#panem imagine

[hiatuswhore]

𝒪𝒻 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝓃𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓈 — 𝒸.𝓈

♕ A/N: I have mixed feelings about the movie but I adore the book. My favorite character is Sejanus, ugh my heart bleeds for this character. Never stop I’d be writing a fanfiction for this story. Coriolanus Snow is an evil but interesting villain. I thought I’d dive into the dynamic of him essentially taking what should’ve been Sejanus’s life.

♕ SUMMARY: Poor Sejanus. Poor sensitive, foolish dead Sejanus. A good son, loving brother, and amazing friend.

♕ WORD COUNT: 1K

♕ WARNING: Death

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𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Father had not left his study since word reached us. Every time Mother looked at me, I knew it was not me she saw. The tremble of her lip and mist of her eyes reminded me of my new reality. A reality where I drew breath as my twin did not.

I could not process it. Not at first. I would wait for a letter from him in the mail. His ramblings of doing good, of being better a constant any time he opened his mouth. Oh my good brother. Miles away. Hung in the districts for treason.

The first few weeks the house was silent. I could make out Mothers frequent sobs through the day. Other times the deep gait of Fathers boots from his room to his office. Rarely from his office to his room. Our home became much like a graveyard. Empty and cold.

This remained until the day Mother and I woke to every picture of Sejanus in the foyer gone. Mother sobbed for her baby, one would think Father was withholding her actual child. Still, my Father, the stern unforgiving statue of a man, refused to return all that remained of her son to her.

The first thing I began to forget was his voice. All the hours he spent in my room ranting angrily about our father. I’d lay on my bed watching him pace, his passion fueled and furious. I thought maybe he’d be president someday. Panem needed the likes of him.

“Well eventually Fathers time will come to pass and it’ll be you in the position of wealth and power. Be patient sweet brother. You’ll do great things, I just know it.”

He’ll hang in the poorest district branded a traitor. Some say he cried for Mother. Others say he cried for me. Oh how it was few and far between but make no mistake, I wept for my brother. My kind, sweet, sensitive dead brother.

As his voice faded over time so did the small details of his presence. How his curls always stayed so effortlessly in place unlike my own that would become frizzy in a moments notice. The way he his nose would scrunch when he laughed. His obnoxious snores he would deny whenever called out on it.

See, Father was happy to erase Sejanus from our home. His memory a reminder of everything our Father could never be. A compassionate soul. A loving brother and son. A good man.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐭 𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫

Then came Coriolanus Snow. His gaze distant as he stood in our foyer, my father greeting him like a son returning home from travels. Long gone the hand made shirts and boots a size too tight. The messy haired Snow appeared far different, he too have died back in twelve. I wondered if he hung too or perhaps his fate was far worse. A mystery to never be solved, especially not if Coriolanus Snow could help it.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” His gaze bounced between myself and Mother. My Father said nothing while Mother embraced Coriolanus as I stared at him.

“Are you?” My words earned a stern tone from Father and scoldings from Mother. I offered a forced apology my eyes never leaving the leech standing in my family home. Gaining the world from the misfortune that befell my dear Sejanus. My father’s new pride and joy. At dinner Father was thrilled to announce his replacement son would join my side at University come the new term.

I left the table without a word. My father yelled for me to return as Mother assured our unwelcome guest it was not personal. Yet it was. Sejanus was to be with me for my first day of University. Not Coriolanus Snow.

Perhaps it was unfair. My brother was dead and I had already spent a lifetime despising my father. So who better to bear the brunt of my anger than the man who gained it all as I suffered my deepest loss.

𝐈 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐈, 𝐈 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐓𝐢��𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐆𝐨

The night before our first day I stayed in my room. A knock at my door was an unexpected and unwelcome one. Mother was never a night owl and never in all my years had Father come to my room. Opening my door I crossed my arms leaning on the jamb. He stands holding a white rose his blue eyes piercing into my blank stare.

“I know you aren’t thrilled about me being here. I uh—I just wanted to wish you a good first day tomorrow,” Coriolanus spoke slowly. The rose still lingered in the air between us. I did not grab it.

“What happened to my brother?” His eyebrows quirked at my question, his lips parted as though he wanted to speak but nothing could leave him. I tilted my head my eyes narrowed before I retreated into my room leaving the door agape. At my shelf I rifled through the few papers and momentos of my own before finding the crumple paper stained with faded ink. The smudge writing typical for my left handed counterpart. My eyes on the paper as I return to the jamb, “…Coriolanus is here too. It’s nice to not be alone. His songbird is here, he plays it cool when I mention her but you can tell he cares for her. We’re like brothers, after what he did for me during the games. I’m going to protect him—“

𝐌𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

“Are you accusing me of something?” His own eyes narrowed down at me. The glint in them something I could not put into words, at the time I had no knowledge of the nerve I struck.

“Did you know of his plans?” I asked crossing my arms, my tone lowered. Father was always a light sleeper, if he had even been sleeping.

Coriolanus sighed, his gaze locked on my own unblinking. I narrowed my eyes and stared up at him. He shouldn’t be here. In my family home, enjoying all the luxuries owed to my brother, not him.

“I did,” Coriolanus confessed. He wet his lips, as he shared his knowledge of treason so casually.

“Then why is my brother gone and you’re here?” The waver of my voice cracked my hardened resolve. My body trembled beneath the weight of too many emotions to sort. Confusion. Rage. Grief. Disbelief. I choked back a cry and allowed Coriolanus to pull me in his arms as I sobbed into his shoulder.

“Sejanus loved you more than anything. I promised I’d look after you,” Coriolanus touch was soothing as he poured honey in my ears. Capitalizing off my vulnerability. My brother’s true final words to me slipped from my grasp as I took comfort from the source of my grief.

“—I have already requested a leave of absence for your first day of University. Look at the bright side sister. You won’t have to fuss about my hair being better than yours on your big day. They have buzzed my curls from me. We’ll be together soon, sister. Give Mother my love. With love. Your brother, Sejanus.”

𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐁𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞

[spencerrsmopbucket]

Tides of Venom | Finnick Odair

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Summary: During the Tribute Parade of the 3rd Quarter Quell, Finnick meets an infamous female tribute from District Seven. She's just as interesting as everyone says.

The people of Panem knew your name as well as, or maybe better than, they knew their own. You were Y/n L/n, or better yet, The Snake of Seven. The victor who had turned the 67th Hunger Games into a masterclass of strategy and survival. At sixteen, you were reaped from the sawdust-strewn streets of District Seven—a girl who looked too small, too quiet, too fragile and too beautiful to survive the bloodbath. But you had fooled them all.

You didn't survive by brute force, God no. You didn't have the size for it. You survived by being smarter, colder, and crueler when it mattered. You waited, watching from the shadows, letting the other tributes tear each other apart. When you struck, it was precise, calculated, and lethal. You weren’t just a fighter; you were a predator. You turned the arena into your hunting ground, weaving snares from vines and luring enemies into deadly traps. When you got them captured, like a rabbit in a trap on the snow covered ground, you quickly and efficiently did away with them.

By the time you’d reached the finish line of success, the area was soaked in blood — close to none of it yours. You had outlasted them all, and not just through skill, but by ensuring that every single thing you did was deliberate. Every alliance you made was temporary manipulation, every smile a well-placed mask. When the final cannon fired, it wasn’t just because you had survived. You had conquered.

The Capitol adored you, of course. They polished your image until you gleamed like the blade that had won you the crown. They said your name with awe and fear: The Snake of Seven. To them, you were the perfect mix of beauty and terror, a creature that captivated even as it threatened. Of course, your biggest fan was President Snow. But for all the Capitol’s praises, you knew the truth. The arena hadn’t just taken your innocence; it had carved out pieces of your soul and left them to rot in the jungle where you’d won. The nightmares came often, visions of the traps you’d set, the image of you slitting a throat, the screams that followed, and the sickening silence afterward.

Even still, you played the role you’d been given. It was that or die. It was that or lose your family (an ultimatum given by Snow.) The Capitol needed you to smile in your interviews, to look stunning in gowns designed to look like snake skin, to sip champagne with Snow’s favorites. You did it without flinching. You’d learned through the experiences of others before you that defiance came with a life ruining price. And so, with snake-like venom aimed inward at yourself, you were poisoned until only steel remained.

The 3rd Quarter Quell was nothing like any previous Hunger Games. It was a reminder of the Capitol's absolute power, and this year, they chose to mark it with a brutal twist: the victors, those who had already been crowned, would now be thrown back into the arena. Every single one of them—a brutal celebration of their own suffering. And you, The Snake of Seven, were no exception. When you'd been Reaped, you stepped forward, ever confident, your e/c eyes the sole vision of determination, focus, and bloodthirst. But you were always so good at keeping people at arm's length, never letting them see how you truly felt.

You were devastated. You felt doomed — but the worst part? You'd always known you were from the start. This was just the confirmation.

Today was the Victor Parade.

The streets of the Capitol buzzed with an unsettling energy. The crowd, with its eager eyes and gleaming teeth, watched as the tribute chariots rolled down the grand avenue, a parade of former winners paraded as if they were just another form of entertainment. The Capitol was reveling in their cruelty, and you knew, deep down, that it was more than just the games this time. The Capitol wanted to break the victors, to make sure they knew they were never free, never truly safe. You had survived the Games once, but this time, survival would come at a greater cost. You were by far the most thrilling tribute to watch, solely because they knew you'd do anything to win.

Your district partner, a tall, athletic and somewhat shy Victor named Reid, stood beside you. He was a few years younger than you, but his respect for you was evident in every glance. He had a crush on you. It was easy to see in the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice caught when he spoke your name. But, much like everyone else in the Capitol, you weren’t here for love or affection. You were here to survive—and if you had to, you’d use Reid’s infatuation to your advantage. But, you’d never admit it aloud.

Reid was a good fighter, but he wasn’t built for the Games like you. His focus was too soft, too sentimental, which made him vulnerable. He wanted you to recognize him as a friend rather than just a district partner. Rather than just an ally that you'd eventually have to turn on. But you? You knew. Reid would have to be the first to go. You'd put him out of his suffering before any other Victor could get their hands on him. In a cruel sense, it was you being kind. If anyone else got him, his death would hurt much more.

Your outfit, designed by Capitol stylists, was as extravagant as it was deadly. You weren’t just a symbol of beauty; you were a living weapon, and your outfit reflected that. The stylists had draped you in a shimmering black gown that hugged your form, slithering down your body like the skin of a serpent. Silver, delicate scales shimmered along the bodice, almost seeming to ripple as you moved. A thin, sharp line of emerald green ran across your eyes, reflecting the coldness that had taken root deep inside you. Your hair was twisted into a sleek, tight braid that framed your sharp features, the tendrils of the braid curling at the ends like snake’s fangs. The design was meant to evoke fear. To show that beneath your beauty was a creature that could and would strike. The Capitol admired you, but they feared you too.

As the chariot lurched forward, your eyes scanned the crowd—thousands of faces staring back at you, each person either adoring or shocked. The screams, cheers, and jeers mixed into a cacophony that only heightened the tension in the air. It was a celebration of blood, and your life was the prize. But you didn’t need their approval. You didn’t need their affection. You were here to survive—nothing more, nothing less. You forced your cold eyes forward, staring at the person that continued to ruin your life, over and over again.

Snow.

He gazed down at you with a lukewarm smile, one to say, 'welcome back, Snake.' You simply glared back, fighting the snarl that threatened to develop on your lip.

As the chariot rolled forward, you could feel Reid’s nervous energy beside you. His hands gripped the edge of the chariot so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his broad shoulders stiff as though he were bracing for an attack. His unease was palpable, and while you could sympathize with it, you didn’t have time to coddle him. This wasn’t his first Games; he should know better than to show fear in front of the Capitol. Weakness was blood in the water, and the Capitol’s sharks would circle the moment they saw it. It would draw attention to the two of you, something you didn't need more than you already had.

“Relax,” you muttered, your voice low enough that only he could hear. Your eyes remained fixed on the glittering horizon, refusing to meet his. “You look like you’re about to jump out of the chariot.”

Reid’s head snapped toward you, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he said, though the strain in his voice betrayed him.

“Sure you are,” you replied dryly. “Just remember, they’re not cheering for you. They’re cheering for the show. Don’t give them a reason to think you’re the opening act.”

Your words cut sharper than intended, but it was necessary. Reid needed to toughen up, and fast. This was no place for soft hearts or shaky hands.

The chariot came to a halt in front of President Snow’s viewing platform, and the crowd’s roar reached a deafening crescendo. Snow himself stood like a vulture on his perch, his thin smile radiating smug satisfaction. His presence was suffocating, a reminder that every move you made was under his watchful eye. You held your head high, refusing to let him see the disgust simmering beneath your carefully constructed mask. If he wanted a performance, you would give him one.

You stared at the other Victors. You knew who they were, of course, since you'd been paraded around with them before. The most notable ones were the ones from the Career districts -- and District 12. You saw Cashmere and Gloss looking disgustingly gleeful. They were District 1 Careers, always loving the attention they were getting and the idea of getting to put up a fight. Brutus and Enobaria, District 2, were the same way.

Your eyes lingered on the Careers for a moment longer, taking in their smugness, their overconfidence. Cashmere’s sharp laughter cut through the murmur of conversation, a high, shrill sound that grated on your nerves. She and Gloss stood close together, their matching golden armor glinting under the Capitol’s harsh lights. Their every move screamed superiority, a reminder that they had been bred for this, groomed for the arena like thoroughbred horses. You didn’t doubt their skill, but you also didn’t fear them. They were predictable, and predictability was a weakness.

Your gaze swept past them to Brutus and Enobaria, whose confidence bordered on feral excitement. Brutus’s bulk made him look more like a battering ram than a man, and Enobaria’s predatory grin, with her infamous sharpened teeth, was a haunting sight. They thrived in the chaos, their bloodlust an edge that couldn’t be underestimated.

But it wasn’t just the Careers you had to worry about. Your eyes flicked to Beetee and Wiress, District 3’s champions. The Capitol often overlooked them, mistaking their quiet demeanor for weakness, but you knew better. Their minds were their greatest weapons, and they could turn the arena itself into a deathtrap.

Then, blurring out the other Districts, there was District 12.

Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark stood together, the Capitol’s golden pair, their unity a sharp contrast to the division around them. Katniss’s stormy eyes locked with yours for a fleeting moment, and you could see the fire smoldering behind them. She didn’t trust you—good. Trust was a luxury none of you could afford. Peeta, on the other hand, exuded a calm that was almost disarming. Almost.

And then there was Finnick.

He sat casually in his chariot, his trident resting at his side, but there was nothing casual about the way his eyes roamed the area, sharp and calculating. His sea-green outfit, designed to evoke the beauty of District 4’s oceans, only served to heighten his allure. Beside him, Mags sat with quiet dignity, her frail form a stark contrast to his vibrant presence. Yet, there was strength in her weathered gaze—a reminder of the resilience that had carried her through her own Games decades ago. The Capitol adored Finnick, just as they adored you, but his charm was a weapon, honed and deadly, and Mags was his anchor, her mere presence a testament to the bond between them and the wisdom she carried into the arena.

His gaze caught yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. His lips curved into a faint smile—not the easy, flirtatious grin he reserved for the Capitol’s audience, but something quieter, more genuine. It was unsettling, that smile, because it felt like he saw through you, saw the armor you’d worked so hard to construct.

You broke the connection first, turning your attention back to Reid, who was fidgeting nervously at your side.

“Stop moving,” you muttered under your breath. “You’re drawing attention.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and apologetic.

You sighed, the weight of his unexpected inexperience pressing down on you. If he didn’t toughen up soon, he would make you look foolish too. He didn't act like a Victor. And the rest did.

Snow’s voice crackled over the speakers, his tone smooth and syrupy as he addressed the gathered victors. “What a spectacular display,” he said, his words dripping with false sincerity. “You are all reminders of the strength and resilience of Panem. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

The room fell silent as the announcement ended, the weight of his words settling over you like a shroud.

Reid leaned closer, his voice barely audible. “What now?”

You glanced at him, your expression hardening. “Now?” you said, your voice cold. “Now we wait. And when the time comes, we fight.”

Finnick’s laughter rang out suddenly, drawing your attention. He was talking to another Victor, his posture relaxed, but his eyes flicked to you for the briefest moment. There was something in his gaze—challenge, curiosity, maybe even understanding.

You turned away, refusing to engage. Whatever Finnick Odair was playing at, you had no intention of getting caught in his game.

