#the plinths

[mr-nauseam]

The Case of Lonely Mothers p. 2

A study about the "similarities" between Mrs. Plinth and Mrs. Everdeen and their relationships with their respective children

Read only if you are interested in parallel Sejanus/Katniss. Otherwise just don't read it

For Juli (@julietasgf)

.

Remember I'm doing this for fun. I do not believe that such "parallel" between Mrs. Plinth and Mrs. Everdeen is something Suzanne put in the text with intention, I just notice a lot of coincidences in them

First part here

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IV. The Conclusion

"You cannot fathom how much I've mourned, what thousands of years of grief has done to me"

(Rebecca Sugar)

Sejanus Plinth and Katniss Everdeen are two teenagers, lacking the skills necessary to navigate the world they live in. They survive as best they can, on their own

Why are them by their own if they are so young? Because they had no one

Their fathers, unable to communicate with them and to guide them properly, either because there is a great Incompatibility that prevents them from being on the same channel or something greater, such as death, creates a barrier between them that is impossible to overcome, are not a option

Their mothers would naturally be the other option to consider to be their guides - and in reality it is socially expected that they are the ones in charge of raising them, and not their fathers, with all that implies. But if they have no one, this mean that their mothers are neither an option?

The answer is yes, and we will now explore this further

Let's pick up where we left off: Mrs. Plinth and Mrs. Everdeen are women with previous stories of trauma, who are re-traumatized by an event of great magnitude that forever disrupts their lives (and their relationships with their children)

In Ma's case, it was the loss of home, of her family upon moving to the Capitol that plunged her into an eternal mourning of longing and sadness

For Mrs. Everdeen, it was the loss of the love of her life and the bleak future she saw before her that plunged her into catatonic depression and death mourning

Their pain ends up impacting and significantly altering their family dynamics

In the Plinth's case, Ma has many advantages that Mrs. Everdeen does not. First of all, her traumas do not have such severe effects on her body (catatonic state) and by having Strabo by her side, she has assured economic stability for her and her son, which alleviates many discomforts (they will never go hungry, they will always be warm), in fact, her privileged position within the Capitol saves her son from one of the most distressing and common experiences that parents live in Panem: the reaping ceremony, which represents the very real possibility of losing their children in a dehumanizing and cruel way

However, this does not prevent her depression, as her more fortunate position in certain respects still lacks important pillars for Ma person

Ma is isolated in a very particular way. Outside of her husband and son, she has no one to talk to, not only that, she lacks the ability to be vulnerable with another human being, as the people around her are hostile to her at every turn

While I don't believe Ma has suffered more than a few incidents of discrimination that were overly explicit verbally or physically, the Capitol is still a world of many delicate social rules, guided by microaggressions and a constant passive aggressive attitude, which makes for a very stressful environment, which for someone like Mrs. Plinth who could never adapt to the ways of the Capitol must be as overwhelming and stifling as it was for Sejanus, if not more so

For she had the responsibility of taking care of him, and having to deal with Sejanus' own trauma and xenophobic experiences (he suffering from bullying for example), placed her in a very complex decision to deal with

Which ended up causing her to become unable to handle it properly or ideally: Making her ends up becoming very dependent on Sejanus. He is her reason for staying in this world (and that may not sound so bad but it is a lot of pressure)

She don't do that with intent - in fact I would like to say that will is not something that intervenes in this analysis- but who else does she have?

No friends. No family. No community. No home. And full of emotions (sadness, frustration, homesickness, etc). She also many emotional needs that cannot be satisfied by anyone

I must say. Her relationship with Strabo doesn't seem to be bad but we know he may not be the best person to go to when it comes to her grieving for her home (he had a very strong opinion about this matter). In the text they seem to have talked about it (the mention of Strabo opining that for Sejanus' children the situation will be better), it's just that his comfort is not in tune with her emotions

But she had Sejanus and he suffers in a similar way to Ma. He can understand her and offer her the comfort she needs. They are each other's unconditional support -for Sejanus has no one to be completely vulnerable with either

The problem is that Sejanus was comforting his mother since he was 8 years old

Ma has been Sejanus' mother, she has been able to be. I'm not deny it, she's not in Mrs. Everdeen situation at the end of the day, but I don't think it's such a stretch to say that she has unwittingly forced Sejanus to meet her emotional needs

If we go with this assumption it is not strange to see why Ma Plinth could not teach her son to survive in the cruel world he was born into. For she does not know how to live in it either

Ma navigates the Capitol in the ways of the district. She doesn't fit in, she mismatches. She doesn't know how to make friends. She doesn't know how to stop the scorn of the people she lives with - or the people she left behind.

She doesn't have the tools so she can't pass them on

Mrs. Everdeen is a difficult case, and while her neglect of Katniss - and to a lesser extent of Prim - is undeniable, her circumstances were too harsh to expect her to get through them without a support system

I reiterate here something I already mentioned: willpower has nothing to do with these stories. It's not a question of if they would have wanted to / if they would have tried harder. Plain and simple, circumstances overcame them or at least impossibly - severely limiting their actions.

And this is essential to understand especially when we talk about Mrs. Everdeen. Let's review her context: she lives in District 12 -one of the most fucked districts in all Panem-, she grew up as part of the merchant class so she had certain privileges and then lost them. This influences the kind of lack she is used to face -how she lives it- and also the knowledge she has of how to survive in difficult circumstances -but let's remember that she is still a smart and capable woman, here I'm talking more about the facilities for adaptability

She falls in love and marries a miner from the Seam. The poorest and most oppressed area of D12. A totally new environment for her in which she does not know very well how to manage but she is fine because she has her husband to help her with the process. Her husband who has a high-risk job where it is possible he get injured a lot

Then they have two daughters. Whom she loves and they bring her joy, but in her world there are the hunger games. That monster on the prowl, threatening to take her daughters away from her; to kill them.

And Mrs. Everdeen knows better than anyone the suffering the games cause to the tributes and to their loved ones. Her best friend was chosen in the past, and in the midst of her grief she was forced to do interviews, without being allowed to grieve adequately for the hell that Maysilee lived through and then she perished in the arena

That nightmarish fate was more than a possibility for Katniss and Prim. What probably affected their bond, Mrs. Everdeen could not afford to love them too much without thinking about how quickly they would disappear when they reached the age of 12

There is a short time in her life where Mrs. Everdeen is happy, or as close to it as she can get. Her husband is with her. He comes home, her daughters are small and adorable. Her work as a healer flourishes, and it is a bitter reminder of their cruel reality but nothing impossible to cope with

Until a cave-in in the mines kills Mr. Everdeen. And everything falls apart

The man for she sacrificed everything to be with, her life partner, her support and joy is gone. Now only she is left, trapped in the Seam, and her poverty. Not only that, her daughters are also doomed, the girls -especially Katniss- have their own grief to face

Mrs. Everdeen will have to support them as they suffer unbearable pain, while her own will is shattered. And that is only the least of their worries. How will they live now?

Their budget was already limited for sure, but without the money Mr. Everdeen brought: What will happen to the food, to the clothes they will wear? She now has to support them financially on her own. Also her daughters could one day disappear at the games so Mrs. Everdeen is alone

She has no one who can offer her a helping hand, she gets depressed and her body betrays her. Mrs. Everdeen goes into a catatonic state. It's the only way she can cope with what she's going through

There is no treatment she can receive. There is nothing to be done. If Mrs. Everdeen couldn't take care of herself, how could she expect to take care of her daughters? How could she care Katniss? So she is neglectful of her because there is nothing to be done. No one will come to save her family and Mrs. Everdeen just can't do it

And as we know little Katniss has no choice but to be the one who tries. She doesn't want to die. Her little sister Prim can't die either and neither can her mother -even if she looks dead. So Katniss has to do it -and she does it after an act of kindness; she takes back and uses everything her father taught her, she can't ask for guidance from her mother, so she try to figure out the rest. Or as much as she can because she is still a child

Even if Katniss had no choice but to become the mother of Prim (and this is why I mentioned gender earlier, because while Katniss is inclined to follow typically male molds, she cannot escape the work that is expected of her as a woman)

Which reflects the somewhat strange and tragic cycle that surrounds motherhood and its relationship to powerlessness in the world of Panem, but before we delve deeper, let's conclude the case of Mrs. Everdeen

A woman whose grief forced her daughter to take her rightful place as the provider, and primary caretaker of her family after the death of her husband. Mrs. Everdeen was unable to care for Katniss. In fact she was cared by her, receiving her attentions, unwittingly taking away Katniss childhood and making her take care of her emotional needs and even her physical and mental health

Katniss navigate the world of Panem all by her own -before her games, where she ends up getting a strong support system and also we had other people in D12 giving her certain support later but that's another story

I'd like to end this with the theme of impotence /powerless as a characteristic feature of the motherhood that both characters experience

Mrs. Plinth and Mrs. Everdeen can't overcome their traumas, they have no way of doing so and it impacts their parenting. Both faced heavy and crushing circumstances that prevented them from living a better life. Their world is Panem. A world that slowly kills their children

And there is nothing either can do to change the reality in which they live in any meaningful way; The Capitol. The subjugation of the Districts. The Hunger Games. They are institutions that determine their fatal circumstances, and to be changed, or destroyed takes more than they can do

The truth is that they are just powerless mothers

And there is something so brilliant and tragic that in the end Mrs. Everdeen who has lived with all the disadvantages on her side; gives birth to a daughter capable of making that change in her time and Mrs. Plinth who has lived with all the advantages on her side: gives birth to a son incapable of making that change in his time

.

And BYE

#sejanus plinth #katniss everdeen #ma plinth #mrs everdeen #strabo plinth #the plinths #the everdeens #tbosas #thg series #thg #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #meta or something #ballad of toxic yaoi

[benedictconsultingbatch]

There's lots of things that young Snow does that make me mad. But there's one in particular that I keep thinking about. Spoilers for TBOSAS below

Sejanus thinks Snow is his friend. Mrs. Plinth thinks Snow is Sejanus's friend. Sejanus and his mom are kind to Sejanus.

