Coriolanus Snow X Reader - Tumblr Posts

YO EVERYONE GO FUCKING READ THIS MASTERPIECE. THIS IS PROBABLY IN MY TOP 10 OF CORIOLANUS X READER SMUT FICS I'VE SEEN ON TUMBLR AND IT'S NOT JUST SMUT IT'S GOT SOME AMAZING FUCKING PLOT WITH AMAING FUCKING WRITING. GO SHOW ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU CAN BECAUSE THIS WRITER IS PHENOMENAL, PHENOMENAL I SAY.

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

AMEN ! I'd honestly let him thrust that gun up my puss puss, yes I would.

TOM BLYTH as CORIOLANUS SNOW THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES (2023) dir. Francis Lawrence

As If Destiny (Part Fifteen)🌹

Part 14🌹

A/N: wow... it's almost like it's almost been 3 months and i have to be awake in 2 hours... not that's real huh... ANYWAYS! please lemme know what you think and much love:)

not very proof read!!

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You went numb. Your jaw clenched while your eyes squinted at the two in front of you. It was official: you must have gone as mad as Dr. Gaul. Your head was shaking vigorously as you backed away. The young man—so-called Otto—looked at you as if you were a fragile vase breaking apart, while the older—Alreic—paid your actions no mind, swallowed by exhilaration.

You couldn't take your eyes off Otto, an action he mirrored. The notorious Embridge eyes that you and your brother shared were not staring back at you. Arachne stepped toward you in concern, but you were quick to put a swift hand out, motioning for her to halt. Your gaze never left the young man, and with each passing second, he seemed to become more anxious, continually flicking his gaze back and forth between you and your uncle.

It has to be your uncle.

You can't afford to lose any last grip on your sanity on an increasingly possible vision. The Embridge house ring was dull but still shone brightly on his finger. You trailed your sight upwards, and every feature was just as you remembered, although in far rougher shape. The most damning evidence: a pair of identical eyes connected with your own. Wait.

This entire situation might have been a fragment of your imagination, but what you saw in front of you was subtle yet no doubt happening. Purple started seeping in from the outside of your uncle's irises and making its way to the pupil. His eyes were a beautiful horror.

"Rowan, take Maude Ivory and our guest outside. Now."

Otto emphasized the urgency in his tense expression, effectively leaving no room for opposition from the usually argumentative girl. He must have noticed the change in tandem. Rowan and Maude Ivory made their way to the door, albeit reluctantly, while Arachne stood still and defiant in response to the stranger’s orders. Chestnut eyes were trained on you while yours never left the amethysts growing in your uncle's irises. You nodded your head solemnly. The air felt stiff and still, only broken by the eventual movement of a hesitant Arachne out the door. As soon as the wood was shut, Otto wasted no time turning to you.

"Cloria, we need to go."

You refused to look at "Otto" as he urged your departure. Something was happening to the last of your family, and there was no way an imposter was going to stop you from finding out.

"That's not my name."

Your voice was dripping with malice directed towards Otto, but it sparked something in your uncle. His eyes were nearly coated in purple ink as they began assessing you.

"Your name is Cloria."

You sighed as a heavy burden set itself upon your shoulders. How do you tell a man that his entire family, save you, are with the wind? Yet again, what exactly has he been doing in the woods that his forces have been butchered in for the past 13 years? Your eyes softened, as did your voice, before it was cut in with one that was begging to burn agitation within you.

"Cloria, we really need to get going!"

There was a staunch emphasis on the name. You whipped your head to the boy as irritation clouded your judgment.

"And what exactly is your name?"

His eyes were now drowned in terror as they switched back to the purple ones of your uncle, who began glaring in skepticism. It was Uncle Alreic who was the one to beat the boy from speaking this time.

"Cloria, you know that is Otto."

Trepidation made its way down your throat as you stepped towards the rightful heir of House Embridge.

"Uncle Alreic—"

A hand harshly gripped your wrist as you were dragged away. There was no need to check the perpetrator as you burst your way out of his tight hold, positively fuming.

"Cloria—"

"I'm not Cloria!"

Your patience had been obliterated. Weeks of constant reminders and pity for your mother's passing, with the addition of the mess that was the Tenth Hunger Games, had broken you. You refused to be a playing piece in yet another one of Casca Highbottom's sick games. You stood face to face with the man who seemed to be the ultimate breaking point of your sanity. He reached for you again.

"You don't understand! Just go along with it for now!"

He whispered sharply as you dodged his attempt. You didn't trust him in the slightest, but the sincerity—and terror—in his eyes were not lies. Honest or not, you needed answers at once. Your mouth opened to retort when all noise became muffled ringing. When your vision cleared from the blackness of your previously shut eyes, horror closed the airways in your body upon the new sight. A fresh bullet in the wood. Only a centimeter away from your skull.

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It was just supposed to be a normal day. Well, the new “normal” the currently humming brunette was trying to get used to. The woods were understandably frightening to those not used to their depth and vastness. However, for the charming girl, it was a comfort. Just her, the birds, the trees, and the wind.

The several soaring birds above were whistling along with the young woman. Dressed in an off-white, flowy dress with a light, colorful embroidered shawl wrapped around her and stunning pink carnations in hand, she felt a peace that had been hard to find lately. The breeze brushed through her hair and lifted the worries off her shoulders. Looking ahead through the trees, an old and crumbling cottage came into view.

Wild vines and weeds had overtaken the feeble structure, covering up the shattered windows. But it wasn’t the cabin that had drawn the woman over. Rather, the slight clearing behind it. There sat three cracking and cheaply made gravestones with a new and well-made one situated farthest to the right. She dusted off her dress and cleared her throat as she lifted her skirt to kneel in front of the most recent addition to the small graveyard. Her hand traced over the letters engraved and downwards to the dirt. The previous bunch of flowers was beginning to decay, so she quickly added their replacement. Rays of the late evening sun amplified the beauty of the flowers’ pink hue. The young woman had a fascination with plants and flowers, especially with their meanings. The pink carnation was a sentimental favorite due to its symbolism of a vow to never forget the recipient. In this case, it was none other than Jesup Diggs.

“Still here.”

It was barely a whisper. Her hand began fumbling with the surrounding grass.

“He misses you a lot. We all do. The other day, Rowan made the finest arrow I’ve ever seen, and the first person she ran to tell was you until she remembered. Not even Otto. Though, I’m sure she scampered her way here to tell you already.”

The laugh was light and sorrowful. Every trip to visit hurt. She marked off the days, waiting for the one when her smile would be genuine. Her head turned upwards, and she noticed the sunlight waning through the branches. If she wanted to get home before sundown, then she needed to start making her way to her ultimate destination. The brunette assured the steadiness of the flowers once more and lifted herself up. Her hands brushed off the slightest coat of dirt beginning to form as she let out a huff and a weak smile.

“Thank you.”

With that hushed gratitude, the girl in the white dress began picking up speed through the woods. It didn’t take longer than a few minutes for yet another aging cottage to bloom into sight. The two young girls bickering were a familiar sight that brought no concern, although the same could not be said for the foreign woman standing nearby. As the white-dressed girl made it to the creaking porch, the red-headed stranger turned towards the new visitor. Her face was awfully familiar, yet the brunette couldn’t place her resemblance.

“Have we met before?”

The redhead had a light and mask-like smirk stretching across her pretty face. Her skin was pale, clean, and clear. An air of status projected off of her. Whoever she may be, she clearly wasn't from Twelve.

The foreigner was leaning on one of the mahogany porch posts and oddly seemed to relax at the inquisition.

"No matter. Everyone knows you, isn't that right, songbird?"

Maude Ivory and Rowan paused their back-and-forth for the odd exchange. The young eyes drifted from one to the other waiting girl. As the moment stretched on into an uncomfortable chokehold, Maude Ivory couldn’t handle it anymore.

“We found them in the woods!”

Her voice was high-pitched as she looked at the tan girl she called a sister. The blonde’s outburst was backed up by Rowan’s fervent nods behind her shoulder.

“Them?”

“Yeah, she’s in there with Otto and Dad right now. Otto kicked us out because Dad is acting weird again.”

This was news to the brunette. The introduction of two strangers who had garnered her sister's infatuation was not much of a surprise; she and Rowan spent their time listening in on all the local gossip and stories. One look towards the sharp gaze of the foreigner assured her that whoever her companion was, she must be from the same opulent land.

A land of opulence.

There was only one place in all of Panem that held that title.

The girl with auburn locks watched as the pieces connected in the deep brown eyes of the Hunger Games' newest winner. Just as soon as it was connected, it was shattered along with the wood beside your head. The gunshot ricocheted into the ears of the now petrified group. They were inside in an instant, never questioning their running towards gunfire.

Your eyes locked onto the hole that would have been inside your head if you had only moved the slightest bit more to the left. However, with four pairs of feet rushing towards the still-smoking scene, your gaze connected with the newest addition to the party.

“Lucy Gray?”

“Y/N?”