As the outro anthem of Panem played, you felt a shift in the atmosphere. Your gaze flickered to the chariot beside yours, where Finnick Odair stood, resplendent in a sea-green ensemble that glittered like sunlight on the ocean. His golden hair caught the Capitol lights, making him look every bit the god they believed him to be. But his expression wasn’t one of triumph—it was of quiet defiance, a subtle rebellion that only those who knew the arena could recognize.

When the anthem ended, the victors were led to the holding area behind the parade route. The Capitol’s cheers faded into a low hum as you stepped off the chariot, your gown shimmering with each calculated movement. Reid stayed close to you, his presence a reminder of the responsibility you didn’t ask for but couldn’t ignore. Capitol stylists swarmed you both, fussing over stray folds and imagined imperfections. You barely acknowledged them, your focus already narrowing on the other tributes gathering nearby.

"Reid," you muttered under your breath, your tone sharp but quiet enough to keep Capitol ears from catching it. "Stand tall, and stop looking like you're about to bolt."

He straightened, though his hands still twitched at his sides. You suppressed a sigh.

Before you could step further into the mingling chaos of tributes and Capitol elites, a voice laced with sugar-coated steel sliced through the noise.

“Well, if it isn’t the darling of District 7. You’re just as intimidating as they say.”

You turned to see Cashmere gliding toward you, her golden locks framing her face like a halo, though the icy gleam in her eyes was anything but angelic. Her gown shimmered like molten gold, every inch of her radiating Capitol-perfect elegance. But there was no mistaking the predator behind the polished façade.

“Cashmere,” you greeted, keeping your tone neutral, even bored. “You flatter me.”

“Oh, it’s not flattery,” she replied, her smile sharp enough to cut. “It’s admiration. You play your part so well. Cold, dangerous, untouchable—it’s a wonder the Capitol isn’t already throwing parades in your honor.”

Reid shifted uncomfortably beside you, his unease a palpable presence. Cashmere’s gaze flicked to him briefly, her smirk widening as if she found his nervousness amusing.

“Who’s your little shadow?” she asked, her voice dripping with condescension. “Does he speak, or is he just here to look pretty?”

Reid’s jaw clenched, but before he could stammer a response, you stepped in.

“He’s my district partner,” you said coolly. “Focus on yours.”

Cashmere arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the tension. “Protective, are we? How sweet. Though I can’t imagine there’s much point. If he’s anything like my dear Gloss’s partners, he won’t last long.”

You took a deliberate step closer, your gaze locking with hers, sharp and unyielding. “And yet, here you are, wasting your time on him—and me. Be careful.”

Her smile faltered for the briefest moment, the crack in her composure almost imperceptible. But then she laughed, a light, airy sound that somehow felt more menacing than genuine.

“Always the sharp tongue,” she said, tilting her head. “I suppose it’s what keeps you alive. Just remember, darling—words can only cut so deep. Out there, it’s the blade that matters.”

“Thanks for the advice,” you replied, your tone as biting as hers. “I’ll be sure to remember it when the time comes.”

Cashmere’s eyes narrowed slightly, the playful mask slipping just enough to reveal the steely determination beneath. “Do that,” she said, her voice a whisper of warning. “I’ll be watching.”

With that, she turned and strode away, her golden gown catching the light with every step.

Reid let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, his voice low. “What was that about?”

“Don't worry about it,” you muttered, watching her retreating form. “Everyone’s playing their own game. Hers just happens to be gilded in gold.”

The energy in the Capitol’s holding area was electric, each victor carefully eyeing the others, feeling the tension rise with every passing second. The air was thick with power and the weight of what was to come—the 3rd Quarter Quell was unlike any other, a twisted reminder of the Capitol’s dominance, and each victor knew they were not only fighting for their lives but for their dignity as well.

Reid stood close, his nerves still apparent, his eyes darting from one tribute to the next. You could feel his discomfort radiating from him, and though you didn’t have time to indulge him, you found yourself slightly irritated by it. This was supposed to be a place for cold calculation, not weakness.

“Take a breath,” you muttered again, your eyes scanning the crowd of tributes. “You’re making us stand out.”

“I—sorry, I can’t help it,” Reid replied, the sincerity in his voice mixed with frustration. “This place... It’s too much. I never imagined I’d be back here, much less be facing them again.”

You took a deep breath, letting the noise of the Capitol’s elites wash over you. It was a dull hum compared to the chaos of the arena, but the stakes here were just as high. You weren’t just a Victor anymore; you were the prey.

“I get it,” you said, your voice colder than before, but not unkind. “But you need to act like one of them. We’re not here for anything other than survival. And in case you haven’t realized, that means playing their game better than they do. Don't let them think you're weak, even if you think you are.”

Reid nodded, his jaw set in determination, though the unease still flickered in his eyes. You didn’t think he’d ever truly understand. His idealism would be his downfall, you could already see it. The Capitol’s games had broken you, stripped away your humanity, and in the end, it had made you stronger. You knew better than anyone that to survive in this world, you had to be willing to kill what remained of your soul.

As the seconds ticked by, the other tributes continued to mingle—some more comfortable than others. A few whispered amongst themselves, their eyes darting in calculated glances, while others stood proudly, basking in their newly cemented fame. You didn’t join them. You had no need to.

A moment later, a voice rang out in the distance, one that cut through the tension in the air like a blade—soft, melodic, but with an undeniable edge.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous Snake of Seven.”

You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. His voice was unmistakable, like the sea itself, deep and quiet but filled with a hidden strength. Finnick Odair.

You met his gaze, not surprised to see him standing at the edge of the crowd, his trident at his side, the shimmering blue of his outfit contrasting with his golden hair. His green eyes gleamed, mischievous yet sharp. His dimpled smirk only deepened when he noticed the way you studied him—cold, calculating, as always.

“Finnick,” you replied coolly, your voice betraying no emotion, even as your insides clenched. “I didn’t realize the Capitol was still fascinated by my name. I thought they’d moved on to the next little toy.”

His smirk only deepened, his eyes never leaving yours. “Oh, they’ll never tire of you,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, almost like a whispered secret meant only for you. “Not with your reputation. It’s not every day that the Snake of Seven steps into the arena, is it?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sound almost impressed.”

“Well, who wouldn’t be?” Finnick’s tone was casual, but there was an edge to it that made the words feel like a challenge. “The odds of you making it this far... I’m curious how you’ve done it.”

You could feel the weight of his words, the curiosity in them. There was something in his gaze that felt like he wasn’t just talking about the Games anymore. His eyes raked over you, not in the way the Capitol admired his victors, but like he was trying to peel away the layers and understand the person standing in front of him.

“Survival,” you answered simply. “It’s not as hard as people make it out to be. If you’ve got the right instincts, the right drive, you can make it through anything.”

“And you’ve got both,” he said, his voice quiet but unmistakably admiring. “I can see it. But I think there’s more to you than that. More than just the survivor everyone sees.”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, just holding his gaze as the crowd around you continued to buzz with their typical Capitol energy. There was something about the way he looked at you, though. Like he wasn’t just sizing you up as a potential ally or foe, but like he was seeing through to something deeper. And it unsettled you.

“You’re not one to mince words, are you?” you asked, your voice sharp, trying to redirect the conversation, but you could feel the pull of it all the same.

“Why bother?” Finnick’s expression softened just the slightest bit, his eyes glinting in a way that made you wonder if there was something he wasn’t saying. “This game’s already full of lies. We don’t need to add to it.”

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “And what would you suggest, Finnick? That we just lay it all bare? Is that what you think is needed to win this?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Maybe. Or maybe the truth is the only thing we’ve got left.”

The words hung between you, a quiet tension settling in. His gaze didn’t waver, but something in his stance softened, almost imperceptibly. For a moment, you saw past the Capitol’s golden boy, the victor who had charmed his way into the hearts of millions. You saw the man who had fought in the arena, who had survived the same twisted game that you were now part of. And for a fleeting second, there was a vulnerability in his eyes, something raw and unspoken.

“You know the game better than anyone,” you said quietly, your tone softer now, the challenge gone. “But we’re not all playing by the same rules, Finnick. I don’t think you understand that.”

His smile faded slightly, and he tilted his head. “Oh, I understand more than you think. But you’re right. Not everyone is playing by the same rules. And that’s why I’m curious about you.”

You didn’t respond immediately, the weight of his words sinking in. There was something in the way he said it that made you feel like a puzzle he was dying to solve. But you wouldn’t make it easy for him.

“Curious about me?” you repeated, stepping closer to him, your voice low but firm. “Why? Because I’m a challenge? Or because I’m something you can’t control?”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. If anything, he took a small step forward, closing the gap between you. “I don’t want to control you,” he said, his voice steady. “I want to understand you.”

The words were simple, but they carried an undertone of something that felt more intimate than anything you’d heard in a long time. His eyes searched yours, the playful mischief replaced with something darker, something more serious.

You almost faltered. Almost.

"Then understand this," You lean in, boring your eyes into his. "When you lean into the face of a snake, it sinks it's teeth in."

Finnick’s eyes gleamed, a flicker of admiration dancing in the depths of his gaze. His smirk only deepened as you leaned in, the challenge clear in your words and your posture. He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down—if anything, the tension between you only seemed to grow.

He paused, taking a slow breath before responding, his voice low and even, carrying a hint of something darker beneath the surface.

“Well, I’ve always been a fan of a good bite,” Finnick said, his tone smooth, but there was an edge to it now, like the words themselves were an invitation, a dare. He stepped just a fraction closer, narrowing the distance between you with a kind of quiet, deliberate confidence. “But don’t mistake my curiosity for weakness. If you sink your teeth in, be sure you’re ready for what comes after.”

His eyes never left yours as he said it, the unspoken challenge hanging heavy in the air, and for a moment, you could almost feel the pulse of something dangerous, something thrilling, between the two of you. Finnick Odair wasn’t afraid of a fight. But neither were you.

Finnick’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer, his lips curving into a more playful smirk as he took another slow step back. But the mischievous glint in his eyes told you that he wasn’t done with you yet.

“I have to admit,” he said, his tone lighter now, but no less charged. “You’ve got grit that I wasn’t expecting. Most people would’ve backed down by now, but not you. No, you’re… interesting.”

He took another step, the air around you thick with an undeniable pull. “You know, I like a good challenge. But you,” Finnick continued, his voice dropping an octave, “you’re something different. Something… unpredictable.”

He leaned in just slightly, his breath a faint whisper against your ear. “I’ll admit, I’m curious to see what else you’re capable of.”

You glare at him as he leans away.

"Curiosity killed the cat, now didn't it?"

Finnick’s grin only widened at your sharp retort, the gleam in his eyes turning into something almost predatory. He didn’t seem offended—if anything, your challenge made him more interested.

"Maybe," he mused, his voice soft, playful, but still with that underlying edge. "But I’ve never been one to shy away from danger. And I’m not the type to get caught in a trap either." He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the game between you two.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment, his green eyes flickering with amusement. “You’re quick with your words, but I have a feeling you’re not just all talk.”

His gaze traveled from your eyes to your lips, lingering just long enough for it to be obvious, before returning to your gaze, the tension between you thick enough to slice. “Tell me, what else do you have up your sleeve, hmm? Because I’m starting to think you’re not just some venomous snake. There’s something else there… something more.”

He stepped closer again, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body, but not quite enough to touch. The space between you seemed to shrink with each word, with each look, and it was becoming increasingly clear that Finnick wasn’t just teasing anymore. He was genuinely intrigued.

"You’re right," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "Curiosity might’ve killed the cat, but satisfaction, well, that’s what makes it all worth it, don’t you think?" He let the words hang in the air between you, daring you to respond, to challenge him once more.

Finnick was getting closer to you now, but there was no rush in his movement—he was taking his time, savoring the moment. The air between you felt charged, a magnetism that was impossible to ignore.

“Just remember,” he added softly, his lips yet again dangerously close to your ear, “you started this game. And I’m not the type to lose."

With that, Finnick Odair strode away, looking over his shoulder to give you one last dimpled smile.

[ellswritings]

Worse Things

Mentor!Haymitch x New Mentor!Reader

TW: Unspecified age gap, Hunger Games angst, reader won her Games, pre-Katniss and Peeta, angsty fluff, thoughts of suicide/self-hatred, mentions of death.

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓

There’s a certain lack of emotion one has to have when going into the Hunger Games. Getting rid of those feeling of guilt, empathy, sadness, anger, it’s hard. It’s the hardest thing Y/N had to do. She had to force herself to become and emotionless killing machine. Taking lives one at a time, sometimes multiple at a time. And she had to pretend it didn’t affect her.

Walking out of that arena, she knew her life would never be the same. She felt hollow, like any spirit she had died along with the first life she took. Her world started spinning out of control and there was no way to stop it.

Being from District Twelve, no one suspected she’d actually survive, let alone win. If anyone could call what happened to her “winning.” Everyday was like living through a nightmare. Things got to the point where she truthfully didn’t care if she woke up the next morning.

Her life was complete taken away from her, in more ways than one. No one really warned her about the dangers of being a Victor. Or maybe they did, and she just didn’t listen. So when President Snow tried to find a way to control her and she denied it, she didn’t realize what would follow suit.

Returning back home was a slap in the face. Her entire family had been slaughtered and she hadn’t been any the wiser. It felt like everything she sacrificed was for nothing. The guilt ate her alive like a soul sucking parasite. She got the only people who could ever love a monster like her killed.

Taking a swig of the whiskey bottle in front of her, she slouches down in her chair, an ever present frown on her face. Her body is numb and mind completely fuzzy. That’s the one thing she loves about alcohol. It distracts her, rids her of all the pain she feels on a day-to-day basis. Truthfully, it’s the only reprieve she can find.

She slowly turns her head towards the door, a sound resembling a knock echoing around in her head. A small huff leaves her barely parted lips as she stares blankly ahead at her fireplace. There’s no point in getting up. The only person who ever visits her in her secluded home is Haymitch Abernathy. Her old mentor. If she had a choice, she would only interact with him when they had two new Tributes to send off to the slaughter. But she could never be so lucky.

A hand on her shoulder pulls her out of her drunken gaze. Her head lulls back lazily as she meets a pair of familiar icy blue eyes. Even in her state she can feel his disappointment just by his gaze.

“What do you want?” Y/N grumpily greets, looking away from him to take another drink.

As the bottle is about to touch her lips, Haymitch snags it from her grasp. “I came to make sure you were sober enough to go into town. Clearly, my hopes were too high,” he says sarcastically, moving to put the bottle on a higher shelf.

“Why do you even care?” Y/N glares. “And who are you to judge me? You were drunk the entire time I was in the arena. What a mentor you were, huh?” She scoffs crudely. Her words cause a small pang to rush through his body, but he doesn’t show it. She’s right. Who is he to judge her when he spends his days just as drunk or even more.

“I care because we have to be at the Reaping in less than three hours,” he snaps back. “And I don’t want to deal with you embarrassing yourself and the rest of the District on live television.”

“Our District embarrasses itself enough on its own, it doesn’t need my help,” she grumbles and tries to smack Haymitch as he picks her up out of the chair and walks her over to her bathroom.

“My point,” he emphasizes by Turing the faucet on in the bathtub. He moves the flow of water to the shower head before sticking his hand underneath to make sure it was warm. He wants to sober her up. Not give her pneumonia.

A loud gasp, or scream ,as Haymitch would put it leaves Y/N’s mouth as he douses her with the shower head. It takes every ounce of willpower not to surge forward and sock him in the face. Her hair, now completely soaked, sticks to the side of her face. Her pajamas also sporting the same “wet dog” look the rest of her does.

“I’m gonna kill you,” she growls, her fists clenched tightly. But she does have to admit, the effects of the whiskey are wearing off rather quickly.

“Give it a go, sweetheart. You’d put both of us out of our misery,” he huffs, walking out of the bathroom and returning with a fresh set of clothes and a slice of bread. “Eat this,” he tosses the food towards her. “Should keep your stomach at bay til we get to the train.”

The relationship between the two of them has never been easy. Even when she was his Tribute. She was hard headed, crass, sarcastic, always spoke her mind even if it got her in trouble. In some ways, he admires that about her. That she doesn’t let anyone tell her what to think or how to act. But judging by what she’s turned into, she must regret possessing those qualities.

When he first met her, he had a feeling she would be the first Tribute in a long time that would actually have a chance. Normally, he doesn’t even bother giving his Tributes advice or helping them. He tried for the first ten or so years, give or take, but after watching them all die one after the other, his hope faded. There was no point in trying.