But Snow makes sure that the Plinths don't get to keep Sejanus's diploma. I didn't expect Snow to tell the Plinths that he got their son hanged But he sort of !replaces! Sejanus as the Plinth's son.

Snow likes a life of luxury. He thinks he deserves it because he's a Snow. He enjoys their wealth and generosity and he is the reason their son is dead !!

#sejanus plinth #coriolanus snow #the plinths #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas spoilers #minee #idk if there are people who think it was sejanus's fault #but snow chose to record him on the jabberjay #the ballad of songbirds and snakes spoilers

[sweetlucygray]

sadly the only copy of s10 of thg i found is in the spanish dub but the only thing theyre saying is i love you and i know thats not right so can someone hook me up with their panem plus pleasee

#tbosas #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #the hunger games #sejanus plinth #thg #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[dcvina-claires]

i am a tragedy enjoyer before i am human

#the raven cycle #noah czerny #richard gansey #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #the haunting of hill house #nellie crain #olivia crain #the haunting of bly manor #hannah grose #rebecca jessel #yellowjackets #jackie taylor #natalie scatorccio #laura lee #the umbrella academy #ben hargreeves #the gilded wolves #tristan maréchal #idk if he really haunted the narrative but he definitely impacted things! #la casa de papel #tokio lcdp #travis martinez #always forget one 😔

[sabsgames]

what makes Snow such a formidable villain within THG universe is that nothing he does was set in stone. there was no sense of inevitability about his actions and his brutality. Snow had enough perspective of poverty, capital cruelty, district hunger and not to mention his own arena experience’ and yet he actively chose at every moment to stray from natural goodness. its even more terrifying in the sense that he had the ability to care. Snow is not a mindless sociopath, he displays feelings to others such as sejanus, lucy grey and tigris but ultimately he will always choose himself. his ability to betray those he cared about in order yo advance himself makes him so much more than the stereotypical villain who is forced into his actions.

#everlark #haymitch abernathy #katniss x peeta #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #mockingjay #catching fire #the hunger games #josh hutcherson #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #snowbaird #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #district 12 #sejanus plinth

[agoddamnrayofsunshine]

I’m sure someone has talked about this before but one thing I absolutely love about tbosas is how Snow’s descent into villainy is never once presented as something that was inevitable

So many villain origin stories portray this idea of a person who tries incredibly hard to be a good person, who takes every opportunity to be kind and to better themselves, but are ultimately doomed to fail by the narrative. Their environment and their circumstances make it impossible for them to be a good person, and while this is effective from a storytelling point of view it’s not exactly accurate to real life

In real life there is always a point where a bad person makes the decision to do something bad, they make the decision to prioritise themselves, their own power, money or desires over someone else. That’s how real life dictators are made, they are presented with every opportunity to be good, and they purposefully choose to not take it

This makes Snow’s storyline so effective because he is given so many opportunities to do the right thing and yet, at every single turn, he chooses to serve himself instead, exactly like how real dictators are made

Snow, unlike most people we see in the capitol, is in a unique position where he could genuinely have the chance to understand and relate to the people from the districts. He, unlike his classmates, is poor and spends most nights going hungry, he witnessed firsthand the cruelty of the capitol when Clemensia was bitten by the snakes for nothing more than lying about doing her homework, when his sister was forced to sell herself on the streets in order to feed the both of them

Throughout his book, the three people he is closest to are Tigris (who dislikes the hunger games, is a rebel, and a victim of the capitol forced to turn to prostitution), Sejanus (who is originally from district 2, dislikes the capitol and knows he will never be accepted there, and also a rebel) and Lucy Gray (who is a victim of the hunger games, from district 12, and is also treated horribly by the capitol). These are all people who gave him an opportunity to realise the cruelty of the system he was in, a chance to directly confront his prejudices and see that people from the districts are just the same as him, and yet he still refuses to take the chance to change

He is given every opportunity, he’s sent away from the capitol to be a peacekeeper in the districts, he forms personal connections with people from the districts, he helps Sejanus perform funeral rites, and yet at every moral crossroads he comes to he makes the wrong decision. He didn’t have to become a villain, and yet he made the choice to do so anyway, despite every chance he was given

I think it’s a really effective portrayal of Snow as a character, and it’s a very effective villain origin story for the type of villain that Snow is. It never once excuses him from his actions because it highlights just how accountable he was for his actions

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #tigris snow #tbosas #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

[katnissandpeetamellark]

#Snowjanus #snowbaird #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #tbosas #thg #hunger games #bosas #incorrect quotes

[cant-find-anyone-elseeee]

there was a moment when the people in the movie theatre and the capitol audience in the stands were laughing at the same things, having the same reactions to the games, to the deaths, to flickermans jokes, to the doctor's announcement...i wonder aren't we watching it for entertainment too

suzanne collins' books may exist in popular culture as "dystopian", but they have always been a meticulous and startlingly close social critique of our world. at what point does our own idolization of the movies and the books repeat that story? we watch just as the capitol audience does.

all dystopia eventually crosses a line from realistic futurism to current relevancy. how long will it take us to realize we've already crossed that line with these books? and the very people who need to realize this are the ones in that audience...real or fake, we're the same: consuming and consuming.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #hunger games #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #connor jessup #reaper #suzanne collins #katniss everdeen #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark #snowbaird #mockingjay #sejanus plinth #quotes #thg #thg katniss #tbosas #dystopia #futurism

[atrwriting]

future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon

this man is so fine i couldn’t help myself. i hope everyone had an amazing holiday if they celebrate — i celebrate christmas, so here is my almost 10k word christmas gift to all of you xoxo love u all v much thank you for reading !!

as always, warnings: corio-lame-o is a fucking warning holy fuck, smuuuuut, arranged marriage (i think this counts?), coriolanus is a distrustful evil fuck (but he’s super hot), fem!reader, reader is married to this dickhead (i say as if i wouldn’t want to be lmao), angst, sexism and misogyny is def in here, p in v penetration, m receiving oral, choking, dom!corio, asshole!corio, sub!reader, subspace kinda

informal warnings: bro what the fuck was i on this is literally 10.2k words and i refuse to edit because im super lazy anyway we die like men you've been warned

anyways… here is future problems:

he never wanted to get married.

he saw it as a potential problem, one that would most definitely lead to loose ends — and he hated loose ends.

despised them.

however, his innate need to maintain an image was far more important to him. he weighed the costs and benefits in his head like an algorithm — check, check, check. coriolanus’ mind left no stone unturned, especially when future problems were to be squashed before they could ever be wiped from memory. in the end… he decided he would marry.

and it would be you.

he never allowed himself to be naive — so he would never allow himself to marry someone he already loved. lucy gray? a child’s want for something they can’t have, and something they wouldn’t realize until later that it was a walking regret. no — he could never marry someone that would harm him. absolutely not. out of the question. therefore, it had to be you.

it had to be you because what harm would you cause him? you were shy, quiet, of satisfactory social standing, and uncontroversial. everything a patriarch of the snow family would want. deserved. be entitled to.

he needed someone that wouldn’t be a problem — a loose end in the future. he had conquered so much — he refused to let anything else, especially as irrelevant as a significant other, stand in his way.

however… it did not aid him in his stone-cold lack of a love affair conquest that you were absolutely breathtaking.

at first, it was just an ego boost. he simply couldn’t stop his thoughts from voicing, of course she’s perfect. the snow legacy can only have perfect.

but then… oh, then…

then he saw your smile.

oh, your smile.

your fucking smile.

the first time he caught himself enjoying it — he scolded himself. he refused to see you for a week. a punishment of sorts. more so for him than for you. after, he refused to let his eyes wander on the pretty features of your face for him to witness a reaction to something someone had said or done. he didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like to experience joy or peace because someone else was experiencing it — that was what almost costed him everything he had built.

no one would ever tear that down. not again, not ever.

no one.

when the day of your marriage came, it was business as usual. he refused to meet eye contact, and did not partake in more conversations with you than he had to. he could tell you felt uncomfortable — but he forced himself not to care. he drove it down, down, down like a miner drilling for more coal — hoping, one day, it would be worth it.

and it was… until he was sick.

it was a minor ailment — nothing major, but he was on bedrest for about a week or two. he had employed enough adequate members to his staff to feel that things would at least be taken care of until then. he also found comfort in the fact that two weeks was not long enough for something irreversible to occur. if a problem had taken placed, he would be able to rectify it once he was well and able and… set aside the responsible party.

however, he did not expect one problem.

and that would be you.

he knew you were asking to see him. he knew, he knew, he knew, but he refused to let you in. you were not disrespectful — you had only asked once a day, which happened to be every day in the afternoon. he had picked you specifically because you were too quiet to be annoying. however, his own perfect, pristine, and proper plan had stabbed him in the back. he had never considered that the perfect, pristine, and proper wife would be this dutiful to him, checking in once a day on his condition and to speak with him. despite his illness, he laughed at himself — leave it to him to not expect the expected: the hand-selected dutiful wife would, in fact, be dutiful.

he had to put an end to it. he couldn’t keep saying no for another week. how was he expected to get better if you kept bothering him?

so he let you in. this once. just this once. he reasoned that if he let you in this once, you would be less persistent. just this once — and another problem would cease to plague his mind.

just this once, he chanted in his head. just this once.

he sat up straighter, and attempted to shape his hair so it wasn’t terribly unkept. he reasoned that if you saw him appearing to be healthy, you wouldn’t feel the need to come back. he thought —

but he couldn’t finish the thought.

because you walked in.

smelling like fucking lilacs.

lilacs, of all things. lilacs! not roses, not anything else — lilacs. he did not hate lilacs, but he despised the actual flower. only beautiful for so long before it died and the stench was intolerable. an inconvenience. a nuisance. a guaranteed future problem.

however, when you gifted him with a small smile — you realized why small shows of beauty were so valuable in this world. no one else saw your smile — except for those closest to you. people he hand selected to be around you to prevent future problems. he realized then — he had more control and ownership over your smile than either of you thought.

he was so stunned by your smile he didn’t even notice the tray of tea and cakes in your hand. you took a few steps towards him and he shifted in place.

