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francixoxoxo · 2 months

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⋆.° Swaddled in Silk ୨ৎ

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐓𝐖: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜., 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞!), 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

Little note: reader doesn’t get the abortion not because of pro-life beliefs, but because of personal wishes, this is NOT an anti-abortion sentiment!! Very much pro choice over here!!!!

Mornings tended to be peaceful with Coriolanus.

Your eyes would flutter open, the pale skin of your husband’s bare neck and chest cast in golden morning sunshine the first thing you see. You’d shift, groaning softly at the morning aches and nosing the crook of his neck, grateful he’s a light sleeper when his strong arms wrap tighter around you.

Technically, Coryo had his own room in the Presidential mansion. But he’d admitted to you in soft words late into the night, long ago, that he couldn’t sleep without you.

So you’d wake up in his arms, him holding you close as if somebody would take you from him. You found it endearing, just how possessive Coriolanus was over you. It wasn’t just in the way he held you; it was in the way he made sure you looked and felt your best at every event, so that he hold a hand on your waist and boast his wife’s beauty. It was in the way he spoiled you in just about every aspect, dipping you in diamonds and rubies, keeping your appearance manicured with days at the spa, keeping your every need satisfied, physical or emotional. Doting on you the best he could while running the damn country, loving you like a good husband should.

Except that his love was a bit inconvenient at the moment, as you tried to move from his arms and his grip only tightened. You felt a recognizable bile rising up, a sick feeling taking over your gut. Coriolanus grumbled, his brows drawing and eyes impossibly more blue in the morning as they opened a crack. “Darling..? Where…”

You peeled his arms away from you, and this time Coryo let you go. His expression was twisted in confusion as you jumped to your feet, hand clasped over your mouth as you beelined for the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Oh. He stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and making his way to the bathroom to soothe you. He picked up the pace as he heard you retching.

Coriolanus knelt beside you, gathering up your smooth tresses and holding the hair back from your face in a ponytail. His other hand rubbed your back with a strong palm. “There you go, there you go. Get it out.”

God, you wouldn’t be surprised if you threw up an intestine. It felt like eternity before you got everything out of your system. “Sorry.” You croaked, wincing and sitting back on your calves.

“Why are you sorry? You can’t control it.” Coryo cooed, the hand holding your hair moving to the side of your head and pressing a kiss to your crown. His forehead creased after a moment though, he leaned away to grab you a towel. He watched you wipe your mouth before speaking hesitantly. “My love?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, swallowing hard and grimacing at the sour taste on your tongue.

“Do you think you ate something bad?” Coryo murmured, his voice suddenly dropping to a whisper. You met his eyes. You knew what he was really asking.

You pressed your lips thoughtfully. “I don��t know.” It seemed unlikely, you weren’t one to get sick at a whim. And you’d eaten rather healthy yesterday.

You two had been.. trying. To say the least. Coriolanus was very eager for a family, as were you. Baby fever actually had a strong hold on you. But you hadn’t realized how difficult it would be. Coryo and you went to the best doctor he could get his hands on, and his meticulous nature led to keeping track of your schedule, the windows where you’d be most fertile. You never grew tired of intimacy with him, but every negative test was daunting. Every vitamin and supplement was growing tiring to keep tabs on.

For months this went on. You couldn’t help feeling that you were failing Coriolanus. He wanted a baby so terribly, and your body just wouldn’t seem to work with you. Whispers were beginning to spread around high society women, questioning why a marriage of four years had yet to produce babies. You were questioning it yourself.

“My love, it’s okay.” Coryo had cooed, folding you into his arms the first night you’d cried to him about the cruel gossip about your marriage and your “failings” as a wife. He shook his head passionately, showering you with kisses. “I love you. A baby will come in time.”

You’d sniffled, burying your face and hiding your eyes into his chest. “But why won’t it come now? We’ve been doing everything right, Coryo, at this point it has to be me.”

Coryo sighed, his arms squeezing you tighter. You were perfect in his eyes, whether or not your body was sustaining a baby didn’t matter to him. He loved you regardless, and he told you so. “Just trust me. You’ll get pregnant when time is right for us. I love you, we have plenty of time.” Coriolanus took your chin in his fingers, tilting up your chin to press his lips to your forehead tenderly.

It seemed that the time was finally right for you. A broad smile spread over Coriolanus’ lips, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. You laughed a bit breathlessly.

“I’ll call the doctor.” Coryo cooed, pressing his lips between your brows. He hummed against your forehead, murmuring after a moment, “I love you. You know that?”

