people often use snow’s experiences with lucy gray as an explanation for how he engages with katniss, but i think that the true story of his downfall lies not in how lucy gray and katniss are similar, but rather in how they are different.
snow knew that it was never him that made the games what they are. it was lucy gray, with her scrappy, passionate artistry, that put on the show that kept people watching. more importantly, it was lucy gray that put on the show that kept HIM watching. all he ever did was give her the stage.
ergo, snow recognizes that the person with the power to usurp him is his natural counterpart, someone like lucy gray, who possessed both the charisma and humanity that he sorely lacks. however, in his mind, those traits are not real; they’re performed in order to obtain power. how could he know better, when he’s never experienced them himself, and the only person he ever truly believed possessed them betrayed him?
so snow keeps his eye out for performers, people with gravitas who could capture the heart of the nation, and squashes their spark as soon as he can. people like haymitch. people like finnick.
and that’s where snow goes wrong. he doesn’t see katniss’ similarities to lucy gray from the start, because while they both demonstrate astonishing, intriguing bravery at their reapings, their actions and motivations are completely different. lucy gray is motivated to perform by anger for herself, and katniss is motivated to sacrifice herself by fear for her sister.
but then katniss starts to put on a show for the audience, kissing peeta and being willing to die with the berries at the end of the 74th games. snow starts to see an entirely different side of katniss that resembles lucy gray to a concerning degree. he sees how, with peeta at her side, she could beguile the nation the same way lucy gray had. and, even worse, she was using the poor, helpless boy who had the misfortune of falling in love with her to survive. the moment katniss started performing, he finally sees lucy gray within her. but it’s already too late.
by catching fire, katniss is the spark fanning the flames of the resistance, but snow fails to understand why. as far as he’s concerned, katniss’ star power comes from her connection to peeta. he tries to weaponize their “love” for his own gain, but it doesn’t work, not because people don’t believe that she loves peeta, but because, for the first time, a victor offers their winnings to the family of a fallen tribute.
snow is caught in a catch 22 of seneca crane’s making—if he kills katniss, she becomes a martyr. but if he lets her live, she’ll be a revolutionary icon. either way, she’s the spark. so he has no choice but to allow the spark to flicker, just for a little while. enter the 75th games. snow knows he needs katniss to die a tragic death in the games. more specifically, he needs it to be a brutal death at the hands of a tribute, not the gamemakers, because he understands that as long as the districts see the capitol as the one who ended the life of katniss everdeen, she’ll still be a martyr.
but snow still doesn’t get it. in the quarter quell, the prey does not become predator. katniss’ allies protect her, ensuring she survives until district 13 rescues her. why would they protect this girl, assuming such a steep personal risk? why would they put everything on the line for a revolution they personally stand to benefit little from? he doesn’t know. but he does know that lucy gray katniss is at the center of it all, so he tries to eliminate what makes her look best: peeta.
and that is snow’s fatal mistake. what he, coin, and everyone but haymitch fail to understand is that it was never peeta that made katniss look good—it was katniss, who befriended and put faith in rue. katniss, who recruited mags, wiress, and beetee as allies. she is the source of revolutionary inspiration. it isn’t her charisma or even her compassion, and it certainly isn’t how well she performed those virtues.
katniss becomes the mockingjay because of her solidarity.
lucy gray was charismatic, like peeta, and compassionate, like both peeta and katniss, but she did not demonstrate solidarity. she was never truly “district” in the way katniss is. she showed kindness to jessup, not because he was from 12, but because he showed kindness to her. lucy gray left behind everything and everyone she loved when she left coriolanus, because she was first and foremost a survivor.
katniss was a survivor her whole life, but she survives exclusively to ensure the people she loves are protected. she always does what she can for people more vulnerable than herself. lucy gray couldn’t have sparked a revolution on her own because she lacked the solidarity that makes a hope for a better future authentic to others. katniss is the human manifestation of solidarity, and to a people divided by a common enemy, that’s the most inspiring thing a person can be.
only in the end, when katniss shoots coin, does snow realize none of it was a performance. choking on the blood of his countless adversaries, snow’s final moments are consumed by what he got wrong. what made lucy gray and katniss different ends his reign, but ironically, the final nail in his coffin is an act that both lucy gray and katniss share in their last moments with snow. they both prove, unequivocally, that he is not the center of their worlds like they are his. lucy gray put her own survival before her love for him, and katniss puts the future of her nation before her hate for him. in the end, he simply doesn’t matter. and that’s greater justice than could have ever been achieved if katniss had fired her arrow into his heart.
the greatest enemy to coriolanus snow could only be the person who reignited the embers of a dying revolutionary fire, who demonstrated to a broken people that while one spark alone might not be enough, thousands of sparks uniting in solidarity is an unbeatable force.
and really, he should have known better. after all, even when snow lands on top, fire melts snow.
