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nickeverdeen · 8 months ago

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The Ballad of Snakes and Songbirds characters meeting your parents for the first time

Coriolanus Snow

Coriolanus would be incredibly polite and calculated, ensuring that every word and gesture is perfect

He’d give a very formal introduction, shaking hands with your parents and addressing them by their full names

Coriolanus would compliment your parents on their home or anything he notices, attempting to win them over with charm

He’d listen intently to anything your parents say, nodding thoughtfully and engaging in polite conversation

Although he’s charming, Coriolanus would subtly probe to understand your parents’ views and values

He might bring a small, tasteful gift for your parents as a token of respect

Coriolanus would maintain strong eye contact, trying to project sincerity and confidence

He would be subtly protective of you, ensuring the interaction reflects well on you

Despite his calm demeanor, Coriolanus might be internally nervous, knowing how crucial this meeting could be for your relationship

He’d likely err on the side of being overly polite, not wanting to make any mistakes

He might use some dry, witty humor to break the ice, but nothing too risky

Coriolanus would show a strong respect for your parents, likely due to his own upbringing and understanding of hierarchy

He might subtly flatter your parents, but in a way that seems genuine and not overdone

Throughout the interaction, Coriolanus would exude a quiet, confident energy

After the meeting, Coriolanus would likely ask for your thoughts on how it went and if there’s anything he should have done differently

Lucy Gray Baird

Lucy Gray would greet your parents warmly, perhaps with a hug or a friendly handshake

She’d be open and friendly, quickly engaging your parents in conversation

If she senses your parents enjoy music, Lucy Gray might even hum a tune or mention a song she likes

She’d keep the conversation light and casual, aiming to make your parents feel comfortable around her

Lucy Gray would offer genuine compliments, possibly about your parents’ style or home

She’d use her sense of humor to break the ice, making a joke or telling a funny story

Her eyes would reflect kindness and sincerity, putting your parents at ease

Lucy Gray might tell a captivating story from her past, drawing your parents in with her charm

She’d show respect to your parents, addressing them politely and listening attentively

Lucy Gray would be down-to-earth, not trying to impress, but simply being herself

She might bring a small, personal gift, like something she made or found that has meaning

Despite her confidence, Lucy Gray might be a little nervous, wanting your parents to like her

If your parents enjoy nature, Lucy Gray would connect with them over that, perhaps talking about plants or animals

She’d keep your parents engaged in conversation, asking them about their lives and interests

Overall, Lucy Gray would bring positive energy to the meeting, leaving your parents with a good impression of her

Dr. Volumnia Gaul

Dr. Gaul would enter the room with an intense presence, her eyes sharp and observant

She’d likely steer the conversation toward intellectual topics, perhaps asking your parents’ opinions on complex matters

Dr. Gaul might come across as slightly detached, not overly interested in small talk

She’d observe your parents closely, analyzing their reactions and responses

Her tone would be formal, not overly warm, but respectful

Dr. Gaul might ask challenging or probing questions, testing the waters with your parents

If she’s impressed, she might compliment your parents on their intelligence or insights

She could use some dry, almost clinical humor, which might go over your parents’ heads or make them uneasy

Dr. Gaul might let a few unnerving silences linger, watching how your parents handle them

She wouldn’t engage in flattery or small talk, focusing instead on the substance of the conversation

Her curiosity might come across as slightly unsettling, as she’d be genuinely interested in what makes your parents tick

Dr. Gaul would be aware of the power dynamics in the room and subtly maintain control of the conversation

Your parents might find her a bit eccentric, with her unique mannerisms and way of speaking

She’d maintain a respectful distance, not getting too personal or emotional

By the end of the meeting, Dr. Gaul would likely have established a subtle dominance in the conversation, leaving your parents a bit unsure of how to feel about her

Sejanus Plinth

Sejanus would be a bit nervous at first, stumbling slightly over his words in the introduction

He’d be incredibly polite and respectful, clearly wanting to make a good impression

Sejanus would offer a warm smile, trying to put everyone at ease despite his nerves

He’d compliment your parents sincerely, perhaps on their home or something they’ve accomplished

Sejanus would ask your parents questions about themselves, genuinely interested in getting to know them

He might show a bit of vulnerability, admitting that he’s a bit nervous or new to this

Sejanus would express gratitude for being welcomed into your parents’ home or life

He’d speak highly of you, telling your parents how much you mean to him

His voice would be soft and gentle, not wanting to come across as too forward

Sejanus might use gentle, self-deprecating humor to break the ice

He’d respect your parents’ boundaries, not pushing too hard to win them over

Sejanus would show genuine interest in your parents’ lives, asking thoughtful questions

He’d be open-hearted and honest, not trying to hide who he is

Throughout the meeting, Sejanus would give you affectionate glances, showing his love for you

Once it’s over, Sejanus might express relief, asking you how he did and if your parents liked him

Tigris Snow

Tigris would greet your parents warmly, with grace and elegance, making them feel immediately comfortable

She’d compliment your parents on their home or appearance, with genuine kindness

Tigris would engage your parents in light, pleasant conversation, perhaps about fashion or art

She’d listen attentively to your parents, making them feel heard and appreciated

Tigris would be friendly and approachable, putting your parents at ease

She’d show empathy, especially if your parents talk about anything personal or difficult

Tigris wouldn’t boast about herself, instead focusing on making your parents feel important

She might use gentle humor to keep the conversation light and enjoyable

Tigris would be very polite and respectful, ensuring she makes a good impression

She’d ask thoughtful questions, showing interest in your parents’ lives and opinions

There would be a nurturing vibe to her interaction, as if she’s already part of the family

Tigris would express appreciation for being invited to meet your parents, making them feel valued

She’d show genuine interest in getting to know your parents, perhaps asking about family traditions

Tigris would show subtle affection towards you, making it clear how much she cares without being over the top

When leaving, Tigris would offer sincere parting words, thanking your parents for their time and hospitality

Coral

Coral would greet your parents with caution, still getting used to being around new people

She’d maintain a respectful distance, not wanting to overstep or make anyone uncomfortable

Coral might keep the conversation brief, focusing on polite, simple exchanges

She’d be polite but reserved, not revealing too much about herself

Coral would be very observant, watching your parents closely to gauge their reactions and feelings

Her communication would be straightforward, without much embellishment or small talk

Coral would speak in a respectful tone, making sure she doesn’t offend or upset anyone

She might not use much humor, keeping the interaction serious and focused

Coral would set clear boundaries, not getting too personal too quickly

Despite her reserved nature, she’d carry herself with quiet confidence

Coral might feel a bit nervous internally, but she’d try not to show it

She’d be honest in her responses, not feeling the need to impress but also not wanting to disappoint

Coral might show subtle appreciation for your parents’ hospitality, perhaps with a small gesture or comment

If your parents bring up family traditions, Coral would show respect and interest, even if she’s unfamiliar with them

After the meeting, Coral might feel relieved, glad that it went smoothly without any issue

Treech

Treech would greet your parents with a guarded, cautious demeanor, not fully trusting the situation

He’d keep the conversation brief and polite, not offering much about himself

Treech would be very wary, observing your parents closely to understand their intentions

He might not engage much in conversation, letting you take the lead

Treech might come across as slightly defensive, especially if he feels judged or misunderstood

When he does speak, it would be direct and to the point, without much elaboration

He’d be polite, but it might seem reluctant, as if he’s unsure how to navigate the social norms

Treech would exude a quiet strength, making it clear that he’s not someone to be underestimated

He might not use humor, keeping the interaction serious and straightforward

Despite his guarded nature, Treech would show respect for your parents, understanding the importance of the meeting

He’d set clear boundaries, making sure the conversation doesn’t get too personal too quickly

Treech might feel slightly uneasy, not used to these kinds of social situations

He’d be protective of you, especially if he senses any tension or discomfort from your parents

Treech would be honest in his responses, not trying to impress but also not wanting to offend

After the meeting, Treech would likely feel relieved that it’s over, hoping he didn’t make a bad impression

Festus Creed

Festus would greet your parents confidently, with a firm handshake and a smile

He’d turn on the charm, using his natural charisma to win your parents over

Festus would use light humor to break the ice, making your parents laugh and feel at ease

He’d engage your parents in conversation, asking questions and showing genuine interest in their lives

Festus might flatter your parents a bit, complimenting their home, their style, or their accomplishments

He’d be warm and friendly, making your parents feel comfortable around him

Festus would be a smooth talker, guiding the conversation with ease and keeping it light and enjoyable

He’d give you affectionate glances throughout the meeting, showing how much he cares about you

Despite his confidence, Festus would be respectful, making sure not to overstep any boundaries

His quick wit would come out in the conversation, impressing your parents with his intelligence and humor

Festus would be sociable, easily adapting to your parents’ personalities and making them feel at ease

He’d likely compliment you in front of your parents, hoping to make them feel proud of you

Festus would make sure everyone is involved in the conversation, not leaving anyone out

He’d show genuine interest in your parents’ lives, asking thoughtful questions and listening to their stories

Overall, Festus would bring positive energy to the meeting, leaving your parents with a great impression of him

#preferences #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x reader #dr gaul #dr gaul x reader #sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #tigris snow #tigris snow x reader #coral #coral x reader #treech #treech x reader #festus creed #festus creed x reader

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imsofuckingdonewiththisgoddamn · 1 year ago

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When Our Stars Cross Paths; Treech x Mentor!Reader

Pairing: Treech x Mentor!Reader

Word Count: 1.55k

Warnings: None

“You alright, DuPont?”

You was snapped out of your thoughts as Clemensia entered the bathroom you were currently brooding in. Her eyes were fixed on the rim of the sink you were currently stood over, glossy red nails digging into the sleek marble. It was reaping day, and unlike most of your peers, the games didn’t elicit boredom or disinterest. They evoked anger.

As much as your parents wanted to believe they had raised a Capitol sweetheart, you were as passionate about the cruelty of the Hunger Games as your dear friend Sejanus, maybe even more at times. You had cried yourself to sleep the first year the games were broadcasted out of sheer disgust and heartache, not being able to stomach the sight of all the gore and death. From that day forward, you had spent every reaping day locked away in your room, silently mourning children you would never be able to save. This year however, you and a handful of your fellow classmates had been asked personally by the Dean to make an appearance at the school’s broadcast of the reapings. Most had quickly came to the conclusion that the annual winner of the Plinth Prize, a hefty sum of money that Sejanus’s father annually awarded to the highest performing student, was going to be announced. The prize money failed to excite you as well. While you were one of the top scoring students of your class, you had more than enough money to put you and half of the student body through University. You assumed however, Coriolanus, another one of your classmates, would be eyeing that award.

You turned to face Clemensia, who had grown worried by your prolonged silence, Opting to stare aimlessly into the gold rimmed mirror instead of answering her. Your hands released the cool stone of the sink, and instead twisted together and wrung out, as if there was an invisible towel in your hands. Lips pursing together, attempting to force some form of a smile.

“Never better Clemmie!”

Your eyes grazed over the clusters of people as you entered the main hall. Clemensia had split off from you to go join Coriolanus and Festus Creed, who were having what appeared to be a rather one-sided conversation. Across from them you could see Dean Casca Highbottom trying to not-so-subtly intoxicate himself with morphling drops. Despite him being the creator of the Hunger Games, you were shocked he was still allowed to make public appearances, let alone give speeches. Your eyes finally landed on Sejanus, who was standing off in one of the corners of the room, a scowl prominent on his face.

“Sejanus!” You called to him, as you made your way over to where he was standing, being careful to not let your velvety black dress get snagged on anything as you weaved between students and staff members.

“Ms. DuPont, to what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice dripping with over sophisticated sarcasm as you approached. What was likely his first smile of the day creeping onto his tan face.

“How are you holding up?” Your voice lowering down to what was just below a whisper. Unlike you, Sejanus was born in the districts, only moving to the Capitol after his father made a risky bet, siding against the district rebels during the war. As a reward, the Capitol offered him and his family a place in the city, with an income that put even yours to shame. Although he was only eight when he left, part of Sejanus had always resented his father for making him and his Ma leave District two. Here he was ostracized by the majority of his peers, and merely tolerated by the rest. The reapings were just another reminder of another thing he had lost when he left. His sense of belonging.

“I don’t understand…” The boy’s former smile was quickly replaced by a grimace. “How can they all act so nonchalant about all this?? Like this is just any other day?”

You knew deep down he was feeling guilty, for the money he had, the immunity he was granted, all of it. While he was safe in the Capitol, all his former classmates from district two were at risk of being selected as tribute, most of whom were even at their young age dropping out of school to work, just to support their families. You wanted to comfort the boy more than anything, to tell him he wasn’t alone and that you understood the agony he was going through. But the words refused to leave your mouth, already choked up at the sight of your friend in front of you. Instead you chose to gently place a hand on his shoulder, tracing the intricate detailing of his suit as you tried to collect yourself, so you would be able to console the compassionate boy. “It’s going to be fine Sejanus, we’ll figure out wh-”

Your attempts at comforting the boy were cut short by the sound of a throat clearing at the front of the hall. Dean Highbottom had taken his place in front of a large wooden podium, where a woman with graying hair and cold dead eyes stood. A shiver was sent down your spine as you caught a glimpse of them, the one milky white eye contrasting against the electric blue one. The woman had a sinister aura and you could feel yourself backing away out of instinct. On either side of her TVs displayed the beginnings of the reapings, cameras giving brief flashes of each of the twelve districts, where children were standing in fenced off sections. Your heart sank as the grainy footage showed a cluster of twelve year old girls from what you believed to be district eleven. All wide eyes and jerky movements, this was the first year that they were at risk of being reaped.

“I’m assuming you all are waiting for news of the Plinth Prize?” The Dean was clearly more than just a little inebriated by the sound of it, yet his words inspired an excited buzz to fill the hall, with many of your fellow peers speculating on who would be this year’s recipient.

