#hunger games arena idea

[justmorebtsffs]

Any ideas for what type of Arena I should use for my Hunger Games AU?

I want to do something different than the arenas used in the books. Here are my ideas: Sorry if the descriptions sound really weird I’m trying to describe them in detail and give the pros and cons of each arena.

1: Abandoned city

2: Swamp. Mud that you can get stuck in, alligators, but plenty of places to hide. And there are birds and some type of large rodent mammal that can be killed and eaten (if it doesn’t get the tributes first). Trees that can be used as hideouts.

3: Ice scape. Some caves to hide in, really cold, mammoth mutations that are fast and have sharp tusks. There are caribou but they are few and far between and they blend in with the landscape and they’re fast. Clean, drinkable water can be gotten from snow and ice. Rabbits are there as food as well.

4: Dessert. Hot and dry during the day and frigid at night. Not many places to hide and not many sources of water. Water is stored in spiny cacti, guarded by aggressive owls. If the owls are killed they can be eaten, along with the fruit provided by the cacti.

5: Grass Plain. Baren, hard to hide, there are snakes, and not much food besides aggressive wild bison. There is one lake and a few ponds scattered about that tributes can drink safely from. Berries grow on low bushes, most are okay but some can make tributes sick.

6: Marsh. High grass and deep mud. Birds that will attack you from above but are tasty if you kill them, and alligators that will try to eat you. Lots of places to hide though and if killed the birds are good to eat.

7: Mangrove forest/mangrove swamp

8: A small set of like 15 sandy islands surrounded by water and sharp Coral reefs. with fish to eat, but also sharks. (Not so far apart that you can’t swim between them.) The only water sources are water pouches hidden around the islands and supplies are in waterproof boxes in the coral reefs. The fruits on the palm trees are edible.

9: A temperate forest with an oceanic climate. (A really rainy, damp, misty, slightly cold, forest. Like Forks, Washington) It rains a lot and rain water is easily collectable for drinking, plenty of mosses and mushrooms are available for eating. Some of the mosses and mushrooms are poisonous. There are deer to eat, if you can catch them, but the deer are carnivorous. Grubs and bugs can be eaten but some are poisonous or venomous.

10: An arena that is mountainous with a large wide river running through the entire thing. The water is drinkable and filled with yummy fish, unfortunately said fish are carnivorous and there are alligators and river sharks. There are some fruits and berries growing but they aren’t very nutritious. The mountains are good for hiding and have caves but the oxygen levels at the tops of the mountains have been decreased by the gamemakers leading to severe altitude sickness.

[myrandom-fandomlife]

I had a post go viral about this but yeah I’m STILL not done talking about it.

Catching Fire is such a good book because you can really see all the pieces of the plan and how they were put together. How the arena was so clearly meant to strengthen Finnick in their attempt at rebellion and Plutarch pulled that off because he knew Finnick was Snow’s pick for a victor of that games. I absolutely love how subtly genius Plutarch really is, like he pulled off the entire rebellion through his manipulation of Snow and Snow’s need for power. I love the concept of the clock, how he gave the hint to Katniss, and how things like the lightning tree were placed purposely so they could be used in their plan. I mean truly the more I think about this book the more astonished I am at how beautiful the setup is. Plutarch’s plan was so flawless. Planting the idea of hand picking the tributes from previous victors so the quell to Snow was a way to rid himself of his strongest opposition (keeping Finnick, his most valuable asset amongst these victors); but to Plutarch he was assembling his perfect rebel alliance. Catching Fire is just an amazing work that I will think about forever.

[achingly-shy]

THE QUARTER QUELL ALLIANCE (insp.) — requested by @panemgif

[iamrizaka]

For the pjo hunger games AU, maybe the traitor demigods can be bought?

Like Hades's realm is getting unmanageable. He hates walking through the fields of punishment to make sure the grounds, the equipment, the souls are all working as functioned. Maybe he buys a few demigods to do it for him, fitted with collars or something to make sure they can't escape or disobey.

Maybe Hephaestus buys out his traitor kids as a percieved mercy. As much as he resents/is angry for them turning, he can't stand to see the other gods use and abuse them. So he buys them and makes them do grunt work for the rest of their lives, and they live on the outskirts - knowing their father cares just enough to protect them from other gods abuse/lust, but also knowing that their father doesn't love them. They spend their days cleaning up his workshop and melting unused metal while Hephaestus carefully goes over his favored children's work with love in his eyes and compliments on his tongue, knowing they'll never have that again.

OOHH they absolutely can!! Winners are only bought by the twelve olympians and they are not the furniture or servants, but the Avoxes can be used by every non-minor god.

Nico would be the first to know (the usual) about what gods are doing to the traitors, because his own father will have some working in the Underworld. He would have to swear on Styx to not tell anyone about it (like with Greek/Roman), but will anyone find out about it this time?? I think yeah

And Hephaestus buying his own children to not let other gods abuse them IS an act of mercy there. They work all day, yes, they live who knows where, but their lives are more or less okay, because they are sort of in their element and they don't know what other gods do to their servants, because that just doesn't happen to them.

[just-an-enby-lemon]

It might be the overfixation going on but now that I have watched TBoSbaS I'm deeply into a Hunger Games AU for TMA with Snow as Jonah.

Jonah has a very similar vibe with the circunstances that leaded us to the awfull person we became where a huge part but in the end we are the villans we are because the choices we made. Besides Snow's fear of losing control parallels well with Jonah's fear of death and I dare say Jonah made even more choices in betraying friends: Albrecht von Closen, Jonathan Fanshawe, Barnabas Bennet and Robert Smirke were all different levels of turning points just as Lucy Gray and Sejamus.

[complexedandfruity]

still thinking about ✨her✨ (the hypothetical stage adaptation of catching fire i envisioned in one of the later sections of my thesis, including the giant turntable with 13 built-in hydraulic stage lifts to serve as the arena)

[mariatesstruther]

TLOU AU where Joel has to mentor Ellie, having survived his own and having watched his daughter die, name drawn out at just 12 after he pissed off the people in charge.

(Mentor Joel who died because he went feral in games, everyone knows it. Mentor Tess who survived by being charismatic and downplaying her abilities at first.)

oh bestie!!!! yes!! check my “hg au” tag! i have a whole world for you!! ive been playing around with these ideas so much that im definitely hoping i can work on it as a full fic for 2024.

i was thinking about mentor joel a lot today, actually, and the logistics of him having a daughter who has been killed by the time ellie gets reaped. thinking along the lines of him being like haymitch (which i think is perfect considering haymitch also apparently had a younger brother??? and a gf??? slay), he would’ve been reaped and won the second quarter quell just before he turned 18

so then where would sarah come in????? i was thinking about this today. i really doubt joel would’ve willingly had any children after winning. it’s an extremely dangerous and careless thing to do knowing that, as a victor, you and your family essentially become capital property.

but what is sarah was conceived BEFORE joel was reaped??? what if joel and his girlfriend, young and stupid with love and without reliable contraception, got pregnant before he won?? what if joel went into the games never wanting the capitol to find out about sarah at all?????

maybe the plan had been for her to be raised by her mother and taken care of by joel in secret once he won. it wasn’t uncommon for people in twelve to take care of other children in the community, and the capital wouldn’t care enough to notice joel giving away his winnings. but maybe —like most plan against the capital—it was futile: sarah’s home-birth, which in twelve were always risky for mother and child alike, had been deadly for lucy. maybe joel had been forced to publicly claim sarah has his own before she was sent to an orphanage

and maybe when the capital finds out, they’re forced to play along with it: they celebrate sarah miller as “the capital’s darling, the child of the games,” a pure and innocent reminder of the joy that came from an orderly world such as theirs. then, as revenge, they either kill her intentionally in a later games or “unintentionally” in some crossfire between rebels and peacekeepers

[leatherbookmark]

i had to block the hg polls because there were Too Many Of Them, but i'm just wondering... are people voting as in "in a direct combat between X and Y, who would win?" or "out of these two, who has better chances for survival?". it's been ages since i've read the books, but iirc there was a good chunk of Trying Not To Die, not just seeking out to eliminate one's opponents. i realize this would've made the voting more difficult, but i can't imagine, say, either lxc or wn starting a fight with the explicit purpose of killing each other. they're definitely the "wait it out and avoid killing until it's absolutely necessary" type imo! well. poor wn probably gets killed quite early on, but.

