Coriolanus X Reader - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

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?”

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

🦋Masterlist of Masterlists🦋

i am about to cry at the fact that i have been supported enough to even get this far. thank you i love you.

As If Destiny🌹

Coriolanus x Reader

The Tragedy of What Was♟️

Charles Xavier x Lehnsherr!Reader

nothing except regret that I started a new series during college application season. I'm so sorry yall I will try to get chapters uploaded for my series i am just so burnt out😭 thank you for your support and so much love💓

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 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.

❝ ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ higher with my lover — coriolanus snow ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ ❞

☆　Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), riding, handjob, mentions of blood & blood sucking, Capitol! Reader, reader is mentioned to be a virgin, mentions of poison and death, district+lucy gray slander (necessary to the plot), mention of Sejanus, degradation & praise kink if you squint, dry humping | lmk if I missed anything!

☆　Pairing: fem! Reader x young! peacekeeper! Coriolanus Snow

☆　Summary: Lucy Gray left but you find him in the forest instead and shit goes down

☆　A/N: this fic is inspired by the fact that i imagined myself to be the one sucking the 'poisoned bite' and be like now we both die and i like you lmao, i hope you guys like it!

Ps. This is the official canon ending :D

Ps². Listened to this song mainly to write the smut, so i am just gonna leave it here. . .

| masterlist | taglist | bc: @cafekitsune |

“Lucy Gray! Are you trying to kill me!?”

Coriolanus Snow yelled as he kept pointing the gun in random directions. It wasn't long after that he began shooting in the sky causing the murder of numerous mockingjays up in the air.

He had found the necklace, he had found the scarf. She left. She was a loose end. She needs to die, fucking die so Snow could have the life he deserved. The life he worked for, the life he was entitled to since birth. The life of a Snow.

“Lucy Gray! We can talk about this!” He yells out, “Just come out!” But Lucy Gray was nowhere to be found, as if she was a ghost. As if she was the Lucy Gray from the song, a mystery to never be found.

He pointed his gun in the direction where he heard the sound of a twig snapping. It wasn't Lucy Gray but you. Your eyes were wide, chest heaving as you slowly walked towards him with your hands raised. “Coryo,” you whispered, scared, your feet walking towards him with hesitation but never flattering.

He had no idea how you had found him. He wasn't sure why you were either here. It was already too much for him that Sejanus came (and now he is dead, dead, dead. The third person he had killed). And you followed him too, pulling in favors, deciding to be a medic along with Sejanus, serving time with your best friends (not his, he never considered you or Sej as his friend).

“Where's Lucy Gray!?” He yelled, walking towards you, gun still pointed. It makes you walk backward until your back hits the hard bark of a tree. The rough texture of the bark is uncomfortable due to your thin shirt. You scrunch your nose at the mention of her. You never liked her much. He didn't know why but perhaps it was all a ruse just for this very moment. This very betrayal from her.

“How would I know?” You scoffed, the haughty attitude of a Capitol citizen coming through despite having a gun pointed at you. He pressed the end of the gun at your chest. “Tell me the truth,” he growled. “That girl tried to poison me. Tell me where she is!”

“I don't know,” you hiss back, your eyes ablaze. “And get the gun out of my face. You should be heading to a fucking medic right now. Are you sure she poisoned you?” Your voice was now laced with concern, eyes softening as you looked at him, his t-shirt clinging to him with sweat, his cheeks flushed, eyes so wide that the blues were hidden with black instead.

Coryo gets the gun away from you to put his arm forward. Showing you his snake bite, the puncture wound oozing out beads of red blood on his snow-like skin. “It's probably non-poisonous,” you said, trying to sound optimistic.

“No, it's not!” He growls, and anger fills in every movement and word of his. “She's trying to kill me. She's district! I shouldn't have- shouldn't have-” You hold his arm, your fingers around his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

“It's fine,” you whispered, trying your best that the tone you use with him is soft and gentle. You want to shake him out of the mental breakdown that was happening. He shakes his head and you press your fingertips into the wound.

“It's fine,” you whispered, “let's get you back. Come on.” You try to urge him forward, only for him to pull himself out of your grasp. “No! I need to find her. She's a loose end. She will tell. She's a snake, not a songbird,” he rambles.

Despite the confusion you felt with his words, you grit your teeth. “Come on, Coryo! We need to head back,” you said, your hand on his wrist, trying to drag him out of the middle of the green forest.

“No! We need to find her out before the poison works” he yells, pulling you back and pushing you. Pinning you effectively between him and a tree.

