotten about that.

"I'm sorry. I'm clean, clones dont get STD's, but I had to have my implant taken out years ago..."

He buried his face back into Y/N's neck, lightly nipping and licking at the skin there, trying to dedicate her taste to his memories.

"Shhh, shhhh. That's okay sweet boy. Your still doing so well. Your so good being honest with me, yeah. I have the implant, so I'm confident in our safety, but if you want, I have condoms we can use."

Gabriel could understand her wanting to ensure both their safety, but the thought of her potentially round with his child, glowing with new life, lit a spark he didnt know he still had.

"That's okay, Y/N I... I dont mind. I actually, well... never mind that now"

Y/N rubbed the clones back soothingly, running her free hand down and squeezing his ass to pull him further into her, while the other one still caressed his weeping, angry cock.

"There’s more, isnt there? You dont have to be frightened or ashamed, I'm right here for you."

"I... I couldn't help it. You were talking about being safe then I just saw you, pregnant with my baby and...you were just so pretty, so perfect and glowy. Y/N please, I'd never force that on you, I mean it"

"Hmm, good boy. It's alright. I'm not mad. Who knows, maybe one day there will be a little me and you running around," the clones shoulders shook, Y/N felt the first of his tears hit her shoulder.

"There you go, that's right, let it out. Maybe one day. But for now, let's just focus on making you feel better. Why dont we start here."

She let go of Gabriel's cock and brought her hand to her opening. It was soaked. Aching and swollen and so ready for his love.

She slicked up Gabriel's cock with some of her own juices, lining his head up with her hole.

"You gotta go slow for me, okay? Be gentle. It’s, been a while"

He nodded in her shoulder, silent tears still streaming down her back.

Gently, so so gently, he started to push in, his breath coming out in ragged puffs against Y/N's back, while she whimpered at the stretch of him filling her.

They performed this slow, sensual dance for what seemed like an eternity.

The gentle push and pull of Gabriel's body as he slipped his cock into Y/N, inch by inch, made time speed up and freeze all at once for both of them.

Finally, he bottomed out. Gabriel had completly buried himself in the woman of his dreams, his balls resting against her ass as she leaned back, adjusting to his full size.

They sat there for a while. Gabriel inside Y/N, his legs wrapped around her hips, his arms encircling her shoulders, pressing her to him.

Eventually, Y/N started to rock him. Not only encouraging him to move his hips, but rocking his upper torso back and forth, guiding him to his completion while providing a soothing gesture for him to lean into.

He came in her, coating Y/N with his love as he groaned and whined and babbled his devotion into Y/N's tear stained shoulder.

Y/N held him through his orgasm. rubbing his shaking shoulders and legs. shushing and humming as his breath jumped and he whimpered out his pleasure.

"Good job. You did so well for me. Shh, shhh. It's okay, you beautiful sweet man. I love you. I love you so much Gabriel"

Y/N kissed her lovers shoulder and neck, pressing her cheek into the top of his head when he pulled away, cupping her face and bringing it in for a nuzzle before pressing his forehead against hers.

It was an incredibly sweet and tender gesture, Y/N thought she was going to melt when he spoke up.

"Did you cum too?" he asked, his voice small and shy.

Y/N shook her head. An understanding smile on her face.

"Not this time, beautiful. This was about you, not me.

Gabriel wouldn't take that for an answer.

Slowly, he slipped his cock out of Y/N, wincing as she hissed.

He gave her a loving kiss before going down on his knees on the floor, bringing the flushed woman to the edge of the bed, determined to make her feel how much he loved her.

Gabriel took her hand in his, entwining their fingers before he gripped the soft fat of her thigh, and dove between her legs.

Y/N jumped a mile in the air. He sucked at her clit and lapped at her pussy like a man starved, kissing and nipping lightly around her flower.

He cleaned up any cum that may have been leaking out of her, not minding the taste, just reveling in the holistic experiance she was allowing him to have.

He may have been clumsy, and a little uncoordinated, but what he lacked in experience, he made up for tenfold in enthusiasm.

Gabriel drank from Y/N like it was the juice from the sweetest and tangiest of fruits, the finest of honeyed wine. His dedication to her, his worship, led to an orgasm in no time at all.

“Gabriel! I, ooo, that’s good. Just like that. I think…Gabriel I’m gonna, I…HMMMMMMNGGG!”

She came with a low groan, her nectar coating his face as he lapped up as much as he could, before wiping his mouth and resurfacing for a kiss.

Y/N didn’t mind the taste of herself on his tongue, and together they cuddled up, snuggling in their after glow.

All too soon though, it became too uncomfortable and sticky for them to stay in bed. They both went to bathe, ending up in the bath and watching a holo on Y/N’s data pad together.

Y/N could tell he wasn’t getting into the show, though. Gabriel was more interested in watching her. Watching her expressions and the way she lit up or screwed her brow together at the plot.

Eventually Y/N got tired of the Holo as well, turning it off and putting it down in the floor next to the bath.

Turning around, careful not to splash too much water over the sides, she wrapped her arms and legs around Gabriel’s torso, sinking into his softness with a sigh of content.

“Your warm and comfy” she breathed out, just about falling asleep on his chest.

Gabriel’s heart swelled with pride. He couldn’t help it. His ego was stroked by the woman currently trying to bury her way into him, trying to get as close as possible to his warmth and safety.

Yeah, he liked that he could make her feel safe, even if there was no danger. He liked to protect and now, he had something he could look after like he’d always wanted.

after what seemed like no time at all though, the water turned cold. Too cold for his love to stay in without catching a cold.

“My love?” He gently whispered into the sleepy woman’s ear.

She whined in response, earning an amused huff from him.

“I think we should get out. It’s too cold for you”

“Nooo. M’not cold, and I’m comfy too”

Y/N clung tighter to his chest, not wanting to peel herself off of him. He didn’t have the strength to try and force her.

So instead, he just slid his hands under her ass and awkwardly stood up, taking her with him.

This seemed to startle the woman, who slid off with a squawk.

“All right, all right. I’m up” she said, annoyance at being disturbed lacing her tone.

“Come, little one. Let’s go to bed.”

Y/N yawned and nodded. Too tired to fight and lured behind him by the promise of a warm bed shared with the large, soft man.

When they got upstairs and climbed under the covers, they snuggled up again, with Y/N on Gabriel’s chest and tummy like a weighted blanket, and him with his arms around her.

It felt cozy, right.

