#a tribute to the unspoken

[hundredpages]

A Tribute to the Unspoken, Just Words

#a tribute to the unspoken #poetry #my writings

[atributetotheunspoken]

A Tribute to the Unspoken, To Be Glass And Iron, by Anne Marie Abbott

#a tribute to the unspoken #dark academia #poetry

[pinchofhoney]

broken promises, part one

part one | part two | part three »

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warning: none

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: coryo is the type of person i sincerely hate and i'm glad that there are no such arrogant people in my life, who think they are better than others and who in crisis situations only care about themselves and to save their own arse. but at the same time i'm aware that young snow could be someone i'd catch a crush on at school. so why shouldn't i hate him even more?

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: you told me to tag you everywhere, so i'm back to doing it again; @wolfmoonmusic

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The problem with snow is its tendency to melt, mirroring the way we once thought our feelings would endure forever. Yet, shouldn't emotions, particularly those nestled in our hearts, last longer?

You had known Coriolanus since childhood, and your families had always been close. You had grown up together, surviving the hardships of the war-torn Capitol side by side, and now, in the post-war era, you were still inseparable. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you going above a simple friendship. Your connection ran deep, like the roots of the oldest trees in the Panem's forests.

Coriolanus was an intriguing character, a puzzle you had been solving together since you were children. He was the embodiment of Capitol charm, with his perfectly tailored suits, polished manners, and charismatic smile that could sway even the most skeptical of Capitol elites. But you knew that beneath that carefully constructed facade was a mind as sharp as a blade and a heart that carried the weight of his family's fallen reputation.

Yet, when he was with you, it was as if a different side of him emerged. The hard lines on his face softened, and his icy demeanor melted away. With you, he could be himself, unburdened by the expectations of Capitol society. It was a rare glimpse into the man behind the mask, and you cherished those moments even more than your favorite jasmine tea and the cat you found shortly after the war had ended.

You couldn't help but admire his intelligence, his quick wit, and his relentless determination to succeed in a world that often seemed stacked against him. His family's name might have been tarnished, but Coriolanus was determined to reclaim their lost glory. He was driven by a burning ambition that flickered like an eternal flame, and you were his unwavering support, the one who fanned that flame to keep it burning bright.

In your eyes, he was more than the sum of his flaws and ambitions. He was the boy you had shared secrets with under moonlit skies, the man who had held you when the world crumbled around you, and the person who knew you better than anyone else. With him, you felt safe, cherished, and loved in a way that no one else could replicate.

Your love for him was boundless, and you were content in the knowledge that you were his confidante, the one person he could be truly vulnerable with. Your relationship with Coriolanus was the envy of many in academy, a seemingly perfect match of two souls intertwined by fate and affection. You were the golden couple, a shining example of love and devotion in a world that often lacked both.

But you wished you had known sooner that it's often the things we love most that destroy us, as Coriolanus Snow's world was about to collide with that of a girl named Lucy Gray and you were not ready for it to happen.

As the day of the tribute's arrival approached, you had been by Coriolanus's side more than ever. The weeks leading up to this moment had been filled with your unwavering support. You had reassured him countless times, sitting together in your cozy bedroom, his head resting gently on your thighs while you combed your fingers through his soft blonde curls. It was a calming gesture, one that had become a comforting routine. You listened to his concerns, his fears, and his ambitions, and you were sure that everything would be fine, that he would be just perfect as a mentor, and that his scholarship and dreams of continuing his studies at the university were within reach.

Your words were like a soothing melody to him, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this daunting new role. He would look into your eyes with his cold ones, filled with gratitude, and you could see the weight lifting from his shoulders, if only temporarily. And in those moments, you felt like his anchor, the one who kept him grounded amid the chaos of his own thoughts.

Now, you both stood at the nearly deserted train station, the oppressive heat of the day hanging heavily in the air. The scorching sun beat down relentlessly, casting shimmering waves of heat across the empty platform. It seemed that most of the Capitol's citizens had chosen to stay indoors, seeking refuge from the sweltering weather.

The only other souls present were a handful of stoic peacekeepers, their pristine white uniforms stark against the dull backdrop of the station. The silence was broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond, a reminder of the bustling Capitol life that lay just outside the station's borders.

Coriolanus tightly held a single white rose plucked from his grandmother's garden, a symbol of his intent to make a lasting impression on his tribute. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of your academy uniforms. The simplicity of the white rose spoke of his sincerity and dedication to this new role as mentor.

With no clear timetable for the tribute train's arrival, the two of you stood patiently, pretending that the day's weather didn't bother you, the weight of uncertainty hanging over you like a heavy cloud. Coriolanus shifted his gaze between the tracks and the single white bloom in his hand.

You observed him closely, and when his gaze finally met yours, you offered a reassuring smile. “Remember, Coryo,” you murmured, “no matter what, you'll be the mentor she needs; your sincerity and kindness will shine through.”

“I hope you're right, Y/N,” he replied softly, his voice filled with a hint of doubt. “I need her to survive on the arena as long as she can,” he added, as if the idea of a group of vulnerable youths engaging in brutal competition in just a few days were the most ordinary occurrence in the world.

But that was precisely what it represented for the Capitol residents – the Hunger Games, an annual spectacle of entertainment.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly under the unrelenting sun, and the station remained eerily devoid of any signs of life. It felt as though hours had passed, but in truth, you couldn't be sure. Beads of perspiration formed on your brows, and you could feel the heat radiating from the platform's surface.

You and Coriolanus were on the verge of giving up and returning to the cool embrace of your penthouses when, at long last, the distant rumble of an oncoming train reached your ears. The sound grew steadily louder, and you looked at each other, exchanging tired glances.

Coriolanus's grip on the white rose tightened as he turned his gaze towards the approaching train. As he rose from the bench where you had sat, his anticipation peaked. You stood beside him, wanting to be his support, but you had no idea that your role was about to change very soon.

The train pulled into the station with a hiss of steam and the screech of brakes, billowing clouds of moisture and smoke into the scorching air. The two of you watched the machine in silent, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the moment when you would come face to face with people from the Districts, individuals whose lives were so far removed from the opulence and extravagance of your own. It was a rare and humbling experience, one that left you with a slight quiver in your step as you clung to Coriolanus, seeking solace in his reassuring presence.

For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. The train's doors remained sealed shut, as if holding its cargo of tributes in a reluctant embrace. The only thing that reached you was an unpleasant stench wafting from the carriages, a stark reminder of the grim reality that these young souls were about to face.

Finally the impatient peacekeepers took matters into their own hands. They descended upon the train, their authoritative presence enough to scare the tributes out of their temporary sanctuary. One by one, they were herded onto the platform, their expressions ranging from fear to defiance.

And then, your eyes locked onto a figure unlike the others. A girl stood there, her presence a stark contrast to the muted palettes of others tributes. She wore a rainbow-colored dress that shimmered with vibrancy, a flare of color and individuality amidst the sea of old attire. You recognized her immediately from the television screens, a girl whose name had already become a part of your daily life even before this encounter.

Lucy Gray Baird.

The very name whispered in the hushed tones of Capitol citizens as they watched her on the screens, intrigued and fascinated by her enigmatic presence from the Reaping. Her gaze swept across the platform, and for a brief moment, your eyes locked onto each other's.

You couldn't help but break into a warm, welcoming smile. With a cheerful wave of your hand, you signaled to her that both you and Coriolanus were eagerly awaiting her arrival, hoping to ease the initial tension of this life-altering moment.

Lucy Gray's response was a hesitant yet appreciative smile in return. Her steps were slow and cautious as she walked slowly toward you, a palpable sense of curiosity radiated from her, her eyes flitting between the unfamiliar faces that lined the platform.

Your gaze briefly shifted to Coriolanus, a subtle expectation in your heart that his eyes would mirror the warmth you felt. But when you looked at him, you noticed something different. It was as if his eyes were magnetically drawn to Lucy Gray, locked onto her with a nearly unwavering intensity that bordered on fixation. Those eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, now held an expression you had never quite seen before. It was as though he had stumbled upon a priceless museum exhibit, left captivated, awestruck, and undeniably intrigued.

A soft, knowing smile played at the corners of your lips, silently acknowledging his reaction to the girl before you. You gently squeezed his hand, a gesture of affection and solidarity. You understood that this moment bore immense significance for him, that he was on the corner of a journey filled with unforeseen challenges. Lucy Gray was the keynote of this new chapter in his life, and you couldn't help but admire her from a distance, captivated by her unique presence and the aura that surrounded her.

Before you could utter a word, Coriolanus took a determined step forward, his eyes still locked on the girl. He extended his hand, offering her the pristine white rose he had clutched throughout the wait and with a subtle nod, he greeted her in a tone that resonated with formality and welcome.

“Welcome to the Capitol.”

part two »

#do you hear that? it's the sound of snow falling #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games headcanon #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #10th hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow scenario #established relationship #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games headcanon #hunger games x reader #ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #x reader #x y/n

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Do You Still Love Me?

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

in which, harrys been acting shifty lately, when your looking for a shirt in his wardrobe, he gets hostile, when you say your going to go and shower, he gets hostile and for some reason doubts start to creep into your mind about what he’s been doing, so when you confront him about it, he tells you of his secret all along.

word count - 3.1k

23rd December, 2023.

The December air in Holmes Chapel holds a crisp chill, and as you sit in the cozy living room of Harry's family home in Manchester, the warmth envelops you. The room is adorned with festive cheer – a beautifully decorated Christmas tree takes center stage, casting a soft glow of twinkling lights.

The two of you had decided to spend Christmas at his family’s like you do every year, you’ve blended into a member of there family, as if you were always there. Anne considered you as another daughter, and sometimes on accident you sometimes referred to Gemma as your sister, so spending Christmas with them was undoubtedly a no brainer.

You were going to be staying for a total of three weeks, arriving two weeks before the big day and then going home January 1st.

You find comfort on the sofa, admiring the personalized stockings that hang from the mantelpiece, proudly displaying everyone’s initials. One for Harry, one for you, one for Gemma, one for Anne as well as one that is put up every year, an R, for everyone’s angel Robin. The stockings serve as a poignant reminder of the shared holiday traditions and the presence of loved ones, including a thoughtful tribute to his late stepfather.

As you await Harry's return from the grocery shop with his mother and sister, you revel in the tranquility of the moment. The crackling fireplace adds a soothing soundtrack to the scene, enhancing the coziness of the room. You can't help but reflect on the significance of spending Christmas in this familiar space, filled with memories of the past four years.

However, amidst the festive atmosphere, a subtle unease lingers. Lately, you've observed a shift in Harry's demeanor. His actions and words have become increasingly shifty, leaving you with a sense of uncertainty.

He dances around conversations, offering vague responses that only intensify your curiosity. It's a stark contrast to the openness and connection you've shared over the years, causing a quiet concern to settle within you.

You gaze at the stockings once more, the embroidered initials a testament to the bonds that tie your lives together. Yet, as you sit in the glow of the Christmas lights, a question lingers in the air – a question you can't quite bring yourself to voice. The flickering flames cast shadows on the wall, mirroring the uncertainty that clouds your thoughts, which happen to consist of the three moments that you’ve caught him acting weird.

15th December, 2023.

The date was December 15th, and the evening held a quiet tension as you sat on the sofa in Harry's family home, the soft glow of lamplight illuminating the room.

Anne, occupied herself with knitting a jumper, a rhythmic pattern of needles clacking together in the stillness. The warmth of the room, usually comforting, now seemed to underscore an unspoken discomfort.

Around eight at night, the front door creaked open, and Harry entered, an unusual weariness etched across his features.

He had gone out around two, and it was now evening, he just explained to you that a few friends from school wanted to meet up before Christmas, but there was a hint of doubt that remained in your brain.

You couldn't help but inquire about his whereabouts, a hint of concern in your voice.

"Where've you been, Harry?" you asked, eyes searching his face for answers. He shrugged nonchalantly, a vague response that only deepened the unease settling in the room.

Attempting to break through the tension, you pressed further, a furrow forming on your brow. "What's wrong?"

The question hung in the air, met with a dismissive reply.

"Just tired, m’love. Think I might hit the hay early tonight," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. The words lingered, laden with unspoken weight, leaving you with a sense of disquiet.

As Harry made his way toward the stairs, you couldn't let the matter rest. Concern etched across your face, you followed him, determined to understand the source of his unease. His hand halted you mid-step, a silent plea for space. Unbeknownst to you that it pained him, because he was doing it for the right reason.

"I'd like t’be alone for a little bit," he uttered, the distance in his eyes leaving you feeling shut out.

Left standing at the foot of the staircase, a chasm seemed to widen between you and Harry. The uncertainty echoed in the air, and as he ascended the stairs, the door to understanding remained firmly closed. The normally familiar and comforting surroundings felt alien, the clinking of Anne's knitting needles a somber soundtrack to the unspoken rift.

That night, as you lay in bed, questions lingered in the darkness. The echoes of Harry's vague responses resonated, and a sense of foreboding cast a shadow over what was once a haven of warmth and connection.

19th December, 2023.

The chill of December hangs in the air as you step through the front door, returning from the farmers market with Gemma. The aroma of fresh produce lingers on your clothes, and a shiver runs down your spine as the warmth of the cozy living room beckons.

The house is quiet, save for the faint sounds emanating from the kitchen, where Harry is preparing a cup of coffee for himself.

You navigate the familiar space, following the scent of brewing coffee that wafts through the air. The kitchen is dimly lit, and there he is, Harry, standing by the counter, lost in the quiet ritual of making coffee. His silhouette is a comforting sight, a presence that adds to the warmth of the home.

You make your way up the steps, wanting to be comfy when you greet your lover boy.

The December cold clings to your skin, urging you to shed the layers of the outside world. A yearning for warmth and comfort consumes you, and the thought of slipping into one of Harry's oversized shirts becomes a tempting refuge. The familiarity of his presence in the adjacent room promises solace in the face of the winter chill.

As you move toward the bedroom, the creaking floorboards beneath your feet seem to echo in the quietude of the house.

Gemma strolled into the kitchen, the door swinging gently behind her. She found her brother,

Harry, leaning against the counter, sipping on a cup of coffee. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee beans hung in the air as he greeted her with a cheerful " ‘Ey, how was the market?"

Gemma looked up, offering a warm smile. "It was good, got some nice stuff.

Harry hummed before tilting his head to the side. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

Gemma mirrored his smile, her eyes lighting up. "She went upstairs to get changed, though."

Harry nodded, his attention momentarily diverted as he took another sip of his coffee. However, a realisation dawned on him, and he furrowed his brow. "Wait, she's upstairs?"

Gemma, unaware of the subtle shift in Harry's demeanor, nodded. "Yeah, she mentioned wanting to warm up and change. Why?"

Harry's gaze darted toward the staircase, a sudden sense of urgency gripping him.

"No reason, just wanted t’check on ‘er. Be right back," he said, placing his coffee mug on the counter.

With a quick stride, he headed toward the stairs, a mild curiosity turning into a subtle concern. As he ascended, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. When he reached the top of the staircase, he spotted you about to enter the bedroom, ready to change.

"Hold on a sec," he called out, hastily covering the distance to stand before you, his expression a mix of surprise and tension. "Y’not allowed in there."

Because in his head, if you wanted to get changed, you’d go to his section of the wardrobe because he knows that you’d want one of his shirts, and then you’d find the surprise and he wasn’t planning on ruining that any time soon.

You paused, mid-step, your brow furrowing. "What do you mean, not allowed? H, I'm just getting changed."

His features tightened with an unexpected intensity. "I said, y’not allowed in there," he repeated, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Confusion and concern painted your expression as you took a step back. "Harry, what's going on? Why can't I go into our bedroom?"

His gaze remained fixed, a wall building between you two. "Just... not right now. I need Don't go in there."

You sighed, a heavy breath escaping you, and nodded in resignation. "Fine, whatever. Just get me some clothes, please."