[disregardcanon]

i've been reading catching fire for the first time this year and i don't, personally, think that the quarter quell was a "smart move" for snow and the capitol even if things went the way that he wanted them to and katniss and peeta and all the rest died and he got a victor he could control. sure, it would have taken out katniss. but taking out katniss wasn't actually going to be the quick fix he wanted it to be.

because even the capitol citizens were upset about all of this. the capitol citizens, who had grown so used to having pretty victors to smush together like dolls and gush over and show that people from the districts CAN do something and make their lives better. it's the american bootstraps ideal made hideously manifest.

yes, they've been fed this propaganda diet that the games are proper retribution for a crime that happened a lifetime ago, but they're also supposed to bring out these Ideals TM the capitol claims to hold to and then the Beautiful Shiny Model Minority winner gets fame and fortune and safety and a promotion into capitol society. because they beat the odds and they won all these things! they *deserve* this!

now all of the privileged masses have these strong parasocial relationships where they thought they'd see their favorite athletes become safe and glamorous and happy. the social contract says that the capitol citizens get to have these lovely dolls to play with and now he's taking their toys away in a way that shows the propaganda never held any truth in the first place. if we don't actually value these people and what they represent, then why do we actually do it? (it's the cruelty. but the average capitol citizen doesn't understand that the cruelty is the point, because it took snow years and years and years of building up that Capacity for Cruelty, and most people never get to that point. there has to be a pretty facade over this for it to run smoothly for those average citizens like the prep team. and now it's not there anymore.)

and that's not even mentioning the different sort of horror this becomes for the districts, as the idea that's been sold to the wealthier districts is that if these children win they get fame and fortune and protection for life. but you're dragging them back into the horror that was supposed to buy their eternal glory? the careers aging out this year don't even have their "chance" in the arena to make their mark and gain their fortune. they'll just be losing some of their mentors in a pointless rehash.

in the poorer districts, perhaps there is some relief because their kids are safe this year but that means their only victors are being shipped off to die instead. and then their kids who won't have a chance in hell next year! because the hunger games are a perpetual motion exploitation machine, and the only way people were able to be numbed to it was figuring out the rules and then gritting their teeth and living their lives. but the rules are out the window, now. those rules that were supposed to make this terrible system something they could navigate and grit their teeth and suffering through are being blown to bits because snow tried to stomp out the tiniest embers instead of letting them burn out.

[myrandom-fandomlife]

YES.

I just saw a theory that the girl from 1 was also being used by the capitol- similar to Finnick

i want to talk about the fact that not only were katniss and peeta obviously meant to go to the quarter quell but ALSO the fact that finnick and annie were both drawn despite the fact that they have so many victors in district 4

[cherienymphe]

A Caged Bird (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, blackmail, stalking, abuse of power, hints of dacryphilia, slightly spoiler-esque

summary: Birds are best kept in a cage where one can see them...and where you know where they are at all times.

~

You thought that it was over when you won.

That’s what winning The Hunger Games meant, right? The psychological torture, the grueling conditions, and the fear that wouldn’t leave you until you finally left the arena was supposed to be over. You made it out through blood, sweat, and tears, and so your reward was to go home and reunite with your family and try your best to put the memories behind you.

Try your best to put him behind you.

So, why were you still being tormented?

When you first locked eyes with Coriolanus Snow, your first thought was how strikingly blue his were. Almost as if they weren’t real and had been specially manufactured in The Capitol for him, somehow. His hair, too, was just so much blonder than anything you’d seen in District 12, and again, you noted how so much about him seemed…artificial.

…but then he spoke…and the effect his voice had on you was very real.

“You don’t seem like you’re supposed to be here,” you’d said to him after stepping off of that train.

His response was expected, a charming chuckle leaving his pink lips, blond curls the perfect addition to his features.

“I’m not,” he slowly admitted.

The intensity behind his gaze whenever he so much as glanced at you was enough to make any girl’s heart race, and despite what you wished, you weren’t immune. He was beautiful—gorgeous as some of the other tributes and mentors liked to call him—and despite the initial intimidation, there was something about him that made you want to let your guard down.

…but he was your mentor…and a capitol citizen…and you were nothing more than his ticket to notoriety.

“Don’t you know who his dad was?” another tribute, one from one of the better districts, had said to you in a tone like you were stupid.

That was all the confirmation you needed, really.

…but he’d hopped onto the truck with you and gotten into that cage with you and brought you and your district mate food. He gave you poison to use against the other tributes. He wanted you to appeal to the audience so he’d have the funds to send you supplies. It was hard to decipher what was purely for show and what was just because he wanted you—and him by extension—to win. Perhaps, they were one in the same though, and it was impossible to have one without the other. Maybe it didn’t matter his reasons behind his desire to have his tribute win.

Maybe all that mattered was that you’d win.

…but that was when you thought winning meant you’d be free.

Coriolanus Snow was your best chance at winning, and so when the rebels rigged the arena, you didn’t hesitate to stay behind and save him. It wasn’t even a question in your mind because mentor or not, he was hurt, and you had to believe that that one fluke was not your only fighting chance. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that in saving him, you’d allowed freedom to pass you by.

“You saved me,” he told you, a gentle brush of his handkerchief under your eye to catch your tears. “You saved me, and I am going to get you out of here.”

You had no idea then that he meant out of the games…and to him.

It was that flickering moment of doubt where you wondered if you could actually win, and you recalled what you’d said to him earlier about believing you could, how much you needed him to actually believe it. Now, you were the one doubting, and he could see it, blue gaze flicking over your face and soaking in the fear and uncertainty, because if you couldn’t win…

You’d die.

A lingering gaze and a tense atmosphere, and you felt yourself pulling back, realization hitting you as to just what you were about to let happen. It was hard to decipher who overstepped first, but you couldn’t allow yourself to get wrapped up in something that was only ever meant to be strictly professional. Coriolanus was your mentor, and you were his tribute.

That was all.

You didn’t know then the full lengths he went to just to ensure your victory. How could you? You were too busy trying to survive, trying to fight off rabid tributes and teenagers driven mad with the sole desire to just live. It was all so unfair and angering, and you were sure that with less focus, you might’ve gone insane too. You didn’t have the luxury to worry about your eerily handsome mentor and whatever ulterior motives he might’ve had to see you beat this thing.

So, when you did win, all you could feel was relief. All you could focus on was your family and their faces when you’d ultimately reunite with them. All you could even entertain were thoughts of pushing this very real nightmare to the back of your mind for as long as you possibly could. Initially, you didn’t even notice that you weren’t immediately reunited with your mentor when they crowned you as the winner and got you out of there.

At least, not until you came face to face with him in your own district.

“I thought they’d killed you. I didn’t know if my actions had come back on you too,” Coriolanus told you in a secluded corner, the loud music drowning out his words and the cover of darkness hiding your faces.

Those beautiful pale curls were gone, and any thought that so much of his beauty relied on his golden locks was gone too with one drink of him. He was still the same handsome boy that mentored you, the same one who’d garnered the nickname ‘gorgeous’ among the other tributes. Up on that stage, you’d been thrown to meet a familiar gaze, your harmonious tune pausing for half a second as he met your shocked stare with an expression of his own you couldn’t place, pink lips curved upwards ever so slightly.

Any question of how and why he was here had disappeared as you registered his words. Confusion filled you as you stared at him, a slight frown between your brows as you wracked your brain for how that could possibly make sense.

“Why would they kill me…?” you slowly asked him, and you and the shadows were all that was privy to his confession.

The water bottles, the handkerchief, and the snakes—even the poison. Coriolanus had cheated to secure your victory, broken rules that plucked him out of The Capitol and dropped him here in your very own district as a Peacekeeper. The shock you felt that your victory was far from a fair one warred with the confusion you felt as to why he’d risk everything just for you to win.

If you’d lost fair and square—as you probably should have—there was no doubt in your mind that he’d be safely tucked away in the lavishness of The Capitol instead of lingering about in some rundown excuse for a bar in lowly District 12. If he knew what awaited him should his treachery be discovered…then why chance it? Nothing about your brief tutelage with him could justify what he’d risked and ultimately lost.

You wanted to ask him why, but something in you was afraid of the answer.

That almost kiss—a kiss you hadn’t thought about in months—suddenly came to mind, and even though you didn’t ask him why, something in you knew why even if you wanted to deny it. It was there in the dim lighting and rowdy atmosphere of some rundown building that every minor interaction didn’t start to feel so minor.

Every brush of his hand against yours as he reached for you, the unsettling way he seemed to watch you in that short time that you’d simply written off as concern for his tribute, and the ruthless desire to see you out on the other side of the arena. The kiss that never was only seemed like a lapse in judgement to you then, but in this moment, you had suspicions that it was very much intentional.

You swallowed, realizing that in that brief internal introspection, Coriolanus hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once.

“Did they send you to District 12?” you finally asked him.

You didn’t know what gave you away. Perhaps your tone, maybe your face, or maybe your eyes weren’t as secretive as you’d like to believe. Either way, something about your visage and demeanor gave the blond man pause, head tilting just a tad as those baby blues glinted with something you didn’t recognize but you know you didn’t like. He studied your face before coming up with the answer he probably thought you wanted.

“Of course.”

You didn’t know if you believed him.

…and Coriolanus could tell.

You’d played enough cat and mouse games in the arena—you never thought you’d have to play them in your own home too.

Starving off the affections of some boy in your district wasn’t hard or uncharted territory. Even spurning the forbidden advances of a Peacekeeper or two wasn’t unheard of, but Coriolanus was different. He wasn’t some average Joe turned cop. He was born and raised in The Capitol with a powerful father, and even though the man had been taken before his time, your former mentor still had been brought up with the kind of influence and reach and mindset that surpassed the average Peacekeeper.