You glare at him before a moment of impulsivity takes over you. You take his arm, your mouth around the bleeding wound and you suck letting whatever ‘poisoned blood’ onto your tongue. His eyes widen as he sees the redness of his blood now painting your lips. “Now can we go back?” You said as you licked the blood clean. “Because if it's poison, we will both die.”

“Why would-” he visibly freezes. He doesn't want your blood on his hands. No- it would be on Lucy's hands. It's her fault. Everything is her fault. “Why would you do that?” He whispered, leaning closer to you, his face now mere inches away from yours. It was like he was seeing you for the first time. Like he never saw you for you until now. Someone like him. Unhinged (not that he's willing to admit it).

He hooks his fingers under your chin, holding your jaw and tilting your lips towards his. His eyes were searching for sanity but seemed to have found none as a smile (filled with insanity) spread on his face. “You're crazy,” he whispered, “Are you that desperate?”

“Desperate for your well-being, Coryo,” you whispered, hating the fact that your gaze fell on his soft-looking lips. “I don't know what's wrong, Coriolanus. But come with me, let's go back. Lucy Gray isn't worth anything.”

“Lucy Gray is worth everything!” He yelled, pressing his body with yours, pain in your bones flaring as he without noticing crushed you.

“I am sure she will have poison for you too. I am sure she will come back then,” you spit out. You felt outrageous at his behavior. “She ran, didn't she? To the North. You gonna go there too, Coryo?” you questioned, your eyes now meeting his. You try to find an answer but find something deeply tangled instead, neither a yes or a no.

You never felt such pity for Coriolanus Snow before as you did now. You put your palm on his cheek. “Come with me,” you said, softening your voice. “Back to the peacekeepers, the general told me about District 2 and I can put in favors so we can be back in the Capitol in no time.”

“You didn't choose Sejanus,” you whispered, the mention of Sej causing him to freeze. “Choose me,” you plead, feeling pathetic for being reduced to this. But it was for your Coryo so it was worth it. Wasn't it?

A chip from the bird makes him look away but you use your hand to make him face you again. Tears begin to pool in your eyes. You find your heart preparing itself for a rejection. “Choose me,” you choke out, a sob in your throat ready to come out when he says no, no, no Lucy Gray it is, never you.

You wait and wait for the rejection, your eyelids closing themselves so he doesn't see himself (or the way you looked at him with love) in the reflective tears. “Look at me,” he whispered, feeling his hot breath on your lips now. And you didn't want to listen but your eyes opened back up, light coming in and he's in your sight.

All glorious as you always thought of Snow.

Snow lands on top.

Haven't every Capitol child learned that from history? You were no exception. And you never planned to be. Even after finding out the truth about his situation, you never thought less of him, if anything everything you felt about him increased tenfold without your consent. Oh, how you should hate him. Oh, but how much you love him.

He leaned in and you didn't move. He stops for a mere second as if reconsidering his decision. But then decided to fuck it because the next thing you know his lips against yours.

He tasted like cheap alcohol, he tasted like ruin and danger. You ate it all up by parting your lips so his tongue could slip in. You let out a moan as his teeth bite into your lips. For a moment you think he's a snake and that he's the one poisoning you. His poison is more potent than an actual snake’s ever could be.

You were simple prey, that's it. Instead of a bullet, he was shooting your heart with a kiss. And it was working because in the future he will be the end of you. A slow, slow poison, he controlled the kiss despite the way his tongue slid against yours was clumsy but so perfect.

You kissed him back to the best of your abilities, wondering briefly if you tasted like the pastry you had in the morning. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth to suck and bite however he wants. Your hands find his buzz cut instead of his golden curls and a whine leaves your lips from the frustration of the loss.

Your hand is on his nape and another is still on his cheek as neither of you breaks the kiss. It didn't matter that you were getting lightheaded. It didn't matter that you could feel your heartbeat increasing due to lack of oxygen. He was everything, you would be damned if you broke the kiss.

You gasp as the kiss is broken. You stare into his eyes, searching for something, anything. But you find nothing but ice blue. It sent chills down your spine but at least he had calmed down now. “Feeling better?” You asked and you got a rough nod as a reply.

“Come on, we have work to do,” he whispered as he pulled back. His dog tag dangles as he begins to walk towards the cabin again, navigating the path with his father's compass.

You find the cabin and the guns. Coriolanus looks at you waiting for a protest, disgust, expecting you to run away just like Lucy Gray. You didn't do anything except sigh, your shoulder wearing down as you realized the truth of it all. You didn't say a word but your hand finds his. He doesn't say anything either but squeezes your hand back. An unspoken promise. He had chosen you. You had chosen him. You were in this together now.

There's no going back.

Both of you row the boat and let the guns sink into the river, never to be found again. You find your way back to the cabin, the rain pouring down again. You sit beside Snow- no, no, still Coryo. Always Coryo. Your head on his shoulder, your knees pressed to your chest as you hear the tip tap of rain outside.

Not a single sound is made. But as time passes and the rain doesn't stop, you begin to crave his lips again. As if that one kiss was morphine, and you needed more to heal the ache of your soul. “Coriolanus,” you whispered.

“Coryo,” he reprimanded softly, his tone enticing as if he was trying to bewitch. You feel your palms sweat as embarrassment begins to nag your mind. You blurt it out before you can think about how pathetic you sound.

“Can I have another kiss, Coryo?”

The next few moments were a blur. Lips on lips. Clumsily tongues meeting each other and whining into each other's mouths. You were shamelessly grinding on Coryo's lap as your lips continued to stay locked with his. “I want you so bad,” you admit as you feel his cock harden underneath you.

“Since the academy,” you whispered against his lips, a moan escaping your lips when he held your hips and began to guide them to grind on his completely hard bulge.

“Oh, yeah?” He mocks, “It's pretty fucking obvious.” He choked off a groan coming out of his mouth, “You're willing to let go of the fact that I am a murderer, huh?” You let out a whimper as he mentioned that. But both of you knew the answer to that, a part of you knew what kind of predator he was. Ever since you knew about how he killed a tribute, you just called it. It never mattered to you how horrible he could be or in this case, is.

“Yes, yes,” you moan into his mouth. Was it an answer or a mere whine about how perfect the friction felt against your pantie-soaked pussy? You didn't know but Coriolanus thought of it as the former. “You gonna be my girl, then? A capitol princess being a peacekeepers’ doll to fuck,” he whispered, his tongue licking a strip of skin on your neck.

You moan as his teeth begin to harshly assault your skin, covering your neck with marks. “Yes,” you gasp, “as long as it's you.” God, how much more pathetic could you be? But it didn't matter, it got him higher and fed his ego after everything that had happened. He loved it and perhaps, he could grow to love you.

Not in the way, Coryo loved Lucy Gray but in the way Snow would love his First Lady.

Your hands tug off his wet t-shirt and throw it on the floor. His hands do the same with your peacekeeper's uniform. He grabs your hips, squeezing the plump of flesh there, his mouth panting into you and he looks at you with dilated eyes.

Time seems to have slowed down as you touch his dog tag, your fingers tracing the name carved into the metal. “I want this. You, right now, right here,” you whispered like it was the biggest secret of your life. “Do you?” You ask as your hands go lower to fiddle with the zipper of his pants.

He doesn't give you a verbal answer, only pulling you into another kiss with his fingers woven into your hair in a fist as his free hand goes down below to free his cock from the confines of his trousers.

You grip his length, stroking it and squeezing out pearly pre-cum from the tip. You savor the deep groan that leaves his lips. “Fuck… just like that, doll,” he instructed and you obey. Your strokes get faster and his pre becomes natural lube as you continue. He lets out a hiss when you twist your wrist and his hand snares around your wrist. “Wanna cum in your cunt first,” he said, breathless from the ecstasy of having your hands on him.

Within moments the remaining clothes on both of you were scattered around the cabin. You moan into his mouth, your fingers desperately clawing at his shoulders as you begin to grind your soaking wet pussy against his hard cock. You gasp, elated by how your folds pressed against his length, his cockhead being teased by your slit but unable to breach the threshold.

The kisses you shared with him were sloppy. Saliva coating his chin as neither of you was willing to separate your lips for a single unnecessary moment. You knew your lips would hurt by the end of this, that they were swollen and the inside of it bleeding because of how insistently his teeth loved to bite your lower lip. He was no better either. You tasted more blood from the kisses now than anything, and it didn't matter to you because somehow the salty, rusty taste felt like just him.

You let out a sound unfitting of a Capitol-raised woman when his cockhead slips inside your gummy walls. His tip now profusely leaks pre-cum inside your gummy walls. You pulled back, biting your lower lip to stop the whimper as you feel his cockhead stretching out your virgin walls.

“That's it, dove,” he lets out, all needy and heated. His hands squeeze your hips to be encouraging as you let yourself down on his cock slowly. “Take it all in. You can do it, doll,” he whispered, as his eyes were down looking at his length entering you, being surrounded by the wicked, addicting warmth of your tight cunt.

“I can?” You let out a whine, as the pain bleeds into the pleasure, the ratio of it throwing you off the dizzy full lust. He hums in encouragement as you finally fill yourself with his dick to the hilt. Your slick walls pulsate around his length.

“Atta girl,” he smiles at you, his eyes brightening up from how well you took him and without any complaints whatsoever. “That's a good slut,” he whispered and smirked when he felt your walls clench around him deliciously.

You tried to move your hips but gave up when the burn made your eyes water. He coos at you encouragingly, telling you to adjust to his girth first. He wasn't going to rut into you like a dog, you're a Capitol girl, not a district whore. He wasn't going to disrespect you like that, no matter how much he wanted you to begin rolling your hips.

So your lips latch onto his neck, while your arms are around him and your legs around his waist. You were clinging to him, as if afraid that if you ease up in your grip he will fade away from your life, from this moment and your reality together. The smell of sex and sweat begins to become stronger than the smell of gunpowder as you continue to give him hickeys in various places on his skin.

Coriolanus doesn't complain that you're marking him like this, not when he's doing the same task with his tongue tracing the love bites his teeth left. And you suspect he rather enjoys when you bite, as his cock twitches whenever your teeth dig into his flesh as if you're eating and your wet tongue licks over the bite as if you're tasting the flavor of his skin.

When you're finally comfortable with his cock being inside the most intimate part of you. You slowly but surely begin to make small, shallow thrusts that have you gasping, your eyes rolling back with how good it feels already because he was fucking into your g-spot with every roll of your hips. The thrusts were teasing, it had him groaning praises of you being a good girl and his hold tightening over your hips, surely leaving bruises.

You begin to relish the feeling of being stuffed, his cockhead kissing your cervix when you get the angle just right. Your folds coat him with your creamy juices, a ring of white forming on his base with how wet you were. Slowly but surely the pleasure begins to build up, your nails digging into his shoulders as you start to put up force with the way you rock back and forth on his cock.

You pant into his mouth, your lips letting out sharp moans when his dick strokes your walls just right. He lets you control the pace, his mouth busy latching onto your nipple to suck. His tongue swirls around the bud, hardening it inside his mouth and he nips your nipple just to have you jolt from the bite and squeeze down on his cock.

One of his hands now kneads the other breast he wasn't giving much attention to, his fingers rolling the nipple, pinching the bud, and playing with it. His other hand goes between your bodies and finds your clit. You soon realize he was working with a pattern that was driving you insane, turning your cunt into a hotter slicker mess.

When he swirled his tongue around your nipple, his fingers did roll the other bud. Meanwhile, his thumb would drive small, rapid circles onto your swollen bundle of nerves. When he bit into your nipple, his fingers pinched your clit making you gasp with thunderous pleasure filling your veins.

He continues at this and tension begins to build up in your tummy. You close your eyes as animalistic instincts begin to take over your body. The need to cum overrides everything else as you begin to roll your hips faster and harder. Desperate to cum around his cock for the first time of many times in your life. He feels the same way because he encourages you with his hips bucking into you, thrusting perfectly inside of your slick walls.

“So close, Coryo!” You moan, your nails leaving red lines in their path on his shoulders. He latches off your breasts to whisper, “Cum then, my slut. Let me feel you milk my cock like a good cockwhore would.” You let out a louder moan at his words. His condescending tone snaps the tension that had formed in your tummy, you begin to cum.

Your pussy spasming around his cock, triggering his orgasm. He empties his balls inside of you without any hesitation, filling you up with his thick, hot cum. “That's a good girl. Look how well you took me. Look at the cum leaking out, dove,” his tone teasing, like many times he has teased in classes but the context of this was entirely different.

You look down, your pussy clenching around his cock again when you see his seed ooze out of you. Your body slumps into him, tired from all of this. Both mentally and physically. The storm was still going on. You lay in his arms, his cum now coating the insides of your thighs.

“You're smarter than Lucy Gray,” he said, “I pray you know better than to run. I won't miss the next time.”

You shake your head, trying to hide the smile forming on your face. Others would have run from his words, anyone sane would. Lucy Gray did after all. But you were just you.

“If I wanted to run, I wouldn't have found you in the first place,” you whispered, sealing your words with a soft kiss on his lips.

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