Harry's shoulders tensed, and he hesitated before nodding. "Ye’okay. I'll get y’some clothes."

22nd December, 2023.

You can't help but replay the scenes in your mind—the December evenings, the vague responses, the moments when he seemed to withdraw. Each memory adds a layer of doubt, and as you connect the dots, a stray tear rolls down your face. The fear of him cheating on you lingers, casting a shadow over the warmth that once permeated your shared space.

The absence of Harry, his mother, and sister intensifies the solitude, and the room feels emptier than ever. The Christmas tree, adorned with memories, offers little solace in the face of the growing suspicion. You contemplate the significance of the three instances, questioning the foundation of trust that once defined your relationship.

In the quiet of the room, the tear on your cheek becomes a silent witness to the emotional turmoil within. The fear of betrayal, the uncertainty, and the unanswered questions create a palpable tension, leaving you to grapple with the haunting possibility that the person you love may be slipping away.

As the front door creaks open, signaling their return from the grocery shopping trip, Harry, his mother, and sister step into the living room. The warmth of familial greetings fills the air, and they collectively acknowledge your presence with smiles and hellos. The shared laughter and banter among them, however, are met with a strained silence on your part.

As Harry approaches, intending to seal the reunion with a customary kiss, you rise from the sofa. The heaviness in the room seems to amplify as you avoid his attempt at affection. You make a deliberate choice to distance yourself, turning away from the warmth that once brought solace and comfort.

With measured steps, you ascend the staircase, each footfall echoing a growing emotional distance. The decision to retreat upstairs becomes a silent declaration of your need for space, a momentary escape from the complexities that have woven themselves into your relationship. The unanswered questions and the lingering fear make it challenging to engage in the familial camaraderie that unfolds below.

As you walk away and ascend the stairs, the atmosphere in the living room subtly shifts. Anne, Harry's mother, notices the change in dynamics and glances at her son, concerned etching her features.

"Everything alright, love?" she asks, a mother's intuition sensing the unspoken tension.

Harry, removing his jacket and shoes, offers a dismissive smile. "Ye’, just gonna check on (Y/N) . Be right back."

His attempt to brush off the situation adds a layer of ambiguity to the air, leaving Anne with a lingering worry that she can't quite shake.

Upstairs, Harry follows in your footsteps, the silence between you palpable. As he enters the room, he finds you standing near the window, gazing out into the night.

"Ey’," he begins tentatively, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. "S’going on? Are y’okay?"

Tearfully, you turn around to face him, emotions laid bare in your eyes. The air is thick with a mixture of sorrow and uncertainty as you pose a question that lingers in the silent space,

"Do you still love me?"

The vulnerability in your voice cuts through the room, leaving an atmosphere heavy with the anticipation of his response. Harry, caught off guard by the rawness of the question, searches your eyes for understanding.

Harry, caught off guard, furrows his brow defensively. "F’course, I do. Why would y’even think otherwise?"

His tone carries a mixture of hurt and frustration, an instinctive response to the implication that the love between you might be in question.

The room becomes charged with an anguished tension as you gather the courage to voice the unspoken concerns that have festered. "It's just... you've been acting so differently lately. There are these moments, these instances when you seem so distant. I can't help but feel like there's something you're not telling me."

Harry's defensive stance persists as he denies any wrongdoing.

"M’don't know what y’talking about. S’nothing going on," he insists, avoiding eye contact. The weight of his denial adds another layer to the unease in the room, leaving you to grapple with the growing chasm between you two.

The frustration builds, and you press further, "Harry, you can't just brush this off. It feels like you're hiding something, and I deserve to know what's going on."

The plea in your voice is met with a guarded expression from Harry, his defensive walls standing tall.

The room seems to tighten with each passing moment, the emotional stakes escalating.

"M’not hiding anything," Harry asserts, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Y’reading into things, making a big deal out f’nothing."

As the back-and-forth continues, a sense of despair settles in.

"Harry, I need honesty. We can't move forward if you keep shutting me out," you implore, the depth of your emotions exposed. Yet, his walls remain intact, and the elusive nature of the truth becomes a palpable barrier.

The echoes of their laughter from downstairs seem like distant memories now, drowned out by the intensity of the conversation unfolding.

"Just tell me, Harry. Tell me what's going on,the time you stopped me coming upstairs with you, the time you stopped me coming into the bedroom and had a go at me for wanting to go on your phone " you plead, your voice cracking under the weight of the unresolved tension.

The emotional exchange reaches a breaking point, leaving you on the floor, sobbing, desperate for answers. The weight of the uncertainty, the unspoken tensions, and the fear of losing the connection you once cherished overwhelm you. The room becomes a backdrop for your vulnerability, the walls echoing with the sound of your heartache.

Amidst your tears, you hear Harry sigh, and the rustle of a box catches your attention. He crouches down beside you, the heaviness in the air momentarily shifting.

"Look at m’please," he implores gently, his voice carrying a tone of sincerity that cuts through the emotional fog.

Hesitant, you raise your tear-stained eyes to meet his. His gaze holds a mixture of regret and determination, and he asks you to stand up. Every fiber of your being is hesitant, a cocktail of emotions bubbling beneath the surface. Reluctantly, you rise, uncertainty written all over your face.

As you stand, Harry, now on one knee, pulls out a small box. The room seems to hold its breath as he meets your gaze.

"V’been acting shifty because v’been planning this," he confesses, his voice soft yet earnest. "I wanted it t’be a surprise, but the timing... it just got all messed up."

"From the moment we met, m’life gained a sparkle that I never knew I needed. V’been m’confidante, m’partner in laughter, and the steady warmth that completes every corner of m’world. These past four years ‘ave been a journey f’growth, laughter, and endless love. Y’seen me at m’best and m’worst, yet y’loved m’unwaveringly."

He lets out a soft sigh. “Will y’make m’the happiest person in the world and say yes?"

Overwhelmed by the heartfelt speech and the flood of emotions, you fall into Harry's waiting arms, the warmth of his embrace grounding you in the reality of the moment. His arms wrap securely around you, and you find solace in the familiar comfort of his presence. With tears of joy streaming down your face, you look into his eyes, a silent affirmation of the love that binds you.

In a tender exchange, you press a loving kiss to his lips, the connection deepening as the weight of the proposal lifts from the room.

"Yes," you whisper against his lips, the word echoing with the promise of a shared future.

"Yes, Harry, a thousand times yes," you repeat, each affirmation punctuating the joy that now fills the space between you.

The room seems to shimmer with the shared happiness, and Harry holds you closer, his own eyes reflecting the relief and joy of the moment.

"I love you," he murmurs, the words a gentle reassurance that lingers in the air.

Harry tenderly tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch a gentle reassurance.

"M’sorry f’being so sneaky and, well, a bit harsh," he admits, sincerity coloring his gaze. "I just wanted the proposal t’be a surprise, but I guess v’already messed that up."

A light laugh escapes him, the sound a blend of amusement and relief. "Guess I couldn't keep it under wraps as well as I thought."

You join in the laughter, finding the humor in the unexpected twists of the evening.

"Well, surprise or not, it's the most wonderful thing that could have happened. I can't wait to be Mrs. Styles," you express, your eyes reflecting the genuine excitement that courses through you.

Harry's eyes soften with affection as he hears those words, and he leans in to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

"M’can't wait either, m’love," he whispers, his voice carrying the promise of a shared future.

The room becomes a haven of shared laughter, love, and the promise of forever. Harry, still on one knee, takes your hand and delicately kisses the engagement ring.

"S’ring represents the love we've shared and the life we're about t’build together," he says, his words a poignant acknowledgment of the significance of the moment.

The room, once filled with questions and uncertainty, is now brimming with the certainty of love and the anticipation of a future together as Mr. and Mrs. Styles.

#musicforastylesrestaurant #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fake ig #harry styles headcanon #harry styles x oc #harrystylesdrabble #harry styles fake social media #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harrystylesxreader #harry styles one shot #harry styles x yn #harry’s house #harrystylesxyn

[inthelquvre]

finnick odair who wants nothing more than for you to let him play with your hair the night before the quarter quell to calm his nerves.

warnings: fem!reader, small mentions of panic attacks, trauma : (, mentions of snow being a dick, fluff and sadness : (

a/n: thanks for the request! i tried to make this as in character as possible lol. big thanks to everyone for the reblogs and likes!!!! i love you all loads!!!!

finnick odair was the strongest person you knew, you were sure of it.

he held his head high and scolded people that had offensive comments. he was strong physically too, he knew how to handle a weapon, how to defend himself against an enemy. all of those things that made a victor a victor.

unfortunately, finnick hadn’t shown you the other side of him. he had never shown anyone. but now, after the announcement of the quarter quell being played with previous victors? he fell apart like a house of cards victim to a harsh wind.

you were barley holding yourself together too. the victory of your games had only come by the fact that the other tribute from your district, your friend, killed the last opponent before himself. it was a long and painful and treacherous game that you had barley made out of alive, forever cursed with the nightmares of the fallen tributes. forever cursed with the thought of death plaguing your mind. forever cursed with the loss of a friend. and forever cursed with the fact that you, a teenager, were seen as desirable to the citizens of the capitol.

little to your knowledge, finnick was cursed with the same tragedy. countless nights the two of you shared the same experience of curling deep into your bed and letting salt stream flow out your eyes and into your ears.

the first time you were aware of your shared experience was the night after president snow had announced that the quarter quell would be played by previous victors. your name was called, then his— finnicks. the two of you were pulled back behind the stage where you broke down on the cold cement floor. it seemed to come naturally, finnick to you. he fell to his knees beside you, muttering soft words of comfort while rubbing your back gently. you noticed the way his hands were wet with his own tears when he brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

finnick had been your mentor, he would go as far to say he had been your friend, but when you arrived back from your games with bloodshot eyes and bruised knuckles you disappeared. no one, not even your parents, heard from you for weeks. finnick tried his best to make you come out of the shell of your bedroom but everything seemed to remind you of the games— the bloodbath. and yet he still tried, for what? he didn’t know.

12 hours.

that's how long you, and the other tributes had until you were thrown back into the ring.

you couldn’t sleep. the glass windows looking down onto the capitol somehow made you feel claustrophobic. the bedsheets and clothes provided by that capitol that were supposed to make you feel warm burned and blistered your skin, leaving you to strip into shorts and a tank top, goosebumps speckled your skin but you couldn’t feel them. you were sure you were about to pass out, maybe then you wouldn’t have to fight.

until a soft knock sounded on the metal door.

your breath hitched, you tiptoed over and slowly pulled it open.

there, in all his glory, stood a restless finnick odair. he swallowed, and you could see the redness in his eyes, similar to how yours had once been. “hey… i’m sorry, did i wake you?” his voice was soft, much softer than anything you had ever heard from him.

“no, no, not at all…” you replied with the same tone as his. in an unspoken way, you opened the door to invite finnick in.

his bare feet squeaked against the cold floor but you didn’t say anything.

your throat made a weird noise but he didn’t say anything.

you sat on the bed, twisting the sheets between your fingers. it was weird, finnick standing in your room, looking weak. finnick wasn’t weak, was he?

“i’m really sorry—“ he started. his voice trembled and you frowned. he wasn’t weak, he was scared.

the clothes on your skin suddenly didn’t feel like lava, the bedsheets didn’t feel like fire. and you could tell finnick felt the same way. you patted the spot next to you and he sat down wordlessly.

when he was closer you could see the tears sitting on the edge of his waterline. the way his chin moved as if he was about to cry. your heart broke alongside his. “oh, finnick…” you sighed. the urge was to strong, you reached out and gently tugged his wrist towards you. his big body fell against yours with a sigh. “shh…” a hand went to rub his arm, the other finding its way to his golden hair.

the night went on long and finnick soon found himself positioned between your legs with his head on your chest. your hands in his hair. his hands wrapped around your middle.

it didn’t seem as weird as it should have. it felt natural. just like how it was when he comforted you for the first time. his eyes were shut, focused on the soft drum of your heart. it relaxed you too, his soft hair in between your fingers. “i’m sorry.” the boy finally murmured, his eyes still closed.

“oh finnick, don’t be sorry.” you were so soft with him, he didn’t have to be tough. “i needed this too.” a soft smile spread across your face and you couldn’t deny the way blood rushed to your cheeks when he tightened his grip around your middle.

“tomorrow…” he started, very soft. so soft you almost didn’t hear. “tomorrow i’m gonna promise to protect you, got it?” your heart fluttered.

“yeah, i got it. i’ll protect you too.”

finnick smiled. “thanks.”

and the next day he lived up to his promise, even if it meant a lecture from haymitch afterwards.

#finnick odair #hunger games catching fire #thg finnick #mags flanagan #finnick odair imagine #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair fluff

[coryoskywalker]

Save Me (Part One) Young! Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Description - Coriolanus has returned to the capitol after his time serving as a peacekeeper with one thing on his mind…..you. (Basically Coriolanus and Reader reuniting with unspoken feelings)

Ps I wrote this half asleep so don’t mind the grammar mistakes

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Coriolanus Snow had always been one for the rules and following them, but the Hunger Games... well, it was hard to follow the rules in the games if it meant losing your life. After having cheated in the games, the Capitol couldn't let him get away with nothing. Coriolanus Snow was forced out of the Capitol, sent away from his family and forced to become a Peacekeeper. And now, months later, as he walked through the Capitol, he looked almost unrecognizable. He had a stern expression on his face, never showing more than he had to.

Coriolanus Snow walked quietly through the campus of the academy that was in the Capitol. As he walked, he heard whispers about him. He almost couldn't understand what exactly people were saying about him, but he got the gist of it. They were talking about him, Coryo, a cheater and a liar and a traitor. Coriolanus had his face in a straight expression, looking at no one. His mind was blank except for one thought... finding you.

Coriolanus Snow walked through the library, but suddenly he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you. He looked at you for a moment, a thought crossing his mind. What if he just... spoke to you? Coriolanus took a few deep breaths and started to walk towards you. As he walked up to yourself, he suddenly cleared his throat, which almost seemed to get your attention almost immediately.

“Coryo” you whispered.

Coriolanus Snow felt a chill as you called out his childhood nickname. He turned to face you, still with that blank expression on his face, but his mind was racing.

"y/n." He said quietly, keeping his voice low so only you could hear it. "Hello." He almost wished that he could see your expression right now.

“Where were you? No one told me where you went” you expressed.

"I was sentenced to become a Peacekeeper." Coriolanus said. It sounded silly to tell you that the Capitol had sent him to be a Peacekeeper, but it was true. "I had... broken the rules in order to keep my tribute alive." He almost wanted to punch himself in the face as he explained it. He was always someone that followed the rules, even if he may not like them, why had he broken the rules just to keep his tribute alive? Did he want her that badly?

“One would assume you have feelings for your tribute, lucygray” you teased him.

Coriolanus Snow looked at you, your words almost hitting a nerve in him, making him want to punch something. If only you knew how he felt about her... it would certainly change your perception of him, but Coriolanus kept his emotions hidden. "What?" He asked. "What a strange notion." He said mockingly, shaking his head. As if he could love Lucy. You just rolled your eyes with a smile planted on your face.

Coriolanus felt his face turn red. He had never felt like this before. When you looked at him with a small grin on your face, as if you already knew the reason he broke the rules in the Games. What was this feeling? Did he care this much about a tribute, that he wanted to break the rules for her? Coryo shook his head, trying to clear himself of all doubts and thoughts. "Nevermind that." He said blankly, forcing himself to calm down.

You nod “well Coryo come sit down. Tell me everything that has happened to you in the past few months” you spoke softly.

Coriolanus Snow, or Coryo, as many calls him, couldn't believe this was happening. You were…. smiling at him. You wanted to know about him, how he has been over the last few months. He couldn't understand why he felt nervous at this, it was almost a bad feeling, but he followed by going to sit beside her, still not looking at her. "Well... what do you want to know?" He asked bluntly.