“i brought your favorites,” you spoke softly. “i know you should rest — i just wanted to ask if there was anything i could do to make your recovery easier.”

“no, thank you,” he replied, voice raspy. “i should be well in a few days.”

you nodded and offered an uneasy smile. his eyes flickered over to how once you had set down the tray on his beside, you slowly wiped the palm of your hands down the front of your dress. your eyes were cast absentmindedly in front of you, on the wall — and he could tell something was plaguing your thoughts.

he then also realized there was a book on the tray, much to his dismay.

“someone had mentioned that this was your favorite author. this was published a few days ago,” you began. “i understand that you have been experiencing headaches, and may find it difficult to read… so i wanted to offer to read aloud for you, in case you found these walls dull.”

you smiled — it was an attempt at a joke. he smiled back, but only to be polite. “today i find myself wanting to sleep. i appreciate your offer.”

you smoothed your hands over your dress once more before nodding and forcing a smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”

you did not bid him farewell — and he found himself wondering if he was annoyed or grateful. you simply exited the room, and let the door shut softly behind you.

he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.

however, he didn’t understand why.

he had wanted this. the perfect wife — knowing when to take a hint and frankly, fuck off. you had done that, perfectly well — so why was he pissed?

he then found himself glaring angrily at his favorite tea cakes. the swap of sugar for honey, another one of his favorites. his favorite author, a book he was excited to read when he was better. he knew that you hadn’t asked about him — he employed people with the requirement to let him know when you were asking questions. he knew your every outward thought and concern, and sometimes even the ones that weren’t shared aloud because they were so evident on your face.

and then he realized: you noticed things like he noticed things.

however, he knew why he went out of his way to notice things, but why did you?

his jaw clenched as he glared angrily at the wall in front of him. he picked up a tea cake and chewed it aggressively, swallowing it half-intact. he coughed at the barely there food, anger rising further to his flushed cheeks.

he needed to understand how, and he most certainly needed to understand why.

he never went out of his way to get to know you, because he thought he already did. he thought he had you boiled down to one thing, and one thing only: passive. incapable of proving to be any sort of roadblock that was capable of getting in his way. now that he knew you shared something with him, what else was shared? was there something he had to look out for? was there something he missed? was he wrong about you?!

he had to know. he had to.

to do that… he called you back that evening. it was two hours before midnight, and he knew you were awake. despite having separate chambers, he knew your daily schedule. you would be reading at this moment, and he would ask you to read for him.

as if on cue, he heard a soft rapping on the wood of the door. he beckoned you in, and you entered the room. you were clad in a night dress with a matching robe over it, all pink silk. this time, he returned your smile.

"i apologize for the late hour," he spoke. "i hope you had not retired for the night."

you shook your head, your tendrils of perfect hair shaking slightly. "i was reading. i am glad you sent for me — can i get you anything?"

"i was hoping the offer to read for me was still on the table," he rasped. "i find myself unable to sleep."

you blinked once, staring at him. in an instant, a small smile was threatening to overtake your face into a large one. you cast your eyes down to a blushing manner, but his eyes narrowed slightly on your face. what would you get out of reading for him? what we he not seeing? what did he miss?

"of course," you responded. "i have not had a chance to read anything by this author. i am glad i have the chance now."

why. why. why.

he did not show his discontent. he simply rested back against the pillows as you reached for the book on his bedside table. you sat down on a chair on his side, and you crossed your legs. he eyed the small portion of the exposed, soft skin of your legs and wondered if your new ploy would be to try and seduce him. however, you quickly covered your skin with the extra material over your robe and placed the book in your lap. once opened, you read for him.

he was not listening to what you were saying, but he was listening to how you said it. the tone, the enunciation, the pauses, and the speed. he wanted to find some clue as to why you had made it a point to be at his beck and call, and he wanted to see how long the act would last until it dropped.

the act would drop. it always did.

the hour would approach midnight before he found that he could not discern anything from how you were reading aloud. his plan did not yield the results intended, as you had not broken from fulfilling his task for two hours. two hours. you had not stopped out of boredom or exhaustion, nor to talk to him. you were poised, soft, and he hated to admit it... but sweet. he found your voice sweet, and he hated it.

and he fucking hated himself for it.

he needed this to end so he could plan further. out of necessity, he yawned. if you were to apt at picking up clues, then hopefully you would believe that he was finally tired. you had succeeded in his given task, and you were free to go.

but you had kept reading for him.

he grew angry.

when you had paused to breathe, he spoke up. "I think i am able to sleep now. thank you, sweetheart, for indulging me."

your eyeline raised with your eyebrows, almost out of surprise. you either were not expecting him to ask you to stop, or you did not want to stop. he wondered which, and if that would answer his ultimate question.

"my apologies, i should've inquired sooner," you replied. "he is a very talented writer... i found myself enjoying his perspective."

you grabbed a piece or scrap paper from his bedside table, and tucked it in between the pages where you left off.

"most people would fold the corner," he remarked, eyes drifting closed — a show.

you smiled. "i didn't want to ruin the integrity of your book. goodnight, coriolanus."

she left with another smile — and all he was left with was confusion, and rage.

the next morning, he found himself wanting to call you back in for a further rouse interview. he would have if he had a plan in place.

that was the second thing about you that annoyed him: you annoyed him to the point where he wanted to act without a plan in place. a loss of control —which he was highly against.

that would have to be righted immediately.

he spent the morning reading the pages that you had already read to brief himself as if he was listening last night. he reasoned with himself that the best course of action would be to ask you to read to him again to see if you had grown comfortable enough to let a few of your true colors slip.

they always slip.

the sudden task that was presented to him gave him a new bout of energy that he needed to inch closer to recovery. it gave him the push he needed to be closer to walking out of this room and continue to run panem, and he was lost grateful to you for giving it to him — almost. at the moment, you were a problem — and that needed to be corrected. immediately.

he found comfort in control, so he was very content with routines. he had grown accustomed to bracing himself for your check-in in the afternoon. however, it did not come until the approaching hours of the evening had almost descended upon the capitol. he waited, and waited, and waited — so long that he considered asking you to come for himself. the hour would approach dinnertime when you had finally asked about his well-being, and he sent for you.

how dare you ask so late in the day, as if you didn't care? he allowed you access to his life that he had denied you for so long, and you return his kindness with carelessness? this would not do. this most certainly would not do.

you had knocked on his door, and he had to stop himself from sounding to eager. he permitted you entry, and you entered with the same soft smile.

"good evening," you greeted.

"hello," he replied, voice still raspy from his sickness.

"I wanted to ask if you need anything," you announced.

he offered a small smile. "i enjoyed our time last night. perhaps you would read for me, again?"

your eyes fell to the floor in a blush. "of course. I was hoping to read more of the book eventually. i found it intriguing."

you sat down in the chair and pulled the book in your lap. as you were opening it, he spoke, "i thought when you had not checked-in in the early afternoon you found the book dull — afraid i would ask for you to read it for me again."

you shook your head as you smiled. "i like his writing very much — i was concerned as to whether i had prevented you from sleeping the night prior, and didn't want to disturb you further."

he swallowed. "why would you have disturbed me?"

your eyes glanced upwards from the pages to rest on his face. coriolanus stared back as slight concern washed over your features, making your lips part and your eyes widen. your tongue darted out from between your lips, and smoothed over the skin of your bottom lip. you responded, "before you fell ill, we hadn't spent much time together and i understand that is because of your position — but, to be frank, i wanted to respect your space.”

your answer perplexed coriolanus. he wanted to find out what type of person you were — and your answers were not yielding the expected results. there was no obvious form of manipulation in your words, which then worried him. were you smarter than he believed you to be? were you as cunning as him? more so?

so he went with what was natural: manipulation.

“i apologize my station has not granted us the freedom to get to know each other further,” he replied, holding your gaze. “it is a regret of mine.”

you smiled in an affirmative manner, like you didn’t believe him but accepted his answer anyway. this expression arose the same feelings he now detested your presence for: he acted without calculating his actions and the outcome they would produce.

“what troubles you?” he asked.

your lips parted and slightly quivered. you were not expecting him to ask.

“i-i was worried that i may not… please you,” you admitted. “that… you may regret our union.”

“you have been a kind and dutiful wife,” coriolanus spoke, eyes holding yours. “there is no regret.”

there was that affirmative smile again. he found himself hating it — wishing it would be replaced by the warm, soft one.

“i guess i was hoping that, when i was married, the marriage would be more than… a union.”

your candor shocked coriolanus. he would never have expected you to say something… so out of turn.

“please, forgive me,” you spoke, slightly laughing and waving your hand in the air. “the hour is almost late and i was hoping to read more. do you still wish me to?”

