#Tigris x oc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evielmostdefinitely · 5 months

Note

hiiii could you please write something about aftercare with young snow? like how in jealous girl it says he babied her afterwards, but a whole fic about it? i just wanna see how sweet a cruel man like snow can be 🤭

tip of my fingers |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, aftercare with snow.

contains: fluff. mentions of dom/sub themes. possessive snow.

Coriolanus sat on the edge of the bed, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, chest still rising and falling with every ragged breath from his post orgasm. He always got flushed like this after a night of particularly rough sex.

“‘M going to the shower, my love.” Corio muttered, curls matted to his forehead, muggy and sweaty. His hand patted the top of your thigh, gentler than before, your skin still raw and sensitive.

You didn’t move, didn’t utter a word, really didn’t make a sound besides a pathetic whine. Corio’s head snapped around, turning to you in an instant. His eyes narrowed carefully, scanning over you like he was assessing his latest plans. “Are you alright?”

Your glazed eyes staring off, face turned, smushed into the mattress, a pool of your own drool beneath you. Normally he’d mock you, tease you for being so messy. “My messy girl, look at you.” He’d give you a grin that felt more like a sneer.

Not this time.

Coriolanus called your name, softly but firmly, crouching in front of you. His hand rubbed over your clammy forehead, heated cheeks still flushed from your climax. “Look at me, darling.” Corio muttered, fingers tracing over your cheek down the slope of your neck. You shuddered but didn’t turn to him, still lost in your own haze. “Can you hear me?”

Your own mind was miles away from that very bedroom, lost under roaring waves and a hazy fog that Corio always got you in. Usually you snapped back quicker, a few loving kisses, the shock of a cold rag cleaning you up. Other times, it was more difficult.

Coriolanus moved to the bathroom, swallowing down the venomous bark of spewing orders that threatened to fall from his lips. He didn’t like this feeling, when he was out of control, especially with you. When something was wrong and he didn’t know an immediate fix. The rational side of himself told him to stay calm, do what he knew to before spiraling into a panic.

Corio tried to swallow down his beating heart, wringing the cold water out of the cloth, before walking back into the bedroom. The air was still thick and hot, sticky with the lingering musk of sex. He moved beside you, wordlessly, smoothing the cloth over your forehead.

The icy feeling shocked your system, leaving your shuddering, mind lurching back, vision clearing. Corio was before you, brows pinched with a concerned frown, studying you carefully. Your eyes met his, blinking helplessly before him. He swallowed a groan at how it made his cock lurch, seeing you so weak and needy.

“My love,” Corio’s hand slid down your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. “Are you alright?”

You blinked, moving into his touch, nearly instinctively. “You’re alright?” Corio pressed, head tilting in a much softer way to look at you. “Yes?”

You nodded, pushing off the mattress, groaning at the uncomfortable stretch of sore skin on your ass and thighs. Coriolanus had used his belt, your favorite, tonight.

“Be careful.” Corio clicked, hands wrapping around your biceps, much softer now than before. “You’re going to be sore, darling girl. Careful.” His tone softer now, hushed mumblings as he helped you up.

You winced when your raw skin brushed the silk of the sheets, the ghosting of a whimper on your lips. Corio shushed you gently, sitting next to you, pulling you into his lap. His hand brushing down your hair, your skin sticky on his own.

“How are you feeling?” Coriolanus muttered, lips brushing against your scalp, breathing in the sweaty scent mixed with your perfume from before.

“‘M alright.” You muttered, your cheek against his pec. You could hear his heart rate, how it fluttered and stilled to a steady rhythm. How it would erupt in an excited crescendo when you finally spoke, making your veins fill with ooey gooey rushes of adoration. For all of Coriolanus’ cruelties, his harshness- he did love you. It was evident in moments like these.

“Do you need the healing ointment? I can get it from the servant’s quarters-”

“-I’ll be alright, Corio.” You hummed, eyes pulling heavily. The exhaustion washes over you in thick waves. “I just want you to hold me, please.” Your eyes lifted, rounding sweetly.

He’d be a fool not to, Coriolanus decided, pulling you closer into his chest. He liked you like this, pliant and at his every whim, completely reliant on him.

Corio moved to the bath after, quieting your whines of protest with a small tut, coaxing kisses to your temples, testing the bath water with great show while you sat on the ledge.

You stayed pressed to his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline, like you might float away or dissolve if he let go. Corio let you, ego swelling off the dependency.

“Did I go too hard?” Corio hummed, a sudsy hand rubbing down your spine. The bath filled with the tonic fresh from District Eleven, dried orange peels, lavender, and rose. Coriolanus brought it to you, after his last visit to the district. You had swooned over it, smothering him sillily in kisses that made him blush.

“No,” You shook your head, inhaling the scent that was entirely his. “I think it was the teasing and the spanking, at the same time. I just- I wasn’t ready for it.” You knew what he wanted to hear. Coriolanus had always been adamant after your rough play that you debrief him. It felt very professional, which is why you were reluctant, but that type of blunt, straight forward reporting is what Corio responded best to.

Corio nodded, a low hum vibrating out of his chest, tickling your ear. “I see. I won’t do it as much next time.” He wouldn’t apologize, but you could hear it in his unspoken words.

“Just not as much at the same time.” You whispered sheepishly, as if he didn’t know every part of you.

Coriolanus nodded, a wet hand rubbing the base of your neck, scratching your scalp gently. He knew you loved it, knew it would have your head tipping back into his touch so he could kiss you.

You let him wash you, dry you off- only whimpering when the towel brushes over your ignited skin. He shushed you, a silent apology, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh. He put the ointment on anyway, muttering flippantly about how “you had obligations tomorrow, and didn’t need to be squirming the whole time”. You knew it was because it made him feel better.

Corio dressed you in your nightgown, slipping the powdery blue, soft fabric over your skin, trailing kisses from the back of your shoulder to your ear.

Underneath the silk of the sheets, you slept in his arms, face to face, whispering in the darkness of the room. It always brought out the vulnerability of Coriolanus in these moments, holding you, feeling you, smelling you- he’d bear his soul to you.

“I’m unsure about the games.” Corio muttered, arms tightening around you.

“Unsure in what way, honey?” You hummed, finger raking through his curls, behind his ear- his favorite spot.

“Unsure that they’ll be as successful as they need to be.” Corio hummed, and even through the dark you could see the concern on his features. “Unsure that people will watch.”

You paused for a moment. You decided not to tell him how you truly felt, not then, anyways. Selfishly, you didn’t want to ruin the intimacy, the softness of the moment. “I’m sure they’ll be everything you hope for them to be.” You hummed, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Everything always does.”

Your words, as forced as they were, brought comfort to Coriolanus. His head falling back into your hair, pressing a kiss to your scalp. Fingertips brushing skin, hushed words, and soft kisses all exchanged under the twilight of the night. Tomorrow, you’d be prim and proper. You’d stand beside Corio respectfully, hide your grimace at the mention of the upcoming reaping, refrain from rolling your eyes at the suck ups that flocked to Coriolanus in a giddy, exaggerated manner. You two would be the picture of perfection that Panem wanted you to be. For now, you’d be content to lay in each other's arms, being yourself instead.

3K notes · View notes

konohokelly · 3 months

Text

LEECH - Sejanus Plinth (1/2)

Leeches are segmented parasitic or predatory worms that comprise the subclass Hirudinea.

Summary: Hirudinea Snow is going to baby-trap Sejanus Plinth to get her hands on the Plinth fortune. Warnings: Sex, manipulation, sexual assault (baby-trapping), toxicity, gaslighting, OC is a bitch, Sejanus is too good for her, OC is a bad person through and through, OC is a Capitol supremacist, Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Minors DNI Past!Hilarius Heavensbee I’m a first time smut writer. Sorry if it’s not good :( MC is fem and named but her appearance is NEVER explicitly described.

Borders by @saradika on tumblr

Graduation was a few months away, and Hirudinea Snow saw no future ahead.

Hirudinea was a lot of things; she was mean-spirited, spiteful, judgmental and shallow. Or at least that's what she's been told.

If her outside matched her inside, she would be as hideous as could be, but they didn't match, and she thought herself to be fairly good-looking. After all, she didn't have much else going for her.

Unlike her older sister, Tigris, she wasn't talented at anything in particular, and unlike her cousin Coriolanus, she wasn't academically inclined.

This was going to be a problem. Her time at the Academy was coming to an end, and she couldn't cheat off Coriolanus to get into University like she had done to secure her place at the Academy.

She often dreamt of her childhood before the uprisings when she was content with the family fortune, but they were brought to ruin by those ungrateful districts, and the money wasn't coming back. It was blown to bits with District 13.

If Hirudinea had her way, the rest of the districts would have ended up like 13, but the Hunger Games would just have to do.

It was times like this that she ruminated on the Plinth family, who were dirt beneath her shoes, yet they lived like kings while she holed away in this rat's nest they called an apartment. And Sejanus Plinth was the worst of them.

She couldn't keep her vision from turning red whenever he spoke against the Capitol in class. He should be thankful that people like her tolerated his living amongst them.

‘I deserve everything he has. It’s not fair.’

Yet he had a legacy set out for him, and all she had was a year left at the academy. After which, her popularity with the student body would mean nothing, and all her friends would move on.

She was nothing, and she contributed nothing. Tigris took care of the family, and Corio studied hard to take them out of poverty, but how would he afford university? How would Tigris not burn out before she achieved her dream?

Hirudinea couldn't help them, all she did was take; she was just a parasit-

"Dinea," Tigris interrupted the depressing train as she entered the room.

"You should come while the food's still hot," Tigris informed her with a warm smile.

Right in the middle of the old oak dining table was a large loaf of bread flanked by a meager serving of butter and jam. Grandma'am and Corio were already seated, eating in silence.

Hirudinea didn't bother using the knife. Tearing into the bread, she moaned as the taste of freshly baked goodness filled her mouth.

"Hey!" Coriolanus exclaimed, unimpressed by her lack of table manners.

The cousins never got along; they were too alike yet too different at the same time. Both had a deep-seated cruelty but while he kept his sentiments disguised, she struggled not to let them out.

"Don't shout at little Dinea, Coriolanus. Manners!" Grandma'am warned. It was no secret that Dinea was the favorite grandchild. The girl could get away with anything in their home.

She tutted smugly at Coriolanus before turning to Tigris with her mouth still full.

"It's sooo good. How did we afford fresh bread?"

"I, um... I had some extra money from work," Tigris rushed out, quickly turning away to cut a piece for herself.

Hirudinea threw her gaze across the table, meeting Coriolanus's. They both knew what Tigris did to feed them tonight.

It was one of the many things they acknowledged but never voiced aloud.

Sensing an oncoming uncomfortable silence, Hirudinea quickly changed the topic. "You'll never guess who Lysistrata was spotted with last week."

She looked off mysteriously, hoping to drum up interest in the otherwise irrelevant drama.

Back in her room, Hirudinea resumed her wallowing as she flipped through the gossip column in yesterday's newspaper.

She thought of the bread and the things her sweet sister had to do to put food on the table. Their parents would be rolling in their graves to see their daughter reduced to such. How Tigris was worth.

Hirudinea’s eyes landed on the story of a woman who was impregnated by some society woman's husband and has allegedly been living off the child care allowance ever since.

'Isn't that funny, my life is going down the drain but some hussy gets pregnant and...'

A lightbulb went off in Hirudinea's head. She sat up on the bed, a scheme coming to life in her mind, one that would change everything.

Hirudinea would get her fortune, and she would leverage all she had to get it.

For the first time in probably forever, Hiridinea was excited to be in school.

Today was the first day of her new life.

It was easy.

All she had to do was have a baby. She decided that going off with some gross old man would leave her with too little control so the father of her child would have to be around her age.

She never cared much for children. She wanted them at some point, but it was never a priority and never for any reason more than she felt she was supposed to have them.

But now there was urgency to it. The only question was which one of her classmates would be the patsy.

She sat in the last row of the class alone today, far away from her best friends, Arachne and Livia.

As she saw their mouths move in conversation, she didn't wonder what they were talking about; she knew the topic was probably her. Hirudinea didn't mind; she did it to either of them whenever the other wasn't around too.

She scoped out the boys in class. None of them would do. In fact, most of them would outright call her a slut and turn her away if she came up to them and said

"Remember that time we had sex? Yeah, you got me pregnant"

Hilarius Heavensbee was her first choice; they had dated for a long time and had similar views of the world, but he was also deathly afraid of disappointing his mother, a battleaxe of a woman who didn't like Hirudinea much. The feeling was mutual.

The woman had finally told Hilarius to break up with Hirudinea after a particularly bad argument between his mother and girlfriend, and he did!

If she ended up pregnant for Hilarius, she would either be forced to abort or give away the baby, and then there wouldn't have been a point to any of it.

Pup was the next best choice. Although she couldn't imagine kissing him, with his food-lodged braces, she knew of his father's sense of responsibility, a military trait.

If she had Pup's baby, the boy himself might turn her away, but his father would not.

As she began to pack up her belongings to move over to Pup and begin her seduction, the doors of the classroom slammed open.

In came Sejanus Plinth. Hirudinea scoffed, he couldn't even be bothered to show up on time. But this lack of public etiquette was to be expected, after all, he wasn't like the rest of them.

"Sorry," he quietly apologized to the professor, not bothering to explain himself, as he knew a trip to the dean's office was in his future regardless.

He looked towards Coriolanus to find the seats surrounding his friend already full. He sighed and reluctantly moved towards the back of the class.

As he walked up the stairs, Hirudinea noticed his shoes; they were brand new, dark leather with silver accents. They must have cost a fortune.

The cogs in the girl's head began to turn.

He sat a few chairs down from her.

'Maybe...but no...wait, this might be something. No, this is perfect!'

She gathered her books and quietly moved down the aisle, settling down beside the curly-haired boy.

The young heir didn't notice her. He was too focused on whatever he was writing in his notes.

From what little she had gathered over the years, he was the perfect candidate: Insanely wealthy, influential, attractive and stupidly naive.

The best part was that he had an annoying sense of moral superiority and would never turn her child away. His parents were a piece of cake; Mrs. Plinth seemed nice enough, and Strabo, in desperation to be considered Capitol, wouldn't deny his grandchild, born from a member of the reputable Snow family.

Of course, there's the fact that Sejanus is District. He was below her. But it didn't matter, she reasoned; the districts owe her for the dark days, and this was just compensation. The Plinths would take on the burden of providing for her child, and she would get their money to save her family and do with as she likes.

Yes, it was perfect.

"Psst," she whispered. "Hey. Sejanus."

Sejanus finally glanced up, shocked when he realized who had called to him.

Hirudinea never made much of an effort to interact with him in recent years, only ever addressing him directly, although briefly, when she needed to speak with Corio and Sejanus was around.

He didn't really miss their childhood interactions either, which consisted of her leading the charge to push him around and call him district scum on the playground.

As they grew up, she had become cordial with him but would still snicker whenever someone made a comment about his upbringing.

He quickly returned his expression to the stoic face he wore when dealing with Capitol people like Hirudinea.

"What are you up to?" She asked with a smile, a playful lilt in her cadence.

Now that was weird to him.

"Taking notes" he replied neutrally

She nodded, looking around as she came up with something else to talk about.

She turned back to him,

“I forgot my notepad in my locker” she used her arm to cover her notepad which was on the table “Is it okay if I copy off yours after class?"

Was this some sort of trick? He thought.

She saw his hesitation and acted quickly "I'm doing really bad in this class, and I can't afford to fail the next quiz." She placed her soft hand over his. "Please."

It would be wrong of him to let her fail, wouldn't it? His soft brown eyes sparkled with compassion.

"Okay, I have a free period next. Meet me after class?"

Coriolanus seemed to be the only one to notice the strange interaction.

He had been surprised when Dinea had sat away from her irritating friends but now she was talking to Sejanus of all people.

She was definitely up to something and he would get to he bottom of it.

She met Sejanus in the library after class. There weren't many people around, and the librarian was busy somewhere far from them.

He stayed mostly silent, expanding on certain things he had written every now and then.

She needed to get the conversation started. But what could she talk about? A shared memory, maybe?

"Do you remember that field trip to the Capitol testing facility we went on when we were eleven?" she asked out of nowhere.

He was confused about the question but remembered the trip well. "The one where you dared Felix to sneak out one of the specimen; he was too scared so Clemensia went instead."

He laughed a bit, remembering how a little Clemmy was led out of a lab by her collar. She still hadn't lived it down.

"She got in so much trouble. A whole week's suspension," Hirudinea added with a giggle.

"What did you call Felix the next day again?" He asked

"I said he was so chicken, I could see the feathers growing out of his ass."

They both burst out laughing.

It was the most relaxed he had ever been around her.

It wasn't long before the librarian came over to shush them. They apologized and spoke with a quieter tone.

"You know, he made sure I wasn't invited to his birthday because of that. I hoped the party was a disaster. What did you think of it?"

"I, um, didn't get an invite either, remember?" Sejanus said with an awkward chuckle.

She did remember now. Hirudinea was the one to tell Felix not to invite the boy. In front of his face too. It didn’t do her any favors so she decided to change up the story a bit.

"Felix was such a jerk for doing that to you. I told him not to, but he never listens."

Sejanus vividly recalled her being in on it too but decided he remembered wrong. After all, she had been so nice today, why would she lie now?

The girl got somber all of a sudden, looking down shamefully.

"You know, I'm really sorry about how we all treated you in the past. You didn't deserve that." She hoped he didn't catch her false sincerity.

A small smile appeared on his face. "It's okay."

"Am I forgiven?" She playfully offered her hand to him.

"You're forgiven." He took her hand in a surprisingly firm handshake.

Hirudinea hung out with Sejanus often over the following weeks.

They established an easygoing friendship.

She made him swear to keep their friendship secret from Coriolanus, although he didn’t like it.

She didn't need her cousin sticking his nose in her business.

Sejanus came to trust the Snow girl to the point he spoke of his home in District 2 with her. She didn't say much about the topic during these conversations and he assumed it was because she wanted to listen intently. But the truth was she could hardly hold in her groan whenever he spoke of his old home.

‘Why is he reminiscing over THAT when he’s in the Capitol? How ungrateful can he be?’

She didn't abandon her objective of getting into his bed, pushing it as subtly as she could. A too-long hug here, a lingering hand on his thigh there. It always left him flustered.

He was fast developing a crush, and she knew it.

Soon enough, the moment of truth came. Sejanus had invited her to his place to hang out, and would make sure to be prepared.