“I’m here to inform you that the prize will work a little differently this year.” Highbottom’s voice echoed off the walls as an anticipatory silence fell over the crowd.

“Twenty four of the top accomplished students will each receive a tribute that is reaped today, to mentor and guide throughout the games. Whichever mentor gets their tribute to…perform the best, will receive the prize. Winning will be taken into consideration, but will not be the deciding factor.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You turned to face Sejanus to see if he was in as much shock as you were. How were a group of capitol kids who had no experience whatsoever with fighting or survival skills supposed to “guide” their tributes?? Considering what the Capitol was forcing them to do, you would be surprised if any of them would even speak to you.

Sejanus returned your stare, a look of imminent dread appearing on his face. Knowing his father, he had probably already bribed the dean to give him a tribute from District two.

Highbottom then began to roll of the names of students who would act as mentors, coinciding with the reapings from each district, as photos of the tributes appeared on the TVs, their names listed below them.

“District two male, Sejanus Plinth…” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sejanus sink lower into his seat. You silently reached over to grasp his hand as a photo of a well built eighteen year old boy appeared on the TV to your left. He had wide set shoulders and a scowl smeared across his face as a group of Peacekeepers ushered him onto the stage, nudging him in the back with the butts of their riffles. In large text below his figure you could read out the name Marcus. From the apparent misery plastered across your friend’s face, it was easy to assume that the two had known at each other at one point.

As the Dean went down the list of mentors, you found yourself zoning out, trying to think of ways in which you would be able to help your tribute. You would need to find out whether or not they were of any use with a weapon, and if not, where would they be able to hide and lay low. As your mind raced with all different types of scenarios you would need to prepare your tribute for, you almost missed Dean Highbottom calling out your name.

“District seven male, Y/N DuPont…”

Eyes bolting up to the screens in front of you, you were met with the sight of him. He was well built like Marcus, with dark curls peeking out from under a worn out hat. He looked like he was your age— seventeen or maybe eighteen, yet his eyes were those of a young child, filled with fear and terror. His olive skin seemed to have drained of all its color as he was marched to the platform, Peacekeepers on either side of him.

Your eyes trailed down the screen to where his name was listed…

‘Treech’

A/N

I haven’t seen enough fanfics for this man, so I decided to make one myself! Let me know if you would like a part two!

xoxo

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choerypetal · 1 year ago

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A Lumberjack's love story / Coriolanus Snow (ft Treech)

summary : You found yourself appointed as Treech's mentor. You had believed that falling in love, especially with someone from a District, was an impossibility. The idea of developing feelings for your tribute seemed even more far-fetched. However, it became unmistakably evident that Snow had become somewhat obsessed and jealous of this unexpected connection. The love that was once rumored to be a mere Game strategy now revealed itself as undeniable truth. Snow is determined to assert your allegiance and make you aware of where your loyalties lie, employing Treech's memories as a strategic tool in the process.

p.s.: english is not my native language, so I apologize for any errors or mistakes. Additionally, I am open to writing about other tributes, like Treech x reader, or any other characters. Feel free to make requests; my ask box is always open!

Snow was never inclined to publicly display the bond between the two of you. Given the stakes of his family name, he recognized that their relationship was merely a facade. As time passed, it became not only unattractive for a woman of her youth but also jeopardized her reputation as a young aristocrat in the streets of the Capitol. Such thoughts that became fueled within your mind as you were compiled with a reminder of your mother’s desire to know what were your plans upon graduations. And to be completely fair, you had zero idea.

While the Academy expected you to maintain unwavering focus, Snow found himself increasingly intrigued by you. However, he wasn't the type to initiate things. Instead, he expressed his interest through subtle glances, careful not to be caught observing you during class. Despite his reserved yet confident demeanor, it was evident that Snow harbored an attraction towards you during his time as a student at the Academy. If only both of you were aware of the mutual sentiments brewing between you. If only.

In the initial weeks of the 10th Games, he witnessed you under the relentless summer sun of the Capitol. Your forehead glistened with a sheen of sweat as you struggled to maintain professionalism with your tribute. Treech. Recognizing the challenging nature of the task, he found himself increasingly captivated as your vulnerability became more pronounced each day. It was this vulnerability that marked Snow's first overt fixation on you. From the way you pampered Treech’s wound after training, to how you carefully swiped his sweet, making it slightly harder due to his curls peaking beneath his hat. How he had envied to be in Treech’s place.

The following day, as you prepared lunch for your tribute, he offered his suggestion. His very first interaction with you. "I'd recommend the sandwich." He said. Having noticed your early arrival in the cafeteria, he quietly approached you from behind, his gaze fixed on the softness of your skin as your fingers delicately folded the freshly cooked food into an aluminum bag. The aroma lingered, a distinct scent that had left an indelible impression on him since the first day he could approach. You responded with a smile, taking his advice to heart and adding additional sandwiches based on Snow's recommendation, expressing deep appreciation for his input.

On that very first day, Snow found himself unable to divert his thoughts. Whenever both of you shared the same space, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy when you attended to Treech’s skills during training. At times, he pondered whether your sentiments were equally directed towards someone like him, someone he considered beneath you. This notion offended him, yet he couldn't deny that he, too, harbored affection for his tribute. However, for Snow, it was more about care and presentation than genuine emotions.

Unlike Snow, you had gradually developed deep feelings for Treech. Similarly, even though he needed to take care for his female tribute, especially in your absence. Treech could only think about you. He often expressed his longing for you, complaining about how much he missed your presence or simply wanting to catch a glimpse of your face when you served him his regular meals. These seemingly ordinary gestures were significant to Treech, and he was determined to make you proud once declared the victor. To run away from the Capitol– To build a family of your own. However, that aspiration crumbled when, in the end, Lucy—Snow's tribute—claimed victory herself. Despite your efforts to conceal any sorrow and refrain from openly grieving for the person you loved, Treech's name appeared from Flickerman's announcements, and he was declared as deceased.

On that fateful evening, during the closure event of the 10th Hunger Games, Snow observed you closely. A sense of pride welled up within him as he witnessed his tribute not only surviving but excelling. However, this sentiment quickly shifted when he laid eyes on Treech's lifeless body in the arena, just moments before his demise. In his mind, he could almost hear Treech's voice pleading. "Be proud of me, Y/N." Despite suspecting that you might not be able to, given the emotional toll, Snow couldn't resist locking eyes with you, even with other tributes still alive.

Before just a few minutes that Lucy was announced the winner. Snow had yearned to approach you, to envelop you in a comforting hug, assuring you that everything would be alright. He wanted to commend your efforts in standing by Treech's side, supporting him in his quest for victory. Yet, a conflicting feeling gnawed at him, a sense that he was supposed to be the one you cared for, the one you cherished as you did Treech. It was a realization that he, too, would soon need to confront.

It was inevitable that you will be compelled to pay homage to your District. The profound impact of your care for Treech had touched his family, leading them to extend an invitation for you to visit his home District. Gratefully acknowledging this gesture, you agreed to be present at Treech's funeral. Simultaneously, Snow, prompted to return to District 12 himself, sought a distraction for his troubled mind. Before his departure as a Peacekeeper, you seized the opportunity to express your congratulations, a sentiment you had unintentionally neglected during the Games. And informed Snow about Treech’s funeral. "Treech's family invited me to their son’s funeral... I'm uncertain about the duration of my stay, but can you promise me something before I go?"

Your melodious voice, as you spoke to him, almost turned his stomach. He observed every nuance of your movements, noting the way your gaze traversed from his body to his lips. The awareness of your attraction to him lingered in the air, though you attempted, albeit futilely, to conceal it—thanks in part to Treech providing a convenient distraction. Or was it only in his head?

As you prepared to share your concerns, expressing the challenges of being a Peacekeeper, a role your sibling had also undertaken, he sought to reassure you. His fingers tenderly traced the contours of your soft cheeks, creating an irresistible desire to kiss those plump lips of yours. They appeared too tempting to resist, with a fleeting fear crossing his mind that Treech might have been the first to experience that indulgence. Despite the conflicting emotions, Snow found a peculiar satisfaction in Treech's demise. Yet, he remained steadfast and resolute in ensuring your promise. "I'll promise. I swear on my father's grave."

"Promise me you'll be cautious? When I return, let's meet at your grandmother's garden. No questions asked." Clarity was crucial, and Snow understood your aversion to ambiguity. Even in the aftermath of the Games, with Snow away during your grieving for Treech, the uncertainty gnawed at you. You couldn't shake off the nagging doubt about whether Snow would indeed come back from his duty or, worse, not return at all. "I will." He assured you sincerely. Leaning in, he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead just as his name was called to depart the Capitol and head back to District 12. What you didn't know was that his decision to serve as a Peacekeeper and be in District 12 wasn't solely an act of care; it was driven by a desire to reunite with Lucy. If only you were aware that things weren't unfolding as expected, and Snow was returning as a completely different man. "Noon?" He asked quickly before nodding to his colleague, indicating that it was his cue to leave.

“Noon.”

Snow detested every moment of his stay to District 12. Honestly, witnessing how he treated Lucy served as a constant reminder of you back in the Capitol. Your image would casually infiltrate his thoughts, diverting his actions as he found himself doing everything with you in mind. Forgetting that the Games were still being aired, the revelation of the strong opinions on other Districts held about the tributes and their mentors left a bitter taste in Snow's mouth. It was especially repugnant if your name was uttered by those with the filthiest tongues. Snow harbored a visceral reaction, ready to eliminate anyone who dared to disrespect you with tasteless comments or words he hoped you hadn't heard during your time in Treech's District. Since emerging from that harrowing experience, he vowed to ensure that those in District 12 who spoke ill of you would suffer the consequences, every bit of it.

And the memory was etched in his mind, vivid as if it happened yesterday. Snow hadn't intended to be invited to the Hob, yet he found no reason to object when offered. Lucy remained a distraction for him, seated just a few tables away when he overheard those contemptible words. While he tried his very best to remain his eyes on the silhouette that was on the stage. The one he “Loved”. He imagined as each words began to fuel his determination to make their speaker cleanse their mouth with the foulest soap, a gesture to demonstrate that such opinions should be worn like armor, wielded like a weapon. "You know, Treech's mentor? Apparently, they fell in love during the Games... I can't even imagine, let alone see the person you loved in such a distraught situation." Although the speaker may not have sounded offensive to an average person, to Snow, it was the complete opposite.

Without a moment's hesitation, Snow unleashed a punch. He paid no heed to the gasps around him or the attempts of other boys to pull him away or defend themselves. In his mind, you belonged to him, and he couldn't fathom, let alone accept, the idea of you being with anyone else but him. The mere thought of enduring more distasteful words about you from the most insensitive individuals during your absence was unbearable. Regardless of the consequences, he was determined not to let it slide. When Snow, meant he’d do anything for you, he meant every words.

As Snow neared the end of his tenure as a Peacekeeper, with only a few months remaining, his anticipation to reunite with you grew stronger. Fortunately, he had the opportunity to receive updates about you during his breaks, thanks to calls with Tigris. Hearing her speak about your successes in university brought immense joy to Snow. Knowing that you were thriving and well was what mattered most to him. However, there was an underlying concern that continued to nag at him. Despite your objections, Tigris felt compelled to address it, especially considering Snow's already demanding role as a Peacekeeper. "She hasn't been coping well with Treech's death, Coryo. There are times when I see her crying in her sleep. She mentioned how she wishes he were here, sensing his presence, you know? I can’t believe I am going to say that but– I think they were genuinely in love. And it wasn’t just for the show."

Truly in love, the revelation that struck Snow the hardest was the hidden well of genuine skill that only emerged when necessary. Lucy lingered in his thoughts, a constant presence, while you were navigated the grieving process for you first love as well. He too, had doubts that Lucy was amongst his first love. Although genuine doubts crept in as he questioned whether the efforts he invested were truly worthwhile. The chaos he instigated at the Hob last night, the desperate plea from Sejanus – all of it was orchestrated for your sake. Yet, the realization that you hadn't given up on Treech, your former love, dampened his spirits. Snow, however, knew that your heart now belonged to him. Upon his return, he vowed to assert his claim unequivocally, free from any expectations.

Anticipating his imminent return, Tigris meticulously selected the most exquisite dress she could envision for someone of your stature. While the occasion might have seemed extravagant, she understood that her cousin Snow would value the effort, especially since your meeting was set to take place on Snow's rooftop—an ethereal space where innocence, purity, and passion converged. Restlessly, you began nervously nibbling at the cuticles of your fingers. "Don't be too shocked when you see him without his curls." Tigris quipped as you arrived at their apartment.

Since Snow became a victor, you noticed a shift in the opulence of the place compared to your last visit. Tigris's room now exuded her fashion sensibilities with a palette of pinks and light beiges, while Snow's room contrasted sharply with bright white walls and accents of crimson red. A broken frame holding his father's portrait captured your attention, and as you surveyed your surroundings in Snow's empire, you couldn't help but see a parallel with yourself—a broken frame that Snow seemed determined to mend with his love.

Before encountering you, Snow had a few errands to run, one of which involved settling the score with Casca. The second stop was to finally meet you. As the gentle rays of Capitol sunshine transitioned into the evening darkness adorned with stars, anticipation for the exciting yet thrilling meeting with you heightened since his return. "Where is she?" Arriving just in time at the entrance of his apartment, although he was well aware of your whereabouts. He played the part to make it appear otherwise, a little trick that didn't escape Tigris's notice. Her chuckle prompted him to follow her, momentarily catching his breath as she revealed. "At the rooftop. Waiting for you."

A wave of relief swept over him, and he expressed continuous gratitude to his cousins. Tigris attempted to assist him in catching his breath, noticing Snow's heightened excitement upon seeing you. She, too, was well aware of his intense fascination with you. However, witnessing the spectacle involving Treech and you, she grasped the potential threat her cousin might have posed. Bound by blood and family, she couldn't deny the reality and opted not to pretend. If Snow was genuinely in love with you, she had to believe him. "Just be gentle, okay? She just returned from Treech's District. Even if it’s been a few months. She might need more comfort than one can fathom."

