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ttoouya · 1 year

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— hospitalized

the three of you made your way down a series of winding alleyways, the air growing colder with each passing moment. the night was dark and quiet, the streets nearly empty, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as you followed childe and capitano deeper into the heart of snezhnaya. as the three of you rounded a corner, a sudden noise caught your attention.

you strained your ears, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, when suddenly a hand covered your mouth, cutting off your scream. you struggled against the iron grip, but no matter how hard you fought, childe's strength was just too much for you to overcome. he dragged you down a nearby alleyway, his grip tight around your arm as he pushed you ahead of him.

you could hear his breathing, heavy and quick, as he followed the sound of your footsteps to a nearby warehouse. just as you thought you might have a chance to escape, you found yourself surrounded by a group of fatui soldiers. they grabbed you by the arms and the legs, holding you down as you struggled against their iron grip.

you felt as if you were never going to be able to get away, that you were doomed to suffer at the hands of childe and capitano forever. before you knew it, a needle was pressed into your arm, and a burning sensation spread through your body. you tried to fight it off, but the feeling of warmth and sleep began to wash over you, and before you knew it, you were unconscious. you woke up in a hospital bed, surrounded by the sound of machines beeping and alarms sounding.

you tried to sit up, but you found that you were restrained to the bed, your arms and legs tied down, as if you were a prisoner in a high-security facility. it took a moment for your mind to catch up to what was happening, but as the fog in your mind cleared, you saw childe and capitano standing by the door, their expressions neutral as they watched you.

"you shouldn't have tried to escape," childe said, his voice cold and flat. "we were just trying to protect you."

#yandere #yandere!childe #yandere!capitano #yandere childe #yandere capitano #capitano #childe #🐇. felix writes #💉. yandere #🪫. dark content #tw: hospitalizaton #yandere x you #yandere childe x you #yandere capitano x you

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snowsinterlude · 16 days

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˚ ᜔ ࣪ gone girl. 🪽 ͣ ͣ

(coriolanus snow x reader)

summary: coriolanus snow, your dear husband, was the prime suspect ever since you disappeared.

c.w: short, short fic, drama, mentions to cheating, mature content, coriolanus pov, mentions of blood and crime scene.

a/n: i may keep this idea alive if it doesn't flop. this is just the first part of the movie/book and will probably be a looong fic. thank youu

when I think of my wife, I always think of her head. In her shape, first of all. when we first met, it was the back of the head I noticed, and there was something lovely about it, about its angles. like a hard, shiny grain of corn, or a fossil in a riverbed. It was what the victorians would call a beautifully formed head. you could imagine the skull quite easily.

I'd recognize her head anywhere.

and what was inside it. I also think about this: her mind. her brain, all those spirals, and her thoughts darting through those spirals like fast, frantic centipedes. like a child, I imagine myself opening his skull, uncoiling her brain and searching through it, trying to capture and understand her thoughts. what are you thinking, Y/n? the question I asked most often during our marriage, though not out loud, not to the person who could answer. I suppose these questions hang like dark clouds over every marriage: what are you thinking? how are you feeling? who are you? what have we done to each other? what will we do?

standing outside of our home, by the trash cans, i decided to enter our home. asleep, she didn't bother waking up and greeting me, kissing me goodbye. I thanked her for it, for giving me the place to be the caring husband of a tired wife.

making my way to the clothing shop I owned with my cousin, I was forced to move back to the old penthouse in Panem when she called; grandma'am was sick.

“Tigris, I'll come back home. you don't have to take care of everything alone.” I said. she didn't believed me- i could hear her sighing on the other side of the line. “I'm serious, Ti. and why not? there's nothing for me here.

“And Y/N?”

I haven't thought about it. I simply thought that I could wrap my capitol wife with her capitol interests, her capitol pride, push her away from her capitol parents and everything would be fine. it wouldn't. of course it wouldn't.

but would I admit it? of course no.

“Y/N will be fine. she..” I stopped myself before saying that she loved Grandma'am. she didn't. every encounter they had was a shock to both of them. Y/N would spend days dissecting a single conversation they had. “— and what does she mean with…” as if my Grandmother was a stranger to the Capitol, as if she was a beggar who was begging for something that wasn't offered in the first place.

and yet, with her wanting nothing to do with my family, i still thought it was a great idea to bring her to the other side of where we lived on the capitol.