It was almost time for Hirudinea to leave for Sejanus' house; she just needed to get some things in order.

Tigris was the only one at home and was holed up in her room. Hirudinea was thankful for this since her broken door lock provided no privacy for what she needed to next

She picked up a small foil packet from her lap. It was a condom. Without hesitation, she used one of Tigris smallest needles to poke holes through the protective barrier. She couldn't let Sejanus into her raw just yet; it had to look like an accident when she ended up pregnant.

When she felt like there were enough holes in the foil, she retrieved another and repeated the process.

Hirudinea sat on Sejanus bed.

He was in the kitchen getting her a glass of water, refusing to send an Avox. An act of rebellion against the status quo.

Hirudinea had to hold a fake smile through a brain-numbing conversation with Sejanus mother when she arrived. The woman was kind, but the lack of Capitol urgency made speaking with Mrs. Plinth feel like a chore. Thankfully, the woman had left to attend a party soon after, giving the two some privacy.

The girl dreaded having to hear Mrs. Plinth drone on about baby tips in the near future.

Hirudinea just wanted to get this over with and go home.

So she got up and stripped down to her lacy underwear. It had taken all her savings to afford them, but they would be worth it.

"Sej" She whispered the nickname seductively as he entered the room.

"Here you go..." He trailed off, closing the door behind him.

Sejanus paused. His face heated up as his eyes moved over her body once before snapping to her face.

"Come over here, Sej" she purred.

She brought her fingers to her mouth, twirling her tongue around them expertly. His jaw slacked.

Her fingers dropped to her panties next, slowly working the wetness into her entrance through the fabric.

His eyes were glued to the wet spot on her panties but his face was riddled with guilt.

"What about Hilarius? Aren't you together?" He asked

She freely rolled her eyes since he wasn't looking at her face. Only Sejanus would be worried about another man's relationship when a pretty girl was spread out before him.

"We broke up a while ago"

"I'm sorry"

She had no idea why he was apologizing.

"It doesn't matter. I want you"

His eyes snapped up. He was confused, but she gave him a soft smile, her eyes squinted ever so slightly, and his heart melted.

He placed the water down and moved over to Hirudinea.

Settling on the edge of the bed, He slowly brought his hand up to stroke her shin, moving up to her knee, then back down again.

"I want you too. I-I really like you, Hirudinea. I have for a while now”

'This is too easy'

All the lust gone from his eyes and replaced with something gentler. Hirudinea didn’t need that right now.

She took his hand from her cheek and slowly slid it to her waist

"It's okay, Sej, you can take what you want. I want you to"

That last statement was all he needed.

Sejanus surged forward over her and captured her lips in the most gentle kiss possible. It didn't last long, as she opened her mouth and initiated a deeper kiss. It was wet and hot. She wondered if the sloppiness of the kiss was due to a lack of experience or his need for her. She decided it was the latter when she felt his growing erection against her core.

Hirudinea lifted her hands to his curls, tugging at the strands, earning a deep groan.

He pushed his tongue into her mouth, licking at her tongue, her teeth, anything he could reach. The hairs on her arms stood up as she moaned softly at his need.

His lips moved down from her mouth to the curve of her neck, licking and sucking at her skin until he arrived at the cup of her bra.

He looked up, asking for permission to remove the article of clothing. She nodded, biting her lip.

He struggled for a second but once it was off, he sat back on his heels. Looking at the beautiful woman before him.

He was in absolute awe, and it was making her impatient.

Hirudinea raised her hands to her breasts, squeezing them harshly and moaning his name.

Almost immediately Sejanus reacted, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her onto his lap.

With his height and powerful build, she shouldn't have been surprised by his strength. She kind of liked the way his big arms held her so firmly...

He buried his face in her breasts, nuzzling into her and taking in her scent, before turning to take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue laved over the sensitive spot as he breathed heavily into her chest. Her other breast occupied by his hand which squeezed her gently.

"Oh, Sej" she breathed, leaning into his touch.

"Take off your clothes, baby" she said.

She didn't have to tell him twice. He laid her down, kissing her softly, before rising to pull off his clothes.

She bit her lip as each piece of clothing fell away from his body. His boxers were the last to go, and she gasped when she saw what was beneath them.

His rock hard member was long and wide as it stood at attention, curving slightly to the left. The head of his cock was an angry red and the veins around the shaft were strained with his need.

Underneath Sejanus’ shaft were his large balls, they sat heavily, ready to be emptied. His hair was trimmed neatly.

She knew he was big from the outline in his trousers when he was flaccid but she never imagined this.

She mentally prepared herself to take him, having never been with anyone so well endowed.

It didn't take Sejanus long to grasp the edges of her panties and pull them over her legs, adding them to the pile of clothes on the floor.

She wasn't expecting him to brush over her clit high his fingers. She gasped at the tingles it sent down her legs.

“I want to touch you, can I?” He asked with a politeness that didn’t belong in the bedroom.

"There's no need for that, Sej. I want you inside me" she said with a laugh.

"Please baby, let me make you feel good" he begged.

As much as she wanted to get to fucking, she supposed she could allow herself a treat.

'I might as well get off since I'm already here'

"Okay, baby. Go ahead"

Rubbing over her clit with his thumb, his middle finger teased her entrance.

"Mmm" she sighed. Pressing her head back against the bedding

After a few more swipes with his thumb, his middle finger began to work its way in. He pushed in as far as he could go, stopping when his knuckles met her mound.

Her back arched up from the bed as his finger brushed over that spot inside her.

Sejanus could help but groan at the way her walls gripped his finger. He imagined what she would feel like around his cock.

Her wetness coated his finger as he began pumping into her core and before long, he added a second finger, stretching her out. She cooed and rocked her hips against his hand.

She moved her hips in time with Sejanus’s movements. Spearing herself down on his fingers. A coil had begun to wind itself in her abdomen, begging to snap.

"Oh Sej, I need more"

He pumped harder, adding a third finger. Wet sounds filled the room.

That was it.

Hirudinea threw her head back, hands squeezing the sheets as she writhed against them, crying out her pleasure.

”Yes, Sej!”

The bliss was so intense her vision whited out temporarily.

As she came down, still letting out soft moans, she wondered why she had never come that hard when Hilarius had fingered her, or any of the other boys.

But she didn't have time to think about that, not when she needed Sejanus’s cum inside her.

"I need you in me, baby," she pleaded.

He didn’t need much convincing. He was aching and ready to burst.

Reaching under the pillow, she revealed one of the tampered-with condoms she hid there and with a naughty expression tore the foil open and slid it onto him.

He climbed over her as she spread her legs wider.

Holding himself up by his forearms and knees, he lined up his cock with her entrance.

“Are you sure” he asked, needing her explicit consent.

“Fuck me, Sejanus” was all she said.

He pressed against her entrance and took his time pushing in. He couldn’t get enough of the way her gummy walls bared down on his cock but didn’t want to hurt her.

The stretch was uncomfortable but she would have to manage. She she brought her legs up and used them to put slight pressure on his hips which spurred him to relent and slide home.

His cock was stuffed into her as far as it could go, making him groan uncontrollably. The feeling of her around him was better than anything he'd imagined.

"You feel amazing," he grunted out.

He didn't move for a second, enjoying the fit. But soon enough, he was gently thrusting.

Hirudinea wasn't satisfied his pace, "Harder, baby" she demanded.

He obeyed and began thrusting hard and fast. He tried to control himself, letting out grunts of passion, but they quickly turned into "oh"s and "ugh"s.

"Does my pussy feel good, Sej. Do you like the way I squeeze your huge cock" she asked with a sexy voice.

"Feels so good, baby. Ughhh"

His upper body fell a bit, letting half of his weight pin her to the bed as he shoved his cock deeper into her pussy, hitting her cervix. His forehead resting against his lovers.

Wet squelching sounds filled the room as his cock went in and out and in and out. Her hands ran over his bare back, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

Although she felt some discomfort with the way he was pressing against her cervix, she let out moans at the stimulation to that sensitive spot inside her. No inch of her pussy was left untouched by his thick cock.

Her sweet sounds fueled his relentless thrusts, and she didn't mind. It was actually really hot.

His hands found her knees, pushing them against the bed to spread her wide open for him. This was hot. She could feel another orgasm building within her.

If only her grandma'am could see her now, legs wide open and spilling soft noises as a district boy ruts against her. The old woman would certainly have a heart attack.

Sejanus pulled away from her lips to look deep into her eyes. It felt as if he were staring at her soul.

"Your eyes are so pretty," he whispered. The softness of his voice didn't match his thrusts.

She was dumb-struck. This hadn't happened to her during sex before; it usually came before sex to lull her into a false sense of security. She needed whatever he was doing to stop.

Splaying her hands out on the back of his head, she guided him to look down at where they were joined.

'This will distract him'

It worked. Sejanus groaned loudly as he watched his cock push and pull from her core covered in her slick. He stayed like that for a minute or two, allowing her to enjoy the feeling of his cock scraping against her g-spot, but then the spell wore off of him, and he was looking into her eyes again.

"So beautiful"

He had caught her out of left field. She didn't know what to do, so she pulled him close and buried her face in his neck, breathing in the citrus-y scent of his shampoo.

He was getting there; she could tell by the way his body was stiffening and the way his movements were getting jerkier. She was close too, moans falling from her lips like a waterfall.

"I'm so close. Are you gonna cum, Sej?"

"I'm going to come so hard, baby," he groaned, body continuing to tighten.

"Then fucking cum," She said through gritted teeth as her second orgasm hit her. She cursed out loud, feeling the waves of ecstasy wash over her.

He moaned her name as his end hit him hard, spurred on by the tightening of her cunt. "Fuck, I'm cummin'," he paused, pushing flush against her before beginning to thrust faster and shallower, his rhythm completely lost.

His eyes nearly crossed at the pleasure. Rope after role of cum filled the condom, and Hirudinea smiled to herself, knowing it was leaking into her womb. He moaned loudly.

“OHHHhhhh…”

His arms gave out, and he fell fully on top of her, but she wasn't bothered by his weight. He once again nuzzled into her breasts as his breathing evened out.

"Mmm, You smell good," he murmured.

She gave him a few moments before gently pushing him off and rolling on top of him. Removing herself from his cock, she carefully took the condom off under the guise of helping through the post-coital haze, pecking the tip of his nose before standing up. She disposed of the rubber before beginning to dress.

"You don't have to leave yet; my Ma won't be back for a while,"

Hirudinea cringed at his use of District 2 vernacular.

She hoped their child would never address her in such a manner. She preferred a distinguished 'mother' or 'ma'am'

"I should get home. I don't want to worry anyone"

She was a little peeved when Sejanus insisted on walking her to the Corso.

He had escorted her home before, but tonight, his incessant need to smile like an idiot the entire time was pissing her off.

Walking side by side, the backs of their hands brushed occasionally, sending sparks up his arm. Eventually, Sejanus takes the initiative to grasp her hand in his own, entwining their fingers.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asked hopefully

"I would like that." She feigned bashfulness.

When they arrived the door of the Corso, she refused to let him take her any further, saying, "My grandma'am won't like to see me with a boy this late."

It convinced him to let Hirudinea off here, not wanting to get her in trouble. He did ask for one more kiss though, which she allowed. It was sweet and light.

"Goodnight, Dinea" he said as the door closed behind her.

The journey upstairs gave her time to think about what had just happened.

Her periods were infrequent, only coming every three months or so. So she would have to get pregnancy tested at the hospital. But how would she afford it?

It was only when she reached the penthouse that she realized he had called her by her nickname.

'What gives him the righ-'

The door burst open to reveal an upset Corio.

"Where were you!?" He yelled.

Hirudinea rolled her eyes and pushed past him.

She went straight to her room and laid back on the mattress, picking up a magazine to flip through.

Corio had decided not to let it go and ended up standing over her with his arms folded.

"If you must know, I was with someone" she finally said after a minute of him just staring.

"With who?"

"That little friend of yours, the one from District 2," she waved her hand as if trying to recall his name. As if she hadn’t been screaming it out an hour ago.

"Sejanus?"

"Sejanus! That's the one. We were studying at his house"

"He's not my friend, Dinea. I tolerate him, but you don't, and the last time I saw you study, we were still using crayons. So you should understand why I don’t believe that’s what were you really doing there?"

Dinea stood up at full height and jabbed her finger into his chest. "I don't need to explain myself to you, Corio. You're not my dad"

"I might as well be, since Tigris and I have been carrying your weight ever since we were kids, just because you're grandma'am's golden child. You've never achieved anything by yourself!” His frustration was evident in his voice.

"Is that what this is about? You're looking for a reason to get me in trouble with grandma'am. You're pitiful, Corio," she laughed and walked into the living room. "It's no wonder your mother died trying to replace you; you know, old Crassus Snow probably killed himself in 12 to get away from you too"

Coriolanus' face hardened as he began marching over to her.

She always dealt out the low-blow in an argument.

Tigris came out of her room at just the right moment, "What's going on, you two?"

"Go on, Corio. Tell her the great sin I committed," Hirudinea pressed. She knew Corio would look like he was overreacting if Tigris knew the fight was over Dinea hanging out with Sejanus, whom Corio himself hangs out with.

"Nothing," the young man huffed.

As the family dispersed, Hirudinea called out to the blonde boy,

"Don't worry about what I'm doing. Remember, snow lands on top" she assured.

Part two

How do you feel about Hirudinea and Sejanus? I'm really interested in your thoughts on Dinea and the things she’s doing!

Please like and reblog, if you feel like. Your feedback and interactions keeps me motivated XO

117 notes · View notes

captainremmington-13 · 2 months

Text

Prologue for my new TBOSAS OC fic

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova.

SUMMARY: A young, innocent Coriolanus Snow meets his match.

“Hey!”

Seven-year-old Coriolanus Snow stood at the foot of the playground slide, scowling up at a girl dressed in a black-and-white fur coat. “I wanted to be the king of this tower!”

The girl gave him a nonchalant smile, leaning against the railing of the second floor of the play structure. “You should’ve gotten here faster then. This is my tower. If you’d like, you can be my sidekick. But I’m in charge. Deal?”

Coriolanus marched up the steps to reach the level she was perched on, still frowning. “That’s not fair,” he said. “You can’t just take over my space.”

She shrugged. “Too bad, I already have. Now, I’ll have to ask you to go away. I can’t have anyone disturbing the peaceful nature of my tower.”

Coriolanus stomped his foot, his patience long gone. “Who do you think you are, some kind of princess?”

She didn’t answer. “Please get off my structure. Now.”

He crossed his arms. “Make me.”

With a swift move of the girl’s little arms, Coriolanus found himself falling backwards down the stairs, landing on his back painfully.

He immediately began to wail, calling for his cousin. Tigris ran over quickly, crouching over him worriedly and asking what happened.

Coriolanus pointed at the girl, who was staring down at him from the platform. “S-She pushed me!”

She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t have if you had listened to my warning.”

Tigris looked at her, trying to remain calm and collected. “Have your parents ever taught you that hurting people isn’t very kind?”

The little girl nodded. “Yes. But they also told me I should stand my ground.”

Tigris sighed, brushing Coriolanus’s tears away gently with her thumb. “Come on, Coryo. It’s time to go home.”

Coriolanus sniffled and slowly stood up, holding Tigris’s hand tightly. He looked back at the girl one last time, who hadn’t moved from her position on top of the platform. She waved at him almost mockingly, but gave him a small smile.

Coriolanus glanced up at Tigris. “She was mean. I don’t like her.”

His cousin squeezed his hand reassuringly. “She’ll learn when gets older. She’ll learn to treat people with kindness and patience, which are very important. More important than who rules over the playground.”

As the two young Snows walked over to their family, Coriolanus thought about the triumphant smile that the girl had given him after shoving him. He gritted his half grown-in, half-missing teeth.

‘One day, I’ll be able to do what she did to me. I’ll take her place as the mighty ruler of the land,’ he thought.

That was the first time that Coriolanus Snow met his future wife and First Lady, Bellova Reginelle. Neither of them knew what fate has in store for them, or what the pain and suffering would mold them to be.

………………………………………………………………………………

Author’s Note: This is my first time ever posting my writing on Tumblr. Please let me know what you think in the comments! I have a few chapters done so far, but wanted to wait to see if the prologue was well received :))

thank you to @euphemiaamillais for reading my work and encouraging me to publish it! also thank you to @coryosmin for letting me discuss my ideas and sharing my pinterest boards via dm lolll

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #tbosas #president snow #tigris snow #coriolanus snow x oc #coriolanus x oc #hunger games #suzanne collins #hunger games fanfiction

56 notes · View notes

clementinechatsshit · 5 months

Text

money, power, glory - coriolanus snow x plinth!oc

description: rhea plinth wanted one thing more than anything in this world. power. this is her story of descending into the hunger for power. the addiction to it. and if she can love through this hunger.

tw: 18+ standard hunger games shizzle, strong language, spice, toxic relationships, power hungry bitches, rhea is just as twisted as snow

a/n: hi peeps, this is my first attempt at writing anything ff related, but coryo has been in my brain since i read tbosas. i didnt want to write him ooc but rather embrace the fact that he is bat shit crazy and create a character that also embraces and encourages that side of him. i dont think ive read any ffs that have a reader/oc that is also as fucked up as snow. pls be nice

What is the purpose of the Hunger Games?

I used to think that they were to bring justice to Panem. To punish the districts for the uprising. We’d always been taught that, and I believed it. Yet, now I see things a little differently. I see things for how they truly are. I was eighteen when I learnt the truth about the Hunger Games. How they are played, and how they are really won.

‘Rhea?’ a voice echoes from behind me. I snap my head around to see my brother leant against the frame of my bedroom door.

‘Sejanus, what have I said about knocking’, he flinches at my response, my tone harsher than intended.

He lowers his gaze to the blazer in his grip, cowering from the hardened stare I deliver his way. ‘I’m sorry’ weak, ‘we’re going to be late’.

I turn to fully face him, lifting my face to a content smile. My heels clack on the marble flooring as I cross the room, I pause for a second in front of him, waiting. Sejanus holds his elbow out for me to link my hand through, my gloved hand brushes the soft thread of his shirt as an avox approaches and hands me my purse.

‘Bye, mother!’, ‘See ya, Ma’ we shout as we leave the penthouse. Sejanus never stopped calling our mother ‘ma’, juvenile if you ask me. Sometimes I think he wants to be back in the districts.