“I know.” You breathed, finding his bare arm and squeezing it affectionately as he pulled away. “I love you.”

The moments the words “You’re pregnant, Mrs. Snow,” slipped from the doctors lips, Coriolanus was changing gears.

He was coaxing you into coming with him to buy baby clothes the very next day. The day after that, you discovered that one of the rooms neighboring your bedroom was being renovated into a nursery. Coryo was delighted when a package he sent his secretary for came in, he’d hurried to find you wherever you’d been and showed you a box full of brand new baby toys. Plush bears, rattles, another large box holding a rocking chair; you wondered how your baby would even get around to using it all.

“You’re spoiling it before it’s even born!” You teased one day as he happily presented a soft muslin baby blanket.

“Damn right.” Coryo had smiled broadly, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone, correcting you, “I’m spoiling her.”

“Girls?” You cocked a brow, slipping a hand into his gelled-locks and probably messing up his styling. He didn’t care. “I’m confident it’s a girl, my love. And I live to spoil my girls.”

His attention didn’t only apply to the baby. You were his top priority these days; he took more time away from his work to dote on your every whim. Coryo was holding your hair back every morning you fell ill. He constantly was taking you shopping, making sure that your maternity clothes weren’t frumpy or ugly, but made you feel beautiful. He had the cooking staff preparing every craving you had.

But sooner than later, pregnancy proved itself to be difficult.

No matter what Coryo did, no matter what doctors he called in or what home remedies he found, you just wouldn’t get healthy. You were wasting away before his eyes. Your ribs jutted out from your sides, your face becoming gaunt and hollow. You simply couldn’t stomach food.

Coriolanus had never been more terrified than when a simple common flu had bedridden you for days. Your immune system was so weakened by your pregnancy, and nothing seemed to help. You looked deathly pale, just the sight of you was enough to bring Coryo to tears. Though he never let you see his distress.

But dear God, he couldn’t lose you. You were scaring him, with that resigned glint in your eyes. As if you knew, and were comfortable with dying. Coriolanus was the furthest thing from comfortable.

At night, he’d run his hands along your ribs, his nose brushing yours as he watched your eyes. They’d be peacefully shut, your breathing calm from his soothing touch. Coriolanus’ hand would always end up on your belly, his thumb rubbing along the gentle curve of it under your night slip. You were featherlight nowadays, when you should’ve been full and glowing.

When your dizzy spells became too powerful to handle without laying down, Coryo called in the doctor again. He wanted a baby with you, he didn’t want this. If he knew that this would’ve been so taxing on your body, he never would’ve done this to you.

That’s how he comforted himself as the doctor left the room, leaving you to sit on the chaise at the foot of your bed and Coryo to pace about, his fingers on his lips and his eyes buggy. You’d just been warned.

This baby was life or death. If you gave birth, you might not survive. It was simply a genetic condition in your family. Nothing to be done. Except..

“We’re getting rid of it.” Coriolanus announced firmly, shaking his head. You lifted your face.

You gawked at your husband. “No!” You huffed, eyes darting around to avoid another bout of tears. Your hands were wrung in your lap, squeezing tight to the point of your knuckles paling. “Don’t even suggest it.”

“I’m not suggesting it, I’m telling you. My love, we are not keeping this baby.” Coriolanus stepped closer, standing in front of you. He outstretched his hand to tilt your chin with a finger, his eyes glimmering with something adamant.

You shook your head, grabbing Coryo’s wrist and squeezing. Your brows pinched up at him. “You aren’t serious. You can’t— you can’t force me. It’s my body.”

Your husbands expression melted like ice in a heatwave, his eyes softening. He snuck his hand around to hold yours in a tight grip. “I won’t force you. I..” Coriolanus sighed in exasperation, moving to sit beside you. His tone was earnest and as kind as he could muster. “But I can’t let you do this.”

“It’s our baby, Coryo.” You pleaded, the hand not holding his coming to rest on your belly defensively. How could he contradict himself so greatly, telling you it was your choice while making it sound like his word was final, as always?

“It will kill you.” Coriolanus hissed, suddenly to his wits end with you. His brow creased, his lips pulling over his teeth in a sneer. He shook his head adamantly. “My love, I won’t lose you for—for it.”

You couldn’t help the lump rising in your throat, making breathing suddenly quite a task. “For her.” You corrected him this time.

Coriolanus sighed, letting go of your hand and pushing himself to his feet. He had to loosen his tie, the red article suddenly suffocating. You helplessly watched him pace, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “It would be okay. I’ve already lived, I think she should get a chance.”