She might need more comfort than one can fathom. Was read like butter to Snow’s ears. As if this was his very own speciality let alone being with the one he truly learned to hear that she was the one for him. He did not approached this statement as a sort of threat. In fact, he was going to use to his full potential and let you completely be compiled by him and emblembed the relationship between the two.

Upon entering, the familiar fragrance of fresh roses enveloped him—a scent he had sorely missed since his grandmother used to present him with one during the reaping ceremony. Despite his absence, the care bestowed upon the flowers was evident. It became clear that, much like him, you had also been away for some time. However, upon your return, you diligently attended to the flowers daily, diverting your focus from Treech. Among the many qualities Snow admired in you was your meticulous attention to detail, a fact he subtly acknowledged as he casually plucked a fresh rose and delicately inhaled its scent, all while listening to your sweet voice. "I'd be careful if I were you." he remarked nonchalantly.

And there you stood, flesh and blood. Your skin bore a slight tan from the harsh weather of Treech’s District, which quickly faded upon your return to the Capitol, where the grief over Treech proved more challenging than anticipated. Tigris noticed the change in your complexion, the lack of color that had manifested in your skin. Fortunately, you maintained the bold red lip, a shade crafted from the lipstick your mother often made for you—a detail Snow admired, especially as it harmoniously blended with his own colors.

"Thank you.” He managed to say, though in his defense, he was so captivated by your beauty that he found himself absentmindedly caressing the rose, which had fallen on its own. "You've picked the wrong rose. It was about to wither." You added, your words revealing both concern and almost boredom.

Snow detected a subtle tremor in your demeanor, observing how you had become fragile and adrift amid the chaos of your own emotions. Despite your efforts to conceal them, your vulnerability remained apparent. Inwardly, Snow acknowledged that he, too, wasn't immune, having fallen for a Snake that led him back to a recurring beginning. "How are you doing?" Was all he managed to say, careful not to exacerbate your grief for Treech or delve into the complexities of Lucy's memory. This one-on-one interaction became a delicate balancing act, particularly since you were well aware of the romantic display he had been showcasing.

"Okay, I suppose." Was your cautious response, accompanied by a hint of uncertainty, as if contemplating whether to revise your answer. In truth, you hadn't been doing well, resorting to sleeping at Snow's place to hide your tears. It added another layer of complexity to rest in Coriolanus's room, knowing he would return soon. You were aware that upon his return, you'd need to find your own place, a life independent of others. Yet, it seemed this wasn't part of Snow's agenda. "How was District 12?" You inquired, steering the conversation toward another topic.

"Could ask the same, sweetheart." Snow retorted, a reluctance to recall evident in his expression. Yet, for you, forgetting proved to be a much harder task. The memories of moments spent with Treech haunted you – sneaking him out of the Capitol's Zoo, hand in hand, discussing a future that now felt lost. Memories of him teaching you to wield an axe, his relationship with Lamina, and the dreams of building a family together. The breaking point came when you saw his eyes on the screen, calling out your name, almost begging and apologizing for deciding your fate. In that moment, you desperately tried to erase it all, but it only resulted in a torrent of tears. Your trembling fingers betrayed the pain at the thought of Treech. Sensing your anguish, Snow reached out, comforting you and reassuring. That it wasn’t all your fault. "Hey— Hey— I'm here."

Snow, despite his aversion to everything, understood the pain of losing someone dear. Despite his pride and the incident that involved being bitten by a snake, Lucy had become a memory he learned to rely on, blurring the lines between that memory and the reality of you. "You did everything you could..." He spoke, the resonance of his voice echoing the tone he maintained during the Games. "You taught him everything, prepared him to be a victor, and yet—" He paused, a moment of reflection taking him back to his own experiences in a similar position with Lucy.

"Please..." You pleaded, attempting to bury the remnants of memories. Yet, as your gaze locked onto Snow's, you found yourself fully engulfed in his eyes, surrendering to a state of vulnerability and desperation. You implored Snow silently, begging him to restore you to the woman you once were. Snow was prepared to undertake that task, ready to unveil the true essence of himself.

"Stay with me." You uttered the same words spoken that night with Treech by your side, the eve before the Games commenced. Feeling Snow's arms enveloping you, he whispered the same reassurance Treech told you, that everything would be okay, that tomorrow would bring us all home. Unfortunately, that promise remained unfulfilled. “You are at home now.” Snow implied on reassuring you the best he can offer. An offer of love, protection, and making sure you were the queen in his very own eyes. The same way Treech did.

"I'll ensure your protection, shower you with love, and take care of you." Snow vowed, his words echoing those once spoken by Treech when he confessed his love to you. With that commitment hanging in the air, Snow approached, and this time, with no Peacekeepers present. Snow was fortunate enough to feel his lips meeting yours for the first, and not the last, time. As he leaned in, he silently and gently brushed the bottom of your lips. Unbeknownst to you, Snow had been well aware of the connection between Treech and you. He had observed the way Treech looked at you and noted the similarities in their demeanor just before a kiss. Everything had been meticulously calculated to make you his own.

Every details were orchestrated to convey the authenticity of a man you had once deeply fell in love.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus imagines #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #treech x reader #treech x you #treech imaginess #the hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #president snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagines #treech imagines #hunger games imagines

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juneberrie · 1 year ago

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treech would actually be the best boyfriend. he's such a loverboy. picks you flowers that he knows are your favorite. takes you on dates regularly, even if its just walking around the district holding hands and talking. he'll introduce you to his parents and his sister, and they all love you so much. "so this is the girl you've been telling us all about, huh?" type thing. your family would love them. type of bf to wear his best shirt, brush his hair, and bring flowers when he meets them. he'll share all his clothes with you, doesn't care if he has to wear the same shirt every day as long as you're happy. the love you have with him is the type of love where you carve your initials into a tree. he's such a sweetheart guys idk

#treech tbosas #tbosas treech x reader #treech x reader #tbosas x reader #tbosas x you #treech tbosas x reader #◝˚₊‧ speak now

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f0rlorn · 9 months ago

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YOU'RE GONNA CARRY THAT WEIGHT.

aka my masterlist

reblogs are appreciated!

the hunger games

coral

flicker in the dark

i’m not a violent dog

motivation

better in the dark

slipping through my fingers

long lost lovers

treech

kingdom come

kiss of life

days spent in the sun

tanner

right person, wrong time

a cowboy and a capitol girl

misc.

pinky promise → mizzen (platonic)

delicate → lamina

love the way you lie → treech x lamina

harry potter

blaise zabini

dancing in the dark

fireworks and first loves

x-men

misc.

when he sees me → logan howlett

we are young → john allerdyce

ride the cyclone

mischa bachinski

paradox (wattpad link)

jujutsu kaisen

yuji itadori

his kiss, the riot (ongoing series)

falling for ya!

moodboards

coral district 1 district 2 district 3 district 4 district 5 district 6 district 7 hadestown

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rainbowmilk · 1 year ago

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Don’t Forget Me

I’ve never written anything before, but I’m so obsessed with tbosas I couldn’t help myself.

Warnings: Mentions of death

Treech x Reader

“The odds were never in our favour.”

series masterlist | Next -> |

Your name echoes in the square. Everything goes silent, so dreadfully silent.

Please let this be a dream. Please let this be a dream. Please.

You stand there trying to remember how to breathe, totally stunned. The blood in your body is frozen. The minutes tick by, but you cannot bring yourself to move. You can faintly hear the crowd murmuring, but the ringing in your ears overpowers them. It isn’t until someone nudges you that you are brought back to your body and slowly start to walk through the crowd. It feels like you are walking to your grave.

Once you find your place by the mayor, your eyes begin scanning the boys' section, hoping to find Treech. As if by just looking at him, everything would somehow be okay. When you spot him, he’s already staring at you. His eyes were full of what you can only describe as pure heartbreak.

You’re too distracted to notice when the mayor walks to the second bowl. Until the second familiar name of the day is called, it feels like someone’s punched a hole in your chest as you watch the blood drain from Treech’s face. The shock of the moment barely registers in your mind. How can this be happening? Out of thousands of slips, your names get drawn!

The boys stir and make a path for Treech as he walks robotically towards the stage. His eyes never break contact with yours. As you watch him ascend the stairs, you fear you might start crying, the tears burning the back of your eyes. Before you can stop it, a soft, choked noise escapes you.

The pitying eyes of your district make you want to scream. An hour ago, you still had a future, and now you were a dead girl walking. You feel weightless like the slightest breeze will whisk you away. Part of you wishes it would. Your only anchor is when Treech reaches out and firmly grips your hand, a silent promise to stay by each other's side no matter what.

#feedback is appreciated #treech x reader #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #treech #treech tbosas

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cheetabites · 1 year ago

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☆ ~ giving you some sugar

pairings: victor!treech x mentor!reader summary: your love language is gift giving and now that treech won the games you feel like showing him how much he means to you warnings: fluff, reader takes care of their bbg, gn!reader, this is before they’re in an established relationship, they want each other so bad but they’re oblivious to each others feelings, second person, reader uses pet names, treech ditches his hat (just for today :0), in this they’re still in the capitol

the last few weeks for treech were hell. if getting reaped wasn’t enough then the humiliating treatment he gotten from the capitol citizens definitely was. killing his pride, and leaving a broken shell of the man that he was before.

and when he was announced as victor he was almost grateful, but the overbearing amount of blood on his hands left him unable to fully embrace that feeling.

that’s how you found him when you entered the infirmary. eyes glassed, as he was unable to pull his gaze off his hands even as the surrounding nurses patched up his injuries.

you waited until they were finished, patiently with the clean stacks of clothes held in your arms. you strode towards him, gently placing the clothes on the spot next to him before gently cupping his cheeks.

“hey,” your eyes scanned every part of his face, taking in the scratches ranging from small to large on his cheeks to the sheen of dirt mixed with sweat illuminating his face, “ ‘re you with me sweetheart?”

his eyebrows crinkled as he squinted, trying to get a clear view of you as tears began to pool in his eyes. the intensity of the situation leaving him exhausted and willing to take comfort from anyone at this point, anyone that would hold him.

you let him grip onto your waist, burying his head onto your chest as your hands rested on the back of his head. staying silent as you let him release all his anguish and anger of everything he was forced to do to survive.

once his sobs turned into sniffles you brought your lips down to meet with the mess of his hair, before cupping his face again so he could look at you. “after you bathe i brought these for you to get changed into,” his clothes were stained with a mix of dirt, sweat and blood, “you haven’t gotten the comfort of a shower for weeks. and i assumed you wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing this any longer, like you had for the past weeks.”

the words were stuck in his throat, so he resorted to an affirmative nod. “ ‘kay let’s get you in the bath then.”

he didn’t know the last time he was this clean; his skin and curls lacking the dirtiness it held before, smelling rich from the expensive suds he lathered them with. his wet fingertips grasped the softness of the towel, removing the dripping water from his skin before lathering himself with the lavender scented lotion you left with the rest of his things.

once his skin was left moisturized and soft he pulled on the fresh undergarments, before pulling on the black pleated slanted pocket pants. uncapping the deodorant and smoothing it on his underarms before pulling the white dress shirt on and buttoning it.

the creak of the door opening brought your eyes away from your book, your eyes widening once you saw him. “feel like that shower stripped me a whole new identity,” a tiny smile appearing on his face as he made his way towards you.

in return a smile was brought to yours, dropping your book into your tote before coming up to him to brush away stray curls hanging infront of his forehead. “you do look good,” you looked into his eyes, that just moments prior were red and puffy, “i’ll have to keep you close to me, don’t want anyone stealing you since you were mine first.”

the capitol’s streets were packed tight as you two walked through the shopping strip, having to grab onto his hand to make sure he wasn’t whisked away. your eyes widening as you spotted the shop you’d planned to take him to.

the sound of the bell ringing overhead echoed through the bare space of the store, alerting the shop owner of your arrival. “oh (name), i didn’t expect you to come back too soon,” her attention later drawn by the man on your side, “and you brought a handsome young man with you, never thought i would see the time.”

you ignored the teasing comment she shot your way and smiled as you introduced him, “this is treech, he was the tribute i mentored.” her eyes crinkled as she smiled, gesturing for us to get closer, “treech from district 7, so your the man they’ve been yapping about.”

an embarrassed blush washed over your face, treech looking back at you in shock almost like he couldn’t believe it. a laugh pouring out of the lady’s - your aunt’s - mouth as she watched the two of you.

“auntie, you promised you wouldn’t tell,” you looked at her, betrayal mixed with the blush on your face. “it’s okay, guess no one is able to resist my charm,” you were too focused on your embarrassment to realize just after he’d found out a smirk played itself on his face. reminding you of the charm he’d displayed to gain the favor of the capitolites watching the games.

you pushed his shoulder at his comment, but his playful smile made your eyes shine with fondness - happy you were able to distract him from the dark thoughts that’ll haunt him later. “yeah yeah, you’re irresistible now let’s get what we came for.”

“what you came for,” his head tilted towards you with a knowing look, “all i’ve been doing was following you around, in these unfortunately good-looking dress clothes.”

“what i came for to get you,” you rolled your eyes before taking his hand to lead him to the jewelry section.

you scanned the jewelry adoring the shelves and table top before grasping the the macrame bracelet holding multiple spheres of tigers eye. turning towards him with it hidden between your palms.

