#distaster districts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlybeeewrites · 4 months

Text

Meadow's Lullaby

Requests: Yes!

Pairing: Sejanus Plinth x fem!reader, onesided Coriolanus x reader, platonic Lucy Gray x reader

Warnings: none, this is a fluffy one....for now :)

Word count: 1.3K

The Valley Song Series: Part 1 <- -> Part 3

Author's Note: You guys are literally so amazing??? Thank you so much for showing your love for The Valley Song. I came up with this idea and direction so hopefully you all enjoy it. Thank you, lovies! Also once again, because I love Maiah Wynne, the music below is what the reader plays :)) Also this was just so much fun to write

You were a lot shyer than Lucy Gray. That was one of the first things that came to Coriolanus' mind as he watched Lucy Gray pull you over as the performance ended for the night. Maude Ivory had taken your old wooden guitar from you as the rest of the Covey put their instruments away and gathered all the donations from around the Hob.

Your shy and bashful nature had intrigued Coriolanus greatly, but it had with Sejanus as well. He could tell so as his...friend's face got more pink in his cheeks as you neared. A curiosity in his eyes as you neared.

"Y/N, It is finally time for you to meet my boy, Coriolanus Snow. And this is his fine friend, Sejanus," Lucy Gray had introduced them. Her boy, he thought to himself with great distaste. Coriolanus did not belong to anyone, and his little songbird counted. He was not one to be owned. He owned others.

"Y/N here is my older cousin. Just by a year though so it ain't nothing fancy." Lucy Gray said with a laugh, causing you to shyly roll your eyes at your cousin's words. It was clear this wasn't the first time this was brought up in any sort of conversation.

"A pleasure to meet you, Y/N" Coriolanus said with a charming smile and a nod as Lucy Gray let go of her cousin's hand and moved to step beside Coryo, her arm going around his waist.

You gave him a bit of a shy smile as you gave him a nod, "The pleasure is all mine, Coriolanus. I cannot thank you enough for bringing my cousin back to us. I owe you," you chuckled. And even your chuckle was like soft wind chimes; soft.

Sejanus could not help but look to you in some sort of admiration. Even by the look in your eyes, you were gentle kind, and compassionate. Even after all you had been through with losing your family, singing for your dinners, almost losing your cousin...you were still kind. Almost like him.

Your eyes moved to look at him and you could feel your face heating up. He was beautiful. Almost too beautiful, especially to be somewhere like here in District Twelve. You couldn't help but wonder what he had done to be sent there.

"Pleasure to meet you Sejanus.." You say after a moment of almost staring at each other, realizing the silence may have gone on for a little bit too long. In the corner of your eye, you see your cousin smirking at you, glancing up at Coryo as if she had planned this sort of meeting all along.

"Trust me....the pleasure is all mine. You were uh...you were amazing up there by the way," Sejanus said nervously, though the smile stayed on his face.

The bashful smile returned to your lips at his almost too-kind words. "Why thank you. I don't sing on my own very often so I'm pleased you enjoyed it,"

Lucy Gray grinned before remembering. "Oh! I almost forgot. The Covey, we're all making a trip out tomorrow. You both should join us!" she offered.

Coriolanus and Sejanus both shared a look. They both had nothing else to do. So after a moment of sharing a look, Coriolanus smiled slightly and nodded, "We'd love to,"

Lucy Gray almost squealed with excitement, "Oh perfect. You boys are going to love it. Coryo, come by our house by mornin', alright? We'll see you both tomorrow," she said with a grin, taking your hand and rushing back towards the rest of the covey.

You turned and gave them both one last wave and smile before being pulled backstage, leaving the two boys in almost awe: Sejanus being more obvious.

"I can't wait for tomorrow," Sejanus sighed.

When tomorrow finally came, the two boys made it to the small Covey home on the edge of the Seam. And by an hour after sunrise, you all started the hike up to the lake. You lingered behind talking with Barb Azure, listening to Maude Ivory singing and Lucy speaking with Coryo. Halfway through you lingered back, falling back in step with Sejanus.

After hours of hiking, you all made it to the lake and set your things down. The heat was seemingly unbearable, and many of the covey found their way to the lake, aching to cool off their skin with the cold water.

You decided to join them later. Moving to settle under one of the nearby trees, you fixed your old dress before pulling your guitar onto your lap. Your delicate fingers started to string along to the song that Lucy Gray would sing whenever anyone had any nightmares.

As you played you failed to see Sejanus, who was about to join the others in the water before spotting you on your own. He didn't think twice before he made his way over to you, taking a seat a little next to you.

You looked up in surprise, pausing the strumming of the delicate cords. "Sejanus. Sorry, I didn't hear you coming," you add with a smile, flattered and almost happy that out of everything, he wanted to come and sit with you.

"Well I saw you were on your own, figured you could use some company," he used as an excuse, feeling his face warm; though with the heat of the day, it was hard to tell the difference. "What were you playing? I sounded pretty," he then asked.

"Oh, it was just some music I wrote for one of Lucy Gray's songs. She calls it Deep in the Meadow. She usually sings it when Maude Ivory has a nightmare or trouble sleeping. I figured I could add some music to help," you explain, looking at him, flushing as you realize that he never once had taken his eyes off you.

And how beautiful his eyes were. You could see the kindness and admiration, they were captivating and warm. And it all caused a fluttering within your stomach.

"You wrote that all yourself?" He asked in amazement, and as you nodded he gave a small whistle, "That is incredible....could you play something else you wrote?" he asked hopefully before he quickly added in what seemed to be panic, "Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to, I just...your playing is beautiful.."

His words made you grow flustered, but you gave out a small laugh. Something about him allowed you to feel comfortable where you had never felt comfortable before. There were very few people outside the covey that you would do this with, Sejanus may have just been the quickest that you allowed.

"No...no, I don't mind," you quickly reassured him before playing another song you had written, leaving the capital boy silent as he admired the music you had created.

As you both were having your moment, playing him your music, neither of you was aware of the pale eyes that were watching from the water. Coriolanus felt his jaw clench at the sight of them, how Sejanus was able to chat you up about whatever it was.

What were you both talking about? He hated that he didn't know, that he wasn't in the loop, that he couldn't control whatever it was that came from Sejanus' mouth.

Lucy Gray gently climbing onto his back, wrapping her arms around him to keep afloat snapped him out of his thoughts.

"I think they'd make a mighty fine couple, wouldn't you say?" she asked, rather pleased with her match-making skills. Coriolanus on the other hand, wasn't as pleased. But regardless he nodded.

"Hm. She seems a fine match for Sejanus." A fine match was the nicest thing he could come up with as he stared at the few figures underneath the tree.

A fine match with Sejanus would be enough for you now, but he wondered how fine it would be when trouble would eventually find its way back around.

494 notes · View notes

murdrdocs · 5 months

Text

coriolanus who arrives at a town outside of panem after running away from the messes he left, with no reminders of home except lucy gray at his side and his mothers shawl. the small town exists completely off the map, one he'd never heard of throughout his academy education. and the people don't like him, for good reason. he's clearly capitol. she's clearly district. it's clear who the town prefers, taking in the girl with the familiar accent and sweet voice while pushing away the boy with the proper speech and air of arrogance.

coriolanus who has to find work for the first time in his life. he tries his hand at getting his hands dirty, planting in gardens like he did during the war as a child. he's still skilled at growing parsley, but the job doesn't stick. and somehow, after being encourage by lucy gray and trained by a few of her new friends, he finds himself as a cowboy.

cowboy!coriolanus who is a natural protector. he protects lucy gray like it's his first instinct, and with time, he does the same to the other town members. he's lost his capitol speech at this point, starting to drop the ends of his words if he's not careful to keep them intact. his hair has started to grow back in, he's regained his capitol charms, and all together, he's steadily becoming more trustworthy to people. they start to like coriolanus, the way they say his name changing from an afterthought full of distaste to a word of slight impressiveness, even though they often say his name with a gap between the first and second part (corio-lanus).

cowboy!coriolanus who can't help but start protecting you, too. someone he firsts comes to know as a bartender, usually working behind the counter when lucy gray performs. her voice will always keep her fed. it keeps them fed now, too, that and coriolanus' good work with a gun and his fists. he puts them to use when people (usually men) step out of line towards you.

cowboy!coriolanus who finds solace in his new life through you. lucy gray has adapted easily. life here isn't much different from district 12. but compared to the capitol, coriolanus is on a completely different planet. in twelve, there were a few delicacies or televisions, but here, there's next to none. y'all live like the men in history books, the life coriolanus would always think down on while he did his homework at night. but now, with your long skirts and corsets, and your love of celebrations, he can find some similarities to the capitol. he can make a new home.

cowboy!coriolanus who has to leave town weeks at a time, going with the other men to gather what they can. there's times where he would consider skipping town completely, taking his horse and his weapons and fleeing. maybe trying his luck back in twelve, or two. or maybe even the capitol. but then, with the sun in his eyes and a forced squint taking over his face, he would think of you. the one who kissed him off, sweetly telling him to come back to you safely. the one who was definitely waiting for him back home, watching lucy gray's shows with that same smile on your face. he would then worry about your safety, if people were bothering his two girls with no one there to protect you both. that was enough motivation to bring him back.

cowboy!coriolanus who looks fucking amazing on a horse. his blond hair sticking out from underneath his hat, his skin tanned and glowing. his demeanor completely casual, one you could hardly replicate when sitting atop the animal. "wanna hop on up?" he would always tease you, smiling big when you were quick to decline. instead, he would hop down and greet you there, pressing his lips to yours and his hands to your lower back.

#coryosworld!#cowboy!coryo #cowboy!coriolanus snow #cowboy!coriolanus #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow #celeste writes thg

560 notes · View notes

kurasthetic · 9 months

Text

21:26 - Kuras, Leander, Ais, Mhin, Vere

has; main five characters || reader in leander’s is called “pretty” || reader has long-ish hair in mhin’s, implied to be taller by an indeterminate amount || Leander jumpscare in Vere's, mention of something potentially (but not actually) being slipped in a drink, reader is shorter than Vere ||

REACHING OUT TO YOU;; the smallest moments can mean the most when they're giving what you’ve been robbed of your whole life (or, prompt roulette from this list)

Kuras

[ HOLD ]: while close to the receiver, the sender wordlessly takes a hold of their hand, for no other purpose than to be holding it.

The Amaryllis district was always packed at night. There was nary a noiseless corner to be found in between dusk and dawn, a constant din of drunken chatter and laughter rumbling beneath every thought one could have. If you didn't have to live here, you'd avoid these streets as if they were infested with the plague. You weren’t the only one with apparent distaste for these streets; in front of you, Kuras picked his way deftly through the crowd. Even though he seemed to repel everything around him, people swerving clear of his personal space before knocking shoulder directly with you, there was a certain distaste hidden in his sluggish steps. You almost worried that every loose pebble risked sullying his pristine white coat, despite the fact that you’d seen it emerge from dirtier alleys unstained.

Unable to dodge the constant jostling of drunken bodies, you took to hiding your hands in your cloak. The heavy wool, normally a welcome and needed barrier against the cold night, was uncomfortably warm while you were caged in by sweltering body heat on all sides. Your shoulders were beginning to cramp from holding your hands so closely to your chest. No matter how tightly you wrapped your bandages or pulled barriers across your hands, there was an undying terror settling deep in your stomach at the slightest hint you might touch someone.

Huffing, you tried to shake away the negative thoughts. When you looked up again, you came to a sudden halt, nearly colliding with Kuras’ back. The slight shower of pebbles you kicked up all bounced and scattered around Kuras’ feet, missing him by sizable inches. You watched as he pulled something from an inner pocket of his outfit, a flash of white over his shoulder all you could see before he brought it in front of him and blocked your view. This close to Kuras, the people who parted to make a path for him also figured you into the equation, giving your battered arm a rest.

You were busy marveling at this when Kuras held his hand in front of you. Though you could feel his eyes on you, you didn’t look up to try and decipher what was going on in his mind. Instead, you stared at his hand, now in a thin white glove. Slowly, in disbelief, you patted yourself as if pockets would appear and produce what he was gesturing for.

Kuras laughed, though it came out in a single breath. He turned to face you and slowly reached for your cloak, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. When you didn’t protest, he reached for one of your hands and closed his gloved fingers around it with a smile.

You tried to pull away, but Kuras didn’t let you go. His grip tightened just enough to keep you in place and loosened the moment you stopped resisting. Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest, panic seizing your brain as your eyes kept darting from your hand in Kuras’, up to his golden gaze, and back down again. Kuras wore that endearing, teasing smile of his, watching you process with rapt attention. There wasn’t any time for you to be embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze while you were busy searching for even the slightest hint of madness.

When you were sufficiently calmed down, Kuras began leading you down the street again, offering no explanation. You kept your eyes on your hands joined together, the off-white of your bandages looking dirty and disheveled against the fabric of his gloves. Absently, you tried to remember him ever wearing them before. When did he get them? Why would he spring for fabric gloves in his line of work, especially ones that felt so thin and cheaply made?

…Did he buy them specifically to assuage your fear?

Unable to sit with those implications, you lifted your head and tried to gain your bearings, only to realize that Kuras was leading you down the wrong road. “Um…isn’t the Wet Wick that way?” You asked, pointing feebly in the direction you were referencing.

Kuras looked down at you and smiled. “You’ve been studying with me all day and we didn’t take a break for food. Surely you must be hungry.”

“Oh, uh…” You felt for your coin purse, which was even lighter than when you first arrived in the city. Most of the places around the tavern knew to count you under Leander’s tab, but it still felt wrong to ask for more or offer his money to somebody else in the form of a meal. “I’m…good…”

But your traitorous stomach answered more truthfully, and Kuras’ smile sharpened knowingly. “My treat, of course. Will you join me?”

Once again, you looked at your hand and experimentally wiggled your fingers. Your bandages didn’t budge, and Kuras gave your fingers a gentle squeeze. Your previously panicked heart lurched again - this time for entirely different reasons.

“Lead the way,” you finally agreed, struggling to breathe past the erratic beating in your chest.

You spent the rest of your night hand-in-hand with Kuras, only reluctantly parting when the tavern lights illuminated the pavement in front of you and the toes of your shoes.

Leander

[ SCAR ]: noticing a scar on the receiver’s skin, the sender tentatively stops them from covering it up, and rests a gentle, soft kiss over it.

There was a lot you didn’t know about Leander. It wasn’t that he kept to himself, just that he often focused the conversation on you. In a city reigned by secrecy and information, it was no wonder how Leander became the leader of the pack; if not for his friendly, easygoing approach to people, his knack for getting people to let down their guard and open up to him would surely have cemented his place at the top.

You should’ve been wary of how his earnestness was so thin you could see straight through to the silent threat beneath. Those that hid in the shadow needed the element of surprise to succeed, but a beast who bared his fangs could all too willingly tear you to shreds. Of this, you were painfully aware. But you had also spent your entire life shying away from others, hiding in the shadows yourself, never revealing a thing because it always resulted in fear and scorn. Wanting to be known by someone had gone to your head, dizzying and addicting once you finally got that hit.

Perhaps that was why you found yourself in this position so frequently: your lips hot on Leander's, your knees on either side of his hips as you straddled him, one hand beneath his shirt and pressing his abdomen to the bed as if to keep him in place. You could feel his legs shifting behind you, excess energy spent in an effort not to appear too eager. Still, that didn't stop him from leaning into your palm the moment you reached your free hand to cup his face. Your bandages hadn't even come off yet, but to be able to touch someone like this - no fear of the bandages shifting, no looming threat of insanity - was a luxury you needed to grab before it was taken away.

For a brief moment, you pulled away, watching with something akin to pride at Leander's red face, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. He half-opened one eye and whined once, short and sweet. You must look smug.

Before you could kean back down, Leander removed one of his hands from your waist, placing it above the one you used to cradle his face. Tenderly, he reluctantly moved your hand and began unraveling your bandages. The sick feeling twisted in your stomach again, years of torment conditioning you to lurch away. You might've, if it wasn't for the chaste, reassuring kisses Leander placed on every unwrapped knuckle as they came into view.

Shivering, you let him unwrap the layers on your other hand, too, careful not to let your now-exposed hand touch him. There was comfort in the certainty he tried to give you, but you couldn't let your walls fall down completely. The least you had to do was make sure he knew when you would be touching him. For absolute safety.

Noticing your reticence, Leander grinned at you and went to kiss your palm. He stopped, however, brow furrowing. A pit suddenly ripped open in your stomach, terror and regret and bile threatening to come out of your throat.

"What is this?" He asked, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Not cursed. Hesitantly, you pulled your hand away and inspected it with a scrutinizing squint. Although it took a moment, you finally saw what he was talking about: a faint scar, lighter than the rest of your skin, running from the base of your middle finger to the center of your palm.

"I…don't know," you answered honestly. It could've been anything: when you tripped over an unruly pile of junk and caught yourself on the rough cobblestone, when you were inspecting a wildflower and were surprised by its thorns, or maybe you caught your skin on the unfinished headboard of your bed while you were asleep. You didn't remember having to replace torn bandages, but you were beginning to obsessively wrap them multiple times a day, now that you were in close contact with so many people.

Not liking your answer, Leander grabbed your hand and inspected it again. The tug was rough, much more forceful than he needed to be, and you winced in shock rather than pain.

After he glared at your hand for a few more seconds, he finally softened. "Ah, forgive me for my intensity. A pretty thing like you shouldn't be brought to harm by anything."

"It's really not that bad," you tried to argue, but already you could feel the heady fog of desire clouding your brain.

"You don't have to protect anybody, you know?" He finally placed a gentle, lingering kiss on your palm like he originally planned, right in the center of the scar. "Let someone take care of you. Let me take care of you."

Ais

[ GUIDE ]: in the process of guiding the receiver through a crowded place, the sender’s hand protectively grazes against the small of their back

Taverns were hardly a place of discomfort for you, especially considering how you now lived in one. Even if they were loud and too crowded for your liking, you didn't despise them. What you did hate was being thrown into intimidating uncharted waters in the middle of an already taxing night.

The tavern before you wasn't anything like the open and well-lit Wet Wick. The solid wood door just looked heavy, fitting so snugly in its frame that next to no light filtered out through the bottom. All the windows were tinted - or so dirty that no light could get through - and the walls were accented in red splotches that could have been blood just as easily as they could've been paint. The sign hung by one side of its chain attachments, the words so weathered and faded they were illegible. If not for the occasional noise from inside that was more roar than laugh, you would've assumed the building had been abandoned for years.

"What is this place?" You asked uncertainly.

"Tavern," Ais answered, grinning. When you gave him a withering look, he added, "Go to the Wet Wick when you want a drink. Go here when you want to get drunk."

Without answering your question, Ais stepped up and opened the door for you. You muttered something spiteful about how gentlemanly he was, pulled up the hood of your cloak, and stepped into the tavern.

Your eyes took a while to adjust to the low light. You could hear Ais step in behind you and the door slamming shut, shutting you in like the mouth of a cave after a collapse. Vague shadows, big and hulking and some inhuman, turned their attention towards you, some of the raucous merrymaking dying down to a curious din. In the narrow entryway, Ais only had enough room to stand directly behind you, his warmth permeating to your back even through your heavy cloak. While you darted your eyes around warily, Ais laughed, deep and right next to your ear.

"The hood makes you even more suspicious, sparrow," he advised. When you immediately tensed, he laughed again and pulled your hood down for you. "Look around. They're not going to hurt you."

"What?" you hissed through your teeth. "How can you be so sure?"

Ais only responded with a sweeping gesture. Hesitantly, you followed the movement with your eyes and surveyed the room again. Most of the patrons had lost interest in your arrival, their eyes no longer on you. Still, nearly every pair you came across were bright red, almost glowing and exactly like Ais'. The few monsters in the tavern were less imposing than you thought: most were largely human like Ais and only had stray tails or extra eyes to mark their otherness. Out of the rest of the patrons, though, some had gaping injuries, clear displays of what had been so dreadful they found it worth trading their sanity for peace.

"She's over there," Ais suddenly said, pointing to a booth in the corner. In your excitement, you had almost forgotten that you were here to follow a lead on a curse similar to yours. Still, you found yourself glued to your spot. Even if you weren't in danger, you could tell you weren't welcome, either.

Something warm pressed firmly against your lower back, prodding you forward. You gasped, twisting around to see Ais staring back at you flatly and his hand on your back. He guided you forward, expertly maneuvering you so that you avoided colliding with the aimlessly swaying bodies around you. You allowed him to push you forward, focusing your attention instead on suppressing the tingling-warm fluster climbing up your face.

Out of nowhere, a buff monster collided with you. You stumbled to the side, sucking in a breath through your teeth. They had stepped on your foot, much denser than the average human. Ais straightened you out carefully, glaring at the monster until they mumbled a meaningless apology and stalled away.

"You good?" He asked quietly, hands on your shoulders and breath tickling your ear. You nodded.

"I can take a little shove."

"Good, 'cause these folks would eat you alive if you couldn't." Then he resumed pushing you forward, careful not to let a single soul touch you or your clothes.

Mhin

[ HAIR ]: sender slowly reaches out to catch a loose strand of the receiver’s hair and tuck it gently and securely back behind their ear, letting their touch linger afterwards. (if the receiver has short hair, then the sender reaches out and gently runs their fingers through their hair to smooth it back.)

“Do you just walk around with your brain entirely shut off?”

Mhin was practically dragging you along the darkened streets of Lowtown, their grip firm on your upper arm. Trying to wrench your arm free, you wound up staggering behind them, tripping clumsily over the noisy and thick soles of your shoes.

“I’m sorry,” you responded, more exasperated than remorseful. In the dark, while preoccupied with Mhin's aggressive attitude, you couldn't pay much attention to the ground beneath your feet. The uneven cobblestone had yet to become familiar, the bottoms of your shoes catching on a raised stone or slipping on loose pebbles.

Mhin veered to the side suddenly and wordlessly, leading to you tripping over a large pile of trash. You yelped, flailing out your arms with enough strength that they finally released you. Huffing all the while, you patted yourself down, brushing stray dirt off of your clothes and hoping nothing untoward had cakes itself on your boot.

"If you don't shut up, another soulless will come for you and I won't waste my energy doing anything about it," Their silhouette shifted in the dark as they crossed their arms. You suppressed a growl deep in your chest.

"Then why don't you just let it?" You asked, voice thin and serrated.

"Well- I wasn't helping you! I was just doing work. If anything, you were in my way."

Mhin didn't speak much, but sometimes, they had lots to say when they were chewing you out. You gritted your teeth, already worn out from this charade. "You don't wanna help me? Fine. I can find my way back without you. Go collect your pay or whatever and leave me alone."

A beat passed before Mhin spat back at you. "Fine."

They practically stomped away, footsteps much heavier and a bit slower than usual. Normally they could slip out of eyesight without you even noticing, but now they were lingering. Part of you wanted to stay angry with them, but another part was uninterested in potentially burning bridges over something inconsequential. With a curse beneath your breath, you followed after them.

"Mhin," you called, but they didn't turn around. They might've tensed, but it was difficult to see in the dark. You tried again. "Mhin!"

Still nothing. Sighing, you sped up your pursuit, nearly catching up to them beneath the light of one of the street lanterns. The lights were far too spread out to be of any use against monsters, but finding yourself in the focus of the yellow warmth was comforting enough for you to raise your voice again. "Hey, could you listen to me when I'm talking to you?"

"You-" Mhin whirled around, their temper so hot that, for a moment, the red in their eyes seemed to glow. Instinctively you flinched back, tugging your cloak around your shoulders as if it was a coat of armor. Their snarl melted away, leaving them to stare blankly at you for a moment. You wondered what was going through their mind when you couldn’t see a smart remark ready to tumble off their tongue.

With their stone eyes on you, a warmth started climbing up your entire body and settling at your cheeks. Their gaze wavered slightly, no longer piercing and sharp. Instead, they watched as you shrunk back into your cloak like it could save you. Heaving a harsh, heavy sigh, they closed the distance between you, fully intending on shaking you by the shoulders. Their body had a mind of its own, though, and they found themselves reaching a hand up to carefully stroke your hairline, drawing a tender line from temple to chin. You gulped; their eyes narrowed. “Are you afraid of me?”

You laughed humorlessly. “I am not.”

Roughly, they grabbed your chin and forced you to bend so you’d be closer to eye level. They wanted to bite back, say something about your attitude around someone who killed a soulless that almost killed you, but it finally registered how warm your skin was beneath theirs. This wasn’t that usual warmth that made them shiver with a thrill - it was much more intense. It wasn’t until their own face began to heat up that they realized exactly what they were feeling.

Sputtering for a moment, they let go of your face and jumped backwards in the way of a startled cat. Mhin huffed as they straightened out non-existant wrinkles in their clothing, finishing by pulling their hood over their head. “You are far too reckless for your own good.”