Maybe all those years of suffering meant something after all.

Gabriel felt a warm tingling. Y/N had started kissing whatever skin was closest to her lips, giving gentle little kitten licks and nips along the way.

“Love?” Gabriel questioned, not sure of her intentions.

Y/N yawned and nuzzled back into his soft, hairy chest. Gabriel felt more than heard her reply.

“Nothing, beautiful. I just, I love you”

She was already asleep by the time Gabriel answered, snoring sweetly and gently. Content to rest trustingly in his arms and on his heart.

“I love you too.” He slurred sleepily, joining her in dreams knowing he’d see her there too.

Yeah, it had all been for something after all.

Hunger | Coriolanus Snow

From the moment your husband introduces to President Snow, you're untethered, as if the very floor was ripped from underneath you.

Warnings: NON-CON, District 12! Reader, Covey! Reader, Housewife Kink, Manipulation, Somnophilia, Breeding Kink, Chasing

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Nervousness wrenches your insides as you peer at the proceedings from afar. Another gala to raise funds in order to quell a budding rebellion in the Districts. The second one this year. 

They always leave you feeling sour. It’s not like the Districts have no reason to start an uprising. The next reaping is fastly approaching and you’d rage too if your family was to go through that again.

You take a tiny sip from your glass of posca, mindful not to overindulge. The diluted, aromatic wine is far stronger than one would imagine. But a slight dash of intoxication is the only way you can see yourself getting through the night. Crowds always made you anxious, but a gathering of Capitol citizens stirs a particular discomfort in you. 

You’re not one of them and you often wonder if they can tell, sense a whiff of District 12 on you. The foul stench of unbelonging. Perhaps in the manner you speak or your stance. You’ve never managed to perfectly mimic the way Capitol ladies carry themselves, born from a lifetime of practicing poise and etiquette. After all, you are an outsider, and always will be.

Regardless of how many galas you attend, fashionable dresses you order to match the quickly changing trends of the Capitol, effort you exert to erase your thick Covey accent…it seems someone can always tell there’s more to you.

It’s in that mocking glint in their eyes, that sneering lilt in their voice.

To them, you’ll never be more than District rabble. 

Which is exactly why you despise these events. But your husband insisted. He’s working hard to impress his boss, the most important man in all of Panem, and you can’t let him down.

You must be the picture of charm. Laugh at every joke, nod your head when a serious topic is being broached, display interest when personal stories are being shared.

You place a hand on your roaring stomach, a frown creasing your brow. You haven’t swallowed a bite the entire day, too anxious about how tonight would go.

Your gaze darts about the room. The tantalizing spread of appetizers in the middle of the room seems to be calling your name. Your mouth waters.

Without a thought, your feet glide across the marble tiles. A little self-conscious, hesitation tingles at your fingertips as they drum by one of the silver platters. Another pang of hunger pierces your insides at the sight of the food. You cave in, picking up a tiny sandwich from a plate. Your eyes close, angels singing in your mouth as delicious aromas trickle on your tongue. 

“Sweetie, there’s someone you must meet,” your husband chimes at your back.

Still chewing on a mouthful of meat and bread, you whirl. Your eyes bulge. Startled, you nearly suffocate on your food.

You quickly wipe your mouth as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You’ve seen his face before. The murky screens do not do justice to his dashing looks.

“President Snow. It’s a pleasure. Apologies, I was…”

A smile ghosts over his lips as he drinks you in, his cerulean gaze dragging over your frame. “No apologies,” he answers silkily. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the food. At least someone is.”

He picks up your hand and presses an ephemeral peck on the back of it. You turn to Henry. The shock adorning your husband’s face mirrors yours.

President Snow’s lips curl skywards.

He lets go of your hand and adds, “It’s nice putting a face to your name. Henry is always raving about you.”

You shake your head, eyes bashfully finding the floor. “Oh, I’m sure he isn’t,” you mumble.

The blonde hums as if to disagree. He bends close to your ear.

“He’s always lauding what a wonderful wife you are, dutiful, sweet…”

…Makes me almost jealous.

Your head whips up.

You blink at the whispered words, barely above a breath. Maybe you heard wrong. It’s hard to tell, the way Snow gauges you, that subtle smile still decorating his handsome face.

He asks you trivial questions about how you’re settling in and how you’re enjoying your life in the Capitol. You answer every time, ignoring the chill dancing at the base of your spine.

His scrutiny swells your unease.

So as soon as the conversation veers away from you and towards the topics of lawmaking and taxes, you snatch the opportunity to excuse yourself.

You give an apologetic smile to your husband.

“Henry, maybe I should go. I’m not feeling too hot.”

He scowls at you. “You want us to leave already?” Disappointment bleeds in his tone. A thick layer of shame settles in the pit of your stomach. You’re being a bad wife.

“You can stay, even if I go,” you try to offer.

“There’s still so many people we haven’t talked to…” Henry argues.

You deflate. You suppose it would be uncouth to leave too early.

To your surprise, President Snow’s smooth lilt interjects, “If your wife is unwell, you both should go.”

You gape at him. A strange glint bounces in his cerulean orbs and unease flutters through you once more. 

Henry sighs, grabbing your hand.

“Alright. I’ll go fetch the car.” 

He gives the blond a formal salute before dragging you away.

As the two of you leave, the heat of Snow’s attention prickles along your spine.

“Did he say something to you?”

Gasping, you turn to your husband. He pointedly looks at you and you shift awkwardly in the passenger seat. 

“What?” you say, taken aback by his sudden question. 

He studies you for a while before his gaze drifts back to the road.

“Snow. He said something to you, didn’t he?”

Your chest clenches. Faking nonchalance, you shrug and reply lightly, “Just a joke but I didn’t understand it.”

The days soar by, humdrum and uneventful. You file away the strange moment at the gala and return to your everyday life. Henry occupies most of your time but when you’re not catering to him, you tend to the house and read. And during stolen moments…you play and sing. Henry doesn’t know, of course. It’s a life you left behind, or are supposed to at least. 

You’re the wife of a Capitol official, not some District balladeer peddling song for coin.

But you can’t help it. 

Singing reminds you of home. Of endless green meadows and lazy afternoons by the river. Your life from before may have been uncertain but you find yourself missing it at times. Missing the freedom to do and act as you pleased.

An orphan like so many others, the Covey were the only family you ever knew. Then you met Henry. Henry who spoke so sweetly to you and gazed at you with warm brown eyes. And he became your family. He didn’t care that you were from a District or that your manners were lacking. He embraced you.

