#gamemaker's daughter

[fishcat480]

Dog in Winter

SUMMARY:

Kids from Districts 1-4 don't have to fear the reaping.

Careers always volunteer.

Until a tragic accident forces Lustre Baneswood into the Games with no hope of winning. An actor, and the daughter of a Gamemaker, Lustre has to decide what she desires more: glory or her life.

But there is a dark underbelly to the Games, and winning is not always the end. Lustre Baneswood is going to discover the price one has to pay for beating the odds.

Spanning from the 72nd Hunger Games all the way to three years after the events of Mockingjay, this is the story of a girl struggling to reclaim her identity after giving it away to the people who would hurt her most.

FANDOM: Hunger Games

Pairing: Original Plus Size Character/Original Male Character

Other Characters: Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, Gloss, Cashmere, Joanna Mason, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, President Snow, President Coin, Gale, Prim

It was 5am when the call came.

I’d been awake for hours writing, the only time I was able to get any of it done. Mother doesn’t like my writing, and classes at the observatory took up all of my time during the day. My hands were cramping over the datapad keyboard, and I swiped a knuckle over my bloodshot eyes, trying desperately not to succumb to sleep. 

The sound of the phone had been so unexpected I’d jerked violently upright. With a cursory glance at the time, I quickly padded out of my room and into the empty hall. Moonlight shone in harsh slivers through the full-length windows. I followed the ringing sound through the silver-white hallway and into the main room of our apartment, where the phone lay next to the front door. 

“Hello?” I said, agitation and fatigue coloring my voice. The door to my parents’ room opened and my mother stepped cautiously out, her hair wrapped in a pink silk turban and mouth set in a firm line. My father was just behind her, his eyes horizontal slits, his hair a tuft of downy cotton.

The voice on the phone shrieked at me. “Frederick?! Frederick something’s happened!”

I shook my head before I remembered they could not see me. “No, this is his daughter. Is this an emergency?”

The voice went from feverish to chilly in a moment, freezing my veins like icicles. “Put him on, love. It’s urgent.” 

My father had already begun walking over, and he took the phone from me quickly. “Hello?” he asked, his hands reaching into the breast pocket of his pajamas, where he’d placed a box of matches. He fumbled in the drawer of the side table for smokes.

“Uh- huh…Yes, I remember….”

I watched him for a moment, hoping his body language might clue me into what was going on. When I got nothing, I joined my mother on the opposite side of the room. “ D’ya think everything’s ok?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s the Games. Everything’s an emergency.”

The Games were the most hectic time of our family’s life, with my father a showrunner and my mother performing in reenactments and singing at parties. Even my brothers had gotten involved now that they were out of school. 

Still, the voice on the phone had sounded scared. Desperate. Something felt off. 

“You’re joking.” my father said, lowering the cigarette from his mouth, and bellowing. “You’re fucking joking.” 

“Fredrick?” my mother asked immediately. My father did not raise his voice ever. He stared at us, his face ashen, as he listened to whatever news was being delivered on the other end. 

“Dad?” I asked, when his eyes locked onto mine and didn’t leave.

“We’ll get another volunteer.” he said, desperate. “There are dozens of kids. Dozens of options.”

Volunteer…?

The reaping had been two days ago, and as expected, both tributes had been volunteers, eager to go into the Games. That’s why I hadn’t even flinched when they called my name. Reaping day was like picture day at school - annoying, but a good excuse to get out of class.

My volunteer had been my best friend. It was her final year in the reaping pool, and her last chance to go into the Games and prove herself. If I could bet, I would have bet on her winning the entire thing. 

But now my father was looking at me like I was a hundred miles away, and talking about other volunteers. Why did we need another volunteer? Where was Razzle?

“Dad!” I cried. “What’s going on?”

Tears had begun falling onto his cheeks, and my mother was lurching forward to hold his face in her hands. The excitement had woken my brothers now, both of them tumbling out of their rooms with mussed hair and slurring voices.

“Luster, what’s happening?” Kellen asked from behind me, he and Jace standing on either side of me. Jace scratched his chest with a lazy hand. 

“Something bad.” I said. That was all I knew. 

My mom was soothing our dad, her hands trying to rub away tears that just kept coming. The phone was pressed to my dad’s ear, still listening. He gently pushed my mom’s comfort away, resignation taking over. Something had happened to Razzle. 

“What time?” he asked. The answer made him sigh. 

“Ok.” And he hung up. My mother didn’t waste any time. “Frederick,what on earth is going on? It’s practically dawn. The Games are your job, not your life. Oh, these people!”

My mother continued ranting, but my father was looking at me again. I knew already that I would be leaving, but my mind was obsessing more over the why.

“What happened to her?” I asked. My mother grew quiet. My brothers looked confused.

“Training accident.”

“Is she…?”

“Yes.”

Dead. Razzle was dead. And she had volunteered in my place.  

“When are they coming to get me?”

“Within the hour.”

My family’s eyes were widening and cries of indignation sounded on their tongues. “She’s going into the Games!?” my mother yelled. “No! Frederick, no!”

“She’s not trained.” Kellen said. Jace said nothing. He wasn’t much for talking. 

“She was reaped!” my father explained. “And her volunteer has died. It is law that she must go.”

My mother’s eyes bugged out of her head. “And you’re a showrunner. Surely they don’t expect the law to apply to us!” 

It often didn’t. 

“This is different. This is the Games. If Luster becomes exempt from them for being my daughter, then other future tributes could argue their way out of participating. Snow would have to weed them out and use force. It could foster dissent.”

It was five in the morning and my family was standing in the living room, talking of treason. 

“It’s fine. I’ll go.”

Kellen scoffed, arms folded across his chest. “You’ll die. You’re not a career, you’re a fucking actress.”

 The heel of my mother’s hands were pressed against her eyes, her perfectly manicured nails curled tightly against the palm of her hand. “Kellen! Please, that’s not necessary.”

My father puffed on his cigarette, lost in thought. Kellen didn’t back down. “She’s not going to live, mom. Am I supposed to just sit here and watch while my sister dies?”

She draped herself across the chaise. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to Pedro in casting. Maybe a lookalike?”

My father joined her, looking intrigued. “That might work. We’ll release her for training, but for the arena it can be anyone. Keep the close-ups to a minimum, kill her in the first ten minutes.”

Jace was still standing next to me. I watched in abject horror as my parents and Kellen planned the murder of an innocent girl in place of myself. I felt something warm on my hand, and looked down to see Jace’s pinky linking with mine. Then his whole hand. When I turned to him, he didn’t look upset or scared. He was smiling at me. 

“Who was the girl who did makeup for you for 68?” Kellen had his hands on his hips, pacing across the living room. He looked the picture of a gamemaker, and it made my stomach swoop like drinking milk that had turned. 

“Petra or something?” he asked. “Get her involved.”

My mother was taking notes on an old script. My father was punching something into a datapad, tugging at his hair in distress. 

“Stop.” I called, but they ignored me.

“We’ll have to keep Luster out of sight for at least a year. Julian will find us a nice little bungalow for her to lie low in.”

“Pay for it now.” my father said. “Travel to the Capitol increases after the Games.”

“Stop!” I said again, and this time I got their attention. 

“You are not killing a random girl just so I can live. That’s actually insane!”

My father shook his head. “No, there are people who like the attention! They’ll do it willingly.”

Willingly….When had someone in a District past four ever gone into a Games willingly? 

“I don’t care. That’s fucked.” I removed my hand from Jace’s and ran it through my hair. “This whole thing is fucked.”

Gently, Kellen approached me. “Luster, I know you’re stressed. Let us …un fuck this for you. A year in lockdown, a new Games will happen, and everyone will forget about it. Then we’ll get you a job at the studio.”

“Doing what?” I laughed. “I’m eager to know what you think I’d want to do at the studio.”

He shrugged, frustration evident. “Stylist? Hair and makeup? I don’t know, Luster! I don’t really care, as long as you’re alive.”

“And what about the other tributes? The ones from 9? Or 12? The ones who don’t have careers to volunteer for them. What about the people who want them alive?”

My mother harrumphed, and somehow she had moved from the chaise to the bar, pouring herself a glass of port. “Oh, sweetie, it’s too early in the morning to develop a conscience.”

But drinking wine, I thought bitterly,  was perfectly acceptable. If I said anything, she’d hold my impending doom up as her reason for indulging. My head was on the chopping block, but she’d be the one to lose blood somehow. I didn’t particularly care to open that can of worms, so I ignored her entirely in favor of turning to my father. 

“Daddy, I don’t want you to get me out of this.”

That statement shifted the temperature of the room greatly. Stillness blanketed us. Kellen punched something hard enough to break it, but I refused to look at what it was. He was always so petulant, and I wouldn’t give into him.

I held my father’s gaze, desperate for him to see things my way, if only for a moment. 

“I’ve done everything you guys wanted. I went to Opal instead of Harrison. I went into acting and not writing. I attended every party, talked to every miserable asshole, wore every stupid outfit. All I want in return is for you to let me go.”

He took a puff from his cigarette, already practically down to the filter. It was funny, watching him smoke. I’d never seen him do it before in my life. Not once.

“Why?”

It was a fair question. The answer was more complicated. Because it’s right …but he wouldn’t understand that. Because she volunteered for me…. He wouldn’t understand that either. Hell, I didn’t even understand why I wanted to go. But Jace was still smiling at me, still believing in me like he always had. Sometimes it felt like he knew what I needed before I even had a chance to do the needing.

“Because she was my best friend….and she was supposed to win.”

My father’s face fell. He may not have understood what was right, but he understood honor. He understood fair.  He nodded slowly, stubbing his smoke out on the arm of the couch. He must have still been half asleep.

“Ok.” 

He didn’t say anything else, and I thanked him quietly before giving him a hug. He held me to him, and it felt like when I was a girl and I would run to him as he came home from work, calling out to him in glee. He’d scoop me up from the ground and press all the pain and grief of his day into my bones, and I took it from him like any other gift. This hug felt like that. He was pressing his grief into my bones, except this time I was grieving too. 

When the peacemakers came, I went willing. Quiet. Everyone knew not to resist a peacemaker, even if you were in the right. Agitation led to aggression. Peacemakers were not aggressive dogs, they were violent ones. Hand biting often led to death.

Kellen had refused to say goodbye. I didn’t entertain his fury, just wrapped my arms around his middle. He didn’t move away, but he didn’t hug me back.

Mother was three pours in by the time I had to go. She blew air kisses and raised her glass. 

Jace gave me a proper hug and kiss, and pulling away from him had been the hardest goodbye of them all. 

“My writing…” I told him, and he nodded. 

“I’ll keep it safe.”

My father had taken helicarriers before. He would be taking one hours after me, headed to the Capitol for the Games. I hadn’t ever had the pleasure. 

While the door was open, wind and sound rotated around you in a maelstrom. There was something happening everywhere. A seatbelt was being placed across my lap, a pilot was checking gauges, the Peacekeepers chatting in even tones. When the door was closed, though, it was silent.

A light thrum of the engine was the only background noise, but I was effectively left alone with my thoughts for an hour. This was not good. 

My thoughts were instantly on Razzle, and with nothing to distract my mind, grief settled in my chest like a purring cat. 

She’d spent the morning of the reaping in my bed. We often had sleepovers, but this one had not involved much sleep. Her hands had touched me roughly, like sandpaper, and I had liked the grit of it. I was always considered so delicate, like glass. Razzle touched me like I was solid stone. 

She’d whispered promises into my hair, weaving them around the strands like the ribbons I would place there hours later. “When I win, we’ll go away.” She’d said. “When I win, we’ll have forever.”

When. There had been no question in my mind that there would be a when. The only question left unanswered was the how.

But now, there was no when or if or how. There was instead. 

We touched down in only an hour. My stomach roiled from the constant vibrations, and when I stepped off it lurched dangerously. Vomit pushed its way onto my tongue. I stopped halfway from the helicarrier and the safety of the roof entrance, the peacekeepers’ hands flying straight to their guns. 

I waved my hand at them to give me a moment, but they grabbed me violently by the arm and shoved me along my way. The nausea bobbed up and down inside me. I tried to keep myself from letting it give way to sickness. 

In the end I didn’t throw up, but I wanted to.

We took an elevator down, down, down. The first District tributes stayed on the first floor, with the second District tributes on the second and so on and so on all the way until the penthouse. District Twelve lived like cattle, so they got treated like kings. We were all being served up on the finest of China, waiting to be eaten whole.

The Peacekeepers kept their eyes trained on me. They wanted me to act out. A peacekeeper craved violence like a horse craved water after a long ride. The one to my left tightened his hand around his baton. I looked down at the floor.

They dropped me off in the first floor suite, where two people waited at the dining room table. I knew them as Gloss and Cashmere, winners of the  63rd and 64th Games respectively. Cashmere sat cross legged on the table, her silky blond hair pulled into a low ponytail. Her pajamas were champagne colored silk and they emphasized icy blue eyes that stared at me with no discernible emotion. 

Gloss stood scowling, his large arms folded across his chest. His pajama pants were silk, too, except in blackest black. Instead of the matching shirt he wore a white T-shirt. 

I felt a bit lackluster in my grey sweats and Opal academy shirt.

“You must be Luster.” Said Cashmere.

I nodded. 

“I’m Cashmere.” She waved, her lips forming into an inhumanly beautiful smile. She was like what you thought of when someone said ‘the prettiest girl you know’. 

“This is Gloss.” She pointed to him and he made no gesture of greeting. He simply stared.

The Peacekeepers that had escorted me were already back in the elevator. I looked around the suite for the first time and noted its distinct Capitol style. The furnishings were modern, with rich golds and deep blacks accenting them. The large dining table was made of frosted glass. A sectional couch took up most of the living room area, its cream colored cushions pristine in the light of a mini chandelier.

“Can I go to bed?” I asked.

Gloss sighed and dropped his arms. It was the first movement he’d made the entire time I’d been there. It was like watching a statue come to life.

“I’ll be your trainer.” He said, ignoring my question.

“Ok great. Can I go to bed now?”

Cashmere looked a bit puzzled. “Do you have any questions for us? I’m sure this has been a difficult transition.”

What a paltry word for what had happened. Transition implied choice, of which I had none.

“I’ll ask them in the morning. I haven’t been to bed and I’d like to get as much sleep as possible.”

Brother and sister stared idly at each other. They appeared to be having some sort of telepathic conversation, much like she’d seen Kellen and Jace do many times. She needed to fall asleep soon or she’d be plagued by memories of home.

The conversation ended when Cashmere motioned with her hand to where the tributes’ rooms were. 

“The door on the left.”

The other tribute had already claimed the room on the right. I would be sleeping in the same place Razzle had. 

I gave a curt nod and exited, my fists balled at my side. I didn’t relax until the door to my room was closed and I was lying on the very plush, inviting bed. 

It seemed the odds were ever in my favor, because no matter how hard I tried, I always seemed to get the short end of a very long stick.

[itsbuckytm]

Envy and Passion / Coriolanus Snow

summary : being the daughter of Casca Highbottom had its advantages and challenges. As long as one maintained a private and noble demeanor associated with the family name, there were benefits to enjoy. However, the downside came in the form of her father's deep-seated animosity towards the Snow family. despite this, the Coriolanus Snow devised a plan to reunite her, foreseeing a journey towards greatness, enduring purity, lust and a lasting legacy.

ps ; read part two!!

english isn't my first language, so i excuse for small typo or error mistakes. ps : please don't copy my work or use it without proper credit! thank you

You experienced contentment as a student at the Capitol's Academy, all thanks to your father's insistence that you become involved in his work until graduation. It was during your final year that the announcement for the 10th Hunger Games came unexpectedly early. While you had expected to work alongside Dr. Gaul as a Gamemaker, you found yourself assisting during the reaping ceremony. It was there that you first encountered Snow. 

"No distractions." Your father emphasized, implying a prohibition on interactions with your classmates. Despite the difficulty in ignoring the palpable tension between him and Snow, a part of you harbored a wish that, without the animosity, a friendship could have blossomed. That's what you longed for—a connection you could deem as friendship. To everyone’s surprise, Highbottom's daughter being chosen among the mentors became the talk of the Academy, thrusting you into the limelight against your wishes. Being the center of attention was something you despised the most.

"Miss Highbottom." Dr. Gaul greeted you as you entered the room designated for the impending reaping ceremony. The enthusiasm in her voice hinted at some special arrangements for your role and, perhaps, your involvement in a specific aspect of the Games. However, such expectations shifted when you observed Snow's silhouette standing beside her. A brief exchange between the two suggested an ongoing conversation, making you contemplate to excuse yourself of interrupting further. Despite this, Dr. Gaul, with her customary smile, welcomed your presence and inquired. "Have you met Mr. Snow?"

Did you meet him? Undoubtedly, you had. Given your father's openly declared animosity towards him, it was clear that some past conflict existed between your father and Snow's. Yet, the perplexing part was why such strong feelings were directed at the son, who was merely alive and fulfilling the responsibilities of a dutiful citizen. That remained a mystery to you. "Certainly, I have. My father never stops talking about him. How he 'adores' him." you replied with a touch of irony. In the peculiar logic of your father, adoration seemed to coexist with complete disdain. 

Snow's demeanor appeared uneasy in your presence, yet he quickly regained confidence when he noted your affirmation. Whether you were suggesting this to please Dr. Gaul or for some other reason, he intended to assert his dominance once alone, especially with a member of the Highbottom family. However, instead of confrontation, he simply smiled and acknowledged the subtle comment. "I can't say I'd be eager to hear what Y/N's father thinks of me, let alone my family's name." He remarked. 

"Don't take it personal." You suggested, a smile playing on your features as you attempted to lighten the moment while conversing with Snow. It was intriguing to encounter the Snow your father so vehemently despised, and yet, here he was, appearing composed and not entirely matching the description your father painted. "My father has always had a soft spot for pretty faces." You added with a hint of irony.

In the realm of subjective beauty, Snow found it almost amusing to consider that you held your own private entertainment. Embracing your father's comments, you became a figure easily envied, yet the tension shared between them made it difficult not to be stirred. Fairly speaking, you stood out as one of the most attractive girls in the class, alongside Clemensia; the two of you complemented each other seamlessly. Described as cold as the winter’s snow due to the striking contrast between your fair skin and dark locks inherited from your mothers, you and Clemensia exhibited a captivating allure. Snow entertained the notion that if he delved even further into the profound depths of your eyes, he might lose himself completely—in love, that is. And he hated every bits of it. 

"If I were you, I'd be on my best behavior, sweetheart." He advised, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Dr. Gaul was observing. You could almost swear you saw her smile transform into a devious smirk, a subtle admission that she relished the spectacle before her—a spectacle of envy and hatred entangled in a mutual trap. "And what will happen if I don't?" You countered, striving to maintain control just as your father made his entrance, signaling the commencement of the reaping ceremony. His eyes fell upon you and Snow in close proximity, prompting him to be the first to assert authority. "Snow, to your seat now." He commanded. It was evident that Snow's disdain for your father resurfaced as he shot you a final glance before begrudgingly taking his seat.

Fortuitously, you found yourself seated next to him. In all honesty, you had orchestrated this arrangement, intending to be by his side even before your father's disapproving gaze hinted at a switch. However, it was too late by then; the ceremony had commenced, and your father's attention was fully absorbed in the mentors and assigned tributes. This provided you with the perfect opportunity to approach Snow once again. Leaning in, both eyes fixed on the screen to maintain an appearance of focus, you remarked. "You know, if it weren't for my father's animosity towards you, I'd be eager to get to know you."

Snow's piercing blue eyes shifted from the screen to yours. He blinked twice, as if questioning whether he had heard correctly. Highbottom's own daughter appeared to be permitting their adversary to draw a little closer. Or perhaps, in her eyes, he wasn't an enemy at all. He chuckled ever so slightly at the ironic situation. “And if it wasn’t for your father’s constant reminder that my own father was an asshole, I’d say that his own daughter is the most prettiest and fuckable girl I have ever laid my eyes upon.” 

A blush crept beneath your features, a delicate balance of beauty that Snow took pleasure in accentuating. You shared the same acknowledgment as he did, though you maintained a touch more class, unlike him. He tended to be straightforward and always in control, a demeanor he effortlessly displayed as he rendered his fellow classmate completely vulnerable with his words. Leaning in further, his fingers traced along your thigh, causing a tingling sensation at its touch and making your blush more evident. "To be fair, I've always had my eyes on you, you know?" He confessed. "Dr. Gaul wanted to make a proposition earlier and suggested that we work together for the whole semester, even having the lab all to ourselves…" 

“Meaning?” Of course you knew. Having the Lab to yourselves meant that Snow was going to make sure that he had every bits of fantasies piled through him just to have you all too himself. “Meaning, I’ll be able to fuck you endlessly. Maybe a distraction is what I do need after all. Can’t say that especially having the luck to be with Highbottom’s most gorgeous daughter.” 

That wasn't until Snow himself became entranced by your beauty, especially when it was his turn to learn about the tribute he was about to meet. "Coriolanus Snow." Your father's voice echoed with the same undertones of hatred and boredom, his disdain evident at the mention of a name from a generation he feared would worsen Panem. "District 12. Girl." Snow's gaze shifted from the screen to the captivating performance you were putting on. Yet, his current fixation remained on you. Leaning in further, he let his breath linger in the crook of your neck, his lips gently brushing your skin, and you could've sworn you felt a few pecks too. Fortunately, your father remained oblivious, continuing to list the remaining mentors. Suppressing a silent giggle, you pretended that Snow had said something amusing. "And how about..." He continued, placing a few more pecks on your neck. Delicately, you tried not to make your blush too obvious. "After the ceremony, I have to get some paperwork done at the lab. It would be a shame if I didn't have something to keep me focused." 

“Why of course, Mister Snow.” You admitted it so effortlessly, causing Snow's smile to transform into a cunning smirk. It was a smirk filled with desire, and longing. Snow yearned to experience the taste of you and hear you utter his name, just so your father could discover that his own daughter had unknowingly fallen into Snow's snare. From this moment forward, you belonged completely to him.

“Then, I’ll make sure to know who you belong to. Princess.”

[har-rison-s]

whatever you need | coryo snow x fem!reader

a/n: don't mind me, just eating pomelo and writing smut. i daydream about this piece every and all work day i have rn, it's pretty unhinged bcs i'm working as a gift wrapper for the holiday season and just staring ahead thinking of.... things. i'm technically an atheist, but i would need forgiveness for those thoughts. ANYWAY JEEZ. this took me like four days, help. i'm so insecure abt my smut writing, tho so ooohhh god am i actually dreading posting this. i'll just publish and run away from tumblr for a week. happy reading

talk to me about coryo here

previous chapter next chapter

coryo masterlist main masterlist

word count: 7.2k (sawrry)

themes: smut

warnings / disclaimers: smut, unprotected p in v, brief mutual masturbation, cum eating (SCREAMING), fingering, crying, ENJOY jsdfjhsadsd

gif credit goes to owner <3

something strange was happening in the arena. something was being done to the camera feeds that were supposed to livestream every second of what was happening in it. only because something seemed to have gone wrong in the games y/n was stuck to the television screen in her living room slash lounge. her parents were called into urgent work in district three a few hours ago, so it was only her and some of the maids in the house. they kept to themselves, though, and were probably asleep in their quarters at the mansion’s far-end wing. except for the main housekeeper, who was adamantly guarding the entrance of the house, in case anyone came by.

her parents were counting on someone coming by - with the way she was recently behaving at school and with the rebel bombs, they were real worried about her well-being. she was always alone at home, because there was no one to bring home. except the dean, but he came by himself and only to serve his usual scolding and threats about y/n’s rebellious nature and behaviour at school. her parents hadn’t felt such worry for their daughter as they felt now since the war days. 

what soothed her mother’s worried heart and mind was the presence of the maids and the housekeeper. y/n appreciated their staying around and liked hearing noises made by someone else in the mansion, even if it was only a far-away creak of floorboards or a door closing. but she didn’t need anything from them, ever, she’d been very independent since her early childhood, and maids seemed like such an excess right now, an even backwards concept for y/n. her family employing them, unable to live without them, made her feel like the rich princess everyone deemed her being. 

y/n had felt fine being home alone until the feed from the arena turned strange. darker, blacker, and the audio seemed warped or otherwise manipulated. she’d caught sight of a familiar figure entering the arena – who was that? how did he get inside? who can tell... – and then the feed changed. there was nothing much she could see, but her eyes had been glued to the screen of her television for the past half hour, anyway. all the while she was straining her eyes to try to see who it was, and at some point that figure was joined by another by Sejanus’ tribute Marcus’ bruised and wounded body, and then the feed darkened nearly completely. 

she sat in her sofa in an embryo pose, blanket over her stressed form, covering her back and the bare feet and legs that the knitted bedtime jumper couldn’t. she realized the gamemakers or the Capitol were trying to hide something, nothing else could explain the feed changing and audio going wobbly and earning static in the process. 

the bell ringing at the front door startled her so bad that y/n gasped and jerked in her position on the sofa. her head whipped in its direction and she watched two figures entering her family’s mansion from the far end of the hallway. she could already tell who the two were, but she remained sat on the sofa, her legs unmoving out of anxiety. she shut off the television and just watched them walk towards her through the unlit hallway, arms wrapping around her knees underneath her beloved blanket.

“ms y/l/n, a mister Snow is here, for you,” the housekeeper announced as she and Coriolanus entered the living room, Coriolanus stumbling into the room more than walking into it. he looked like he was falling to pieces. his breath was heavy, hair and academy uniform in disarray, face just... bewildered. y/n nodded at her housekeeper, extended her arms towards Coryo like a child reaching for its favourite toy and sniffled quietly.

“thank you, Nora,” she told the housekeeper, “please leave us. you can go to bed, i won’t need anything else for the night.” she said in a hushed voice and the housekeeper nodded, knowing to listen to the child of her employers. y/n hated giving anyone orders, much less this spectacular lady, but she did want to be alone with Coryo. and by the look of him, she could tell he couldn’t be around anyone else but her. he was a man of privacy, after all.

as soon as Nora shut the door behind her and left for the maids’ quarters, Coryo accepted the plea in y/n’s extended arms and stumbled over to her on the sofa. “i—i’m sorry,” he said the first words out of breath, in a voice so broken and frail that y/n’s lips twitched downwards and she felt the need to cry, “i didn’t know where else to go, i couldn’t... i couldn’t f-face anyone else...” as he sat down before y/n’s bare feet peeking out from the blanket, she noticed in the poor lighting of the room that his clothes were dirty. there were cuts in his shirt, dirt, gravel, sand... blood. 

“what happened?” her voice wouldn’t go any louder than a whisper, and her lips were turning into a pout as she looked Coryo over, her meek hands reaching out for him but unsure whether she should touch him or not. he could fall apart like the frailest glass, it seemed, if anything touched him right now. his face was bruised. there were small cuts on his cheek, blood on his chin. she noticed how they had already been taken care of.

Coryo still took heavy breaths, but finally he felt like his vision was real and not fooling him, and he took in his surroundings. the dim lighting in the posh room, y/n’s bare feet touching his red academy pant leg, her legs pulled up to her chest under a cute throw-blanket in the pastel colour of chocolate milk, her small hands reaching out to him, unsure, unsteady. he lifted his head to look at her, and the expression on her face made his heart lurch in his chest. her glassy eyes – no doubt matching his –, the pout on her lips, her rosy cheeks, eyebrows scrunched in worry and confusion. he could never decline that face. “dr Gaul sent me inside the arena to get Sejanus out,” he finally said, and he spoke in a whisper tone that could only be meant for secrets, “but the tributes heard us... i’m not sure i should even be telling you about this at all,” he admitted.

y/n shook her head. “your secret’s safe with me,” she assured with a gentle nod.

“yes, but dr Gaul—” Coryo began, but she interrupted him in the voice of a faint whisper. 

“i know how terrifying she is,” y/n persisted, “she won’t know that i know.” she said even quieter and looked, really looked, into Coryo’s eyes, and nodded gently again at him. he searched her eyes for a few seconds, weighing the risk of her knowing this, trying to decide if he should tell her more or just cut short here. but really. she’s a loose end and she knows it. it’s not like dr Gaul was in high thoughts of y/n or deemed her more valuable than any other student, and her nature played a big part in that opinion of the young girl. how would she know that y/n found out about this night in the arena? she wouldn’t. it would never come up in conversation. y/n wasn’t part of this.