They were followers—controlled by The Capitol and tasked with maintaining order. Most were no more than dumb brutes, mindlessly following orders without question, simple enough to be bribed and swayed. If Coriolanus’ actions had shown you anything, it was that he was not a follower. He did what he wanted and played by his own rules, and it was how you found yourself hunted by a gaze you thought you’d left behind in the arena.

Since the discovery of your former mentor’s presence in your district, you never felt alone.

Every walk to trade for food felt shadowed, every footstep home was accompanied with an echo, and a sweep of your eye over the crowd as you played an instrument or sang a tune was rewarded with a familiar blue one that made your heart freeze. You were forced to ignore it no longer when a single rose was left for you on the doorstep, your ma’s gaze questioning as she held it out to you.

You didn’t know where or how he got it, but you only cared about giving it back.

“I can’t accept this,” you told him, gaze steady but fingers trembling as you held it out to him.

It was raining, and the cover over your heads sheltered you from the downpour, but it did little to drown out the sound of it. Coriolanus simply stared at the flower for what felt like too long, making no moves to take it from you, and you swallowed. His blue gaze zeroed in on the action before it lifted to your face.

“…and why not?”

“Because I think it means something different to you than it does to me.”

Your response was swift, and you watched him sigh, eventually reaching out to finger the flower like he did that day before he’d proceeded to put it behind your ear. He finally took it, and just like that day before the games, it found its way behind your ear once again. The only change this time was the shudder that traveled down your spine, and the apprehension you felt when his gaze met yours.

For the longest time, the only sound was that of the rain, a few stray drops making it’s way onto your face and clothes due to the wind. If the man before you still had the locks you’d met him with, they would’ve been rustling with the breeze, right now. Both of you were very still, or maybe it was just you—nervous and fearful of how he’d respond. He briefly looked past you, eyes glinting briefly before they hardened once again, his pink lips pressed together as he regarded you.

“…and if it does?”

He continued when you frowned.

“Mean something different to me than it does to you,” he elaborated, and you blinked.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to gather your thoughts.

“I know…that I’m only standing here, now, because of you,” you slowly started, watching him push his shoulders back. “I won because of you, I know that, but-.”

“Exactly,” he cut you off, making your lips part. “You won because of me…and everything I sacrificed was to make sure you won.”

“…but I didn’t ask you to do that!”

You felt…cornered, somehow, because on the one hand, yes. You did owe so much to the man before you, but at the same time, what did you owe specifically? Your attention? Your affection? Whatever he deemed an appropriate compensation? When you saved his life in the arena that day, and he vowed to save yours in return, you didn’t understand the full ramifications of the deal you were agreeing to.

“I saved your life, and you saved mine, and I’m sorry for the things you felt the need to risk, but that’s where it ends.”

The cold from the rain didn’t faze you nearly as much as the heat from his gaze boring into your back.

You wanted to believe that your lack of confrontation was what led you to the predicament you found yourself in. After all, things between you two had held too many ‘what ifs’ and lingering feelings and questions. You liked to hope that telling the man in no uncertain terms that your relationship should never and would never progress beyond anything professional would fix things.

You never would’ve guessed that your bout of confidence would only prove to make things worse.

“My ma doesn’t even know any rebels, and you know that.”

You’d whispered the words so quietly, throat too choked up to speak any louder as you tearfully stared Coriolanus down, your words only intended for the two of you. Your back was pressed to the doorway as he stood before you, a foot or two of space between you as other Peacekeepers did their duty to search your house as thoroughly as possible. The reason you’d been given was suspicion of treason—to the shock of your ma—but both you and the handsome man before you knew the truth.

“One can never be too sure. It’s always those you least expect.”

His cool response only made you look away, a few tears escaping.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You won, you were free, so why did it still feel like you were in the game…except a much more dangerous one this time? You could feel his eyes on you as you watched man after man rifle through you and your ma’s things, your younger sister not home to witness this. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him take a step towards you—just one, but one was enough to make you flinch.

You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him though.

“Unbearable,” he quietly said. “…not able to be endured…or tolerated.”

You swallowed.

“Not to be confused with hard—requiring a great deal of endurance or effort.”

Another step towards you.

“To find something unbearable means that you quite literally cannot stomach it any longer. It forces a change to come, forces something to…give,” he whispered.

Your gaze was still focused ahead, but his words made you blink, made your heart sink, and you swore that he knew that.

“I can make things incredibly unbearable for you…and your family.”

You straightened at that, finally looking at him with a venomous gaze and a heaving chest. Coriolanus reached up to pick at your shirt, removing a piece of grass from it, and you watched him inspect it before turning his blue eyes back onto you. They lingered on your own eyes before lowering to your lips, his own twitching so subtly you might’ve missed it if you were anyone else.

“Or I can make sure you’ll be taken care of, looked after as if you were my own…” his gaze met yours again. “It’s entirely your choice.”

You two stared at one another for an infuriating amount of time before he let out a sharp whistle, telling the other men that nothing seemed to be here and to move on. His wording was not lost on you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Coriolanus was the last to walk out, and despite the feel of his heavy gaze, you didn’t look his way the entire time.

Your ma commented on the strangeness of the whole ordeal, but nothing about it was strange to you. It was all very calculating and sinister actually, and while you grew up hearing countless talk of running away and living off the grid, you were never more tempted than in this moment…but you were not alone. Your ma was sickly, and your sister was too young.

…and if you left, you could only guess what you’d be leaving your family susceptible to.

Your future seemed inevitable no matter how much you tried to find a way out of the path set for you.

The first night you slept with Coriolanus Snow, it was storming just like that day you’d attempted to give him back his flower. You’d cried for a good three hours before, feeling helpless in the aftermath of another so-called inspection from Peacekeepers—this one much more destructive. The only light that night came from the brief flashes of lightning, and the sound of the rain drowned out the reluctant gasps to leave your lips.

Hands much softer than you ever expected trailed down your frame, curving over your hips and dipping underneath your thighs. The blond man’s lips rarely left your skin, kissing whatever part of you that came to mind, nose gently grazing you as he did and pulling shudders from your frame. It was a foreign feeling to be so heated and afraid at the same time.

Under the cover of darkness, his fingers intertwined with your own and his hips were flush with yours. The feel of him inside of you was much more jarring than you thought it would be, choked deep breaths leaving your parted lips as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts were slow, the complete opposite of what you expected, and you didn’t know if you liked that better or worse.

Every kiss felt wrong, like you were betraying yourself, but in the same manner, they also reminded you of that first day you met. You thought about when you stepped off of that train, and that smooth voice escaped those pink lips, and your stomach flipped no matter how much you pretended it didn’t. The person you were that day wanted to throw your head back and welcome the little nips he left along your skin.

The person you were, now, wanted to crawl inside of your skin.

This man had stalked you to the highest degree, following you all the way from The Capitol just to collect on the young woman whose survival he ensured. The things he’d risked and ultimately lost, he placed the weight of on your shoulders as if you were responsible to compensate for that somehow. As if it was your duty to make his sacrifices worth it.

When he pulled you into his lap, resting on him with arms circled around your waist, it was your turn to press your face into the area where his neck and shoulder met. His fingers dancing along your skin made you shudder, and that just made the tears collect more because you didn’t want to enjoy this, but your body and your brain didn’t seem to be in alignment.

When you were forced to come around him, you saw stars, and you were positive your nails left marks on his back.

You didn’t really think that no more trouble from Peacekeepers was worth the figurative collar around your neck. The abundance of food and supplies might have been, if only to just see the smiles on your ma and sister’s faces, but even then, when you found your back pressed to Coriolanus’ chest as he drove his cock up into you, you wondered if it was actually worth it.

Your ma would say no, that you knew for sure, but you supposed it wasn’t her call to make.

After all, the alternative was psychological torment and worst-case scenarios you didn’t even want to entertain.

“Would you have had her arrested?” you quietly wondered one night.

The sheet was clutched to your chest, and you were facing the wall, still unable to look him in the eye directly afterwards. You’d never been able to, feeling used and low and indefensible. You tried not to dwell on the feel of his fingertips tracing patterns into your shoulder, his cool breath hitting your skin as he exhaled.

“I mean…would you have…framed her somehow? Found some justification for it?”

You didn’t know why you were asking, certain you wouldn’t like the answer, and as you predicted, you felt your throat tighten the longer the silence stretched. Against your will—like many things you’d been doing as of late—a few tears escaped, and even before he answered, you knew what you were going to hear.

“Yes,” he confessed, just as quietly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, subtly wiping your face.

“I sacrificed so much for you to win, and not just because your win was my win…but because I wanted to see you win,” he murmured, placing a kiss to your back. “…because I wanted you.”

You knew that, but having it confirmed so plainly was disturbing.

“…and when I eventually make my way back to The Capitol, as we both know I will, I’ll still want you.”