“please,” he answered and nodded.

you gave him a quick, thankful smile, and began reading.

this would be the second night coriolanus had not listened to a word you had said.

he had gotten his answer, and it was possibly as bad as the one he was actually afraid for.

you were good. pure, innocent, and your outlook on the world untainted. you were not striving to find a loose screw and let the empire fall. you wanted… to support the man who built and kept the empire together. it was worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined — you actually cared for him.

you cared for him, and now coriolanus snow was fucking terrified.

and yet... he had asked you to return to his chambers every night after that.

for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,

to read to him, but his goal was to learn more about you rather than the text.

you would sit there and read until he asked you to stop. when he did, you would close the book, smile at him, place it back on his nightstand, and bid him goodnight.

after, he would wrestle with the blankets and pillows in order to find out how to deal with this.

how had he not expected this?

his only fault was that he neglected to realize how far your shyness would go. you had grown comfortable with him — and you admitted that you wanted something more, something he always felt he could not give. you weren’t shy — you just weren’t open with people you weren’t comfortable with.

he should’ve known. he should’ve. fucking. known.

he didn’t know how to deal with this, if he was being honest with himself.

he told himself that he asked for you every evening to get to know you better, for his own sanity and safety; but then he began to realize he had found out everything he needed to know.

good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.

he saw a part of you, but now he needed to know more.

so what did he do? he sent you flowers. flowers. an arrangement of red roses and lilacs.

he hated himself for the lilacs.

he got somewhere with you when he had made the first move before — maybe this would yield more promising results.

however, it didn’t.

all he received in return was an extra tray of food that had arrived in the afternoon. his favorite tea cakes, and a handwritten thank-you note detailed in your appreciation for the beautiful flowers. you signed your name, and that was it.

she doesn’t make first moves, he thought. she responds to them.

he knew what he had to do.

he found himself feeling better that day — well enough to end his sick leave and return to his matters. dinner was approaching, and he sent for you to join him for a private dinner this evening.

he was washed, dressed, and coiffed within the hour.

he found you in the dining parlor waiting for him, inspecting his large bookcase. you were trying to reach a book a bit above where your height would allow, extending yourself onto your toes. coriolanus walked up behind you, towering over you, and retrieved the book for you.

you glanced up at him with wide eyes. “thank you, coriolanus.”

“what intrigued you?” he asked, grinning softly.

“first one i couldn’t reach. i was working my way up.” you smiled at him, and then the book. “please — you must be hungry. let us eat.”

you sat down at the table across from him. dinner manners were rather stiff and uncomfortable, but your upbringing that was similar to coriolanus’ prevented you from straying from them. you ate in silence for a few moments before you spoke.

“how do you like his new book?” you asked.

coriolanus cleared his throat. “i find it riveting. i wouldn’t have been able to read it for some time if it hadn’t been for you.”

you smiled at your plate, blushing. “his points are very interesting. i was never very interested in politics — so the insight of someone so heavily involved with them is very informative. do you find that your opinions align with his? or does he not share your perspective?”

he appreciated your willingness to engage with him about topics you weren’t very fond of. an underrated trait, not found very often — he had to admit.

“a bit of both,” he responded. “the one thing he does not discuss is how important it is to have a certain type of person or persons in your regime that allows the flow of success to continue.”

you nodded. “you have built a strong administration — i’m sure he would admire what you have to say.”

“what do you believe?” he asked. “about partnerships?”

you swallowed, contemplating your answer. “i think… a successful partnership is where everyone is complimented by another. for instance, someone is better at briefing documents rather than the presentation of them, and another is the opposite.”

“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.

you paused once more, folding your lip under. he realized that was a sign you were uncomfortable — unaware of how to proceed. after a moment, you answered, “i feel the most confident under a strong leader. i prefer to be behind the scenes. minute details are easier to be taken care of that way. while you and i are different, i respect you for being the strong leader panem needed. i am sure the majority would agree with me.”

now was the time.

“it is easy to be strong when one’s wife makes sure they are well,” he replied, eyes resting on your face. “i hope you know i appreciate your willingness to accept change and make sure needs are met.”

you smiled at him once more, then turned back to your food.

damn, he thought. didnt bite.

“and for being the companion i… didn’t think i would come to enjoy the company of,” he added.

you glanced up at him then, astonishment written in your eyes as plain as the words on the paper you read for him every night. “may i ask you… a question?”

he nodded.

“did you believe you wouldn’t enjoy my company before, or after you had first met me?”

“i don’t understand.”

you swallowed, clearing your throat. “were you… wary of the idea of marriage, or wary of me?”

your gaze did not break from his. you were braver than he thought.

“marriage,” he answered honestly, hoping to witness your reaction.

there was the affirmative smile — the one he hated. “thank you for — for being honest.”

your eyes didn’t wait for a response. you turned back to your food, and left him dumbstruck.

“i hope i have not displeased you,” he stated.

“no, coriolanus,” you spoke. “if i am being honest… i was wary i would not be suitable for you. if i have not displeased you, then i am well.”

“but you stated you wanted more,” he countered, tone even.

“i hoped we would… spend time together,” you answered. “and we have.”

it was coriolanus’ turn to be at a loss for words. what would this admission relay? it only solidified what he was afraid of — you wanted a marriage filled of love, and he was not prepared for that. ever.

“the flowers were beautiful,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “thank you for sending them.”

“your lilac perfume is a wonderful addition to the capitol,” he spoke, unsure where this had come from. “i wanted you to know that.”

you weren't supposed to say that you weren't supposed to tell the truth you weren't supposed

you smiled at him appreciatively, that accompanied a slight twinkle in your eye. you were quick to return to eating, but coriolanus couldn’t stop staring at your face. he realized then that was his new favorite smile.

there was a moment, a small moment, where he wondered whether it would be such a crime if he did allow himself to enjoy your company more than he had. in that moment, he couldn’t think of how it would go wrong. for that moment, you were a simple, low-maintenance, beautiful woman on the other side of the table with him that just liked spending time with him — and he enjoyed that you weren’t a problem. would it so bad if he entertained the idea?

he immediately cut himself off. of course it was a bad idea.

once dinner has finished, he had requested to walk you back your chambers. if time spent together was what kept you at bay, he could manage that. he most certainly could.

when the pair of you had approached the door, you stopped for a moment and paused reaching for the handle. you spoke, “would you… like to come in?”

“not tonight,” he rasped. he gave you a polite smile. “another time.”

he watched as you blinked your eyes a few times and your lips quivered. you didn’t meet his gaze, for it fell — in what appeared to be embarrassment.

oh.

you invited him in to… to…

that he had not expected.

before you had the chance to leave, he swooped down and grabbed your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he pressed his lips to yours ever so softly, holding it there. the moment your breath caught in your throat, there was a strange feeling inside his chest that made him feel like he’d like to quell your worries by catching you off guard another time. and another. and another. and another. he couldn’t have you feeling rejected, no — not when he didn’t want to reject you. he needed heirs, sure — but they could wait. he would contemplate how long later.

once he pulled back, you smiled. inside you were bursting, and you wanted to hurry behind a closed door so he could not see your reaction. he continued to hold your chin and gaze at your face. feeling brave, you looked him in the eye as you bid him goodnight and went into your room.

you left him standing outside your door, facing its wood paneling.

what was he to do?

he wanted to keep you as emotionally far away as possible to avoid anything like this occurring. he was prepared for people who had an ulterior motive… not a young woman who only wanted to be good to her husband.

the worst part was… not every part of him wanted him to keep you away.

would it be so bad, if he had actually courted you?

you were not anyone from his past, no. you were not irresponsible and impulsive, and you could be trusted to remain within a designated role and space. you were rarely outspoken — you never strayed from your cue cards, nor did you get smart in private. you never spoke out of turn, which coriolanus always knew — this was just the first time he was more turned on than he was just grateful.

he reasoned a reward was in order.

he found his knuckles wrapping on the door before he could stop himself.

the small movements inside your apartments stalled for a moment, pulled taut like a string in an instrument. he could picture you — standing still and silent, waiting for an explanation.

then he heard footsteps approaching the door before the door handle turned. when you opened the door, the first thing he saw was your eyes.

those big, beautiful eyes that looked at him with surprise — and the slightest bit of hope. coriolanus would most likely try to convince himself that he stayed completely still to exercise a form of control over you — but deep down, he would never be able to believe that completely.

however… when you reached out with your soft, delicate hand, and pulled at his own — it didn’t matter why he did it, because he won.

he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.

“i would be coy and ask if we could spend time together in a... different way than usual…” you began, sighing. “but up until this moment i was convinced we would never…”

coriolanus was in no mood to quell insecurities and anxieties. he understood that words could not compare to actions, and so he would do just that.

coriolanus stepped forward, and pressed his large hands against the sides of your face. for a split moment — you almost looked terrified. he usually relished in that look from others, but with you it only made him concerned — angry, even.

“i don’t know what it is about you.” his voice was shaky. it was the first moment in your entire marriage that coriolanus had shown even a shred of weakness. “you smile, you obey, you take my transgressions like they’re fucking sweets. why?! tell me!”

your big, round eyes were blown wide as your brow was knitted together. your lips were parted in an innocent manner, and it only fueled his anger. one of your hands came up to gently lay across the back of his. “coriolanus — have you ever considered that i just wanted to get to know you?”

his eyes searched yours like they were an important document and he couldn’t believe what bullshit he was reading. his lips pursed in a manner that suggested a sour taste, and you felt your joy slipping, slipping, and slipping.

“coriolanus — if you want to go, then go.” your voice was breaking. you knew he was a cool, hard man — but this? this? it was almost too much. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t —“

he couldn’t take your nonsense anymore. he shut you up with a kiss.

he smashed your lips together like it was the first thing he should’ve done when he walked back into the room. a squeal died in your throat at the contact, but coriolanus held you there and upright. both of your hands found the firmness of his chest for balance. when he pulled away — he barely did. he kept his lips an inch away from yours as little tuffs of air pushed past. he leaned his forehead against yours, almost bonding the two of you.

“my greatest displeasure will be making you regret this,” he rasped, eyes screwed shut.

your breathing began to hasten as you contemplated your next words. you began to stroke coriolanus’ hands with your thumbs, hoping to coax him. “you say that like it’s inevitable.”

“it is not far from,” he choked through anger and sadness.

you couldn’t help but stare back at him as he almost glared at you — but then you realized that wasn’t the case. he wasn’t glaring at you — he was glaring through you. whatever traumatized him, whatever made him so distrustful of the world around him and the people in it… you realized then that you represented all of that to him. you had to be different. you had to show him that you were different than all of that.