“the tributes heard us,” Coryo started to say as he sat closer to y/n, his body turned to face her, and almost loomed over her. he’s always been much taller than her, and sometimes that played a part in their dynamic. he took her hands in his above her bent knees and the blanket. he licked his lips and y/n searched his eyes, his... stoic blue eyes. there was a change in them, “they came after us and i...” he shook his head, “i didn’t want to hurt him,” Coryo’s voice broke and his head dropped onto y/n’s covered knees. 

she heard a sob from him, and it shook her entire form, making her gasp quietly. she’d never seen him cry before. the night on the rooftop, in the garden, she knew he was close to it, but she knew he’d never let his pride down so much that he’d let anyone see him cry. and Coryo didn’t feel so good about crying now, about opening himself up to her like this, he felt disgusted with himself. but he also couldn’t stop. and he couldn’t hide everything from her, after all. 

y/n shuffled around until her legs were tucked under herself and she moved closer to Coryo, taking his scarred cheeks between her small hands and lifting his face up so he would see her. she knew she made him nervous usually, but she calculated that that effect flipped around on itself when he was in this state, or one similar to this. breaking apart. feeling vulnerable. beaten down. she looked into his eyes and he back into hers, not really having any other choice. she had this compelling power over him, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and he didn’t want to hide from her. not really.

his breathing slowed down as he just looked into her wondering beautiful orbs, full of so much determination, courage and kindness. she was almost smiling at him, even though she wanted to cry, too, and her eyes were glassy with produced tears, but she wanted to appear strong for him. because right now he really needed a strong anchor to hold onto, he was the one in need of support. y/n took that role mainly in their friendship-relationship, especially at school, when she got herself in trouble, or at home, when her parents were giving her an earful about her irresponsibility and all the jazz they usually gave her an earful about.

last time Coryo and y/n saw each other, she realized he had the ability to ground her. and now she realized she had the ability to ground him, because by looking into his eyes she could see his emotions and mood changing by the second. and all because she’s holding him, and he’s looking into her eyes. he didn’t need much more than that. 

and yet maybe he did. he didn’t know which part of him had the urge, but all of him acted on it by ducking forward and kissing her on the lips. he could taste the sweat she had made on her lips out of stress, and the blueberry tartlet she must have had as a late snack not too long ago. and his hands couldn’t keep away anymore, either, they were taking hold of her face like hers was holding his cheeks between them. y/n would have gasped at his sudden action if she had any air to breathe, and she sighed heavily when he did give her a split second of air after fiery kisses to her delicious lips. 

he kept his eyes on her as he pulled his academy blazer off and threw it to the ground beside the couch, then came back closer to her, one hand on her cheek and the other pulling the adorable blanket off her legs. y/n placed a palm on that hand of his, which made Coryo furrow his eyebrows and look at her with puzzled eyes. didn’t she want this, too? she gulped, eyes averted from his shyly. “i’d rather we talked about it, Coryo,” she admitted and looked back at him carefully, eyes so un-knowing and yet more clever than most people’s. Coryo tilted his head slightly at her words. 

his hands took the bull by its horns, pulling the blanket fully away and welcoming the night air of the mansion upon y/n’s bare legs, making her gasp again. Coryo used the moment of surprise to his advantage and pushed her down on the sofa, sneaking in between her legs like the slippery mastermind he was, and he slid a hand under her knitted jumper, raising goose-bumps in his wake across her stomach and waist. y/n hated that she felt aroused, meaning she felt exactly how he wanted her to, was right where he wanted her, but she couldn’t exactly pull away. she hated being at someone’s mercy, but.... it was Coryo.

she surprised him when he found she wasn’t wearing a bra under her jumper, nothing was standing between his greedy hands and her naked breasts now, though her not wearing a bra at home wasn’t exactly a surprise. it’s just that his inexperienced self was shocked to find a part of her naked, and right there, at his disposal. watching her face, he placed his palm over one of her breasts and ran his thumb over her nipple, which hardened immediately under his touch. and her face, oh, the expression on it was to die for. eyes softly shut, eyebrows gently spasming as she was feeling something very new to her, her teeth biting her lower lip, cheeks turning more red and no doubt burning up. Coryo placed a kiss on her bare stomach, just above the elastic of her underwear, and watched her still as she whimpered for the first time. her thighs fidgeted around him, feet unsurely digging into the soft cushions of her couch—she really didn’t know what to do with herself and these sensations she was experiencing. 

“i’d rather we didn’t,” he said to her finally, though his actions were more than enough of a response to what she said, but she hardly heard him now. there was a gentle static in her ears, and heat all over her writhing form. her pure, supple, untouched form. all for him to touch, to explore. Coryo took his shirt off in a hurry, as if y/n might disappear if he had his hands off her for a second longer, and returned to her half-naked body a hungrier man. hands raking the insides of her thighs, he kissed her again, hot lips making their conversation just moments ago seem like the far past, making her almost forget it happened. y/n could hardly feel her legs, though she knew this was just the beginning, and she wrapped her arms around Coryo’s frame and held onto him as he moved his slender torso against her chest. she could feel the bones of his hips jutting against her own, his growing crotch pressing against her panty-covered soaking cunt, teasing her, making her pant heavily and whimper like a kitten. 

having her like this satiated the hunger that rose from the deep hole he’d created inside himself, gnawing at him like a big black hole with eager, starving claws. every stroke of his hips against hers beat the monster down but dangled the bait in front of it at the same time, leaving him in quite the paradox. this was more than enough, yet Coryo knew he could go further with y/n, further than enough, and that she’d let him. everything in him wanted to, and he couldn’t stop himself. adrenaline was pumping blood from his heart into his veins, she was available and the only one who could help with the hole growing inside him. 

but y/n couldn’t go further without another word spoken. he was avoiding her question, he was avoiding the whole last hour of this night. “Coryo,” she whispered softly as his lips kissed at her neck, tongue sweeping over a particularly bruised-with-kisses spot on her sculpture-like skin, he was an animal let loose. and his affections almost made her forget what she wanted to ask, and she thought maybe she doesn’t really want to know. but y/n sighed, trying to clear her mind, “tell me what happened,” she plead in a quiet voice and it made Coryo raise his head and look into her eyes again. 

he framed the side of her face with only a hand, his thumb on her chin and the rest of his palm splayed across her burning cheek. he loved seeing the look of lust and confusion on her face, in her eyes most of all. the pads of his fingertips softly pushed into her skin. “no,” he remained stubborn, and y/n would have been surprised to have him do otherwise. she gulped softly, hoping he wouldn’t feel it, but no, he felt every motion any part of her made now. his mind came up with a new idea as he slid a hand of his across her stomach, making a wave across her supple body, and then he reached her underwear. he knew, like everyone else did sort of matter-of-factly, that women were to be touched there. he knew it was the spot in her with which he could get her full attention. and he also knew he’d have to fabricate having experience in this field for y/n. he didn’t want her to think him inexperienced, which he was exactly, or least of all that he’s experimenting with her—which was also what he was doing. so he improvised by cupping her warmest place in the body, and he felt an immediate reaction. her thighs fidgeted around his waist again and her stomach lurched. her eyes shut, but he wanted to see them, “open your eyes,” Coryo urged her, and y/n had to force herself to comply, her beautiful eyes looking into his again. they held eye contact as he ran his middle finger in a straight line between her clothed folds, and he watched as her face contorted, caused by the new strange and pleasant feelings. she felt like warm honey on his fingers, “right now all i need is to feel you,” he told her and did the same motion with his finger again, only this time slower, making it pleasurably agonizing for her, coaxing quiet whimpers from her lips, “and this tells me you need it, too.” 

god, she hated that he was right. at first it was want, she wanted him to stay over, to touch her, to feel her, to do things to her that no one else had ever before. now, she felt so desperate for it that she felt she could explode if she didn’t get what seemed to be promised to her. the want grew to need. she wanted to shake her head, wanted to push him off—that would really be characteristic to her. but instead she brought herself to really look into his eyes and nod in response. Coryo’s lips almost made a smile or a grin, almost, she caught the ghost of it in the corner of his lips before he kissed her again. “alright, Coryo,” she whispered against his lips, “but if you don’t touch me properly right now, i willkick you out of my home.” she said surely, admitting to her desperation without shame and in turn – with pride, and now Coryo grinned. her feistiness was one of the things he liked about her, and it coming out in this setting was more than he could have asked for. in a weird way it got him going. 

y/n placed both of her hands on the sides of his face and kept him close to her as he reached his hand into her underwear, breaching into unexplored territory. she was all the warmer for him, and soaking wet. he hummed, their lips nearly touching, but not completely. it was torture for him. he wanted to devour her lips, her whole face, her whole existence. her lips were like the food of life for him, the sounds she made music to his ears and air in his lungs. “you’re just perfect for me,” he confessed to her in a shudder and y/n smiled lightly. his fingers ran through her naked warm folds, just testing the waters, until they found the opening between them, where the wetness and warmth were seeping from. Coryo would have dropped his head onto her shoulder if her hands weren’t holding it up right, but he just felt like he lost his damn mind at how incredible her walls felt around his fingers, and he could collapse right there on top of her. 

“Coryo,” she sang his nickname in a beautiful moan when two fingers prodded inside her, beating any expectations she had about this beforehand. they were long and thick, touching every inch of her, it felt like, and reaching just far enough. she was barely holding onto him, and her body was reacting to his touches immediately. hips moving, back arching, thighs squeezing his body between them, breaths shuddering. 

“no one’s done this to you before, have they?” Coryo asked, but he hardly needed an answer. by the way she was reacting, he could tell that she’d never felt like this before. y/n shaking her head at his question was merely the last dot on the confirmation, yet it still made him more aroused. knowing he was the first one to do this to her, with her. he grazed her upper wall with his finger pads, being careful not to let his nails scrape her, and it brought a moan from her that he’d never heard anyone make. guttural, coming from the very depths of her lungs, her vocal cords, from her very core. it made him shudder. he repeated the motion, slower one time, then faster the next, all the while watching her reaction. he loved seeing her eyes shut, her cheeks become redder, her lips parting, stretching, pushing breaths and whimpers out from between them. Coryo felt one of her hands sliding up into his hair, and he groaned. her hips bucked and she grabbed onto his perfect curls between her fingers when he reached farther inside her with his two fingers, and it made them both moan into each other’s mouths, y/n letting his lips rest over hers. he’d reached that great point inside her, feeling her hot and spongy against his digits. it’s almost like she was sucking him in. “you’re so good for me,” Coryo told her and y/n whimpered at the praise. 

“more, please,” she begged with no shame and Coryo obliged, picking up the pace of his fingers and massaging over her folds with his thumb all the while. when he accidentally grazed over her clit, y/n made a high-pitched moan of the utmost sensitivity, and he knew he’d done the right thing. and by accident, no less. he was on the winning team, “Coryo,” she cried with her eyes shut and he noticed a tear on her cheek, kissing over it immediately. next his lips were on hers again, lapping at her tongue with his own like the starving man he was, knowing nothing of tomorrow or the next hour, just so engulfed in her that he knew nothing else. she was the perfect getaway.

he could feel her body behaving in a different way, thighs trembling around him, walls squeezing his hand in, hands nearly powerless, chest shuddering. she wasn’t far off her release, he guessed. with another press to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her cry, Coryo once again watched her reaction in amazement. but he didn’t want to feel her release like this, he needed them both different. Coryo pulled his fingers away, once again making y/n cry out, this time in the most desperation she could manage, and she looked up at him with pleading, tearful eyes. he offered her a gentle smile and moved down her body, dragging her underwear with him. down her legs and away, the light pink garment went, and y/n bit her plump lip in anticipation as she watched him. 

Coryo tucked her underwear into the trousers of his academy uniform that he was still wearing and returned to her body, laying kisses across her thighs on his way up to her. y/n squirmed under and around him, mewled, muttering his name in a mewl here and there, relishing in the feeling of his lips on her untouched skin and his hands roaming all over her body, under her jumper, over it, trying to cover every inch of her. she hated that he had stopped touching her right when she was closest to that one sacred edge she wanted so badly to reach, he was teasing her, taunting her, testing her waters. it was clear to her that he had never done this to another girl before. Coryo was just like her, and yet he’d put up a different façade. 

he dug his fingers into the flesh of her naked hips, which made y/n throw her head back into the sofa cushions, baring her delicious-looking neck to Coryo. he used that to his advantage, licking and kissing at the skin of her neck which he had already bruised marked with his lips just moments ago, he was devouring her with a hunger only she could really satiate, and yet he couldn’t get enough of her. his growing crotch pressed against her bare cunt, and y/n gasped at the feeling. eyebrows scrunched, cheeks and lips red and puffy, she looked up at Coryo again, and he returned the gesture. he took one of her hands in his and guided it down to between them, where he was growing harder and in size, it seemed, watching her face all the while and taking notice of her biting down on her lower lip in anticipation. Coryo made her feel him through his trousers, and he couldn’t hide the effect her touch had on him - shuddering throughout his whole body, eyelids fluttering, he was barely able to utter the next words, but he did so in a quiet voice. “feel what you do to me?” 

y/n nodded with lustful eyes, hungry like the wolf for the boy above her. her boldness came back and with it y/n unzipped Coryo’s custom-made trousers and reached into his boxers to really feel him. he had girth and he was solid, she could feel that all with her hand on him. she was making him a panting mess, giving his length a sure stroke, Coryo’s head falling into the crook of her neck and him moaning, though she knew the piece of his pride that died for him to do that. he hardly let anyone see his inner world, his true feelings, so for him to be this vulnerable with her took a great deal of courage. “do i make you... feel like this often?” y/n asked quietly, and Coryo nodded with a whimper as her finger flicked over his tip, pink and sensitive. y/n wrapped her fingers around his shaft and stroked up and down, slowly, looking at his face all the while, wishing she could see his beautiful eyes now, see the emotions swimming around in the blue of them.

Coryo fisted the pillow right beside her, heavy breaths leaving his parted lips, “yes, yes, yes, god, yes,” he chanted in her ear as the pace of her strokes grew faster, and y/n could feel each breaths in his lungs against her own, his chest rising and hitting against her so intensely. she’d made him crumble beneath her so quickly, it surprised her, “i need you, y/n, i need to feel you,” Coryo confessed and managed the strength to raise his head and look at her again. he was too afraid to utter the phrase i need to be inside you, feeling just too shy all of a sudden to say that. the look on his face was pure desperation, he looked like he could start crying the next moment, and y/n’s heart lurched in her chest at seeing that. seeing and recognising that she could make him as desperate as he’d made her. that she could make him small, “no one’s ever made me feel like this before,” he confessed more, breaking his own façade down, and y/n smiled at him sheepishly. she knew, of course, that what he said was true. she knew everything about him.

“you have me,” she assured him and brought him out of the confine of his boxers, making Coryo breathe in relief. he had felt so restricted in his own clothes, “but god, Coryo, will you fit? you feel too big in my hand,” y/n said shyly and bit down on her lip again, a habit that Coryo had noticed her having for quite a while now, and he looked down between them two. y/n knew her comment went straight to his growing ego, but she just couldn’t resist teasing him a little. and when he caught onto it, he looked at her again, with a smile on his lips this time. she grinned wide and giggled before she took his face in her hands and kissed his lips, as if it was her first time doing so. simple, loving, affectionate. 

suddenly she fully took in the look of his naked torso, his amazingly sculpted shoulders and arms, his pearly chest... the sight of him was so breath-taking and delicious that she nearly forgot all her other surroundings. Coryo, though the look her eyes were giving him flattered him so, took the bull by its horns again and pushed the very tip of his hard length through her folds, where her warm opening welcomed him. y/n felt a strain while Coryo felt the beginning of a true release, but he noticed her awkward expression, felt her hold on his face falter, and he paused his movements to just check in. 

“alright?” he asked quietly, as he couldn’t tell what to do next by her face, “too big for you?” he teased and it made them both smile, then erupt into mad giggles in unison. y/n would never have expected Coryo to have humour in a moment like this, but she was relieved that he did, and god did it make the whole thing easier. she wasn’t worried, wasn’t anxious anymore, wasn’t feeling insecure about any aspect of herself anymore. except the thing she’d heard that happened to most women on their first time – the bleeding, the pain, his reaction to it. those were the few things she wanted to avoid happening. but if Coryo was his sweetheart-self, then she had no bad reaction to worry about. she was glad he was the person she was doing it for the first time with, she’d really lucked out.

“just a little,” she finally answered after their giggle fit while holding each other in their arms, “try going deeper,” she urged in a hushed voice, and Coryo complied, adjusting his hips forward, slowly, not to accidentally hurt her more. he couldn’t deny how incredible this felt, how incredible she felt around him, her walls sucking him right in so tightly, “ohmygodohmygod,” y/n pushed the words out in a quick breath, feeling a burn and stretch inside of her at the size of him. she didn’t have anyone to compare Coryo to, and no one else had been inside her before, but he felt big enough. 

Coryo appreciated her arm on his back, her nails digging half-moons into his pearly skin, and her other hand splayed across his cheek, thumb almost digging a hole in his cheek. “you feel so perfect around me,” Coryo praised against her parted lips, and y/n could only look at him with strain and tears in her eyes as he inched himself further and further inside, her face changing by every inch, it seemed, until he had bottomed out with a groan and she’d only felt a momentary sting of pain. and the worst part was over—what a miracle it was that it had been so quick for her, she’d expected otherwise. Coryo could see the immediate relaxation on her features, and he smiled. 

he kissed away her fallen tears, but more kept falling from her eyes and y/n could only explain them as being happy tears, though she scolded herself for being so emotional in a meaningful moment like this. but maybe it was just right. Coryo smiled at her and she could see his orbs being glossy, too, and she was glad. it was no wonder, really, taking how shaken he was when he came into her home and sat down on her couch beside her. he was still in turmoil, but that didn’t matter now. he had her. 

“can i try... moving? you feel alright?” he asked her in a whisper. this slow thrust inside her had already felt like heaven, he couldn’t wait to repeat it over and over and over. 

y/n nodded, “yeah, go ahead,” she said and Coryo complied. she took in the feeling of him pulling out gently, slowly... teasingly. he was grinning, she saw, and she shook her head in disbelief as a beautiful smile adorned her features. and then he thrust inside her again, stuffing her walls with his great length, making her back arch and moans that she’s never made before escape her lips. he could hardly concentrate, but he didn’t want to miss all the different facial expressions she would make, the look in her eyes, while he made love to her now. he made himself keep his eyes open as he began to move rhythmically now. 

y/n’s legs wrapped around his waist, engulfing him in her more and more, and each of his thrusts earned him a squeak from her from the movements. god, he just adored her beyond measure. she was everything he needed now, and later, and forever. Coryo kissed her neck, licked at it, as he had before, and it only made her moan more, each moan in its own unique high or low pitch, and dig her fingers into whichever part of his skin she was holding. Coryo adored her touches, they turned him on, and he wanted her hands on him always, they were a lifeline. his hands gripped her waist, her sweater bunched just above them, only covering her arms and her breasts, though barely even those from how much Coryo was moving her.

“you're doing so good for me,” he breathed into her ear, and the praise only spurred her on. she clenched around him, and it made Coryo break his focus completely, his head dropping onto y/n’s chest, where he breathed hot air onto her skin, “i’m sorry, i think i’m close,” he confessed, and y/n raised his face with her hands, looking at him with puzzlement across her face. 

“me too, it’s okay,” she assured him and then took one of his hands in hers and lead it down to where their bodies met. she laid his palm over the bulge that had formed in her lower stomach from him. the sight and feel of it made Coryo groan, getting him all the more closer to his release. 

“fuck, that’s amazing,” he said into her neck, and y/n nodded.

“you’re so big, Coryo,” she complimented him again and felt his dick twitch inside her at the words, “made a bump in me,” she put it into words and it made the boy nearly lose his mind. then she guided his hand just a little lower and pressed his hand onto her clit, where he recalled was her most vulnerable point, “come on, touch me. we’ll do it together,” she urged him on in the sweetest of angel voices and Coryo didn’t need to think twice before complying. he loved her ordering him around a little, it was much needed tonight especially. 

he pressed his thumb against her clit as his hips had nearly reached their fastest pace, and watched as her face twisted in pleasure. eyes shutting, lips spasming, closing, opening, teeth biting, voice singing out to him. “oh, Coryo,” she called his name and he felt it go straight to his heart. there wasn’t much more that he needed in order to come now, and he prided in himself for lasting so long at all, all the while feeling a little ashamed about it. he wanted this to last longer. but since he could tell she was coming, too, his thumb drawing harsh circles on her clit to bring it on, he revelled in them both finishing at once. 

“fuuuck, y/n, i love you,” he whimpered into her ear as he spilled himself inside her tightly-squeezing walls while y/n all but chanted his nickname like a mantra. her hands almost drew blood on his back from how tightly she held onto him, and she shuddered around him at the feeling of her own release coating his entire length. her thighs trembled and she panted heavy breaths against his neck. she’d almost missed his quiet confession, she’d actually heard it amidst their joined euphoria, but she had thought it a hallucination. 

but that assumption dissipated as she came to and looked up at Coryo, whose eyes were worriedly, with tears streaming from them, looking down at her. she quickly moved her hands to his cheeks and tried to sit up in their awkward position. best she could do was position herself higher on her pillow against the sofa’s armrest, and she gulped. “you love me?” she echoed in the smallest of voices, searching his eyes. they were worried, fearful. what if he’d said the wrong thing? what if she felt different about him, different than what he felt about her? what if he’d said it too soon? what if he’d just ruined all this with her? 

but he did love her. he was sure of it. so he nodded, his curls bouncing with the confirming movement. y/n ran her hand over them and smiled wide at him. 

“you love me,” she said again, surely this time, in a happy tone of voice. as if she’d discovered the best, most well-wishing secret in the whole world. and perhaps that’s what it was. her favourite secret about Coryo was that she knew he loved her, “i love you, too,” y/n told him before he could assume otherwise, and kissed his trembling lips. Coryo felt on top of the world. he had said the right thing, he’d played his cards right, he’d told her how he felt. of course, his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it in words meant the world to y/n. 

“thank god, you had me worried there for a bit,” Coryo half-joked between their kisses, and it made her laugh. she pulled back from his lips and admired the boy above her. forehead glistening from sweat in the dim lighting, curls messily falling over his beautiful face, his pearly chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. 

“who would i be without a little suspense, huh?” she asked and smiled at him again. she could see complete love and devotion in his eyes, two things she’d seen on his face only partly or half-meant before, and only towards herself. Coryo used the moment of silence to pull out of her and stuff himself back into his trousers. sitting against the sofa cushions to do it, he glanced at her cunt and saw it leaking with his white substance. y/n looked at him with sultry eyes and her teeth biting her lower lip, arms crossed over her chest, and she spread her legs just a little further to tease him with a wider look, “like what you see?” she asked quietly.

he just gave her eyes of total surrender, he was waving the white flag for giving up and he took a deep breath. y/n giggled as Coryo shook his head in disbelief and lowered his face down to her center, once again giving her anticipation. “you look so pretty,” he complimented and ran a finger through her folds, making her shudder as more of the snow-white liquid pooled out and coated her cunt, “pretty with me dripping out of you,” Coryo sneaked a glance up at her and saw the clear-as-day lust in her eyes. feeling that animalistic urge take over him again, he brought out his tongue and lapped up each drop coming out of her. y/n felt sensitive, sore, and Coryo was giving her a mix of both pleasure and pain as he drank at her. she had him right where she wanted him. the question was – would he stay there? 

his tongue prodded at her entrance just a tad, heightening her sensitivity, and he moaned against her folds at her shudder under him, giving her folds a kiss over once he was done. he wanted to leave most of his spill inside her, only having lapped up and gulped down what was excess. sitting up before her, between her legs, Coryo licked his lips and leaned over her form. y/n pulled him in for a kiss, and could taste something salty and something sweet all at once on his lips and tongue. it was both of them. 

“will you please stay?” y/n asked her in her small voice again, looking into Coryo’s eyes. she hoped to not find any resistance or decline, and her hopes were fulfilled. “please,” she plead more as he teased her with his silence. he nodded, and it made her smile wider than ever. he would stay over, like he promised her he would someday. it meant he didn't view her only as a secret anymore. maybe they could even go to Heavensbee hall tomorrow together, maybe hand in hand... “why did you say sorry? about being close?” she reminded him of the few moments before their euphorias. Coryo bent his head low for a moment. 

“just felt embarrassed,” he answered, “about not lasting long. i just... i just wanted this to last longer for you,” he told her and managed to look at her again. y/n made a comforting face and stroked the side of his face. she understood. 

“yeah, but it’s okay,” she assured him, “there will be other times,” she pointed out and laid a kiss to his cheek, “it was your first time, so please don’t worry your beautiful head over it.” Coryo managed a ghost of a smile just for y/n to kiss him and make his smile more life-like. “you did good, Coryo.” those words of praise went straight to his dick again, and he blushed. she had made him blush. y/n giggled. 

“you did great, too,” Coryo told her and kissed her hair, “thank you. i never would have wanted to do this with anyone else but you,” he confessed as they held tight eye contact. y/n’s heart surged at his words. 

“me too. i’m glad it was you,” she said and it made Coryo smile with shut lips, “now, can i get my underwear back?” she’d made a joke again, and Coryo felt like playing along further. 

“no, i’m keeping it,” he said in a hushed voice, shaking his head and y/n made a playful pout. she’d want to make him think he could keep it and that she’d steal it back later, but she couldn’t. Coryo having her underwear in the pocket of his academy trousers made her feel somehow proud. a piece of her with him wherever he goes. and if he went home and stashed them somewhere in his wardrobe cabinet, that would be fine, too. she loved knowing her underwear was a token for him. 

she only said, “alright,” and took his hand in hers, “let’s go shower and then to bed. you’ve exhausted me.” she admitted and Coryo took it as a compliment. he wanted this treacherous-turned-great day to end, too, and she was the cherry on top of it all. he wouldn’t have gone home tonight for anything. 

permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco​​​​​​ @v0idbella​​​​​​ @works-of-fanfiction​​​​​​ @ur-gunna-h8-ths​​​​​​ @betweenloveandfire​ @but-legendsneverdie​​​​​​ @deardeacy​​​​​​ @thewinchesterchronicles​ @mavieesttriste16​​​​​​ @intrrverted​​​​​​ @the-freak-cassie-131​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​ @xoxobabydolls​ @corallyink​ @rottenstyx​ @allcheesemelts @dangelnleif

let me know if you want to be tagged in the future !!!

[runningfrom2am]

gem of panem // LTPF

summary: introducing regulus and regan snow; son and daughter of the most powerful couple the country has ever seen. the real gems of panem.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: dad!coryo!! finally!!, gamemaker!reader, this time the capitol brats are their kids, also a little bit of violence in this one!! some very minor medical procedure descriptions (trypanophobia havers beware- although that's me so i was VERY vague with descriptions otherwise i would have made myself cry)

a/n: i've had dad!coryo requested for this series a few times so here's a taste of that and an introduction to their kids!! ahh I've been working on this for so long i hope you guys love it :)

series masterlist // playlist

"I simply do not have time for this. Notify my husband." You wave off your assistant as you stand over the large round table in your laboratory.

"I- uh, your husband, Doctor Snow?" The young girl stammers.

"I don't believe I stuttered, did I?"

"No, Doctor. I just... I am uncertain he will be available right now."

You look up from the scattered pile of papers, and you can see her tense up. "I understand that he's our president, but he is also a father. He is more 'available' than I am a week before the games! Now go, he shall handle it."

"Yes, okay. I will, I'm sorry." She agrees, already pacing away and out of your sight and you get back to work, resisting the urge to attempt at rubbing away your now growing migraine.

"President Snow, sir?" Coryo looks up from his desk as one of his people opens the door for your assistant.

"Serena, my wife sent you?" He asks, standing quickly. It wasn't standard that you would send her instead of showing up yourself, or even just waiting until the end of the day to tell him over dinner.

"Yes, sir." She nods, looking down at her notepad. "Her office got a call from the academy, about an hour ago. They wished to speak with her about your son, sir. In person."

Coryo furrows his brow, already standing and grabbing his red overcoat. "Did something happen?" Why would they call the head gamemaker and demand her presence a week before the games? That seems incredibly careless.

"They wouldn't tell me anything other than the fact he is safe and not injured, sir."

He nods slightly, already brushing past her out the door. "Call the school, tell them I am on my way."

Coryo gets out of the black car, pacing up to the elementary wing of the academy's campus, a building he is far too familiar with. Walking in, he watches the receptionists eyes go wide as they both stare at him. He clears his throat.

"Where is my son?" He asks flatly.

"In the Deans office, President Snow." She replies and he nods, rubbing his jaw.

"Whose decision was it to call on my wife a week before the games are set to begin?"

Her face pales. "Well, um, she is the primary emergency contact for him, it is procedure to make that call first."

"So it was you?"

"Yes, sir."

Coryo leans onto the counter that separated them. "Right, well, maybe we should work on our critical thinking skills next time if we want to keep our jobs, yes?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." He smiles slightly at her response, tapping his hand on the granite counter before walking off down the private hall.

He enters without knocking, practically slamming the door open and immediately searching the unnecessarily large office for your son. "Regulus, are you alright?" He asks, approaching the boy quickly when he sees him sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.

"Dad, I'm fine..." He mutters, arms crossed over his chest as he pouts.