The red silk of my dress grazes the bottoms of my calves as we make our way to the car, another avox our driver. I see avox’s as the perfect company, they know their place in this society, even if they did have to learn it the hard way. They know that they have no power, they have accepted that there are consequences to their actions. They don’t talk back either.

‘The Academy’ a demand, not a request.

‘Please.’ Sejanus adds

The Academy. Only the elites have the privilege of attending, and only the greats go on to study at the University. We may not be Capitol born, but we belong there more than anybody else. For ten years, I have been proving my place amongst my fellow students, before I even set foot in the Capitol, I knew I am simply better than them all.

I entered first. Shoulders back, chin up. Make them stare. The first thing I know about power. If you can’t command a room, you have none. I felt the eyes on me as I strode in, then I heard the whispers. I had power, you see, I have their attention when I give them none. I glance around the room attempting to find someone worth a morsel of my time, when I hear his voice.

‘Rhea Plinth’, that is a voice I would never tire of hearing.

‘Coriolanus Snow’ I acknowledge him, giving him a once over. The pinstripes of his dress shirt, dated, yet he made it look like an arising trend in the Capitol. A rose tucked into the formal vest. He was handsome indeed, a shame about the mismatched tesserae buttons. I placed my hand into his outstretched palm, watching him raise it to his lips as he leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it in greeting.

‘Rhea, can you just get it over and done with, Snow won the Plinth Prize, didn’t he?’ the bratty whine of Arachne Crane interrupted.

‘I can’t confirm anything’, power, ‘however, I can say things will get interesting this year.’ my voice almost sultry as I spoke directly to Coriolanus, not even bothering to turn to Arachne.

‘Now, Coriolanus, walk with me?’ a huff sounds from beside us as we turn to leave the hall.

‘Won’t people suspect something?’ I feel his breath on my neck as he hunches down to be level with my ear.

‘They’ll just assume I’m telling you about the prize’, I remain facing ahead, the doors to the adjoining hallway open. A rare smile hooks at the corners of my mouth as we round the corner, a pillar shielding us from the curious eyes of anyone passing.

‘Ah yes, Miss Plinth doing her duty as the liaison for the prestigious Plinth family.’ His mocking tone forces my eyes to roll, as we slowly step backwards. I may be the representative of the Plinth family for all intents and purposes, but with Coriolanus, I don’t have to be. See, I know who he really is, I know that his family has no money, I’ve seen the apartment they live in. Deep down, I know that all he sees in me is District, but I am the one thing that stands between him and the power he craves. That’s why we have this arrangement. I secure his future in the Capitol, and he makes sure that no one will ever see me as district again.

I’m drawn from my thoughts as my skin hits the cold wall behind me, a hand snaking its way around my waist. A hooked finger nudges my chin, lifting my gaze to meet the piercing blue eyes looking down at me. The intensity of his stare is almost intimidating. His grip changes as he strokes a fallen piece of hair behind my ear.

‘You look pretty like this,’ he murmurs, leaning in. His lips graze mine and I feel him inhale. Like he’s breathing in my surrender. I crash my lips against his, our noses bumping against each other, but neither of us minding. His lips are rough against mine, more aggressive. You look pretty like this. I look pretty when you think you have control over me.

I reach my hands around his neck, tangling my fingers into the blond curls. I tug once, he groans, I tug again. Who’s in control now, Coryo. He squeezes my waist and I sigh into the kiss. Our whole exchange is a power play. His tongue slips into my mouth as he reaches his hand lower, and lower. Maybe I could give in this once.

The echo of someone clearing their throat shatters the tension between us. Coriolanus takes a few instinctive steps back as I swing my head around to look at who dared interrupt us.

Dean Casca Highbottom.

‘Mr Snow, Miss Plinth. I assume you are heading into the hall to hear the announcement?’ He looked disgusted, disappointed.

‘Yes, of course, Dean Highbottom.’ Coriolanus responded instantly, leaving me standing with the Dean, marching back into the grand hall, his hands reaching up to fix his hair

‘They can’t make the announcement without me, Casca. You know that,’ I give him a knowing look before following Coriolanus’ lead. I look back over my shoulder to see the Dean opening a vial and consuming the contents.

I found Coriolanus standing with my brother and another girl from our class, Dovecote, Clemensia I believe. I give her a slight nod as a hello, not wanting to waste my breath on her. ‘Hello Sejanus, Coriolanus.’ glancing up at the boys, flashing a quick smirk at them.

‘Rhea, where were you?’ Sejanus queries, his brows furrowed, ‘you’re meant to be naming the winner.’

‘Brother mine, you worry too much. Besides, there's been a slight change in plan.’ This is power. Knowledge. Money.

‘Can everyone take their seats,’ the instructions come from one of the teachers at the Academy.

I leave the group and make my way up to the podium, passing Dean Highbottom on the way. The room silences as I ascend the stairs. As I glance down to the crowd, I catch Coriolanus’ eye, he looks hopeful. He needs this prize. To anyone else, it’s about the title. To him, this is everything.

‘My father, Strabo Plinth, has been gracious enough, over the years, to provide incentive to those at the Academy in the form of the Plinth Prize. An award bestowed upon the student who excels in every aspect of their education. An honour for any student who wins it.’ my voice strong, conductive, they are hanging on my every word. Power. I see Arachne glare over at the blond boy, they all think they know. They all think he has won. ‘This year, we want to make things harder, create more of a challenge. This year, myself and my mentor, Dr. Ghaul, want you. The top twenty-four. The elite. To become mentors yourselves.’ slight muttering begins to spread around the room. ‘This reaping day, you will be assigned tributes, you will guide them, make spectacles of them, and one of you. You will create a victor.’

The voices become louder, anger begins to bubble. Arachne is already complaining, Sejanus looks horrified. But Coriolanus, he is furious. And me, a large grin spreads its way across my face.

Now this. This is power.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #oc #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #lucy gray baird #tom blyth #coryo snow #tigris snow #the hunger games #capitol

74 notes · View notes

romerona · 6 months

Text

The Worm

Surviving the game and losing yourself in the way.

"Don't go underestimating the power of a small force, it may be the only thing that can slip through the cracks."

ROSEMARY BLACK X OC!SNOWMALE.

ROSEMARY BLACK X PRIMROSE EVERDEEN.

"Rosemary Black, district 10, the youngest ever victor in the Hunger Games. Don't let her age fool you, she a force to be reckoned with, known for her cunning wit and speed she managed to-"

"I remember her… I found it hard to believe it then and still find it hard to believe it now."

"Well, then you know that with the right motivation, she's unstoppable."

Rosemary Black × OC!SnowMale? // Primrose Everdeen?

A/N: There would be a few inaccuracies but please, remember this is a fanfic. I'm unsure If I will match Rose with anyone yet but I'lI think about it as the story goes.

Masterlist.

[CAPITOL OF PANEM]

"Okay, firstly, one of the most important things for survival in this place is popularity.” Allen said leaning against the one of the many luxury sofas on the main cart.

Taking a bite out of a bread, Eugene frowns “Meaning what?”

“Meaning that people from the capitol can be your ticket for survival if you are well-liked,” Allen told them, taking a sip of his juice from a pink-looking glass. “Being well known in the population of the capitol is having the upper hand in the games, for lack of better words.”

“And how do we do that?”

“You need to stand out to them and how do you do that you may ask, well, that's simple enough," Allen looks between them. "What these people want is a show, they want characters, so, my advice is for you to create one- It doesn’t matter what or how just make sure you leave a mark. Make them remember you.”

Rose purses his lips, looking down at the half-eaten piece of toasty bread. The concept of selling herself to the Capitol is deeply unsettling but it must be done, "Seems simple enough."

"Yeah..." Allen sighs, running a hand over his unruly dark curls, before looking down at his plate and stuffing his mouth with cake after cake.

Rose eyed him for a moment. By the way that he sighed and adverted his eyes, Rose knew Allen was clearly holding something back and while she usually wouldn't push people to speak, right now, in their current situation, it wasn't an option.

"What aren't you telling us?" She asks, eyes set on Allen.

Allen snaps his brown eyes to hers, the lack of reaction on his part was more telling than anything else. He sighs, swallowing the last of his food and leans back in his seat, "I won't lie. The fact that you are the youngest tribute might make things harder."

"In what way?" Eugene asks, concern clear in his voice.

"Not you," Allen said, he gestured at Rosemary, "Her. Kids your age hardly ever make it out of the bloodbath and if they do they only last a couple of days tops so people... they don't usually bet on them."

Rose processes Allen's words carefully, trying to make sense of what he is saying. She understands that being sponsored by citizens from the capital is crucial to her survival and knows that she has to battle the impossible odds that keep stacking against her so she has to keep going.

"I'll find a way to stand out," Rose said, trying to convince Allen and herself.

With a nod of agreement, Allen returns to his food as he continues, "I'll try my best to convince those shitheads to sponsor you but once again I need you to back me up with your actions, so-"

The sound of a door sliding open and the excited voice of Caine as the colourful man enters the cart cut Allen off. "Oh, kids, look out the window. We have arrived, isn't that exciting?"

Rose and Eugene snap their head to the nearest window. Sure enough, there it was, the Capitol of Panem. Rose stood up and walked to the window, the city sprawled out seemingly endlessly, every building shining brightly, it looked pristine and perfect, a sight she had never seen before.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Caine breathed out next to Rose and Eugene, who had joined her at the window.

Allen scoffs loudly, he murmurs something under his breath but it is ignored by the three of them. As the train gets closer to the prestigious-looking city Caine turns to look at them.

"Okay, my sweet children, once we arrive at the station, I want you two to give your biggest smiles at the cameras, okay?" Caine told them showing them with his own mouth exactly how they should smile too.

"We can do that, right?" Eugene nods, glancing at Rose.

Before Rose could say anything, however, Allen beat her to it as he stood up from the table and gave them a stern look "No, you 'can' just do that you two have to do that. Remember?"

"Right, of course," Eugene mumbles, looking away sheepishly and back to the window as the sound of cheers of glee and excitement gradually gets louder as the train arrives at the station.

Before the train even stopped, Caine quickly dragged them to the exit door. Rose, as best as she could, smooths her washed-down pink dress and ran her hand over her unruly mop to try to look as presentable as possible.

"Hey," Eugene whispers, making Rosemary turn to him.

Eugene smiled at her, it was an encouraging smile which made Rose feel slightly less anxious and to her surprise, he took her hand in his and whispered, "We'll do this together,"

"....Yeah, together," Rose said, letting out a breath as she looked at the closed door, where just behind the cheering was louder than ever.

Despite Eugene's comforting words, Rose felt her heart beating faster as she took in the atmosphere, she took a deep breath to calm herself and remembering that she had to make the most of every given opportunity, whether she liked it or not.

The door finally slides open, and the cheers and lights make Rose flinch, regardless of her original plan to smile and wave, all Rose could do at first was gawk at the people who have gathered to see them. It wasn't the quantity that startle her, it was the way they looked. All the people there had bizarre hair and painted faces, their clothes were just so... odd, and although Rose, after meeting Caine, shouldn’t have been so surprised to see the people of the city dress like that, she was stunned nonetheless.

Rose felt Allen nudge from behind, snapping her out of her thoughts. She quickly recovered, remembering where she was and what she had to do, Rose took a breath before she smiled at the people cheering for them, the cheers continued as Caine moved them to the vehicle waiting for them.

As they were making their way, Rose could feel the weight of the gazes and most importantly the cameras. It felt suffocating yet all she could do was smile and send small shy waves, still not confident enough about her act.

A squeeze on her hand made her turn to Eugene, they hadn't let go of each other's hands, a comforting fact. He sends her a quick smile before looking back at the masses of ornamented people.

Soon enough and much to her relief, they were on their way to the Remake Center, where, according to Caine, Eugene and Rose will be getting a refashioning for the opening ceremony to which Allen simply said 'Let them do as they wish,' it sounded very ominous to but Rose supposes that Allen, despite it all, knows better.

As Caine went on and on about the opening ceremony and their prep team and their stylist, someone named Pearl for her and for Eugene someone named Lennox, Rose turned to look out the window of the vehicle.

She was astounded by the view, her eyes darting back and forth as she tried to take it all in. The Capitol was the complete opposite of the impoverished districts, Rose was overwhelmed by the sight of sprawling, luxurious buildings and the endless crowd of people gathered there. Everything was perfectly maintained, the buildings were tall and imposing giving off an air of wealth and power that could not be denied. The Capitol was a world of its own, and Rose felt completely out of place there.

After the ride, Rosemary and Eugene were ushered into one of those large buildings, where they were separated and led to individual rooms. In there, two people were waiting for her. One, who had presented himself as Leto, had long, colourful hair that was woven into a series of intricate braids, while the other sported brightly coloured drawings over much of their exposed skin, Pax. Both had unique and eye-catching features.

Before Rose could even mutter her name back to them, she was stripped butt naked, much to her discomfort and pushed into a long, cold table where Leto and Pax began to prepare her.

While the prep team was painfully polishing her from head to toe, all Rose could think was how much she hoped they would just leave her hair as it was. Having grown up in a house full of men, Rose learned to not care for her appearance often, it's not like she had any money to buy pretty dresses or pretty shoes like the daughter of the mayor uses if she so happens to want to put effort into her looks anyway. Even so, her hair was something Rosemary always liked about herself. Her untamed beast of a hair, as her grandfather liked to call it whenever he tried to brush it every other week. Her hair was not only what Rose thought to be her most distinguished aspect, but her brother once told her that she looked just like their mother when she wore it down. That is a detail she carries close to her heart.

Thankfully, all they did was wash it and comb it, though, Rose did hear Leto murmuring to himself as he was trying to untangle her hair that it would be easier if he just cut it off and put her in a wig instead. Good thing that didn't happen.

Time passed, and Pax and Leto had done their work leaving her alone In the room to wait for the stylist, Pearl. Rose wasn't aware of how long she was waiting or what she was expecting but when the door finally opened she couldn't help but be slightly stunned by who had entered the room.

"Hello, you are Rosemary, right?" Pearl stood barely four feet tall, and her delicate features and tiny frame made her look more like a doll than a person. A very pale doll, the woman's skin seemed to be lacking any colour, her short hair was painted white, and even her eyes were a pale blue colour.

"I..." Rose blinks as she stares for a moment. "Yes, that is me,"

"Lovely," Pearl smiles at her, showing her row of perfect white teeth, before she moves to grab a chair and slide it near Rose as she amicably continues talking, "You know, this is my first time as a stylist- I mean, I am a stylist, a legit one but this is my very first time styling by myself for the Games, can you believe it?"

"Your... first games?" Rose couldn't help but ask, slightly worried.

Pearl takes a seat in front of Rose, making the girl aware of the folder in her hands. Pearl smiles waving her small, yet delicate-looking hand dismissively, "Yes but don't worry, little lady, I've been chosen to be a stylist for a reason, okay?"

"Okay," Rose mumbles, biting her lips and watching as Pearl opens the folder on her lap as she continues to ramble.

"Besides, what other stylist can say they've worked with the Tigris, huh? No one, that's who. I was the only one she took under her wing and believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about, my hands and eyes have been blessed by her and I wouldn't dream of embarrassing her by making my first tribute look awful in their debut and- Oh, here it is." Pear stops her ramble when she finds what she is looking for.

Pearl took a page out of her folder and showed it to Rose with an excited smile. "I've noticed that cowboys and farmers are somewhat of a tradition when it comes to dressing the tributes from 10 and every year it's the same, it get tiring, don’t you think? Of course, you do but don’t be frighten now. Lenox and I will switch things a little."

Rose looked down at the design, it was nice, she supposed, definitely different but she thought it represented her district and the wildlife there perfectly….

"I like it," Rose concluded, looking back at the pale woman who seemed very pleased with herself.

"Perfect, now I shall bring back Pax and Leto so we can start with everything and-"

"Uh... I- can I..." Rose hesitantly cut Pearl off, causing the woman to turn to her with curiosity and expectation in her pale eyes. "Can I keep my hair?"

Pear frowns, tilting her head, glancing at her hair, "What do you mean, honey?"

"I mean... can I keep it as it is?" Rose asks tentatively, running a hand through her surprisingly soft and untangled loops, "I... I would appreciate it if we can keep it like this."

Pearl purses her lips as she regards Rose's hair, she moves her chair forward and takes a loop in between her fingers before letting go. The woman turns to Rosemary and sends her a comforting smile, "You have beautiful hair, little lady, I wouldn't dare to hide it away."

"Thank you," A feeling of relief washed over Rose only to quickly transform into nervousness as soon as Pearl jumped off the chair with a smile and a clap of her hands.

"Now, shall we?"

A/N: I decided to leave the design of the opening ceremony costume open to imagination.

52 notes · View notes

evita-shelby · 1 month

Text

They didn't know we were seeds

Chapter 3

Cw: violence, murder, death,

@justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings

Tigris is the only person allowed with her in the stockyard where she is to prepare for her last moments on this earth.

The arenas are specially done in advance for the games, the entire thing is usually attributed to the Head Gamemaker and only used for this momentous occasion. Afterwards it is a tourist attraction that pays for itself because to the Capitol this is entertainment.

Eva's Launch Room is not like her room back at the tower nor even the cabin on the train. It is a dressing room where she will go to her televised death at the 61st Hunger Games. Eva hopes it’s not Dustin nor Laurie who kills her. Nor Lacey from 8, nor Daisy from 11, nor any tribute she made sort of friends with this week.

The tracker had been injected into her forearm. Breakfast was eaten by her almost entirely because Tigris only eats raw meat like a real tiger. Tigris who never felt human and became a tiger despite her family’s protests.

Eva has little family to speak of.

Her cousins married and moved away, and Eva’s aunt would follow after now that her husband is dead from cancer and the last mouth to feed is here in the capitol awaiting to be slaughtered. Olivia is a strong woman; she won’t be like her only sister who couldn’t cope with losing her children.

Some say Eva resembles her more than her dead mother even if she doesn’t have Olivia’s auburn hair. But both were tall, deemed beautiful by all those who know them and shared the sharp brown eyes everyone in their family inherited from Eva’s grandmother.

No one stood in Olivia Souza’s way not even death. This last part Caesar had liked, said she should aspire to be more like her aunt.

And if she is to be like her aunt in that regard, Eva asks Tigris what other strategy the mystery girl from twelve used to survive.

“She ran away from the bloodbath just like your mentor did. Her sponsors kept her fed and she used all her tricks to stay alive. She only killed one person. The rest was just a disease in the arena.” The tigress whispers as if it were illegal for them to speak of a previous game.