“i’ve trusted you,” you whispered, almost pleading. “i would like for you to try and trust me. please, coriolanus… i’ve never asked you for anything — just this once —“

coriolanus shook his head, dismissing you. “it’s corio.”

he slammed his lips to yours. his kiss was that of a fight; burning with every cut of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness in his soul. you weren’t sure if he accounted for your inexperience, but you let him lead as you swallowed all of his suffering. you knew you may never be everything you wanted to be for him — but for this moment, or for whatever he would allow — you could be his escape, and he could be yours.

just this once, you both thought. just this once.

his hands were on both sides of your face, caging you in as you were at the mercy of his bittersweet affection. you tried to keep up with him, almost afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him — but corio didn’t care. he couldn’t have cared less as he backed you into the foot of the bed. he didn’t stop kissing you as the back of your legs hit your soft mattress, and you were forced to sit down.

with his tongue tangling with yours, you managed to lift your hands to the top buttons of his shirt. he batted your hands away and went to work on his own buttons. you reached behind for your zipper to your dress and attempted to undue it.

corio then pushed your hands away with that too — ripping the zipper down its track and pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.

“corio —“ you gasped through the kiss, struggling to keep up with him.

he pulled away for a short moment, staring into your eyes. “i have denied myself being with you for so long — nothing is stopping me now.”

he held the glare, and you could only stare back at him in fright. however, that was when you realized that he had felt the same way, or at least similar — you both wanted each other, and had been scared to approach the other. your heart filled with warmth, threatening to explode, but all you could do was nod.

he seemed to calm down then, glancing down towards your lips where he prodded your bottom lip with the tip of his numb. “i have wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss my perfect wife — and now that i know, i don’t think i’ll ever give it up.”

you smiled at that. “can i tell you what i have been wondering?”

his eyes met yours once more, almost a warning. you didn’t falter, though. he replied, “yes?”

“i’ve wondered what it would be like to please you,” you spoke softly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks.

his flat look broke then, softening. a smirk greeted his features and you could see his confidence in himself rise. “my lovely wife wants to please me?”

“yes,” you spoke, holding your breath. “if you’ll let me.”

bright and striking, flames of mischief came to light in his irises. emotions of excitement and fear rose within you, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. all you could do was watch as your strong, powerful, larger than life husband stood over you, chin raised, looking down his nose at you, as he unbuckled his belt. his pants and briefs, once around his ankles, were discarded — but you didn’t see that. you couldn’t look away from his eyes — holding you, and your gaze, in place.

it was like you were an enemy he was testing. you didn’t know what he expected, let alone what would make him happy — but you hoped his expectations were slightly lower in light of your inexperience. you swallowed the hard rock of nervousness in your throat, stood up, and gestured for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. he raised an eyebrow at you, but complied. you sat down on your knees in between his, and waited patiently for direction.

“can you…” you began. “can you teach me?”

he smirked once more. “take me in your hand.”

you bent your head lower, and grabbed him by the base. he was hard and warm in your hand as you saw him trying to fight the twitching feeling in his limbs. his muscles were tight, afraid to show weakness. you grew uncomfortable — you didn’t want him weak, but you did want him to feel comfortable enough with you to enjoy a fucking blowjob.

holding his muscle upright, you stuck your tongue out and licked around the tip of his cock. he was salty, but smelled so masculine after a long day. his scent infiltrated all of your senses and had captured your attention. it made you hungry, greedy — so much so that you closed your lips around his cock and began to suck.

he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.

you paled in embarrassment and fright — but didn’t allow your fear to show for long. you adjusted your tongue and lips — so that your top lip was folded under your top set, and your outstretched tongue covered your bottom set. hollowing out your cheeks, you took him into your mouth once more.

a low hum filled his chest.

you couldn’t see him, and could barely hear him — corio was being a selfish lover and not letting you know whether or not he was enjoying himself. he told you once before you were doing something wrong, so you tried to trust that he would tell you.

that was easier said than done, frankly. with your free hand, you reached up and began to massage his sack in the soft skin of your palm. the hum in his chest turned deeper and louder, and you felt his hips twitch once.

maybe it shouldn't have mattered that he wasn't vocal — but it wasn't like he was shy. you would not fault him for not doing something he didn't want to do, but it was like he was denying you that. if you were making him feel good, and he was fighting the volume of his moans — how fucking dare he deny you of that! there you were, constantly at his beck and call, and he couldn't even freely moan with you? you were obedient, quiet, grateful, everything he wanted — but this? this? too much. absolutely too much of an ask.

you had to do something.

"mr. president," you cooed, twisting your soft tongue around the tip of his cock. "you're awfully quiet above me."

he let out a laugh as he struggled to keep his composure. one of hands found the back of your head as his fingers struggled to tangle themselves in between your strands. they were tugging and pulling, but there was no strength in his grip. his grip — wouldn't catch. couldn't catch. corio, you husband — struggled day in and day out to keep the control in the capital and inside his castle. there was a part of you that believed he just needed to let go, let someone else be in control — but you were his pretty little wife after all. you had until death to try everything. losing control could wait, because tonight... tonight was about making corio the grateful one for once.

you let your loose grip run circles up and down the length of his cock. his shaft was wet and thick, begging the attention of the light from above so the skin was able to glisten. the tip of his cock, red and angry, almost neglected — never had you seen something so delicious, nor deserving of affection. your lips, swollen, wrapped themselves around the tip of his cock as you sucked. notes of salt and sweat mixed together on your tongue, and you hummed at the taste.

"taste sweet, mrs. snow?" you heard from above you. your eyes glanced up to find corio's eyes glazed over with pleasure. his eyelids were drooping over, and all you could think about how badly you wanted to make him close his eyes in bliss. your eyes watched his eyes, but his eyes watched the way your mouth sucked him in. "being so good for me. let your husband see what else you can do."

your ears perked in interest. you didn't know what he meant, but you were intrigued to see if he would teach you.

"please... show me what you like," you spoke, extending your neck as he lowered his face to yours.

"so eager to please..." he spoke, staring down at you in awe. his hand slid down for your scalp to cup your cheek. he looked into your eyes like he was studying you — searching for something surface level. a flaw, or something good... you weren't sure. "i suppose some would say i'm lucky."

you didn't like the sound of that... but you didn't let it show. you gave him a hint of a smile. "i don't think it matters what anyone else thinks. i think what matters is you telling me what you like... so you can decide if you're lucky or not."

he chuckled at that, but his laugh was reserved. always holding back, your husband. "you really want to be a good little wife for me... don't you?"

you fell into the strength behind the hand on your face and keened into his touch. his hand was warm against your skin. "please, corio... please let me."

he stood then, and your gaze raised with his body. you gazed up at him as he stared down at you. there his eyes went again — searching yours. he stood closer to you then, bending down slightly. "it would please me if, at any point, you told me to stop because of the pain. i don't want to hurt you." his voice was low and soft then, immediately striking you. "can i trust you to do that? hmm?"

"i'll tell you," you replied, nodding your head. "i promise."

"never break a promise you make to me," he warned.

you nodded your head once more, unsure how to proceed. he led you over to the side of the bed where he gestured for your to lie down. with the passing of time, you became more and more aware of how bare you both were in front of each other. you were ready to let down every fence of insecurity for the man before you... but there were still walls of his that threatened to come down. he was hot and cold every other moment, it seemed... and you weren’t even sure where to begin.

“husband,” you spoke, unsteadily, as he found his place between his legs. “you seem so… distrustful of me. what can i do? please, corio, i just want this moment to be special for us — for you.”

there his eyes went — searching yours again. it was like he was rereading a page in a book over and over, hoping to find the hidden message in the black and white scripture. his eyes, going back and forth, appeared to be looking over unclear smudges and scribbles as his lips began to purse. you almost said something — stopped him from withdrawing into himself, but he moved before you could.

he sat back against the pillows, which faced a mirror across your bed. you rose curiously, hoping that he would finally give you some direction. he simply took your hand in his, and gestured for you to come closer. “come,” he spoke.

in his lap, maybe? you thought curiously. you went to throw your leg over his, before he stopped you. with a furrowed brow, you watched as he adjusted you so your back laid against his chest.

“do as i say,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers up and down your spine.

your eyes were cast to the side, his outline in your peripheral vision. you nodded, letting your lips fall apart. you felt one of his hands on the soft skin of your thigh, grazing upwards towards your hips. you almost let your eyes fall closed, hoping to lose yourself in the sensations, before corio stopped you.

with that same hand, he reached upwards and grasped your chin between his fingers. your eyes shot open as he moved your head to now face the mirror, and the pair of you in it.

shallow breaths were pushing past your lips as you stared into the mirror. your cheeks were flushed, your hair in a slight disarray, and your lips were swollen. with a flutter of your eyelashes, your gaze flickered towards corio’s reflection. your husband was always perfect — so even the slight persuasion from tidiness was a remarkable sight to you. his eyes were focused — unable to remain cool, calm, and collected as usual.

his eyes, you thought. his eyes will always tell me.

“you will watch,” corio spoke suddenly, voice hard. “you will keep your eyes on my hands. you stray, and i leave. understand?”

you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

he cocked an eyebrow.

“yes,” you spoke, almost breathless. “i understand.”

corio’s hand then found its way to your center. the tips of his finger tips, soft and hot, lightly drew a line up and down your slit. your eyes wouldn’t leave the mirror — focused on his fingertips. it was like your skin knew every correct button to tap, tap, tap. every part of you was so sensitive, so keen to his touch that you were embarrassed. you felt so pathetic against his chest, bent to his will — but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. the voice in your head was whining and hoping you would give in, just give in, let down your guard, give in, forget manners. you wanted to keep your composure as long as possible, but when corio’s middle finger found your clit…

oh… you were done for.

one of your hands immediately snapped up to find corio’s bicep and clutch onto whatever foundation he could give. you didn’t dare let your eyes meet his, even in the mirror — what if he stopped? what, huh? what then? when you were the closest you had been ever? you couldn’t allow yourself to be greedy, not when he was being oh, so selfless.

the circles he was drawing taunted your ability remain calm. he rolled your tiny clit underneath the weight of the tip of his finger and pressed down with every circle. it pushed, and pulled, and fucking pried at every fiber of your being. you could only force yourself up and back against corio, whining like a pathetic mess.