Your stomach sank at that, and for the first time, you turned to look at him while still trembling in the aftermath of what had quickly become a nightly occurrence. His gaze was still focused on where your back had been, and when his eyes flitted up to connect with yours, you didn’t have the words to convey how you felt about what he was insinuating.

“In The Capitol, you’ll have access to things you could never even imagine…and you could send those same things back to your family,” he told you, reaching up to touch your face.

When you moved to sit up, he stopped you, a firm grip on your arm. Coryo—as he liked for you to call him—fixed you with a look that you knew all too well. It was the look he gave you when you tried to come up with any excuse as to why you couldn’t meet with him. It was the look you received when you briefly forgot the power dynamics here, turning away from him and attempting to push him away.

It was a look that told you not to fight the inevitable.

“I want you there with me.”

His tone left no room for argument, and there was so much conviction in his voice that the thought of arguing seemed legitimately draining. You simply stared at him, eyes glassy, and he stared back, waiting for verbal confirmation of what you both knew was going to happen, anyway. You had no choice in the matter, you never did, and for a brief horrifying moment, you almost wished you were a lone orphan who didn’t have to look out for anybody but yourself.

That thought did make tears spill over.

It was a horrible thing to think, but your loved ones were being used against you, and you knew that your ma—and your sister if she were old enough to comprehend these things—would never want this for you. Coryo sat up with you, a hand resting on your cheek as he gazed at you, a thumb brushing the tears away. It wasn’t meant to be comforting.

Nothing he did was ever meant to be comforting.

“I want you there with me,” he repeated.

You wondered what someone like you would possibly do in The Capitol.

“I don’t belong there,” you whispered, a poor attempt to get him to change his mind.

His response was swift and clipped.

“You belong with me.”

When he pressed his lips to yours, it was expected that you would kiss him back. His thumb brushed along your skin as you did, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat that quickly escalated into a groan. His free arm snaked around you, and your last attempt at resisting proved futile, so you let him lay you down.

Sex with Coriolanus was a maddening experience.

You didn’t want it, and your brain didn’t want it, but it was as if your body was its own separate entity running on hormones and animal instinct.

When he rested his full weight on top of you, you shuddered for a multitude of reasons—one of which you didn’t want to acknowledge. When he slid his hand between your breasts and down to your stomach, your back arched, chest pressing up and into his. When he pushed into you all torturously slow as he always did, you involuntarily held your breath, shaking at the feel of his hips connecting with yours, the length of him fully sheathed in your warmth.

You were terrified of him, so that was why you opened up for him like those budding roses he used to carry around, but in doing so, you made yourself vulnerable beneath him. You made yourself more susceptible to his kisses and his touch and that maddening voice that knew just how to get its way. He wasn’t a very talkative man when he was inside of you, much more content with letting his actions speak for themselves, but tonight was different.

“Look at me,” he whispered, curving his hips into yours. “Look right at me.”

You did, and while you didn’t know the specifics of the psychology behind this, you knew that looking into the eyes of your tormentor while in the act couldn’t be good.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he breathlessly told you, nose brushing against yours with every thrust.

You could hear that it was starting to rain again, and you pressed your hands into the small of his back, trying to ground yourself in some way—trying to have control over something, anything. Tears kissed your eyes, and you swore—you swore—that something in those blues of his twinkled. It sparked something in his gaze, and in his psyche, his thrusts becoming more powerful and making you gasp, nails pressing into his skin.

He only looked especially satisfied when the tears spilled over.

When he came inside of you, and you around him, you swore you saw stars.

You even thought you saw snow.

[bonesandchalamet]

you can’t catch me now — coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: when you want the plinth prize, and so does he, you’ll do anything in your power to make sure snow doesn’t land on top.

warnings: slightly unedited/ minor grammatical errors + snow isn’t that much of an asshole + minor tension between characters + no graphic details of death + SPOILERS TO THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES!

a/n: typically don’t like to write for villains… but that movie has been on my mind since I saw it 😅

when the plinth prize had a minor change in plans the only person you could look towards was him. snow. he had to have an idea, but by the reaction that took place, the way he shifted in his seat, he’d have had no clue. this must have been some sick joke. but the hunger games was all about discipline and viewers, it’s no shock the plinth prize money stakes were upped.

you’d have risen to the top and fought coriolanus snow every moment you could. academics were easy, but this? mentoring someone to win a game? this was a true test.

leaving the capital, leaves crunch beneath your feet as your pace quickens. how was this fair? to throw children in an arena to fight for their lives, that was one unfair choice the capital made, but this? was a cruel punishment.

you can hear his feet against the pavement. his pace was always rather faster than yours, which is why you’re surprised he hadn’t caught up to you now. you’d had booked it out the capital the second you were dismissed, but the dread of the next few days still lingered the air like bad perfume.

“y/n, y/n—“

“corio,” you finally snap. turning on your heel to face him, he stops. the air in his lungs catches when he sees the tears against your blush colored cheeks. you held your fight for the rights of the district close to your chest, similarly to sejanus; but you’d only ever been the one to push snow to the limits and make him fight back. tomorrow, your tribute could die and Coriolanus would win once again. it wasn’t fair how snow seemed to always win.

“you think I’m happy about this?” his question takes you by surprise. nobody was happy about this, but coriolanus’ songbird made quite the impression with viewers. you’d expected him to gloat in your face, a typical action of his, but todays far different. there’s an eery difference to the coriolanus you saw that morning before the plinth prize was changed.

“I’d expect you to be happy about your bird gaining you views and donations—“

“she’ll die by tomorrow, y/n. your guy at least has a chance to win. he’s strong enough to take on the others. you’ve got the money in the bag.” he runs a frustrated hand through his white blond curls. his bright blue eyes stare into your soul the way they normally do. so tempting to swim in, but you fight the current. you’re stronger than that, and after all these years of fierce competition, Coriolanus was not going to get you like this.

“I know your motives, snow. sympathizing with me isn’t going to get you far.” you spit out the words, spinning back in the direction towards home. if it wasn’t for the capital traffic, and coriolanus, you’d be home by now. you’d be in bed dreading sleep while you worry awake about the next morning.

“motives? can’t we be friends for once—“

“you want my alliance so my guy doesn’t kill her. I’m always a step ahead of you.”

he scoffs. he stands inches behind you, watching you eye the traffic circle for a chance to sprint across towards the grass for the home stretch. the comforting walls of your bedroom were waiting for you, but coriolanus and rush hour were adding to your time.

“alliance? if I’d wanted an alliance I’d have asked sejanus for help, since he has the money we both don’t have.”

it’s no secret to the two of you that money was tight. it’s maybe why you both work harder than the others, because college was in their futures, and your futures were determined by the outcome of the hunger games. the first time you met Coriolanus, you knew he was just like you. tight shoes, shirt that was far too big, and an excitement for the amount of food that capital had to offer. staring into each others souls that first lecture was when you knew coriolanus was not going to be your friend.

“so then what do you want from me? because once this is all over,” you snap your head up in his direction, his blue eyes piercing into your own, you can feel his anxiety radiating off him, “you’ll go back to hating me and begging for some of that plinth money.”

—

anxiety sits at the pit of your stomach. his songbird had run to the fans leaving four remaining in the pact on the hunt for her. coriolanus sits two seats away from you, his eyes haven’t left the screen since she’d gone into hiding.

“she’ll have to come out eventually.” you snap your head in his direction for a brief second, but his don’t leave where the four attempt to get her out of the vents.

you’d be lying to say you weren’t nervous for everyone in the arena. you’d hated how they were pitted against each other for punishment, and having to mentor these people made your attachment towards the games far worse. you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep, and frankly if you could, you wouldn’t watch.

there was no exact plan when you met your tribute. he’d been shaken up from the past couple of days and just wanted to survive. you couldn’t blame him, and while you worked on some strategies, it was all up to him.

“she can survive—“ his words were a second too late when the clan began to rattle the vents, using pitch forks and other weapons to get her out. the dust was too heavy for the cameras to see anything, but you’d assumed they got her out by the looks of it, and everyone held onto their seats.

she’d appeared from the dusty air in no time. running for another escape, when Dr. Gauls trick up her sleeve rattled the arena. she had a way of twisting the games, and the game seemed to last longer than she intended: enter the tank the drones were dropping off.

“what is she doing.” you move closer to coriolanus, your voice in a hushed tone so the other remaining mentors didn’t hear a thing. he’s focused on the screen, but your eyes find Dr. Gaul and her wicked smile.

“if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you anyway—“

“there’s no point in bluffing, they’ll die anyway with that tank of snakes.” your voice is strained, the words come out slithery on your tongue, coriolanus turns his head in your direction for the first time today.

his blue eyes were a different shimmer. they bleed with anxiety, and as he rises out of the chair, he pulls you closer to his chest. he carefully lowers his head down towards your ear, mouth hovering over it, “I’m so sorry, but it had to be done. I wouldn’t look if I were you.”

slowly moving backwards from his grip, you run towards the doors. time seemed to slow down. you spot Tigris, she’s rising from her seat, a smile stretched across her face as her, and other students, rush to congratulate coriolanus on his victory, you can hear him calling out your name as the doors slam behind you.

your feet carry you. the sounds of the fireworks and the honks of the cars in the traffic circle don’t phase you, but you’re running to the only place that you know. the only place that’ll play fair against coriolanus snow’s twisted games.

