#The Panem Plague | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ellswritings · 1 month ago

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Love and War

Finnick Odair x reader

TW: Reader and Finnick are both villains in this, Finnick cheats on Annie with reader, terrible timing, idiots in love, angsty, this one’s kinda heavy with the infidelity so read at your own risk.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶

No one ever honestly talks about the cruel heartbreak love creates. It’s portrayed as this life-altering, amazing feeling, but for Y/N, that could not have been further from the truth. Everyday since the fateful morning she realized she was in love with him, all that love brought to her was agonizing pain.

She would never let it show, of course. That would ruin the image. The image of her being Finnick Odair’s best friend.

Friend.

How that word vexes her very being. In the beginning, she truly thought it was some silly school girl crush she developed on the Prince of Panem. Something that she would easily get over. Unfortunately for her, that was not the case.

With each passing day, her feelings for him grew. And it only worsened with the silly side glances, the inside jokes, the way he would always know when something was wrong by the simplest quirk of her lip. Or even the way he would pull her aside for a dance as a way to cheer her up, to celebrate, or even just to cure a simple bored spell. He knew Y/N better than she knew herself, and she knew him.

That’s why she’s kept every single feeling besides friendship bottled up within herself. Because she knew he would never be hers.

Tears brim at the corner of her eyes as she watches Annie Cresta walk down the aisle to the altar where her future husband awaits. Where Finnick awaits.

President Coin was kind enough in all her strict glory to permit Annie and Finnick’s wedding as a way to show the people in District Thirteen thriving. When Y/N had heard, she could physically feel her heart falling out of her chest. It only shattered further when he asked her to stand beside him as his Best Woman.

And how could she ever say no to him?

That’s why she’s here now, choking back the sob that threatens to escape her lips as Finnick stares at Annie in the way Y/N has always desired. Perhaps if she had been honest about her feelings. Only she knows the amount of opportunities she could have told him. They’re countless, but she could never seem to decide when the perfect moment would be.

But that’s her fault for thinking that there never would be that special moment. If only her naive mind would have known at that time that the thing that makes moments special is the people, then maybe she would have found a way to tell him.

However, as she watches one singular tear fall from his eyes as Annie says her vows, she realizes that there’s no use of dwelling on the past. This is happening. She missed her chance and Finnick found his happy ending with someone else. Someone better. Who would never wait to tell him how now she loves him. Who wouldn’t hesitate in confessing her true feelings because that’s what he deserves. A life full of love.

Y/N is happy for him. She always will be. All she has ever wanted was for Finnick to have a future with someone that he cherishes and who admires him just as much… even if it’s not her.

But despite her joy for him, she can’t help but look away as the officiant pronounces them husband and wife. The way Finnick plants his lips on hers, with an undying flame of passion, it makes Y/N’s stomach twist and turn in ways that would send anyone to the infirmary.

When she finally finds the courage to look back, she notices him already staring at her. The bright smile on his face drops slightly when he analyzes her expression. He knows her fake smile anywhere. It’s accompanied by yet to be shed tears and a crease between her eyebrows. He’s mastered the art of reading the closed off book that is Y/N L/N.

He wants to reach out to her, pull her into his arms and ask what terrible thing could be plaguing her thoughts. But the feel of his newly wedded wife pulling on his arm distracts him. Annie pulls him down the aisle of cheering people as they clap and cheer for them. It’s not like they’re going far, just over to the clear area where the reception is. But his eyes never leave Y/N’s form as he’s rushed away. He watches as Johanna and Katniss walk up to his best friend before Y/N quickly brushes them off, walking in the opposite direction.

There’s something very wrong.

It’s only confirmed when five songs have already passed and Y/N still hasn’t shown up. He and Annie have been mingling as much as she’s comfortable with, dancing, and talking quietly to their close friends. His eyes constantly search the floor in hopes of seeing her. He doesn’t even realize how checked out he’s been until Johanna walks up to him, a glass of water in her hands since no one feels morally ambiguous enough to give her champagne.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to escape your own wedding,” she chimes sarcastically, sipping from her glass as she pretends there’s some kind of alcohol in it.

“What?” Finnick glances at her, his eyebrows furrowed. Annie is off talking to Haymitch and Beetee, two of the very few people she’s comfortable with. Hence why Finnick is now standing on his own at Johanna Mason’s mercy.

“Don’t try to play dumb, Odair,” she scoffs. “I’ve been watching you all night. You look like you’re trying to find a way to bust out of here without being caught. Constantly looking around, kind of shady if you ask me.” Her scrawny finger points over to Annie who has a happy smile on her face, “Especially when your betrothed is over there.”

“I’m not trying to find a way to bust out of here,” he shrugs off her accusation. “Just… keeping my head on a swivel is all.”

“Yeah, right.” Johanna nods mockingly. “You sure it’s not because you’re looking for a certain (h/c) haired girl with big (e/c) eyes who hasn’t been seen since you tied the knot?”

Finnick tenses, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he looks away from Johanna. She doesn’t need much more of a reaction to know she’s right. An obnoxious chuckle leaves her lips, “I knew it.” She shakes her head, “You’re unbelievable you know that? Both of you are, actually. I mean, the fact she ran off in the first place, and you’ve spent more than half of your wedding night looking for her… it’s pathetic, really.”

Finnick pauses as he takes in her words. Ran off sticks out in his mind because it implicates she’s choosing not to be here. “Do you know why she hasn’t showed up?” He asks quietly, a part of him pained that he hasn’t gotten to share a dance with her.

Johanna has never wanted to smack someone more. But instead of giving into her physical impulses, she settles for a verbal one instead. “Why don’t you go ask her yourself?” She quirks an eyebrow. “She went back up to her room, said she was feeling sick. Probably cooped up with one of the books she’s already read a million times.”

He feels himself become internally torn. His wife, the woman he just swore to love for the rest of his life, through sickness and in health is standing just a mere few feet away. He could forget all about this conversation and enjoy his night with his wife. He could dance his worries away and live one night in joy before this rebellion really hits the ground running.

But the tug on his heart is pulling him in the exact opposite direction.

And that’s how he ends up running through the emptied out corridors of District Thirteen, most of the residents downstairs at the party. His footsteps echo loudly in the silence, a hand running through his already messy hair. His once out together tie is now completely undone, the black cloth just dangling loosely around his neck. He feels his breath hitch when he reaches Y/N’s door. He raises a fist up to knock, but hesitates. What if she doesn’t want to see him? Or slams the door in his face once she sees it’s him. He doesn’t quite understand what he did to make her leave his wedding, but he can’t bear the thought of the woman he’s become so dependent on these last few years being mad at him.

Knock, knock.

Y/N brings her head out from in between her knees. Her eyes are red and puffy, the tears she shed long since dried. Her eyebrows furrow, not knowing who would be knocking at her door. She was positive that no one saw her leave besides Johanna and Katniss. A small part of her hopes it’s just a soldier doing rounds, checking in on residents, but something inside of her tells her it can’t be that simple.

She stands up from her rickety bed, her Best Woman dress now a wrinkled mess. She cringes at her appearance, not having seen the whole thing, but she knows she must look like a total wreck. She runs a hand over her face in hopes of making the swelling go down.

Y/N opens the door just a crack so no one could see the disaster she’s made herself. Her eyes widen when she sees a disheveled Finnick Odair standing on the other side. Alarm bells go off in her head, her cheeks flushing from pure embarrassment. The very person she’s been breaking down over for the past hour is standing outside her door.

“Can I come in?”

Her lips part slightly, looking more and more like a warm invitation than Finnick would like to admit. He gazes at her face and immediately knows she’s just got done crying. Her cheeks are puffy, eyes bloodshot, lips are a bright pink, and yet she still looks absolutely beautiful.

Y/N doesn’t realize how long they’ve been standing like that before answering. She blinks slowly, still processing his presence, “Yeah…” She winces at the weak sound of her voice. It’s rubbed completely raw, cracking at just one simple word.

She steps to the side, allowing Finnick to walk into her sanctuary. He nervously runs a hand through his blonde waves again as she closes the door behind them with a sniffle. He takes in her full appearance, noting she hadn’t even taken off her dress. Her bedsheets are in complete disarray, showing it must have been an emotional hour for her.

“What are you doing here, Finnick?” She manages to croak out, folding her arms over her chest. Not in a defensive manner, but almost as a way of protecting herself. Protecting herself from him. It makes his heart ache at the thought.

His mouth runs dry as he tries to find the right words. His tongue darts out over his lips in an attempt to come up with something, anything. “Um, I… I saw you leave earlier,” he admits breathily, the slight dent in his cheek from his dimple still there. How she loves his dimples. “I knew there was something wrong. You had your crying eyes, and not the fake ones you used in the Capitol, or the ones you would use to manipulate someone, but your real ones.” Her breath hitches as he takes a step towards her, concern the only expression on his face. “The ones that have only been reserved for me,” the last sentence comes out as a whisper. He towers over her, neck craning downwards just so he can look at her face. Not that she’s making any effort to make eye contact. In fact, she’s making it a point to stare anywhere else but at him.

He places his finger under her chin to force her to look at him, but she flinches. A part of him dies inside at the sight of her deliberately trying to get away from him. Like he had hurt her in some unimaginable way. He couldn’t. He could never hurt her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbles, tears brimming at her waterline once more as she takes a step back from him. Y/N curses herself in her mind for letting her vulnerability show. She’s never been a crier, and what makes it worse is that he’s right. He’s the only one who’s ever seen her real cry.

Finnick’s face falls, his own eyes glossing over. He takes another small step forward. He reaches out, lightly grabbing her hand. He can see she wants to pull away, but he silently pleads with her not to pull away. And once again, how could she say no to him?

So she lets him take her palms in his. “Yes, you do,” he insists. “Y/N, I know you. I know when you’re sad, angry, happy, passionate,” he lists off. “I don’t know what I did to make you so upset, but please talk to me.” Y/N squeezes her eyes shut tightly as the tears begin to fall again. He thinks it’s his fault that she’s like this. He sounds so desperate, so broken. “I’ve been waiting all night to see you, to dance with you, to just be with you–”

“Stop,” her voice cracks as a son wracks her body. “Please, stop,” she begs him.

Finnick’s entire world stops spinning as he realizes something. She’s not crying to him. She’s crying because of him. A surge of panic rises in his chest, confusion taking over his body. “Stop what?” He asks quietly, his shoulder visibly deflating.

“You can’t say things like that,” she whimpers softly, shaking her head. “You can’t do that.”

“Do what?” He asks her desperately, not understanding what’s going on. He tries to wrap his head around what she could mean. “Y/N, tell me what’s going on, please,” he pleads. “I just want to help you. I want to make you happy.”

“You can’t!” She finally exclaims, the floodgates opening as she pulls away from him. Her hands are clenched tightly into fists as she internally beats herself up. “You can’t help me. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn’t be telling me that you’ve been looking for me all night when your wife is downstairs. You shouldn’t be wanting to dance with me or to just be with me. And you shouldn’t be wanting to make me happy,” she rants out breathlessly.

Finnick’s at a loss for words, “Y/N, I–”

“No, Finnick!” She stops him, moving past him as she begins gathering all the stuff he’s given to her over the years from her bedside table. She’s kept every single little seashell he’s brought to her from the beaches of District Four, every little pebble, bracelet, photo, drawing, all of it. They’re some of her most prized possessions. But she can’t keep them anymore. Not when they simply serve as a reminder of her failed attempt at love. “You can’t do this. I can’t do this,” she sobs, putting all of the keepsakes in a small box before walking over to him and shoving them into his chest.

“You need to leave,” she commands. “Now.”

Finnick looks down at the box, every memory they’ve shared together playing in his head. He remembers everything in this box. Every reason why he picked a certain shell, why he thought a certain drawing reminded him of her, even the matching bracelet he still wears to this day. If only she knew it was hidden delicately under the cuff link of his suit.

“You need to go back downstairs,” Y/N continues. “Go enjoy your party. It’s your wedding night. Go be with your wife and the people who are there for the right reasons. Go be with Annie and just leave me alone, please.” She begs desperately. “Live your life with her and just please leave me out of it.”