When Eva is raised onto the arena, she laughs while a voice countsdown the seconds and she takes a look around to plan her escape while Dustin plans to take the hunting knife put amongst the temptations of the cornucopia.

Maybe Dustin wasn’t wrong in thinking he could win them, Caesar in his bubblegum pink hair had said she was selling herself short and he was right.

They are in a desert, just like the one her district shares with part 2 and 5.

Just like home.

Eva doesn’t stick around once she’s secured the meager offerings nearest to her before running as far as she can from this.

Dustin made a mad run to the weapons and paid the price for it when the careers overpowered him, she doesn’t know who killed him and doesn’t want to know. And yet she’s foolishly hoping it wasn’t Laurie as she hides in the overgrown grasses having tripped over something on her way to the thicket of trees that she knows only grow like that near water, even if you must dig to find it. There isn’t much place to hide, most trees do not grow tall in the desert and the tributes are picked off like flies by careers and other tributes alike.

There had been one who ran in her direction only for her to lose her footing and bash her own head on the many rocks hidden under the grass, the arena is as inhospitable as a real desert meaning it will have all those critters that don’t need man to be lethal.

Eva crawls on her hands and knees careful to avoid the ants, the scorpions and the snake hole she tripped on until she reaches the first of the trees. A scraggly mesquite bleeding sap and enough pods to see her through the night until she can find the source of its water.

There is an oasis where the careers will take over with their supplies as they always have, but her backpack ---which she kicked the boy from eight in the balls for--- has a metal canteen for water, a spigot and iodine. It has a good enough sleeping bag that might be useful for the cold desert night, some food she could make last a while with her foraging and only matches for a fire.

She needs a weapon, but she can make do with what she has while the killing dies down and whoever sponsors her sends her a gift. For now, she stuffs herself with the sap and the pods as the canons go off.

With not much here to give them cover, the toll is rather high and the display on the false heavens feels unending. Twelve have died just today.

Tomorrow morning there will be more canons, not from murder or even the animals in the desert, but from hypothermia. Eva will be lucky if she sees morning.

But she does and is rewarded with a tiny little runnel that is enough for her to fill her canteen and nourish the wildflowers, some prickly pear cacti or two and the trees she uses for shelter. The girl fills her backpack with what she has foraged before making a suitable walking stick from the tree she slept against.

She could stay here, hidden and safe until the Gamemakers corral them to get the games going, Eva thinks as she finds a pinyon pine with enough leaves and branches for her to hide in for tonight. Desert trees don’t grow very tall but this one is old enough to cover her and have some pine nuts despite it being late mid July.

Eva sets her first trap, on a cactus that she knows not to tap water out of she leaves the spigot knowing someone is bound to drink from it.

Three more during the night and its barely dawn when she hears the laughter from the career pack led by Laurie and his golden sword. They are hunting down tributes going by their talks. The girl from One laughs at her own jokes about the boy from 5 begging for her to spare him.

Only nine tributes left. Both tributes from 1, 2 and 11 who hailed from the southern part of her district, the boy from 4 who stayed behind to defend the oasis, the boy from 9, and Eva.

Eva would be casualty number 16.

“I told you Evie would survive, 10's part desert, remember.” Laurie acts as if he isn’t here to kill her.

The boy gives her that same charming smile he gave her when they first met at the training center and extends his hand to her. “Hi, gorgeous, how would you like to join us?”

He is counting on her losing.

Despite the growing animosity between them, Tigris is the last person alive who truly knows the man before her.

Coriolanus is so confident that Laurentius will take after his brother and win that he never considers Eva could kill the entire career pack with the poisons she can make with the flora of the arena.

Her grandmother was an apothecary, her mother as well and now she put her lifelong knowledge of living in a place like that with her healing training to the test. Even the trainers were impressed with her skill.

Now as the girl who snagged herself an alliance with the leader of the pack yesterday, she is safe from the others. Especially from the tributes who look down on her for being from a poor district and know her hold on Laurie Nelson spells death to them.

The spigot she left had tricked the boy from 9 and the girl from 11 because all the water from the runnel had dried up the day Eva left her trees. These two deaths happened while Eva lacked for nothing in the safety of Laurentius’ arms. The boy gave her the long hunting knife Dustin tried to fight him for and she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

She will make the games interesting, interesting enough for her to rack up sponsors and bets.

“Nelson may be able to keep her safe from other tributes, but can he save her from the Gamemakers?” There is a bit of blood from his sore on the drink and some on his lips that curve into a snake like smirk. It disgusts her along with the smell of the roses.

Grandma’am’s never smelled like these artificial yet real creations that fail to hide the rot in Coriolanus’ soul.

“We shall see, Coriolanus. It is only the fourth day, and these games can last up to twenty days.” The feline woman hides her distaste for the smell of his roses well enough to get him to think her ploy to turn Eva into the ghost of Lucy Gray was just a way to secure sponsors for her new ‘pet.’

Eva lives to see Laurie kill the girl from his district when they try to drown Eva and the career pack officially dissolves at the sixth day. Eva Smith somehow convinces Laurie to destroy the stockpile of supplies ---after stealing what they will need--- and leave his former teammates to starve or risk meeting them at the Feast that will surely come.

On the Seventh Day, the snakes come out exactly like the ones Coryo Snow once tampered with to save Lucy Gray Baird just as the Feast is laid out in the arena.

#evacore #jack nelson x oc #hunger games au #peaky blinders fanfic #tigris snow

9 notes · View notes

llliiinnnaaa · 5 months

Text

Reprisal | Chapter One

Coriolanus Snow x Gaul OC

Summary: Ten years after the Tenth Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow is under Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s wing as a Gamemaker alongside her niece. Unbeknownst to either of them, they’re both being prepared for a much greater task.

Warning: This story will contain explicit violence against adults and children alike (I mean, it’s Dr. Gaul AND Snow) as well as explicit language, and sexual situations.

***This fic is in no way, shape, or form, me endorsing or co-signing the horrific shit Snow does, nor am I trying to romanticize it. Also, apathy and will be the main driving force of any remnants of a relationship between my OC and Snow’s character. So if you’re interested in something very romantic and fluffy…it’s not gonna be this.

The clicking of cold, metal surgical instruments echoes in the room, blue, translucent blood covering the gloves hands of the doctor checking over the development of the new organism.

"...Why is it blue?" She hears a quiet mumble from one of the technicians around her, two of which are helping to gently shift the organs of the creature around for a better look.

"Our blood is iron based, so it's red." Tawny states without breaking her concentration, furrowing her brows as she spots a possible abnormality, "So, if it's blue...?"

"It's copper based." Cyn pipes. "Crustatians and Octopus are copper based, for example." It's added, and she's awaiting a small smile from Tawny as confirmation she's correct.

"I'm glad someone has been paying attention." Tawny replies, the small grin falling from her face under her mask when she sees the dark colored organ. "Mr. Dovecote?" She calls to the young man peering over the body next to her.

His older sister, Clemensia, had been one of the best students at the Academy, and University alike.

She'd discovered Clemensia's baby brother was just as intelligent — though much more unsure of himself.

"Dr. Crane," He replies to her sheepishly.

"What is that?"

She moves aside slightly, allowing him to get a good look.

"Her liver." He answers correctly.

"What color should it be?"

He thinks a moment.

"Well, a healthy, iron-based liver is dark, reddish brown. Copper-based should be a pale yellow."

"Is she iron-based?"

"No, Dr. Crane."

"Which means?"

"...Her liver has somehow gotten too much iron."

It's a polite way of telling his teacher she fucked up somewhere.

"So, what do we do?" Looking at all of them, now, they act as though they're waiting for the other to answer.

"Dr. Crane?" The sliding of the glass door followed by the sweet voice of Dayla Shoemake interrupts her.

"Yes, Mrs. Shoemake?"

"Your husband is wanting to speak to you."

The words lull Tawny's eyes in a roll.

"Please, tell him I'm elbow deep in a glorified carcass and I'll be there momentarily." It comes out far more bitter than she intends, capturing the attention of her students.

"Yes, ma'am." She leaves.

"The liver is failing, so what do we do?" Tawny questions once more.

Again, no one answers. No one wants to, feeling the frustration rolling off of Dr. Crane in large waves as she finally states, "Cut our losses and pull the plug."

"Pull the plug?" Bellamy questions suddenly, furrowing her red brows, the action complimenting the downward pull of her lips. "That's a waste."

"Its failure to execute a successful mutation, Miss Von. If you'll go to the morgue and look at the dozens of subjects just like her, you'll see it's a fairly common thing that occurs here." Tawny snips, glaring at the woman. "We pull the plug, put her away and return to it when we have the time to trace back what exactly went wrong and refuse to repeat it the next trial. It's how all our successful alterations have been made. Being good at one's job doesn't mean everything we touch turns to gold. It means we waste and learn from it."

Bellamy only offers a small nod, keeping her lips sealed.

"Now, there is a syringe beside you, inject it into her IV."

She does so, administering the lethal barbiturate just as Tawny begins withdrawing her instruments, preparing to sew their failed project back up.

"Dr. Crane?" Dayla asks once more, having returned.

"Yes?"

"He's very adamant that he speaks to you." She cautiously says, Tawny running her tongue along the inside of her bottom lip.

"Mr. Dovecote, can you please finish this?" She asks him, to which he nods. "Nothing fancy, and it doesn't have to be perfect. She's going to die, anyway."

She peels her gloves off, and her mask, leaving her bloodied surgical robe on as she walks toward Dayla, softly ordering, "Is something wrong?"

"He wouldn't disclose details. Only that he needed to speak to you."

"Okay, can you quickly see if Dr. Lithe can step in here to keep an eye on them? I don't trust them not to be imbeciles while I'm away."

"Yes, Doctor." Dayla hurries down the hall turning the corner, and in a few moments, returns with Dr. Cardew, instead.

"Good evening, Dr. Crane. You were in need of my assistance?"

Livia Cardew had interned under Tawny, a know it all shark who stepped on her peers if it meant she got ahead.

An insufferable student to teach, and an even more maddening peer to tolerate.

Tawny's brown eyes flicker to Mrs. Shoemake, who stands off behind Livia and mouths, "I'm sorry."

"Yes, can you watch them for a moment? I'll be back in just a second." Livia's perfectly lined lips twitch a moment.

"Dr. Gaul said we dedicate every moment in the lab, to the project and our students. We've no room to worry about what's outside until we've reached our conclusion." She says it as if Tawny wasn't there when her aunt announced it.

It came after far too many failures — due to simple mistakes — had been revealed in the monthly ratios of successful projects to failed projects.

She can't fathom how Tawny would leave in the middle of her lab time, with her students waiting.

"It's been concluded."

Her blue eyes light up upon hearing this.

"Successful?" She pipes, curious for herself.

Everyone knew Tawny Gaul had been on a losing streak over the last couple of months.

Everything kept dying on her.

When Tawny refuses to give her the satisfaction of an answer, she flatly says, "Keep an eye on them," and starts down the hallway with Dayla on her heels, murmuring, "Livia Snow? Of all people?"

Her professional name had been kept at Cardew, but her husband, Coriolanus Snow, was a Gamemaker himself and was closer to Dr. Gaul than her own niece — and by extension, his wife.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Lithe wasn't in his office." Dayla whispers.

"It's alright, Mrs. Shoemake." Tawny assures her gently, her stomach twisting, her palms beginning to sweat as she grows closer to her husband's office, taking in a deep breath and knocking once they reach the heavy door. "If this isn't life or death I'm going to scream." She mutters and it swings open.

She barely has time to look at her husband before the loud pop of a champagne bottle jolts her nerves and he's bringing his lips to hers chastely.

"Surprise!" He shouts, handing her a crystal flute, the golden alcohol overflowing, drenching her hand and the marble floor at their feet.

"What's the occasion?" She tries to play along, struggling to keep the facade of cheer in her tone despite the lump forming in her throat.

"I am on a roll." He proudly informs her. "Every single mutt I have concocted is flourishing. Two have already been picked for this years Games." He gushes, kissing her again.

"That's wonderful, Dyess!" Again, she grapples to be happy — to be proud — just as proud of him as she would be for herself.

His wins are her wins, after all.

"And you know what, T, I think you've got this one in the bag. I checked on it before I left last night. It had good color, it was acting normally — as normal as one could — it was incredible. It was—"

"—Dead." Tawny cuts him short, admitting her shortcoming once again. "Her liver was in failure. I pulled the plug. She failed. I failed. Again."

Dyess' brows knit together slightly as a defeated, "Oh," comes from his lips before he sets his champagne aside, along with hers, and grasps at her shoulders.

"You're going to break this streak. I know you are. Everyone gets in a mess sometimes with this stuff. It's inevitable. Everyone has at least one off year in this profession." He says, calmly.

"It's been an off ten years." She mumbles. "In fact, I'm surprised I still have a job at all."

The comment exposes the inkling of an expression to his features before it fades as soon as it appears — but she catches it.

"What?" She asks him, and he looks at her as if nothing is the matter.

"What do you mean?"

"That face."

"What face?"

"That face you made."

"I made a face?" He plays dumb, grabbing his glass and taking a few swigs of champagne with a shrug.

"Dyess."

"Tawny."

"What do you know that I don't know?" She outright asks, commands, really.

All playfulness and ease has been sucked from the room, Dayla, having been lingering in the hallway, braces for impact.

"...There's been discussions being had, but it's handled, now." He promises her.

"Discussions?" She questions, confused...until..."They were going to fire me?!" Dyess watches as the beauty slips from her face to replace it with a venomous creature, bitter and biting as she repeats, "They were going to fire me?!"

"I told them if you went, I went." He speaks it like it's a consolation. "It was handled, darling. I handled it. Nothing but a misunderstanding." He continues to try to calm her.

After all the years she poured into this, all the defeat and pressure she had to sift through, sleepless nights, exhausted mornings, tears, frustration, irritation, defeat...just for them to wipe their hands clean of her dedication.

The thought of her husband, who had only been hired in the first place due to her overzealous bragging of his genius, having to talk out a deal to keep them from getting rid of her, infuriates her.

Her feet are turning and she's walking with an angry fire lit under her with each step.

"Tawny!" Dyess follows after her as Dayla slowly slips back to her desk to call ahead to Dr. Gaul and give her a warning that an angry Tawny Crane was stomping her way.

"I know you're mad, but making a spectacle of yourself is not the answer, Tawny." Dyess pleads as he walks beside her just as rapidly as she is.

"They had to find something for you to do when they hired you to begin with. I was everything. And now I'm the one being treated as a thoughtless moron while you get worshiped?" She doesn't realize she's crying until a sizzling tear falls down her face, her teeth gritting together. "Don't get me wrong, Dy, your achievements are my achievements and I'm proud of you but..." She can't even finish the sentence, too engorged in emotion.

"I'm only good at what I do because you've helped me so much along the way — and I told them that. Besides, the students that are under you have the highest incline of improvement. You're making damn good Gamemakers."

"I'm just not one, myself." She harshly throws out.

It's now that Dyess grasps her hand, forcing her to stop her trek to Dr. Gaul, to her aunt, to pick a fight with her that would probably end in her immediate termination.

"Tawny —"

She's ripping from him and tearing through the doors of her aunt's office.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x gaul oc #coriolanus snow x oc #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tigris snow #coryo snow

5 notes · View notes

dotieeee · 21 days

Text

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 15

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, drugging, somnophilia, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 15 Warnings:

Gaslighting galore, manipulation, angst, the silent treatment

Replay Level 14

Ready? Level 15 Start:

12th Hunger Games Ends with a Bang

District 3 Victor Callahan Brody: "I’m Happy I Ended Up in One Piece"

Sunrise of July 19th wraps up the 12th Annual Hunger Games, but for the emerging champion Callahan Brody, 17 years old, it’s the beginning of a new, more exciting life. Hailing from District 3, the 12th victor charmed his way into our hearts with his sharp wit and, eventually, with his display of intellect in the games, during which he built countless electric traps and other weapons in the arena from mere electronic scraps. He then used these improvised munitions to incapacitate his fellow tributes, leading to his win.

Brody tells us of a family waiting for him in District 3 – two younger brothers and his father – with whom he plans to share his winnings. His Victory Tour is scheduled sometime in August.

More on Brody’s family and future plans on Page 3.

Youngest Gamemakers in History to Tie the Knot

Brilliant Couple Brought Together by The Games Take Their Love to The Aisle Soon.

Coriolanus Snow, and Prunella Innis, Gamemakers, officially announced their engagement last night at the 12th Hunger Games Victory Party. The lovebirds admitted to their plan of uniting in marriage, sometime in December, on live television after reporter Lucky Flickerman inadvertently spotted the ring on the bride-to-be’s ring finger.

The power couple are heirs to the Plinth and Innis fortune, respectively. Only 20 yet considered two of the Capitol’s brightest minds, their efforts were instrumental to the success of the 12th Hunger Games, which wrapped up last Wednesday, July 19th after declaring Callahan Brody of District 3 as the winner.

More on the couple’s captivating love story on Page 4.

Youngest Gamemakers in History to Tie the Knot

Continued from Page 1:

After graduating from the Academy together, the romance between the 10th Games champion and Innis princess shortly began, and their devotion to each other only grew when the former took the latter to be his Gamemaker-apprentice. They have since worked together in revolutioniz-

“That paper came out three days ago, sugarplum.”

Startled, you almost drop the newspaper you’re reading and turn around to face Coriolanus Snow leaning against the doorway of his own office.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” you say before placing the newspaper back on his desk. You had been in search of a book to read in your boredom and had been curious to see what passes as his reading material when the paper caught your attention. You belatedly adjust the closure of your floor-length night robe when you notice that his eyes are roaming over the significantly shorter silk nightgown you’re wearing underneath.

“I just visited Tigris and the grandma’am. We should go see her together one of these days, she wants to meet you.”

You offer no reply to this, seeing as you wouldn’t have any choice in the matter, anyway.

“You know, it’s funny, because she said saw our announcement on the news, but she kept calling you Katharina. It seems like you are your mother’s spitting image.”

Given what you’ve seen your fiancé capable of, you’re not that surprised that he knows about your mother. He probably dug it up too, alongside information about your uncle, and maybe even the entire Innis history.

“Tell me something about her. Grandma’am thinks she’s lovely.”

“She was a Capitol theatre and movie actress,” you recall. Your uncle made sure he told you all about her, perhaps to help you remember her as someone else besides the woman who bled in your arms and whom you cradled even in death. “That’s probably why your grandmother recognises her. She never talked about that part of her life when she was alive. Uncle says she quit acting so she can marry my dad and move to District 3.”