Until he met Y/N.

She was angry, a spitfire. She had that desire to get home. Watching her train and see how she was in the days leading up to her Games, it sparked that feeling of hope again. It was small, but it was there.

She likes to believe he was drunk for the majority of her Games, but truth be told, he was the most sober he had been since he won. He wasn’t completely mentally present, but he did put in effort to try to be. And that’s why he’s here now.

He never had a problem self-destructing. Going down this path seemed fitting for him, but it tore him up inside to see Y/N doing this to herself. He didn’t want this kind of life for her. Wallowing in self pity as she drunk her problems away. He can’t help but feel responsible for her in a way. Maybe if he had contained his alcoholism better, she would have never considered it a viable coping mechanism.

But as he waits outside her bathroom as she gets ready, he realizes that she probably would’ve resorted to liquor anyway. They had that in common.

He heads the lock on the door clock, signaling for him to move out of the way. The e/c eyed woman walks out, her hair pulled into a lazy half-up, half-down style. Her cargo pants are an olive green that compliments her complexion perfectly and a tight-fitted black sweater that falls off her shoulder slightly. It’s not the fanciest thing she could have worn, but it’s what he grabbed. He knows she hates being uncomfortable on the ride to the Capitol.

“What are you staring at?” She tries to mumble bitterly, but the soft look in his eyes removes some of the bite her icy tone usually has.

“Well, I was going to compliment you, but then you just had to get grouchy,” he shrugs satirically.

“Oh no, what ever will I do?” She shoots back with a fake gasp. “How will I ever get by without your empty compliments? I might just combust right here.” She rolls her eyes harshly before shoulder checking him and walking down the hallway to her room to gather the rest of her things.

“Are you always this much of an ass?” He calls out after her, walking down the hallway as well. “Or is it just to me?”

“Just to you,” she replies dryly, not looking at him as she lugs her minimal amount of items over her shoulder. They don’t need much when heading to the Capitol—there’s little point in dragging luxuries for a stay that promises more nightmares than comfort.

Haymitch smirks faintly, though the expression doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He knows her quip is an attempt to shield herself, to keep him—or anyone—from getting too close. That doesn’t stop him from muttering, “Lucky me,” as he trails after her.

The two make their way to the Reaping Square in tense silence. Y/N’s boots crunch against the dusty path leading to the stage as the weight of what’s to come settles on her chest. She knows the routine well enough. She’ll stand there with Haymitch, Effie will deliver her cheery speech, and two names will be drawn—two lives practically sentenced to death. It’s a show of power, a tradition designed to remind everyone of the Capitol’s control. And no matter how many times Y/N goes through it, it never gets easier.

The square is packed by the time they arrive, children standing in tightly formed lines with trembling hands and wide, fearful eyes. She stiffens at the sight of them, her chest tightening. Some of these kids are barely old enough to understand what’s happening, and yet they’re expected to stand tall, to accept the possibility of death with their heads held high.

Haymitch, standing beside her, senses her shift in demeanor. He doesn’t say anything—he knows better than to offer empty platitudes—but his eyes soften as he watches her gaze flicker across the sea of young faces. The vulnerability in her expression is fleeting, quickly replaced by the hardened mask she wears so well.

Effie Trinket’s bright, artificial voice snaps Y/N out of her thoughts as the Capitol representative prances onto the stage. Her garish outfit, all glitter and frills, stands in stark contrast to the muted tones of District Twelve. Effie’s smile is painted on, too wide and too perfect, and Y/N can’t help but resent her for it.

As the first name is drawn, Y/N braces herself. The voice announcing the girl’s name doesn’t register as Y/N stares at the small figure stepping forward. She looks no older than twelve, her pigtails bobbing with each shaky step. Y/N’s fists clench at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.

The boy’s name comes next—another child, barely a teenager. He stumbles as he makes his way to the stage, his eyes darting to his family in the crowd. Y/N forces herself to remain composed, but her stomach churns violently. She knows what awaits them. She knows the terror, the bloodshed, the inevitability of it all. And she hates the fact there’s nothing she can do to save them.

Haymitch notices her jaw tightening, the slight tremble in her hands. Without thinking, he places a hand on her arm, a brief gesture of solidarity. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t acknowledge it either.

When the Reaping concludes, the group heads to the train station. Y/N walks ahead, her pace brisk as if putting distance between herself and the Reaping Square might also rid her of the memories. Haymitch lingers behind with Effie, who chatters about Capitol festivities and the importance of appearances. He tunes her out, his eyes fixed on Y/N’s retreating figure.

On the train, Y/N sits across from the Tributes in the dining car, her posture rigid. She studies them for a moment, her gaze unreadable. They’re too young for this—too small, too scared. She takes a breath before speaking, her tone measured but blunt. “Listen, I’m not gonna sugarcoat this for you. The odds aren’t in your favor. They never are for kids like us.” The boy flinches at her words, but she presses on. “But that doesn’t mean you give up. You fight. You use whatever skills you’ve got to stay alive.” The two of them stare at her with wide eyes, like they were expecting someone much warmer. “Tomorrow we’ll go over what you guys are good at, but for tonight just… find a way to relax.”

Haymitch watches her closely, noting the way she softens her voice ever so slightly as she speaks. She’s trying, in her own way, to prepare them, to give them something to cling to. It’s not hope—she’s too jaded for that—but it’s something.

After the Tributes retire to their quarters, Haymitch, Effie, and Y/N do the same. However, the younger out of the three doesn’t stay in her room long. She tries to sleep, she really does, but her mind never stops racing. It’s almost painful the way she tosses and turns, unable to stop picturing the gruesome ways these poor kids will die. It makes her feel the ungodly urge to vomit the very little she’s eaten over the past few days.

Unable to find a moment of peace, Y/N walks out of her room, mindlessly wandering around the train car until she ends up back in the dining room. Her sock clad feet carry her to the small cushioned bench in front of the window, the moon shining brightly through it.

She sits down, staring out the window as the scenery blurs by. She’s tired—bone-deep weary in a way that goes far beyond the physical. Her gaze is fixed out into the night, but Haymitch knows she’s not seeing any of it. She’s somewhere else entirely, likely replaying the Reaping over and over in her head.

He watches her silently for a moment from the doorway, his hand tightening around the neck of the bottle he hasn’t yet opened. Her profile is sharp against the dim light—jaw clenched, shoulders rigid. It’s a posture he knows too well, the one people wear when they’re trying not to break. He hesitates, almost turning away, but then she exhales shakily, and something about the sound pulls him forward.

Sliding into the seat across from her, he leans back lazily, the way he always does, feigning indifference. But his eyes don’t leave her face. She doesn’t acknowledge him at first, and he doesn’t push her to speak. Instead, he just watches, the silence between them heavy but not entirely unwelcome.

Eventually, he breaks it. “You look like you’re about to set the whole damn Capitol on fire.”

She scoffs softly, the corner of her mouth twitching upward in a ghost of a smile. “Not a bad idea,” she mutters, still staring out the window. “Might solve some of our problems.”

He chuckles, the sound dry but genuine. “You’d probably do it, too. Wouldn’t even think twice.”

“Why should I?” she snaps, finally turning to face him. Her eyes are sharp, but there’s something else there, just beneath the surface—something raw and fragile. “They’ve taken everything from us. What’s left to lose?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking between her face and her clenched hands. The tension in her shoulders, the fire in her voice—it’s all so painfully familiar. He recognizes it because it’s the same anger that’s burned in him for years, a constant, smoldering rage that never quite goes out.

“You still have yourself,” he says quietly, his voice steadier than she expects. “That’s worth something.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, leaning back in her seat. “Is it? Look at me, Haymitch. I’m barely holding it together. And for what? So I can watch more kids die while I stand by, pretending I can help?”

The crack in her voice guts him, though he doesn’t let it show. He shifts forward, resting his elbows on the table as his eyes lock onto hers. “You think I don’t know what that’s like?” he says, his tone sharper now. “You think I haven’t spent every damn day since my Games asking myself the same thing?”

Her breath catches, and she looks away, her throat tightening. He leans in closer, his voice softening, but the intensity in his eyes remains. “It kills me to see you like this. Destroying yourself the same way I did. You’re better than that. You’re better than me.”

Her chest tightens at his words, the rawness in them catching her off guard. She swallows hard, her gaze flickering back to him. For the first time, she sees the exhaustion etched into his face—not just physical tiredness, but the kind of weariness that comes from years of fighting battles no one else can see. And for the first time, she realizes how deeply he cares.

She doesn’t know how to respond. The anger, the frustration, the self-loathing she’s been clinging to all this time feels like it’s slipping through her fingers, replaced by something much harder to face. Vulnerability.

“I’m not better than you,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just...trying to survive, same as you.”

His eyes soften, and he leans back slightly, giving her space but never looking away. “Then stop tearing yourself apart,” he says simply. “Let me help.”

The words hang in the air between them, heavy and unspoken for far too long. She meets his gaze, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his sincerity. For a moment, neither of them moves, the silence stretching out like a taut wire, ready to snap.

Without thinking, he reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing against hers. The contact startles her, and she looks at him, her expression guarded.

“What are you doing?” she mutters, though her cheeks flush slightly.

“Trying to make a point,” he replies, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re not as far gone as you think. If you’d stop being so damn stubborn all the time and quit pushing people away, things wouldn’t be as hard.”

Her breath catches at his words, the rawness in his voice cutting through her defenses. She looks away, but she doesn’t pull her hand back.

“You’re being weird,” she mumbles, her tone lacking its usual sharpness. “And gross.”

He chuckles softly, a rare sound that surprises them both. “Yeah, well, you’re blushing, so who’s the weird one now?”

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she stares at him, her chest rising and falling unevenly as if she’s trying to hold herself together and failing miserably.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits, his voice rough but honest. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Something in her breaks at his words. She doesn’t know if it’s the exhaustion, the grief, or the sheer weight of everything they’ve both endured, but suddenly, it’s too much. She shifts forward, gripping the front of his shirt tightly as if he’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

Her lips crash into his, hesitant at first but quickly growing more urgent, more desperate. He freezes for half a second, startled by the suddenness of it, but then his hands are on her, one cupping her cheek while the other grips her waist. The kiss deepens, and she clings to him like he’s her lifeline, her anchor in the storm.

When they finally break apart, she’s breathless, her forehead resting against his as she tries to steady herself. “You’re a creep, you know that?,” she mumbles, her voice shaky but teasing.

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “You started it.”

She pulls back just enough to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “Don’t make me regret this,” she murmurs, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“You won’t,” he says simply, his tone laced with a confidence that surprises even him.

As the train rumbles on, the space between them feels smaller than ever, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Y/N allows herself to feel something other than anger. Something that feels a little like hope.

[minasvalentine]

🗣️ : You can’t hear a photo!

The photos:

M - A -A -A - ANNNNN

[maevesheart]

tolerate it

CORIOLANUS SNOW X CAPITOL!READER

note: hiiiii… guess i’m back from a brief hiatus… coriolanus snow has done something to me so i must write about it. this is set before the mentorships, reader is from a very prominent capitol family—also, i changed some things around and made felix’s father the president instead of his uncle. // also.. should i write more with this oc (sort of) and corio? i like the dynamic

summary: your relationship with felix ravinstill is anything but satisfying. thus, when you find yourself intoxicated and in a room with the ever-charming coriolanus snow, tensions run high.

wc: 5.4k

tw: alcohol, reader being drunk, cheating… oh! and of course, smut ;))))

The President’s Palace was filled with only the most prestigious and wealthy people that occupied the capitol.

You entered with Felix, your arm, adorned with only the finest gems in all of Panem, was linked tightly through his, as he lead you through the ornate doors into the ballroom.

The two of you had been together for a little over 6 months now, and to say the relationship was running its course was an understatement, to say the least.

You hated him, to put it simply.

He was arrogant, and displayed you like a shining new toy that no one else could touch.

How dare he! You seethed with anger for him. Your mother was the heiress of the Cardew fortune, spanning back decades of successful bankers. Livia, your cousin, was wealthy as well, but when your mother’s inheritance collided with your fathers, there was no comparison.

Your father, Hyades Mars, was the wealthiest man in all of Panem. Serbo Plinth could not even compare.

The Mars fortune could be attributed to both a long history and incredible reputation in the Panem military, and the production of precious metals that the country needed so badly.

Your ancestors had begun Mars Manufacturing, the biggest ore manufacturers in all of Panem. When the rebellion occurred, they moved to gun and bomb production, leading President Ravinstill to forever be in the debt of your family.

After all, Mars bombs had won the war.

It was baffling to you how Felix treated you like a mere object, nothing more.

You were far more intelligent, the most beautiful girl in all of Panem, and the labeled “Panem Princess”. Felix was a fool.

However, for your family’s sake, you must play the part. Or your father would die of embarrassment.

You plastered the sweetest smile onto your lips, and let Felix parade you around the room. You greeted the Cranes and Flickermans, making small talk with them before you spotted your mother and father speaking with your uncle in the center of the room.

Ushering a quick goodbye to the guests, and assuring Felix you’d be right back, you rushed for your family.

“Daddy,” you placed a peck on your fathers cheek as he placed a hand on your back.

“Hello, shining star.” His nickname for you caused your cheeks to redden, the pounds of makeup on your face covering the blush.

The Mars were the brightest stars in the entirety of Panem. And your father would never let you or your siblings forget it.

You greeted your mother, and then your Uncle Heracles, your father’s only sibling.

A quick kiss and hug, and then two of you were deep in conversation. Heracles was always your favorite. He never married, so all his money was spent on you and your siblings.

Beautiful jewelry, bags, clothing, anything you could dream of. He loved you as his own.

You threw a quick glance behind your shoulder, meeting the similar eyes that bore the same color as your own.

Heracles and you parents gently smiled as they watched your face take over with recognition.

“Percy?” You questioned, a beaming smile now on your lips.

You rushed away from your family, and straight into the arms of your elder brother, Perseus Mars.

“I’ve missed you dearly, little star,” he chuckled as you slammed yourself into him.

You hadn’t seen Percy in over a year. He joined the military right when he graduated from the Academy, and quickly climbed the ranks. He now bore the responsibility of Major, touring around the country and serving the capitol.

Every male in your family before him had done his duty in the military, but never rose as quickly as Percy. You were filled with pride.

“Well you look just beautiful, shining star.” Percy compliments you, making you do a little twirl.

He was right, you looked marvelous.

Your mother had a custom ruby red dress made for this occasion. It was strapless, and showed your chest off perfectly. It was a thick yet flowing material, that fell to the floor. A long slit accompanied the left side, leaving little to the imagination.

You paired the gorgeous dress with black heels, and a low updo sat on the nape of your neck. Your makeup was simple and timeless, accentuating your striking eyes and full lips. You couldn’t look more beautiful if you tried.

“How has it been in the districts? I cant imagine it’s been nice,” you ask, leading him to dive into a long speech about how it’s brought him wisdom beyond his years.

“Let’s get a drink, yes?” Percy finishes, linking your arm through his. He leads you to the ornate bar, and the two of you each receive a China glass, filled with shining red liquid.

You bring the concoction to your lips, and swallow down the rich taste of cherries. As obnoxious as the Ravinstills were, they sure knew how to throw a party.

Suddenly, Persephone, your older sister and Percy’s twin, appeared in front of the both of you.

Her hair was now suddenly pink, a different shade than from the last time you saw her.

Persephone had a strange fixation with constantly changing her appearance; your mother blamed it on her eclectic boss and vibrant coworker: Fabricia Whatnot and Tigris Snow.

“Hello, Perse.” Persephone smiles, giving Percy a hug.

“Hello back, Perse.” He smiles, rubbing her back. The two of them called each other Perse, crediting their shared names of two famous Greek heroes.

Your father loved mythology, and found it only appropriate to have children named after his favorite hero and goddess.

As your siblings fell into animated conversation, you excused yourself and made your way back to Felix.

He was now with his father, his head thrown back in laughter.

You placed your hand delicately on his back, alerting him of your presence.

“Oh, hello, darling,” he smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You smiled and curtsied to the President, before he took your small hand and brought it up to his mouth, leaving a haste kiss.

“Hello, Miss Mars. Pleasure to see you,”

“Pleasure is all mine, Mister President.” You smile.

The three of you fall into easy conversation. Felix and you soon break free, making your rounds to the many other guests, and friends from the Academy.

Soon the familiar sound of Panem’s Waltz began to play throughout the large room, and Felix lead you into the middle of the dance floor, taking your hand into his.