The absurdity of your words brought a humorless snort from Coryo’s nose. He shook his head but seemed so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t reply, so you went on. “And you’d have a piece of me, anyway! Coryo, you’d love her so much it’d outweigh whatever grief you’d have, you’d be so happy I went through with it, because you’d get a baby out of—“

Coriolanus was staring at you with wide and buggy eyes, as if you’d suggested he eat you alive. “How dare you say that?” Your husband snapped, stepping towards you with purpose. “How could you think I’d be able to tolerate, let alone love this baby if it killed you?” His nostrils flared in frustration and in his shining sapphire eyes, a wild kind of hurt.

At the sight of the tears welling in Coryo’s eyes, you couldn’t resist reaching for his hands with both of yours. He let you take them, he rubbed his thumbs over the backs of your hands— the ridges of your increasingly apparent bones under his fingers only adding to the wetness in his eyes. “Please.” Coriolanus murmured after a moment, his brows drawing together and creasing his forehead. “Please, my love. We can get a doctor who’ll abort it, no matter what trimester. Please.”

God, he made it sound so easy. Like it was just a procedure. It wasn’t, not to you. You desperately wanted this baby, you couldn’t just wake up to a morning without its life within you.

Perhaps he could see the indecision in your eyes. He squeezed your hands. “Please. I can’t lose you.”

You couldn’t look Coriolanus in the eyes as you shook your head. “I’m keeping it.”

You kept your gaze fixed on his dress shoes, the leather freshly polished and shiny. You didn’t look up to see the way he wiped his eyes with his knuckles, his nostrils flaring and throat bobbing. You only knew that his hands slipped from yours, his footsteps were departing from you, the door falling shut behind him.

Your due date was nearing. Coriolanus took more time to be with you, masterfully hiding the sadness behind his eyes as you mentioned anything baby-related. You thought he’d distance himself.

Completely the opposite. Though every conversation about the baby brought on a nasty argument, Coryo wasn’t too big a fool to know that you needed him right now. Regardless of his constant reminders that you two could simply adopt, you could go the surrogacy route, anything to keep you alive, you denied him. You were determined to give him a baby of his own from your body.

But no matter how many fights he’d resolve by folding you into his arms, cooing an apology and petting your hair, he knew he would never love the baby that’ll take you away from him.

Coriolanus couldn’t bear watching you waste away like this. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted his wife to be glowing, to be happy and full with his baby— he didn’t want to choose between his child and you. He would choose you, if you let him.

Still. You tried to maintain normalcy.

Maybe it was nature, a maternal instinct implanted deep within you, but you were willing to die for this baby. You couldn’t describe it to Coriolanus if you tried. You felt a strange calm, in the weeks leading up to the baby’s birth. Knowing that one might die, being aware of one’s expiration date, well, it was eye-opening. You took to writing down your thoughts, writing down messages to your daughter. You were still quite certain she was a she, though you were keeping the sex a surprise. Oh, you had so much to tell her!

When you told Coryo about the journal, he’d smiled gently and nodded, humming that it was a darling idea. But he left the room a minute later, coming back with eyes rubbed pink.

You were aware of how much of a toll it was taking on Coryo. But you knew it was best. You knew he deserved a baby. You deserved the pride of giving that life to him, to the world.

One day, you’d been helping your maid with folding your clothes and the towels for your bathroom. You’d insisted you help, especially because you loved to chat with her.

You were laughing with her, listening to a story she was telling. You were listening, until you felt an indescribable pain in your lower half. You’d winced, clutching the towel you’d been folding, looking down at yourself and holding your belly with your other hand.

“Mrs. Snow?” Your maid’s voice was full of concern. “Is it—“

“I don’t know.” You gasped, the pain washing over you like a wave, and leaving just as fast as it had come. “Do you think..”

“I’ll call the doctor.” She rose to her feet hesitantly, eyes wide as if you were a time bomb in her hands. You could almost laugh at her expression.

You nodded. “Don’t rush, it might not be—“ you proved yourself wrong as an immense pain knocked the words from your mouth. You fold over, groaning, and sending your maid bolting for the phone.

You’d certainly underestimated childbirth.

It was absolutely the most painful experience of your life. If you hadn’t been afraid of death up until now, you definitely were now. It was a terrifying pain, a terrifying feeling knowing that while most women were strong enough to withstand such a natural pain, you might not be.

An ambulance came to bring you from the presidential mansion to the hospital. The entire ride, screams and tears filled the tiny vehicle. You’d begged for someone to call Coriolanus, the prospect of doing this without him was daunting and downright petrifying.