Uncle Cas also kept telling you as a child how you looked exactly like her. It’s a compliment, then, if anything else. Your mother’s eyes are what you remember the most about her. You wonder if you’d still have them after everything your future husband will put you through.

“But, you already know that, don’t you?” you add, mildly annoyed that he’s bringing this up.

The last thing you want is him tarnishing your memory of her, just like he did with the memory of your first kiss.

“Just making conversation, sugarplum,” he replies chirpily as he approaches. “Have you seen her films?”

“No,” you simply respond. Eager to give him a wide berth and lock yourself in your room, you bid him goodnight, but he grabs your arm even before you can sidestep him and get out of his office.

“Sleep beside me tonight. I’ve missed you.”

Your skin prickles at the command and almost brings tears to your eyes. Over the course of a few weeks, you’ve come to learn what that meant – it always means either you on your knees and him using your mouth for his own pleasure, or him touching you the way he did after that night at the club.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to sleep in my room tonight,” you say, trying your best to sound like you’re firmly standing your ground. There were nights that he’d leave you alone, after all. Maybe, hopefully, this is one of them.

“We’ll only cuddle until we fall asleep.”

It’s a ‘no,’ then, seeing as he completely ignored your question.

“Wait for me. I’ll join you momentarily.”

Even with his tired eyes, he manages to give you an empty smile, bordering on mischief. You leave his office at once and do as you’re told, but on his bed, you get as close as the edge as you could without falling over. Unfortunately, you’re still awake when you feel the bed and the sheets shift on the other side, indicating he’s come to join you under the covers. As he always does when you’re in bed together, he draws as close as he can and snakes an arm around you, pulling you to him while he buries his face on the crook of your neck and takes a huge whiff.

The hand draped over your waist, however, undoes the tie of your robe.

“Please, I thought we’d just cuddle –”

Coriolanus shushes you in your ear gently and says, “I am simply removing your robe. It can’t be comfortable lying in that thing.”

Closing your eyes, you fight a whimper when that hand begins peeling it off from your shoulder, grazing your arm with his fingers. He takes his time with it too, but succeeds in taking it off, leaving you in your more revealing night dress. He then swiftly manoeuvres you to lie on your back, drapes his torso all over yours and kisses you on the mouth.

He makes a quick work of it that you don’t have time to react. There’s always hunger in the way he kisses you, with the way his tongue is urging yours to move against his. He moans into the kiss as if he’s drawing satisfaction from the reaction he’s forcing out of you. He tangles his fingers into your hair, while his free hand roams the side of your body. That hand then slides upwards on your thigh – that’s when you break off the kiss, which lets you take in as much air as that heavy torso on top of yours allows you to.

Coriolanus sighs heavily before he nuzzles the side of your face.

“I told you, you’d have to get used to this,” he chastises you softly, clearly displeased, but he surprisingly gets off you and resumes lying on your side in favour of spooning you.

“I love you, sugarplum. Sweet dreams.”

Sometimes, when you lie in his bed like this, you kind of wish he’d just fuck you to get it over with – maybe then, he would get tired of you faster and perhaps even change his mind about marrying you. It's not a thought you always welcome. All you know is, you’ll never get used to this, to him – maybe not ever.

There’s something about Capitol parties that reek of frivolous emptiness – people who secretly despise one another out of envy or animosity, trying to their best to one-up everyone and make a show of themselves, eating beyond their fill and drinking beyond their tolerance.

This being your engagement party does not make it any better.

To Ma and Father Plinth’s credit – Strabo has taken you to call him that – the party had been meticulously arranged. They have taken it upon themselves to host the engagement party and they took care of everything – they booked the left wing of The Palisades Hotel’s inner garden, hired the same orchestra from Strabo’s birthday party, got one of the best-reviewed caterers in the city – there hasn’t been any hitches so far, so to their credit, they have done magnificently in making this night enjoyable for everyone in attendance.

The orchestra finishes their romantic number to collective applause – you and your fiancé let each other go and join in clapping, having finished the first dance. While couples from all over the surrounding tables mill into the floor in time for the next much livelier musical number, Coriolanus escorts you by hand back to your table.

“Good to see your etiquette lessons haven’t been a total waste of money,” your Uncle Cas comments as he raises a glass and takes a huge swig, which earns a hearty laugh from you and the Plinth couple at the table.

You remember making the same inward observation during a dance that already seemed so long ago. You take a seat to your uncle’s left, while your groom takes his place on yours, taking solace in the fact that despite wanting to be miles away from this party, your uncle is here, if only for the next few hours.

Coriolanus has taken steps to ensure that the Innis senior attends to preserve the appearance of approving your match. You have no idea how he convinced the ever-unyielding Acacius Innis to be here given your uncle’s implied abhorrence of him, which he hides with passive-aggressive, sarcastic remarks at least for tonight. You probably don’t want to know either, but you are well aware that shortly before the party ends, your uncle will be on a train to District 12 to live out his exile. For how long, your husband-to-be didn’t disclose; it could be weeks, months, even years, before you see your only living blood again. Mourning that fact, however, would spoil the remaining time you have left with him.

So, even if you’re at a party celebrating your eventual bondage, you try to enjoy Uncle Cas’s company.

After what feels like mere minutes, Coriolanus gives you an almost imperceptible tilt of his head.

It’s time.

Uncle Cas seems to know, too, but he casually gets up from the table and announces his early exit, citing an early business trip to the Districts which he has to prepare for. He bids everyone he knows in the party a short farewell before Coriolanus escorts him inside one of The Palisades’ smaller empty halls with you in tow.

He gives you and your uncle just ten minutes to bid each other farewell while he stands in the corner to watch.

Ten fucking minutes.

Your husband-to-be seems to have prepared this room beforehand because two seats are waiting for you at the corner facing each other.

Your uncle is the first to break the silence.

“How have you been, plumcake?” he says with that fond smile you always see him wear around you.

You do your best not to burst into tears despite all the emotions threatening to pour out of you all at once. He’s gotten even thinner, and his now-dull eyes have more prominent circles around them. You miss him, you worry about him, you dread his stay in District 12 where he's supposed to be assigned, and most of all, you fear that you’ll never get to see him again despite Coriolanus’s promise that this will be temporary.

“I’m doing well, Uncle,” you lie, not because you don’t want him to know the truth, but because this isn’t about you. “How about you? You don’t look like you’re eating or sleeping well – where are you staying in District 12? What are they going to make you do there? Have you packed? Are they allowing us to video call? What if –”

Uncle Cas interrupts your line of questioning by cupping both sides of your face and putting on a reassuring “Plumcake, your old uncle can handle himself just fine. And as you can hear, I’m not using that voice – you know the one that sounds like I’m lying to avoid talking about it –because I know you hate that voice.”

You can’t help the tiny chuckle that comes out of you. Perhaps, he’s telling the truth. After all, he’s a former rebel leader – most likely the smartest one out of all of them, too.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so until then, stay strong, yes? You inherited the best from us: your mother’s kindness, your father’s brains, and your uncle’s wit.”

With a twinkle in his eyes, he places a hand on top of your head like he does when he messes with your hair.

“Your mother and father would be so fucking proud of their little plumcake, who turned out to be the best human being I’ve ever gotten to know.”

Uncle Cas gently wipes the lone tear on your cheek with a thumb and this time, actually ruffles your hair.

“Uncle, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Did you ever find out who did that to Mom and Dad all those years ago?”

Your uncle dons a sad, contemplative look, which surprises you a bit. You had been expecting him to react angrily, or immediately change the topic, but he seems to debate within himself whether to respond. After a few moments, he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs.

“After the…incident, I was given two choices by the president,” he begins. “Stay a rebel, be forever hunted by the government, but have more than enough resources to find out who killed my little brother and his wife and exact revenge. That, or live in the Capitol, raise the child they left behind and give her the future they would’ve wanted for her.

“Guess what I chose?” he then flashes you a lopsided grin that doesn’t quite reach his tired, pained eyes. “So, the answer is no. I don’t know who did it. Innises hate not knowing, I am aware – we have to have an answer for every fucking thing – but, that’s that.”

“You upended your life for me. I worry that I caused your divorce, that you regret your choice –”

“Hey, none of that.” Uncle Cas interrupts you with a firm tone, “Absolutely not. Your aunt and I already had issues, to begin with; one being…well, I would often be held up for days at a peacekeeper station for interrogation and she couldn’t deal with the worry –”

“Wait, you were tortured?” you exclaim in alarm, but he’s quick to break your line of questioning.

“ – The point I’m making is, plumcake, I have never, ever regretted choosing you – not a damn second. You are the best thing that could’ve ever happened to a man like me.”

The only response you can muster to his adoring smile is just more tears cascading down your cheeks. Just like he’s always done since you were a little girl, freshly orphaned and utterly helpless, he is quick to wipe the tears away. You love your mom and dad, but there’s nothing in the world that compares to having the Acacius Innis as your uncle.

“Now hug this old bag of creaking bones, it’ll be a while before we see each other again.”

And so you do, as tightly as if a mere embrace can keep him here, and whisper, “I love you, uncle. Please stay safe in 12. Please.”

“I love you too, my little plumcake,” he whispers back. “Between you and me, I may already have a welcoming committee awaiting my arrival. So you don’t have to worry your head over me. Yes?”

When he lets go, he assures you that while his own assets are frozen until his exile is lifted, he’s transferred enough money in your name to last you a lifetime.

“I know you never cared about any of that, but if you got any more animal shelters to donate to, it’s there. Whenever you need it.” Ruffling your hair once more, he crinkles his eyes, making the lines on his face more prominent. Another question pops into your head.

“Whatever happened to Petey?”

“I haven’t heard from him or about him, which is good news.”

Worriedly, you inquire another. “And The Headless Confectioner’s?”

“Ask your fiancé,” he replies flatly. “He’s starting to give us the stink eye, I think our time is up.”

Coriolanus allows you one more quick hug with your uncle before he escorts him away.

“Sugarplum, stay in here, please. I will be back to fetch you.”

A final smile from him, and your Uncle Cas is gone, and the only thing he leaves in his wake is the dull thud of the giant door closing behind him.

You just stare at the door after, hoping this is just one big practical joke and he’s going to come bursting back in with a stupid grin on his face.

Instead, you get Coriolanus Snow, who makes a beeline towards you as soon as he reenters the hall – when he’s but an arm’s length away, he stretches out his arm with the intention of giving you a hug.

For comfort? You’d rather eat a motherboard and wash it down with thermal grease.

You swat those hands away and say scathingly, “Don’t touch me.”

He seems hurt that you spurned him and begins to say, “Nellie, I only meant – ”

But don’t wait for him to finish whatever he has to say; instead, you storm out of the hall, with him tailing you. Wanting very much to get away from him for a while, you proceed straight to the ladies’ powder room where he can’t follow. You slip a handful of bills to the bathroom attendant so she can leave you alone and spare her the trouble of listening to your pitiful sobs.

It’s all you’ve been doing much of recently.

You reluctantly emerge from the stall, wiping your eyes with a tissue and making your way to the sink. Somebody’s leaning against the washing basin’s marble slab, but you don’t look at them – probably the bathroom attendant who just decided to go back to her post.

“You’re seriously not going back out there looking like that, are you?”

The gloating, high-pitched voice makes you look up from the sink. You don’t even have to glance at the only other person in the bathroom to figure out who it is.

“Get off my case, Livia. I’m not in the mood.”

“Crying on your own engagement party? Let me guess,” she taunts. “You just found out that your fiancé doesn’t really love you and he’s only marrying you for your money, our your status…”

She eyes you from head to toe, and adds, “Or whatever the hell he sees in you.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” you can’t help but whisper, more to yourself than her, as you stare blankly at the sink. “Maybe then, all this would be just a little more bearable.”

Something is shoved into your line of vision. A steel flask.

“I know you don’t drink, but I think now’s a pretty good time to start,” Livia says with a smirk. She takes note of your hesitance and laughs. “That’s how horrible you think I am? I wouldn't poison my own supply.”

She takes a long swig from the flask to prove it. You feel a tad guilty not humouring her, seeing as she’s making an effort to at least strike up a conversation, so when she hands it back to you, you take it and drink.

Whiskey. It burns your throat, but you welcome the eventual buzz.

“Honestly, I didn’t know I had to spell it out for you, you weren’t this dense in the Academy,” she snaps at you, frowning, as you give her back the flask. “If you’re that unhappy, call off the wedding. Break up with him.”

You sigh and just give her a nonchalant shrug. “It’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean?”

How much are you allowed to tell her, anyway? What would she do with whatever you tell her? Do you even want to tell her?

“I can’t do any of that. Not right now…” you whisper after a pause, which she eyes you suspiciously for.

You can feel the cogs in her brain work as she tries to process your cryptic message.

“Wait…” she says slowly. “You’re seriously not…what are you implying? Is your uncle making you do this?”

Your turn to laugh. “Heavens, no. He would never.”

Livia Cardew scrunches her face in confusion. “Wha – then, who…? Oh.”

Did she finally get it? Confusion morphs into realisation, and then into horror.

“Holy shit.”

There it is. Livia has always been smart. That good quality is just often overshadowed by her obnoxious vanity, her abrasiveness, and the tendency to annoy people just for the heck of it. She quickly strides to the powder room door and pushes the lock. She faces you once more with a look that’s determined to get more answers.

“How?” Her shrill voice echoes in the space. “Why? Why you? He could’ve chosen someone else more willi – all I’m saying is…why do any of this?”

“You mean, why not you?”

Her answer is a mere purse of her lips. She has no idea how many nights you’ve wondered the same.

“Why not, indeed…” you sigh again and follow it up with an exasperated query. “Can I go, now? I still have to paint a smile. That takes quite a bit of time.”

“Why won’t you run away?”

Of course, she isn’t letting the matter go. Should you not have told her anything?

“Back to the Districts? My inter-district travel pass is revoked. Besides, you don’t think I’ve tried? I’ve run out of ideas at this point.”

Your old classmate is still frowning, but there’s a hint in there of…pity. You have no need for it, but this is the first time you see something else in her besides hostility.

“Fuck. That’s just…fucked up.”

Yes, indeed. Everything is, now. Of course, you keep that to yourself.

“Well, there’s always divorce…” she says quietly, softening her tone. She adds, “Maybe I’ll still like him then...not that I haven’t moved on…you know, we never really dated? Or talked, even.”

“Why wait? You can swoop in right now. It’s not yet official.”

Please. Please get him off my case. If anyone else can get what they want if they just put their mind to it, it’s Livia Cardew. She and Coriolanus share that characteristic, the latter is just prone to more cruelty.

A high-pitched guffaw escapes her lips. “Oh, don’t empt me. I can’t tell if you’re just being sarcastic right now…okay, no you’re not.”

“I have to go. Don’t tell anyone.” You’re not sure your warning will hold, but it has to, for her sake. “Especially him. He can’t find out that you know.”

Livia rolls her eyes. “I’m not stupid. Hey, at least we now have something in common.” When you don a questioning expression, she clarifies, “We both hate this wedding. And this marriage. And we can’t wait for it to fall apart.”

You flash her a smile, which she returns with a friendly smirk. The first interaction you share with her that isn’t antagonistic in nature.

“I’ll drink to that…” you say. “Well, back at the table, at least. Thanks for the whiskey.”

“Hey. If you want to grab a cocktail, or whatever, you know my number.”

Nodding, you walk to the door and unlock it, mentally steeling yourself for yet another round of fake happiness around people you don’t care for, the only one person you care to genuinely show your emotions to now probably miles away on a train to a place you’ve never been.

“Nellie?”

You look back at Livia Cardew halfway through pushing the door open.

“I meant what I said. I’m going to destroy your marriage.”

“I’ll drink to that too – as soon as I’m back at the table.”

You can only hope she makes good on her promise.

There’s a tense silence between you and your fiancé as you both wait for the meal to arrive. It’s the usual late Saturday breakfast, except instead of reading the morning paper, Coriolanus is staring sharply at you from the rim of his cup as he sips his usual morning tea.

You completely ignore him, just like last night.

After the party, you’ve never spoken a word to him. He kept trying to get your attention as soon as you arrived at his apartment, but, when you slammed your bedroom door on his face, he thankfully retreated to his own and let the matter go.

But this is Coriolanus Snow, and he always has to get what he wants. And right now, it seems like he wants you to say something.

“Your uncle should’ve been in District 12 about six hours ago. I booked him a hovercraft instead of a train. That way, he’ll be less tired on the journey.”

So, now, he’s concerned about Uncle Cas all of a sudden?

“He’s probably resting, as we speak. He has access to video calls every two weeks, and phone calls every week, so he will keep in touch.”

You vaguely wonder how long you can keep this up without being punished for it because that’s the next step you know he’ll take once his patience has run out.

“This is temporary, sugarplum. I’ve told you before: your uncle’s exile will be lifted.”

You’ve gone this far, you shrug inwardly. Might as well.

Coriolanus huffs as he places his cup on the saucer. “Nellie, you’re being difficult. I’m trying here.”

How about trying to get Uncle Cas back?

You keep your lips pursed when the food arrives. You poke your way through the sausages, the salad, and the cheese omelette, chewing but not tasting anything.

“Don’t play with your food.”

So you set your cutlery down neatly on the plate to indicate you’re finished and take a small sip of your coffee. The clanging of his fork and knife in his plate almost makes you jolt in your seat.

“Nellie, you’re acting like a petulant child.”

This rebuke is said through clenched teeth and makes you peer into his eyes. He meets your innocent stare with an annoyed expression, so you open your mouth and whisper – the first thing you say out loud since last night:

“This child would like to excuse herself from the table.”

Without waiting for his permission, you get to your feet, walk away from the dining room and head straight into your bedroom, with your fiancé’s bewildered, indignant eyes following you.

Later, you hear a soft knocking on your door, followed by the jingling of your door knob. This continues for a few moments, as if rattling it would make it magically unlock.

“Nellie,” Coriolanus’s muffled voice comes through your door. “I’m going out.”

Good. “I hope you don’t come back,” you whisper.

“I can get you anything you like.”

How about getting me my uncle back?

You hear him audibly exhale, and say, “I’ll be back in a few hours. We will talk, then.”

There is total silence inside the house after his footsteps retreat, indicating he’s left. True to his word, he comes back knocking a little more urgently with another request.

“Come to the living room when you’re ready, but come quickly. I have something for you.”