“Everything”

Coriolanus felt a chill go up his spine as you said that. Tell you everything? The Capitol, what he had done, the guilt he carried? He wanted to tell her, he didn't want to keep these secrets anymore. The Capitol was where he made a mistake, telling you would help him feel... relief.

"Okay." He said, taking a breath. "Everything is a lot to say, but I guess I can tell you..." Coryo looked at the floor as he spoke.

He wasn't ready for you to look at him. Coriolanus told you everything. From how the Capitol had given him the position as a Peacekeeper, how he didn't fit in there, to the games. To the fact that he had broken the rules in order to keep Lucy alive. He expected you to walk away then and there, tell him what a monster he was, and never look at him again. But instead, she stayed, listening earnestly, then spoke quietly.

"I still think you did the right thing, Coryo." The words came as a shock. You didn't judge him. Instead, you... approved him? “You were willing to sacrifice everything to keep her alive. I find it admireable. I wish I was brave enough to do the same for my tribute” you spoke with admiration.

Coriolanus wasn't sure if he should feel flattered by her words or disturbed. His actions weren't something to be proud of. He had broken the rules in order to keep his tribute alive. While, in some way, you were telling him it was alright... Coriolanus thought back about his actions. He couldn't bring himself to feel proud nor shame for what he had done. Instead, he just felt... empty. "It was wrong to do it, y/n" He said, his voice soft. "I should have stayed loyal to the Capitol."

“The Capitol is corrupt Coriolanus”

Coriolanus felt a chill go down his spine as you spoke those words. You were right of course, the Capitol was corrupt. He knew it, had always known it, but there was always a part of him that believed the Capitol was just and right. But then, as he met your gaze and felt your steady eyes on him, something in him changed. "You're right. It is corrupt." He said, more to himself than to you.

#coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #the hunger games #tbosbas #Spotify

[itsbuckytm]

Yooooo!!! That Snow fic you recently released involving the reader and Treech being in love? Absolute masterpiece! So hear me out: what if you wrote about their connection and how it progressed? Like, before Coryo got his clutches on the reader. There was a moment you described where Treech and the reader snuck out, I’m pretty sure. I’d love to see a story on that. Maybe end it with those dying words you mentioned? Just utter fluff with that heartbreak of an ending.

Capitol's love birds. / Treech

summary : being Snow's twin meant being exactly like him, even though your appearances were slightly different. As a mentor yourself, you were assigned to District 7's male tribute, Treech. it was only in the wagon on its way to the Capitol that the chemistry first sparked, ultimately solidifying your status as the Capitol's favorite lovebirds.

ps ; english is not my native language, and I appreciate seeing your requests for ideas that I may not have thought of. Hopefully, you find the suggestions helpful. please refrain from plagiarizing my work without my permission or proper credit, as doing so may result in being flagged or banned. thank you.

Mentoring proved to be a challenging responsibility, but the greatest struggle arose when love entered the picture. However, this was no ordinary affection; it was a type of love that some might view as disgraceful, while others perceived it as a form of admiration amid the Games. Although Treech wasn't particularly interested in getting to know his mentor, let alone encountering them in another restricted enclosure, it was within those confines that the two of you crossed paths. Despite being Snow's twin traditionally constantly at his side, it was unquestionable that you, too, were destined to trail behind him to discover who your tribute was. 

While taking pride in mentoring someone from a district not situated at the lowest rungs of Panem's hierarchy, you were fortunate enough to maintain a semblance of dignity, given the reputation of the district you represented for its familiarity with victory. However, Lucy Gray Baird's captivating performance, the talk of the town since the reaping, cast shadows of doubt over your confidence. All of this, while your brother engaged with fellow tributes, attempting his best to establish his temptation not to gith back. 

You couldn't help but notice the stark class distinctions. Dust still clung to their attire, indicating a lack of access to basic amenities like showers before arriving. A twinge of sympathy crept in. "What's a pretty face doing here?" Reaper Ash remarked, catching you off guard. Initially assuming the comment was directed at Coriolanus, you soon realized it was aimed squarely at you. The revelation that you, too, were to become a mentor became apparent. And that the unspoken pressure to make a positive first impression on the fortunate second tribute who had the early opportunity to meet you loomed large. But Ash simply laughed at your brother’s reaction by ordering you stay behind him. Although poorly as his arm performed itself as a fence initiating to any tributes not to go further. "Relax, pretty boy. I won't touch her. Just asking for a friend, that's all." 

That friend happened to be Treech, whose imposing silhouette positioned itself in front of you a little closer this time. His gaze had been fixed on you from the moment he laid eyes on you. While you initially attributed it to natural human interaction, the persistent feeling of being scrutinized lingered throughout. It seemed as if Treech was almost surprised or even deceived to have you as his mentor, likely influenced by how your brother had fared so far. "Looking for District 7." You mentioned exchanging quick glances with the tributes to assess who would be best with an axe.

 As expected, your eyes landed on the red-headed girl who endeavored to present herself as the ideal candidate for you. "A boy." Your brother corrected, noticing as Lamina stood up, but Treech, adopting a protective stance, advised her to remain behind, much like your twin had done. After all it was a one-on-one game for the time being. "That must be my lucky one." Treech expressed sarcastically, stating it as a matter of fact, causing a subtle pink shade to color your cheeks – a reaction you tried hard to control. After all, it was your very first time you had seen someone outside the District ever. "You get to have the other pretty one." Ash teased playfully, suggesting that, despite Treech's charming demeanor, he was seemingly destined for a grim fate in the arena upon arrival. “I’m a little jealous.” Ash generously said.

Upon reaching the Capitol, you and your brother were taken aback as you discovered an unforeseen aspect of the tributes' journey. The initial understanding was that Flickerman, the Capitol's esteemed journalist, would be present to introduce each tribute upon their arrival. However, what they were unaware of was the presence of two mentors among the tributes, perhaps trespassing without official permission. This, however, was a matter for another time. Despite the somewhat unconventional transportation, Treech remained fixated on you throughout the journey to the Capitol. He seemed entranced by the striking resemblance between you and your brother, sparking a sense of compassion. Observing your interactions and the way you closely accompanied your brother, it was rumored that you were akin to his pet, only permitted to speak when approved by Coriolanus. Despite his disdain for the District, your brother demonstrated a surprising degree of protectiveness towards you, although in the midst of the situation, allowed  some space during the encounter with your tribute in an unexpected location. 

Fortunately, your keen observation allowed you to realize that you were reaching your destination, a detail that eluded many, including Coryo himself. Swiftly grasping your twin’s arm, a gesture he had ensured, the sudden tilt of the wagon hinted at the possibility of your feet slipping and sliding. Treech's eyes widened at your momentary clumsiness, seizing the opportunity to support you. As your back met the uncomfortable mud of the Zoo, he was determined not to lose his mentee on the spot. 

Cameras focused intently on both you and your brother, eliciting a crowd reaction filled with exclamations such as, "It's Snow's boy!" Swiftly, the onlookers noticed your presence next to your brother, who rose and asserted himself. There you stood, a captivating spectacle, with Treech's arm securing your waist and his unwavering gaze fixed on yours. A sly smirk played on his lips as the rest of the crowd declared your presence as well. "And look! The other Snow!" The citizens of the Capitol, already entranced by the presence of the twin siblings on their tributes' first day, began expressing confidence in your victory. This added an additional layer of challenge for the other mentors who were absent from this captivating spectacle. "It's your cue, princess." 

"Princess" was the first word he used to address you. Ironically, it took you a moment to realize that all the cameras were focused on you. Your brother had already made his mark, keeping a careful eye to ensure your tribute didn't make any missteps, especially when it came to touching you. However, you were completely under Treech's influence. With a confident smile, he waved at the cameras, making it a bit easier for you to face the potential embarrassment later at home. "She's alright!" He assured, shifting his gaze quickly to your relieved brother. He could have sworn he saw a few Capitol ladies, with similar makeup to yours, watching in awe at how Treech gallantly assisted you. As he watched the scene unfold with Lucy and Snow not far away, he too decided to play the role of the Capitol's love bird. 

As preparations for the 10th Hunger Games were underway, Flickerman's team mandated interviews with every tribute each year. From the very beginning, you managed to establish trust with Treech, a bond that proved beneficial. Not only did you ensure he was well-fed, but you also took the initiative to fetch Lamina additional food, given her mentor's apparent neglect. Treech appreciated the maternal role you assumed for Lamina. On one occasion, he confessed that he would go to great lengths for her, even if it meant risking his own life to secure her victory as the final tribute. It was all in the pursuit of making District 7 proud once again, for a Lumberjack always harbors a wealth of secrets up their sleeves. 

During his time at the Zoo, Treech found increased joy in your company, particularly when you accompanied him for a quick visit to the arena. Following suit with other tributes, he decided to take the initiative in making the first move. It happened on that initial day when he casually attempted to hold your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. You discreetly glanced at him, careful not to make it too obvious given the presence of the assigned tributes and their mentors. With Coriolanus behind you taking notice. Yet, observing Treech's attempts to connect with you, he sensed a deeper connection between the two of you. Realizing this, your elder sibling understood the need to strengthen his bond with Lucy. To Treech's delight, he could only imagine your brother envying a love that he would never receive in return. 

With insider knowledge of the arena and sneaky routes into the Academy, Treech and you managed to slip away after the arena visit. Observing his interaction back with District 4's tribute and noticing his vigilance, a few teases were all it took to provoke Treech into throwing a punch, especially when faced with comments like. "Your girlfriend wouldn't mind if I speak with you?" While it was clear that others were aware of your connection, Treech dismissed it as a mere game, refusing to believe that it held any deeper significance. However, his sentiments towards you had sparked an unexpected depth of emotion within him. "Just a reminder." He sternly directed at the other tribute, his gaze darkening with offense. Spotting you behind him with Lamina by your side, Treech asserted. "You don't speak such filth about Y/N." The onlookers chuckled at his protectiveness and the evident depth of his emotions. "Or else?" They added, challenging anyone who dared to disrespect you. 

"Or else, I won't hesitate to cut your head off with my axe. Watch yourself, because I can do it in the blink of an eye." With those words, Treech revealed what you truly meant to him. He could vividly recall Snow's concerned gaze as he tried to pull you away from the escalating situation. However, you had refused that day, meeting Treech's eyes the entire time after discussing the tributes he would be teamed with. "For Lamina's sake," You had pleaded, urging him to be cautious. "Those individuals only seek your vulnerability. They may be from District 4, but they don't understand the power of an axe." Was what Treech said reassuring you with a smile. A smile you’ll never forget. 

In that very moment, you decided to take Treech with you for a clandestine escape from the arena. It was a day when even the tributes were granted the freedom to either stay at the arena for practice or wander under the watchful eyes of the Peacekeepers. However, Treech and you had a different agenda. You used the excuse of wanting to make his training more convenient as a cover. For some inexplicable reason, you had the approval of Dr. Gaul, who only instructed that Treech needed to return to the Zoo before midnight. It seemed that being Snow's twin had its perks after all. 

Upon your arrival at the Academy's Greenhouse, both of you maintained a quiet atmosphere. This place held a special significance for you, offering tranquility during moments of anxiety or family pressure. Though it was suspected that you were in charge of the Greenhouse, under your grandmother's watchful eye and constant reminders to enjoy tending to flowers like she did, you chose to share this haven with Treech. It was the same place where you had once spoken briefly to him, and he was thrilled not only to spend time alone with you but also to witness the real person behind the facade of prestige and elegance showcased in public. Trying to ease the slight tension, Treech remarked. "You know, I'd be damned to see your brother's face if he were here." It was a fact that you were gradually opening up to someone who was once a stranger but had become someone you deeply loved. "Brother could care less; he has Lucy wrapped around his finger right now.” You added, acknowledging the complexities of your relationships within the family. 

A smirk played across Treech's face, revealing his amusement at the thought of your brother feeling jealous. Although they were in similar positions, this time the connection between you and Treech was authentic, not just for show. Playful teasing began to permeate every event at the Academy, serving as a tactic to expose vulnerabilities in both of you. However, with Treech's mentor skills and the insights gained from your brother's tips, he honed his skills and strength, making it increasingly difficult for others to exploit weaknesses or gain his trust. "And would it be fair to say that I, too, have my little finger entirely wrapped around you, Princess?" He added, playfully reciprocating the banter. 

His words caused a warm blush to spread across your cheeks, especially when he directed his attention toward you during wound care in practice. The worry in your eyes whenever he made a slight mistake was met with a reassuring thumbs-up and the smile you cherished. There were moments when it became challenging for him to stay focused, particularly when he saw you engaged in conversations with your other classmates. Despite the casual nature of those interactions, he couldn't resist the urge to draw your attention back to him. In response, you chuckled softly, suggesting a meeting on the rooftop of the Greenhouse to admire the stars. "Anything that involves being with you, I'll gladly say yes." He replied with a smile. “You know, I love when you blush more. Especially for me.” 

Without uttering a word, you playfully dismissed his comment, rolling your eyes in a teasing manner. You extended your hand, a gesture he effortlessly accepted. "Show me the way, Princess." He said, and together, you ascended the stairs. Luck was on your side as you reached the rooftop just as the sun of the Capitol dipped below the horizon, signaling the arrival of dawn. The sky was clear, and the stars of Panem glittered above, creating a breathtaking scene just for the two of you. "Looks like I'm the lucky one." He marveled at the view. "Having a beautiful face to look at and a beautiful scenery to enjoy all to myself. I'd be damned not to win these Games and return home to a beautiful angel." He confessed, and this time, he genuinely meant every word. 

On the other hand, you remained completely silent. Initially, you wanted to express your gratitude, but as the Games drew nearer, uncertainty crept in, even with Treech's skills. The looming uncertainty, especially regarding Lucy's well-being and Snow's single-minded pursuit of victory, left you unsure. Despite your love for your brother, his focus was solely on winning, regardless of the familial bond. Treech noticed the tension as the two of you sat next to the bench, and he tried to bring you closer. In an unexpected reaction, you flinched—a rare occurrence. "Hey—" Treech began, but he immediately noticed your slightly swollen face and your eyes fighting back tears. The man you loved had become, overnight, a complete stranger at best. "Look at me, Y/N." He pleaded, adopting a worried tone as you broke down in front of him. The situation must have been incredibly embarrassing for you. 

"What's wrong?" His voice softened as he looked at you, tender care evident in his gaze. He took immense pride in having you as his partner during the Games and falling in love with the most exceptional mentors he could have ever asked for. He harbored concerns about the possibility of you crying over his lifeless body, should the worst come to pass. The thought of hearing you scream his name filled him with worry, although he made a concerted effort not to show it. His overarching plan was to make you proud and, above all, to be loved by you until his very last breath. 

"Have you ever genuinely fallen in love?" Your question resonated with Treech. Of course, he loved you. You were an unexpected and, ironically, his first love. And so for you. The circumstances of your meeting might not have been ideal, but as long as he was with you, that's all that mattered. And if things worked in his favor, it was not just for him but for Lamina as well, given that she often regarded you as someone she could trust. "Like genuinely." You added, trying your best not to burst into laughter. Your tears didn't make it any easier, giving you a slightly maniacal tone. 

“Of course, and that person is sitting right in front of me.” His eyes not taking his gaze from you. How he watched you loosing yourself entirely in the moment of a mere seconds. Your old habits resurging as you would try to numb the pain of your fingers by scratching the very last skin until it bled. To which Treech could not help to notice the moment he had met you. He grabbed your fingers, making you to stop it quickly as he began to peck every single fingers. “And I have made a promise to myself, that if I’d ever win. That we will be reunited together. Build a family, run away together. Be the lovebirds the Capitol wants us to be.” 