Coryo crouches down in front of him, examining him closely.

"Coriolanus, I was surprised to get your call." The new Dean says, drawing his attention as he stands back up.

"Why is that?" Coryo asks, turning to his former classmate with a raised eyebrow.

She shrugs, standing behind her desk with her hands in her pockets. "We called for Y/N."

"A week before the games." He nods, approaching the desk slowly. "Are you not happier to see me than her, timing considered?"

"That's a good point." Persephone chuckles.

"Yes, she was not pleased you even called." Coryo replies, knowing he didn't even speak with you directly. "So please, tell me what is so important that you needed to interrupt both of our schedules."

"Right, yes. Please take a seat." She gestured toward the chair across from her own and he sits, only because it's polite. "So," She flips over a page in the notebook in front of her. "Regulus hit another student."

Coryo's eyebrows raise, and he turns to look at his son who's still pouting in the corner. "Come here, please." He pages him, and he saunters over, refusing to make eye contact with either of the adults in the room.

"Why?" Coryo asks him as he takes the empty seat next to him. The boy shrugs, still avoiding their gaze.

Coryo sighs. "Would you mind, Persephone? What happened?"

"Apparently..." She glances at her notes again. "Another student took his pencil without asking first and didn't give it back because, quote, 'they needed it and he had plenty'." She explains, looking up at them again. Regulus was the striking image of his father, his hair in the same longer somewhat disheveled curls that she used to remember on the man sitting next to him when they were that age.

"That's it?" Coryo asks.

"He hit him on the head, he's in the nurses office now being assessed for a concussion."

"Okay..?" He chuckles slightly in response. "Why did you have to call us?"

"Because this is a serious disciplinary issue." She scoffs, gesturing to his son.

Coryo looks between the two of them. "Okay, well, he looks like he feels bad, and I'll have my staff send an apology letter to the boys parents." He says, standing up again and tucking the chair back in. "Come on, kid. Let's go."

"Coriolanus, respectfully, this is more severe than that." Persephone interrupts. "We won't allow students to go around hurting others- especially over something so menial as a pencil. Eight years is too old for that kind of behaviour."

"You know his mother- don't you?" Coryo asks, raising an eyebrow at her. "I promise you, Dean Price, this is not serious." He turns then to his son. "Grab your stuff, I'll take you home." He says, and the little blonde boy rushes back to the corner to grab his bag.

"Coriolanus." She says again, exasperated by his lack of concern.

"Oh, and please tell the other boy that theft is not tolerated in Panem. He's lucky we won't have him executed." Coryo says, feigning a genuine smile at her with a sharp nod. He knows this isn't true, that executing a child over something so petty would never be considered in the Capitol, it would just be wasteful, but maybe next time he would think before stealing from the Presidents son.

She gives up at this, sighing as they walk toward the door.

Coryo shuts the door behind them, reaching forward to ruffle his son's hair.

The boy giggles, pouting and trying to fix it. "Dad.." He laughs, looking back up at him. "You're not upset with me, are you?"

"No, of course not." He grins, leaning down and placing a hand on his shoulder as they walk. "Did you know that your Dean is a cannibal?" He whispers, giving a quick nod to the girls at the reception desk as they pass.

Regulus gasps, looking up at him. "Is she really?"

"Yes." Coryo nods. "Tell your friends."

"Ew..." His son shivers, and Coryo smiles.

"I know right? Gross." He laughs quietly as they step out into the hall. "Now, where's your sister?"

"She's in English." Regulus answers and Coryo nods, leading him up the stairs and toward the classroom.

Once again, Coryo doesn't bother knocking before opening the door to his daughter's classroom.

Everyone looks up at once and the teacher pauses, gasps and whispers filling the room.

"Daddy!" Regan smiles, standing quickly and running down the stairs to the door, throwing her arms around his waist.

"Hi, Gem." He chuckles slightly, rubbing her back as she clings to him.

"President Snow..." The teacher smiles nervously. "We weren't expecting a visit today, but we were just discussing the significance of The Hunger Games and it's depictions in literature, would you care to comment?"

"Oh, interesting!" He grins, glancing back to Regulus waiting just outside. "I would love to, but Regan's mother is really the one to speak to about all that. Unfortunately, I'm busy today but perhaps we can get her in one day to speak in one of your lessons?"

"That would be wonderful." Her teacher smiles. "Then, what brings you in?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry for interrupting, but I'll be pulling Regan for the day." He explains and his daughter gasps, looking up at him with excitement. "Yeah." He whispers to her, patting her head. "Go get your things."

"Oh! Okay, did you sign her out? Typically they would call me beforehand." The teacher replies as Regan goes back to her seat, grabbing her things and being not so sneaky about sticking her tongue out at her classmates.

"No, I just decided to grab her while I was here. Just call the office and let them know I took her." He smiles, opening his arm to his daughter again as she comes back.

Regan practically skips out of the room, super excited to be free of something she already hears about endlessly at home. "What happened, Daddy? Why are we leaving?" She asks, grabbing her father's hand.

"Well, my schedule cleared up and I just thought 'Hm... I sure am missing my favourite girl today,' and then I remembered your last report card and how incredibly well you are doing and decided you deserved a day off."

"Really?!" She squeals, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Of course, Sweetheart." Coryo chuckles, scooping her up to carry her down the stairs.

"Lux, what would you like to do today? Anything you want." He looks down at the boy walking next to them.

"Uh, I'm not sure."

"Daddy, can we go see Mum?" Regan asks, looking up at him with a hopeful sparkle in her eyes. "I want to see her pets!"

Coryo chews the inside of his cheek. It's certainly not a good time, but if he would be with them maybe they could just sneak in to say hello. He found it extremely difficult to say no to her. "Sure, Darling." He nods, opening the front door to the academy.

"Okay, remember, Mum is very busy so we're just going to pop in to say hello, and if she says it's okay we can go see her pets." Coryo explains to the kids as they get out of the car outside the Citadel. "We're going to be quiet, and not touch a single thing unless I say it's okay."

Regan's blonde pigtails bounce as she runs up the stairs in front of the building, having abandoned her bag in the car. Regulus is right on her heels, reaching for her hair as if he's going to pull it.

They were under a year apart in age, 'district twins', as Ma Plinth had dubbed them when Regan was born. When you were expecting your son, the games were difficult to plan and execute. You would never admit it, but Coryo could see that the hormones of pregnancy made you almost sympathetic to the tributes and their families- you could hardly even watch the games you spent a year meticulously planning. You spent most of the time you could watch with a bucket in your lap. So when Coryo suggested you have your second right away, you were skeptical. You didn't want to go through that again right away, but he wasn't sure he could convince you to do it again if you decided to wait.

"Let's just get it over with," He had insisted. "Then we'll have our two beautiful babies and you'll never have to do it again. Everything will go back to normal." You couldn't argue with that logic.

So when Regulus was eleven months old, the Capitol was buzzing with excitement over the announcement that the First Lady of Panem had given birth to another child; a baby girl, and she was perfect.

"Gem of Panem! What do we have here?" Your receptionist grins as the three of them stroll in, eyes locked on the kids as Regan holds her head high. The receptionist is rounding the desk, crouching down and opening her arms for the little girl who happily runs into them. "If it isn't the real gem of Panem, how are you, Miss Regan?"

"I'm good." Regan giggles, arms wrapped around the woman's neck. "Daddy picked me up from school early."

"I see that." She chuckles, standing up and lifting the seven year old onto her hip as she looks at Coryo.

"I decided to let the kids have the rest of the day off today, and they wanted to come say hi to Doctor Snow." He explains. "If she has a moment."

"Oh, that's a good question..." The woman nods, gently lowering Regan back to the ground and circling the desk again, pulling up the paper schedule and scanning over it for a moment. "You know what, let me call her and just ask."

Your phone rings on your desk in the corner and you sigh, heels clicking across the floor as you pace over. "I swear to god if it is the school again..." You mumble to yourself, picking up the line. "What is it?"

"Doctor Snow, sorry to bug you, but your family is here."

"My family..." You ask, mind still set on the technical details of the almost prepared arena.

"Yes, Doctor. President Snow has brought your children by, they wish to see you, but only if you have time."

You blink, realizing what she said. "Okay, yes. That's fine. Send them down."

You can hear your kids before you see them, Regan talking away mostly to herself as they step out of the elevator into the part of your lab that held your office. You sigh, quickly removing your leather gloves and fixing the disheveled state of your hair before stepping out into the hall to greet them.

"Mummy!" Your daughter squeals, running toward you as you crouch down to catch her in your arms.

"Hi, Gem..." You laugh slightly, eyes now focussed on Regulus. He's shifting on his feet, standing so close to his father's side that he's almost standing behind him.

"Lux," You let your daughter go, opening your arms to him. "Come here, darling. What's wrong? What happened?"

He doesn't say anything, eyes locked on the ground as he walks up to you and leans into your shoulder. "Are you hurt?" He slightly shakes his head and you pick him up, allowing him to wrap his legs around your waist and arms around your neck.

You look pointedly at your husband.

'I'll tell you about it later' He mouths to you and you nod, gently rubbing circles into the boys back while Regan pulls on your lab coat impatiently.

"Mummm," She whines, already stomping her foot on the ground since your attention was no longer on her. "Mum, I want to see your pets and Daddy said we could."

"I said maybe, Gem." Coryo laughs slightly.

You chew on your lip, not minding the deteriorating state of your red lipstick. You were really anxious to find out what happened with Regulus, so maybe letting the kids entertain themselves for just a moment would allow you a second to talk to Coryo about it.

"Sure, of course you can. We'll just have to be quick, Mum is very busy today." You smile, gently putting your son down as his head perks up at the idea. "Come on." You take his hand, leading them all down the hall to one particularly safe section of your lab.

There are a series of mutts under testing and development here, but in this room close to your office, it contained only small animals like mice and rats, or bugs that the kids never showed much interest in. "Don't touch a thing, okay?" You tell them as you unlock the door.

The kids rush in, running up to a tank and immediately gawking at its contents. You didn't understand why, fully, since they just looked like regular old house mice. Your kids just wanted to be involved, you supposed. The same way Regan enjoyed sitting on Coryo's lap while he gave speeches or did interviews, but Regulus had always shown more of an interest in what you did behind the scenes, not just in front of the cameras.

"What happened?" You ask Coryo quietly as soon as they are sufficiently occupied.

Coryo chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your cheek as you keep your eyes locked on the kids. "Hello to you too."

You sigh, smiling as you lean into him. "Hi. Sorry. I'm just a little stressed."

"I know, love. Don't worry about it." He squeezes your side. "We'll get out of your hair in a few minutes."

"What happened with him?" You ask again.

"He hit another kid." Coryo states plainly and you gasp, turning to fully look at him for the first time.

"What?" You ask, searching his expression for any clue that he may have been kidding.

He shrugs. "They stole his pencil and refused to give it back."

"Oh, well, then they deserved it." You scoff. "Little brat- did you get the names of the parents?"

He laughs quietly, shaking his head and reaching up to hold your cheek. "I handled it. Don't worry about a thing." You don't have the chance to argue before he's kissing you to hush any of your concerns.

You hum against his lips, pressing a hand to his chest. "But, Coryo-"

"I handled it." He reminds you, just gently biting down on your lower lip. You can feel him smiling against you and you hum, allowing yourself to relax for just a moment.

Coryo takes the opportunity to turn to face you fully, dragging his hands down over your hips and backing you against the wall just behind you.

The kids were there, yes, but they were well used to seeing you kiss. It didn't bother either of you, and they had never known anything else. One day they may complain, but until that day came you would take every opportunity granted to you within your mutually tight schedules. Besides, the kids should know what love looks like. High expectations are good expectations, in your opinion.

The moment is interrupted by your phone ringing in your office down the hall and you quickly take a step back. With the tributes already in the Capitol, you couldn't afford to miss a call. Anything could happen- you know that story well.

"I'm sorry, I need to get that." You say and he nods as you turn to the kids. "Lux, Gem, come on. Time to go."

"Mum!" Regan whines, stomping her foot down as she always tended to do. "We just got here, can't we stay a few more minutes?"

"No, Regan. Out. Come on." You motion for them to come and they do, but your daughter in particular looks extremely unpleased as she stomps past you and out the door while Regulus follows with his hands tucked in his pockets. You turn off the light and lock the door.

"Okay, I'll see you at home tonight. Yes?" You kiss your husbands cheek and he smiles, giving you another quick kiss before you disappear into your office and shut the door behind you.

You take the call, and of course it was nothing of importance. So many things had to be run by you as head gamemaker that they felt it necessary to call and confirm the contents of what would be fed to the tributes. It never ended.

You don't even get the time to process where you had left off with your work before you're overwhelmed by voices. Your name being yelled by your husband accompanied by screaming, horrified pained screaming- which you quickly identify as coming from Regan. Your motherly instincts kick in before you even know it and you're throwing your door back open and are standing in the hall.

Coryo rushes out of the elevator with your daughter in his arms, his eyes wide as he moves quickly toward you. "It bit her! Something bit her- I don't know, I-"

You nod; there's no time for questions. "Okay, get her to the exam room." Moving as quickly as possible down the hall, you're grabbing at her little red blazer and pulling the sleeves up as she keeps screaming bloody murder.

You shove the door open and rush inside, for the first time noticing Regulus following behind you. You grab his shirt and pull him in while Coryo quickly lays her on the table. Even in the panic, you couldn't leave him unsupervised anywhere in the lab. Especially if something had escaped.

"Get her top unbuttoned, I'll need her arm free!" You tell Coryo as you shuffle around through the cupboard quickly trying to find everything you were looking for. A syringe, the antidote for whatever it may be. You don't even know. Glancing over your shoulder, her skin looks flushed with red patches showing up on her neck and face; but it could just be from crying.

Coryo's hands are shaking as his daughter continues to scream and cry in his face, making it harder for him to get her blazer off and unbutton her top. "You're going to be okay, darling. Shh, shh... Mum's gonna help." All he can think about while he pulls off her blazer and frees her arms from the little blue shirt is the time that he saw Clemensia Dovecote get bit by one of Gaul's snakes. He thought she was dead, and she walked out of the hospital wishing that she was. She never recovered- but she was quickly given treatment. Much quicker than his seven-year-old daughter, who is also significantly smaller than his friend was at the time.

"What was it? Did you see what it was?" You ask in a panic, bringing over a box and flinging it open next to her on the table.

"I didn't see it! I just saw-"

"It was a mouse." Regulus says, and Coryo turns to him with wide eyes. Luckily, you're all action and you're already filling the syringe with something that should counteract whatever effects the mouse's bite could have on her while he stares at his son. He looks calm, watching the scene with a tilted head. "It was just a mouse, Daddy."

Coryo looks away, grabbing Regan's hand and squeezing it. He didn't have the chance to tell you that whatever it was, apparently this "mouse", had been dropped down the back of Regan's shirt by her brother as soon as the elevator began to lift them. He had done it on purpose. Though, he couldn't have known what was wrong with the creature.

"This is just gonna be a pinch, Gem. Try and take a deep breath for me..." You tell her as you squeeze her arm. She makes no effort to do so, but knowing that the mice were only being designed to cause pain, it didn't surprise you.

"There you go, good girl..." Coryo coos at her as you just as quickly remove the needle, quickly disposing of it as he brushes her hair back from where it clung to her face. Immediately he can see the blood returning to her face, and she's still crying but whatever it was you gave her must have helped with the pain instantly.

"She'll be okay." You sigh in relief, rejoining his side and lifting Regan up so she's sitting. "Can you hold her? I just need to find the bite."

Coryo sits on the table, lifting her into his lap as you look over her arms and ankles. "It's on her back." He tells you, repositioning her carefully so you could see. She wasn't screaming anymore, just sniffling with eyes drooping shut.

You furrow your brow, stepping to his other side to get a look at it, seeing the small swelling area at the top of her back. You grab some disinfectant to quickly clean it before you dress it properly. "What happened?" You ask. "Did she fall?" It was unclear to you how she could have been bitten in such a place without being on the ground.

Coryo doesn't say anything, shifting his gaze over to Regulus again. He's watching you closely and how you're treating the bite, eyes trained on your gloved hands.

When your husband doesn't answer you immediately you look up at him again, and then follow his eyes to your son. "What did you do?" You ask him, plastering the gauze onto your daughter's back.

"I just wanted to know what would happen, Mummy." He says simply.

"You knew what would happen, Lux. I've told you so many times not to touch anything. That it's not safe, and one of you could get hurt." You frown, packing up your first aid kit before going over to him, and kneeling down in front of the blonde boy. "I know you're interested in what I do, and I love that, but if you have questions you have to ask. Not do experiments yourself."

You grab his arms to get him to look at you again. "Hey, I'm not mad at you." You say softly. "I just need you to be careful. You're smarter than this."

He nods, wrapping his arms around your neck and hugging you. You sigh as you hug him back. "You can't hurt your sister, darling. We're a team. Do you understand?"

"I do. It was just a mouse, I didn't think it would be that bad. I'm sorry." He agrees quietly, eyes still locked on his sister as his dad cradles her gently in his arms. She's passed out against his chest, holding her as close as he possibly can.

He shakes his head at his son, trying to display his clear disappointment. It would quickly be noticed if his daughter, the President's daughter, fell ill, and he knew he would have to jump through hoops to cover up her recovery and that the very reason for it was her own brother.

Regulus Snow was his mother's son, and Coriolanus didn't believe his apology one bit.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world @nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl

[phoward89]

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus Snow, Young Politician!Coriolanus Snow, Coriolanus and Reader are 25 in this.

Warnings! Cussing, Premature labor, mention of suicide, mention of death, heavy angst, underage smoking um I think that's it...

Hate That I Love You

There's an old saying that goes 'There's a fine line between love and hate'. An old saying that would ring true about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow.

Coriolanus needed to marry for power and money in order to cement his path to political (presidential) success. Which is why he married you.

Lucky you…

Anyways, he brokered an arranged marriage with your step-father, who was a high ranking general in the Peacekeepers, by reminding him that your real father Colonel Halvir had served with his father, General Crassus Snow. That they had died together in the woods of 12 by the hands of rebels and it's only fitting that the heirs of both military greats marry.

Honestly, he just wanted your step-father’s money and political support. What better way to get a seat on the war council then to marry the step-daughter of the Head Of The War Department.

Yea, your step-father was given that position after Dr. Gaul met a tragic and accidental death. It's such a pity that she ‘accidently’ slipped and fell into a tank of deadly mutts.

Well, Coriolanus was given her position as Head Gamemaker at only 23 while your family got an even bigger boost in political power.

Of course, your step-father agreed to the match. Your mother was leery about it and your older brother, Rein, honestly didn't give a shit since he was off in one of the districts serving as a peacekeeper. Your younger half-brother, Darius, thought that you were marrying a cold blooded snake.

Oh, how he couldn't be more spot on if he tried.

9 months of marriage (7 of them being pregnant) and your husband was still cold and offish to you. He seemed to avoid you, unless he wanted to get his dick wet.

Hell, he even avoided eating meals with you.

It was a miracle that he even ate Sunday dinners with you, considering he would grab the plate you made up for him and take it to his private study to eat.

All alone and locked away from you. As if you disgusted him.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you, because it did. It hurts (especially since you were pregnant) having a husband that hates you. What makes it worse is that you fell in love with the cold hearted bastard. You don't even know how you managed to do that, but you did.

And on top of everything, your pregnancy wasn't the easiest one either. Even though you’re young, you've been extremely stressed (of course you're stressed, look at who your husband is) and your OBGYN told you that you needed to calm down or else you'd be at risk for a few health issues.

Mostly high blood pressure and…well…you didn't even want to think about the other one the doctor mentioned.

Of course, since your husband’s too busy campaigning for the Senate (he claimed that he needed to become a Senator before he could even think about running for President) he never went to any of your appointments. He offered though. He always offered to go with you, but you always waved him off and told him to worry about his campaign.

That you'd be fine going to the doctor by yourself.

But the truth was, you just couldn't handle pretending to be a happy couple in at the doctor's office. It was easier to let everyone at OBGYN’s office to believe that Coriolanus was busy with his political ambitions along with being the head gamemaker then having them see how uninterested he was in your pregnancy.

How fake his smiles were; how his hands shook with disgust when holding yours.

You were afraid the little cracks in the facade you put on with Coriolanus for the public would crack in the doctor's office. It was too much of a close, intimate setting for the cracks not to be easily hidden.

It wasn't like when he drags you around to galas, showing you off on your arm to the right people only to shoo you off to talk to the rich Capitol housewives. You didn't spend too much time at galas with him. You spent your time playing the part of a pretty perfect housewife that got along with other rich women while your husband spent his time networking.

Talk about your husband, Coriolanus was currently in staring at his reflection in the floor length mirror near the closet while tying his red and black damask tie in a Windsor knot. He looked perfectly handsome today. His platinum hair (Which you were shocked to find out was natural. Say what?!) was perfectly styled and slicked back with gel and his face was freshly shaved. Like always, he was dressed in one of his custom suits that cost more than what somebody in the mines, fields, and factories of the districts made in a month.

It was a black one with a matching waistcoat. Which was a far cry from all white and various shades of red he wore.

Hell, it wasn't just him that wore white and various shades of red, but you too since he deemed what dresses were in your closet. Eh, at least he had his cousin design you some pink dresses to wear in-between all the white and reds he curses you with.

Pink was your favorite color, but you know that he's got no clue. Having his cousin design a few pink dresses for you was just a coincidence.

It didn't mean anything.

As Coriolanus tied his tie with a Windsor knot, his icy blue eyes watched you from the mirror. You were across the room, sitting at the your vanity. Your were brushing your hair and looked a bit lost in your thoughts.

He wanted you ask you what was on your mind, but he was…

Scared.

Yes, he was scared to put himself in a situation where he had to have an actual conversation with you outside of the clipped responses and simple questions that are detrimental to married life.

Coriolanus was afraid that if he talked, truly talked with you, then the well kept secret he's been keeping for the last few months would come spilling out. That he'd have to confront his feelings for you because he knew that once he started to listen to you share your thoughts that he'd be a goner.

That his hard, cold mask he wears around you would shatter.

He just couldn't have that.

He couldn't allow himself to admit that he's in love with you.

Coriolanus swore to himself that he'd never fall in love again. That he'd never give somebody so much power and control over him and his emotions ever again.

That he'd never make himself become weak for a woman.

After Lucy Gray broke his heart by betraying him, manipulating him, and using him to keep her ungrateful ass alive, he swore off love.

Love was painful.

He learned that the hard way.

Love was a weakness that he couldn't afford.

So, he decided to marry somebody that he felt that he'd never be able to love. Somebody that he could even hate. And that's why he picked you.

Yes, your step-father was a very prominent general, but it was your mother's blood running in your veins that made you the perfect candidate for marriage. It was the worst best kept secret in the Capitol that your mother, Helenium, had baby trapped your father, an officer in the peacekeepers, into marrying to rise out of poverty in District 12. The fact that you had district blood, not any district but 12, blood running in your veins was reason enough for Coriolanus to hate you.

So, assuming that he'd hate you til her grew old and died, he approached your step-father about marrying you.

Unfortunately, he didn't anticipate how easy you truly were to fall in love with.

Fuck!

He hated it.

Coriolanus hated having feelings for you.

He didn't like feelings.

He refuses to acknowledge them.

As long as he ignored his feelings then he couldn't get hurt. You couldn't hurt him.

He's never let himself get hurt over love ever again.

Coriolanus was about to turn away from the mirror and walk out of the room, but stopped himself whenever he heard your breath hitch and saw you quickly place your hand on your rounded belly.

Was something wrong? The last time you had a doctor's appointment he intended to take the morning off, but you insisted that he meet with his political team and work on his Senate campaign. But when he got home he asked you how the appointment went and you told him everything was fine.

Did you lie to him?

Turning around to look at you, he asked, “Are you alright, Y/N?”

You powered through the sharp pain and nodded, “I'm fine, Coriolanus.”

“Are you sure?” Your husband asked, starting to make his way over to you with worry in his striking blue eyes.

“I'm sure, Coriolanus.” You lied.

You weren't fine. You were having sharp pains; felt a bit nervous too since you were only 7 months along in your pregnancy. But, you couldn't tell your husband that.

Coriolanus was as cold as his name- Snow.

He didn't give a fuck about you.

Hell, you could die in childbirth and he wouldn't even care. He'd just hire a nanny to raise his heir, your baby boy Cassian Xandros, and then he'd just find somebody else to marry. Somebody else to hate and make miserable.

You felt that Coriolanus wouldn't shed a single tear if something went wrong and you died in childbirth. That he wouldn't mourn you, wouldn't give a shit if your headstone was overrun with weeds and overgrowth.

You were so wrong though. So very wrong about that.

Coriolanus would be utterly heartbroken if he lost you the same way he lost his mother and baby sister. He'd blame himself.

He'd be eating a bullet and joining you in that graveyard, making your son an orphan, if you died in childbirth.

A thin, but fake smile, graces your lips as you assured him, “I'm fine, Coriolanus. It's probably just braxton hicks or something.” You felt him stop right next to you as you set your brush down. His shadow fell over you, but you refused to look up at him. Instead you reached for your powder compact.

Coriolanus gave it to you as a gift after you told him you were pregnant. It was silver and had roses engraved on it. The face powder inside of it smelled like roses too.

Unknown to you, him giving you that compact was his love language.

It belonged to his mother.

The first time he gave it to somebody it was filled with poison to help that manipulative performer of a bitch Lucy Gray to cheat in the arena during the 10th Hunger Games.

The second time he gave it to somebody, the reasoning wasn't twisted, but was genuine. Coriolanus thoroughly cleaned his mother's compact, filled it with rose scented face powder, and gave it to you after learning that you were carrying his child.

He gave it to you because you made him happy. Because you were giving him a family.

It was also the moment when he realized he didn't hate you at all, but actually had feelings for you.

Coriolanus would never admit it, but your pregnancy wasn't a happy one for him. He imagined that he'd be more involved, but you were pushing him so hard to focus on his campaign.

Even though he avoided talking to you for longer then he had to, he still wanted to be involved with your pregnancy. Maybe the next one’ll be happier since he won't be campaigning.

And yes, he planned on having at least one more child with you. Cassian Xandros needed a sibling after all.

Opening the compact and grabbing the puff inside, you told your husband, “I'm fine, really.” Patting the puff into the compact’s powder, you urge him to leave. “If you don't go, you'll be late for your political meetings and duties as head Gamemaker.”

Coriolanus nodded, only to rub your shoulder and say, “If you need me, call me.”, before pivoting on his heel and walking out of your master bedroom.

You thought that your pains would ease up, but they didn't. As the day progressed, so did they.

It got to the point that as you gazed outside the window, looking at the bustling city streets below, you debated on whether or not to call your husband.

Coriolanus told you to call him if you needed him. But, did you need him? Maybe. Hell, you didn't know. All you knew was that he didn't care about you; would probably be upset that you called him. He was a busy man; you doubt that he actually meant it when he told you to call him.

He probably just said it because it was the husbandly thing to say to a wife that seemed upset.

He didn't mean it. No, he was cold and unfeeling towards you so the less you bothered him the better.

Coriolanus was busy preparing for the start of the games and running a Senate campaign. He didn't need to be bothered by you and your pains.

You let out cry, feeling like a thunderbolt has struck your side. Oh god, the pains were getting worse.

Clenching your teeth, you turned away from the window to shuffle over to the phone.

You weren't going to call your husband. No, you couldn't do that. But, maybe you could call your doctor instead.

You never called your doctor.

Your sure as hell didn't call your Coriolanus either.

Instead, your 17 year old brother did. And that call, well, it gutted your husband.

He just replayed it over and over again in his mind as he rushed to the hospital (opting to snag the car keys from his driver, Bentley, and just gun it to Capitol General Hospital himself).

“This is Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow, to whom am I speaking with?” Coriolanus answered his office phone, like he always did, with a polite but professional greeting.

“Coriolanus, bro, it's Darius-” Your brother began to say, only for the aspiring senator to cut him off with a question of, “Darius, what are you calling me for? Shouldn't you be in class at the Academy right now?”

“Dude, you're the damn Head Gamer, did you forget how the top students are stuck mentoring tributes from districts without Victor's to act as mentors?” Darius asked in a ‘duh, you're an idiot’ type of tone. “I'm stuck being a mentor for District 8 and was given half the day off to go to the Tribute Housing center to make sure everything's all prepared and shit. So, before going over to that shit hole of a glorified hotel, I went to visit my sister, but I found her passed out and bleeding. I had to call the medics.”

Coriolanus’ couldn't believe his ears. You passed out and bleeding! Were you alright? Were you hurt? Was something wrong with the baby? Were you downplaying your pains this morning so he'd go to work instead of staying home with you?