Without waiting for you to gather your wits, they turned on their heel and hurriedly stalked away. Once in the shadows, they spared a final, passing glance at your frozen form, needing to fight the urge to reach out for you once more.

Vere

[ CLOSE ]: while standing remarkably close to one another, the sender is unable to stop themselves from running their gaze across the receiver’s body, lingering for a moment on their lips, before returning to initiate prolonged, intense eye contact.

You sometimes wondered what Vere was doing, hanging around the Wet Wick after spending cumulative hours complaining about the drinks, the ambience, the crowd, the presence of Leander…

Usually, you could see him sitting beside Ais, able to use that singular presence as excuse enough to stay. But tonight he was alone when you walked into the crowded tavern, swirling a glass with a bored expression on his face. You weren’t exactly looking to spend the night with him, but before you even had time to decide if you’d spare a polite greeting or try to duck up to your room, one of Vere’s ears twitched and he easily turned his head your way. His expression barely changed - Vere didn't do the chasing unless he was looking to kill - until you started to make your way towards him. Then he grinned, fangs sharp and on display.

Wordlessly, you followed his invitation, stopping just short of the stool beside him. Perched upon his own seat, Vere could look down his nose at you, tail swishing lazily behind him and nearly knocking a glass off the bar. The smug pull of his lips and draw of his brows made your own stomach twist with something warm and heavy.

"Come on, make yourself comfortable," Vere patted the empty stool lightly, as if you couldn't tell exactly what his invitation was. You shook your head.

"What do you want, Vere?" There was none of the intended malice or fatigue in your voice, and Vere seemed undeterred by your frosty demeanor. Instead, he twisted his arm behind himself and presented a glass of red wine, held between your bodies like a peace offering.

"Don't tell me you're making me drink by myself. That's a little pathetic, don't you think?"

"Are you telling me you were sitting here looking pathetic before I came along?" Tentatively, you took the glass and eyed it suspiciously. In the corners of your vision, you spotted bright green eyes glowering in your direction. Leander was staring at Vere and the drink in your hand as if it had personally offended him. When he realized you were watching him, he instantly brightened up and nodded, as if to say 'that one's okay.' Content that Vere hadn't slipped you anything, you sighed and took a sip.

Vere's gaze slid cooly in the direction you were staring, his smile crumbling into a grimace when he saw who was watching you. When Vere was happy, his fangs looked enticing, but seeing them when he was angry only reminded you that they were made to rip out throats, not just nibble. He jumped down from his stool then, guiding you to the opposite end of the room to put as many bodies between you and Leander as possible.

"Waiting for a friend and getting wasted on your own are two entirely different things," Vere muttered in your ear. His hand tightened on the fabric of your cloak, sharp fingernails like claws ghosting over your back. You couldn't quite tell what his intentions were with you; it seemed that he was bored, and you were merely his favorite plaything.

Trying to get a read on him, you studied Vere from the corner of your eye. His ears were relaxed, his eyes bright and alert, his tail languidly flicking side to side. Your eyes followed the line of his neck, the curl of his hair, down his slim torso and to his long stretch of leg. Your eyes stopped for a moment on that swath of exposed thigh, noticing the way all of his straps and garters pressed gently into his skin. Slowly, your eyes fell all the way to the ground and back up, lingering at his lips, his fangs, that damned grin. Somehow, your cursory glance turned into an ogling session.

When your eyes finally settled on his again, it was clear that Vere realized way before you.

Rather than pull away like your instincts screamed to do, you narrowed your eyes and held his gaze. Pleased, you briefly saw the corners of his lips quirk as he laughed. Two slender fingers trailed your jawline before the pads of them pressed into your chin, forcing your head to tilt back just a bit. He leaned in teasingly, tauntingly, testing the waters to see just how far you'd let him go. This wasn't what you wanted - was it? - but you refused to let your eyes leave his face for even a second, even though you should have known better.

After all, if you play a game of chicken against a fox, you're sure to be devoured.

719 notes · View notes

spideyhexx · 4 months

Note

i need to know how coryo would feel after finding out reader was from a low district before advancing herself in the capitol.

like she’s very smart, which is what catches his attention; but she completely ignores his existence because she’s the only one who can see through his ‘timid’ persona. but then he finds out that she’s not from the capitol??? and he’s going through literal crap in his head, an absolute frenzy. because how did he let a low district girl control a part of his emotions, and how did she read through him and ignore *him*.

Oh yeah, the man would be at odds and overthinking.

He would have already felt some distaste from you cause it felt like you were reading through him so well and he hated that. He hated that someone could break through his exterior without much effort.

He’d first take notice of you when you score the highest out of anyone at the academy, rivaling his own academic prowess. He would’ve noticed you in class but paid no mind to you until then.

You, you were observing Coriolanus Snow from the very moment you got to the academy. The way he’d use his charms, his quietness, all of it to push his way forward in the capitol. But you studied his eyes. You knew something more was behind the man and for that very reason, you kept your distance. It was a gut instinct and the more time you study him and eventually force yourself to talk to him, it’s even clearer in your head.

Coryo would be confused if he hated you or admired you. It was probably a mixture of both but he was determined to read you just as well as you read him. So he starts digging. He finds out through eavesdropping that you’re from the districts and his entire view is shattered and shifts.

Coryo is thinking about how you don’t have the right to ignore someone of his status considering you’re from the districts. He doesn’t understand what could’ve led you here or how you would’ve gotten the right education/be smart enough to be at the same level as him. And again, it would make him deeply hate you, but along with that hate is a hint of admiration for your drive.

It’s powerful, what you’re doing, and it’s driving him mad.

let’s chat about coryo, here :)

#coryoasks #coriolanus snow #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow drabble #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x y/n

269 notes · View notes

tom-holland-stuff · 2 months

Text

Displeasing Encounters & Passionate Debates // Chapter 2

My Masterlist

// Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 - mood-board // Chapter 3 //

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

Summery: After returning form district 12 Coriolanus snow has had everything handed to him on a silver platter. Wealth, status, power, he's got it all. What happens when he discovers that Dr Gaul, his mentor, has taken on a new assistant.

Warning: SFW - for now. Swearing. (let me know if i forgot any)

A/N: Hey Hey everyone, i'm so beyond glad that you all like chapter 1!! I honestly couldn't wait to share this next part with you all and i hope you enjoy it just as much if not more. Chapter 3 is actually already done, i just have to proof read and let me just say things will be gettin spicy...

Word Count: 2.3K

The past week has been less than manageable for Coriolanus. Around this time of year the capital enters into a season of continuous social events. From opulent galas to extravagant balls and leisurely brunches, every imaginable type of festivity adorned the calendar. Not that the capital is known for anything less than a good time, but at this time of the year it seems to be occasion after occasion.

Yet, for Coriolanus, these events were more burdensome than enjoyable, especially since the war. There was a time when his family flourished in these festivities, but even with his new found riches and elitist status, Coryo has not developed a likeness for these such things.

To compound matters, the university's exam period loomed over him like a menacing spectre, casting a shadow over his already overwhelmed schedule.

Buried under a mountain of study materials and invitations, Coriolanus finally found a momentary respite as he made his way to visit his mentor, Dr. Gaul. His interactions with her have been limited to brief consultations after her office hours or clandestine meetings in the university's labs, where time for anything beyond academic pursuits was a luxury he couldn't afford. Needless to say, Coryo is keen to return to the lab and commence working with Dr. Gaul.

He makes his way down the sleek hallways of the Citadel. Being a weekday in office hours the building is busier than he is used to seeing it. People clad in white coats smoothly streamline through the halls at a steady pace.

Within no time he is approaching the all too familiar doors to the main lab. The surroundings jog memories from the past few weeks when he has attended brisque meetings with the professor,

because no matter how brief his meeting may have been he always managed to run it her.

Y/n would always be seated in the same position as she was when they first met, and every-time he would walk past they would acknowledge each other with a harsh stare. If Coriolanus didn't know any better he would think her resting face was a constant look of utter displeasure.

What a waste of a pretty face.

He quickly shakes his head, disgusted with the fact that he even conjured those words in his mind.

The distasteful thought prompts him to look to his side ready to engage in the brief - displeasing interaction. But to his surprise, the desk is empty.

A wave of relief washes over him, mingled with a tinge of curiosity..

He tries to affirm to himself that he is relieved to not have to see her face today, but he can’t help but wonder why y/n is not seated in her usual station.

His relief, however, was short-lived, replaced by a sense of unease as he collided with something—or rather, someone—unexpectedly.

It makes a disgruntled huff, causing Coryo to look down in the direction of where his body made impact. There he sees y/n. Kneeling on the floor in front of him…

She scrambles to pick up the papers and folders that are now in a heap on the floor.

Coriolanus makes no attempt to help her, rather he watches in amusement. As she struggles to regain her composure, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

He crosses his arms and looks down on her.

Once she has pulled herself together and neatly stacked her paperwork, y/n looks up at Coryo with a piercing gaze, still kneeling at his feet.

His smirk drops as an unfamiliar feeling rushes over him, far to aware of the site he finds himself in. The position he and y/n found themselves in went from funny to…. to….

He can’t think of a word to describe it. (or he'd rather not think of it)

He takes a step back to give her some space to stand, her eyes never leaving his.

“How kind of you to offer me help'' she states, words dripping in sarcasm. Seemingly unaffected the same way he was.

Coriolanus quickly straightens himself and plasters that dumb smirk back on his face.

“You're very welcome,” he grins, matching her tone.

With that, y/n huffs and rolls her eyes, making her way back to her desk.

Coriolanus takes this as his cue to continue his venture into the lab, but he can’t help but look back and examine y/n as she annoyedly rummages through her now disorganised papers. He can’t seem to shake that odd feeling he experienced before. So rather he focuses on how her current displeasure brings him joy.

As the days passed, Coriolanus's encounters with Y/n grew increasingly frequent, each interaction punctuated by a palpable sense of discord. Whether it was their chance collisions in the university halls or their confrontations in Dr. Gaul's lectures, their dynamic seemed fraught with unresolved tension.

That brings us to the present moment. Coryo was attending university, walking through the halls with his fellow peers when he once again hit something hard as he turned a corner

For god's sake, he thinks.

And then he looks down...

For fuck's sake

One the ground once again is y/n scrambling to pick up the papers she had dropped… once again.

“Are you following me?” he asks semi-demandingly, annoyance hidden in the back of his throat.

y/n Stands up and quickly straightens her self “for me to have been following you would require me to watch where you're going, and based off our collision i would say no” she says matter of factly, barely even looking at him as she flicks through her papers to make sure they are all in order.

Coriolanus gives her a once over. Y/n is not dressed in her typical business attire, instead she adorns a crisp white lab coat and red scrub like top and pants.

Before he is able to say anything else, y/n squeezes between Coriolanus and his friends in the direction of Dr. Gauls office he assumes. As she moves she brushes past him, the contact making his nostrils flare in annoyance.

And He Prays that he doesn't have to see her aggravating face again… for at last a while

Coriolanus is not a religious person, but he is certain now if there is a god they definitely do not faver him. Not even a few hours later he is entering one of the university's lecture halls for Dr. Gauls tutorial in (think of a name for a subject that discusses the ethics of the hunger games) and there she is, Y/n, standing in the centre of the room taking notes as Dr. Gaul speaks to her.

The lecture hall is shaped like an amphitheater of sorts. Levels of chairs with desks cascade down and around a flat space in the middle of the room, similar to a stage.

Coriolanus moves quickly to a seat not wanting to give y/n the satisfaction of his attention (not that she was looking anyway).

As the class settles and Dr. Gauls takes her place in the centre to address her eager students, y/n sits down at a small desk on the floor, its space occupied with what looks like an acrylic black box, its colour a stark difference to the rest of the room. Coryo now can’t help but stare now as y/n reaches into the box… no cage, and pulls out a white snake.

y/n holds it softly in her hands as it weaves around her expenditures. She lifts the snake above her head and places it around her neck, it looked to be maybe two feet long, it wrapped it's self easily around her shoulders.

He brings his attention back to Gaul as y/n’s head shoots up in his direction. Quickly settling his gaze away he tunes into what his professor is explaining.

“This new form of technology allows the wearer of the device, similar to a headband, to control their chosen mutt , making them do as they wish. The device scans and mimics the waves made by our brain and delivers them to the chip implanted in the mutt's nervous system through electromagnetic currents.”

Dr Gaul then turns in y/n’s direction, silently giving her a cue to demonstrate. Y/n looks at the snake and it pauses for a second, as if they are having a mental discussion, and then wraps itself around her torso, spiralling down her frame until it reaches the floor.

The reptile makes its way towards the stairs of the auditorium, swiftly slithering off the hardwood floor. Gasps and small squeals can be heard as the snake passes under Students feet, making its way higher and higher. Clemensia Dovecote lets out a blood curdling scream and stands on her table as the snake passes her bye. Unfazed the slithering creature makes a direct line for Coriolanus's table.

The Reptile wraps itself around Coryo’s leg, spiralling upwards until it lays atop his desk.

He is Tensing every muscle in his body, Coriolanus didn't hate snakes but he certainly wasn’t fond of them (not having a great history with them himself). The slithering creature lifts its body up until its face to face with Coryo.

Its stark black tongue darts out rhythmically as it tastes the air, The dark colour contrasts the unnaturally silky white scales that adorn its body.

Coriolanus scrunches his face in unpleasantness.

And then, as if it was able to register Coryo’s distaste for it, the snake let out a violent hiss, spreading its mouth open and flashing its fangs. He tries his best not to flinch, but he can’t help but lean back as the snake halls itself higher arching its body as if it was reading to strike.

“Thank you y/n” Dr Gaul’s voice echoes through the room and the snake freezes.

Coriolanus dosen’t let his gaze fall from the snake until it begins to move. He follows it with his eyes as it slithers away, noticing y/n now positioned directly in front of his desk. The snake curls around her arm and makes its way to her shoulders where it hangs comfortably.

“If i didn’t know any better i’d say you were afraid” Y/n taunts as she strokes the body of the reptilian creature.

“You must be mistaking me for Clemmy here” he deflects her comment and points notedly at his peer who still remains curled up in her chair shaking with her eyes closed.

y/n simply hums, and brings her attention back to the blonde haired boy in front of her.

Just as he thinks she is about to walk away the snake darts out, mere inches from Coriolanus's face. He only allows himself to get a glimpse of its sharp fangs before he screws his eyes shut.

Y/n chuckles deeply, the snakes behaviour clearly still under her command.

“Get that vile creature away from me before I turn into a belt myself” Coriolanus spits out, his words laced with venom.

“Now, now…” y/n tuts, slowly stroking the back of the snake as it resumes its position on her frame.

“... you should know better than to insult your own kind” she smirks.

y/n swiftly walks away before Coryo is able to get a last word in

The nerve on this bitch

He is barely able to focus on the rest of the lecture, far too riled up by the class's previous events. He sits rigid in his chair, nostrils flaring as he stares y/n down for the remainder of the class.

She however, never once looks back in his direction, but oh he knows she can feel his burning gaze by the way she shifts almost awkwardly, forcing herself to place her eyes anywhere other than him.

He barely even registers that the lecture is being dismissed until students begin to push past his desk. He reaches down for his bag and makes an effort to leave his chair, stopped by the sound of Dr. Gauls voice ringing through the almost empty hall.

“Mr. Snow, a moment” she beckons him.

He makes his way steadily down the stairs of the room. Reaching the lower level, he surveys the area quickly, eyes falling on y/n as she whispers something to the black box that now holds the reptilian mutt, eyes locking with his. He refuses to look away, attempting to assert some sort of superiority to her.

y/n narrows her eyes fiercely at him, picking up the cage and walks out of the room.

Coriolanus shifts his attention back to his mentor.

“In such fast paced times, one can only spread themselves so thin” Dr. Gaul plainly states. Unsure what she is vaguely referring too, Coriolanus offers her a curt nod in acknowledgment.

“I have a request,” she continues.

“In the next coming nights there is to be a gala of sorts and i require you to be in attendance”

Coriolanus holds himself higher, the flattery of the innovation overpowering his distaste for such events.

“Thank you, Dr. Gaul. i would be honoured” he asserts.

Dr. Gauls' already wicked grin grows wider, sinister even. She chuckles deeply, amused.

“How wonderful ... y/n and yourself will have the most splendid of times”

Are.

you.

Fucking.

Serious.

His jew clenches, he wishes he was able to protest. Instead he simply offers a strict nod in Dr. Gauls direction and races out of the room.

As he leaves the lecture hall, Coriolanus found himself consumed by a turbulent mix of emotions—anger, frustration, and a gnawing sense of unease.

His interactions with Y/n had left him unsettled, his usual facade of indifference crumbling in the face of their escalating conflict. The prospect of spending more time in her company filled him with a sense of dread, his resentment simmering beneath a veneer of polite acquiescence.

As he swiftly makes his way through the halls of the university, wishing nothing more than to forgot the events of today, he swears he can hear the echoing of Dr. Gauls amused laugh.

what a strange, strange women.

A/N: Soooooooo... what did we think?? what are your guy's thoughts on whats to happen next? please let me know if you have any suggestions ideas or ask me a question x you can do that here.

Also i don't give permission for my work to be posted without credit or whatever.

TAG LIST // Let me know if you want to be tagged!!!

@secretsicanthideanymore

#coryo snow #coriolanus snow #tom blyth #tbosas #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo smut #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow smut

159 notes · View notes

imsofuckingdonewiththisgoddamn · 5 months

Text

When Our Stars Cross Paths; II Treech x Mentor!Reader

Pairing: Treech x Mentor!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None

Sweet Angels🪻: @nemesii @mrsyixingunicorn10 @chmpgneprblem

You had no reason to be this nervous.

That’s what you tried to convince yourself as you added the finishing touches to your outfit-a pair of teardrop shaped garnet earrings and an array of silver rings. You brought your hands down to smooth out your olive green dress, opting against wearing the flashy uniforms of the Academy.

The train carrying the tributes was due to arrive at the station in just under an hour, yet you had failed to get yourself to leave the comfort of your apartment. You wrote it off as being a perfectionist and wanting to make sure you embodied the glamour that was the Capitol. But you knew the truth deep down…

You were terrified.

Despite your outwardly confident and bold persona, you had always chased validation from anyone who would give it to you. After you had started expressing your distaste for the Capitol’s vision of the Hunger Games, your parents had almost seemed to forget you existed. Preferring to ignore you than to come to terms with the fact that their daughter was a district sympathizer.

So as you touched up your eyeliner, you started brainstorming ways you could win over Treech’s trust. You knew he wasn’t going to be pleased to have to talk to any Capitol citizen, especially after what you saw of him during the Reapings. The resentment, the bitterness, the disgust.

However Treech hadn’t been the only person who garnered your interest. The girl from District 12, Lucy Gray had put on a spectacular performance following her reaping. Despite her misfortune, she had shown an impressive amount of spunk and moxie. Something that immediately made you gain respect for the younger girl. Coriolanus, who had originally been displeased at being selected as her mentor, had reveled in the attention his tribute gathered, which had transferred over to him. That was the thing about Coriolanus, he loved people who benefited him. You could tell from the mere way he pretended to tolerate Sejanus’s presence. Tight lipped smiles and strained conversation, Snow wasn’t always the most discreet about his true feelings. No matter how many times the district boy tried to convince you of Coriolanus, your opinion hadn’t been swayed. You knew that deep down, the blonde had a small hope of working his way into Mr. Plinth’s good graces through Sejanus. He was a leech, as your grandmother would’ve said.

Gathering your canvas bag—which was filled to the brim with chicken salad sandwiches, water bottles, various fruits you had gathered from your kitchen, and freshly baked pastries, you made your way to the front door. Although you were only given the task of taking care of one tribute, it felt inhumane to only bring food for Treech. After hearing how some of your classmates reacted to their “unlucky picks”, you knew some—if not most of them wouldn’t bother to show up.

The walk to the train station helped to settle some of your anxieties. You adored the outdoors, and wished the Capitol had spared some of their natural forests and mountains instead of urbanizing every square foot of land they could take. The land that had remained untouched however, had been combed over by you, memorizing every blade of grass and every species of bird you came across. Many mornings where you allowed yourself to skip class had been spent taking nature walks with Sejanus, and even Clemmie and Lysistrata when they gave in to your pleading.

Despite your “radical ideals”, you still took pleasure in the company of several of your fellow peers. Before Sejanus moved to the Capitol, you, Lyzzie, and Clemmie had formed an unofficial friend group, spending your school days before the war weaving flower crowns and hosting elegant tea parties. Even now the three of you took care to ensure the longevity of your sisterhood, organizing girls’ days where you binged outlawed romcoms and ordered from whatever takeout sounded the most appetizing. This wasn’t to say they were your only friends, you and Diana were both fond of atronomy, and partnered with each other whenever the topic arose during class. And Festus had been known to forge late slips for you after one of your morning excursions, in exchange for some of your homeade sweets. Even Arachne, as stuck up and anti-district as she was, held a significant amount of respect for you, which you reciprocated. Both of you admired the other’s bluntness and unwavering loyalty to their respective opinions.

Your blissful reflection of your youth was interrupted by a rather grim thought, or rather a reality check. Twenty three kids were going to die. And while you had the privilege to lose yourself in your imagination of the freedom and opportunity you would be granted once you graduated from the academy, you had spared barely a single thought to the pour souls you were about to come face-to-face with. The weight of your bag pulling down on your shoulder eased some of your guilt. You couldn’t save them, but you could ensure they were well taken care of until the bitter end.

As you approached the entrance to the train station, you caught glimpse of a bright vermillion coat. The same coat you had chosen to bury deep in your wardrobe, in favor of a more approachable summer dress. Suddenly refreshed from the excitement of meeting another student, your pace picked up and you rushed around the corner to see which of your peers had had a similar idea to yours. Though to your dismay, you were greeted by the out of breath face of none other than Coriolanus Snow. He gripped a white rose firmly in his hand, his Academy uniform sticking out like a sore thumb against the muted colors of the train station. The peculiar color of the rose indicated he must’ve convinced his grandmother or ‘Grandma’am’ as he and Tigris affectionately referred to her as, to pluck one of her precious roses from her rooftop garden.

While you weren’t a fan of Coriolanus himself, the feeling didn’t extend to the rest of the Snow family. Tigris, his cousin was a stylist—though a heavily taken advantage one, at the boutique you often frequented with Clemmie and Lyzzie on your girls’ trips. The older cousin possessed a sweet and docile demeanor that made you instantly fond of her, often stopping by at the boutique for minor readjustments that you could’ve easily fixed on your own, just for the opportunity to converse with the tall blonde. You learned a lot about the Snow family from these visits; from Coriolanus’s childhood nickname, Coryo—which you found to be endearing despite his character, to the financial struggles they had burdened since they were both orphaned during the war. These small glimpses into the boy’s life had slightly altered the way you saw him. While you would never be able to trust the boy or let alone build a rapport with him, you sympathized with his struggles and hardships.

Lifting your gaze from your bulky canvas bag to the blonde boy standing in front of you, you offered him a gentle smile. Maybe he was maturing after all. Nobody else had bothered to show up for their tribute, not even Sejanus, thought that was most likely due to the dread of having to come face-to-face with a former classmate who viewed him as a traitor.

Coriolanus returned your gesture, though a bit more forced and strained on his part. His eyes were darting back and forth all around the train station, most likely looking for the train that would be pulling in any second now carrying the tributes.

Carrying Treech.

Your quickly spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a throat clearing. You turned to face Coriolanus, who looked as if he was about to speak to you, when the deafening sound of a train horn sounded from down at the end of one of the tunnels.

It was now or never.

Quickly making your way towards the edge of the tracks where the train was currently pulling in, you shuffled your canvas bag from one shoulder to the other. Suddenly quite fearful of the interactions that were about to take place. You hadn’t thought of if they had food allergies or not?? What if one of them was vegetarian?? Could you afford to be vegetarian in the districts?? Before your thoughts could spiral any further, a great fume of smoke erupted from the front of the train, the grand locomotive coming to a complete stop just feet in front of you. Snow wasted no time maneuvering around you and making his way to the back of the train cars, where Lucy Gray was bound to get off. You however, stayed where you were, rocking on the heels of your mary janes as you waited for the tributes from District one to disembark. You had managed to snag a sheet off of Dean Highbottom that contained a list of all the tributes names and their respective districts when he was to intoxicated to notice. A quick glance at your cheat sheet reassured your slight qualms over forgetting their names, Facet and Velvereen.

After a brief few moments of anticipation, the doors of the car flew open and two dirty sickly looking teenagers in matching white cardigans hobbled onto the platform. Facet going first and turning around to offer his assistance to Velvereen, a gesture which she gladly accepted. This small act of chivalry seemed to restore your confidence, and before you could think, your feet were moving towards the pair. A determined smile creeping up onto your face.

“Hi! Are either of you two hungry?”