A mixture of remorse and relief surged through you as you heard every word from Treech, assuring you that he would stay alive and well. If only you could muster the same confidence he exuded. Despite your attempts, he gently wiped away your tears, his fingers delicately holding your chin to meet his gaze. "You know, even if it's not the conventional way to confess one's love to another, I might be able to let myself do it." He said, leaning in to press his lips against yours. They were soft, just as you expected, carrying the comforting scent of wood he had kept upon his arrival—a reminder of home, a home with both you and Treech. 

"I love you to the bottom of my heart. I know our first meetings weren't the best, but the way you cared for Lamina, and even showed care to me, proved something deeper. If we can continue doing that every night until the Games, I'll make sure you genuinely know that I love you." He confessed once the kiss broke. His words carried a weight that nearly brought tears to your eyes, holding you in place. The both of you chuckled at the irony of the situation, yet a newfound sense of confidence enveloped you—something you had never experienced before, especially as someone from a District. 

"Man, I wish we could continue this, but I don't want you to get punished for bringing me here—" This time, you swiftly cut him off, recognizing that it wasn't the right time for such activities, especially just a few days before the Games. Instead, you proposed a deal—a deal he seemed to enjoy a little too much. Every time you had the chance to train with him, just before returning him to the Zoo, you would indulge in cuddling and sometimes reminisce about home. Occasionally, these encounters escalated into intense make-out sessions, leaving him with a desire to mark you visibly. The marks led to teasing from some classmates, making you blush, and occasional interventions from your brother. Despite casual warnings, Treech took pleasure in denying everything with a smirk that your brother despised. To add to his delight, that same night, Treech deepened the marks, leaving a lasting impression. Just to see Snow’s furious face once again. 

Although this little pleasure was only going to last very soon, when the Games were officially commencing and you knew that. With you being at least able to say your final goodbyes to Treech, he could to feel your worrying about his situation. Cupping your face so delicately as a mention that everything was going to be alright. It was the last time that you also felt his lips brushing against yours. A kiss you would not forget so easily. 

During the Games, you and the remaining mentors, alongside your brother, watched with stress and concern for the well-being of your tributes. While your eyes remained fixed on Treech, you also tried your best to ensure Lamina's safety. However, the situation took a dire turn when the poison finally affected Treech. Feeling helpless, you did everything in your power to find a remedy, attempting to prevent the symptoms from worsening and to make them last until only one tribute remained. "The poison!" You angrily tried to draw attention, tears welling up as you called out to your brother, who paid no heed. Seeing you suffer for the one you loved was what he had envisioned from the start. His pleasure lay in witnessing Treech's suffering on screen. "Please! Give him the medication!" You appealed to your District 7's female mentor, but it was too late. Treech's coughing worsened, and your eyes remained fixed on the screen. "Treech..." was all you could say. 

Treech sensed that you were watching him, but whether it was with shame or grief, he couldn't discern. What he was certain of was seeing the expression on your face—a face that conveyed concern and a desperate desire to help. He knew that if the poison were to affect him, you would swiftly send the medication. However, it didn't happen, and he realized it was too late. Lucy had managed to escape, unlike him, who became the prisoner of an inevitable and senseless death. As he noticed the cameras focused on him, he understood that by now, you would be looking at him. "Y/N..." he began to cough in the middle of his sentence, capturing the attention of everyone in the room, including your brother. "I loved you since we met. Please, once I am gone, I want you to know that I genuinely loved and will always love you." 

"No!!" Your voice wavered between tears, desperately trying to advocate for the medication option repeatedly. Cursing under your breath, you fought against Pliny Harrington, who did his best to restrain you. "Y/N..." he tried to console you, sensing the profound grief from everyone's tributes, including yours. What he failed to comprehend was the deep connection between you and Treech, destined to become the Capitol's favorite lovebirds. "It's too late..." His voice turned into a plea for you to stop. It was at that moment that your entire body went numb. In Pliny’s arms, you managed to sit down, and as Snow's victory loomed over you, you realized that your confidence was about to be completely overshadowed once again. You would become Snow's source of pride and victory.

A man you had once loved would forever reside in your heart. In the heart of District 7, you were revered for your role as a caretaker for both its female and male tribute. What you were not aware of was that, unlike Snow, you became the face of purity and trust—a bond between the District and the people of the Capitol. It was a paid respect for the Capitol's most famous lovebirds.

#tboas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #treech #treech tbosas #treech x reader #angst #one shot #fluff #treech imagines #treech x you #reaper ash #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus imagines #treech fanfiction #hunger games x reader #hunger games x you #request open #imagine request

[mrs5sn0w]

Serenade of Shadows

I : A Dance of Shadows -> II : Whisper of Deceit -> III : A Symphony of Heartbreak -> IV : Fractured Reflections -> V : Shadows of allegiance -> VI : Echoes of Decent

Series Masterlist

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

warnings: Arranged marriage, HEAVY ANGST, unrequited love, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers

Reader's surname : Flare

Time frame: Before, during and after tbosbas

Synopsis: In the events of Panem's political dynamics and the 10th annual Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow and her find themselves entwined. Standing at the brink of an enforced union, 6 years later, their mutual trust unravels amidst a damaging misinterpretation, prompting Coriolanus to believe the wrong. As the glacial barriers guarding his emotions begin to melt, a revelation of profound feelings unfolds, initiating a sprint against time for redemption.

The air was thick with unspoken tension as the First Lady, confronted President Snow about the revelation made by Mrs. Crane. The coming days brought a heavy shift in the Capitol's political landscape as she embarked on her plan to modify the Hunger Games and expose the Crane couple's illicit dealings.

---

The preparations for the 16th annual Hunger Games were in full swing, and the first lady was at the forefront, orchestrating the changes she envisioned.

The air in the control room hummed with anticipation as she outlined her modifications to the Game Makers.

"I want these Games to be more intense, more unpredictable. We need to give the districts a show they'll never forget,"

she asserted, her eyes ablaze with a newfound determination.

The head Gamemaker, Octavius, raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement. "Very well, Mrs Snow. We'll implement your changes."

As the arena was transformed into a nightmarish landscape, her influence was evident in every diabolical detail. The once calculated brutality of the Hunger Games took a macabre turn under her direction.

The night before the Games, the Capitol gathered for the traditional pre-Games banquet. She was adorned in a dress that mirrored the ominous atmosphere she had cultivated, took the stage. The cheers from the Capitol citizens echoed through the grand hall as she began her speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed citizens of the Capitol, thank you for joining me tonight. As your First Lady, I have taken it upon myself to enhance the grand tradition of the Hunger Games. This year, you will witness a spectacle like never before. I've modified the Games to push the limits of survival and test the resilience of our tributes. May the odds be ever in their favor."

The applause that followed was thunderous, but Coriolanus Snow, watching from the shadows, felt a pang of unease. He had underestimated the extent to which she would go to assert her influence.

---

The night after her speech and the modifications to the Hunger Games, tension hung in the air of the Presidential Mansion. Coriolanus Snow, unable to contain his frustration and anger, confronted her in their private chambers. The conversation quickly escalated into a heated argument.

Coriolanus, his voice laced with disdain, accused her,

"You've turned the Games into a bloodbath ! What were you thinking ?"

She was undeterred as she met his gaze with determination.

"I'm doing what needs to be done, Coriolanus. This is the Capitol's game, and I'm playing it better than anyone expected."

He scoffed,

"Playing it? You're reveling in the bloodshed! You think this is power? This is madness!"

"Madness or not, it's the reality of our world," she retorted, her words a counterpunch to his condemnation.

Coriolanus, fueled by frustration and a sense of superiority, underestimated her resolve.

"You're nothing more than a pawn in this game. Your modifications won't change a thing. You're not capable of understanding the true nature of power."

She was stung by his words but shot back, "You underestimate me, Coriolanus. I understand power better than you ever will. This," she gestured to the opulence surrounding them, "is just a façade. True power lies in the ability to shape the narrative, to control the minds of the Capitol."

His laughter was mocking. "You think you can control anything? You're a naive idealist. Your little modifications won't change a thing. The Capitol will continue to thrive, and you'll be nothing more than a forgotten First Lady."

The words cut deep, and she, despite her resolve, felt the sting of his disdain. Yet, she refused to back down.

"You may think I'm naive, but I'm not blind. I see the rot within the Capitol, and I refuse to be a silent spectator. I will change things, with or without your approval."

Coriolanus, unyielding, dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

"Change? You don't even understand the concept. This is the way things have always been, and this is the way they'll always be. Your feeble attempts at change are nothing more than a momentary disturbance."

In the midst of their heated argument, she was undeterred by Coriolanus Snow's verbal assault as she seized a moment to confront him about his own role in the brutality of the Hunger Games.

"Why are you so pressed, Coriolanus? Isn't this what you wanted?" her voice, though tinged with anger, carried a genuine curiosity.

Coriolanus, momentarily taken aback by her question, retorted,

"I wanted control, not chaos! There's a difference between maintaining order and descending into senseless brutality."

She countered, her tone cutting through the tension,

"But you've always admired the Games for their brutality, haven't you? You've reveled in the suffering of others. This is merely an extension of your own desires."

Coriolanus, unwilling to admit his own culpability, deflected,

"This isn't about me. This is about the Capitol, about preserving our way of life."

Her gaze bore into him, her eyes challenging his evasion, she scoffed.

"No, Coriolanus, this is about you. You've always been fascinated by the Games, by the power it gives you. You can't distance yourself from the very brutality you championed."

A tense silence settled between them as Coriolanus struggled to find a response. While she refused to back down, she continued,

"You can't play the victim now. You wanted a spectacle, and that's precisely what I'm giving the Capitol. You can't stand the reality of your own desires staring back at you."

Coriolanus, his composure slipping, snapped,

"This isn't what I wanted. You've taken it too far. You're jeopardizing everything."

"Jeopardizing what, Coriolanus?" she questioned, a note of frustration in her voice.

"The illusion of control? The carefully constructed façade of Capitol ideals? You can't blame me for embracing the very darkness you've always admired."

Their verbal sparring continued, each accusation and retort revealing the cracks in their marriage. The grandeur of the Presidential Mansion became a witness to the unraveling of a relationship built on political convenience and masked desires.

In that charged moment, Coriolanus Snow found himself confronted not just by the changes in the Hunger Games but by the undeniable truth of his own desires. The power he had sought now manifested in a form that challenged even his own convictions. His wife, unapologetic in her pursuit of change, stood as a reflection of the consequences of the very brutality he had championed. The intricacies of their relationship, once carefully hidden behind political maneuvers, were laid bare in the battlefield of their private chambers.

The argument reached its climax as her frustration collided with Coriolanus's arrogance. Hurtful words were exchanged, each sentence a dagger that severed the fragile threads holding their marriage together. The room echoed with the intensity of their discord.

"You're incapable of understanding anything beyond your thirst for power," Coriolanus sneered.

Her eyes ablaze with a mixture of anger and hurt, shot back,

"And you're incapable of seeing anything beyond your own reflection. This marriage is nothing more than a political transaction to you."

The wounds of their verbal sparring ran deep, leaving a chasm between them that seemed insurmountable. The realization that they were on opposing sides of a battle, not just politically but emotionally, cast a shadow over the grandeur of the Presidential Mansion.

---

The Hunger Games arena became a grotesque stage where the First lady, his unexpected tether to humanity, faced an imminent, brutal demise.

In the grim arena, her delicate frame seemed fragile against the brutal backdrop. The poison, a sinister creation of Coriolanus Snow, introduced an insidious element to the already perilous games.

Coriolanus Snow's heart clenched as he watched her lift the poisoned chalice to her lips in the arena. A chilling fear gripped him, and he couldn't contain his desperation.

"No, don't drink it!" he pleaded, his voice echoing unheard in the arena's cruel expanse.

too late.

As she consumed the toxic drink, the effect was swift, a cruel dance of life slipping away.

The poison's tendrils took hold, and a cascade of reactions unfolded within her. A subtle tremor betrayed the onset of its deadly influence. Her gaze, once vibrant with determination, now flickered like a fading ember. The poison worked its way through her, a silent assassin claiming its victim.

Unaware of the treacherous nature of the drink, she looked toward him, a trusting gaze that stabbed him with guilt.

"Coryo, what is this?"

In that moment, fear etched lines on his face as he struggled to find words.

"It's poisoned, y/n. Drop it ! Please!"

A flicker of realization crossed her eyes, and the glass slipped from her trembling hands, crashing to the ground. The poison, however, had already claimed its place in her system, and an unspoken horror hung in the air

Every step she took became a struggle, the arena's terrain now a treacherous adversary. The poison's cruel progression manifested in her weakening limbs, each movement a testament to the inescapable grip of impending doom.

The tributes, initially mere pawns in the Capitol's game, sensed the shift in dynamics. As she faltered, they closed in like vultures, seizing the opportunity presented by her deteriorating state. The once defiant first lady, now weakened by the poison's relentless advance, faced the impending threat of the tributes' brutality.

In the cruel ballet of the arena, her demise unfolded with a tragic inevitability. The poison, a manifestation of Coriolanus Snow's malevolence, became the instrument of her tragic end,

His wife, weakened by the poison's relentless advance, managed a feeble smile while stuttering,

"do you hate me that bad ?"

"I didn't want this"

"I just wanted....the Coryo i knew back" she gently caressed his cheek while blood came out from her mouth, coughing the crimson red liquid out.

His heart ached.

The arena, once a grand stage for political machinations, now bore witness to a personal tragedy. In that moment of shared terror, the boundaries of power dissolved, leaving behind only the raw emotions of a man who had unwittingly set in motion the demise of the woman he had never intended to love.

Her skin grew colder beneath his touch, each passing moment stealing away the warmth he had come to associate with her. The vibrant life that animated her seemed to wane, replaced by an unsettling chill that permeated the very air.

His fingers, once intertwined with hers, now registered a subtle but undeniable drop in temperature.

He could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat slowing, each thud echoing a painful countdown. The heartbeat, once a steady cadence that resonated with life, now played a haunting melody of departure. It was as if time itself conspired against him, dragging out the inevitable moment of separation.

In that dream-induced reality, the fear of losing her intensified with every passing moment, a visceral force that gripped him in its merciless jaws. It wasn’t just the loss of a piece on the Capitol’s chessboard; it was the unraveling of a connection he had fiercely denied.

In the disorienting aftermath of Coriolanus Snow's harrowing nightmare, the dimly lit room bore witness to the lingering echoes of his distress. The air was thick with tension as he gasped for breath, still caught in the clutches of the haunting visions that had unfolded within the recesses of his dreams.

Coriolanus Snow woke with a start, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. The remnants of the dream lingered, casting a shadow over the reality of the dimly lit room.

His breaths were ragged, and he could feel the wet trails of tears on his cheeks. In the disorienting transition between the nightmare and wakefulness, he whispered to himself,

“y/n…”

The room seemed to close in on him, the weight of the dream still clinging to his consciousness. He wiped away the lingering tears, the vulnerability of the nightmare etched in his expression.

As he gathered himself, the echoes of her imagined demise reverberated in his mind. He couldn’t shake the visceral emotions, and the tears that escaped his eyes were a testament to the tumult within.

“Why does it hurt so much?” he murmured, a question left hanging in the air, unanswered.

Sensing his palpable distress, she rose from her position on the sofa, sprang into action. The soft rustle of fabric accompanied her swift movements across the room. Her usually composed demeanor gave way to urgency, her eyes reflecting concern as she approached him.

"Coryo," she called out softly, her voice a soothing cadence cutting through the lingering echoes of the nightmare. Her measured steps brought her to his side, where she knelt down with a graceful ease, a silhouette against the dimly lit room.

Reaching out, she gently placed her hand on his trembling shoulder, a gesture of reassurance and comfort. The warmth of her touch aimed to ground him in the reality that surrounded them, a stark contrast to the surreal horrors he had experienced in the dream.

"It's just a dream," she murmured, her voice a delicate melody attempting to calm the tempest within him. Her words were spoken with a tenderness that hoped to dissolve the lingering fear that had wrapped itself around his consciousness.