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inexperienced | peeta mellark
request: hey! can you do headcanons or a fic about your first time, um, “doing the deed” with peeta? or like how he would be with someone who’s inexperienced. thank you! i love your writing 🤍 - anon
omg i love this! thank you so much for the request AND being my first request!! i'm a bit newer to writing smut, so i hope it lives up to your expectations! ♡
peeta mellark x fem!reader
summary: it's your first time, and your boyfriend, peeta, is determined to make sure your first time is magical.
cw: 18+ only! fluffy smut, p in v, soft and hard dom!peeta, inexperienced!reader, established relationship, first time, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)
wc: 2.9k
type: ✽ | ❀
As you poured another glass of a fancy sparkling pomegranate juice to end off the bottle, you tossed it into the bin next to the table and walked yourself over to the couch where Haymitch and Peeta sat, the room still buzzing with other District 12 residents.
The television was on, playing some sort of instrumental music, but you could barely hear it over the chatter in the room.
Haymitch and Peeta were deep in conversation about Haymitch's new relationship with Effie, and you've never seen Haymitch look so happy to talk about something.
You sat down next to Peeta, and you could tell he was ready to leave soon, probably after he finished the conversation.
You had indulged in homemade bread from Peeta with oil and vinegar all night, as well as fresh berries picked from the bushes in front of your house with the sparkling juice, and you were starting to get tired of eating to cure the boredom.
You had followed Peeta around all night like a lost puppy, and it wasn't a good look for you, but you were ready to go home after a few conversations.
"I personally didn't expect Effie to be your first choice," Peeta snorted, "I thought she drove you crazy."
Instead of paying attention to the rest of the conversation like you should've, you began to fully admire your boyfriend for the first time all night.
He wore a gray button up with the top two buttons undone, the sleeves tucked up around his forearms. It was tucked into a pair of blue jeans that appeared slightly too tight, the fabric straining against his legs. Finishing off the outfit with a brown belt. He sat manspreading, holding a bottle of something you couldn't see, the logo hidden in his hands, but you knew it wasn't alcohol.
Looking at him tonight brought a different feeling to your chest and stomach, an odd, tingly feeling you hadn't very much felt before around him. Watching him talk, watching his lips move as he responded to Haymitch, the nod of approvals he would give.
"But anyways, you two better get going," Haymitch said as you tuned in to the conversation once again, standing up from the old couch you all sat on. It was getting later in the night, and you were thankful for him to say that, as it was almost one in the morning.
Peeta stood up as well, taking your hand to help you up from sinking into the couch.
"Alright, good to see you," Haymitch said, giving Peeta a small hug, and clapping him on the back, like a brother would do.
Haymitch turned to you, and reached out for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a short hug before pulling away from him.
"I'll see you tomorrow, probably," you said, smiling, subtly reminding Haymitch of your lunch plans tomorrow.
"Of course you will, sweetheart," he gave you a small clap on the back, weaker than Peeta's, but still a loving tap. A small lopsided smile appeared on his face and he turned away.
"You ready to go?" Peeta asked, looking down at you.
His eyes were trained on you, reminding you of what you felt just seconds ago about the tingling of your stomach and the tightness in your chest.
"Yeah," you smiled, trying to hide the fact you could feel the blush creeping up your face as you looked past him toward the coat rack near the door.
He grabbed your hand once again, grabbing your coat and slinging it over your shoulders, not bothering to have you put it on when you're a mere twenty feet away from his house.
You waved goodbye to any people who were paying attention at the slowly dying party, and walked out the door, hand in hand with Peeta.
"You enjoy the juice?" he asked as you reached the sidewalk, playfully giving you a little shove to the shoulder to knock you off balance a bit.
"You know I did," you replied, recovering your feet and taking his muscular arm in both of your hands. The crisp, cool air of the night nipped at your cheeks, and the leftover snow from the recent fall crunched beneath your feet.
It was a short walk, and by now you were at the door of Peeta's house. He took the keys out of his pocket to unlock his front door. The light over the door was still on, coating the walkway you stood on in a dim, yellow light.
"You looked beautiful tonight," he said as he unlocked the door, pushing in the door with more force than intended.
"Thank you, you looked rather handsome yourself," you replied, hearing a small chuckle escape his throat at your comment.
Without bothering to turn on the lights, he walked through the living room to reach his bedroom, and you ran inside before him to kick off your shoes and jump on his bed.
The softness of the mattress engulfed your body, and you rolled into the knitted quilt on top of his bed.