And now you wish to support him in all that he does. Even if it means tossing away parts of yourself.

The front door cracks open, halting the path of the needle between your fingers. A smile blooms on your lips as you place Henry’s shirt on a nearby table. You can resume fixing the buttons on it later. You rise from the armchair and make your way to him. You help him out of his coat, noting the excitement radiating off his frame.

He’s not usually this ecstatic after a day of work. You tilt your head in puzzlement.

He hugs you before announcing, “We have a guest tomorrow, a very important guest.”

“Oh,” you reply, tamping down your concern. The apartment isn’t exactly ready for guests, much less important ones. The fridge needs to be stocked and the furniture requires thorough dusting.

“Yes, I was mentioning what a wonderful cook you are and he said he hasn’t had a home cooked meal in a while.”

“Who?” you ask, your curiosity peaking.

“President Snow,” Henry replies with a victorious grin.

Dread and confusion collide inside you. Why would President Snow visit you and your husband of all people? While Henry’s been rising in ranks quite fast, you can’t picture the leader of the country making time for people like you.

But you don’t voice these thoughts, instead you inquire, “Are you sure my cooking will be enough for him? His palate is used to those fancy meals at the Capitol.”

He cradles your face and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t doubt yourself, honey. You’re an amazing cook.”

“I just don’t want to let you down,” you confess, anxiously chewing on your lip.

“You won’t,” he assures. His chestnut gaze dives into yours. “This could be a great opportunity for us. Imagine what being close to Snow could do for our lives. He could promote me. We could even move to a bigger place.”

Your brows knit. “I love our place.”

Henry laughs. “Yes but the day we expand our family, you have to admit it’ll be a little small.”

You peer at your surroundings. Every corner of the little house harbors a beloved memory. You’d hate leaving it behind, but you suppose he’s right. You might outgrow it one day.

Henry frames your chin to draw your focus back to him.

“Just be yourself,” he says. “Your kind, sweet, wonderful self and all will be well.”

Nodding, you give a feeble smile.

“Understood.”

The next day is spent meticulously cleaning every inch of the house. For hours you’re anxious, wondering what to say or do, how to behave. You don’t have the natural wit and charm to impress someone like Coriolanus Snow. You keep worrying you’ll speak out of turn and embarrass Henry. Preparing dinner is the only time your mind is at rest. You stir the vegetables in the stew, smiling as the delectable scent fills your nostrils. It’s simmered for hours to create a rich flavor. It’s only your second time trying this recipe so you’re a bit nervous. Henry adored it but he’s your husband. You don’t know if President Snow’s delicate taste buds will find your meals to his liking.

You’re slightly more confident about your strawberry cake. While you struggled with it at first, the frosting never quite coming out the way you wanted, it’s now turned into one of your specialties.

The doorbell rings and you freeze. You glance up at the clock hanging near the stove. Already? Time has flown and you didn’t notice.

As you approach the door, you smooth out the wrinkles in your apron and straighten your spine. You take a deep breath before opening the door. 

A wobbly smile cants your lips upwards. 

“President Snow, it’s an honor,” you greet cheerfully.

The tall blond crosses the threshold after your husband. You take him in, trying to girdle your apprehension. He casts an imposing figure with his slicked back silver locks and tailored purple suit, the signature white rose pinned to his left breast pocket as always.

An aura of authority seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

“Please, the honor is mine,” Snow says. His sky gaze roams across the living room. His expression is unreadable and you feel a bit self-conscious. It’s likely not as luxurious as what he’s used to. But to your surprise, he looks right at you and says, “What a lovely abode.”

His nose twitches as he hums, “I smell something heavenly, for me perhaps?”

You nod.

“I made beef stew.”

“Wonderful.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. 

“Shall we sit?” Henry says, escorting him to the dining room.

You rush to the kitchen and throw your apron on a chair. Inhaling a lungful of nerve, you slip on gloves and grab the pot from the stove. Slowly, you bring out the food. Your skin tingles with the weight of Snow’s eyes on you. 

You ladle out the stew on each plate. When you circle the table to serve Snow, you feel the faintest brush of fingertips over your hip. You flinch.

When you look at him, an almost imperceptible smile hovers on his lips. You blink and it almost seems like it’s gone, as if you dreamt the entire instant. The ladle wavers in your hand.

Did he mean to do that? Once again, you question your own senses, your sanity. It was a fleeting touch, the accidental kind that occurs everyday. But somehow your nerves are agitated with this mere, insignificant second.

Quickly, you round the table and plop down in the chair next to your husband. He squeezes your hand beneath the table, his brown gaze spelling “good job”. Relief sits inside you. You spent all day agonizing over every aspect of tonight so it’s nice to know Henry appreciates your efforts at least.

Everyone starts eating, your husband and Snow engaging in topics you only listen to with half an ear. Instead you focus on your plate, swallowing tiny bites of the stew. 

The flavor is nice and rich, just like you hoped, and pride trickles inside you.

“You’re so silent. Are we boring you?”

Snow’s abrupt statement yanks a sharp gasp from you. Your head snaps up. You realize both he and Henry are staring at you. Your face warms.

“N-No, I just don’t have anything interesting to contribute,” you stammer, your head dipping. 

“My wife has no mind for politics, I’m afraid,” Henry chuckles. 

Your mouth screws shut, your fingers tightening around your spoon. It’s more that your opinions differ vastly and there are things Henry prefers you don’t say aloud.

A crooked smirk blooms on Snow’s lips.

“Ah, a pretty, silent one. I believe you lucked out with this one, Henry.”

Your teeth grind as your brows twitch. Pretty and silent. You don’t know why the words chafe you, cutting into you as deep as a knife. 

You rise from your chair and grab your near empty plate. 

“I should go clean the kitchen,” you announce with a terse smile.

You don’t look back as you walk away, berating yourself with every step.

This isn’t how one should behave in front of him. But you also don’t think you can spend another second in his presence.

You rub the sponge over the top of the stove, satisfaction trickling inside you as the grease and sauce stains are wiped away. You bask in the calm, concentrated on your task. 

A warm breath tickles the shell of your ear.

“You seemed peeved before.”

Sucking a sharp breath, you whirl on your heels. Your hand spreads over your chest as your vision is filled with the towering frame of President Snow. His stance is relaxed as he peers at you curiously.

“You scared me…President.”