Coriolanus, still caught between the realms of dream and wakefulness, turned his gaze toward her. The dim light accentuated the concern etched on her face, the lines of worry contrasting with the usually composed features.

"I saw you die in the arena," he confessed, the vulnerability in his voice revealing a facet of himself he rarely exposed. The weight of the nightmare clung to him like a shroud, and she, perceptive to his unspoken turmoil, continued to provide solace.

Her eyes, pools of understanding, met his, and she whispered,

"It wasn't real. I'm right here."

With a graceful movement, she enveloped him in a comforting embrace, her arms a sanctuary against the residual fear that lingered in the air.

As she held him, the room became a haven, shielded from the phantoms of the nightmare. her touch was a balm, an anchor grounding him in the present.

The soothing repetition of her words became a mantra, gradually dispelling the haunting images that had plagued his subconscious.

Coriolanus, his voice a mixture of relief and lingering unease, responded,

"I don't know why it scared me so much. It felt too real, I hate you but I'm scared of losing you."

Her embrace tightened as she whispered,

"Fear doesn't always make sense. I'm here with you, safe and sound. The nightmare can't hurt you."

He nodded, the weight of the nightmare gradually lifting as her words sank in.

"I just... I couldn't bear the thought of losing you," he admitted, the admission hanging in the air.

"Then is it so hard to love me back?" she uttered, the words hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. Coriolanus, taken aback, felt a pang of discomfort. The question pierced through the layers of his stoicism, and for a moment, the vulnerability he rarely displayed surfaced.

His gaze, usually unwavering, flickered with uncertainty. The weight of her inquiry lingered, and as she held him in that fragile moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting his response.

She did not get a response from him but Snow began to confront a truth he had fervently avoided—the fear of losing the woman who had become an unintended anchor to his existence. As she held him, the barriers that had once defined their relationship crumbled, and the night unfolded with a raw honesty.

In that vulnerable moment, Coriolanus Snow, usually composed and stoic, let down his defenses. As he kissed his wife, there was a rawness to the emotion—an unspoken language that surpassed the political complexities of their relationship.

His lips, once reserved, now conveyed a longing that echoed the fears and vulnerabilities stirred by the haunting nightmare. The kiss held a passion that spoke of a connection beyond the Capitol's facade, an unexpected bridge between two souls navigating the intricate dance of power.

She who felt the intensity of his kiss, reciprocated with a tenderness that transcended the lingering unease. The dimly lit room bore witness to this unspoken exchange, where the weight of nightmares was replaced by the warmth of a shared moment—a moment that hinted at the complexities of love and longing in the tumultuous world they inhabited.

The lingering echoes of the nightmare were replaced by the warmth of genuine emotions, as if the haunting specter had unintentionally ushered in a new chapter in their shared existence, marked by the scars of anguish and the fragile threads of a newfound connection.

yet, she remained oblivious whether he would end up loving her or not.

Taglist : @randomgurl2326 @princessloveweird @rosewine-5 @cookielovesbook-akie @qoopeeya @corpsebridenightmare @bl0ndelilac @unclecrunkle @puredreamagination @lofhdfn

#coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus x reader #angst #tbosbas fic #tbosas x you #tbosbas imagine #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosbas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #president snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x y/n

[coryosmin]

Final Sweet Nothings

Finnick Odair x fem! Reader

Summary: Finnick and Reader have both had feelings for a long time. Reader is the 68th Victor of the Hunger Games, winning her games at 18 years of age for District 4. As the 75th Hunger Games arrives, the reader volunteers in the place of Annie. As the night before the games arrive, Finnick and Reader share their thoughts and feelings for one another.

Backstory: Just to give you guys some backstory, Finnick and the reader are the same age. He was her mentor when she fought in her games and after that, the two of them became good friends. The two of them had always had unspoken feelings for each other but as the 75th Games comes up, they take a moment to admit their feelings for each other.

Warnings: Angst, crying, kissing, references to prostitution, confessions, no smut.

1,400 words

It all began when they arrived back from the interviews. It had been a very emotional night with every tribute trying to get the games to be canceled in some way, shape, or form. Y/N hadn’t spoken a word since the interviews had ended. Finnick giving a love poem to the Capitol felt too real. Y/N’s use of just simply trying to charm the cameras. Having heard everything that the other tributes said to try and get the games canceled, it was a lot to take in.

Y/N made it to her room without speaking. She immediately got herself out of the ridiculously provocative dress that she had been forced to wear to maintain her facade as the Capitol’s Princess. She walked into the attached bathroom, taking a shower to take off the caked-on makeup and the hairspray that was crunching her hair. When she finished, Y/n dried herself off and got herself dressed in her nighttime clothes which consisted of a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of yoga pants.

The twenty-four-year-old sighed to herself as she looked out the window of her room. She currently had it on a setting that would show her the ocean. The houses in Victor Village were right along the shore and truthfully, she missed being back home.

She was beyond saddened by the Quarter Quell. All the tributes were. Being a Victor was supposed to mean peace, at least relatively speaking. So when it was announced that all previous victors were to participate in the Quarter Quell, Y/N’s heart absolutely shattered. There was only one living District 4 male Victor, Finnick. They were both the same age, though Y/N won her games four years after him at the age of eighteen. Finnick was doomed regardless and Y/N felt deeply for him. He was her mentor. The boy that turned into her best friend. So when Annie’s name was called, without hesitation, Y/N volunteered. Why?

Because Y/N is a ride or die. If Finnick had to be subjected to the Games, she would be as well.

And now it was the night before the arena. Y/N couldn’t help the anxiety. There were so many things she wanted to tell people but ultimately, she had no opportunity to do so.

Suddenly, there was a knock on Y/N’s door, causing her to jump and get out of her thoughts. She walked over to the door and opened it, revealing a soft looking Finnick. It was different from his normal appearance, the one where he was always smirking, cocky, rizzing people up. But this Finnick, he looked scared. He too had gotten showered and changed into comfortable clothing. “Hi,” Finnick said softly, looking at Y/N with shiny green eyes.

“Hey,” She said back, looking at Finnick. Y/N moved to the side to let Finnick come into her bedroom. He stepped in and she closed the door behind him. “Are you okay?”

Finnick’s attention was to the window, seeing the waves crashing into the shore. “I forget that the windows have those settings,” he spoke, shaking his head as he looked at Y/N. “You didn’t speak much after the interviews.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I didn’t have too much to say.” She replied, her e/c eyes looking into Finnick’s green orbs.

“Did you like my poem?” Finnick asked.

“It definitely made the hearts of the Capitol swoon.” Y/N replied, walking over to her bed and sitting on it. Finnick followed, sitting next to her. His thigh brushed against hers.

“Did it make yours swoon?” Finnick asked, his lip curling ever so slightly.

Y/N let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head no. “Takes a lot more than a poem to make me swoon, Odair.”

Finnick pouted slightly. “That’s a shame. I wrote it specifically for you,” he murmured.

This caused Y/N to pause. She furrowed her eyebrows. “What?”

“The poem,” Finnick looked down at his hands in his lap. “I wrote for you.”

“What do you mean?”

Finnick looked up from his hands, looking at Y/N. He licked his lips nervously. “Under the circumstances we’ve been under, I never got the chance to tell you how I truly feel about you.” He gives a bitter laugh. “Being the toys of the Capitol. I didn’t want to burden you with all of it. But since we’re going to be walking on death’s doorstep tomorrow, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you now.”

Y/N looked at Finnick, not saying anything as she listened to him. Her eyes started softening as she looked at Finnick. The impending doom that they’re about to embrace together makes it easier to speak the unspoken feelings they’ve had for one another for quite some time.

“I’m in love with you.” Finnick said simply, his voice unwavering. “I have been for a long time but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I didn’t want to burden you with it.”

“It wouldn’t have been a burden, Finnick.” She replied softly, placing a hand on Finnick’s shoulder.

He looked down at her hand on his shoulder before gazing back into her eyes. “It’s stupid though, isn’t it?” He murmured. “Being in love with someone that you know you could never have due to the pathetic circumstances the world has put on you.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.”

“Why not?”

Y/N turned her body so she was sitting criss-crossed on the bed, facing Finnick entirely. “Because it shows that even after everything the Capitol has put us through, forcing us to have sex with them, fight in these awful arenas, murdering innocent people, we can still feel.” Y/N’s voice was so soothing and honest as she spoke to Finnick. “I’ve loved you for so long, Finnick. And to know that you love me as well warms my heart so much.”

Finnick teared up as he listened to her, unable to help himself. He looked down, not wanting Y/N to see him so emotional. “I wish things were different.” He whispered.

“Me too.” She said back, reaching her hand to caress Finnick’s cheek. She lifted his face slightly so his eyes were looking into hers. “When we get in that arena, I want you to know that I love you so much. And if I’m to die, I’d die happily if it meant protecting you.” As she spoke, Y/N also began to tear up. The impending death really does make confessions much easier. But the emotions are just as hard.

A few tears fell from Finnick’s eyes as he listened to Y/N. He sniffled, pulling her into a hug. His chin rested on Y/N’s head, pressing a kiss to her soft hair. “I don’t think I’d ever survive you dying, Y/N,” He murmured. “If you die, I’d never be able to live with myself. To know that you died and I would be robbed of ever being able to hold you in my arms ever again. I couldn’t survive a day where I wouldn’t be able to see your beautiful smile any longer. Because you mean absolutely everything to me.” Finnick’s voice cracked at the end of his sentence.

Y/N couldn’t help the small sob that left her as she listened to Finnick’s loving words. She lifted her head from Finnick’s embrace, looking at his face with glistening eyes. “God I hate this.” She sniffled, using her hands wiping her eyes. “We should be able to be happy.”

Finnick gently grabbed her face, his thumbs on her cheeks. “Let’s make the most out of tonight?” He whispered, his eyes glossed with tears as well.

Y/N nodded her head. And with that, Finnick leaned in slowly, pressing his lips gently against hers. The two of them kissed one another with a softness and sincerity that they hadn’t felt in a very long time. A tenderness and care that could only be shared with two people who loved each other a lot.

After a few minutes, Finnick pulled away, pressing his forehead against Y/N’s. “I love you.” He murmured, his breath hitting her face.

“I love you a lot.” She murmured back.

“Let’s stay by each other's side until the end.”

“Until the very end, always.”

#finnick odair #fanfic #finnick odair x reader #the hunger games #catching fire #finnick odair smut #finnick x reader #thg series #thg finnick #finnick imagine #finnick x you

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

The one thing that gets me in the first book is how effortlessly, how naturally, how instinctively Katniss and Peeta fall into being a team. When they're on their way to the Capitol, before the games even start, these two develop a rhythm together, work together in such a natural way.

When Haymitch is drunk on the train:

We exchange a glance. Obviously Haymitch isn’t much, but Effie Trinket is right about one thing, once we’re in the arena he’s all we’ve got. As if by some unspoken agreement, Peeta and I each take one of Haymitch’s arms and help him to his feet. 

When Haymitch is being a useless mentor and they kick into gear without a word to each other. What's funny about this moment is this is when she's trying to make a conscious effort to not have anything to do with Peeta, to not think about him or talk to him - but yet, he rocks Peeta in the jaw and she's automatically driving a knife at his hands:

“Here’s some advice. Stay alive,” says Haymitch, and then bursts out laughing. I exchange a look with Peeta before I remember I’m having nothing more to do with him. I’m surprised to see the hardness in his eyes. He generally seems so mild.  “That’s very funny,” says Peeta. Suddenly he lashes out at the glass in Haymitch’s hand. It shatters on the floor, sending the bloodred liquid running toward the back of the train. “Only not to us.”  Haymitch considers this a moment, then punches Peeta in the jaw, knocking him from his chair. When he turns back to reach for the spirits, I drive my knife into the table between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers. I brace myself to deflect his hit, but it doesn’t come. Instead he sits back and squints at us. 

When they're about to go out in the tributes parade:

“What do you think?” I whisper to Peeta. “About the fire?”  “I’ll rip off your cape if you’ll rip off mine,” he says through gritted teeth.  “Deal,” I say. 

There's so many more instances like when Peeta instinctively covers for Katniss with the Avox, the way he tries to cheer her up after her individual assessment and it all leads to how they work together at the end against Cato, knowing exactly what to do for the other. Being a team comes naturally to them because they are so deeply connected in every way, that even when they barely know each other, they know what to do for each other.

#everlark #katniss x peeta #katniss and peeta #peeta x katniss #the hunger games

[hundredpages]

A Tribute to the Unspoken, Finding Me

#a tribute to the unspoken #my writings #poetry #dark academia

[atributetotheunspoken]

From A Tribute to the Unspoken, Like A Branch, by Anne Marie Abbott

#a tribute to the unspoken #dark academia #poetry

[herlondonboy]

The Songbird and the Rebel

pairings: lucy gray baird x gn!reader

summary: you love lucy. you would do anything for her. including throw yourself in with the wolves in order to protect her.

warnings: canon typical violence, minor SPOILERS FOR TBOSAS!!!! reader is gender neutral BUT takes the spot for male tribute, first person

word count: 2.3k

a/n: my first fanfic in a while (leilani if you see this leave) part 2?

Lucy Gray Baird was a name known to most in District 12.

If you don’t know her from when her and her covey arrived in District 12 with an array of songs, then you definitely know her from her singing in the bar or by the hanging tree.

In the quiet corners of my heart, there exists a profound narrative woven with the threads of affection and admiration for Lucy Gray Baird. To gaze upon her is to witness a kaleidoscope of beauty, each facet revealing a unique charm that, when combined, creates an enchanting tapestry of allure. Her presence is a gentle breeze, weaving through the tapestry of my days, leaving me breathless with the ethereal magic she brings.

Lucy Gray's eyes are like pools of liquid moonlight, reflecting a depth that seems to hold the secrets of the universe. When she casts her gaze upon me, it's as if time itself pauses, and in those moments, I find solace in the silent language exchanged between our souls. Her laughter, a melody that dances in the air, resonates with the sweetness of a thousand songbirds. Each note is a reminder that joy is not just an emotion, but a symphony composed by the mere existence of Lucy Gray.

Yet, it is in the cadence of her voice that the true enchantment unfolds. Her words are like a lyrical river, flowing with grace and carrying the weight of untold stories. The timbre, a harmonious blend of warmth and tenderness, wraps around my heart like a comforting embrace. Listening to Lucy Gray speak is akin to traversing a forest of ancient trees, each word a delicate leaf that rustles in the gentle breeze, revealing the wisdom etched into the very fabric of her being.

In the quietude of twilight, as the world settles into a hushed symphony, Lucy Gray's voice becomes a lullaby, a soothing melody that cradles my thoughts and lingers in the corridors of my dreams. It is a voice that navigates the complexities of emotion, painting vivid landscapes of understanding and empathy. With every syllable, she unveils a tapestry of connection, forging a bond that transcends the mundane and elevates our shared existence to a realm where love is not just a sentiment but a living, breathing entity.

To be in love with Lucy Gray Baird is to be immersed in a story where every chapter unfolds with the grace of a sonnet, and her enchanting voice serves as the narrator, guiding me through the intricacies of emotion with eloquence and poise. In her presence, time becomes an ephemeral concept, and the symphony of our shared moments resonates in the chambers of my heart, an everlasting ode to the captivating magic that is Lucy Gray.

As the calendar inches closer to that dreaded date, the annual arrival of the reaping, a shiver courses through my veins, and the spectre of fear looms large in the recesses of my thoughts. It's a perennial nightmare, a cyclical horror that etches its mark on my soul with each passing year. The looming prospect of the reaping casts a long, foreboding shadow over the days leading up to it, like an impending storm gathering its strength.

In the district, where life is a delicate dance on the precipice of survival, the reaping is the grand conductor orchestrating the symphony of anxiety that grips every heart. The Capitol's merciless tradition, designed to remind us of our vulnerability, is an annual ritual that plunges us into a maelstrom of uncertainty. As the day draws near, the atmosphere becomes thick with a palpable tension, a collective holding of breaths that echo the unspoken dread etched across the faces of my fellow citizens.