“well, hello, your majesty.” Tigris said, sprinkling water on my face.

“your majesty doesn't like getting wet.” I said.

“yeah, fine. what's up, snowflake?” she asked. I didn't answer.

“i cheated on her.” i blurted out.

“on who- on y/n? coriolanus are you crazy?”

“what- no! i'm not. i was tempted and-”

“and nothing. y/n loves you– or so i think. do you know what women do when they discover something like that?” Tigris looked at me angrily, and for the first time i felt fear- true fear. the more i thought about it, the more i felt dumb. my wife would go through heaven and hell if it meant she could have her vengeance on something that hurt her. “you better pray for her not to find out. we both know y/n is not that simple to deal with.”

🪫

it was our fifth year aniversary when i woke up with my breath warming the pillow this morning. i walked barefoot to the edge of the stairs and listened, playing with my toes on the thick wall-to-wall carpet that y/n hated on principle, as i tried to decide if i was ready to join my wife. y/n was in the kitchen, oblivious to my hesitation. she hummed something melancholic and familiar. i struggled to figure out what it was—a folk song? a lullaby? — and then i realized it was the theme song to virgins suicides. suicide is painless. I went down the stairs.

nothing is happy with her.

y/n spied the crepe sizzling in the pan and licked something off her wrist. she looked triumphant, the typical married woman. if i held her in my arms, i would smell red fruits and powdered sugar.

when she saw me looking at me in my old boxer shorts, my hair standing on end, she leaned on the kitchen counter and said:

“hello, handsome.” fear filled my throat. i thought to myself: okay, go ahead.

💋

i was very late for work. my cousin and I had done a foolish thing when we returned to our grandma'am house. we did what we always said we wanted to do. we opened a bar. we borrowed money from y/n for this, eighty thousand dollars, an amount that had once been nothing to her, but was then almost everything. i swore I would return it, with interest. i wasn't going to be a man who borrowed money from his wife — I could feel my father grimacing at the mere mention of the idea. well, there are all kinds of men, was his most damning sentence, the second half unspoken: and you're the wrong kind.

but it was actually a practical decision, a smart business move. y/n and I needed new careers; that would be mine. she would choose one someday, or not, but in the meantime, it would produce an income, made possible by the rest of the nest egg. just like the ridiculous house I had rented, the bar appeared symbolically in my childhood memories — a place where only adults went, to do whatever adults did. maybe that's why I insisted so much on buying it after being deprived of my livelihood. it was a reminder that I was an adult after all, a grown man, a useful human being, even though I had lost the career that had made me all those things. I wouldn't make that mistake again: the once-vigorous herds of magazine journalists would continue to be slaughtered—by the Internet, by the recession, by the Panem public, who preferred to watch TV, play video games, or electronically inform their friends that, like, rain It sucks! But there was no application for a rush of bourbon on a hot day, in a cool, dark bar. the world will always want a drink.

we called the bar The Bar. “people will think we're ironic rather than creatively bankrupt,” my cousin reasoned.

yes, we thought we were smart in a New Panem way—that the name was a joke that no one else would really get, not like us. don't meta-sack. we imagine the locals turning up their noses: why did you call it The Bar? but our first customer, a gray-haired woman in bifocals and a pink tracksuit, said, “I like the name. like in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, where Audrey Hepburn’s cat is called Puss.”

we felt a lot less superior after that, which was good.

I entered the parking lot. I waited for a strike to sound at the bowling alley—thanks, thanks, friends—and then I got out of the car. I admired the surroundings, not yet bored by the sight: the squat, light-brick post office across the street (now closed on Saturdays), the unassuming beige office building just below (now closed, period). the city was not prosperous, not anymore, not by a long shot. I dared myself to dream about the long-lost dream i had when i was young; dreaming that i'd be the president that would make Panem great again. that was something that had always been stuck to me. with me.

but now, watching the blood of my wife on the floor of our house when i arrived on our fifth anniversary, a chill went up and down through all my body as i searched for her, my eyes didn't even blink while i searched for anything that prooved me that she's alive; that she's there. and that it was just a prank; but she wasn't. the more i looked for her through the house, the more i saw her, but not physically. i saw her in the small things she put there and there when decorating our house, even on my office there were small things that reminded me of her.

i would never escape her. loved her too much to escape.

so, when the police arrived and searched through all the house– now, a crime scene– and determined that I was the prime suspect, i threw up.

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x you #x reader

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