The pair quickly spun around, eyes wide and startled as if they were frightened by the mere sound of your voice. Getting a good look at their faces for the first time, they looked quite different than the grainy images you had seen from a distance in the Academy. Facet’s golden hair was matted after days of travel, and Velvereen’s heart shaped face was rounded with a softness that made appear to be much younger than she actually was.

Sliding the canvas bag off your shoulder, you held out the bag for them. Offering the goodies and an encouraging smile.

Facet was the first to reach in, hesitantly pulling out a cherry danish before ultimately backing away. After catching a glimpse of the sweets her partner had pulled out, she deemed you safe enough to approach and reached in to grab two water bottles. A peacekeeper then approached, ushering the two to keep moving across the station. They were quick to scatter off, but not before Velvereen sent a soft smile your way.

Making your way down to the next train car, you were met by Marcus and his district partner, Sabyn, both looking weary and confused as they hopped onto the platform.

“Sandwiches? Water?” You offered, slightly intimidated by Marcus’s muscular stature. Sabyn didn’t seem to hold any of the hesitation the pair from District one had, and quickly reached in to grab two sandwiches and a brownie wrapped in tinfoil. She passed one of the sandwiches off to Marcus, and while he eyed you from where he stood, he quickly scarfed the sandwich without a complaint. Sabyn took her time, gently unwrapping the warm brownie from the tinfoil, almost as if she was scared it would disappear if she moved too fast. Once unwrapped, she too quickly ate her food, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips as her hand went towards the bag for a second. However, just as her hand grazed the canvas material, she seemed to recoil as if the bag was burning to the touch.

“It’s okay, you’re more than welcome to take a second.” You were beyond relieved that you were able to provide some sort of comfort after what appeared to be an exhausting journey. Meekly, Sabyn allowed herself to reach back into the bag, this time pulling out a slice of carrot cake. She quickly stowed the sandwich and baked good in her pocket before turning to Marcus, waiting to see if he would take anything. He shook his head, already paranoid at the vulnerability they were displaying to this stranger. Sabyn seemed disappointed by his reluctance but still gave a polite thank you before turning back to walk towards her partner.

Time seemed to fly as you made your way down the cars, stopping at each one to offer your depleting bag. The pair from District three seemed skeptical, but in the end the boy, Circ took a water bottle before the two were pulled away by peacekeepers. Coral from District four was put on defense as soon as you approached, but backed down when she saw how weary her district partner, Mizzen looked. The boy who couldn’t have been older than thirteen, shot out towards the bag after Coral gave him a nod of approval, ultimately grabbing a sandwich and chocolate chip cookie which seemed to intrigue him greatly. Coral gave a curt but polite thank you as she protectively led the now buzzing boy away. Hy and Sol from District five were too dehydrated to be cautious of the welcoming stranger before them, and immediately pulled out two water bottles which they proceeded to down in a few desperate gulps. You smiled at their eagerness and pulled out a few berry danishes, offering them to Hy who had finished his water first and was now wiping his mouth with the back of his dirty jacket. He gave a quick glance to Sol, who nodded encouragingly to him. He gingerly took the pastries, offering a dimpled smile before he and Sol were ushered across the platform. You moved down to the car which contained the pair from District six, Otto and Ginnee. While both appeared to be dehydrated and emaciated, they ultimately refused anything from the canvas bag, scattering off after being startled by a peacekeeper yelling a few meters away from the three of them. Shifting the bag back onto your shoulder, you made your way down to the next car, coming to a halt as you realized who you would be met by…

The doors to the car banged open, and a teary eyed girl you recognized as Lamina appeared in the shadows. The sight of you sent a small whimper to escape from her lips and the redhead quickly vanished back into the shadows as another face emerged.

Treech looked to be almost a completely different person than the one you remembered from the Reapings. His eyes no longer wide and fearful, but rather sharp and observant. His dark curls were still hidden underneath the worn out hat, and his well defined jawline twitched as he looked out across the station, not paying any particular attention to you. After a brief scanning he hopped down onto the platform, turning around to offer his hand to Lamina in a similar fashion to that of Facet. Lamina gingerly took his hand slightly stumbling off onto the platform as she braced herself against Treech’s shoulders. Now deciding that this would be the time to introduce yourself as his mentor, you cleared your throat before approaching the pair.

Lamina who had already noticed you, cowered behind Treech, very much still on edge from the Reapings as well as the train ride. Confused at Lamina’s sudden fright, Treech turned to see what had scared her, and was slightly shocked to see that it was not a peacekeeper or another tribute, but rather a girl.

“Hi, You must be Treech! i’m Y/N, your mentor!”

A/N

Sorry there isn’t as much Treech content this chapter as y’all probably wanted 😭. I don’t want to rush this series and want to spend the first few chapters really building the MC’s background. The good news is that my classes are dying down for winter break and i’ll be posting A LOT in the coming weeks, might even post a third chapter tomorrow 😌.

Would you guys like me to make a playlist to go along with this? Or mood boards?

xoxo

279 notes · View notes

starsbies · 4 months

Text

Hungry For Your Love (Coriolanus x !Plinth Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, drugging, drinking, Coriolanus is his own warning, jealousy, breeding kink, manipulation, forced pregnancy, virginity loss, forced marriage (lmk if i missed some)

divider by @cafekitsune

porn w some plot or when coriolanus decides he wants you.

18+ only MDNI

wc - 4.4k

Coriolanus wouldn’t deny all the things he had in his mind. About all the things he would do to you. Especially in this very moment of time.

You were sitting right next to him at the dinner table. Ever since he got rid of Sejanus–and became the new son of the Plinths–he had to eat dinner with the Plinths every two or so weeks. Although he found their district status to be quite deplorable, their wealth wasn’t. And to be frank you weren’t either.

To Coriolanus, you were the epitome of class and obedience. Well, almost, the way your leg was bouncing wasn't classy at all. Under different circumstances he would just put his hand on your thigh to stop you. Then he’d slowly make his hand upwards and-

“Coriolanus, what do you think?”

The old man broke Coryo out of his train of thought. Suddenly his mind was going a million miles per minute. What were they talking about? Something about a project for.. No, that's not right. A new building? For the University maybe?

Then you spoke up, “Well Pa, personally I think a new cafeteria for the Academy is long overdue. It would’ve been nice to not have such a beat up cafeteria when I was a student.”

He looked at you in the corner of his eye. You had a strand of your hair tucked behind your hair and your leg was no longer bouncing. Had you purposely saved him?

Then he remembered that he still needed to answer Strabo. Coriolanus cleared his throat, “I think I’d have to agree with Y/N. The cafeteria dates back before the war so I believe it’s definitely overdue for a new building.”

Strabo nodded in acknowledgement before continuing to bite into his steak. Coriolanus decided to do the same and then took another peek at you. You looked so gorgeous to him, well you do everyday—but today was a treat.

You wore a red dress that went to your knees. It covered just enough to be considered modest. Your hair was down but he could see your dangling pearl earrings. He noted how you’d make a perfect bride for him. Beautiful, graceful, and heiress to the family business and fortune. In exchange he would give you status.

Together you two would be the elite of the elite.

“So Coryo,” the blond internally winced. He hated when Mrs. Plinth called him that. “How's it going being Dr. Gaul’s understudy?”

“Well, there’s a lot of work, you know.” He took a deep breath, “We’ve been working on remaking the Jabberjays, since they can’t reproduce on their own we have to make a whole new species of them. We want to use them in the next Hunger Games so-”

A sudden chair screeching interrupted him. He turned and saw you standing. You excused yourself from the table, claiming you needed to finish writing an essay. Coriolanus wasn’t dumb, he knew why you really left. Though you’re very different from your brother there were also some ways the two of you were similar. Your distaste towards the Hunger Games was something that he’d have to help you get over if you’re to be the first lady of Panem.

Coriolanus waited a few moments before also excusing himself and he found himself making his way to your room. As he started nearing your room he started asking himself, what was he doing? What would he say when you asked him why he was here?

He couldn’t just proclaim you as his wife and tell you to get over it. Not yet, anyway.

He eventually came to the conclusion that it was probably best to just leave. Grandma'am and Tigris were waiting anyway.

That night Coriolanus had dreamt of you. That in itself wasn’t really a rare occurrence by any means, but the things you told him—the things you did to him—in his dreams was what made him wake up rock hard and sweaty. You really are such a tease.

After a few seconds of laying in bed, Coriolanus decided that since a certain problem won’t go away any time soon it was time to get his day started. Once he stood up he nearly started to make his own bed. A bad habit of his. Before the Plinth’s started providing everything he needed, Coriolanus always had to make his own bed. He always had to clean up for himself. Now he has Avoxes to do that for him. Old habits do die hard.

When Coriolanus stepped into the bathroom he wasn’t surprised to see that the bath wasn’t drawn for him like usual. He was up way earlier than usual. He sighed and turned on the water. He started undressing and then checked the water temperature. Once he decided the water was warm enough he slowly started to insert himself into the tub.

Once he was fully submerged, he closed his eyes and eased his body. He recounted the images from his dream and subconsciously his hands started moving to his shaft.

“Sir, please.. Please let me see it.” you were in that slutty red dress that you wore last night. And you were on your knees for him. The thought of that was biting and delicious. He’d tell you no, just so you’d beg more.

In his dream, Coriolanus stood from his chair. Now towering over you, he unzipped his pants allowing his cock to spring free. You immediately took it into your mouth.

Would you be that desperate for him in real life?

Coriolanus needs you as much as any man needs air. He gritted his teeth, unable to hold on much longer. Slowly, the blond starts pumping his shaft. It was so animalistic and enticing, the image he had of you. He couldn’t help but choke back his wails of pleasure. He was afraid of being caught by Tigris, or even worse–the grandma’am–but he couldn’t help himself.

In his fantasy you’re swallowing him whole, deepthroating every inch of him. Your cheeks hollowed out and your tongue was swirling around him like a good girl. He grabs you by both sides of your head and starts fucking your face like an animal.

Soon enough Coriolanus can feel himself reaching his climax. His legs are weak as he tries to imagine himself pouring his seed into you, and not some bathtub. You’d most certainly look divine carrying his child.

After a few moments after his climax he realized how tainted that whole ordeal was. Yet, he thinks that he would do it again, and again. Until he had you.

Coriolanus sighs as he drains the tub and draws up another bath. This time around the bath was short.

The next time Coriolanus saw you–in person–was at a party hosted by Clemensia. He was surprised to see you. You weren’t usually the type to go out, especially to parties like these. Unless there was a good reason for you to come. Or had you finally made an effort to debut into Capitol society? Hopefully the latter.

He continued to observe you from afar. You were sitting with one leg crossed over the other. Seemingly deep in thought. Or you were, until a tall and pretty lean gentleman approached you. Your face lit up and Coriolanus wished you’d look at him like that.

Who is he? How did he know you, how did you know him?

Coriolanus quickly sought out Clemensia, it was her party so she must know. It didn’t take long to find the black haired girl. She was speaking with Festus and the two were clearly laughing about something that didn’t really seem too important. He approached the two and whispered “Clemmie,” a nickname he only used if he needed something, “Can I steal you for a minute?”

The girl stilled for a second before telling Festus to give them a second. She looked up at Coriolanus, “What is it, Coryo?”

He wasted no time in asking who the male that was with you was.

Clemensia sighed, “Her plus one, I invited her ‘cause she’s rich and the heir to her father’s business. It’s good to have her on my good side. Wasn’t really expecting her to come so I told her to bring a plus one if she wanted.”

Plus one? You not only came to a party, but brought a plus one? Were the two of you together? The thought of that makes someone churn in his stomach. “So who is he?”

“Don’t really know. Pretty sure they bonded over their hatred of the games, he was probably homeschooled.”

Coriolanus felt sick and Clemensia noticed. She took a step back. “Hey, you look like you might vomit all over the place.. You know where the guest bathroom is right?” He nodded. “Good. There’s a medicine cabinet in there too, if you want. Please don’t ruin my party, Coryo.”

Coriolanus nodded his head before making his way to the bathroom. He stood over the toilet for a couple of moments, and nothing happened. He figured that it would be best to take some medicine before heading out, just in case. He opened a few different cabinets before finding the right one.

He knew there’d be lots of different bottles, but he still wasn’t expecting such a variety. Coriolanus knew that Clemensia struggled a lot, mentally, after the snake incident so he knew there’d be lots of prescriptions in here. Curiosity got the best of him and he started going through each one. There were a few anxiety prescriptions, like benzodiazepines, which he expected. However, he took notice of all the insomnia medications. There were so many sleeping pills. The one that caught his attention the most was flunitrazepam. It’s a powerful sedative, and he’s wondering if Clemensia really takes such a strong drug to sleep?

There was a little voice in the back of his mind telling him to take some. Not for himself of course. To give to you. Coriolanus wishes that he still had a little angel on his shoulder, telling him it was a bad idea. A voice to persuade him not to. But there wasn’t. Has there ever been?

Before Coriolanus knew it he was unscrewing the cap and took out one of the small pills. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and laid it beside the sink. He set the pill on top before smashing it into tiny pieces. He rolled the handkerchief—with the sedative still inside—into a ball and shoved it into his coat pocket.

Before Coriolanus left the bathroom he made sure to take medicine for his stomach ache. Just in case.

He made his way to the bar, where an Avox was bartending. He put up two of his fingers to the bartender. As it started making the drinks, Coriolanus sought you out again. Unsurprisingly, you were still in the same spot. The only difference now was that the male was sitting beside you, and Coriolanus could feel himself becoming more and more aggravated. He turned back around, not wanting to see you laughing at the other man’s joke any longer.

A few seconds later the Avox set two drinks in front of him and Coriolanus took no time in taking out his handkerchief and spilling the contents into one of the glasses. The Avox watched the whole thing happen and could only raise its eyebrows in response. Coriolanus smirked knowing it couldn’t say anything. Coriolanus took a glass into each hand, noting that the one with the sedative in it was in his right hand.

The closer Coriolanus got, the more nervous he became. Part of him felt bad, really. You're just an innocent girl, one who is easily swayed. That had to be it. Sejanus must’ve started your hatred towards the hunger games, and that man continues to spark that hatred. Someone needs to save you, to wake you up. He won’t let you do something stupid like Sejanus did. Coriolanus is saving you, and this is the only way he can do it.

“Y/N Plinth, what a pleasant surprise!” he exclaimed, as if he wasn’t already of her attendance. You looked up at him, and he swore his heart rate went up.

“Oh, Coriolanus. Good to see you too.”

You clearly were uncomfortable with his interruption. Was he the first person to approach you? Coriolanus was thinking about how to ease the tension when your plus one spoke up instead. “Hello, I’m Chiron. Nice to meet you.”

Coriolanus took a few minutes to soak in the male’s appearance. He had dark hair, and blue eyes. His jawline was square and Coriolanus took note of how his suit was lower end. Was he even Capitol? Then he turned back to you. You wore a simple black dress and heels. A timeless outfit. He noted that you did an updo with your hair, to show off your earrings. Stunning.

“Nice to meet you too, Chiron. Sadly, I only have two drinks, you don’t mind do you?”

The brown haired man shrugged and you finally spoke up again, “Oh, it’s okay. I don’t drink.” How cute, Coriolanus thought. “Oh c’mon, it’ll help you ease up a little. I can tell you’re a little tense.”

His tone was light, but he could tell he might’ve sounded more demanding. You sighed and gave him a tiny smile. He made sure he gave you the one in his right hand. You held it and eager to get you to drink it, he raised his glass. “To Sejanus.” A toast that you knew you couldn’t refuse.

You raise your glass afterwards and whispered, “To my brother.” Without waiting for Coriolanus to lower his glass, you took a giant swing of the drink.

After a couple minutes of small talking, he could tell that the drug was slowly taking effect. You were swaying and kept trying to steady yourself. Until you couldn’t and Chiron had to catch you from falling.

“Woah hey, are you okay?” the brunette asked and of course you gave no response. “What’s wrong with her? Did you do something?” the man gave Coriolanus an accusatory glare.

“No! Of course not.” Coriolanus paused for a moment, thinking of what he could say to sell his lie. “Wait.. I can’t believe I forgot she’s a lightweight. I should’ve realized when she said she doesn’t drink.”

“You did this on purpose didn’t you!” Chiron started shouting at Coriolanus. “Did you spike her drink or something? You did, didn't you!”

All the background chatter from the other attendees quieted down. Observing the scene before them. “Why would I do that? I would never even consider doing that to her, I-”

Then Clemensia stepped in. “What’s going on here, Coryo? I asked you not to ruin my party.” Her eyes landed on you and then up to Coriolanus, clearly expecting a good explanation.

He sighed. “This man is making very harmful accusations. He’s saying I drugged her. Y/N’s just a lightweight.”

“Is that true?”

He already knew she’d believe him and the brunette knew it too.

“Look, whatever. I’m taking her home.” he said, and started to pick you up before Coriolanus spoke up again.

“No.. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Do you think so Clemmie?”

“Well I don’t know I-”

“Clemmie, do you want her to be taken by some guy that nobody knows?” his voice was eager, he can’t let all of this trouble go to waste. “Who knows what he’ll do to her?” He whispered, only loud enough for her to hear.

Clemmie sighed. “I guess not, maybe she should just sleep in one of the guest bedrooms?”

After that people began to whisper and that felt more eerie than the silence.

“I’ll stay with her.” Chiron was clearly trying desperately to save you. Sadly for him, he doesn’t have nearly the same amount of power as Coriolanus.

Before Coriolanus could persuade Clemensia to say no, she did it on her own. Telling him that he needs to leave her party, since the reason he was even allowed to come—you—was no longer, technically, here.

And that was that. Two Avoxes wasted no time in escorting the man out. Coriolanus could only smirk to himself. He made a mental note to thank Clemensia in the future.

“I guess I’ll take her to the guest bedroom then?” He finally allowed himself a deep breath in and out. Everything he’s ever worked for has led to this moment.

“Coriolanus.” Clemensia’s voice was serious and blond found himself coming back to reality. “Don’t hurt her.”

He looked down and found that she was already looking at him. Her face was hard and eyes were cold and serious. Like a snake. Coriolanus gulped, “I would never dream of it.”

And she believed him.

Coriolanus took no time in picking you up bridal style. On his way to the bedroom, he passed the bar and made eye contact with the same Avox that watched him spike your drink. He couldn’t help but feel his pride grow as the Avox quickly looked away. Surely aware of what was going to take place.

In the past the blond felt bad about the seemingly inhumane ways the Capitol removed tongues from people who spoke out or rebelled. He always thought about the pain, and how cruel it was to take away their communication, then force them into servitude. That was him a long time ago however. Now he understands the importance of such policies. Power and control, two words that Coriolanus resonated with.

Once he made it to the bedroom he laid you gently onto the mattress. He didn’t immediately take off his clothes, or yours. He just sat there and studied you. You were so irresistible. How hadn’t he noticed earlier? Was it because Sejanus bothered him so much that he never noticed you? Whatever the reason was, Sejanus was now gone and you were going to be his–soon.

The thought that more nights like this—nights with you— were in his future made him grow hard. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He began by taking off your heels. He wondered how you could wear such ridiculous things, surely they were uncomfortable and he was proven right when he noticed the blisters on your feet. He mentally added that to his list of things he’d have to fix.

Coriolanus took time in taking off your dress. He carefully sat you upright just enough to unzip the back zipper. He even more carefully removed the dress from your body and then laid you back down. He took a moment to admire your almost bare form. You were wearing a matching black set. Nothing too much. You weren’t planning on this happening anyway.

He pushed your panties to the side and inserted one finger into you slowly. Absolutely divine, he thought. The way you felt around his finger was enough to get him drunk. He began to kiss up your legs while also thrusting his digit. Part of him wishes you were awake, just so he can see your reactions. You’d be moaning for more, begging for more, he knows it.

The blond inserted a second digit and began scissoring motions. Suddenly he hears a small whimper, so small he wasn’t even sure what it was until he heard it a second time. Were you waking up? Part of him hopes so, that way you’ll know and realize who you belong to. The other part of him wants you to keep sleeping. That way he won’t have to fight you, he already worked so hard to get here anyway.

Coriolanus momentarily stops his ministrations and removes his fingers from your wetness. He examines them, drenched in your juices. He licks his fingers clean and can feel himself getting impossibly harder. You make him so hungry, he’s starved. He can’t hold himself any longer, he tells himself. Next time, he assures himself, he’ll take his time enjoying you.

He quickly releases his length. It’s angry and red, begging for you. He huffs before finally removing your underwear. He contemplated stealing them before realizing he won’t need to after this. He quickly threw them somewhere and then he spread your legs.

He touched his cock a few times, then proceeded to coat his length in his precum. He could feel his heart pounding and his breath quickening. He aligned himself with your entrance and slowly pushed in. You were tight, and he cursed to himself because he knew he should’ve taken more time preparing you.

Once he was fully seethed inside of you, he took a moment and admired the blood on his cock. Pleased to know you hadn’t slept with that lousy Chiron guy, he slowly removed himself before shoving himself back inside of you. You were still whimpering like before, but now you wore a pained expression on your face. You could feel him.

“I know it hurts right now, love. Bear with me.” he whispered, although he wasn’t sure if you could hear him or even comprehend what he was saying.

Coriolanus could feel all the arousal pooling between the two of you. You weren’t as tight as you had been in the beginning. Now he could easily invade your gummy walls. If anything he wasn’t invading them because they sucked him back in. His lip twitched and he began to quicken his pace. After a particular thrust your body clenched around him and he let out a groan. “You like that, huh? You dirty slut.”

He began to aim harder at the same place that had you clenching around his length. When you let out a mewl he decided to go even faster. You were such a mess. A beautiful mess, one that he created and one that he will clean up.

The blond slid his hands behind your back and unclipped your bra. He quickly disposed of it and stared at your chest. Now you were fully exposed to him. He drank in the sight, no more secrets. He was going to memorize every freckle, every birthmark, every inch of your body by the end of tonight.

Every thrust made your chest bounce and he couldn’t help but take the left one in his mouth while squeezing the other. He swirled his tongue around your nipple before sucking on it lightly. In his other hand he was rubbing your nipple.

“C- Cor-”

He perked up, hearing your voice. You must be waking up. He removed his mouth from your mound, leaving a trail of his saliva, and looked at your face. You looked scared and for a second he felt bad. Then he reminded himself that you did this to yourself. In the long run, you’ll be thankful.

“Whats-” you furrowed your brows, clearly not fully awake. “What are you-”

He was quick to shush you. “Let me take care of you, okay?” He planted a kiss on your forehead, to which you tried your best to push him away. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t let your refusal be let off so lightly but you were just so weak. Instead he just took your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Be a good girl or I won’t let you cum. Understand?” He looked into your eyes and he could tell you were about to cry. Your eyes were glossed over and your face was red, from the sex or the need to cry–he wasn’t sure.

After a mere second of eye contact you turned your head to the side. He growled, tired of your disobedience. He removed one of his hands from your wrists and moved it to your jaw. He forced you to look at him.

“Keep your eyes on me,” your tears started falling and he quickened his pace, “I’m gonna take care of you.. I promise.” he wiped your cheek with his thumb. Out of lust–or fear–you nodded. He could tell you were gonna climax soon, so he removed his hand from your wrists and moved it to your clit doing circular motions. You started whimpering, holding back her moans, “Go on, moan my name.. Don’t be shy.”

“C- Coriolanus,” he hummed, questioning. “Please.. Too much.” you begged.

He grinned in satisfaction and quickened his pace. You started to squeeze him more and he knew it was coming. You started to squirm, an unfamiliar feeling surely boiling in your lower abdomen.

After a few moments longer you came undone. Coriolanus made sure to study the pure ecstasy on your face. The way your mouth opened, revealing the most gratifying moan. The way your eyes squinted, your senses became too much. It was all so lewd and he gave you no comfort in stopping his ministrations, opting to fuck you through it. He was searching for his own climax now while you were a moaning mess underneath him.

He leaned down to your ear, “I’m gonna feel you up so nice, put a baby in your womb. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You didn’t answer him, unable to not be a blubbering mess. He took the way your cunt sucked him in as an answer enough.

There it was, the coiling feeling. He became erratic, chasing that all too familiar feeling of his high. Suddenly he was the moaning mess and not you. He examined your face, and noted that you were crying more than before and that sent him over edge. He spilled every drop of his seed into you.

Then he stayed there and the world felt silent besides the two of you breathing. Everything felt surreal.

His member was soft now, and he slowly removed himself from inside you. He pushed out the cum that was leaking out. Don’t want any of that getting lost, he thought.

He laid himself onto the bed next to you. He tried looking at you, only for you to turn the other direction. He sighed, understanding that you might need time to think about everything that’s happened.

“You’ve ruined me, Coriolanus Snow.” you said, so tiny he wasn’t sure you even said it until you turned your head back to face him.

“You’ve taken everything from me.” your face was tear stained and red. Your nose was runny and he just noticed that you were sniffling.

“Everything?”

You took a shaky breath. “My life, my fortune, my future,” you closed your eyes, “my brother.”