Otto, Rowan, and Maude Ivory were getting—or already had—blistering headaches with the number of twists that had happened in the short time span. Otto may have been taken off guard for a second, but that was all the time he could afford. He was quick to start demanding their evacuation. Unlike with you, he kept his eyes on the girls instead of Alreic as he tried to persuade them to safety.

You looked at Arachne. Tears swam in her eyes, along with emotions flickering far too fast to name. Your attention was ripped away from her as the sound of a gun being readied was heard. Otto turned his body to face the maddened Alreic while using his body to shield the three Twelve natives.

Alreic’s hands were shaking as his amethyst orbs twitched in and out of focus. His gun swiped through the air as it refocused its aim on you. The action could be argued as foolish, but you stood as still as stone as he took uncoordinated steps toward you. Otto was shouting at him to stop, each shout more pleading than the last, yet he refused to leave his post as a shield. You never looked away from the maddened man who once held you so tightly.

He could be anywhere in the world, for however long, have his eyes and behavior flip instantly, but you knew. You saw the shade before they changed. Eyes could distract, but they can never lie.

Your breathing was unrhythmic while your body shook from tension. The barrel of the gun was still scorching as it made its imprint on your forehead. You had never seen such a grotesque wonder like the eyes that burned their own marks into you.

“What have you done to Cloria, thief?”

His scabbed hands made their way to your necklace and pulled you impossibly closer to the barrel. The pain was searing from both the pressure and the burning gunpowder heat. Your fists began curling as your plan was being set into motion. As your silence stretched for too long, his patience stretched too thin. Your eyes tracked his finger’s movement to the trigger. He planned his aim, and so did you. Just as you moved your arm back and out into a cross swing, your fist met a different target.

Arachne stood to the side as she watched the gun meet your head. Her sensibility urged her to remain still, but rationality had no chance of winning this round. Arachne had watched the lights flicker out of your usually bright eyes once before. She had stood still far too long.

All the other present members in the room were too preoccupied to notice her quiet movement towards the long-abandoned tea. She slowly grabbed the metal tray beneath the pot and stalked her way behind the armed man. Just as you had, she watched his finger begin to close in on the trigger, and action was taken. Only the slightest moment before you, she whipped the rusty metal tray across the unwell man’s head, causing him to immediately collapse to the ground. You could fight fast, but were too slow to realize that your fist was hitting Arachne instead of Alreic. A series of screams echoed throughout the room: Arachne’s was a yelp of pain, yours a mixture of shock and regret, the rest were shouts of horror at the violent scene.

“The hell was that for?!”

Arachne’s voice was gruff as she turned, gripping her now-marked skin. The pain in your knuckles began making itself present as the adrenaline wore off.

“Me?! What did you think you were doing?”

“You just expected me to let you take the hit?!”

“Well, that is what you did last time.”

You and Arachne’s blaring squabble was interrupted by the sweet honey of Lucy Gray Baird’s voice. You both turned your heads to the singer as she looked at Arachne unimpressed. The scowl upon Arachne’s face was deadly, only enhanced by the black mark forming on the left side of her cheek. Otto was about to start throwing punches of his own out of frustration. There was just too much, too fast. Otto hated change and fuss—things that had happened constantly since you showed up. Muffled groans echoed off his calloused hands as he covered his face.

“Someone start talking.”

Rowan gave a sidelong glance toward her distressed brother before quietly addressing her own concerns.

“Is my dad going to be okay?”

Otto huffed lightly as he mumbled a soft, “Not you, Rowan.” You broke slightly at the wobbliness of her voice. You didn’t have much experience with kids—there weren’t many your age in the Capitol—but you were sure that seeing one’s father unconscious on the floor was rattling for anyone.

“He will be fine from the hit. Possible headaches or pain, but it’s not poisoning him.”

You deliberately added the last point to get Otto to start talking. Substance abuse is an ugly post-war scar many in the Capitol bear, so you knew it well. The violet hue of Alreic’s eyes practically spelled out his suffering.

“Morphling?” Arachne questioned as she took in the man’s sickly pale and sweating face. You were quick to refute, still waiting for the right person to start explaining.

“Can’t be. Morphling doesn’t create hallucinations or alter the iris.”

You bore into Otto’s fidgeting eyes as you knew your assumption was the grave truth.

“It is hallucinations, isn’t it?”

Otto was often a level-headed man. He was an observer and was satisfied with simple living. The personalities living within the cabin he called home may not be the easiest of individuals, but he wouldn’t change the way he chose to live his life. Even with all the demons that haunt the shadows along the walls and the eerily silent moments, Otto could live with all the baggage his loved ones, including the very man knocked out on the floor, carried. What he couldn’t handle was some stranger barging into his home and acting as if he was the invader.

“Surprised they don’t teach you to speak your mind in the Capitol, since you’re the ones who control the rest of ours.”

His voice was stoic and icy—the kind of tone that Rowan knew her brother only used when rage burned straight through his sensibility. Something must have occurred for him to speak to someone from the Capitol like that so clearly.

“Well, at least you could guess where I’m from, unlike my name—even though I said repeatedly I wasn’t Cloria.”

“If I told him any different, he would have attacked you!”

“I had a plan!”

“Oh, getting shot, Y/N?!”

“So you do know my name.”

The two of you were in a trance of hardened glares and clenched jaws. Neither one of you was willing to concede to the other. Even if he wasn’t related to you, you both shared an unhealthy amount of stubbornness.

Rowan noticed this similarity and figured you all would be standing there indefinitely if no one intervened. Besides, she was curious to see where this conversation was going.

“We know all your names. Yours, Cloria, your Aunt Floria. Otto, of course. There was also Crassus Snow, and what was his name? Cala? Oh! Casca Highbottom.”

The further along her list went, the more your tough exterior broke. You had a raging vendetta against the last man, but there was no doubt that you were broken because of Highbottom's actions—of what he stole.

You examined Rowan's oddly composed face and behavior. Her mother must have been a beautiful woman. Rowan inherited her lips, full nose, and adorable dimples. She had a light to her. It shone through her eyes, smile, and cheeks. That was fully Rowan.

But those eyes. Those were her father's. They were Embridge. She was Embridge. One of three in the room. One was you. One was your still-unconscious uncle. No room for the lies of “Otto.”

“So you decided to steal Otto's name?”

You could visibly see and figuratively feel the roots of his soft curls being pulled to their last strength. You didn't care. After all you’ve been through, you simply didn’t care about his frustration. You demanded answers, and you weren't going to abandon your chance.

“I didn't steal anything! I was given it. I earned it!”

“Earned it? Earned it?! There is nothing anyone can do to earn my brother's name!”

It was no secret how highly you held your brother and his memory. It is only natural for your old memories to become more favorable to Otto. You only remember the good, and all other protests to that image are incomprehensible.

It was a stubborn position that was rivaled only by the curly-haired man in front of you. He had had enough judgment from a stranger in his own home about a life you knew nothing about.

“The only thing I need to do to earn your brother's name is be a murderer.”

You flinched at his grave and final tone as your eyes brimmed with tears of frustration, anger, and a slight grief you could not submit to. But the man was not yet finished with blows.

“And what would you know about what I have done for your uncle? I have been here for the past nine years! Where were you? I took care of him when he was too intoxicated to function. Where were you?! I accepted the illusion he put on me because it gave him sanity when he had none left. I take care of him, his daughter, and the fragments of his memories. I am the one who is helping him recover. I am the one who feeds and cleans him. I am the one who has been here! WHERE WERE YOU?!”

His knuckles were white with burning rage at your condescension. He never wished for a different life. Perhaps a more improved version of the one he had, but never different. It was not one many would choose, but he would every time, no matter its difficulties. However, to have you saunter in as if he were a fraud was the last crack to break the dam. The dark eyes of the man glared at you, fully expecting you to lash right back but slightly deflated when tears streamed down your cheek. Your jaw was no longer set with offense but trembling along with your chapped lips. Your mouth opened and closed several times, unsure of what to say. What could you say besides the weak and airy “We—I—didn’t know”?

Lucy Gray stepped towards you with a sympathetic look of sorrow dancing in her orbs. Her hand graced your shoulder, but as soon as it touched, you backed away. Your eyes began glossing with ever-regenerating tears that clung to your lashes as you focused solely on the still cold form of your uncle. Arachne noticed that if she didn’t do something, you would slip away in sorrow.

“Y/N—”

“I—I didn’t know. We didn’t know. How did he?”

Your breaths were coming in fast and shallow as you started hyperventilating. Thoughts spiraled and spread while your fingers made their way through your hair out of stress. Arachne made her way to your side, but even in your own spiral, you were swift in evading her.

“Why didn’t he say? What could he possibly want?!” Your voice transformed from panicked whispers to an urgent shriek, fear and agony seeping in. “They would have tried to help! They would have come! Oh, Aunt Fiora! Oh!”

Otto watched in increasing discomfort. Whatever assumptions he had made of you were starting to look misplaced as you paced in a tight box formation, your hands moving downwards from your hair to your face. Red lines grew angrily across your features from your nails. Over and over. Grating your hardened keratin scratches madly at your own face.