His eyes snap upward, “What?”

“Leave me out of your life,” she repeats as if it was nothing. Like it wasn’t a serrated knife she just plunged deeply into his chest.

“What the hell do you mean ‘leave you out of my life?’” Finnick raises his voice. It’s not in an angry way, but in an emotional one. He’s normally levelheaded, but hearing that makes it feel like his entire heart is being torn to shreds. “What does that even mean Y/N?”

“It means I can’t keep doing this, Finnick!” She responds with just as much vulnerability. “I can’t live the rest of my life watching you be happy with her. I can’t do it!”

“You can’t watch me be happy?” He scoffs. “Really?” He deliberately walks forward, the box still in his hands, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping it.

Y/N looks for an escape route, but it seems he’s managed to trap her between her bedside table, the wall, and her bed. The only way out would be to jump over one of the furniture pieces and there is no way she can do that in this dress.

“I–I– that’s–” she groans loudly, trying to keep herself from screaming out of pure frustration. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what do you mean?!” He shouts, practically tossing the box onto her table with a loud thud. “Because I don’t understand! You’re not making any sense. You’re running away from my wedding, giving me back all the things that make me think of you, and now telling me you don’t want to be a part of my life anymore?” He shakes his head exasperatedly. “I don’t know what’s going on with you Y/N, but you need to tell me.”

“I want you to be happy, Finnick!” She screams. “I do, okay? I really do! But I can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t kill me inside whenever I see you two together,” she cries and all he wants to do is pull her in his arms and tell her it’s all going to be okay. “I’ve tried for so long to swallow my selfishness, but it’s becoming too hard. But I can’t ruin your wedding. I can’t stand the thought of getting in the way of your happiness, so the only way we both can move on from this unscathed is if I remove myself from your life,” she explains, wiping the snot from underneath her nose. “It’ll be better that way.”

“No offense, but that is the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he snaps, his face turning red. Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline out of shock. “How dense do you have to be to think that my life will be better without you in it?” He lets out a laugh but there is absolutely no humor behind it. “Y/N I would be an absolute mess if I didn’t have you around. The only way you would be standing in the way of my happiness is if you left me.”

“Finnick…” her bottom lip quivers as she shakes her head. “I just can’t anymore. It’s too hard. You’ll get over missing me eventually. You’ll have Annie to help you.”

“I don’t want you out of my life!” Finnick practically rips his own hair out. How is she not understanding how much she means to him? “What do you not get about the fact that I would fall apart without you, huh?!” He has to pull back slightly to try and calm himself. “I don’t want to get over missing you. I want to have you. I want to be able to see you, to hug you, to tell you about my day, to go to you for anything and everything.”

“That’s why you have Annie!” Y/N points towards the door, not caring if any people passing by hear them.

“I DON’T WANT ANNIE!”

Just like that it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Finnick’s chest heaves up and down with every heavy breath he takes. Y/N’s brain buffers as she tries to register what he just confessed. It doesn’t even look like he realizes what he said. He exhales shakily, “I– I don’t… I don’t want her,” he says almost like it’s a realization.

“Finn…” Y/N says sympathetically, “You don’t know what you’re saying.” She tries to find a logical explanation. “You’re upset and–”

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” he scoffs with a definite nod. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m saying.” He moves in closer to the point where Y/N can feel his breath fanning her face. Her mind is screaming at her to move away, but the rest of her forces her to remain in her place. In fact, her face draws nearer, getting lost in his seafoam eyes. “She’s not you, Y/N…”

Y/N nods slowly, “You’re right, she’s not.” Her throat bobs notably as she swallows. “But she is your wife,” she reminds him, her voice becoming softer as he continues leaning in. “Your wife who is patiently waiting for you to go back to her. To your wedding reception.”

“I’m busy,” he justifies like Annie is nothing but an afterthought. “I have more important things to take care of right now…”

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” she says against his lips.

He reaches up, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb as he wipes away her tears. “When will you realize Y/N/N? I’m always gonna feel the need to take care of you.”

“You shouldn’t,” she counters. “You can’t feel that way about me… Not when she’s waiting downstairs for you.”

“Do you always have to be this stubborn?” His eyes bore into hers, making a shiver run down her spine. His voice is dangerously low, it manages to scare and excite her at the same time. “Don’t you think I would be with Annie right now if that was my priority?”

Y/N can feel the air between them sizzling. If anyone were to walk in they’d be found in a very compromising position. Y/N tries to force herself to think of Annie, to think of how she would feel finding her husband here with his best friend like this. But the way Finnick’s scent fills her nose completely clouds her judgement. Or her will to care about anything else other than how badly she wants to completely close the distance between them.

“Finnick, you can’t throw away what you’ve built with her this soon,” Y/N still tries to maintain the moral high ground. “I’ve watched the way you look at her for years. She’s your entire world,” her eyes fall to the floor as she recalls the painful memories.

“Is that the truth? Or is that what you’ve convinced yourself so that you didn’t have to tell me what you actually felt?”

Y/N’s heart stutters in her chest, her pulse quickening as the walls she’s built around herself begin to crack. He can’t be serious, can he? She can’t—she won’t—let herself believe it. But the way he’s looking at her, the way his words settle in the space between them… it’s undeniable.

"Finnick, you’re married," she protests weakly, though it sounds more like a plea than an argument. “I can’t—”

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he interrupts, his voice steady and firm. “Waiting for you to admit that you feel the same way. I know you do.”

Y/N feels the air between them thicken. Her thoughts race, but they can’t keep up with what’s happening right in front of her. Finnick, this man she’s loved for so long, is standing here, his eyes filled with something she can’t quite name—but it’s the same thing that’s always been there.

“I’ve waited for you to tell me you love me,” he adds, his voice rougher now, the teasing tone fading into something deeper, more intense. “I’ve been waiting for you to say it.”

Y/N’s stomach twists. She wants to run. She wants to tell him how wrong this is, how much she’s tried to bury her feelings for him because she knows she can’t have him. But as she looks up at him, she sees it—the same longing she’s felt, the same unspoken desire. And it’s too much. Too strong.

"I..." She doesn’t know what to say. How to explain the years of silence, of holding back. She swallows hard, struggling to find the right words.

“Say it,” his eyes darken as he commands her to do as he asks, yet there’s still a sense of pleading. Like he’s begging to hear it. “Enough excuses. There is no right time. I wanna hear you say it.”

“Finnick–” She tries to protest.

“Don’t make me force it out of you,” he says with a bit of playfulness. She knows he would never do anything to force her, but with the mischievous glint in his eyes, she’s not sure what his plan would be.

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. The room feels impossibly small, the space between them closing in with every breath. Finnick watches her, his dazzling smile never fading, but there’s something else in his gaze now—something raw and primal.

“You know, I could be wrong,” he says, his voice soft, as if coaxing her, trying to break that last string of restraint she’s holding onto. “Maybe you don’t feel that way. Maybe I’m just... imagining things.”

Y/N looks at him, her chest tightening as she fights the truth she’s kept hidden for so long. “You know you’re not imagining things…," she says, almost choking on the words. “But this is wrong, Finn. We can’t just—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts, his voice fierce, his hands gripping her hips as he pulls her closer. “I’ve been waiting for you, Y/N. You think I don’t care about Annie? Of course I do. But I told you, she’s never going to be you.” He leans in, his breath hot against her lips. “I’m not asking you to fix this for me. I just need you to admit what we both already know.”

Her pulse is racing, her head spinning. She’s so close to losing herself, to giving in to everything she’s been holding back. And then something magical happens, “I… I love you,” if Finnick wasn’t so close to her lips, he never would’ve heard the sacred sentence he’s been longing for. Her words echo in his mind like a mantra he wants to keep on repeat for the rest of his life. It pushes him closer to the precipice and when she opens her mouth to say something, Finnick stops her, his lips crashing down on hers before she can get a single syllable out.

It’s not gentle. It’s raw and desperate, a release of everything they’ve both been holding inside. Y/N’s hands fist in the fabric of his shirt as she kisses him back, all the years of unspoken feelings flooding to the surface. She doesn’t care about the guilt anymore. Doesn’t care about what’s right or wrong. She only cares about the way his mouth moves against hers, the way his touch makes her feel like she’s finally home.

When they pull apart, breathless, both of them are lost in the realization of what just happened. Y/N’s head is spinning, her heart racing in her chest, but Finnick doesn’t let go. He’s looking at her with a softness she’s never seen before.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he whispers, his forehead resting against hers. “I’ve been waiting for you to admit it. I just... I just needed to hear you say it.”

“I... Oh my gosh,” her mind floods with guilt once again. “What did we just do?” She goes to hide her face but Finnick’s grip on her arms stops her. “We can’t do this,” Y/N admits, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re married, Finnick. I can’t—”

“Don’t. Care,” he repeats, his hands sliding to the bottom of her thighs as he wraps her legs around his waist. He can’t help but smirk cockily as she doesn’t fight it. It’s finally his time to show her what they’ve been missing playing this little game of cat and mouse. “I don’t care about that right now. All I care about is this.” His lips find hers again, more gentle this time, as if they’re both trying to savor this moment, this long-awaited release.

The kiss deepens, slow and steady, as if the weight of everything they’ve both been holding in is finally being released. It’s messy and complicated and full of years of longing.

And then, with a soft moan, Finnick pulls away just enough to catch his breath. “I’ve wanted to show you how much I love you for so long” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. Without waiting for an answer, he scoops her up, carrying her to the bed.

Y/N’s heart is still pounding, the reality of the moment not quite sinking in yet. She’s still processing everything—his kiss, his words, the weight of what they’ve just done. But none of it matters right now. Not when he’s here, with her.

He lays her down gently, his hands caressing her face as he looks down at her, eyes filled with an emotion that almost feels too much for this moment. “You’re my everything,” he whispers, his voice breaking with the weight of his admission.

She reaches up, cupping his face with her hands, her fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “And you’re mine.”

And with that, they kiss again—more tender this time, but no less intense. The world outside doesn’t exist anymore. There’s only the two of them, finally letting go of everything that’s held them apart.

The night stretches on as they lose themselves in each other, every touch, every kiss, a promise that no matter what happens next, they’ve finally found what they were both waiting for.

#finnick odair x reader #female reader #the hunger games imagines #finnick odair imagines #annie cresta #johanna mason #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #beetee latier #district 13 #alma coin #thg finnick #thg fanfiction #the mockingjay

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starryevermore · 1 year ago

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the house of snow (6) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: now that he knows of sejanus’s interest in you, coriolanus can only think of how to keep you away from him.

word count: 2,566

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: coryo’s pov, hints of manipulative!coryo, obsessive!coryo, possessive!coryo, jealous!coryo

You were maddening. Did you not have any idea of the effect you had on him? Did you not realize that you occupied every single one of Coriolanus’s thoughts? Did you not realize that you made him want to destroy all of Panem if only for a moment of your time? But now, now you looked at him with nothing but loathing in your eyes. Why? Because he gave you a kiss? Did it not take your breath away as it did for him?

Coriolanus could still feel your lips pressed against his. How soft your lips were. The way you gasped as he kissed you. How, for just a moment, you almost allowed him to touch you like that. Then you were pushing him away, looking up at him with nothing but fire in your eyes.

He almost wanted to laugh at the sight. Your lips were pressed into a thin line, your fists clenched into fists at your side. You were adorable when you were angry. No more serious than Coriolanus the Cat when he hissed at Coriolanus (the human) when he walked by. Coriolanus, for a moment, considered laughing. He liked seeing you this riled up. It made him wonder if you would be so…vivacious on your wedding night.

“What the hell was that!?” you shouted. Coriolanus stifled his snort. Were you truly that enraged by being kissed by him? “You cannot just, just kiss someone! We are not married, Snow! You promised that you would not ruin me!”