So many questions ran through his platinum blonde head, but before he could string his thoughts together to form a coherent sentence, Darius told him, “You need to get to the hospital quick, Coriolanus. I'm just her brother and can't make any medical decisions for her since she's married to you.” Your little brother let out a shaky breath. “They saved the baby; it's in the NICU cause it came so early, but it's touch and go with Y/N.”

“What?...” Coriolanus let out in a whooshing breath.

Touch and go…

Did that mean?...

No…

No!

He couldn't lose you. Not now, not when he finally realized that he didn't hate you at all, but truly did love you with every fiber of his being.

“I’ll be right there. Thank you for calling, Darius.”

“Don't thank me, Coriolanus.” Darius spat, only to go on a long rant of, “I only called you because I can't make medical decisions for my sister and the hospital staff’s pussies that are too scared shitless of you to do it. If it was up to me, I wouldn't have called cause you're a cold hearted snake that doesn't deserve my sister. Y/N deserved a man that actually cares about her, not somebody that just takes her off a shelf and plays with her like a fucking doll when the mood hits.”

All Coriolanus could do was blink as his brother-in-law hung up on him.

Coriolanus' knuckles were holding onto the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip as he broke every traffic law known to man to get to the hospital.

The fact that he could lose you just like he lost his mother was fucking with his head. It was breaking him in ways that he never knew he could be broken.

Love is a painful thing. Love hurts. Love is the only thing to bring him to his knees. A feeling that he hates.

A feeling that he's tried to avoid.

But he couldn't avoid his feelings for you anymore.

Once he reached the hospital, Coriolanus inquired about your room, only to rush to your side. When he reached your room, you were hooked up to some machines and monitors.

Your little brother, Darius, was by your side. He was smoking a cigarette (which is not allowed in a hospital, by the way) while watching the Makary Show, which was a TV talk show where district women dragged peacekeepers and Capitol men they claimed were their baby daddies to do paternity tests.

“You can't smoke in here, Darius.” Coriolanus told your little brother while making his way to your bedside.

“It's a private room, cause the name Snow gets the VIP treatment, so it ain't like anyone's gonna complain bout it.”

“Y/N doesn't need to be exposed to it while she's fighting for her life. Be considerate of your sister.” Your husband hissed at your little brother.

“Oh, so now you give a fuck about her all of a sudden? Oooo…that's nice to know.”

Coriolanus' frostily stared Darius as he seethed, “Don't stand here and assume you know how I feel about my wife because you don't. Now, you need to leave.”

“I’ll let my parents know what's going on with Y/N.” Darius sighed, tossing his half smoked cigarette into his water cup before standing to his feet.

Without another word, your brother left your husband alone in your room.

Coriolanus took vigil by your bedside. He never left your side. Not even when a nurse came in and asked if he wanted to be escorted to the NICU to see his son.

He refused, saying that he'd see Cassian Xandros with you when you woke up.

The nurse sadly nodded and left him be. She thought he was grasping at straws since there was a chance that you wouldn't wake up.

Coriolanus begged you to wake up. Promised to make an effort to be around more of you'd only open your beautiful eyes from him.

And finally, after 3 days in a coma, you blinked your eyes open. At first your vision was a bit blurry as you heard a gasp from next to you. As your vision cleared, you saw your that your husband's face was near yours.

And he was crying.

He was crying?

Why was he crying?

You took in his appearance and realized that he looked like shit. His platinum curls, usually slick back with gel, were disheveled and greasy. He also had light blonde stuble covering his jaw.

But it was his icy blue eyes that tooth your breath away.

They held so much relief in them as they welled with water.

“Corio-” You began to ask, only for your husband to cut you off. “My darling, I thought I was going to lose you.” Coriolanus held you close to his chest and his voice cracked.

“Lose me? What happened?” You asked, pulling away from his hold to look up at him with confusion shining in your eyes.

“Darius found you passed out and bleeding, Y/N. You've been out of it for roughly 3 days.” Your husband explained, his usually firm voice a bit unsteady.

The air was knocked out of your lungs as the realization of what happened hit you. “The baby?...” You shakily asked, hoping that your baby boy survived.

“Cassian Xandros is strong and a survivor, just like us.” Coriolanus smiled. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he explained, ‘He's in the NICU; the nurse can take us to see him.”

Assuming that Coriolanus has seen your son already, you innocently asked, “Does he look like me or like you?”

“I don't know, darling. I've been waiting for you to wake up so we can see him together.”

Your husband's answer blindsided you. You weren't expecting that.

But what he said next, well, that rendered you speechless.

His baby blue eyes met yours as he poured out his blackened soul to you. His fingers threaded with yours as he confessed, “I was terrified that you weren't going to make it, Y/N. I was afraid that I'd have to go through the pain of heartbreak all over again.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Heartbreak? Did that mean…

“The first time I fell in love it was 7 years ago, when I was Lucy Gray’s mentor.”

You didn't need to hear that. You already knew he fell for her. Hell, everyone that was in the Top 24 of the Academy graduating class of 10 ADD knew that (yourself included).

Great, so he was going to tell you that he was still hung up on his lost first love while you lay in the hospital bed? What a cold hearted man you were married to. Hell, why would he even do that.

A glazed over look appeared in his eyes and his baritone grew tight. “I nearly destroyed my entire life for her. For love. And you know where it got me? Heartbroken, used up, betrayed, and alone.”

“Corio-”, You began, not understanding where he was coming from, only for him to interrupt you with the simple request of, “Please, call me Coryo.”

You nodded, prompting him to continue his holy confession, “Lucy Gray and her love left me feeling like a fool. I hated feeling like that and swore that I'd never let myself feel that way again. That I’d never fall in love again.” Coryo's thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I swore to marry a woman that I could never love, but only hate in order to never feel weak, broken, humiliated, and manipulated again.”

Great…so now it's confirmed that he hates you. You always suspected it, but now you know the truth for sure. You swallowed down a lump in your truth and softly said, “I understand, Coryo.”

“No, I don't think you do, darling.” Your husband shook his head, making his blonde curls rustle around. “I hate myself for loving you, my darling rose, because you have the power to destroy me if you wish.”

“Y-you love me?” You gasped as tears began to tickle your eyes.

“Yes.” Your husband smiled. “Very much and it frightens me because of what happened between me and that manipulative bitch all those years ago.”

Oh wow…Lucy Gray sure did do a number on your husband. Oh, if you ever got your hands on her, you'd rip hair hair out and claw her eyes out for the emotional turmoil she put Coriolanus through. If it wasn't for her breaking his heart so badly, you would’ve had a better marriage.

“I love you too, Coryo, and I'll never hurt you the way she did.’ You promised your husband.

“You better not or else I'll burn down all of Panem this time in the wake of my heartbreak.” Your husband teased before pressing a kiss to your lips.

A kiss filled with every single emotion he's ever held back from you these last few months. His lips fit perfectly against yours as he drank in your soul with every moment they made against yours.

You broke apart whenever you heard a nurse loudly clearing her throat. Once you looked to the woman, she smiled and simply said, ‘I’m glad to see you're up, Mrs. Snow. How would you like to see your son?”

3 Months Later…

The way Cassian Xandros Snow entered the world was very dramatic but you wouldn't change a thing about it. In fact, if it wasn't for his dramatic birth then you and your husband might have gone your entire lives without confessing the love you have for each other.

Oh, that would've been horrible.

You were sitting in a white glider, rocking your son to sleep after feeding him, whenever the sound of barefeet slapping against the marble floor made you look up towards the doorway.

“Happy anniversary, darling.” Coriolanus smiled, single pink rose in his hand, as he walked into the nursery.

*Happy Anniversary, Coryo.” You smiled back, watching your husband as he made his way over to your side. Flickering your eyes between the pink rose and his icy blue eyes, you remarked, “I was expecting a white rose, not a pink one.”

“Yes, well, it's only fitting that I give you a pink rose today. After all, pink roses are your favorite; the white ones are mine.”

“How did you know that? I never told you?”

“I can be quite observant and a bit obsessive when I'm in love.” Was Coriolanus' answer as he passed you the rose, only to take your son into his arms.

Pecking your husband on his plush lips, you honestly told him, “And I wouldn't want you any other way, Coryo.”

Because, honestly, you preferred his obsessive love over his cold and distant hate. After experiencing both, well, you quickly discovered that it was better to be the center of Coriolanus Snow's world than to not be in it at all.

He hated that he loved you, but you loved that he loved you.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri , @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies , @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1

[harmfulb1tch]

Fallen Rose Petals (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Coryo persuades your father to let him marry you.

Warnings: a bit dark! Coryo, fluff

A/N: The part 2 nobody requested but here it is! (Sorry, it’s kinda short) please request in my inbox!

Coriolanus Snow was a man that protected his possession. He never liked when others played with his toys. And he certainly didn’t like when other’s claimed his possessions as theirs.

Coriolanus was now a man of higher power. He had just been named Gamemaker for the Hunger Games and a lot of contacts he could use for his personal gaining.

He put on the best dress shirt he could find laying around his house. He didn’t have to wear that scrap piece of fabric he wore during his graduation, the one his father used to call a shirt. He also decided on a red vest and his signature red coat. Last but not least, he held the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he has ever seen. It was put together by his grandma’am, made with the roses she planted in her garden.

That’s how the love of your life presented himself in front of your parent’s mansion. He knocked on the door and your father greeted him with a confused but genuine smile.

“Mr. Snow, what an unexpected surprise” he said, as nice as always towards the young man.

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Y/L/N. Is Y/N around?” Coriolanus used your first name because he was completely disgusted with the idea of calling you Mrs. Creed.

“In fact yes, my daughter is in the living room with her mother. Please, come inside.” Your father led Coriolanus to the living room where you were sitting watching TV. At the sight of Coriolanus, you jumped from your seat on the sofa and straight into his arms, giving him a bone crushing hug.

“Coriolanus! What are you doing here?” You said with the most beautiful smile on your face. Coriolanus could never get tired of it. It illuminated his life.

“These are for you, my darling” he presented you with the bouquet of roses. You sniffed them deeply, taking in the scent of them. The same scent that always reminded you of the man in front of you. The man you loved so dearly. You thanked him for the roses.

After having some tea with you and his family, Coriolanus dragged your father to the side’

“Mr. Y/L/N, may I please talk to you in private?” He said calmly.

“Of course Mr. Snow. What for?” He was quite confused by the interaction, but he didn’t question the powerful man in front of him further. Your father then led Corio towards his study, where he closed the door behind them.

“What is it you wanted to discuss so urgently Mr. Snow? Is this about the reason for your unexpected visit?”

“It is about why I came here. You know I’m a man of ambition Mr. Y/L/N. I’m here to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage” the look on Coriolanus’ eyes was filled with determination. He was not going to take a no for an answer.

“I’m sorry Mr.Snow. I’m afraid that is not going to be possible. She is already married to Mr.Creed.” Your father said calmly.

“Oh I know. But there is so much I can offer your daughter. Things Mr.Creed can’t” Coriolanus boiled inside, but his composure remained.

“Again, I’m sorry but-“ you father was cut off when Coryo punched your father’s desk with enough force to startle him. Coryo then grabbed your father by the collar, cornering him on the wall. You father swallowed hard.

“Look, Mr. Y/L/N. You have two options: either you let me marry your daughter or I end your family’s reputation. It’s your choice really. The outcome would be the same really. When your reputation is ruined, Mr. Creed will divorce your daughter, dispose of her as if she was trash. Like I said, it’s your choice” he said, threat laced on his voice.

“Y-yes Mr. Snow. Of c-course” your father was scared to death by the actions of the young man. Coriolanus had become powerful, fighting for his place in the Capitol. And now he was also running for president, with the odds to his favor. Your father also knew how much you liked Coriolanus, so he had no other choice.

The two men shook hands and left the office. You and your mother were sitting on the living room of the mansion sipping on tea and eating biscuits while chatting lightly when the two men came in. You motioned for Coryo to take a seat to your side on the sofa.

“We have an announcement. Y/N, you will be divorcing Festus and marry Mr. Snow. There is no discussion.” You father said, with a forced smile on his face. You softly nodded, hiding your excitement. Finally you would be happy.

You hugged Coryo, your Coryo. You felt safe and at home in his arms. You took his hand and the two of you went to have coffee. Of course, you chose the your favorite coffee shop. The same coffee shop he had first seen you with Festus, after his return. You both sat on the table on the outside terrace, he took your hand and kissed your knuckles sweetly, admiring you as if you were the most beautiful rose in his garden. You just hoped your dad had called Festus, breaking the news about the divorce for you.

[sweetestbasil]

RUBATOSIS || chapter one: self digestion

PAIRING : Dr.Gaul's Assistant!Coriolanus Snow x Experiment!Reader-Insert ( afab, they / them, sometimes it )

RATING : 18+ ( no smut in this chapter, but it's very unsettling )

WORD COUNT : 13, 776

WARNINGS : infidelity ( coryo's engaged to livia ), power imbalance, unreliable narrator ( it's 3rd POV but focuses on coryo's view ), unhealthy dynamics, dehumanizing language, medical experimentation, body examination that has... strange vibes, body horror-esque, coryo and gaul are messed up in this fic, he's more like his book version than movie

SUMMARY : 🙶 rubatosis - noun. the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 🙷

Fortune, marriage, and success - all within the hands of Coriolanus Snow, and it still isn’t enough to satisfy him. Tigris has grown distant and Livia is far more trouble than it's worth. 

Dr. Gaul has just the solution for him.

A/N : This is my first time posting my fanfic work on tumblr, so I hope everyone has fun reading this. If there are any mistakes, lemme know. This is the first of five chapters!

[ If you want to read it on AO3 instead ]

self digestion || autolysis - stage one of decomposition 

Oh, he hated this. 

He absolutely despised this.

A click of the soles, stepping against the freshly clean sidewalk, rid of any possible careless litter and debris. Had it not been for others who, too, were using the same path, even if they were going in opposite directions, had he half a mind, Coriolanus would have taken the moment to prop himself against a wall and let out the loudest sound of frustration. It wouldn’t be unwarranted, it wouldn’t be uncalled for. Dare he say, he almost feels he should be entitled to it. It had only been four days, but four days should have been enough time for Tigris to get back to him already. The correspondence was not even something of dire content, at least, Coriolanus imagined so. Questions of Grandma’am, if her time with Mrs. Plinth ( he was not going to refer to her as ‘Ma Plinth’ ) had been going well, how was the solo business venture regarding Tigris’s fashion going, was there any renovations that the home needed, how were they — things that he assumed, wrongly he guessed, that would be so simple to answer. 

God forbid that he still had the decency to still check in with his family even after he long moved out into his own place. 

If Tigris thought she could play him for a fool, she was the one in the wrong; the signs were as clear as can be, that Tigris was trying to ice him out as much as she could. And after all he’s worked hard for? Fixing the home up, making sure the fridge never stays empty, stabilizing the family. He’s even gotten engaged before Grandma’am could even croak, and is letting Tigris design his fiancé’s wedding gown! What else was he supposed to do to try and gain back her warmth? Dance and clap like a District to make himself seem smaller, more dumb, to please her? There was a lock to his jaw, a small grit in Coriolanus’s teeth, as he sipped down the coffee in his hand, the other in his coat pocket. 

He didn’t even wish to broach the idea of his fiancé on his walk to the Citadel. The heavy breath, a sigh, that breached itself out his lips. A hand raised to rub a gloved thumb briefly at the bridge of his nose. 

Ugh, Livia… It was a pain to even internally taste the words of her name on his tongue. 

It was an arranged marriage of convenience that he sought after, an extra piggy bank that he could expend on; and how quickly the elder Cardews lapped up at his palm when he planted the idea of marrying their daughter. A man who was of the old guard elite families, an assistant of Dr. Gaul’s, inheritor of the Plinth’s fortune, a gamemaker in training? They were downright salivating, that he almost felt embarrassed for Livia having to witness her parents’ stripped to their barest of greeds. The keyword being almost. Coriolanus needed to play his cards right to ensure his future, it was only fair game. If that meant taking his chance with the Cardews’ and their banks, he’d be just the fool that Tigris would want him to be if he turned them away. But, he could reluctantly suppose that the arrangement could be considered an equal drain on both parties. He seized their assets and their daughter seized up his free time. How could he forget the fundraiser dinner that Livia had invited them both to later on in the evening? She was delightful enough to remind him of it while they shared breakfast together, between his bites of quiche so that he couldn’t show a hint of a frown. 

Coriolanus sucked in a careful breath between his teeth. 

If she could only put herself to better use than just the one redeeming quality of a socialite. There was a slim chance he may have miscalculated. Perhaps it would have been an easier time, having something set up with Clemensia, or Lysistrata. 

“Mr. Snow! Good morning and welcome back, Dr. Gaul is already waiting for you in—“ 

“In Lab H05, got it! And a good morning to you, too.” He smiled back effortlessly to the front desk worker, giving them a wave and just the right, charming amount of teeth with the upwards pull of his mouth. 

Entering into the Citadel and seeing the hive of workers shift from one place to another in constant movement; they all tried to keep their voices at a low volume, but there was a constant buzz in the air, as they went from one hall to the other. Coriolanus maneuvered himself around them, slipping his deep mahogany overcoat seamlessly folded across his forearm. Full-Grain leather gloves that kept him warm from the cold, taken off his hands and instead placed neatly into the pocket of his overcoat. What a marvel it would have been for his young, naïve self to bear witness the luxury of a full wardrobe he now had. Never again did he have to spend long nights studying for the Academy besides an equally tired Tigris, who busied herself with trimming down the sizes of his father’s discarded shirts to fit him for school the next day. 

It was a muscle memory at this point, the path to one of the many labs that Dr. Gaul had established her practice in. She had told Coriolanus that she had a lab for each different study and project she was passionate towards, ones that were more… presentable, to the average Capital citizen, and ones that were more uncensored. Having worked for over a year under Dr. Gaul’s tutelage, Coriolanus had seen a decent amount, the clean and the vile, but even then, he knew very well he had not seen all. He wasn’t even sure if he did want to see all. Especially regarding what happened last time he wandered around the Citadel during Academy days. The doors to Lab H05 were wide open, Coriolanus noted, seeing it in his line of sight, getting closer and closer. It was inviting, telling any worker to come in and step in at any time ( should Dr. Gaul be around ). 

The air here was entirely different from what it was in the hallway. Where the air from when he first entered had been warm, inviting from the nipping cold outside. The vague smell of coffee, and an even fainter scent of something chemical, had mingled and intertwined to give the vaguest illusion that the Citadel could pass for a workplace like any other. However, the lab was as if entering an entirely different building. The lights that shone uncomfortably glaring, fluorescent lights that were hung overhead, on the ceiling. There were small lights, embedded into the floors and columns as well, guiding the path to any who walked in. It drowned the large room in an almost blue light. Lab H05 was one of the “clean” labs. A sterile scent in the air, the chemicals that were so faint in the halls were far more prominent, evident here. But, to the trained nose, there was something faint here too. The rusted scent of iron tickled under Coriolanus’s nose, but it barely registered to him anymore as anything concerning. Seeing the endless shelves of… odd specimens, the scent of blood was the last thing that should ever scare him away. 

“Dr. Gaul, good morning,” He kept a steady tone, not one that sounded tired, nor too joyous. Being seen as her “favorite” didn’t mean he could speak to her as casually as he pleased. It just meant that he took her current attention. A fickle thing that could be stripped away at any moment if he showed any less than acceptable. 

“Coryo,” He tensed his shoulders the same time she breathed it out in loving fashion. Her back once facing him, now turned as she walks towards him to cut the distance between the two. Since the gap started to form between Tigris and him, Dr. Gaul had taken to using that nickname on him. If it was to be used in terms of endearing him to her, or to mock him with the name that ghosts had called him, none could say for sure.

Coriolanus liked to believe it to be both, if he believed his assumptions of her character were right.

He never once let his eyes leave contact with her own, but he could hear the movement of her prominent, red latex gloves being peeled off her hands. She always thought it to be ironic, to wear such a color despite her profession. It matched the dye job that she had done on her surgical gown. He felt the weight of hands touching either side of his forearms, the smile on Dr. Gaul’s face caused a crinkle in her eyes as she bared all teeth in her smile. He wondered if she knew how threatening her grin looked.

“A morning to you as well. Has it been treating you good?”  

It felt as if some sort of warm feeling was spreading out from Dr. Gaul’s hands, through his arms and into his body. What a disgusting sensation, it made goosebumps rise on his skin. 

“As well as it could be.” Coriolanus’s voice spoke softly. 

Livia drained his energy far more than he expected with her morning rambles and gossip. 

Dr. Gaul’s hands smacked against his arms in a laugh, loud and knowing, she always knew, turning around to walk deeper in the lab. “Hah! By the sounds of it, it seems you’re not getting some peace of mind when you head home,” She turned back to look at him, giving him a glance, she was prying something out of him. “That’s no good, Coryo. You need to be in top shape to work, I can’t have my assistant become so… drained.” 

The crease in her eyes showed again. 

“If this is your preferred state, there is a new species of leeches I am working on. I assure you it is far more efficient than a Cardew of species.”

Well, now it was his turn to laugh. 

A dry chuckle that slipped from Coriolanus’s lips, moving to follow Dr. Gaul. Placing his coat on a table made of rich wood, something less… aseptic looking. There were moments where he often froze under the woman’s gaze; a humiliating, bodily reaction that made him feel so small, so vulnerable as he used to be. Yet, it was in times like these, where he could understand how Dr. Gaul still managed to hold sway over people besides just exemplary displays of fear and power. There was a sense of humor to her, if he could call it that, where if a powerful woman like her involved yourself in - you felt so included, special. 

“It was nothing like that. Livia just reminded me that after work today, she and I have to attend dinner later in the evening. It’s a fundraiser for the improvement and reconstruction of the Corso.” He turned his sight away from Dr. Gaul’s eyes, not being able to keep the contact any more. Flicking to the sight of the endless, bright shelves that lit up the tubes containing various specimens and experiments. Some failures, some on pauses, some successes, and some were just creative ‘what-ifs’; that would explain some of the seemingly useless fusions, like the jellyfish that had spider legs mixed in with some of its natural lappets, now encased in a resin tube. Coriolanus can’t recall if he was employed at the Citadel yet when this specimen was made. His fingers briefly touched upon the cool glass of it. What a disgusting idea. “I almost nearly forgot about it.” Dr. Gaul hummed at his response. 

“Why, doesn’t that sound riveting! What a joy young life is, flitting from one function to the other, all the night-time glamor. You know, before I was transferred to work in the Citadel, I was the same. I thought of giving my children some of my old wardrobe from my youth, but it’s so out of the current trends, it just collects dust now.” What a blessing, for her kids. They could avoid the embarrassment of coming into the room looking as if they robbed the Pre-Dark Days exhibit at the Capital’s museum. The heels of Dr. Gaul’s heels clicked against the smooth, waxed floor. Coriolanus could feel the brief sliver of her heavy presence pass him by from behind, as she went to head over to another area in the room. It sounded vaguely close to the center of it. 

“You must be excited, Coryo. Are you going to wear,” Her words paused. She was tasting the air for something. “Ah, what’s her name… That cousin of yours, the one who started her new business a while ago.”

What was the point of this conversation?

“Tigris.” 

A brief flare tickled behind his ribs, reminding him of his thoughts earlier before. Standing up from his spot, fingers now leaving the glass of the odd ( sickening ) creature, his prints left slightly behind on the glass. Stretching his shoulders back with his arms, muscles pulled, away from their previously hunched position. Coriolanus walked over to where Dr. Gaul was, who stood nearby another table at the center of the lab. This time, this one was far cleaner, made of what seemed to be a material of stainless steel. In her hands she carried a manila folder, or two, in her hands; her painted nails sifted through the papers carefully. She was writing something quickly down inside of it. He wanted to know, but he held his tongue. Gaul would tell him if it was something he needed to be aware of. 

“And I’m not sure. Livia is still picking out her dress and I want to match with her.” He smiled at her. 

“Aren’t you a romantic,” She gives him a look out of the corner of her eye, the blue one that matched his. It made his skin crawl, he hated the feeling of it. “Is your heart melting, Snow?”

Coriolanus hopes she sticks to her career as a Gamemaker, being a comedian looks like a bleak future for her. 

The smile on his lips grew wider, a small laugh at her words, his hand reaching to cover his mouth slightly to muffle the sound in the large room. 

“I wouldn’t say that just yet.” 

He wouldn’t say it at all. Livia? Melt his heart? Sure, she could melt his eardrums when she had that obnoxious snort to her loud laughs. It made her sound like a pig, shipped straight to the Capital from the farms of District 10. That would defeat the purpose of why he married her in the first place. It would be the utmost betrayal to himself, after he had promised to close himself after– 

“Since you have a date tonight,” His ears perked up immediately. “I’ll reduce the amount of work you have for today, I’ll be merciful.” He wouldn’t argue if she decided to give him more. She pressed a manila folder into his open hands, her grip was tight on it. This was a folder that not many eyes needed to be on. Taking it carefully from her hands, he raised it to his eyesight curiously, catching the sight of the project name written on top of it. 

PROJECT: CAPTIVE – A.01 PROMETHEUS 

Coriolanus brought his gaze back towards Dr. Gaul. He assumed he slipped a confused gaze at her, because before he could even ask her, she’s already speaking up:

“This is a project I had started around the time you were exiled in District 12.” 

His jaw slightly tightened. She didn’t have to use that exact word to describe it. 

“It’s far more… unique,” Her eyes rolled around the room as she sought out the word, the moment it landed on her tongue, she locked her sight immediately onto him. Gaul’s smile pulled a bit more at her cheeks, a festering excitement that was slipping out from her internal confines. The threat of teeth in her smile was no longer an attempt of niceties, but far more sinister in its intentions. Coriolanus would argue on a good day that both were the same, that Dr. Gaul’s cruelty was her being kind. “Than my other projects. Far more different than any of my other muttations, this is a beast of a different breed, but one that you and I know intimately well.”

 So this was a human experimentation, Coriolanus deduced. 

Dr. Gaul would never dare to refer to those below Capital ranks as something human, there was always something else she had to refer to them by. Animal, beast, plague, insect, if it stripped them of their humanity, she was eager to take it. They shared similar sentiments, but sometimes, he had to give them some form of distinct name to separate them. “I’ve actually grown quite fond of it. Usually, I’d handle its tests and exams, but you seem like you need a pick-me-up.” 

It should make him disgusted at how easily she could see through him. 

The older woman stepped further away from him, into one of the dark recesses of the room. Lab H05 was one of the main center labs within the Citadel, meaning it earned itself the privilege to have its layout be connected to other rooms, outside areas, halls, and the like. It just happened to be, the darker areas that Gaul was heading in were towards the direction of one of the elevators connected to the room. Coriolanus watched her body retreat into the dimly lit area, not quite following after her. He didn’t know why. His hands felt stiff with the folder in his hands. The pounding beat of his heart in his ears matched in tempo with the steps of her heels against the floor. If he was going to move, she was going to need to ask him. She knew too, the doctor knew her own footsteps, and she was very aware when others’ joined in. Turning around to look at where he still was, standing, watching, she looked back at him. Coriolanus could make out her faint silhouette in the dark, but Dr. Gaul’s blue eyes shone brighter in the dark. As if she had tapetum lucidum, how it reflected so wildly. She was not helping the rumors made against her, that questioned if she ever used herself for a subject of fascination. 

“Come now, Coryo. You don’t want to waste time.”

A silence fell upon them both. 

“Understood, I’m right behind you.”

Walking after her, Coriolanus descended the small set of stairs that she had gone down from, he stepped into the dimly lit area. The manila folder was still grasped tightly in his one hand, at his side. He didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand her. Yes, she said that she wanted to cheer him up, but he’d be a fool if he was to believe that’d was to be the only reason why she was doing this. Volumnia Gaul, telling confidential secrets because she cared for his well being? No, there was always something else. An ulterior motive she wished to serve, or a lesson she wanted to teach. When he was brought back from his sentence of being a peacekeeper, it was not because her heart broke over him. She was not weeping at him having to tread his feet into the muck and grime of District 12. It was because she was holding him up to an ambition that both him and her both wished to see. 

“This one,” Dr. Gaul started her words, occasionally turning her head to the side to make sure he was still following her ( he was ). “Started out as a simple curiosity. I had to sit with myself quite a bit to figure out a punishment that would actually serve some productivity.” Her hands reached behind her, flicking at the folder that Coriolanus was holding. He opened up the folder, finally, to look through the report. Whatever the Doctor was gesturing vaguely in conversation, it would be more explicit in her writings. “Displays of cadavers, desecration of the human silhouette, trauma to the cerebrum, these punishments can only go for so long before new ideas must be made. If the rebels expect the same disciplinary action, you can expect them to gain a tolerance to it.”