Deciding not to push him any further than you have, you begrudgingly step out of your bedroom and proceed to the living room, where you find him tinkering with an old portable projector he placed on the coffee table, along with a stack of disks and a player, all of which look like they’d belong on a museum display.

“I did some digging in the City Archives and found some movies they were able to salvage from the war ruins. I’m not supposed to take them out, but I may have slipped the archivist a hefty bribe to borrow them a bit,” he says with a smirk.

Coriolanus seems to catch your curious stare at the piece of old equipment.

“This seems to be your kind of thing, I know, but the archivist also taught me how to operate it.”

“Au contraire, this is the first time I’ve seen one of these.”

He just chuckles as he inserts a disk on the player. “Take a seat, then. This afternoon will be a series of firsts for you.”

He pushes a button on the player while you make yourself comfortable on one of the cushions, facing the wall where the projector begins to display what seems like a dated movie. Judging by the title that it flashes, it’s a romantic comedy with pre-war style production. Not exactly your type of genre, but you sit through the film for about fifteen minutes.

Until she comes in.

Your posture goes rigid as you feel the colour drain from your face.

“Turn it off,” you say. Coriolanus throws you a puzzled expression and pauses the film which freeze-frames at her smiling coyly at the main love interest.

“I can put on another one if you don’t like this – ”

“No, turn it off,” you repeat with a firmer tone.

Your fiancé exhales in exasperation but makes no move to stop the player. “Maybe you’re not watching what I’m watching, Nellie: that’s your mother in that film. If my mother had a movie she starred in, I’d watch it over and over.”

With your jaw set, you get up from your cushion and try to turn it off yourself, but the stop button will not work.

Coriolanus pinches the bridge of his nose and turns to face you. “I know you’re still upset about your uncle leaving, and I’m trying here, Nellie. I just want to make you happy, but you’re not letting me.”

“You really think watching a couple of old films will cheer me up?” You finally snap. “What I’m watching is not my mother. That’s just her playing a character. That’s not how I remember her, she – ”

Your gaze lands on the eyes and the smile of the woman on the screen, so starkly different from the ones in your memory, just before the fated explosion. That smile is slowly slipping away in your mind, you realise, and the thought is enough to bring tears to your eyes, which you try to choke back.

“Hey, now…” your fiancé stands, looking slightly agitated – perhaps even guilty – and removes the player’s plug from the wall socket.

“That’s not her,” you whisper, “And I want to hold on to my mom the way I remember her.”

Coriolanus moves to take you in his arms, but you take a step backwards, which is enough to deter him from coming any closer. That doesn’t stop his displeased expression though.

It was a mistake, stepping out of your room.

Judging by the orange glow of the setting sun streaming through the window curtains in your room, it’s almost nighttime, indicating you hadn’t gotten out of bed or stepped out of your lockdown for more than twenty-four hours after your husband-to-be’s misguided attempt at cheering you up.

You never heard from him the entire day, at the very least. But just when you think he’s finally learned to give you some sort of space, you hear gentle knocking on your door.

“Nellie, open the door. We have a guest.”

He doesn’t sound angry or hurt, but you make no move to acknowledge him – or the supposed guest – and burrow deeper into the comforter.

After a few moments of pure silence, Coriolanus speaks, assumably to the guest, “I don’t think she wants to be disturbed right now.”

There’s something gentle, almost childlike, about the way he speaks to them, but it's maybe just your imagination. Mere seconds later, you hear faint scratching at your door, which puzzles you a little. Coriolanus would never scratch at a door no matter how desperate he is to make you unlock it.

“See? Maybe later, we’ll knock again, okay?”

A small, high-pitched noise from outside your room makes you jump out of bed. You kneel on the floor and press your ear against the door to confirm what you just heard.

Coriolanus lets out an exhale. “I know, little man. Let’s get you some food first.”

Meow.

Your fingers, moving of their own accord, twist the doorknob and let the door swing open by a fraction.

The tiny, furry head of Oscar the cat emerges from the crack, followed by his entire form swathed in his long, shiny, tuxedo-like fur coat.

“Oscar?” You call out softly.

Meow.

The male cat traipses towards you, his adorable pink nose sniffing you and the air around you. Remembering Patty’s advice, you hold out a forefinger to him, and he rubs his cheeks on you just like the first time you met him. He accepts a shorter set of head-pats though, and immediately jumps on top of your messy comforter, lays down on his side and begins grooming his little furry paws like he owns the entire bed.

And for what feels like the first time in a long while, you let out a genuine, hearty laugh.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard you laugh. I want to hear it more often.”

You whip your head to your doorway to see Coriolanus, still clad in his coat, leaning against it, observing the interaction with a soft gaze. He crosses the threshold and attempts to pet Oscar on the head once, but Oscar swats his hand away with a paw.

Feigning a hurt expression, your fiancé pouts comically. “Fine, be like that. I guess you don’t need your daddy now that mommy has finally paid you some attention.”

Normally, you’d bristle at his implication, but you don’t pay it any mind. He seems to take this as a sign and decides to push it a little further with you.

“Nellie, why don’t we leave Oscar alone for a while? You must be hungry, so I got you some food.”

You stare at him for what seems like a long time with so many conflicting feelings: should you be thankful that he seems to have brought Oscar home? Is it fair that you’re punishing him by way of silent treatment when he seems to be making these attempts to console you? Should you thank him for giving Oscar a home?

But he sent Uncle Cas away.

Coriolanus helps you stand, unaware of your inner turmoil. He’s right about one thing, though – you start feeling the pangs of hunger and follow him to the dining area where a maid has just finished setting up the table. He sheds his coat and gives it to the maid, but not before taking out a piece of paper from inside the coat pocket.

He hands it to you and says, “You seem like the type with zero experience in handling cats, so I wrote down some instructions for you.”

You can tell he’s teasing you by the lopsided grin he flashes, but he’s right yet again. You both take your usual place on the table in a considerably lighter silence than before, and Oscar joins in just before dessert – you make him sniff a piece of your cheesecake with your fork, but he just turns his tail on it, clearly offended. He decides to perch on the farthest end of the table with his back turned, much to you and Coriolanus’s amusement. After the meal, Coriolanus instructs you what and what not to feed the cat as he fills Oscar’s little plate with a can of jellied tuna, which Oscar seems to take a huge liking to.

After the male cat saunters away from his empty plate with his full belly swish-swoshing to the sides, your fiancé turns to you.

“Join me for tea before bed?”

You give him a single nod and follow him to the living room where a fresh pot of tea is already waiting on the coffee table. Your light, almost one-sided conversation veers into wedding preparations.

“The wedding organizer called this afternoon. He says you’re going to need to finalise the names on your entourage.”

Another nod.

“Have you even listed a name down? Let alone chosen a maid of honour?”

You hum to yourself as you put your teacup down. “I think I have someone in mind. I’d still have to ask her, though. I’ll give her a call tomorrow.”

He squints at you curiously. “Care to tell your fiancé who it is?”

Oscar the Cat takes this exact moment to jump and settle his heavy bottom on your lap. You can’t help but smile at the little guy as you rub the back of his ears and he begins to softly purr.

“I’m thinking Livia. Livia Cardew.”

Enter Level 16

Next on Level 16 - You commemorate Sejanus's second death anniversary; wedding preparations are underway; Snowball gives you news about your uncle's exile.

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #Young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #named!reader #or #x OC2ndPOV #18+ only #dark!coriolanus snow fic #dark!coriolanus #dark!coriolanus fic #dark!fic

90 notes · View notes

undiscovered-horizon · 4 months

Text

Cold Blood - Coriolanus Snow x assassin!Reader

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

***Third person POV + Can be read as either "x reader" or "x OC", just as long as you have fun babes. Thinking about making this like a loose series? idk

SUMMARY: Coriolanus thought that arranging Basil Flatberg's death was arduous. He's about to learn just how complicated things can get when he learns that his despicable actions have been noticed by someone or something. The stranger claims to be an ally but can a person so passionate about murder be worthy of trust?

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.2k

The rain is thundering against the windows, a painful reminder that summer is long gone and the upcoming weeks will be drowned in cold and darkness. Except for a few cars, the streets of the Capitol are deserted. Freezing, biting wind howls as it pulls and tugs at everything it can lay its hands on. A thunder rolls in the distance, loud and ominous as though mountains have been split in two. The sky appears rancorous this evening.

If Coriolanus had a speck of poetry in him, he’d think the black clouds hanging over the Capitol are akin to the swirling thoughts inside his head. Albeit, he is a pragmatic man and such colourful comparisons escape him.

His home is drowned in darkness when he enters. The rhythmic ticking of the old clock is barely audible over the hollering of the storm. Although not a sound of life can be heard in these four walls, an aroma of gravy and soap fills the air: Tigris and Grandmother must have retired early.

Coriolanus guides his hand to turn on the overhead light when he notices a stripe of glow under the door to his bedroom. How strange - he could clearly remember turning off the bedside lamp when he was leaving in the morning.

Cagily, he turns the brass knob and pushes the door open. The hinges creak shrilly, slowly unravelling the inside of the room:

The bedside lamp is, indeed, on. It shines a faint, unpleasantly yellow light. The bed he had carefully made after waking up is left untouched - not an unfamiliar wrinkle on the expensive, dark duvet. His eyes glide along the sleek material towards the large window.

He clenches his fist and takes a sharp inhale. Coriolanus Snow is startled.

On the windowsill is sitting someone - a nimble silhouette dressed in various shades of grey. Their back is leaning against the wall, one leg propped up and the other casually hanging in the air. Dexterous fingers keep flipping a knife. The blade flows through the air, time and time again performing the same motion of doing a full circle, only to be caught at an angle that doesn’t seem to change either. Although not instantly, Coriolanus does recognize the weapon as an old filleting knife he keeps in the drawer of his bedside table. ‘Just in case,’ as he told himself once.

But what strikes him as the strangest about this already bizarre encounter is that she's completely dry, even though it's been raining for a few hours now.

"Sweating and breathing, Panting and screaming," a female voice resounds in his bedroom. She recites the poem in a comically dramatic tone. "Didn’t think I’d ever see him." The woman turns the blade in her skilled fingers, suddenly pointing its sharp tip at Coriolanus. "But I heard and so did you, The thud and smack of the steel-toed shoe." Suddenly, the woman taps her foot against the windowsill three times. “Dancing to the beat of that drum, Lolling head and swollen tongue. A baseline! “She exclaims with a theatrical gesture. “A crescendo!” Like the unbearable tension before the climax, her dramatics are brought to a halt as she hangs her voice and lays the knife against her chest. “A guttural moan when the thing was done.”

Only when she leans forward can Coriolanus see her face. The dim light of his bedside lamp is enough only to illuminate a part visage. Despite that, the twilight of his bedroom is sufficient for him to be certain that nothing about her features is familiar.

"Basil Flatberg fell dead in his own house, among friends and family,” she continues, although her voice is rid of dramatics. “Poison! They said. Which would be awfully sad if it wasn't so..." The unwelcome guest waves her hand looking for a suitable word. "Anti-climatic. Really, Coryo, you could do so much better,” she reprimands him with visible disappointment.

Coriolanus feels his blood turn cold. There is nothing that ties him to the premature demise of Basil. He’s made sure of that. So how come she knows? Has he missed out on a prying set of eyes? Ears, perhaps?

"Who are you?" he asks in a stern voice. Despite the tension inside him, Coriolanus doesn’t let his voice waver.

She does a half-hearted, mocking bow. A playful grin curves her lips. "A specialist at unfortunate accidents, if you will."

It’s not said directly, the important things rarely are, but Coriolanus knows there is only one reason such a ‘specialist’ would visit his bedroom in the late hours of a rainy evening.

Thunder rolls in the distance. Lightning splits the black sky in two. Quite fitting circumstances for the last night alive.

His mind is galloping as he’s considering all the possibilities of surviving this encounter. He may have his fair share of experience in the morbid matters but that doesn’t compare to someone who’s been doing this for years. "So you've come to kill me?" Coriolanus questions, hoping to buy himself a few more minutes.

But the stranger only chuckles.

The woman, whoever she really is, once again point the sharp tip of the filleting knife at Coriolanus. "That's where the dog is buried, my friend,” she says with amusement. The knife glides through the air as she resumes flipping it. “I come it peace. Even better!” Coriolanus closely watches the blade as it makes a few more turns mid-air. The visitor doesn’t catch it with their hand. The knife falls on their hanging foot, nestling perfectly on top of the worn-down work boot. With a swift move of her ankle, she tosses the blade towards Coriolanus. It lays at his feet, glistening in the yellow light of the bedside lamp. “I come with a proposal of an alliance of sorts,” she continues. A satisfied chuckle rumbles in her chest. “Oh, I know that look. You're curious. Good! You see, Coryo, you and I are not so different.” She points between him and her. “The plotting, the opportunistic tendencies, the disregard for morality or human life. Except for the unfortunate limelight. Whether you like it or not, you're kind of a public figure now. And public figures look awful behind prison bars, with blood on their hands. Say, if you could have the ability to have some inconveniences removed without as much as lifting a finger and in return you'd do a small favour every now and then, would you?"

Would you sign away your soul to the Devil?

Yet unsure how he’s supposed to feel about the change of the scenario, Coriolanus is all the more eager to learn about the identity of his unwelcome guest. "I won't ask the third time: who are you?" Anger drips from his words like a cornered animal that turns fear into violence. She has complete control over this situation and it’s making his skin crawl.

"Let's put it this way. If the world was a coronation, all of you self-important Capitol pricks are the princes,” she lays her hand on her chest, “while I'm the bishop."

He ponders her words for a moment. The stranger doesn’t strike him as someone who just runs their mouth - no, each of her words is carefully selected. Her analogy has another, hidden, meaning that is not lot on his quick wit.

"If you're the bishop,” he begins, piercing blue eyes studying all of the nonverbal cues he can see in the twilight of the room, “then who's the pope?"

A smile curves her lips once more. She’s amused, satisfied even. Which in turn means that, so far, Coriolanus is doing exactly what she wants him to do. The ambitious, young man is seething. He’s found himself in the eye of the storm with only basic knowledge on how to navigate restless tides.

"Excellent question!” she exclaims. “I can already tell we're going to get along. I speak in the name of Lucky Jade. She has a lot of emissaries, scattered across Panem. Some pose as simple workers, others as socialites. And some, like yours truly, live away from the public eye."

The notion that there’s some unknown persona pulling the proverbial strings is equally asinine and entirely probable. Panem, after all, is ruled by deplorable schemes and back-stabbing. Who’s to say that there isn’t some higher power orchestrating these morbid dramatics?

Still, no matter how plausible such things are, Coriolanus is a pragmatic man. Hearsays and gossips, as useful and lovely as they are, will always be inferior to material evidence. And such evidence, if she can provide it, might tell him more about the identity of the stranger than she’s willing to admit. "That's a lot of extraordinary claims you're making,” he states, new wave of confidence coursing through his veins. “You better have some proof."

Much to his satisfaction, the woman takes something out of her pocket. It’s small, metallic. The object glistens in the low light of the lamp when she tosses it towards him.

The supposed evidence in his hand is… a ring. It’s made out of silver. There’s an engraving of thorns wrapped around a fish on the inside of the band. Long years of wear and tear have flattened and dulled the image but it remains clear enough to be read.

"I'm always prepared, Coryo.” The nickname has a hint of mockery when she says it. “July, three years ago, district Four. Clover Pitforest, the only daughter of Caspian Thorneforge, dies in a lakehouse fire. Her husband, Fellord Pitforest, is in town, taking care of some business. Officially, the fire started from a lit cigarette that fell on wooden boards and set fresh resin aflame. Not that Clover ever smoked. After the fire is put out and the crispy bones of the fishmongering princess are found, another discovery is made: the jewellery box is gone. Now, you might think to yourself why would a thief set the house on fire but then, why shouldn't a barking dog bite? Good old Caspian breaks down and signs away his fishmongering fortune to Fellord.” The woman returns to her theatrics as she dramatically put the back of her hand against her forehead. “Oh, what a shame, that mister Pitforest has to live the life of a revered widower bathing in obscene wealth.” Then, she spreads her hands in a grand, welcoming gesture. “And they lived happily ever after, or something to that effect."

"Alright, let's say I agree to your proposal. What sort of favours would I have to do?"

"Nothing gory, if that's what you're asking. Unless that’s what gets you going. You see, Coryo, the thing about influential people is that the smallest of their deeds carry immense power. The fact that you say 'yes' to one question and 'no' to the other; whether you show up at an event or leave right before the self-absorbed host makes his pointless speech. All that will be asked of you is to simply be in the right place at the right time. Ask a question, mention an event or a name. Gently nudge the world in a certain direction like water carves the stone over long centuries." She mimics a flowing wave with her hand to get her point across.

But, like older people tend to say, he’s not been hit in the crown of his head. Coriolanus Snow is as smart as a Devil. Maybe even too smart for his own good.

"This all seems too easy to be true, don't you think? I find it hard to believe that you will kill someone if I agree to be ‘in the right place at the right time’ as you have elegantly put it."

"Believe," she muses, slowly nodding. "A strange word indeed. You must believe if there's not enough proof that something is real. I'm not asking you to believe, Coryo. I'm stating a fact of life. I'm asking you to know." A moment of tense silence falls between them. The woman fishes out an old fob watch from her grey jacket. Something must have surprised her because her eyebrows raise as she looks at the pocket watch. "We've been chatting for quite a while and a thunderstorm is perfect weather to fulfil some of my responsibilities. I'm afraid we'll have to part ways, for now. If you're willing to give our cooperation a try, just find someone with a vulture pin. They'll let me know."

He’s not yet done with her, so Coriolanus doesn’t move from his spot in front of the door. If she wants to go, she’ll have to go through him and that’s not happening anytime soon. Although she’s told him quite a lot about what kind of business she wants from him, Coriolanus is aware that he’s barely scraped the tip of this bizarre iceberg.

Just when he’s about to say something, egg her on to tell more, thunder roars and a purple vein of lightning crashes near the building. For a moment, Coriolanus’s bedroom is bright as though it’s daytime before it drowns in complete darkness. Some part of the wiring must have been struck.

Perhaps a minute passes by until the light turns on again. But to his surprise, Coriolanus is alone in his bedroom. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was all a hallucination brought on by illness or stress. Nothing indicates that a stranger has trespassed into his home. Everything is disturbingly undisturbed.

Albeit the ring is still in his hand and the filleting knife still lays at his feet.