Arachne ran to your uncharacteristically behaving form to stop any further irritation. After a combative struggle to capture your hands and keep them away from your face, Arachne had her own tears make an appearance.

Your repetitive attacks had caused silencing red lines to flow across and down your face—your beautiful and bright face, she thought. Arachne didn’t know if the heavy tears washing away the blood were a relief or fuel to the fire. If only you had a glimpse of yourself. You looked near identical to the last final moments of your Aunt Fiora—the one brought to madness by the death of the sleeping yet living man before you.

Chest heaving heavily, scratches burning, and existence crashing, you needed to leave immediately. Your feet planted you on the floor, even as your knees started to buckle from the weight of reality. Arachne forced your movement by dragging your arm, your dazed being following blindly. Her rapid steps were a force to be reckoned with, and one you could only clumsily follow as you were hauled past a troubled Lucy Gray and into the vast woods.

You made it far enough that you were covered by trees on all sides and no longer in view of the decrepit cabin when you collapsed once more. Your fingers traced the transformation of the dirt turning into mud beneath them. Arachne tried her best to comfort you by rubbing circles on your back, though she was painfully lacking experience. The sun began setting, casting an orange glow over your mirage of heartbreak. Somewhere through your sobs, you managed to pour out words that had been festering.

“I miss him so, so much.”

Arachne didn’t hesitate to continue her attempts at comfort as you continued to cry.

“Otto would be so proud of who you are.”

“I meant Coryo.”

The name caused pause in the redhead's hands and heart. You’ve just gone through so much, and you are thinking about him?

“He wou-would know what to do,” you choked out the words. “He would have known exactly what to do. I miss him so much.”

It was an understatement to you. It was more than longing. It was emptiness. A piece of your being forcibly amputated, leaving you unbalanced.

Your eyes were still a haze of blazing tears, trained on the darkening ground. With your back towards her, you missed Arachne’s own pain. She was always intelligent, cunning, and cold. So why did she become dumb, soft, and warm for the one whose heart would never skip a beat when she walked into a room? For the one who was happy before and after life without her? The one who, when they called out a name, it wasn’t hers.

She knew better than to let herself get hurt by your words. Arachne even actively tried to ensure anything but your love decaying. Yet, emotion was a parasite, and she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.

“You have me.”

Her tone was wounded, which caused you to turn around and squeeze her hand in thanks. Your eyes were bloodshot and foreign to her, but the warmth was there, albeit slightly distant.

“Thank you, Ara.”

It should have been enough. There was nothing more to it for you. But Arachne never stopped when it came to you.

“But I’m not the same.”

Arachne cursed herself for looking back at you. Watching the radiating snowflakes on the ring you fidgeted with shine daggers into her heart. Witnessing the confused frown etch itself on your face, waiting for a recognition of her meaning that never reached you.

“Why would you be the same?”

You didn’t mean to hurt her, a fact she knows far too well. Yet, it seems whenever you act with love, it only cuts her deeper—the specific adoration that will never be directed to her. Even with a sentence of decades away from you, your heart refuses to change its target of affection. She couldn’t trust her mouth to answer that question, afraid of what she might reveal and burn. Her saving grace came in the sweet honey voice of Lucy Gray.

“Y/N! Oh, there you are!” Her breath was haggard, and her hair tousled, clear signs of her rush to find you. “I am so sorry; he isn’t usually like that, I swear to you!”

“Which one exactly?” Your tone had a bite to it, foreign to your often sweet tongue. Lucy Gray flinched at your voice. You had already turned your back to start walking in the vague vicinity of the barracks.

“She isn’t usually like that either.” Arachne tried to defend you, which was understandable enough for the singer.

They both picked up their pace to catch up with your blazing trail. Lucy Gray was offering to walk you both back, to which you both agreed, albeit silently. You were not in the mood for conversation or company, but you knew that neither you nor Arachne had any idea where you were going. Tears still rolled down your face as you walked, but they were drying up as anger burned through them. Arachne slipped back into her usual impenetrable persona. Lucy Gray felt helpless.

“Highbottom told me what happened. What Coryo did.”

Your steps didn’t falter. Your eyes were cemented forward, the evening sun setting your skin alight. The last of your tears had dried upon your still-reddened cheeks.

“Saving your life?”

Lucy Gray knew she was stepping on shaky ground with you now, but she hoped from that night with Coriolanus that you were really the person he said you were. She treaded on with the conversation you clearly wanted no part of.

“He told me that he broke the rules, so they sent him to Eight.”

Arachne’s chestnut eyes bore into the side of your illuminated head, but you were stoic. It was frightening to her.

“So he is.”

Your voice was grated. Your scratches still burned against the open air. The ground beneath your feet even looked like it was breaking slightly more beneath the weight of your fury. You knew what Lucy Gray wanted to know. If you were in your right state of mind, you would never have been acting the way you were. Yet you couldn’t stop the parasite of emotion and pain from overtaking you. The brunette, perhaps foolishly, placed her hand upon your shoulder, causing you to stop and turn. Your sore and reddened eyes met her large and sympathetic ones. You didn’t throw off her hand.

“What did you do for him to get here?”

You flinched slightly. It was terrifying how this practical stranger knew of your sacrifice. You looked towards Arachne, who was lost in her own world of pain as it was yet another reminder of your relentless devotion to another. You sucked in a breath and looked back at the waiting girl.

“I told Highbottom I was the one who did it.”

You gently moved her hand off you and walked somberly on. The sun was getting ever closer to the ground, and you and Arachne needed to get back urgently. Lucy Gray stood there a moment as you and Arachne walked ahead. Coriolanus was not wrong about you.

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Dusk had overtaken the sky by the time you made it back to the barracks. You ushered a quick goodbye to Lucy Gray and returned to your room in unsteady silence with Arachne. She watched as you kept your head down to avoid any attention to your concerning appearance. However, she did notice a certain hazel-eyed Peacekeeper looking longer than the rest. Arachne cursed herself repeatedly in her head as you got ready for bed, completely mute. Why did she ever let you go? But then again, your ghosts would have found you anyway.

Darkness overtook your shared chambers as you both stared up at the ceiling. This wasn’t unexpected for Arachne. She hadn’t been able to sleep properly since the Dark Days. Not that anyone could tell. As with everything else, she was able to hide it well. Your mind swirled with the day’s events. You knew you needed to take the time to comprehend it all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. At least not alone. Not with anyone besides the platinum-haired boy who overtook your mind. For your entire life, you always thought of the person you loved the most before sleep. It was first your brother. His smile was what you woke up to for your entire life. Reality for the first few years. Memory for the rest. For a short time, it was your mother’s sweet words and warm hugs. Then it was him.

Images of his pearly white smile sleeping on the bug-infested floor of his crumbling apartment so you could get a semblance of comfort on his undersized bed were common and comforting. It hit you that you might one day forget the stench of cabbage that wafted through the ancient hallway of his home. That you might forget the cracks on the wall that created a mosaic that mesmerized you while you waited for him to get ready. You swore you would never forget him, and you wouldn’t. Couldn’t. But what if you forgot all the reasons you loved him and he you?

“You are going to see him again. I swear to you.”

Arachne’s voice was clear and authoritative, yet the most genuine you’d heard. She still didn’t look at you, even though she could feel your gaze. You said nothing and returned to your former position. Sleep overtook you as you thought of your very complicated Arachne.

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The next morning brought with it warm sun rays that cast shadows from the trees facing the light. You woke up before Arachne and got ready while she fidgeted in her sleep. Struggle was evident, and even in sleep, you could see the bags beneath her eyes. Unfortunately, you both needed to make good first impressions, even if those here were technically below your standing as Capitol citizens. A good thing that your scratches from yesterday healed significantly, now only slight lines. Arachne’s bruise was another story but her fierce gaze was more tha enough to silence questioning. Your main worry was getting to your orientation on time.

“Ara, time to wake up.” Absolutely nothing.

You could have tried a second time or lightly shaken her awake, but you were in the mood for some fun. Pillow in hand and grin on face, you started plummeting the poor girl with the feathered item until her shrieks were heard, followed by your laughter.

You backed off as you came face to face with her very grouchy glare, to which you could only innocently smile with all teeth showing.

“Glad to see you are the embodiment of sunshine again.”

“And same to see you as sour as a lemon. Your nice act freaked me out.”

You settled back on your made bed as she got up and ready. She gave you a light snarl, which you took proudly. After yesterday’s events, you were unsure where you stood with her or really anyone. But to your relief, Arachne was willing to let it go for now and get back to your rekindled friendship, which came along with its fold of bickering and friendly taunts.

The two of you were eating your breakfast in the cafeteria—well, Arachne was trying to.

“Stop picking at it, Ara. Just close your eyes and suck it up.”

Looking at the gray gooey substance that was supposed to pass as nutrients, even you were slightly unsure.

“I think it might suck me up instead.”