When you got to the hospital room, Coryo was there, dress-shirt disheveled and hair ungelled. He’d been working at the office today. You thanked every god out there for him, as he squeezed your hand and smoothed back your hair, doing his very best to hide his fear. Your screams wrung his heart, he made sure to wipe your tears and kiss your sweaty brow.

“You’re doing great, my love.” Coriolanus cooed, letting you squeeze his hand until he was numb. You’d whimpered, the pain subsiding and crashing over you again like an ocean wave.

You’d wailed to kingdom come. “I don’t want to die, Coryo!” You’d groaned. He was grateful you weren’t paying much attention to his face, your eyes on the ceiling, otherwise you would’ve seen the way your pleading broke him.

Coryo squeezed your hand, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “You won’t. You’ll be fine, darling, you’re doing everything right.” He’d promised, voice as assured as he could manage.

Another thing you underestimated was how stupid long the whole ordeal was.

Atleast another hour ticking by meant another hour you were alive. But it also meant another hour of searing pain, the feeling of your body betraying you and ripping itself open, tears wetting your cheeks and wails parting your lips.

Suddenly, it was like all that intense cramping and sharp pains were alleviated in a moment. As if some divine being had graciously lifted you off a bed of nails. Woozily, you lifted your head to see the baby in the nurse’s hands, another nurse cutting the ambilical cord. God, did it look rough, but it was yours. It was beautiful. You immediately reached for your baby, eyes bleary and voice hoarse, “I want to hold it.”

As if anybody would deny the First Lady. Oh, you could bawl as they lowered the baby onto your chest, who was actually bawling and crying. You laughed a bit breathlessly, eyes lifting to Coriolanus. His eyes were wide, bluer than you’d ever seen them, perhaps from the shine to them. But he’d never let his tears escape his eyes, blinking them away to lay a hand on his baby’s head, smiling stupidly.

“I made this.” You breathed, staring down at the little thing. The baby, that you glanced down to find was a girl. Your daughter.

Coriolanus nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. You could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re so strong, my love. So strong.”

“And I’m alive.” You laughed, so focused on your daughter than you didn’t notice Coryo’s sidelong glance to the sheer amount of blood between your legs. He caught the eye of a nurse, who’d given him a curt nod.

Coriolanus let out the breath he’d been holding for the past two months. “I’m infinitely grateful.” He spoke softly, reverently. He was afraid that if he said any more, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Isn’t she pretty?” You sighed, looking up to meet your husband’s eye. Coryo just shook his head, smiling to the point that his eyes crinkled— speaking of which, they were welling up again.

“Beautiful.” He cooed. “What’re we calling her?” Coriolanus said that last bit in a breathy chuckle, squeezing your arm gently as a nurse moved to take the baby to be cleaned. You two had spoken about names before, but never decided on something definite.

You stared after your daughter, your tears drying on your cheeks and the pain twixt your legs fading into the background. Your heart was beating, your chest rising and falling. You were alive. Oh, you went from resigning to never feel the swell of your lungs with air to filling them as much as possible.

“Ruby, I think.” You breathed. A name that Coryo had suggested, long ago, perhaps in the first months of your pregnancy. A broad smile tiptoed across his lips as he smoothed down your hair.

Coryo nosed your cheekbone, not minding the sweat lingering on your skin from the whole ordeal, mumbling against you, “A gem.”

“A gem.” You agreed, turning your cheek to press your lips to his. Oh, how you loved him. Your husband. Your lover. The father of your baby. You know he’ll be the best father— doting, loving, protective..

If the way he clutched onto your arm as you kissed, his eyes and grip betraying his anxiety was any indication of how much he cared for you, how terrified he was to lose you? Then you’d married the right man.

If the way he dutifully fluffed your pillows and got his hands on a sleeping mask was a gesture of his love? You were set for life.

If the way his sapphire eyes shone with admiration, with affection and devotion for your little daughter, swaddled in silk in her crib was a testament to the father Coriolanus would be?

Then Ruby was a lucky little girl. You were certainly a lucky woman.

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perlelune · 10 months

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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | Masterlist

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

𝔦.

𝔦𝔦.

𝔦𝔦𝔦.

𝔦𝔳.

𝔳.

𝔳𝔦.

𝔳𝔦𝔦.

𝔳𝔦𝔦𝔦.

𝔦𝔵.

𝔵.

𝔵𝔦.

𝔵𝔦𝔦.