“can you guess what it is,” your eyebrows raised up as you challenged him. his eyebrows furrowing before he shrugged, “i’m not too caught up in the materialistic goods capitolites indulge themselves in. but since we’re in the jewelry section i assume it’s a product produced by district 1?”

a frown overtook your face but you continued nonetheless, “well yes, it is a piece of jewelry but no it wasn’t produced by district 1.”

you uncapped your hands to reveal the bracelet, setting it down in his palm to let him mull over what might’ve been the reason for this sudden present. but when he looked at it, it stole his breath. something that only his name getting picked in the reaping had done.

it was a bracelet that held tiny beads of tigers eye; a crystal that aids in releasing fear and anxiety, promoting mental clarity, heals the emotional body and produces insight into internal conflicts. he remembered you telling him about it when he’d asked, when you’d visited him to bring him food.

“seeing how interested you were when you first saw it i asked my aunt if i could take one for you,” you loosened the ties of the bracelet so it’s opening was big, so he could slip his hand inside. his eyes gleaming like the crystal that now sat on his wrist as he admired the piece.

“it’s also good because i know despite you arising as the victor, you’ve been dealing with a lot mentally too,” you paused as he looked up into your eyes. seeing him so vulnerably open as if now you’d broken every obstacle that kept you from seeing the true him, “so, i wanted you to have it. i wanted you to atleast have one good thing from the capitol.”

his hands clasped with yours - more intimately than it’s ever been before, as if the tigers eye was already bringing clarity to his mind. him now able to see how much you meant to him.. - for a few seconds before he cupped your check, “the second good thing. nothing materialistic could ever take your place.”

you paused momentarily out of shock before breaking out into a tearful smile, “yeah?” he shook his head up and down into a nod, “yeah.” at that you leaned in, placing your plush lips on his chapped ones. lips moving fervently until slowing to feel him smiling into the kiss, yeah he could get used to this.

you spent almost a month together, who said you couldn’t spend a few more?

a/n: the first time i’ve written something that’s not sad! i wanted to get it out of my drafts as soon as possible cause winter break is coming to an end :(

#🪓. lumberjack #🕊️🐍. tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #hunger games #tbosas #tbosas x you #tbosas imagine #tbosas x reader #treech tbosas #district 7 #the hunger games x reader #hunger games imagine #the hunger games x you #treech x reader

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bumblebugwrites · 1 year ago

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chapter 1: nothing's new

Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader

Summary: After nearly two years of peace, you are called back to the Capitol only to find that the future they promised you was a lie.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Use of Weapons, Mention of Injuries, Minor Character Death.

Word Count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Coriolanus Snow is many things, he thinks to himself, but incompetent is not one of them. So there had been the Lucy Gray hiccup. Helping her cheat the Games only for her to die at the hands of Dr. Gaul’s snakes after he failed to slip the handkerchief into their tank was inconvenient, to say the least. As was his brief stint as a Peacekeeper as punishment for his dishonest tactics following the discovery of a certain compact with her remains. Still, he had learned a valuable lesson. Love is no more than a disadvantage, a distraction lodging itself like an unfortunate bump in his flawless plan. And now, he is back, having traded Sejanus’s life for his own advancement. It was nothing personal, really. Personal is a luxury, the only one he can not afford.

Sure, the loss had hurt, but the District 7 boy made a fine victor and one he could control with a far greater degree of ease, given the detachment he felt in regard to the kid’s safety. New year, new him, new Games, and this time, things would be different.

His proposals had gone through without much struggle, especially with Dr. Gaul practically eating out of the palm of his hand. He is the protege; his mentor is the kind of woman you do not cross without bearing the consequences.

And so, on this fine morning, as he stands with the casual grace of a cat, elegantly perched on the corner of his desk, he can’t fight the grin that spreads across his face as he delivers the order he’s been waiting for weeks to give.

“Well? Go get them.”

It is a cold day in District 10, at least colder than most you think as you finish your daily sweep of the ranch and its expansive territory. You pull back lightly on the reins, bringing the horse to a slow stop.

“To name an animal, any animal, it’s counterproductive. Selfish even. Makes for a more difficult slaughter; always best to remain detached.” Your father’s words echo in your head as you dip your neck to whisper soft praise to the creature below, her hind branded with a string of three numbers: 039. Her label, to call it a name, would be to demean anyone granted the privilege of such a thing.

“That was good Bluebell, nice easy ride. Told you it would get better.” She is young. Young enough to spook with a fair amount of ease, but then so are you. Had been ever since your Games.

You dismount, hitting the ground with a soft thud before coming around to face the gentle giant and fishing a handful of sugar cubes out of your pocket. She nuzzles the food in your palm before beginning to eat, and you run a hand up and down the bridge of her nose. The world is quiet, dew still catching the light of the rising sun when you see it in the distance: the armored vehicle speeding towards the cabin housing the front office. It is not unusual for Peacekeepers to come and go from the building, but the night shift typically does not end until 8:00 am, and dawn’s colors still paint the lower half of the sky. Something is wrong.

Two men exit the vehicle, entering the small building before quickly reappearing at its entrance, a third companion in tow. He stands on the porch for one beat, two, a lazy hand draped over his eyes as he scans the field for something. Someone. And then he points. You. They are looking for you.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and your body screams at you to mount once more and ride as fast and as far away as you can, but you stay rooted. Frozen. You watch, helplessly still, as the car only comes closer, pulling to a stop on the other side of the fence, keeping the pastures separated from the open road. The Peacekeeper in the passenger seat steps out, boots scraping the gravel.

“Ms. L/N?” You only nod.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us; you’ve been called to the Capitol.” You feel like screaming, but your throat constricts, and all you can do is take slow, encumbered breaths as your body caves in on itself and you crumple to the ground.

“I– What?”

You do not mind the mud on your knees, and the slow chill that begins to spread from the places dampened by the wet grass is barely perceptible in your state of shock. Called to the Capitol. Your mind jumps back home, your brother and sister still tucked away, blankets to their chins. They would not rise for another thirty minutes at least. You picture your mother. Savoring a final moment of quiet in her busy day, sipping the coffee you’d left in the pot just for her. Your mind replays the goodbyes you had paid them this morning. Careless and quick, not like the day of the reaping. Just sloppy kisses pressed haphazardly to their foreheads and a gentle farewell on your way out the door.

“That’s not possible– It’s not– I haven’t…” There is an eerie stillness to the world at this time of day. One that only seems to press inwards, suffocating you. Distantly, you feel the soft pressure of Bluebell’s muzzle on your shoulder as though urging you to get up

Though the man in the driver’s seat seems annoyed by the inconvenience, his partner fails to shield the look of pity that flits across his face as he dips to pass through the fence, pulling you up and then back through the gap with him. He is not rough as he sets you in the backseat, not like the Peacekeepers you remember from your Games, or maybe he is; everything seems a blur as the car makes its way to the train station, and it is only as the compartment doors to close behind you that you think of Bluebell, left out in the pasture, probably licking fallen sugar cubes off the ground.

Treech releases a labored exhale as he tries once more to readjust his grip on the axe. It’s just a tree. He can sense the nearby Peacekeeper shuffling from foot to foot, anxious for him to get on with the process. This is not the arena. I am safe. I am home.

There is no time off granted to returning victors following their stint in the Games. Production is production, and there are quotas to be met, so Treech had arrived home, and the following morning, before the sun had kissed the hilltops with its light, he had risen to go to work. Only work didn’t come easy the way it used to, lulling him into a rhythmic sense of comfort with its repetitive motions, and each time he raised his axe, all he saw was them. The other tributes waiting to receive the killing blow.

Treech wipes the sweat from his brow in a single frustrated motion in spite of the cold, then, squaring his jaw, he takes a swing. Crunch. The axe lodges itself in Teslee’s head, and he stumbles back, eyes wide with fear. Only it is not Teslee. No. He blinks once, twice, and it is only a pine tree, and he is back in the forest, sinking under the weight of the Peacekeeper’s heavy glare. The man, stationed less than a yard away, begins to move towards him, and Treech prepares himself for another beating, the sharp threats from the last time still ringing in his ears.

“Officer,” a voice calls out in their direction as another man of higher rank, from what Treech can gauge, approaches the pair. The two men meet and begin to speak in hushed voices, eyes flitting in his direction every few sentences. They’re gonna fire me. Or worse, string me up in the square and use me as an example. His grip on the axe tightens. His axe. His father’s before him. He will not go down without a fight.

“Hey, you,” Treech keeps his eyes on the forest floor, silently praying to any higher power that will listen that he is not the you in question.

“Hey! Hey, you!” He can hear the man approaching, but the sound of his footsteps is dulled by the pounding of Treech’s heart. He feels like a child in a bathtub, head halfway under the surface as the water beats at his eardrums, completely still and as loud as a tidal wave. A firm grasp settles around the fabric of his winter coat, far too thin for the cold but the best he can afford.

“Listen to me when I’m fucking speaking to you,” the Peacekeeper spits, and Treech’s mouth settles into a hard line, his hand curled into a tight fist, twitching by his side. The man before him huffs in frustration.

“Call came in from the Capitol; you’re on the next train out,” he moves as though he’s going to release Treech before yanking him back in, close enough to press his mouth to the boy’s ear.

“You’re lucky the order came from above; if I had a say, I’d gun you down right here for the disrespect.” With that, he gives the kid before him a hard shove before beginning to stalk off.

“Let’s go.” But Treech feels as though the ground beneath him has disappeared. Back to the Capitol? Would they send him into the arena? He was done. Won his Games fair and square. He was supposed to be free. What more could they want?

The first thing you notice about the train is that it is the nicest thing you have ever set foot inside of. During your Games, and all those before and after, transport to the Capitol had been relegated to old cattle cars used to shuttle livestock across Panem, and the same had been true on your return trip. This is different. Every inch of the compartment is decorated with the lavish and ornate, all-cushioned seats and elaborate chandeliers.

The second thing you notice is the boy. He is older than you, you think, by several years. Five, maybe six. He seems out of place, tucked into the corner of one of the booths, sizing you up suspiciously. He looks familiar.

“I– Do I know you?”

“We’ve never met before,” he responds, cold and guarded. But there is something about him, his build, tall and broad, dark skin and brown eyes; you could almost imagine them looking soft and kind in a different environment.

He keeps the sharp look on his face, and you have yet to move from the doors when it clicks.

“You won seven years ago; I remember you. District 11. Teff, right?”

“You’re the girl from 10,” he says, and his posture relaxes, if only by a fraction.

“Y/N.” You smile, and you mean it to be a comfort, but there’s a fear in your eyes that betrays the anxiety deep in your gut. Still, you move closer, sliding into the seat across from him and bringing your hands into a neat pile on your lap.

“What are we doing here?” It’s small and whispered as it escapes your lips, and your gaze refuses to meet Teff’s as you wait for an answer.

“I have no idea.”

It is several hours before the train stops again, and though they are mostly passed in silence, the occasional attempt is made at small talk. Whispered theories mingle among everyday questions. So, what do you do in District 11? Do you think they’re gonna kill us? There’s lots of horses back home, cows too. They can’t put us back in, right? Only once, that’s what they said.

The next time the doors open, you are in 2, as indicated by the towering stone walls keeping it separate from neighboring Districts. Three people get on. One of the boys you recognize immediately: Octavian Blackwell, the first victor. His hair is dark, clipped short in a sort of military cut, and his eyes look as though they are carved from steel. Beside him is a girl, small and lithe, her posture relaxed and tense all at once. Antonia. The name echos out from some dark, cavernous corner of your mind. The first female victor, 3rd Hunger Games. The final boy is taller than both his counterparts, though leaner in build than Octavian; you wrack your brain, praying for some form of recollection, but he remains unfamiliar to you.

“More victors,” whispers Teff, and you watch as the three faces before you seem to come to the same realization.

“What the fuck is going on?” It’s the District 2 boy who breaks the silence, the one whose name continues to elude you.

“Hector,” Antonia hisses, a warning lacing her tone, but her eyes betray a curiosity lingering beneath the surface.

“They can’t put us back in, right? There’s not enough. Not to mention, half the districts wouldn’t even have tributes,” you sputter the words up, an involuntary torrent of concern spewing from your mouth. Your gaze flits nervously from face to face, and in spite of the many hardened exteriors, you can feel it beneath the surface, a brewing apprehension. Octavian breaks the silence.

“They won’t put us back in.” And he seems certain. He is old, you think. Not old in the way a grandparent is, but aged certainly. You had never taken the time to imagine a tribute outside childhood, escaping adolescence into fully formed adulthood, but here was Octavian, who must have been at least twenty-six, with several deep-set wrinkles beginning to mar his brow.

“Probably just rounding us all up to kill us, send a real message after those shitshow Games last year,” Hector grumbles, moving further into the compartment and thrusting himself into the booth across from you and Teff. “Just watch; I bet we’ll hit 4 next, then 7, and 1.”

The noise of uncomfortable shuffling seems to fill the compartment, and eventually, Octavian and Antonia settle into the booth beside Hector. You can’t help but allow the shell of a laugh to brush past your lips. A whole train car for the lot of you, and here you were, pressed into the two corner booths. Sure, the cage is bigger, but you still cower like animals. Like you’re back in those trucks ushering you from the train to the arena, gleaning a last moment of comfort as you brushed shoulders with the children you would watch die.

Hector was right. The train stopped at 4, though only one boy got on. Trawl, he’d won the 8th Games, just before yours. You remember distantly hearing of another victor from 4, a boy who was killed upon return. Murdered by the father of his district partner, who accused him of killing her. Stabbed him in the town square, they said. The Peacekeepers only watched.

The train grinds once more to a halt in 7, and quick glance outside the window reveals a station made entirely of wood, grand posts carved with ornate designs supporting the massive roof. You glance towards the door, waiting for him, the newest victor. You do not have to work hard to recall his name, Treech; the two syllables had echoed from every radio in your mother's house the day the 10th Games ended.

The doors open with a hiss, and he stumbles in as though pushed, a mop of curls obscuring his eyes. He seems dazed. As he lifts his head, you watch it happen. The same realization that had dawned on every victor to enter the compartment after you, but then his gaze only grows dull as though accepting some secret fate you had yet to be alerted of before he shuffles forward, taking a seat on a longer bench facing the door. Alone.