“Did I? I only recall saying your reputation would never be harmed.” Coriolanus rolled his eyes as he reached out for you again. He liked touching you. It made his mind a little quieter, reminded him that you were his. And now that he’s finally had you in an intimate way—your first and your last kiss—he wanted to do it again, and again, and again—lunch be damned. He imagined your mother still waiting in the dining room as the minutes ticked by, worry and concern and anger racing through her mind as she realized he was, in fact, ruining you for anyone else. Coriolanus licked his lips, realizing you weren’t pushing him away. Was this anger all a façade? Was this just an act for you to make him think you hated him? Were you as plagued by him as he was by you? “And it will not be, I will promise you that. If I wish, however, to kiss my fiancée in private, I shall do so.”

“You only did this so I would feel guilty if I tried to leave you for Sejanus, which I have already told I would not do!”

“No,” he said. “I did this because you drive me mad.”

“Then lock yourself in an asylum. Do not kiss me.”

Oh, there you go again. Saying such outlandish things to get a rise out of him. He loved when you were like this. He reached up, caressing your face. You tried to jerk away. And while he did love you like this, Coriolanus was also keenly aware that he needed to keep you in your place. He pinched your chin between his fingers. “You are to be my wife. You are to be the wife of a king. I shall treat you however I see fit. Do you understand?”

When you said nothing, he pinched harder. “Do you understand?”

“Only if you understand that I will hate you until the day I die.”

Coriolanus finally let out a laugh. Oh, you couldn’t be serious, could you? Were you not aware of the thin line between love and hatred, connected by the heat of passion? Did you not realize how easy it would be to get you to love him when you already felt so strongly about him? Coriolanus was sure that, by the time of the wedding, you would care for him just the same as he cared for you.

“Don’t be ridiculous, petal,” Coriolanus said. He let go of your chin, using that hand to take one of your own. “Come now, let us have lunch now. Perhaps some food will help you calm down.”

“Calm down?” you repeated. “You cannot be serious, Snow.”

Ugh. There you go again—only calling him by his last name. It was an improvement, he supposed, from only calling him “Your Majesty.” But why was he limited to his surname when Sejanus received the honor of being called by his first? Surely there couldn’t just be friendship be you and the Plinth boy. Perhaps that was why you always held him at arm’s length. Perhaps there was more there that you did not want Coriolanus to know. He still did not know what you meant by “Sejanus was right.” What was the secret you were keeping from him?

“And why wouldn’t I be? You have been acting as if I have threatened to lock you away until our wedding day. All I have done is ask one thing of you, and I have kissed you.”

“You asked me to stop talking to my friend. You…You accosted me!”

Coriolanus barked out a laugh. “And I compromised on the first point. I asked for you to refrain from speaking to him until after the wedding. As for accosting to you? What do you think will happen when we are at the altar? Better yet, when we consummate the marriage?”

You looked away from him. Ah, it seemed you hadn’t considered that. Were you as innocent as you seemed? Has your mother not yet informed you of how you would provide him heirs? He supposed that was right. Most Mama’s kept their daughters uninformed about those sorts of intimacies. It helped ensure that young ladies were not tempted in the same way young men were. You were as pure as they came, he mused, and Coriolanus Snow could not wait to ruin you. “Do not patronize me.”

“It is hardly patronizing to bring up the realities of our relationship. Now, come, let us have lunch.”

“Snow—”

Coriolanus ground his teeth together. What did he have to do to get you to refer to him by his first name? The only time he got to hear his name from your mouth was when you talked about that damned cat. He supposed that was better than nothing, but he wanted to be the only man that occupied your mind. For you to say his name because you cared for him the same way he cared for you. He imagined it sounded pretty, his name passing through your lips, honeyed with love and affection. What might it sound like when you were screaming it?

“I believe the terms of our agreement were that you behave, yes? So, I will only tell you once more that we are going to have lunch, and you shall follow me into the dining room. You will sit beside me. You will laugh when I tell you jokes. You will smile and you will be the perfect picture of a Queen. Am I understood?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. For a second, he wondered if you would have a comeback that make him both want to laugh and scream. But, instead, you said, “I will not be who you want me to be, even if I am on my best behavior.”

That day, you ate lunch in complete silence.

“Why is he here?” Coriolanus asked your mother as the Plinth family entered the ballroom.

Your mother was hosting a ball to celebrate your engagement to Coriolanus. He, admittedly, was growing tired of these ridiculous affairs. If he could, he would speed this entire process along and enjoy the month-long solitude that the honeymoon would bring. It would, after all, be one of the rare times he did not have to attend any public engagements, attend any meetings, or ensure that the policies being adopted were following his agenda. He would be able to enjoy you completely and fully. Yet, he had to be patient. These sorts of engagements were tricky. If he moved too fast, he risked the ton thinking that he had already ruined you. The optics of that sort of rumor would not go ever well. It was not enough for Coriolanus to have power—he had to be beloved by the people who mattered.

Of course, the ball might not have been such a terrible idea. It gave him an excuse to be near you. To remind the ton that you were his and he was yours. The only condition he gave when he received the news was that the Plinths not be in attendance.

“She threw a fit when she saw that they had not been included in the invitations,” your mother said. “I did not tell her it was because you asked for them to be excluded, if you are wondering. But she said she would sooner pitch herself out the window than allow her friend to be slighted like this.”

Coriolanus hummed. “You have to admire her loyalty, don’t you? Such a shame she doesn’t extend those same feelings toward me.”

“She will, eventually, Your Majesty. She’s stubborn, but not a halfwit. I’m sure after you two are married and have children, she’ll come to realize that you are the best husband she could dream of.”

“I believe she still hopes for a love match to save her from all this.”

When Coriolanus looked at your mother, she was rolling her eyes. “There is little a love match can provide that a well-bred husband cannot. I must take some blame, of course. I used to tell her about how in love her father and I were in our youth. How it felt like nothing in the world could stop us. I filled her head with hopes and dreams that she might find the same. I forgot to tell her how love can dwindle into nothing. About what happens when you think too much of the present and not the future.” Your mother looked up at Coriolanus. “There is no better man suited for her than you, Your Majesty, and she will realize it eventually.”

“Perhaps.” Coriolanus watched as Sejanus made his way through the crowd, to the refreshment table where you stood. His heart beat quickened. No. Sejanus could not steal you away, and certainly not at a ball celebrating your engagement to the King. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Coriolanus ignored the throngs of people vying for his attention. If he thought the meddling Mama’s were terrible before he was engaged to you, they were even worse now. Despite his obvious commitment to you, they seemed convinced that he could be so easily swayed. It took everything in him to not lose his temper. It would not go over well with the public, and he imagined it would go even worse with you. So, he held his tongue and offered tight-lipped smiles as he maneuvered through the crowd.

As he neared you, however, he began to slow. As much as he would like to get between you and Sejanus to prevent anymore conspiring against him, he was equally interested in hearing what Sejanus had to say to you. Was he confessing his love to you? Was he convincing you to run away and elope with him? The Plinths still owned their home from the times before gaining their title. It would be the perfect place for Sejanus to hide away with you.

Hmm…That was an interesting thought. Not Sejanus with you, of course. But the idea of taking you to a home in the country. Perhaps he could arrange for your honeymoon to be spent away from the Capitol? Coriolanus owned a nice summer home far, far from the Capitol. It might do him some good to get you away from the bustle of the city, to show you that Coriolanus could be a good husband if you would be a good wife. Yes, that was a good idea. He’ll need to make some arrangements as soon as the ball is over.

Coriolanus hung back in Sejanus’s shadow, careful to make sure neither you nor Sejanus did not see him. This could only work if his presence was not noticed.

“May I?” Sejanus was asking you, reaching for your hand. You allowed him to take it, lifting your hand closer to his face. For a moment, Coriolanus wondered if Sejanus was going to kiss your knuckles. Instead, he looked at the ring you wore over your long, white glove. “Coryo knows how to pick his jewelry.”

You hummed. He wished he could see your face. “I think it is a bit…obvious, don’t you? Every one knows his obsession with roses.”

“How fitting, then, he placed a permanent rose on his new obsession.”

“Is it a new obsession? You made it sound like his…so called infatuation with me ran much deeper the last we spoke.” Coriolanus wished you would pull your hand away. Why did you still allow Sejanus to touch you? He was the only person you should let hold your hand. “What is new is the…news of who you have had your eye on.”

The tips of Sejanus’s ears turned red. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Ah, so Livia and Clemmie were only gossiping then?”

“They are good at that, yes.”

It was true, then. Sejanus’s interest in you. Coriolanus crept around, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. Now that this was confirmed, he really did not want Sejanus around you—their friendship be damned. Coriolanus was not going to let anyone stand in between his marriage to you.

“I wish you would have told me, Sej,” you said.

Coriolanus ground his teeth together. Was it not enough for you to call Sejanus by his name? Did you have to have a nickname for him too?

“It wouldn’t have made any difference. Coryo has always cared for you. He’s done so much for me, I couldn’t get in the way of that.”

“It would have made a difference to me.”

Sejanus rubbed his thumb over your knuckles, his thumb pausing over your engagement ring. “It is sweet you think that.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up into a smile. “It is a naïve thought, isn’t it?”

Finally, finally, Sejanus dropped your hand. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the engagement. I’m sure you have many more people to talk to.”

“I would rather talk to you. But…I suppose I should take this as an opportunity to learn more about hosting. I am sure Snow will want many social engagements to prove we are a happy couple.”

Sejanus raised a brow. “Snow? My, that is a new development of your own.”

“Quiet. Were you not just saying you were leaving?” You tilted your head to the dance floor. “Go, find someone to dance with.”

“No one could compare to you.” But he walked away all the same.

As Sejanus walked away, Coriolanus stepped in to take his place.

“He is only a friend, Snow.”

For once, Snow said nothing. Not because he believed you, but because he was thinking of the most effective way to keep you away from Sejanus until after the wedding. Because he will be damned if he let Sejanus attempt anything that could take you from him.

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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hidden-poet · 11 months ago

Text

S. lands on top: chapter 4

summary: Coriolanus returns home to the Capital with two women from district 12 plaguing his mind. One a (presumed) dead mystery but another well within his reach.

warnings: unco, dark!Coriolanus, possessive!Corirlanus, Dark themes, mentions of death, she/her pronouns, kidnapping, violence, somnophilia.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

S. lands on top; 4

Strabo Plinth was waiting for Coriolanus as he exited his university class.

“Mr. Plinth, sir,” Coriolanus greeted, his voice carrying his annoyance.

“Coriolanus,” the older man returns, placing a hand on Coriolanus’ shoulder and propelling him forward out of the crowd of his peers.

“We haven’t seen you in a while. Mrs. Plinth was asking about you.”

“I’ve been busy, sir, with University.”

More, in truth, with Mabel.

“Of course, but perhaps you could manage dinner on Saturday night. We promise not to keep you long.”

Coriolanus swallows his distaste. He hated being at the beck and call of district blood. Now that he was a Gamemaker, he earnt a decent wage and could afford to distance himself from the Plinths. But Strabo Plinth offered far more than money. He was a powerful ally to have in Coriolanus' corner.

So he smiles at the older man and doesn’t jerk from his touch.

“Why don’t you and Ma come up to our penthouse Saturday? There’s someone I would like you to meet.”

It would be a good opportunity to test Mabel’s training on people who don’t really matter.

Strabo seemed pleased with the news, and confirmed that both him and his wife would be there. He finishes his sentence with ‘son’ and Coriolanus couldn’t help but flinch.

—--

With Reaping Day coming up, Coriolanus and the other Gamemakers were working overtime to get everything organized on time.

It frustrated him to no end. Dr. Gaul had already set him an impossible target and now she was shortening the deadline.

He had been forced to authorize a heavy hand with Mrs. Fox. Mabel’s hands were often red and sore from the cane by the time he came home, but her temper flared bright still.

She was a dog with teeth and he was yet to get her to eat from the palm of his hand.

She loved a challenge, but so did he.

By the time he got home, the house was dark and quiet. Normally Tigris would sit up and wait but she wasn’t talking to Coriolanus much these days. Another problem that would be solved the second Mabel learned to submit.

Coriolanus finds his way to his bedroom and locks the door behind him.