Squinting at the paper, he leaned his head slightly down to get a closer look of the subject. A small photo was attached to the report by a paperclip, it was a person who seemed to be in a similar age group to his. They looked clean, proper - they wore an ironed, white button up shirt under a dark vest, with unique, yet simple earrings they donned on. Pearls and tiny opals that dangled from a gold chain earring. A family heirloom, if Coriolanus had to guess. They smiled widely in the photo. Their teeth weren’t perfect, their upper cuspid was a bit more pointed in comparison to all others. 

They had once been a capital citizen, turned rebel, to… this. 

“I wanted to truly push my mind forward, and see if the impossible would truly be… well, possible.” Dr. Gaul grinned at the end of the sentence. Coriolanus lifted the photo up, after hooking his gaze unto the former for a moment. It’s a shame, he thought to himself. How pretty they are, had they not tainted their mind with childish ideas they would have continued to live in the comforts that they were so comfortably lavishing in before. He was curious as to whose family they once belonged to. A filthy curiosity enticed him, a want to digest more at the report at the risk of tuning out Gaul’s feverish ramblings. 

“Personally, I outdid myself.”

There was a small desire to curse her under his breath, the writing for the subject’s name was far too rushed and messy to read properly. Did she want him to read the report, or play word scramble? 

Dr. Gaul’s steps had stopped, the white noise of her chatter turned to silence was enough to bring his head back from the report. She stood between him and the elevator, holding her hands in front of her, folded. Peeking to the side, the button for the down level was lit up in a glow of red. Her smile widened. 

“Curiosity eating away at you, Coryo?” 

It still made his skin crawl, everytime she used that name. How frightening it was, that it also brought him a strange sense of the coldest warmth. 

“You’ve talked so vividly about them,” Not clear enough. “I want to see what makes you so excited about them.” He wants to see if they could come close to bringing him out of his frustrations. Fingers that touched the edge of the subject’s photo twitched in tempo with the small ding of the elevator. Doors opening, Dr. Gaul stepped to the side. Hands gestured, letting him know to step in first which he obliged. Yet, no other steps than his own followed him in. Coriolanus turned around, a puzzled look on his face when he noticed how Dr. Gaul was standing in the middle of the elevator’s doors. 

“Expected me to come join you? You can’t be so attached to my hip, Coryo.” She laughed, her hands reached in between her surgical gown and work attire. Pulling out a set of keys attached to her worker’s ID, she tugged a key off. Dr. Gaul dipped her body slightly in to twist at a lock that had revealed another panel of floor buttons aside from the usual floor ones. This must have been the key designated for the Citadel’s researchers and engineers. He had a private key of his own, but that was reserved for Game Makers. Still in training, but Dr. Gaul had persuaded the others to give him his own copy. “I have other things that need tending to, so you’ll have to have your fun without me.” Pushing a floor button that was labeled C09, glowing red under her touch, she gave him her key. She pressed into Coriolanus’s free palm, closing his fingers to clasp around it. 

“You can keep this one. I’ll ask for another copy.”

Was it because this one almost seemed rusted over to hell and back? Coriolanus wasn’t an idiot. He could feel the textured sensation of something that, usually, was supposed to be smooth metal. 

“Thank you, Dr. Gaul.” He spoke softly back to her. 

Dr. Gaul sent him another smile towards his way, the abominable sight of her gradually leaving his sight as the doors closed. A divide now between the both of them. 

Instantly, a breath of air was released from Coriolanus. His head reeled back, eyes closed,  leaning against the wall of the elevator. He was now by himself. Free from that imposing woman, he finally could be released from her watchful gaze. Always gauging him, examining him as if he, too, was another subject on her surgical table. Perhaps, in a strange, distant sense, he was. Which is why he likes it far more when their interactions are limited. Even if it makes him feel guilty if he hasn’t spoken to her for any prolonged amount of time. 

Another breath, he brought his head back down, eyes open. Opening his hand to where the key was held in his hand. It was frighteningly warm in his hand, most likely from when both Dr. Gaul and him held onto it. The material of the key was dark in color, rust having formed around some of the edges. Spots of dark stains marred its dull shine, it almost looks black in contrast to the key’s natural dark hue. This most definitely was blood, now dried. In his head, Coriolanus could see the vivid picture in his head: Dr. Gaul barely bothering to remove her gloves after leaving the examination room, holding the key between sticky gloves. A sneer pulled on Coriolanus’s face. He pocketed the key away. 

He wanted to focus on something else. 

The weight of the manila report at his side stuck out glaringly obvious, he still had yet to fully read through everything. His fingers were still thumbing between one of the pages, bookmarking a random place in the report. Should he wait to see the project on his own? Give himself something ‘fun’ to surprise himself with? A discomfort prickled at the hairs on his neck. No, he didn’t like surprises too much. Surprises meant no control, and no control meant chaos that wasn’t under his hand. And what more could be asked, when what he needed to know was right here. Hands flipped back open the manila folder while he waited for the elevator to finish its descent. 

On the first page, there was only one photo of the subject, before the project had started. Dr. Gaul was always so thorough, so there must have been more to see. And how he loved to be right, when the sight of more clipped on photos peeked through in between pages. He stopped at the sight of them. These had been nude, taken in what was most definitely an examination room. They must’ve been in captivity for a few days for how haggard they looked. Gleam completely gone, with only a dark emptiness seen on their face. Signs of minimal swelling on their left cheek from when they were hit by a peacekeeper when resisting arrest. Bags under the optics, suggesting either sleep deprivation or developed insomnia. His eyes lingered on the photos that took in zoomed in shots of identifiable beauty marks that were scattered around their body. One around the back of their left acromial, around the sternocleidomastoid, one on the left mammary gland, and another on the right femoral muscle. Unconsciously, his fingers traced along the edges of each photo as he examined them until they traced after the words of ink. 

The objective of the project: engaging and testing pain receptors on the subject. By use of non-licensed medication and surgical operations, the subject’s NTRK1 gene was mutated to a certain extent to gain the closest imitation to Congenital Analgesia ( while still keeping the subject alive ). If Coriolanus recalled, in his textbooks, Congenital Analgesia was a condition that always was given to a patient by a pass down from the parent. It was never really something ‘made’, or ‘given’. He could understand now why Dr. Gaul was so pleased with herself for accomplishing this feat. Curiosity was beckoning him, wanting to see more of what the report entailed. 

Pages dedicated to each operation, each test done. There were pain charts made, scales from 1 to 10, to test out the nerve receptors. Each test, the numbers on the chart went lower and lower; 10s that went to 9s, to the current lowest being a 6 for the majority of the subject’s body. The more sensitive areas, such as the frontal or the palmar of the body, were around 7 to 8 on the chart. Flipping to the back of the contents, there was a small note in Dr. Gaul’s handwriting.

Today, please take care of Project Prometheus’s nerve exams. The last surgical operation was done last month and they have just now fully recovered. Update the report by the end of today, to measure if there are any fluctuations on their pain receptors.

Sounded simple enough. If this was all he had to do today, then there was a chance he could clock out from work even earlier to give himself space before tonight’s event. A ding finally was heard from the elevator, he was here at Lab C09. Folder closed in his hands, his foot stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor. What a drastic difference Lab C09 had been in comparison to Lab H05. If it hadn’t belonged to Dr. Gaul, Coriolanus may not have been able to believe that this was an actual functioning lab. It almost seemed forgotten by the Citadel, half of the fluorescent lights not working, or blinking at different intervals. It bathed the floor in a very gray, almost vile green hue. The scent of copper and rust was far more noticeable, and the smell of medicine felt almost nauseous here. There were no grand columns in sight, and no endless amount of shelves dedicated to new specimens and ideas of creation. The floors were unkempt, specks of dirt packed into the corners of where the wall and once sleek tiles met. Occasional cracks on the floor, parts of the design broken and shattered into bits of ceramic. The halls were long, with endless doors that ( thankfully ) all were open, empty, or both. With the exception of the large corridor doors at the other end. He could make out the sight of Peacekeepers that stood on guard, near the corridor door and by the elevator entrance. 

This definitely was Dr. Gaul’s more… uncensored labs. 

Coriolanus took a few more steps into the lab and noticed the large stain of dried blood that dragged from where his feet stood, past the corridor doors. Eyebrows raised at the sight, but his eyes did not widen. Marvelous, the subject might still be rebellious. If this was to be the case, he’d be severely unimpressed. All these exams to change the NTRK1 and nothing done to affect the amygdala. 

Sloppy work here, Dr. Gaul. 

Pushing through the corridor doors, after giving the briefest of nods and acknowledgement towards the Peacekeepers, he found himself exactly where he needed to be. Entering an area that was entirely void of light, except for one thing. 

A large window glass on the other side, showing the examination room on the other side. It lit up this half of the hall, shelves of varying medicines and chemicals lined against the walls of the examination room. Surgical tools were lined up high on the wall, out of reach, not yet pulled out and placed on the side. Today there was no operation to be done. Examination lights shone overhead, and under it was the examination table where Project Prometheus sat. 

They sat down so compactly, so politely, knees folded to their chest and arms wrapped around them, their face leaned against the crevice their legs gave. The subject definitely had changed, physically, since the projects had begun. Their skin barely had the warm glow it had in their photo, had it not been for the peeks of color on their joints, he’d assume that there was no more blood rushing through their body. Their hair that once looked so well maintained, luxurious, was cut at awkward angles. Yet, it still managed to frame their face well enough. Figures, that was former Capital genes at work. Their body has taken significant damage since then. Scars of various shapes were scattered all across, bandages wrapped in some areas, and stitches that dragged around entire limbs, like their arms, thighs, feet, even one on their face. As if they were some over-played ragdoll that was patched up far too many times. There was no fight he could see from their eyes, and no anger. Was the blood on the floor halls really theirs, or did that belong to someone else?

This could not even be called anything, but a shell of a husk. 

Coriolanus stood there, watching, taking in the sight of them. It barely felt like he was breathing. And that alone irritated him. It’s like his body was trying to make itself seem smaller; as if he was somehow bothering them. He sighed out his frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. They couldn’t even hear him from the thick glass, what would he be so concerned with? Bringing his hand back down, about to open the manila folder once again to compare their ID photo to their current state - he peeked at their form again. 

He had been noticed by it. 

His breath felt lodged in his throat, his original action now tossed to the side, as they and him both just… watched each other. Their eyes that had looked so sullen and distant before, were so focused and vigilant of him. But, they didn’t seem scared of him. Their body didn’t look tense, their expression didn’t twist into any wrinkles. What feeling was running through their body? Could they possibly feel anything? Coriolanus stepped away from the glass, slowly, and down further into the hall, to where the door of their examination room was. A peacekeeper stood guard near the heavy door, beside them a surgical gown, cap, goggles and gloves were on a hook. Excusing the other to the side, so he could reach and grab the attire to put on himself. Coriolanus questioned, as he tugged the latex rubber gloves on, if he still wanted to entertain the idea of holding their test today. Teeth grinded inside his jaw, he hated to admit weakness, but it was no lie that they unsettled him when they had stared back. 

That probably contributed to why Dr. Gaul favored the project so much, both must take joy from bringing him such unease. A sigh hissed from his teeth, as he put the surgical mask on. 

“I’ll be back out in just a moment. I’ll let you know if an emergency comes up.” 

It’ll be easy work, and then he can leave.

Opening the door, the sterile smell of the room rushed past him as the metal door was moved from its tight seal and then closed heavily behind him. Their head had moved away from where the glass window was, turned to stare at where he stood near the door, their folder still in his hands. Thinly-veiled sweat was forming inside the gloves, with the silence that fell heavy in the room. He opened the folder. 

“Good morning, Subject A01, I am–”

…? 

Did they say something? 

“...I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Another tense silence fell in the air. 

“... That isn’t my name.” Its voice was quiet, slightly hoarse but not entirely. Unexpected, considering their length of stay here. His fingers pinched tightly at one of the pages. 

“...What do you mean?” He was not going to call them by their Capital name. They had long since lost the right to use it, after rebelling against Panem. 

“Dr. Gaul calls me something else.” Coriolanus was going to kill it if they did not clarify. 

“And what does she call you?” This was the nicest tone he could muster. 

They spoke it once into the air, still looking at him with those dead eyes of theirs. Had Dr. Gaul been so fond of it to have given it an entirely new name? And they accepted and went along with it? That didn’t feel right, from what he’s examined about them so far. They were a rebel, they had fought against a Peacekeeper, they were dragged around the halls bleeding. 

And they gave up their old name?

It had shifted out of its cradled position, their legs dangled off the examination table and their arms were placed on their side. Coriolanus could see the patient gown they wore more clearly. It kicked its feet in the air idly, as it waited for his response. 

… Do they even know the situation that they’re in? 

“...Right. Well, do you know why I’m here?” 

“Not really. I’ve never met you before.” Was context clues also something it gave up while in captivity? “I know the guards, and I know Dr. Gaul. I don’t think I know about you,” They’re a prisoner, it’d be counter-intuitive if people were giving them info about every single staff member here. His mask covered the lower half of his face, but he hoped the slight shift of facial muscle was enough to convey that was trying to smile towards them. He walked further into the examination room, closer to where it sat and where the shelves of drugs and medical equipment were lined up. Their stare was burrowing holes into his back, while he shifted around, opening and closing shelves and drawers to check inside for what he needed. 

“Well, I am Dr. Gaul’s assistant. You can call me Snow,” He was not giving his first name to a former rebel. “I’m here today because Dr. Gaul is a bit busy today to handle your check-up, so I’ll be filling in her role.” Gloves shifted bottles around, turning them around to read the labels. The disinfectant, cotton swabs, tweezers, needles, rubbing alcohol, syringes, the bite-rag, marker, he had it all except the custom medicine that Dr. Gaul had made for it. In the instructions of how to construct their exam, Dr. Gaul had explicitly mentioned that they were to take specific medication, as they had helped keep it conscious at all times for operations and exams. It was needed so that they’d be able to relay the ratings, which is why Coriolanus was reading yet another prescription bottle in his hands, squinting in frustration. 

“It’s this bottle over here.” 

A delicate, scarred hand had pointed at another bottle that sat idly on the shelf. Coriolanus turned his head slightly, seeing the subject no longer on the examination table, standing behind him quietly. Not staring at him, they were entirely looking at where their hand pointed. They were only standing just a couple inches away from his body, careful not to touch him as they stood on the tips of their toes to point at the medicine. With this proximity, it was easier for him to get a closer look at them. The stitches on its body were done with thick, prominent threads; there were far more beauty marks he could pick out on their face that the photos didn’t display. The patient gown was made from a material far thinner than he expected, a visible silhouette could be seen from underneath the flimsy cloth. His mouth felt unusually dry. 

A cold chill trickled down his spine. He barely noticed them. He doesn’t even think it made a sound when it moved. 

“Careful, keep your space from me.” He spoke, a careful warning to their ears and a threatening promise on his. He didn’t want to risk being so close to them like this, he barely knew the extent of how violent the project could possibly be yet. Still, they listened, backing away from him and putting their hand back down to their side. Both it and him stared at each other again, the tense air dancing back inside the room. They looked as if they had wanted to say something, and Coriolanus, internally, felt almost violent for how demure they were being with him. It repulsed him, how it felt almost endearing if he looked at them for a second more. 

“Is something wrong?” Eventually he bit the bullet, speaking first between the two of them. He can’t bear another moment of silence with it. 

“... I don’t need a bite-rag. I don’t think I really scream much anymore.” They still had an issue with explaining context to him more, he’ll tell Dr. Gaul that needed some work lat– His jaw ticked… Why did he care about your abysmal social skills? It was a captive, it had no one to speak to other than their own captors. Pulling down their prescription from the shelf, a dark, thick liquid, he said in return: “It’s best to have it on hand, just in case you need it. Now, return back to the examination table.” For a split second, he thought he could see their gaze soften at him. Were they seriously entertaining the idea that he was being nice to them? Coriolanus just didn’t want to deal with their sounds while he worked. It’d be like trading one screaming fit for another, for when he had to go on his date with Livia later in the evening. 

They nodded, and followed his command, walking back to sit on top of it. Their body was sitting in his direction though, observing, waiting for him. Coriolanus still felt unsure about them, but… it was strange, their obedience. It made him suspicious of its intent with all this. Trailing back to the center of the examination room, he placed all the tools on a metal tray. Pulling out an exam stool from under one of the tables, he set the syringe to the cap of its prescription. He pulled the plunger of the syringe up, watching as the barrel filled up with medicine, until it sat nicely. The needle left smoothly from the cap, and a drop of the liquid dangled at the edge of it. This form of silence he liked far more better. 

“...Do you have family, Dr. Snow?” 

So close. Coriolanus flicked the needle harshly, the drop hitting somewhere else. He placed the ready syringe down, and picked up the black marker. Turning back towards them, their head rested in their palms, watching him intensely. 

“That’s none of your concern. Now please, remove your gown so we can get started on the examination.” Grabbing the stool to pull it underneath him, he got comfortable in the seat while it moved to get up. As their hands reached behind them to undo the tie around their waist first, it still spoke ( much to his chagrin ). 

“I was just wondering since Dr. Gaul usually talks whenever she comes to visit.” That explained why their throat was not as hoarse as he was expecting. Dr. Gaul was treating her trials with them as a morning brunch. “She sometimes talks about her day, or talks about her family.” They loosened the tie around their waist, the fabric more flowy around their lower body. Coriolanus stared intently, taking in the first peek of skin. Looking past the scars, despite the stitches pulling at parts of their skin, and the dented scars, their skin looked soft, malleable. They must’ve been popular on weekend nights, back then. Their hands reached up to undo the tie around their collar. Rather than watching him while he worked, it was his turn to watch them. There was that beauty mark on their left acromial. Eyes leisurely trailed back up to their fingers, the smallest note with how it fumbled around behind them to untie the flimsy string. Their movements were clumsy, in his eyes, which almost surprised him. “She likes to talk about her three kids often.”

Coriolanus looked away from their stitched fingers, confusion on his face. 

“Dr. Gaul only has two kids.” He’s seen the photos she has in her office. She has two sons, both who have gone on to have families of their own. Not once has she mentioned a third kid, Coriolanus isn’t even sure it was possible at her age. Didn’t menopause usually affect a person’s chances of getting pregnant? Maybe it was a secret child she had abandoned at the maternal ward while dropping off her resignation as an obstetrician. 

“No, she has three. She told me their names: Caius, Martius, and Coriolanus.” 

Oh. 

Oh, now that’s… 

“I see. You must be closer to Dr. Gaul than I am.” 

He didn’t know what to really say to that. There was really nothing for him to go and argue about, especially with the patient. Coriolanus couldn’t quite outright say that the third child was him, especially when he specifically told them to refer to him by his last name. And if he revealed that this was an entire lie on Dr. Gaul’s end, he wasn’t quite sure how the woman would react for doing so. It wasn’t his place, when he had no idea what Gaul had wanted to achieve. He understood the physical punishment and hypothesis being put upon Project Prometheus, but he had yet to understand where the emotional, and the mental, aspect of this punishment was. Dr. Gaul will tell him if it was needed, or he’ll figure it out based on his own conclusions. That must be one of the purposes Dr. Gaul had assigned this task to him. 

“Alright. I’m done.”

Coriolanus blinked. He didn’t even realize he lost focus on them, he let out a small exhale as he lifted himself from the exam stool, marker ready in hand. 

“Right, for the next step of this exam, I need to…” 

Words trailed off for him. 

What an entirely different view it was, from before, looking at them only from the back. From behind, it was just read to him as a large canvas of skin that had already been stained and painted on. Nothing that gave way to what person under the flesh could be. Yet, the front… There was more to regard and take note of, a far more different feeling than just having viewed from the photos alone in the reports. If he were to ignore the marks left on their body, had they stayed perfect from before, he could’ve made the argument about their body being more alluring than the average Capital citizen. That familiar, dry feeling touched his throat again. What a waste, for genes like that to be wasted on a rebel. There were more beauty marks and moles in the front, along with more stitches and scars. Coriolanus could see the surgical scars that were healing between their pectoralis major area. A curiosity rose, questioning how scarred tissue would feel under his gloves. He raised an eyebrow, as his gaze dared to move to a lower section on their body. Must be for easier mapping, that Dr. Gaul decided it was best to have their pubic area shaved clean.

“...Dr. Snow, are you okay?”

His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips under the surgical mask. 

“Fine, just thinking about Dr. Gaul’s instructions.” He was going to go insane before he could even head to the fundraiser tonight. Coriolanus reached his free hand out, hovering it over their shoulder area, guiding them to stand closer to the area between the exam table, and his stool. He took note, that despite the way their body has changed since their captivity, their body still held a warmth that radiated off from their skin. “Stand here, please. For this next step, I’ll be using this marker here to map out the different muscles and areas on your body. Are you familiar with this?”

The subject nodded, a yes from their lips. 

Good. 

The sound of the marker cap popping off filled in the lack of words on Coriolanus’s part, the black cap falling on the tiled floor and rolling off to a dark, distant corner of the room. “For today, we’ll only be focusing on the external pain chart. Meaning skin surface only,” He lifted the subject’s hair, pushing up against the subject’s head, strands that were long enough to block full access to the neck. Bringing the marker up, he pressed down the chiseled tip of alcoholic ink on the subject’s skin, making the first section of dotted lines. Writing on their skin in careful, small letters, the areas that compromised their neck; the semispinalis capitis, the levator scapulae, the rhomboid minor–

“How long have you worked for Dr. Gaul?”

Fingers nearly stumbled in drawing when the muscle stretched in movement, he lifted the marker carefully away from its skin. The idea of putting in Gaul’s suggestion box the order of a mouth gag was becoming all the more tempting to him. 

“It doesn’t concern you.” Coriolanus responded, coolly. 

He pressed the marker back down on its skin, moving himself to the anterior of its body. Between his gloved fingers, he held their chin. The muscle limp in his hands, letting him lift their chin up to show more, exposing the unfolded expanse of their skin. The project was an annoying one, but at the least,they were a pliant one. The black dotted lines drew itself across the subject’s body: the sternocleidomastoid, the sternohyoid–

“How has your day been so far, Dr. Snow?”

Would Dr. Gaul throw him to the curb if he strangled one of her projects?

Coriolanus lifted himself slightly from his leaned down angle, his fingers that once lifted its chin up, had pulled their chin back down to look at him eye to eye. Its gaze stared back at him with such emptiness, a lack of anything to be seen, no anger, no defiance, no discomfort, not even joy. His eyebrows narrowed down slightly as he took in the face that held no question to how, and what, manner he held their body in. Were they trying to please him? Make his guard drop down by asking questions, hoping that he’d become more sympathetic towards them? 

“Dr. Gaul isn’t here. You are under no requirement to attempt conversations like you’ve done with her.” He spoke, trying his best attempt at sounding sympathetic to their ears. That would be the easiest explanation. The soul of them was sucked out by Dr. Gaul forcing them into an illusion of a grotesque socialite. That’d explain away the project’s incessant speaking. 

Yet, the subject had tilted their head under his fingers. The slightest push against his grasp. 

“... Do you not like talking, Dr. Snow? Dr. Gaul always looks so happy when she’s talking.”

So they were trying to suck up to him. He locked his teeth. And to think, he was giving them a chance of redemption, by assuming that they had been conditioned to engage in meaningless conversation. Maybe he was wrong about their obedience. There was still a spark of a rebel within them regardless of their time, their experiences, in captivity. 

“I only ever see Dr. Gaul, so I got excited to see someone new. I’m sorry for upsetting you,”

They could’ve fooled him with that tone of voice. They sounded as dead as their eyes had looked. Yet, Coriolanus bit his bottom lip as the doubt touched his head; the subject’s stare, if he gazed deeply enough he felt as if he could almost make out a sullenness to them. Were they legitimately apologetic? He didn’t want to even know the answer, he just wanted to finish this job as quickly as possible. He let go of their chin, releasing it. Gloved fingers now traced the space between their shoulder and collarbone, the subject angling their neck to the other side to give him room. He brought the marker back down to their skin, more dotted lines appearing under his wake. 

“... What exactly is your relationship to Dr. Gaul, if I may ask?” He hated them, he decided. He hated how quickly they managed to rope him into this dumb small talk. It was almost audible, the sound of the subject blinking, feeling their gaze boring under the layers of his clothes. Did he say the wrong thing? Did they not want conversation? He adjusted the weight of his stance, uncomfortable under the silence the subject had unwillingly placed him in. Was he not doing what they wanted, was that not enough for them?

“Dr. Gaul is…” Their words trailed off. They were trying to find the words, unsure of what to say to him. They most likely didn’t want to try and insult her, considering her assistant was in the room with them. They don’t want to risk possibly earning more punishment. Project Prometheus may have been smarter than what he initially assumed. Coriolanus moved back to the posterior, hands trailed themselves across the subject’s shoulders, feeling, to remind him of the muscle underneath before he marked it down. Trapezius. 

“Dr. Gaul is my caretaker, I think.” 

Well isn’t that something unique. 

If the subject had decided to say captor, overseer, punisher, he wouldn’t have cared. It would’ve been honest. Caretaker? That was something different, that was something sympathetic. The thought of them turning this twisted dynamic into something heartfelt, fell sour on his tongue. It made him feel repulsion towards them. Why bother to lie? “Tell me about that.” His voice was soft, inviting the project to open themselves to him. As the marker continued to mark their skin, Coriolanus took one of its arms under his hand. The subject’s fingers twitched slightly, when he brought his hand under theirs. Their hand was not that big in comparison to his own, unable to fully fill out of his palm. The fingertips were usually the more sensitive parts, when it came to sensations. He hummed. Adductor pollicis. 

“...I’m not sure how to describe it well.” They sounded unsure. Spending this extended amount of time with them, Coriolanus could make out the slight tonal differences they had in their voice. It was very small, though. The muscles in his hands seem to slightly tense.

“Do your best for me.” 

Their fingertips, the slightly yellowed nails, tapped slightly at the latex material of his gloves. Almost as if fidgeting to gather the words, the right ones, to say to him. 

“Dr. Gaul has always been… someone there, I suppose.” Because she has to. “The guards are there too, but they don’t really notice me in the way Dr. Gaul does.” He wrote down on another part of the subject’s arm, drawing another dotted line. Brachioradialis. “Even though the tests kind of hurt, but I’m getting used to it now, she’s been the only one so far to give me a name, a birthday, check up on me, tell me about her day,” He was almost impressed at how their were trying to upsell the ‘normalcy’ of their captivity. A new name and birthday? Maybe the secret third child of Dr. Gaul wasn’t him, but actually them instead. He almost laughed aloud at the prospect of it. Coriolanus turns to the other side of their body, taking the other arm of the subject to write on after finishing the other. Biceps brachii. “That’s like a caretaker, right?” And now it was asking for his confirmation? It truly does want to appease him. He let out another hum, as if he was thinking to himself when he was going to go along with their delusions. “It sounds like Dr. Gaul cares a great deal for you.” He lied to them. 

Making his back to the anterior of the subject’s body, he stood in front of them, the subject tilting their head up to him. Project Prometheus was shorter, in comparison to him, standing at eye level against his chest. Latex touched the area of the linea alba, Coriolanus kept his gaze steady on them and they did the same. There was a silence that fell between them, but it felt so uninviting to him now that he finally had it. The subject still held their indifference, their apathy, and he wanted to know why it bothered him so much when he should like how easy of a prisoner they were being. No, there had to be something more. There was always something more. His fingers dragged down their skin, and his marker followed behind, writing down the names of the muscles he touched. The subject had moved their arms, and Coriolanus tensed for a second, thinking they were finally going to react, going to grab him, hit him, something – yet, their arms shifted away from the angle of his body, moving in to hold the muscles of the pectoralis major up in their hands, cupping them. They were making more room for him to write on their upper abdomen. 

Coriolanus loathed them. 

Had he had half the control, he would’ve smacked the stitched hands away. He liked it far more when they acted like a ragdoll, instead of this game of pacification it was trying to play. Writing down on the external oblique aponeurosis, he brought his hands back up their skin until it rested under their wrists. He held both their wrists on either hand. “Please, bring your hands down so I can continue mapping.” The words came out more as a whisper than he had intended. They instantly had listened to his command, letting their arms fall back on either side and their chest exposed to him. His eyes lingered briefly on the sight, taking in the small details that made the subject unique. The beauty mark on their left mammary gland, now in his line of sight. No longer blocked by the limit of only just a photo. There was that dry feeling in his mouth again. 

Carefully, bringing a hand up, gauging their reaction, he held one of the mammary glands in his free hand and a marker up in the other. Judging their face, they seemed neutral, no frown or smile, no wrinkle, no squint. He could assume there must have been discomfort under those dark pits for eyes. He knew that’s what he felt, doing this right now. Coriolanus wondered if it would have been better or worse, if Project Prometheus were to be more… reactionary. 