He ignores your reaction, continuing his statement from before, “When we were discussing the next reaping.”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t peeved.”

“Your face, it did that thing.” Your forehead creases. He inches closer. The scent of roses, thick and heady, coats your senses. Your head starts spinning. “Like now. It bothered you.”

Panic flutters through you. This is a man who could have you hanged or jailed for saying the wrong thing. But something about his expression tells you he won’t relent, that he'll only take the truth and nothing else.

So your heart spills out of you.

“In an ideal world, we wouldn’t need the Hunger Games. They are…” You trail off, remembering yourself, who you’re speaking to. You bite down your feelings and go quiet.

But Snow bends over you, crowding your space as your back hits the edge of the stove.

“What? Barbaric? Cruel?” He chuckles and goosebumps rise on your flesh. “But we do need them, dove. Every single year. So the districts never forget their place, and most importantly ours.”

Your lip quakes. Snow’s gaze follows the motion, his lips slanting lopsidedly.

“Such a sweet soul,” he whispers.

He suddenly backs away from you. Air rushes back to your lungs.

“It’s late. I should take my leave. Thank you for a most…enlightening dinner.”

You resume your life and, for a while, everything is normal. Henry doesn’t talk about that night again and neither do you, the both of you bonded by that silent agreement. Maybe he saw Snow talking to you in the kitchen, maybe he didn’t. You’ll never know as he keeps his thoughts to himself, throwing himself into his work and acting like his usual self. 

And if there’s a bit more distance between the two of you in the marital bed, you try not to let it bother you. With time, the strangeness will fade and you and Henry will be back on track, trying for a child and enjoying marital bliss.

Though one evening, things are anything but normal. In fact, the world all but ends.

Your husband peruses the notice letter for rent once more. The blood seems to leave his face.

He runs his fingers through his dark curls.

“I don’t understand.”

Hands resting on his shoulders, your heart skips a beat as you read the neat printed letters.

Rent in your building has doubled overnight. If you and your husband do not pay up by next week, you will be evicted. Houseless.

Hell, you might even be sent back to your district. Your heart plummets to your feet. Your knees buckle underneath you. Henry catches you before you fall, leading you to the sofa as panicked breaths rush through your lungs.

He hunkers in front of you and holds your hands.

“I promise you I’ll find a way. Take out a loan or-”

“A loan we won’t be able to pay back?”

His jaw clenches. “Just let me handle it, okay?”

Though doubts creep inside you, you nod.

The days race along, tension growing each day as the deadline is approaching. Only three days. In just three days, you and your husband will be evicted unless a miracle happens.

And you conclude from the dark circles under Henry’s eyes and the way he barely answers when you speak to him, that he’s as clueless as you are.

There is no solution. Once again, the Capitol and its arbitrary rules strike.

So you come to a decision.

A decision that leads you in front of the biggest mansion in the entire Capitol. President Coriolanus Snow’s house. You suck in a wide lungful, quelling a shudder at the sight of the blue-clad peacekeepers lining the walls.

You stride towards the massive entrance gates. White roses twine around the wrought iron, their thorns seeming as sharp as knives. 

You gather your nerves and lift a tremulous hand towards the intercom.

Before you can even state your matter, a disembodied, feminine voice rises from the device.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asks stiffly.

Hasty words pour out of you. “No, but I just need a minute-”

“President Snow doesn’t accept any visitors,” she responds harshly.

Your heart sinks. Of course he doesn’t. It was naive of you to cling to the illusory hope he’d see you anyway. Just for one dinner he likely forgot about. He’s the president. There are crucial matters that perpetually call for his attention. A myriad of things bigger and more important than a single Capitol citizen’s rent issues.

Still, you elect to try again, remembering the imminent deadline.

“Please,” you beg. “It’s very important.”

A distorted sigh ripples from the intercom.

“If you do not leave the premises, we will be compelled to remove you from the property, miss.”

One of the peacekeepers posted at the gates looks straight at you, his hand tightening over the rear of his machine gun. A wave of ice spreads through your veins.

You swallow and step back, accepting your defeat. Burning with shame, you start walking away from the mansion.

But you’re hardly a feet away, as the same voice from before erupts again, much softer this time. 

“My apologies, miss. I didn’t realize you were a close friend of President Snow.”

Your jaw hangs slack as you turn.

A woman with long dark hair appears through the open gates.

“Please, follow me,” she says as she approaches you. “The president will see you right away.”

Still steeped in utter shock, you acquiesce. You trail behind her. You can’t help but allow your eyes to wander as the woman escorts you through a dizzying series of hallways. While the front of the mansion is impressive with its lavish gardens and striking architecture, the inside is just as grandiose. You feel small as your gaze rests on all the sculptures and paintings decorating every corner of the house. Everywhere you look, there is something beautiful and eye-catching. The entire house is like a museum, meant to be admired rather than lived in.

Eventually the woman halts in front of a mahogany door. She tugs on the brass handles and stands to the side, making room for you to walk in. You mumble ‘thank you’ under your breath as you stumble inside the office.

President Snow’s blue eyes crinkle when they rest on you.

“Hello, dove. Why don’t you have a seat?” he offers, pointing at the chair before his desk. 

Licking your lips, you do as he says. Despite the softness of the plush upholstery you sit on, your nerves flare up. You had an entire speech ready, one you practiced on the way here. 

But now that you’re here, his intense focus pinned on you, you’re at a loss. 

Shaky words trickle out of your mouth.

“President Snow. I know you must be so busy…”

“Nonsense,” he interrupts, leaning back in his leather chair. “I always find time for my friends.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“T-That’s a relief to hear,” you stammer.

A maid brings a kettle and biscuits on a silver platter. 

“Tea?” Snow asks as he picks up the kettle.

“No, thank you.”

As Snow pours himself a cup, you ponder your next words. You don’t want to seem greedy but you can’t think of an elegant way to state your purpose.

So you settle for the truth.

“I came because…my husband and I are in a bit of trouble.”

Snow scrutinizes you for a while. Your stomach tightens. 

He then gives a sluggish nod, bending forwards as his fingers lace together.

“Do tell me everything, dove.”

You do exactly that. Snow is silent as your trembling voice fills his office. No word leaves his mouth while he listens. You don’t skip out a single detail, making a point to emphasize what consequences could befall upon you and your husband should you fail to meet the deadline. 

When you’re done, he sips from his tea cup and hums, “How unfortunate.”