He could see Mabel’s outline on the bed as he dropped his bag by his desk. He isn’t quiet as pulls his pajamas from the drawer, and heads to the bathroom. He hears Mabel move as he switches on the light in the bathroom, he turns back to see if she had woken.

She had not but the sight before him struck a match.

She was back in his top and underwear. Her soft hair seemed to shine with its new care and was sprawled around her. Long locks curled on her shoulder towards her breasts. She laid on her back as if she was showcasing her beauty to Coriolanus. Her neck stretched out to him as her head rolled to one side. Her legs slightly parted as one rested on the pillow she used as a barrier. Pretty pink lips and long eyelashes called out to him, taunting him, ‘You can look but you can’t touch’. But why couldn’t he? He owned her now. He was soon to own Panem.

He drops his pajamas and crawls on the bed over her. She doesn’t wake from his presence, and he takes it as a go-ahead to unbutton her top. The cold air does wake her. She instantly knows what he’s doing and screams for Tigris.

Covering her mouth with his hand, he brings his lips down to her ear, “Shh, don’t wake the house.”

She screams into his hand and he removes it to backhand her. She lets out a moan of pain, but nothing more.

He is rougher with his movements, yanking the shirt off her shoulders and pulling her up by the neck to get rid of it completely. He uses both hands to pull her pants off her ankles before returning.

“Get the fuck off me!” she yells and he covers her mouth once more.

“You’ve cost me quite a bit of money these last few weeks. Your governess, the peacekeepers, food, chocolates.”

His hand lowers to rub circles over her sex.

“You should really thank me.”

Her hips buck at his touch. She was no virgin and knew of the release Coriolanus was offering.

He presses his lips down against hers harshly. It was their first kiss and it was intoxicating. She doesn’t kiss back but makes no move to hinder his kiss. His hand goes back over her lips when he’s done and he undresses himself one-handedly.

He tries not to hurt her as he clumsily tears his clothes off but as she wiggles and fights under him, he is forced to press her back into the mattress with his elbows and knees.

He presses his naked body down on Mabel to stop her from wiggling. His strong fingers grip over her mouth and her nails claw into his shoulders, trying to hurt him.

“Put your hands on the headboard,” he demands.

She brings them up to his neck and digs in.

“Headboard,” he repeats with a firm twist of her hair.

She does put them up, curling her little fingers around the rich material.

One day, when everything was settled, he was going to take his time exploring every inch of Mabel. But for right now, he just needed to reach the end goal.

He inserts a finger into her to pleasantly find she was wet. His eyes darted up to her at the sensation.

She had chosen to close her eyes. He takes it as another victory.

He breaches her entrance with his finger but never fully enters. Just pushes his finger back and forth.

“Let see, your governess is on a thousand panem an hour and you districts make only one panem an hour. Add that to all the chocolate you eat, and well, you’ll be laying down, taking my cock for a while to come.”

In anger, she lowers her hand to give his curls a harsh pull. He slaps her thigh in retaliation.

“Keep your hands on the headboard.”

She places them back on the headboard.

He used to imagine sneaking out the back of the Hob with Mabel like he watched her do with so many other men. This was better.

She tossed those men aside when she was done. Never to be spoken about again.

Here, the only man who would touch her would be him.

He lines himself up with her and pushes himself as far as he could go. She arches her back at the feeling of him inside her. With a hand over her mouth, he begins to thrust into her. He could feel her lips part under his hand in quiet moans. She used her feet to push back at his hips but it was a half-hearted effort at the least.

He reaches up to the headboard and clamps one of his hands down on hers ensuring that it stays there. His thrusts are hard and fast.

He hits a particular spot and her hips buck.

“You like it there?” he targets the same location. Her hands grapple the headboard almost as a praise.

“Bet those boys in 12 never fucked you like this. Never gave you the proper attention you deserve.”

She said something into his hand but it was muffled and surly from her lust.

Her breathing hitches as the pleasure builds, he can feel her little puffs of air fall on the skin of his hand. Giving her the full treatment, he lowers his hands and rubs two fingers over her clit. She jumps and whines from the attention. It was better than any song Lucy Gray ever sang.

Between his thrusting and his fingering, she came within seconds.

He lets out an unintended moan as she clenches around him. Her fight returns as her orgasm is flushed from her and she begins to wiggle underneath him.

He barrows down again in retaliation, so she was forced to lie there and take it. He shows her mercy by taking away his hand and using it to hold her hips in place.

“You’re used to taking charge, aren’t you? Once you’ve had your fill, you would toss them aside without theirs. Rude girl.”

She throws her head back and his hand follows as his thrusts become painful. When she lowers her hands to his arms without permission, he doesn’t mind.

His head spun. For the first moment since childhood, he was living in the present and not plotting and scheming for the future.

Heavy pants accompanied his thrusts as the hard and fast movements worked his body.

He lowers his head to her neck as he feels his end coming. The position meant his lips were pressed against her collarbone as he came inside her. His hips buck weakly a few times at the end to ensure that he had fully emptied himself.

Coriolanus rolls off her and into his side of the bed.

She lays there as Coriolanus’ cum drips out of her, deathly still while he pants breathlessly.

She doesn’t say anything as she rises and takes Coriolanus’ shower, slamming the door behind her.

The next morning he rose in good spirits. After so long he finally got a taste of Mabel. He was right to say she was addictive. Still, he didn’t want children running around his feet. He had only just got her. He rang down for Profeous, a pill that worked within a 24-hour time frame to ensure that nothing stuck.

It was delivered with his morning paper. Mabel was still not up yet. He doubted she went to sleep until the early hours of the morning. It wasn’t his problem, he needed her to get up now, take the pill, and have some breakfast. She could nap later on.

He brings her the pill and a cup of water.

She lay curled into a ball on her side. He shook her until she unrolled herself.

She sat up, with her eyes stuck together from sleep. She won the battle against them and looked at Coriolanus sitting on the end of the bed.

“Good morning,” he greets, holding out his palm with the little white pill.

“What is it?” she asks.

“It’ll stop you from getting pregnant.”

She snatches it off him and downs it without water. He places a hand on her shoulder as he leans over to place the cup of water on the bedside table.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she brushes his hand off.

“You didn’t seem to mind me touching you last night.”

She glares at him with a fury that doesn’t suit her beauty.

“That had nothing to do with you.”

“That had everything to do with me.” he cockily replies.

“It’s a natural reaction. God's gift to any man who can find the clitoris.”

She takes the water off the table and gulps it down.

“I knew you were going to,” she admits softly.

“Well, you’re not stupid”.

“So that’s how it will be now? It’s begun.” She rested her head against the cool glass as she spoke. Before regaining herself and placing the glass bedside table, forfeiting her comfort in an effort to seem more put together.

“Sex doesn’t scare me,” she remarks.

“It’s not supposed to.”

“You can’t use it to break me.”

He places a hand on her thigh in comfort. She tenses under it but doesn’t move it off her to show him that intimacy couldn’t be used as a weapon.

“Mabel, your life here can be comfortable or it can be very uncomfortable for you. Sex can be something enjoyable for both of us, or it can just be enjoyable for me. You can have food and clothes and as much chocolate as you can eat.”

“So long as I open my legs,” she had a habit of interrupting him that he had yet to break.

“And keep your mouth shut.”

He gets up from the bed, shoving his hands in his pocket and standing above her.

“There’s a dinner on Saturday night where you will be presented to the Plinths. A trial run for you to show me that you can learn your place here in the Capitol.”

“My place as you captive,” she bit. He yanks her chin up to him,

“Your place as my pet.”

She glares at him.

“My little lap dog,” he mocks, releasing her.

Intimacy didn’t scare her, the loss of independence did.

—————-

Coriolanus spent his Saturday completing an assignment that wasn’t due for another two weeks. But the quicker he got school out of the way the more he could focus on Mabel.

He hid at his writing desk, penning the paper while Mabel sat with Tigris in the living room sewing.

He had left the door open to hear any commotion but he only heard laughter and the occasional scolding of Grandma’am.

The night was fast approaching and he still had to organize the meal for tonight. Despite being district, Strabo had particular tastes that he demanded to be catered to.

He sighs as he places his pen back in its holder. Two assignments down, four to go.

Coriolanus rises from his chair and heads to the living room to organize dinner with the chef.

Mabel paid him no mind as he entered the room. She makes a point to not look at him but continue her sewing as if he wasn’t there.

He plays the same game as he continues his way to the kitchen and calls down for the chef to be brought up.

While waiting in the living room for the chef, Coriolanus calls for Tigris. Mabel doesn’t turn at the sound of his voice but Tigris scurries over to him.

He produces two tickets from his pocket and passes them to her.

“I’ve made dinner reservations at the Venezia at 6 and requested a lounge with Pluribus at his nightclub for after the Opera.”

“Opera?” Tigris checks the dates of the tickets, “Tonight!”

“For Grandma’am and you”.

She eyes Coriolanus suspiciously.

“I’m not so sure, Coryo.”

“Mabel will be fine here with me.”

“She’s been funny recently. Quite. I don’t think I should leave her.”

“You leave her every day, Tigris, when you go to work,” he flicks the tickets in her hands, “Besides I’ve already told Grandma’am that you’re taking her.”

There’s a knock at the door from the chef and Coriolanus pats Tigris on the shoulder as he leaves.

He passes the living room, crossing directly where Mabel sat but she still refused to look at him.

—----------------

Coriolanus digs in Tigris’ closet while Mabel was taking a shower. No dress was up to his standard. He wanted something that let Mabel’s beauty speak for itself. Tigris hid behind her clothes. They were all too colorful. Too eccentric. Nothing Mabel wouldn’t drown in.

His hands went still over a simple black evening gown with a sweetheart neckline and small cap sleeves. He takes it for Mabel along with Tigris’ makeup bag off her vanity and brings it to his room with the dress. Still hearing the shower running, he leaves the items on the end of the bed and joins Mabel in the shower, leaving a trail of clothes as he strips.

She gives no reaction to him. Showers together were a regular occurrence.

He picks up the scented soap and lathers it over her body.

“I’ve put a dress on the end of the bed for you. And some makeup. Do you know how to use it?”

She grabs the soap off him and distances her.

“We had makeup in District 12.”

She goes to pass him out of the shower but he catches her arm and pulls her back under the stream.

“Nothing clownish. Keep it simple. And mind your manners tonight. Plinth doesn’t take disrespect easily.”

Coriolanus leaves the shower first to prepare himself. He brushes and dries his curls into submission. Rubs an expensive cream into his skin to give it a healthy, glowy look and then hunts in his closet for something to match Mabel. He knew he had a black suit that had dark patterned printing on it. But amongst his many clothes, it was difficult to locate.

When he finally locates it, Mabel had already dressed and begun styling her hair and makeup. He could hear her behind him as he then went to find the perfect pair of shoes to match.

She hums as she does her makeup, finding joy in once again dressing up.

It was nearly time for the Plinths to come up from their apartment just below. They had brought the floor below the penthouse to stay close to Coriolanus after the death of their son. They latched on to him quickly when he returned home. Replacing the hole Sirjanus left before it bled too much. At first, Coriolanus relished in the attention and the money. But as he rose in society, they got in his way more often than not.

While Strabo was often an ally, one that Coriolanus was surprised to find had a lot in common with, Ma was a hindrance. Her outdated fashion despite her money, and her babying of Coriolanus in public made it almost not worth the connection to her husband. But all people still had their use. She had brought him the suit he now wore.

The jacket buttoned upon his right shoulder, giving the suit an almost military feeling.

He turns around to see Mabel putting on her red lipstick using a small standing mirror. She looked stunning. Her dress was tight upon her body, exemplifying her curves and pushing up her small breasts. She pinned her hair up in a loose bun and followed his instructions on the minimalistic makeup.

His breathing hitched looking at her. He thought she was beautiful as district scum, he had no idea how beautiful she could be as a Capitol debutante.

She catches him staring in the mirror and tosses her lipstick down.

“They’ll be here soon. It’s custom to wait in the living room.”

She rises and spins for him.

“Happy?”