To that his heart sank, and his eyes widened. It wasn’t often that Coriolanus felt bad, to be honest he still didn’t, but the look on your face told him he should.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, and reached out to wipe your tear-stained cheeks.

“Me too.”

#dark! coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark! coriolanus snow #!dark coriolanus

227 notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 10 months

Text

foot locker manager!sukuna x executive black!fem reader

content warning: banter, reader is kind of bougie, sexual tension, finger sucking, oral/fingering, hate fucking, panty stuffing, throat training, cumshot, pet names (miss, sweetheart, baby), Sukuna has an accent (he gives me Houston idc 😫)

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:.･*:｡.･*:｡.･

sukuna, who had been working within the mall for a few years now, had worked his way up to manager of the Foot Locker within it.

sukuna, who never took life too seriously, applied the same approach to his leadership style. His store was by far the most fun in the district. Always blasting music..bumping everything from Moneybagg to DMX (and trust, he knew every word).

everybody wanted to shop at his location. The men saw him as their homeboy; talking about basketball and women as he helped them find the perfect pair shoes to compliment their fit. And the ladies because the handsome, hilarious manager makes them smile. Greeting them with a ‘miss’ or calling them ‘gorgeous’. Smooth and fast talking, laying the charm on thick.

helping single moms find their babies the perfect shoes or the kid going to state championships the perfect basketball sneaker.

“Little man starts second grade this year. We gotta have him looking right.” “You’re going to state this year, bruh. Can’t be playing on worn out shoes. Trust me, did that and almost threw the whole tournament for us. I’ll use my discount, don’t even worry about it, lil bro.”

sukuna, who was always laced; Diamond stud earrings, a gold watch, matching necklace and the latest sneakers. Tattoos littering his muscular forearms and chest. Not to mention his signature Dior scent. Looking good and smelling even better. Any girl that he had come in contact with instantly folded at the slightest bit of flirtation. All the Sephora and Victoria’s Secret Workers were in love.

“Good morning, ladies.” “Girl, that’s Ryo I was telling you about. He fine ain’t he?”

every woman except the newest regional manager, (y/n) (l/n). Who was notorious for your no nonsense attitude and authoritative style was shocked to see how he ran his store and even more so how he greeted you as if you weren’t his boss.

“How we doing, miss? Can I help you find sum’?” “Yes, the manager. Ryomen Sukuna? Is he the one who runs this location?” “You’re in luck, baby. You’re looking at him.”

sukuna, who carried on with business as usual, watched you give glances and eye tolls as you jotted down notes on your clipboard. Strutting around in that short pencil skirt, tight shirt and tall heels. Wet and wavy flowing down your back and face done up. He hadn’t seen a bitch as bad as you in a long time, if ever.

sukuna, who couldn’t help but to stare and ogle as you followed him around the store. Completely puzzled by how someone so fine could be so damn mean..listening to you spout off orders about how this shelf should be organized and how that display was against regulation. And especially how the music was distasteful.

“No disrespect, miss. But I run this store so let me do my job and stay out of the way. I do the best numbers in the district every month, I don’t see the problem.” “You won’t be for long if I have anything to do with it. This is a business, Mr. Sukuna. Not a nightclub.”

the week went on with you monitoring the store and making notations for final review. And after almost seven days together, you were at odds and each others throats.

(Y/N), who was taking notes and auditing in the office during closing when you were interrupted by an irate Ryomen.

“Yes, Mr. Sukuna. Can I help you?”

sukuna, who had spent years building a repertoire with his customers, was upset that a lot of loyal buyers refused to come back until the ‘mean bitch’ was gone.

“You’re ruining my store, that’s what! When the hell are you leaving?” “Correction, I’m fixing this mess and you better be grateful because corporate is two seconds from getting your ass out of here.”

the two of you got into a bit of a quarrel, resulting in rising tensions..in more ways than one!

sukuna, who had you cornered against the desk couldn’t help but to laugh at the stark difference in your height. Especially when you began to rant and rave about how unprofessional he was.

sukuna, who had seen your type before and knew exactly what you needed to quell that horrible temper, ran a finger underneath your chin and tilted your head up mid sentence. Causing you to stutter over your words and become flustered.

“Why don’t we stop all of this fighting and settle it then? Tell the truth..you don’t really want me fired, do you?”

sukuna, who puts that charm to good use by mumbling into the crook of your neck..moving his hands up your body and smirking against your ear. Seeing as clear as day how much you liked it.

“What are you trying to do, bribe me?” “Bribing only works if I want something out of it. I’m just tryna’ make you feel good, sweetheart.”

sukuna, pulling you into a deep kiss, shoves his fingers into your panties and works you around on the tip of his digits as the two of you make out. Making certain that the door was bolted and the store was empty so that no one could disturb him or what he was about to do.

sukana, who had you exactly where he wanted, sets you atop his desk, pulling your skirt down and panties to the side. Only after you got him out of his shirt; admiring that sexy body and countless tattoos..along with the third leg he was hiding behind his work pants. Playing with it as he kneels down to devour your pussy. Working his thick fingers around in that juicy cunt, lapping up juices and letting them dribble down his tongue.

“Oh fuck…”

sukuna, who lets you suck his fingers clean as he slides inside of you, starting off with slow thrusts because he knew you couldn’t take it all at once. Watching it press into your skin.

sukuna, who had a week’s worth of tension and lust built up took out every bit of his frustration on you..pounding your shit into oblivion.

“Ah shit! Right there, Ryo..fuck that pussy. Take it!” “That’s it..that’s why you need, baby. That lil’ attitude fucked out of you. Some of that good dick, isn’t that right?”

sukuna, amazed by how creamy you got for him only a couple strokes in couldn’t restrain himself or his strokes. Making you tug your own panties between your teeth and bite down to withstand it as he folded your legs up.

sukuna, who had enough of your bitching, decided to put you on your knees and fuck your throat. “Much better use for that pretty mouth, don’t you think?”

making you touch his abs with his forehead by the time he finished.

sukuna, unable to hold back, painted your face and titties with a warm stream of nut, releasing loud groans with it..really loving when you proudly put it on display with your tongue out and a smile.

sukuna, who kisses you after filling your mouth up, knows that he doesn’t have to worry about losing his job or you after this. Knowing you’ll keep the dirty little secret as long as you can come back for another ‘inspection’..anytime you’d like.

621 notes · View notes

itsbuckytm · 4 months

Text

Lost Souls / Sejanus Plinth

summary : You were Coriolanus's closest companion, much like Sejanus. While you and Coriolanus seemed to embody the ideal image of true love, the snowfall couldn't dispel the lingering shadow of a phantom, preventing anyone, including Snow, from witnessing the genuine happiness you sought. Consequently, you were implicated in Coriolanus's criminal act, coerced into playing a role in his misdeed alongside Sejanus, only to be betrayed. What if this entire ordeal was a meticulously crafted plan to make Coriolanus face the consequences of his actions and instill in him a yearning for a love that was forever out of reach? The roots of this scheme trace back to District 12, where Sejanus fled, ultimately reuniting with the one he truly loved—you. Two fractured souls, both attempting to escape a haunting past that seemed destined to linger.

ps: english isn't my first mother tongue language so i deeply appolagize for the small errors etc. (which will be corrected shortly) also this story was requested by @anonys-world! hope you will all enjoy. + pls do not copy my work without proper credit as it can be marked as flagged or being ban if doing the case, thank you!

Snow embodied the ethos of his era—a man rooted in tradition when deemed necessary, yet undeniably a shrewd egotist with a proclivity for favoring purity over squalor. In his aspirations for the presidency of Panem, he envisioned himself alongside a woman he once loved and now considered his closest confidante, Sejanus. Sejanus played the roles of both friend and foe in Snow's perception, especially when faced with the earnest plea for forgiveness. This plea stemmed from actions Sejanus himself had committed, contingent upon Snow's willingness to acknowledge his own transgressions. However, Snow staunchly denied any possibility of having erred, viewing Sejanus' contrition as nothing more than a theatrical display in his own eyes.

Fortuitously, Sejanus managed to elude capture, albeit not without difficulty, as he had been keenly aware of his vulnerability during Snow's attempt to eliminate another tribute. Subsequently, when he found himself compelled to take the life of his closest friend. The revelation of these events came to you, ensnared in the intricate web woven by Snow's devious plans. You, too, were drawn into the narrative when Coriolanus's name was invoked in a plea for release, a plea tinged with the assertion that the situation was a grave misunderstanding. Contemplating how this news would reach you, it was likely to be delivered abruptly, considering Snow's peculiar interest in your affairs. This was a certainty that Sejanus was intent on ensuring. And for Snow, it wasn’t enough.

On a rainy day, you discovered that Sejanus had managed to find his way back home, despite your exile and nomadic lifestyle. Luck favored him, when he had heard that a small group of familiar Peacekeepers aligned themselves to escort you from your current dwelling. This meant that Sejanus had to navigate through various deals and threats to pinpoint your new residence. However, even with his friend Snow's assistance, it was clear that no amount of persuasion could make Snow divulge the truth. Conversations with him only yielded a cascade of lies. Thus, Sejanus began his journey to find you– Find home.

While you held onto a glimmer of hope that Sejanus would come home, it wasn't because he sought to return to his District and face a father intent on shaming him as a distasteful and ignorant child. Sejanus's primary aim was to reunite directly with you. He longed to hear the soothing cadence of your voice, feel the delicate touch of your fingers in his curls, and share deep, comforting embraces, all while listening to your soft singing. However, this desire became complicated as Snow's intense animosity toward the Plinth escalated, leading him to harbor resentment towards you as well. Consequently, both of you became the targets in the crosshairs of a man driven solely by aspirations of wealth and power.

Before his departure, Sejanus had intended to pen a letter expressing the sentiments he had shared that night. The letter encapsulated his commitment to stand by you even before tending to the needs of his own people. He envisioned a future building a family with you, whether it meant establishing a life beyond the District or securing an apartment in the Capitol with you at his side. Regardless of the path chosen, Sejanus planned to formalize the relationship upon his return. Despite the vehement hatred from his best friend, Snow, Sejanus remained indifferent, embracing his own pride. The prospect of witnessing Snow's rage only fueled his determination, understanding that Snow would never comprehend a love as profound and meaningful as the one he sought with you.

It was in that same day, you received the letter, and read it as followed:

Dear, Y/N.

How I yearn to be in your presence. My comrades and I successfully completed our duties ahead of schedule, taking strategic measures in our actions. When our commander learned of my last name, suspicions arose, prompting him to curtail my Peacekeeper duties and training. At my father's urging to return home promptly, little does he know that I won't be heading to District 2 but to our shared sanctuary with you. Fear not; I've discovered through fellow Peacekeepers that they aided in your escort right after the Games. My love, please be patient as I make my way back to our home. I'll be reunited with you soon.

Love,

Sejanus.

The letter was a gift from Tigris, and as you held it, you couldn't shake the suspicion that it might not be Sejanus's handwriting, at first. Yet, as you read the words and felt the essence of his expression, it became clear that it was indeed his authentic account transcribed on paper. Unbeknownst to Snow, the spectacle of witnessing his best friend's hanging was merely a staged performance. Sejanus, genuinely fearful that any Peacekeeper might release the cord prematurely, managed to escape District 12 right after the act. Consequently, as long as Snow remained alive and well, both of you would need to conceal yourselves, disappearing from sight to avoid any further repercussions.

"I disclosed nothing to Snow." Tigris asserted during her visit to assist you in unpacking at your new home. "He's only kept tabs on your well-being and made sure to update you on Sejanus..." Despite recognizing Tigris as a friend, a twinge of sympathy welled up within you, understanding that she was acting only to bring joy to her cousin. With the realization that she still had some family left while you faced complete exile, survival instincts kicked in, overshadowing any sense of pride. "As long as he remains unaware that Sejanus is alive, I'm content with the information." You quietly expressed, hoping not to arouse suspicion when Tigris communicated with Coriolanus in the future.

Sejanus's journey appeared to be heading north. As he received updates about your whereabouts, he understood that in a short while, he would be left alone. The companions who had accompanied him would return to their respective Districts. However, for Sejanus, a compelling need drew him back to the person he cherished the most. This individual had once too, been broken by the actions of Snow, experiencing a sense of betrayal and utter brokenness that could only be healed by genuine love. Sejanus's plans centered around reuniting with the one thing he loved above all else—you.

Arriving home, he was aware of finding you peacefully asleep. Not far away, a cabin caught his eye, and a wave of relief washed over him as he noticed the subtle glow of light inside. It signaled that life had continued to thrive. Approaching, he made his way to the front door, eager to be the first to comfort you as you shed tears in your slumber. These were tears he would gently wipe away, planting a tender kiss on your cheek. After all, the two of you were nothing more than broken souls, central figures in Snow's machinations, destined to be reunited for a chance at living in undisturbed peace.

The knock on the door that evening caught your attention, and though you suspected it might be Tigris with her usual errands, Sejanus casually heard your voice, responding with a quick "Coming." A surge of relief and comfort washed over him, and excitement filled him at the prospect of seeing your beautiful and now rested face. As the door began to creak open, your face and entire body froze in place. Sejanus smiled at the sight of you, standing right in front of him. You wore your usual flowery dress that he adored, but this time, Sejanus's hair had been shaved into a style that brought out the depth and honesty in the color of his eyes. "Seja—" you began to speak his name, only for him to chuckle at your disbelief. "But Tigris told me you would only arrive later—" He cut you off, gently cupping your flushed cheeks with his hands. His face drew closer, his breath mingling with yours, and your lips almost brushed against each other as he spoke in his defense.

"That doesn't matter right now, Love. Did you receive my letter?" Sejanus inquired, and you nodded, exhaling a soft sigh of relief. "Snow doesn't know I'm here, and neither do my parents. Everyone believes I'm dead. I was planning on bringing you back to the Capitol with me, but father knew about our plan long ago." There was a hint of sadness in his voice as he attempted to spare you from further difficulty. However, in the grand scheme of things, the chaotic planning didn't matter as much to you in that moment. What truly mattered was seeing him here, alive and well.

"You can't imagine how long I waited for you, Sejanus." You confessed, your voice delicately threading through the words you had struggled to find. The vulnerability stemmed from Snow, who had taken great pleasure in exploiting it to your disadvantage. "At this moment, Snow couldn't care less about me, either." You finally expressed your feelings toward the situation. The emotions resurfaced not long ago, with Snow killing Mayfair and Sejanus being thrown under the bus. The plans were twisted, part of Snow's undoubtedly sadistic scheme, leading him to believe that his closest friend was now dead.

Sejanus’s features darkened at the mention of a friend he once trusted. “Does he know anything of your whereabouts?” He asked, a little serious this time, as you shook your head a confident ‘no’. “I made sure that Tigris would only use the “She is okay” or “Living in the Capitol safely.” He has no idea about your current status. You have no idea how scare I am, what if she has to accidently slip away our little secret. Little do we know he could become aware of it anytime soon.” You tried to make sure not to sound frightened yourself when in reality you were completely aware of what Snow was capable of and please what he favors in the moment. If only you had the audacity the object his actions but if you had done such things– who knew if you’d remain alive at the very least.

"Hush..." Sejanus's voice softened as he realized the tremble in your fingers, a manifestation of your grief. It wasn't just the fear of the plan's potential failure that shook you, but also the realization that, had things gone differently, Sejanus might not be by your side at this very moment. His hand gently caressed the back of your head as he allowed you to bury yourself in the comfort of his chest, absorbing the familiar scent you had longed for. "Snow acted recklessly for our benefit. If we maintain our resolve, he won't come close to us, let alone lay a finger on you. I promise." He reassured. Little did both of you know, Snow was already privy to your whereabouts. It was only a matter of time before he discerned his cousin's peculiar behavior while inquiring about your well-being, signaling an impending discovery. This time, however, Sejanus might not be in the equation.

However, in the current moment, the present took precedence. Being in Sejanus's company was all you desired, and he shared the sentiment. As you reluctantly broke away from the embrace, you noticed a piece of paper threatening to slip through Sejanus's uniform pants. Your curiosity piqued, and you furrowed your brows, prompting you to reach for it. Yet, Sejanus, with a swift reflex, intercepted your hand, his eyes pleading for you to refrain from picking it up. "Don't—" He uttered firmly, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on yours, his grip tightening as a silent plea to respect his request. It became evident that whatever the object was, it held significant meaning for Sejanus. "Quite amusing, isn't it?" He remarked with a touch of sarcasm as he retrieved the crumpled item from his pocket.

"And I used to believe that this moment would mark the beginning of a special friendship." His hands seemed almost compelled to crumple the already battered piece of paper, which once held a photo of Coriolanus and Sejanus together. It was a day etched vividly in your memory, a day when he had also taken a photo with you. Snow had envisioned celebrating the exceptional prowess of two extraordinary peers for the 10th Hunger Games. However, it turned out to be a complete disaster, a spectacle that Sejanus perceived as a grotesque display orchestrated by a man devoid of humane intentions. As you gazed at the photo, you noticed Sejanus's voice cracking on the last sentence. His tears were tainted with bitterness rather than sorrow. How could someone so heartless, someone who only considered his own interests, be the same person you once admired?

"Hey—" Your fingers gently cradled his face, echoing the comforting gesture he had extended to you just moments ago. It was a consoling touch you had inherited from Sejanus's mother, a gesture he had come to hold dear. His lips formed a strained yet hopeful smile, and he endeavored not to falter in your presence. "Snow manipulated both of us. He was the puppet master... But we won't let him control us any longer." you asserted, striving to convey confidence in your words. However, a lingering suspicion gnawed at you, especially as Snow's persistent quest to discover your exact whereabouts began to cast a shadow over your assurance.

Honestly, Snow eventually uncovered the location of your exile. However, uncertainty shrouded Sejanus's whereabouts, leaving room for the unsettling possibility that his old friend might still be alive but in a place where Snow could find him with nefarious intentions. Despite Sejanus hanging onto your every word, he found himself unable to restrain the tears he had been trying to hold back. While you continued to cradle his face, he leaned in to touch his forehead to yours, closing the gap until he could feel the tender brush of your lips against his own. In the paradox of the situation, love felt secure within each other's arms, leading both of you to share laughter through tears. Sejanus, in a spontaneous gesture, swiftly tossed a memory he once cherished directly into the fireplace.

"We'll face this together." He uttered in that moment, fervently desiring that the two of you could navigate through whatever challenges lay ahead, even if it meant making sacrifices to cherish every precious second and moment together.

“Together.”

#sejanus x reader #sejanus x coriolanus #sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x y/n #president snow x reader #coriolanus x you #sejanus x you #coriolanus imagines #sejanus imagines #hunger games imagines #sejanus my beloved #coriolanus snow imagines

162 notes · View notes

munsonmuses · 3 months

Text

Hateful Recollection

Themes: angst, arguing, resentful minds and eventual comfort, labors of love.

Warnings: cursing, drug usage, there’s a slap here and there, Eddie is kind of an asshole but it’s a bit deserved?

Word Count: 4.3k

Part Two

Edward James Munson and yourself had always been a bit…combative, if that’s the right way to put it. Fighting over the space in the woods, the hallways, study spaces, hell even parking spots in the cramped Hawkins High School parking lot. You’d despised each other since freshman year, and with a few mishaps in life, you too were repeating senior year for a second time. It wasn’t often two massive tragedies hit, but that was the case for you. In ‘84 there was the fatal car accident that took your darling father. A staple in the sleepy community, and in ‘85, the strange death of your cousin Heather Holloway leaving your life in a whirlwind. School was the last thing on your mind in the wake of such terrible loss, so the district had understood you pulling out of school for the time being.

Sat at the cramped lunch table, you pushed around the lasagna on your acrylic tray, graying meat and rubbery noodles making your stomach turn as you let your fork drop. Deciding to rejoin the conversation amongst your friends as you tried to catch up to speed with all of the gossip and mindless conversation.

“I just…don’t understand who died and made her queen of fucking the school newspaper, I don’t. I have a great spread on the lunchroom epidemic, how they’re feeding us what is essentially tubed meat. My daddy’s tax dollars aren’t meant to be feeding us mush on a plate.” Libby bitched as you hummed in indifference, though the lasagna presented to you today did sway your internal argument a bit, and Nancy Wheeler did hold the school newspaper with the clutch of a feral dog. Rhiannon shaking her head at Libby’s incessant rage. “I think it’s fine, it’s nice to have something to eat, or at least snack on…” she reasoned as Libby scoffed. “Yeah but you eat like a goddamn hippie. You don’t have to eat the meat or anything…” “my veganism has nothing to do with this argument, you’re killing the rooms energy.” “Well your veganism is killing my appetite.” The two squabbled as you laughed. The two having been your dearest friends since meeting at Camp Love in 1978. Sticking by you through every strange mishap, with the typical teen argument here and there.

You went to add to the conversation before squealing in shocked upset as a carton of icy chocolate milk fell down your back. Soaking through the chartreuse wool of your sweater as you whipped around to face who it was, a very startled set of brown eyes staring back at you. Eddie Munson’s mouth hung agape in shock, knowing how this looked. Having been shoved by Jason Carver and his milk subsequently teetered off his tray, leading to your current predicament as you pushed to stand.

“Edward Munson you did that on purpose!” You accused with a finger to his chest, your nail dimpling his shirt and flesh as he stared down at you. Lips pulling back in a sneer as he smacked your hand away. “It was not, but, honestly? I’m kind of a bit glad it did hit you. Maybe the cold down your back will quell the hellfire inside you, you succubus.” He hissed back as you glared, shoving him harshly. “You’re a complete freak! I bet you hoped my shirt would be see through or something. Satanic and perverted,” you hissed as you gathered your bag, getting ready to leave while Libby and Rhiannon worked on doing the same. Before catching the distasteful muttering of Eddie Munson.

“Just because you’ve got a couple of dead relatives doesn’t mean you get to be a frigid cunt,”

You didn’t realize how fast you moved, whipping around as you slapped him. It wasn’t intentional, or even thought out. Completely unsure of what was going on till you heard the slam of cheek to palm, and watched his head reel back. A hush falling across the lunchroom. Hot embarrassment crept up your neck and cheeks, hot tears stinging your eyes as you took a watery breath. “That was fucking mean…even for you,” you whispered before shoving past him, Rhiannon chasing as Libby followed, stopping partway to look back at Eddie. “That was a low blow Munson…” she whispered, leaving him flapping his mouth open and shut. Nothing worth while actually coming out.

You made your way to your locker, throwing the door open as the door rattled, shoving in your books and grabbing your purse. Decidedly, you were near tears and it didn’t feel like you had the patience to sit through the logistics of adverbs and their proper insertion into the English language. Rhiannon gently placing her hand on you shoulder. “Honey he didn’t mean that…” she tried to comfort as you scoffed lightly. “Doesn’t matter if he meant it, it’s the fact that he said it…I’m going home, can you take Marilyn home today?” You questioned about your younger sister as she nodded gently, wishing you goodbye as you headed down the silent halls. Pushing through the doors and climbing into your little hatchback. Looking over at the banged up van parked beside you as you scoffed angrily. Peeling out of the parking lot and heading home for the day. Your grades were fine, and nobody would notice.

Your small home was a welcome sight, your driveway empty. Your mother working long nights as a nurse to keep you, your sister, and herself afloat. She was never home, delegating most of the housework to you as you keyed in and trotted upstairs. Tossing your bag aside and falling into your plush bed. Pulling your fading carebear into your chest as tears finally allowed themselves to fall, crying the day away as a nap took hold of you.

It was around four in the afternoon when you were roused from your self pitying nap. Opening your eyes to the sweet face of your younger sister. She’d shed so much of her baby fat in the face, blossoming into a beautiful young woman. Yawning lightly as you sat up, stretching out as you gently rubbed her cheek. “Hi Lynnie, was school okay?” You asked gently, voice croaking with exhaustion as she nodded slowly. Holding a little Lisa Frank folder out to you as she swallowed nervously. “I got your…your school work, and um…momma called. She’ll be home late again.” She whispered nervously, breaking your heart. She’d been so much more…involved, when everything was normal, but after your father passing when she was twelve, alongside the irregular life she led with an always working mom, struggling grades, having a childish air about her, and being the smallest and meekest girl in her grade, she seemed to be afraid to take up space.

“That’s okay, we can have a great night just the two of us…” you offered as you pulled her to lie down with you, rousing a gentle giggle from the girl as she turned her head to face you. “I’ll take us to family video and we can rent a movie, and we can get a pizza, and I’ll even let you put mushrooms on it~” you cooed as you poked her sides, earning a string of laughter from her as she chewed on her lower lip. “Can we get the last unicorn please…?” She asked nervously, and you slowly nodded. You couldn’t say no to her, remembering how she’d adored the movie with your father. How she’d named her pet hamsters Amalthea and Schmendrick, and mourned them when they’d passed. “Whatever you want Lynnie…lemme change okay?” You reasoned as she nodded eagerly, getting up to let you change. You were determined to make it a good night.