“Let me know if anything bothers you.” Dotted lines followed after his hand. He’d take it, the laborious small talk. It was much more preferred right now than this tortuous silence that had fallen between them. Thick and constricting, had it gone on any longer, Coriolanus knew he would drive himself internally insane if he was to be left alone to his own thoughts. If Project Prometheus had done nothing while he was holding onto their very own breasts in his hands. Had it been any other person, they would’ve squirmed under his touch. Possibly even a twitch to unconsciously move away, as the marker moved against the skin of the areola. The mapping of the right gland was dotted and marked completely. 

“You don’t bother me.” 

Now, that felt deliberate. 

Ink halted, stopping after writing out the final letter of the pectoralis minor. The words were written next to the beauty mark he had noted before. Coriolanus was tempted to make dotted lines around the area, as a place of special interest, though marks like these were no major muscle or nerve. Blue eyes had looked up through thick lashes, he slightly lifted his craned head up to get a better look at the subject. Peering towards their face, he didn’t know why he expected anything different. It was the same look of disinterest, the broken lights hung above them casted a haunting shadow over their face. Did he also look similar, when they stared back at him? In certain angles, despite the unnerving look the room had given them, Coriolanus might’ve thought their eyes seemed naturally soft towards him. Innocent, maybe. 

Did they see nothing wrong with what he was doing? … Or had all the tests and operations ruined not just their nerves, but fried them, that their sense of danger seemed near non-existent? 

Was this another form of appeasement that it was trying to pull on him? 

Unconsciously, his hands had released themselves, finally, from holding onto Project’s Prometheus’s breasts. Both now marked, his free hand slid down the expanse of their abdomen. The ridges and bumps of their scars and stitches were felt briefly, the full grasp of the sensation blocked by the barrier of latex rubber wrapped around his fingers. Not once did he look away from the subject as his hands made its way down, and neither did Project Prometheus. His hand stopped at the tensor fasciae latae. Something was wrapping itself around the cavity of his chest, making the activity of breathing a difficult feat for him to do. Coriolanus didn’t know what he was doing. Was he trying to garner a bigger reaction from it? An attempt of possibly stirring violence, even? 

Maybe it was delaying his own discomfort, he realized. Looking down, he stared to see the spread of skin below that had no splotches of black ink. They were shorter than him, he’d have to get down on his knees if he wanted to have clear and easy access to mark its legs. How humiliating… Having risen up through the ranks and bringing the Snow family back to its rightful place of acclaim and fortune; only to fall back down on his knees to a prisoner, a former rebel. If the other families caught wind of this, he’d never hear the end of it. 

Reluctantly, still holding onto their hip, his body moved itself to the floor. Knees touched against the uneven grout of the tiles, the position a bit awkward. He was thankful, for the surgical gown he wore, that the vile floor of the examination room wouldn’t stain against his clothes. Tracing his hand down to the stitch mark path of their leg, he rested it at the back of their thigh. Coriolanus tilted his head up, ready to command that Project Prometheus moved their leg more towards him. But, his words fell into a silent, held breath as he gazed up at them from his position. The shadow that had cascaded over their face briefly from before was now entirely enveloped around their body. Sickly green fluorescent lights shone above their head, akin to a haloing effect. Illuminated around the edges of their body, their hair, the subject still looking at him. Only him, and nothing else. A thrumming noise was loud in his ears; it felt dangerous. It felt like a warning that something was wrong here. He had felt it before.

Project Prometheus moved its leg forward, more into him, without a word ever spoken between the two of them. How pliant it was with him. 

He pressed the marker against their skin as thank you, dipping his head back down to their thigh. It would be risky, if he lost focus. There was still so much he had yet to know of the subject, the layers that were contained behind the flimsy shield of flesh and tissue. He dotted the area of the vastus medialis, careful not to press the ink against the subject’s stitches so as not to irritate the healing skin there. Maybe its attempts of appeasement were working on him. Not once did he think he’d have a shred of enough care to think about the possibility of ink seeping into their wounds. 

He marked down the region of the knee. Patella. 

“...You’re a very gentle person, Dr. Snow.” The subject spoke quietly, in a whisper just loud for him to hear. “You treat me so carefully, I barely feel a thing when you hold me.” 

It mistook his lightweight hands for kindness. Reality was that he was just wary about setting them off. 

“Does Dr. Gaul not treat you in the same manner?” The words came out softly from him. Reaching now the ankle of the subject, gloved hands reached down underneath the sole of its foot, lifting it up for better writing access. Instinctively, Project Prometheus placed their hands on either side of his shoulders so as to not fall. Their body leaned itself more into him, using him as a steady weight of support. The proximity of their small body bent over his, the glare of the fluorescent lights was entirely swallowed up, casting a dark shadow over him, blocking the light from reaching him. Could they feel, under their ragged fingers, the tenseness in his body at their action? If the subject wanted to, they could easily go in to attack him in this vulnerable position. He’d do the same if he was in their position. He continued to write, marker steady in hand. There would be no satisfaction to be gained for the subject, in seeing him stumble and cower. 

He wrote the words ‘abductor hallucis’ on their foot.

“She… does not treat me rough, no. If I had to describe it, I think the word for it is more… ‘inanimate’.” He doesn’t quite recall if a new law was passed that required captors to treat prisoners humanely. It sounded as if it was trying to recall certain words again. Should the exam go entirely smoothly with no problems, he might feel generous enough to convince Dr. Gaul to bring Project Prometheus a dictionary for them to study up on. Not like it would do much. It wasn’t like they had anyone to really practice their knowledge on. 

Coriolanus wondered what the prisoner was exactly before all this, back when they were formerly Capital. They lacked the air of dignity and ignorance that most Capital elites donned well, but maybe that could be attributed to their decay while staying here. Or perhaps the prisoner had come from a small, simple family. The kind that handled all the manual labor that the Capital never liked to speak loud about. The workers who were hardly ever seen, or acknowledged. That could explain why he never heard any recent fuss over a family’s child being ‘sent away’. No one would ever care for a background prop. 

It held onto his shoulders more tightly, as he adjusted the subject’s position. It didn’t want to topple over him. 

Project Prometheus's right foot now marked accordingly, he placed its foot back down on the rotten floor. Ready to reach his hand to hold onto their left, the subject moved without the need for his touch. The left leg was gestured forward for him. How sweet of them to realize a pattern. “I don’t mind it, though. As long as she still talked to me.” How fascinating. The subject was pacified by the easy act of conversation. Such a simple thing to be pleased by, Coriolanus could think they were joking. Regardless of how things were going so far, he still didn’t forget it. The bloodstains on the halls was something he could not erase so easily. That suggested, no, it told him, that Project Prometheus had something up their sleeve still. Though, nothing had occurred. Nothing had happened because they were still speaking to each other. Coriolanus continued to write on its foot. Lumbrical.

“...Do you get upset if she doesn’t speak to you?” 

He couldn’t help but ask. 

He wanted to know. He needed to know. 

“...I get lonely, and sad.” Was it trying to downplay its emotional reactions to him? “I wonder if it's because I did something wrong to upset her.” If a prisoner of his tried to fight back numerous times during their captivity, he’d get annoyed too. It was strange, though. Coriolanus knew that morals and values were of no concern for Dr. Gaul, especially against rebels. Any torture, punishment, placed on them was not seen as being done onto another person, but just another animal, a specimen in her collection. It would not be above Dr. Gaul to cut off a limb, or two, to get a prisoner to stop fighting. So… why not do the same here? Perhaps, this form of mental and emotional punishment was more lethal than he assumed. Another curious test from the mad woman, it was impossible to ever understand her whims. 

“Sometimes, I think it might be one of her tests.”

Coriolanus didn’t say those words. 

He didn’t like this. Such a statement, spoken so simply, brought him a sick swirl of unease. 

The movement of ink had halted, yet his mind continued to race. The thin hairs at the back of his neck stood at its ends, and he held tightly onto the marker in his hand. Quietly, carefully, he placed the plantar surface of Project Prometheus’s foot back down on the uneven tiles below the both of them. Reaching his hands up to his shoulders, where the subject’s extensor retinaculum were, he held onto it firmly. The subject put up no sign of objection. Sweat was slowly building up under the tight material of the gloves he donned on, but it was not a sweltering warmth. It was a cold, clammy sensation. 

“What do you mean by ‘one of her tests’?” Punctuating the words at the end, he kept his tone inquisitive, curious. Perhaps, a dabble of suspicion. Not towards the subject, but more towards the matter. What was needed in this situation was caution, and he’d be a gutted fool if he was to let the rebel become aware of how much the question startled him to his core. For right now, he’d play the gentle, confused assistant that it assumed of him before. He already told the lie of it knowing Dr. Gaul better than he did. 

“Her tests,” 

It spoke as if he knew! He knew very well what it was. What once was a flash of fear, had become a steady stream of anger. He knew because he is Dr. Gaul’s assistant. It was his job to follow in the steps she’s placed out for him, and more. Why would a prisoner, a subject, know about the ways Dr. Gaul operated? How much does Dr. Gaul tell it in these ‘conversations’? 

It made him sick, that the lie he told before could actually become true. 

“I never notice it until it’s done, until she tells me at the end. She never shares the results with me.” For once, he is tempted to strip his pride and beg for more details. “Most days, it’ll be physical tests, like today. Others, it’s more… talking, or writing.” 

“Writing?” 

It came out quickly before he could properly think his words over. He doesn’t recall seeing possible writing exams in Subject A01’s report. To be fair to himself, he did skim it briefly since he was only just now introduced to the project. There wasn’t much time for him to familiarize himself with all the tiny details written inside. At least, the things that were legible. 

“Dr. Gaul hands me scraps of paper and just asks me to write what I think. Like uh, a journal…I guess.” Keeping a diary couldn’t be the only test Dr. Gaul was having it do. If writing random streams of thought was enough to be intellectually challenging, he wouldn’t be seeing students at the University fighting to win passing grades. “I don’t understand the reason why, and I never remember what I write. My memory is not the best.” It was giving him an excuse to try and shift the conversation. How funny it was, trying to take control of the situation. He’d never let such a thing happen. In this examination room, there was only one person and a subject, the dynamic that was at play was clear. The grip Coriolanus had on their extensor retinaculum tightened, an unconscious movement on his part. Project Prometheus had taken in a soft breath of air at the action, the sound loud enough between the both of them. Had it not come from a prisoner, what a sweet sound it could’ve been. 

“Could you explain it to me,” His voice came out softly, despite the gnawing irritation that he held back. The tight grasp he had loosened, one hand stroking down a careful thumb down the stitched wrist of the subject in gentle circles. He shifted in his kneeled position, adjusting to a more comfortable weight as the layers he wore started to wear at him, an uncomfortable shift. Wearing the surgical uniform could be sweltering. Tilting his head up slightly to gaze up at the subject, praying that his eyes did not betray and reveal his inner thoughts. “Try to remember.” 

Coriolanus could’ve sworn he saw a slight falter, a tremble, in the dark optics of Project Prometheus. Its supercilium furrowed just the slightest inch upwards; did it look apologetic? The first visible change of expression he’s witnessed in the time he’s spent here in this examination room, and it’s one of regret. The subject’s fingers twisted itself into the fabric of his surgical gown, opening its mouth partially as they sought the right sound, the right word. He could make out the faint peeks of its canines. 

“... I’m sorry, Dr. Snow. I can’t remember at all,” They breathed out, in admission, surrendering. It treated it as a guilty confession. 

“Not a thing?” He whispered softly to them, prompting them to speak more. Coriolanus applauded himself internally, for how sympathetic he sounded. 

The subject shook its head. 

“My memory is not good.” Again, it reaffirmed its previous statement. 

Was his question that hard? Surely, specks of small details, flashes of imagery, that would be sufficient enough of an answer for him. He wasn’t asking for a full essay of their inner workings ( though, he wouldn’t mind it ). However, as both their eyes continued locked in a stare, his thumb slowed its movements. The leathered finger stopping at the center junction of its stitches, the feel of the raised, textured skin apparent under the feel of the material. Project Prometheus was being sincere. Its face hadn’t changed, its body had not moved away from him. Dare he say, the minimal space between them; something he did not mind earlier before, had become much more apparent in his feverish mind. The subject answered him so honestly, it made his suspicions of before seem so ridiculous now. One thing did nag at him though, the writing, the insistence of journaling, the memory. 

…

“... Do you remember how long you’ve been here?” Two years ago, Coriolanus recalled. Two years ago, that was when he was abandoned in District 12. When Dr. Gaul had started the experiment on Subject A01, busying herself with curiosities while he was drowning himself in depravities and vices, waiting out like a dog for some form of mercy to reach him. 

A new, tense silence consumed them both. He watched the subject carefully, taking note of the slightest movement that could give any indication of anything more. Tracing with his eyes, following how Project Prometheus’s cuspid snagged at their chapped bottom lip. A faint flush of red spread across the muscle, from the pressure exerted on it. Unconsciously, it reminded him of how dry his own mouth felt, the hoarse sensation in his throat. He darted out his own tongue for a brief moment to wet his own mouth, hidden underneath the surgical mask he wore. Nothing was being said between them, but yet there was so much being told. A fierce feeling was soaring, running through the veins of Coriolanus; he knew what it meant and he feared for it. Not for what the answer could be, but what it possibly could bring up. 

“You don’t remember how you got it here at all, do you?” His voice was so hushed, spoken as if taboo. It gave him the same feeling of it, the rush as the blood was entering his head and his heartbeat loud in his ears. 

A form of dissociative amnesia. 

Project Prometheus had developed gaps in memory due to an extended amount of isolation and exposure to severe trauma. It all clicked in Coriolanus’s head. He understood now what Dr. Gaul was attempting to achieve in her games with the subject. The tests, the daily conversations, the journal writing – Dr. Gaul was examining the subject’s mental decay as part of the Project’s ongoing research. Not only has the woman deteriorated and changed the way the prisoner’s nerves had worked, but their mind as well. Is continuing the Project even viable to do anymore? It was a form of punishment. Would it be ethical to operate on a being of flesh, when the subject no longer knew what it was being punished for? The question would most likely give Dr. Gaul a kick of joy. She loved to ponder questions worthy of debate. Coriolanus wouldn’t put it past the woman if she already gave the inquiry out to one of her classes in a lecture hall. 

“I vaguely do,” 

His eyebrows rose in interest. 

“But only in subtle feelings.” 

Nevermind. 

“I think I experienced some form of confusion. And bits of anger, too. Dr. Gaul… For a moment, I used to be so scared of her. Now, I can’t even remember the reason why.” 

Project Prometheus’s indifference, Coriolanus realized, it was not just solely based on apathy. What had become of it was a blank state, unsure of how to process things so the mind refused to process it all. But, it was still something highly susceptible to influences, shown in how Project Prometheus had become conditioned like Pavolv Dog, to associate Dr. Gaul’s silence with anger and disappointment, and her socialness with satisfaction and joy. It all was dawning on him. He could see it now, why Dr. Gaul was so disturbingly fascinated by this project. Gloved hands moved away from the subject’s wrist, and reached out to lay in gentle manner against the side of their bare thighs. The subject allowed him to, never raising a sign of objection. Could he teach it to experience anger once more, when he treated their body like this? Maybe discomfort, disgust, despair - he wanted to show their blank canvas of a mind what it felt like to fully immerse themselves in these ugly emotions. He knew why they were like this, but there still was a lingering crumb of vexation directed at the subject. Somehow, in their newfound state, they still felt far more free than he ever did; how they almost felt nothing, and he had to feel everything. 

And yet, there was another thought that touched him. He wondered, if he spent enough time with the subject, could he too, be able to condition them to other things. They thought of him as merciful, kind, in comparison to Dr. Gaul. Could he make Project Prometheus worship him, and in the same quiet breaths they were fond of, resent him? The thought of making them accustomed to anticipating his attendance, and lamenting his absence sounded tempting. 

How nice it would be, to have someone other than a deranged crone enjoy his presence. 

Tigris certainly didn’t anymore. 

Coriolanus rose himself from the ground, gripping on the meat of Project’s Prometheus’s flesh to lift him. Under his touch, the pliant stretch of skin and tissue made the subject remove their hands from his shoulders. Another faint breath escaped their exhale. It was a sound he was slowly getting used to. Back to their original height difference, he no longer had to crane his head up to look at the subject. The subject had to lift their head up to look up at him, now. What did Project Prometheus see, in their gaze as they stared at him, Coriolanus thought. Was he too, consumed in shadow and bathed under the gritty lights of the examination room like they once had? 

“We’re done with the mark-up.” It took him a moment to move away from the subject. “We’ll move to holding the nerve exam now, after I administer a low dosage of your medication.” 

The uncapped, black marker was placed back down on the metal tray, aside from the examination table. Replacing its empty space was now the syringe he had filled out before, the dark color swishing as he picked it up. The needle gleamed under the fluorescent light. Turning his back around, Project Prometheus had already sat themselves up nicely on the edge of the examination table for him. Their legs dangled off, their hands held at the edges of the worn-out leather cushion, eyes fixated on his person. They were waiting for him. He’s almost bothered, how easily the subject could anticipate his next set of commands. He hoped that this was just due to routine, not because he had become easy to read. Coming up to meet them there, the only sound that filled the air was the sole of his shoes stepping against the tiles. Gloved fingers reached to grab at the jaw of Project Prometheus, the syringe held close to their face. It shone particularly brilliant, mere inches away from their face. The subject showed him no fear, no resistance, despite the way the skin of the cheeks had moved under his grasp. 

Already, he wanted to break them.

“Show me where to inject you.” 

He’d be sweet, Coriolanus would let them pick where it was most comfortable for him to inject the medication in. Project Prometheus complied immediately to him, holding on the hand that held their needle to adjust the position. They guided him to the back of their neck, moving their hair to make space. To reward their compliance, he pricked the syringe quickly under the skin, careful not to touch an artery or nerve. The dark liquid inside the barrel slowly filled out, emptying itself as he pushed the plunger down. The subject did not let out a sound, a favorable contrast to Livia, who waited for him outside these Citadel walls. 

He was going to mold them into something useful.

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader

Chapter Two

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

Warnings: blood, violence, poison.

Thanks for the love on chapter one! If you want to see chapter three, comment or reblog, feedback makes me want to continue!

Perhaps before you begin those games, you should understand how you got in the protective arms of one Coriolanus Snow.

You had three rules.

Never be seen.

Never take what you could not carry.

Never intervene.

How did the daughter of teachers from District 6 make it all the way to and from the capitol not once, not twice, but multiple trips over multiple years?

Desperation and sick parents do it every time.

It’s thought that most folks from District 6 hate transportation but the glassy eyes and wet coughs from the people you loved most in the world had you sneaking onto trains, hovercraft, anything that moved when you aged out of tesserae. 

Some thought you’d take over teaching for your ma and pa, you certainly had the education but none of the patience and sugar that is required to work with children.

What was the point of them knowing about a nation that would bleed them before it would feed them?

There were no books on your mother’s shelf that would tell the truth of Panem: 

The best future was no future.

This is tedious, let’s just skip to the  show.

“Hippity, hoppity, you took someone’s property.”

You weren’t exactly sure what a jail cell in The Captiol looked like but a science lab with bright lights and sterile white walls made you question if this was just a scenic detour before getting shot by Peacekeepers.

Peacekeepers forced you to your already bruised knees as Dr. Volumnia Gaul descended a staircase with a pep in her step. You had seen the Head Gamemaker on tv once being interviewed during The Games and you hadn’t forgotten that face since.

   “Not only did you take Capitol property, you destroyed property, you injured multiple citizens, all for an Avox. I’m sure if it still had a tongue it would have definitely said thank you for all your help. I know, why don’t we ask her?” Gaul said, skipping to a shelf and pulled a large circular jar into her arms and placed onto a table spinning it in front of you.

The head of the Avox you had tried to help faced you, eyes open in the fluid.

It all had happened so quickly, you had waited for a couple to leave their home for the evening before scaling the side and entering through an open window one of their guards who kissed with his teeth left open.  You followed your rules, had the fancy fur underwear in hand, and headed out the window when you noticed the couple had a son.

A son that liked to hit a woman who couldn’t speak, let alone fight back.

It all went downhill from there.

   “Are you happy now? Did the little thief save you?” Dr. Gaul asked the head, lifting the jar to her ear for a moment, before proceeding shaking it from side to side as if the head was shaking itself to say “no.”

 You gave no inclination of fear, forcing your mind to pretend Gaul was holding a jar of sugar instead and wet your cracked lips to speak.

“If you’re going to kill me, may I ask that you do it now?” 

 The peacekeeper raised their gun to bring it down upon your head but Gaul merely lifted her hand to stop the guard and cocked her head in front of you.

  “Good skin and clear eyes which tells me you haven’t seen a drop of Morphling in your life, good girl!  Let’s see those teeth! ” Dr. Gaul’s gloved fingers wrench your mouth open, quick enough to avoid your attempt to bite down hard.

  “Not a crooked canine in sight, what a marvel of district 6 dentistry! I’ve been watching you for the last year and a half, you know.  At first I thought you were a rebel spy lurking here and there in a sad attempt at revolution but you have a pattern: you seduce, you steal, you scatter. Never the same capitol house, never the same loot, but always the same goal: self-servitude.  You, little girl, are smart, silver tongued, and most importantly, you are selfish.”

Was the doctor incorrect?

You had stolen enough and traded enough to keep your parents healthy months ago, why did you keep coming back here?

  “What do you want from me?” You asked quietly as Gaul finished her examination of you and hopped into a chair.

“By yourself you managed to steal anything you wanted, charm anyone you wanted, all while going unnoticed in The Capitol for years.  Instead of cutting out that silver tongue of yours, I’m going to use it for the future of Panem.” Dr. Gaul said, damn near giddy.  

Gaul pressed a button that dimmed the lights in the lab and brought a screen down from the ceiling. In a few short seconds, the screen came to life and footage of a blonde man in a crimson suit and coat going about his day, sharp face never once cracking a smile.

   “Let me introduce you to Coriolanus Snow, top student, heir of Strabo Plinth, and the product of exemplary Capitol breeding. He’ll be graduating from The University in a month and in a few short years with proper backing, he will be President of Panem. He’ll be taking a position at President Ravinstill’s office upon graduation but before that he’ll need to take a spouse. That, my pretty thief, is where you come in.” Gaul said.

   “Don’t you have Capitol people for this? What about that ‘fine capitol breeding’? A district girl such as myself would only sully that.”  You said slowly as if talking to an infant.

  “With society families there’s dowries, overinvolved mothers, there isn’t time to mold one in the image Panem requires.  Why pin a veil on a peacock when I can dress up a viper instead? For the good of Panem, you will charm Coriolanus Snow, you will court him, you will spy on him, and in one month, you will marry Coriolanus Snow, little thief.”

You’d rather die.

Wouldn’t you?

    “And if your precious protege can smell District on me?” You snarled and a peacekeeper made you regret that decision immediately.

   “ He’ll never know. You and Mr. Snow share the same look of distinct dissatisfaction in your eyes, dissatisfaction is a bitter root but it can be pulled, can be twisted into something powerful and no Capitol dove can accomplish that. Only those who have tasted blood in their mouths desire it again.”

  “And if I refuse?”

“It’s easier to show you.” Gaul said, clicking another button. The video of Snow vanished and in its place was the grainy footage of a man and a woman hooked up to various tubes and wires.

It took longer than it should have for you to realize those were your parents.

  “You’re not the only one who can slip in and out of people’s homes, little thief.  Just a little something I’m working on in their morning porridge and by this afternoon, their lungs belonged to me.  This is a live feed by the way, so if you’d like to refuse, you are welcome to do so and we can watch your ma and pa stop breathing together. I’ll get my milk and crackers! ”

There was no guarantee she wouldn’t just kill them tomorrow or the next day or the day after that.

A rebel would stand up and refuse Dr. Gaul no matter the cost.

A fool would plead for their life and the lives of their loved ones.

Neither a fool nor rebel, you were something else entirely.

A survivor.

You stood up, shoulders back, head up, and completely ignored the sounds of the machines keeping your parents alive to look straight at Dr. Gaul.

  “When do we start?”

Coriolanus Snow studied people.

He studied his classmates, his professors, he knew the routines and habits of everyone he did and did not come in contact with on a daily basis whether they knew or not.  There was a great tragedy in the fact that he would have made an amazing officer with sight like his. Not a thing got past him, nothing useful anyway.

Except you.

He had never seen a coat so cut to the human body before outside of Tigris’ handiwork, from across the street he studied the exact spot he could put his hands on that coat, on your body. The book obscured your face but it mattered not to Coryo as no one with a coat like that could be anything short of divine.

And as Coriolanus Snow was never wrong, he was given a glimpse at that magnificent visage when you dropped your book in the street, those full lips and smooth brown cheeks, oh what a vision that befell him.

A vision that was soon to be flattened by a car.

If he was honest with himself, had you been someone he knew, someone he had previously studied, perhaps he would have let the car hit you, but this was useful for him, he’d make the Captiol News that night with Flickerman spinning tales of his heroism.

He could not let blood spoil such beauty.

He surprised himself at how quick he was, one moment on the top of the university steps, the next tumbling to the side of the road, his body covering yours as you both came to stop, his hand on the back of your head to keep it from slamming into the curb.

Words died on his lips, the question he had mentally prepared to ask with careful false concern left him the moment he truly looked into your eyes, and Coriolanus did not only want to know if you were injured.

He wanted to know everything.

He carefully removed himself from your person, attempting to keep the displeasure at his previously perfect now filthy wardrobe and scraped hands from his features as he settled beside you.

 “Are you hurt?” He asked, impressed at the hint of actual sincerity that bled into his voice as you sat up gingerly.

“I don’t think so.  Thank you, I wasn’t paying attention, are you hurt?” You asked, a voice like velvet that seemed to surround him and he shivered as he took inventory of his own injuries and shook his head.

 True to their nature, not one person on the street offered to lend a hand and a Peacekeeper was making their way to them. He would hand you off to a peacekeeper and that would be that.

He did not want that.

So he did what he did best, took control of the situation and an opportunity arose when he heard you admit a small moan of pain, eyes wide and fixated on your ankle.

  “May I?”  He asked and you nodded.

 Coriolanus removed your shoe, tender fingers brushing over the swollen skin and he briefly wanted nothing more than to know what his lips would feel like on that silky skin.

He cleared his throat and regained control of himself, sitting straight up.

“ It’s not broken.  I don’t live far from here, my grandmother can take a look at that if you’d like? I promise you’ll be perfectly safe.” 

Grandma’am would rather lick a tribute than tend to an injured stranger but you didn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to go to the trouble.” You said, attempting to slowly stand, crumpling just enough for Coriolanus to quickly steady you before gently putting your arm around his shoulder and his other under your knees, lifting you into his arms.

“It’s no trouble at all. I’m Coriolanus Snow, it’s a pleasure to be of service.” Coryo said with that winning Snow smile, adjusting you in his arms with care.

After all, roses were to be cradled.

Until that day, Coriolanus Snow noticed everything and everyone, useless and useful. 

Yet while focused on you, he had not noticed that the car that had almost killed you both was nowhere to be found.

That’s chapter 2! If you’d like this story to continue, please comment, reblog, give me feedback! Let me know what you think about this story! Thank you for reading.

[yichuuonvenus]

Successes, Loyalties, and Laurel Leaves

Coriolanus Snow x Reader

~Description~

“Unfortunately the girl never responded to his love. It was not usual or possible for a nymph or a mortal woman in Greek mythology to resist the love of a god, but Daphne did so and in fact, she lost her life trying to escape this love.” - The Myth of Apollo and Daphne.

~Warnings~

Rape/non-consent, loss of virginity, obsessive behavior, murder

Part 1: The Search

Coriolanus Snow. 

Owner of the Plinth fortune. 

Future Head Gamemaker.

And most importantly future President of Panem. 

Coriolanus was finally home, studying under the wing of his professor Dr. Gaul. He had his ancestral home back in his custody. He had his family and power back. 

Snow lands on top as always… 

…But he needed one more thing. He didn’t desire it but he knew he would need one. 

A wife. 

One with good political standing. One that was dumb but not too insipid. He needed one that was interesting enough if he wanted to continue his career. 

He first thought of Livia Cardew. 

She and her pointed little face would make for a good First Lady. Even if she was a gloating little girl just like now. He watched as she smiled proudly probably at another “accomplishment” she made.  He continued to stare at her with a blank expression. Then he saw you and his expression, in the slightest, shifted. 

He has never seen you before. He tried to pry his mind but never came up. That’s when he figured out you were new. He would’ve known you because he kept tabs on anyone. He was for sure you’ve never appeared in the capital before. 

He made his way towards you, towards Livia who was already brushing you off like a toy she was done playing with. 

“Coriolanus Snow,” Livia sighed as he drew close to her. 

“Livia Cardew,” he said with a small bow and the most non-threatening smile he could come up with. It was quiet for a few seconds before Livia looked at you and finally remembered you were there. 

“Coriolanus, this is my cousin.”