It is several more hours before you reach 1, and although some hushed conversation continues to fill the train car, you sit in silence, casting worried glances at the quiet boy with his head in his hands. He is not crying, you think; his shoulders are too still, but his breathing remains too rapid to indicate sleep. Maybe he just likes to listen, you suppose, trying to grasp the newest direction of the chatter around you. Maybe he’s scared. As you turn once more to analyze his hunched shape, Trawl catches your line of sight, speaking up from beside you.

“Just leave him alone; if he wants to sit by himself sulking, that’s his problem,” he mutters close to your ear.

“For all we know, we could be walking into an ambush. Give him a break,” you say, moving to stand before making your way over to the place on the bench beside him. You are quiet for a time, unsure how to start, but as your lips begin to purse around a greeting, he interrupts you.

“I like your hat.” His voice is flat, a single eye visible from behind the curtain of his hair. You forgot you were wearing a hat. It was your father’s from his brief time on the ranch before transferring to the slaughterhouse, where he met your mom. Your hand darts up to trace the brim.

“Thanks, it was–” But then his tone registers, and you recognize the snark behind the compliment, “You don’t mean that, do you?”

“You some sort of cowgirl?”

“How do you know what a cowgirl is?” You ask, and your eyebrows draw together in surprise at the knowledge.

“Read about them in school once, before I dropped out.”

“I guess so. Usually, people just call me a ranch hand.” He lifts his head at this, and you realize he’s quite pretty on closer viewing.

“Doesn’t sound as cool.” The ghost of a smirk lights his face as he says it.

“No, I guess it doesn’t,” you say, grinning back. His smile is quick to fade, and he turns once more, fixing his gaze ahead, away from you.

“Why are we here?” He asks, his cocky demeanor gone in an instant. You ache to be able to provide him with an answer, but the same question has been clawing at you since the two men showed up on the ranch this morning.

“I– I’m not sure.” He nods, and it is solemn, like a prayer, but he does not return his face to his hands, instead watching the miles of land roll by in a blur, no single thing occupying the space outside the window for longer than a second. You find yourself looking, too, imagining how it must feel to go 250 mph. You decide it's probably like flying.

By the time you reach 1 to collect its two victors, a searing silence has spread over the train, the atmosphere tense. The journey to the Capitol is so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and as the skyline appears over the barriers built to keep people like you out, you feel the apprehension shrouding the compartment begin to buzz. It is only then that Hector speaks, shattering the stillness with a single phrase.

“Welcome back to Hell.”

The sun is setting as the train pulls into the station, and you twitch nervously, scraping your nails against the pads of your fingertips. Beside you, Treech watches your movements with a fixed gaze as though pondering reaching out to still the repetitive motions himself. He does not, and you fail to notice his attention on you at all, eyes fixed ahead on the double doors.

When they open, a swarm of Peacekeepers descends on the car within a matter of seconds, hoisting you from the seats, snatching at arms and shoulders in their attempts to muscle you out of the compartment. A startled yelp escapes your lips as the man with a harsh grasp on the collar of your shirt rips you forward and onto the platform, jostling your hat from your head.

“No–” You lunge for the single remnant of your father, straining against the Peacekeeper working to wrangle you towards an awaiting vehicle, but it is no use. He wraps you in a firm pair of arms, lifting you, kicking and biting from the ground the remainder of the distance before tossing you onto the floor of the car. As you whip around to assail him once more, the doors fall closed with a thud, leaving you to pound futilely against them.

Eventually, your jabs lose their power, and you sink down, forehead pressed to the cool metal, biting your lip to prevent the oncoming tears from spilling over. A hand makes its presence known on your shoulder as the car begins to move, and you turn to glimpse Trawl, his face painted with concern. A quick once over of the vehicle reveals only half the victors had been loaded on: you, Trawl, and the two tributes from 1, Lux, who sits with both hands clasped primly in her lap, and Beau, whose only visible sign of distress is the repeated preening of his hair.

“My– My hat. It was my dad’s–” you stutter out as Trawl helps you onto the seat beside his, “I don’t– there’s nothing else left.” The concern in his eyes settles into pity, and you feel like shrinking under the weight of his compassion, tired of feeling helpless.

It is not long before the car pulls to a stop, and the doors come open once more. It is dark out now, and you can’t help but find it unusual, the feeling that you are being smuggled, rushed in under the cover of night. Typically everything is a display in the Capitol. If they are going to kill you, where are the cameras? You are ushered into an elevator, and one of the Peacekeepers extends an arm, scanning a card before pressing the button for the top floor. You think distantly this might be some sort of hotel. You have never been inside a hotel before. A simple ding alerts you to the fact that you have reached your destination, and you are jostled out and through the door directly before you following the swipe of another card.

It is a large room. You had always believed hotels came with the promise of a bed, but this seems more like a home: a kitchen with appliances you do not recognize, a luxurious lounge with a semicircular couch facing a large projection, and a man, his hair as white as snow.

“Please, let’s not manhandle our guests,” he calls out to the group of Peacekeepers herding you into the center of the room, and they back away, taking up posts on the surrounding walls. Their message is clear: you are not permitted to leave.

You reach up to rub at the place where, only moments before, your arm had been kept in an iron grip when the door to the room flings open again, the remainder of the victors stumbling in. Teff comes first, ripping his bicep from the man beside him upon entrance, followed by Hector, Antonia, and Octavian, who seem more contained. Last is Treech, a newly formed bruise beginning to darken the area around his eye, and your father's hat held delicately in his hand, fingers pinched around the rim. He keeps his gaze fixed on the floor but lifts his head upon hearing your stifled gasp.

“Come, make yourselves comfortable. I don’t bite, I promise.” The man at the front of the room speaks with a placating tone and words meant to dulcify, but he smiles like a wolf. No one moves.

“Let’s try this again. Sit down.” From behind you, you can hear the Peacekeepers beginning to shuffle from their stations, inching forward. Octavian is the first to budge. He takes a tentative step in the direction of the couch before nodding at Antonia and Hector, who follow close behind. You look to Teff and then to Treech, only a few feet away from him, still holding your father’s hat. The former surveys the room once before giving you a slow nod, and you move to sit. They file in behind you, Trawl quick on their heels, and the four of you occupy a single corner of the couch being sure to leave room for Lux and Beau. As he slides into the seat next to yours, Treech tenderly sets the hat atop your lap, and you mouth a subtle thank you that he leaves unacknowledged.

“Much better.” The man before you grins, and out of the corner of your eye, you see a look of recognition pass across Treech’s face.

“So glad you could all join us.” He claps his hands together before clearing his throat to begin.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering what you’re doing here, and I want to assure you that in spite of the worries you expressed on the train, we are not going to kill you.” A chill passes down your spine at his implication: they had been watching you.

“See, you represent a new beginning. The birth of a different kind of Games. A better kind of Games.” A wave of confusion seems to pass over the lot of you. Though it is more like anxiety, and you feel a bit like you are drowning in it.

“Now, last year, well, that was quite the mess,” he says, nodding to Treech as though they are in on some sort of joke together. Your stomach turns.

“But the important thing is, we learned something: the people of the Capitol need someone to care about. To root for, if you will. Which means it’s time for a new way of thinking.” He pauses as though for dramatic effect, and you can’t help but think his speech feels practiced. Had he smiled this morning, delivering his death knell to the bathroom mirror?

“Right now, the Games, they make people sad, uncomfortable even. Too much humanity, not enough spectacle.” Beside you, Treech tenses. “There is nothing commodifiable about the current structure. But if, say, we were to place a higher value on the victors and make you celebrities of sorts, then this blight becomes an honor.” The nine faces before him appear as though they are sculpted from stone; he clears his throat before continuing.

“And how, you may ask, do we plan to do that? Well, starting this year, the past victors will be in charge of mentoring the children from your districts.” Here, there is some breakage. Anger, plain and simple, seeping through the masks. Antonia begins to speak.

“Fuck no–”

“I’m not finished, thank you. Now, this will come with an array of new challenges. There will, of course, be interviews to prepare them for, something you obviously have no experience with, as well as a tribute parade.” Your nose crinkles in disgust as the sole image your mind conjures is last year’s tributes chained to a flatbed truck, Brandy’s dead body swaying from a crane above them. Brandy, who you knew. Who was only one year younger than you. Who had a talent for soothing any creature with which she came in contact and who cried for three days the first time she killed a hog.

“And you will be in charge of organizing sponsorships once they are in the arena, networking, and such. But not to worry, each of you will be given an escort from the Capitol, someone to help you navigate the trickier aspects of the job. And you will not go unrewarded either. Starting this year, victors will be granted financial compensation as well as eventual housing in a Victor’s Village, which will be put up in each of your home districts. Still, we will need to begin with a sort of reintroduction to teach the public what your new role as a victor is, and–”

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, so quiet you think no one hears.

“Excuse me?” The man’s gaze is icy cold, like a knife to the chest.

“That’s– That’s not fair. What about the kids in 12? 8? 6 and 5? If you do this, the same people will win every year.” You stare back, and when your hands begin to shake, you hide them beneath your thighs.

“I don’t typically give lessons in power for free; you should be grateful.”

“You’re evil.” And it is not a question. You are certain.

“Not evil, just practical.”

“The Capitol hates us, they think we’re scum. They’ll never get behind this,” Treech offers from beside you, and you see it on him, the mark of last year's Games. The toll they took.

“If the citizens of the Capitol think we care, they will too. I’ll put you on television with the goddamned President if I have to. This will work.”

“What if we won’t do it?” Teff demands, his voice low, tinged with a warning.

“You have a family, do you not?” The man asks, and the threat pools in his eyes, but he voices it anyway. “Would you like to continue having a family?” It is quiet for a moment, and the weight of his words feels heavier than anything you’ve ever carried in your life.

“We were supposed to be done. We won our Games,” It is Hector who speaks this time, rising from his seat. He pauses for a moment, then raises his brow as though in a challenge. “Well, I don’t have any family. Not anymore. Not thanks to this bullshit fucking system, so you know what? I think I’ll pass.” From beside him, Antonia claws at his arm, a pleading look in her eyes. It is too late. The man with the white hair nods, and two of the Peacekeepers on the back wall step forward.

“That’s too bad. He can go.” They are on Hector in a matter of seconds, but they do not make for the door; instead, they seize him, one on each arm, and turn towards the hallway, splitting off from the large central room. Several victors move to stand, with Trawl and Octavian making an attempt to follow, but they are swiftly restrained, and you sit in silent shock as the sounds of Hector’s struggle become distant. A door slams. Then, a gunshot. After that, it is quiet. Your limbs feel stiff, frozen even. From your other side, Lux releases a stifled sob. Somewhere in the distance, you hear Teff throw up.

“Anyone else have any concerns they wish to voice?” It’s as though you have all stopped breathing.

“Wonderful. We’ll begin in the morning. You’ll each have a team here to prepare you for the press tour. Your rooms are numbered by district. Be ready at 5:00 am sharp. I’d hate to have any more incidents.”

“So, we’re trapped here?” You speak again, though the sound of your own voice comes as a shock. The man only sighs.

“This is not a prison, no. Though we would prefer you not leave the premises–” You don’t give him time to finish, making a hasty exit through the door where you came in.

“Just make sure she doesn’t leave the building,” he sighs with a haphazard wave of his hand in your direction.

You are at the bar when Treech finds you, two glasses of Posca deep.

He hadn’t meant to go looking for you, really, only to clear his head and get away from that room. Shortly after your departure, two men had entered with a stretcher and left only minutes later with it full, the vague outline of a body visible beneath a white linen sheet. He had followed them out and then quickly abandoned their company at the prospect of sharing their elevator, instead descending the stairs. From the 32nd floor. And there you were, right as the door to the lobby opened, hat on the bar and your eyes fixed on something he wasn’t sure was really there.

“No hard liquor here. At least not for us,” you huff, slumping in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

“And don’t bother asking for the bottle either. They’ll just give you one of these. Nothing more dignified than drowning my sorrows in a glass that costs more than my mother’s house,” you wave a limp hand at the ornate flute before you, doing little to disguise the biting sarcasm in your tone.

“I’ll take what she’s having,” Treech mutters to the man behind the bar, though he keeps his eyes fixed on the counter, unwilling to bear the weight of the curious gaze being pressed upon the pair of you.

“Do you remember them, the other tributes?” You ask suddenly, as though the thought had been clouding your mind for hours.

“The other victors?” You shake your head.

“No. The other kids in the arena.” Treech freezes for only a moment, caught off guard, but it’s enough time for the truth to plaster itself across his face. Every day.

“Sure.” You don’t say anything, only sit patiently, waiting for him to continue. “There was– There was Lamina; she was from home.” I watched her die. I sat by and did nothing. “And there was Coral and Mizzen; they were from 4. And the youngest. She was from 8. Had these hearts made of buttons on her pants. Wovey, I think. From 12, there was Lucy Gray, the girl who sang. Reaper, he was the last to die. I killed him. Killed the girl from 3, too. Teslee.”

He feels his voice begin to waver and opts to stop talking. You sit in silence for a moment, trading quiet nods with the bartender as he returns with Treech’s drink.

“Rye.”

“Sorry?” Treech asks, still lost in the memories of his fellow tributes.

“He was the youngest. He had these eyes just like my kid brother, big and sad. He just stood there, I remember, when the games started. The boy from 2 killed him; just walked up and broke his neck. Couldn’t have been that hard; he was so small. But he looked so surprised like he hadn’t known it was coming, even after he hit the ground.” Treech thinks he might be sick, and beside him, the color has drained from your face.

“Twenty-four kids every year, and we’ll have front-row seats to all of it. The people in the districts, in the Capitol, they’ll forget, let a name or two slip, but we’ll see them all. Watch them train, see their interviews, pick them apart in hopes of a weakness.” Treech downs his glass in one go before signaling to the bartender he needs a refill. You push your flute in the same direction, looking the District 7 boy up and down as though you’d never given him too much thought before.