Drabble #1

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosbas fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #dark!fic #series masterlist #tbosas #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #divider credit: @saradika

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ichorai · 10 months

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paranoid android ; series masterlist.

track two of OK COMPUTER.

pairing ; coriolanus snow x reader (gender-neutral)

series synopsis ; when you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his.

wc ; 27k and counting!

themes ; angst, fluff, action, smut, lovers to kind-of-enemies

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence, death, nepotism, smut, coriolanus' descent into evil </3

chapter one: wool. snow’s remaining spindly hand cradled your face and he stepped closer, intuitive eyes roaming over your face, wondering just how much of you was real. how much of you was lying, just as he was?

chapter two: button. what did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. misshaped. odd. not matching the rest of your buttons. his gift to you. “you’re wearing it,” coriolanus whispered. his voice sounded strained.

chapter three: weave. there was a rose in his hand, you realized. white, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. but it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for lucy gray. you would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. you’d also brought something for your tribute.

chapter four: thread. “they’re all just copying us, you know,” he said, sounding almost bitter. “of course they are,” you replied, taking a drawn-out sip from your cup. “we showed them there’s no sharks in the water. obviously they’re going to jump in.”

chapter five: stitch. and he clearly wasn’t thinking straight, because his feet didn’t bring him back to his own filthy, dirty, rat-infested home. he brought himself to your winged estate, gardened and manicured and polished to perfection.

chapter six: skirt. coming soon!

chapter seven: tie. coming soon!

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow series #series masterlist

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darlingsnow0 · 2 months

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mockingjay but instead of finnick just going out and spilling snows secrets the victors do the candy salad trauma dump

“My names finnick, and President snow started prostituting me at fourteen and threatened my whole family, he also poisoned people to become President, oh and I brought gummy sharks”

“my names Haymitch and when I won my games President snow killed my whole family because I accidentally killed the other tribute with a force field when fainting, I brought whiskey”

#tbosas #mel mutters #im so funny guys #the hunger games #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #katniss everdeen #catching fire #haymitch abernathy #thg finnick #finnick odair #thg series #thg katniss

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vasilissadragomir · 10 months

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people often use snow’s experiences with lucy gray as an explanation for how he engages with katniss, but i think that the true story of his downfall lies not in how lucy gray and katniss are similar, but rather in how they are different.

snow knew that it was never him that made the games what they are. it was lucy gray, with her scrappy, passionate artistry, that put on the show that kept people watching. more importantly, it was lucy gray that put on the show that kept HIM watching. all he ever did was give her the stage.

ergo, snow recognizes that the person with the power to usurp him is his natural counterpart, someone like lucy gray, who possessed both the charisma and humanity that he sorely lacks. however, in his mind, those traits are not real; they’re performed in order to obtain power. how could he know better, when he’s never experienced them himself, and the only person he ever truly believed possessed them betrayed him?

so snow keeps his eye out for performers, people with gravitas who could capture the heart of the nation, and squashes their spark as soon as he can. people like haymitch. people like finnick.

and that’s where snow goes wrong. he doesn’t see katniss’ similarities to lucy gray from the start, because while they both demonstrate astonishing, intriguing bravery at their reapings, their actions and motivations are completely different. lucy gray is motivated to perform by anger for herself, and katniss is motivated to sacrifice herself by fear for her sister.

but then katniss starts to put on a show for the audience, kissing peeta and being willing to die with the berries at the end of the 74th games. snow starts to see an entirely different side of katniss that resembles lucy gray to a concerning degree. he sees how, with peeta at her side, she could beguile the nation the same way lucy gray had. and, even worse, she was using the poor, helpless boy who had the misfortune of falling in love with her to survive. the moment katniss started performing, he finally sees lucy gray within her. but it’s already too late.

by catching fire, katniss is the spark fanning the flames of the resistance, but snow fails to understand why. as far as he’s concerned, katniss’ star power comes from her connection to peeta. he tries to weaponize their “love” for his own gain, but it doesn’t work, not because people don’t believe that she loves peeta, but because, for the first time, a victor offers their winnings to the family of a fallen tribute.

snow is caught in a catch 22 of seneca crane’s making—if he kills katniss, she becomes a martyr. but if he lets her live, she’ll be a revolutionary icon. either way, she’s the spark. so he has no choice but to allow the spark to flicker, just for a little while. enter the 75th games. snow knows he needs katniss to die a tragic death in the games. more specifically, he needs it to be a brutal death at the hands of a tribute, not the gamemakers, because he understands that as long as the districts see the capitol as the one who ended the life of katniss everdeen, she’ll still be a martyr.