You did a small bow with a shy smile. You obviously weren’t comfortable with the amount of people that were here which made Coriolanus think that you probably weren’t around many people from whatever dwelling you came from. 

He looked down at your dress. You wore a modest dress that could’ve been viewed as a hammy down if it was on anyone else. It was still pretty on you and hugged your figure in a good enough way he supposed. 

“Did you just come to the Capitol?” Coriolanus asked. 

You shook your head and then started talking, more mumbling and stuttering than talking.  

“My family has been here we have just been in hiding.” 

“You make yourself sound so ominous,” Livia laughed crudely. “Her father thought it would be safer if she stayed home. Away from the troubles of Panem.” 

“You must find yourself lucky then,” Coriolanus said with a stiff smile. 

“No, not quite. Mother thinks I needed to start meeting kids my own age. It’s been a lot harder than I expected.” You were staring down at your shoes. Barely holding eye contact. 

Coriolanus smiled. It was endearing the way you held yourself. Shy and quiet it was refreshing in a way. You were a quiet little bird waiting for something to make you sing. He would make you sing. 

“Well, I hoped to see more of you. You’ll have to meet my cousin Tigris. She would honestly love you,” he said. 

Finally, did you hold his stare. A smile bloomed on your lips. You were almost excited that someone invited you to something as simple as meeting a cousin. 

A woman with a wrinkled face called your name. She looked elegant as she walked towards you. She smiled as she saw Coriolanus. 

“Mother,” you said as you kissed both of her cheeks. 

“Coriolanus Snow,” the older woman bowed. “I see you’ve met my daughter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

He saw the resemblance now. The same sweet smile and the same twinkle in your eyes. 

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“I fear we have to go now but please send us a letter. We would love to have you over,” Your mother chirped. 

“Of course, have a good night to you both.”

He watched you as you walked off. He bid Livia farewell as well but he couldn’t care to hold her stare. His eyes were on you. 

Only you. 

. . . 

Coriolanus stared at you as you picked up a small budding rose. It was pink with shades of magenta near the top of the petals. He walked closer. 

“That’s a nice one,” he said. You jumped at the suddenness of his voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No… it’s fine. I do that a lot. What brings you here?” You asked as, what seemed like, a coy smile etched onto your face. 

“I like to walk around the gardens here. The roses are always so beautiful this time around…” Coriolanus leaned over a bush and grabbed a white one. No imperfections. It was simple, pure, and perfect. “Here, this one is a nicer one.” 

“I couldn’t… pa- my father doesn’t like roses much and you picked it it’s too pretty for me,” you spoke in such a soft tone Coriolanus couldn’t help but smile. 

“It’s as pretty as you.” He said quietly but you heard all the same. 

You shook your head. 

“I-“

Coriolanus was close now. You could feel his hand take yours and then lay the rose on it. 

“A beauty deserves to be shared.” 

“Of course,” you whispered. 

Then he left without saying another word to you. 

Part 2: The Hunt

It’s been a couple of weeks since that encounter. Coriolanus couldn’t help but think about how flustered you got when he called you pretty. 

It was just too easy. You were going to be wrapped around his slender little finger. 

Coriolanus could imagine it now. You on his arm. No, there was no need for Livia Cardew when you were right there. Pristine and perfect. 

And Innocent. 

He would have to fix that. You were unknowing of what this cruel world has to offer. He would show you slowly. Made sure not to scare you at first. Then he would show you everything you needed to know.

He was abruptly forced out of his little daydream of you when Dr. Gaul asked her question again. 

“If we can’t control the districts what would need to be done?” 

Coriolanus pondered on that question. 

Control. 

His mind drifted towards you. If he couldn’t control the districts then he would need to keep them in line. In check. Show them that no disobedience would be tolerated. 

“Punishment,” it was all Coriolanus said. 

Dr. Gaul smiled before shaking her head. 

“A distraction. A moment of confusion. They need a sense of safety. When they feel safe. We pull it away. So they believe that they will need to earn it,” she said as she walked away from him. Her hands were politely behind her back, making her appear taller than she was. 

“If we punished them every time they acted out of line. We would have no choice back to exterminate their whole line. They need to be reliant on us for this to work.” 

Coriolanus thought about you again and then about what Dr. Gaul said. For this to work for him to own you. He would have to make you believe you were safe and then rip the safety out from under you. 

It was a perfect plan. 

. . .

You were pretty enough. 

Too pretty for any boy around the capitol that’s for sure. He thought as he stared at you. You all were in the garden. You were practicing how to braid on one of your little dolls. While Coriolanus was helping out with your mother tending to the new flowers she was putting in. 

Sunflowers. 

Your favorite apparently. Coriolanus wasn’t really fond of sunflowers but it would have to do for the time being. 

He knew that it was only a matter of time before you were going to be poked and prodded like a toy. You made your societal debut at the little party he first saw you at. He knew that he wasn’t the only one that could’ve had his eyes on you. 

Luckily for him, it wasn’t hard for him to work his way into your family. They were grateful that a Snow was even graced in their presence. 

He figured out his plan for marriage which wasn’t a difficult one. Your mother practically saw him as a son and your father was adamant about him being at the house. He was already playing house with your family. All he needed to do was add you to the game as well. 

He knew that step would involve your father. 

Coriolanus stepped into the shade sweat was glistening on his back and his shirt was sticking to him. He could feel your eyes staring at him. You probably haven’t seen any men other than your father. He would be the one to change that. 

Because you were his. 

No one else’s just his. 

He needed you to know that. To understand that. You were going to be his First Lady. The mother to his kids. The perfect, pristine Snow family. 

The house of Snow would flourish with you as one of its heads. 

He didn’t need to know your personality, your dreams, or whatever aspirations you had because you were already destined to become his. 

Yes, he barely knew you now but he will with time of course. 

Coriolanus would bring you out. He would show you off to the world and then you wouldn’t have to be learning how to braid on silly little dolls.

He drew closer to you and you shuffled a bit in your chair before huffing. It was quiet but he still heard the little noise come out of your mouth. 

“What kind of braid are you practicing?”

You peered up at him. 

“I’m practicing a fishtail braid. Livy wanted me to so I could do her hair for one of her parties,” you said as you put your focus back on your braid. 

“How sweet. I’m sure she will like it. You’re already quite skilled from what I can tell.”

“Thank you, Mr. Snow.”

He chuckled at your formality. He was at your house often and you were still so formal with him. He smiled down at you before taking a seat in the chair next to you. 

“Mr. Snow-“

“Please call me Coriolanus.”

“Coriolanus… what do you want from my family? You’ve been truly helpful but I just… I don’t quite understand what we could even provide you for you want to help,” you said. 

You stopped braiding altogether and stared at him. You met his eyes and for the first time, he saw the light in your eyes. You had fire. He smiled at you. 

“What can I say? When I see people in need I feel inclined to help them,” that’s all he said and then he left. 

. . .

It wasn’t that hard to make your parents love him. He was the best thing that ever happened to your family. He made their lives better while slowly making yours miserable. It seemed like they poured most of their time into him. You were being slowly shoved into the background. 

All he needed now was you. To make you think you’re safe as well in his presence but for some reason. He could never find you alone. 

Anytime you were out. You would only be there for a few minutes before you went back into the seclusion that was your room. 

You kept yourself hidden. It made sense you were never in the presence of people your age, so you making yourself scarce was reasonable. What wasn’t reasonable was not talking to him ever. After your small conversation that day you never spoke to him again. 

He didn’t really know why it was that way. He was mad at first. Angry even that you kept yourself hidden away. He was in your home 24/7. He had his own room and his own seat at your dinner table. Practically part of your family because of your trusting parents. 

So he made an effort to find you. It was like a game of sorts. The hunt to find you throughout your own home. 

Most of the time you were in your room but on the days he was lucky he would find you in the library. In a secluded area. You never figured out how he always seemed to find you. The answer was he was a watcher and you were his favorite thing to watch. 

Anytime he did find you he would never speak just mimicked whatever you did until you left. He liked to see your reaction to it. How your face would drop at the sight of him. How your breathing would pick up when you were in the same room as him. 

You were like a little bunny, hopping around the forest hoping the big wolf wouldn’t find you. However, he always did because he never stopped the hunt. 

He spotted you swiftly going up to the attic. It was perfect because no one would ever think to look up there for you. 

He made his ascent to the attic. The place was old and dusty. It smelled of old books. 

You were sitting looking out of the window. A small sniffle caught his ears. He smiled before turning it to a frown. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You suddenly flinched and swiftly turned your head. 

“What- why… what do you need?” You got up swiftly. “I’ll leave.”

“Don’t go on my account. Please. I heard sniffling. I just wanted to see if you’re alright.”

You turned your head in a moment of thought. 

You shook your head. 

“No. I’m not.” You sat back down, pulling your shawl over yourself. You faced the window. It was colder now. The blistering heat was finally over. Snow made its way through the windy streets of Panem. 

“What’s bothering you?” He whispered stepping a bit closer in your direction but not too close to scare you away. 

“It’s just… I’ve been alone my entire life and then finally the world is opened up to me. I have family outside of this home. A cousin my age. Other people who are my age are now known to me. But I still can’t make friends. I’m still so lonely.”

He was about to speak up but then you opened your mouth again. 

“Then you showed up and kept showing up. You live here now. You’re practically a family member, a brother I can’t help but be… jealous, and angry even at the sight of you. My parents, they love me but not in the way they love you.”

He was quiet. You turned your head towards him. Tears were brimming in your eyes. You never notice how close he was now. He held his hand on your cheek causing you to flinch away. Still, he wiped your tears.

“You don’t have to feel like you’re alone now.”

“What…”

A kiss was planted on your lips. He was kneeling and holding your face. Your lips were soft against his. Your cheeks were even softer as he held it. 

It was like that for a couple of seconds minutes maybe before he felt a sharp pain on his lower lip that caused him to hiss out. 

You were still as he stared at you. There was nothing on your face. No emotion. 

You stood up and walked away. Coriolanus was quick to grab your hand but you were even quicker at pulling it out of his grasp. 

He smiled as he touched his lips and stared at the blood that coated his fingers. You had a fire. 

A fire he would like to restrain. 

. . . 

If Coriolanus were surprised that your father called him into the office the next day he was proud to say he wasn’t. He expected it but what he didn’t expect was that your father ask him to marry you. 

“My daughter… she’s a sweet girl,” he mustered. “And she has such an interesting view of life.” 

Coriolanus remained silent as your father took a deep breath. Like he was about to ask something from him that was impossible. 

“You’ve shown so many acts of kindness to our family but my wife and I were wondering if you would marry our girl. You wouldn’t have to worry about her dowry.” 

And there it was. The groveling. He was going to marry you. You were going to be his. He was going to own you. Coriolanus didn’t smile. He made sure not to. He gave thought to what his next words were going to be. 

“Sir, are you sure? I mean it would be an honor but-“

“Please this is the only thing I can give you for being so generous to our family.” 

“Then, I graciously accept to wed your daughter she will know nothing but happiness,” Coriolanus smirked as your father brought him into a hug. It was as if the old fool was going to cry. 

. . . 

You stared at the floor or the attic. You came back for no reason other than to scream. Even then you couldn’t do it. 

You were angry that your parents foolishly believed this man who infiltrated your family. Your own home. Now he was coming for you. 

You had a small inkling but you didn’t want to believe it. It was a foolish thought, a dumb idea that you thought was self-absorbed. It wasn’t. You were right. Someone out there did want you but in a sense of owning you. 

You knew the kind of person Coriolanus Snow was. You didn’t know the world well enough to make sense of why people do the things they do. But even you could read Coriolanus Snow.  

You balled your hands into fists. You were leaving tonight. 

And no one was stopping you. 

You walked down to your room. You made sure to pack some the night before. The night they told you about your marriage to the man who snaked his way into your family. 

You started to cry and you got even more upset. You needed to pull yourself together but this was too much. Running away from home. You could possibly go to Livy’s. Hide in her bedroom for a few days then try to get onto a train that left for one of the districts maybe. It was a good plan in your mind. You still had a lot to learn about this new darker world you lived in. 

“What are you doing, wife?” 

You flinched at the sound of his voice. You wanted to laugh at the word wife but you couldn’t. You couldn’t even move. You turned around and saw the way his eyes stared down at you like you were a spoiled brat not getting her way. 

“I… I am leaving. We are not married yet.” 

“I mean we practically are married. I played house with your family and they see me as a son.”

“You’re the stranger.”

“But it’s almost like you’re more the stranger than me… barely coming out of your room. Hiding yourself away from your own family. Your own future husband. It’s sad.”

You stared at the ground clutching your sweater to your chest. Tears made their way down your cheeks. Coriolanus was nose to nose to you. 

“I thought you said you didn’t like being alone. Now you’re not alone. You have me.”

“No,” you said as you shook your head. “No!”

You pushed him off only for you to shove you down onto your bed. You gasped as he smacked your face when you tried to get up again. You blinked once twice several times before you gained your sight back. 

“I’ll scream.”

“Scream then but you may find that no one is home. Lucky for me. Unlucky for you, little bird.”

You started sobbing outright. You couldn’t stop. Coriolanus shoved you back down onto your back every time you made your way up. 

“I always wanted to tear you out of one of your dresses. They never quite find your style. We can fix that when we are wedded.” He smiled at you. The toothy grin spooked you. You had never seen this smile before and it terrified you. 

He did what he said he wanted to you and tore off your dress. You fought him the hardest you could. But it proved to be in vain. He was strong. Much stronger than you thought. 

Buttons flew off your dress as he tore the rest of it off. Your stockings along with your underwear were next. You screamed as he shoved his fingers into you without care. 

His fingers felt like sandpaper as they thrust into you. It was excruciating till finally, your entrance was slick enough for his fingers to smoothly slip in and out. 

When you saw his fingers you gasped at the small bits of blood that coated them. Fresh tears made their way down your cheeks. 

You called out for your mother and Coriolanus laughed. He brought his fingers that coated you to his mouth. He moaned at the taste and smiled. 

“Want a taste?”

You shook your head and he chuckled before shoving them into your mouth. His spit and your blood were what you tasted. When you started to choke on his fingers he finally pulled them out. 

“So sweet are you not?”

You felt him pull away from you and your body felt light. It didn’t register that he was off of you until you heard his clothes being thrown on the floor and the agonizing zip of his pants. You turned on your stomach and crawled to the other side of the room. He was quick to grab your ankle tightly. 

“Where did you think you’re going, little bird?”

“Please. Please I don’t want this,” you cried into your sheets.

“You’ll be okay. You need to get used to this anyway if you’re to be my wife,” he quietly said into your ear. 

“Then spare me until the wedding night. I can’t do this now.” 

He was quiet like he was considering it. 

“No.”

The fight was back on you kicked at him and tried your best to push him off but to no avail. 

He was on you now. Legs were placed on either side of your naked thighs. You looked up at him as he held your wrists down. 

He smiled softly at you it looked as if it was genuine. You sobbed even harder at it. 

Coriolanus opened your thighs wide with his. He placed them on his waist. His eyes demanded that you looked into this as he licked his hand and rubbed the tip of his painful thick cock. 

The first thing you felt was a sharpness. It was like someone was stabbing you but it was only him shoving himself into you. 

He moaned loudly as he bottomed out in you. He licked the tears that made their way down your face. It made you feel weird. You felt the intrusion become smoother, and easier as he brought himself in and out of you. 

His moans were the only thing you could hear and your whimpering. Both of them combined made you want to stay silent. As if you weren’t here. 

“You’re being so perfect, little bird,” he said with a grin that you could never forget. 

You were in a daze but you found that both of your hands were free you immediately started to slap and scratch at him. He screamed out to you as you tried your hardest to get free. He slapped you hard this time and held his hands around your throat. 

You held his hands and tried to pull them off of you. You got too lightheaded and too weak. And as if whatever above was punishing you. You felt the coil turning throughout your stomach. It was setting you on fire. Your whole body got hot. You were overheating. Then in a flash, as he thrusted into you harshly you screamed so loudly you thought your voice cords would burst out of your throat. 

You fainted from the loss of air and from whatever you just experienced. 

You woke up to find yourself on the bed you looked down to see the mess in between your legs. Blood and sticky white coated your thighs. 

You could feel the bile rise in your throat. The next thing you knew was throwing up in the trash next to your bed bits of blood were in your spit. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. You got up you didn’t even know how your legs were holding you up but you were firmly on the ground. 

You stared around the room. He wasn’t in there but you felt as if he was still inside you.  You rushed over to your closet throwing on whatever you could find and then to your dresser. You grabbed the cash that you hid there long ago. 

Shoes were the next thing you put on. You carefully opened the door. You could hear the shower next door. That was your sign to run as fast as you could out of the house and you did just that. Running as fast as you could. As fast as your legs could carry you. When you finally got away from the vicinity of the house you counted the money that was on you. Nearly a thousand dollars was in your possession. You could get onto the next train to anywhere. You didn’t know how the trains worked but you were going to get out of there one way or another. 

You didn’t know where you were going you didn’t even know where you were. The place was confusing to you. It all looked the same and yet different. 

You felt a shove and you were on the road. 

Then a car came and you forgot the rest. 

Part 3: The Tree

Coriolanus didn’t mean to kill you. He just wanted to hurt you enough that you wouldn’t try this stupid attempt at escape again. He was angry and wanted you to hurt as much as he was. He was fond of you. Sure he could’ve been more gentle but he was as gentle as he could be. 

He stared at you as people made their way to help you. 

In a darker light… you look so much more beautiful like this. Dead and silent just as you were basically before. Your eyes had paled some. There was no longer that sad shine in your eyes anymore. 

You looked like you were sleeping with your eyes open. Still and unmoving. A part of him hoped you were still there. Still breathing but to be completely honest. It was better this way. Untouched by the harsh reality of Panem. They would’ve eaten you out there. 

And if he couldn’t have you then no one could’ve. It’s a wasteful thought yes. But You were just too perfect... 

This way only he would be the one to remember you as you were. The girl who refused to be loved. He stared down taking note of what you were wearing. 

You were in your mother’s white dress. The color reminded him of the white rose you gave you months ago. The dirt made it so brown and ugly. He wishes to give you a better dress as people pull you from the road. Maybe your parents would let him choose your dress. 

He walked back to your home. Getting rid of any evidence that was there. He gave it all to Pluribus. He told him that he would have it done with. 

When your parents figured out the news your mother sobbed like there was no tomorrow. Of course, Coriolanus needed to be the one who was the most grief-stricken. He was the one to marry you of course. He knew you for a good several months. Many people believe he loved you. He gained so much sympathy from the citizens of Panem. 

Livia Cardew was upset as well. She got closer to Coriolanus. She would be a fit for his wife after all. 

He laughed bitterly as he stared at the tree your parents decided to bury you under. A laurel tree. Your father decided on it because it was your supposed favorite tree. 

At least you didn’t die like Lucy Gray. Unknown and unloved.

You were loved, just not by Coriolanus Snow… 

He smiled as he touched the branches of your tree with Livia on his arm. Livia hugged him close and he could only grin as he stared at your laurel tree. It was snowing, a beautiful flurry, just like the night you ran away. 

Snow lands on top. Coriolanus thought.

It most certainly does.

Epilogue.

Coriolanus Snow.

President of Panem. 

He stared down at the flag that he wanted to upgrade. The old one was too bland for his new regime. He needed one that showed power and called for obedience. 

The designer did well with the new version of the flag but it felt as though it was missing something important. 

Snow thought of the Laurel tree your father buried you under. 

The laurel leaves, your laurel leaves would be the symbol of Panem and a reminder of what you decided you didn’t want. 

He smiled as he thought of you and your leaves. 

You were going to look so beautiful on his new flag. 

[kald-dal-art]

please infodump about your hunger games OCs more, i beg 🙏

Of course I can infodump about THG OCs at any time, at any day. Don’t know which specific ones you wanted me to talk about so just going to talk about my headcannons for the 12th-15th Victors. Because I like the idea of the direct aftermath of the 10th game to be a very experimental decade for the games.

Ash Jorgenson D7: the 12th game

So after the 10th game they ditched the capitol arena after the bombings and started to use outdoors arenas. The first outdoor arena was a deserted island and the arena was a massive success. So the gamemakers decided to be more ambitious with a forest on top of a hill. They ended up being too ambitious with how hard core the arena ended up being.

Most of the tributes ended up dying from exposure. Ash managed to win mostly through having the actual survival skills to survive the arena. Also helped when the gamemakers released a swarm of mutts into the arena to weed out the remeaning tributes Ash managed to climb on top of a tree and managed to kick down one of the other tributes that tried to climb the tree after him.

Ash ended up being the first Victor from D7. He ended up being severally traumatised by his games not managing to fully settle down. He manages to mentor 1 tribute to Victor, a girl named Rowan a decade or so after his Victory and becomes rather close to her and her family. She even names one of her kids after him.

Ford Wright D6: the 13th game

So after the disaster of the 12th game the gamemakers decided to do an arena that wasn’t as hardcore when it came to the weather, exposure and sheer nature. Going a bit back to their roots with having a more crammed arena that wasn’t made out of nature. So the arena for this year was an abondend scrapyard.

The arena being a scrapyard ended up working fantastic for Ford, seeing as he had worked in his family workshop for years, he knew exactly how to use the scrapped automobiles to his advantage. One of the more memorable moments from his game was when he managed to restart one of the cars, slamming it into 3 tributes.

Ford ended up being the first victor from D6, a few years after his games he marries his girlfriend he had before the games. Having a daughter a few years later, but unfortunetly she ended up being reaped for the games and dying in them. Which ended his marriage and he starts drinking alchohol to cope with the game season from now on. He ended up mentoring 1 victor, a girl named Kennedy. They’re close, having almost a father/daughter relationship, but Kennedy would rather jump infront of a train than to admit to that.

Minerva Paxton D2: the 14th game

When a young girl got reaped the last thing anyone expected was someone begging to go in her place. That is how Minerva Paxton immediatley caught the attention to everyone. Being the first ever volunteer in these games. With some people thinking she was an idiot and other admirring her bravery.

Her arena was an abondend city and she was a ruthless player. Immediatley a popular victor and is credited for starting the ball of the “Career” tribute, in 2 especially. It’s a legacy she has grown to dislike more and more for each year she has to see a volunteer die in the games. She only volunteered to save her cousin.

She never ends up marrying or having children. Ended up mentoring 2 victors, but she was never a fan of mentoring and when D2 started to train children for the games she refused every request to teach anyone.

Claude Demont D10: the 15th game

The gamemakers wanted to do something completly different for these games, introducing a weapon that had never been introduced before, fire arms. Unfortunetly it backfired (ha), a lot of the bloodiness and battles were gone. A good amount of the tributes had no idea how to actually use them, some of them accidentally shooting themselves with the weapons.

Claude however, was a surprisngly good shot, essetianly snipping his competiton one by one. After his Victory the Capitol got suspicious with his skills with the firearm though. With not really beliving that it was something he just happened to pick up on in the arena. So let’s just say his family didn’t get to have a very long warrant on life after his games.

Claude was always considered a bit of a paranoid nutcase in D10. Putting a million little traps around his house in Victor’s village. He did end up by miracle settle down with someone. Never had children though. Ended up mentoring 2 tributes to Victory, one girl named Lucia, and one boy named Mateo.

[reinieseason]

begging someone to pls help me construct a gen v hunger games au ......... my brain is so dead from college but i might actually write while the roman empires are empiring

marie is a tribute (maybe 16 or 15), probably for a district who hasn't one in a long time, similar to district 12 in the books/movies. honestly, i do not know who would be her mentor or a former victor for her, so i do sort of see marie having to enter the games alone.

i don't think she's a volunteer or if she'd volunteer for her sister because i think i'd like to keep the complexity of their relationship and not speaking but now that i think of it, i do see her volunteering for the sister she doesn't speak to anymore but still loves.

i'm not sure if this au will have powers, but marie would be skilled at long-range combat, she's good with a knife- fights like a street rat, fights like an orphan.

i'd imagine she gets the name bloody marie after murdering most of the tributes, always covered in blood (hence the name). or maybe in her final battle, we get the blood rain from catching fire, covering her and the other tribute in blood as they battle to death. trying to breathe and see as hot thick blood envelop them. i think that marie ends the battle slashing the throat and the tribute sputtering blood at her.

if not the blood rain, she slashes the throat and it covers her in blood. or she when she kills a tribute the blood gets everywhere. something like that.

if she doesn't have a mentor, for some reason, i can see emma as the daughter of a capitol member having to be the escort- but her quickly knowing the games for the cruelty it is and trying to campaign for marie throughout the games- oh or a stylist.

the others in this case... hm...

jordan li is a victor, they won a few games ago, they're probably a year older than her and was reaped when they were maybe 15 or 14. i feel like youngest victor would give them some clout. not sure how the shifting would work but who fucking cares its like year 2110?

i'm not sure how jordan would hate her, they might find her annoying, especially if she has no mentor to hold her back. marie's personality is spitfire and it's passion and she doesn't bother to act prim because she has no reason to think she'll live after this. she can try her hardest but she'll probably die.

luke riordan is a victor, he's definitely the finnick od'air of this au. he's the capitol's golden boy, what they don't know is he's planning the rebellion behind their back. i do see luke being a youngest winner as well, it adds to the appeal. probably has the same post-games treatment as finnick as well, he's appealing to the sponsors and won his game from the sponsors. while i'm unsure with marie, luke definitely volunteered for sam- had a whole "i volunteer! i volunteer as tribute". he made a deal with snow post-games to keep his brother out of the reaping bowl.

andre anderson is the son of a victor, his father works closely now with the capitol to make tech. andre is being looked at for a position in the capitol, maybe as gamemaker? not sure what to do with him.

cate is the adopted daughter of shetty, maybe shetty is the president or she has a high position. cate was luke's stylist maybe, i feel like cate would be a stylist.

shetty, like i mentioned before maybe is snow, if we want to contain this to solely the gen v cast. i'm struggling to come up with the president, maybe stan edgar. i wonder how newman falls into place here, she's definitely a sponsor for marie that's for sure.

anyways that's all. ihave so far lol

[izurusstuff]

message from izurusstuff: hi guys!! i'm doing something i've never done before-- i'm writing a full-on fanfic novel. also, you may be looking at the tags and thinking to yourself, "wait, izurusstuff joined the hunger games fandom???" and the answer is yes. yes i did. the ballad of songbirds and snakes has been in my head 24/7 recently. i've been playing around with character.ai and reading fanfics on here, but its not enough for me,, i need a novel. a novel i can imagine from my silly ol' fingers. i want to test the waters here to see how many people would be interested so i can decide how much i want to put into this. this'll be my introductory post and i'll be releasing chapter 1 super duper soon!! wattpad is where i'll be posting updates first (inspired by my best friend, i love u nemi <33) and then i'll be formatting them here :)))

pls pls PLS be interactive and give a poor girl some suggestions, i literally appreciate it sm (u guys have my full permission to override the closed requests so u can infiltrate it with hunger games stuff)

this post will just be info about the series and the character's im adding so i don't have to write down summaries for every single person </3

-the bestest izurusstuff to ever izurusstuff

Coal Miner's Daughter (Young!Coriolanus Snow x District 12 Fem!Reader)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Y/n takes the place of Lucy Gray Baird in this fic. Some characters remain the same, but there's a fair share of OCs too.

Y/n is the District 12 female tribute for the 10th Annual Hunger Games, where everything is changing... The Capitol is introducing mentors, sponsors, and gamemakers this year. Things are changing-- and it's not necessarily for the better.

Y/n gets thrown into The Hunger Games purely because of her former best friend. However, y/n's ex boyfriend gets thrown in too... and audiences are loving the drama that's erupting. Back in the Capitol, y/n's mentor is disgusted with the fact he got a tribute from the poorest district in Panem... but y/n slowly wins him over.

Added Two New Characters As Of 12/28!!!

𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲:

｡･ﾟﾟ･🧸 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞: 𝐕𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 ⋆·˚ ༘ *

｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.⛓ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 💣⛓.⋆｡⋆˚

˗ˏˋ ❝ 𝐎𝐡… 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞… 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞… 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭…❞ ˎˊ˗ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

─●─────────────── ⇆ 　◁　　❚❚　　▷　　↻

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭:

❀˖⁺. ༶  𝐘/𝐍 𝐕𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 ⋆˙⊹❀

: ̗̀➛ 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮! 𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞.

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 - ̥۪͙۪˚

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘/𝐍’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐝, 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟏𝟐

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.⛓ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 ⛓.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐇𝐞'𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐲'𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. 𝐇𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐭" 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞-- 𝐘/𝐍 𝐕𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞.

⍣ ೋ 𝐋𝐞𝐢𝐟 𝐇𝐮𝐱𝐥𝐞𝐲 ⋆·˚ ༘ *

: ̗̀➛ 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟏𝟐. 𝐇𝐞'𝐬 𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐞𝐱-𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.