The fear is not merely a response to the capricious nature of the reaping; it is an acknowledgment of the ruthless lottery that defines our existence. Every year, the odds are a cruel reminder of the fragility of life, and as the names are drawn, the spectre of mortality hangs heavy in the air. It's a twisted game where the stakes are nothing less than life itself, and the chances of escape grow slimmer with each passing year.

Yet, in the recesses of my consciousness, a tiny flame of hope persists. Three more years, I tell myself, just three more before the shackles of this annual torment are lifted. The countdown becomes a mantra, a whispered reassurance that carries me through the darkest hours leading up to the reaping. I imagine a future where the weight of this fear is but a distant memory, where the spectre of the Capitol's malevolence no longer casts its sinister gaze upon my destiny.

Survival becomes an art, a delicate dance between evading the Capitol's scrutiny and navigating the treacherous currents of our district's harsh realities. With each passing reaping, the lessons learned, the alliances forged, and the scars accumulated become badges of a silent resistance against the Capitol's oppressive grip. As the clock ticks away, the urgency to outlast this infernal cycle intensifies, and I find solace in the belief that resilience will be my shield until the dawn of that promised freedom.

The reaping remains an annual crucible, but with each passing year, the embers of hope burn a little brighter. Three more years—a finite horizon that promises liberation from the perennial terror that shadows my days. Until then, I navigate the minefield of survival, driven by the unyielding determination to defy the odds and emerge from the crucible of the reaping with the scars of endurance etched upon my soul.

Lost in the tapestry of my daydreams, where the edges of reality blur into the realms of imagination, I found myself wading through the ethereal landscapes of distant thoughts. The cadence of a country twang, like a gentle breeze, pulled me back from the reverie, and there she was – Lucy Gray Baird, a vision of warmth and southern charm.

"What's wrong, darling?" Lucy Gray's voice, dripping with honeyed tones, sliced through the cocoon of my musings. Startled, I looked up to find her gaze fixed on me, a playful twinkle in her eyes that made my heart flutter.

Shaking my head to dispel the lingering fragments of my daydreams, I stammered out a feeble response, "Oh, nothing, just lost in thought."

Lucy Gray's expression shifted to a quizzical 'really?' as she cocked her head to the side. It was as if she could read the unsaid, decipher the hidden nuances beneath the surface of my demeanour. Unable to support the charade, I sighed and admitted, "Just thinking about tomorrow."

Her brow furrowed with concern, and Lucy Gray, with a sincerity that belied the playful banter, insisted, "We're not getting picked, darling. Trust me."

The assurance, while comforting, collided with the grim reality that haunted the eve of every reaping. "Lucy Gray, you can't be sure. The odds are never in our favour," I argued, my voice laced with the weight of impending dread.

An animated debate unfolded, our words clashing like opposing currents in a tempestuous sea. Lucy Gray, with an unwavering confidence, insisted that fate would spare us, while I, burdened by the grim statistics of our district, could not share her optimism. The tension escalated, transforming a mere disagreement into a storm of conflicting emotions.

With a heavy sigh, I declared, "I can't afford false hope, Lucy Gray. I need to face the reality of our situation."

Lucy Gray's eyes darkened with disappointment, and her lips formed a thin line. "You don't have to face it alone, darling," she murmured, her voice now devoid of its earlier playfulness.

In the aftermath of our heated exchange, the room echoed with the haunting silence of unresolved tension. Unable to bear the weight of the unspoken, I stormed out, leaving behind a tumultuous atmosphere that lingered in the air like a palpable storm. The door swung shut behind me, closing the chapter on a disagreement that lingered in the corridors of my conscience.

As I walked away, the shadows of doubt and fear clung to me like a relentless spectre. Tomorrow's reaping loomed on the horizon, and amid our clash, the uncertain fate that awaited us cast a shadow on the camaraderie between Lucy Gray and me.

The morning of the reaping dawned with an eerie stillness, the air thick with tension as I stood flanked by my brothers, a tight knot of apprehension settling in the pit of my stomach. The proximity to them, a meagre comfort in the face of the impending ordeal, offered a silent solidarity that spoke of shared fears and unspoken bonds.

As the announcer's voice echoed through the square, a collective hush fell over the assembled crowd. My gaze scanned the sea of faces, searching for Lucy Gray amid the sea of anxious expressions. But she was nowhere to be found, and a gnawing unease crept into my thoughts.

The dread reached its zenith when the familiar twang of the announcer's voice pierced the air, uttering those fateful words that sent shockwaves through my world. "Lucy Gray Baird."

Time seemed to grind to a halt as her name reverberated through the square. A sharp intake of breath echoed through the crowd, and my brothers and I exchanged glances, our eyes mirroring the disbelief that clung to our collective consciousness. Lucy Gray, the beacon of defiance and warmth, had been ensnared by the merciless claws of the reaping.

A murmur rippled through the crowd as Lucy Gray emerged, her steps deliberate yet exuding an air of unrestrained rebellion. As she approached the podium, the atmosphere crackled with a palpable tension. Instead of submitting to the Capitol's ritual humiliation, Lucy Gray took matters into her own hands.

In a daring act of defiance, she slipped a snake into the folds of the mayor's daughter's dress, a calculated rebellion that unfolded like a subversive ballet. Gasps of astonishment and screams of fear spread through the crowd as Lucy Gray stood there, an embodiment of resistance against the Capitol's oppression.

Her gaze, a beacon of unyielding determination, sought me out in the crowd. Our eyes locked in a silent exchange, a communion of understanding that transcended the barriers of the Capitol's surveillance. In that fleeting moment, I saw not just defiance but a plea for solidarity, a shared understanding of the injustice that had befallen her.

The Covey, recognizing their songbird in distress, began to sing. Their harmonies, a haunting melody of sorrow and defiance, wove through the square, amplifying the rebellious spirit that Lucy Gray embodied. It was a serenade for a fallen comrade, a hymn of resistance that reverberated through the hearts of those who dared to challenge the Capitol's iron grip.

As Lucy Gray stood there, surrounded by the harmonies of the Covey, I felt an indescribable mixture of emotions. Anguish, for the injustice that had befallen her; admiration, for her unyielding spirit; and a lingering sense of guilt for the moments of doubt that had clouded our camaraderie. The reaping square transformed into a stage for a silent revolution, and Lucy Gray, with her audacious act, had become the unwitting protagonist in a tale of defiance and sacrifice.

Driven by a surge of emotions that transcended reason, I pushed forward through the tightly packed crowd, determination burning in my veins. The air crackled with tension as I reached the front, and my heart pounded in my chest like a war drum. Lucy Gray's name lingered in the air, a haunting echo that reverberated through the square.

As I stumbled towards the platform, the weight of the moment settled on my shoulders. My voice trembled, but a resolute conviction carried me forward. "I volunteer!"

Lucy Gray, standing defiantly on the podium, shot me a perplexed frown. A silent exchange passed between us, a question lingering in her eyes. Why would I jeopardize my own safety for her? But there was no time for explanations as the Capitol's relentless proceedings demanded swift adherence.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Lucy Gray gestured towards me, her eyes mirroring a silent plea for me to reconsider. But I couldn't back down now. I couldn't let Lucy Gray face the Capitol's brutality alone.

"I volunteer to take the place of Jessup Diggs!" The words hung in the air, a courageous declaration that seemed to confound the very fabric of the reaping ceremony. Murmurs of uncertainty rippled through the crowd, unsure if such a deviation from the Capitol's script was permissible.

The Capitol's enforcers hesitated, caught off guard by the unprecedented turn of events. The air was thick with uncertainty, the collective gasp of the onlookers amplifying the tension that permeated the square. Jessup Diggs looked bewildered, unsure whether to be grateful or worried for the unexpected twist of fate.

Before the Capitol's enforcers could make sense of the situation, Jessup was roughly thrown down from the stage. A jolt of realization surged through the crowd, the unspoken understanding that the Capitol's machinations brooked no dissent. I was seized by unseen hands, dragged up to the platform, and away from the tumultuous sea of faces.

As I was pulled away, my eyes sought out Lucy Gray, who now stood alone, a solitary figure in the midst of the chaotic spectacle. Her gaze met mine, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. In that moment, I saw gratitude mixed with an unspoken sadness, a recognition of the sacrifice made in the name of defiance.

The cheers and protests of the crowd faded into the background as I was led away from the square, the consequences of my impulsive decision looming ahead. In the face of the Capitol's cruelty, I had dared to challenge the script, to rewrite the narrative of the reaping. The road ahead was uncertain, but as I cast a last glance at Lucy Gray Baird, standing alone on the podium, I knew that the seeds of rebellion had been sown, and the repercussions of my choice would resonate far beyond the confines of the reaping square.

#elijah writes #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x coriolanus #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray #lucy gray baird x reader #gn #gn reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas x reader #x you #tbosas x you #the ballard of songbirds and snakes x reader

[pinchofhoney]

broken promises, part three

« part one | part two | part three (the last one)

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warning: angst, we used to be close but people can go from people you know to people you don't, mention of helping in the rebellion

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: so,, this is the end of this little story of a heartbreak. thank you for sticking with it<33 for more coriolanus content, feel free to drop by my inbox where you can leave your ideas for the next oneshots!!

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @metalarmsandmanbuns @mavkaorlova @strangegril002 @thathoefromcollage

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

You'd be lying if you pretended not to be invested in the 10th Hunger Games. With Academy students participating this year, you had no choice but to follow the competition's every twist and turn, but even if it had been different, you'd have still tuned in from your home's television screen.

Despite the heated exchanges and angry words directed at Coriolanus, your best wishes were always with him. You genuinely hoped for nothing but the best for him, believing he'd achieve the deserved success he'd strived for and reach his craved scholarship, a gateway to boundless opportunities. In your heart, you rooted for Lucy Gray Baird's victory, as that seemed to be the only path leading to Coriolanus's dreams coming true.

Seeing Coriolanus each day in his perfectly fitted Academy uniform, hiding behind a facade of indifference that he never pull off around anyone outside his inner circle, playing the part of the model student, brought you pain. He gave off the impression that your past relationship had left no mark on him, leaving you in the dark about his true emotions and what was going on within his mind for the first time.

You were aware that everyone in your class had picked up on the shift between you and Coriolanus, though they tactfully avoided discussing it openly. You appreciated their silent understanding; no one was prying, and it allowed you to avoid discussing the painful change that had taken place. You didn't owe anyone an explanation, but it was easier to bear the weight of the situation when it remained unspoken. It stung to know that some girl from the District now held a more important place in your boyfriend's heart than you, someone he had known since childhood and shared the darkest moments of his life with.

The breakup with Coriolanus hit you like someone’s death. When you returned to the family penthouse, tears flowed endlessly from your eyes, and you couldn't seem to stop them. The persistent crying left you dehydrated, lying on your bed, cocooned in a blanket, your eyes red and swollen, and a pounding headache. The idea of consuming even a morsel of food felt impossible, and every inch of your room was a constant reminder of the moments you had shared with Coriolanus.

At times, you really wanted to approach him, to take the blame, to apologize for reacting hastily and to tell him that you should have let him handle things. But he treated you as if you were transparent. He had to feel your gaze on him, yet he chose to act as if you didn't exist, focusing all his attention on the Arena's broadcast screens, eagerly awaiting Lucy Gray's appearance.

As soon as the victory of the tribute from the Twelfth District became evident, you leaped to your feet, a genuine smile lighting up your face. Joining in the cheers and applause of your friends, you felt an urge to rush towards Coriolanus, but the memory of his distant gaze held you back. You knew you were no longer part of his happiness, no longer someone he wanted to share joy with.

With a lump in your throat, you discreetly cleared it, glancing around at other students. They seemed too absorbed in their own celebrations to notice your abrupt outburst. And so, you continued clapping, though the enthusiasm had waned, and the smile on your lips had dimmed.

You watched as Festus and a few other students hoisted Coriolanus onto a chair and paraded him around the podium and when they eventually placed him back on the ground, he turned his gaze toward you for the first time since your break up.

It was a brief look, lacking the joy in his eyes from seconds ago, but tinged with sense of satisfaction. It was a satisfaction born from the unexpected outcome, a result opposite to your wish for him to lose.

Afterward, all the students were directed into the dining hall to celebrate Coriolanus's victory with cake and posca.

And no longer after, the boy simply disappeared, slipping away from the festivities.

As the final echoes of the Games' noisy cheers faded away, an unsettling silence descended upon the Capitol, and your mind was left in a whirlwind of questions and concern. The explanation provided by the Academy for Coriolanus's sudden departure to one of the districts, where he was enlisting for as a Peacekeeper, seemed like an ill-fitting puzzle piece in his life.

You knew Coriolanus better than most, his ambitions, his dreams, his unrelenting pursuit of victory. This decision, so out of character, scratched at the corners of your consciousness like an itch you couldn't quite reach. The nagging sense that something was amiss and missing from the narrative was an ever-present companion, casting a shadow over your thoughts.

But the mystery didn't end with his sudden departure. The day following the Games' conclusion, it was as if someone had meticulously wiped away any trace of the event's existence. Records, footage, and even the very name Lucy Gray Baird were methodically excised from history's pages. The thoroughness of this situation left you in a state of bewildered disbelief. The memories and echoes of the Games, once so vivid, now seemed to have been cast into a gap of forgotten time.

Your mind was a whirlwind of questions, each one clamoring for answers, but you knew that the truth was hidden beyond your reach. In all of these Capitol secrets, you had no choice but to accept the narrative spun by Doctor Gaul and Dean Highbottom, even if it left you feeling like a mere puppet, dancing to their tune.

You just clung to the belief that Coriolanus was out there, safe, and somehow untouched by the Capitol's ominous machinations. You didn't know the real reason for his leaving, but thoughts of his comfort were your only solace.

You longed to see him again, not only because of the warmth of his presence, but also because of the secrets he could hold. Yet, deep down, you knew that even if he were to find his way back to the heart of Panem, you would likely be the last person on his list to seek out.

On a day that was just like any other, as the Capitol went about its business, you found yourself outside your penthouse. It was just another moment in your everyday routine, all you wanted was to go for a walk, enjoying the last few days before university starts, unaware of things that were about to happen.

You were lost in thought, just looking around the familiar place when suddenly, someone stepped into view and your heart stopped for what seemed like a split second. It was Coriolanus, no doubt about it, but he had changed more than you could have imagined. He used to have those distinctive curls, but now, his hair was much shorter. His whole presence felt more reserved. Even the way he carried himself seemed different from what you were used to. Something about his aura had shifted, and it was not the same energy you once knew, not even the one he usually projected to others. It was a subtle change, but it was there.

Upon realizing that he was heading towards your shared building, a mix of emotions surged within you. Surprise and happiness due to the sight of the person you had missed so intensely warred with the memories of his abrupt departure, and the months of estrangement.

As he drew closer, you couldn't help but hope for a friendly reunion. You wanted to forget the past and bridge the distance that had grown between the two of you, but the Coriolanus who now stood before you was colder, more distant than ever before.

His eyes, which once held warmth and familiarity when they met yours, now seemed to pass right through you, leaving you with an unsettling sense that the Coriolanus you once knew had changed into a stranger.

“Coryo?” you cautiously greeted him as he drew closer, employing the affectionate diminutive form of his name. “I didn't expect to meet you here.”

Your friendly approach fell upon a wall of silence, an awkward pause hanging heavily between you. The air seemed thick with unresolved tension, and you questioned whether you should have simply pretended not to notice him.

“Dean Highbottom mentioned that you departed for Twelve to join the Peacekeepers,” you continued, attempting to engage him in conversation. Your gaze remained intent on his, even as his bored expression showed little sign of interest. This was undoubtedly one of the most awkward moments of your life, and the hope of a warm reunion was fading with each passing second.