“running away from me, my sweet?” he whispered in your ear. “when i’m being so kind?”

his words bit at your ear, reminding you of your position in his world. your eyes were threatening to drift closed, hoping, praying, that corio would let you slip this once from your responsibilities. naive, you were, to believe that.

“remember our deal, wife,” he darkly cooed in your ear. “one request was all i had. i refuse to be denied it.”

“i know, i know…” you whined, rolling your hips with his hand. “it just feels so good, corio… i’ve never… no one’s ever…”

“i can tell you never knew how bad your body would crave it,” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe. “even your pussy obeys me, drenching my fingers. too sweet for this world, aren’t you?”

“just wanna be sweet for you, corio,” you whined as your vision began to blur.

the approaching orgasm was anything but a warm and fuzzy feeling around you. it was hot and jagged — making your muscles jerk, yet force your hips to roll into every movement of corio’s. the cloud over your brain felt like a warm haze of the finest whisky or tobacco the capital could offer. you were numb, drunk, and unable to process the world around you unless it was corio. his touch, his taste, his scent, his look, his orders… everything was setting you off and keeping you in place all at once. your body was hot to the touch, feverish as it tried to fight your sophistication and just fucking —

“that’s it, sweetheart. so focused on the mirror you can’t even find the strength to let go for me,” he spat, pressing a kiss to your cheek and breathing in your scent. “ride my hand like the good girl you are. you wanted to show me, remember?”

tears were brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. your teeth were gritted and bared for him. one of his hands came up to loosely grasp your throat as your hips began to spasm. it was so much, too much, so much —

“corio, please —“ you cried. “please let me look away. i can’t — i have to cry, i can’t —“

there was no softness in his movements against your aching clit. corio had now employed two fingers to dip into your core, collect your slick, and rub it along your sensitive bud in harsh circles. it sent your mind through a suffocating tube and gasping for air. you were begging, pleading — unsure what would happen if you were denied the ability to finish in peace. you began to cry in frustration and fear, so sensitive to the touch and his approval.

“corio…” you whimpered. “please, please let me…”

“do it,” he spat, holding your throat and kissing your face. “show your husband how fucking messy you can be for him.”

you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.

it was like a rollercoaster. twists and turns, yanking your body every which way. corio’s body rocked with yours as the sensations climbed and fit into every single one of your limbs. your lungs, burning, were screaming for air as you tried to fight for consciousness. the world was white, milky, foggy — unable to navigate, let alone exist in. all you could feel was corio’s body moving with yours and coaxing you through the most insane moment of your entire life.

tears fell down your face, and you struggled to conceal it. corio refused to let you hide from him. he bent his face low to yours and pressed the side of his face against the side of yours.

his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.

“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.

“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed. “so good for me, weren’t you? asking so obediently and politely.”

you nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “i’m sorry that i was —“

“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.

you clenched your jaw. “i was — i am — i’m worried i was too much — i was so — out of control —“

he shut you up with a kiss. coriolanus snow refused to allow you to continue, or else he knew he would be offended if he had let you finished.

“i wanted that,” he stated. “every bit of that. what, you don’t find it agonizing to be prim and fucking proper every day?”

you laughed uneasily, a bit spooked by his outburst of aggression. “i thought you — i thought that was what you wanted from me.”

he shook his head. “out there — it’s necessary. in here, when it’s only the two of us? don’t ever hide yourself from me. you must promise.”

you swallowed as your haze began to disappear. “only if you promise the same."

you saw his jaw pulse from the corner of your eye. “i promise.”

“i promise,” you returned.

you quickly reconnected your lips. you couldn't let the moment slip away. you needed to seize him while he was there — trusting you for the first time in your entire relationship. you found both of your hands on the side of his face and held him to you. corio fought for control, but you gave in immediately. the need for him to need you was stronger and more satisfying that anything else you could've experienced in that moment. you turned around, straddling his lap and pushing him down to the bed.

everything you were doing was improper: grabbing your husband, forcibly kissing him, sitting in his lap, pushing him down... you almost stopped. you almost gave into the insecurity and made friends with with meekness and shyness once more. however, you made a promise — and you intended to keep it.

"i want you inside me, corio," you whispered against his lips. "please, i want to feel you —"

"again, sweetheart?" he ripped himself from your lips to grunt out his teasing. "one taste, and you're addicted?"

you hummed approval against his lips, tangling your tongue with his. with one hand on the back of your head, holding your face to his, corio's other hand fished between the pair of you and grasped his leaking cock in his hand. the tip was red and swollen, aching for some stimulation or attention. he spread his precum over his tip and with a firm hand, corio slid his cock inside of you.

you arched your back away from corio. the feeling of him being fully sheathed inside of you bent your attention in every which was. both of your hands cradled the back of his head into your chest, where he found himself nestled between your breasts. his breaths were hot and heavy, moist against your skin. his swollen lips found one of your perky nipples and sucked it into his mouth, caving to his primal urges. coriolanus snow wanted every part of you for himself, and needed to place that claim on every part of your body. he wanted your thighs to shake and ache from being locked around him, your fingers to tremble from your hard grip, and he wanted your lips to be bruised from how hard he made you bite them. and, most of all, he wanted every loud moan to rip itself from your aching throat and fill the perfectly painted walls of this damned room.

he cursed you when you threw a hand over your mouth, and he immediately ripped it away. "don't you fucking dare," he spat.

you ignored him. he was your husband, and he was the scariest man you would ever meet, and yet you ignored him. most of all, your hips ignored him. they began to roll against his own the best they could for their inexperience. up, down, and grinding down was the best they could manage before corio grabbed you by the flesh of your hips and moved you to his liking. and when your mouth parted and a loud cry made your throat shake when he twisted your hips forward, he knew he found the spot.

"do not ever deny me what i am owed," he spat, fucking into that spot that wrapped a tight band around your abdomen. "i want to hear how good i am making you feel, and i will. i get to hear. those are mine. i am owed those."

again, you ignored him. what did he expect when your eyes began to roll back into your head and you began to match his pace? you were close, you were so, so close...

that was when corio grabbed you by the chin, refusing to let up his pace. his eyes were full of darkness, yet focus. like he had found his prey. you tried to focus, tried to give him the respect the deserved... but you couldn't. your mind was swimming, and your arching cunt was dripping down his length and onto the skin of his pelvis. you were lost. so fucking lost.

"yours, corio!" you whined. "all yours. only yours."

his voice was gruff against your lips as his thrust became rougher. "say it again."

your eyes began to drift closed as you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips against his. his cock had found its way to the most sensitive and purest part of you and ripped down every wall you had. you sobbed, "yours, corio. only yours."

corio threw you off of him and your back hit the bed. he was on top of you in an instant. he threw your legs up and pressed them against your chest. with your ankles on his shoulders, he pushed himself inside of you and began to relentlessly punish your perfect fucking pussy.

"mine, you got that?" he spat against your ear. "i have watched you, day after day, put on this fucking act! perfect and proper — but i made a proper whore out of the most desirable woman in the capital, didn't i? and now she's mine — forever warming my bed."

"forever, corio," you whined. your sobs were music to his ears, going straight to his cock. your cunt was raw from the friction and slick, unsure if corio should stop or keep going — but you didn't let him guess. "inside me, corio, please... want it to bad. been so good for you..."

his hand was around your throat and demanding your attention. "as if i'd waste a drop when every man in the capital would be able to see you round with my child. you want that wife? my seed, my child? you want to be fully claimed by me?"

"yes," you cried, tears falling down your cheeks. "give it to me, husband, please —"

corio reached down in between your hips and rubbed your clit with whatever energy he had left. his thrust were growing sloppy, but his movements against your swollen bud were worse. he was hissing in your ear as he continued the assault against you. your moans were loud as they escaped your lips and filled the room, setting corio's skin on fire. sweat dripped down from his brow and down his neck to mingle with yours as your second orgasm of the evening began to approach. it snapped the rubber band in your lower belly and you immediately sobbed into corio's neck. his hips continued to rut in you, forcing you down onto the bed as he swallowed all of your sobs for himself. your nails dug into his back and down his spine, hoping to rip parts from him that he had taken from you.

when corio came, you were in a stupor. cock drunk with your mouth hanging open, dazed. when corio came, one of his hands grabbed your messy pile of hair, wrenching at the roots. he pulled you to the side to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as he pumped your cunt full of his cum. your walls were hot and sticky, full of him, but it only caused the most sickeningly warm feeling to spread throughout you. every primal need of yours was satisfied, and corio could see every bit of it on your face. the pride that welled within your husband... shameful. no man should be in possession of such an ego boost like making the prettiest, more desired woman in all of panem break from all bounds of social etiquette. you were warm, and wet, and craving every bit of his touch, so he couldn't deny you... not anymore. not when he felt the same. with each sob that left your mouth, he felt a kick in the pit of his stomach as his balls throbbed. never in his life had a woman ripped from him what he had taken from her, cheeks hot and muscles worn out.

he would regret it in the morning, maybe, but not now. no — not now.

"husband, forgive me, but..." you spoke. "my mind is a mess. i don't think i can read to you this evening."

corio rolled his eyes and laughed. "that good?"

you pressed a kiss to his lips as you hummed in approval. "never wait that long to bed your wife again."

he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."