 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅ 𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘/𝐍'𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟏𝟐 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐫. 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐞𝐢𝐟.

 ✎﹏ 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 ✬

: ̗̀➛ 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟏𝟐 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲/𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬.

｡･ﾟﾟ𝐒𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 ･🧸 ｡⋆｡

: ̗̀➛ 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟐, 𝐒𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐲. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐬. 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬, 𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐚, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠…

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 🎀✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

: ̗̀➛ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐲��𝐢𝐬𝐭.

`✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐆𝐚𝐮𝐥 ༉‧₊˚🕯️

: ̗̀➛ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫. 𝐃𝐫. 𝐆𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠.

⋆｡°✩ 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦 °｡⋆🕰

: ̗̀➛ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬. 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦….

🕸𓍊𓋼𓍊 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐃𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐞 𓆪 𖤍

: ̗̀➛ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰’𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬. 𝐈𝐟 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐚. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥. 𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟐, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐲. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬…

ˏˋ 🌳 °•*⁀➷ 𝐋𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 ❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄ 

: ̗̀➛ 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬’𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐚𝐫𝐞. 𝐔𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐋𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥’𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫.

: ̗̀ 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝. *. ⋆

: ̗̀➛ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠����𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰��𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐭. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲. 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲, 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐬, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟕’𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡…

‧₊✮‧₊˚  𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞 ₊˚ ⋅* 

: ̗̀➛ 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬– 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 #𝟏 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬’ 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲: 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐬. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲…

*:･ 🍓:･ 𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 :･༊*·

: ̗̀➛ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬’𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥. 𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟏𝟐 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟑 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬’𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝’𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞. 𝐎𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐇𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐬...

⛓✧༺ 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐃𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐞 *ੈ✩

: ̗̀➛ 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐃𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟑 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐫. 𝐆𝐚𝐮𝐥, 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐬. 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐫. 𝐆𝐚𝐮𝐥. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐚, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

[scarlettscribbles]

somewhere over the rainbow

PART OF neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons by the sea DRABBLE SERIES ↠ masterlist

- Lucy Gray Baird & Daughter!OC, endgame Lucy Gray Baird x Coriolanus Snow

Summary: 2.6k words - Coriolanus attends Tigris' first fashion collection.

a/n: idk why this is so long, coriolanus thinks a lotta thoughts

tags-list: @cdragons

There was something different about Tigris. Recently, her eyes have regained their twinkle and she pranced around with a determination about her and, dare he say, a glint of defiance. The last he’d seen her looking so dynamic was when he came home from District 12, looking harried but alive, holding in his hand the first among the many checks yet to come from the Plinth Prize.

Coriolanus was not oblivious to the distance that grew between him and Tigris. He had been busy trying to keep up with being apprentice gamemaker and a budding politician. The steps necessary to get from one to another were delicate and had needed all his attention. Coriolanus had thought refurnishing the penthouse and all the benefits his family indirectly reaped from his efforts would be enough to make up for his absence, but Tigris didn’t seem to think so. He’d only been made known of her decision to live on her own one cold morning when he found Tigris in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea. She’d been nervous at first but she grew more confident and sure as she explained how it would be more convenient for her and how Ma Plinth would ensure that Grandma’am would be taken care of.

Coriolanus hadn’t been surprised. There’d been something flighty in Tigris eyes, something that had wanted to run ever since she’d made note of his similarity to his late father, ever since he stopped being Coryo to her.

He thought her a bit ungrateful. Why is it that the people he deemed worth keeping have a propensity for shying away from power? Why was he suddenly deemed undesirable just when he has the ability to provide and to protect them? Coriolanus wondered if that was the nature of his moving up in the world, to never be able to have everything and always having to trade what he always had for something greater.

Coriolanus refused to recognize the pervading feeling in his chest as loneliness. If Tigris no longer found her cousin charming because he was not helpless anymore, that was her decision. No matter how many diverging paths she chooses, Coriolanus will make sure that she would never be able to fully get out of his sight. Who knew what she would do when unsupervised? Get into trouble, that was what, if her behavior when given the distinct honor to be a stylist for the Games was any indication.

Coriolanus knew that she was more sympathetic to the tributes than most people. He had thought that giving her the job would curb those tendencies. Tigris had only ever seen the Games through the screen. If she had personal experience with the tributes, maybe she would realize that caring for the lives of the already dead was a futile gesture. There was no moral high ground to be found in it.

Looking back, perhaps it was the nail in the coffin for their once close relationship. Tigris’ first tribute won, but the rest had not been so lucky. There was a tendril of guilt in the sea of satisfaction he felt, seeing the haunted look in her eyes. Do you see it how I see it now? Caring won’t make a difference.

A few months before the 15th Hunger Games was set to begin, Coriolanus had been surprised when he saw Tigris at the breakfast table, conversing with Mrs.— rather, Ma Plinth while Grandma’am quietly ate. He stopped at the doorway, blinking away the sleepiness from staying up too late helping Dr. Gaul with the preparations. Upon seeing him, Ma jumped up excitedly and beckoned him inside the dining room, taking a short trip to the kitchen to fetch him a plate and a cup.

“Come sit, Coriolanus! Tigris has exciting news to share!”

He sat on the chair, picking up the envelope that Tigris slid across the table. The envelope was a sophisticated black color with holographic trimmings that shifted in the light, held close by a pressed flower wax seal. Coriolanus felt Tigris’ eyes on him, cataloging his reaction as he opened the invite to see the words “Tigris Snow’s Spectrum Collection” printed on the card inside.

Tigris’ work never suffered even when her spirits were down; but he felt as if this sudden burst of creativity came out of nowhere.

“I thought it was time for me to put out my first fashion collection,” she said. “I’ve been making custom orders and, of course, styling for the tributes but I’ve just been so inspired lately and, what better timing than doing it just before the Games? I would be too busy by then.” Tigris shook her head. “You’d come, won’t you? All of you. I would appreciate the support in case nobody else accepts the invite.”

“Oh don’t be silly, Tigris, dear. They would be a fool not to come.” Grandma’am interjected. “Only the mentally deficit would reject the invitation of the future president’s cousin.” Coriolanus held back a sigh. He loved the old woman but her fixation on his future presidency grew tiring sometimes.

“Fools indeed, Tigris,” Ma said with a kinder tone. “You’ve got real talent, the kind that changes the world. I can just see it.”

Tigris sent her a grateful smile. “You’re too kind.” She wasn’t wrong about Tigris’ talent even though Coriolanus highly disbelieved the extent to which the Plinth matriarch thought it would reach. These moments show just how district the woman was, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

“And you’re too modest! Be sure to save me a spot. My husband is unfortunately unavailable at that date but I’ll bring my checkbook with me.”

“Checkbook? What for?” It was the first time he’d spoken since waking, his voice scratchy and hoarse. He took a sip of tea to clear his throat.

“I’m holding an auction for the pieces after.” Tigris said. Coriolanus’ brows furrowed in puzzlement. Typically, designers in the Capitol would showcase their collections then maybe do a magazine spread before waiting for orders to come to maximize returns. It was generally a slow process.

“I’m not lacking for money, Coriolanus,” she added, exasperation in her tone. “I just want to create a buzz. You know how the Capitol is, the value lies in how much it takes just to get it. For my collections to have a certain reputation, it has to be held to a high standard since the beginning. If you miss it, you’ll lose it forever. That’s what I want them to know.”

Coriolanus only hummed in response. What she said made sense, but there was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that told him that that’s not all there was to it.

Hm, Coriolanus thought, tracing the calligraphy of the date on the card. If he finished the preliminary preparations by the end of the week, he just might be able to swing by. Perhaps it would be worth to find out what inspired his cousin.

Coriolanus began regretting his decision to go the moment he entered Tigris’ shop, which was bursting with a full crowd of Capitol citizens. The venue was ill-suited for the number of attendees. He seriously considered stepping out when a senator and his wife spotted him and called him out, attracting the attention of everybody else. He’d hoped to stay only for a short while, just enough to congratulate Tigris, and then go back to his work. His curiosity, unfortunately, would be left unfulfilled due to the mistake of one of the gamemakers under Dr. Gaul that the entire department was working hard to fix, including him. The Idiot, — because Coriolanus cannot be bothered to remember his name — went into the laboratory completely hungover, knocking over the delicate formulas of a hallucinogenic gas they were supposed to be already testing out two nights before.

He really did not have the patience to deal with people today.

With a practiced smile, he turned to greet Senator Carlisle and his simpering, overly-flirtatious wife. Coriolanus fought a recoil when she kissed his cheek, ruby red lips lingering just a bit too long. People really had no shame nowadays! She was, what, in her 60s now and married for more half of that if Coriolanus remembered correctly. She should be watching her back, not squeezing herself into stiff corsets that pulled her chest nearly to her neck.

Coriolanus was contemplating the merits of murder when he heard his name called out by a familiar voice. He sighed in relief when Tigris pulled him into a perfunctory hug, kissing his cheek and looping her arm around his.

“Thank you for coming, Coriolanus,” she smiled. “Will you excuse us Senator, Mrs. Carlisle? I have to escort my cousin to his seat.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to come,” Tigris said under her breath as she led him forward. “I heard through the grapevine that the gamemakers have been having some trouble with this year’s Games.”

Through the grapevine. If that was what you called the gossip about Dr. Gaul's very loud and very destructive outburst, sure.

“We’re making do,” he answered succinctly, finding his tongue tied about the exasperating details that he would have once shared with her. “We’ll be able to deliver on time, don’t worry.”

She muttered something under her breath that sounded an awful lot like “I wasn’t worried” but they’d already arrived at the seats. Only Ma Plinth was there, kissing his cheeks in greeting as she explained that Grandma’am had felt sickly today, thus the reason for her absence.

“Are you both comfortable? Anything I can get you?” Tigris asked in a rush. Coriolanus observed the telltale fiddling of her gloves that betrayed her nervousness.

“Nothing at all, my dear. I’m alright to just wait for the show.” Ma replied with a comforting smile.

Tigris turned to him. “Same goes with me.”

“Okay. Alright,” she took a deep breath. “The show is starting in a few minutes, I’ll be backstage for the most part, but I’ll be back during the intermission before the auction.”

Tigris turned to walk away before Coriolanus stopped her. He initially wanted to inform her that he was not going to be able to stay long, but sentiment got the best of him. This had been her lifelong dream, put on the back burner when she chose to not attend University in favor of working to support their family, to support him.

“Tigris,” he called out. “Congratulations.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes. “Thank you, Coriolanus.”

The show went relatively well until the last part.

Coriolanus had been sitting back, using the opportunity to relax on the soft seat as he absentmindedly took note of the models walking down the runway. He had always been vaguely aware of the fashion trends, most of his knowledge absorbed by virtue of being around Tigris. The Capitol, recently recovered from the war, had a propensity for fine fabrics in rich colors, trying to chase away the smoke and silence of the Dark Days.

Tigris’ collection was decidedly more out-of the box, extravagant and loud, divided into bright, monochrome outfits following the color spectrum. The crowd ate it up, polite claps graduating to cheers and the occasional wolf whistle. The behavior was a bit uncouth, but he had supposed it was a good indication of just how much money was going to be shelled out later.

He’d been admittedly zoning out, trying to curb the headache that formed just from thinking of the work he needed to go back to when he caught sight of the last model.

Coriolanus’ limbs locked as he saw the rainbow dress. The skirt was layered in full layers of tulle, significantly shorter in front, forming a window, but longer in the back, giving it a slight trail. The blouse was made of sheer fabric with bishop sleeves, the v-neck meeting the dip of an intricately molded breastplate placed on top of it.

That was not his girl. That was not Lucy Gray nor her dress, the model’s hair pin straight and a shade lighter, the dress too new. It was not, but it was close enough that it made his palms clammy, the crowd’s cheer a dull roar in his ears.

Ma Plinth was saying something, but Coriolanus could only blankly agree to whatever it was, everything else drowned out by anger and the persistent urge to run.

So he did.

He slammed the door behind him, taking in a deep breath of the crisp air outside of Tigris’ shop.

He didn’t know how much time passed, and just why he didn’t immediately go back to his office, when the door opened more gently than he shut it. Tigris leaned on the glass beside him, irritatingly silent.

“You should pull out that collection.”

Tigris did a double-take. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I wish I didn’t,” she hissed. “The answer is no, Coriolanus.”

“Dear Tigris, right now I am asking quite nicely, aren’t I?” Coriolanus replied acidly. “I doubt you’d like me to resort to other methods. You know, I could eliminate your career before it even takes off. I could make it so that nobody would step into your little shop and all the clothes on that stage right now would gather dust.”

“You’d make them forget, then? What, just like how you made everybody forget about Lucy Gray Baird?” In his youth, Coriolanus rarely incurred Tigris’ wrath. In fact, Tigris was rarely mad at all, even when her ex-employer Fabricia would clearly take advantage of her time and skills. Right now, she had all but forgotten that restraint, face flushed and eyes flashing at him. “You think that I don’t know? Flickerman has said nothing about her or the 10th Hunger Games ever since then, and during his late night show where he made mention of a particular “songbird”, his feed was cut immediately, coming back after a few minutes due to “technical error.” She’s always skipped over during the re-runs of the Victors every year, and even the library archives don’t have the tapes, and they have everything dating back from the 1st.

“You know what, Coriolanus? You want to try to erase her existence in your life, fine. But you don’t have a monopoly on her memory. Other people are allowed to miss her, to remember her, or to be inspired by her.”

Coriolanus sputtered, not even trying to deny her accusations of tampering with the records. He could have said it was Dr. Gaul who had done it, which was the truth, but he didn’t counteract his mentor’s decisions either. “You think I did it because I want— because I miss her?” he asked incredulously.

“Don’t you?” she asked. “I think that you miss her so much that you hate it. You hate that something so simple as color and clothes reminds you of her. I think that because you couldn’t cage her, you’d make it so that you’ll be the only one who remembers her. And god forbid anybody else does.”

“Lucy Gray is nothing to me!” Coriolanus growled, jaw clenched to prevent himself from shouting. He could feel the tension forming at his temples. Tigris didn’t know him at all. “She was an insignificant girl from an insignificant district, who would have died without me. She’s nothing more than a mistake I learned the hard way, a ghost that’s better left alone.”

“A ghost,” Tigris echoed. “Is that why she haunts you now? Coriolanus, what did you do to her?”

The snake bite on his arm that had long since scarred over throbbed. “You know what, I don’t care. Keep making your dresses however you desire. Hell, honor them all after someone you didn’t really know.” He straightened his coat and stepped away from Tigris. “But I will make sure that you never escape the Games, Tigris. Every year, you’ll work with a tribute and you can dress them in whatever latest act of defiance you made. And every year, they will die and die and die. Then you’ll learn that all this is for nothing.”

[piracytheorist]

Last night I came up with some ideas for a SxF Hunger Games au, but since I'll never write it, I'll just share some notes here. Feel free to be inspired by my ramblings 🤪

Hunger Games rules could be tweaked to fit this. I want it to be early enough so that Loid and Yor are 18 and 17 respectively and have memories of the war from before, but also late enough that it's justified by the HG chronology that the arena is specifically built for that year's games. Canonically Mags wins the 11th Hunger Games, but since it's an au I can use that year for this story. Anyway.

Before the start of the story, we get [redacted], who lived through the war as a kid, where he lost his family and everyone he knew. He grew up and lived for a few years in District 12, where his name started entering the Reaping pools once he turned twelve years old, but a little before he turned fifteen he tried to escape. He evaded the Capitol Peacekeepers but he was found by WISE recruiters. He was exceptionally capable, and they told him his abilities could help in their plan to overthrow the government and abolish the games. And so he joined them and started with his training.

In three years' time, right before he turned eighteen and the last time his name was to enter the Reaping pools, he was assigned the name Loid Forger and was placed in District 3.

He'd been given a concrete plan: he'd be reaped to the Hunger Games, spy on the Capitol in any way he could, then get into the arena and infiltrate the system by sabotaging the arena cameras. Although WISE suggested he should try to win, he was adamant in not stealing the winning (and thus, surviving) place from an innocent tribute, and he believed he'd have a better chance to be a spy if he wasn't universally known as a victor. So he decided to secretly bring a specific poison on his person in the games, which would slow his heartbeat enough, and with the help of fellow spies from within, make the gamemakers think he has died.

So Reaping day comes. Girls first, and the name heard through the megaphones is Yor Briar.

A thin seventeen-year-old girl walks out of the crowd, when suddenly a young voice is heard screaming "I volunteer!"

They all turn, Loid noticing that it's ten-year-old Yuri Briar, Yor's younger brother who is attempting to rescue her from that fate. Unfortunately, his pleas go unheard, since a boy can't volunteer for a girl (and vice versa) and he's also too young to participate.

Yor stumbles onto the stage, looking numb, and everyone thinks she's terrified and won't make it.

Little do they know she's been working as an assassin for about three years now, and is already planning on how to take her opponents in the games down. However, she refuses to kill innocents, and at that thought she realizes she may not be able to come back home.

She's not afraid of dying; she's afraid of all the innocents she won't be able to save.

Then the announcer moves to the boys' pool.

Little does anyone know that every single slip of paper in that pool writes Loid Forger.

Though tricky, it was crucial that he didn't volunteer, as at that point it might make him look suspicious. He had to play it as innocent as possible.

And as it goes, when his name is heard, he steps forward towards the stage and bursts out in (fake) tears. Begging, grabbing at Peacekeepers to allow him to stay home, etc.

Since he came in that district as an orphan, no one visits him during the last goodbyes, while Yuri makes Yor promise to come back home.

On their way to the Capitol, they are introduced to their mentor, Sylvia Sherwood. Of course Loid already knows her as his handler. But now she's pretending to be a Capitol official mentoring them for their games.

In truth, she was also from district 12, she and her daughter lived through the war only for her daughter to be reaped in the first Hunger Games at age twelve and be killed.

As they look through the other Tributes, they see a girl with pink hair called Anya, who barely looks twelve as her title card says.

(In truth, she was the result of human experimentation and can read minds, but in that timeline she escaped and the scientists who would remember about her were killed by the Capitol for different, political reasons, so there's no one searching for her. When she was picked up by an orphanage they put a wrong age on her paper, making her essentially almost two years older than she actually is)

Loid looks at the girl, then at Sylvia (he knows her backstory) and has a silent agreement that he'll do his best to protect the girl and maybe help her win. His plan for himself is to take the poison in secret, act like he was killed by it while his heart rate will drop to almost undetectable levels and then be revived once his body is recovered.

What he doesn't expect is to start bonding with Yor during their training. Yor keeps it neutral, telling the interviewers that she just wants to go back home to her brother, while Loid keeps quiet and even brings out a couple tears here and there, saying that he doubts he'll make it.

But in the meantime, and only to Loid, Yor talks about how she wanted to protect her brother, how he was the only one she had left and how wrong it is that the Games will make her choose between going back to her brother and killing innocent kids.

And all the while, Loid is touched and thinks that maybe he ought to protect her too.

Then the Games start. The arena is a bombed city, awakening bad memories for Loid, Yor, and the few other eighteen- and seventeen-year-olds as it reminds them of the war times. Bloodbath ensues, Yor grabs Anya (who doesn't protest at all) and runs, and Loid also runs and hides.

Yor keeps Anya safe, bringing her food and water, and Anya tells her they have to meet the boy from her district (cause she read his mind and knows about his plan with the poison, and believes that all three of them can get out together, as long as one of them wins).

Meanwhile, Loid approaches a camera, grabs it and, addressing the public, he begs to be sent home. He shows a typical, very desperate position as if he truly believes crying will make the Capitol take pity on him. Unbeknownst to anyone else but his fellow spies, as he does that he takes out a wire, and reconnects it through a special wire with a secret code in it, that will allow hijackers to enter the Capitol's electronics system. Yeah it sounds silly maybe if I bothered a bit more with world building I could find something better but that's all I got now XD

He does that a few more times, carefully avoiding other Tributes.

However, he later spots the Career pack closing in on the ruins that Anya and Yor are hiding in, and he abandons everything and risks his life trying to save them. The Careers throw grenades at the ruined building, and Loid kills half of them, but Yor manages to break through a wall with Anya safely in her arms.

Loid is injured, but as Yor believes what Anya says he did for them, she cares for his wounds and keeps watch as he gets some rest.

The next morning, when Yor leaves for supplies, Loid and Anya bond. Loid is amazed by how much Anya trusts him, how optimistic she is about all three of them making it out, despite that not being a possibility as far as she knows, and he sees her and remembers watching the footage from the games Sylvia's daughter participated - and died in. And he's once again conflicted about who he should let win.

The amount of poison he carried is enough for one person, but it's questionable if it will be enough for two. He considers that due to her young age and small built, maybe Anya needs a smaller dose, and in despair he "secretly" slips such a dose into her food. Not so secretly to Anya, though, who smiles at him as she eats the food, and as he misunderstands the reason behind her smile, he feels even more guilty for endangering her.

Maybe he could have talked to Yor. Maybe he could have given her the poison and allowed Anya to win. Maybe it's not he who deserves to walk away. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Little does he know Anya knows everything and is trusting him.

He expects her to quickly fall to her "death", but she instead starts coughing blood and he realizes! Shit! She's too young! She hasn't been trained for poison resistance! What if she dies!

And so he holds her as she starts losing consciousness, and she smiles and says she's happy she met him.

And then her eyes close, with the typical cannon signalling a tribute's death being fired.

And then he cries. For real. Genuine tears run from his eyes as he sobs and holds her and says he's sorry.

And then the Careers run towards him. He realizes he doesn't have a lot of time, as Anya has to be revived within around fifteen minutes. He also needs to be away from her body so the hovercraft can recover her, but he can't leave her alone because someone might harm her and practically finish her off.

He picks her up and runs, avoiding arrows and spears and knives thrown his way.

Placing Anya on a safe spot on a roof, he runs down and fights the Careers, but he's tired and desperate to keep Anya safe and he gets injured, though he manages to kill all but one. That one is finished off by Yor, who throws a knife at his head as he tries to kill Loid.

Loid collapses from pain and exhaustion, desperate for Yor to be safe but also realizing that with the amount of injuries he sustained, he might not survive being revived.

Yor holds him, quickly bandages his wounds so he won't die from blood loss, but he's still in a very bad shape.

They watch as Anya is safely recovered by the hovercraft, and Yor starts crying. Loid resorts to dying, after all, not trusting himself after the lies he told and the heartbreak he caused. He only hopes Sylvia will take care of Anya. After all, he did all he was assigned to do. Him getting out was secondary. Though he regrets not being able to keep fighting to abolish the tyranny and the games, and that he'll never see Yor and Anya again.

Yor holds him. "Hold on," she tells him, as tears run from her eyes. "Stay with me."

"We're just kids," he tells her. He points to the environment around them. "We survived this war once just to be thrown into it again. It's unfair." He means it this time. It's not fake begging to go back, just to distract the security from what he was really doing. He really means it, letting all his pain and despair sound.

"Why did you save us?" Yor asks. "All this time you've been begging to go back but then you risked your life to protect us. You're dying because you did."

"Maybe I just realized who was the one worthy of continuing in this world." He means it. For all he knows he killed Anya. Only thing he can do now is make sure Yor goes back safely.

Yor hugs him, and he realizes he wants to kiss her, even as a goodbye. He doesn't push.

"Are you sure you want to be here?" he asks, carefully gathering the rest of the poison in his palm.

She doesn't reply, only holds him close.

She closes her eyes as she tries to compose herself, and he takes that opportunity to slip the poison into his mouth.

He collapses against her, and she holds him.

And then she sings.

She sings the same lullaby his mother used to sing to him, to calm him down during fearful nights of the war.

His fear melts into serenity. His eyes close and her voice starts fading away...

He doesn't hear the final cannon, nor the announcer saying "Ladies and gentlemen, let me present to you the victor of the [x] Hunger Games, Yor Briar from District 3!"

Yor cries. Loid's body is carried away and she is lifted into the hovercraft to be taken back and made into a beauty for the Capitol to fawn over.

WISE spies recover Anya and Loid in time, but due to his injuries it takes a few more hours for Loid to wake up. Once he does he breathes in deep, eyes stinging with tears from the pain in his body.

He breathes in deep, eyes opening to a dark room.

"Shhh," Sylvia says, trying to calm him down. "You're alright."

"He's awake!" Anya's booming voice is heard, and Loid nearly starts crying again.

He starts thinking about how panicked he was, how he worried he might have killed her, how he left Yor alone...

"It's okay," Anya says. "I'm okay, and we're all out of there and safe."

"Briar won the Games," Sylvia tells him.

As the van they're hiding in slowly takes them away from the Capitol and towards district 13, Anya reveals to him that she can read minds, and it's why she trusted both Yor and him from the start, and that she wants to help in their plan. Loid is horrified to pull such a small kid into their dangerous mission, and also a bit because of how she knows everything, but is relieved to learn that even though she knows the worst of him, she still trusts him.

It reminds him that it's kids like her he wants to protect. And he can keep fighting for that.

They then reach and hide in the hidden underground facilities of district 13 while they start planning the sabotage of the next year's Hunger Games.

While Yor gets the spotlight as the victor, she returns back to district 3 to an overjoyed Yuri. She's happy that she's back to her brother, and that with the money given to her as a victor they'll never grow hungry again, but is terrified of Yuri ever getting reaped.

Soon enough, a secretive letter arrives. It's from Loid, who tells her that both Anya and he are alive and safe, that she shouldn't worry nor lose hope, and that her brother's name will never enter the Reaping pools. He'll personally make sure of that.

---

So, yeah. That's all I got. It takes some tweaking here and there but because it feels like it's got most of a completed story's points I decided to share :D the dynamic between Loid and Anya as well as Yor and Anya would be more like older siblings with a younger one than parents with a child, which would turn a little weird once Loid and Yor become a couple, but mostly for them cause Anya doesn't give a damn. She's happy they're all together.

[piccolo-reads]

thoughts from chapters 10-17

- haymitch and katniss’ relationship continue to be special. they can speak in shorthand, and they are honest to each other, but more than that, he can be blunt, and she won’t take offense, because she knows he wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true

- the way katniss lets her mother doctor her and heal her broken heel, when in the first book she barely accepted an ironed dress. ugh <3

- peeta immediately coming down on haymitch and katniss with the firm coach persona is so funny. he is effie’s son the way katniss is haymitch’s daughter. i wonder how much of it was a coping mechanism tho

- the reveal that maysilee donner was not only katniss’ mum’s friend but also madge’s aunt is heartbreaking. madge, this quiet girl, befriends another quiet girl who happens to be the child of her mother and aunt’s childhood friend. and then her friend is reaped just like her aunt was and what more can she offer but the pin that belonged to her aunt. my heart.

- very fun that katniss received some information from her prep team, inadvertently. bet snow didn’t think that would be her source. but the districts feed the capitol itself, so of course it would affect the “normal people” of the capitol

- katniss realisation that the capitol cares more about the victors than faceless children in the games each year makes so much sense to me, though it should already be obvious. of course when you have gotten to know people, to attach a personality to the face, of course then you’d care. again connection is what brings down the capitol, and that’s why the people of the capitol has to be kept separate from the districts because if they knew what was going on, would they still sit comfortably in their city?

- it’s also interesting to see how snow presents the games (as he probably has for decades) as something so written into stone, as something formally codified, reading from some document that was probably faked with teabags to look old and official. when we know from tbosas that it was some drunken idea, scribbled in a college students messy handwriting. if anyone’s a spin doctor it’s snow

- mags deciding to take a nap during her private session with the gamemakers is queen shit

- she’s like i’m definitely gonna die anyway and im too old for this shit idc

- i’m sorry but the definitive marriage ceremony of district 12 being a toasting? the combination of fire and bread? as in peeta and katniss are literally the definition of marriage and love in their district ?? (im sure this connection has been made before but i can’t)

[nikosasaki]

THE TRIBUTES OF THE 72ND HUNGER GAMES

Hailed as one of the Capitol's favorite Games in recent history, the 72nd Hunger Games featured a woodland arena shrouded in a constant darkness. This year featured a group of particularly ruthless and skilled tributes, who managed to keep tensions and interest high at all hours of the day. It is no surprise then that the victor, Julius of District 2, is seen as one of the deadliest victors in the history of the Games. Spanning over seventeen days, the Games featured brutal fights, killer mutts, and even a hint of doomed romance. It captured the attention of audiences in a way that the Games hadn't managed to do for quite a few years, and the influence of what the gamemakers learned during this year can still be felt in the Games of today.

taglist: @kendelias @chlobenet @bravelittleflower @eddiemunscns  @purpleyearning @eddysocs @heavenlysurf @arrthurpendragon @villanele @nolanhollogay @stanshollaand @lovehermioneforever @raith-way @kiara-carrera @decennia @luucypevensie @waterloou @carmens-garden @hiddenqveendom @foxesandmagic @jvstjewels @dragonsbone  @endless-oc-creations @ginevrastilinski @sunlitscribe @dyhlanobrien @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @fleetwoodmcs @daughter-of-melpomene