You couldn't help but inquire further, “Was it because of Lucy Gray?”

Upon the mention of the tribute girl's name, a subtle shift occurred in Coriolanus's demeanor. He raised his head slightly, his gaze narrowing and his jaw clenching. The unexpected reaction baffled you, and a crease of confusion formed between your brows as you tried to comprehend his change in demeanor.

“Lucy Gray is gone,” he stated, his words dripping with coldness and arrogance, once again underscoring the transformation in his character. The warmth and compassion that had once defined your interactions now felt like distant memories, leaving you in the stark shadow of your shared past.

“Gone?” you repeated. His statement was quite confusing, and you struggled to grasp its meaning.

Without offering any clarification, he continued his stride towards the building's entrance, as if your presence had become irrelevant to him. Desperate for answers that had slipped away form you for far too long, you reached out and gently grasped the sleeve of his shirt to stop him.

“Coryo, wait,” you begged, looking into his eyes for a flicker of the person you used to know. The frigid stare he returned sent a chill through your spine, but your curiosity pushed you forward. “What happened? After... well, after you disappeared.”

His gaze dipped to where your fingers held on to his shirt, and the tension between you grew palpable. When you finally let go, his eyes met yours once more, and he spoke in a voice that held a hint of gentleness. “Do you really want to know what happened?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. He maintained his distance, standing tall and appearing to gaze down at you.

You didn't particularly like this version of Coriolanus, but at the same time you couldn't back down now; you had yearned for this moment for months.

In response to his question, you offered a simple nod, a silent invitation for him to share. The silence hung between you, heavy and full of unspoken emotions. Coriolanus glanced around, checking for any unwelcome listeners nearby, before answering.

“I've been through a living hell,” he responded curtly, leaving a trail of unresolved questions lingering in the air, but before you could voice these unspoken thoughts, he continued.

“I was forced to follow relentless orders each day, enduring the scorching sun that left burns on my skin, and the agony of taking three lives,” he recounted, as if each experience weighed equally on his conscience. “And those damn songbirds... they're a nightmare. They can drive you to the brink of insanity.”

You sought answers in his eyes, searching for any glimmer of the person you had known, but what you found was far from the warmth and compassion you remembered. It was as if something within him had been replaced by a hint of disdain.

“She betrayed me,” he continued, his voice carrying the weight of bitter disappointment, before you had time to sort out the chaos in your head. “Just when I thought I could escape it all and start a new life without constantly looking over my shoulder, she chose to abandon me.”

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you questioned, your forehead creased with worry as you gazed into his eyes.

“I killed Sejanus Plinth,” he confessed. Your lips parted in shock, and without realizing it, you instinctively moved a step away, creating a physical gap between you and someone who had once been an open book. Now, it felt as though you knew nothing about him.

You had heard rumors of Sejanus Plinth's death, but the details were murky. The nature of Coriolanus and Sejanus's relationship had always been a subject of speculation, leaving people to wonder whether they were genuine friends or just collagues. Coriolanus had occasionally expressed his frustration with Sejanus to you, but you had never imagined he would go as far as to take such a drastic step.

Coriolanus seemed oblivious to your reaction, his words continuing in a torrent of frustration. “But he deserved it. He could have listened to me and followed the rules for once. Instead, he chose to be a rebel, wanting to play the savior of the districts. That's how rebels end up,” his words were like shards of ice, driven by a wrath you had never seen in him before.

“I killed people who threatened her. I killed those who could be dangerous to Lucy Gray,” Coriolanus murmured. You gazed into his empty eyes as he continued and a sense of dread creeped over you. “And in return, she betrayed me, willing to see me suffer the same fate as Sejanus,” he said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't risk being caught when I was mere hours away from leaving this wretched district.”

Your world seemed to crumble under the weight of his shocking confession. The inhumanity of his actions left you speechless, but Coriolanus appeared unaffected by your stunned silence.

He took a step closer, diminishing the gap between you, and you fought the urge to move back or look away from his piercing eyes.

“I'll make them all pay for it,” he declared with a small, unsettling smirk tugging at his lips. There was something in that expression that scared you, and now you were sure the boy standing in front of you was not the Coriolanus you had grown up with. “Every last one of them,” he added, presumably referring to the district residents with disdain.

With those words hanging in the air, he turned and disappeared behind the door of the apartment building, leaving you in a state of confusion and fear.

Many times, as you lay in bed at night, you often found yourself imagining the chance to see Coriolanus again. You wished that somehow, things could go back to the way they used to be, and that the warmth you once shared might return. But, the version of the man you just had a chance to look in the eyes filled you with nothing but fear now.

He seemed colder than his very name.

64 YEARS LATER

The underground room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single overhead bulb casting elongated shadows on the faces gathered around the table. Maps, documents, and a tactical board cluttered the space, a visual representation of the Rebellion's intricate plans. The tension in the room was palpable, and when you walked in with a woman who bore a striking resemblance to a tiger in her appearance, the rebels shared uncertain, questioning looks.

Katniss, her unmistakable braided hair and fierce gaze, was the first to break the silence. Her voice cut through the tension like a blade, “Why are you doing this?”

Her eyes bore into yours with a mix of curiosity and concern, and you felt a dozen pairs of eyes in the room fixate on you. “Risking your life to help us take down Snow?”

You inhaled a quivering breath when the memories and thoughts weighing heavily upon your chest. In your mind, a series of images flashed – a time when Snow had been had been a very different person. You paused for a moment, your thoughts returning to the Coriolanus you had once been so familiar with. The recollection painted a vivid picture of Coryo as you remembered him: his charming smile, which he had once reserved solely for you, and his distinctive, curly hair.

“I'm doing this,” you began, your voice tinged with pain and longing, “because I used to know him very well.” You deliberately used the diminutive form of his name that had once been so familiar to you, “Coryo. We were close, once.”

The room fell silent, and a myriad of emotions passed over the faces of those assembled. Your words seemed to have caught them off guard, and you could sense their curiosity and concern.

“We were in a relationship, but he's not the person I once loved anymore. This Snow, the one we're fighting against now, is a monster. He's not the Coryo I knew. He deserves the worst.”

Peeta, who sat beside Katniss, let out a sigh, and his eyes held a profound understanding. His gaze, a clear blue in the dim light, softened as he looked at you.

“Sometimes people change,” Peeta said, his voice gentle. “I've seen it happen before.”

Katniss's expression hardened with resolve, her determination unwavering. “He's going to regret everything he has done in his life,” she said.

As Katniss's words hung in the air, you felt a wave of knotty emotions churning within you. Your gaze drifted downward to the shelter's dirt floor, where the tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to overflow. For years, you had yearned for justice to be served to Coriolanus, for him to face the consequences of his oppressive rule over Panem. It had been a sincere desire, one that had simmered in your heart, yet now, with the Rebellion's cause so close to success, you found yourself grappling with a bewildering conflict.

Coriolanus had long disregarded you, deeming you unworthy of his attention and companionship. He had tear your connection, but it didn't mean that you had forgotten the feelings you had once for him.

It was his treatment of those who still loved him, the suffering of his cousin Tigris, who had been a close friend of yours, that weighed on your heart. She had selflessly helped Coriolanus throughout the war, supported him during his first mentorship and long after, but his attitude toward her changed with each passing year, and you couldn't understand why.

Over the years, Coriolanus had allowed the Hunger Games to evolve into something even more grotesque and brutal, making even bigger spectacle out of the tributes' deaths. It had been a source of disgust, a reflection of his growing cruelty. You were repulsed by the Capitol, sickened by Snow's insatiable thirst for power and the desire to see him removed from his seat of authority had been a driving force.

Yet, something within you was blocking your resolve, sowing seeds of doubt and uncertainty. The conflict within your heart was a huge storm, with one part pulling you toward the rebellion and the other tethered to a past that still held the remains of the Coriolanus you had once known, loved, and miss.

But that boy from your youth was a distant memory, swallowed by the Coriolanus who had emerged over the years, especially during his time in the Twelfth District shortly after his victory in the Games.

You raised your eyes to meet Katniss's, and in that moment, your mind drifted to Lucy Gray Baird, an ironic twist of fate that wasn't lost on you.

As Katniss observed your internal struggle, her sharp instincts sensed that there was more to your hesitancy than met the eye. She furrowed her brows, her gaze unwavering, and asked, “Is there something else you would like to share?”

Peeta, who had been observing you quietly, echoed her concern with a compassionate look in his eyes. His gentle tone conveyed understanding as he said, “You can talk to us, you know. We've all had our reasons for joining this fight.”

Your throat felt constricted, and you struggled to find your voice amidst the chaos of emotions. With a hurried swallow and a deep breath to steady yourself, you cleared your throat and shook your head. You offered a smile, though it felt forced and inadequate for the gravity of the moment, as you moved closer to the table filled with scattered papers.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked, attempting to shift the focus away from you. Your eyes darted around the faces of those gathered around the tabletop, eager to immerse yourself in the cause, to be part of the solution to the crisis at hand.

#can you hear that? it's the sound of snow falling #president snow #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games headcanon #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes headcanon #10th hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow scenario #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games headcanon #hunger games x reader #ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #x reader #x y/n

[cool-fancier]

A Dance of Synergy

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: Passion for dance ignited at a young age led you to WayB and a close friendship with Bada. A surprise battle ensued at Street Woman Fighter 2, showcasing your hidden connection. The shared synergy while dancing together left fans curious about the unspoken bond between you and Bada

A/N: I did rush this so please don't mind and I'm sorry if like the timeline doesn't make sense

Word count:2.6K

Your passion in movement as a child inspired you to pursue a career in dance. You found comfort in the rhythm of music from the age of five, your body responding easily to every beat. It felt as if the songs themselves were telling stories that could only be expressed through dance.

Your enthusiasm expanded immensely as a result of your unwavering dedication. Hours spent mastering each step, pirouette, and leap became a tribute to your unrelenting dedication. Dance wasn't just a hobby for you; it was your soul.

You caught the attention of local dance communities as you refined your skills, leaving a lasting impression with your mesmerising performances. Acclaim didn't come easily—countless hours of effort, pushing your body to its limits, and battling self-doubt constituted the foundation of your journey.

Then came the key moment when your sister, Noze, entered the competitive dance world for the first time. She saw your brilliance and strong commitment and realised she needed you at her side. WayB, Noze encouraged you to join her crew with her contagious enthusiasm.

Joining WayB wasn't just about dancing; it was a decision that changed the trajectory of your career. Together with your sister, the crew took the dance scene by storm, your synchronized movements leaving audiences in awe. Noze's energy blended seamlessly with your finesse, creating a dynamic duo that captured the essence of every performance.

Your partnership with WayB elevated your profile in the dance industry. Recognition followed as your talent caught the eye of choreographers and artists alike. It was during these collaborations that your expertise as a choreographer flourished, carving a path that eventually led you to the pulsating heart of the K-pop industry.

WayB's reputation paved the way for their entry into Street Woman Fighter, an electrifying dance competition. Your sister, Noze, encouraged the crew to embrace the challenge, sensing the opportunity to showcase your collective talents on a grand stage. The experience not only solidified WayB's position but also propelled you further into the dance industry's spotlight.

— — — — — — —

Your chance meeting with Bada at her dance lesson was a memorable experience. You recall approaching the studio anxiously, the slight fragrance of sweat mingling with the excitement of learning from one of the finest. Bada's enthusiasm filled the room as she effortlessly lead the class through the difficult choreography.

With your exact techniques and contagious excitement, you drew Bada's attention as the class progressed. Her compliments at the end of the lesson seemed like a reinforcement of your commitment to dancing. You had no idea that was just the beginning.

After the class, while you were catching your breath, Bada approached with a warm smile. "Wow the famous Y/N from WayB ,You were amazing in there!. Are you new to my classes?"

You chuckled nervously, grateful for the compliment. "Thank you! And stop I'm not that famous , this was my first time here. I couldn't miss the chance to learn from the legendary Bada Lee."

Bada's laughter was music to your ears. "Legendary, huh? Flattery will get you everywhere! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I hope to see you in more classes."

From that day on, you became a regular at Bada's classes. Each session was an opportunity to learn from her and share a few laughs along the way. Your admiration for her talent grew, but so did your friendship.

Your interactions expanded beyond the dance studio as the weeks evolved into months. Coffee dates, casual lunches, and even spontaneous dance-offs became common. The relationship between you and Bada was undeniable, the shared passion for dance forming the foundation of your bond.

As your friendship with Bada grew, so did the moments of discovery. You found yourselves plunging deeper into each other's worlds amid dancing rehearsals and late-night hangouts.

Bada recounted stories about her experiences in the K-pop world with magnetic passion. Her eyes twinkled as she described the joy of choreographing for some of music's biggest stars. You listened closely, enthralled by her passion for dance and the industry insights she gave.

In turn, you opened up about your experiences with WayB, detailing the high-octane moments on stage as well as the creative process behind some of your most memorable performances. Bada was an attentive listener who asked probing questions about your craft.

You discovered shared interests and variations as your chats progressed beyond dance. Bada's taste in corny romantic flicks mirrored yours, and spontaneous movie nights became a favourite hobby. Every shared laugh and meaningful conversation enhanced your friendship, from arguing the best dancing styles to playfully criticising each other's dress choices.

There were also times when you both confided in one other about the difficulties you faced in the competitive dancing scene. In those moments, your mutual support and understanding established the cornerstone of your new partnership.

There were glimpses of something more in the midst of the growing friendship. The lingering looks, the unintentional touches that sent sparks flying, and the butterflies in your stomach when you were together—it was an emotional dance that neither of you could resist.

It was during a spontaneous outing to a bustling street food market that the unspoken tension between you finally surfaced. Amidst the aroma of sizzling delicacies and the ambient chatter, Bada turned to you with a thoughtful expression.

"You know, spending time with you has been incredible. I feel like I've known you for much longer than we actually have. There's this connection between us that's hard to ignore."

You nodded, feeling the same way but also unsure of where to take the conversation. "I feel it too, Bada. It's like we just... click."

The air between you held a silent question, a mutual acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that lingered beneath the surface. It was a defining moment—a crossroads where friendship and something deeper converged.

With a soft smile, Bada reached out, gently taking your hand. "How about we explore this further? Take things one step at a time and see where this journey leads us?"

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, relief flooding in as the unspoken tension dissipated. "I'd love that, Bada. Let's see where this dance takes us."

That moment marked the beginning of a new chapter in your relationship. From there, the transition from friends to partners was a natural progression, solidifying the beautiful connection you shared.

Amidst the bustling street food market, the conversation lingered in the air, a silent understanding hanging between you and Bada. The playful banter and shared laughter seemed to create a cocoon around the two of you, shielding you from the outside world.

As the evening sun cast a warm glow, Bada leaned in, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "You know, there's one thing we haven't tried yet."

Your heart raced, anticipation mingling with a hint of nervousness. "And what might that be?"

With a playful grin, Bada teased, "A proper goodbye for the night, perhaps?"

A shared chuckle punctuated the moment, the air thick with unspoken anticipation. Without a word, you leaned in, your lips meeting in a gentle, playful kiss. It was a fleeting moment, but one that spoke volumes—filled with the promise of something beautiful blooming between you.

Pulling away, both of you wore matching sheepish grins, a hint of color dusting your cheeks. "Well, that was unexpected," you chuckled.

Bada, her laughter infectious, replied, "I blame the romantic atmosphere of the street market. It's making me do crazy things!"

The shared laughter dissolved any remaining tension, the ease of the moment reinforcing the comfort you found in each other's company. With a knowing glance and a playful wink, you both continued your stroll through the market, the echoes of your laughter mingling with the vibrant ambiance.

That spontaneous kiss became a cherished memory—a moment that sealed the unspoken feelings and added a touch of whimsy to your budding relationship. From that day forward, the warmth of that shared kiss lingered as a silent promise of the affection and connection between you and Bada.