“Can’t it be undone? I mean, couldn’t you…”

He chuckles along the porcelain rim of his cup. “I’m not responsible for every law and charter. I approve them, of course, but there are committees, councils. Each law serves the betterment of Panem as a whole. I can’t undo what has been done. I mean, how would this look to the rest of the Capitol? Like I have a different set of rules for my friends? I have to look impartial.” Heaving out a deep sigh, he sets his cup down.  “Apologies, dove, my hands are tied.”

The world seems to collapse around you. Your stomach sinks.

You surmise it was too big an ask, even for the President of Panem. You can’t expect special treatment. It was silly of you to even come hoping for anything resembling that.

You were foolish. Now you must collect the pathetic remnants of your dignity and take your leave.

Gulping down the tears pressing at the back of your eyes, you nod. 

“I’m sorry I asked,” you croak, already beginning to rise from your chair.

His deep lilt pauses your motion.

“But I suppose…there could be a solution. An alternative.”

Your brow furrows as you drop back on the chair.

“An alternative?”

“I could cover the difference.”

Your mouth nearly hits the floor. Snow using his own funds to help? It could be the very miracle you and your husband waited for. You would have to pay him back over time, of course. But for now, it would allow you and Henry to keep the apartment.

It’s a godsend.

“You would do that for us?” you mutter, shock stealing your air.

His reply is nonchalant. “Yes. I’d simply file it under my own personal investments.” Slanting his head sideways, he studies you. “I’d just ask for a small favor in exchange.”

“A favor?”

You wonder what kind of favor you could do for someone like Coriolanus Snow, the man who has everything and more. Gaping at him, you wait for him to elaborate.

He leans forward, crossing his arms over his desk.

“It’s not much but it would mean the world to me. The house needs some upkeep. Just a few light chores here and there. No cleaning, of course; I have an entire staff in charge of that. But the garden needs tending.” His inflection softens as he takes you in. “A home cooked meal every now and then would be nice, and I might sometimes ask you to join me for tea and conversation…” Mirth sways in his cerulean orbs. “As dreadful as that may sound.”

You move your head in assent.

“I think I can do that. But w-why me?”

He gives a long exhale, resting his jaw in his hand.

“Honestly dove? You’d be the one doing me a favor. All day, I’m surrounded by vultures.” Snow rolls his eyes skyward. “Sycophants who placate me with false smiles and honeyed lies.” His tone warms when his gaze falls back on you. “I simply wish to return home to someone genuine, someone who would never lie to me. And you wouldn’t, would you?”

“W-What?”

“Lie to me.”

Your skin heats under his scrutiny. 

Trying not to squirm, you sputter, “Never, sir.”

“Music to my ears,” the young president croons.

It’s not sounding like more work than what you do at home. You can already hear Henry’s discontent echoing in your head. You won’t have as much time for him. That too will be yet another adjustment.

But what other option is there? Even the family of four above yours had to move, unable to keep up with the sudden rent increase. You and Henry could be next.

“I…W-When do I start?”

The corners of Snow’s lips tug upwards.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

“You’re going to work for him?”

Henry’s displeasure ripples through you. You twine your hands and cast him an apologetic look. He despises that you went behind his back; you know that. But Henry ran himself ragged trying to come up with a solution. You didn’t want him to carry the burden on his own. That is not what a marriage is.

“He needs a housekeeper, of sorts. And he paid this month’s rent and the next upfront.”

Henry’s brows crumple. “Still, that’s…” Shoulders sagging, he crashes onto the sofa. The built-up exhaustion of the last few days seems to return all at once. You know he hasn’t slept a wink this whole week. Heart squeezing, you join his side and cradle his hand in your lap. Henry’s voice is dripping with shame and regret. “The entire reason I moved us here is so you never have to want for anything, so you wouldn’t have to work or suffer another day in this life.” His head dips. “I failed you.”

You cup his face, plunging your eyes into his.

“You didn’t fail me. And I won’t suffer. Sometimes life throws you lemons and you just have to squeeze those suckers dry.”

A hollow chuckle slips through his lips.

You run your thumbs over his growing beard.

"Listen, I know this wasn’t in our plans, but it’s just for now. In time, we’ll figure something out but I have to do this.” You lean your forehead against his. “For us.”

“Okay,” he belatedly concedes. He pulls your hands to his chest, kissing your knuckles.

“Just come home when you’re done.”

“I will,” you promise. 

The first day slogs forth without a hitch. A car picks you up in the morning and drops you off at President Snow’s estate. The dark-haired woman from before welcomes you, introduces you to the staff and walks you through your duties. You learn her name is Ariadne. 

You spend most of the day busy in the garden and library. Snow’s garden of roses might be one of the hidden treasures of Panem. Taking care of it is a pleasure and you even give yourself some minutes to bask in the sun’s warmth. 

The library shelves need dusting and you tend to this task as well, humming familiar tunes to yourself while working. It is no harm if no one is around to hear you sing. 

You don’t get bored as there’s always a task requiring your attention in the massive house. 

When stars begin to dust the darkening sky, you rush to the kitchen. You get started on dinner. Staff members give you space to work and you’re grateful. You don’t like being ogled while you cook. You marvel at the gold, high-end appliances as you knead your dough. The kitchen is pristine, like everything else in the house. You settle for something simple, hearty and warm. There is no point in pretending you’re some fancy chef when you’re not. If it’s what Snow desired, he’d have hired one. There’s a plethora of them in the Capitol for him to choose from after all. And they’d all line up outside his house in a heartbeat if he requested it.

You stand nervous, hands folded in your lap as the meal you prepared is brought out onto silver plates. You spent hours on it. Hopefully he likes it.

“This smells like heaven,” Snow purrs.

He then points at the chair next to his on the long table.

“Have a seat.”

Your eyes bulge. Not only are you stunned by his request, as there are so many other chairs on the gigantic dinner table, but you were hoping to return home to Henry once dinner was served.

 “Oh, I thought…”

He smiles at you. “I hate dining alone.”

You consider arguing. But as you remember all that you owe him, your mouth squeezes shut. You give a meek nod and drag your feet to the chair.

“Of course.”

You pick up your knife and fork…one of the knives and forks. You choose at random, unsure what purpose each of the cutlery items serves.

A smile waltzes upon Snow’s lips as he watches you. Shame pools in your gut. You feel like you’re making a fool of yourself.

He takes a bite of food and hums low in his throat, his eyes closing.

“Your cooking never fails to amaze, dove,” he lauds. Blue eyes search your face. “Are you hiding other talents from me?”