---

love u guys sm sorry it was so long ty for reading love u love u love u

-L xooxoxooxox

#corio smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #corio snow smut #corio fic #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #corio snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus fic #coriolanus imagine #corio imagine #the hunger games #lucy gray #sejanus plinth #young coriolanus snow

[chappellrroan]

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #the hunger games: the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games #tbosas #thg #snowbaird #sejanus plinth

[faunshiii]

teehee

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the hunger games #art #artwork #artists on tumblr #digital art #fanart #illustration #procreate #coriolanus snow #thg #hunger games #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #snowbaird #snowjanus #sejanus plinth #sejanus #coriolanus x sejanus #sejanus x coriolanus #lucy gray x coriolanus #lucy gray baird fanart #coriolanus snow fanart #tom blyth #rachel zegler #tbosas fanart #thg fanart

[mr-nauseam]

The Case of Lonely Mothers p. 1

A study about the "similarities" between Mrs. Plinth and Mrs. Everdeen and their relationships with their respective children

Read only if you are interested in parallel Sejanus/Katniss. Otherwise just don't read it

For Juli (@julietasgf)

.

I should clarify before I begin that I do not believe that such "parallel" is something Suzanne put in the text. Most likely there was never any intention to establish a connection between Ma Plinth and Katniss' mother by this great author

This only a crazy idea of mine that arises from noting various overlaps between the two characters and is mostly based on assumptions and headcanon's about Ma Plinth - Mrs. Everdeen

I'm just doing this for fun

.

Now let's began

I know it may seem strange to make a comparison between Ma Plinth and Mrs. Everdeen

Mrs. Plinth is quite well loved in the fandom. Regardless of what people think of her son, most conclude that she is sweet and her fate tragic, as she was a very devoted mother. Mrs. Everdeen on the other hand is one of the most controversial and hated characters in the franchise, and although opinions about her are divided, most conclude that she was a bad -or even the worst mother

The proposition here is that they are a reverse mirror of each other

I. Without a Name

We know that the narrators' perspectives are the cause. Coriolanus has no interest in knowing Ma Plinth's name (and really none in knowing her or talking to her beyond what is necessary)

Katniss on the other hand has a complicated and conflicted relationship with her own mother, which is reflected in this conscious or unconscious choice to deprive Mrs. Everdeen of her name in order to lock her into the role she theoretically fills in her life

If we could have a narrative of Sejanus we might discover his mother's name but I would like to point out that every time he talks about his mother he calls her Ma

Which is an affectionate nickname yes but in a similar way to Katniss it is a way of locking his mother into the role she occupies in his life

In this case mothers have no name. They are mothers

II. Different circumstances same story

The Plinth are rich. The Everdeens are poor

Ma Plinth and Mrs. Everdeen live in totally different realities due to their socioeconomic status but I believe that deep down, their experiences are very similar

I won't delve too much into the traumas within the games (Maysilee Donner - Katniss) that Mrs. Everdeen has but I will contemplate them when talking about the disadvantages she faced in her life

Let's move:

Mrs. Everdeen is described as a very talented healer. Belonging to the merchant class of her district, which is a high social stratum in her District. Katniss mother then comes from a background of privilege -compared to other people in 12

She falls in love with a man, a miner. He is from a very different class than her own and out of love decides to marry him and move to the Seam; the poorest area of Twelve and in doing so it is implied that her family turns their back on her

So you could say that Mrs. Everdeen had to abandons her home, her past life to be with the man she loves. Leaving her with his husband and her daughters as her only support system

And then she lose Mr. Everdeen. Left alone to care for two children in poverty

(This situation is even worst in her case if you consider that her best friend was killed in the games and had already suffered severe trauma from such an experience)

About Mrs. Plinth:

One of the first things we discovered about Ma Plinth is that she is a very talented cook. We don't know nothing about her background, she could have come from the merchant class or the poor mining class in Two. For our parallel it might be interesting to lean towards the last option but it is indifferent.

The important thing is that Ma just like Mrs. Everdeen falls in love with a man: Strabo Plinth.

Strabo ultimately may have been of a higher class than Ma but in the Plinth's case that is not the scandal of their relationship. The scandal is that during the war Strabo, owner of a munitions and armaments factory, supports the Capitol.

And Ma, who loves him, decides to stand by his side. I should note before continuing that the war itself is a traumatic experience to live, it is true that the trauma may be less severe if you have money and privilege but it persists. Ma carries this trauma on her shoulders

Strabo makes the decision to move his family to the Capitol. The most influential and wealthy area in all of Panem. And although she has her doubts Ma follows him. Her family turns their backs on her (only one of her sisters keeps in contact with her, while the rest of her family has decided to make zero contact with Ma)

So we can see that Ma as Mrs. Everdeen had to leave her home and her past life to be with the man she loves. Leaving her alone with her husband and her son as her only support system

In the Capitol, Ma ends up as isolated and depressed as Katniss' mother at the loss of her husband. Both have lost their primary community and are on their own. They are now two lonely mothers

This is not to say that losing your partner and moving to the Capitol are equal and comparable experiences at all. Because they are not. The only connection that I establish between these events is that they were traumatic experiences, the turning points that will mark the life and the relationship that these characters will have with their children

I also considered it important to consider how different circumstances influence the experiences of these characters. Ma Plinth lived through the first rebellion, lived through the war and the first decades of the post war, but that does not take away from the fact that she comes from D2, one of the richest districts in Panem, which while oppressed by the government, its disadvantages cannot be compared to those existing in D12 as they face more severe oppression

Especially in a D12 under the direction of President Snow, in a Panem where games are a constant -and Mrs. Everdeen its a victim of them in many ways- but equally Mrs. Everdeen's "social descent" to the Seam probably involved its own challenges, and adaptations but these were very different from the "social ascent" that involved the Plinth's move to the Capitol and the violent xenophobia they had to deal with on a daily basis without any external community were to lean on + the severe rejection that it is implied people from Two had against them

III. Children surviving on their own

Before we delve into how Mrs. Plinth and Mrs. Everdeen's response to a severe trauma - turning point eventd in their lives, mirror each other and define their relationship with their children (a mother who is completely devoted to her son, a mother who is completely neglectful of her daughter) we must talk briefly about Sejanus and Katniss and their relationships with their fathers

We could say a lot about these relationships (Especially in the case of Sejanus and Strabo) but this is a post focused on Mothers so we will limit ourselves to three aspects:

1. Who they look like, 2. Quality time, 3. Survival lessons

Katniss is a living portrait of her father. It is the first thing to inadvertently establish a noticeable distance between her and her mother (who is blonde and light skin and had color eyes). Our girl on fire possesses the typical traits of the Seam and the prejudice they carry, by her physical appearance Katniss is already confronted with a set of experiences that her mother will never experience and which intimately binds her to her father

There is an implicit recognition of being equals just because of how they look and they must navigate the world because of it. What becomes a more special and tragic bond when her father dies and Katniss has her own reflection to remember him by, she is in a way the only thing left of his appearance and it is this in turn that could also drive the wedge between her and her mother

For Mrs. Everdeen, her daughter had the face of a ghost

In the case of Sejanus and the Plinth in general the physical descriptions are vague and nonexistent. Again, Coriolanus' narration has its priorities according to his character -he inform us how badly the Plinth dress but not what they look like

We could go with the movie on this, and although they appear in only one scene, it is obvious that Sejanus is his parents' son, but his round face, hair and large brown eyes seem to immediately distance him from Strabo. He looks more like his mother and we can say that possibly Sejanus also moves through the world in the same way his mother does not only by his physical but by his manners. He moves in the manners of the District

Is relevant because even if we could not confirm it, there are gestures in the text that hint that Strabo has preferred assimilation to move around the Capitol. He adopts its ways, while his wife keeps an altar to her old house in D2 -where she has not been for more than a decade-, Ma its the one that spend most time with Sejanus and that would influence him. For example their time together probably make that Sejanus knows the traditions around Death in Two

Which ultimately leads to quality time. Before Mr. Everdeen dies, Katniss's family seems stable and loving, her problems with her mother are far from starting but it still seems that it is with her father and not her mother that she spends the most quality time with

As I said previously there is a good starting point for this to happen in the physical aspect. People will never treat Mr. Everdeen the way they will treat his wife, which translates into people will never treat Katniss the way they will treat Prim, Mr. Everdeen knows that and act accordingly by spending more time with Katniss to guide and teach her things she might not otherwise know -which will end up leading to survival lessons

It must be said that it also influences what appears to be a personality resemblance between Katniss and her father, which causes a greater understanding between them, and the reason of why Sejanus and Strabo couldn't work

I wouldn't say that Strabo was an absentee father but I think we can assume that his work is very time consuming and since he is the sole provider for his household, the chances of him spending much quality time with Sejanus are slim. Which drives a wedge between the two, a wedge that will only grow wider as Strabo tries to get closer to his son through survival lessons

Many will agree that Sejanus was not given the guidance or tools by his parents to be able to survive in the Capitol but we can't say they didn't try. Strabo did. It was just that his survival measures failed to communicate with Sejanus belifs -and we might wonder if they were the right measures in the first place

Strabo did a lot to ensure Sejanus' survival, and to teach him how to cope with the world. He left him an inheritance that would ensure his economic well-being and tries to teach him how to keep the business, took him to the Capitol where to "free" Sejanus from the hunger games and takes care to let him know how unique his position is, taught him how to shoot but Sejanus hates it. Every time that Strabo try to teach Sejanus a survival lesson he fails to communicate them and consequently his son never use his lessons 99% of the time

Why does he fail? There are many things that go into it. From literally the language he uses, the different ways Strabo and Sejanus handle the trauma of living in the Capitol while being from the district, but I think the primary thing in causing this fatal miscommunication is the similarities in their personalities and the fatal difference in beliefs

It's easy to see how Sejanus' character distances from Strabo's character; he's selfless, sensitive, gentle, and soft but also he's very similar to his father. His stubbornness, bravery, courage and pride come from Strabo. Fire with fire. This plus the fact that Sejanus is not being able to use the lessons of his survival from his Pa because they get in conflict with his thinking

It made that Sejanus had to figure out for himself how to survive in the Capitol

Katniss also gets her own survival lessons from her father (hunting, gathering, singing, etc) and Katniss unlike Sejanus uses them, although I should note that Katniss is partly forced by circumstance to use her father's lessons. It was literally a matter of life and death, she could not choose to alienate or distance herself from the lessons, and thus the symbolic burden of belief they carry, of her father.