MONTHS LATER

“so you do win after all.”

the sound of his shoes scraping against the floor are different. you used to recognize his patterned steps, the way they scuffed the floor because the shoes he wore were too small.

turning around in your chair, you spot the new coriolanus snow. the man who fell off the face of the capital once Dr. Gaul was made aware of his cheating. now, you sit in the University library staring a different snow.

“I didn’t have to cheat for it.”

he rolls his eyes taking the seat across from you at the table. your notes are scattered amongst the table, and you look the same minus the bags you wear under your eyes. university changed you. and district twelve certainly changed him. working through the ranks to move to district two, only to be summoned by Dr. Gaul for a second chance in the capital. he arrived home yesterday, and made it his plans to find you. which wasn’t hard, since you spent all your life in this exact library anyway.

“I learned my lesson. you caught me.” he raises his hands up in defense, you spot the marks against his forearm. leaning forward, you carefully wrap your fingers around his pale skin, “snake bite?”

“they aren’t friendly in the wild.”

a chuckle escapes your lips as you release his arm from your light grip, “they were friendly to Lucy gray.”

“well she’s not so friendly to me anymore.”

“oh corio, you should know cheating for a girl never makes a good impression.” you smile brightly. leaning back into your seat, you get a better look at him. the buzzcut suits him, bringing his bright blue eyes more to the center of his looks.

he exhales a deep sigh nodding in agreement, “I’m a changed man, thanks to you. you taught me a lot.”

“so what are you doing home, snow? I thought you were out of here for twenty years.” at least those were the rumors you heard. nobody spoke of sejanus or coriolanus much anymore, and while you worried if tattling was the right thing to do, you’re happy to see he came back a better version of himself.

“you didn’t hear?” he asks. shaking your head you gesture for him to continue, “I’ll be working closely with Dr. Gaul. I’m back to the capital, and I’m back to mess with you.”

you wish he could’ve seen how far you rolled your eyes back, but he was long gone after that, leaving you alone to study once again. you knew Coriolanus wouldn’t last twenty years away from you. not since he was practically in love with you.

[mortal-song]

i do like the hunger games movies — like, as far as book adaptations go, things were relatively good — but they were WRONG for not including the little bit of haymitch’s backstory in the catching fire movie. the pieces of haymitch’s backstory that the books gave us offered a LOT of insight into his motivations and the way he trusts & understands katniss irrevocably. haymitch’s games were a quarter quell, too. he lost an ally, too. and more importantly, he was the first person to realize that the force fields that surround the arenas are deadly, and he used that to his advantage and won the games as a result. his actions were seen as an act of rebellion by the capitol, and so snow had his family killed. the next, and only other person to ever do this — to use the force field as a weapon — was katniss. she didn’t come up with the idea on her own. she got it from witnessing clips of haymitch’s games. and she knew what it could cost, and she did it anyway. and that was what officially set the wheels of the rebellion into motion. it was a flame that haymitch had sparked years ago, even if it wasn’t a conscious intention. at the time of his own games, the people weren’t ready to unify and rebel as a cohesive unit, but once katniss used his same method, they were. the parallels between haymitch and katniss run deep, and he trusts her irrevocably. he knew exactly what she was about to do when she said “yes” in the tributes meeting, and he stood behind her immediately. haymitch is arguably the one and only person who understands katniss in her entirety. he has felt the same grief, undergone the same tragedies, and held the same passion that begged for a better world.

[pinchofhoney]

broken promises, part three

« part one | part two | part three (the last one)

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warning: angst, we used to be close but people can go from people you know to people you don't, mention of helping in the rebellion

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: so,, this is the end of this little story of a heartbreak. thank you for sticking with it<33 for more coriolanus content, feel free to drop by my inbox where you can leave your ideas for the next oneshots!!

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @metalarmsandmanbuns @mavkaorlova @strangegril002 @thathoefromcollage

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

You'd be lying if you pretended not to be invested in the 10th Hunger Games. With Academy students participating this year, you had no choice but to follow the competition's every twist and turn, but even if it had been different, you'd have still tuned in from your home's television screen.

Despite the heated exchanges and angry words directed at Coriolanus, your best wishes were always with him. You genuinely hoped for nothing but the best for him, believing he'd achieve the deserved success he'd strived for and reach his craved scholarship, a gateway to boundless opportunities. In your heart, you rooted for Lucy Gray Baird's victory, as that seemed to be the only path leading to Coriolanus's dreams coming true.

Seeing Coriolanus each day in his perfectly fitted Academy uniform, hiding behind a facade of indifference that he never pull off around anyone outside his inner circle, playing the part of the model student, brought you pain. He gave off the impression that your past relationship had left no mark on him, leaving you in the dark about his true emotions and what was going on within his mind for the first time.

You were aware that everyone in your class had picked up on the shift between you and Coriolanus, though they tactfully avoided discussing it openly. You appreciated their silent understanding; no one was prying, and it allowed you to avoid discussing the painful change that had taken place. You didn't owe anyone an explanation, but it was easier to bear the weight of the situation when it remained unspoken. It stung to know that some girl from the District now held a more important place in your boyfriend's heart than you, someone he had known since childhood and shared the darkest moments of his life with.

The breakup with Coriolanus hit you like someone’s death. When you returned to the family penthouse, tears flowed endlessly from your eyes, and you couldn't seem to stop them. The persistent crying left you dehydrated, lying on your bed, cocooned in a blanket, your eyes red and swollen, and a pounding headache. The idea of consuming even a morsel of food felt impossible, and every inch of your room was a constant reminder of the moments you had shared with Coriolanus.

At times, you really wanted to approach him, to take the blame, to apologize for reacting hastily and to tell him that you should have let him handle things. But he treated you as if you were transparent. He had to feel your gaze on him, yet he chose to act as if you didn't exist, focusing all his attention on the Arena's broadcast screens, eagerly awaiting Lucy Gray's appearance.

As soon as the victory of the tribute from the Twelfth District became evident, you leaped to your feet, a genuine smile lighting up your face. Joining in the cheers and applause of your friends, you felt an urge to rush towards Coriolanus, but the memory of his distant gaze held you back. You knew you were no longer part of his happiness, no longer someone he wanted to share joy with.

With a lump in your throat, you discreetly cleared it, glancing around at other students. They seemed too absorbed in their own celebrations to notice your abrupt outburst. And so, you continued clapping, though the enthusiasm had waned, and the smile on your lips had dimmed.

You watched as Festus and a few other students hoisted Coriolanus onto a chair and paraded him around the podium and when they eventually placed him back on the ground, he turned his gaze toward you for the first time since your break up.

It was a brief look, lacking the joy in his eyes from seconds ago, but tinged with sense of satisfaction. It was a satisfaction born from the unexpected outcome, a result opposite to your wish for him to lose.

Afterward, all the students were directed into the dining hall to celebrate Coriolanus's victory with cake and posca.

And no longer after, the boy simply disappeared, slipping away from the festivities.

As the final echoes of the Games' noisy cheers faded away, an unsettling silence descended upon the Capitol, and your mind was left in a whirlwind of questions and concern. The explanation provided by the Academy for Coriolanus's sudden departure to one of the districts, where he was enlisting for as a Peacekeeper, seemed like an ill-fitting puzzle piece in his life.

You knew Coriolanus better than most, his ambitions, his dreams, his unrelenting pursuit of victory. This decision, so out of character, scratched at the corners of your consciousness like an itch you couldn't quite reach. The nagging sense that something was amiss and missing from the narrative was an ever-present companion, casting a shadow over your thoughts.

But the mystery didn't end with his sudden departure. The day following the Games' conclusion, it was as if someone had meticulously wiped away any trace of the event's existence. Records, footage, and even the very name Lucy Gray Baird were methodically excised from history's pages. The thoroughness of this situation left you in a state of bewildered disbelief. The memories and echoes of the Games, once so vivid, now seemed to have been cast into a gap of forgotten time.

Your mind was a whirlwind of questions, each one clamoring for answers, but you knew that the truth was hidden beyond your reach. In all of these Capitol secrets, you had no choice but to accept the narrative spun by Doctor Gaul and Dean Highbottom, even if it left you feeling like a mere puppet, dancing to their tune.

You just clung to the belief that Coriolanus was out there, safe, and somehow untouched by the Capitol's ominous machinations. You didn't know the real reason for his leaving, but thoughts of his comfort were your only solace.

You longed to see him again, not only because of the warmth of his presence, but also because of the secrets he could hold. Yet, deep down, you knew that even if he were to find his way back to the heart of Panem, you would likely be the last person on his list to seek out.

On a day that was just like any other, as the Capitol went about its business, you found yourself outside your penthouse. It was just another moment in your everyday routine, all you wanted was to go for a walk, enjoying the last few days before university starts, unaware of things that were about to happen.