The next day, as he’s making his way to Doctor Gaul’s office, Coriolanus convinces himself to put the strange encounter aside until the proverbial viper comes back to bite. He is going to be Panem’s next president and even an intimidating stranger in the night can not dissuade him.

His footsteps echo through the cream-coloured halls. Someone passes him and says a half-hearted ‘Good morning’ but Coriolanus ignores them. He keeps on walking.

A cleaner is mopping the floor close to the wall. Whether it’s her attire or her small frame, she’s almost invisible to the man. Not that servants have any kind of presence to them. That is until something glistens as he’s walking past her.

A pin.

Coriolanus stops dead in his tracks. He takes a good look at the cleaner, only to realize he recognizes her - he’s seen her quite a few times cleaning windows and mopping bathroom floors at the Academy. Despite his memory working as it should, he can not recall whether she’s always had this bronze pin in the shape of a bird of prey. Surely, he’d notice such an out-of-place accessory.

A strange emotion overtakes him. The feeling of being seen through, as though he had been stripped naked and displayed for public humiliation. How long have these ‘emissaries’ been following him? Stalking his every movement?

How much does the woman in grey actually know?

If he wasn’t sure before, he is now - someone who might know him inside-out makes for a dangerous foe. His empire could fall before he has a good chance to start it.

Not caring for etiquette, Coriolanus harshly grabs the cleaner’s arm. She turns around, her body language speaking of fear but the calculated calmness in her hazel eyes shows anything but. The vulture pin sits proudly on her chest, right above where her heart’s supposed to be.

“Tell her I agree,” he barks at the maid.

The cleaner changes her demeanour instantaneously. Her body relaxes as she learns she can drop her A-grade act in front of him. Visibly offended, she yanks her arm out of his tight grasp.

“At once, sir,” she forces herself to sound polite but her eyes throw daggers at the blond man. In an ostentatious manner, she fixes the sleeve of her white shirt.

Coriolanus continues his quick walk towards Gaul’s office. He’s a few minutes late but that’s hardly his fault. How was he supposed to know he was going to run a friend of his most unwelcome guest?

When he enters the spacious room, Gaul is not alone. The woman standing next to her is looking through a folder, nodding along to the Doctor’s monologue. From time to time, the stranger asks a single question or gives a short answer.

It is only when the two women notice his presence that Coriolanus feels his heart drop for the second time this morning. Standing there, in a grey skirt and a matching grey jacket, is the very same person who had trespassed into his bedroom last night. She’s clutching the dossier close to her chest. Her legs are glued together. Contrary to just a few hours prior, she appears timid.

“And here he is,” Gaul’s voice echoes through the surgically white room. The irate tone of her voice is not lost on Coriolanus.

The stranger he met last night gives him a soft smile. She extends her arm, offering a polite handshake. "I don't think we've been introduced, mister...?"

"Snow,” he answers shaking her hand. He’s carefully studying her features but no matter how closely he examines her expression, nothing about it indicates that she’s putting up an act. By all means, this facade appears genuine. “Coriolanus Snow."

Her face lights up in a way so innocent, it makes him sick to his stomach. “One night I saw a snowflake fall. Past memories it did recall. And as the snow fell to the ground, So quietly without a sound, I watched until a blanket made, To glistening white - brown earth did fade.” Coriolanus feels a cold shiver run down his spine as the woman quotes the poem. This part about her is familiar. Judging by the knowing look in her eyes, this time, too, there is more to her words than just their surface-level meaning. Then, the familiarity disappears as she breaks into nervous laughter. "I'm sorry, it's a force of habit. My late father used to teach literature. Pleased to make your acquaintance, mister Snow."

The foreign accent, the syntax... It’s almost as though the woman in front of him is a completely different person. In some sense, she is.

"Likewise,” he hears himself slowly answer. How come this situation is only getting weirder by the second?

Then she simply leaves his side, walking towards the door. The way she moves is so ordinary, Coriolanus finds it hard to believe that the very same woman simply vanished in front of his eyes the night before.

‘Believe,’ he catches his thoughts. ‘A strange word indeed.’

"Tomorrow morning, miss Bishop and not a minute later,” Gaul calls after the woman.

Coriolanus fights hard against himself to control his expression. Bishop? It’s almost as if the whole point of this lark was to prove to him how far Lucky Jade’s roots reach. If this person, whoever they really are, can fabricate a persona to get her into the Ministry of War, she must be someone worth knowing. Even better - someone worth befriending.

"Of course, doctor Gaul,” she answers. Her eyes switch from the Doctor to Snow’s face. “I take pride in my work.”

Just like last night, when thunder rumbled and rain thudded on his windows, the woman disappears. Despite the answers she provided, he’s left with many more questions.

And just like yesterday, the lack of control leaves him seething.

___

The poems used are "A Snowflake Falls" by Ruth Adams and "Fin" by Collic

#tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas fanfic #coriolanus snow #coryo #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader

103 notes · View notes

chmpgneprblem · 5 months

Text

SNOWFALL OF HEARTS ; CORIOLANUS SNOW

pairing: coriolanus snow x tribute!oc part: four summar: coriolanus is torn between his harsh pursuit of victory and the growing warmth in his heart for erykah, his tribute from district nine warnings: ooc coriolanus, slight angst that turns into fluff a/n: i've been so busy with school, so so sorry for not updating sooner!! previous parts: one, two, three word count: 1.8k join taglist!!

Debris flew around in the air as Erykah fell to the ground. Bombs continued to go off. Bright orange and yellow filled the air as one after another went off, getting closer and closer to her. She could barely see due to the dust. She felt around the ground, trying to bring herself to her feet. But the continuous bombs restrained her.

She panicked as she felt a hand on her back. She turned her head to see a distressed Coriolanus. He took her hand attempting to bring them to their feet.

They both finally got to their knees, a dark gray cloud of smoke blew past them making Erykah cough. She stood up, directing her attention to the roof of the arena. She gripped Coriolanus’ hand attempting to pull him out of the way. He didn’t seem to notice the gesture, too engrossed in the bombs.

One now went off by the middle of the ceiling, causing it to collapse in the middle. Erykah finally snapped him out of his daze, running with him out of the way of the wreckage. He didn’t run fast enough, a burning pillar fell across his back.

Erykah didn’t notice his absence, only stopping her running when she heard his faint voice yell out for her. She ran over to him and saw him writhing, attempting to free his body.

Gunshots and explosions rang out around the arena. Two peacekeepers were attempting to catch one of the other male tributes. More time to help Coriolanus. She groaned as she lifted the pillar off of his burning body, using all of her strength to free him. Her hands received cuts as she pulled harder. He rolled over, his body finally free.

“Thank you.” Coriolanus told her breathlessly, reaching out for her.

Erykah tried to respond, but a peacekeeper came up from behind her, pulling her body away from his. She thrashed around in his arms, eyes never leaving Coriolanus’.

And then he was gone in the dusty haze.

Coriolanus woke up in the hospital dazed. He blinked slowly, trying to wake himself. “Coryo,” His cousin, Tigris, whispered to him with a bittersweet smile. He was glad she was there, he needed company. “Erykah, is she okay? Is she safe?” He asked in a panicked, hoarse voice.

“She’s okay, she’s alive Coryo.” Tigris reassured him, gripping his hand in hers. “And the rest of them?” He asked slightly worried about their well beings, but also hoping Erykah didn’t have much competition left. “Four tributes were killed, everyone’s terrified.” Tigris informed him in a hushed voice.

“Marcus got out. He’s the only one.” Sejanus, who Coriolanus hadn’t noticed was there, cut in. “Peacekeepers are hunting him in the streets… but at least he has a better chance out there than he would tomorrow.” He told Coriolanus somberly.

That couldn’t be right… “Tomorrow? They’re not still going on with the games are they?” He asked, distressed at the idea of Erykah in the arena. He remembered the last thing she said to him. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it”

“Erykah… she could’ve run. But she saved me.” He could never repay her for what she had done for him. No, he would. He would get her out of that arena and back to her family, back to her little sister, back to district nine.

The sound of cheers coming from the TV snapped him out of his anxious thoughts. Coriolanus heard the voice of Lucky Flickerman as he struggled to get out of the hospital bed, groaning slightly as he brought himself to his feet.

“Erykah Thorpe! Get out here you songbird!” Lucky yelled cheerfully and waved for her to get up on stage.

She held a light brown guitar in her hands, as her eyes scanned the crowd. “I wrote this song about a boy back in district nine, and I hope he hears it.”

3 a.m. and I'm still awake, I'll bet you're just fine. Fast asleep in your city that's better than mine…

She was an amazing singer. The song she sang accentuated her slight accent. Coriolanus’ eyes darted to the corner of the TV screen, she had already gotten fifty donations. Already doing better than some of the other tributes.

And the girl in your bed has a fine pedigree. And I'll bet your friends tell you she's better than me.

She gave an annoyed scoff and smirked at the camera while she continued to play. What had this guy done to her? Maybe it was nosy, but Coriolanus needed to know who he was. He wished he was able to talk some sense into whoever he may be, make him realize what he had lost.

Well, I tried to fit in with your upper-crust circles. Yeah, they let me sit in, back when we were in love.

This had confirmed his belief that Erykah was glaring at the mayor’s son during the reaping. He assumed that the song was about him as well. Coriolanus was brought back to the day of the reaping. Her giving the boy a sarcastic bow with a smirk on her face. Whatever he had done, the look of disgust Erykah had given him showed that he had wronged her.

But now that we're done and it's over. I bet you couldn't believe it when you realized I'm harder to forget than I was to leave. And I bet you think about me.

Despite the angry expression she wore on her face, her voice stayed steady. But Coriolanus could tell that she was trying her hardest to keep her composure. Her voice growled slightly, her grip on the guitar got tighter.

I don't have to be your shrink to know that you'll never be happy. And I bet you think about me.

She finished the song, tilting her head with a sneer and looking directly into the camera. Cheers echoed in the background as Erykah stared at the camera, jaw clenched.

“Look at that! Record high for the evening. People in the Capitol are definitely watching, I sure hope that boy is too!” Lucky announced happily. As he spoke Erykah scanned the crowd with a smile.

Coriolanus felt guilty for not being there to watch her, though he wasn’t positive any of the other mentors showed up. He would see her before she went to the arena, he planned on it.

For the first time since she’d arrived at the Capitol, Erykah slept peacefully. She was awoken from that by the voice of someone familiar, Coriolanus. She rubbed her eyes as she heard his whispers, “Erykah. Erykah.”

She brought herself to her feet to run over to the gate. “Thank god, you’re alive.” Erykah whispered more to herself than to him. She observed him. His eyes were drowsy and dark, he had bandages across his entire chest, and despite his condition, he still came to see her.

Coriolanus took her hand through the bars before continuing to talk. “Those bombs, they’ve changed everything. There's a hole in the floors, it leads down to some tunnels. You can hide down there.” Erykah nodded, taking every word he said.

“When the bell rings, ignore all the weapons in the middle, and you run as fast as you can for the tunnels.” He stressed to her, gripping her hand slightly to get the point across. “Find a place to hide and stay down there until it's safe to come out.”

“Thank you… for you taking care of me.” Erykah said to him teary-eyed. Something seemed to register in Coriolanus’ head as he heard her words.

“I’m not done taking care of you. I can’t let you die. You saved me, Erykah.” He talked to her as if there were hearts in his eyes.

Erykah teared up at his words, she wasn’t ready to die either, but she knew many of the other tributes were far stronger than her. She was weak, she couldn’t hunt them like they would her. She didn’t stand a chance against them. But the idea of Coriolanus protecting her, even if it was from outside the arena, gave her a bit of hope.

Tears fell down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. During the nights here I just… the thoughts of what’s happening back at home… it just-” Her words were barely audible as she talked in a quavering voice.

“It’s okay, Erykah.” Coriolanus whispered reassurances to her while he wiped her tears with a handkerchief. She looked up at him with sad eyes.

“I’m going to get you out of there. I promise. Out of there and back home.” He spoke breathlessly as he reassured not only Erykah but himself as well.

Erykah couldn’t help but think to herself, I don’t want to go back to my normal life. Despite the terror of staying in the Capitol’s zoo, every day was brightened by being able to see Coriolanus. Going back to district nine would mean she wouldn’t see him anymore.

“What if I don’t want to, Corio? What if I said I don’t mind pushing through every day if it means being able to see you?” Erykah’s lip quivered as she confessed to him. Her gaze lowered to her feet, afraid of seeing the horrified look on Coriolanus’ face. But when she felt his shaky hand take hers, she looked up to see him teary-eyed.

“Erykah I don’t want to lose you.” He confessed sadly, before bringing his head to the gates to rest his forehead against hers. She followed after him looking into his eyes with a sad smile.

Coriolanus was so absorbed in the moment he had almost forgotten about what he brought her. “I have something I need to give you.” He said, sadly breaking the contact between the two. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful silver compact with a rose engraved in the center.

“Corio thank you but… what’s this for?” She was grateful but couldn’t help but wonder what the motive behind it was. “What’s in there, don’t touch it. Don't even breathe it in because it’s deadly.” Coriolanus told her, surely. Erykah nodded, immediately understanding him.

“We’re going to win this together.” He said before giving her one last thing, an old ring which looked like a family heirloom. “If you ever lose hope, just remember me. I’ll be waiting for you till the end, Erykah.” He squeezed her hand that held the ring.

“Thank you Corio, for everything you’ve done for me. I don’t know how I could repay you.”

“Your survival is enough of an reward.”

tags: @specialk6802 @freyafriggafrey @clementinechatsshit @crackheadhours @mushrooms-moon @ebsmind @lovinghimwasted @iovemoonyy @javden @Ivory_Sage @prettyinsatiable @asmoee @lola11111111 @alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @ennycutie @kkmikayla

if there is a dash through your user it means it didn’t tag. (send your users again in the taglist or put them in the comments!!)

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games fanfic #thg #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth x reader

101 notes · View notes

thegoddessprose · 3 months

Text

I think I've shared this in a reblog before, but this is my Tigris fic... It deals with her growth in the aftermath of TBOSAS as well as my interpretation of the origins of the Capitol underground.

Fair warning that this gets a bit OC heavy and that Tigris is written as bisexual and has a male love interest, so if you're really not into that, this isn't the fic for you.

However, if you do check it out, I really hope you like it so far.

#thg fanverse #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tigris snow #tigris #tigris x oc #tigris deserves better #thg oc #thg fanfiction #ao3 link #Taking a bit of a risk here #But I'm trying to put myself out there more #oc x canon

0 notes

evielmostdefinitely · 5 months

Text

a hazy shade of winter |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: wedding nuptials and coriolanus' upcoming inauguration, leads to press.

my first work lol <3 reader's surname is "duke" for the series. i picture the duke family being a rothschild similar type if that makes sense???

contains: possessive snow, nothing too graphic, he's manipulative and a little dark. established relationship. mentions of corio's mom. alludes to smut but none.

Coriolanus stared back at his own reflection, fastening the buttons to his shirt. A nicer fabric, Tigris still selected it but did not have to mend it together like before. No, now the Snow’s were back in power, still climbing that ladder of socialites and success- thanks to you.

A small rapping on the door pulled his attention. “Just a moment.” Corio huffed, looking at the clock. Flickerman’s producer said nine sharp, he still had twenty minutes.

The rapping didn’t stop, following again, heavier this time. Corio’s spine straightened, icy with fear. His mind raced with possibilities- a rebel outside the door, here to kill him; or perhaps it was the guards, they’d found the guns he threw in the river years ago and we're here for him too.

Corio reached for his own weapon, slinking to the door, peeking under the crack. Two white heels.

“Corio,” Your voice whispered, a hint of a giggle. “Let me in, Corio.”

Coriolanus relaxed, setting the weapon down, tucked under his jacket. The door opened, you in your pristine white outfit, the sapphire fixture on your ring finger. “What are you doing?” Corio scanned the hall. “You’re supposed to be in your dressing room.”

“Tigris finished with me.” You waved him off, slipping under his arm into his own dressing room. “She went to join my parents in the audience, and I wanted to see you.” You hum, eyes rolling down his frame.

Corio scoffed lightly, shutting the door. “This is improper.”

“I think they’ll forgive us, Corio.” You giggle. “We are married.” Your hand laid gently against his chest, smoothing out a crease on his collar, engagement ring sparkling even in the low light of the room.

Corio’s hand found yours, admiring the ring himself. His mother’s ring turned yours, one of the few items he had left of hers- that they hadn’t lost or sold to stay afloat. He added the halo of diamonds. After all, he was marrying into the Duke family, he needed it to be flashy- to be worthy.

“We’re not married yet, my love.” Corio muttered, thumb swiping over the ring. “Still two more sleeps.”

“And a press conference,” You sighed, leaning into his soft touch. “And a press tour.”

It had been your father’s idea. Coriolanus was to be President come the new term, and since marrying into Panem’s wealthiest, the press tour to each District seemed fitting. The communication was less and less now, Corio wanted to keep it that way, but have them still feel involved. Your father loved the idea.

“Mmm, but a solo press tour.” Corio hummed, nose brushing against yours gently. “Just us for weeks, days on the train. By ourselves.” His voice rapeseed, tone dropping to that dark octave that left you squirming, tummy flipping with excitement.

“We won’t really be alone.” You pouted, lip jutting in a petulant sort of sulk. It made Corio’s lip twitch. “There will be the peacekeepers and guards and Tigris and-”

“-But we’ll have a whole carriage to ourselves. A private one. I’ve made sure of it.” Coriolanus nodded, the pad of his thumb brushing over your lip. “Just for us. A honeymoon before we come back.”

You smiled softly, hands raking up the soft fabric of his shirt, careful not to bunch or wrinkle the fabric- you knew how much he hated that. Corio’s hands found your waist, pulling you into him, lips slotting over yours. He always took the lead, and you’d let him, his domineering personality never settling even in moments of intimacy.

Two sharp knocks pulled the two of you away, Coriolanus pausing rigidly. “Come in,” You called, your hand moving respectfully to his arm, smoothing out your skirt.

“Ah, the love birds.” Lucky Flickerman grinned. “See, Juno, I told you they’d be together, and it looks like they’re decent.”

Corio’s face swelled with heat, mouth settling in a fine, thin line. Once he was sworn into oath, he’d have his tongue cut out for that vulgar comment. Your hand squeezed his bicep lightly, soothingly.

“So, I wanted to give you the run down before we are live on the air to all of Panem.” Lucky grinned, you knew he was smug at his rising fame. “President Snow and the First Lady… Do you want me to address you as Snow or Duke?”