You were going to retort with another plea for her to eat her food when a tray setting down next to you was heard. The hazel-eyed and kind-smiled boy you met in the registration line yesterday gave you a sweet “good morning!” Arachne looked between you two with suspicion, especially at the brown-haired boy who just made himself welcome at her table. She looked at his uniform and weapons on his belt, and it was clear he was a Peacekeeper. They were roomed with three other trainees, so he clearly had acquaintances to sit with. Yet here he was, looking at you in a way that made her stomach churn.

“Did they kick you out of their group already?”

At her cold and flat tone, the boy suddenly seemed to realize that you weren’t alone. He sheepishly turned toward the glare of Arachne Crane. His eyes sold away his confusion at her words. Before any more cryptic and surely rude words could spurt from her lips, you stepped in.

“Ignore Arachne, she has the unfortunate case of being herself.” Her snort was loud and a signal to the young man.

He turned away hesitantly from the still squinting ginger. He picked at his food as he tried to explain himself.

“Sorry to barge in. I actually get along with my fellow keepers; just thought I could also extend friendship to the researchers here too. Besides, I never got to know your name.”

You smiled softly at him (causing an internal gag from Arachne) and laughed (a melodious sound to the young man).

“Well, you never told me yours either, did you?”

He smiled downwards at his food and nodded, knowing you got him there. His hazel eyes flashed to you beneath his lashes. “Cassian Slate.”

“Y/N Vaun.”

“Arachne Crane. Wonderful, we are all the greatest of friends. You spread friendship to both sides of the barracks and solved world peace. You can leave now.”

A reprimanding look was sent her way by you but thoroughly ignored as she stared daggers into this Cassian. He huffed a breath and got the hint as he started picking up his food. You attempted to try and stop him, but he assured you it was no problem.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll see you again. It’s a small district after all.”

Cassian flashed a charming smile and made his way to his peers, who welcomed him warmly. When you turned back to face Arachne, she had her eyes closed as her spoon trembled on its way to her lips.

“Well, aren’t you the social butterfly?”

“I like my personal space.”

You took a look around at the long metal table that only you and Arachne occupied. There was an awkward amount of empty space.

The goo that passed for yogurt finally made its way past her lips and just as fast, out and into a napkin. You heaved a breath and took your empty tray and hers to throw out while she tried to wash away the taste with water. She was still gagging and squinting in disgust as you were walking out and into the research center.

“Remember, you chose this.”

“Stop holding it over my head, would you?”

You smirked slightly as you turned toward the front where an elderly man with tanned skin and gray eyes addressed the rest of the scientists. The lot was briefed on your positions and jobs, of which you were thankfully paired with Arachne. Your jobs were to capture a specific type of mixed breed: the mockingjay. Pictures and descriptions of the hybrid were taught to your decently sized group. Several pairs were to scavenge separate woods all over the district. You and Arachne were assigned to the southern part of the forest by your barracks. The very same area where your Uncle Aleric lived.

When you all were dismissed to grab your equipment and get started, Arachne fell into step with you. “Some luck you have.”

You shook your head and grabbed a cart full of cages. “We have weeks to cover the ground; we don’t have to deal with it today.”

And you didn’t. Your treks didn’t get you too deeply, which meant you didn’t find many mockingjays. However, that doesn’t mean you didn’t find any. The first one you found, you were fascinated. You walked softly towards the small bird, expecting it to fly away. Instead, it stood its ground and bore its dark orbs into your own. A light “hello” went past your lips. Then it was returned to you by the bird, which caused a surprised laugh to tumble its way out of your lungs. Slowly, your laugh bounced off the trees and overtook the chirping of the woods. A chorus of your giggles was repeated and amplified by the swirling mockingjays above your head. It went from a spectacle to a mocking sensation. You felt unsettled by the never-ending sound. Over and over again. All at once, it was silenced. In a large net cast by Arachne, a gaggle of the mockingjays tried to escape. The rest flew away in fright. Arachne looked from the birds to you with a grimace.

“I did not sign up for that.”

You readily nodded your head in agreement and helped her get the birds in their cages to take back. As you walked away, the further you got from the mockingjays, you were too far to realize they picked up from where they left off, your laughter still ringing. It rang until it hit the ears of the one aching for it.

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It had been a week of venturing through the trees and capturing the odd creatures. You had yet to set foot off the barrack grounds and into the actual district, as you kept yourself occupied with your work—a trait Arachne was quick to taunt you on. “Always the overachiever,” she would say under her breath as you studied the few sources of biological components of the hybrids. However, no matter how much time it took, Arachne was fine being stuck inside because she would be stuck with you—a version of you she was sure was lost after all you’ve endured.

Your comfortable routine inside was abruptly interrupted by the sudden knock on your gray-paneled door. You looked up from your papers and Arachne from yet another book, sharing a confused glance. Arachne surely made no move to build connections with others, and while you had been friendly, nothing of true meaning had formed. Well, besides Cassian, but you had seen very little of him due to his much more intense peacekeeper duties. After yet another hard knock, you snapped out of your daze and made your way to the noise. In front of you stood one of your peers with a blinding smile. Anya, a pretty caramel-skinned girl with a sickle-like birthmark below her right eye, was nearly bouncing off the walls in excitement.

“We’ve been given leave passes for the weekend! All of us are going to the Hob, and you guys should join!”

Arachne had joined you and peeked over your shoulder at the girl. She had no interest in “connecting” with your peers, but she did want to see Twelve and really learn the livelihoods here. Whatever was going on in the cabin of your uncle’s was certainly not normal. Well, she hoped not. Her chestnut eyes picked up on your lips starting to form an excuse when she cut you off.

“We’ll be there.”

You turned to her satisfied smirk in betrayal. Then the reminder of her reasoning for being here came to your mind. She did want to make her own opinion of the districts, and she couldn’t do that always being locked up in a Capitol-funded barrack and center. Anya paid your little tiff no mind as she lowered her voice yet elevated her enthusiasm.

“I heard peacekeepers are gonna be there too if you know what I mean.” She giggled sweetly at the scandalized thought. You slightly gaped at her words, a thought that thoroughly disgusted you because the only one you wanted to see was hundreds of miles away from you. Arachne raised her eyebrows with arms crossed and a leveled icy gaze.

“They aren’t allowed to take a partner, isn’t that right?”

She laughed yet again, a noise that Arachne later compared to metal grazing metal. Her dark roots shook around her head in amused disagreement. “Well, who said anything about a relationship.”

A snippy “mhm” and a rushed goodbye from you, and the door was firmly shut in the poor girl’s face. You tried to claw your way to the door but were effectively blocked by Arachne as she urged you to get ready instead. “She will be fine, now let’s go.”

You changed into a simple yet elegant blue dress that you hoped wouldn’t catch too many people's attention with its expensive fabric and detailing. Arachne donned a beautiful pair of dark brown pants and an intricately designed black blouse. As you both looked at each other, there was an agreement: you desperately needed to go shopping to get clothes to fit in. The journey to the famed Hob wasn’t too tedious or long, and even if it was, your attention was elsewhere. You knew your gaping and wandering eyes would only bring more attention, but you couldn’t stop it. How could the Capitol and Twelve be in the same country, much less the same world? Smoke and coal clouds colored the sky, even in the darkening sky. Yet, with all the gloom in the sky, the land was covered with a surprising amount of smiles as you entered the Hob. If they could not have the privilege you were unfairly born with, at least they could have this little slice of peace.

The music was blasting and seeped through your bones. Even if you didn’t intend to enjoy your night out too much, you couldn’t stop the smile bursting upon your lips as you spotted Lucy Gray on the stage. She looked happy. At home. Alive. Somehow, of the several hundreds crowding up the dancefloor and bar, she spotted you. Her smile faltered at the memory of your last interaction, but your expression gave her ease. A wink and a grin were flashed back at you before she turned her attention to the rest of the crowd. Arachne, unsurprisingly, pushed her way through, and you could only murmur apologies as you made your way past. Finding a small unoccupied table across the back wall, you both opted in on people-watching. Your eyes wandered across the pairs of people dancing and jumping across the floor. Coal-covered hands and snuffed noses be damned, they were having a time of pure joy. The beat, energy, and enthusiasm of the group inspired you with an idea.

Arachne was hypnotized with watching the door and especially with the arrival of a horde of peacekeepers. Her neck craned ever so slightly, as if looking for someone. Though, her view was blocked by your shining eyes and outstretched hand. The girl’s ever-quizzical eyes scanned your movement. No time was wasted for an answer as you grabbed her hand and dragged her out to the dancefloor.

“Hey!”

Your head was tipped backwards as you cackled at her stiff movements and reluctance to move. Neither of you knew the dance moves of the locals, obviously, but you just grabbed her hands anyway and forced her to move from side to side. The pair of you looked ridiculous as you spun and eventually started jumping around, but you didn’t care. You had gotten the icy-cold Arachne Crane smiling and dancing in District Twelve of all places. For the first time in weeks, your mind had finally cleared, if only for a moment before a silky voice burst in.