You were lost in thought, just looking around the familiar place when suddenly, someone stepped into view and your heart stopped for what seemed like a split second. It was Coriolanus, no doubt about it, but he had changed more than you could have imagined. He used to have those distinctive curls, but now, his hair was much shorter. His whole presence felt more reserved. Even the way he carried himself seemed different from what you were used to. Something about his aura had shifted, and it was not the same energy you once knew, not even the one he usually projected to others. It was a subtle change, but it was there.

Upon realizing that he was heading towards your shared building, a mix of emotions surged within you. Surprise and happiness due to the sight of the person you had missed so intensely warred with the memories of his abrupt departure, and the months of estrangement.

As he drew closer, you couldn't help but hope for a friendly reunion. You wanted to forget the past and bridge the distance that had grown between the two of you, but the Coriolanus who now stood before you was colder, more distant than ever before.

His eyes, which once held warmth and familiarity when they met yours, now seemed to pass right through you, leaving you with an unsettling sense that the Coriolanus you once knew had changed into a stranger.

“Coryo?” you cautiously greeted him as he drew closer, employing the affectionate diminutive form of his name. “I didn't expect to meet you here.”

Your friendly approach fell upon a wall of silence, an awkward pause hanging heavily between you. The air seemed thick with unresolved tension, and you questioned whether you should have simply pretended not to notice him.

“Dean Highbottom mentioned that you departed for Twelve to join the Peacekeepers,” you continued, attempting to engage him in conversation. Your gaze remained intent on his, even as his bored expression showed little sign of interest. This was undoubtedly one of the most awkward moments of your life, and the hope of a warm reunion was fading with each passing second.

You couldn't help but inquire further, “Was it because of Lucy Gray?”

Upon the mention of the tribute girl's name, a subtle shift occurred in Coriolanus's demeanor. He raised his head slightly, his gaze narrowing and his jaw clenching. The unexpected reaction baffled you, and a crease of confusion formed between your brows as you tried to comprehend his change in demeanor.

“Lucy Gray is gone,” he stated, his words dripping with coldness and arrogance, once again underscoring the transformation in his character. The warmth and compassion that had once defined your interactions now felt like distant memories, leaving you in the stark shadow of your shared past.

“Gone?” you repeated. His statement was quite confusing, and you struggled to grasp its meaning.

Without offering any clarification, he continued his stride towards the building's entrance, as if your presence had become irrelevant to him. Desperate for answers that had slipped away form you for far too long, you reached out and gently grasped the sleeve of his shirt to stop him.

“Coryo, wait,” you begged, looking into his eyes for a flicker of the person you used to know. The frigid stare he returned sent a chill through your spine, but your curiosity pushed you forward. “What happened? After... well, after you disappeared.”

His gaze dipped to where your fingers held on to his shirt, and the tension between you grew palpable. When you finally let go, his eyes met yours once more, and he spoke in a voice that held a hint of gentleness. “Do you really want to know what happened?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. He maintained his distance, standing tall and appearing to gaze down at you.

You didn't particularly like this version of Coriolanus, but at the same time you couldn't back down now; you had yearned for this moment for months.

In response to his question, you offered a simple nod, a silent invitation for him to share. The silence hung between you, heavy and full of unspoken emotions. Coriolanus glanced around, checking for any unwelcome listeners nearby, before answering.

“I've been through a living hell,” he responded curtly, leaving a trail of unresolved questions lingering in the air, but before you could voice these unspoken thoughts, he continued.

“I was forced to follow relentless orders each day, enduring the scorching sun that left burns on my skin, and the agony of taking three lives,” he recounted, as if each experience weighed equally on his conscience. “And those damn songbirds... they're a nightmare. They can drive you to the brink of insanity.”

You sought answers in his eyes, searching for any glimmer of the person you had known, but what you found was far from the warmth and compassion you remembered. It was as if something within him had been replaced by a hint of disdain.

“She betrayed me,” he continued, his voice carrying the weight of bitter disappointment, before you had time to sort out the chaos in your head. “Just when I thought I could escape it all and start a new life without constantly looking over my shoulder, she chose to abandon me.”

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you questioned, your forehead creased with worry as you gazed into his eyes.

“I killed Sejanus Plinth,” he confessed. Your lips parted in shock, and without realizing it, you instinctively moved a step away, creating a physical gap between you and someone who had once been an open book. Now, it felt as though you knew nothing about him.

You had heard rumors of Sejanus Plinth's death, but the details were murky. The nature of Coriolanus and Sejanus's relationship had always been a subject of speculation, leaving people to wonder whether they were genuine friends or just collagues. Coriolanus had occasionally expressed his frustration with Sejanus to you, but you had never imagined he would go as far as to take such a drastic step.

Coriolanus seemed oblivious to your reaction, his words continuing in a torrent of frustration. “But he deserved it. He could have listened to me and followed the rules for once. Instead, he chose to be a rebel, wanting to play the savior of the districts. That's how rebels end up,” his words were like shards of ice, driven by a wrath you had never seen in him before.

“I killed people who threatened her. I killed those who could be dangerous to Lucy Gray,” Coriolanus murmured. You gazed into his empty eyes as he continued and a sense of dread creeped over you. “And in return, she betrayed me, willing to see me suffer the same fate as Sejanus,” he said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't risk being caught when I was mere hours away from leaving this wretched district.”

Your world seemed to crumble under the weight of his shocking confession. The inhumanity of his actions left you speechless, but Coriolanus appeared unaffected by your stunned silence.

He took a step closer, diminishing the gap between you, and you fought the urge to move back or look away from his piercing eyes.

“I'll make them all pay for it,” he declared with a small, unsettling smirk tugging at his lips. There was something in that expression that scared you, and now you were sure the boy standing in front of you was not the Coriolanus you had grown up with. “Every last one of them,” he added, presumably referring to the district residents with disdain.

With those words hanging in the air, he turned and disappeared behind the door of the apartment building, leaving you in a state of confusion and fear.

Many times, as you lay in bed at night, you often found yourself imagining the chance to see Coriolanus again. You wished that somehow, things could go back to the way they used to be, and that the warmth you once shared might return. But, the version of the man you just had a chance to look in the eyes filled you with nothing but fear now.

He seemed colder than his very name.

64 YEARS LATER

The underground room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single overhead bulb casting elongated shadows on the faces gathered around the table. Maps, documents, and a tactical board cluttered the space, a visual representation of the Rebellion's intricate plans. The tension in the room was palpable, and when you walked in with a woman who bore a striking resemblance to a tiger in her appearance, the rebels shared uncertain, questioning looks.

Katniss, her unmistakable braided hair and fierce gaze, was the first to break the silence. Her voice cut through the tension like a blade, “Why are you doing this?”

Her eyes bore into yours with a mix of curiosity and concern, and you felt a dozen pairs of eyes in the room fixate on you. “Risking your life to help us take down Snow?”

You inhaled a quivering breath when the memories and thoughts weighing heavily upon your chest. In your mind, a series of images flashed – a time when Snow had been had been a very different person. You paused for a moment, your thoughts returning to the Coriolanus you had once been so familiar with. The recollection painted a vivid picture of Coryo as you remembered him: his charming smile, which he had once reserved solely for you, and his distinctive, curly hair.

“I'm doing this,” you began, your voice tinged with pain and longing, “because I used to know him very well.” You deliberately used the diminutive form of his name that had once been so familiar to you, “Coryo. We were close, once.”

The room fell silent, and a myriad of emotions passed over the faces of those assembled. Your words seemed to have caught them off guard, and you could sense their curiosity and concern.

“We were in a relationship, but he's not the person I once loved anymore. This Snow, the one we're fighting against now, is a monster. He's not the Coryo I knew. He deserves the worst.”

Peeta, who sat beside Katniss, let out a sigh, and his eyes held a profound understanding. His gaze, a clear blue in the dim light, softened as he looked at you.

“Sometimes people change,” Peeta said, his voice gentle. “I've seen it happen before.”

Katniss's expression hardened with resolve, her determination unwavering. “He's going to regret everything he has done in his life,” she said.

As Katniss's words hung in the air, you felt a wave of knotty emotions churning within you. Your gaze drifted downward to the shelter's dirt floor, where the tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to overflow. For years, you had yearned for justice to be served to Coriolanus, for him to face the consequences of his oppressive rule over Panem. It had been a sincere desire, one that had simmered in your heart, yet now, with the Rebellion's cause so close to success, you found yourself grappling with a bewildering conflict.

Coriolanus had long disregarded you, deeming you unworthy of his attention and companionship. He had tear your connection, but it didn't mean that you had forgotten the feelings you had once for him.

It was his treatment of those who still loved him, the suffering of his cousin Tigris, who had been a close friend of yours, that weighed on your heart. She had selflessly helped Coriolanus throughout the war, supported him during his first mentorship and long after, but his attitude toward her changed with each passing year, and you couldn't understand why.