It was a quick ride to family video, making it in record time. Having donned a purple sweatshirt with embroidered lilies on the front, and made sure Marilyn was ready to go. Parking carefully as you walked in, holding the door as Marilyn raced to the children’s section. Leaving you to mingle with Steve Harrington at the counter as he grinned lightly at you. “Hey there, haven’t seen you here in a while…” he greeted as you rolled your eyes. “Moneys been a bit tight, so I’m sorry I haven’t been here to grace you with my presence…” you mocked as he laughed. “You know I won’t charge you…so what’s the real reason?” He pried as you laughed lightly. “You got me there…I just haven’t had the time.” You explained as he nodded in understanding. He’d been a longtime friend, and had been coming by with premade casseroles after both funerals, mostly urged by his mother, but that’s didn’t dampen the sentiment. You valued Steve, and understood that he knew what it was like to feel like you had no support system.

You’d realized it was taking a while for Marilyn to come back as you excused yourself, walking the aisles to find your sister. Seeing her mop of red curls, stopping at the sight of the metal head helping her reach the VHS on the top shelf. Furrowing your brows as you eaves dropped. “Great choice, Annie…” he quipped at her as she meekly thanked him, earning a light laugh from him. “I loved this movie when it came out, but between you and me I was scared of the harpy…” he said in a loud whisper as she laughed. “That’s dumb…” she mumbled as he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it is huh?” The interaction strangely made your blood boil, walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder as Eddie frowned lightly. His face still a bit red from the altercation earlier that day.

“What’re you here for Munson, some sort of freakish torture porn?” You gestured towards the case in his hand as he scoffed. “Actually it’s return of the living dead and American werewolf in London.” He retorted as you scoffed. “Not much of a difference,” you quipped before pushing past him, catching Marilyn waving him bye out of the corner of your eye as you went to the counter. Wishing Steve a great day and leaving without another word.

A few hours later you were back home, getting your pizzas on a plate as you heard Marilyn setting up in the living room. The intro song playing as she hummed along, earning an intentionally obnoxious rendition from you as she laughed loudly. Getting onto the couch as you gave her the plate with greasy slices, sitting through the movie with only a few questions and a full belly by the end. Sending your sister to shower and work on homework as you retired to your room. Getting changed for the night and sitting at your desk, working on your biology homework well into the night, soothed by the rain pattering against your window. Not realizing how much time had passed before hearing a soft knock on the doorframe. Turning to face your sister. “You heading to bed honey?” You asked as she nodded carefully, wringing out her fingers as you turned fully around. “What’s up sugar…?” You asked as she teetered on both feet. “Why are you so mean to Eddie?” She asked as you frowned lightly. “What do you mean Marilyn…?” You pried as she whimpered, as if whatever she said next might cause some terrible Rube Goldberg chain of devastation to occur. “I don’t…get why you’re so mean to him…you guys used to be best friends,” she whispered as you sighed. “Go to bed Marilyn…I love you.” You mumbled as she muttered it back and left. That was enough to draw any energy you had left. Climbing into bed as her words replayed in your head.

The next day seemed to be easier, getting to school early, and blazing through your first four periods. A few grades coming back to you as you tucked the papers into your folder, bold ‘A’s and B’s’ smattered across the upper corners as you grinned. Now heading to the woods behind the football field with Libby and Rhiannon, choosing to forego the meatloaf that the cafeteria was serving.

“You can’t even call that meatloaf, you can call it meatloaf? Like with a question mark at the end, because you can’t even confirm it’s real meat,” Libby complained as her Chuck Taylor’s trudged through the leaves, the soft earth gently squishing beneath your soles as you sighed. Her tangents about school lunch were strange, especially considering she didn’t eat school lunch. Rhiannon scoffing lightly as she followed, rooting through her messenger bag and pulling out her altoid tin as she snapped her gum carefully. “Well some people could say the same thing about you eating sushi Lib,” she argued, earning a defending argument from Libby as you got seated at the rickety picnic table. Rhiannon opening the tin to pull out a hastily rolled joint. Lighting it carefully and passing it around the table as you took a decent puff. Coughing and sputtering as you laughed nervously. “Sorry, I’m sorry!” You giggled out through coughs as Libby snatched the joint eagerly. It continued passing around till you heard the crunch of leaves and rapidly worked on disposing of the evidence, eyes wide before relaxing harshly at the sight of Eddie Munson with lunchpail and corroded coffin in hand as you scoffed loudly.

“You need to leave. This is my turf. So move.” He ordered harshly as his little band of misfits tried to protest with ‘Eddie lets just go to the van’ or ‘Eddie calms on man’ as you turned around quietly and hummed. “Hi Gareth, hi Grant, hi Jeff,” you greet gently as they waved back gently. Humming contentedly before your eyes shifted back to a fuming Eddie Munson. His fingers flexing and face screwed up in contempt. “Get the fuck out of here, I swear to god you do it just to irk me.” He snapped as you guffawed at his confidence. “Typical of you to think my life revolves around you.” You retorted, an argument beginning to kick up as your insults were hurled at one another.

“No! No you think you can get away with anything because of your tragedy! Poor me! Oh poor baby! Everyone let me off easy and pity me, because I feed off of your attention! Like the succubus that you are,” Eddie hissed as you felt your hands clenching the denim of your jeans. Shuddering angrily as you spat back venom.

“It’s not my fault people were there for me when my parent died, not you.” You hissed, the realization of what you’d said dawning on you as his face fell. “Fuck, Eddie I’m sorry-“ you started as he shoved you back, feeling the leaves crunch into your back as he seemed to tremble, near tears. “That was way fucking meaner than it needed to be.” His voice was watery as you frowned, knowing his cruel of you it was to mention the passing of his mother. “Fuck you.” He whispered as he turned heel and walked off, followed off by his friends. Your own staring at you nervously.

“You guys know I didn’t mean that…right?” You questioned as they looked between each other, silently deciding who should be the one to answer you, Rhiannon sighing as she went to help you stand. “Honey, just because you didn’t mean it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. You were so angry at Eddie yesterday for saying something he didn’t mean…and you slapped him. I think you’re both in the wrong to be truthful,” she insisted as you muttered excuses under your breath, earning a look from Libby as you frowned gently. “Fine, okay, I’m an asshole!” You insisted angrily as you puttered loudly. Carefully gathering up your things and heading back towards the school. You’d have to make the rest of the day go by as smoothly as possible.

English was fine, and biology was wonderfully easy, until you were delegated into pairs for whatever in class research you had for a pairs project. Drawing popsicle sticks with numbers on the end, as the class went one by one listing their numbers, soon enough getting to you as you sighed. “I have eight.” You spoke, being spoken over by Eddie Munson who glared. Going to argue to change partners as Mr. Birmingham tutted loudly. “I don’t care about whatever squabble you have outside of my class, I’m here? I’m the ruling force. You and Munson are going to have to get along.” He insisted as he sent the two of you to one of the tall lab tables in the back. Sitting with a huff as Eddie sat as far as he could from you. Flipping open his textbook haphazardly as he glared lightly. Earning a scoff from you as you reached over and pulled it to the middle of the table so he tried to yank it back. Hushed insults going back and forth before he finally relented.

“I don’t fucking understand why you’re acting like this-“ Eddie snapped as he glared at you bitterly. “Why you’re so angry and mean all the time.” He quipped as you scoffed at him. “You should know why.” Was all you responded as his brows furrowed, not knowing how to respond to you as he carefully got back to work. The two of you remaining…civil, throughout the rest of the period.

The bell rang, freeing you of your hell as you headed into the hallway, meeting with Libby who was flirting with school hippie, and Eddie’s rival dealer, Kingston Richard. Watching as he handed her a crinkled paper, inviting Libby and Co. to a party he was attending tonight. Libby giggling and offering a “yeah~” as he walked off. Humming over at you as you quirked a brow. “I can’t go to a party Libby, gotta take care of Marilyn…” you insisted as she whined loudly. “No you don’t, she’s going to a friends house for a sleepover. I ran into her in the hallway, told me to give you this.” She handed you a little note with a home number and address. Sighing lightly as you agreed carefully. “I’ll go, I’ll go and it’ll be boring and then I’ll have to drive your sloppy ass home~” you teased as Rhiannon joined you both. Hearing about the party as she agreed eagerly. Setting your unsure plans into stone.

You frowned deeply as you had your hair teased to the high heavens, setting the look with some pearly eyeshadow and letting your shirt be cropped choppily. Rolling your eyes as you tested out two sets of earrings for yourself to wear. Deciding on some thick acrylic hoops to match your bangles and rings. Snapping your gum carefully. “So we’re doing this whole party thing on the like tree line by lovers lake? What if someone calls the cops?” You mumbled, remembering that there were a multitude of residents that lived by the water. Earning a ‘pshaw’ from Libby as you frowned. Slipping on your keds and tucking your ID and cash into your bra. Heading out to your car as your friends followed. Taking the scenic route out to lovers lake as you hummed along to Pat Benatar on the radio, recollecting your joint past.

“Do you guys remember meeting at Camp Love? It was on the lake and we camped in the woods…and we got poison ivy?” You laughed out as Rhiannon laughed lightly to herself in agreement. “I remember sneaking out to go night swimming, then the guys convinced us that there were like…snakes.” She giggled out as you rolled your eyes. “I just remember having fun…and I remember being cold because I didn’t have enough blankets, feeling mad I hadn’t packed enough.” You whispered as Libby hummed. “I remember you cried, and you asked around for a blanket…Eddie Munson stayed with you and gave you his,” she said softly as you gulped harshly. “Yeah. That’s when he was twelve and still had a heart.” You retort as you pulled down the dirt road as your friends exchanged looks. Knowing it was a memory you tried to act like didn’t happen or matter. Parking your car and stepping out to a bonfire inside of an old oil drum, clearly having fun as you went to the keg. Filling yourself a solo cup with lukewarm beer and sipping at it, gagging lightly and going to take a seat on one of the many scattered blankets, lying back on the flannel as you hummed along to the music. Listening to the party ambiance as you let your friends wander a bit, having plenty of fun before feeling the blanket dip beside you as you turned beside you. Looking at Kingston who was smoking what was left of a cigarette. “Hey there…” he pushed his sunglasses down and gave you a lopsided grin as you hummed. “Hey yourself…” you crooned as he handed you another cup with lukewarm beer. Humming up at him as you carefully finished up the second cup of piss poor beer, that seemed to be making you sway a bit, the fact that you were a lightweight combining with the lack of lunch from earlier.

“So uh, you come to parties often?” Kingston asked as you drummed your fingers on the ground. “Not really, gotta take care of my sister, but I do love it when I have the opportunity to come.” You said softly as you felt him leaning closer, catching his drift as you put a hand up. “Um, I’m sorry but uh…if you’re trying to like, flirt or something? I’m not the right person to do it with.” You insisted as you looked over at Libby who was doing a terrible job of acting nonchalant whilst watching the two of you. “Libby really really likes you, and I don’t wanna…do that to her.” You explained as Kingston grinned in understanding. “Oh believe me, I’m aware…I’m just as into her, I just had a theory I had to test out.” He insisted as he looked past you. Turning your head to see a frustrated Eddie watching the two of you, blushing and looking away as you’d caught him gawking apparently. Laughing nervously to yourself as Kingston pulled a joint from behind his ear, handing it to you as he smiled. “For your trouble…” he got up shakily, walking off as you grinned. Lighting your joint as you caught yourself glancing back at Eddie who was rolling with laughter with his friends, the firelight casting shadows along his face as you grinned lightly to yourself. The beer softening your hate filled heart as you relaxed once more. Humming along to Seal before hearing the distant sound of sirens, eyes going wide as you sat up. Hearing distant tires treading on the dirt road as you shakily stood, making a run for it as you hissed a string of curses under your breath. The mixture of fear, the dark, the cool chill of the fall, and your inebriation getting you turned around before someone took your hand, sprinting to the center of the woods and pushing you to climb an old oak tree with well worn wooden steps up, nailed to the sides. Easing you up into the center as you gained your bearings. Hitting the blanketed center as you panted softly and looked around. Strangely familiar…and then it hit you. This was where Camp Love had been, where you’d spent nights with a young Eddie who had a boyish face and a sweet crush on you. Turning to look at who pushed you, Eddie’s big brown eyes reflecting the moonlight as you stared at him.

“What are you-“ he lurched forward to cover your mouth as he put a finger to his lips. The sound of the police pattering by underneath. His chest to yours as you heaved gently. Slowly reaching up to take hold of his wrist and remove his clammy hand once it quieted down. “I…thank you Eddie.” You insisted as he just nodded softly. “Whatever…don’t mention it.” He muttered as you gently bumped his shoulder and sighed.

“This is weird, familiar…” he insisted softly as he frowned to himself. “I remember bringing you up here…I remember your braces cutting my lip.” He said with a soft laugh as you hummed lightly. “I remember we were close…” he added, though this had no jog behind it. “Why uh…why is that?” He questioned softly. And in that moment you realized he never knew why you hated him, why you resented every bit of him.

“You were my best friend Eddie…but…when my dad died you weren’t there for me…too busy with fucking hellfire.” You muttered as you looked at your feet. “You only cared about yourself and your interests, you were suddenly too cool for girls, or anything.” You insisted as you wiped your bleary eyes. “I called and went by and I did everything and you didn’t care,” you mumbled as he frowned lightly.

“I did what I thought was right.” He answered softly. “When my ma died I wanted to be alone, I wanted to understand in my own time, I didn’t want answers…I just needed time. I just thought you’d want the same. Which was shitty. I shouldn’t assume, I should have asked,” he insisted lightly. His hand inching over to yours as he linked pinkies with you. “I still care about you…you’re my best girl,” he whispered as he nosed gently against your cheek, earning a sigh from you.

“I care about you too…and I miss you,” you felt tears threatening to spill. “It’s been hard…I miss you coming by, and my mom and Lynnie ask about you all the damn time-“ the tears flowed freely now. “Eddie I needed you…and you weren’t there-“ your voice broke, and the heartbreak washed over him all at once. Pulling you to his chest as you sobbed softly. Petting your hair back as he frowned.

“I’m here now…I promise I’m here now.” He whispered, and you only held tighter, because you could feel that he meant it,

Tags: @munson-blurbs

#stranger things #eddie munson #addie writes #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic

129 notes · View notes

boosoonhao · 3 months

Text

highways: in defiance

hoshi x reader 6.7k words dystopian au sexism and totalitarian regime warning

soonyoung figures out, quite early into your marriage, that you’re a pretty impressive actress. actress is not the world he should use, really; the female form of the masculine ‘actor’. one doesn’t use feminine forms of occupations anymore. but when he looks at you, at the massive shift in your attitude once the wedding is done and over with and you’re both situated in what used to be soonyoung’s home – it is still soonyoung’s, for all intents and purposes; you’re not allowed to own property, after all, but your presence is so huge, so imposing that it feels shared nonetheless – it’s the feminine form of the word ‘actor’ that comes to mind.

he’ll grant you that; that tiny, private nod of respect. illegal and dangerous as it might be, he can’t quite help it. in retrospect, that’s probably the first sign of what the high judges would call ‘suspicious influence’.

during the pre-marriage sessions; recorded meetings in dull, grey rooms at the center of the golden circle, you had seemed like the perfect picture of the kind of woman soonyoung’s supposed to be with. agreeable, pretty, good genes. demure, but not without personality; nothing of that dead, distasteful glare that seems a genetic trait of people from the middle districts.

where you’d been reserved but susceptible during the interviews, you are now cold; eyes shimmering with visible disdain as soonyoung comes in during the quiet, soft yellow hours of the morning. there’s a layer of sweat hidden beneath his trained exterior, a smell of gasoline sticking to his fingers. he glances at the clock right above the entrance to the living room. 5.15 in the morning. he hadn’t expected you awake already, had thought he’d be able to slip inside unnoticed and wash the evidence of his illicit nightly adventures off before falling under your scrutiny.

you’re observant, he’s noticed; quick to pick up on his habits and his preferences. you make him breakfast, cook him dinners; coffee ready on the table every morning, even though he can tell that you despise it. that your fingers twitch with the want to dunk the hot liquid that you’re not allowed to drink yourself right in his face.

he wonders if you think he’s cheating; that his nightly escapades are of the sexual nature. ‘men are creatures of the flesh’, soonyoung’s father used to say. ‘if denied their right in the home, who can blame them for seeking satisfaction somewhere else?’. soonyoung thinks this was meant as a jab towards his mother, who meant that women had one job, and one job only. in any case, the idea never sat right with him. not even now, not even when you sleep fully clothed at the very edge of your shared bed.

and if you do think that’s what he’s doing; do you care? does the slight downwards pull of your lips come from the idea of him entangled with someone else during secret meetings in the night, or does it come from the disdain of the walls that surround you on every side like a lavish, pretty jail cell?

soonyoung can’t tell which option he’d prefer.

(he can’t even tell if any of them are preferable at all.)

____________________

the scariest thing about you, soonyoung finds, is how outspoken you are. he’d heard about it, of course; about the silver tongued rebels of the middle districts. he’d always questioned it; like, would they not be easy to spot, easy to pluck from the normal people and place in their proper places of gallows and cells? evidently, such a line of thought was too simple, too idealistic; here you are, right in front of him, speaking in tones that could only be described as vulgar, illegal.

this thought, soonyoung admits with reluctance, is strangely exciting.

“you smell like whisky,” you murmur when soonyoung comes home from meeting his three closest friends. drinking alcohol is frowned upon, for sure, but not illegal. not for him. still, he feels a sort of guilt tug at his spine. a magical power of yours, that; making him squirm and question everything he’s been so sure of before. you divert your gaze, stare out the window. your voice is nothing but a murmur when you open your mouth again; “must be nice.”

bitterness does not make itself scarce in your expression, nor in your tone, and soonyoung’s jaw tightens. “do you want some?”

he surprises himself by being completely serious. you twist your head back to look at him, watches as he produces a half full bottle of burning, brown liquid from the bag slung over his shoulder. looking for the signs of a test, no doubt; for any traces of challenge. you blink, surprised to find none, soonyoung supposes. he steps quickly over to the cabinet, finds two glasses there and sits himself down on the chair left of yours. you do not take your eyes off of him, not as he shifts to make himself comfortable, not as he pours the liquid into the two glasses.

the only sound in the room is that of whisky being poured, the only smell the strong stench of liquor. he’ll break this one law, he thinks, without giving it too much of a thought. you’ve already presented your cards, already complained and opposed, already made yourself vulnerable. he hopes, with a thud of his heart, that you won’t make him regret this lapse of judgement.

you hum, reach for the glass, twirl the liquid around in the clear glass. “might as well,” you relent at last. “maybe alcohol is what it takes to make this district survivable.”

soonyoung chokes on whisky.

“you’re quite bold,” he murmurs, not without reluctant admiration in his voice. “what’s to stop me from reporting you to the enforcers?”

you tilt your head, watch him with dangerous eyes. “ah,” you breathe, lean your head against the knuckles of your hand. “to the rebellious future enforcer choi seungcheol?” you tap your fingers against your cheekbone, lip curling into something not quite – but close, very close – a smile. amber liquid swirls around the glass, splashes against the rims in something that soonyoung can’t describe as anything but a show of power. “or to boo seungkwan, future brainwasher in command?”

it could be a coincidence that those are the names you choose to mention, of course, but there’s cleverness visible in the arch of your brows, and when you sit back upright in the chair, it’s with the intimidating, powerful aura of any high judge soonyoung has ever met. people used to say – at least people say that people used to say – that men went for women who reminded them of their mothers. of course, people don’t say it anymore; men do not go for women at all, they let the soulmate system choose for them. but in that moment, soonyoung thinks he understands what people used to mean.

“leverage,” you tell him, chug down the last bit of whisky in your glass, looks very little like the image of a ‘proper lady’ that soonyoung has grown up with. you put the glass down on the flat surface of the table, bring your hands up in front of your face, curl your fingers into a fist and flick your wrists in a gesture that soonyoung recognizes only because he’s done it himself countless times. “vroom vroom,” you add, as if he needs the audio to understand what you’re implying. a shiver climb soonyoung’s spine, makes his head tingle. “that’s why you’re not going to report me to the enforcers.”

he stares, throat thick with something that feels a hell of a lot like fear. it’s not something soonyoung feels particularly often, not since he lived with his parents. not since they shut down his dance studio and interrogated him for suspicions of rebellion. he hadn’t been one, then. sometimes he wonders if that was what did it. maybe he’ll ask what you think; you seem to be an expert on the subject of resistance.

“don’t look so shocked,” you murmur, tone a hair’s breadth from mockery. “you always smell like gasoline.”

____________________

“my mother wants to have us over for dinner,” he tells you, watches as you try to keep your emotions under wraps. soonyoung might not have known you for very long, might not actually know you very well at all despite your name tattooed at the top of his wrist, but he recognizes your tells, by now. a twitch at the edge of your lips, a quick, tense rise of your shoulders. to your credit, you do not break eye contact.

things have been… different, since the evening he shared his whisky with you. for one, soonyoung can’t quite help looking over his back when he leaves to ride his bike, can’t help the feeling that you’re always watching. and second, you’ve been far less hostile, though still as loud and assertive in your trash talk. he wouldn’t call it friendly, would hesitate even over ‘amicable’. but he feels it is a win, nonetheless. third, it happens again. it becomes a pattern. for weeks, soonyoung shares his whisky with you, until the bottle is empty and the distance returns.

he knows this, though; there is no mistaking the wave of absolute disgust that paints your otherwise pretty face at the mention of his mother.

he imagines what she must represent to you; a woman born in freedom, who willingly, gladly traded her — and in some small part, every other woman in palatium’s — rights away for a place in the new elite. soonyoung’s father was a nobody before; barely even worthy of living in the high district. soonyoung’s mother, on the other hand, created the soulmate method of marriages. for that, she’s allowed some small, secret perks. books, food, alcohol. clearance to the golden circle. except, soonyoung suspects, it’s not as secret as the elite might think.

“why are you staring at me?” you question at last, defiance blatant and on display in both your tone and your expression. “surely i, the subservient wife, have no say in matters like these.”

“you’re anything but subservient,” soonyoung mutters, mostly to himself. the glare you shoot him is enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. he clears his throat. “i can make up an excuse,” he tells you; the reason he brought it up in the first place. a choice. soonyoung is starting to realize that even in his perpetual state of nodding his head and playing along, he’s taken his freedom for granted. “if you don’t want to go.”

you inhale through your nose, stare at soonyoung from your position by the kitchen counter. in truth, soonyoung had considered not even bringing the invite up, had considered just politely declining the offer and continue putting the inevitable encounter off. but then he’d remembered the bitter commentary you’d made during one of your illicit evenings of soft buzzes and heated almost-arguments; the biting comments about your lack of choices.

he kinda wishes he could have presented you with a better one.

“no,” you tell him, quieter than he expects. he never seems to quite get used to the few and far between moments where you don’t seem to get sick at the mere sight of him. “no, it’s fine,” you sigh, drag a hand through your hair, can’t seem to settle on somewhere to look. “let’s just get it over with.”

____________________

he catches you eyeing the bookcase in the hallway of his mother’s home; something that looks like a cross between envy and resignation ghosting over your features. he wouldn’t even have noticed, had he not been looking for it.

he hopes no one else notices.

“soonyoung, darling,” soonyoung mother enthuses, brings her arms around his neck to envelop him in a bone crushing hug. to the uninitiated onlooker, it must seem like a heartwarming reunion; a mother and a son together again. soonyoung knows better, though, has been on the receiving end of his mother’s overbearing affection enough times to know the truth behind it. soonyoung’s mother might not have a whole lot of power, despite her innovative ideas and her rows and rows of books, but she sure knows how to assert it.

the word for it used to be ‘matriarch’, he knows. of course, that word has disappeared into the box of forgotten things, just like ‘actress’ and ‘queen’.

“it’s good to see you again, my boy,” she goes on, pats soonyoung’s shoulders with long fingers, their nails painted red. a bold move, that, considering nail polish is supposed to be outlawed. then again, rules never seemed to work the same way for the people residing in the golden circle. “and your wife is here as well,” she says at last, notes your presence as one would make note of a new haircut, a new pair of shoes. specifically, a less favorable haircut. soonyoung clears his throat uncomfortably. you refuse to respond.

(it’s the start of a very slow, very painful dinner.)

soonyoung’s mother, despite her active role in the marriage, seems adamant in her blatant ignoring of your presence.

“how’s everything going so far?” she asks, eyes trained right on her son. soonyoung feels the need to hide, to fill his mouth with potatoes and steak and hinder himself from being able to talk.

“it’s going fine, mother,” he replies vaguely, cowers from her inquisitive glare. he glances instead to his right, where you’re picking at your own food, eyes fixed on your maltreated potato. soonyoung’s mother hums, as if that answer has something secret hidden between the words that only she understands.