“May I have a turn?”

Cassian stood there with a charming grin and dapper dimples on full display. If you didn’t know he was from Two, you would have fully believed he was a Capitol charmer. He stared at you expectantly, but Arachne, as always, had other plans.

“Oh, I would absolutely love to!”

The false enthusiasm was painfully clear, but she grabbed his arm anyway and forcibly tugged him into the center of the dancing and sweating throng of bodies. He looked back to you in alarm while you stared at the back of Arachne’s auburn locks in confusion. What game was she playing at?

No matter, as you suddenly felt the parchedness of your throat. You made your way back towards the bar for a simple glass of water. The most astonishing thing of the night should have been seeing Arachne Crane jumping alongside District Twelve coal miners. But instead, you came face to face with Otto. He nearly dropped the glass he was serving to an impatient customer when he spotted you. A quick apology and huff by the customer, and his full attention was on you. The two of you stood frozen, unsure how to interact after what happened last time. Your often quick-witted brain was halted upon the bile of regret crawling its way up.

“I see you are without your guard dog.”

It took you far too long to realize he was speaking to you civilly and without judgment, well, at least towards you.

“She is busy making someone else miserable, so you are in the clear.” He, much to your relief, laughed and indicated with a tip of his head for you to sit down. Otto was drying off some chipped cups with a ratty towel as you got settled. He asked for your drink of preference and gave you an amused smile when you just wished for water. The color of the substance was a bit off from what you were used to back in the Capitol, but you thanked him nonetheless. Lucy Gray’s soothing voice took up and away any awkwardness between you two as she enthralled you both. Otto’s dark eyes were fully mesmerized by the glowing singer as you studied his features. He was nothing close to your brother on the outside. But maybe you had been too quick to rush judgment on his character.

“I am sorry for acting the way I did and the damage I caused. I am not usually like that. I’ve actually never been like that. I, uhm—”

“I know. I don’t know you, but I could tell something was off. That was before what Lucy Gray told me. I guess I have to say sorry for lashing out too.”

You were quick to refuse as you thought he had all the right—more than you anyhow. He was right when he said he was there for your uncle, even if you didn’t have a choice. The conviction behind your words stopped any further argument upon his tongue. Once again, all conversation ceased to the magnetic Lucy Gray Baird. It was Otto’s turn to take you in.

“Kane. Kane Thatcher.”

You tilted your head, utterly lost at the meaning of his words.

“My name. The real one.” His voice was muttered and mumbled as he confessed. The dark eyes of his avoided yours, but you were patient for them to make their way back to you. You tilted forward, and sincerity painted all your fine features.

“Thank you...Kane.”

He didn’t like his born name, but it didn’t sound too bad from you. It was understandable why you didn’t want to use “Otto,” but he hoped one day, you would be able to. His attention was split from you as several more peacekeepers made their way through, and you swore

you saw a familiar shade of blonde. Hoping for a distraction, you shook your head and turned back to Otto—Kane? Otto? Yet once again, he was hypnotized by the girl on stage. You shifted your line of sight to his and watched a soft smile play upon her lips as he caught Lucy Gray’s eye—a smile just for him. And he could tell too, as he looked down bashfully with a full blush and broad smile. Clearly forgetting you were there, you wasted no time.

“That must have been the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

His eyes widened at your words and the realization that you were a firsthand witness to his clear infatuation. You could only beam at him, smoothing out any tension between the two of you. Unfortunately, all sweetness in the room was cut short by the very unwelcome shout of Billy Taupe.

“Lucy Gray!”

You turned your head and saw the scruffy man who had effectively sent Lucy Gray to a death sentence for his own mistakes. Following him was a high-pitched girl with short red hair and a nasty scowl.

“Billy Taupe!” The man scurried his way towards the brunette, who was obviously uncomfortable with his presence. He paid no mind to the girl who he now called his girlfriend, Mayfair.

“You’re sounding kind of thin, Lucy Gray. You’re all sounding thin without me, no?”

“Billy! You swore you wouldn’t play with them again, Billy Taupe.”

Stomping up to the raggedy man, Mayfair was in for a surprise as she was pushed aside harshly. You got up in surprise as Otto tensed. Billy was getting closer to Lucy Gray while she tried to urge the crowd to calm down. She wasn’t able to do the same as he got closer and closer to her. You turned to Otto, who had a special kind of fury burning in his dark orbs—one you’d only seen in Coriolanus Snow. In the arena.

“You going to do something, or am I?”

Otto gave you one last look as he started making his long and determined strides towards Billy, who had now grabbed the skirt of Lucy Gray.

“I know you miss me, Lucy Gray!”

“Get your hands off me right now! Get your hands off me, Billy Taupe. After what you did to me, you get your hands off me right now, or I swear I will take a snake and—”

“Don’t touch her!”

And with that, Otto’s fist flew and hit the target of Billy’s face with a deafening smash. They tumbled to the floor, with Otto pinning the offender to the ground and relentlessly hitting him. He knew he would be facing the wrath of the peacekeepers soon enough, but it was worth it. Soon enough, the men and women who were expecting a day off were trying to break up a fight. You scanned for Arachne; the last you saw her, she was close to the action, but instead, you saw a hallucination. That’s what it must have been. There was no way that Coriolanus Snow was only mere feet away from you. Your Coryo. He was trying to get his own hits on Billy but was stopped by Sejanus. Sejanus too? Coryo’s infamous blonde head, albeit shaven, lifted and the eyes that haunted your mind met yours. Across the horde of violence, you saw the love of your life. Your breath started coming in quick and heavy breaths. You couldn’t tell if it was real or not. Of course it wasn’t; Coryo should have been in Eight. The battle between reality and vision was interrupted as you were collateral damage of a shove by a very muscular and shaven man. You stumbled and almost collapsed before an arm latched onto yours.

“Let’s get out of here while we can, Ace.”

You let Arachne tow you to safety; the night air of Twelve. She intended to walk straight back to the barracks before any trouble followed you, but you pulled her to a halt. Her eyes rolled as she tried to urge you forward.

“Come on, Ace. I don’t want to find out what will happen if we don’t get back in time.”

“I saw him. I saw Coryo.”

All resistance was broken when his name was breathed out by you. She expected you to start smiling and jumping for joy, but all she received was a hollowed look.

“He wasn’t real. I’m losing it, Ara. I’m seeing things. I’m getting sick too often. Something is happening to me and—”

Arachne silenced your despair as she crushed you in a hug. You were stiff but eventually started melting as tears rained down. You were so sick of the tears, the sickness, all of it. She never let go as she comforted you.

“What if you weren’t seeing things, Ace?”

While she tried to offer comfort, you pushed her away with a look of disgust and betrayal.

“I am losing it, Arachne, and you’re just playing into it?!”

“What?! No, Y/N—”

“He isn’t here, I know that! Whatever you’re trying to play at, leave me and especially him out of it! Don’t—don’t give me that hope.” You stared her down even as you broke down. Arachne felt herself cracking with you. She knew you weren’t well, but she hated that you felt it yourself—that you fully believed you were deluded to see hallucinations. The moonlight illuminated your tear-stricken yet still stunning face. She didn’t know if you would accept or if her plan would actually work, but she tenderly whispered out for you to follow her.

The auburn-haired girl turned around and didn’t fully expect you to follow, but, to her relief, you did. You were unsure why exactly, but you were so exhausted you had no fight left in you. Besides, you didn’t want to be on the streets by yourself.

Though, you would not be on the streets for long as you quickly entered a section of the vast woods. Arachne walked through as if she were an expert, even in the moonlight. Your march led the two of you to an opening with a flowered field and a large spiraled tree. It was beautiful, but your mind and heart had no room for beauty. You had truly thought you had gotten even the slightest bit better, but tonight was only a reinforcement of your “brokenness.”

You continued following Arachne to the middle of the field, right beneath the tree. The moonlight was above you, lighting up the entire scenery. She let out a sigh as her eyes returned to you after a quick scan of the area.

“Act as if I am Coriolanus. What would you say to him?”

You blankly stared at her. What in the world? A scoff came from you at her words.

“I mean it, Ace. What would you say?”

“Arachne, I’m not in the mood—”

“Come on, Y/N.”

How was she acting as if you were the weird one for not wanting to pour your heart out for a pretend version of the other half of your being? You threw your hands up in defeat. Sometimes there was no arguing with Arachne, and this was certainly one of those times.

“Why do you even care?!”

“Y/N, please—”

“Okay, fine! I would say that I hate him for his stupid cleverness. I would say that I love and curse his determination. I would shout about how easily he let himself be shipped away from his family—from me.” Your voice was cracking with emotion. “I would be pulling my hair because I would be so frustrated and overwhelmed with how much I love him and the pain that’s caused me because I can’t! Every time we get a moment of happiness, it gets shattered and battered. I would yell at the universe for trying to pull us apart and cry out why he let it happen!”