“I never envied you. The way the Capitol dragged you through the streets for all those funerals, put you behind bars in a fuckin’ zoo, had you play nice and pleasant before sending you off to slaughter. At least ours was quick. Picked us all up on the train, threw us in the back of a truck, and then dumped us in the arena. Nobody knew who we were. Nobody wanted to.” You break off in a laugh that is brittle and unforgiving.

“Maybe it’ll be better this way. I’m in the market for a new job. Turns out you’re no good at chopping trees when you can barely hold an axe anymore,” Treech jokes, but the smile on his face does not reach his eyes.

“They–” but you are quick to pause, halting mid-sentence as though contemplating continuing. You exhale softly before clearing your throat and lifting your eyes once more to meet his.

“They had to fire me.” Treech’s brows lurch forward in confusion, creating two dimples in the flesh just above his nose.

“At the slaughterhouse,” you supply. “They had to fire me. I couldn’t– I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t kill anything. The Peacekeepers, they just wanted me gone. I’m pretty sure they would have just gotten rid of me too, you know, set an example, but I knew the guy who ran the place. I used to give his daughter art lessons. He made a call, and I got transferred. Started working as a ranch hand instead.” You stop, and for a moment, Treech thinks you’ve finished.

“I kept thinking they were him. I would pick up the knife, and suddenly, it was like I was back in the arena, watching him die.” The last part came out in a whisper.

“They say what I did to that kid; they say it was mercy. A mercy kill. But I still killed him, and he’s still dead. And I have never stopped thinking about it.” You clear your throat once more and cast your gaze down, hoping to disguise the tears collecting in your eyes. Treech takes notice. He remembers a conversation not two months prior with his mother. The way his voice shook as he spoke. About the games. About the other tributes. He recalls the twisted expression of discomfort she bore, the pity, and above all, his own anger at feeling helpless. Wounded.

“Art lessons? You paint?” Relief, instant and undisguised, etches itself across your features.

“Draw, mostly. Charcoal, pencil, anything easy to come by. I was gonna be a veterinarian before– Well, you know. I was practicing for scientific sketches, but I just sort of fell in love with the way they moved– animals.”

“You have a favorite?”

“Horses are the hardest. Cows– they’re soft, like people. Some people, I guess. I saw a fox once, little gray thing, sleeping in the grass. I think maybe I liked that one the best. My mom used to say it was good luck, a fox crossing your path. Though, I can’t imagine how. That– That was the day before my reaping.”

You sit in silence for a moment before Treech speaks again.

“You lived. Maybe that was it: the good luck.”

“Sometimes I wish I hadn’t. Like maybe everyone else got out easy, and here we are still living in a nightmare.”

“It won’t be like this forever,” he whispers, but it’s as though he’s pleading with some higher power that it might be true. “It can’t be.”

“Wake up, Treech. This is it for us. They are gonna drag us out here every year to flounce around the capitol, parading new kids to their deaths– or worse, whatever this is, the horrible aftermath–”

“There’ll be new mentors. New winners–”

“Yeah, in 1 and 2 and maybe 4. Don’t you get it? We’re the runt districts. We’ll be lucky if we see another Victor in the next twenty-five years,” Treech swallows hard, willing his mouth to stop tasting so dry; he can feel his heart in the pit of his stomach. “Maybe you ran with the pack in your games, but things are gonna change. Look around. They already are.”

#treech #treech fanfiction #treech thg #treech x reader #treech tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #hunger games #district 7 #x reader #thg #no evil angel but love #neabl

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cowgyaru · 1 year ago

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Treech is def the type of boyfriend who’s like “this one is for you!” he attempts to shoot the ball in the basket, but he misses REAL BAD. So bad he turns to you and tries to ‘retry’ and it’s worse than the last!!

He’s got the spirit and that’s why I love him.

#treech x reader #treech tbosas #tbosas x reader #cowgyaru #headcanons

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sephirothsplaything · 1 year ago

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WINNER TAKES ALL

A Ballad Of Songbirds and Snakes fanfic

Synopsis: You are Sejanus’s best friend. Coriolanus is not.

You are the smartest in your class. Coriolanus is not.

But why does it feel as though you always loose to him?

You can’t this time, the Plinth Prize is yours. And absolutely nothing is getting in the way of what’s yours. Except maybe Coriolanus.

Parings: Sejanus x obsessive! Black fem! reader, Coriolanus x black female! reader, Treech x black fem reader

TW: Dark themes,death,smut,blood,obsession(from the reader and Coryo),manipulation,classism(the reader is not a great person!), nihilistic themes.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #the hunger games: the ballad of songbirds & snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #black reader #black fem reader #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth smut #sejanus plinth #treech x reader #treech tbosas

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devinescribe · 1 year ago

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Nicknames

Characters included: Tanner, Treech, Sejanus, Reaper, Jessup, Coriolanus

These are my opinions please don’t hate especially for the district boys we only have a limited time with them so-

Also Coriolanus’s is the shortest bc I can’t write him for shit-

Tanner: I feel like he's kind of awkward with his nicknames. At first he's scared to call you them, sticking with basic ones, but after he gets comfortable he will have some other ones. But he still gets blushy and nervous when he calls you them

Darlin', my sweet girl, baby, gorgeous.

"Hi darlin' I hope I didn't keep you waitin' on me too long...well ain't you just the prettiest thing this side of ten."

Treech: cute nicknames that have to do with more of situations and things you remind him of.

Sunshine, darlin', sweetheart, (N/N), sweet face, angel, and anything else he comes up with. In secret, in his head,calls you goddess.

He does get jealous, but not like Coryo, occasionally adds my in-front.

"Good morning sunshine, this is your daily reminder that you... are quite literally the most beautiful person to walk this earth."

Sejanus: sweet boy calls you anything he can think of, and eventually is like this is too much let me dial it back. He thinks that saying your name is much more intimate than a nickname, but he still calls you them. Just that when he's speaking to you normally he'll more than likely say your name. Nicknames are more special that way because he doesn't use them all the time.

Dearest, beloved, baby, angel.

"You... look amazing angel... I'm so lucky to be considered yours."

Coriolanus: he's very simple with his nicknames. Classical names.

Darling, my love, dear, dearest, doll.

"Hello my dearest, are you ready? You look absolutely ravishing today if I may say so."

Reaper: He might look intimidating but he's a sweetheart, a big teddy bear. And he loves you in quiet ways rather than in big expressive ways. And one of those is nicknames. Has jokingly called you the apple of his eye before just to see you laugh. He uses simple ones, and a small amount, but it's still sweet.

Doll face, sweetness, and my love.

“Evenin’ sweetness… well aren’t you as pretty as a daisy in the spring.”

Jessup: guys he’s actually so bbg um he only has one nickname for you and one only. He thinks that one fits you well and that is like the perfect match. He’s so sweet with it too.

Angel

Calls you that because he thinks you saved him and added hope back into his life. He’s a hopeless romantic I think. He loves you sooooo much

“You’re too sweet, angel… I’ll get tooth aches just from kissing you if you keep this up.”

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imsofuckingdonewiththisgoddamn · 1 year ago

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When Our Stars Cross Paths; IV Treech x Mentor!Reader

Pairing: Treech x Mentor!Reader

Word Count: 1.71k

Warnings: Swearing, Violence

Sweet Angels🪻: @nemesii @mrsyixingunicorn10 @chmpgneprblem @thxmiss @storiesofmyhead @valdezsttuff @nekee-lilac02 @shykittycat @aceofspades190

🎬Mood boards🎬

Let the record show that you went above and beyond as a mentor.

That was the first thought to pass through your mind as the heavy doors of the van were slammed shut by oblivious peacekeepers, trapping you and Coriolanus in a confined space with around a dozen tributes who wanted you dead.

You kept your eyes fixed at a point on the floor towards the opposite end of the van, scared of what—or rather who you would see if you lifted your gaze. Not that you would be able to blame them. Had you been in their position, you would’ve jumped at the opportunity to seek revenge.

If Coriolanus was as unsettled as you were, he did a damn good job of hiding it. Straightening his posture, he brushed off the dust that had accumulated on his vermillion Academy uniform. While he may have had the confidence, he stuck out like a sore thumb and you were suddenly very grateful for having chosen against such a conspicuous outfit. Coming to the conclusion that you were just as safe, if not more safe than Coriolanus, due to having introduced yourself and offered food to several of the tributes you were currently riding with, you allowed your eyes to slowly lift from the dirty metal floor of the van. Unfortunately for you, the spot where you had previously been fixating at had been right where Treech was standing, with your eyes suddenly meeting as your gaze ascended from the floor. His arm was hanging onto the railing that ran along the length of the van, and his eyes bore into you the same way they had when you had slapped him minutes prior. Behind him you could see a little girl who you believed to be Wovey from District eight. Your few tedious moments of tension were broken by Coriolanus clearing his throat, an action that brought the rest of the tributes attention towards the two of you. If they hadn’t been staring already.

“Hi.” It was barely audible, but the echo of the van carried the single word and let it hang in anticipatory silence. Your face cringed at t he sound of if. Here you two were, a couple of rich Capitol kids who had waltzed into a vehicle with a bunch of exhausted kids who were being held like prisoners, and he was acting like it was some sort of field trip.

“What’s the matter, Pretty Boy? Got in the wrong cage?” The boy from District eleven, Reaper spoke up from where he stood at the opposite end of the van, next to Treech. Clemmie had been assigned as his mentor and had been more than pleased when it was announced, and you could see why. The boy was by far the biggest out of everyone in the van and stood well past six feet tall, with huge shoulders and a square jaw permanently shaped into a scowl, he was downright terrifying.

“No, not at all. This cage is delightful.” It was an awful attempt at clearing the tension, but you had to give your classmate credit for having the balls to make such a statement.

Reaper, however, didn’t appreciate the boy’s comment and suddenly lurched forward, making great strides across the van from where he formerly stood next to Treech. Before you knew it, the dark skinned boy had Coriolanus pressed up against the wall of the vehicle, his large hands fisting the material of his Academy coat.

The van suddenly came to life with action, with variously tributes egging on Reaper to kill Coriolanus. Exceptionally happy for the sudden opportunity to retaliate in the violence that was being imposed upon them.

“Get him Reaper!” You could hear a boy urging from somewhere behind you. Coriolanus’s formerly collected facade was quickly falling apart at the realization of his probable imminent death, his hands desperately reaching out in a feeble attempt to push the much larger boy off of him.

“I’ll kill you right now.” Reaper growled as he somehow managed to push Coriolanus further into the wall. You didn’t take Reaper as someone who was all bark and no bite, and was nearly certain he would go through with his threat if there was no immediate intervention.

“He’ll do it.” A raspy voice piped up from next to you—Dill, Reaper’s district partner. “He killed a peacekeeper back in eleven. They never found out who did it.” The young girl smirked a bit after the past comment, before a cough came over her and she was sent into a fit.

“Quiet Dill.” Reaper turned around only long enough to reprimand the younger girl, but his scolding had already brought all eyes towards Dill, which subsequently brought attention to you.

“Looks like Pretty Boy came with a friend.” Tanner, the boy from District ten, whistled out. He was Domitia’s tribute, and you had been severely disturbed by his reaping, where his hands had been shown to be bloody from what you hoped was a morning at the slaughterhouse. While now there was only faint traces of blood buried underneath his fingernails, the taller boy still wore a particularly wicked grin on his face as he slowly approached you, eyes never leaving yours. You subconsciously took a few steps back, your body now flush against the cold metal wall alongside Coriolanus. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in here?” Tanner’s question might have been phrased more nicely than Reaper’s, but it was still laced with the same tone of anger and vengeance. Your petrified eyes left Tanner’s unnerving gaze, and you peered over his shoulder, to shaken to answer the District ten boy. Treech’s eyes were also fixed on you, but in a way that was much more contemplative and pensive, as if he was debating on whether or not he should intervene. However, much to your shock it wasn’t Treech nor Coriolanus who came to your rescue. It was Lamina.

The sullen girl had slipped from her spot beside Treech without anyone noticing and moved to stand between you and Tanner, acting as a barrier to protect you despite her obvious shaking. Lucy Gray also made herself known, appearing from her spot deep in the van to approach Reaper, a silence falling over the riled up tributes as the girl spoke up.

“You got family back home?” The question was obviously intended for Reaper and Tanner, but she looked around the van as if her question was pointed towards all of them.

“They’ll kill them if you hurt either of them, and then they’ll kill you.” Lucy Gray spoke as if it were obvious, and the realization seemed to set in on the two boys and they thankfully backed away towards their respective district partners. Lamina let out a sigh of relief, her hands still shaking in little balled fists. You were in awe at her bravery, not only for confronting a much larger tribute, but also that she did it for you, someone who was virtually a stranger.

“Besides, I might need him, being my mentor and all.” The last part caused Coriolanus’s gaze to immediately shift to Lucy Gray, as if he was shocked that she was coming to his defense.

“Mender? How come you get a mender?” A girl with a bright red bob, Coral, interrogated from her corner of the van.

“A mentor.” Coriolanus corrected, he was always a stickler when it came to grammar and pronunciation. Something that could annoy you to no end when he went of his rants during class. “Each of you get one, to help guide you throughout the games.”

“And were supposed to trust you on that?” Coral retorted, unimpressed with the boy’s answer. “Why does Little Miss Rainbow get special treatment?” The redheaded girl pointed an accusatory finger at Lucy Gray, as if she was responsible for her mentor’s shortcomings. You made a mental reminder to warn Festus, Coral’s mentor, on how much of a firecracker she was before he could meet her for himself. You were near certain he would pleased though, feisty types tended to fare well in the games. Getting her to entertain the Capitol however, would be a different battle.