Your eyes lock onto your napkin, following the swirl of the flower patterns sewn in the corners. “I don’t think so,” you mumble.

Dinner continues in silence, only occasionally shattered by Snow’s sounds of delight and words of praise. Your own bites are small. While you’re glad it turned out the way you wanted, you’d rather save your appetite for home.

When a maid brings tea after the meal, Snow raises a dismissive hand.

“We’ll have tea and cakes in the study,” he announces.

Your face scrunches. “But it’s getting late. I should-”

“I must insist,” he interrupts. He rises from his seat and offers you his outstretched hand. 

His smile broadens.

“You would rob me of your company so swiftly, dove? How cruel of you.”

Reluctantly, you accept the hand he gives you. He helps you out of your chair and motions at you to follow him.

The both of you end up in his study, sitting by the fire. Tea is placed on the small table between you. Coriolanus takes a slow sip while you fiddle with your hands.

His cerulean gaze locks with yours.

“That song you were humming earlier.”

Your chest seizes.

The loud thudding of your heart fills your ears. You swallow thickly. 

“A song?”

“Yes,” he says absently, adding another spoonful of sugar to his cup. He gives a small stir before bringing it to his lips again. “I heard it as I walked by the library.”

You try not to let your panic show, cloaking yourself in false nonchalance. You thought you were discreet, quiet almost.

“Ah, that. It’s nothing,” you elude.

“No, it was lovely. You have the voice of an angel.” 

The compliment leaves you speechless.

But his next words tie your stomach in knots.

“I want to hear it again.”

“I don’t really…perform for audiences.”

“You mean since you left the Covey?”

Mouth agape, you stare at him. How did he find out? You don’t remember ever bringing it up. In fact, you wouldn’t. You expend great effort to hide your past on a daily basis.

Your reaction draws a snort from him. Amusement bounces in his orbs.

“Come on, dove, that accent…It might fool others but not me.”

“I don’t sing anymore,” you state firmly. 

Even if you did, you wouldn’t do it for Coriolanus Snow. Not of your own free will.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His inflection becomes sharp, all softness evanescing. “Remember when I told you that I hated lies?” His pointed gaze sends chills through your body. “Sing for me, dove.”

Your mouth goes dry as sand. 

You understand his words for what they are. An order from your president. A strange order…but an order nonetheless.

You don’t get to refuse. You’re to sing for him, whether it pleases you or not.

Like a bird in a cage.

So you do it. Your lips fall open and clear, soft notes rise out of you. A traditional song your mother taught you. It tells the story of a girl who meets a boy with ocean eyes, how she drowns in them but the fall is like rising to heaven. 

As your voice fills his office, Snow’s scorching gaze doesn’t leave you.

When the song is done, he doesn’t applaud or praise you.

Instead, his eyes bear into you for what feels like an eternity. You try not to move, though your heart thunders in your chest. 

“See, was that so hard?” he asks, that cocky smile still adorning his lips. You don’t reply, your throat ablaze. It felt as if you didn’t belong to yourself just then. And it terrifies you. He slides your untouched cup towards you. “Drink your tea before it gets cold. Then, you can go home.”

Without a protest, you lift the cup to your mouth. One measly cup of tea and you’ll get to go home. Then this uncomfortable evening can end. Finally.

But as the liquid trickles inside your mouth, tendrils of darkness lurk in your vision. Your body gets heavier. So heavy you can’t hold the cup anymore, or even yourself. The porcelain dish vanishes from your hands. You sag into your chair.

Progressively, colors dim around you. 

Then sleep drags you down into a rabbit hole of utter oblivion. And all is blackness.

Softness like you’ve never felt before greets you when you awake. Like being embraced by fluffy clouds. For a while, you linger in the comfortable sensation, humming against the plush blankets. But as your eyes land on the thin slice of sunlight spilling from the window, you unleash an audible gasp. 

You bolt in a sitting position. 

Your eyes widen as you find Ariadne observing you between the velvet curtains at the end of the bed.

Gripping the side of your head, you glance at your surroundings. Clearly, you’re in a room. But how did you wind up here? No matter how hard you try, you can’t summon a single memory from last night.

“Ariadne? What happened?” 

She circles the bed to take a seat next to you. Her gentle tone alleviates your rising panic.

“You fell asleep,” she explains. “Master Snow brought you here so you can get some proper rest.” 

You sigh. It does make sense. Though you can’t stamp out the trickle of embarrassment sitting inside you with that knowledge. You dozed off on the job, on your first day. Hopefully, Snow isn’t too offended. 

“I must have been more tired than I thought,” you mutter, looking down.

“He’s gone now; he had urgent business at the Justice Building. But he insisted you eat a proper meal before you go.” She points at the golden food cart near the bed, every tray brimming with pastries, fruits, meats and cheeses. Way more than you could eat in a single meal.

The kind of decadent abundance the Capitol likes to indulge in. 

You politely decline. 

“I can’t…I have to return to my husband. He must be worried sick.”

Ariadne puts a hand on your arm.

“Word has been sent to him that you were simply tending to Master Snow’s needs last night.”

You purse your lips. It’s not ideal but at least he knows you were working. 

“Good,” you reply, nodding.

You yank the blanket off your body, determined to stand up and leave. But as soon as you’re on your feet, you crash back down on the bed, a strange ache awakening in your limbs.

Your forehead creases. You hug your stomach, a vicious cramp creeping there too.

Ariadne’s immediately at your side, placing her hands over your arms.

“Take it easy, miss,” she warns. “You exerted yourself a great deal yesterday.” She beams brightly. “In fact, Master Snow has given you a few days off. He was very satisfied with your work and expects you in three days’ time.”

Your brows rise. “Oh, that’s very generous.”

Her grin expands.

“He is exceedingly pleased with your performance.”

Over the next few weeks, Snow keeps summoning you sporadically. The days you work for him are pretty much the same. You attend to your daily tasks, you cook for him and then the two of you have tea in his study. He has you sing for him sometimes. You’ve learnt to swallow your feelings and perform according to his whim. You don’t even sing to yourself anymore, the exultation you drew from it all but gone. It was a way to stay connected to your Covey roots, to keep your family close to your heart. Now you can’t do it without his icy gaze invading your thoughts.

You often end up incredibly tired on those days, your body aching and sore for hours afterwards. You never imagined working for Coriolanus Snow would drain you so much. Falling asleep in his house even turns into a regular occurrence, happening almost every time you show up for work.