Over the years, Coriolanus had allowed the Hunger Games to evolve into something even more grotesque and brutal, making even bigger spectacle out of the tributes' deaths. It had been a source of disgust, a reflection of his growing cruelty. You were repulsed by the Capitol, sickened by Snow's insatiable thirst for power and the desire to see him removed from his seat of authority had been a driving force.

Yet, something within you was blocking your resolve, sowing seeds of doubt and uncertainty. The conflict within your heart was a huge storm, with one part pulling you toward the rebellion and the other tethered to a past that still held the remains of the Coriolanus you had once known, loved, and miss.

But that boy from your youth was a distant memory, swallowed by the Coriolanus who had emerged over the years, especially during his time in the Twelfth District shortly after his victory in the Games.

You raised your eyes to meet Katniss's, and in that moment, your mind drifted to Lucy Gray Baird, an ironic twist of fate that wasn't lost on you.

As Katniss observed your internal struggle, her sharp instincts sensed that there was more to your hesitancy than met the eye. She furrowed her brows, her gaze unwavering, and asked, “Is there something else you would like to share?”

Peeta, who had been observing you quietly, echoed her concern with a compassionate look in his eyes. His gentle tone conveyed understanding as he said, “You can talk to us, you know. We've all had our reasons for joining this fight.”

Your throat felt constricted, and you struggled to find your voice amidst the chaos of emotions. With a hurried swallow and a deep breath to steady yourself, you cleared your throat and shook your head. You offered a smile, though it felt forced and inadequate for the gravity of the moment, as you moved closer to the table filled with scattered papers.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked, attempting to shift the focus away from you. Your eyes darted around the faces of those gathered around the tabletop, eager to immerse yourself in the cause, to be part of the solution to the crisis at hand.

[wonderlandwalker]

After All These Years | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: You think he no longer cares, and he thinks you're better off without him. But the reaping for the 75th hunger games puts a dent in both of those thoughts

Content Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, insinuations of smut, kissing, once again not proofread

Requested by @rottingpeache: absolutely need to see enemies to lovers with finnick. “I really don’t like you.” “And I really don’t believe you.”

Word Count: 1k

A/N: No clue if this is actually enemies to lovers or just a poor attempt at it. I'm gonna go take a nap now but there is more coming cause the requests sparked something in me again so thank you to everyone who sent them!!

None of you had expected it to happen, how could you? But you've learned by now there is no point in fighting it either. So when you heard Mags’ name being called out and you volunteered in her stead, you suppose it was simply out of habit. In a world like this, the only thing that makes you feel like you are surviving is helping others do the same thing. As you stepped forward you could see the cameras zooming in on your face, trying to capture every expression you were making. You saw the cameras do the same for Finnick. Years of being in an unwelcome spotlight had made his poker face almost unbreakable, but the small furrow of his eyebrows and the twitch in his gallant smile told you everything you needed to know.

It wasn't until the next day that he first spoke to you. Over the years you would see each other, of course, you would talk. But at all the events and all the parties you did nothing more than exchange pleasantries. But now he came out of your peripheral vision and cornered you against the wall behind you with his broad arms.

“What were you thinking, this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done.” His demeanour seemed angry, he seemed serious. But you had no reason to match it, you just wanted to get under his skin like he got under yours.

“Be careful what you say, you might actually be the stupidest thing I’ve done.” you wondered if he remembered, if he remembered the night you had spent together so many years ago, it had been the best night of your life, and you had no idea if he even remembered. If he did, he didn't let it show.

“Did you even think it through? You survived the arena once, and only barely, what makes you think you’ll make it out alive again.” His voice was a low rasp, and if you didn't know better, you'd say he sounded upset. But you knew better, Finnick had shown you his true colours when he started avoiding you, and you did remember that.

“I wasn't thinking, how could I? All I could think about was Mags having to go through it all again, you more than anyone else know she deserves better.” you were looking him in the eyes now, and it took all of your willpower not to melt. “My games weren’t that long ago, I did it then and I’m still here, I can do it again.” He stepped closer to you, eliminating the remaining space between your bodies, his chest against yours, and you could feel his heart skip a beat as he spoke.

“Exactly, I was there, and it damn near broke me too. I was there to piece you back together. But I won’t watch it happen to you again, I can’t let it happen. Because what if I’m not there this time, what if I'm not there to put you back together.” There was a stark contrast between his face and his voice. As you looked at him you saw his eyes soften, and it gave you a glimpse of the Finnick you once knew. But his voice was still filled with anger, and it snapped you back to reality.

“And how would you know what I can and cannot handle.” You were challenging him now, but he had you matched.

“Because I know you. Even if you don’t believe so, I know what youre like, I know how you think. You might believe I forgot, that I ignore you and go on with my life as if nothing happened. But if you were to actually think for one second you would see that I’m simply doing what's best for you, I just want what’s best for you but now you’ve gone and ruined all of it in one day. 

You’re at a loss for words, because maybe he was right, maybe you had gone and messed up everything with a single sentence at the reaping. But maybe everything was finally making a turn for the better, because for the first time, he was telling you he cared. And you’re thankful to finally see his thoughts shine through, but you’re overwhelmed too. So you turn around, you turn away from him, wanting to escape the confrontation. Except he’s not letting you go, not this time

“I really don’t care what you think Finnick.” You weren’t sure if you believed your own words, but you needed to get away from him.

“And I really don’t believe you.” You tried shrugging him off again, and you were about to turn away from him when you felt him grab onto your arm and pull you into him. As you looked up you could feel his eyes fixed on yours.

And so you do the only thing you can think of, you do the thing you want most in this moment right here, you kiss him. You tell yourself that consequences be damned, because even if he will hate you for it, even if you’ll regret it later, at least you have this one moment to get yourself through it, at least you didn't let your fears of losing him completely win this time.  You kiss him as if everything will be okay, because when you feel his lips start to move in sync with yours, it is. 

For a moment you think everything will resolve itself and you and Finnick can live together in a small house near the beach. For a moment you forget how much you hate him for everything he put you through. Because in this moment, if life could be like this moment, you’d forgive him for all of it. And you don't know it yet, but he’s even more scared than you are.

[fakescenarios-tohelpyousleep]

they weren’t the first part 2| finnick odair

part 2 of they weren’t the first

summary| finnick lost you in the 65th hunger games, but district 13 is full of many surprises

warnings| angst (ig), mentions of past hunger games, mentions of death, no smut but there is a makeup session, talks of Finnick’s past

A/N| glad yall liked the first one cause this was so much fun to write

__

you don’t know how you get here really. one moment a prisoner of the capital, the next a new member of secret district 13. you don’t really remember how you escaped, you don’t know how you ended up at district 13.

lately it’s been chaos. the bombing of district 12, the influx of survivors, the quarter quell, having to see Finnick’s face after all these years, for the first time in years. 

you wonder if Finnick ever thinks about you, about your games, about if you’re still live. did he feel you move before the peacekeepers dragged you both away from one another? because you remembered him, you’ll always remember him. he saved your life in your games, and you’ll never be able to repay him for it. 

as the quell dragged on, you couldn’t watch. you couldn’t watch cause at any moment your mentor Beetee could be killed, Finnick could be killed. you’d rather live in blissful ignorance for at least a little longer.

it was hot in that basement that day, you’re gray jumpsuit was half unbuttoned, tied around your waist, your top being able to breathe better through your undershirt. you’re hair, pulled back uptop of your head to keep the frizz out of your face. the last time you’re hair was this long it had been cut by finnick to keep you from overheating in the arena after your hair tie broke... you haven’t cut it since then.

you were working on some weapon suspended in the air rewiring part of it. once from district 3, always a smarty.. at least that’s what Coin thinks. Beetee would be proud, you think. When you refused to train during your games, Beetee taught you most thinks he knew because it made you happy. That’s all Beetee wanted to do before sending you into that arena, make you happy. 

It feels like a lifetime ago, being reaped, being thrown into that arena knowing you weren’t going to make it out, meeting finnick, being captured by the capital, escaping, being rescued by district 13. you don’t remember the majority of it all you remember is finnick, finnick, finnick. 

some all you dramatic. it was 10 years ago now, but while everything else feel like a lifetime ago, finnick feels like just yesterday. you’ll never forgot that moment you realized he wasn’t going to kill you when he caught you in that net. you were only 13, never even thought about the idea of love but something about looking at finnick made you fall. Never did you see someone and think of them as attractive, everyone to you was just another passing face, but not finnick. finnick, still to this day, was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. you understand why he was a capital favorite, he was sweet and put everyone he loved before himself... that’s why you jumped like you did. you knew finnick wouldn’t kill you and you weren’t going to kill him. jumping was your only option, and hey, you guess it worked out because you’re still here, at least you think finnick would like that. 

“Y/N!” The voice of Boggs startles you, if it wasn’t for the cord holding you up you would’ve fallen. “Apologizes Y/N!” Gale chuckles as he apologizes besides Boggs for them scaring you. You couldn’t put your finger on it but Gale irked you, perhaps it was because he left so many behind in district 12 to die. you think you have a problem with all men near your age, because no one will live up to finnick. finnick would’ve picked up and carried as many children as he could if they didn’t automatically follow him, Gale didn’t. 