“She doesn’t get special treatment, you all have mentors.” Coriolanus reiterated, clearly still on edge from his close encounter with Reaper. “Then why aren’t they here?” This time Bobbin, a boy from District eight spoke up, clearly interested in the prospect of having a mentor.

“Just not inspired, I guess.” Lucy Gray added, a smirk forming on her face. She must’ve known her performance at the Reapings had garnered her mentor’s attention. You felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Little did she know that only a few moments before her singing, Coriolanus had already given up any hope of her winning.

“Who does she belong to?” Tanner inquired, although he had backed a few feet away, his stare had never broken away from you. He slightly licked his lips which was already enough to make you shudder. What was his deal?

“Back of ten.” Your eyes suddenly moved towards the voice, landing on the tall frame of Treech, who had let go of his railing and was moving closer towards Tanner. “You got lucky Lumberjack, I’m honestly a bit jeal-”

Tanner didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Because before you knew it, the van jerked, knocking everyone to the ground in a wave on shock and confusion. Lamina landed on top of you, which surprisingly didn’t hurt due to her being much smaller. She quickly moved off of you with a soft apology as everyone tried to regain their balance. However, another lurch sent everyone tumbling onto the floor once again. This time you landed next to Treech, your head falling against his chest as the floor started sloping, sending the piles of tributes and mentors into the metal doors with a slam. You tried to raise your head from Treech’s chest to get a grasp as to what was happening, but his arm reached out to wrap around you, holding you in place against his body. Before you could fight against him the metal doors of the van suddenly jutted open, dumping everyone out, and sending them falling towards the ground below.

A/N

We are Lamina stans here!!! Love to see Treech’s protectiveness as well, so stay prepared for that in coming chapters! Hopefully I will be able to post another chapter in the next day or two!

XOXO

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choerypetal · 1 year ago

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Yooooo!!! That Snow fic you recently released involving the reader and Treech being in love? Absolute masterpiece! So hear me out: what if you wrote about their connection and how it progressed? Like, before Coryo got his clutches on the reader. There was a moment you described where Treech and the reader snuck out, I’m pretty sure. I’d love to see a story on that. Maybe end it with those dying words you mentioned? Just utter fluff with that heartbreak of an ending.

Capitol's love birds. / Treech

summary : being Snow's twin meant being exactly like him, even though your appearances were slightly different. As a mentor yourself, you were assigned to District 7's male tribute, Treech. it was only in the wagon on its way to the Capitol that the chemistry first sparked, ultimately solidifying your status as the Capitol's favorite lovebirds.

ps ; english is not my native language, and I appreciate seeing your requests for ideas that I may not have thought of. Hopefully, you find the suggestions helpful. please refrain from plagiarizing my work without my permission or proper credit, as doing so may result in being flagged or banned. thank you.

Mentoring proved to be a challenging responsibility, but the greatest struggle arose when love entered the picture. However, this was no ordinary affection; it was a type of love that some might view as disgraceful, while others perceived it as a form of admiration amid the Games. Although Treech wasn't particularly interested in getting to know his mentor, let alone encountering them in another restricted enclosure, it was within those confines that the two of you crossed paths. Despite being Snow's twin traditionally constantly at his side, it was unquestionable that you, too, were destined to trail behind him to discover who your tribute was.

While taking pride in mentoring someone from a district not situated at the lowest rungs of Panem's hierarchy, you were fortunate enough to maintain a semblance of dignity, given the reputation of the district you represented for its familiarity with victory. However, Lucy Gray Baird's captivating performance, the talk of the town since the reaping, cast shadows of doubt over your confidence. All of this, while your brother engaged with fellow tributes, attempting his best to establish his temptation not to gith back.

You couldn't help but notice the stark class distinctions. Dust still clung to their attire, indicating a lack of access to basic amenities like showers before arriving. A twinge of sympathy crept in. "What's a pretty face doing here?" Reaper Ash remarked, catching you off guard. Initially assuming the comment was directed at Coriolanus, you soon realized it was aimed squarely at you. The revelation that you, too, were to become a mentor became apparent. And that the unspoken pressure to make a positive first impression on the fortunate second tribute who had the early opportunity to meet you loomed large. But Ash simply laughed at your brother’s reaction by ordering you stay behind him. Although poorly as his arm performed itself as a fence initiating to any tributes not to go further. "Relax, pretty boy. I won't touch her. Just asking for a friend, that's all."

That friend happened to be Treech, whose imposing silhouette positioned itself in front of you a little closer this time. His gaze had been fixed on you from the moment he laid eyes on you. While you initially attributed it to natural human interaction, the persistent feeling of being scrutinized lingered throughout. It seemed as if Treech was almost surprised or even deceived to have you as his mentor, likely influenced by how your brother had fared so far. "Looking for District 7." You mentioned exchanging quick glances with the tributes to assess who would be best with an axe.

As expected, your eyes landed on the red-headed girl who endeavored to present herself as the ideal candidate for you. "A boy." Your brother corrected, noticing as Lamina stood up, but Treech, adopting a protective stance, advised her to remain behind, much like your twin had done. After all it was a one-on-one game for the time being. "That must be my lucky one." Treech expressed sarcastically, stating it as a matter of fact, causing a subtle pink shade to color your cheeks – a reaction you tried hard to control. After all, it was your very first time you had seen someone outside the District ever. "You get to have the other pretty one." Ash teased playfully, suggesting that, despite Treech's charming demeanor, he was seemingly destined for a grim fate in the arena upon arrival. “I’m a little jealous.” Ash generously said.

Upon reaching the Capitol, you and your brother were taken aback as you discovered an unforeseen aspect of the tributes' journey. The initial understanding was that Flickerman, the Capitol's esteemed journalist, would be present to introduce each tribute upon their arrival. However, what they were unaware of was the presence of two mentors among the tributes, perhaps trespassing without official permission. This, however, was a matter for another time. Despite the somewhat unconventional transportation, Treech remained fixated on you throughout the journey to the Capitol. He seemed entranced by the striking resemblance between you and your brother, sparking a sense of compassion. Observing your interactions and the way you closely accompanied your brother, it was rumored that you were akin to his pet, only permitted to speak when approved by Coriolanus. Despite his disdain for the District, your brother demonstrated a surprising degree of protectiveness towards you, although in the midst of the situation, allowed some space during the encounter with your tribute in an unexpected location.

Fortunately, your keen observation allowed you to realize that you were reaching your destination, a detail that eluded many, including Coryo himself. Swiftly grasping your twin’s arm, a gesture he had ensured, the sudden tilt of the wagon hinted at the possibility of your feet slipping and sliding. Treech's eyes widened at your momentary clumsiness, seizing the opportunity to support you. As your back met the uncomfortable mud of the Zoo, he was determined not to lose his mentee on the spot.

Cameras focused intently on both you and your brother, eliciting a crowd reaction filled with exclamations such as, "It's Snow's boy!" Swiftly, the onlookers noticed your presence next to your brother, who rose and asserted himself. There you stood, a captivating spectacle, with Treech's arm securing your waist and his unwavering gaze fixed on yours. A sly smirk played on his lips as the rest of the crowd declared your presence as well. "And look! The other Snow!" The citizens of the Capitol, already entranced by the presence of the twin siblings on their tributes' first day, began expressing confidence in your victory. This added an additional layer of challenge for the other mentors who were absent from this captivating spectacle. "It's your cue, princess."

"Princess" was the first word he used to address you. Ironically, it took you a moment to realize that all the cameras were focused on you. Your brother had already made his mark, keeping a careful eye to ensure your tribute didn't make any missteps, especially when it came to touching you. However, you were completely under Treech's influence. With a confident smile, he waved at the cameras, making it a bit easier for you to face the potential embarrassment later at home. "She's alright!" He assured, shifting his gaze quickly to your relieved brother. He could have sworn he saw a few Capitol ladies, with similar makeup to yours, watching in awe at how Treech gallantly assisted you. As he watched the scene unfold with Lucy and Snow not far away, he too decided to play the role of the Capitol's love bird.

As preparations for the 10th Hunger Games were underway, Flickerman's team mandated interviews with every tribute each year. From the very beginning, you managed to establish trust with Treech, a bond that proved beneficial. Not only did you ensure he was well-fed, but you also took the initiative to fetch Lamina additional food, given her mentor's apparent neglect. Treech appreciated the maternal role you assumed for Lamina. On one occasion, he confessed that he would go to great lengths for her, even if it meant risking his own life to secure her victory as the final tribute. It was all in the pursuit of making District 7 proud once again, for a Lumberjack always harbors a wealth of secrets up their sleeves.

During his time at the Zoo, Treech found increased joy in your company, particularly when you accompanied him for a quick visit to the arena. Following suit with other tributes, he decided to take the initiative in making the first move. It happened on that initial day when he casually attempted to hold your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. You discreetly glanced at him, careful not to make it too obvious given the presence of the assigned tributes and their mentors. With Coriolanus behind you taking notice. Yet, observing Treech's attempts to connect with you, he sensed a deeper connection between the two of you. Realizing this, your elder sibling understood the need to strengthen his bond with Lucy. To Treech's delight, he could only imagine your brother envying a love that he would never receive in return.

With insider knowledge of the arena and sneaky routes into the Academy, Treech and you managed to slip away after the arena visit. Observing his interaction back with District 4's tribute and noticing his vigilance, a few teases were all it took to provoke Treech into throwing a punch, especially when faced with comments like. "Your girlfriend wouldn't mind if I speak with you?" While it was clear that others were aware of your connection, Treech dismissed it as a mere game, refusing to believe that it held any deeper significance. However, his sentiments towards you had sparked an unexpected depth of emotion within him. "Just a reminder." He sternly directed at the other tribute, his gaze darkening with offense. Spotting you behind him with Lamina by your side, Treech asserted. "You don't speak such filth about Y/N." The onlookers chuckled at his protectiveness and the evident depth of his emotions. "Or else?" They added, challenging anyone who dared to disrespect you.

"Or else, I won't hesitate to cut your head off with my axe. Watch yourself, because I can do it in the blink of an eye." With those words, Treech revealed what you truly meant to him. He could vividly recall Snow's concerned gaze as he tried to pull you away from the escalating situation. However, you had refused that day, meeting Treech's eyes the entire time after discussing the tributes he would be teamed with. "For Lamina's sake," You had pleaded, urging him to be cautious. "Those individuals only seek your vulnerability. They may be from District 4, but they don't understand the power of an axe." Was what Treech said reassuring you with a smile. A smile you’ll never forget.

In that very moment, you decided to take Treech with you for a clandestine escape from the arena. It was a day when even the tributes were granted the freedom to either stay at the arena for practice or wander under the watchful eyes of the Peacekeepers. However, Treech and you had a different agenda. You used the excuse of wanting to make his training more convenient as a cover. For some inexplicable reason, you had the approval of Dr. Gaul, who only instructed that Treech needed to return to the Zoo before midnight. It seemed that being Snow's twin had its perks after all.

Upon your arrival at the Academy's Greenhouse, both of you maintained a quiet atmosphere. This place held a special significance for you, offering tranquility during moments of anxiety or family pressure. Though it was suspected that you were in charge of the Greenhouse, under your grandmother's watchful eye and constant reminders to enjoy tending to flowers like she did, you chose to share this haven with Treech. It was the same place where you had once spoken briefly to him, and he was thrilled not only to spend time alone with you but also to witness the real person behind the facade of prestige and elegance showcased in public. Trying to ease the slight tension, Treech remarked. "You know, I'd be damned to see your brother's face if he were here." It was a fact that you were gradually opening up to someone. The type that was once a stranger and now someone to feel loved by. "Brother could care less; he has Lucy wrapped around his finger right now.” You added, acknowledging the complexities of your relationships within the family.

A smirk played across Treech's face, revealing his amusement at the thought of your brother feeling jealous. Although they were in similar positions, this time the connection between you and Treech was authentic, not just for show. Playful teasing began to permeate every event at the Academy, serving as a tactic to expose vulnerabilities in both of you. However, with Treech's mentor skills and the insights gained from your brother's tips, he honed his skills and strength, making it increasingly difficult for others to exploit weaknesses or gain his trust. "And would it be fair to say that I, too, have my little finger entirely wrapped around you, Princess?" He added, playfully reciprocating the banter.

His words caused a warm blush to spread across your cheeks, especially when he directed his attention toward you during wound care in practice. The worry in your eyes whenever he made a slight mistake was met with a reassuring thumbs-up and the smile you cherished. There were moments when it became challenging for him to stay focused, particularly when he saw you engaged in conversations with your other classmates. Despite the casual nature of those interactions, he couldn't resist the urge to draw your attention back to him. In response, you chuckled softly, suggesting a meeting on the rooftop of the Greenhouse to admire the stars. "Anything that involves being with you, I'll gladly say yes." He replied with a smile. “You know, I love when you blush more. Especially for me.”

Without uttering a word, you playfully dismissed his comment, rolling your eyes in a teasing manner. You extended your hand, a gesture he effortlessly accepted. "Show me the way, Princess." He said, and together, you ascended the stairs. Luck was on your side as you reached the rooftop just as the sun of the Capitol dipped below the horizon, signaling the arrival of dawn. The sky was clear, and the stars of Panem glittered above, creating a breathtaking scene just for the two of you. "Looks like I'm the lucky one." He marveled at the view. "Having a beautiful face to look at and a beautiful scenery to enjoy all to myself. I'd be damned not to win these Games and return home to a beautiful angel." He confessed, and this time, he genuinely meant every word.

On the other hand, you remained completely silent. Initially, you wanted to express your gratitude, but as the Games drew nearer, uncertainty crept in, even with Treech's skills. The looming uncertainty, especially regarding Lucy's well-being and Snow's single-minded pursuit of victory, left you unsure. Despite your love for your brother, his focus was solely on winning, regardless of the familial bond. Treech noticed the tension as the two of you sat next to the bench, and he tried to bring you closer. In an unexpected reaction, you flinched—a rare occurrence. "Hey—" Treech began, but he immediately noticed your slightly swollen face and your eyes fighting back tears. The man you loved had become, overnight, a complete stranger at best. "Look at me, Y/N." He pleaded, adopting a worried tone as you broke down in front of him. The situation must have been incredibly embarrassing for you.