but snow still doesn’t get it. in the quarter quell, the prey does not become predator. katniss’ allies protect her, ensuring she survives until district 13 rescues her. why would they protect this girl, assuming such a steep personal risk? why would they put everything on the line for a revolution they personally stand to benefit little from? he doesn’t know. but he does know that lucy gray katniss is at the center of it all, so he tries to eliminate what makes her look best: peeta.

and that is snow’s fatal mistake. what he, coin, and everyone but haymitch fail to understand is that it was never peeta that made katniss look good—it was katniss, who befriended and put faith in rue. katniss, who recruited mags, wiress, and beetee as allies. she is the source of revolutionary inspiration. it isn’t her charisma or even her compassion, and it certainly isn’t how well she performed those virtues.

katniss becomes the mockingjay because of her solidarity.

lucy gray was charismatic, like peeta, and compassionate, like both peeta and katniss, but she did not demonstrate solidarity. she was never truly “district” in the way katniss is. she showed kindness to jessup, not because he was from 12, but because he showed kindness to her. lucy gray left behind everything and everyone she loved when she left coriolanus, because she was first and foremost a survivor.

katniss was a survivor her whole life, but she survives exclusively to ensure the people she loves are protected. she always does what she can for people more vulnerable than herself. lucy gray couldn’t have sparked a revolution on her own because she lacked the solidarity that makes a hope for a better future authentic to others. katniss is the human manifestation of solidarity, and to a people divided by a common enemy, that’s the most inspiring thing a person can be.

only in the end, when katniss shoots coin, does snow realize none of it was a performance. choking on the blood of his countless adversaries, snow’s final moments are consumed by what he got wrong. what made lucy gray and katniss different ends his reign, but ironically, the final nail in his coffin is an act that both lucy gray and katniss share in their last moments with snow. they both prove, unequivocally, that he is not the center of their worlds like they are his. lucy gray put her own survival before her love for him, and katniss puts the future of her nation before her hate for him. in the end, he simply doesn’t matter. and that’s greater justice than could have ever been achieved if katniss had fired her arrow into his heart.

the greatest enemy to coriolanus snow could only be the person who reignited the embers of a dying revolutionary fire, who demonstrated to a broken people that while one spark alone might not be enough, thousands of sparks uniting in solidarity is an unbeatable force.

and really, he should have known better. after all, even when snow lands on top, fire melts snow.

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #snow #katniss #katniss everdeen #peeta #peeta mellark #coriolanus #thg #thg series #the hunger games #the hunger games trilogy #catching fire #mockingjay #everlark

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ficmenrhot · 9 months

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Possession and Jealousy /drabble/

TW: slightly suggestive content, hickeys, possessive and jealous behaviours

A/N: OMG thanks everyone for the love on my last posts, maybe getting back into writing was the right thing to do :)

This is not smut BUT let’s talk about how possessive and jealous of a man Finnick Odair can be. Finnick Odair who can’t stand it when your attention is on another man for too long, even if that’s just you listening attentively to them talk. Finnick Odair whose eyes searches for you from the other side of the room to make sure you’re well and happy. Finnick Odair who feels a lump in his throat when he sees another man’s body pressed too closely to yours, even if it’s a close friend of yours or a tribute you’re training. Finnick Odair who grasps on his champagne glass so tightly it nearly shatters in his hands when he sees a hungry Capitol citizen staring you down and making you feel uncomfortable at a party. Finnick Odair who glares at oblivious men to tell them you’re taken and holds your waist to show possession. Finnick Odair who kisses you, well knowing that others are watching. Finnick Odair who loves to leave hickeys and love marks on your neck and collarbone.

“Finnick! Look at what you did to my neck,” you’d whine when you see his attack on your skin in the morning, “fuck- my stylist is going to kill me! You’re not a goddamn vampire.”

You’d throw a pillow at Finnick’s smug and smirking face, him laying on your shared bed, happily being scowled at by you.

“Well I think they make you even hotter, honey,” Finnick would wink at you.

At least now the other men in your life would know that you’re taken and that’s all that matters to him.

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick smut #finnick x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick x y/n #coriolanus snow smut #finnick odair drabble #thg smut #thg finnick #thg series #sam claflin x reader #sam claflin #the hunger games

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pasukiyo · 10 months

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BLOOD ON HIS CANVAS

coriolanus snow x f!reader word count; 2,085 warnings; coriolanus snow, manipulation, smut, little to no plot, just porn summary; she was a dove, forever meant to be trapped in his little cage. she knows this. and her body is his canvas, his to taint, to paint. and coriolanus snow will do whatever it takes to ensure he has full control.

She doesn’t know.

And she’ll never know.