Tonight felt like a cuddling night, but something about the air felt different.
"Save some room for me," he said, having just taken off his shoes.
The feeling you had earlier watching him rose in your body again as he set his knee on the edge of the bed, climbing over to your side and collapsing next to you with a hand on your hip.
You turned to your side, throwing a side of the quilt on top of him.
"There's plenty of room for you," you said, looking down past his jaw. You saw the same outfit as before, but now his belt was slightly looser, his shirt half untucked. You tried your best to avoid looking toward his jeans, but you didn't have to force yourself anyways.
"Eyes are up here, darling," Peeta's hand reached out gently to your jaw, lifting your face to look at him.
Your face heating up immediately, you made eye contact with him. A small grin was growing on his face, a cheeky smirk you'd seen so often. He kissed you with the same pecks he always did when you were cuddling, but even after you'd kissed him hundreds of times the same way, you couldn't shake the feeling that something felt different tonight.
Doing your best to ignore the prying thought, you snuggled up to his warm body, basically steam rolling him to get on top of him. You laid on top of him, one of his hands loosely around your waist and the other lightly stroking your back. Your arms hooked under his.
After a while of laying in silence listening to each other breathe, you started to close your eyes, letting comfort and sleep take you over. Just as you began to feel the entire pull of sleep, you felt him sharply exhale. He dug his face into the crook of your neck at the same time his hand grabbed tightly onto your hip.
"You've never had sex, have you?" he murmured lowly.
The question startled you, increasing your heartbeat and waking you from any slumber that started to take you over. You turned your face into his neck as well, too embarrassed to lift your head and face him when you felt the heat radiating off your cheeks.
Is this what felt different? Did the air feel different because Peeta wanted to have sex with you?
"Absolutely," you say, the uneasiness in your voice a dead giveaway that you most definitely have not.
He knew you, he knew you hadn't. In fact, he knew that he was the only boy you had ever dated, the only boy who you'd ever kissed.
"Oh, really?" he says, his hands sliding from where they rested to lightly graze over the back of your thighs and your ass, one hand giving a light squeeze to your thigh.
A barely audible but obviously desperate exhale escaped your lips, your head dropping down completely to his shoulder.
He had never touched you like this before. Butterflies were exploding in your stomach, your chest and throat growing tighter as he continued to move his hand over the hills of your body.
"I thought so, baby," he whispered. "It's okay."
He didn't stop moving his hand, but his head dropped back down to the bed, an exhale leaving his own lips.
"Would you let me be your first time?" he said breathily, his hand moving up to rub over your back once again.
You felt like you couldn't say anything, your throat feeling so closed with his hands touching you in ways you'd never felt before, the feeling of his rough hands stroking across your body was enough to send you spiraling.
He noticed your silence, moving his hands to sit up. You refused to let go of your tight hold on his body, trying to catch your breath from the unnecessarily overwhelming feeling blossoming in your stomach.
"C'mon, baby. Talk to me," he whispered.
"Please, Peeta," your voice came out strangled. It didn't sound like your own, plagued by the tightness of your throat and the desperate want for him to touch you like he was before.
It took him a moment to register what you said.
"That's my girl."
His hands reached up to your arms, gently prying them away from his body in order to get you off of him.
He laid you gently on the bed, and you felt like a total mess. You knew you shouldn't be so obsessed with the way he was making you feel, but it felt so right to be touched by him, to be held in the erotic ways you didn't know he wanted.
He was on top of you, his arms out straight and his legs on the outside of yours blocked a cage around your body. You were in for it now.
At first though, he only kissed you.
The low light of the room added to the needy ambiance of the room. Kissing felt more erotic, less controlled, the way his lips moved familiarly but yet so foreign at the same time, the soft dominancy from him that you'd never felt before threatening to take you over. The way he would stop to take a short breath before continuing to kiss you, sometimes biting your lip as he pulled away. When you felt one of his hands creep up your hips onto your breasts, it was an explosion of feelings you hadn't had before.
Your gasp almost breaking the kiss, you felt him grin against your lips as his hand slipped under your shirt to run it over your torso.
His touch was so gentle, so polite, allowing you to feel the entire moment of what he was doing to you. Again though, it was so different from ways he had touched you before. So new and arousing.
His kisses began to trail down your cheek to your jaw, down your neck, and back up to your lips. He kissed you all over the neck, anywhere he could.
You felt so many butterflies and tingles in your stomach, and a warm heat between your thighs growing as he touched you more, lips and hands working in unison to sweetly prepare you.
His hand now moving down to pull the waistband of your pants ever so slightly down, pausing his kisses. He took the moment to move a knee between your legs, giving them a little nudge to open.