Naturally, Henry isn’t thrilled with that. Every time you come back home, too tired to wait on him hand and foot like you used to, his displeasure grows.

But he’s also yet to find a way to fix the issue, so the two of you must keep working. You’ve already sold everything that you could, clothes, any belonging of slight value. 

The gap is still too vast. 

And the city won’t allow you to apply for another place to live, claiming the waitlist is already sky-high.

Though you resent it, Coriolanus Snow is your only hope.

“You’re not in charge of dinner tonight,” Ariadne announces one night as you fire the stove.

You turn the burners off, your eyes rounding.

“I’m not?” 

A bright smile blooms on the brunette’s face.

“Master Snow is inviting you to dine with him as his guest, to express gratitude for your outstanding work.”

Your lips part in surprise. In the many weeks you’ve worked for President Snow, this has never happened. You have shared meals, of course, but you’ve never received such a formal invitation.

You suppose it’s all a game to Snow, and he simply changes the rules whenever he feels it.

She astonishes you further when she urges you to follow her to one of the guest bedrooms.

Utter dismay fills you.

A white dress lies atop the bed. The sleeveless evening gown looks more expensive than any dress you’ve ever laid eyes on. The delicate white silk flares at the waist, the gigantic, fluffy layered skirt making your head spin already. You imagine how hard it'd be to move in such a dress. Though you surmise it won’t be too much of a concern as you only need to sit through dinner with it.

“Master Snow expects you to wear this tonight,” Ariadne chimes.

She helps you slip on the dress, a task you undoubtedly would have struggled to complete on your own, the many layers of tulle, silk and lace of the huge skirt alone their own challenge.

Eventually, you’re dressed. 

She escorts you to the dinner room. Curious eyes dart about the halls, noting their unusual emptiness. Not a single footman, maid or Avox in sight. 

You’re alone.

“The house is very quiet,” you point out.

Ariadne beams at you from above her shoulder.

“The entire staff’s been sent home. Master Snow wants to wait on you himself tonight.”

Your stomach knots, a foreboding feeling swelling within you.

Still, you glide forward. It’s a little late to turn back.

When you enter the diner room, Snow’s face lights up. He makes his way to you. As usual, he’s dashing, his platinum blonde locks neatly combed back and his crimson suit highlighting his tall frame.

His gaze twinkles as he drinks you in. 

“You’re a vision, dove.” He lifts your hand and brushes his lips over your knuckles. His eyes slam into yours. Time seems to hang still for a few seconds. “As I know you would be.”

Keeping your hand in his, he escorts you to your seat. He pulls your chair for you and you fumble with your skirt a little before finding a comfortable way to sit. 

“So…no maids today?” you say lightly. 

His lips slant. He removes the lid off one of the pots. The mouthwatering smell instantly reaches you. 

“I thought it’d be nicer to enjoy a quiet, private dinner together, as a way to celebrate.”

Your face contorts into a puzzled expression. 

“Celebrate?”

“Your last day as my housekeeper,” he replies cheerfully.

Your heart misses a beat. Is he firing you?

You attempt to tamp down the quake in your voice. You fail miserably.

“Really?”

He gauges you and his smile grows.

“Yes. In fact, you and your husband will never have to worry about rent anymore. Him  especially. Everything’s settled.”

An audible exhale slips through your mouth. 

“This is…I don’t know what to say.”

“You can say thank you.”

“Thank you, President Snow.”

His laugh resonates in the near empty dining room.

“Please, call me Coriolanus.” He ladles soup onto your plate before bending close. You tense as his warm breath ghosts over your temple. “We’re quite…close now, aren’t we, dove?”

You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“I suppose we are…Coriolanus.”

You wince. Uttering his name feels wrong, forbidden almost.

Satisfaction doesn’t part from his handsome features as he regains his seat. He gestures for you to start eating. You feel a bit self-conscious as he observes you intently. 

Still, you do as he heeds, not needing to be told twice. 

The quicker you eat, the quicker you’ll get to be home and out of the uncomfortable dress. 

You groan as your lids flutter, a blurry shape rocking back and forth in your vision. Fatigue tugs at your heavy limbs as you stir. Your forehead scrunches. Your body’s hot, like a furnace, like you’re burning from the inside out. Tingles spark somewhere in you and you keen sharply, leaning into the sensation. Feverish whispers surround you, words you don’t comprehend in your daze.

The pull and tear. The pleasure mingling with the pain. You’re in a strange dream, maybe a nightmare.

Deep-chested grunts land in your ears. You awake further. It’s a voice you recognize, from somewhere…but not like this. Never like this. Something’s wong. Your forehead wrinkles. Something’s wrong but you’re so tired. So so tired. Your mind’s like cotton. Your limbs are as rocks.

As your lids sag, something slams into you. Fast, hard and vicious.

Your heart bounces. Your eyes snap open.

Your stomach drops.

A sinister smile you know too well by now welcomes you.

“Hello, dove. Awake, finally,” Snow whispers, his hips snapping into yours. Your breath catches as his cock grazes against your sweet spots. You clench around him and he chuckles darkly. “That angle always does it for you.” Smugness oozes off his hoarse timbre.

You look up at him. Sweat dots his brow, his tousled blonde locks clinging to his forehead. His blue eyes are cloudy with lust. His white shirt is half open, revealing a glimpse of the bare, glistening muscles underneath.

And as your gaze travels lower, horror flares inside you.

You gape with wide eyes as his veiny length disappears inside you. Again and again. The fluffy white shirt is bunched around your waist, your panties torn, exposing your lower body to President Snow’s lewd scrutiny entirely. His large hands dig into your hips, trailing crescent bruises in the shape of his fingernails.

Your shocked gaze finds his.

His smile expands.

“P-President Snow, what are you doing?” 

You know it’s a stupid question…but you have to make sense of this. Because none of this can be real. Maybe it’s a nightmare and you’re still sleeping.

You gasp as he pushes you into the mattress, piledriving into you at an angle that has you seeing stars.

“Taking what’s mine, of course,” he says matter-of-factly, hooking his arm under your thigh.

He lifts you and spreads you even more. His darkened gaze follows the motion of his cock as he pounds into you, an insatiable look twisting his handsome features. 

Reaching between your tangled bodies, he pinches your tender heap of nerves. He rubs against it, teasing it with maddening circles until your legs quake. You come apart beneath him, crying out as your back arches against the soft sheets.