“You look fine,” he dismisses but a glint in her eye tells him she knew how good she looked.

The doorbell rings as soon as they reach the living room.”

“For a party of a higher standing, we would have servants answer the door. Being as the Plinths are close family friends, I will answer,” he spoke as he walked to the door.

As soon as it opened, a short woman in a dark green skirt suit popped in.

“Coryo!” Mrs. Plinth croons and he bends down to her level so she can plant a kiss on his cheek, “We’ve missed you horribly!”

“I’ve been busy, Ma. With school and work.”

“You mustn't work too hard,” the older lady looks concerned at Coriolanus' schedule. Her eyes softened at his before they caught Mabel out of her peripheral vision.

“Oh dear,” Mr. Plinth had not told her about the special someone Coriolanus wanted them to meet and was surprised to see Mabel standing in the living room. Mr. Plinth smiles as he lingers behind his wife, holding a plate of food. It was a pleasant surprise, one that he knew would make Ma happy.

“Hello,” Mabel greets politely.

Ma was happy with the surprise, grinning from ear to ear as she walked towards Mabel.

“My, aren’t you pretty!” Ma compliments.

“That’s very kind of you,” Mabel returned humbly, “I’m Mabel.”

Ma pulls Mabel down into a hug, “I am Ma. You can call me Ma!”

Mabel instantly warmed to Ma the same way she warmed to Tigris. Still, Mabel had not passed any test. Impressing Ma was hardly a feat.

Strabo follows Coriolanus to the living room and holds out the hand that was not carrying a plate. It engulfed Mabel's entire hand as they shook.

“Strabo Plinth.”

Mabel nods her head back. Coriolanus noticed an instant shift in her demeanor as he approached.

Her sassy mouth shut, her shoulders dropped, and she kept her head slightly down.

Coriolanus felt jealous that he did not have the same effect on her. He wondered if it was Strabo’s dark features or large frame that he did not have that produced such a result.

“Coriolanus never mentioned you.” He could see Strabo drinking Mabel in. He eyes her hungrily as he stands next to his wife. They cloud with darkness, and Coriolanus feels a certain pride. He had what others wanted. The boy in the too-tight shoes came out on top. Snow came out on top.

“He never mentioned me to me either.” Coriolanus’ fingers balled into a fist at her jab. The Plinths looked perplexed at her answer, sharing a glance between them.

“Can I take that?” Mabel quickly moves on, taking the plate out of Mr Plinth's hands. She uncovers the cloth wrap and looks up in excitement.

“Are these rock cakes?”

Mrs Plinth laughs, “Yes. You know them?”

“My mother makes them for every birthday.”

Mrs. Plinth looks fondly upon the girl, “My mother used to as well.”

“I’ll put these in the kitchen for later.”

Coriolanus grabs her arm to stop her from going. Her first fail of the night.

“Ring the bell and have the maid come out. You don’t enter the kitchen when guests have arrived.”

Mabel huffs but does as she is told. “There are so many rules in the Capitol. It’s hard to keep up.” Mabel talks squarely to Ma who stands surprised.

“Yes,” she agrees in a soft voice, “I had trouble at first too.”

“You’re not Capitol?” Mr. Plinth cuts straight to the chase.

“You’re not Capitol?” Mabel shoots back.

“Yes,” Ma answered at the same time as Mr. Plinth answered “No.”

“No,” Mr. Plinth reiterates, “Not anymore.”

Coriolanus finds this time to intervene, “The same is to be said about Mabel.”

He snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him.

“Mabel lives here now. In the Capitol.”

The maid enters the room and Coriolanus takes the plate off Mabel and passes it to her.

“Bring it back out with dessert,” he instructs. She bows in response and takes back off into the kitchen.

“Goodness, what a surprise,” Ma couldn’t hide the look of shock off her face.

“Coriolanus, perhaps it is best if we continue with dinner.” The man puts his hand on his wife's back and urges her forward. She sits at his side and Coriolanus follows suit, pushing Mabel to the table.

He rings the bell and the first course is brought out. Mabel smiles at the familiar maid but it is not returned.

“What district are you from?”

“I told you before that we are not district.” Strabo had started to eat his meal and did not look up as he spoke.

Ma sighs answering the question, “We are from District 2.”

“Oh! I went there once with my father. When they needed workers for the railway developments.”

Just as Coriolanus went to reprimand her, Strabo slams his fist down on the table.

“No more talk of districts. Eat your food and be quiet.”

Coriolanus could see a glimmer run across Mabel's eyes. He hoped she could contain it before she embarrassed him.

“So Coryo,” Ma began, “How’s school going?”

“I hear you're top of the class,” Strabo added.

“Yes, sir. Although there is not much competition. Most of the students pay for their place in the university rather than earn it.”

“Have you made any friends yet?” Ma often got Coriolanus confused with Sejanus. Coriolanus was friends with everyone, or at least enough to be able to call upon them for a favor. However, if he said yes, it would start a line of relentless questions.

“It is difficult with work. I miss a lot of the social events, and I often leave straight after the lecturer has finished.”

Ma looks upon him with undeserved sympathy. The maid returns from the kitchen with champagne and pours out the glasses.

“How is work going, Coryo? Dr. Gaul is not too hard on you, I hope.” Ma asks almost meekly.

She hated that he had followed Dr. Gaul as a Game maker. She tried for months to pressure Coriolanus into the family business, but he needed to separate himself from the Plinths as much as possible.

Coriolanus smiles politely back at her, “Fine, Ma.”

“Oh that’s good,” she answers, taking a bite of her entree.

“You know, you don’t have to study and work. If you want to focus more on your studies, we would be happy to increase your allowance.” The Plinths had offered several times, to the point the conversation had become dull.

His allowance was far more than he could spend anyway. He worked to separate himself from the Plinth fortune. One day because of his work and education, he would be president.

“I like the challenge,” Coriolanus contends.

“What do you do for work?” Mabel asks. He realized that Mabel doesn’t know a thing about him.

Coriolanus hesitated to say ‘Gamemaker’. She was in a relatively settled mood. It was sure to disrupt that.

“I work for Dr. Gaul,” he says instead.

“Doing what?” she pushes back.

An awkward silence crosses the table.

“Oh, something bad.” she guessed.

“Mabel, we are having dinner. Eat it or I’ll take it back.” He reaches out under the table and squeezes her thigh in warning.

“Mabel, what a beautiful dress you are wearing.” Ma was trying to save the night and Coriolanus mentally thanked her for it.

“Thank you, Ma. So Coryo, do you kick puppies or rip blankets off sick children?”

Coriolanus passes Mabel's plate back to the Maid waiting by the wall to serve drinks. She takes it from him and returns it to the kitchen.

Strabo gives Coriolanus a head nod of approval.

Ma clears her throat, “Truly a beautiful dress. Is it one of Tigris’ designs?”

Mabel nods her head.

“You look fantastic in it.” Strabo comments.

“And what do you do Mr. Plinth? To earn such respect from Coriolanus?” Mabel ignores his compliment.

“I am a weapons manufacturer,” Strabo eats quickly.

She turns to Coriolanus with a glare, “What do you do?”

“Ma,” Coriolanus ignores her and focuses his attention on his guests, “How’s volunteering at the hospital?”

Mabel stews over what it could be. While Coriolanus stews over Mabel’s conversation etiquette. He could not have her talking like that in front of Dr. Gaul, she would be sure to demand Mabel’s tongue.

He takes her wrists in a tight hold as a warning as he eats and listens to Ma prattle on.

The first course was done and the plates were cold and empty as Ma finished her tales of working in the hospital.

Coriolanus offers her a smile as he rings the bell for the next course. It was ready and waiting, coming out almost as soon as the bell was heard.

Mabel’s servant friend goes to place the dish in front of her but Coriolanus waves it off.

Mabel looks at him annoyed but doesn’t say anything. Neither do the Plinths.

They eat in silence while Mabel sits looking at them.

There was no bread on the table for her to even pick at.

“Hm, this is good,” Ma tried to break the tension but her cheeks flushed at her words, “Oh I am sorry Mabel. I didn’t-”

Mabel laughs as if she thought it was funny and Ma unshrinks from herself.

Her laughing sets the mood of the night back on track and Coriolanus mentally praises himself for making the correct choice to withhold dinner from her.

Polite conversation passes around the table. Mabel even uses some of the questions and responses learned from her governess.

He felt proud of his girl. Maybe she would impress Dr. Gaul on reaping day. Maybe Coriolanus was ready to be hailed president of Panem.

The servants come back and the girl holds the dish of the balled sugar bread known as rock cakes.

She was silently asking if she was to put it down.

Coriolanus stares still deciding.

“Oh Coriolanus, surely she can have dessert. She said rock cakes are her favorite.” Ma pleads.

“Don’t spoil the girl. She still has lots to learn.” Strabo interjects.

The decision lay with Coriolanus who allows her to have just one.

She looked pleased with the decision and it helped to settle her into a better mood. She ate with her hands which would have earned a scolding from Coriolanus if Ma also wasn’t forgoing her utensils.

He and Strabo choose the cheesecake on offer.

“If you're free any day Mabel, you should come down to our apartment and I’ll show you how to make them.”

Mabel perked up at the news but Coriolanus was not pleased with the offer.

“Maybe once Mabel has settled.” He was quick to respond before Mabel could accept.

“Oh, of course. There is no rush.”

Mabel quickly finishes her cake and reaches for another from the plate in the middle. Coriolanus intercepts it and throws it back.

She huffs but accepts he was serious about only allowing one.

Strabo finishes his last bite and snaps at the wait staff to take it.

“Strabo!” his wife chastises.

Another maid brings out a tray of tea and places it in the living room. She takes a small silver box off the tray and brings it over to Coriolanus. She opens the box in front of him showing the cigars.

He turns to Mabel explaining, “You and Ma will go to the living room now to have tea. Mr. Plinth and I will have our cigars, and join you later on.”

“I am not one to argue.” Mabel jests, holding out her hand across the table for Ma, who gladly takes it.

The women were happy together in the living room where the conversation was lighter. Mr. Plinth had moved to take Mabel’s seat next to Coriolanus so they could talk privately.

“She’s gorgeous. I can see why you sent for her.” Strabo comments.

“She knows it too. Far too sassy for her own good”. He felt this information was safe with Strabo.

“Yes. I picked up on that. She needs a strong hand.”

“Well I am trying, sir, but it’s a fine line between dampening her spirit and extinguishing it completely.”

Strabo flicks the ash from his cigar into the tray, looking solemnly down at it.

“I always wondered what would’ve happened if I got Sejanus a woman, if maybe it would’ve refocused his attention,” his eyes flick back to Coriolanus, “A woman like Mabel would have done him wonders I think.”

Coriolanus felt jealous at just the thought. Sejanus wouldn’t have been able to control Mabel. She would have ended up the family’s avox, eating Ma’s custard.

But verbally he agreed with Strabo.

The talk changed to new developments in weaponry and Coriolanus’ teachers that Strabo knew.

The cigars finished before the tea. The women were too busy talking to finish their cups.

Mabel had no trouble in conversation with people she deemed worthy of it.

The men join the living room conversation.

Strabo went to stand behind his wife and placed a loving hand on her shoulder.

After Coriolanus poured Ma another cup of tea, he copied Strabo by standing behind Mabel and placing a hand on the back of her neck. She jumps away from him.

It was not a good look in front of the Plinths and Coriolanus wanted to smack her for embarrassing him but he restrained himself.

Strabo took it upon himself to compel Mabel into a better attitude. He moves from his wife towards Mabel.

Strabo takes her shoulders into his hands and rubs up and down her arms.

“I know how scared you must be. Capitol life can be a tough adjustment. If you ever need anything to help you here. You just let us know.”

Mabel tore free from his hold, a look of disgust upon her face.

“Help? From a man who killed his own people for scraps at the Capitol table? I’d rather lay with dogs than take that company.”

Coriolanus groans at her words. Strabo Plinth was not a man to cross.

“Oh!” Ma had a hard time with the subject of money and how they required theirs. Her eyes filled with tears and she choked as her throat closed up.