The two of you lead the waltz, other young couples joining in as the adults watching with pride blossoming onto their faces.

You wished the floor would swallow you whole.

Felix aggressively twirled you around the room, his hand rough and burning through your dress, and his other hand squeezing the life out of yours.

He spun you around and around, not delicately like Percy or even Festus Creed would’ve done.

Your eyes quickly met with Arachne’s, who gave you a solemn nod, knowing how much you hated him. You frowned back, and she mouthed “dance”, to encourage you to take lead and show him who was boss.

You quickly moved your feet in the motion of the foxtrot, causing Felix to follow your lead. The other couples soon followed, Arachne sending you a beaming smile.

Felix struggled to follow your lead, he never quite got the hang of any dance other than the waltz, and you knew this would cause an argument as his jaw tightened, and slightly stuck out his foot, sending you stumbling into his arms.

A smug smirk took over his features as you gave him a death stare, pulling yourself back into place and straightening your dress.

The other couples continues to dance while the two of you had a staring contest, before you shoved him slightly and went to leave the dance floor.

His hand harshly grabbed your arm, and pulled you back into his chest. Before you could comprehend it, you shoved his chest, and caught the attention of the entire room.

“Please excuse us, I’m afraid Miss Mars has had one too many drinks,” he laughed, causing the rest of the room to join in, soon making you into a joke.

You knew they weren’t truly laughing, having all drank a little too much themselves, but you refused to let Felix make you into a fool.

“I’ve just got to freshen up in the bathroom is all. I’ll be back momentarily. The foxtrot was never my best anyhow,” you smiled your sickly sweet grin, everyone believing the words falling from your tongue.

“Now, excuse you,” you shoved past Felix, letting your shoulder hit his as you passed him.

You were left with an awful taste in your mouth.

You grabbed a glass of something on your way out, tipping the glass back to empty all of the liquid into your throat.

What you failed to notice was the script Morphling enhanced written on the Avox’s tray.

You immediately felt calmer, the tension leaving your body.

After you finished the glass, you decided that was enough, and made your way through the crowds, needing some fresh air.

You found yourself in a deserted hall, and tears soon found themselves in your eyes. You told yourself to keep it in, but the mix of anger and morphling caused the hot salty tears to pour out of you.

You wailed, and slapped a hand across your mouth to stop the sound of more, eyes darting throughout the hall to make sure no one saw you.

The hall was empty, thank Heavensbee, and you leaned your head back against the portrait of some past Panem military leader, a string of tears passing down your cheeks.

Felix treated you like a fucking doll, and you weren’t some porcelain plaything that if he let go of would smash into millions of pieces.

You were a lady, a strong, beautiful, intelligent lady, who would not be defined by an ignorant, stupid, man-child who didn’t know his right foot from his left.

With that, you pushed off the wall, and headed towards the south end of the hall, which held two large doors that lead straight to the Royal Garden.

You exited to the garden, beautiful flowers lit by the light coming from the ball room. A small bench sat between the rows of colorful exotic plants.

A shadowed figure was hunched on this said bench, elbows on his knees and head in his palms.

You stumbled on your way over to him, picking up your flowing dark red dress to get to this figure quicker.

As you get closer, you notice the sharp black tuxedo and blonde hair. Immediate dread overtakes your body and you stop dead.

Coriolanus Snow.

Of fucking course. You scoff and let go of your dress. Coriolanus looks up, eyes widening as he takes in your distressed figure.

You and Coriolanus were once friends, but his ego got in the way and you found yourself parting ways from him. Sure, he used to be a sweet boy, but now his ego was as tall as he was, and his last name gave him power others could only dream of.

“Y/N Mars.” Coriolanus nodded, standing up and adjusting his cuff links.

“Coriolanus. Long time no see,” you rolled your eyes, morphling continuing to make your blood hot and coursing.

“Enjoying your party?” He asked, venom laced within his words.

You scowled. “My party? Funny.”

“Oh you don’t know? Felix plans on proposing. I supposed six months is the new six years,” a smirk adorned Coriolanus’s face as he watches yours twist with anger and confusion.

“Wha-… Why?” You spurt out. Suddenly you felt extremely sober.

“I couldn’t guess either. Who would want to marry you?” His words were bullets, hitting you right in the chest.

You couldn’t believe it. But as you thought into the night more, it all made perfect sense. Percy coming back from active duty, all of Panem’s most respectable being there, and Felix showing you off to everyone. He had never been that attached to your hip before.

Tears threatened to slip once more, the last thing you wished to do was marry Felix Ravinstill, but you knew once he was down on that knee, your father’s eyes would bore into yours. You wouldn’t have the heart to let him down.

Desperately wishing to change the subject, you placed your head up high and made eye contact once more with the mean boy in front of you.

“Why were you out here all alone, Coriolanus?”

Was that a hint of… of worry across your face? No, it couldn’t be, Coriolanus thought.

He found himself taken aback by your worried tone and soft eyes after he had repeatedly thrown insults your way.

“Some fresh air, that’s all,” he clears his throat, trying his best to suppress his feelings he had fought for so long.

Insulting you, hiding away. That was all he could do. He had be mean to you your entire life, teasing you, stealing your first kiss on a “dare”. He had never once been nice.

But you were Panem’s Princess, and he could not be in love with Panem’s Princess, so he shoved down his feelings and refused to admit them. After all, why would a rich girl like you be with a poor boy like him?

“I haven’t seen you once tonight. It’s freezing out here, come inside and get some warmth,” you take a step closer to him, causing him to sit up straighter on the bench.

Why were you acting like you cared? Did you know his secret? Or did you truly care? Were his feelings mutual?

“You must have been too preoccupied with Mister President Junior to notice my presence. Naturally, we don’t like each other.”

His statement caused you to take a step backwards. The cold radiated off his skin.

You had deep feelings for Coriolanus, and you assumed he knew. You had only given him your first kiss years ago, just to find out it was a dare from Clemensia.

It shattered your little heart, and you had sworn him off since that dreadful night.

So, to find him so cold and mean when you were so vulnerable, it felt like that night when you were 13 all over again.

It seemed Coriolanus had a specific talent for breaking your heart.

“Alright then. You can be miserable by yourself, Snow. All I’ve done is try to help.” You sniffled, turning brisk on your heel and marching back to the doors you had came out from.

Coriolanus leaned slightly back, wondering what he had just done.

The girl he had been pawning over for years came outside and was trying to comfort him, how could he have been so stupid as to turn you away?

On your solemn walk back through the hallway, you figured Felix could be a good husband. The future president of Panem, and not terribly unattractive.

But deep down, your heart yearned for a certain boy with blue eyes and pale hair, a certain boy who had crushed your heart countless times.

Instead of returning to the ballroom, you headed up the large marble staircase, and straight to the first bedroom.

You threw yourself onto the ornate golden bed, undoing your elaborate bun from the nape of your neck.

Your hair flowed down your back, and you stood in front of the mirror, wiping below your eyes. No one could see you like this.

An abrupt knock came from the other side of the door, and your head snapped.

Surely no one had seen you go upstairs. And there was absolutely no way Coriolanus had followed you.

Opening the door, the familiar face from the garden stood in front of you, eyebrows laced and fret covering his face.

“Coriolanus?” You whispered, the tears once more threatening to spill.

“Please, I am not in the mood.” He felt the crack in your voice deep in his core, and felt a pit begin to form in his stomach.

“Can I come in?” He whispered. You stepped aside and his broad frame crossed the floorboards onto the lush green carpet you stood atop.

“What is it now? Come to insult my dress as well? Tell me that my makeup has smeared?” You sat on the edge of the bed, and placed your face in your hands.

Coriolanus stood in silence for a few moments, then he got onto his knees before you and gently moved your hands from your face.

His fingertips gently traced the sides of your cheeks as they moved your delicate hands, and then he cupped your left cheek and you found yourself leaning in.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never been more sorry for something in my life.” His apology surprised you, and your eyes went wide.

“It’s alright, nothing I’m not used to with you,” you mustered a slight smile.

“No, it’s not alright. I’ve been a fool, Y/N.” Your eyes began to narrow, was this another aspect of his cruel games?

“I’ve been a fool for a long time. Trying to convince myself that I don’t love you. But the harder I try to fight my feelings, the harder they come back and burst into my heart. I love you more than a man could ever love a woman. And I’ve been terrible to you, utterly awful. And you deserve someone who treats you the right way, and I know that Felix cannot love you the way I can. Felix could never give you the things I could, he could never make you feel things I can make you feel.” Coriolanus is stroking your face, his eyes soft and glossy.

You want to believe him, you truly do, but he has never given you a reason to.

You brush his hand away from your face.

“Coriolanus Snow. You have tormented me for too long, knowing my feelings for you. You take, and take, and take, and I have nothing left. Felix, sure he’s not the brightest nor the most doting, but he makes a suitable choice at this point. I haven’t got anything left to give to you. So please, leave me alone.”

You go to stand up, but Coriolanus is pushing you back down.

“Cant you see, I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember!”

“You’ve never given me a reason to believe that, Coriolanus!”

The two of you were yelling at this point, and you were very thankful for the loud music down below.

“I know, I know. And I’m so deeply sorry. I should’ve been better, I know.”

“Yes, you should have. And you cannot have me just because you decided ten minutes ago that I was suddenly appealing.”

“You’ve always been beautiful, Y/N.”

You shake your head, looking down to the ground.

“Please, give me a chance. Just one. I won’t mess it up.”

You look up and meet his eyes. You debate his plea in your head.

You could give him a chance and dump Felix, a win-win. But what happens if he goes back to his old ways and hurts you again. He would make a fool of you and there’s no way you could ever beg Felix to take you back.

Before your mind can decide, your heart picks.

“Alright. But just one. No other chances.”

“No other chances. I love you, Y/N.”

You cant stop yourself from smiling, truly believing his words this time. “I love you, Coriolanus.”

A grin splays across his face and he places his hands on either side of your face, delicately tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“May I kiss you?” A small nod is all you offer before his lips come crashing down onto yours, feeling the exact way they did 5 years ago when the two of you sat in a dark closet.

His lips are cold, but they melt together with your warm ones. The kiss is passionate and slow, the both of you taking your time, cherishing the moment.

Soon, he is standing and pushing you back onto the bed, your head lightly hitting the pillow.

The kiss turns rushed and heated, the both of you breathing heavily. Your hand moves from his bicep to his hair, tugging, earning a groan from deep inside his throat.

He slots his legs between yours, and your thighs latch onto his sides.

You move your hands down to his shoulders, digging deep into his back, feeling the tough muscles contract beneath your perfectly polished red nails.

He pulls back briefly, with lust blown pupils. You assume yours look the same.

He takes your hand and examines the nails, the finest ruby ring around your middle finger, with diamonds forming a crown.

He brings your hand up to his mouth and sucks on your middle finger and ring finger, before pulling them back.

You watch with big eyes and a slightly open mouth, feeling your panties pool down below.

“I’ve only ever dreamt of having you like this.”

You don’t respond, just swallowing roughly.

He moves back to your lips, but only briefly, then moves down your neck, taking his time leaving marks. You’re sure you’ll need extra concealer and powder in the morning, but that is a worry for later.

The only thing you can focus on now is the way his lips feel against your sensitive skin.

He looks up while sucking your collarbone, his eyes dark and seductive. He had you exactly where he wanted, writhing beneath him.

His tongue finds its way down your cleavage, pecking the visible skin. “Such a pretty dress,” he whispers, you silently begging him to continue.

He’s soon shrugging off his tuxedo coat and undoing his bow tie.

You sit up and try to unzip the back of the dress, silently struggling.

He unbuttons his white collared shirt and throws it onto the ground before moving to help you, sliding down the zipper with ease.

He rips the dress down your body, throwing it to the floor. He sits up on his knees and assesses your whole body, suddenly bulging against his pants as he takes in your uncovered breasts.

“No bra? Naughty girl,” he tsks, placing his hands on either side of your waist.

The only part of your body covered is your genitals, a simple black floral lace thong sitting on your hips.

You start to wiggle, desperate for him to do something again.

“Use your words, pretty girl.” He taunts, running a finger across the band of your panties.

“Please,” you whisper, taking his hands into yours.

“Anything for you, my love, tell me what you want,” he leaves a quick kiss to your lips, pulling back to allow you to answer.

“Your mouth.” You’ve never given requests like this before. Ha! You’ve never even been listened to during your few times with Felix. He always had you go down on him or be on top. You had never been eaten out before, and you thought there was no better person than Coriolanus.

A smirk overtakes Coriolanus’s face as he realizes you’ve never had someone go down on you before. “Of course, love.” He shuffles down the bed, laying on his stomach.

You sit up on your elbows to get a better view of him, watching with your breath held as he pulls down your thong with his teeth.

You could melt on the spot.

He throws the panties somewhere over his shoulder, and begins to kiss the inside of each your thighs, taking his sweet time.

“Please, Coryo,” you pant, your chest rising quickly.

Before you even have a chance to close your mouth, he is on your skin, sucking on your clit. The feeling is unbelievable and you throw your head back in pleasure.

His tongue glides between your folds, exploring wildly as you try your hardest not to scream out in pleasure.

He continues to suck, and sticks a finger in while you’re mid-moan, leading to a loud, “Oh, Coryo,” falling from your parted lips.

He smirks against your swollen clit, adding a second finger, pumping at an almost impossible speed.

You feel the pit in your stomach start to come undone and once he feels you begin to wiggle he knows you’re close.

“C’mon, princess,” he urges in a hoarse whisper, adding a third finger.

You’re undone in seconds, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from screaming his name for all of Panem to hear.

He laps up everything you give, and sticks his fingers into his mouth to ducks off your juices.

His legs are back in between yours, swollen lips quickly reattaching to yours.

He wipes the few stray tears that fell, a sense of pride blossoming in his chest, knowing he was the first man to make you feel that way.

“Coryo, let me please you,” you beg, hands fumbling as you undo his belt and begin to pull down his velvet dress pants.

“Next time. I want to focus on you,” he simply states and your heart soars, no man has ever said that to you, especially in these circumstances.

“I need to feel you, Y/N,” he simply states, hands on your hips.

You nod, ready to feel him inside you. You can only imagine how good it will feel.

“Use your words, baby. I need verbal confirmation,”

“Please, Coriolanus, I need you,” you grab his face, pulling it back down to meet yours. You then move your hands down to his boxers, the both of you pulling them down and flinging them off to join your panties.

His impressive length bounces back, standing straight up against his stomach. Your eyes widen with shock and your clit throbs imagining it inside of you.

Felix is nothing compared to Coryo.

“You’re so big,” you mumble, likely the alcohol from earlier speaking.

He chuckles at your comment, watching you size him up. “Don’t worry, pretty thing, I’ll fit,” he smirks, cupping your face once again.

He lines himself up with your slick folds, bringing your hands down to push himself in.

His large hands cover your small ones, and he watches your face as he slowly pushes in.

Your face first twists with pain and he immediately halts his movements, beginning to pull out before you urge him to continue.

“No, no, it feels good,” you whisper, lightly hissing.

“Just tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop immediately,” he reassures, pushing his full length in.

You gasp as he fills you up, your tight folds holding his cock so well, Coryo’s head falls back in pleasure, a light groan falling from his lips.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whimpers, going down onto his elbows so he can be closer to you.

“I love you,” he kisses the corner of your mouth before pulling out and going right back in, your hands finding his back.

“Fuck, Coryo, I love—“ a moan interrupts your sentence as he roughly pushes his full length in at once, filling you up in ways you’d never imagined.

He continues to flick his hips into yours, your ankles crossing behind his back, pulling him even closer to your body. The both of you are panting and sweating, chests rising into each other.

Your body trembles in indescribable pleasure as he continues thrusting in at an incredible pace, your head thrown back against the pillow and your eyes closed.

You scream out, his hand slapping down over your mouth to keep you quiet. This turns you on even more, and you begin to move your hips with his, allowing him to push in even deeper.

The slapping of skin and your shared groans fill the air, and Coryo’s lips find your sweet spot against your neck, filling you with even more pleasure.

“Coryo,” you moan, fingernails scratching down his back.

Somehow, his thrusts get harder and faster, pounding into you like a fuck doll he couldn’t get enough of. Arousal drips out of you, and Coryo begins to pull all the out before slamming right back in.

You felt like you were going to explode from pure bliss, the feeling of Coryo’s lips on yours, his strong hands holding you in place, and the feeling of his cock deep inside your pulsing walls.