— — — — —

The Street Woman Fighter 2 concert was a highly anticipated gathering of dance crews, and in a surprising twist, you had managed to secure a spot for an unexpected 1vs1 battle against Bada. It was a sneaky decision, known only to the organisers, because you didn't tell anyone, especially Bada, about your participation.

As the evening progressed, the crews showcased their abilities, and each performance was welcomed with deafening acclaim. The electricity in the air crackled with excitement, as the battles grew, leading up to the final act of the day.

Bada, as Bebe's leader, had captivated the audience with her crew's dazzling performances. She had no idea that an unexpected opponent was waiting in the wings—a challenger who was more to her than just another dancer.

Bada's amazement was obvious as the emcee announced the surprise 1vs1 match. As you went onto the stage, the spotlight illuminating your silhouette, her eyes opened in surprise. The audience murmured in confusion and excitement, unaware of the backstory behind this sudden face-off.

The emcee's voice rang out throughout the venue. "Ladies and gentlemen, a surprise addition to today's battles! Joining us for an impromptu 1vs1 against Bada Lee is none other than Wayb's Y/N!"

Bada's expression was priceless as the music began, signalling the start of the battle. You took a position opposite her, a teasing smile on your lips. The expectation of the crowd contributed to the intensity of the event.

As you began your routine, the first few beats of the song boomed throughout the venue, your motions flowing and precise. Bada, taken aback but never one to back down from a challenge, matched your intensity with her own trademark style, the dance floor serving as a canvas for an unexpected battle of styles.

As the battle progressed, the tension between you and Bada crackled in the air. Each move was a silent retort, a playful challenge to the rumors that had been circulating within the dance community. The audience, caught in the exhilarating showdown, cheered for both of you, unaware of the deeper connection that existed between the two dancers on stage.

In the midst of the battle, a playful wink and a mischievous grin were exchanged between you and Bada. The unspoken understanding added an extra layer of amusement to the competitive atmosphere.

The battle reached its climax, both of you showcasing your best moves. The audience erupted into applause, thoroughly entertained by the unexpected showdown. As the music faded, you and Bada stood facing each other, panting but wearing matching grins, a shared secret concealed beneath the surface.

The atmosphere in the arena erupted with energy after your heated 1vs1 bout with Bada. Sensing the heightened energy, the emcee introduced a surprise segment: a collaborative dance between you and Bada. As the familiar chords of a popular song filled the room, you both exchanged a shocked look, your unspoken connection sparking a spark of anticipation.

As you and Bada took your places on stage, the audience erupted in applause, the spotlight casting an ethereal glow around you. As the music grew louder, you began to move in perfect unison, each stride mirroring the previous one, as if your bodies were speaking a same language.

The chemistry between you and Bada was undeniable, the unspoken bond manifesting in the synergy of your movements. Fans were mesmerised as your diverse dancing styles merged effortlessly, producing a mesmerising tapestry of motion.

The earlier battle's humorous banter and competitive edge had been replaced by an effortless harmony, with each move complementing the other. It was as if you both anticipated each other's movements, a monument to your friendship's unspoken understanding.

With each elegant turn and intricate formation, the audience, entranced by the exhibition of unity and delicacy, shouted louder. Whispers and gasps flooded the room as your and Bada's chemistry transcended the dance floor, creating a lasting mark on everyone in attendance.

As the music reached a climax, you and Bada finished the dance with a magnificent final posture, the audience's cheers echoing throughout the venue. The shared moment between you two lingered in the air, a silent testament to the deeper connection that existed between you.

The emcee, beaming with enthusiasm, approached the center stage amidst the thunderous applause. "Ladies and gentlemen, let's give it up for Y/N Y/LN and Bada Lee! What an incredible performance! The chemistry between these two dancers is simply undeniable."

Fans, who had been speculating about the nature of your relationship, couldn't help but notice the palpable connection between you and Bada. The synergy that had unfolded before their eyes left an impression that was impossible to ignore, sparking a renewed wave of curiosity and excitement among the audience.

The emcee, sensing the electric atmosphere, approached with the mic. "A spectacular showdown! Y/N, Bada, any words for our audience?"

You stepped forward, the smile on your face concealing the deeper sentiment. "Thank you all for the love and support. It's been an incredible experience sharing the stage with such amazing talent."

Bada, her eyes gleaming with excitement, added, "Absolutely! The energy here is electrifying. Thank you for being a part of this journey!"

The crowd cheered, unaware of the hidden dynamics at play between you and Bada. As you left the stage, the playful banter and shared glances remained concealed, adding a layer of intrigue to the rumors that continued to circulate within the dance community.

The crowd cheered, unaware of the hidden dynamic between you and Bada. As you left the stage, the playful banter and shared glances between you remained concealed, adding an intriguing layer to the rumors that continued to swirl within the dance community.

— — — — —

In the hushed aftermath of the concert, the backstage area embraced a serene ambiance. You and Bada found a secluded spot away from the bustling crowd, the shared moments on stage still vivid in your minds.

Bada's smile was soft, filled with the remnants of the exhilaration from the performance. "That dance was something else, wasn't it?"

You nodded, a smile mirroring hers. "Absolutely. The synergy between us was incredible."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the weight of the unspoken emotions adding a layer of depth to the moment.

The shared glance between you held a silent agreement, the bond you shared extending beyond the confines of words. In that quiet space, amidst the fading echoes of the concert, a mutual understanding lingered between you and Bada.

As the quiet lingered, the intimacy of the moment heightened. Bada's gaze softened, her eyes searching yours for a shared truth. Without a word, a gentle yet purposeful movement drew her closer, and in that silent invitation, you felt a warmth envelop both of you.

The world around seemed to fade as Bada's lips met yours in a tender, sweet kiss. It was a moment that felt suspended in time, a silent celebration of the bond that had quietly grown between you.

When the kiss gently parted, the serenity of the moment remained, a shared intimacy that transcended the public eye. Bada's eyes met yours once more, a depth of emotion conveyed in that silent exchange.

"Thank you," Bada whispered softly, her voice carrying a weight of gratitude and affection.

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you. "For what?"

"For being here. For understanding. For this moment," Bada replied, her eyes shining with sincerity.

In the quiet embrace of the backstage, amidst the remnants of the concert, you and Bada stood, hand in hand, the unspoken intimacy of the night weaving a tapestry of shared memories.

It was a moment that etched itself into the story of your relationship, a moment that celebrated the beauty of dance, friendship, and the love that had quietly blossomed within the rhythm of the music and the unspoken language of your movements.

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #bebe #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x oc #bada lee x y/n #bada lee imagines #lee bada #team bebe

[snowfll]

The Other Side; Coriolanus Snow

pairing - young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary - neither of you saw it coming, will you ever let it go? ; you promised to stick by him, no matter what. he started to switch up on his values. words - 2.06k warning - snow is a cheater and manipulator!! he lies what a shocker note - alright ik EVERY new writer says this, but I genuinely have never written on tumblr before. plus the fact I haven't written in a while, so please, bear with me!! ofc this is based off of song The Other Side by Ruelle

In the fading light of the 10th annual Hunger Games, you stood by Coriolanus's side. Your tribute was long gone, but you stayed and waited, knowing Lucy Gray could make it. Of course, you cared for your tribute, but poor Dil was helpless and everyone knew it. Either way, you didn't need the prize money; being born into wealth had its perks. Coriolanus, on the other hand, clung to his desperate need for it. Although he would never admit it to anyone else in the Academy, his entire the rest of his family trusted you, so he trusted you with the knowledge of his home life.

As Lucy Gray sang passionately, with snakes surrounding her, the atmosphere was tense. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, particularly Coriolanus. The declaration of her victory allowed the room to erupt into celebration. Despite the throng of students rushing to congratulate him, his focus remained solely on you.

"Thank you for being here," he declared taking your hand in his. Your response, sincere and unwavering, conveyed a truth that transcended the surface of the celebratory chaos. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you confessed to him, recognizing that your place is always going to be by his side. "We stick by each other," he insisted, extending his pinky toward you, a symbolic gesture of your enduring bond. "Always," you assured him.

As the festivities continued, whispers of congratulations enveloped the room. Amid the noise, your shared moment with Coriolanus lingered, an invisible string connecting the two of you. If only your words mirrored the internal struggles, for beneath the facade of your love for each other, an unspoken truth lingered - a truth that for the moment, remained hidden behind smiles and pinky promises.

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Coriolanus’s departure from the academy was sudden and a mystery to everyone. Leaving without a goodbye left you to wonder if Dr. Gaul’s words were true when she told everyone, “Coriolanus Snow has decided to enroll as a peacekeeper”. Unfortunately, that's all she would say on the matter, nothing of his whereabouts or when he would be returning. You wish you were able to write to him, but as far as you knew, no one was able to reach him, not even Tigris and Grandma’am.

Life in the academy without Coriolanus by your side was hell, you weren’t exactly popular amongst your peers. You spent your days sitting alone at lunch and in class, praying he would return to you; he never did. Still, you knew, where ever he was, he was still the boy you knew and loved. There was nothing that he could do to change that. You were sure he would find his way back to you and everything would be okay.

Little did you know that Coriolanus was enjoying his time over in District 12, the home of the one and only, Lucy Gray Baird. Being a Peacekeeper had its ups and its downs, ask Coriolanus and he’d say mostly ups. He loved you of course, but he wasn’t sure he’d see you again. His time in the district brought changes in your lives. Values you both once held dear began to fray, worn out by the insidious influence of those around him.

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Months passed, and slowly a year went by without Coriolanus making his return. Not only had he not come back, but his family had also left you in the past. The uncertainty surrounding his whereabouts and well-being left you with a sense of despair and fear. Questions raced through your mind - had something terrible happened to him? Was he still alive? The lack of information gnawed at you, making it difficult to find any solace or hope. The weight of the unknown pressed heavily on your heart, leaving you to wonder if you would ever find closure. Would you ever recover?

Without him, your days were spent in bed, moping around and skipping class. It’s a miracle that you even graduated, obviously, your parents had some part in bribing the school; Donating money to the academy to guarantee your graduation without a penalty of any kind, considering how often you were absent.

Eventually, you came to terms with what had happened, it took a while, but you made it through. You managed to make some friends, who made it their one goal to you back your happy self. Somehow they miraculously persuaded you to go back to University. This wasn’t something you were thrilled to do, but after they wouldn’t quit nagging you, you agreed to try it out.

That’s where you were now; stood in front of the prestigious University entrance, filled with a mix of emotions as you prepared to take on another day without the man you once needed. As you gazed at the grand entrance, memories flooded your mind; all the moments you waited at the gates of the Academy, waiting for Coriolanus so you could walk in together.

Walking into the building was hard the first few days, but now, months later, it was manageable. You headed inside and immediately walked towards your group - group meaning your two friends. Normally, at the Academy, you would head straight to class with Coriolanus, but without him, you didn’t feel the need to go early. When you reached them, you noticed they were talking about Dr. Gaul and a new student she would be ‘mentoring’.

“Who is this new student?” you were curious to see why everyone was making such a big deal over a student. They both turned to you with worry and guilt in their eyes. You watched their eyes slowly follow something behind you causing you to turn around. Oh.

In that moment, you made eye contact with someone you thought you were never going to lay eyes on again. Coriolanus Snow; he was supposed to be dead. Well, at least that's what you told yourself, with the fact he didn’t bother to contact you all this time. He looked different, his once luscious and curly locks were now straight and combed to the side. Still, he looked amazing, different, but amazing. He noticed you, yet he seemed to walk right past you.

“We’re sorry honey, we found out yesterday,” one of them spoke up, clearly having noticed how upset and confused you were. “We wanted to tell you, we promise; we just didn’t know how to bring it up to you.”

The news hit you like a ton of bricks, leaving you feeling a mix of emotions. Confusion, anger, and hurt swirled inside you as you tried to process the fact that Coriolanus Snow, the person you had loved and trusted, was not only alive but had kept his return a secret from you. It was difficult to comprehend why he would do such a thing, especially after all the promises you had made to each other.

As you watched him walk past you, seemingly unaffected by your presence, your heart sank even further. The pain of his absence had been unbearable, and now the shock of his return only added to the emotional turmoil you were experiencing. Questions raced through your mind - why did he leave in the first place? Why didn't he reach out to you? Was everything you had shared just a lie?

Now faced with the reality of his return, you were unsure how to navigate this new chapter. The pain and confusion lingered, overshadowing any potential joy or relief. Could you ever trust him again? You didn’t know, but one thing you did know is that you would not allow him to ignore you.

Your friends pulled you into a hug, knowing how you were feeling. You never spoke to them about how you truly felt after his disappearance, but they knew. Everyone from the Academy knew, how could they not? Although you were not well-liked, he was, meaning they treated you however they treated him. The two of you were the power couple, nothing could stop you guys, or so everyone thought.

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After class, you marched right up to his apartment door, knocking and pounding so hard you could almost hear the hinges breaking. Who cares if you break the door? You certainly didn’t - at least it would grab his attention. As soon as you saw him open the door, you pushed him inside, shutting the door behind you with a kick of your leg.

Being this up close to him was enchanting, you waited for this moment for months, but all you could feel now was anger and hurt. The both of you just stood there staring at each other for what felt like hours. Finally, you crossed your arms and spoke up. “Coriolanus.” He knew he was in trouble, not once in the years you have known him, have you called him by that name. “wai-” he started but was soon cut off by the sound of your voice. “No, let me talk.” He was fully prepared to get yelled at, he already had been told off by Tigris.

“You disappear on me, for months. I don’t hear anything from you or your family.” Clearly, you were pissed as you began to hit your fist on his chest. He just let you do what you wanted, knowing what he did to you, “You come back and have the audacity to look at me and ignore me. How dare you. Coriolanus Snow. How fucking dare you.” Now you were yelling. What could you say, your emotions are all over the place. “After everything we’ve been through together? All the promises we made. Please don’t tell me they were all false promises. Please.” By this point you were crying, somehow you both made it to the floor, him holding you in his arms.

"I'm so sorry," Coriolanus whispered, his voice filled with regret and remorse. "I never meant to hurt you." His grip tightened around you as he began to explain. Though you weren’t sure if he was true to his words, it felt nice to receive an explanation after all this time.

"After the Hunger Games, I was sent away to District 12, against my will. Lucy Gray and I... we formed a connection. It was unexpected, and I couldn't resist her charm. We spent time together, and I thought... I thought I could forget about you, about us." He paused, his voice shaking. "But then she betrayed me, just as she betrayed everyone else. She left me, and I realized the mistake I had made."

Coriolanus took a deep breath, his eyes filled with sincerity. "Lucy Gray was a distraction, a moment of weakness. I was lost, confused, and I made a terrible choice. But it wasn't real, it wasn't true love. You are the one who has always been there for me, who has stuck by my side through thick and thin."

He wiped away a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and filled with remorse. After a while, you were able to speak up and ask “What are you doing back here?”. He was hesitant to respond, afraid of what you might think of everything. "I am studying under Dr. Gaul now, working as a Gamemaker. It’s what my father would have wanted me to do."

As you listened to his words, a mix of emotions washed over you. “A Gamemaker, Coryo, under Dr. Gaul?” Confusion filled your mind, you guys hated what the Gamemakers stood for. All the nights, you spent lying next to each other, ranting about how you both desperately wanted to stop the horrific ways of the Capitol and put an end to the Hunger Games.

“I know, but while I was out in the Districts, I realized that they all brought this upon themselves; It's their fault.” You couldn’t believe what he was saying, after everything, he switched up just like that.

The pain and betrayal still lingered, but deep down, you knew that your love for Coriolanus was stronger than the mistakes he had made or the things he valued; which were clearly no longer on track with what you valued. Your promise to stick by his side is still there. Nothing could tear it apart. You would rather be manipulated and lied to again and again if it meant keeping him with you. After all, you already know the other side of the world without him.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #the hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth