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adultswim-co-uk · 2 years ago

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Among the Thorns

Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: Armed with the Plinth fortune at his side, Coriolanus Snow will stop at nothing to prove himself to you. Even destroying those who don’t deserve you.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning(s): HEAVY FLUFF and HEAVY ANGST, friends to lovers, Snow experiencing true love, Snow being a rich boy, moments of jealousy, brief betrayal + heartbreak, slight stalking, and minor character death.

A/N: Snow at the end of TBOSAS lives rent free in my head. If you are uncomfortable with ANY of the warnings, the DNI!! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

Flecks of fresh and unfiltered snow begin to descend on the streets of the Capitol. Reflecting off the fountain’s never-ending streams, the faint ray of a rainbow crossed across the strong crowned feminine statue. Focusing on the tinted metallic statue, Coriolanus refused to blink, worried that he might miss the rainbow vanish in a satisfying mist. The water’s echo filled his ears, blocking out the various sounds of the populous city he calls home, freeing his mind from all distractions.

Closing his eyes to muffle out the noise from the various cars, the world seemed to stop. While the haunting recollections of Lucy Gray Baird finally seemed to fade, they were replaced with thoughts and visions of you.

How could he have forgotten you?

To Coriolanus, it was a crime to have the thought of your face wiped from his mind, to have all of your shared memories vanish in the blink of an eye. But now, in this moment, his life was different. And he was sure you were too.

He just had to find you first.

*****

Walking through the downtown district, the crisp cool air lingered for a while longer as the sun was beginning to set in the distance. Rubbing his hands together, Coriolanus could not seem to focus on anything else. Winning the Plinth Prize, moving Tigris and Grandma’am into the Penthouse apartment, the excitement of starting University, and now you.

Glancing ahead down the bustling shops and restaurants, Coriolanus began to notice how the Capitol slowly started to heal within the post-war status. The citizens were thriving with the victory of the 10th Hunger Games, which made the young man happy in some way.

Rounding the corner in the heart of downtown, Coriolanus stopped at the curb, allowing a group of freshman Academy students to keep up with their tour guide. Smirking at their red uniforms, Coriolanus smirks at each of the students, who were eager to start studying within the week. Watching the students continue on, his breath was caught in his throat at the sight of you.

Glancing at you from afar, you were sitting on one of the various benches, with a book in your hand. Noticing that you were alone, he confidently made his way across the street. Noticing the state of your physique, his heart fluttered in his chest once he got closer; your high quality coat was perfectly draped over your shoulders, covering your best dressed self. With your hair in a low bun, some loose strands hung in front your ears, flowing in the breeze.

“Y/N, is that you?” Coriolanus asked.

Gazing up from your sketchbook, your face erupted in delight at the sight of an old friend.

“Coriolanus Snow, as I live and breathe! Our champion of the 10th Hunger Games!” You exclaim, standing from the bench.

Pulling you in for an embrace, Coriolanus fully closed his arms around your form, enjoying this moment of reprieve whilst the world allowed you two to be alone. Standing on your toes, the rhythmic pounding of his heartbeat rings in your ear, and the feeling of your fingers gripping his shoulders sends a series of butterflies in his stomach.

Breaking the embrace, Coriolanus’ hands slide down your arms, and the two of you get a real good look at one another.

good look at one another.

The infinite gaze of his icy blue eyes stare directly into your soul, causing your knees to tremble. Leaning in closer, Coriolanus carefully caresses your jaw making your breath hitch in your throat. Unfortunately, this feeling of relief doesn’t last long just as the appearance of your classmate, Mattias, crosses your peripheral vision.

Quickly backing away from Coriolanus, the pressure of your hands still lingers on his arms as you wave to your friend.

“Sorry I’m late, Y/N. Biology ran late.” Mattias apologizes.

Silently sneering at Mattias, something about him just doesn’t sit right with Coriolanus. It wasn’t his nerdy, yet kind nature, it was that he was with you.

“It’s alright. I’m not too keen on going home. The Inventory arrived this afternoon.” You say, looking at Coriolanus.

“Inventory?” He asks, folding his hands.

Mattias scrunches his eyebrows at Coriolanus’ sharp demeanor.

“My aunt can never decide on which gemstone she wants for the season, so she requests to have a private showing in our apartment every. single. year.” You explain, scrunching your temple.

“Why not just take the train to One? It’s only an hour out.” Coriolanus asks.

“You don’t remember how she is, Coryo? She’s a neat freak, everything has to be perfect. Down to the necklaces she wears at any occasion.” You reply, adjusting your coat.

“Wait, I thought you going to be apartment hunting?” Mattias asks, crossing his arms.

“I have an appointment tomorrow morning. Then I have to hand in my thesis to Professor Demigloss. You say.

“Apartment hunting? You’re moving away?” Coriolanus questions with a worried look.

“Just closer to the University. My aunt promised to come but I think she’ll be drowning in jewels when I walk in the front door.” You tease, nudging Mattias’ shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Your classmate replies.

*****

A yawn escapes your lips as you throw your Academy bag over your shoulder. Desperately needing coffee, the early morning sunlight feels wonderful despite the sleet. Descending the apartment building’s set of stairs, you stop in your tracks to see Coriolanus greeting you with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Coryo! What are you doing here?” You ask.

“Good morning to you too. I thought I’d come along and help you pick an apartment. Besides, there are a few great ones by the University.” He replies.

Taking your cup of coffee from him, you practically melt in the hot liquid’s delight.

“Then lead the way, Mr. Snow.” You reply.

Following Coriolanus through the heart of downtown, the two of you and the real estate agent tour the first apartment and it was perfect. It was a five minute walk to the University, the place was spacious and recently renovated, so everything was clean and new.

Allowing you to observe the place, you slowly start to wander around through the apartment, studying the dark marble walls in awe with your jaw on the floor. You’d never seen anything so peaceful in your life, even if it was in the middle of the city. Admiring the beautiful snow covered city from the kitchen window, Coriolanus secretly buys the apartment in his name, and puts the brand new set of keys in his coat pocket with a thankful smile.

Joining you at the window, the real estate agent takes their leave, closing the door behind them. The faint sound of car horns and the bustling sounds barely managed to leak through the window as you felt his gentle hand around your shoulder.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“This place is amazing. I know this is the first place and that I shouldn’t fall in love, but I have. Unfortunately, I think the rent is too high.” You reply.

Looking up at Coriolanus, he silently shares your sympathy, but then he reveals his surprise.

“What if you didn’t have too? This apartment is yours after all.” He says, planting the keys in your palm.

“Coryo, I can’t. This is too much.” You rebuttal, trying to hand the keys back.

“You can and you will. Just as long as we see each other at the University. That’s all the thanks I need, Y/N. I want you back in my life, especially after last year.” Coriolanus explains before checking out the rest of the apartment.

*****

Over the next few weeks of your winter break, you started to slowly move into your new apartment, and declined offers to hang out with your friends. The entrance exams for the University sit heavily on your shoulders every day. Despite being a mentor in the 10th Hunger Games, you were granted easy access into the University, but you still had to take the exam.

Once the results came in, your whole world sank the second you found out you failed. There was no way. You were one of the best students at the Academy, so why did you fail the exam? Rumors began to circle around regarding your relationships with Coriolanus and Mattias. So you decided to do some digging, you discovered that Mattias swapped your test scores with a defunct slip.

If he couldn’t have you, then no one could. Not even Coriolanus.

After you left the testing room, you decided that Mattias was dead to you right then and there.

Surrounding yourself with all of your favorite things, reading, sketching and baking your favorite desserts. However, only when you were measuring the ingredients for your beloved cinnamon sugar cookies, you were greeted with a knock on your door.

Opening the door, Coriolanus embraced you in his strong grasp, letting you finally release your emotions.

“I’m so sorry, Coryo. I’ve ruined your jacket.” You apologize, trying to wipe the few mascara streaks from his jacket.

“It’s alright. I just wanted to check up on you. Especially what Mattias did to you. It’s not right, Y/N and you know it.” He says, closing the door.

“I know. But I don’t care about him anymore. Mattias is dead to me.” You reply.

Returning to the kitchen, you start to mix the ingredients together, declaring your friendship with Mattias no longer matters.

“In more ways than one. He was a bad influence on you, Y/N. So you won’t have to worry about him anymore.” Coriolanus says, leaning against the counter.

Suddenly, your entire body went numb and the echoing noise of your butter knife hitting the floor rings on your ears. Looking up at Coriolanus, you couldn’t believe what he said.

“What did you do, Coriolanus?!” You frantically ask.

Calmly taking your chin in his hand, his gentle facade returns as does his love for you.

“I did what I thought was right. You’re better off without him. You deserve someone who will love you unconditionally, Y/N. I can give you that if you let me.” Coriolanus explains.

Swiftly nodding, the faint scent of his aftershave lingers in your nose, and the sweet scent of peppermint grazes your lips as he kisses you for the first time in a long time.

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adultswim-co-uk · 2 years ago

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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism (lmk if i forgot anything!) murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here

chapter: 1/?

A/N: this is what happens when i let my brain loose to do whatever tf it wants (title is from attention by doja cat as is the general theme)

✩ ✩ ✩

Show you how to touch it Hold it like it's precious It don't need your lovin' It just needs attention

✩ ✩ ✩

You were getting tired of this charade.

Snow was courting you, or so it would seem. In truth, it was all for show. He was seen with you on his arm at public events, just enough to make it look like you were together. Marriage was probably further down the line, but Snow was in no rush for that to happen. For now, he was pleased with the positive attention he received for appearing like a reliable, loving, doting partner.

“There’s a science behind it,” Cordelia, Snow’s preferred public relations manager - and one of the Capitol’s best - had told you in a meeting between the three of you, discussing strategy, coordinating events, and how best to make the relationship seem authentic. “The more the public see you as grounded, committed, and warm, the more respect they hold for you. The more open they are to your ideas, and any changes you make as president.”

You’d concealed your smirk well enough for it to go unnoticed upon hearing that.

Snow was a lot of things, but he was never warm. The name itself decreed it. He was cold, calculating, sharp witted, manipulative. Power hungry.

You were fine with the arrangement at first. It suited your thirst for power; despite coming from one of the richest families in the capital, Snow’s power was of a different breed. You wanted in, and so when your social circles crossed over and the proposition was made, you’d risen to the occasion.

The reality was this: it was a good arrangement. Coriolanus was adored and admired by any outsider with a pair of eyes, and you got anything you wanted. You got to live in the manor house Coriolanus occupied, eating good food while being waited on hand and foot. You got to network with powerful people in the highest of society. Even if you wanted someone executed, it would be carried out in turn, without question. Name it, and it was yours. Snow was a generous host and ally to you.

It was everything you wanted.

Almost.

Somehow, despite it all, all the custom gowns shipped in from the expensive designers, the buffet spreads and the silk sheets, the way that people had begun to stare in respect as soon as you walked into a room, there was just one thing that itched at you, one thing you knew wasn’t part of the plan.

It was Snow.

Somewhere, between the light kisses in front of expectant eyes, the gentle hand on yours at dinner, that was hurriedly removed once you were behind closed doors again, you’d grown a gnawing, incessant want towards the man that had given you almost everything you could ever hope for.

Eight months, this had been going on. Eight months since Snow suggested this business proposal. Sex was never a part of the deal. And of course, you couldn’t sleep with anyone you pleased; that would be catastrophic for both of your reputations. And so it had been eight months since anybody had touched you other than yourself, biting your pillow so nobody could hear Snow’s name on your lips as you gripped the sheets. Even if you wanted to sleep with other people, you couldn’t. Truth is though, you’d developed rather expensive taste. A taste for only him. Even if you had the choice, nobody else would do.

You wondered if he ever thought of you while he touched himself. That thought slipped into your head every so often, when your hand was between your thighs. Then it became a more frequent occurrence. Then it became a nightly one, and by then, you were pretty sure you’d started going crazy.

You weren’t a romantic - this arrangement would never have worked if you were. You were like him; power hungry, relentless, impatient. And most of all, when you wanted something, you got it. And you wanted to seduce Coriolanus Snow.

So you’d started leaving breadcrumbs. Put an extra glint in your eyes when you glanced over at him, in public, first, and then in private more and more. You’d thrown out dozens of your more conservative dresses, keeping only the shortest ones that hugged your hips and dropped tantalisingly low on the neckline. Started wearing them more around the house, pretending to drop things just so you could bend down in front of him.

You estimated this act would last for a good week or two before Snow folded.

You were wrong.

If anything, it seemed to render Snow even more indifferent to you than he’d been before you started playing your little games. And each time he ignored you, glanced unimpressed at your outfit then looked away, or full-on walked right past you out the room, you started to simmer even more.

A normal girl in a normal situation would take a hint, cut her losses. But you were no normal girl, and this was no ordinary situation.

You had to be in the same boat, surely. Snow was still just a man, after all. A man with similarly limited options, and you knew he must’ve at least found you a little attractive, else he wouldn’t have chosen you to parade around on his arm in public, in pretty dresses and expensive jewellery.

Snow’s indifference only fuelled your fire. Sure, an ordinary girl would just give up. But eight months of this torture and you were at your breaking point. Besides, it was either him, or nobody. You weren’t giving up. Not in this lifetime.

So you got more obvious. Started taking breakfast in your nightgown each morning instead of getting dressed, sitting opposite Coriolanus with several feet of the mahogany table between you, biting into grapes from the fruit bowl and letting the juice trail down your chin, wiping it off then sucking your fingers clean, humming with your digits in your mouth, glancing at him with full-blown bedroom eyes when he’d look over at you from behind his paper.

It was no use. Nearly a month had passed and he’d barely even looked at you for more than a second at a time. Your conversations were short, lacklustre and strictly business related. You’d even tried playing on his heartstrings, asking about his day and work and his family. You were lucky if you got more than blunt, one-worded answers every time.

✩ ✩ ✩

You’d exhausted yourself with all these failed attempts, until one Thursday night you heard footsteps walking past your bedroom door. This wasn’t abnormal - Snow kept extensive household staff - except for the sound of these were different. You recognised the faint clicking of heels against the hardwood, a sound you heard all the time at galas and balls, but never in these halls, when an event was nowhere on the radar. And this was one such night.

Your curiosity led you off your bed and to the door, gently opening it to glance outside. Whoever it was had turned the corner, the clicking fading down the hallway. You carefully closed the door behind you and began to follow the sound. A chill ran up the backs of your legs as you walked; it was getting slightly colder as winter closed in, and your bedroom attire wasn’t exactly fit for the weather, given that you picked out the laciest, most impractical slips to sleep in, ready for your performance the next morning at breakfast.

You paced down the corridor, winding past the door to each room, a study, a small library (the larger one was downstairs), Snow’s office, and then finally, at the end, the door to Snow’s bedroom.

Oh.

This room was always enigmatic to you, as you’d never been inside. Your obsession with Snow had led you to wonder, day in and day out, what lay behind that door. The color of his bedsheets, what sat on his dresser, the contents of his closet, what aftershave he wore that had caused you to develop a practically pavlovian reaction anytime he got close to you.

You paused, a few feet away from the door, fearing Snow’s response if you crossed that line, if he were to walk out and find you hovering between his office and his room, clearly attempting to eavesdrop.

You heard shifting, then voices inside as you focused all your attention onto listening, trying hard to pick up on the conversation. You took another tentative step forward, practicing in your head what you would say if he stepped outside. I just wanted to ask what you wanted me to wear on Monday’s gala, I was thinking the white dress with the gold detailing. It wasn’t too late in the evening for that to be a viable excuse, if you could make it sound convincing enough.

But as you got closer you noticed something. There was a soft light spilling out from behind the door, which was in fact, just slightly ajar.

Snow usually kept the door locked at all times, you knew that from testing the handle - admittedly more than a few times - when he had been out of the house, and you were certain he wouldn’t be home for hours. This was something different. This felt dangerous, like walking a tightrope that was about to get cut, but the thrill of adrenaline pushed you forward.

You’d stopped hearing voices by then. You snuck ever closer, ears starting to ring as you found yourself drawn to the open door, taking silent steps towards it until there was no going back, and your body was practically flush to it. Holding your breath, you peeked through, pushing it ever so gently, praying that it wouldn’t creak. You had to crane your neck slightly to see any movement in the room, but it didn’t take long to see it, and when you did, you certainly didn’t feel cold anymore. Any curious whims on the color of his furniture and walls were long pushed to the side, because you couldn’t have focused on anything else in the room if you tried.

Snow was sat on a deep red velvet ottoman at the foot of his bed, shirt buttons undone and pushed behind him, leaving you with a full view of his chest. Your eyes panned down to see his usually pristine dress pants rolled carelessly down, pooling around his ankles. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in a similarly rushed manner. One hand was behind him, propping himself up, and the other was tightly gripping a handful of blonde hair, belonging to a girl that knelt at his feet in nothing but black underwear and stiletto heels - the culprit of the footsteps - moving her head up and down as Snow roughly guided her, lips parted, head tipped back, eyes firmly shut, breathing roughly. A few strands of damp blonde hair had fallen to his temples, just enough to make him look disheveled, yet somehow still regal, like a greek god.

You stood there, frozen. A million emotions battling for dominance in your head, anger, panic, fear, raging jealousy. Desire.

That was the one that stuck with you in the moment. It was a good thing Snow’s eyes were closed and the girl’s back was facing you, because your feet were firmly planted on the ground, watching this scene unfold, and you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere even if you tried. Watching as Snow’s breathing got heavier, as his grip on the girl’s hair got tighter and more forceful. Watching as her one arm gripped his thigh, and the other moved to where her mouth was, out of your eyeshot, and the obscenity of this was made somehow worse by the fact that you couldn’t see exactly what was happening.

Firstly, because it allowed your brain to fill in the blanks as Snow hissed through his teeth and dropped his head back. Secondly, because from this angle, you couldn’t see the girl’s face, and you were able to picture yourself in her place, wet mouth wrapped around him, being the cause of his undoing.

Come to think of it, there was another reason you were glad you couldn’t see her face, and it was purely for her sake. Because if you could’ve seen her, you would’ve had no excuse not to kill the bitch then and there.

You could hear, though. You could hear her soft moans and the lewd wetness of her mouth as her head moved even faster, before Snow took full control as his hips started to jerk, holding her head in place. There was a fire in the pit of your stomach and your lips were parted, staring. Knowing that if even for a second, Snow opened his eyes just for a glance, he’d see you immediately. You’d be hanged, probably. Or worse. And yet you didn’t run; you couldn’t. Nothing on God’s earth could’ve caused your feet to turn you around and leave the room. It was like you were suspended in some dream-like state, hearing going fuzzy, head spinning.

Then Snow started groaning, breath hitching in his throat as he got closer to the edge, you could hear it. Your brain began melting, and you didn’t have time to think through what would happen after he was finished and he saw you. If you were going to be hanged for this, it would be worth it, you thought, as his hips started to jerk even faster and his groans turned into strained whispers. Fuck and that’s it and good girl, and finally, as his eyes squeezed shut even tighter, and he came into her mouth with a strangled cry, you heard a name.

Yours.

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adultswim-co-uk · 2 years ago

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hiiii could you please write something about aftercare with young snow? like how in jealous girl it says he babied her afterwards, but a whole fic about it? i just wanna see how sweet a cruel man like snow can be 🤭

tip of my fingers |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, aftercare with snow.

contains: fluff. mentions of dom/sub themes. possessive snow.

Coriolanus sat on the edge of the bed, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, chest still rising and falling with every ragged breath from his post orgasm. He always got flushed like this after a night of particularly rough sex.

“‘M going to the shower, my love.” Corio muttered, curls matted to his forehead, muggy and sweaty. His hand patted the top of your thigh, gentler than before, your skin still raw and sensitive.

You didn’t move, didn’t utter a word, really didn’t make a sound besides a pathetic whine. Corio’s head snapped around, turning to you in an instant. His eyes narrowed carefully, scanning over you like he was assessing his latest plans. “Are you alright?”

Your glazed eyes staring off, face turned, smushed into the mattress, a pool of your own drool beneath you. Normally he’d mock you, tease you for being so messy. “My messy girl, look at you.” He’d give you a grin that felt more like a sneer.

Not this time.

Coriolanus called your name, softly but firmly, crouching in front of you. His hand rubbed over your clammy forehead, heated cheeks still flushed from your climax. “Look at me, darling.” Corio muttered, fingers tracing over your cheek down the slope of your neck. You shuddered but didn’t turn to him, still lost in your own haze. “Can you hear me?”

Your own mind was miles away from that very bedroom, lost under roaring waves and a hazy fog that Corio always got you in. Usually you snapped back quicker, a few loving kisses, the shock of a cold rag cleaning you up. Other times, it was more difficult.

Coriolanus moved to the bathroom, swallowing down the venomous bark of spewing orders that threatened to fall from his lips. He didn’t like this feeling, when he was out of control, especially with you. When something was wrong and he didn’t know an immediate fix. The rational side of himself told him to stay calm, do what he knew to before spiraling into a panic.

Corio tried to swallow down his beating heart, wringing the cold water out of the cloth, before walking back into the bedroom. The air was still thick and hot, sticky with the lingering musk of sex. He moved beside you, wordlessly, smoothing the cloth over your forehead.

The icy feeling shocked your system, leaving your shuddering, mind lurching back, vision clearing. Corio was before you, brows pinched with a concerned frown, studying you carefully. Your eyes met his, blinking helplessly before him. He swallowed a groan at how it made his cock lurch, seeing you so weak and needy.

“My love,” Corio’s hand slid down your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. “Are you alright?”

You blinked, moving into his touch, nearly instinctively. “You’re alright?” Corio pressed, head tilting in a much softer way to look at you. “Yes?”

You nodded, pushing off the mattress, groaning at the uncomfortable stretch of sore skin on your ass and thighs. Coriolanus had used his belt, your favorite, tonight.

“Be careful.” Corio clicked, hands wrapping around your biceps, much softer now than before. “You’re going to be sore, darling girl. Careful.” His tone softer now, hushed mumblings as he helped you up.

You winced when your raw skin brushed the silk of the sheets, the ghosting of a whimper on your lips. Corio shushed you gently, sitting next to you, pulling you into his lap. His hand brushing down your hair, your skin sticky on his own.

“How are you feeling?” Coriolanus muttered, lips brushing against your scalp, breathing in the sweaty scent mixed with your perfume from before.

“‘M alright.” You muttered, your cheek against his pec. You could hear his heart rate, how it fluttered and stilled to a steady rhythm. How it would erupt in an excited crescendo when you finally spoke, making your veins fill with ooey gooey rushes of adoration. For all of Coriolanus’ cruelties, his harshness- he did love you. It was evident in moments like these.

“Do you need the healing ointment? I can get it from the servant’s quarters-”

“-I’ll be alright, Corio.” You hummed, eyes pulling heavily. The exhaustion washes over you in thick waves. “I just want you to hold me, please.” Your eyes lifted, rounding sweetly.

He’d be a fool not to, Coriolanus decided, pulling you closer into his chest. He liked you like this, pliant and at his every whim, completely reliant on him.

Corio moved to the bath after, quieting your whines of protest with a small tut, coaxing kisses to your temples, testing the bath water with great show while you sat on the ledge.

You stayed pressed to his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline, like you might float away or dissolve if he let go. Corio let you, ego swelling off the dependency.

“Did I go too hard?” Corio hummed, a sudsy hand rubbing down your spine. The bath filled with the tonic fresh from District Eleven, dried orange peels, lavender, and rose. Coriolanus brought it to you, after his last visit to the district. You had swooned over it, smothering him sillily in kisses that made him blush.

“No,” You shook your head, inhaling the scent that was entirely his. “I think it was the teasing and the spanking, at the same time. I just- I wasn’t ready for it.” You knew what he wanted to hear. Coriolanus had always been adamant after your rough play that you debrief him. It felt very professional, which is why you were reluctant, but that type of blunt, straight forward reporting is what Corio responded best to.

Corio nodded, a low hum vibrating out of his chest, tickling your ear. “I see. I won’t do it as much next time.” He wouldn’t apologize, but you could hear it in his unspoken words.

“Just not as much at the same time.” You whispered sheepishly, as if he didn’t know every part of you.

Coriolanus nodded, a wet hand rubbing the base of your neck, scratching your scalp gently. He knew you loved it, knew it would have your head tipping back into his touch so he could kiss you.

You let him wash you, dry you off- only whimpering when the towel brushes over your ignited skin. He shushed you, a silent apology, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh. He put the ointment on anyway, muttering flippantly about how “you had obligations tomorrow, and didn’t need to be squirming the whole time”. You knew it was because it made him feel better.

Corio dressed you in your nightgown, slipping the powdery blue, soft fabric over your skin, trailing kisses from the back of your shoulder to your ear.

Underneath the silk of the sheets, you slept in his arms, face to face, whispering in the darkness of the room. It always brought out the vulnerability of Coriolanus in these moments, holding you, feeling you, smelling you- he’d bear his soul to you.

“I’m unsure about the games.” Corio muttered, arms tightening around you.

“Unsure in what way, honey?” You hummed, finger raking through his curls, behind his ear- his favorite spot.

“Unsure that they’ll be as successful as they need to be.” Corio hummed, and even through the dark you could see the concern on his features. “Unsure that people will watch.”

You paused for a moment. You decided not to tell him how you truly felt, not then, anyways. Selfishly, you didn’t want to ruin the intimacy, the softness of the moment. “I’m sure they’ll be everything you hope for them to be.” You hummed, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Everything always does.”

Your words, as forced as they were, brought comfort to Coriolanus. His head falling back into your hair, pressing a kiss to your scalp. Fingertips brushing skin, hushed words, and soft kisses all exchanged under the twilight of the night. Tomorrow, you’d be prim and proper. You’d stand beside Corio respectfully, hide your grimace at the mention of the upcoming reaping, refrain from rolling your eyes at the suck ups that flocked to Coriolanus in a giddy, exaggerated manner. You two would be the picture of perfection that Panem wanted you to be. For now, you’d be content to lay in each other's arms, being yourself instead.

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adultswim-co-uk · 2 years ago

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melting snow

summary: the subtle, obvious, sweet, and at times - dangerous - ways Coriolanus shows his love for you.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, possessive and lovesick!Snow, mostly fluff with light allusions to smut, significantly off-canon from movie (no lucy gray and no sejanus betrayal), CW possessive/dark behavior, graphic descriptions of murder, violence (it's only the last bit of this fic that's quite dark/violent, so feel free to read up until then. Please take care of yourself!!!)

☆ word count: 4.6K+ words ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

one: subtle praise

At the beginning, he would mask his true feelings and physical urges towards you with a tight lipped grin and a reserved compliment. Something that acknowledges something you've done objectively well, with a genuine softness that didn't apply to any of his other classmates, but seemingly delivered in a nonchalant matter to feign indifference.

"Great dodge." he'd say to you, both of your chests heaving from adrenaline during fencing class. You'd nod gently, a shy "thank you" leaving your lips.

But when Clemensia wins the next round against him, Coriolanus doesn't go above simply shake her left hand in courtesy before leaving the arena briskly.

"Well played." he'd joke, when it was revealed during the final student appraisal that you'd beaten Coriolanus' marks by a few points. Despite Archane and Felix throwing subtle jabs at his way for "losing" the star student title, you'd just shrug off the compliment profusely, praising him endlessly.

"A mere fluke, really. You're the brilliant student. I reckon I just study hard and get lucky." you'd reply, straightening the cuffs of your jacket nervously. The blonde always found it so endearing how bad you were at taking compliments.

So different from the rest of the scum in Capitol, he thought.

Eventually, he'd start to turn his verbal compliments towards things unrelated to your capabilities and work. And more towards things that were of a personal nature, like your looks and dress.

"Your hair looks very nice today." he comments one afternoon late after school, his shoulders brushing against yours as you both await your rides home. Your hands fly up to your hair, to the small crown of daisies adorning your head, as if you've almost forgotten what you were wearing.

"You think so?" you shyly ask, looking up at him nervously. "I wouldn't have worn it to the academy if we hadn't been called down on immediate notice. It's just that the family I babysit for on the weekends, their daughter just turned six and... well, she was very insistent on making me a flower crown."

He finds your embarrassment awfully cute.

"But I swear, when Dr Gaul turned to look at me today, I thought she was going to kill me."

Coriolanus only rolls his eyes playfully at that, knocking his shoulders against yours.

"And what would she know about first rate fashion? You look amazing."

It's the nicest compliment you've gotten over a silly crown of flowers, your heart warming and your breath stuttering at his words. It's what motivates you to lightly squeeze his right arm before you get into the car, your touch lingering in his mind long after you depart.

A month later, Coriolanus runs into you at the farmer's market on a Sunday. His instructions by Tigris to "buy some bread and oranges for tomorrow" are almost forgotten in one fell swoop when he sees you. Free from your usual academic attire, you're wearing a flowy lilac dress which sits right below your knees, the silky fabric glowing in the yellow sunlight.

"This color really suits you." he decides to whisper in your ear after discreetly sliding into the space next to you, the action so sudden that it causes you to jump. Your shoulders soften when you recognize his striking blue irises, and then you pout, punching him right in the chest.

"You scared me, Snow." you jokingly scold him. "And where are your manners? You should always introduce yourself first to a lady."

He pretends to be wounded by that, hand on heart whilst leaning backwards.

"My deepest apologies. Would this help?" he asks, effortlessly pulling a white rose from his back pocket. He revels in how your gaze lightens up in awe and amusement at the gesture.

"Perhaps so." you reply back, fingertips brushing against his.

The blonde takes it as a sign to slide it behind your ear, the memory of your etheral form with his flower tucked behind your right ear etched into his mind before you're called away by your friends.

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two: soft touches

Once he's sure that his feelings are reciprocated, Coriolanus would start to step the line over into something more serious. He's not willing to open up immediately nor is he necessarily a man of romantic prose. A large part of him is scared, even, of the way you make him feel.

After all, what is love if not vulnerability?

And how he could be vulnerable with you, a woman so far out of his league, widely adored and your family amongst the wealthiest in Panem?

So it would start off when the class seating arrangements are changed and you're seated next to Coriolanus for the remainder of the year.

He'd start to purposefully spread his legs a little bit wider than usual, his knees always brushing against yours.

He'd take every chance he could to lean over to explain something to you, his face a few inches away from yours, if you ever seemed stuck on a question.

He'd open the classroom door for you in the mornings and offer to carry your heavy textbooks back to your family's car after school, insisting that it was because he wouldn't want you to trip on your heels. And if you'd ever insist on carrying the books on your own, he'd keep a gentle hand on your upper back to keep you upright "in balance."

Once, whilst presenting a speech at your father's fundraising dinner that you'd stayed up all night preparing for, you accidentally lose track of your speech. You stumble on your words, voice cracking in panic as you start to scan the page of thick text, all of which suddenly seem jumbled up and nonsensical.

Sensing distress, Coriolanus' hand quickly moves under the table to squeeze your left hand (hanging by your side) in a reassuring manner.

It's only then, somehow, that you find yourself able to re-focus on the printed text and continue your speech. Afterwards, you squeeze his hand back and whisper your gratitude.

"I owe you, Coriolanus."

Another time, it's a formal ball being hosted by the academy to mark the holiday season. After a few drinks, you're tipsy and manage to drag your friends up towards the balcony, despite it snowing outside and being below zero degrees.

Cautiously watching your every movement by where he's leaning by the bar, Coriolanus quickly makes an excuse to exit the conversation he found himself trapped in, before walking outside towards your shivering figure.

Your dress certainly isn't helping your situation, it being a satin slip dress with sleeves and a conservative cut out by your shoulders. It exposes your chilled skin as you rub the naked space with your arms, your staggered breaths coming out in white puffs of smoke.

"Corio! What're you doing he-" you start to walk towards him but nearly trip, his arms coming to supporting your body last second to save you from falling completely on your face.

"You shouldn't be outside in this weather." he comments, amused, as he helps you find your balance once more. But you refuse to re-enter the ballroom, choosing to instead excitedly ramble about how wonderful winter in the Capitol is and how you can't remember where you've placed your bag.

Listening earnestly to your ramblings with a smile on his face, he quickly shakes off his blazer.

"May I?" he asks. You blink slowly, heart fluttering at the gesture.

"O-okay."

The boy then carefully drapes his blazer over your shoulders, the act immediately enveloping your senses in his signature smells - oakwood and rose. Your fingers clutch the lapels of the jacket, your nose burrowing in to the softness of the fabric.

"Are you sure you won't be cold?"

He's freezing, of course, but he keeps his posture straight and tuck his hands into his pockets.

"I'm just fine. Don't you worry about me."

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three: nicknames

Once you two become an item, Coriolanus moves on to calling you affectionate names.

Of course, he'll prefer to call you by your name in professional settings - like during a presentation, in front of the Academy staff, at formal galas and dinners - but when it's just the two of you, or around people you both trust, or when he's jealous -

He almost never calls you by your name.

Darling is the classic, lovestruck expression he uses when he's being his most vulnerable. It's what he whispers into the gap underneath your neck when he's waking you up in the morning, landing kisses across your collarbone during sunrise. It's his greeting when he surprises you with a bouquet of flowers on your birthday, right before he whisks you away to a trip to district 1. It's what he cries into your hairline when you are hospitalized following a rogue rebel explosion on your trip home.

"Darling... darling, can you hear me?"

Coriolanus' voice is foggy, your head still ringing from the loud explosion earlier, but your heart still races at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand on yours. Throat croaking, you try to respond with an affirmative "yes", to which your boyfriend responds by quickly grabbing a near by cup of water.

Gently guiding the glass to your lips, he treats you as if you're a fragile porcelain doll: smoothing down your hair gently and fluffing up your pillows to lay you back down. It's only then that you get a good look at him under the flickering lights - the bags under his eyes look heavy, his usually neat hair a complete mess, his blue irises blood shot.

"Have you been sleeping, Corio?" you ask, worried, your thumb rubbing circles onto his palm. He chokes up at that, shaking his head sideways with a sad smile.

"How... how could you ask me that, darling? You've been in the hospital for days."

"I hope that doesn't mean you haven't been sleeping for days." you quip back, raising your eyebrows. Your boyfriend opens his mouth to lie, but the twitch of his lips gives him away. So you instead shift towards the left of your bed, making space for him on the mattress.

"Come on you silly man."

He smiles a guilty grin before snuggling up next to you, letting out a heavy sigh of content at your warm body against his.

Petal is his sweet, infatuated name for you when he's referring to you in conversation or calling out for you in front of friends and family. Tigris never fails to tease Coriolanus for the name, but he doesn't mind it - you're his flower, his precious petal.

"I can't believe you think this is ugly." Tigris sighs at the dinner table one night, shuffling through the myriad of designs on the desk. "This was going to be the design I send off to the boutique tomorrow."

"I didn't say it was ugly, I just think this design is far nicer." Coriolanus responds, pushing forward the blue design in front of him. His cousin pouts at that, clearly unsatisfied with his answer.

"Petal-" Coriolanus calls out for you, where you're cooking with grandma'am in the kitchen. "Could you come in for a moment?"

When your confused face pops into the room, Tigris quickly calls you over, dramatically stretching out her arms to grab you.

"Mr Snow seems to think this design - the gold sweetheart dress with lace trimmings - is uglier than this blue version. What do you think, (Y/n)?" she earnestly asks, pushing over the two designs to your direction. You shuffle through the papers intently, studying each drawing up close, before ultimately taking Tigris' side.

"I'd say your eye for design is impeccable, Tigris. And that Coriolanus should perhaps stick to things other than fashion."

That makes both grandma'am (who is listening in from the kitchen) and Tigris, burst out in laughter, with the latter throwing her arms around your waist in a sideways hug.

"Ah, I knew you were my favorite for a reason." she jokes.

"Petal, you wound me." your boyfriend jokes, a small scowl on his face for show. Though, when you lean down to kiss him, the scowl easily melts away.

My doll is what he calls you when he's driven sick by jealousy and possession. As, much to Coriolanus' distate, you have many admirers - due to you coming from a wealthy family and being a well known socialite in your own right.

Coriolanus has never liked Felix Ravinstill, but he swears his hatred for the president's son only tripled after you and Coriolanus became an item. Felix was never shy about his attraction to you - the forward compliments, the invitations to his house after school, the rush to sit next to you during lunch periods. But now, the blonde thinks, it's getting full on desperate.

As you sit reading a book in the hallways of tha academy, waiting for Coriolanus to finish his talk with Dr Gaul, the dark haired boy decides to chat with you. When your boyfriend opens the door discreetly, upon hearing your voice mingle with someone else's outside, his vision nearly turns red at how close the other man is to you.

You're pointing out something in your book to Felix, your innocent eyes fixated purely on the black and white text and thus completely missing how shamelessly the man next to you is eyeing you up and down. It takes Dr Gaul's shout - "actually, Ms (Y/n), could we have a word regarding your last proposal" - for Coriolanus' rage to slowly fade.

Instead, he starts to feel cold, hardened logic putting a plan into motion.

And once you're inside the classroom, Coriolanus doesn't hesitate to slam Felix up against the wall, making sure to angle the boy's head to hit directly against a marble statute. The impact isn't hard enough to crack the man's skull, the last minute measurement in Coriolanus' head ensuring that he wouldn't be punished for injuring the president's son.

But he makes sure that the impact hurts enough to leave a mark.

It makes Coriolanus' heart twist in pleasure.

"You better leave my doll alone, Ravinstill. She's not interested in you. She's never been interested in you." he spits, snarling like a ravenous dog.

"You're delusional, Snow, if you think she'd ever want to stay with you." Felix manages to spit out, trying to wiggle his way out of the taller man's hold, but Coriolanus is too strong.

"You're the only delusional one here. It's pathetic, really. All that money and social connections in the world, and it'll never be good enough for my doll."

Coriolanus can tell that hit a nerve with Felix, so he lets go of the shorter boy, nearly throwing him away to the side in the process. Pride and ego surges through his veins when you appear and call out for Coriolanus, so the blonde makes a concerted effort to kiss you fiercely for show.

His arm snaking around your shoulder to pull you right up against him, a devious smile on his lips.

-----------------------

four: lavish gifts and deep marks

Things only escalate once Coriolanus' tribute ends up winning the hunger games and he's crowned the winner of the Plinth Prize. Now saddled with money, reputation and a full ride scholarship to the university funneled by the Plinth family - he finally finds himself able to spoil you in all the ways possible.

Fresh flowers adorn your windowsill every morning. The finest jewellery and newest luxury bags are delivered to your doorstep at random. Perhaps most impressive of all, he buys a two bedroom apartment near the center of the Capitol for you two to move into.

"How'd you..." you can't even finish your sentence when you first see the place: the prime location, the high arched ceilings, the stainless marble... He hadn't even allowed you to pitch in any of your own - or your family's - money to buy the place, insisting that it was to be a complete surprise.

His arms come around your shoulder to hug you close, swaying you from side to side.

"Generosity of the Plinth family and the spoils of being the victor, darling." he drawls in your ear.

You're still in awe, hands tracing the intricate patterns of the roman columns supporting the ceiling, when he starts to tug you up the stairs.

"Would you like to see the view from our bedroom? It's magnificent."

Of course, Coriolanus' new elevated status and recent memory of acting as a mentor in the hunger games - planning, guiding, and having a role in the extended play of human lives - it all makes him quite obsessive and possessive of you. Given that you're one of the few people in his life who has known him for years now, before he was a mentor and before had all this money and status...

He has to make sure to keep you in his life. He's made a lot of enemies, after all, many of whom would like to harm him. And with his undying love for you, hurting you becomes an attractive option for his enemies.

So Coriolanus gets more possessive by becoming more shameless in public. He'll gladly call you his love in front of crowds of hundreds. He'll kiss you breathless and squeeze your lower back if he thinks a man is staring a bit too long at you. And when he knows you two will be separated for a few days - usually due to him having to travel out of the Capitol on business matters - he'll leave bite marks on your neck.

You didn't even think about how noticeable the marks might be when you rush out of bed one morning, having promised to attend an engagement dinner of a fellow classmate, Clemensia's. Your rude awakening comes when, mid-way through the rehearsal, Sejanus leans over to quietly ask if you've brought your foundation with you.

You scrunch your face at the odd question.

"Uh, yes... I have a powder compact in my bag, why?"

Your friend smiles at you apologetically, before motioning to your neck.

"Because, (Y/n), it looks like a vampire has bit you."

And when you look at your reflection in your wine glass, it's clear that you have odd, dark, bite shaped marks littering your collarbone and neck.

Later in the week, when Coriolanus has finally returned from his business trip, you try and scold him for it.

"I nearly died of shame, Corio. Seriously, you should've seen how Arachne was looking at me the whole night." you sigh, just as he laughs.

"You're over thinking it, darling. Besides, you weren't complaining when I was leaving those marks on you on Tuesday."

You open his mouth to scold him again, but find yourself unable to mutter a smart response, your thoughts flying away when he's back to attacking your skin with his mouth.

After all, you're like a drug to him - he can never get enough.

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five: killing for you

Once Coriolanus is sure that you're not going to leave him, he finds it appropriate to take it to the next level: marriage. He drops a few thousand dollars on a large diamond ring, a ring which he makes sure you never take off (except in the shower).

At this point, the thought of losing you nearly equals his fears of losing everything he's built so far: becoming wealthy, powerful and well known amongst the Capitol's elite. He's terrified of living in a world without you and so he considers anyone who is deemed a threat must be dealt with in a secure, efficient manner.

No mercy, no hesitation.

After all, Coriolanus thinks one night, whilst sharpening a spare knife in the kitchen: if you give a rebel an inch, they'll run a mile.

The first person he kills is a security guard who fails to do their job correctly in protecting you.

He'd been hired by Coriolanus to protect you in your daily transport from the mansion to anywhere outside the Capitol (most often, to districts 1-3 to support your family's business dealings). But the bodyguard had failed to protect you one fateful winter day, leaving you to stumble back home with a twisted ankle and a busted lip as your bodyguard was only able to neutralize the threat after a few minutes of tussling with the gang's leader in the snow.

Your fiancee was fuming, sending you off to a near by hospital with grandma'am, before he motioned for your bodyguard to come downstairs to the empty garden.

The blonde didn't even feel an ounce of sorrow as he pulled the trigger, simply ordering the next bodyguard he'd hired to do the messy job of disposing of the body.

The second person he kills is a rebel who attempted to sneak a bomb underneath the car transporting you to the Capitol, following Coriolanus' announcement as candidate for the presidency.

The rebel was apprehended by the security detail team pretty quickly, so fast in fact that you weren't even made aware of the threat on your life. All you're told that day by Coriolanus' subordinates is that "there had been a change of plans" and you were to go to a fundraising dinner at an art museum instead to raise funds for the campaign.

And whilst you're off at the dinner, making a passionate speech for his presidency, Coriolanus makes an order for the rebel to be dragged out into the fields.

"You dare threaten the love of my life?" he sneers into the rebel's face, which is already bloodied and broken beyond recognition. The animalistic rage pumping through Coriolanus' veins is unlike anything he's ever felt before, and the gun in his hands suddenly feels like too much of a merciful ending for the rebel's crime.

"Just kill me." the rebel spits, but that only makes Coriolanus let out a sinister chuckle.

"Don't worry, I will. But I think a gun shot will be far too quick."

Instead, Coriolanus orders the man to be placed into a cage - a prototype that was being designed as a trap for the next year's games - and for a tub of venomous snakes to be released.

Whilst the other workers in his campaign look away from the horrific sight, Coriolanus just stares in great interest and pride. Once the screaming dies down, he calmly disposes of his bloodied shirt and hails a ride to greet you at the museum entrance.

"All good?" you ask, noticing an odd expression on your lover's face. But he just kisses you lightly on the lips, chuckling.

"Of course, petal. Why wouldn't it be?"

And so on and so forth. Whether it's directly or indirectly, Coriolanus becomes ruthless in securing your safety and your love. And he's so good at hiding it, he thinks, until one day he becomes a bit sloppy.

It was supposed to be an easygoing dinner at the mansion, a wealthy donor - his top donor, his campaign manager had informed him - named Robert Hemingworth had requested a private dinner. Coriolanus intially wanted to refuse, hating the thought of inviting a stranger to his home, but both you and his campaign manager agreed that it was best to play nice given the money at stake.

"For your troubles." Robert had said on his way in, a snarky smirk on his lips. In his arms were a basket of wines and grapes worth a pretty penny, but Coriolanus couldn't help but think that there was something about the brunette's gaze that he didn't trust. But with pursed lips and a fake smile, he forced out a thank you and invited the man into the foyer.

"What a... charming little abode." the oil tycoon had drawled, his gloved hands tracing along the walls. The sly comments and odd compliments (in truth, backhanded compliments) continued through out the night, all the way from appetizer to the main course. Sipping on copious bottles of red wine in an effort to keep himself grounded, Coriolanus was managing to keep his temper down until the older man asked about your whereabouts.

"Will your charming fiancee not be joining us?"

He froze at the man's questions, the hungry look in the millionaire's eyes and the underlying threat weighing down the atmosphere. The desserts had now arrived, two maids scurrying in with small plates of bread pudding, both of whom Coriolanus quickly dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"She's out with Tigris. Dress shopping." he'd decided to leave it at that, his left hand squeezing his glass so tight the glass started to crack. Coriolanus had hoped the man would leave the discussion there, as he wasn't sure what he was capable of doing if the older man didn't.

But the man continued. A disgusting moan escaping his lips in satisfaction after biting into the pudding, a devious smirk on his lips to match.

"Ah. Well, what a shame. I was hoping she would be part of the dessert."

No sooner than those words leave the millionaire's mouth, Coriolanus' left hand grabbed the knife laying on the board in front of him, where moments ago the maids were cutting cheese and ham. He then brings the blade to swiftly meet the older man's stomach, white dress shirt staining crimson red, all the while Coriolanus refuses to break the man's gaze.

"You fucking disgust me. Everyone in the Capitol fucking disgusts me one way or another, but you? You dare invite yourself to my home?" he retracts the knife, before stabbing it back into the suited man's flesh, each pause accentuated by another driving force.

"You dare speak about my love in such a vulgar manner?"

"You dare insinuate such sinful acts with my beloved?"

"You dare try and buy your way into her body?"

The marble floors are now flooded in a sea of red, the man's dying chokes and Coriolanus' heavy breaths overwhelming the room. The room stings of the smell of copper when you enter the space, quietly closing the door behind you, as you were only able to see the man on the floor and your boyfriend standing on top of him from the entrance.

"Corio? Love?"

The blonde turns around at the sound of your voice, face etched with annoyance.

Annoyed that you'd have to be subject to a vulgar sight like this. Annoyed that he'd stained your new kitchen set with an unworthy man's blood... And most of all, annoyed that he can't tell what you're thinking: your face kept completely neutral as you slowly approach him.

"You're back early." is all he decides to say, testing the waters.

You look down at his hands, soaked in hot blood, then down at the man who is writhing on the floor.

"Found what we wanted quickly, I suppose." you reply, stopping next to Coirolanus before leaning down to get a better look at the dying man. "Right, what was his deal?"

"Hm?"

It's only then that your plain expression breaks, your usually light eyes swimming with sinister charm, a coy smile breaking out on your face.

"Come on, Corio. You don't seriously think I didn't notice the amount of odd stains on your cufflinks? Or the terrified looks the house servants give you since the beginning of our engagement?"

He blinks, surprised. Coriolanus had always assumed he was covering his tracks well. Or that, at the very least, you'd have something to say about it all.

"He was making rather vulgar comments about you, darling. The bastard seems to have been making donations in an effort to get closer to you." he slowly explains as you stand back up, nodding slowly.

"Hm... Yes, that is rather concerning. And I suppose you've gone too far ahead for us to save him, always the temperamental lover you are." you tease.

Your humorous response and your unwillingness to run away from the darkness of the situation, it awakens something fierce in Coriolanus that he hasn't felt for you before.

"I suppose."

The euphoria he feels when your delicate fingers lace his to grab the knife instead, before you finally drive the blade down and end the man's life, is indescribable.

"I think you owe me a new dress." you say quietly, dropping the knife onto the floor.

The blonde wastes no time gathering you up in his arms, kissing you so fiercely that it almost hurts your neck.

"I think I owe you more than that, darling. How about the entirety of Panem?"

He'd do anything for you. The entirety of Panem be damned.

a/n: omg this has got to be the darkest piece of writing + fucked up ending I've ever written in like years of writing on tumblr 😅😭 but idk I'm obsessed with an idea of Corio's partner being someone who embraces him wholeheartedly and surprises him by being darker than she seems on the surface.

please leave a like/comment/reblog/ask if you've enjoyed, your support is what motivates me to write!

ALSO I've just re-opened my requests bc I would love to receive some corio fic ideas, so please send in your corio thoughts if you have any 🥺🥺🥺

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adultswim-co-uk · 2 years ago

Text

Reblogging to read later

chater 3: the exposition. /coriolanus snow / nsfw

rating: explicit

wc: 8,346

warnings: MDNI, rough sex, he's still insane and possessive, oral sex, not beta read AO3 version | Series Master

As the two of you left the party, sat in the back of his car, you could cut the tension with a knife. Both of you are so high-strung with desire that a simple touch would make you snap.

“Miss Gaul, will I be taking you home?” the driver was unaware of what was happening between you.

Coriolanus decided for you. “No worries, she’ll be staying with us at the Corso.”

A thrill ran through you. The thought of spending the night with him, acting on these feelings, finding release with him, made your skin tingle. And as the car pulled up near the Snow apartment, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. The night was still so young.

He led you up to the top floor without an inappropriate touch. Afraid that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and he’d take you in the elevator. You really should commend his restraint.

Once you were inside the foyer, he caught you looking around nervously, like you were afraid of being caught. Like someone would pop out and surprise you both as he led you to his bedroom’s attached sitting room.

You were so cute. “No one’s in tonight.” He closed the door. “It’s just us now.”

You were trapped in there now with him. You could try to run, but he’d always catch you.

The space between you dissolved, replaced by a mess of sensations; the scent of your perfume fills his senses, the rise and fall of your chest against him, the warmth of your body against his. He understood Morphling addiction now. The high of touching you was addicting.

Restraint lost, he grabbed your waist and kissed you. You opened your mouth almost immediately, letting him in. Before the morning broke, he would know every curve, every contour, every inch of you. And you would know the same of him.

He went back to attacking your neck with nips and kisses. You were so sensitive there, moaning and gasping. He needed more. Needed to watch you come undone. He had wanted to take it slow, build you up and tease you, but he needed you now.

Coriolanus grabbed your ass and picked you up, wrapping your legs around him instinctively, and he carried you into his room. It was clean and organised just like his office. A mix of old money and newer trends. It was all very him. Down to the white duvet he put you on in the centre of his king size bed.

You looked so perfect there. Finally, within his reach and willing to let him touch you. Your dress had slipped too, your left breast out for display, nipples pert with arousal.

He fiddled with the front clasp of your dress that connected the two parts, undoing it and letting it fall open, fully exposing you to him. You were so perfect it drove him insane. He watched you like a hawk as you shimmied the dress off, revealing that you had no underwear on underneath. The groan that escaped him was pained. It just wasn’t fair what you did to him.

Your smile beamed, mischief in your eyes. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

Coriolanus Snow had never gotten undressed so quickly in his life before. He climbed onto the bed and settled his hips against yours. Your mouth was so inviting to him, always welcoming him in. His position above you seemed so small, like he could pick you up and use you like a toy.

He leaned back, settling onto his knees. Fuck, you were everything he imagine you to be. He shifted, taking one breast in his mouth. His tongue swirled around it before biting it. Your moan only egged him on, making him pinch and pull at your other nipple.

You squeaked when he bit down hard; the sound going straight to his cock. The noises you made were better than any music he had ever heard before. You wiggled from his actions, jolting around from the pleasure, and he could feel your pussy against him. Soo wet already. You wanted him as badly as he wanted you. To tear each other apart.

He detached from your breast with a wet pop, giving a kiss to the abused nub, before trailing them down your stomach. His tongue dipped into your navel briefly, tasting the salt on your skin. When he finally reached the top of your pussy, he breathed in deeply. If he could bottle the scent, he would.

“You don’t have to.” Were you embarrassed? Afraid that he finds you disgusting?

“I want to.”

With that, he buried his face in you, licking from your hole to your clit. He watched your every reaction, felt your every twitch. He had always been above eating a woman out, finding it pointless. Sex was a means for him to get off. He didn’t care about his partners. But he wanted you to cum on his face and make a mess.

As he circled your clit, your hands flew into his hair, grinding your face against his tongue. He pressed his tongue hard and flat against you. The friction builds you up to an orgasm. He keeps going, increasing with a fervor, the need to make you cum the only thing he could think of, his hips rutting against his bed.

Your fingers tighter in his hair, pulling as you came. Broken moans of his name filling the room. He needed you to cum again. He needed it more than you need water in the desert. The only thing that could quench his thirst is the liquids leaking out of your tight hole.

Coriolanus kept lapping at your clit, ignoring your overstimulation. He didn’t give you a break, a moment to catch your breath. One hand tugged at your waist, pulling your core closer to him while the other circled your hole, teasing the entrance. You sobbed, mixed between telling him to stop and begging him to keep going. Truth be told, he couldn’t stop.

He slipped two fingers inside you. You were so wet, a mix of your cum and his spit, that he slid in so easily. It was so hot inside you. Moving his fingers around to experiment, trying to find your g-spot. He could tell the exact moment he brushed it, feeling your pussy flutter around him. He couldn’t wait to feel that on his cock.

Slowly he began pressing against it, passing over it every time his fingers thrust into you. Your thigh clamped down around his head. Even muffled, he could hear you singing so sweetly for him. Telling him you were so close.

When you came again, he gave you a moment to breathe. He wanted tonight to go on for a while. He couldn’t have you out of commission so early in the night. Your chest heaved, breathless from two back-to-back orgasms, sweat trailing between your breasts.

He licked it up.

Your voice broke as you spoke. “I, oh god Corio.” your eyes were wild and unguarded. He could see the admiration you had for him. The desire. “I need you.”

You were normally so steady and composed.

But the burning hunger that consumed him consumed you, too. The thoughts that had plagued him and made him sick, twisted in his belly, and kept him up at night. The voices of reason in his head lost to the overwhelming desire to have you.

He reached out, fingers tracing the contours of your face, and then parting your lips. His thumb brushed over your teeth, digging in against the tip of your canines. You closed your lips around his thumb. He felt your tongue run over it before you sucked on it.

Fuck you looked so good with it your mouth. He could picture his cock in your mouth, your lips stretched around him. The sensation of hitting the back of your throat was almost palpable. Later, tonight or tomorrow, he’d have you do just that.

“Sweet girl,” he crooned, kissing your face while putting a hand against your pussy again. “You’re so needy. So filthy.”

You gasped as he slipped back inside you, scissoring you, stretching you open. His thumb toying with your clit as he spoke.

“So fucking filthy, making a mess on me. God, you don’t even know what you’ve done to me. My head is a mess because of you, always thinking about you and your pretty pussy. It made me hate you. How am I supposed to be your friend when I just want to bend you over and fuck you until you can’t walk?”

He felt you tighten against his fingers.

“I want to kill every man that looks at you. They’re always thinking of you naked and how they’d like you just like this. But they don’t get to see that. No one gets to see this but me. Do you understand?”

You were so close, stars swimming in your vision. The edge was right there when Coriolanus stopped.

“I said, do you understand? Answer the question, sweet girl.”

The words flew out of your mouth. “I understand. Please, just don’t stop. I’m so close.”

He started back up again. This time he drilled his fingers against your g-spot, a pressuring building up in your abdomen. You were going to cum, and cum hard.

“Corio,” your broken moans making him go faster. “I’m gonna cum.”

“So cum for me.”

Everything in you snapped into place when you came, vision going black. A stream of liquid pouring out of you and onto him, splashing across his front. He had made you squirt. He had wanted to ruin you for other men, but he just ruined other women for himself. If you ever tried to run, tried to leave him, he would lock you up. He’d chain you to the post of the bed, break one of your legs, make you immobile. But you’d keep so well, always wearing the best clothing and eating the best food. It was making him crazy.

He grabbed your hair tightly, yanking your neck back for him to dig his teeth into you. He needed to hold you close, and to tear you fucking apart.

When he let go of your neck, bite marks that clearly defined his every tooth left. Marking you, displaying his ownership of you, he was drunk off it. The intensity of everything heightened. He was going to combust if he wasn’t inside you soon.

Grabbing his dick, he tapped the tip against your clit repeatedly, relishing in the way you whimpered and spasmed. He wanted to carve your pussy into a perfect mould of his cock. Alter you so permanently that he would always be a part of you.

He pushed the tip into you. You were so hot and wet, more than you had been earlier. It felt like you were melting around him. Your insides felt like the softest velvet against him. None of the finest fabrics could ever compare to it.

Your pussy fluttered around him as he pushed in down to the base. You were perfect, sucking him in.

Both of you watched the first few thrusts of his hips, mesmerised by him disappearing inside of you. You had had sex before; you were 24 and one of the most sought after bachelorettes in the Captiol, but you had never had anything like this. It felt like your body was intertwining with Coriolanus. Like he was replacing a part of yourself with him, letting you drink from his fountain.

Settling into a steady rhythm, Coriolanus shifts you both, putting your legs over his shoulders. The new angle had him brushing up against your cervix, a mix of pain and pleasure. When he leaned forward, folding you in half, your breath left your lungs. He was so deep inside you.

He moaned, continuing to thrust into you. “Such a perfect pussy. So good for me. So much better than I even imagined.”

“You’ve been thinking about me, Corio?”

You were so beautiful. Lashes wet with tears, hair sticking to your forehead from the sweat. Your big doe eyes peering up at him, looking at him with so much affection.

His thrusts slowed, becoming gentle taps rather than hard strikes.

“Yes,” he admitted, biting the inside of your thigh near his face. “I’ve been thinking about you constantly.

His words were heavy, something swimming beneath the surface, something intense. You looked down at his hands on your waist, thumbs caressing you. He had been flipping between extremes tonight. One moment he was a cannibal, ready to taste your flesh, and then the next he treated you like you were precious to him. Almost like he loved you.

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” the sacrament of penance you took, and he your witness. “I’ve been thinking about you like this. What’d it’d be like.”

You were Eve, and he was Adam, the snake and the apple, the first sin and the atonement.

If Coriolanus could purr he would, the stroking of his ego acting like a balm for his temper. Instead, he bit down on your thigh again and picked up his speed, rutting into you like the animal he felt he was. The slap of his balls against your ass is his mating call.

He felt himself getting close, months of emotion getting to him, bringing him release quicker than normal. Coupled with how tight you felt in this position, he knew he wouldn’t last long. So he took to driving into you and grabbing your face to kiss you. He needed to cum, but he also needed to feel you cum on his cock. The decision was hard to make. He didn’t want to stop pounding into you and risk losing his edge.

It’d be fine. He didn’t have to rush everything and get it all done this round. You didn’t know it yet, but he’d be taking you for many, many, many rounds.

You had expected Coriolanus to be cold and cynical when it came to sex, hating any mess that came with it. You had expected him to pull out and cum on you and force you to clean it up. But when his hips stuttered and warmth filled you, you were surprised.

“Fuck.” he thrust into you a few more times before pulling out, breathless. “Fuck.” he repeated.

It was so warm in the room. You were sweaty, a mix of both his and yours. Your head felt fuzzy from cumming so many times. Blinking hard to stay awake.

Coriolanus nudged your face, making you focus on him, before he picked you up and carried you over to his ensuite.

It screamed luxury and opulence, a show of what he had done after being heir to the Plinth fortune. The walls had mosaics in them depicting bits of ancient history. The floors were laid with polished marble times. A massive tub, carved from a single block, stood centre stage, overlooking a window with a view of the Corso with a few chairs near it. A thick rug sat at its feet, the plush pile just asking you to step on it.

In the far corner, there was a walk-in shower with a number of showerheads. The vanity was across from it, cut from the same marble as the floors. A floor-length mirror tucked next to it. You could see the entrance to his dressing room through the reflection.

He set you down on the chair near the tub and then pressed a few buttons on the wall panel and the tub filled; the water rained in from the top. The vanity had a collection of soaps and bath salts he went between before selecting some and putting them in the bottom of the tub. “It’s magnesium. It’ll help your muscles.”

You nodded, unsure what to say first to him. He was lost on what to say too, just letting the soft patter of water hitting the tub fill the silence. It was a comforting scene, a domestic moment in the backdrop of your mess of emotions.

The steam swirled in the air, fogging the mirrors as you watched him mix the salts into the water. He moved with practised ease, like this act of self care was something he gave himself often.

When the tub was full, nearly to the brim, Coriolanus turned to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and care. You wouldn’t disillusion yourself into thinking that he loved you. Coriolanus Snow didn’t love people. He used them. You knew this; he knew this. The only people that didn’t were the rest of high society. Minus your mother. She liked that side of him.

She had told you all about what he did with Sejanus, how he turned on his friend of years. You didn’t quite understand why people thought they were friends; clear to you that Coriolanus wanted to harm Sejanus every time he was around. But Sejanus was rich, so he acted like he cared.

“It’s ready,” his voice was calm, rolling over you, soothing a level of anxiety.

You nodded, afraid to speak, but you wanted to show him you appreciate his efforts. So you smiled, hoping that it communicated everything that you felt while he picked you up and slid you into the tub.

He stood beside the tub. There was something on the verge of coming out, but he didn’t know what. Maybe he was going to tell you how beautiful he found you, how you’ve grown on him, how you're someone he views as a person now and not a pawn. But he was afraid of breaking the spell.

“Join me?” He nodded and got into the tub behind you, the warm water enveloping you both.

Settled between his legs, you leaned back against his chest. You closed your eyes, letting the warm waters soothe you.

Coriolanus couldn’t believe that he finally had the chance to sleep with you. He had been thinking about it for months and now he finally had. The breaking out of the role proved worth it. He had half hoped that the feeling of needing you would go away, that he could go back to how things used to be before the whole charade started. But you fit so perfectly against him. How far would the act go? Would your mother one day tell him the show was over and to leave you alone? He doubted it.

She would be more likely to let him take you for real, all to see what kind of mind a child between you would have. She’d mould you into the perfect partner for him, a perfect mother for your son. That’d be one way to keep you forever. You were attached to your familial bonds. A baby would be the epitome of that.

He felt you shift, eyes snapping to meet your own.

You had opened your eyes, meeting Coriolanus’s gaze. Tonight was a turning point. Everything between you was new, raw and red, a fresh cut, bleeding freely.

Without saying a word, you leaned in and kissed Coriolanus. His lips were soft and warm. It held him as you turned to face him, water sloshing out the sides of the tub. Your hands grabbed his face, giving you stability, as his hand found the underside of your ass.

The kiss deepened, and your bodies pressed closer together. He was hard again. His erection bobbing against your thigh.

You smirked. “Want to go another round?”

You were out of the bath and back on his bed, bouncing on his dick within minutes.

_____________

The ache between your legs woke you up, the sunlight streaming in from the massive windows of Coriolanus’ room. He was asleep beside you, one hand resting on his chest. He looked so serene, like this, so harmless. You couldn’t help but stare at him. He looked so different from the man you had first met.

You had seen him on the Academy’s campus throughout the years, always so composed and covered. His every action was calculated and shrewd. The question of how no one else could pick up on that besides you was never answered. He was self-imposed, only ever really caring about himself and his family.

Of course, you had witnessed everything with Lucy Gray, being in the lab when he sent the jabber-jay to your mother that condemned Sejanus to death. You had been there when your mother received him back in the Capitol and informed him he’d be studying under her. That was probably why he didn’t like you for the longest time. You were born lucky, a future laid out for you. Similarly to Sejanus, you had someone to get you out of trouble, too. You just didn’t push the envelope like Sejanus had.

The times had changed though, and now the two of you were friends. Friends with great sexual chemistry, it seemed. But you had seen behind the mask the darkness inside him, overshadowing something else. Compassion maybe? It was hard to say.

The question of how last night would impact things still hung in the air while he slept peacefully next to you. As much as you would have liked to keep watching him sleep, continuing your internal monologue on what made you anxious over the future, you were hungry.

So you slipped out of the bed, grabbed his button-up shirt from last night and ventured out of the room in search of the kitchen after washing your face, thankful he had a whole skincare routine for you to use. The smell of the coffee you made was a welcomed distraction and very much needed. The silence of the penthouse was off. Your own house is filled with background noise, be it your father hosting guests, or the radio he always keeps on playing.

You couldn’t deny the attraction you had to Coriolanus. Last night was better than you had imagined. But you also knew how dangerous it was moving forward. You risked getting lost in the passion of it all and thus losing sight of the reality of the situation. Whatever growing feelings you had for him, there was no way he returned them. Coriolanus didn’t feel things for people besides contempt.

How would the two of you go forward? Would sleeping together be a one off? A fluke? Or would it be something the two of you would do whenever you felt like it? You hoped it was the latter. You didn’t think you could get back to just getting off on thoughts of him. It was better to get off on him.

As you sipped on your coffee, the remnants of Copriolanus’ cologne on his shirt, you decided to roll with the tide. Only time could tell what was going to happen between you now.

__________

Coriolanus normally woke up with a start. A jump into an ice bath, a shock to his senses. A habit left over from the war. He never woke slowly and gently, his senses warming up rather than being turned on blast. It made him feel disoriented.

But he was doing just that, rubbing his eyes and looking for you. The side of the bed you had fallen asleep on cold to the touch.

A spark of paranoia lighting in him. Did you run away too? You weren’t allowed to do that. Even if you ran, your mother would hand you back to him with a smile.

“Y/N?” he called out, getting up and putting on his boxer briefs. His shirt was missing, as was your dress.

He padded across the wooden floors, warmed by underfloor heating, going into the bathroom first. His mind was racing, searching for an explanation for your absence rather than you having run from him. The beating of his heart picking up with every moment. Looking over every corner of the room and still not finding you.

So he went into the dressing room. Maybe you were looking for something to wear? But you weren’t there either.

A rage built in him. How dare you run away from him, escape from his grasp, to leave without a word? Did you think you could get away with it, humiliating him like this? Frustration gnawed at him, chewing on his bones like a sick mutt with a bone. You were so stupid. Surely you knew you’d see him later today. You had a press event for the upcoming games to attend. The both of you scheduled to be interviewed by Lucky Flickerman about your work and your relationship.

“Breathe Coriolanus.” he reminded himself, focusing on finding you. What he did when he did is yet to be determined. Maybe he’d embarrass you live on TV.

Leaving the dressing room, he moved into his sitting room. You weren’t there either. But he could smell something. Coffee, freshly made, still hanging in the air.

There you were, sat in the kitchen on the counter staring out of the window defenceless. You were just in his button up, hanging off your shoulder.

“You should have woken me.” you jumped, apparently too lost in your own head to hear him walk into the room. You smiled when you looked at him.

“You looked peaceful. Didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

It was interesting you hadn’t left. It showed him you wanted to be around him, to share space with him. Your feet swung lightly as you sat there, sipping your coffee. “Do you want a cup?”

“No, I’m fine,” he replied, rigid as he stood there, eyes fixated on you.

“Suit yourself.” You shrugged. His loss, really. The coffee was wonderful.

“I’ve been thinking about our press event later.”

“Oh yes! Tigris told me she had made something for the both of us to wear. Something about looking like a unified front.”

You were acting like everything was normal, like he hadn’t made you scream his night last night till your voice was nothing but a whisper. He was still reeling from it. Were you moving on from it entirely? Unphased by it all?

He hummed. “I’m sure whatever it is will be fine.” Tigris was good at what she did.

You began rambling about the press event, what you thought you should do. How you wanted to divvy up talking points. So business focused. He admired that part of you, your ability to compartmentalise and focus on the important things. But he wanted to talk about what had transpired between you, his hunger for you not satisfied.

You, sitting there in his shirt, in his kitchen, drinking his coffee. Hair messily pulled away from your face, bare of any makeup. You were cute like this. It makes you look younger. Less like the imposing figure you really were.

He could still feel your mouth against him as you moaned into it. He wanted to feel it again. To crash against you like the waves did.

“Corio, are you listening?” you snapped at him, trying to get his attention.

The question was like a hot coal in his mouth. “Did you enjoy last night?”

“I did.” you look shocked he asked, like you expected him to never mention it again, putting your coffee down out of the way. “It was good.”

“How good?”

“Good enough.” He didn’t like where this was going. “That I’d do it again. If you want to.” That was the answer he wanted to hear.

He moved towards you, settling in between your legs with his hands on the counter, trapping you between his arms. The air between you two cracking with electricity. “Good.”

“Good.”

It wasn’t clear which one of you made the first move, but you met in the middle, drawn together like magnets. Your arms wrapped around his neck, hands once again in his hair. If you didn’t make it clear enough last night that you liked his hair, it was transparent in the morning light.

He snuck his hands under your shirt, his shirt, and tugged you closer by the waist, deepening the kiss. His tongue danced against yours, both of you trying to find dominance in the kiss. But he didn’t play fair, and he picked up you, grinding his growing erection into your exposed pussy. The fabric of his boxers rubbing hard against your already sensitive clit. You moaned, losing the battle.

“Take me to your room.”

______________

Tigris looked surprised when the two of you showed up at her shop together. She expected you each to arrive alone and at different times, Coriolanus had never bothered accepting the joint invitation. Your face flushed, a slight sheen to it, and he was brooding like he normally was.

But she knew not to question her cousin, afraid of his reaction and temper. She was more surprised when she took you into a dressing room and found a wealth of hickies dotting your chest and neck.

“Well,” she spoke. “This complicates what I had in mind for you today.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that. “Trust me, I was just as shocked as you were.” It was 50/50 on how shocking it was. Coriolanus had always been possessive. These marks a manifestation of it, but it was shocking he felt possessive of you.”

“It’s fine. I made something else in case you didn’t want to wear a gown. You had said before that you were more of a pants person.” She went into the attached room to pull pieces for you to wear.

Tigris returned with a black two-piece pantsuit set. The blazer had a piece of red silk that was pinned over the right shoulder that flowed down the back, beyond the length of the blazer, and pinned to the left hip of the piece, crossing over the front. The end of it pulled through the pinning to make it hang parallel to the back part of it.

“Tigris is incredible!” your hands itched to put it on, knowing full well you’d have to wait for the hair and makeup team to get here first.

“Thank you,” she smiled, pleased with your reaction. “I thought you might like it. Corio’s getting something similar. I think you should wear a turtleneck today, though. Given the hickies.”

“Good idea.”

Curiosity got the best of Tigris. “Will Corio be needing one as well?”

“Yes.”

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Obviously she had known you’d slept with your share of Capitol’s men, but Coriolanus? Sleeping together as you implied by that statement meant things had become more serious that she thought. Weren’t the two of you only supposed to be acting as lovers, not being them? Though she corrected herself, Corio didn’t know how to love anymore. Whatever had happened in 12 had changed him, and that scared her. She could hardly recognise the boy she raised.

She is worried about you. Tigris knew you were strong and highly analytical. But Coriolanus was a dark man, willing to use even her to get what he wanted. His own flesh and blood. He was capable of great cruelty and she worried you’d get hurt in the end. She liked you too, considered you her friend.

Tigris needed to speak to Coriolanus. Hair and makeup would be there in a moment, the cares having just pulled in up front, so she could let them in and then go get her cousin ready.

“That’s hair and makeup,” you noticed a shift in her demeanour. “I’ll let them in and then go get Corio ready. See you soon.”

After she let the crew in and directed them to you, she went into the room assigned to Coriolanus. He was scrolling through a communicuff, no doubt plotting something.

“Corio,” she began, voice low and steady, “I need to talk to you.’

Coriolanus looked up from the communicuff, the haunting lack of emotion in his eyes scaring her. “What is it, Tigris?” His voice was cold and detached.

He used to be so kind, so sweet. She had seen so much good in him. But he got close to your mother, and he changed. He went to 13 still her Corio and came back as someone else. Someone cruel and manipulative, a user.

“I’m worried,” she was fearful of his reaction, but Tigris had to try, her voice trembling slightly. “Y/N isn’t someone you can mess with. She’s not a pawn in your games.I won’t let you hurt her.”

Hurt you? Sure, Coriolanus thought about hurting you, but it was becoming less and less. Plus, now he knew if he told you want to do, with an explanation of his reasoning and why, you’d agree. You both were the same, always playing a front and dissecting people. He didn’t know how Tigris didn’t see that about you. That you, though you avoided the violent extremes he’d taken, were sides of the same coin.

Dr. Gaul was right every time she called you the best actor the world will ever know.

“You think I could hurt Y/N?”

“You’ve hurt people.”

He’s annoyed now. “Y/N Gaul, daughter of my mentor who holds my entire future in her hands. Yes, let me just ruin any respect she has for me and hurt her daughter and throw my life away.” The last time someone had hurt you, they had their fingers melted down to the bone and were “relocated” to District 11.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you think me stupid?”

“No.” Tigris’ voice a whimper.

“Then you shouldn’t know that I would never hurt her. She’s useful. Dr. Gaul has been preparing her to be my right hand when I become head gamemaker. She’s just as bad as me, you know?”

There was no arguing with him, Tigris knew this.

“Do you love her?” So many questions from Tigris today.

Did he love you? No. Did he like you? Yes. Coriolanus was not a lover, the only thing he loved was power. But he liked you. You were just as ambitious as him, and you were smart. The near year the two of you had been working together proved that, and then the past 10 months in your “relationship” had only earned you more of his respect. You knew exactly how to meet his needs and make every interaction benefit him.

Now there was the added benefit of him being able to fuck you like he wanted. Just like you wanted to. “No, I don’t love her. I like her though. She’s a friend.”

“A friend?”

“A friend.”

“Friends don’t do the things the two of you do Corio.” he wouldn’t know. You were his first friend. “And besides, love doesn’t have to be a weakness, it can be a strength.”

Coriolanus laughed, a harsh sound in the room. “You’re a dreamer, Tigris,” he spoke. |An idealist unable to let go of naivety.”

She shoved his matching suit into his arms, the turtleneck on top. “I know someone has hurt you, Corio, no matter how much you deny whatever happened to you in 12, it’s clear to me.” Tigris was angry now. “But you can’t let that hurt poison your heart.”

He smiled, taking the clothes. “Thanks for the advice.” His sarcasm cutting.

______________________

“Ladies and Gentleman welcome back to the lead up to the 16th Hunger Games!” Lucretius Flickerman knew how to get the crowd going. The small arena filled with Capitol citizens all excited to be there and watch him interview Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Gaul. “We’re a month and half away from 24 tributes joining us here in the Capitol before they go off to the arena.”

The cheers rang through the hall.

“Tonight we celebrate our gamemakers and the wonderful work that they do. Led by Dr. Gaul, the games have only gotten better and better, and she credits her protégé, the one, the only, the young Coriolanus Snow!” That was Coriolanus’ queue to come out on the stage. “You all know him and we all love him!”

Action.

He threw his hand up, waving to the crowd and camera, smiling widely. Like he was the happiest he’s ever been to be out on the stage. He enjoyed the people screaming his name, his status above them. The frenzy of fans is a deafening crescendo.

With a flourish, he bowed deep and dramatically, then moved to take his seat.

They set the chairs up on a raised platform in the centre of the stage. A small table between them. Lucretius’ side had one chair, while his and yours had two. Behind them was a wall of screens, no doubt for pulling up clips and design schematics from the past games pods.

“Thank you Lucreatius,” his smile never slipping. “And thank you all for being here tonight, and to those of you watching from home. It is always such an honour to be here on this show, to share my work, and to bring you all the most thrilling Hunger Games.”

The crowd roared, the lights of flash photos being taken. He relished in their energy and their enthusiasm.

“I must also extend my deepest gratitude to Dr. Gaul,” a sombre note always played well. “Her guidance and expertise are invaluable in crafting these games we all love.”

Dr. Gaul was in the audience, her face prideful. She didn’t care about the praise, but that people stayed interested in the games.

“And what games they are! Every time I think they can’t get any better, they always do.” Lucretius gave time for the crowd’s cheers before speaking again. “Now your tutelage under Dr. Gaul has always gotten the attention of the Captiol. I mean, how could it not? But there’s another Gaul you’ve been spending a lot of time with.”

Lucretius’ words hung in the air, heavy with implications. The crowd watching with bated breath, curiosity piqued. Even though the two of you had been to many high society events together, there was a large percentage of the Capitol that wasn’t high society.

The screens behind the two switch to a collection of images of Coriolanus and you together. One outside the lab where he was escorting you out of your car. The second the two of you at another gala. He was smiling at you in this one as you were on his arm, smiling back up at him. The third was the two of you kissing on the steps of the president’s mansion. That one staged perfectly for the paparazzi. The last photo was you hidden away in the corner of a restaurant, his hand on your thigh while you kissed. This was the most provocative of them, with his hand being on your bare skin.

Coriolanus laughed. “Now, how’d you get all these?” They both knew that those photos were handpicked.

“A good host never reveals their sources, Mr. Snow.” Lucretius teased. “Now those looks, stolen glances, the way you touch each other, the not so public displays of affection, and not to mention the clandestine rendezvous…it’s clear there’s something special there isn’t there?” The crowd oohed.

He looked down at his shoes, trying to play bashful. “There is, yes.” he put a hand up to his face like he was trying to cover for him blushing. “She’s what keeps me going when the going gets tough. She’s my strength.”

You were more of a distraction to him than anything else, messing up his train of thought. No matter what he was doing, his thought came back to you. But every word he spoke carefully chosen, writing the story of a devoted lover, a man utterly in love with you. And the crow lapped it up, a golden couple growing as every second passed.

“Well Mr. Snow, how about we reunite you with your lady love?” Lucretius stood throwing an arm to the side stage, motioning for you. “Ladies and gentlemen let’s welcome Miss Y/N Gaul!”

Coriolanus hadn’t seen you since you had entered Tigris’ shop. It shocked him when you walked out wearing nearly the same thing as him. Your version was slightly more opulent, the silk much longer than his own. It was an impressive display of unity and purpose. Your every step measured and graceful, your shoulders back with confidence. Your hair was interesting today, half up and half down. The back half was pin straight and shiny while they divided the top half down the middle and put into two braids that were there circled up and laid flat against your head. Your make up was the usual cat eye eyeliner and red lipstick the same shade as the silk on your blazer.

You had done the same as him when entering, raising a hand and waving. But instead of making your way to the seats you inched towards the front of the stage, bending down and touching the hands of the kids lining the front, blowing kisses at them before making your way to the stage and hugging Flickerman before sitting down next to Coriolanus and holding his hand as you sat.

You were far better than him at working a crowd. It went against his persona to be so personal and sociable.

“Thank you for joining us here tonight, Miss Gaul.”

“Oh please Lucretius, just call me Y/N.”

“Well, who am I to deny the woman!” He laughed, leaning forward, arms wide, before crossing his legs, an ankle on his knee. “Now, Y/N, as you just saw, we’re talking about your relationship with Mr. Snow here. Tell me, when did the two of you first notice sparks?”

You hummed. “How cheesy am I allowed to be?” The crowd laughed.

“As cheesy as you can. I think I speak for everyone when I say that I want to know every juicy detail.”

“Well,” you started squeezing Coriolanus’ hand. “We have sort of always known each other, having gone to the Academy, but it wasn’t really until the lead up of the last games that we ever spoke.”

A hush fell over the crowd as you paused, letting the moment linger, your eyes sparkling. “They paired us to work on something, I don’t even remember what, but there was a night where everyone else had left the lab and it was just the two of us. My family car was tied up and so he offered to walk me home.”

The crowd gasped, imaginations running wild. Your smile widened. Seizing the moment, Coriolanus pulled your hand up to him, giving it a kiss before setting it down. “It was a beautiful night,” your tone dreamy. “The stars were out in full force and when we got to my family estate, we sat on the steps and talked for hours, just really getting to know each other.”

The two of you locked eyes, smiling. You were always so pretty when you lied about this, posing cutely, biting your lip like you were shy. “And that’s when I realised it.” Your voice was soft, like it was a confession only for Coriolanus to hear. “Realised that there was something special between us.”

The crowd erupted in thunderous applause, cheers echoing in the space. Your mother looked pleased with the performance so far. Everyone loved a good love story, and this was the perfect front of one.

“Your turn Mr. Snow.”

“I must confess, Mr. Flickerman. Ever since I laid eyes on her, it was like she was a magnet. She was also so calm and composed at the lab. Her beauty intimidated me and her mind. She’s always so eager to learn and explore new ideas.”

Everyone in the room was eating this up.

“But it was her compassion,” Corilanus continued, softening up his delivery. “That’s what truly won me over. She has a heart of gold, always going the extra mile for the people of Panem. And it was when I saw her at the university library reading to a group of children impacted by those vile rebel attacks that I fell for her.”

A murmur of agreement swept over the crowd. They knew you for being daring, independent, and breaking out of the mould of a traditional Captiol woman. There wasn’t anyone who could truly tell you what to do, except your mother, but she was hardly involved.

But they also knew you for how kind you were to the citizens of Panem. You never had a bad word to say about anyone. At least in public. Coriolanus had now become your go to for complaining about the people that were around.

“She’s not only a brilliant game maker,” he declared, full of pride. “She’s an exceptional human being. I am honoured to call her the love of my life.”

The volume of the crowd had to be peaking the mics of the television stream as Coriolanus stood up, grabbing you and spinning you around before placing you down with a kiss. You had practised the move a few times, ensuring that it’d be perfect for display and it was.

Your story is a tale of two brilliant minds drawn together by shared passion. But when the cameras were off, what the two of you were was messy. It felt easier to say his admiration of you like this than when you were alone. The display and act gives him an excuse to praise you.

“So, what does the future hold for you two, Mr. Snow and Miss Gaul?” Lucretius inquired mischievously. “Will we witness a grand proposal, a lavish wedding, a brood of adorable children? The possibilities are endless!”

Coriolanus had never really thought about a future with you, beyond one where he possessed you. He had never thought of one that still was this loving act you two had in public. But he could see that clearly in his mind. You, standing by his side, while taking his inauguration photos. on the steps of the presidential mansion. The third year of his term you’d have a baby, and his state of the union address would revolve on making Panem a better place for children. The baby, a boy obviously, would have your curls but his blonde hair. He’d prefer if your son had your eyes. They were better than his own.

Your little family would be the pride of Panem, and every child you had after a testament to how strong the Capitol was. There’d be a minimum of three. Two boys and a girl. He’d go as far as four, but three was the ideal number.

He spoke before he could stop himself. “That’s the plan.”

Lucretius’ grin widened. “Well, well, well,” anticipation dripped from his voice, “it seems we’ve just gotten the biggest scoop of the season.”

Coriolanus Snow just made a mistake. He wasn’t meant to answer like that. He was supposed to play it off, say that you were too young to be thinking about that. That the two of you were inseparable, and it’d be something you talked about when you got there. This admission of his own personal feelings.

That he’d be perfectly content with the act never ending and forever having you be a part of his life. To make you his co-conspirator.

“Oh Corio…” god you were good. You drew your hands to your face, tears dotting your lash line. The perfect image of a woman hearing that her partner wants to marry her. You knew he was so off script here, so you had to assist him.

The crowd swooned, hearts captivated by the tender exchange. It was a confirmation of your unwavering love in front of them all.

Coriolanus was caught off by his own fumble and then your reaction. If he could pretend that for just a moment you actually felt that way, his stomach wouldn’t be turning.

“I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that,” his confession is truthful on all fronts. “But it’s true. I can’t imagine a life without you, Y/N.”

“I can’t picture it either.”

How far should he take this? Dr. Gaul had an eyebrow raised, giving him no hint of what to do. You were just responding to whatever he did right now. Should he propose, here and now, on the stage in front of a crow of thousands, on broadcast for millions? It made for great press, made him look so human. A man so full of love he can’t stop himself from ruining a surprise.

He could, in fact, he should. An engagement made his claim on you that much more real. Maybe he could even convince Dr. Gaul to tell you to marry him. Then he’d have you. Now and always.

Coriolanus dropped to a knee in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“Y/N,” the payoff if this went well was going to be so worth you being upset with him after.

“You are the light of my life, guiding me home when the night is darkest. You inspire me to be a better game maker, and a better man. These past months have been the best of my life. You’ve shown me what love can truly be.”

You sniffled, and he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe your tears.

“I meant to take my time with this. I don’t even have the ring on me, but I have one. You make me rush into things.” Now that was true. He’d become incredibly rash about you.

“So, Y/N Gaul, will you do me the incredible honour of being my wife?”

“Yes,” your smile blinded him. He really wanted this to be your honest reaction to him proposing. That you wanted to be owned by him, and he was owned by you. “Oh, my god, yes!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, our two capitol sweethearts, the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Snow!”

This was not how things were meant to go.

“Now let’s get Dr. Gaul up here to tell you all about the pods from the last game.”

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