“it’s been three months,” she goes on, swirls a glass of something that looks like red wine between her fingers. “can i expect grandchildren soon?”

never one for small talk, that woman.

soonyoung hears, somehow, how you stiffen in your chair, the very mention of children a sore, taboo subject between the two of you. you’ll talk, at length, about the unfairness of society and your distaste for the inner circle, but you tastefully avoid subjects that pertain to your marriage, or the expectations that come with it. a part of your newfound almost-amicable relationship, soonyoung suspects.

“only time will tell,” he murmurs, feels two sets of intimidating female gazes heavy on him. he takes a large gulp of his whisky.

she hums again. “she’s not getting any younger, you know. the true purpose of the woman is to provide the man with a child.”

soonyoung doesn’t dare looking over at you. he’s sure the expression he’d find there would be enough to make him sweat. he’s always known that his mother was a bit of an extremist, even as far as the elite goes. he knows his mother is the very definition of a true believer. somehow, these things had been much easier to ignore before. he opens his mouth – to agree? to protest? he doesn’t know – but his mother chooses that moment to address you, finally, directly.

“isn’t that right, dear?” she asks sweetly. the following silence feels sort of like a death sentence. soonyoung wants to intervene. he doesn’t.

“of course,” you reply, voice flat and submissive in a whole nother way than how he’s used to. your subservience has been a mockery, before, a sort of inside joke on soonyoung’s expense, a proof of your opposition. there’s nothing of that present now, and when he finally manages to force his gaze over to your seat, your face is deathly pale. you still have not touched your food, but you still have the distinct expression of someone with a bad taste in their mouth.

you do not speak again the rest of the night.

____________________

after the dinner at soonyoung’s mother’s, there’s a tangible, heavy silence hanging over the kwon jr. household. you won’t speak to him, not when he buys a new bottle of whisky and tries to lure you into the sitting room to join him, not when he starts dropping small hints about his adventures during the night.

not even when he wakes up extra early to try – and horribly fail at – making you breakfast do you say a word to him, though you do push him aside to try and salvage the burnt eggs stuck to the dark pan on the stove. soonyoung feels helpless, in a completely unfamiliar, overwhelming sort of way. he’s always seen himself as a pretty empathetic person, even when being empathetic was not a good thing to be. he buried it when he had to, but it was always there, tucked inside his ribcage.

he’s not sure ‘empathy’ is enough to adequately describe how he feels as he watches you flitter around the house like a ghost.

it seems to boil over inside of you, five days after the dinner. he returns from watching mingyu fight in the underground, the smell of gasoline and of cigarettes sticking to his clothing and tugging at his skin. he loosens his tie and slinks up the stairs towards the bedroom. he doesn’t expect you to be awake.

you twist your head around when he enters, look at him with the same dead sort of gaze that has been haunting him for days and days now. the familiar feeling that’s not quite empathy, that tastes an awful lot like guilt, tugs on his chest. he used to think you were very loud. maybe that’s just another one of those things he took for granted.

you rise from your side of the bed, dressed only in your pale, white nightgown, and take a few determined steps towards him. you grasp at the front of his shirt, fingers doing quick work of his top buttons. soonyoung panics at your sudden aggression, takes a rushed, clumsy step back, but you only follow, wordlessly, keep working on the buttons of his clothes.

“hold– hold on,” he stutters, tries to grasp at your hands. you only press further, until he’s backed up against the door, eyes focused on the shirt and on the skin revealed by every button you undo. “what the hell are you doing?” your head snaps up at that, gaze hard and mouth set in a thin line. soonyoung feels exposed, vulnerable, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“my job,” you reply, with a voice that sounds both eerily like your own and someone else’s entirely. you grip at the fabric of his shirt, try to pull it off of his shoulders. soonyoung’s own fly up to wrap around your elbows to stop you. “a woman’s only purpose is to provide her husband with children, and all that.”

“i don’t–” soonyoung starts, doesn’t quite know how to continue the sentence. i don’t think that. i don’t want that. somehow he doesn’t think any of the options would be particularly soothing, despite his efforts. your fingernails dig into his clothes, make crescent moons along the skin of his chest. it looks like you can’t decide whether to cry or to scream.

“do you know what happens to women who refuses to sleep with their husbands?” you ask, a sort of pathetic, fragile stuntedness to your voice. your fingers are still tightly clutched at the front of his unbuttoned shirt. they shiver; in fear or anger, soonyoung doesn’t know. “they get sent to the lower districts, branded for being ‘barren’.” soonyoung circles his hands around your wrists, tries to pull your hands away. your grip at his clothes tighten, and you stare him right in the eyes. “of course, most of the time it won’t come to that, because men have the habit of taking what they want whether the woman want it or not.”

there’s no word for it anymore, but the old one, the one that starts with an r, still echoes in the back of soonyoung’s head. he feels sick, feels the impulse to push you away from him and run away. his throat feels thick, mouth full of ashes.

“that won’t happen to you here,” he says, voice kept stable only by the conviction with which he says it. he presses his thumbs into your skin. your head is bowed; in shame or in disbelief, soonyoung can’t know. “nothing you don’t want will happen as long as i’m here.” he lets go of your wrists and they fall limply to your side. he takes hold of your face, feels ridiculously bold for doing so, guides your face up so you can see how much he means what he’s saying. somehow, he feels more honest than he’s done ever before. “i swear i’ll do anything to make you happy.”

in the old time, the time when you married someone you loved rather than someone whose genes matched your own, they used to have these beautiful ceremonies. soonyoung remembers overhearing talks about them during meetings when he was a child. something he always was especially entranced by was the concept of ‘vows’, of promises to keep and to honor. they got scrapped for something far more technical, of course, but the idea was especially appealing to soonyoung. this one will have to do, he thinks. there’s not a lot more he can promise, considering the circumstances. your eyes are wet. he finds that he wants to press his lips to your forehead.

he doesn’t. instead, he says, “i’ll sleep on the couch tonight. please get some rest.” and he leaves the room. he hears a sob through the door, and he swears something inside him cracks painfully.

and that is why he ends up in front of his mother’s bookcase once again a mere week later.

____________________

“what’s this?” you ask when he puts the book down in front of you on the table. soonyoung feels strangely disconnected to his own body; almost as if he’s standing in the corner of the room, watching himself present you with the book. people have gone to jail for less than this; people have been hanged.

but then, he participates in illegal races at night, attends betting matches in the underground once a month. he tells himself that’s why despite the rush of fear coursing through his veins, soonyoung does not hesitate once to give you the worn paperback. “it’s a book,” he replies lamely; knows it’s a mistake as soon as the words fall out of his mouth.

“obviously,” you bite back, the exclamation almost more a hiss than a word. soonyoung knows better than to talk down to you, by now, but he finds that old habits are hard to break. and you’ve been tense ever since visiting his mother, too, much easier to anger. he wonders if you still hear her words in your head when you close your eyes. the thought makes him nauseous. “what am i supposed to do with it? fold paper cranes?”

soonyoung blinks, gaze falling down to where your fingers lie curled and interlaced with each other on the surface of the table. you have pretty hands, he notice; prettier than he would have expected from the middle district. “can you?” he looks back up at your face, finds you squinting in his direction as if you’re loathe to even look at him. “i mean–” he amends, clears his throat. sits down on the chair on your left, folds his hands. he can’t quite look you in the eyes. “you want to learn to read, don’t you?”

you blink; scrunch up your nose as if in disbelief and mouth pulled down in a very distinct frown. soonyoung thinks you might be trying to play down how true his assumption is, but the light dust of red that appears at your cheekbones give you away. soonyoung feels awkward, as if his mouth is full of syrup. “i’ll teach you,” he tries, desperately needs for you to react in any way at all. when you don’t, he swallows, breathes out heavily. “if you want?”

it seems as if you’re silent for an eternity; trust still non-existent and doubt still lingering in every corner of your shared home and in every line of your face. hesitant fingers reach out to touch the front of the book, almost as if you’re afraid of breaking it. there a small twitch at the edges of your lips that might be a smile.

“thank you,” you whisper, and something in soonyoung’s chest seems to bloom.

(it becomes a routine. soonyoung points out letters, pronunciations, coaches you through the longer words and sentences. sometimes you’ll make attempts at reading entire pages out loud, eager to learn and thirsty for knowledge. sometimes he’ll read to you in bed, almost too distracted by the new sort of closeness and the way your eyes flit over the pages to even know what he’s reading.

it’s just a simple novel; a story he’d been obligated to read multiple times in school, but you eat it up, entranced by every word. one night you fall asleep with your head against his shoulder. that night, he’s supposed to meet up with seungcheol, mingyu and seungkwan for a race.

he finds that he can’t quite get himself to move.)

____________________

you’re a quick learner. much quicker than soonyoung was, much more proficient than he could ever hope to be. he tries to tell himself that the sense of pride that comes with your impressive learning curve is an innocent thing. tries to tell himself that the way he leans back and focuses fully on your voice, on the way your fingers clutch at the coarseness of paper doesn’t have anything to do with the soft tingle in the pit of his stomach.

“they work so hard to maintain this intellectual high ground over the lower regions,” you rattle on, uncaring for the fact that soonyoung can’t keep up even if he tried. probably you could make anything and everything into an hour long rant, he thinks, but not without affection. “‘the poor can’t be smart, they lack the education’, ‘women can’t be equal, can’t have any substantial thoughts; they can’t even read!’” you run a finger along the spine of the book. when soonyoung follows your finger, he notices that it’s shaking. your words sounds an awful lot like what he used to learn to be treason when he was a child; but then soonyoung is starting to realize that you commit treason with every intake of breath, every twitch of your brow.

then maybe he’s a traitor, too, for being so engulfed, so committed; for the way he hangs on to your every word as if they were holy. he’s surprisingly okay with that thought.

“but the elite are the ones keeping education away from us,” your finger stops moving, and soonyoung forces his gaze up to your face, pauses at the pinkness of your cupid’s bow, at the arch of your nose. every day, he’s finding details in your face that he wants to jot down in his journal, commit eternally to memory.

“honestly,” he murmurs. “even without the education, you’re probably ten times smarter than me.” it’s easier now, to spill sacrilege from his lips, to disregard his teachings for these secret truths between a man and his wife. sometimes he has to look over his shoulder before saying them, too scared of a housekeeper peeping or an enforcer storming the doors. it’s more worth it each time he does it; genuine smiles painted on your features as a reward for his morsels of genuiness.

you hum quietly, something dangerous flickering in your eyes. “that’s actually a pretty popular theory.”

“that women are smarter than men?” soonyoung finds the claim far less outrageous now than he would have six months ago. it’s impossible to be as staunch and sure as men are supposed to be in their own superiority, when he is so overexposed to your brilliance.

“no,” you reply with a laugh. “that i’m smarter than you. specifically.”

a joke, soonyoung registers. like the ones his father used to tell at dinners and during house parties. though, kwon sr. used to prefer the jokes about sex traitors, about women in high positions. soonyoung’s mother’s lip used to be very tight during these loud retellings. soonyoung finds that he prefers your joke; one that’s private and that puts you on a pedestal rather than pushes you down, that makes you refer to him as a friend rather than someone you’re stuck with.

he also finds that he wants to kiss you. that feeling he buries.

____________________

“soonyoung,” you murmur one night, quietly and carefully from your side of the bed. the divide has gotten smaller, for sure, but there’s still something invisible and terrible that seems to keep you sleeping with your back against him, that keeps him from daring to reach out and touch your hair while you sleep. he opens one eye, peers at you while you twist around in the bed to face him. he can barely make out your silhouette in the darkness, but he still knows exactly what you must look like.

“what is it?” he prompts when you seem to be hesitating. you exhale, and he feels the air on his face, resists the urge to shiver.

“you said–” you pause, shift slightly on the bed. he thinks you’re embarrassed, somehow. “you said you’d do anything,” you don’t finish the sentence, don’t need to. maybe the word ‘happy’ is too foreign on your tongue. soonyoung’s skin tingles. “did you mean it?”

“yes,” he replies, doesn’t even stop for a second to reconsider. truths never used to fall out of him so easily before. nothing is quite like before, he feels, with a sort of terrifying warmth at the pit of his stomach. you must be gathering up the courage to ask for something, he realizes. “is there?” he asks. “something i can do?”

silence. for one, two, three– “take me out,” you whisper, almost reluctantly; as if you have to force the request out of your mouth. “on your bike.”

soonyoung sits up, and you follow; the bed jiggling under the sudden movements. his first thought is to refuse, to protest. too daring, too dangerous, too many risks. but as his eyes adjust to the darkness and he’s able to see your face more clearly he sees the uncertain, bare expression that lingers there, and he finds that refusal is an impossibility. so instead, he whispers back, “okay. now?” watches with delight as the tension leaves your body and is replaced by relief.

“please.”

(he holds your hand as he drags you after him to the garage where soonyoung and his friend keeps their bikes, can’t help looking back every so often to remind himself how your fingers intertwined looks. something scary, something amazing sizzles underneath his skin. he knows what it is, but somehow he can’t quite remember the name.)

he doesn’t take you to the underground where the nightly fights are held, nor does he show you the streets everyone use for races. somehow, he doesn’t think that’s what you’re really interested in, even with how much you’ve probed him about it. instead, he takes you to a secluded hill, his private, secret little spot. it’s not much; nothing really is anymore, but it’s more than the house, more than the dull, brown walls you’re used to staring at.

your neck cranes backwards as you take in the sight; bends so far back that soonyoung has to instinctively put a hand at your back to make sure you don’t fall over. the stars are bright, here; twinkling and clear and alive in a way that soonyoung haven’t been able to spot anywhere else. sometimes you’ll gasp, or inhale as if you haven’t been able to breathe for months, and when you turn to thank him, the shimmer of your eyes seem to outshine every star in the night sky.

(love, he realizes, as you’re holding onto him, arms wrapped securely around his torso as you head back to the garage. the feeling is called love.)

“soonyoung,” you call after him when you’re back in the house, stopping in the middle of the hallway. soonyoung swears he’ll never get used to how his name sounds in your voice. he turns around, takes note of the uncertain look in your eyes. “i’m–” you frown, take a step towards him. for a moment, you seem to weigh your options, to ponder how to go about whatever it is you’re trying to express. an inhale, an exhale. “ah, fuck it.” and then–

then your lips are on his, his face pulled forcefully to meet yours. your fingertips claw at his face, body pressing itself against him, and for a second soonyoung thinks his brain might have exploded. you tug at his face again, urge him to either respond or pull away.

soonyoung chooses the first option. he grabs your hips, digs his fingers into the fabric of your clothes and pull at your body as if he’d die without the contact. your mouth opens, tongue slipping out to lick at his mouth, and soonyoung groans, feels the vibrations of it through his whole body. he takes a few steps, presses you against the wall, and you bite down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. soonyoung can’t decide if the sensation is painful or pleasurable, he can’t remember his own last name. all he knows is that you rotate your hips, grinds against him in a way that makes him dizzy.

“upstairs,” you pant, and soonyoung takes the opportunity to explore your neck; bites and nibs at your skin and relishes in the reactions it gives him. your exhales are loud, shaky, and your fingers burrow into his shoulder in what seems more like a steadying action than anything else. “bed,” you add, as if you’ve forgotten how to construct proper sentences.

here, soonyoung falters. “you don’t have to–” he says, voice hoarse with something he can’t describe as anything but ‘lust’. another sin to add to the tally, he supposes. he pulls his head back, searching your face for anything to imply that you’re acting out of a sense of obligation. he finds your cheeks; reddened beyond anything he’s ever seen before. he finds your mouth; already swollen and hot pink against your skin. he finds your eyes; wild and alive and more than ever reminding him of the night full of stars.

he does not, however, see any doubt. still, he feels the need to reiterate; “i don’t expect anything.”

you laugh, at that, a breezy, easy thing that sounds almost like a symphony. you take his face between your hands, squish his cheeks and press a chaste, quick kiss to his lips.

“i know. i want to.”

and there’s something in the almost prideful way you say that, that you emphasize the word ‘want’, that makes soonyoung think he couldn’t ever deny you anything.

____________________

soonyoung stares. he leans on his arm, fingers splayed against soft linens and body cushioned by thick duvets. on the other side of the bed, you’re sleeping.

before – that is to say, before you realized that soonyoung was not your enemy, that he could even be your ally – you used to sleep with a body language so tight and rigid that soonyoung sometimes wondered if you ever actually slept at all. fully clothed in your heavy dresses and knotted corsets, arms stiff and legs curled at the very edge of the bed. it almost felt like sharing sleeping quarters with a heavy, big stone.

the sight that now greets him every morning before he has to leave to perform the mundane tasks that are expected of him, is something almost bizarrely opposite; something that makes his head spin even when he’s seen it time after time after time. your arms are stretched across the bed, reaching for the warmth of the space that soonyoung occupied mere minutes ago. sunlight puts an impossible sort of glow over your exposed skin and makes the back of soonyoung’s neck tingle. he reaches out, curls a lock of your hair around his finger.

a calculated mistake, so to speak. your eyes open. a slow, lazy action; even waking up has become a completely new, changed thing, unrecognizable in contrast to the eyes-wide-open, fully alerted way soonyoung has become accustomed to.

for a moment you just watch him, impassively; eyes barely open and fingers clutching at the white linens right by soonyoung’s thigh. you do not lean after his touch, nor away from it. this new, tentative closeness between you feels fragile at all times, and soonyoung worries, not for the first time, if he’s crossed a line.

“are you staring at me?” you ask, sleepiness tugging at your vocal chords. the sound makes soonyoung’s chest tighten with something he doesn’t quite recognize. it’s a warm, fuzzy feeling. the tip of soonyoung’s tongue tastes of the same illegal, dangerous thing that seems to surround everything involving you. soonyoung feels a surge of courage sizzling through his veins, lets his hand disappear fully into the mess of your hair. your eyes flutter close, a low rumble of a hum slipping past your lips.

“yes,” he admits, his thumb flitting along your cheekbone. your eyes open again, observe him carefully. soonyoung has known, probably ever since he started teaching you how to read, ever since you started letting your guard down and your mouth speak freely, that he is in love with you. he’d told you as much; that he’d do anything to ensure your happiness. he feels it now, though, harder and clearer than ever before in the pale sunlight and the soft glow that surrounds you both. it almost feels like peace, like freedom. “i love you.”

you inhale, raise your hand to glide along his thigh and reach for his burgunder tie. the silence feels overwhelming. and then you tug, almost forcefully enough to make soonyoung fall over you. he has to catch himself with his arms, cages you in between them, and your fingers reach, clutch at his face. he feels your breath over his mouth, and the anticipation is almost as deliriously wonderful as when your lips finally connect with his own.

the first kiss you shared, technically, was at your wedding. it was a standard procedure sort of thing; a nod back to other times where marriages were a free, voluntary thing. just the barest touch of lips against lips. you’d grimaced afterwards, and soonyoung had pretended not to noticed.

the second time– soonyoung can’t quite stop thinking about the second time. he finds that he struggles to put a name to it, to the rush of emotion and stress and confusion and relief, to the mess of it all. it had been a beginning, he now knows, though at the time he’d felt so overwhelmed that he’d thought it was an ending.

this; this lazy, casual press of lips, makes every nerve underneath soonyoung’s skin do somersaults. your arms wind around his neck, he lets himself fall against your body and against the softness of the bed, noses squished together and fingertips itching to touch. your own fingers move to ruffle his hair, to undo every attempt he’d made at making himself look presentable before leaving the house. he finds that he struggles to care.

“soonyoung,” you murmur, just a hair’s breadth away from him. he feels the vibrations of your voice through his entire body, shivers with the way his name sounds coming from your mouth. “i’m not–” here, you falter, and soonyoung’s throat feels constricted. you watch him, for a moment, fingers gliding along the skin of his face as if you’re trying to commit every line to memory. “i’m not bringing a child into this world.”

soonyoung’s breath stutters. even with the vagueness of the statement, the meaning is clear. he might have been the one to teach you how to read, but you’ve taught him how to read between the lines. hesitation twinkles in your eyes when soonyoung fails to immediately respond. he leans back in, presses his lips against yours; quickly, with an intake of breath. “i guess,” he murmurs, peppers your face with kisses. his hand clutches at the fabric of your shirt, right above your stomach.

“we have to make some changes to it, then.”

#svt imagines #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios

105 notes · View notes

bumblesimagines · 4 months

Note

You look beautiful in my bed.

Katniss Everdeen

You look beautiful in my bed.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

The life of a Victor had never been what the Capitol chalked it up to be. The cameras never showed what happened behind the scenes, the nightmares that followed, the traumas that were relived day in and day out. The survival mode that had flickered on inside the arena never turned off. The adrenaline remained, the paranoia and hopelessness of knowing your life and the lives of those around you belonged to President Snow.

It was why Victors could only truly rely on other Victors. For comfort, for reassurance, for a brief taste of normalcy that could've been theirs if the Hunger Games hadn't existed. Most relationships with other Victors remained platonic and familial, sometimes venturing into sexual territory for an escape from the horrors in the arms of someone who could relate. But it stopped there. Romance had never been an option, not with Snow watching. It'd be too dangerous, too risky.

Until Plutarch Heavensbee and District 13 swooped in with their plans for the Victors and the Girl on Fire from District 13.

You had first heard and learned of Katniss Everdeen during the 74th Hunger Games. She'd appeared meek and almost nervous during her interview, yet something about her seemed genuine and authentic. Johanna Mason, your fellow Victor and friend, had voiced her distaste in the corny star-crossed lovers plot the District 12 mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, had certainly put them up to but in the end, the sickly sweet strategy had resulted in both tributes returning home.

Everything that followed after had felt like a blur. The riots, the uprising, the Districts' unrest, the Quarter Quell announcement that had left Johanna screaming in a fit of rage and destroying anything she could get her hands on, the 75th Hunger Games reaping where you had blanky stared at the bowl with only one name because the other two male victors had already passed away from age and an accident, the games themselves... Johanna's imprisonment at the hands of the Capitol.

You stared at the large window and watched the dim lights from the hallway flicker occasionally, unable to find proper sleep. District 13 had a curfew, and most were expected to remain in their rooms until morning unless they were guards or had a legitimate reason. It was why Katniss often slept in your bedroom and snuck back to hers when the lights flickered back on. Nobody needed to see the symbol of the rebellion doing a walk of shame.

She shifted slightly, the iron grip she had on your hand loosening slightly as she began to wake. You couldn't exactly remember when your relationship with the Mockingjay had turned from tolerating each other to sleeping together, but with the absence of Peeta Mellark and Johanna, she'd needed the comfort as much as you. You'd lost someone you considered a sister and she'd lost a good friend.

"It's still early," You murmured when you made out her almost gray eyes peering up at you through the dark. "Go back to sleep."

"You go back to sleep." She yawned and stretched her hand out to flicker on the light on the nightstand. You flinched at the sudden light and squinted until your eyes adjusted to it before moving to press the button that made the window darken on both sides. President Coin seemed to dislike privacy but you supposed knowing everything about her citizens had allowed her to keep them alive throughout the years. "Nightmare?"

"Just thinkin' about how you look beautiful in my bed." You responded and she rolled her eyes, brushing away strands of raven hair away from her face and sitting up. Despite her reaction, the red on her ears and cheeks was undeniable. She'd been immune to Finnick's charm, but it seemed like a different story when it came to you.

"Are you sure you're not an Odair?" She joked lightly and you snorted, a small grin passing over your lips briefly before you remembered the state Finnick had been left in after learning of Annie Cresta's imprisonment. The man had been inconsolable for days and only caught sleep when he was sedated, and even then you often heard his pleading shouts for Annie when he awoke. Katniss's eyes lowered and she sighed softly, letting her cheek rest against your shoulder. It was unusual for her to be soft around you, to allow herself to be emotional. "We'll get them back. Annie, Peeta, Johanna..."

"I know." You raised a hand to her face and tucked away a lock of hair. Her eyes remained downcast but she pressed her cheek further against your shoulder in response. A small smile tugged at your lips and you leaned down to kiss the top of her head. You tried to keep things as platonic as could be with the arrangement you created with her but the more you got to know her, the more you wanted to be around her. She didn't need the added stress. She already had to balance Gale's and Peeta's feelings for her without hurting them, she didn't need yours added to the list.

The familiar hum and echoing sound of the lights automatically turning on caught your attention and you leaned away, reaching down to pick up the dark gray jumpsuit from the floor so Katniss could get dressed and head back to her room. She took the jumpsuit in her hands and considered it for a moment, her lips parting to speak before closing again. You sighed. "You've got a long day ahead of you, Mockingjay. Go back before someone sees you."