You feel the pit begin to form again, and Coryo knows you’re close when you begin to tighten around him, and you feel his thrusts get sloppier.

His cock twitches as you whimper underneath him, and he grunts, “I’m close, princess,”

“Me too, Coryo,” you moan, hands gripping his biceps.

With a final thrust, the both of you come undone together, Coryo collapsing onto your chest.

You kiss the side of his face, weakly smiling as his eyes meet yours.

He leaves a kiss to your lips before pushing himself off the bed and going into the en-suite bathroom, quickly running a wash cloth under water and coming back.

He wipes it down your legs and over your privates, kissing your knees as he does so.

He lays back down with you, stroking your face and examining the features he’s loved forever.

“You are beautiful,” he smiles, brushing your hair back.

You blush, shaking your head, “I’m probably a mess right now,”.

“Never.” He kisses your forehead and sits up, “but we do have to go back down there.”

You groan with the realization, quickly being snapped out of your bliss bubble with Coriolanus.

He helps you off the bed, steadying your hips. You assure him that you can walk, and he helps you slip into your dress and heels.

He pulls back on his clothing as you try your best to salvage whats left of your makeup in the bathroom.

“I’m ending it with him when we get down there.” You take Coryo’s hand, lacing it within yours.

“Don’t leave my side, please,” you beg.

“I would never.” He reassures you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

The two of you quietly exit the room, slowly descending the stairs.

You don’t even know how long you’ve been up there, or if the party is still going on.

The loud music assures you that it is, and Coryo stands directly behind you as you enter the ballroom, all eyes falling onto you two.

You catch Percy’s eye first, his face twisted with confusion. Persephone is behind him next to Tigris, the two of them size both of you up, worry evident in their features.

Felix makes his way up to you, and the Capitol citizens act as if they aren’t watching any more, despite the stolen glances and almost hushed conversations.

“Y/N. Where were you,” Felix grips your arm harshly, and you let out a whimper.

Coryo is between the two of you in seconds, his brooding frame easily towering over Felix’s cowering body.

“Don’t touch her.” He threatens, eyes narrowed.

He knows he is teetering in dangerous water. The Snow’s are almost nothing, and the Ravinstills rule all of Panem. Felix could have him dead with the snap of his fingers.

But all Felix does is laugh, brushing Coryo off.

“She is my girlfriend, Coriolanus, don’t overstep now,” Felix chuckles, shaking his head.

“Not anymore,” you say loudly from behind Coryo, who slightly shifts to let you have access to Felix.

Felix gives you a confused look, raising his eyebrow.

“Felix, I cannot be with you anymore. You treat me as if I am a porcelain doll who is only for you to show off. I am a woman, and I am no one’s to parade around.” You say, the large room dead silent.

Your father grins in the back, Uncle Heracles joining. Percy is as well, Pride swelling for his baby sister.

“What?” Felix chokes out, looking as if he’s seen a ghost.

“You heard me loud and clear. It’s done. And I will be leaving now.” You hold your chin up high, and march out, passing President Ravinstill.

You give him a small nod, thanking him once again for having you.

Coriolanus trails you, and you are sure everyone must suspect what happened upstairs. But that doesn’t matter to you at all in that moment.

As soon as the two of you are outside the Palace, and in one of the carriages, Coryo is holding your hand, and kissing it endlessly.

“I’m very proud of you, my love.” He says, and you tuck yourself into his side. “I’m happy it’s done. After all, I’ve got my Coriolanus Snow now, don’t I?” You ask, earning a chuckle from the man you love and a giggle from your own lips.

*

[normafuckingrockwell]

happy birthday to my amazing husband

[diana-foggy-master]

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

like or reblog if u save

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[synchodai]

Aaaaaaaaaaaah it infuriates me how many times i have to repeat this but the point of a royal succession crisis that leads to a civil war is that there was NO clear heir. The Realm wouldn't have been broken into camps if your argument "uh actually Aegon/Rhaenyra is the clear heir because—" was so indisputable that the other side couldn't justify their claim. The point of Fire and Blood is how the "rightfulness" of an heir is ultimately determined by who has the biggest capacity to inflict violence and scorch the earth, and yet HOTD fans are arguing like medieval peasants who are so monarchy-pilled that they actually believe there's such a thing as a divine right of kings in a series that was written to criticize the divine right of kings.

Imagine having fandom teams over which tribute truly deserves to win the Hunger Games.

[lindseyarchive]

nightlock nightlock nightlock 😰

[brookesophelias]

think about how

each five total time i read The Hunger Games Trilogy, the more times I THINK "WE WERE ROBBED" when it comes to Haymitch Abernathy & Gale Hawthorne.

IMAGINE

Gale Hawthorne: the resourceful hunter who thought his 42 slips would give him so much more than... well, nothing. (his family is still wanting, the girl he's crushing on doesn’t see him like that. HE'S A COAL MINER JUST LIKE HIS FATHER TO KEEP HIS MUM ALIVE).

of course, Gale's angry because the Capitol says all he has to is play The Game & he'll be full. But he never gets to play. He has all this anger at his government, for the sickness he sees. so much that it blinds him & all he yearns for is revenge. REVENGE is the only thing that lights him up these days!

he has no empathy for Victors—as he's unaware Haymitch doesn't allow anyone clean or cook for him, doesn't understand Haymitch sleeps with a knife every night for 25 years, & gets through the days drunk because he knows every tribute District 12 lost, the all 49 tributes he fought—when they have all the money & food he ever could dream & don’t do anything with it.

(Gale never knew Peeta's mother beat him for throwing bread to Katniss, doesn't realise Mrs. Undersee's maiden name is Donner).

so when Katniss wants to run into the woods with everyone AND Gale, Gale's (only?) sees "Loverboy," "the Mayor's daughter," as well as the single town Victor who trips on live TV like a drunken idiot.

therefore,when Alma Coin lures Gale into making Rebel weapons, he's enthralled. He is finally doing something useful with his skills & IT'S AGAINST SNOW? sounds awesome!!

it's not his fault President Coin wants to usurp Snow & is using anti-Hunger Games rebellions to do so. it's not his fault Primrose Everdeen is dead.

ok, but there’s Haymitch: resident Quell Victor who begrudgingly lets Hazelle in his Victor’s Village house. Hazelle, with her young children & whose son is pretending to be Katniss' cousin?

i mean (honest) gale/katniss is a major damage to the star-crossed lovers angle

is it because he could see young Gale in himself? where Gale is skilled in building & planning & hunting, Haymitch knows methods & truly making something from for nothing

does Haymitch look at Gale's broken body after Thread whipped him & know that the younger man is already more than physically broken without even stepping foot in the Games?

does Haymitch just wish he could drill into Gale Hawthorne's cocky head that being angry at the Capitol is great motivation, just not how he's going about it.

Haymitch would probably give a month's worth of his winnings for life to Gale, just to hug the younger man and tell him: i see you, your effort, your determination to stop suffering?

the thing is: Gale believes he'd be able to survive the arena and still be himself & Haymitch knows that nobody can do that—not Maysilee; not even Peeta.

in all reality, Gale was just a kid that hungered for more than he received in return.

[katnissandpeetamellark]

If Billy Taupe wasn’t a moron

Lucy Gray and him probably would’ve been a Johnny Cash & June Carter Cash sort of duo

[loveneversleepss]

The First Victor

Genre: Friends to lovers, lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies(lol😭), time set around a half-year after he returns to the capitol.

Warnings: Cursing, kissing (make outs), violence (fights), manipulation, hickeys, groping, fingering, oral sex (fem rec.), unprotected sex, violent sex(BIG WARNING), kidnapping, death☠️

Pairing: young Coriolanus Snow x female reader (Not really all romance tho), reader is older (cougar shit).

W.C: 20k?

A/N: I have been obsessed with the Hunger games for a while and realized I haven't ever done a story for it, so here you go. Suggest knowing about the ballad of songbirds and snakes before reading.

There is never a thing as pure evil or good. Everyone and everything has a little good or bad in them. It's how the world works, how it is. In the constant battle of Capitol and districts, you could get mixed up. But would it be fair to be called a traitor, if you were simply surviving? You question yourself constantly. How did you get here?

No one has ever known your story, or were too scared to find out about it. You were picked out as a monster, but you were just trying to survive. Someone had to do it, be the first, to become the first victor Panem ever knew. You set the boundaries and what the next line of tributes would do. Just because you won, one would look at you and they acknowledge you as pure evil, so be it. You didn't care about labels and such, you just wanted to be free, and free you will be.

~~

11 years ago

"Dr. Gaul, you have to read this assignment," a worker hands her a sheet of paper. She sits down with paper in hand and begins to read, her lips slowly turn up into a terrifying smile as she laughs and laughs. Her voice echoing throughout the room, "this is exactly what Panem needs, that those districts deserve." She turns to a newly created form of protection, the peacekeepers. "Go find Casca Highbottom."

She introduced this proposal to her higher ups and they agreed that it was perfect. She named Casca Highbottom the creator of the games and deemed on that day that they will start these battles, taking thought of how they will get them to fight. They came out with ideas of planting chips into their head to increase the frequencies to force them to fight, but they came out with starving them. To make them so hungry and bribe them if they fight, they will be fed and never have to go hungry again. And then all they needed was a name, these so-called Hunger Games.

But Dr. Gaul had to insure that these games would work, she needed to make sure there would be a victor. She decided to look into her favorite district, district 2. To look for a perfect victor and so she did, she found you. Y/n, 15 years old, trained since 3 years old. They had cameras all over district 2, cameras that see everything. She saw how you trained day and night, through rain and shine. How you defeated anyone that dared to go against you. But she noticed one important thing, you were immune to feeling, To love, happiness, fear, anything. "She's perfect," she watched you so carefully until she made her choice to have you escorted to her lab.

~

You stood before this bizzare woman, "What is this? You're interrupting my training time." She smiled gleefully as she brought her hands up to her face, "You're quite brave, aren't you?" She said more as a statement than a question. You looked at her curiously as the lab was filled with weird empty tanks, also 'weak people' you observed. She steps closer to you, "You're exactly what I need." You tilt your head at her, emotionless, "And what exactly do you need from me?" She laughs, so evil and cunning it creates goosebumps on your skin. "You'll find out," you feel a sharp prick on the side of your neck and turn to see a man in white behind you. But you couldn't fight back as your body becomes motionless and hazy.

You wake up in a small room, not even a room, a cage. Your vision steadies and you begin to freak out. Your hands tied down and you attempt to break out of it, but your body doesn't move. "You're awake," the bizzare woman again appears in front of you. "You're probably wondering why you're here, why you're tied up like this. I just had to ensure that it was working." You blink multiple times at her, "What is?" ~~~

You await your doom, the games that are waiting for you. You think back on your childhood, your father who was relentless on you. He was determined to make you a weapon, that would protect him and keep him safe. ~ "Get up," your father stared down at you, disappointment in his eyes after you failed to grip the pole above. "Please papa, I'm tired." He struck you at your words, you whined as the sting made a tear fall down your cheek. "I will not have a lazy daughter, get up and do it again." ~

That day you sucked it all up, and you made a vow to yourself. You would kill that man one day, although you loved him, you hated him more. For him making you into the soulless monster you are today, cursed to never feel anything ever again. But now you really are that, just an empty person who can never feel anything, thanks to Dr. Gaul.

You hear a dangling of keys coming towards you, you know it's her. "Hello, y/n. How are you today?" You stare at her in your position from a make-shift bed. She slides your meal for the day through a shaft in the cage as you look at it in disgust. "Feeling nervous about the games?" You snap at her, “I don’t want to be apart of these, these wretched games you've planned! I want to go home!” Your voice echoes throughout her office at your burst of words.