His eyes met yours, darkened with arousal and excitement. His lips were swollen and slick with saliva, his cheeks a light rosy tint.
"You ready?" he murmured, watching your face closely.
Though you were so nervous, you were eager.
You wanted this to happen, the more he touched you and the more he caressed your body allowed to the heat between your legs to grow, the unfamiliar tingles and butterflies in your stomach fluttered with anticipation. He was all you ever dreamt of, and the way his eyes bored into yours with lust and hungriness, you were as ready as you'd ever be.
"Yes," you forced out, the constriction of your throat still very prominent.
You watched as the grin on his face grew to a sinister smile, his eyes squinting with pride. He removed your pants with such swiftness you'd barely noticed, and he took the time to admire your bottomless body. Nothing he hadn't seen before, but something he got to see in a totally different manner.
He exhaled sharply, pushing a rough hand into your panties, a finger sliding through slick folds.
He wasn't near being inside you, but the first few circles around your clit felt like heaven, your mouth opening in shock and a strangled gasp forcing its way through. A white heat began to grow in your stomach quickly, and you pushed your head into the softness of the bed.
"Attagirl," he whispered, praise quickly falling out of his mouth as he watched you squirm underneath his fingers.
A slick finger suddenly pushed through you, sending more waves of pleasure to your core. His fingers worked magic on your clit while he pushed his finger in and out of you.
"Yeah, baby?"
Heat, heat, and more heat grew, the pleasure becoming almost overwhelming under your boyfriend's control, the praises coming out of his stupidly pretty face driving your body insane.
Gasps sweetened with whimpers and small moans fell out of your mouth like a sailor's cusses, your eyes screwed shut as Peeta worked your body perfectly. In no time, he pushed in a second finger, earning a loud gasp and a grab to his forearm, his legs tightening around your leg to keep you from wiggling away.
"You feelin' good, love?" he whispered. You could hear the curl of his evil smile, absolutely delighted to be making you feel the way you were. You desperately nodded your head, your grip on his arm growing tighter as the heat in your stomach grew, an overwhelming feeling threatening to fall.
He felt your walls beginning to tighten, and pulled his fingers out.
"Why?" you whined, the feeling in your stomach immediately dripping down to the small heat you had before. You grabbed for his hand, wanting him to make you feel amazing again, but he pulled it away from you.
"No, sweetheart, I want you to experience more than just my hand."
You watched as he undid the rest of his belt from before, your jaw falling open slightly in shock as he unbuttoned his jeans, undoing the zipper as well. His black boxers showed through the small opening in his pants now, and you could see what he was hiding beneath them.
"You okay?" he asked, aware of your jaw now basically on the floor. You nodded at his question, snapping your jaw shut once again.
Your face was hot, your body was shaking a little. You were so ready in anticipation of how he was going to make you feel. You didn't dare look at him, because you knew that you were basically going to finish at just the sight.
"You're sure you're ready?" he said, a hand holding steady on your hip and the other you could only assume holding his cock.
You nodded, your hands going to the quilt for a hold on something, your body beginning to tense.
"Good girl."
You felt him push into you.
A loud gasp pushed from your throat, your body jerking in surprise. He definitely filled you out, your eyes rolling back and heat beginning to grow again.
"What's wrong?" he said, the concerned tone in his voice loud, keeping still inside you.
"No, no, keep going," you whined, your eyes screwing shut.
He began to move slowly, only pushing in a few inches every time, preparing you for the full.
The friction felt so good, quiet moans falling out of your mouth as he pushed more and more inside of you, growing faster with each movement of his hips.
He pushed all the way into you, hitting a spot that sent white heat coursing through your body, electrifying, your vision blanked.
He dragged his cock out once again, pushing all the way inside of you once more.
The tingly heat grew quickly in your stomach as he found a medium pace, cock sliding easily in and out of your cunt with his hands gripping tightly on your hips.
"You look so pretty underneath me," he praised, so close to pushing you over the edge.
Uncontrolled moans forced themselves out of your throat, the heat building up so close to a release. His hips became sloppier and uncontrolled, his pace increasing as he worked to finish.
With one harsh thrust, your vision went white and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. A loud cry left your mouth as you came, your legs tightening around his hips.
He finished quickly after you, his thrusts extremely sloppy.
Pulling out of you, he collapsed next to you and pulled you into his arms, his body warm. You were both breathing heavily, his muscular arms engulfing you in a blanket of comfort,
"I love you so much," he murmured, tucking his head down, his forehead rested on top of your head.
"I love you," you whispered, "thank you."
He didn't say anything, kissing the top of your head and tightening his arms around your body.
"Thank you, pretty girl."
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