She’ll never know the things he’d done, the things he’d done to get to where he is now, the things he will do and what he was already planning to do again. She’ll never know he was a killer, that he’d kill anyone that stood between him and power.

She’ll never know that he’d kill her too, should she stand in his way.

Just like she’ll never know his love was never hers.

But she will know she belongs to him. And she will love him, blindly, and she’ll know that she won’t leave him, just like everyone else had. She’ll never know that everyone in Coriolanus Snow’s life has left him, and good, let it be that way.

There were some things better left in the darkness— and Coriolanus Snow was shrouded in it. It was better this way— he became President of Panem this way. He had all the power, money, and control in the world because of it, so who was he to change what was already perfect?

All she will know is the same white walls, the same white marble floors, the same white curtains, the same perfectly cut green grass. She was a dove, too pretty to be let free of her cage. She may have been a bird, yes, but he’d cut her wings long ago, stripping her of her freedom.

And Coriolanus Snow would teach her to love it.

And he did by slowly cutting her off from the rest of the world, insisting Panem was much too dangerous for a pretty, little, untainted bird such as her. The Districts were full of animals, filthy beasts who would only do her harm, even his Capitol full of predators, men who couldn’t be trusted. He insisted he was the only one who could protect her, the only one who could keep her from harm.

And she believed him.

It was perfect how easy it was to trap her. It made him wonder how much more he could get away with.

Even now, as she slowly strode towards him in nothing but a white slip nightgown, the straps falling down like teardrops off her shoulders, he wondered how much more he could take from her.

After all, nothing was ever enough for Coriolanus Snow.

He stared as she approached, the perfectly untainted gown now pooled at her feet, her bare skin and every curve of her body now gazing back at him like a carefully crafted gift— just for him. Coriolanus made no moves to touch her, not yet, at least.

She was to understand that she was under his control, and not to let it be twisted the other way around. She was there to do whatever he pleased, to make him feel good.

She was his dove, his pretty, little play-thing.

Whether she should like it or not, he knew she loved it.

Coriolanus let his gaze trail down her face to her neck, perfect and untainted, just as everything should be. He ventured down lower to her breasts and the valley between them where a faint mark on the side of her left tit stared at him and he leaned forward, a furrow in his brow as he reached over to touch her there. He could feel her shudder as his fingertips fell like a ghost over her skin, her flesh growing warm in his touch’s wake.

“What is this?” He asked her, unblinking and his eyes never leaving the faint mark tainting her skin. She gulped as she opened her mouth to answer, “from last night, darling. You… you left a mark on me, remember?”

The memories from last night flashed in the back of Coriolanus’ mind, the taste of her skin on his tongue making his taste buds sing in delight, the high his arousal gave him making him see white. He remembered the way her flesh felt between his lips as he sucked on the side of her breast, how it felt between his teeth when he nipped her and etched his mark there.

For a moment, all was silent and she shivered, wondering if he’d punish her for this. When a few moments had passed, the blues of his irises slowly rolled up her body until their gazes met, and he pressed his lips to the mark in a soft kiss. It was like a shock, a jolt of electricity ripping through her like lightning and she shuddered, her lips trembling at the merest touch of his lips. His kiss was so tender, so soft and so different, it almost made her knees buckle right beneath her weight.

Coriolanus pressed another kiss to the mark on her skin, then another, and another. Tainted. Her skin was tainted with the phantom of his lips, as if her body was his canvas. The idea he possessed her in such a way gave him a high like no other, made him feel so in control, so powerful.

He hummed against her skin as his kisses trailed over to her right breast, his teeth nipping and lips sucking at her supple skin, her body falling limp in his arms as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his fingers into the small of her back. Her head tipped backwards and her lips fell agape as he etched more of his marks into her skin, tainting her, painting her.

She was a work of art, his work of art, and he would treat her as such.

“Cor— Coryo,” his shortened name tumbled from her lips in a pleased murmur, her fingernails on his shoulder and in his hair. Coriolanus peered up at her through hooded lids again as his kisses worked their way up to her nipple, watching her face as it twisted in pleasure, her brow furrowed in bliss. He rolled his tongue over the erect bud and sucked, his teeth grazing over it. A quake tumbled through her body like thunder and she trembled in his arms, fisting the hairs at the back of his head.

Finally, he released her nipple with a wet pop, pushing away from her to stand up, his hands on her waist. He peered down at her and her eyelids fluttered open and for a moment, just a single moment, their gazes met and Coriolanus felt something flutter at the pit of his stomach, something he couldn’t quite put a name to. He wrapped a hand around her neck and pressed his palm flat to the back of her head to reel her lips into his before he let the feeling ruin the moment, insisting he could mull it over later.