"For what exactly? Hm, do tell me," she stares at you waiting for your response. "Exactly, you can't tell me because there's nothing left for you there. But here, i'm giving you a purpose." You scoff at her, "And what purpose is that? To be a lab rat for the rest of my life?" She waves her finger and tsks, "No, I plan on making you a victor."

~~~

"I don't understand what's so special about me, why me?" You asked Dr. Gaul while eating your dinner. "You have something about you, you seem to only feel one thing. Anger, and nothing else." You chew silently on the mysterious meat she provided to you. "Why is that, y/n?" You swallowed as you thought of a way to tell her, describe your experience. "I had a uh, harsh childhood, ever since I could walk. My father has trained me to be a weapon, his reason was to protect him." She nods her head unconvinced, "Do you believe that's why he did it?"

You shake your head no, "it was just to put me through hell, he never wanted me, I knew it. He blamed me for my mother's death. He hated me and I hated him. That's why I don't have certain emotions, I never knew what they were, just knew anger all my life. That's why I killed him." She smiles as if that's exactly what she wanted to hear, "the weapon he designed to protect him, ended up killing him in the end." But anything you said couldn't stop what was coming for you. The games were set in stone for you, and you had to play.

~~

You were placed in a black van, isolated as you were escorted to the games. You could've easily escaped but something in you didn't, that didn't dare even take a step in the wrong direction. Dr. Gaul called it an arena the place you were heading, that you had to fight to the death in. You have no idea what Dr. Gaul did to you that day she took you, all you know is that you woke up with pricked-holes all over your body. Like a bee would leave.

The vehicle came to a stop and the doors rushed open, peacekeepers came in to retrieve you immediately. Grabbing you by your arms and forcing you onto your feet. They dragged you into a room, with only two ways to come out, they way you came in and through a door in front of you. There's a screen next to the door and it powers on, Dr. Gaul appears.

"Welcome to the first ever Hunger games, you were selected to fight in this arena. In this arena you will fight to the death against 23 tributes besides yourself. We've had you starved for 4 days, at this rate, hunger is the best motivation to kill. The last one standing will be awarded riches like you couldn't imagine, your life. Now, with that being said, let the Hunger Games begin."

There's a buzz and the door swings open, revealing a lit up room. You take a few steps out the door, observing your surroundings. Waiting for anyone threatening to approach. You see all 23 tributes stepped just merely inches from the door, no aggression visible on any of their faces. You turn to the person standing closest to you, a girl, barely the age of 13. You feel your heart begin to ache as you notice the stream of tears running down her face. You notice in the center there's a table of weapons. You immediately run to it as a few others follow your moves, you grab a knife and a bow with a few arrows.

You look around for the girl you saw earlier and find her shaking against the wall. You watch for others trying to sneak up on you but find none. The others fight each other, begging each other to back down. You notice a tall guy starts charging at the girl with a spear and your instinct is to run after him. But you stop as you grab your bow and aim it at his running figure. You let the arrow slip through your fingers and it lands, right through his heart.

The girl stares in fear as some blood splatters onto her face. She wipes it slowly off her cheek as your focus changes. An olive-skinned man approaching you quickly with an axe, you take another arrow into your bow and plant it into his forehead. His body collapses a few feet away from you. You begin to aim for the men, shooting arrow after arrow at them. Their bodies fall quickly to the ground each time. Leaving mostly only girls left for you to kill.

You turn and don't see the girl in her original position. You're distracted looking for her and don't notice the man coming at you. He tackles you and you drop your bow. You kick him off of you but he manages to pin you under him, his hands gripping your neck choking you. You reach for anything besides you and find a rock, you grip it quickly and smack it on his head. He screams out and loosens his grip just enough for you to overpower him. You take your knife in your pocket and stab it into his chest but he still is strong. You reach his neck and twist it so incorrectly, so wrong, it leaves a bone-cracking sound and he goes motionless. His body lands next to you and you try to catch your breath.

You get up slowly and see all the bodies scattered on the floor, most of them done by you. You see the remainder of everyone, a man and 2 girls. You don't recognize the girl from earlier in any of the bodies on the floor. You begin to search for her as the others are busy fighting each other. You pick up your bow and arrows and run looking for her. You find her hiding near a couple bodies, craddled up into a ball. You walk slowl to her as she sees you now, "please don't hurt me!" She whimpers as she gets up in a defensive position. You shake your head and drop your bow, "I'm not gonna hurt you." Her eyes widen as she looks as something behind you, "watch out!"

You get tackled again, this time you fight back harder, kicking and punching. It's a man and he uses all his strength. But speed is more important than strength in this game. He grabs you and tosses you aside as he reaches for the girl. She runs away as you grab your bow and swiftly put in an arrow in it. He grabs the girl and holds her close, a dagger to her neck, the one you had. "Don't, or I'll cut her throat." This feeling, fear, love, you care for this girl. You don't know why, but you know you hate this feeling. You smirk, you don't have control over your body anymore as you let the arrow go, right through her heart.

He looks at you in shock as you load another arrow quickly and plunge it through his heart. You drop the bow, as you have control now again. Your body begins to shake when you've realized what you've done. The blood that's on you and on your hands. Before you can process what you've done, you hear a voice. "Congratulations, we have a winner!" Dr. Gaul, you know this voice anywhere. A peacekeeper walks towards you and knocks you out with a mist, black is all you can see.

~~

“Congratulations,” you’re startled awake by this taunting, dreadful voice. “You’ve become the first ever victor of the hunger games.” You look around and realize, you’re still in the cage. “No, no, no! Let me out!” You bang into the cage where she’s standing, you kick and shake the cage in attempt to escape. She stands emotionless watching you struggle, tears flowing down your cheeks, “You promised!” She smiles and leans in closer to you as your tantrum tires down. “I promised your life, and alive you still are,” she says in a singsongy tone.

You shake your head no as you back away, “I want out of here,” you say more calmly. She tilts her head like as if she’s thinking about it. Then you see her face light up, “once you’ve proven yourself that you’ll change the Capitol for good, I’ll let you out. But until that happens, you’ll stay in here.” She walks away, her sentence taunting you for hours and hours into days into months. Then into years. Stuck trying to figure a way that you can prove yourself, that you would change the capitol in a way that would help. And you will.

10 years later..

You’ve grown accustomed to this cage you now call your home, you’ve tried everything to convince Dr. Gaul to let you go. But you’ve given up, nothing could change this fate. Or so you thought. Not until a tall, white-blonde haired man approached you. You scrambled away from him when he came close to your cage. He leaned down, hands on his knees, sitting on his heals comfortably.

“I won’t hurt you,” he spoke softly, you scoff as you bring your head up. “That’s what they all say,” it’s been so long since you’ve heard your own voice. Since you’ve heard someone’s else’s besides Dr. Gaul. “I’m Coriolanus Snow, and you are?” You sit up against the wall and brush your hair out of your face, “Y/n.” You can see in his head something clicked, like he connected the dots. “y/n, the first victor of the games!” You nod your head not amused, hating that title that everyone knows you from.

“You’re a legend, you had the first kill and the most kills ever in the games.. you set the rules.” You look at him fully, actually looking right at him, into his eyes. “A legend? I’m a monster.” He shakes his head and his eyes soften, “no you’re not.. I understand you, you were trying to survive, like everyone else. And you did. In my eyes that’s the most impressive thing.” You breathe heavily, “you’re trying to make me like you. It’s not working.” He smiles and you recognize him.

“I know you, you’re a mentor in the games. District 12 right?” His eyebrows crease and his jaw goes tight, “I know one of the mentors too, Sejanus. He’s from my district and his dad was friends with mine.” If only he knew the history you had with Sejanus, he was your first kiss. He ignored your comment about Sejanus, “I didn’t know you watch the games.” You sigh, "I always watch the games contrary to everyone's beliefs.. I think it helps, knowing i'm not the only one who went through that." He sits all the way down, his legs crossed neatly in front of himself. “I don’t.. I don’t what to do. My girl- tribute, Lucy Gray, I don’t want her to die.” You move closer to him, your hand gripping the cage, “then do what you can, help her, even though she’s in there and you’re here. There’s lots of ways to ensure her survival.”

He nods his head as you see tears developing in his eyes. “Be strong, Coriolanus Snow. You have your whole life ahead of you.” He wipes his cheek, avoiding looking you in the eyes while his tears drip. You crease your eyebrows together as you realize, “just how old are you?” He sniffles and responds, “18.” You bite your inner cheek and nod your head, he sighs. “How old are you? You were like 15 in the games right?” You breathe heavily and pursue your lips up, “I’m 24 now, about to turn 25.” His eyes deepen with pity.

“Why are you in here? I thought you would’ve gone back home.” You laugh mockingly at his words, “I wouldn’t chose to be here, living with enemy that forced me into the games. I have to thank Dr. Gaul for that, I’m her little lab rat.” He looks at you confused, visibly asking ‘why would she do that?’ “Why are you here?” You ask in the middle of the moment, he clears his throat, “I had to get stitched up, just wanted to wander a bit before I went back home.” You stared at him, bored at his answer, but he asks a sudden question.

“Why are you in here?” “I already answered you,” he cuts off your sentence. “No, why are you here. Why haven’t you escaped or been set free?” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, getting ready to tell him. “Dr. Gaul says I have to prove myself. Prove that I’d be good to the Capitol and make a magical change to it, whatever that means.” He nods in understanding, “why don’t you try to do something to establish the difference between the Capitol and the districts?” You sighed, “I don’t know how I would do that, how I would even start.”

It goes silent and you break it, “well I think it’s time you’ve leave , it’s quite late.” He nods his head and stands up quickly, he turns to leave but stops. “I’ll come back for you,” you shake your head and fidget with your hands. “What for?” You analyzed his outfit, a red university uniform. “To get you out of here.” And with that, he leaves. If only he knew how much those words meant to you, you were counting on it. You watched the games from your cage, secretly rooting for Lucy gray and him to win. And when she did, you were so happy, because if she won. You knew he wouldn’t forget about you, that you encouraged him and he succeeded.

But. He didn’t come for you. You waited and waited, and knew. He wasn’t coming to save you. You made excuses for him, saying it was too hard to sneak back into the office. Or that he was busy with university life or the hunger games stuff. But after 3 months passed you gave up waiting for him. So you decided to save yourself, but you had to think of how. What will change the future of the Capitol for good. Then it hit you.

~ “why don’t you try it on, hm?” The friendly store clerk told you as she showed you the pretty floral dress. You smiled as you reached out to grab it, but your father stepped in. He smacked you silly and you dragged you out of the store. “You are not meant to wear those things! You are not your mother!” ~

Fashion. That’s what the Capitol needs, a way to distinguish themselves from the districts. To show their rich and powerful history, to make them noticeably better and extravagant. This is exactly what you need, to change your fate. The next time you say Dr. Gaul, you pitched your idea to her. And she gladly accepted. “I’m so proud of you, you found a way to make the nation better.”

By nation she meant only by the Capitol. She swung the door open and you stepped out slowly. Freedom, at last. She escorted you to a room near her office, much more spacious than that tiny cage. “You can work here and I’ll arrange for you to have a house to your liking. Walkable distance of course, can’t have you late to your own invention.” You turned to her in disbelief, “and I can make my own rules right?” She crossed her arms and nodded, “except if you’re slacking off, I will not hesitate to put you back in that cage.”

She walks off with a smirk and you stand in the big empty room. You feel tears of joy slip down your cheeks and are startled by it. You haven’t felt this feeling in so long. You get started immediately with Dr. Gauls permission. “You can have these 3 workers to help you getting started.” She handed you a key which was for your house. It was empty besides the necessities it had. You didn’t spend a lot of time there because you were always working with your 3 workers. You tried asking for their names but all didn’t respond, in fact they never spoke, you wondered why. You sent them out for errands while you sketched ideas out.

In the Olden days, they used to wear long silky gowns. With elegant beads and sparkles all on them. But you have an idea to incorporate animals and nature objects along with the designs. Feathers and twigs came along in your head. So came your first design, a peacock dress. The bottom would be fluffed out and long, like a peacocks feathers would be. You designed it exactly the design and color a peacock would be. You made wings made from branches and polished it in gold to give off a luxurious effect and attached it to the back of the dress.

Once completed you added real feathers to the model you set up, it looked perfect. Something unique and could only be capitol designed. And you decided you needed a signature for the designs you do, you heard that mockingjays were created from a bird called Jabberjays that Dr. Gaul created. You decided it was perfect for your image. You created a mockingjay carrying an arrow, which was what you used in the arena, for your first kill. It was perfect as you created a pin to set on your new design.

“Well this is, something.” Dr. Gaul commented on your design. “I thought it was quite fitting for capitol image, something the districts could never have.” She nods her head as she analyses your work. “Good work, y/n. I expect more designs soon and for you to start actually selling them.” You smile at her backhanded compliment but a compliment is a compliment. “I’ll be having my assistant come later to pick up more designs you have!” She announces as you walk away.

You get straight to work, searching for your other designs and starting on a new one. You stood up and stared at the dress you made. Writing down ideas for the next dress. You got so caught up in your work, you didn’t realize the door had opened. You turned to see who it was, your heart froze. Coriolanus snow.

~

You stepped back from him, you didn’t know why but you were scared. “Y/n,” his voice echoed throughout the empty room. “You’re- here? Out of the cage?” You frowned, “yeah because someone didn’t come back for me.” You spoke through your teeth, making the words come out harsher. He sighed, “I was caught up.. in capitol business.” You showed no interest, no care in his words. “Business, right. Well I have my own business to attend to so here.”

You hand him the designs you have to get him out of your sight. “You look good,” he blurts out. You scoff in disgust and roll your eyes, “you have no right to say that to me.” His mouth opens slightly and his eyes twinkle playfully, “why can’t I? I can’t point out a beautiful women?” You shake your head and sit at your desk, beginning to sketch a new design. He takes this as a liberty to wander around your work space. “So you took my advice, huh?” Who the hell does he think he is?

“Your advice?” You spit out while not losing your focus. “Mhm,” he responds while analyzing your designs. “To distinguish the Capitol from the districts, I’m guessing that’s how got you out of the cage.” You stop sketching and pause, “are you trying to say you’re the reason I got out?” You make eye contact with him, for the first time since he’s been here. He approaches you slowly with his hands in his pockets. “I also talked to her saying that it’s not productive to have a victor like you confined to a cell when you could do so much more.”

You hate to admit it but here goes, “okay, fine. So you helped me out of the cage, but it was my idea to create this new era of fashion. This is what really got me out.” He smirks as he leans on the desk next to you, “and it’s amazing by the way.” You blink multiple times at him, he’s different. More confident in himself, not the fearful boy he was when he appeared, hair slicked back and not a curly mess on his forehead. Clothing of rich material and not the ripped and teared clothing. “You know,” he breaks your trance of checking him out.

“You seem to be more capitol than district, you act like one of us now. Living with the enemy and all.” His comment makes you smile, trying to ease the tension between you two. “I’ll always be district, it’s where I come from and nothing can change that.” His face drops when you finish your sentence, he clears his throat and stands up. “I have to go now, she’ll be expecting these,” he motions to the designs. You nod your head and try to get back into your work, “if she hates them, try to convince her it’s good. Since you’re good at that.”

You hear him laugh softly as he walks away from the doorway into the hallway. You sit back and stare at the lightly drawn on paper in front of you. You begin to sketch a man, similar figure to his. Designing an outfit a man would wear but your brain gets fuzzy. You decide to take the rest of the day off and walk down the shopping center they have. To get your creative juices flowing. The displays in front of the stores are bleak and in need of major color. Greys, blacks and whites of uniforms taunt your eyes.

But one thing catches your eye, a mask on a mannequin. It sparks something in you as you write it down quickly in your sketch book. You turn to head back to your office when you bump into a woman. “Oh my, I’m so sorry,” her voice is soft and sweet like honey. Her colorful appearance and shiny white-blonde hair catches your eye. You analyze her stunning appearance, while she speaks to you, “aren’t you y/n? The designer who made that peacock dress?”

Dr. Gaul has introduced you to other fashion shop owners, show them your sketch of the peacock dress you designed. You smile, you’ve felt as if you just met an equal, a woman of worth in this harsh country. “Yes, that’s me.” Her face beams up, “I love your work so much! Ugh, the color and inspiration of the wings was so inspiring. Are you thinking of opening a boutique?” You bite your bottom lip as an idea pops into your head, “I’ve been looking for an apprentice, and I think you’ll be perfect. Won’t you consider it?” You write down the number from your office onto your sketchbook and rip it off and hand it to her.

She takes it eagerly and smiles, “I’ll definitely call you.” You laugh softly and tilt your head, “I didn’t get your name. What is it?” She sighs happily, “I’m Tigris, Tigris Snow.”

~~~~~

Snow. As in Coriolanus Snow? You thought about it all the way back to the office. You sat down at your desk and just stared at your desk for an hour. Did you run into a sister or a cousin of his? Your intense thinking is interrupted by a phone call and you know it’s her. She asked all the important questions, how much the pay, how much hours and work to put in, in the end she was convinced and accepted your request. You hung up the call and Dr. Gaul entered.

“I was very amazed of your designs and just when exactly will i see in person?” You smile blankly at her, “when they’re ready.” She nodded her head with a half smile, “follow me, I need to show you something.” You stood up immediately and followed after her. She took you into a dark room, with a circle table in the middle. Standing in there was Coriolanus. He smiled at you when you walked in, and you did a little nod to acknowledge him.

“So the reason I’ve brought you here today is I think you’re worthy enough to discuss the future of the games.” Your heart drops, no way she would think you would be okay with doing this. “Let’s get started, Mr. Snow do you have any ideas?” He nods his head, “I think we need to have something in the districts to have them watch the games. Like a big screen that showcases it and make it mandatory.” She nods her head happily at the suggestion and then turns to you.

“Do you have anything to say?” You sigh softly and lick your lips, “during the drawings for tributes. It should be completely random, like names on paper of all the boys and girls. To be pulled fairly and not be done unfairly.” Coriolanus adds on to your statement, “and should be done by Capitol citizens to ensure it’s fair and just.” You looked at each other in agreement of your suggestions. “Looks like this partnership will work wonderfully,” Dr. Gaul says.

~~

It was late one night, you sent Tigris and the other workers home and you were stuck doing a design, pinning all night and figuring out which fabrics would look better. You heard a knock at the door and turn to see Coriolanus. “I brought you something,” he places a box on your desk in front of you and you stare at it. “And what’s in it?” He smiles, “a cupcake. From the finest bakery in the city.” You open it suspiciously and take it out, “red velvet?” He bites his bottom lip and you dig your teeth into it. Okay, he was right. Definitely from the best in the city.

“Thank you,” you mumble out which makes him laugh softly. “Here, let me.” He wipes the side of your lip, you stare into his eyes. You can smell his scent, a rosy smell. You stand up and jokingly smear some icing on his nose. “Wowww, after I got you this.” He grabs the cupcake and holds it away from you. “It tastes good anyways,” you say and he cuts you off by lightly pushing a small piece of the icing on your mouth. He places the cupcake on the table and reaches for you, grabbing you by your waist.

He stares into your eyes and flickers down to your lips. His hand comes up to caress your cheek. You feel your heartbeat increase and begin to melt in his touch. His lips land on yours and you’re shocked, his hand reveals the skin on your waist. Sending chills up your spine from the cold. “Mm, does taste good.” His words sent butterflies to your tummy as he pulled you back in. Devouring your lips once more, you let your hands tangle around his neck. Playing softly with his locks.

He turns your bodies around and pushes you up onto the desk, sitting comfortably as his body makes his way between your legs. His tongue emerges into your mouth, discovering every spot and corner. Your breathing is starting to get heavy once his body rocks against yours. Your lips part from his to catch a breather, “maybe we shouldn’t.” You suggest, hoping that he’d disagree. He just looks at you, really at you, like he sees someone beyond in you. “I mean, I’m so much older than you.”

“Why does that matter? I like you and.. age wouldn’t change that.” Your heart warms at his words but you feel something weird, you’ve hadn’t had intense intimacy with a man before. You’ve been locked up for 10 years and before that, you hadn’t really explored or touched another man like that. Besides your first kiss which was just a small peck. You snap back into the moment, “I guess I’m a little scared, I never got the chance to be.. intimate with someone.”

His face beams up and he develops a small smirk, “don’t worry. Just let me do all the work.” He leans in but kisses your lips, and goes right into your neck. This sensation makes you heat up fast, increasing heavily when his hand drags up your shirt. You hiss when you feel a sting on your neck, biting and sucking from his mouth. He places his hand right over a sensitive part, your nipple. He pinches it softly which makes your body jolt forward as a soft noise escapes your mouth. You feel him smile against your skin as if he’s hearing exactly what he wanted.

Your mouth drops open while he continues these unfamiliar sensations, easily becoming your favorite things. You begin to feel a glow coming from between your legs, an ache needing to be filled. He begins to rock his body against yours again which helps fill the craving, for a bit. You begin to become impatient and wanting more, he come back up to kiss you more. But you practically are begging for it, “please. I need more.” He leans in, “maybe.. we should take this someplace else?” You nod your head quickly and begin to grab your things. Your place would do for tonight, you grab your keys and lead him to your house, walking distance easily.