Mabel reaches out to comfort her, but Ma is taken into the hold of Strabo who demands she go back down to their apartment.

He leads her to the door, ensuring she gets into the elevator before coming back inside.

Coriolanus held Mabel’s arm in a tight grip as he scolded her for her behavior.

Strabo pulled her from Coriolanus and struck Mabel across the face with such force that it knocked her to the ground.

“Learn what my son did not; submit to the ways of the Capitol or die.”

Mabel glares up at him from the floor, “I’ll tell him you said hello.”

Before Coriolanus could stop him, Strabo had her by the throat.

‘‘Do you think your beauty will save you?”

“Strabo,” Coriolanus calls, grabbing the man by the shoulders and pulling him away. It was the first time he had ever used the man's name.

Mabel gasps for air on the floor.

“I think my beauty will get me killed,” she heaved out.

Strabo shoves Coriolanus off and straightens back into his sophisticated demeanor.

“Coriolanus. I am sorry.” Strabo apologizes, “She wasn’t mine to correct”.

“Your wife is waiting for you, Mr. Plinth”, Coriolanus takes the older man to the door by his shoulder, leaving Mabel on the floor.

Coriolanus closes the door behind them and Strabo turns to him once more.

“I am not sure what came over me.”

Coriolanus looks at him bored. It was hardly surprising that Mr. Plinth was a violent man. In so many ways Coriolanus felt understood by Strabo. They could have been father and son in another lifetime. But if they had been, Coriolanus never would have been sent to District 12 and Mabel never would have caught his eye.

“I apologize for Mabel’s behavior. She was out of line with her comments.”

Strabo nods his head, looking down at his shoes.

“I would prefer it if you didn’t marry her,” Strabo addressed, “You could see how it would reflect upon us.”

Coriolanus fixed the cuff of his shirt. There would be nothing worse for his reputation than to play son to district-born Plinths and then go and marry a district-born girl.

“No one will know she is from the districts. I plan to introduce her as a long-lost heiress.”

“A long lost heiress,” Strabo scoffs, “She’s more district than I am.”

His movements are rash as he pulls on the flaps of his jacket.

“For now. She improves daily.”

“I thought the same thing about Sejanus and now look where he is.”

He presses the button to the private elevator down to their apartment, “My son would have really liked her.”

There was truth in that comment. Their willful and unshakable values would have made them fast friends.

“Goodnight, Coriolanus.” Strabo bid entering the elevator.

“Goodnight, Mr. Plinth”.

Coriolanus enters back into the apartment to find Mabel had moved off the floor. The experiment had failed and Coriolanus found himself disheartened. She didn’t have long left until the reaping.

He storms to find her in their room. She sat at his desk and tore the pins out of her hair, angrily.

He takes hold of her ear and pushes her against the wall where he could pin her.

“Anyone else and your actions would have got you killed tonight.”

“I don’t care.”

“I care,” he foolishly admits.

He pushes off the wall to take off his belt. Spinning Mabel around to face the wall, he lays the belt across her back.

She yelps as it comes down. The staff in the kitchen would be able to hear her but Coriolanus was so angry with her that appearances didn’t matter.

He didn’t stop until she was sobbing so hard, it interfered with her breathing.

“I want you to write an apology to the Plinths before you go to bed.”

Mabel wipes the tears from her face.

“Yes, Coryo.” she bit out.

With only two weeks before the Reaping, Mabel was nowhere near ready to meet Dr Gaul.

tag list;

@bruher

@hiatuswhore

@swimmjacket

@immyowndefender

@namelesslosers

@lovelymoonkiid

@queenofshinigamis

@acidaciruela

@briefwinnerpersonaturtle

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #hunger games #tom blyth #dead dove do not eat #snow lands on top #S. lands on top

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notsocooljess · 1 month ago

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Snippet Sunday

here's a snippet of the enemies to lovers fic i just started working on based on @thesweetnessofspring's mall santa peeta/elf katniss prompt that has plagued my thoughts since i read it lol

That was why Katniss found herself in the broom-closet-turned-office of Haymitch Abernathy, organizer of the West Panem Mall’s North Pole Experience photoshoots.

“Stand over there,” Haymitch pointed to the center of the room without so much as an introduction.

Katniss found this job through an ad listed on a local Facebook page. Potential Mrs. Claus’s Do Apply!, the title said. She didn't originally give it much thought as “Katniss” and “acting” were two words that were never meant to be strung in the same sentence unless the words “is bad at” were joining them together. But, when she saw the bolded word saying SEASONAL in the listing and the estimated wage to be twenty-two dollars an hour after tips, she sent in her application immediately.

“You’re not very big, are you?” Haymitch asked as he sized Katniss up, circling her like a vulture circles its prey. She scowled at him and his antics. “Or particularly pretty,” he huffed.

“Like you’re such a prize.”

“And from our brief conversation, I’d say you’ve got the personality of a dead slug.”

“How is that relevant?” Katniss barked. She wanted to get out of this room with Haymitch as quickly as possible. He didn’t creep her out – Katniss grew up around men like Haymitch and was plenty confident in her ability to hold her own – but the smell of booze emitting from his pores was nearly strong enough to bring up her lunch.

“Means you can’t play Mrs. Claus. You’re severely lacking in general warmth and motherly bosom.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Well, then, thanks for wasting my time.”

“Hold it, sweetheart. I think I might have just the job for you,” Haymitch said, grabbing a different costume from the rack and placing it in Katniss’s hands.

“An elf? You want me to be an elf?”

“You think you can fit into a youth large?”

“You’re joking.”

“Youth medium it is then.”

“This is ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous would be making you wear fake pointy ears. Lucky for you, last year’s elf’s fake ears got chewed off by some rowdy lap rat-dog with an affinity for jumping.”

“I can’t be an elf. I’m five-foot-two!”

“You’re not helping your case.”

“Do you even want me to take this role?”

“Not like I recruited you, sweetheart. You applied for this job. An elf is your only option. You want it or not?”

Katniss bit her tongue, and her scowl deepened. Haymitch was right. With the holidays coming up, Katniss was in desperate need of some extra cash, and no other job that would hire her in such short notice would pay above minimum wage.

“You promise an elf will get the same tips as a Mrs. Claus?”

“Trust me, they'll think you’re breaking child labor laws in this getup. You’ll make the most cash of the bunch.”

#technically it is still sunday until i fall asleep #actual time be damned #snippet sunday #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #the hunger games #christmaslark #jess writes

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witchthewriter · 2 years ago

Photo

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: swearing, major mentions of death and violence, spoilers, death of children, mental illness, mentions of previous torture.

a/n: with the hunger games resurgance, I want to continue writing for these characters. I absolutely loved this series so much, it was an innate part of my teenage years.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

🌿ESTP 🍁Slytherin 📜Chaotic Neutral 🔮Scorpio Sun, Aries Moon, Aries Rising

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Dance Me To The End Of Love by The Civil Wars (they featured on the song with Taylor Swift in the first movie)

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You were never reaped, and never knew the personal/immediate experience of having to kill someone. However, your oldest brother was in the Hunger Games, a few years after Johanna. So, you knew the pain of losing a loved one.

・Helping each other transition into a world where the Hunger Games no longer exists

・In a world where the Capitol doesn’t rule with an iron fist

・After the events of Coin’s death, Katniss and Peeta go to district 12 to live out their days in peace

・Johanna still plagued by the torture and trauma she endured, didn’t know what to do.

・No family, no friends, so she hid herself in the apartment that Commander Paylor gave to her (all living victors were given an apartment. But the catch was that they had to go through therapy)

・Johanna refused to go to the appointments. She was adamant that it was stupid, it wouldn’t help.

・And she drowned in her own sadness

・It took her 3 months to begrudgingly go to an appointment

・It was a group therapy session. Katniss and Peeta weren’t there as they lived in District 12 and didn’t live off of Paylor’s generosity

・It was a small group, and when Johanna looked around at the other victors, she saw herself. Hurt. Broken...the feeling of something that was taken and they could never get it back

・You were apart of the healers. Not a therapist, but a protegee underneath Ms Everdeen - yes, Katniss’ mother

・She shined in the Capitol; given the best treatment for everything she suffered

・And you were lucky enough to be her assistant.

・Learning the art of healing wasn’t easy

・But the opportunity was too good to let pass by

・Ms Everdeen was a quiet woman, but when she taught, there was a light that began to shine. With each comment, lesson, tutorial and experience - she began to glow and glow.

・But you soon learnt that bringing up either of her daughters was... bad. Her light dimmed whenever their names were mentioned; even talking about the plants was difficult for her.

・She loved Prim, her youngest who looked like her. Who never judged her, only had love in her heart for everyone. Katniss was so distant, it felt like a death

・Johanna felt safe with Ms Everdeen. It was an interesting dynamic. She somewhat... stepped into a maternal role for the young victor. A role that Johanna desperately wanted filled but would never admit

・That’s how you met Johanna; in all her hardened exterior. Someone unloved but not unlovable.

・Your relationship started off very clumsily; she saw you as another therapist - therefore an enemy.

・You didn’t take much of a liking to her either

・It was a conscious effort to be curteous

・And Ms Everdeen pushed you toward Johanna

・Call it a mother’s intuition

・And that intuition spurred a tight friendship. Johanna eased into your company (not without a fight)

・You showed her moments into your world and in response, she displayed glimpses into her own

・And then you formed a tight bond. Best friends. Always doing things together, eating, spending all your free time with her

・You even inspired her to go to the therapy appointments

・And although there were a few hiccups along the way, Johanna started to heal

・From then on she wanted to know what this new world had to offer

・ You both explored what the new Panem was, how Paylor had changed the old ways into something new. A united nation, where everyone reaped the benefits of food, shelter and safety.

・There were no games after the rebellion. Paylor made sure of that:

“We didn’t let people sacrifice their lives for a world where we go on sacrificing. We are one now. Panem will never be the same.”

・Now with a new sense of freedom, you saw a change in Johanna. You knew what it was - hope

・This newfound hope made Johanna realise that ... she could do whatever she wanted. There wasn’t a reason why she couldn’t. She had survived.

・The very next hour, she had walked right up to you and kissed you fiercely

・It wasn’t the best place to snog; right in front of Ms Everdeen, but when you pulled apart you glimpsed over at her and saw her smile

・Being with Johanna is like the like winter. Having a fire to keep yourself warm is cosy but when it gets out of hand - it will leave you with nothing but ashes.

・You moved in together, a three bedroom apartment that wasn’t too far from Ms Everdeen’s place. You both felt too guilty leaving her.

・Once there was a time that you invited Peeta and Katniss to come and stay, but Peeta wrote back that Katniss wasn’t ready.

・As a partner, Johanna is hot-headed but also playful and teasing

・She loves ruffling your feathers (never too much though, she never wants to push you away)

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Complete And Utter Badass, Rather Monstrous (Johanna) x Their Ray Of Light Who Has Them Wrapped Around Their Finger (You)

Confident & Flirty (Johanna) x Has Never Been Flirted With Before, Thinks They're Just Being Nice (You)

Snarky Power Couple That Can, And Probably Will, Destroy You

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

You Make Me Want To Be A Better Person

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒆𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖

At first it was your last name. She would say it with such coldness, and unkindness. A forced tone that she used. On the outside she hated you, and yet on the inside... she had a burning passion for you. Through the progression of your relationship, you could tell how she felt about you with how she said your last name.

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆

Acts of Service and Quality Time.

Johanna hates all that sappy lovey-dovey talk, and she’s still healing with the aspect of physical touch. So the way she shows her affection is through doing things for you and spending time with you. And then she starts to do those little signs of affection; kisses on the cheek, moving hair out of your face, wiping any food from your mouth etc. PDA is pretty much a no no. But when someone tries ANYTHING with you, then she will kiss you so hard, showing that you’re hers. She’s very protective ... well possessive, over you.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 🔞minors dni!