"(Y/N)-"

"Go."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x male reader #the hunger games x y/n #the hunger games x you #katniss everdeen #thg #thg x reader #thg x male reader #katniss everdeen x reader #katniss everdeen x male reader #katniss everdeen x you #katniss everdeen x y/n #johanna mason

145 notes · View notes

hidden-poet · 2 months

Text

S. lands on top: chapter 4

summary: Coriolanus returns home to the Capital with two women from district 12 plaguing his mind. One a (presumed) dead mystery but another well within his reach.

warnings: unco, dark!Coriolanus, possessive!Corirlanus, Dark themes, mentions of death, she/her pronouns, kidnapping, violence, somnophilia.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Next chapter

S. lands on top; 4

Strabo Plinth was waiting for Coriolanus as he exited his university class.

“Mr. Plinth, sir,” Coriolanus greeted, his voice carrying his annoyance.

“Coriolanus,” the older man returns, placing a hand on Coriolanus’ shoulder and propelling him forward out of the crowd of his peers.

“We haven’t seen you in a while. Mrs. Plinth was asking about you.”

“I’ve been busy, sir, with University.”

More, in truth, with Mabel.

“Of course, but perhaps you could manage dinner on Saturday night. We promise not to keep you long.”

Coriolanus swallows his distaste. He hated being at the beck and call of district blood. Now that he was a Gamemaker, he earnt a decent wage and could afford to distance himself from the Plinths. But Strabo Plinth offered far more than money. He was a powerful ally to have in Coriolanus' corner.

So he smiles at the older man and doesn’t jerk from his touch.

“Why don’t you and Ma come up to our penthouse Saturday? There’s someone I would like you to meet.”

It would be a good opportunity to test Mabel’s training on people who don’t really matter.

Strabo seemed pleased with the news, and confirmed that both him and his wife would be there. He finishes his sentence with ‘son’ and Coriolanus couldn’t help but flinch.

—--

With Reaping Day coming up, Coriolanus and the other Gamemakers were working overtime to get everything organized on time.

It frustrated him to no end. Dr. Gaul had already set him an impossible target and now she was shortening the deadline.

He had been forced to authorize a heavy hand with Mrs. Fox. Mabel’s hands were often red and sore from the cane by the time he came home, but her temper flared bright still.

She was a dog with teeth and he was yet to get her to eat from the palm of his hand.

She loved a challenge, but so did he.

By the time he got home, the house was dark and quiet. Normally Tigris would sit up and wait but she wasn’t talking to Coriolanus much these days. Another problem that would be solved the second Mabel learned to submit.

Coriolanus finds his way to his bedroom and locks the door behind him.

He could see Mabel’s outline on the bed as he dropped his bag by his desk. He isn’t quiet as pulls his pajamas from the drawer, and heads to the bathroom. He hears Mabel move as he switches on the light in the bathroom, he turns back to see if she had woken.

She had not but the sight before him struck a match.

She was back in his top and underwear. Her soft hair seemed to shine with its new care and was sprawled around her. Long locks curled on her shoulder towards her breasts. She laid on her back as if she was showcasing her beauty to Coriolanus. Her neck stretched out to him as her head rolled to one side. Her legs slightly parted as one rested on the pillow she used as a barrier. Pretty pink lips and long eyelashes called out to him, taunting him, ‘You can look but you can’t touch’. But why couldn’t he? He owned her now. He was soon to own Panem.

He drops his pajamas and crawls on the bed over her. She doesn’t wake from his presence, and he takes it as a go-ahead to unbutton her top. The cold air does wake her. She instantly knows what he’s doing and screams for Tigris.

Covering her mouth with his hand, he brings his lips down to her ear, “Shh, don’t wake the house.”

She screams into his hand and he removes it to backhand her. She lets out a moan of pain, but nothing more.

He is rougher with his movements, yanking the shirt off her shoulders and pulling her up by the neck to get rid of it completely. He uses both hands to pull her pants off her ankles before returning.

“Get the fuck off me!” she yells and he covers her mouth once more.

“You’ve cost me quite a bit of money these last few weeks. Your governess, the peacekeepers, food, chocolates.”

His hand lowers to rub circles over her sex.

“You should really thank me.”

Her hips buck at his touch. She was no virgin and knew of the release Coriolanus was offering.

He presses his lips down against hers harshly. It was their first kiss and it was intoxicating. She doesn’t kiss back but makes no move to hinder his kiss. His hand goes back over her lips when he’s done and he undresses himself one-handedly.

He tries not to hurt her as he clumsily tears his clothes off but as she wiggles and fights under him, he is forced to press her back into the mattress with his elbows and knees.

He presses his naked body down on Mabel to stop her from wiggling. His strong fingers grip over her mouth and her nails claw into his shoulders, trying to hurt him.

“Put your hands on the headboard,” he demands.

She brings them up to his neck and digs in.

“Headboard,” he repeats with a firm twist of her hair.

She does put them up, curling her little fingers around the rich material.

One day, when everything was settled, he was going to take his time exploring every inch of Mabel. But for right now, he just needed to reach the end goal.

He inserts a finger into her to pleasantly find she was wet. His eyes darted up to her at the sensation.

She had chosen to close her eyes. He takes it as another victory.

He breaches her entrance with his finger but never fully enters. Just pushes his finger back and forth.

“Let see, your governess is on a thousand panem an hour and you districts make only one panem an hour. Add that to all the chocolate you eat, and well, you’ll be laying down, taking my cock for a while to come.”

In anger, she lowers her hand to give his curls a harsh pull. He slaps her thigh in retaliation.

“Keep your hands on the headboard.”

She places them back on the headboard.

He used to imagine sneaking out the back of the Hob with Mabel like he watched her do with so many other men. This was better.

She tossed those men aside when she was done. Never to be spoken about again.

Here, the only man who would touch her would be him.

He lines himself up with her and pushes himself as far as he could go. She arches her back at the feeling of him inside her. With a hand over her mouth, he begins to thrust into her. He could feel her lips part under his hand in quiet moans. She used her feet to push back at his hips but it was a half-hearted effort at the least.

He reaches up to the headboard and clamps one of his hands down on hers ensuring that it stays there. His thrusts are hard and fast.

He hits a particular spot and her hips buck.

“You like it there?” he targets the same location. Her hands grapple the headboard almost as a praise.

“Bet those boys in 12 never fucked you like this. Never gave you the proper attention you deserve.”

She said something into his hand but it was muffled and surly from her lust.

Her breathing hitches as the pleasure builds, he can feel her little puffs of air fall on the skin of his hand. Giving her the full treatment, he lowers his hands and rubs two fingers over her clit. She jumps and whines from the attention. It was better than any song Lucy Gray ever sang.

Between his thrusting and his fingering, she came within seconds.

He lets out an unintended moan as she clenches around him. Her fight returns as her orgasm is flushed from her and she begins to wiggle underneath him.

He barrows down again in retaliation, so she was forced to lie there and take it. He shows her mercy by taking away his hand and using it to hold her hips in place.

“You’re used to taking charge, aren’t you? Once you’ve had your fill, you would toss them aside without theirs. Rude girl.”

She throws her head back and his hand follows as his thrusts become painful. When she lowers her hands to his arms without permission, he doesn’t mind.

His head spun. For the first moment since childhood, he was living in the present and not plotting and scheming for the future.

Heavy pants accompanied his thrusts as the hard and fast movements worked his body.

He lowers his head to her neck as he feels his end coming. The position meant his lips were pressed against her collarbone as he came inside her. His hips buck weakly a few times at the end to ensure that he had fully emptied himself.

Coriolanus rolls off her and into his side of the bed.

She lays there as Coriolanus’ cum drips out of her, deathly still while he pants breathlessly.

She doesn’t say anything as she rises and takes Coriolanus’ shower, slamming the door behind her.

The next morning he rose in good spirits. After so long he finally got a taste of Mabel. He was right to say she was addictive. Still, he didn’t want children running around his feet. He had only just got her. He rang down for Profeous, a pill that worked within a 24-hour time frame to ensure that nothing stuck.

It was delivered with his morning paper. Mabel was still not up yet. He doubted she went to sleep until the early hours of the morning. It wasn’t his problem, he needed her to get up now, take the pill, and have some breakfast. She could nap later on.

He brings her the pill and a cup of water.

She lay curled into a ball on her side. He shook her until she unrolled herself.

She sat up, with her eyes stuck together from sleep. She won the battle against them and looked at Coriolanus sitting on the end of the bed.

“Good morning,” he greets, holding out his palm with the little white pill.

“What is it?” she asks.

“It’ll stop you from getting pregnant.”

She snatches it off him and downs it without water. He places a hand on her shoulder as he leans over to place the cup of water on the bedside table.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she brushes his hand off.

“You didn’t seem to mind me touching you last night.”

She glares at him with a fury that doesn’t suit her beauty.

“That had nothing to do with you.”

“That had everything to do with me.” he cockily replies.

“It’s a natural reaction. God's gift to any man who can find the clitoris.”

She takes the water off the table and gulps it down.

“I knew you were going to,” she admits softly.

“Well, you’re not stupid”.

“So that’s how it will be now? It’s begun.” She rested her head against the cool glass as she spoke. Before regaining herself and placing the glass bedside table, forfeiting her comfort in an effort to seem more put together.

“Sex doesn’t scare me,” she remarks.

“It’s not supposed to.”

“You can’t use it to break me.”

He places a hand on her thigh in comfort. She tenses under it but doesn’t move it off her to show him that intimacy couldn’t be used as a weapon.

“Mabel, your life here can be comfortable or it can be very uncomfortable for you. Sex can be something enjoyable for both of us, or it can just be enjoyable for me. You can have food and clothes and as much chocolate as you can eat.”

“So long as I open my legs,” she had a habit of interrupting him that he had yet to break.

“And keep your mouth shut.”

He gets up from the bed, shoving his hands in his pocket and standing above her.

“There’s a dinner on Saturday night where you will be presented to the Plinths. A trial run for you to show me that you can learn your place here in the Capitol.”

“My place as you captive,” she bit. He yanks her chin up to him,

“Your place as my pet.”

She glares at him.

“My little lap dog,” he mocks, releasing her.

Intimacy didn’t scare her, the loss of independence did.

—————-

Coriolanus spent his Saturday completing an assignment that wasn’t due for another two weeks. But the quicker he got school out of the way the more he could focus on Mabel.

He hid at his writing desk, penning the paper while Mabel sat with Tigris in the living room sewing.

He had left the door open to hear any commotion but he only heard laughter and the occasional scolding of Grandma’am.

The night was fast approaching and he still had to organize the meal for tonight. Despite being district, Strabo had particular tastes that he demanded to be catered to.

He sighs as he places his pen back in its holder. Two assignments down, four to go.

Coriolanus rises from his chair and heads to the living room to organize dinner with the chef.

Mabel paid him no mind as he entered the room. She makes a point to not look at him but continue her sewing as if he wasn’t there.

He plays the same game as he continues his way to the kitchen and calls down for the chef to be brought up.

While waiting in the living room for the chef, Coriolanus calls for Tigris. Mabel doesn’t turn at the sound of his voice but Tigris scurries over to him.

He produces two tickets from his pocket and passes them to her.

“I’ve made dinner reservations at the Venezia at 6 and requested a lounge with Pluribus at his nightclub for after the Opera.”

“Opera?” Tigris checks the dates of the tickets, “Tonight!”

“For Grandma’am and you”.

She eyes Coriolanus suspiciously.

“I’m not so sure, Coryo.”

“Mabel will be fine here with me.”

“She’s been funny recently. Quite. I don’t think I should leave her.”

“You leave her every day, Tigris, when you go to work,” he flicks the tickets in her hands, “Besides I’ve already told Grandma’am that you’re taking her.”

There’s a knock at the door from the chef and Coriolanus pats Tigris on the shoulder as he leaves.

He passes the living room, crossing directly where Mabel sat but she still refused to look at him.

—----------------

Coriolanus digs in Tigris’ closet while Mabel was taking a shower. No dress was up to his standard. He wanted something that let Mabel’s beauty speak for itself. Tigris hid behind her clothes. They were all too colorful. Too eccentric. Nothing Mabel wouldn’t drown in.

His hands went still over a simple black evening gown with a sweetheart neckline and small cap sleeves. He takes it for Mabel along with Tigris’ makeup bag off her vanity and brings it to his room with the dress. Still hearing the shower running, he leaves the items on the end of the bed and joins Mabel in the shower, leaving a trail of clothes as he strips.

She gives no reaction to him. Showers together were a regular occurrence.

He picks up the scented soap and lathers it over her body.

“I’ve put a dress on the end of the bed for you. And some makeup. Do you know how to use it?”

She grabs the soap off him and distances her.

“We had makeup in District 12.”

She goes to pass him out of the shower but he catches her arm and pulls her back under the stream.

“Nothing clownish. Keep it simple. And mind your manners tonight. Plinth doesn’t take disrespect easily.”

Coriolanus leaves the shower first to prepare himself. He brushes and dries his curls into submission. Rubs an expensive cream into his skin to give it a healthy, glowy look and then hunts in his closet for something to match Mabel. He knew he had a black suit that had dark patterned printing on it. But amongst his many clothes, it was difficult to locate.

When he finally locates it, Mabel had already dressed and begun styling her hair and makeup. He could hear her behind him as he then went to find the perfect pair of shoes to match.

She hums as she does her makeup, finding joy in once again dressing up.

It was nearly time for the Plinths to come up from their apartment just below. They had brought the floor below the penthouse to stay close to Coriolanus after the death of their son. They latched on to him quickly when he returned home. Replacing the hole Sirjanus left before it bled too much. At first, Coriolanus relished in the attention and the money. But as he rose in society, they got in his way more often than not.

While Strabo was often an ally, one that Coriolanus was surprised to find had a lot in common with, Ma was a hindrance. Her outdated fashion despite her money, and her babying of Coriolanus in public made it almost not worth the connection to her husband. But all people still had their use. She had brought him the suit he now wore.

The jacket buttoned upon his right shoulder, giving the suit an almost military feeling.

He turns around to see Mabel putting on her red lipstick using a small standing mirror. She looked stunning. Her dress was tight upon her body, exemplifying her curves and pushing up her small breasts. She pinned her hair up in a loose bun and followed his instructions on the minimalistic makeup.

His breathing hitched looking at her. He thought she was beautiful as district scum, he had no idea how beautiful she could be as a Capitol debutante.

She catches him staring in the mirror and tosses her lipstick down.

“They’ll be here soon. It’s custom to wait in the living room.”

She rises and spins for him.

“Happy?”

“You look fine,” he dismisses but a glint in her eye tells him she knew how good she looked.

The doorbell rings as soon as they reach the living room.”

“For a party of a higher standing, we would have servants answer the door. Being as the Plinths are close family friends, I will answer,” he spoke as he walked to the door.

As soon as it opened, a short woman in a dark green skirt suit popped in.

“Coryo!” Mrs. Plinth croons and he bends down to her level so she can plant a kiss on his cheek, “We’ve missed you horribly!”

“I’ve been busy, Ma. With school and work.”

“You mustn't work too hard,” the older lady looks concerned at Coriolanus' schedule. Her eyes softened at his before they caught Mabel out of her peripheral vision.

“Oh dear,” Mr. Plinth had not told her about the special someone Coriolanus wanted them to meet and was surprised to see Mabel standing in the living room. Mr. Plinth smiles as he lingers behind his wife, holding a plate of food. It was a pleasant surprise, one that he knew would make Ma happy.

“Hello,” Mabel greets politely.

Ma was happy with the surprise, grinning from ear to ear as she walked towards Mabel.

“My, aren’t you pretty!” Ma compliments.

“That’s very kind of you,” Mabel returned humbly, “I’m Mabel.”

Ma pulls Mabel down into a hug, “I am Ma. You can call me Ma!”

Mabel instantly warmed to Ma the same way she warmed to Tigris. Still, Mabel had not passed any test. Impressing Ma was hardly a feat.

Strabo follows Coriolanus to the living room and holds out the hand that was not carrying a plate. It engulfed Mabel's entire hand as they shook.

“Strabo Plinth.”

Mabel nods her head back. Coriolanus noticed an instant shift in her demeanor as he approached.

Her sassy mouth shut, her shoulders dropped, and she kept her head slightly down.

Coriolanus felt jealous that he did not have the same effect on her. He wondered if it was Strabo’s dark features or large frame that he did not have that produced such a result.

“Coriolanus never mentioned you.” He could see Strabo drinking Mabel in. He eyes her hungrily as he stands next to his wife. They cloud with darkness, and Coriolanus feels a certain pride. He had what others wanted. The boy in the too-tight shoes came out on top. Snow came out on top.

“He never mentioned me to me either.” Coriolanus’ fingers balled into a fist at her jab. The Plinths looked perplexed at her answer, sharing a glance between them.

“Can I take that?” Mabel quickly moves on, taking the plate out of Mr Plinth's hands. She uncovers the cloth wrap and looks up in excitement.

“Are these rock cakes?”

Mrs Plinth laughs, “Yes. You know them?”

“My mother makes them for every birthday.”

Mrs. Plinth looks fondly upon the girl, “My mother used to as well.”

“I’ll put these in the kitchen for later.”

Coriolanus grabs her arm to stop her from going. Her first fail of the night.

“Ring the bell and have the maid come out. You don’t enter the kitchen when guests have arrived.”

Mabel huffs but does as she is told. “There are so many rules in the Capitol. It’s hard to keep up.” Mabel talks squarely to Ma who stands surprised.

“Yes,” she agrees in a soft voice, “I had trouble at first too.”

“You’re not Capitol?” Mr. Plinth cuts straight to the chase.

“You’re not Capitol?” Mabel shoots back.

“Yes,” Ma answered at the same time as Mr. Plinth answered “No.”

“No,” Mr. Plinth reiterates, “Not anymore.”

Coriolanus finds this time to intervene, “The same is to be said about Mabel.”

He snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him.

“Mabel lives here now. In the Capitol.”

The maid enters the room and Coriolanus takes the plate off Mabel and passes it to her.

“Bring it back out with dessert,” he instructs. She bows in response and takes back off into the kitchen.

“Goodness, what a surprise,” Ma couldn’t hide the look of shock off her face.

“Coriolanus, perhaps it is best if we continue with dinner.” The man puts his hand on his wife's back and urges her forward. She sits at his side and Coriolanus follows suit, pushing Mabel to the table.

He rings the bell and the first course is brought out. Mabel smiles at the familiar maid but it is not returned.

“What district are you from?”

“I told you before that we are not district.” Strabo had started to eat his meal and did not look up as he spoke.

Ma sighs answering the question, “We are from District 2.”

“Oh! I went there once with my father. When they needed workers for the railway developments.”

Just as Coriolanus went to reprimand her, Strabo slams his fist down on the table.

“No more talk of districts. Eat your food and be quiet.”

Coriolanus could see a glimmer run across Mabel's eyes. He hoped she could contain it before she embarrassed him.

“So Coryo,” Ma began, “How’s school going?”

“I hear you're top of the class,” Strabo added.

“Yes, sir. Although there is not much competition. Most of the students pay for their place in the university rather than earn it.”

“Have you made any friends yet?” Ma often got Coriolanus confused with Sejanus. Coriolanus was friends with everyone, or at least enough to be able to call upon them for a favor. However, if he said yes, it would start a line of relentless questions.

“It is difficult with work. I miss a lot of the social events, and I often leave straight after the lecturer has finished.”

Ma looks upon him with undeserved sympathy. The maid returns from the kitchen with champagne and pours out the glasses.

“How is work going, Coryo? Dr. Gaul is not too hard on you, I hope.” Ma asks almost meekly.

She hated that he had followed Dr. Gaul as a Game maker. She tried for months to pressure Coriolanus into the family business, but he needed to separate himself from the Plinths as much as possible.

Coriolanus smiles politely back at her, “Fine, Ma.”

“Oh that’s good,” she answers, taking a bite of her entree.

“You know, you don’t have to study and work. If you want to focus more on your studies, we would be happy to increase your allowance.” The Plinths had offered several times, to the point the conversation had become dull.

His allowance was far more than he could spend anyway. He worked to separate himself from the Plinth fortune. One day because of his work and education, he would be president.

“I like the challenge,” Coriolanus contends.

“What do you do for work?” Mabel asks. He realized that Mabel doesn’t know a thing about him.

Coriolanus hesitated to say ‘Gamemaker’. She was in a relatively settled mood. It was sure to disrupt that.

“I work for Dr. Gaul,” he says instead.

“Doing what?” she pushes back.

An awkward silence crosses the table.

“Oh, something bad.” she guessed.

“Mabel, we are having dinner. Eat it or I’ll take it back.” He reaches out under the table and squeezes her thigh in warning.

“Mabel, what a beautiful dress you are wearing.” Ma was trying to save the night and Coriolanus mentally thanked her for it.

“Thank you, Ma. So Coryo, do you kick puppies or rip blankets off sick children?”

Coriolanus passes Mabel's plate back to the Maid waiting by the wall to serve drinks. She takes it from him and returns it to the kitchen.

Strabo gives Coriolanus a head nod of approval.

Ma clears her throat, “Truly a beautiful dress. Is it one of Tigris’ designs?”

Mabel nods her head.

“You look fantastic in it.” Strabo comments.

“And what do you do Mr. Plinth? To earn such respect from Coriolanus?” Mabel ignores his compliment.

“I am a weapons manufacturer,” Strabo eats quickly.

She turns to Coriolanus with a glare, “What do you do?”

“Ma,” Coriolanus ignores her and focuses his attention on his guests, “How’s volunteering at the hospital?”

Mabel stews over what it could be. While Coriolanus stews over Mabel’s conversation etiquette. He could not have her talking like that in front of Dr. Gaul, she would be sure to demand Mabel’s tongue.

He takes her wrists in a tight hold as a warning as he eats and listens to Ma prattle on.

The first course was done and the plates were cold and empty as Ma finished her tales of working in the hospital.

Coriolanus offers her a smile as he rings the bell for the next course. It was ready and waiting, coming out almost as soon as the bell was heard.

Mabel’s servant friend goes to place the dish in front of her but Coriolanus waves it off.

Mabel looks at him annoyed but doesn’t say anything. Neither do the Plinths.

They eat in silence while Mabel sits looking at them.

There was no bread on the table for her to even pick at.

“Hm, this is good,” Ma tried to break the tension but her cheeks flushed at her words, “Oh I am sorry Mabel. I didn’t-”

Mabel laughs as if she thought it was funny and Ma unshrinks from herself.

Her laughing sets the mood of the night back on track and Coriolanus mentally praises himself for making the correct choice to withhold dinner from her.

Polite conversation passes around the table. Mabel even uses some of the questions and responses learned from her governess.

He felt proud of his girl. Maybe she would impress Dr. Gaul on reaping day. Maybe Coriolanus was ready to be hailed president of Panem.

The servants come back and the girl holds the dish of the balled sugar bread known as rock cakes.

She was silently asking if she was to put it down.

Coriolanus stares still deciding.

“Oh Coriolanus, surely she can have dessert. She said rock cakes are her favorite.” Ma pleads.

“Don’t spoil the girl. She still has lots to learn.” Strabo interjects.

The decision lay with Coriolanus who allows her to have just one.

She looked pleased with the decision and it helped to settle her into a better mood. She ate with her hands which would have earned a scolding from Coriolanus if Ma also wasn’t forgoing her utensils.

He and Strabo choose the cheesecake on offer.

“If you're free any day Mabel, you should come down to our apartment and I’ll show you how to make them.”

Mabel perked up at the news but Coriolanus was not pleased with the offer.

“Maybe once Mabel has settled.” He was quick to respond before Mabel could accept.

“Oh, of course. There is no rush.”

Mabel quickly finishes her cake and reaches for another from the plate in the middle. Coriolanus intercepts it and throws it back.

She huffs but accepts he was serious about only allowing one.

Strabo finishes his last bite and snaps at the wait staff to take it.

“Strabo!” his wife chastises.

Another maid brings out a tray of tea and places it in the living room. She takes a small silver box off the tray and brings it over to Coriolanus. She opens the box in front of him showing the cigars.

He turns to Mabel explaining, “You and Ma will go to the living room now to have tea. Mr. Plinth and I will have our cigars, and join you later on.”

“I am not one to argue.” Mabel jests, holding out her hand across the table for Ma, who gladly takes it.

The women were happy together in the living room where the conversation was lighter. Mr. Plinth had moved to take Mabel’s seat next to Coriolanus so they could talk privately.

“She’s gorgeous. I can see why you sent for her.” Strabo comments.

“She knows it too. Far too sassy for her own good”. He felt this information was safe with Strabo.

“Yes. I picked up on that. She needs a strong hand.”

“Well I am trying, sir, but it’s a fine line between dampening her spirit and extinguishing it completely.”

Strabo flicks the ash from his cigar into the tray, looking solemnly down at it.

“I always wondered what would’ve happened if I got Sejanus a woman, if maybe it would’ve refocused his attention,” his eyes flick back to Coriolanus, “A woman like Mabel would have done him wonders I think.”

Coriolanus felt jealous at just the thought. Sejanus wouldn’t have been able to control Mabel. She would have ended up the family’s avox, eating Ma’s custard.

But verbally he agreed with Strabo.

The talk changed to new developments in weaponry and Coriolanus’ teachers that Strabo knew.