Once you get there you immediately shut the door and lead him to your bedroom. He wastes no time reattaching his lips to yours. You both manage to get onto the bed, him on top of you. He backs away off the bed to remove his shirt, you practically drooling at his lightly fit body. He begins to move his pants down and you take the opportunity to remove your shirt too, he begins to eye your body down. Devouring you with his eyes. He slowly crawls on the bed, taking his time to get to you.

His hand lands on your pants as he unclips them and slides them all the way down, off the bed. The next thing he did was unexpected. His teeth grip onto your underwear, using his mouth to drag it slowly down your legs. Your jaw drops as he does this and you can’t help but get more turned on by it. “Tease,” you mumble out as he smiles softly. The cool breeze hits you below, creating chills on your body once again. He begins to kiss your inner thighs, inch by inch, slowly creeping closer and closer to your core. You feel his warm breath grace against you and your hips curve in the direction. He settles his body down and uses his hands to keep you steady, holding your hips as your legs are on his shoulders.

He makes a great show of showing you his tongue then uses it on you, you let the sweet noise slip out of your mouth again. He settles right where you need him and begins to painfully kiss then suck on it. Your hand comes to cover your mouth to conceal the noises you were recklessly making. Your hips jitter up at every movement he does but he manages to keep you down. You let your other hand slither down to his hair, gently tugging on it. He lets one of his hands go from your hips and down to help him, entering two fingers inside you. Your gasp loudly as your back begins to arch and your hand no longer covers your mouth.

Both your hands now in his hair as you push his face more into you, grinding yourself against him. Your body begins to pulsate and shake as your body begins to get hot, a feeling of something building. You feel as if you’re about to let something free, a sensation of almost knotting. Then your body snaps, you scream out at the immense pleasure as you feel a liquid trickle out of you. Your body finally quiets down and you stare blankly at the ceiling. The bed shakes and rumbles when Coriolanus gets up and wipes a towel on you, then lays next to you.

You lean your side to face him, his hand cups your cheek and his thumb grazes gently on you. “So, that’s what it’s like.” He laughs softly, “and there’s other ways to achieve it.” You get curious, doesn’t he have to relieve himself too? “And you? Don’t you need something too?” He nods his head, “normally. But you’re new to this and I don’t want to make you do anything.” You frown, “but I want to. I want to make you feel good too.” He bites his bottom lip, still shaking no. You look at him with stern expression, and he gives in.

“You really want to?” You nod your head yes repeatedly. “Here, feel.” He guides your hand down and onto his clothed crotch. It’s a new touch, it’s hard and shaped so uniquely. He groans softly as you move your hand softly on it. Poor thing, he seemed to be suffering trying to only help you. You scoot closer to him as he guides your hand inside his underwear. You can feel his hot breath on your face, he uses your hand to hold onto him and guide it up and down. His breathing gets shaky as he starts to enjoy himself, you attach your lips to his and his hand holds onto your back.

You take initiative and carry yourself onto his lap, your legs on the side of his thighs as you reveal himself. You continue your movements which makes his face flush up, you slowly lower yourself and give pecks to his lips. You stop your movements and take the time to lower down his underwear all the way down, “what are you doing?” You shush him with your finger, “I have an idea.” Since you still had your undergarments off, you can still use your body to your advantage. You place yourself right on top of his length, grinding slowly on it. It becomes slippery easy from yourself, and he groans as he grips onto your waist.

He uses your hips to push you forward and back, you can visibly see how affected he is by this. Mouth dropped slightly agape, groans casually falling out of it. Every time he groans, it sends butterflies through your stomach. It accidentally sinks into you a bit and you jolt forward at the feeling. He smiles, “you okay?” You nod your head as you slowly get your rhythm back. It happens again and you jolt forwards, he giggles. “You want to try something else?” You think about it for a second then nod your head and smile. Oh, but how easily the smile fades. When he guides himself into you, your hands drop onto his chest.

You let an incredibly loud noise slip, which makes him smile. He sits up slowly to remove your top garment, you get the chills instantly when it falls down. He whispers into your ear, “move like how you were earlier.” He places a peck on your cheek and you listen, doing the same movements from earlier. This feeling was so intense for you, so pleasurable, you couldn’t resist. You wrapped your arms around his back and he helped you by guiding your hips once again. He would graze into a spot inside you that you didn’t even know you had and it would make you melt every time. He lets a curse slip out of his mouth when you begin to pick up your pace, chasing a so-called high.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help myself,” he whispered and you are confused until your swung under him. He begins to pound into you which makes you scream and let out a pathetic noises. The bed frame begins to shake and make creaking noises. His fast pace inside you builds up a knot in your stomach, tears begin to fall down your cheeks at the intensity of it. Your legs around his waist slowly turn into jelly, the slapping noises so lewd to you. His arms are next to your head to help him stay at his pace, you stare into each others eyes. Memorizing each others faces in pure bliss. He manages to get one arms free to wipe your tears away, so caring at a time like this.

He leans down to your ear, “Don’t you love when you let me use you like this?” Your back arches as the pace becomes stronger and more threatening. Your nails dig into his back, you do, you do love this. His hips snap one more time, and you feel him collapse, a liquid launching into you. He lays on your chest as you try to slow down your breathing. “That was.. so good,” he mumbles into your skin, you giggle as he looks so flushed out.

~~

The next morning resumed like nothing was different, you worked in your office on your designs. And he went with Dr. Gaul to continue his apprentice duties. Tigris helped you eagerly with the materials and setting up the dresses. Today was your launch of your clothing line, you were anxious and wondered if they would actually sell. Dr. Gaul had bought you a corner shop to sell your clothing, it was helpful but scary. You sent Tigris and the other workers to take it to the shop so they could set them up.

You sat at your desk, rubbing your forehead from the incoming headache. Then you hear a knock at the door, you looked up to see Coriolanus, “well if it isn’t Mr. Coriolanus snow.” You stand up out of your chair as he makes his way to you, he immediately attaches your lips together. It hasn’t been long since his lips were on yours, but you missed it so. “I heard today you’re launching your clothing line,” you nod your head and sit back down. “Yes, I just hope they’ll sell.” He smiles at you lovingly, “they will. They’re fantastic.” His reassurance to you makes you feel a bit better. “Thanks Cori.” “Cori?” He questions but before you could answer, Dr. Gaul enters the room, “y/n, I hope you’re not slacking off.”

You shake your head as you smile softly, “just talking to my colleague.” He turns to Dr. Gaul, “I’m just congratulating her on her launch today. Giving her some advice.” She nods her head slowly, “things like what your grandmother says? What was it again?” He smiles awkwardly, “Snow falls on top,” he states while you jokingly thought, ‘of me.’ It made you laugh softly to yourself while he looked at you with a weird expression. With that Dr. Gaul leaves the room, leaving you two alone again.

“You know I’ve been wondering, do you remember what you said, about being Dr. Gaul’s lab rat? What did you mean by that?” You stand up cautiously and walk over to a mannequin with an unfinished design. “She chose me personally, to fight in the games. She wanted to make sure there would be a winner.” He stays standing next to your desk as he listens, “but why. What was so special about you?”

~ It was your birthday, turning the big number 15. You’re dad has been dreaming of this day since you were born. But even though it’s your birthday, training is still a must. After a quick 15 minutes, you have your dad on the floor, gasping for air, “you’ve grown up, finally beating your dad for once.” You show no expression to his words, anger fueling you up as you watch him get up. “I knew you could do it, today’s the big day. Joining the academy.” That’s if you could defeat a line up of men who also want to join. The academy would set your life in combat, one day you could get sent to the Capitol to be a protector of some important people. Your way out, while being the only woman to ever attend the academy.

Mr. Plinth is who owns it, he’s good friends with your father who has convinced him that you would be a good fit. But there’s one thing you needed to do before you could start your new life, you have to get rid of the past. The one thing that’s been leeched onto you for your whole life, your father. You take a few steps closer to him which he backs away suspiciously, “y/n?” You ignore him as you lock in on your target, you grip onto the side dagger you have. He begins to back away faster and runs, you catch up in no time and turn him to face you. You dig the dagger into his stomach, his face is pain as you dig it deeper and deeper. Blood drips out of his mouth and you push him off the blade, his body tumbles motionless. ~

You snap back into reality while Cori awaits your answer, “When I was 15 years old.. I killed my father. That’s why she chose me, because she knew what I was capable of. She knew I would do it again.” He bites his bottom lip, “she knew you would kill again, to survive.” You nod your head while you walk back slowly to him, and sit down at your desk again. He sits on the side silently, looking at you. You break the silence, “Whatever happened to Lucy gray? I remember you were quite fond of her.” His nervous demeanor and avoidance to your question made you think that it probably ended badly.

“I heard she was sent back to her district,” he avoids looking at you as he walks to the mannequin you were next to earlier. “Sejanus too, I haven’t heard about him in a while. Did you know me and him kissed when I was 9?” He doesn’t respond as he stares at the mannequin. “Um, excuse me?” A strange voice interrupts you, you turn to see a woman standing at the entryway. Cori recognizes her and steps in her direction, until he turns to you to introduce this woman. “Y/n, this is my girlfriend.” Your smile fades immediately, how could he?

You grip onto the side of your desk as you suck it up and stand, “hello, nice to meet you.” Cori’s face looks worried as if you would react wrong any second, “Dr. Gaul told me I would find you here. So, I decided to come find you for our date.” You blank out as you tune out their conversation, an anger builds up but you let it go. Who cares if he pursues another woman, you knew did down inside you. That you would never be his, no matter how much you wanted it. “So, we should be going now. Y/n?” You snap back and sigh, “of course, have fun!” You beam even though you know it’s fake.

~~

After that, you didn’t really see much of Coriolanus. You were busy tending to your shop, and as everyone told you, it became popular very fast. The sells were flowing in like crazy and you were so happy with the results as you knew you would never be condemned to the cage again. Once you got more settled in, you decided you could do with more assistance in manufacturing. You hired 5 new people to help, a man of incredible taste strikes your eyes. His skin was dark but beautifully always shiny, clean like you preferred. His name was Gian, he later on earned the nickname Cinnabon from you due to his sweet actions. But Tigris had your heart and you favored her more than anything, so she was in charge when you left.

Left on investigation, Dr. Gaul gave you permission to travel to the districts when you wanted. As long as everything was tidy when you left. A question had been sinking into you since that last conversation with Cori. What the hell happened to Lucy Gray? And what happened to Sejanus Plinth? And you were determined to find out.

You made plans for a week away to investigate, first stop was at the Plinths house. Mrs. Plinth opened the door and was overjoyed, she led you inside and sat you down in the tea room. “Oh, I’m just so happy to see you, someone from back home. If only I would’ve known sooner that you were here, Sejanus would’ve been so happy.” You jump on it to question immediately when she mentions him, “where is he by the way? I would like to see him.” Her voice turns pale you hear a creak behind you, you turn to see Mr. Plinth.

You get up immediately, “Hello sir. It’s nice to see you.” He chuckles, “my my, why it isn’t little y/n!” He was always quite fond of you before you were taken, you were his little miracle worker. He moves quick to embrace you as you smell his warm scent, “I heard you were lurking about in the Capitol , what reason have you come to visit today?” You sigh as you both sit down, getting straight into business. “What happened to Sejanus?” His face goes stern as the same expression from earlier appears on Mrs. Plinths face.

“I don’t want to lie to you so I’ll just say it, he volunteered to be a peacekeeper and was sent to district 12.” District 12, perfect, exactly where you’re headed to look for Lucy Gray. “So, he’s there then?” They look at each other for a moment then back to you. They both nod their head yes but you’re suspicious of it, they’re hiding something. You’re about to make an excuse to leave when Mrs. Plinth recognizes your pin on your collar, “wait, I know that pin. It’s from my favorite designer!” You smile, “glad to know you like my work.” She gets excited as she asks you a billion questions. After calming her down a bit you finally manage to get out of there.

Off to district 12, it would take 2 days by train to get there. So you booked a train fright for yourself and were off. Once you got there, it was such a strange land. The only place you could think of to start is at the chief peacekeepers office. People gladly pointed you in the direction, you forgot how friendly district people were. You knocked on the door, and he grumbled a, “come in.” You entered and you can see confusion on his face, “you’re not from here. Are you?” You shook your head and took a seat, “I’m from the Capitol and I’m looking for someone. Well two people, Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray.”

“Those are some serious names you pulled,” he pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to you. It’s a document, saying that music is banned here. You look at him confused, “there was a band here named the Covey and Lucy Gray was apart of it. They live in a house in the seam, near the meadow and the woods. I’ll have one of my boys escort you.” You were happy with his answer but not satisfied, “and.. Sejanus?” He takes a deep sigh, “I’m sorry but he’s dead.” Your heart drops, your breathing begins to increase, “what happened?”

“There was a voice recording of him planning a rebellion. We had no choice but to take action since the Capitol was putting pressure on us,” you were confused. “Why were they putting pressure?” He bit his bottom lip, “somehow the voice recording was sent to the Capitol and a powerful person enforced us to take action immediately.” You were scared to ask the next question, “how did you.. take care of it?” He paused for a bit. “We had him hanged, by the hanging tree.” You almost melted in your seat, you imagine it was the tree you passed on the way here, it gave you an ominous feeling. “Do you have this recording, I almost don’t believe it.”

He looks through his drawer and pulls it out, a machine you recognize. It belongs to a jabberjay, there recording box. You know it because you’ve seen it in Dr. Gaul’s office. He sets is to play and you hear his voice, his plan, but another voice comes in, a voice you know all too well. Coriolanus, you immediately know, that it was him who turned him in. He set Sejanus up to be killed. You thanked him for the information and as he said, he had two peacekeepers escort you to the property. They left once you were in proximity of it, you saw a girl sitting by a tree. Enjoying the air. “Excuse me,” she turns frightened by you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m looking for someone, Lucy gray? Is she here.” She stands up and walks toward you, “I know her.” She crosses her arms and one of her eyebrows flicker up, “but, Im not talking for free.” Her sassy demeanor made you smile as you handed her your pin. “Well, this is pure gold. I made it, it’s from my designs.” She pockets it quickly and shoots you a friendly smile, “What district are you from?” You laugh softly as she got straight to the point,“District 2, but I’ve spent the last 10 years in the Capitol.” She nods her head, “I’m Maude Ivory by the way.” She reaches her hand out to shake yours and you gladly oblige, “I’m y/n.” She sits down where she was earlier and you sit down too. “how’d you know Lucy Gray?”

“I met her once, in the Capitol.” Her eyes move to the side then back to you, as if a thought traveled through her mind. “Did you know her boyfriend? He’s from the capitol too. Name is Coriolanus snow, I met him on his day off.” You knew something was between them, he wouldn’t worry like that for someone if he didn’t like her. “Day off? Did he work here?” She shrugs her shoulders, “not really work, he was a peacekeeper.” It clicks, the so-called ‘Capitol business.’ “I miss her, she taught me that if I could find Katniss, I would never go hungry..” Miss? “You say you miss her, is she not here anymore?” She shakes her head sadly as she frowns, “she told me she was leaving with her boyfriend. Tam claims they were running away to start a life in the wild.” So, no one knows what happened to them. But Coriolanus returned to the Capitol, so where the hell is Lucy gray?

“She made a song for him, you want to hear it?” She said it was titled, pure as the driven snow, you listened closely to the way she sang it. You even asked her when she was done singing to write down the lyrics because you loved the song so much. After that, she decided she wanted to go pick some Katniss. You told her before she left, “you know, that would make a pretty name for a girl.” You began to wander into the forest where the house was. Wondering if they came through this way. You don’t know how far you traveled but you remember the way back.

Just when you turn to go back, When you slip on a smooth rock, you look down at it. There lies a bullet, where your mind fills with one conclusion. He was here, and he shot at her. So, is she dead? Was she buried in the lake? There was only one person who could answer this, Coriolanus. And you needed the answer. You immediately made way back to the train station to the Capitol. The whole way back you think of a speech, a way to get him to admit it. Honestly, it felt too easy to get all that information. But you’ll find out soon enough.

~~

As soon as you got to the Capitol, you made your way immediately to look for him. You stormed into Dr. Gauls lab, he was no where to be found. “Ah, you’re back already. Had a good time?” You paid no mind to her words, “I’m looking for Coriolanus.” She crosses her arms, “I have him out fetching materials. I’ll let him know you stopped by.” Her meaning in her words means leave and get back to work. But you went to home to wash off the travel, then to your office. There was a waiting Coriolanus snow. He was sitting in your chair by your desk in the dark, you cautiously turned on the lights.