"What's wrong?" His voice softened as he looked at you, tender care evident in his gaze. He took immense pride in having you as his partner during the Games and falling in love with the most exceptional mentors he could have ever asked for. He harbored concerns about the possibility of you crying over his lifeless body, should the worst come to pass. The thought of hearing you scream his name filled him with worry, although he made a concerted effort not to show it. His overarching plan was to make you proud and, above all, to be loved by you until his very last breath.

"Have you ever genuinely fallen in love?" Your question resonated with Treech. Of course, he loved you. You were an unexpected and, ironically, his first love. And so for you. The circumstances of your meeting might not have been ideal, but as long as he was with you, that's all that mattered. And if things worked in his favor, it was not just for him but for Lamina as well, given that she often regarded you as someone she could trust. "Like genuinely." You added, trying your best not to burst into laughter. Your tears didn't make it any easier, giving you a slightly maniacal tone.

“Of course, and that person is sitting right in front of me.” His eyes not taking his gaze from you. How he watched you loosing yourself entirely in the moment of a mere seconds. Your old habits resurging as you would try to numb the pain of your fingers by scratching the very last skin until it bled. To which Treech could not help to notice the moment he had met you. He grabbed your fingers, making you to stop it quickly as he began to peck every single fingers. “And I have made a promise to myself, that if I’d ever win. That we will be reunited together. Build a family, run away together. Be the lovebirds the Capitol wants us to be.”

A mixture of remorse and relief surged through you as you heard every word from Treech, assuring you that he would stay alive and well. If only you could muster the same confidence he exuded. Despite your attempts, he gently wiped away your tears, his fingers delicately holding your chin to meet his gaze. "You know, even if it's not the conventional way to confess one's love to another, I might be able to let myself do it." He said, leaning in to press his lips against yours. They were soft, just as you expected, carrying the comforting scent of wood he had kept upon his arrival—a reminder of home, a home with both you and Treech.

"I love you to the bottom of my heart. I know our first meetings weren't the best, but the way you cared for Lamina, and even showed care to me, proved something deeper. If we can continue doing that every night until the Games, I'll make sure you genuinely know that I love you." He confessed once the kiss broke. His words carried a weight that nearly brought tears to your eyes, holding you in place. The both of you chuckled at the irony of the situation, yet a newfound sense of confidence enveloped you—something you had never experienced before, especially as someone from a District.

"Man, I wish we could continue this, but I don't want you to get punished for bringing me here—" This time, you swiftly cut him off, recognizing that it wasn't the right time for such activities, especially just a few days before the Games. Instead, you proposed a deal—a deal he seemed to enjoy a little too much. Every time you had the chance to train with him, just before returning him to the Zoo, you would indulge in cuddling and sometimes reminisce about home. Occasionally, these encounters escalated into intense make-out sessions, leaving him with a desire to mark you visibly. The marks led to teasing from some classmates, making you blush, and occasional interventions from your brother. Despite casual warnings, Treech took pleasure in denying everything with a smirk that your brother despised. To add to his delight, that same night, Treech deepened the marks, leaving a lasting impression. Just to see Snow’s furious face once again.

Although this little pleasure was only going to last very soon, when the Games were officially commencing and you knew that. With you being at least able to say your final goodbyes to Treech, he could to feel your worrying about his situation. Cupping your face so delicately as a mention that everything was going to be alright. It was the last time that you also felt his lips brushing against yours. A kiss you would not forget so easily.

During the Games, you and the remaining mentors, alongside your brother, watched with stress and concern for the well-being of your tributes. While your eyes remained fixed on Treech, you also tried your best to ensure Lamina's safety. However, the situation took a dire turn when the poison finally affected Treech. Feeling helpless, you did everything in your power to find a remedy, attempting to prevent the symptoms from worsening and to make them last until only one tribute remained. "The poison!" You angrily tried to draw attention, tears welling up as you called out to your brother, who paid no heed. Seeing you suffer for the one you loved was what he had envisioned from the start. His pleasure lay in witnessing Treech's suffering on screen. "Please! Give him the medication!" You appealed to your District 7's female mentor, but it was too late. Treech's coughing worsened, and your eyes remained fixed on the screen. "Treech..." was all you could say.

Treech sensed that you were watching him, but whether it was with shame or grief, he couldn't discern. What he was certain of was seeing the expression on your face—a face that conveyed concern and a desperate desire to help. He knew that if the poison were to affect him, you would swiftly send the medication. However, it didn't happen, and he realized it was too late. Lucy had managed to escape, unlike him, who became the prisoner of an inevitable and senseless death. As he noticed the cameras focused on him, he understood that by now, you would be looking at him. "Y/N..." he began to cough in the middle of his sentence, capturing the attention of everyone in the room, including your brother. "I loved you since we met. Please, once I am gone, I want you to know that I genuinely loved and will always love you."

"No!!" Your voice wavered between tears, desperately trying to advocate for the medication option repeatedly. Cursing under your breath, you fought against Pliny Harrington, who did his best to restrain you. "Y/N..." he tried to console you, sensing the profound grief from everyone's tributes, including yours. What he failed to comprehend was the deep connection between you and Treech, destined to become the Capitol's favorite lovebirds. "It's too late..." His voice turned into a plea for you to stop. It was at that moment that your entire body went numb. In Pliny’s arms, you managed to sit down, and as Snow's victory loomed over you, you realized that your confidence was about to be completely overshadowed once again. You would become Snow's source of pride and victory.

A man you had once loved would forever reside in your heart. In the heart of District 7, you were revered for your role as a caretaker for both its female and male tribute. What you were not aware of was that, unlike Snow, you became the face of purity and trust—a bond between the District and the people of the Capitol. It was a paid respect for the Capitol's most famous lovebirds.

#tboas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #treech #treech tbosas #treech x reader #angst #one shot #fluff #treech imagines #treech x you #reaper ash #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus imagines #treech fanfiction #hunger games x reader #hunger games x you #request open #imagine request

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smiski-collector · 7 months ago

Text

why are you running

pairings: Lamina x Treech (past), Treech X Reader warnings: self-sabotage reader, pining feelings, ghosting

prologue

When Lamina and Treech broke up in second year of college, it was a shell shock for everyone that knew them including you, mostly because you attended high school with them. And also because you knew they were officially dating in sophomore year of high school but definitely had feelings for much longer than that. People on their level of closeness do not develop feelings out of nowhere after all.

However, you mused, people changed because their breakup was something you did not expect at all. You had a feeling it was going to happen of course, from when Coral would invite you to hang out with the Pack, consisting of herself, Treech, and Tanner as well as mutuals. Her eyes would flicker between Treech and Lamina before going back to you, smiling sheepishly. You had smiled back, hopefully in a comforting manner, being understanding.

When Lamina left, “To Sweden,” you overheard her saying sweetly, eagerly, “The art program I applied to accepted me and I am leaving early to get used to the environment before I start,” something changed in Treech. You saw it in the science classes you had with him, watching him from a distance. His eyes were sometimes red, voice quieter, and bags darker.

You felt pity for the guy but did not dare to overstep to help him. He never snapped at you, was always cordial or friendly but that did not mean you could reach out to him about the very obvious breakup. It is a boundary that was clear to everyone that would drift close to the topic. Even his friends that knew the both of them did not push on the topic.

You only had the chance to bring up Lamina to Treech in your third year at a party hosted by Coriolanus Snow, having been invited by Lucy Gray. She was a social butterfly, having befriended nearly everyone with her chirpy presence, positive energy, and beautiful voice. Their relationship is something you did not want to dissect, as they had been on and off ever since they met at a mixer hosted by Snow’s co-ed fraternity in their freshman year.

Treech had been at the party, dragged by Coral and Tanner he said, to avoid being miserable that Friday night and begin the process of moving on. You were endeared by his sleepy demeanor, flushed cheeks, and an openness that you would not have normally been privy to.

He put his face into his palms, bent over his knees, voice muffled as he asked, “But how could I move on when it feels like I would be losing such a big part of myself.”

“It is not my place to agree or disagree with them,” you say to him, “But I know Coral and from seeing her tough love for her friends, I think it is good to give it a shot. And you wouldn’t be losing yourself, you would be closing one chapter of your life.”

Treech went quiet after that and nodded off, slumping over on a couch. His head curved dangerously close to your shoulder and you stayed by his side, scooting over to provide distance once he was steadied, and content on pondering life quietly, sipping on your own beverage. Coral eventually came over having spotted a passed out Treech, Tanner following closely behind with a red party cup in hand. They were panting and it was obvious Treech somehow managed to lose them in the party, causing panic to ensue.

Tanner giggled, poking Treech’s face, “Sorry about him,” he eventually said, “He doesn’t usually drink at parties, something about not being able to experience it fully.” Coral snorted in agreeance, shaking her head in fondness? Or maybe it was exasperated.

You smile back at him, waving your red solo cup as you spoke, “It’s all good, I figured he needed someone to talk to.” You may have been a stranger to him and he might not even remember that he spoke to you at all, but you are glad that he at least got some of his worries off of his chest.

The next day, Treech treated you normally, distantly or so you thought. Because the following day, it was Treech that invited you to hang out instead of Coral. He wanted to get to know you better, he said. You gradually went from hanging out with the Pack, playing music, going to cafes, to hanging out with Treech alone.

Treech seemed to like your presence and you were not one to ignore your friend’s needs. So when Treech would call you in the middle of the night sobbing about Lamina, you would oblige, listening to his woes and regrets of the relationship. These calls became a regular occurence, expanding to video calls in the middle of the night, not always about Lamina, and you loathe to admit it but you were beginning to develop a crush on him. You couldn’t help it.

Soon enough, instead of Lamina and Treech, it was you and Treech, with a weekly schedule of going to each other’s place to play board games (“sore loser” he called you teasingly) or to study for the science classes you shared as pre-med tracks. You were shocked when you found out Treech was pre-med but he said it was what his older brother, Cypress, did so he just made time for music.

By this point, you thought that maybe Treech had moved on. It had been about a year and half since Lamina left and you had entertained the idea of asking him but didn’t dare to bring it up, knowing their history.

Nothing could have hurt you more than the lack of explanation when Treech stopped texting when he would come over. You felt used.

You could not hold it against him because you knew Treech did not hurt people on purpose. He just couldn’t help it because Lamina returned from Sweden, she was his comfort, what he was used to. He does still try to include you in his life, a bit differently than before but you were still there.

You try not to let out an irritated sigh at a cafe table, it was rare to hang out in person with Treech after all. But he continued talking about Lamina, how he thinks he has a chance back with her and you just have to interrupt – “Wellllll, I guess I won’t be seeing you for a while?”

Your question wasn’t really one, it was a statement and it was confirmed with Treech staring at you with apologetic eyes, an awkward smile on his lips. You try to smile at him but it must come out as a grimace because he is quick to make it up to you.

“We can hang out next week?”

Treech stopped all calls after that day. Part of you thinks it is because you made your crush on him too obvious but it can’t be since he still texted to make sure you were still down to hang out. You agreed but changed the location to the school courtyard. It would be empty at this time of the school year but still open to students that were on-campus or needed the space.

When Treech saw you waiting for him, his face adorned a grin, jogging to reach you. He closed the distance and in a surprising move, wrapped his arms around you in a hug. It was brief but the warmth stayed and you looked up at him in question. He blushed slightly, realizing it must have been out of character for him, “It is my way of saying sorry for ditching you recently.”

You smile at him endearingly, showing that you accept but giving him a hug of your own. He accepted gratefully wrapping his arms around you before he breaks away from you so he can make his way deeper in the school courtyard. You are receptive to his every word, offering earnest advice when you can, and really taking in today with him. Silence falls upon the two of you every now and then but it is comfortable and not overbearing. You two sit down on a high point of the courtyard, able to see the sunset from where you are and take in the scenery.

“Hey YN,” Treech starts, “Thanks for being there.”

It was hard for me were words that went unsaid but you heard it all the same. You shift from one palm to another, kicking up a knee and resting your arm there.

Eyes still on the sunset that casted a golden light on both of you, you responded, “Yeah… no problem.”

It was only after a few minutes that you started something you regret a little bit, you didn’t want him to know yet, “Treech?” He hummed in acknowledgement, turning slightly to face you.

“Thanks for being my friend.”

There was silence from him and you turn to finally face him, eyes sparkling, with tears or because of the sunlight you do not know. But Treech smiles and returns the statement softly and fondly.

The rest of the week goes by as normal and everything seems to settle down in senior year. Lamina and Treech, while not back together, are still hanging out with each other everyday, like nothing has changed. If anything, things have drastically improved the two of them and they are happier than ever, although you still see a hopeful gleam in Treech’s eyes when you pass by them with brief yet pleasant exchanges.

You had grown closer with Coral during your last year, her presence reminds you of a friend that you would be reuniting with soon enough. Her tough love evokes fond memories in you and allows you to be more open with her.

On graduation day, Treech had been hoping to catch a glimpse of you, wanting to thank you again for raising his spirits when it felt like no one really could. His texts to you went unread and calls unanswered but he understood. Everyone was getting ready to enter the next phase of their lives and preparations had to be made.

He didn’t have anything to worry about, at least that is what he thought until you failed to walk across the stage to grab your diploma, a tradition that he knew was important to you being the first to have a college degree in your family. He still did not allow himself to panic, he could always talk to you after graduation since he knew where you were. He did not see Coral’s eyes flicker to him and his phone at the post-graduation dinner between friends.

#treech #treech x reader #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #modern au #treech tbosas #reader insert #late to the party

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