・The first few times you had sex with Johanna, it was angry sex. The kind where you barely kiss each other, and the headboard is banging, and it doesn’t last too long. Then afterwards it’s not spoken about

・It was difficult, in all honesty. Because you felt used

・But Johanna was trying to hide a part of herself. A deeper part that she’s hidden behind a wall of imenetrable steel. A wall only she can knock down.

・So it took time -

・But in that time, you expressed your discomfort at the lack of a deeper connection

・And your relationship was put on hold for a bit until Johanna could open up to you.

・Your relationship progression made sex more and more softer, intimate, slower.

・She wasn’t so rough

・And you realised she would barely kiss you during sex. But now, with her walls down, she couldn’t stop kissing you

・Johanna’s lips were warm, but still with an edge of savagery. Nips here and there, she loves leaving marks, bruises, and hickies.

・She likes leaving them where other’s can see -

・Johanna needs people to know that you’re taken

・A big thing with her is foreplay. She loves making you whine, beg for more.

・SHE LOVES TO TEASE

・Sex toys? Yes. Vibrators, strap ons, dildos, anal beads etc. She would own the lot (and you guys keep everything in your ‘sex’ drawer)

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mollywog · 6 months ago

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Laurel

Prologue | In Trouble | A Proposition

~ 10 months prior ~

“How far along?”

She can no longer ignore the signs: her sister’s endless fatigue, the shirts that pull tight across her chest despite her lack of appetite, the nausea.

“Far enough,” Prim wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

Katniss’s heart sinks, “how long have you known?”

Her sister lifts her head from the toilet, her eyes weary but defiant, “it doesn’t matter.”

But it does, because regardless of Prim’s decision, she hadn’t trusted her with knowing.

Katniss looks away to find her mother in the doorway, blue eyes full of sympathy and trepidation, all focused on her and the hurt turns to resentment, before the despair washes over her.