His tongue was completely dominant over hers, in fact, she didn’t even try overpowering his. She knew he was in control, knew her place.

The thought had Coriolanus’ hands venturing down to her hips to turn them around, pushing her down into the plush mattress of the bed. He towered over her, casting a shadow over her face as he kissed her harder, his knee in between her legs, her arousal warm and wet against his clothed thigh. She whimpered when he pressed his leg closer against her and he pulled away, either of their chests heaving as they chased air back into their lungs.

A plea sat on the tip of her tongue and her lips trembled, desperate to ask for more but her words falling short, unable to catch her breath. Coriolanus only watched her, watched the tears form in her eyes and the way her breasts heaved up and down as she chased air back into her lungs while he stripped himself of his shirt, unbuckling his belt. He tossed either of these things to the side before undoing the buttons of his pants and he watched the way her eyes dared a glance down at him as he rid himself of his bottoms, leaving them both bare, nude in front of one another.

The sight seemed to steal her breath away once more.

A pathetic whisper of his name hardly managed to fall past her lips before Coriolanus was back on top of her, stealing her words with his kiss as she bucked into his touch. He could feel her heat against him, could feel the proof of her arousal, of her obedience as it rubbed against his cock. Without once breaking their kiss, he bucked into her, filling her up to the brim with one stroke of his hips.

She was the one to break their kiss this time as her lips fell agape and her head tilted back into the mattress, her back arching off of the bed until their chests were pressed together as a cry ripped through her. Coriolanus pressed his lips and eyelids together, willing the groan at the back of his throat back down despite how tight she was squeezing him, despite how much he relished her sounds.

“Cor… Coryo… Coriolanus,” she panted as he bucked his hips again, harder this time, as if testing her. She was mewling now, limp and pliant in his arms, submissive like a kitten. Coriolanus balled his fist and pressed it down into the mattress beside her head, using his opposite to grab at her neck, his thumb just barely putting down pressure on her throat.

And he bucked his hips, once again.

And he didn’t stop this time.

He was pounding her, pistoning his hips harder and faster with each thrust into her, her walls clenching down on him so tight, he couldn’t keep the groan that rumbled from his throat. Tears were streaming down her face as he worked her up and down and up and down the bed, feeling a knot begin to form at the pit of her belly.

Coriolanus could tell she was already close. He didn’t really care.

He was chasing his own high, fucking her harder and harder to push himself even closer to his limit. She was coming undone on his cock but Coriolanus showed no sign nor intent of stopping. She could come all she wanted to for all he cared. He didn’t care if she’d had enough, they weren’t done until he decided they were done.

So despite her whimpers that she was close again, he only thrusted harder, fucking her like they were animals, like he was feral, like he hated her. Coriolanus’ stresses and frustrations were being fucked back into her, and he was determined to fill her full of each and every one of them, as if giving them to her.

She was sobbing, fat tears of pleasure rolling down the sides of her face as he felt that high he so desperately craved on the horizon, so close he could taste it. Her cries permeated the bedroom, nearly making the walls shake but he didn’t care. He was so close, so, so, so close and oh, when he reached that high, it was like heaven on earth.

With a few last thrusts, he was pumping her full of his release, her skin not only his but her body, all of it, his as well. She was his possession, a canvas that was his to taint over and over again, as many times as he pleased.

She knew this all too well.

Coriolanus collapsed down on the bed beside her and he stared into the whites of the ceiling overhead as she crawled over to him, curling up to his side and resting her head against his chest. He had an arm wrapped around her shoulders absentmindedly, his other folded behind his head.

Her skin was painted red with the marks his mouth had left on her, her every limb ached and her cunt sore and pulsing in his wake. He was all over her, etched and engraved inside every nook and cranny of her body.

She was his, completely and totally his.

She knew this.

And she loved it.

She loved him.

Coriolanus seemed to know this too, and he wondered if the flutter he had felt in his stomach earlier meant that he loved her too. He blinked as his vision began to blur and he squeezed his eyelids shut, letting himself relax further down into the mattress.

He wasn’t entirely sure what that feeling he felt in his belly meant. But he wouldn’t dare tell a single soul about it. Not even her.

After all, some things were better left in the darkness— and Coriolanus Snow was shrouded in it.

a/n; so yeah the ballad of songbirds and snakes movie finally coming out has brought me back into my hunger games phase so... enjoy :) also sorry for any errors, i wrote this in an hour while in the bathtub LMAO

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #tom blyth #president snow #coryo snow #tbosas #thg series #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader

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