“What do you want? I’m busy here!” You call down, returning your gaze to your work, keeping your ears open to listen to whatever Boggs and Gale have to say... well mainly Boggs. “Come down Y/N, this is important.” You look down at Boggs again and the look on his face makes your heart drop. Finnick. you motion for the people on the ground to lower you, shaking you’re barely able to undo your harness. 

“Well speak!” You snap at the pair as you stand in front of them, neither say a word. “Katniss broke the arena.” “What?” “Katniss broke the arena, we sent in a recuse party, they just arrived, they’re in the hospital wing.” run. your brain says but you’re feet won’t move. If you run, and he’s not there, you don’t know what you’ll do. “Who- who did you recuse?” Gale and Boggs look at each other, and your heart sinks even more. “Katniss and Beetee but they’re unconscious.” you gasp at Beetee’s name. “and-” you snap your head to Gale as he begins to speak again, but Boggs elbows him. “and who? Boggs?!” “Finnick is conscious but he doesn’t know-” Without another word your feet finally listen to your brain. and you run.

“Finnick! Finnick!” “Y/N!” In the distance your name is called and the wind is knocked out of your body at his voice. he’s alive. he’s here. “Finnick!” you scream louder, booking it in the direction of his voice. as his calls get louder, you’re feet pick up speed until you freeze in place, almost falling over yourself and the momentum. Finnick Odair in the flesh. you both looked like idiots, just standing in the hallway of the hospital wing. Finnick slid out of a room, Haymitch quick behind him, but at the sight of you he retreated back into the room. 

it felt like you were 13 all over again, seeing finnick for the first time. he was taller, more broad, more built.. obviously he’s a 24 year old man and not a 14 year old boy anymore. however, his blue eyes and blonde hair is exactly the same as when you were just kids trying to keep each other alive... or him keep you alive more specifically, finnick never needed your help. 

“you’re alive!” you don’t know when you collided or who made the first move but you were wrapped in finnick’s arms. it felt strange, someone hugging you. after finnick, you never let other people touch you, let alone hug you. “you’re safe?” you were both frantic. pulling back, looking at each other, grabbing each others faces and bodies just making sure you weren’t going crazy. he was here. “I’m safe? you’re safe.” finnick hands couldn’t stop moving around your face and hair, he couldn’t actually believe it was you. you were here. alive. you looked so much different, but the same. 

your lips collided before you could even process him moving closer to you. last time his lips were on your he was bringing you back to life, you guess you could say the same for this time. finnick was bringing you back to life. a fire lit in you the moment his lips touched yours. the thought of it being your first kiss didn’t even run through your head until he pulled back, both of you smiling like idiots. 

“I guess I always knew you were going to be my first kiss.” you joke, tears of joy running down your face as you cling to him. Finnick laughs at you, his head falling into your hair, kissing your head. Tears falling from his eyes making your hair wet. He pulled back once again, cupping your face, pushing pieces of your hair back behind your ears. “I can’t remember the last time I saw your hair long.” you laugh at the ridiously statement. “you’re here.” you breath pulling him back into the tightest hug. He hugged back, lifting you slightly off the ground before returning you. “and I’m not going anywhere ever again.” 

___

“How is this even possible?” Finnick still spoke in disbelief as you laid between his legs in bed that night. his arms wrapped tightly around you, your hands tangled in your lap, finnick playing with your fingers. his chin rested on your shoulder, you never wanted to leave his position. 

“I don’t know, I honestly don’t remember.” you laugh at yourself, truly you have no idea how you got from point a to point b to point c. at your response, finnick turns you over to sit in his lap, face to face. 

“What happened Y/N.” finnick’s serenity startled you, and the tears forming in your eyes startled finnick. “I can’t remember.” he wiped the tears the fell into your cheeks, and you turn away quickly wiping them. “I remember hitting the water, and I remember being somewhat conscious when they got us from the arena. I remember this like- this white room and then boom. nothing.” 

“I’m glad you don’t remember anything.” “What?” “The capital is worse then if hell was on earth, trust me I know. I wouldn’t want you to remember anything that did to you or told you.” “What do you mean, you know?” Finnick’s eyes fall, he shouldn’t have said that. “Finnick? Finnick!” finally he looks up at you again, he looked broken and that broke you a little on the inside. “what did they do to you?” “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about.” Finnick deterred the conversation and you let him. He didn’t want to talk about it and part of you didn’t want to hear it. as you nod, pieces of your hair falls from your ponytail and onto your neck. you hated the feeling, you always have. before he could process it, you were up, across the room to your desk grabbing scissors. “cut my hair off.” “What?” “cut my hair off finnick. I never cut my hair since you did it in the arena, that was the last time I was with you. this-” you grabbed your hair, “isn’t me. so please, cut it off.” 

__

“I always thought you looked better with short hair Y/N.” you chuckle besides table where Beetee was. ever since he has woken up you and therefore finnick has been by his side. Beetee was the first and only father figure you’ve ever had, working besides him on new technology in district 13 was a full circle moment. “Thank you Beetee.” “I call it the Haymitch look.” Finnick and Beetee laughed as you threw a piece of food across the table at finnick. 

within the next second the sounds of their laughter was quickly covered by the sirens of an air raid. the noise send you into fight or flight mode and you black out of reality. “Y/N! Y/N!” you black back in to Finnick frantically shaking you, and Beetee nowhere in sight. “you’re okay, we have to go!” he grabs your hand and start running to the shelter as you make it through the door, finnick walks behind you, hands covering your ears. 

tucked up against finnick, you jump every time a bomb hits. finnick lays behind you, hands still cupped over your ears as some sort of protection from the noise. boom. “7″ boom. “8″ boom. “9″ as the bombs exploded, you counted. you didn’t realise you were safe, in your mind, you were back in the arena. 9 people dead, 10 people dead, you might be next. finnick caught on quickly to this as you shook more and more with each passing number. you open your eyes once and look to the ceiling, trying to bring yourself back down only to see cracks in the ceiling, quickly with a yelp you flip over, burying yourself in finnick’s chest. 

“you’re okay Y/N, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” he whispered into your hair, arms wrapped as tightly as possible around you. “I’ve drown in water before I don’t wanna be buried in cement next.”

__

you were the love of Finnick’s life, he’s done this so many time before, so why can suddenly not stomach that fact that’s he’s doing it. 

“finnick.” your voice and hand pulling him closer by his belt loops pulls him back to reality. somehow a kiss turned into this, you below him in nothing but your his shirt and underwear and him with no shirt on. “mmh?” is all he replied, leaning down to kiss you again, but you turn away from him. he looks at you in confusion. “what’s going on inside your head finnick.” has he really been so far in his head he hasn’t noticed? “nothing, I’m okay I promise.” he kissed you again, this time lowering his hips to meet yours and you let a moan leave your lips, to your surprise. finnick knows you’ve ever done this, hell you never kissed someone until he came along. “finnick.” you voice again makes him pull back, you look nervous. “I’ve never done this before.” finnick chuckles lightly, “I know, it’s okay.” “Have you?” “with no one important.” you at up at his confession, pulling your knees to your chest. “what do you mean?” finnick sighed to himself, he had to tell you at some point. “come here.” he reached out, allowing you to climb into his lap, face to face. “after our games, Snow wanted to keep me in the capital. the people wanted me to themselves, so when I was 16 Snow started selling me to people in the capital for short periods of time. he said if I didn’t he would kill my family, and probably you.” without a word, you wrap your arms around him, hugging him. “Thank you for trusting me Finn, I love you.” at your words he relaxes into the hug, burying his face in your neck. 

“I love you so much Y/N, marry me.” 

___

5 years later

“Y/N are you okay?” finnick’s voice pulls to back to reality, just like it always does. you turn to see him coming to join you on the balcony of your shared house. it was summer and the other victors and friends were all in district 3 for a summer get together, a yearly thing. every year a new person hosts in a new district and this year it was your and finnick’s turn. 

5 years ago, after the death of Coin and President Snow, we were free to live for the first time in our lives. everyone returned to their home districts to help rebuilt it from the ground up, after finnick had district 4 in order he moved to 3 to be with you. 

your first child, a son, was born shortly after the war ended. not ideal, but it helped ground you both back into a reality without the games. his name, finnick jr, could not be more wrong as he looked identical to you and not finnick. ironically, 2 years later when your twins were born and named joule and techen,  district 3 inspired names, she looked exactly like finnick and techen was the perfect little mix. crazy how the world works. 

“Yeah, I just needed a minute.” you turn back to the view of the city, looking down into your backyard you spot Peeta running around with Finn, Joule, Techen and his and Katniss’s two kids, Ember and Mason. they were catching fireflies. you envied your kids, they got the childhood you and finnick never had.

“It’s hard to believe it’s almost been 5 years.” finnick spoke, placing his hands on either side of you on the railing, caging you in. “5 years since we escape hell.” “We did it together, and look, we bought those beautiful kids into a better world.” 

“I love you Finnick Odair.” “I love you too, Y/N Odair.”