Arachne felt her heart shatter, piece by piece. It pierced her flesh, and the salt of her inhaled tears seeped in. She asked for this. She caused this. She wants this. She wants this. She forces herself to accept that. If she can’t be the one causing you madness from love, then shouldn’t she be the one to at least give you what you actually want? She will eventually be satisfied enough with having that part in your happiness and love.

She wonders if it is worth it, but no matter how selfish she wants to be, she knows it is when a branch breaks behind you. You spin towards the intruder, and you could physically feel the blood flowing in your veins stop.

There he was. Shaven hair, a far more muscular and fitted frame, and dog tags adorned his neck. But those same glorious eyes. Your imagination must have been extremely detailed, or the impossible was true.

“I will let you yell at me for the rest of our days as long as I can hear your voice.”

You didn’t want to believe it. You shouldn’t have. It wasn’t real. Over and over again, that voice of rationality shrieked at you, but yet your feet took cautious steps. He waited patiently, anticipating having you in his arms once more but couldn’t afford startling you. You made it right in front of him when your hands, shaking, rose slowly to his slightly tanned face. When they touched flesh, you felt your heart nearly rip from your chest. Your fingers moved across his fine cheekbones over and over again as you couldn’t believe it. Tears blurred his handsome face, but for once, you welcomed them. Your cheeks burned with the severity of your smile, but you could be bleeding and you wouldn’t care. He was there.

His rough-textured hands covered your own as he joined your beautiful laughter. You were there. You giggled, cackled, and cried while never letting go of him, not that he would let you. All your hysterics were let out as you finally took in his somehow far more grown yet charming features. You took each detail in, committing it to memory. Something Coryo noticed and was adamant to stop because he never wants to be in your memories again. He wants to be your reality. His hands brushed away stray pieces of hair as he took a good hold of you.

His eyes traced every little mark on your radiant face—one he was determined to make his first and last thought while always being his current moment. At once, his all-consuming eyes fluttered closed while he leaned towards you, consuming you. His lips were gentle as they melted into your own, and the only force was yours as you kissed back. Your hand snaked behind his neck while his traveled to your hips. Repeated quick pecks turned into elongated stolen kisses.

Time hadn’t been a concept for you since you laid eyes on him, but some must have passed as you pulled away, flushed and out of breath. Your foreheads were still connected along with your arms around each other. Peace had finally found its way back into your life as you found yourself in Coryo’s embrace.

“So you really love me, huh?”

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit🌹 @scarletstarrs 🌹

Some Ideas/Requests I had for Coriolanus snow! (Any one can make these because I’m not good at writing plus I’d prefer someone else…hehe) also all female reader!!

1. Coriolanus snow x fem reader: During the hunger games you and Lucy come across careers and during the amidst of fighting trying to fight them off the reader sacrifice herself to save Lucy, not only leaving behind her best friend (Lucy) but also leaving behind her love (Coriolanus)

2. Jealous Coriolanus x fem reader: where the reader and Coriolanus used to have a fling but they ended it. (You can decide the reason) and the reader ends up with one of finnick odairs ancestors and Coriolanus gets jealous (and if you do smut you can make it into smut.

3. Peacekeeper Coriolanus snow x fem reader: The night Lucy performs the reader also performs and is just as good with the guitar and has a very captivating singing voice. Which makes Coriolanus awestruck/starts falling for her.

4. Jealous Coriolanus Snow x fem reader: the reader and Coriolanus are good friends for a while and maybe he’s had feelings/has been slightly pinning after her, both of them are mentors and the reader gets a very nice hot guy as her tribute and they become attracted to each other and coryo gets jealous

5. Coriolanus snow x reader: the reader was a tribute not that long before the 10th hunger games but during her games she had unknowingly did something that the capital did not approve of and she gets reaped back into the games but she doesn’t get a mentor because of the capital/peacekeepers doing the dirty work themselves they decided to put her back into the games and instead of snow falling for Lucy gray (his tribute) he falls for the reader. And during the games Lucy asks the reader what happened to her and she tells Lucy that after the games they had killed her family and sold her (like what happened to finnick & Johanna! If not comfortable y’all can leave that part out or come up with something else)

6. Coriolanus snow x fem reader: it’s when the attacks happen the reader gets hit and becomes unconscious but instead of snow looking for her (his gf?) he more worried about Lucy gray and he doesn’t realize that the reader is their next to him in the wing until after he knows Lucy is okay. Maybe the reader is in a very bad condition and had to undergo a surgery.

7. Coriolanus Snow x fem reader: where she’s in the games and she sings safe and sound by Taylor Swift to her fellow tribute, while their dying (like how katniss did with rue) and snow is just in awe and can’t take his eyes off the screen. (Maybe you were part of the capital and was thrown into the games because of your family?¿)

(I have more but all that I can think of rn!)

Idea

Imagine Where it’s Coriolanus snow x fem reader and they have known each other for a long time and maybe even dated (until Lucy gray) and somebody says in a speech:

“A Toast To Y/n always the second love, never the first..”

Or something like that and yes it’s inspired by the quote in corpse bride..

(Like honestly how would he react? How would the reader react? What would happen?)

My Oc’s!

(Part of my Coriolanus Snow Fanfic!)

Main Girl:

Emme Reinswood~

Main Boy (one of them):

Ashe Warren~

2 Main(ish) Boy:

Marcus Plinth~

Relationship Aesthetics:

Emme + Coriolanus~

Emme + Ash~

The LoveTriangle~

“Innocent, naive, little doll”

summary - Coryo really hated everyone staring at his wife, he really detested it

A small smile rests on Coriolanus’ face as his pretty little wife comes out in her dress, the pink satin tight on her body, he hated it.

He knew every man and woman at that gala was going to be ogeling you all night.

His wife was too naïve to notice their longing stares, or the jealously of the women who were angry their husband couldn’t take his eyes off of the presidents wife.

Adored by all.

“You look beautiful, doll” He smiles, his hands moving to rest against her hips, the way her doe like eyes didn’t leave his, her love and infatuation with him was evident.

‘good’ he thought, he hated how weak she made him.

Any time he did try to be stern she melted it off, she stopped him from being so cold.

and he hated that too.

“Thank you!” She beams brightly, everyone adored that little, innocent, naïve little doll of his.

He hated that most of all.

As they arrived at the Gala, he watched everyones eyes dart to them, those pigs looking her up and down.

his arm gripping her waist tightly.

but when he looked down, his anger completely melted upon finding her looking at him, only him.

The small ‘CS’ charm around her neck glimmering in the light.

she was his.

only his.

and that necklace proved it, a true sign of owner ship.

Broken Him

summary - You change his mind

warning - mention of abuse! (not coryo)

Coriolanus Snow would not marry for love, he wouldn’t allow himself to be so vulnerable, so weak.

Love makes people delusional and it once made him deluded.

Lucy gray

that name wrang in his head like an unstoppable fire alarm, his feelings angry, yet betrayed, sad? all he knew was that his firey feelings towards her made that fire alarm ring on and on.

So he married the person he cared the least for his.

His little wife.

His little wife that doted on him, that spent all her days, every minute, every second trying to please him.

He didn’t love her, he couldn’t,

Always stood at the door, waiting for him to come home, her pretty little pink 50s swing dress on, ballet flats adorned with bows, a row of pearls around her neck, resting gently over her collar bones.

She was happy.

She had to be.

There was no way, after marrying someone like him, much more attractive, higher rank, smarter.

A man who gave her anything her naïve little heart wanted.

A massive estate, bags, dresses and more.

Coriolanus walked in, expecting to see his darling wife stood by the door.

Nobody.

I look of confusion crossing his face.

“Wife?”

He somewhat shouts.

He walks along to her bedroom, cracking the door open slowly.

There you were.

his brows furrowed as he watched you take a long drag of your cigarette.

Your mascara running down you cheeks.

like watercolour paint.

continuing to water down, and dry in streaks.

the ash on the end not flicked off.

a glass of red wine in your hand, much different from your usual light sweet alcoholic drink.

You looked a state.

“Something on your mind?” He asks walking in, sitting next to you on the window seat.

You seem startled, shocked at his presence.

“I’m fine” you respond flatly, the moonlight illuminating your sad face in a way that makes him feel something.

not good.

“I know when your lying” He smirks, his piercing blue eyes examining every part of you.

“I could say the same for you” You snap, though your voice isn’t loud, and it shows a hint of sadness in it.

Coriolanus looked surprised, his little wife being so? so rude to him.

His faced shifted to a serious one, his eyes narrowed a little.

“Watch your tongue, wife.”

He knew what this was about, his love for you.

he could feel you slipping away from him.

“We both knew what this was. I don’t need to love you for us to have a successful marriage”

you start to stare out the window.

“I don’t want a successful marriage, I want someone who loves me.”

He was like a deer in headlights.

and it all started to dawn on him.

his sadness earlier at you not being by the door.

seeing you sad.

he was falling for you.

and he couldn’t let himself.

“I-I can’t love you” It was more an admission of defeat than an answer to your want.