It’s all too much, so she grabs her father’s hunting jacket and escapes out the door.

~~~

In Panem no one is safe from the Hunger Games, but recently, young mothers least of all. At least one a year has been reaped; their children seized and paraded about to heighten the drama. The added attention makes them targets for the more ambitious tributes, and while the mothers quickly return to their Districts in caskets, the children never go home; They’re just as swiftly adopted into Capitol families with platitudes of a ‘better life’ without a hint of irony at their culpability in the circumstances.

And now Prim and her child could share this same fate.

All this plagues Katniss’s mind as she flees from the house. She goes straight to the woods to settle her nerves.

It’s no use.

Head muddled, arms shaky, she abandons the hunt after making a mess of an easy shot. She takes out the rabbit, but the cry of the miserable creature chases her back to the confines of the district.

Unready to face her sister or mother, she heads to the Hob. It’s evening now, and Sae’s long sold her last bowl of stew, but Ripper’s booth is open and inviting. She gags on her first swallow, the vile stuff burning a trail to her stomach. She knows she should stop, that she shouldn’t have started, but what’s the use in caution anymore?

An hour later she’s hunched over the bushes behind the Hob, trading the contents of her stomach for a pounding headache; it’s a lousy deal. A figure approaches and presses a flask to her lips, tilting it back, she’s too weak to be weary and takes a gulp of the cool liquid. She nearly chokes on discovering the stranger’s offering is water.

She laughs. Then she cries. Then the whole story pours forth, the liquor stripping back her layers of carefully built defenses. At least it’s only Haymitch Abernathy there to witness her break; the night is still young and he’ll soon be too drunk to remember by morning.

#everlark fanfiction #Laurel #in trouble #wip

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torturedcoveydepartment · 11 months ago

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My worst fear AND dream is another hunger games castmate doing the Actually me undercover account GQ replying game and finding me.

#or the plague of panem #tbosas #the hunger games #hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tom blyth #rachel zegler #josh andres rivera #hunter schafer

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xox0rinny · 7 months ago

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Familiar Faces

Pairing | finnick x afab!reader (she/her)

Summary | In which you were the previous winner of the Hunger Games. It was time for the next year’s games, which was a whole new experience. You run into Finnick Odair after an interview, and he’s just as charming as everyone says. (reader is 19, Finnick is 20)

Warnings | Honestly just a bit of fluff, a bit of PTSD, anxiety, comfort, finnick being a slight flirt, maybe a bit corny (mb if it is :/)

You woke up in a cold sweat, panting from another nightmare. Ever since the games, you’ve been plagued with terrible nightmares. They’ve ranged from being killed by another tribute to coming home and finding your whole family dead.

You look over at the clock on the bedside table. You were in the Capitol, preparing for the upcoming games. Certain victors got to go to the Capitol early instead of staying in their districts to watch the reaping. After all, the Capitol needed entertainment before the games as well. There were enough victors from your district to escort the new tributes to the Capitol. You were nervous to see who they’d be this year. The reaping was in two days and you were worried that both of the tributes would be people you knew. The past few years have been kids you barely knew; kids who were way older than you were.

But this year would be so different. Being able to help the tributes in the arena before and during the game was a lot of pressure. And you knew that they’d see your help since you were the most recent victor. Truthfully, you knew almost nothing about winning. You were just skilled with a knife since your father was a butcher. You knew where and how to slice someone up. That’s from experience and knowledge, not necessarily skills. And you cannot teach that in only a week. You’d have to pray they weren’t going to be completely clueless on how to use some sort of weapon.

Pushing the thoughts of the actual games out of your head and groan as you get out of bed. The best thing about the Capitol was the glamorous treatment. You couldn’t deny that it was nice. A comfortable bed, warm running water, and the best food you’ve ever tasted. You walked over to the closet and pulled out your clothes for the day. You had a day full of interviews today, most being radio broadcasts. But there was one TV interview. It only made the slightest difference, since you felt pressured to dress up in the Capitol either way.

There was also an area where the victors stayed in the large apartment-like building they called the Victior’s Villa. It was right next to the tribute center, being connected by a small bridge. Almost all of the victors that were here were having interviews as well. Afterwards, you’d meet up with your fellow victors at the penthouse where there was a sort of lounge where the victors hung at. You took note of that and brought out a nice dress that was flowy, perfect for the summer weather. It hit about mid-thigh and was made out of a material you couldn’t name. It was perfect for the interviews and making a good first impression on your fellow victors.

After you were done with your interviews, which you had five of, you were pretty tired. Speaking about your games was… exhausting. You suffered so much in the arena, both physically and mentally. You’d seen horrors you never thought you would have to endure. But sometimes they’d ask about the upcoming games or how you liked victor life. You answered brightly, not wanting to come off as rude and cause issues in Panem. You knew how easily it was to spark a fire that could not be put out.

As you reached the Victor’s Villa, you sighed in relief. You quickly made your way inside and towards the elevators. The Victor’s Villa was two stories higher than the Tribute Center, considering it had the grand lobby and penthouse. You saw many other victors either waiting for someone, talking, or walking in and out of the building. They were all older than you, with a few exceptions with the more recent victors. You made your way to the elevators, you heels clicking on the marble floors underneath you. You pressed the button to summon the elevator and as you waited for either of the six doors to open, you heard an unfamiliar voice call you name. You turned to see who called out to you.

You saw a blonde man with the most beautiful tan skin you’ve seen walk up to you with a smirk planted on his lips. It was Finnick Odair. The youngest ever victor.

He was prettier in person.

You smiled politely at him as he walked up to you.

“Hello gorgeous. Saw your games, you’re a killer with a knife.” His smirk grew as he took in your appearance. His eyes traveled along your body, admiring your dress and the way it flowed off of your curves.

“Saw yours too. Pretty impressive at only fourteen.” You smirked back at him.

The elevator doors finally opened and you both stepped inside. You reached for the button marked with a ‘P’, but he beat you to it. He tsked at you as he looked back over to you. You couldn’t help but admire his beauty up close in the small elevator. His dirty blond hair complimented his perfectly tanned skin. His lips were shiny and moisturized. And he looked amazing as he sported a white knit polo and brown slacks.

“Starstuck much, darling?” He chuckled as he noticed your oogling. You looked away in embarrassment.

“Maybe… Just never seen any of you guys in person. Slightly intimidating honestly.” You said, trying to play it off. He chuckled at your response. He leaned against the glass of the elevator. The windows looked out to the vast lobby.

There were windows on all sides of the lobby, giving the people passing by a full view of the interior. Most people in this part of the Capitol were the high class citizens from families of generational wealth. Either that or the people like game makers, stylists, or whoever else had a part in the games. The ceiling of the lobby reached up to the roof, which was also glass. You looked away from Finnick, staring out at the lobby and the street outside.

“Felt the same way when I first won. Didn’t have any friends here, other than Mags. But she was more like a mother.” He trailed off. “But… I’ll make sure you have a familiar face outside of your district.” He turned to you with a comforting smile.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.” You exchanged small smiles with Finnick.

You looked back out the glass of the elevator and realized you were almost at the top. Your nerves started to kick in, heartbeat quickening and palms sweating. You were about to step into a places with experienced killers, since most of the victors were careers. You knew that not all of the victors were here yet, but you were still nervous. Finnick noticed your breathing and placed a hand on your shoulder. You looked over to him with wide eyes.

“It’s fine. There’s usually drinks and food up there. Most people talk to the others who won around the same time as you. They’ll look at you a bit but they truly won’t pay you any mind. Your win wasn’t out of the ordinary, so they won’t bother you much.” He soothed your rapid mind, reassuring you that the victors won’t be as scary as you imagined. The thought of food also calmed you.

“Do they have those little cocktail things?” You asked him, trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

“There’s a bar, darling. You can get whatever drink you like there.” He chuckled as he patted you on the shoulder.

The elevator came to a stop before the doors smoothly opened. The doors opened to reveal a large room. There were couches and chairs along the walls. There was a large television towards the opposite side of the room with tons of couches surrounding it. It was playing the news as one of the victors smiled brightly as they answered questions. Against the back wall, there was the bar Finnick talked about. There were avoxes all over the room holding trays of food and champagne. You looked around the room in slight awe as Finnick laughed at you lightly.

“C’mon, outside is better.” He said as he removed his hand from your back and walked further into the room towards the large double doors leading to the balcony. You didn’t even know if you could call it a balcony since the room only took up maybe about half of the roof. But you followed his lead.

There were a few victors, all significantly older than you in the room. They talked among each other. They glanced over at you, nodding their heads or smiling to greet you. You smiled back as you walked a few steps behind Finnick. You reached the doors and he opened one, letting you walk out first. The summer heat hit you as soon as you stepped out. You were glad you wore the dress. The breeze cooled you down and moved your hair off of your shoulders and let it lightly fly in the air behind you.

There were more couches and chairs out here, along with another television that seemed to be against the one that one inside. There were high tables along the perimeter of the balcony. You walked over to one, hopping in the chair. Finnick sat across from you, admiring the beautiful city.

You gazed out with him. Years ago, you never thought you’d see the Capitol twice. Now that you’ve survived the games, you have years of this to come. Years watching innocent children die for entertainment and punishment. But at least you didn’t have to experience it alone.

Because now there’s one more familiar face in this horrid world.

#finnick odair #the hunger games #finnick x reader #thg finnick #finnick imagine #hunger games finnick #finnick x you #fanfic

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slaymitchabernathy · 9 months ago

Text

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

| this story was inspired by the songs "How Did It End?" & "The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived" by Taylor Swift |

| a companion to 'Pretty' |

Coriolanus holds the single rose in his hand with such vice that the stem has gone limp.

He’s been to enough funerals to know how this goes, what’s expected of him. He attended his little sister’s funeral.

“I’m going to see your sister.”

Those words play over and over in his head while the officiant drones on and on about what an exemplary citizen Soarynn Snow was.

Was any of it true? Any of the time they spent together?

He thinks about all the time he spent with Soarynn. Seven years of life with her. He remembers the day he found out she was ticklish. He tickled her just to hear her laugh, to hear genuine happiness from her. She always seemed so miserable with him even though he’d given her everything she could ever dream of.

Coriolanus thought he had a good grasp on grief. He lived through the war, after all, the Dark Days, and even managed to come out on top. He had the name, the wife, the child. Now two of those are gone.

He had found it extremely difficult to fathom the loss of his own child, his firstborn son. It just didn't seem like something that could happen to him, not when he was on top of the world. Not when they had the nursery all ready, the baby clothes hanging in the closet, the stuffed animals lining the shelves. Soarynn had thrown herself into preparing their son's nursery and transformed the empty space into a warm, loving environment.

They had been so close. So close. But there was a complication, undetected until it was too late and suddenly Coriolanus was receiving phone calls left and right telling him that his wife was found unconscious on their library floor in a pool of her own blood.

Why didn't she call him?

It was a question that plagued his mind as the doctor asked him who they should attempt to save, his son, or his wife.

He chose his wife of course.

Being a father of a dead child was bad enough, but to be a widowed man at such a young age? No. Coriolanus couldn't afford that. He knew their son wouldn't make it into the world alive and if he did then it wouldn't be a pretty sight. Another thing he couldn't afford was having a son who would undoubtedly be the laughingstock of Panem. With the possibility of disfigurements and mental lapses, it was easy for Coriolanus to make the call.

He knew it would devastate Soarynn beyond belief. As much as it terrified her, he knew she wanted to be a mother. She got pregnant rather quickly after their wedding, allowing Coriolanus to confirm once again that Soarynn was of value to him and their family.

He stood out in the hospital hall as they attempted to save his wife. He only caught a small glimpse of them cutting her open before he looked away. He couldn't watch. Then, his son was born.

He didn't make a sound. Stillborns don't cry.

They stitched her up and that was that. One dead child, and one grieving wife.

Coriolanus hadn't known what to do, what to say. Sure, he could be comforting when he needed to be, like when Soarynn had one of her little breakdowns after they had sex. But he was always prepared for those.

How do you prepare for the death of your firstborn child?

So he hadn't said anything, left her to talk with the doctor, and watched the nurses wheel in their dead child in his bassinet for Soarynn to hold for the first and last time. In a way, he was impressed that she even had the strength to do so. He never wanted to hold their son, to see a painful reminder of what could have been.

His curiosity had gotten the best of him once he joined Soarynn's side again, once he saw the pain and sorrow in her eyes. How empty her gaze was.

"What did he look like?" He had asked her, resting a hand on her head.

"He looked like a Snow," she had answered.

And that had been good enough for him.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus had however been prepared for the aftermath of their son's death. Only because he knew what it was like, to lose an infant due to unforeseen circumstances. When his baby sister died, his parents were quick to move past it.

He felt it was better that way, no need to linger in the past when there was a bright future ahead of them. They could have another child. He'd confirmed that with the doctor before they left. Soarynn wasn't left barren and unable to give him more children and she certainly would give him children in due time.

They'd arrange a small funeral, grieve privately, and more forward publicly. Simple as that. He knew his wife could get sentimental, especially over stupid, little things like books and things of that nature. But he didn't need her to get caught up on what could have been.

He expected them to move on.

He didn't expect Soarynn to make a scene in front of their close family and friends before storming out of the penthouse, leaving without so much as a goodbye. Coriolanus had been furious, absolutely furious with her behavior. He wasn't the one who lost their child. He did everything right, everything by the books and still they lost him. It. They lost it.

Then she lost it.

Coriolanus knew where to go, to find her. She went home. He could give her whatever she wanted, fill their penthouse with all her favorite things but it still wouldn't be enough for Soarynn.

Glen had been upset, and understandably so. Coriolanus couldn't imagine the state that Soarynn showed up in and without their child on top of all that. But he was quick to smooth things over, win Glen over once again, and promised to come back in two days to collect Soarynn.

He got a phone call the next morning. He'd been surrounded by family and friends, namely the Creeds and Clemensia who all watched silently as Coriolanus was delivered the news that bore the death of his wife.

"Drowned in the bathtub."

That's what Glen mumbled before hanging up.

Coriolanus didn't know what to say, what to do. How do you drown in the bathtub? He knew enough to know that it had to be done on purpose. This was no accident. Soarynn killed herself.

He got a wide array of reactions when he shared the news. Most were filled with tears and condolences. It felt so strange to him to know that Soarynn wasn't in their room, curled up under the covers with her cat and a book.

She wasn't in the library, sitting in his favorite chair while she looked through old photo albums.

She was gone. How strange to be gone. To end your own life.

He had two funerals to plan now.

He'd only said a few words before disappearing into his room, "We'll tell no one except all of our friends." As far as everyone else was concerned, she died during the miscarriage. Women die all the time giving birth. What makes Soarynn so special?

But she had been special. Hadn't she? She'd been kind, and caring, she would've been a good mother. He'd never know how it would've ended.

But he couldn’t help himself from wondering how it all ended.

Were there signs? Had she cried out for help?

He tore their bedroom apart looking for clues, for something to hold onto, to tie him to her. After hours of endless searching, he finally came across a book he had never seen before, tucked away in their closet in an old shoe box. He’d held the small book in his hands, simply staring at it before he finally gained the courage to open it.

Her diary.

He hung me on his wall. Not literally but it felt like it. It always feels like I’m some animal pelt when he makes me take those pills. Sometimes I wish I were an animal pelt. At least I’d be dead.

It was no wonder she kept this so hidden from him. He would’ve been livid if he found this when she was still alive. How strange to think that Soarynn wasn’t alive anymore. He would never be able to smell the sweet scent of vanilla again without thinking of the girl who sat in front of him in class that year. Little did she know that choosing that seat would cost her life.

He kept reading. There were so many entries, all devastating in their own way.

I wish I could run away. But I can’t, he trapped me. We’re having a baby in eight months. Coriolanus thinks it’ll be a boy, I hope so too for his sake. I don’t think he’d like a girl. Everyone has been congratulating me on the news but they do that a lot. Congratulate me. On the wedding, on the penthouse, on our relationship. If only they knew. He shows me off, loves to do it. I hate it. I hate it here.

He flipped to the end of the diary, not in the mood for her whining and nagging. The last entry was so short, but the way it was written made Coriolanus feel as if his throat was tightening up. It was like she knew he’d find her diary, would read it, would go to the last entry. She sounded so angry.

Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed? In fifty years will this be declassified? And you’ll confess why you did it. And I’ll say, “Good riddance.” Cause it wasn’t sexy once it wasn’t forbidden. I would’ve died for your sins instead i just died inside. And you deserve prison, but you won’t get time. You kicked out my stage lights, but you’re still performing. In plain sight you hit. But you are what you did. And I’ll forget you but I’ll never forgive. The smallest man who ever lived.

At six-foot-two and at the top of the world, Coriolanus Snow had never felt so small. And for the first time in a very long time, much like his wife, he broke down.

꧁ ꧂

"If anyone would like to share a memory or a few kind words, please do so now," the officiant says, somberly looking into the massive crowd of Capitol elites who have gathered to honor and mourn the death of Soarynn Snow and her stillborn child.

Coriolanus stares down at the ground, at her coffin. It's black and sleek with roses engraved around it. The proper casket for the wife of a Snow. A smaller one sits next to hers. Their sons.

Coriolanus squeezes the white rose in his hand a little tighter as someone walks up to the front, stepping onto the podium.

"Miss Soarynn was a fine Capitol lady."

Coriolanus looks up to see the doorman to their apartment standing at the microphone, "She always greeted me with a smile, asked how my day was going. She even brought me cookies one day, it...it was my birthday. She was a kind woman and my heart goes out to you Mr. Snow, your wife was a lovely lady."

Coriolanus manages to give the doorman a tight-lipped smile. It's hard to smile with that letter playing over and over in his head, those words haunting him now. Were they all watching him now?

His wife, his son, his sister, his mother-in-law?

He wasn't given much notice once the letter arrived on his doorstep. Glen Nightingale all but stormed into the penthouse, collecting every memory of Soarynn, including the cat. The look Glen had given him was all Coriolanus needed to know that Soarynn had told him everything. Or at least something.

He could feel the hatred radiating off of Glen as they stood next to each other.

"Soarynn Nightingale was too good for this world."

Coriolanus doesn't need to look up to know that Sejanus Plinth has taken to the microphone. "She was too gentle, too kind and trusting and that trust was taken advantage of over and over again by someone she blindly trusted. I hope that she and her son can find rest in the afterlife."

A few more people go up to speak, all noting how kind Soarynn was, how beautiful and gentle that girl was.

Was, was, was.

Eventually, Coriolanus is ushered to the podium. He knows he has to give out somewhat of a statement, he can see all the news outlets at the back of the crowd, eager to hear about the tragic events that have suddenly befallen the Snow family.

He clears his throat before speaking, "My gratitude extends to each and every one of you who has attended the funeral of my wife and son today. My wife was loved by many, my son never got the chance to be loved."

He knows that's not true. Soarynn loved their son before he was born.

"We were blind to unforeseen circumstances. My wife's pregnancy was complicated and in the end, led to a tragic and fatal miscarriage that took the lives of the two people who meant the most to me in the world."

Whispers can be heard throughout the crowd. Some people believe him. Coriolanus has always been good at playing for the cameras, telling people what they want to hear. Other whispers are doubtful of his love for Soarynn and their son.

And he has Glen Nightingale to thank for that. Three days after her death, it came out that Sorynn had filed for divorce. Claiming that she was the victim of domestic abuse, sexual violence, and coercion, and numerous amounts of other accusations that did nothing but taint his reputation.

As if her death wasn't hard enough, Coriolanus now has people coming at him left and right, questioning him and his marriage. His father advised him to keep his head down, to deny such claims, and to continue to share his love and adoration for Soarynn.

He just doesn't know if he has any to give.

"I loved my wife. She was kind and generous, she was a devoted woman who was loyal to her family and her country. She would want us to celebrate her life and our sons, not mourn it."

There, he's told people what they want to hear, and now, he's ready to hear what he wants to hear.

꧁ ꧂

The reception dinner is quiet for the most part, only small conversations take place. Many people have come up to Glen to give their condolences. One wife and one daughter gone. Coriolanus fears that he can now relate to Glen on that level and he so badly wishes that he didn't.

"Do you think you'll ever remarry?"

Coriolanus looks to his left to find Livia Cardew addressing him, her eyes pinning him down. A bit of an inappropriate question to ask at a funeral, especially his wife's funeral but Coriolanus will be damned if he comes off as unpolite by ignoring her question.

"I think right now I need to focus on putting the pieces back together," he answers, ignoring the glare that Glen sends his way.

Livia hums and turns back to her dinner leaving them in another uncomfortable silence. Soarynn certainly left a mess behind for him to clean up. Not only her death but now legal issues as well. What a selfish thing to do.

꧁ ꧂

They opted to leave the casket open for those who wanted a moment alone with Soarynn before they buried her six feet in the ground. Coriolanus had declined to do the same with his son. No one would ever know what he looked like, what he could have looked like. What could have been.

Many people go up to Soarynn, he watches them whisper words they probably don't mean. He doubts most people really knew her. He barely did himself it seems. Eventually, he gathers the courage to see his wife one last time. At least her death wasn't horrendous and she didn't slit her wrists open along with her face. She looks like she's sleeping.

But she'll never wake up.

He leans down until it's just the two of them, not a word between them. She smells like vanilla. Her skin is pale, it lacks the normal tan hue she always had.

"You left me," he whispers, "left me to deal with this mess."

Soarynn doesn't respond.

"You know, I keep going over it in my head. What if I never noticed you? Never took interest in you? Would my life be this fucked if we never met? Do you know Soarynn? Do you know how different things would've been for the both of us? If you're listening from Heaven do me a favor and ask someone up there if they can see, if they can see what it would look like if our paths never crossed. And if they can find something, somewhere where you never ruined my fucking life, you ask them something for me, okay?"

Coriolanus has to force himself to take a deep breath as he whispers to his wife, berating her from the grave.

"How did it end?"

He straightens up, giving Soarynn one last look. She was fun, quiet, and obedient for the most part. She tried to be good for him, and he had to give her credit for that.

Her hair has been done in curls, her makeup is light and her lips are a soft pink even though he knows that under all that makeup she's pale and her lips are blue.

She looks so pretty.

| Final Part |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

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