“Snow.” Corio hissed before you could respond. His hand was firm on your waist, pulling you possessively into him. “She is a Snow, now.”

Lucky blinked, awkwardly cutting his eyes to you. “Right. So President and First Lady Snow, we’ll talk about the wedding- the dress, the ring, the proposal, the details, the guest list. Really lean into that, ok? Get the viewers excited for the district press tour after.”

You nodded, Lucky’s droning instructions a blur to you. Your eyes caught sight of your and Coriolanus in the mirror. How tall he stood next to you, proud and boasted- powerful. He always had his chin held high, looking down his nose at others. You were just glad he had lessened the way he’d glare down at you, traded it in for a softer side you weren’t sure you’d ever see.

His hand stayed on the small of your back, respectfully, but holding that same ownership, leading you through the small studio. “You look beautiful.” Corio whispered, pushing a loose strand of hair back into place, tucking it behind your ear.

You blushed under his praise, looking down at your white kitten heels. “Don’t do that.” Corio frowned, hand pressing into the middle of your spine. “Stand up, darling. Don’t hide from them. Let them know.”

You followed him out, hand in hand, waving to the studio audience under blinding lights. Since the success of the Hunger Games, the donors- your family included- had poured in money to have the studio revamped. Something nice, more enticing. Your father and mother sat next to Tigris. Your fathers eyes were narrowed, watchful in nearly a predatory sense, a warning to the both of you.

“Mr. and Mr. Snow,” Lucky grinned, a toothy smile that dazzled under the lights. “Or so it will be soon, yes? The wedding is…”

“In two days.” Coriolanus nodded, shoulders squared, eyes sparkling, his hand rested on your knee.

“Marvelous, just marvelous. And what a beautiful couple they are, aren’t they?” Lucky turned to the audience, nodding at their applause.

You felt hot, skin boiling under the harsh lights, under your father and Corio’s even harsher stares. The pressure to not falter, not even for a moment, was making you dizzy. Do not stutter, sit up straight, smile.

“And don’t forget, President Snow and his First Lady will be making their way to each of the Districts out there before the Inauguration and of course, before the fifteenth Hunger Games.” Lucky called exaggeratedly, clapping with his cards with the audience. “Don’t forget to join us for the reapings, it’s only a month away, folks. And as always, Panem today, Panem tomorrow, and Panem forever.”

A pause and it was done. The lights went up, producers nodding, pulling out screens and wires. You looked to Coriolanus, but his attention was elsewhere.

“That was amazing.” Tigris greeted you with a warm smile. “You did not have to mention me as your designer. I told you to say the company-”

“-The company didn’t design my dress, you did.” You nodded, squeezing her arm affectionately. “And I’m not letting that bitter, miserable woman get the credit that you deserved, Tigris.”

Tigris beamed, hugging you briefly, before your father made his slow approach, your mother on his arm. He took slow, calculated steps, looking nearly bored, unimpressed. It made Corio’s heart race- he wanted to mimic it, perfect it to have the same reaction.

“My girl,” Your father gave a half smile, lips curling in nearly a snarl. “You did wonderful.”

“Thank you,” You nodded politely. “I was afraid I spoke too much.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother waved you off lightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You did marvelous.” Her eyes cut over to Coriolanus. “You as well, dear.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Duke.” Corio nodded, hands clasped behind his back respectfully.

“Are you happy, boy?” Your father looked at Corio, eyes beady and sharpened. “Excited for the wedding? The inauguration?” It was no secret your father and his pull were behind the election, Corio knew that.

“Of course,” Corio nodded, his hand finding yours gently, squeezing it. “I’m overjoyed, Mr. Duke. Moreso for the wedding, of course, but the inauguration as well. It will be hard to replace President Ravinstill but-”

Your father lifted his hand. “Save it, boy. This isn’t a political rally, you’ve already won.” He scoffed, shaking his head. You didn’t miss the way Coriolauns stiffened, his grip tightening on your hand. “As long as you keep my daughter happy, then you have my support.”

“Thank you, sir.” Corio forced out a smile through clenched teeth.

“The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow. At the Trinket Estate Gardens, dear.” Your mother nodded at you, like you’d forget.

“I’ll see you then.” You hugged her briefly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, darling girl.” Your father hugged you, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

He shook Corio’s hand firmly, a shake and a head nod before they were both whisked off, chatting to his other friends who showed. Corio wished he would have introduced him to a few, helped him build a rapport that way. There would be time, he reminded himself.

“Tigris,” You held Corio’s arm, craning around him towards his cousin on his other arm. “The white rose was a lovely touch.” You smiled, looking down at your corsage.

“Oh, that was Coriolanus’ idea.” Tigris hummed, looking at the blonde next to her. “He wanted you to have that.”

You beamed, looking up at your fiance. “You wanted me to have it?”

“I thought it was a nice touch.” Corio hummed, glancing down at you. “Thought you would enjoy it.”

“I do,” You mutter, lifting his hand to yours, lips brushing across his knuckles. Normally, he’d scold you for doing it in public. He was against any signs of PDA, a sign of weakness, he said. But he allowed it, even blushing from underneath his stiff collar.

“Save the I do’s for tomorrow.” Tigris grinned playfully at you. “What are you doing on your last night as a Duke? Going to District Two?”

Coriolanus glared at her, jaw set firmly. You shook your head lightly. “Packing.” You sighed. “We leave from the reception straight to the train.”

“Oh, I can help you-”

“-That’s alright.” You shake your head politely. “It’s just a few things. Sleepwear, toiletries- minimal things. But thank you.”

Tigris nodded back, pulling from Coriolanus gently. “I’ll wait for you in the car?”

“Go ahead without us.” Corio nodded. “We have to speak to a few sponsors after.”

Tigris nodded, waving goodbye to the both of you politely. You stepped into Corio’s dressing room, smoothing out your skirt. “We have to speak to sponsors?” You hummed, reaching for your zipper. “I thought you already did that?”

“I did.” Corio’s tone was chilling, clicking the lock to the door behind you. You stilled, eyes catching his gaze through the mirror.

Coriolanus stepped towards you, slow, calculated, with heavy footsteps. He grinned, satisfied, at how you shivered. His hands moved yours, unzipping your dress slowly. You stayed still, watching him for any sign of what was to come. You knew he’d never hurt you, purposefully, never risk what would happen if he laid a hand on you. Still, Corio was unpredictable- you hated the way it excited you.

“I just wanted a moment alone with my wife.” Corio’s breath was hot on the shell of your ear, shuddering under his touch when he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, exposing you. Bruising love bites on your chest from the night before. You wondered if his back still bore your long scratches from where you’d clawed and raked at his skin.

“‘M not your wife yet, Corio.” You met his gaze, rounded eyes that had his cock twitching. “Still another two sleeps.” You repeated his words from earlier, the tiniest grin on your lips.

“How do you want to spend your last night as a Duke, my love?” Corio’s lips ghosted over the skin of your cheek, hands gripping your waist.

“With you.” You whispered, leaning back against him. “I want to spend it with you, Coriolanus.”

Corio grinned, salacious and satisfied, fingers splaying over your jaw, holding you while he kissed you, slowly, passionately. Your pristine dress was on the floor, his hands in your hair, legs tangled around his waist while he melted you with every hot kiss.

1K notes · View notes

konohokelly · 3 months

Text

Leech - Sejanus Plinth x Toxic!Reader (Teaser)+(Short Smut)

Summary: Hirudinea Snow is going to baby-trap Sejanus Plinth to get her hands on the Plinth fortune. Story Warnings: Sex, manipulation, sexual assault (baby-trapping), toxicity, gaslighting, OC is a bitch, Sejanus is too good for her, OC is a bad person through and through, OC is a Capitol supremacist, Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Minors DNI MC is fem and named but her appearance is NEVER explicitly described.

(Taken from Chapter 1 of 2. The story will differ from this teaser and moments will be more fleshed out)

He moaned her name as his end hit him hard, spurred on by the tightening of her cunt. "Fuck, I'm cummin'," Sejanus paused, pushing flush against her before thrusting faster and shallower, his rhythm completely lost.

His eyes nearly crossed at the pleasure. Rope after role of cum filled the condom, and Hirudinea smiled to herself, knowing it was leaking into her womb through the nearly microscopic holes she had put in the rubber.

His arms gave out, and he fell fully on top of her, but she wasn't bothered by his weight. He once again nuzzled into her chest as his breathing evened out.

"Mmm, You smell good," he murmured lazily.

"You don't have to leave yet; my Ma won't be back for a while," he told his lover, his brown eyes soft as he watched her get dressed.

Hirudinea cringed at his use of District 2 vernacular. It almost made bile rise up in her throat.

She hoped their child would never address her in such a manner. She preferred a distinguished 'mother' or 'ma'am'

When they arrived the door of the Corso, she refused to let him take her any further, saying, "My grandma'am won't like to see me with a boy this late."

It convinced him to let Hirudinea off here, not wanting to get her in trouble. He did ask for one more kiss though, which she allowed. It was sweet and light.

"Goodnight, Dinea" he said as the door closed behind her.

It was only when she reached the penthouse that she realized he had called her by her nickname.

'What gives him the righ-'

82 notes · View notes

crookedteethed · 3 months

Text

DEPRIVED barbarism (1)

Pairing: University!Coriolanus Snow x Mysterious!reader

Summary: Taking two incompatible oaths showed weakness, but that didn't add anything to the immorality of Coriolanus Snow.

WARNING: 18+ SlightyDark! Coriolanus, SlightMean!Coriolanus Dacryphilia, Smut (p in v), Mind-fucking kink, reader is referred to as an "abomination", Fem reader, mentions of violence, (Kinda) enemies to lovers trope, Ocs, bullying

Authors note: Originally I wanted this to be one post, but I just decided to split it into two parts so it won't be so long. Going to post the second part sometime this week. Enjoy the read! ily babes <3 💗

Word count: 1.7k

An abomination. That's what they referred to you as. That's what he referred to you as.

Coriolanus Snow was too proud of himself to admit that it hadn't been more than a joke, too self-conscious to let any of his peers get a sliver of who he was outside of university. Only the Grandma'am and Tigris got to see that part of him, the part of him that smiled and made attempts of sincerity (though that façade was shortly fleeting.).

After all, Coriolanus was the son of General Crassus Snow. He was to be the future President of Panem (Grandma'am and Tigris had told him such so many times that he was starting to believe that he might have a chance at presidency someday); Coriolanus didn't have time to be making jokes with his peers.

As much as Coriolanus liked daydreaming about being President someday, he knew dreaming was only for those who lacked control. For now, he was Coriolanus Snow, still the son of Crassus Snow, the tenth annual Hunger Games winner Snow. Coriolanus Snow, subject of Dr. Gaul.

Being Dr. Gaul's study subject introduced the two of you, albeit, He wasn't sure if you two were ever formally introduced in the beginning.

You just popped up one day in Dr. Gaul's laboratory, and after a week or two, Coriolanus deemed you a zit (this was before he deemed you an abomination). Zits shows up out of the blue and is hard to get rid them, and you don't want to pop it because it'll leave a blemish.

Coriolanus Was unsure if you were a student; the way you lingered around Dr. Gaul and the university made you seem like a ghost filled with dreaded longing.

Coriolanus thought, if she were a ghost, she doesn't know she was dead yet.

You weren't a ghost. Fennel Clearwillow, Coriolanus's occasional acquaintance, confirmed it.

Coriolanus was studying in the archives when Dr. Gaul approached him alongside her: you.

"Mr. Snow." Dr. Gaul greets. "Cramming your nose in a book during your substantial off day." She says, hands clasped behind her back and head held high. Dr. Gaul had this look on her face—like she knew something that you don't. At first, Coriolanus mistakes this look of all-knowing with the woman being out of her mind, but he would later conclude that Dr. Gaul is omniscient and a little omnipotent (and a little scary at times).

"Dr, nothing's the matter with a little weekend studying," Coriolanus said, making sure to flash his pearly whites.

You were there. Lingering behind the curve of Dr. Gaul's shoulder. So odd, yet compelling.

"While the rest of your peers are out partying, drinking themselves to a stupor." Dr. Gaul states.

You looked…clueless, Coriolanus thought.

"The rest of my peers are morons. They wouldn't know how to serve the Capital well if there was another rebellion."

It's like your brains had been sold separately or something.

The thought of another war breaking out terrified Coriolanus, but at least this time he knew how to aim and shoot.

This joke had been one of many self-deprecating ones. He earns a small smile from Dr. Gaul, which makes him feel pleased.

“Mr. Snow I want you to meet my…”

Latest creation? He thought.

Dr. Gaul was a psychotic mutation-obsessed woman. Coriolanus was no stranger to this. He’d seen the snakes of various colors, the rabbit mutts, and even those stupid, stupid Mockingjay, all done by the hands of Dr. Volumnia Gaul.

She’d already had a Frankenstein complex, messing with nature, so why not mutate humans next?

“My latest subject, Y/N Y/LN, alongside you, Y/N will also be studying under me.” Gaul said.

Hmmp.

Dr. Gaul nearly pushed you into Coriolanus. You stopped by the tiptoes before you collided with Coriolanus’s broad chest.

“Hello.” You say firmly.

Coriolanus nods, too occupied studying your face. He would never admit it, but Coriolanus was too stunned to speak. This was his first time seeing your face up close and not hiding behind Dr. Gaul’s wild hair or burning in some dark corridor.

Your skin hadn’t been muted with discoloration or any signs of stitching of other human body parts on you; you didn’t have that overall oddity most (if not all) Dr. Gaul’s mutation had.

If you had been created in a laboratory somewhere, Coriolanus was sure it had been an antique doll factory.

You were like a porcelain doll, like the ones Tigris had played with growing up, which she would later have to pawn off during the war for three cans of pinto beans and a jug of milk. Before they were pawned, Tigris didn’t let Coriolanus touch her porcelain dolls, scared he’d break them with that negligence only a child could get away with.

You extend your hand out, waiting for Coriolanus to accept and shake your palm, but he doesn’t. Coriolanus didn’t want to touch you. He was scared he’d put a scratch on you.

You extract your hand, the slight smirk on your face fading.

“It seems like Mr. Snow has already caught onto my intentions.” Dr. Gaul says. “You two will not be friends—Coriolanus, you know how much of a nuisance it is to have friends, don’t you? Especially in a competition.”

“Competition?” You and Coriolanus say simultaneously. Coriolanus felt a strange feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach at the smile that appeared on Dr. Gaul’s face.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to throw you two into the arena.” I wouldn’t put that past her, Coriolanus thought. “Just think of the opportunity you two students have compared to the rest of the student body.” Gaul said. “How bad does that make me look? It’ll look like I’m just inviting anybody into our little secret society.”

She was anybody.

You scoff.

"I must assume the winner gets a permanent spot in this 'little secret society' then." Coriolanus said.

The winner would be Coriolanus since he was here first, obviously.

Dr. Gaul begins to nod, but she cuts herself off. "That part has been undecided, Mr. Snow; until further notice, I want to see how the two of you work with each other."

Coriolanus concluded that Dr. Gaul must get off by watching the youth of Panem suffer.

"I want the both of you to write a 6-page essay about what the punishment shall be if there were to be a second rebellion. It seems like the districts haven't quite learned their lesson, what would we do to deprive their barbarism?"

Coriolanus's face dropped in realization.

"Thank you, Mr. Snow, for the idea." Dr. Gaul grins. Dr. Gaul watches the bewilderment on both of her prodigy's faces; she's pleased with herself. "The paper is due this Monday, so there's no time to stand there so boggled."

Before Volumnia Gaul leaves her two students to work, she says: "Two brilliant minds both wanting to study under one brilliant professor. This should be fun."

Coriolanus could feel her shit-eating grin gloating through the archives as Dr. Gaul left.

You were there again.

Looking so clueless.

The sight of you alone made Coriolanus's gut churn, but that bewildered look on your face gave him hope. This competition should be easy if you were as brainless as Coriolanus thought.

But…

If you were one of Dr. Gaul's mutated experiments, you indeed had an advantage. An advantage Coriolanus Snow lacked.

Though the "competition" hadn't been set in stone, Coriolanus couldn't afford to let you win.

Snow lands on top, Coriolanus affirmed, watching you from a distance as you roamed through the "Punishment in World History" section of the archives.

Snow always lands on top.

Two hours passed.

Two hours in which you and Coriolanus hadn’t spoken a word to one another. The only sound came from the flip of a page in your textbooks or your pens squabbling over your papers.

Coriolanus looked up at you occasionally. He wondered how you got your skin to look so soft. He wanted to touch you, just one poke.

She can’t be that bad, an unrecognizable voice in his head said; this was his morality speaking.

His thoughts meshed, creating one considerable thought of you and a second rebellion.

He wondered if you would survive in a second rebellion; surely you wouldn’t; you’d shatter. And Coriolanus would have to save you from those barbaric districts. Though he didn’t mind having to save you, the thought of you being some damsel in distress made him more pleased to be around you.

Coriolanus looked down at your paper. The two you decided to split the essay into three parts each. You’d been on your second page, going onto the third. Coriolanus had just decided what he wanted to put in the introductory paragraph.

For two hours, what had he been doing?

You noticed his hostile yet imploring stares; you didn’t let it bother you until the second quarter of the hour came around.

“Sir Stare-a-lot, if you want to win Gaul’s competition, this isn’t how you do it; I’m sure cheating is prohibited.” You said, eyes still on your paper, penned hand squibbing away.

Coriolanus scoffed like he would want to cheat off you. For the past two hours, you could've been writing nonsense onto your paper.

"Like I could even read your chicken scratch handwriting from here." He spat. This makes you smirk. You snatch his paper quickly, ignorant of Coriolanus's pleas to "Give it back!"

You scanned over his paper.

Two sentences. He had two sentences, and the first sentence was the initial question rephrased.

You laugh.

"More like you can't read at all." You say. "You'd been staring at your books for two hours and this, is all you come up with? A district can come up with something better than this."

Maybe it was your taunting laugh, your comparing his knowledge to someone as low as a district, or your control over him in the short time you two had been studying together that left Coriolanus Snow speechless.

He couldn't think straight with you being around. Coriolanus excelled greatly at coming up with exciting ways to punish the districts for their wrongdoings. Still, with you sitting across from him with exquisite facial features and flawless skin, his mind drew a blank.

Coriolanus needed to recuperate; he needed you out of the picture, and he needed to win.

Part 2

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #fem reader #tom blyth #part 1 #toppost

109 notes · View notes