“I know you can’t, but it was cruel for you to choose me and leave me in the dark about that, you don’t know the life I’ve lived, and you don’t know how you’ve ended all my hopes”

‘Shit.’ you thought.

stupidly you had brought your past into this.

He almost looks confused.

“Why the hope of love? Don’t you understand it makes you weak? and vulnerable?”

You think for a moment, how to explain love to a person that wishes not to be loved.

“But you have been loved, had people around you love you, you’ve had many people love you, it doesn’t make you weak it makes you stronger, having constant people in your life who love you and are willing to do anything for you”

Coriolanus was trying to see what the disconnect between to the two of you was.

“That love is a weakness because love is also a vulnerability. The people who you love the most are also the ones who can hurt you the most. If I love someone fully with my whole heart they also have the potential to completely destory me”

Lucy gray. that name pinged in his head again.

“Tigris? would she do that? Grandma’am? would she do that? no. Whoever has hurt you before didn’t love you, atleast not strongly. that I can say with one hundred percent certainty.”

you look over at him, giving him a sad smile.

that you were correct about.

his walls felt like they were crumbiling down.

never had he viewed her with such a high opinion.

that was a fair assumption.

one he hadn’t made.

Coriolanus pauses, Tigris, his cousin, did love him. And he was never worried about her being someone who could hurt him, because she couldn’t.

It was one very rare time coriolanus had been beaten in a debate of words.

“How do I know you wouldn’t do the same?”

“Because I couldn’t, I’ve loved someone, and the way they treated me, made me vow to never hurt anyone that loves me.”

“to treat people the best I can”

She couldn’t?

“I would feel to guilty, but I can’t force you into loving me”

Coriolanus paused again. You sounded similar to himself but instead of vowing to treat people the best he could, he had instead vowed himself never to love.

You were alike in so many ways, yet complete opposites.

how was this innocent little woman doing this to him.

he felt vulnerable.

“Who hurt you?”

“My father, he was very physically abusive, and I albeit atupidly, still loved him, but I vowed never to hurt someone who loves me, to never break them like he broke me”

Coriolanus took in your words, he couldn’t Imagine what that was like, still putting other first after that.

so kind, so pretty, and slightly smart.

“Aren’t you afraid of love hurting you again?”

you had to think.

“Nobody will ever love me, I barely leave this estate, you don’t love me, and I have no friends”

He did that.

and he felt awful.

he wanted you to himself, even if he didn’t love you.

listening to her words.

Coriolanus looked at his wife for a moment, contemplating his choices.

His marriage felt superficial compared to everything else he had dealt with before.

He married her becuase she was easy, innocent, naïve.

he had broken her.

and she had broken him.

“Kiss me”

He blurts out.

“C-Coriolanus I can’t, I won’t push you to do that kind of stuff.”

You shake your head.

Coriolanus took notice of your refusal.

“I ordered you to kiss me, now kiss me”

he says.

you gingerly graze your hands against his cheeks, kissing him softly.

Coriolanus felt his entire body warm up, you were like the water that set out all his firey thoughts.

The entire world could burn to the ground around you both and he wouldn’t care.

Your lips, your hands, your face, your body, he flet like he was in heaven.

You had broken him, and he was glad.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 🎀

What would you do for love?

Description - Coriolanus would go far for the his love, for his only one.

Readers name is Angel Valentine

Warnings - Reader is kinda a home wrecker, coriolanus (cause even if he’s my man and I don’t wanna fix him he is a wanring himself) exile.

He hated Livia Cardew, He hated that woman.

He hated the fact she kept him from being with the woman he truly wanted to be with.

The capitols sweetheart, Angel Valentine.

The woman he had grown up with, the woman he had always loved.

And he made the stupid mistake of going with his idea he’d had up until his love for Angel sprouted.

to marry not for love, but for power.

Angels family were powerful, thats how she manged to get into the academy. Daddys money, bless her poor dumb heart.

but he loved her, he really really loved her

and now they were forced to be together in secret.

There she was, sat in (as he saw it) her rightful place.

In his lap.

Livia had not one clue as to what he was doing or where he was.

“Corio” Her melodic voice broke the silence.

“Yes, babydoll?” He responds in an affectionate tone.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

His mind goes completely blank, his body freezing.

“I feel bad, for Livia”

Her feeble little voice speaks.

Her beautiful heart, that he adored so much.

“Don’t feel bad, darling. She knows I do not love her, and you know that I love you” He says, rubbing her waist gently with his strong hand.

“I don’t want to be a mistress to someone anymore”

She says, getting off his lap, he flows suit standing up tall above her.

All he hears is the shakiness of her voice and the word ‘Mistress’ leaving her lips.

“You are not my mistress. You are the love my life, Livia does not matter.”

And he would, he would divorce Livia, if it weren’t for the way the people of Panem thought, the outrage of the president divorcing his wife.

and then he thought it.

“I’ll take care of it, baby. Don’t worry your sweet little head about a thing, you shall be my wife soon enough.”

Her sweet little confused face, her furrowed brows.

“How, corio?”

she says in a state of confusion.

“As I said baby, don’t worry”

-

It had been a month, an eventful one.

Coriolanus’ face was filled with nothing but a smile.

The people of the Capitol were outraged to find out poor presidents snows wife, Livia Cardew, was working with the rebels against the capitol.

And how she had been exiled and her marriage to him had been terminated.

and he was exhilarated.

And when he heard that distinct knock of yours, he smiled that both brighter.

His soon to be wife, running over to him, placing a big kiss on his cheek.

he wouldn’t let her know a thing.

he had made sure none of that scary news reached you.

Is sweet little fiance didn’t need to worry about such big things.

ouuuu this is so gooddddd!! i shouldnt be this obsessed with him

THIN LINE

based on this thought

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

genre: fluff, a bit of angst, descriptions of killing, they’re like in love ig, ooc!snow (he’s still crazy LMAO), SPOILERS for the ballad of the songbirds & snakes, Snow and reader being disgustingly touchy 💀

summary: in which there is a thin line in between yours and coriolanus’ friendship and something more, leading to a sudden shift in your dynamic

“Coryo! I passed! Coryo!” You shriek in excitement as Casca Highbottom passes one of your papers back. It had taken quite your strength when you were given the task to make new proposals and implements for the new Hunger Games, crying to your best friend Coriolanus about how you’ll never get it done on time.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, looking over at your paper. There was a bright red A+ along with the sloppy cursive writing of Good Job Miss. L/N!

“Good job,” Coriolanus says, snaking his arms over to pull you back into his chest, placing a sloppy but soft kiss on your cheek. “Knew you had it in you.”

The scene makes Arachne Crane let out a moan of disgust, rolling her eyes as she turned to another corner.

“What’s wrong Arachne?” One of her friends asked, and she only points to the two of you, who were too engrossed in each other to notice.

“Snow and L/N, are we even surprised?” Livia let out a huff of irritation.

When Casca Highbottom announced that you all will be meeting in the largest room of the Academy, you thought it was to finally announce the winner of the Plinth prize. The only rightful ones were you and Coriolanus, anyway. And maybe Sejanus, the boy whom you’ve gotten soft for these past few days.

You and Coriolanus entered arm in arm, avoxes had wove through the crowd of students with trays of posca, a concoction of watery wine laced with herbs and honey.

Coriolanus quickly grabbed two goblets, handing one to you and then chugging it quickly down his throat. For a minute, it burned.

“Oh there you two are,” Arachne waves you over, her face gloomy. “Obviously, no amount of bribing would make Sejanus tell me who won the prize. Not like it matters, we all know I deserve it most.”

There was an eye roll from Felix Ravinstill. “Sure Arachne, and I’m the richest man on the planet.”

That earned him a scowl from the girl, who then turned her attention to Sejanus. “He can have as much money as he wants, but he’ll always be district, you know.”

A few of your classmates laugh, nodding in bitter agreement as they watched Sejanus conversing with one of the professors.

“Right.” Coriolanus mumbles, surprising you. He hadn’t ever agreed with Arachne before—calling her a psychopath even—so why was he now?

“Oh please,” the girl snaps back. “You and Y/N are friends with him.”

“We tolerate him,” Coriolanus says, his hand that was holding yours became tighter. “He’s district.”

When Sejanus comes, the murmur of your classmates grows silent, and from the looks of it, he could already tell they weren’t saying much good about him.

“It’s time to assign the tributes.” Is all he says, motioning to Dean Highbottom.

“As you all know, the Plinth prize and money would usually go to the student with the highest mark,” Highbottom begins, clearing his throat. “But this year, we’d like to do something different.”

You can tell Coriolanus has stiffened in his seat. Even though you want to hold his hand and caress it, you know you can’t, so you keep your desire inside.

“Whoever is the best mentor among all of you will be able to win the Plinth prize.”

“Oh that is not fair!” Livia complains. “What if I get some poor weak district girl and she dies 2 minutes in the games?”

“It’s not just about your tribute winning,” Highbottom says, “you will be assessed.”