“Please, stop,” you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes.

Snow’s pace quickens. Ragged moans tear from your throat. Your vision flickers.

He bends over you to lick one of your tears, humming in satisfaction at the taste. 

His lips drag against yours as he asks, “Is it truly what you want? Because it’s kind of hard to tell the way your pussy hugs my cock.” His mouth curves upward against your cheek. “Like it does every time.”

A wave of ice spreads through you. 

Every time? Realization hits you, knife-like as it pierces through the veil of denial. 

Every time…

The pieces fall into place as you remember all those times you fell asleep, unable to recall how you ended up in bed. Tired, confused…sore.

A shudder shoots through your frame.

You twist your body as panic seizes you.

Coriolanus growls when you clamber away from him, heading for the edge of the bed. You curse the pesky gown and the way it hinders your movements.

He yanks you back with ease, gripping the back of your head and shoving you down into the mattress.

Lips graze your earshell as he snarls, “Where are you going? We’re not done. We have to make sure you carry the next Snow heir.” In one stroke, he sinks into you from behind. You choke on your breath, the pain snatching your air. With one hand cinched around the back of your neck, he starts rutting into you. Your bruised folds ache at the blunt invasion. Still, your core clings to him in a way that stirs shame in your gut. “Although after all these times…” You hear the smile in his conceited inflection “It’s a given, isn’t it?”

Your eyes swell with tears. Your lips part in a silent scream. The sick song of flesh against flesh fills the room, mingling with his feral moans. 

Each time your walls tighten around him, bile rises up your throat. 

“What have you done to me?” you sob against the drenched silk sheets.

“Oh, I think you know,” he purrs. His warm breath fans over your scalp. “You can feel it, can’t you? How well your body knows me now, dove.”

His hips stutter, his thrusts getting sloppier. His cock twitches inside you. As warmth trickles alongside your walls, you feel sick again. He remains nestled inside you a while, panting above you and shoving the excess back in as you remain still.

As you feel his digits poke and prod, a chill runs through you. 

You can’t let him touch you again.

You keel over the edge of the bed, heading straight towards the floor. Pain ripples through your knees as they hit the carpet. You’re forced to ignore the crack resounding through your bones, awkwardly getting to your feet and dashing to the wooden swing doors.

Coriolanus’ wicked laugh echoes behind you. 

“Oh, dove, if you wanted to play hide and seek, all you needed to do was to ask,” he taunts.

Terror grips your throat. You ignore it alongside everything else. Alongside the pain, alongside the uncertainty, alongside the fact that you can still feel him inside you. Like you never left the bed. Like you’re still caged in his embrace.

Your legs carry you, barefoot and panicked, as you run through the palatial hallways as fast as the bothersome white dress will allow.

The president’s deep voice bounces against the ornate walls.

“Ready or not, here I come, my darling.”

The blood rushes to your feet. Your head spins and your feet tangle. You trip. Immediately, you gather yourself. You lift the skirt and dive hastily towards the living room. You duck behind a sofa. 

It’s a pathetic place to hide; you know it. But the lavish mansion is nothing but open spaces doused in sunlight. 

There is nowhere to hide.

The clamor of your heart is deafening in your ears as you hear objects crash to the floor a few feet away from you. Hand over your mouth to keep every sound in, you jerk every time the racket grows on the other side of the sofa. 

His frustration coats the air.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, dove,” he calls, his tone icier than before.

You freeze, holding your breath and wishing he doesn’t think to look where you are.

The minutes pass, agonizingly slow. The flimsy hope that he may have left even begins to bloom inside you.

Hot air suddenly breezes over your nape.

“Found you.” 

Your heart leaps to your throat. You go still. Coriolanus hauls you from the floor, half-carrying you and half-lugging you across the living room. You try to bite and claw any part of him you can reach but his hand locks around your throat.

He slams you harshly against a wall. Your head rings, the lines of his face momentarily doubling in your vision. You bite his hand. Cursing under his breath, he bangs your head against the wall again. You go limp.

Through your hazy sight, you note the scarlet trail streaking the back of his hand. You drew blood. Even if you’re lost, you bask in the ephemeral second of victory.

He carries your unmoving form the rest of the way back to his bedroom. You loathe yourself for your stillness. You want to put up a fight. You want to claw. You want to bite. You want to kill him with your bare hands. 

But all you can do is simmer in helplessness as he brings you right back to the very place you tried to escape.

He gently releases you on the bed then climbs over you. Goosebumps erect on your flesh as he caresses the side of your face, a strangely fond gesture considering everything he put you through.

“Please,” you mumble weakly. “You can have anyone you want. I have a husband.”

His face contorts into an expression of pure mockery, as if what you said was beyond ludicrous.

“I don’t want just anyone.” He lifts your chin, scorching blue gaze diving into yours. “I want you.”

“As for your husband…” His voice trails off as he traces your trembling bottom lip with his thumb. A crooked smirk drags his lips skyward. He leans over you to whisper, “Well I did say he’ll never have to worry about rent ever again, didn’t I?”

Your heart sinks. You can’t believe you trusted Coriolanus Snow. A foolish mistake. A dangerous mistake. One you’re now paying dearly. He not only trapped you…he also hurt Henry.

All because of you.

You will never forgive yourself.

“What did you do to him?” you ask, anger and heartbreak making your voice wobble.

A chill-inducing glint dances in his orbs.

“I haven’t done anything.” He cocks his head. “Rebels are criminals of the state and shall be sentenced as such.”

The world collapses around you.

A chasm of despair swallows you whole as quiet tears stream down your face.

As sobs shake your frame, President Snow plants soft kisses on your wet cheeks. You feel him grow hard against your belly as he hums, as if the taste of your hopelessness was ambrosia to him. Heavenly sweet.

He cups your face.

“Do not fret, dove. I’ll make sure you don’t miss a second of his execution.” The emptiness of his blue eyes staggers you, their depths as icy as a frozen lake. “It’s important for all citizens of Panem to learn from watching.”

The expression on his face turns downright diabolical. His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek.

“And I want you to learn as you watch the light go out in his eyes, dove, that this was inevitable, that I always win.”

His tone softens as his hands drag over your hips.

“I wonder how many children you’ll give me. Will they all sing as pretty as you?” The hurried rustle of his pants as he frees his cock freezes your blood. He bites his lip, lust already misting his gaze as he prods impatiently at your entrance.

“I suppose we’ll just have to find out,” he croons.