Whatever, quality time, physical resemblance, a simple complementary match of their personalities, the way things were said and teach and gender along with other factors allow for more a effective communication to happen between Katniss Dad and her than the Plinths but still a fatal miscommunication takes place between them: death

While Katniss is able to survive thanks to the survival lessons her father gave her, their time together was very brief and the truth is that she was a child who only knew a handful of things about how not to die when she lost her dad. The rest she had to figure out on her own because the dead don't talk and can't guide the living

Understanding that, the question arises:

But what about their mothers? Couldn't they take care of them, or communicate with them once Sejanus and Katniss "lost" their fathers?

*Little note:

The gender also influences in this, because there is an expectation of masculinity that Sejanus is expected to fulfill and does not (being more typically feminine in his values) that Katniss in relation to her father not have (by the society in any case she is expected to be feminine and its curious that she kinda adopts instead typically masculinity values). And I haven't said it but I think it is visible that just as Ma Plinth and Mrs. Everdeen are an inverse reflections of each other, something very similar happens with Sejanus and Katniss AND I LOVE IT

Next part: The conclusion (I'll have to do another part because this is already too long HELP)

#sejanus plinth #katniss everdeen #ma plinth #strabo plinth #mrs everdeen #mr everdeen #the plinths #the everdeen #tbosas #thg series #thg #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #meta or something like that #paralells #ballad of toxic yaoi

[darknight3904]

It Burns For You

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ. ᴏᴏᴄ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ, ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱ��� ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇᴇʟꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ!

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

Coriolanus is 12 when he sees you for the first time. Your red uniform is pressed perfectly and your school bag looks brand new. Your lunch consisted of a hearty-looking sandwich with roast beef and lettuce and a container of fresh fruit that had his mouth-watering.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." Your voice fills his ears

A delicate-looking hand is holding a juicy-looking strawberry in front of him. He reaches for it and it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove it in his mouth. Instead, he takes a small bite and thanks you for sharing.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

He doesn't. The school had said they would start supplying the students with lunches soon but how soon? Coriolanus had already been attending for a number of years and still nothing.

"I already ate it." He lied

"You're still hungry though. You can have the rest." You say with a smile as you push your fruit bowl to him.

"Is it your first day?" He asks

"Yes, my mother thought that my governess wasn't doing a good job so she had my father enroll me here. I miss being at home with my new kitten though. She has long white hair and she is the cutest thing in the whole world." You said

Coriolanus can't believe that you had your own governess, let alone a pet to call your own. He later learns from Arachne that your father became incredibly rich by manufacturing weaponry for the Capitol. Despite your inherent wealth, you've never flashed it around him.

You and Coriolanus are 15 when you discover all the lies he tells at school about his family. He had left his uniform jacket behind on his chair and you got his home address from Sejanus, meaning to give it back so he'd have it for tomorrow. Instead, you had discovered the Snow's decrepit-looking building and barely functioning penthouse. Coriolanus' heart nearly stops when he emerges from his room to see you and his Grandma'am sitting together as she compliments your shoes.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, ready for your judgment and teasing words

"I wanted to return your jacket, Coryo. You'll need it for tomorrow."

The red of the jacket in your arms matches his face as he ushers you to the door, trying to hide the fact that Tigris was preparing cabbage in the kitchen that would undoubtedly stink the entire place up with the scent of the Snow's poverty.

"Stop rushing me, your cousin invited me to stay for dinner." You say trying to stop the way he is leading you to the door.

"You don't want what she is making. Tigris is a terrible cook." He said

Tigris lets out a shout of disagreement from the stove and Coriolanus ignores it.

"How about, I go out and get something to add to the meal Tigris is cooking, and by the time I get back you change your attitude about me staying for dinner Coryo. "

And with that, you walk out the door and slam it in his face. He's rather stunned at your declaration but knows you're serious. He rushes around their home, trying to clean up what he can while Tigris laughs at his frantic motions. Then, just as he was debating whether or not he wanted to change out of his uniform, you return from your short trip to the closest market.

"I wasn't sure what Tigris is cooking so I got a couple of things." You say placing the bags on the table.

Coriolanus is sure you spent a fortune on what is in these bags. Fresh bread accompanied by a sickly sweet fruit spread and a block of butter sits in one while the other holds something else in a brown box. You take your seat next to him at the ugly little table he has eaten too many meals at and cut a piece of the bread for Grandma'am. He is worried when Tigris starts portioning out the cabbage she cooked on the stove. Coriolanus watches your expression as you take a bite but nothing that he expected happens. You don't knit your brows in disgust or get up to leave and take your fresh bread and mysterious box with you. Instead, you go back for a second bite and compliment what Tigris has done with the food.

He sits stiffly next to you and can barely accept the slice of bread you offer him. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and Tigris reaches across the table and pinches his shoulder.

"Stop sitting like that, Coryo!" She scolds

"Like what?" He asks,aware that Tigris meant how oddly straight his back was.

"You're making her uncomfortable. You've been friends with her for years she isn't worried about what our home looks like." Tigris says

"She might not be but what happens when she goes to school tomorrow and talks?" He asks

He shuts up when he hears the sound of the bathroom door opening again.

"That was lovely Tigris. I've never had anything like it, I'll have to invite you all to my own home for dinner sometime. Our cook makes these pastries that are simply wonderful. They even get sold at local markets, which leads to this..."

His eyes widen when you finally unveil what was hiding in that second bag. A dozen expensive looking deserts sit in the brown box you brought, each one decorated differently.

"I hope I picked something everyone would like. I know Coryo mentioned that Grandma'am liked chocolate so I picked this one just for her."

Coriolanus feels a wide smile stretch across his face as you pass out your little desserts. His worries about you gossiping to their peers fade from view as he bites into what he thinks is a croissant. You laugh at his reaction and toss a napkin at his face which is most likely covered in the gooey fruit filling that was in his pastry.

He walks you back to your home that night and thanks you for making his night. He can't remember the last time Grandma'am had smiled from eating chocolate. You accept his thanks and gently tell him that he shouldn't be ashamed about his financial situation. He never gets to disagree with you though because a soft kiss is pressed to his lips followed by a rushed,

"Goodnight, Coryo! Thanks for the cabbage!"

He walks back to his own home with a jump in his step. Thoughts of you consume him as he smiles to himself, proud his first kiss was shared with you. He feels his heart burn with something that felt like it was going to come up and out his mouth as he finally made it back to his room, you officially had him wrapped around your finger.

Your room is flooded with sunlight the first time Coriolanus sees it. A soft, silky-looking bed spread sits atop one of the biggest beds he has seen as you beckon to your cat, Maisy to come and say hello to him. He looks at the oversized wooden dresser that sits against one wall. He sees the photograph of him and you that was taken a few weeks ago at your 17th birthday party nestled among little knickknacks. Books Coriolanus has never even heard of line your shelves as he you place a record on the player that sits on your desk. Soft sounds of a piano and the words from an unnamed singer fill your gorgeous room as he turns to you.

"Do you want to dance?" He finds himself asking

You accept and he leads you or well tries to. You're rather stiff and it turns out dancing is harder than it looks because he isn't any good at it either. You laugh as he trips over his feet and end up falling with him, landing on the ground entangled in each other. Your fingers brush his curls from his eyes as his nose brushes yours.

"What're you doing?" You ask quietly

"Nothing." He responds, his eyes flicking to your lips.

The moment his lips touch yours, a tingle shoots down his spine. This is a real kiss, not what you gave him when you were both 15. He cups your face and your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens it. He felt his head spin as you moved against him, almost as if you wanted him to swallow you whole right here on your bedroom floor. A giddy feeling swelled in his chest when he pulled away for air.

"Coryo...what was that?" You ask

"I thought you'd know by now. That was a kiss, darling." He laughed brushing his thumb across your lip

"I know that...but why'd you give me one?" You ask

"Don't you know?" He smiles and places a chaste kiss on your lips "My heart, it burns for you, it always has."

Part 2 is out now!

Series Masterlist

#the hunger games #fanfic #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #katniss everdeen #mockingjay #peeta mellark #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #tom blyth #rachel zegler #jennifer lawrence #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus x you #sejanus plinth #tbosas #thg #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut

[allthethoughtsandstuff]

katniss is sejanus bc theyre angry and reckless and do whatever the fuck they want without thinking about the consequences and peeta is lucy gray bc theyre performers who know how to carefully wrap the audience around their finger so that there are no consequences

#people just assume that katniss is Lucy gray bc she’s a girl but y’all need to see past the gender binaries and realize what’s what #must suck to be snow and have your people reincarnated 64 years later #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #thg #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games #tbosas

[bardic-irritation]

Fucking props to Zac Oyama for successfully pulling off what is probably one of the most brilliant attempts to outsmart the DM I've ever seen in the history of Dimension 20.

#'and then... i have mindless rage...' #LOSING MY MIND HE'S SO SMART #going in the hall of fame with Emily's aso 'how did you know there'd be a plinth' moment #zac oyama is so iconic to me #dimension 20 #fhjy #fantasy high #fhjy spoilers #fantasy high junior year #d20

[lucy-gray-baird]

bringing my thread here in honor of the ballad of songbirds and snakes trailer today because the "lucy gray parallels katniss" people are out there and they are wrong, lucy gray baird is peeta mellark and sejanus plinth is katniss everdeen and i will die on this hunger games hill

#the hunger games #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #thgedit #songbirds and snakes #the hunger games trilogy #hunger games #coriolanus snow #peeta mellark #everlark #katniss everdeen