You and Coriolanus sit through the announcement of which mentor gets which tribute. You had gotten Coral, a girl from District 4 while Coriolanus had gotten the girl from 12. Lucy Gray Baird, apparently.

“Hey, you okay?” You say as you two stepped out from the Academy. “Look at me Coryo.”

He looks up from the ground, his eyebrows furrowed and his face upset.

“He hates me.” He says, referring to Dean Highbottom. “Always has, always will. Gave me the worst district of them all.”

“Hey,” you say, cradling his face as your eyes quickly scanned his. “Don’t say that. We saw Lucy Gray on stage, she can sing and she sure as hell can put on a charismatic personality for the crowd. You’ll be okay, Coryo.”

“I don’t know,”

This was the first time you saw Coriolanus so upset, so lost in his thought. Without a second thought, you pulled his head towards you, giving him a long kiss on his jawline.

“Sleepover tonight?” You ask as you pull away.

“Sure, I just have to tell Tigris first.”

That night, you and Coriolanus talk about your futures under your warm white covers, limbs tangling one another.

“Do you ever want kids, Coryo?” You ask, saying anything that came to your mind.

“Maybe.” He replies. “Only if I find a girl as worthy as you.”

His words make you smile, pulling him closer to your body. “As worthy as me?”

“Mhm. Or else I’d marry out of convenience. For profit. To ensure no one takes advantage of me.”

You shake your head, placing a small kiss on his forehead. “I hope that never happens, Coryo.”

“I hope it never does either.”

You turn over to turn off your nightlight, snuggling yourself under the covers as Coriolanus throws an arm around your frame.

“Goodnight Coryo.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

- - -

After Coriolanus’ little involvement in the tribute cage, Highbottom, to say the least, was unimpressed. He claimed Coriolanus was breaking many of the Academy rules, including endangering an Academy student. However, he agreed to let the mentors visit their tributes and offer them water or food.

You were talking to Coral, handling her a glass bottle filled with water. If you couldn’t get her out of here, the least you could do is hydrate and feed her.

You turn to look at Arachne, who was busy swinging water in front of her tribute. Her tribute almost looked pitiful as the bottle always seemed to swing out of her reach.

Coriolanus was talking to Lucy Gray, a little too close for your liking, but you knew it was just to discuss strategies.

“You think you’re gonna make it in the arena?” You ask Coral, who only glared at you, taking small sips of water at a time.

“Hey.” Coriolanus suddenly comes up from behind you, once again wrapping his arms around your shoulders before bringing your face in for a long kiss on the cheek.

“Hi,” you giggle, continuing to hold on him as you turned your entire body to face him.

Coral let out a scowl of disgust, eyeing you and Coriolanus up and down.

“Coral, meet my friend, Coriolanus Snow. He’s Lucy Gray’s mentor.” You say, pointing at the girl who was currently talking to another tribute; Jessup, you think his name is.

Coral doesn’t respond, only continuing to snarl at the two of you.

“They’re like wild animals,” Coriolanus whispers in your ear.

“Hey pretty boy,” she finally speaks, smirking from ear to ear. “You were on the truck earlier.”

“I was,” he replied curtly.

“Maybe I can’t kill you—but I’ll definitely kill your tribute.”

Before you could hold Coriolanus back from jumping at Coral, you all hear a scream.

Arachne’s tribute had somehow managed to grab the bottle of water, smashing it against the metal cage and stabbing Arachne directly in the throat with it.

“Oh my god!” You scream, running over to the girl. Although you and Coriolanus disliked her, she was still your classmate, and someone who you spoke to on a regular basis.

“You two, off.” The peacekeepers say, grabbing ahold of you and Coriolanus; dragging you away from the scene.

- - -

The walk to Coriolanus’s home was quiet, aside from occasional twig snapping and leaves falling.

“I’m scared,” you finally say, staring up at Coriolanus. His icy blue eyes bore into yours before they softened.

“I know,” he says, cupping your head in his hands. “I know you’re scared, that should’ve never happened.”

“But it did,” you say, placing your hands into Coriolanus’s coat to keep them warm. “What if it happens to us next, Coryo?”

“Hey.” Coriolanus’s face is only a meter away from yours, lips almost touching. “I’ll never let that happen to you, do you understand? As long as I’m alive, no one will hurt you.”

You nod, a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Coriolanus wipes away your tears with his thumb, one of his fingers caressed your cheek lightly. “They’ll have to shoot me dead before anything can happen to you.”

And before you could let out another one of your worries, Coriolanus leans in, placing a much awaited kiss on your lips. He pulls away for air after a minute, forehead against yours.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll never let anyone hurt you, ever.”

currently thinking about soft!coryo . . .

soft!coryo who snuggles up to you, lying his head on your chest and falling asleep like that. he enjoys it when you mindlessly draw patterns on his back.

soft!coryo who pulls you into his lap when you’re crying, softly cooing at you and whispering little “it’s okay, im here” ‘s to you to calm you down.

soft!coryo who gets all giddy when you tell him “i love you” for the first time

soft!coryo who writes you sweet poems on note paper about how pretty he thinks you are.

soft!coryo who quietly hums in satisfaction when you rake your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

soft!coryo who tells you “5 more minutes…” when waking up in the morning, but ends up spending hours in bed cuddling with you because he just doesn’t want to leave your side.

soft!coryo who seems to act rude or cold towards anyone else, but is a total sap around you.

soft!coryo who will stare at you with a lovesick grin on his face. when you catch him staring, you furrow your brows at him as a way of saying “what?” ; in which he replies and says “sorry, was just admiring you. you’re stunning, y’know that?”

soft!coryo who LOVES pastries. they all taste so good to him and he just can’t get enough of them. sometimes if he feels confident enough, he will attempt to make pastries himself. after doing this, he will nonstop pester you to try his baked goods; which tastes surprisingly good (most of the time…)

soft!coryo who yearns for your attention. if you were busy finishing homework or paperwork, he would plead and beg you for the slightest bit of your attention

“coryo, im busy. . .”

“i know.. but i just want your attention”

he frowns at you and gives you pleading eyes; in which you just cant say no to.

so you eventually settle for massaging his scalp as he lays his head on your thighs, with you continuing to do your homework / paperwork.

do u guys have any headcanons i can possibly write about or include in a blurb?? i wanna write but i kinda have writers block rn 😭😭

would be greatly appreciated! <3

currently thinking about bf!coryo . . .

loser!bf!coryo who asks you out by passing you a folded up paper that says “do you wanna go out with me?” with two little boxes on the bottom of the paper; “yes” and “no”. you found it cute, and checked off “yes”

bf!coryo whose love language is giving you gifts. he’s always trying to get you a little gift everytime he goes out. he didn’t grow up with much money, so he takes every opportunity to get you a gift and make you feel valued.

bf!coryo who is SO attentive. he can notice the slightest mood change from you, even if it’s subtle. he’s studied your appearance for so long now to a point where he KNOWS what every emotion looks like on you. he can observe the smallest shivers and shakes of your hand when you’re anxious, he can observe the way your eyes droop when you’re sad.

when he notices these things, he speaks to you in a sweet, loving tone;

“honey? are you doing okay?”

if you brush him off, he doesn’t urge you or pressure you to tell him, as he knows that it’ll most likely result in making you even more upset.

so instead, he states in a sweet, loving tone;

“okay. but if you do need anything im right here for you. always.”

to let you know that he’s here for you if you do need to talk about it, or need comfort.

bf!coryo who has multiple dress shirts stained with ur lipstick along the collar. he wears it around PROUDLY. of course he gets looks from people because of it, but it just makes him smirk.

I love him soo much it hurts 😭

Pleaseeee i'm on my knees for this man🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

My instagram stories if Tom was my boyfriend:

(He is so boyfriend coded🌹)

Imagine if Tom was your boyfriend:

Every morning, as soon as you wake up, the first thing you encounter are his beautiful blue eyes 💙

There will never be a lack of morning cuddles 🧸

He makes you breakfast every morning because he knows you're a mess in the kitchen and never fails to kiss you every chance he gets.

He always supports you, for every choice you want to make because in the end he only wants the best for you.

Unfortunately you are busy with university but he would really like you to be with him every day on set to support him.

Obviously he would put up with your complaints during your exam sessions, he would try to make you calm down by cuddling you, kissing you and enganging in other physical activities. He would encourage you and tell you not to stress too much because you are so intelligent.

Unfortunately you have completely crazy schedule and there are days when you don't see each other at home and this makes Tom feel bad making him even more stressed for all the hours he has to work and as soon as he meets you at home he won't waste time picking you up, take you to your room and catch up on the time you were apart.

He would ask you to accompany him to movie premiers and obviously you would go, proud to be at the side of a handsome and talented man like him 🌹

(It's the first time i've written something and forgive me for any mistakes but English is not my first language. Since i'm close to exams, next week I'Il have two, i thought i'd write this showrt imagine and i just want to cry because i would really like a Tom who can put up with me in this exam session😭💐)

My man looks good ❤️‍🔥

When i saw this scene, i screamed. This man is too much😩❤️‍🔥