The cigars finished before the tea. The women were too busy talking to finish their cups.

Mabel had no trouble in conversation with people she deemed worthy of it.

The men join the living room conversation.

Strabo went to stand behind his wife and placed a loving hand on her shoulder.

After Coriolanus poured Ma another cup of tea, he copied Strabo by standing behind Mabel and placing a hand on the back of her neck. She jumps away from him.

It was not a good look in front of the Plinths and Coriolanus wanted to smack her for embarrassing him but he restrained himself.

Strabo took it upon himself to compel Mabel into a better attitude. He moves from his wife towards Mabel.

Strabo takes her shoulders into his hands and rubs up and down her arms.

“I know how scared you must be. Capitol life can be a tough adjustment. If you ever need anything to help you here. You just let us know.”

Mabel tore free from his hold, a look of disgust upon her face.

“Help? From a man who killed his own people for scraps at the Capitol table? I’d rather lay with dogs than take that company.”

Coriolanus groans at her words. Strabo Plinth was not a man to cross.

“Oh!” Ma had a hard time with the subject of money and how they required theirs. Her eyes filled with tears and she choked as her throat closed up.

Mabel reaches out to comfort her, but Ma is taken into the hold of Strabo who demands she go back down to their apartment.

He leads her to the door, ensuring she gets into the elevator before coming back inside.

Coriolanus held Mabel’s arm in a tight grip as he scolded her for her behavior.

Strabo pulled her from Coriolanus and struck Mabel across the face with such force that it knocked her to the ground.

“Learn what my son did not; submit to the ways of the Capitol or die.”

Mabel glares up at him from the floor, “I’ll tell him you said hello.”

Before Coriolanus could stop him, Strabo had her by the throat.

‘‘Do you think your beauty will save you?”

“Strabo,” Coriolanus calls, grabbing the man by the shoulders and pulling him away. It was the first time he had ever used the man's name.

Mabel gasps for air on the floor.

“I think my beauty will get me killed,” she heaved out.

Strabo shoves Coriolanus off and straightens back into his sophisticated demeanor.

“Coriolanus. I am sorry.” Strabo apologizes, “She wasn’t mine to correct”.

“Your wife is waiting for you, Mr. Plinth”, Coriolanus takes the older man to the door by his shoulder, leaving Mabel on the floor.

Coriolanus closes the door behind them and Strabo turns to him once more.

“I am not sure what came over me.”

Coriolanus looks at him bored. It was hardly surprising that Mr. Plinth was a violent man. In so many ways Coriolanus felt understood by Strabo. They could have been father and son in another lifetime. But if they had been, Coriolanus never would have been sent to District 12 and Mabel never would have caught his eye.

“I apologize for Mabel’s behavior. She was out of line with her comments.”

Strabo nods his head, looking down at his shoes.

“I would prefer it if you didn’t marry her,” Strabo addressed, “You could see how it would reflect upon us.”

Coriolanus fixed the cuff of his shirt. There would be nothing worse for his reputation than to play son to district-born Plinths and then go and marry a district-born girl.

“No one will know she is from the districts. I plan to introduce her as a long-lost heiress.”

“A long lost heiress,” Strabo scoffs, “She’s more district than I am.”

His movements are rash as he pulls on the flaps of his jacket.

“For now. She improves daily.”

“I thought the same thing about Sejanus and now look where he is.”

He presses the button to the private elevator down to their apartment, “My son would have really liked her.”

There was truth in that comment. Their willful and unshakable values would have made them fast friends.

“Goodnight, Coriolanus.” Strabo bid entering the elevator.

“Goodnight, Mr. Plinth”.

Coriolanus enters back into the apartment to find Mabel had moved off the floor. The experiment had failed and Coriolanus found himself disheartened. She didn’t have long left until the reaping.

He storms to find her in their room. She sat at his desk and tore the pins out of her hair, angrily.

He takes hold of her ear and pushes her against the wall where he could pin her.

“Anyone else and your actions would have got you killed tonight.”

“I don’t care.”

“I care,” he foolishly admits.

He pushes off the wall to take off his belt. Spinning Mabel around to face the wall, he lays the belt across her back.

She yelps as it comes down. The staff in the kitchen would be able to hear her but Coriolanus was so angry with her that appearances didn’t matter.

He didn’t stop until she was sobbing so hard, it interfered with her breathing.

“I want you to write an apology to the Plinths before you go to bed.”

Mabel wipes the tears from her face.

“Yes, Coryo.” she bit out.

With only two weeks before the Reaping, Mabel was nowhere near ready to meet Dr Gaul.

tag list;

@bruher

@hiatuswhore

@swimmjacket

@immyowndefender

@namelesslosers

@lovelymoonkiid

@queenofshinigamis

@acidaciruela

@briefwinnerpersonaturtle

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #hunger games #tom blyth #dead dove do not eat #snow lands on top #S. lands on top

105 notes · View notes

soulessjourney · 5 months

Text

Ashes of Panem

Part 2

Paring: (young) Coriolanus x Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Ashcroft had trained together since their entry into the academy. However, when their names were drawn, they found themselves pitted against each other and twenty other children in these games. As Y/N became a symbol of rebellion akin to her great grandmother, who vanished shortly after Panem's liberation, the looming threats of war and the approaching games forced Coriolanus and Y/N to forge an alliance. Amidst these challenges, they had to learn to trust and support one another in order to break free from Coin's oppressive regime.

Warnings: Mentions of violence and death, a little bit suggestive (or I'm just delusional)

A/N: After reading "Leveling the Playing Field" by @runningfrom2am and gearing up to watch "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes" for the second time, alongside binge-watching the entire Hunger Games series, I've found myself inspired to contribute to the delusoins I have about this man (within reasonable bounds).

Since the fall of the Capitol and the rebirth of Panem, things have taken a different turn. Many argue it was a necessary change, considering President Snow's detrimental governance of Panem. The rebellion spearheaded by a young girl named Katniss Everdeen led to his downfall, paving the way for President Coin to assume control. Coin introduced a chilling policy: the perpetual punishment of the children of Capitol officials, game makers, and peacemakers would annually participate in what she dubbed "The Capitol Games."

The name seemed ironic, given its stark resemblance to the Hunger Games, where a male and a female from each district fought for survival. However, the stark contrast lay in the fact that these children from the Capitol had grown up studying side by side, some even as friends or lovers. It was this dynamic that made these games all the more intriguing – friends turning against each other in a ruthless battle for survival.

Your knowledge about your great-grandmother was limited, as your mother voiced her distaste of her views and didn't wish to pass them to you. All you knew was her significant role in the rebellion, bearing the symbol of the Mockingjay. Your mother had cursed you the moment she married a child of a Capitol official, driven by her craving to rebel and show her stance agsinst her grandmother and what she fought for. New Panem seemed to reflect a haunting echo of the past, a cycle no one dared to acknowledge.

Snatching your book bag from the desk, you adjusted your skirt and slipped on the uniform jacket. "Y/N, it’s time to leave; you’re going to be late!" your mother's voice echoed. A woman driven by material desires had cursed her own daughter, never once expressing remorse. At times, you wondered if she was deliberate in her actions, perhaps aiming to make your father suffer, for you were his innocent child, bearing the consequences of his grandfather's misdeeds.

You never quite understood how your father managed to maintain the acceptance for the punishments that generations to come had to face, but in a realm where anything seemed plausible, you had long ceased questioning such matters. Stepping out of your room, you descended the stairs and paused at the dining room to plant a tender kiss on your father's cheek.

"I’ll be home late tonight; we have combat evaluation tomorrow, and I want to squeeze in more training beforehand," you whispered softly, gently squeezing his shoulder.

Your father harbored a disdain for how the Coin family structured the lives of the children in the Capitol. All of them were compelled to attend the Panem Training Academy, a calculated initiative aimed at grooming Capitol youths for the games, enhancing the spectacle of the impending fights. The academy produced skilled fighters who were well-versed in each other's combat techniques, adept at camouflage, and proficient in hunting, far surpassing the capabilities seen in the Hunger Games. It was a gruesome spectacle, yet simultaneously enthralling to witness individuals who had dedicated their lives to outmaneuvering one another.

Your father redirected your focus to him, patting your hand gently. "Remember, keep your guard up, Y/N/N. With that, you’re unstoppable," he advised tenderly, enveloping you in a tight embrace.

Standing in front of the academy, a quiet sigh escaped you as the imposing glass building loomed ahead. Someone fell into step beside you, offering a gentle pat on your shoulder. "Chin up, Y/N. It's just another day of regurgitating information we already know, all in preparation for the selections in a couple of weeks," remarked Coriolanus Snow, his red uniform contrasting sharply with his white hair.

With an audible scoff, you pushed forward, ignoring the taller male attempting to catch up. "It's too early to deal with you, Snow. Try again in a few years," you grumbled, ascending the steps. Though he wasn’t entirely off the mark, the truth stung. You had been fed the same information and skills since childhood, only to be thrust into a scenario where your survival instincts were the only currency. Admitting Snow's correctness would only inflate his already sizable ego.

"Someone's rather moody this morning. Could it be due to your combat evaluation tomorrow?" he inquired, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked alongside you into the building. "Y/N, seriously, you've got nothing to worry about. You're at the top of our class in combat; I don't see why you're so anxious." However, being at the top of your class was precisely why you were anxious. It meant having a colossal target on your back during evaluations.

Everyone else would work day and night, honing their skills just to topple you from your coveted position. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone attempted to kill you during the evaluations. Each year, someone would bend the rules, seeking to kill a contender prematurely, resulting in reprimands and reminders about the purpose of their presence here. Coin's lineage served as an constant reminder, as each year, her grandson would appear, delivering the same speech about the ideals of the new Panem and how everyone was there to atone for their family's misdeeds.

"What about you, Snow? Shouldn't you be concerned about tomorrow? I mean, you're ranked number five, poised to face Zephyra, who's just below me," you remarked as both of you made your way toward the lecture hall.

"I'm not overly concerned about her. However, I am worried that you'll get trapped in your own thoughts, as you tend to do, and end up sabotaging yourself," Coriolanus stated, his expression carrying a rare trace of concern. You shot him a perplexed look and moistened your lips. Coriolanus displaying concern for you was uncharted territory, indicating either a hidden agenda or an imminent catastrophe. Either way, his uncharacteristic kindness was a departure from the norm.

"What do you want Snow? Just get to the point and skip beating around the bush," you retorted, taking your seat and turning to face him as he settled beside you. His piercing blue eyes scrutinized your every move, almost as if he were testing the waters.

"Let's train together tonight. It could be mutually beneficial. I can assist you in learning how to defend against Jackson's attacks, and in return, you can help me improve my agility. They're wrapping up classes early today, giving us all time to prepare for tomorrow," Snow proposed an intriguing offer. His agility was lacking, hindering his ability to evade certain attacks or strike his opponents effectively. Meanwhile, you grappled with maintaining your guard and fending off Jackson's assaults. Jackson held the third position overall in your class for a reason.

"Fine, we can train together tonight, but this is solely for my benefit," you agreed, shifting your focus to the front as Professor Ellington entered the class.

Entering the training room, you glanced around before your gaze settled on Coriolanus, clad in a t-shirt and joggers. Despite your reluctance to admit it, he actually looked quite good in that attire. Part of you wondered how good he looked–shaking your head you rid any thoughts that threatened to invade your mind. This was the man you grew up despising; there was no way you'd be thinking of him in that way.

Moving forward, you took a seat on the bench beside him, releasing a sigh. "Took you long enough. I almost thought you were going to bail on me," he remarked, observing as you began taping your hands. Frankly, you contemplated it. The last time you sparred with him, he dominated the match. You barely scraped by with a victory when you decided to exploit his injured leg, a move he made sure to chastise you for over the following month.

"Ellington wanted to discuss the paper I wrote for our survival basics class. Something about me getting carried away with a whole paragraph detailing how I'd sleep up in a tree," you grumbled as you tore the tape with your teeth. In your opinion, the technique was crucial to discuss, considering its significance in survival scenarios within the games.

A snicker resonated from beside you, prompting a glare aimed in Coriolanus's direction. He responded with only a smile before rising and heading toward the ring. Your eyes tracked his every move, noting how he rolled his shoulders to loosen them and ran his fingers through his white locks before stepping onto the mat. Observing his broad shoulders, your gaze traced down his form.

"Y/N, I can't tell if you're checking me out or trying to find a weak point, but it's starting to weird me out a little," he remarked while moving around the ring and stretching his arms.

Standing abruptly, you cleared your throat and adjusted your attire, joining him in the ring for stretching while maintaining a peripheral watch on him. "I wasn't checking you out; you're not even worth a second glance," you grumbled, facing him. "I was merely assessing how long it'll take for me to kick your ass."

Coriolanus regarded you quietly before assuming a stance. Both of you raised your guards, circling the ring, awaiting the first move. It was your decision to act; you shifted and darted straight for him. Coriolanus attempted a hit toward your left shoulder, but you pivoted, dodging the jab and swiftly landing a kick on his back.

"When you face Zephyra, her agility matches mine. You need to learn to move with her, shifting your weight to protect your vulnerable areas, especially your back," you advised, circling back to face him as you continued moving around the ring.

"Why do you dislike me? I've never quite understood the grudge you hold against me. We've been stuck together for years, and not once have I ever screwed you over," he questioned, eyes darting toward your feet, trying to predict your actions. Seizing the moment he looked away, you ducked and landed a jab against his stomach.

A forced exhale escaped him, eliciting a smile on your lips. "Less talking, more blocking," you retorted, sweeping his feet from under him with a swift leg movement. As he lay on the ground, you offered your hand, but when he grabbed it, he swiftly pulled you into a choke hold.

Grunting, you tapped his arm, prompting him to release you with a sly smile. Stepping back, you massaged your shoulder before eyeing him on the ground. "I don't hate you; I just don't see the point in making friends destined to die," you explained, fixing your hair. "To me, you're nothing but competition."

After your exchange, silence reigned between the two of you, except for sharing minor pointers to enhance your fighting skills for the evaluation. By the time both of you called it a day, the sun had set. Seated on the mat, you unwrapped your hand, wincing at the emerging bruises on your knuckles. Coriolanus settled next to you, reclining against his hands.

"Despite what you might believe, Y/N, I do care about you. Sejanus and the others keep their distance because they're intimidated or frightened by you, but you're a clever fighter. Your dedication to learning survival tactics might just be what sets you apart," he confessed softly, his gaze fixed on you as you inspected your hands.

You lowered your gaze, feeling the weight of his words. "I avoid friendships because I don’t want to feel the pain of losing someone who meant something to me. We have to fight the people we care about because they want to punish us the way the districts were punished. I want to be your friend Snow, I really do, but I can't risk experiencing that loss," you admitted, a rare moment of vulnerability shared with him. "I'm bound to enter that arena because of the betrayal perceived by the Coin family after my mother married my father, especially given my great-grandmother's legacy," you added with a shrug.

It was an aspect you hadn't dwelled on much—the betrayal to your family name. Coriolanus gently grasped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, redirecting your gaze to meet his. "Don't isolate yourself because you fear loss. Sometimes, having someone who can protect you or simply offer a shoulder to lean on is better than navigating this world alone," he advised, his thumb tracing your jawline tenderly.

Nodding, you found yourself studying his captivating blue eyes, drawing you in every time. "I struggle with it at times. I've convinced myself that solitude is better, so I have justification for what will happen in that arena and it’ll be easier to do what I have to do to survive," you confessed, averting your eyes before clearing your throat and withdrawing from his touch. "Now, you should go. And don't think I don't know what you were attempting; I'm not kissing you, Snow," you grumbled, gathering your belongings.

Behind you, a boisterous laugh caught your attention, a sound unfamiliar coming from him. "I never mentioned anything about kissing, Y/N. It was just a gesture of comfort," he grinned, a sly smile appearing after crossing a boundary he knew he shouldn't have. "Sleep well, Snowflake. Can't wait to witness your performance tomorrow. But try not to dream of me," he called as you hastily left the room.

If there was one person you wanted to shove from a tree in that arena, it was Coriolanus Snow himself.

A/N: I would like to thank all of you for reading this, It does mean a lot as well versed in writing for Coryo, but I did want to give it a try and so far it has been fun. I do have a few of the next parts mapped out and I will try to release a writing schedule for the series to give you a rough estimate for when each part will be released.

For my ACOTAR readers: I am taking a break from updating for Azriel and Rhysand since I didn't have much insperation for thier parts and I just simply did not like what I was writing. I do promise to get to them soon but as of now, they are on hold until I can actually like what I am writing.

#coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #sejanus plinth #the hunger games #coriolanus fanfiction #thg series #tbosbas x reader #tbosbas fanfiction

128 notes · View notes

dewdropdinosaur · 29 days

Text

Screen Time is Bad for Your Brain

VOX x READER(PLATONIC)

Summary: Vox is desperate for information about Alastor and is running out of options. So he turns to the only person in Hell who might know and that comes with...costs

Warnings: NONE

For the lovely @gerascophobicmuch (sorry if the username is wrong)

REQUESTS OPEN!

In the depths of the underworld, where chaos reigns and power is both coveted and fleeting, there existed a peculiar alliance - or perhaps more aptly, a rivalry - between two formidable figures: Vox, the technological tyrant of the Hellish airwaves, and Y/N, the enigmatic overseer of a secrets nestled in the murky heart of a bog-like district.

Vox, with his penchant for the latest in infernal technology, ruled over his domain with a metallic fist. His domain buzzed with neon lights and the constant hum of screens displaying his broadcasts to the denizens of Hell. He craved information, but not just any information - he craved the instantaneous, the digital, the easily manipulable. It best served his purposes after all.

On the other hand, Y/N was a creature of subtlety and cunning. Their library, hidden within the shadows of the swamp, was a sanctuary of ancient tomes and whispered secrets. Y/N was the keeper of these mysteries, a being who danced on the fine line between chaos and neutrality. They dealt in information, but unlike Vox, their methods were more traditional - ink on parchment, whispered rumors, and clandestine meetings. It had been their trade since before their death.

Their paths collided not out of coincidence, but out of the inherent nature of their roles as overlords of their respective domains. Vox, always hungry for fresh knowledge to manipulate, sought to tap into the vast reserves of secrets hidden within Y/N's library. Meanwhile, Y/N, ever the collector of stories and knowledge, found Vox's reliance on technology distasteful and saw him as a threat to the delicate balance they maintained.

Their relationship was defined by a delicate dance of banter and manipulation. Vox would send his lackeys to negotiate access to Y/N's collection, offering promises of power and influence. Yet Y/N was not easily swayed. They would meet Vox's advances with a sharp wit and a cunning smile, always keeping their true intentions veiled behind a facade of somewhat passive aggressive friendliness. Distasting Y/N’s adept parries to his lackeys, Vox decided to take matters into his own metal hands. He always did a better job anyway. The neon-lit confines of Vox's domain buzzed with a frenetic energy as he paced back and forth, his metallic shoes tapping impatiently against the polished floor. He needed information - crucial, damning information that could shift the balance of power in Hell between himself and Alastor. But try as he might, his usual sources had come up empty-handed, leaving him with only one option: Y/N and their infernal library of stolen secrets.

With a begrudging sigh, Vox clenched his fists, steeling himself for what he knew would be a less-than-pleasant encounter. He despised the idea of relying on Y/N, of stooping to such lows to get what he wanted. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and Vox had never been one to shy away from doing what was necessary to achieve his goals.

Summoning all of his resolve, Vox made his way through the winding corridors of Hell, his mind racing with thoughts of the bargain he would have to strike with Y/N. He hated the idea of relinquishing one of his precious secrets, of allowing someone else to hold power over him. But he knew that in the cutthroat world of Hell, sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

Vox's form flickered into existence within the dimly lit confines of Y/N's library, the faint glow of his neon visage casting eerie shadows on the ancient tomes that lined the shelves. Vox sauntered into the swamp surrounded library, the glow of his blue neon accents casting an otherworldly sheen. The library was a broken down building, made of marble and accentuated with embellish statues and markers long dirtied by th terrain.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Vox purred, his mechanical voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "The elusive Y/N, surrounded by dusty old books. Don't you ever get tired of living in the past?"

Y/N glanced up from their desk, the candlelight barely illuminating their haunting figure. Dressed in a 1940s beige dress, they looked right out of the Shining in the boggy domain. A sly smile playing across their lips. "Ah, Vox. Tell me, do your screens ever whisper secrets to you like these pages do to me?"

Vox chuckled, the sound reverberating through the library like distant thunder. "Oh, they do more than whisper, my dear Y/N. They shout, they scream, they broadcast the truth to all who would listen."

"But do they tell the whole truth, or just the truth you want them to tell?" Y/N retorted, arching an eyebrow.

Vox's grin widened, the flicker of his holographic eyes betraying a hint of mischief. "Why settle for the whole truth when you can have the version that suits your narrative best?"

Y/N chuckled, shaking their head. "Ah, Vox, always the pragmatist. But remember, there's more to power than what can be displayed on a screen."

"Indeed," Vox replied, his tone tinged with mock sincerity. "There's also the power of a well-placed secret, wouldn't you agree?"

Y/N's mouth twitched in amusement. He was sucking up…he wanted something. "Ah, but secrets have a funny way of finding their way into the light, don't they? And when they do, it's always fascinating to see who's left standing in the aftermath."

Vox chuckled, the sound reverberating through the chamber. "Oh, I appreciate secrets, my dear Y/N, just in a more... efficient manner. Why waste time leafing through dusty old books when I can access the information I seek with a simple click of a button?"

"Efficiency is overrated," Y/N retorted, waving their hand dismissively. "There's something to be said for the thrill of the chase, don't you think? Besides, not everything worth knowing can be found in your precious digital archives."

Vox raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Oh? And what, pray tell, do you have that I couldn't possibly find in my vast network of data?"

Y/N's smirk widened into a knowing grin. "Ah, but that's the beauty of it, isn't it? Some secrets are meant to be kept hidden, known only to those who are clever enough to uncover them. And trust me, Vox, you'll never find them in your cold, sterile world of technology."

Vox chuckled, the sound echoing through the chamber like the distant hum of machinery. "You may have a point, Y/N. But mark my words, one day I'll crack open those dusty tomes of yours and uncover every last secret hidden within."

Y/N's laughter mingled with Vox's, the sound echoing through the library like the ringing of bells in the night but then they turned a sort of deathly calm. "Oh, Vox, you can certainly try. But remember, not all secrets are meant to be revealed. Some are best left buried in the shadows, where they belong."

Vox gritted his teeth, forcing himself to maintain a semblance of composure in the face of Y/N's taunts. "Cut the pleasantries, Y/N," he growled, his voice tinged with impatience. "I need information, and I know that you're the only one who can help me."

Y/N's smile widened into a smirk as they leaned back in their chair, steepling their fingers beneath their chin. "Oh, I'm well aware of my... unique position in the grand scheme of things," they replied, their tone dripping with amusement. "But what makes you think I'd be willing to help you, Vox? After all, we're not exactly the best of friends."

Vox clenched his fists, his frustration mounting with each passing moment. He knew that Y/N was toying with him, reveling in the opportunity to hold power over him. He had tried to play it cool, starting out with some banter as a power play; that failed. But he had no other choice - he needed the information, and he needed it now.

"Fine," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "What do you want in exchange for your precious information, Y/N? Name your price, and I'll pay it."

Y/N glow eerily in the candlelight and glow of the talking screen, a small smirk widening into a malicious grin as they leaned forward. "Oh, Vox, you're so predictable," they chuckled. "But I'm afraid that this time, the price is quite steep. I want one of your secrets - something juicy, something scandalous. And trust me, Vox, I won't settle for anything less."

Vox's heart sank as he realized the gravity of Y/N's demand. He hated the idea of relinquishing one of his secrets, of allowing someone else to hold power over him. But he knew that he had no other choice - if he wanted the information, he would have to pay the price. Y/N extended her hand with a sheet of paper, eyes glowing a deep dusty gold as Vox signed his name on the contract in front of him. The ink melted into a black puddle on the page, sealing his promise to her.

With a heavy sigh, Vox nodded his head, his resolve hardening with each passing moment. "Fine," he growled, his voice tinged with resignation. "You'll get your secret, Y/N. But mark my words - one day, I'll come for what's mine, and when I do, you'll regret ever crossing me."

And with that, Vox turned on his heel and stalked out of the library, leaving Y/N alone with their thoughts and the tantalizing promise of the secrets yet to be revealed. But deep down, he knew that his bargain with Y/N had only sealed his fate, setting into motion a chain of events that would reshape the very fabric of Hell itself.

#hazbin hotel fandom #answered #vizziepop #radio killed the video star #enemies to friends to lovers #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox the tv demon #radiostatic #the vees #vox hazbin hotel #the shining #dr facilier vibes #help me this fandom has a hold on my soul #take that depression #rivalshipping #vox being a sassy fucker

51 notes · View notes