“Dr. Gaul said you were looking for me?” You stood standing in the middle of the room. A one sided tension, you cleared your throat, “yes. I.. need to ask you something.” He nods his head slowly and leans onto your desk. “Ask away,” you slowly stepped closer to ask your questions. “I don’t know if you heard but I went on trip to the districts,” he stares at you like he knows that you did. “District 12, to be in fact.” His body tenses up, you can tell he’s not trying to show any reaction. “And I found something out,” your at the side of you desk now. You lean over, inches from his face. “What did you do.. to Lucy gray?” His face drops and his pupils widen, he backs away.

He gets up and faces away from you, “I did nothing.” You scoff and he turns around surprised, “nothing? So I’m imagining the bullets I found in the woods then? I’m imagining that Lucy Gray hasn’t been missing ever since you two supposedly, ran away together?” His eyes shut as he now knows he’s been caught. “Tell me, how is it that you ran away together, but you’re here. And Lucy Gray is nowhere to be found?” His hands come to his face, “why the hell did you go? Why did you have to do that!” You laugh softly in disbelief, “was I not supposed to?” You can hear the distress in his voice, “no! Why- I-I thought you would just.. stay here because you were tamed.”

Tamed? Like a wild animal? "You think just because you got me out of the damn cage, you thought you could control me like some animal? You thought wrong Coriolanus Snow!" His breathing is shaky, but you could care less, “and I found something most intriguing. Sejanus Plinth is dead, turned in by a voice recording.” He awaits your next sentence, “turned in by no one other than you, you think I wouldn’t recognize the other voice talking to him?” He collapses on the chair, “so you know everything.” His voice is breaking but he manages to try to defend himself, “but I didn’t hurt Lucy gray, she ran away.”

You shake your head, not believing him, “yeah, right.” He shoots back at you, “you have no right to judge me when you killed the person closest to you.” You begin to fill with rage, just at the mention of your father, “I had my reasons for killing my father.” He begins to state your faults, “and you were encaged for 10 years by Dr. Gaul but once you were set free, that was just forgotten right?” You are appalled he would even stoop to try to turn this back on you, “I was doing what was necessary to survive!” He jumps out of the seat and approaches you quickly, “And you think I didn’t have my reasons?!” His raised voice shut you down, reminding you of the times when your father did the same.

“I thought we understood each other, that- that we’ve both killed and accepted it.” You fight back the tears in your eyes, he cups your cheek but you slap him off. “Please, let’s just forget about this. I like you okay? We can go back to normal, I’ll get rid of Livia.” You scoff as if it would magically make it go away. “I will not let this go, I will remind and remind you until you can’t take it anymore and turn yourself in.” You left after that encounter, back home where it’s safe. You couldn’t forget the conversation, you just couldn’t. And apparently, he couldn’t either.

~~

You turned into work the next morning as if nothing happened, Tigris wasn’t scheduled to work in the office today because she was down at the shop. You picked up the phone and dialed the shop’s number, “mockingjays boutique, this is Tigris speaking.” Her voice soothed your bad mood instantly, “hey little tiger, it’s y/n. I was wondering if you could stop by to the office for a second.” She pauses and stammers, “the boutique is actually spilling with customers so, I think it would be better if you came here.”

You agreed and hurriedly made your way. But you were stopped about a block away from the shop, of course it’s him. “We need to talk,” your hand flies up to your forehead to soothe the incoming headache. “I want to talk about what happened,” you stand staring at him, emotionless because you don’t have the time for this. “I need to go tend to my shop, bye.” You try to dismiss him but he runs in front of you. You huff and move around him but he is persistent, “come on, I just wanna talk.” You stomp your foot as you turn to him, “Fine! Talk.”

He clears his throat and begins with the sob story, “I was just trying to protect myself and Lucy gray. I had no idea what I was doing at the time.” You stood unimpressed, “how exactly did you protect Lucy gray? I know hanging Sejanus wasn’t for that reason..” You see him gulp and his feet shuffle inside his large shoes, “did you- you killed someone else didn’t you?!” He begins to reach out for you again but you push him away, “how many? How many!?” You raise your voice at him which belittles him, “4.” You begin to laugh, laugh a way you haven’t before.

He watches your emotional episode, his eyes showing real fear. Then you stop, cupping your hands together. “You think I didn’t know this? This is old news. I know you killed the mayors daughter Mayfair, Bobbin from district 8, Sejanus, and Casca high bottom.” Of course, after you came to Dr. Gaul with this information. She gladly named the rest of the people he killed. His head jerks back as he realizes you named them all, “how? How do you know all of this?” You sigh and check your watch, “you’re wasting my time. I’ll torment you more later but now I need to go, my apprentice is waiting.”

You begin to walk but stop, this would be a good time to rub it in his face. You turn to him and he stares at you, "Have you met my apprentice? Her name's Tigris." You snark to him as his lips curve into a frown and his eyes darken. Of course it hit him hard, his own cousin who he has grown a hatred for. Tigris spilled all the drama between them during your late nights together, not knowing you knew him.

You walked in and as she said, it was booming with customers. The customers surrounded you excitedly, pushing any surface at you to autograph. Tigris watched in amusement at your struggle, letting a giggle slip when a man asked you to sign his chest. You managed to pull her away once the customers slowly died down.

“You’re back earlier than expected,” she smiled so brightly, it soothed your heart instantly. “In a party mood for tonight? Coriolanus said he would be going to this girls party at the club down the street.” You were confused, parties haven’t been a thing for years. And you immediately knew the girls party he was going to was for his precious new beau. “I thought parties weren’t really a thing anymore,” she giggles at your confusion. “Well thanks to a fabulous designer, people are trying to find excuses to wear your clothes. So, automatically parties are going to rise again.”

She walked away to a rack behind the counter, scrambling to pick out a dress, until she whisks out your new design. The rippled layers of black, short in the front and train leading in the back. Gold flakes and leave placed on the bodice, with your signature mockingjay design. Long gloves that go with the silky design. The top that fits you so familiar. The shirt you wore from the games, assembled into a low cut corset. “When you made this, it just screamed you. I couldn’t bear to sell it to a nobody.” She didn’t know the backstory to the dress so she couldn’t know how much you wanted to rip it apart.

“You should wear it tonight, just once.” You debated it but wanted to see her happy so you agreed. “So, could I pick out any dress I want?” You smiled as you knew how long she’s been wanting to try on one of the dresses, “yes go ahead you noisy tiger.” She chose a flowy blue dress which worked perfectly with her skin tone. You let her go home for the rest of the day to prepare for the party and she left happy. You stared at the dress and noticed one of the male mannequins suit gone, the one you designed for Coriolanus. The matching suit to the dress Tigris picked, you laughed as she probably gave it to him.

You slipped on the dress and it fit like a glove, you slipped on a pair of heels from the shop and the final missing piece. A mask you designed that has mockingjay feathers attached. You stared in the mirror for a while, the memories of the first games came rushing back. The memories you tried over and over to bury, but they never fully go away. You prepared yourself for the plan tonight to show up. You were going to try to talk to the girl, maybe even slip the night you had with Coriolanus.

You easily slipped into the party, eyes scanned you instantly. You’re still getting used to all the new popularity. You would’ve had more practice the last 10 years if you weren’t locked up. A woman bumped into you, looking like she drank the whole bar. You recognize it’s Coriolanus best friend, the new girlfriend. “Wait a second,” she slurred her words and spilled her champagne on the floor. “You’re y/n, the designer and owner of mockingjay boutique right?” You nodded her head as she began to stumble closer to you, her intoxicating breath was drowning you. “I feel so honored to have you here, I never expected for you to attend!” You plastered a fake smile onto your face, “of course I would, they say this will start a new era of parties for centuries.” She giggles drunkly and she drags herself away, mumbling something along the lines ‘I know I’m so great.’

You rolled your eyes and began to look for Tigris, scanning for a pink puffy dress. But the colors in the crowd blind you and you can’t seem to find her. You stop looking when the party host enters on stage with the mic, “I just wanted to say thank you for everyone coming. I’m so.. happy!” She barely managed to speak straight, almost letting vomit explode out of her. She almost trampled down the stairs when a man came in sight. He announced, “I heard we have a special guest tonight. You may know her as the designer from Mockingjay boutique! Come on up!”

A light had shined on you and screams and cheers came from all around you. People grazed against your skins and clothes as you walked by to make it to the stairs. He reached out a hand to help you up and took it. He hands you the mic and you clear your throat, “You may know me as the designer and of mockingjay boutique or..” you hope the next words won’t make people throw a riot and throw tomatoes at you. “Remember me from the first games, I may look different now but I hope you guys could see past that.” The faces on people’s faces turn form curiosity to realization, “I hope you guys don’t mind if I sing something to congratulate the host on her amazing party,” you looked over to the band next to you and gave them the cue. The guitar starts and the band slowly builds in, you wait for your cue.

“Everyone's born as clean as a whistle.

As fresh as a daisy.. And not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing.

As rough as a briar, Like walking through fire.”

You see people in the audience get comfortable and turn to listen to you. You spot Tigris in the crowd, smiling proudly at you.

“This world, it's dark. This world, it's scary.

I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary.

It's why.. I Need you.

You're as pure as the driven snow.”

You’ve forgotten how it feels to be this free, to sing your lungs out. Your father forbade you to sing growing up, because your mother used to.

“Everyone wants to be like a hero.

The cake with the cream, or the doer not dreamer.

Doing's hard work, but it takes some to change things.

Like goat's milk to butter, Like ice blocks to water.

This world goes blind when children are dying.

I turn into dust, but You never stop trying.

It's why.. I Love you

You're as pure as the driven snow.”

As you sang ‘I love you,’ you spot Coriolanus in the crowd. With the missing suit and matching mask. As you hold the high note at the end, people cheer in the crowd.

“Cold and clean.

Swirling over my skin.

You cloak me,

You soak right in.. Down to my heart.

Everyone thinks they know all about me.

They slap me with labels and spit out their fables.

You came along and you knew it was lying.”

These lyrics hit hard for you, everyone did slap you with labels. A soulless monster was how you were branded. But then they no longer recognized you once you became important for the Capitol.

“You saw the ideal me.

And yes, that's the real me.

This world, it's cruel.. With troubles aplenty.

You asked for a reason, I've got three and twenty

For why.. I Trust you.

You're as pure as the driven snow.

It's why.. I Trust you.

You're as pure as the driven snow.”

You felt Lucy Gray through the song, her longing and love for him. How he was her everything because she believed he saved her. Until he was the end of her existence. This very event you had been planning, you knew the band way before the party. You knew that they would get booked at this party, which is why you taught them the music. To bring Coriolanus to his knees. He appeared out of the crowd, making his way to you, as you made your way off the stage. “Nice suit, did Tigris give it to you?” His eyes scan your outfit, noticing it’s completely matching his. “I designed it especially for you, but what are the chances we wore the matching set today.”

His hands pick at his fingernails as he looks nervous, “I hope you liked the song, I sang it special. Just for you!” A man with a try of champagne passes by and you grab one. You take a sip and he continues just gazing at you, “just clearing my pipes.” Guess that comment triggered him, “what are you doing here?” You laugh into the glass, “it’s a party. The first one in a while and well, I had to see if my clothing would be worn tonight.” You tsk as you see his girl getting comfortable with another man. “Surprisingly, your girl is a fan of mine. But she’s not wearing my clothes, I wonder why?”

He turns to the direction you were looking and immediately bounces off. He gets to her and knocks the drink in her hand off, he yells at her, you read ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re making an embarrassment of yourself.’ Her faces scrunched up at his demeanor, fearful. ‘You know what, we’re done!’ And he walks away angrily, you smile to yourself as you see him walk out. You grab a few drinks and relax yourself in the atmosphere. Tigris runs up to you after a while, “y/n. The alarm has been going off in the shop for a half-hour!”

You calm her down and reassure her. You tell her you’ll go check it out and she can stay and enjoy the party. But she refuses and insists to go with you. You let her and you both head over there. Once you’re there, you both notice the door lock shattered. She’s scared but you enter with no hesitation. She hangs outside while you go in, you hear a clutter in the back and grab whatever you could find to have for protection, a hammer from renovation. You hold it steady and walk to the noise. You find a drunk Coriolanus on the floor in front of a mirror, drinking a bottle.

He sees you in the mirror and continues drinking. You sigh in frustration, “what are you doing?” You put the hammer down on the desk and turn to be face to face with him. His eyes close and his body collapses, you gasp in shock and call out for Tigris. She comes running in and falls to the ground next to him, “help me get him up.” You do as she says and put an arm on your shoulder. You both lift him up and she leads you to her apartment. She brings you inside and to a room, which you assume is his. She instructs you to lie him down, she takes off his alcohol induced shirt and pants, leaves him in his undergarments while she gets supplies.

You sit down next to him on the bed, you stare at him. Admiring him, even though you shouldn’t. Your hands move themselves along his cheeks, along his lips. You let your hand go and begin to get up from the bed. Then a hand appears on your arm, “don’t go.” You turn back to a very awake Coriolanus, his bright blue eyes staring at you. You sit back down next to him softly, you two gaze at each other for a second. “Why were you in shop?” His jaw tightens and he swallows, “I found something out.. why? Why did she have to use you?” You don’t understand but he quickly explains, “I went to Dr. Gaul after the party, to tell her what happened between us.”

~ “I had her investigate in your time at district 12, I wanted to see how long it would take you to crack and admit it to me.” Coriolanus stared at her in disbelief, “but why? Why her?” She smiles, “because she’s my puppet, she does everything I tell her. Because that’s how I programmed her.”~

Suddenly you realize too, the reason why you can’t fight back to her demands. Why you do things unexplained and can’t control it.

~“I injected a venom into her, which wired her to do things she can’t control. For example, whenever she feels pity for someone or an emotion that’s vulnerable. She will kill that person because she will hate how it feels.” ~

You understand yourself now, how you were in the games. Why you killed that girl with no hesitation.

~“But it’s different with us, she doesn’t have a certain feeling towards us, even if she thinks she does. She can’t hurt Capitol people physically, her mind will block her from doing so.”~

Explains why you haven’t killed Dr. Gaul yet. Tigris comes back into the room before you could speak again. She brings a tray of soup and some water. “I could watch him for you if you want.” She’s surprised but refuses. “I insist my little tiger, for all your hard work. You should get some sleep,” she sighs and nods her head and closes the door on her way out. You grab the water she brought and serve it to him, he gulps it all up immediately. You place the cup back down on his bedside table and turn back to tears filling in his eyes.

He begins to weep, “I wish we could be together.”He reaches out for you, he holds tight onto your body. There he is, the man you met those nights ago, the man outside the cage. The one who opened his heart to you. “What can I do?” His voice is breaking, your heart feels it again, that pitiful feeling. You can only think of one thing, “Can you agree that you won’t lie to me again. That you won’t kill again?” He looks up at you and nods his head, “I promise.” You sigh and lay down next to him in the bed. He falls asleep while you play with his hair.

About an hour and a half of watching him sleep, you get up. You decided you needed to change out of the dress. You rummaged through his closet and took out a shirt and pants. But he felt your absence presence as he woke up. Clearly he’s not drunk anymore. But you hadn’t noticed as you began to undress in the room, taking off the dress. You put on the shirt, but as you bent over to grab the pants. You heard the bed shake, you looked at the mirror beside you to see him watching you intensely. He smirked and got up.

“Where are you going?” He appears behind you while you look in the mirror. His arms latch around your waist, preventing you from putting on the pants, “You were sleeping.” He sighs and jokes, “how heartless, you were gonna leave me while I was sleeping?” You smile and shake your head. He turns you around, “Do you honestly feel nothing around me?” His smell fills your nose in your proximity, his eyes scanning your face. You decide you wanna play with him a little bit and shake your head, “I don’t.” He takes it as a challenge as his lips curve up, “and if I do this?” He places stray strand behind your ear, and slowly creeps down to your neck. His warm breath tenses you up and he places a sweet peck.

“Or this?” His hand creeps down your back and onto your butt, he squeezes it softly. “And you don’t miss this?” He guides your hand down onto his hard-on which makes you gasp softly. “You don’t miss how I made you feel? How I made you unravel.. twice?” His breath on your ear makes you squirm in his touch. “Get on the bed.. now.” His soft but stern voice made your stomach flutter as you felt compelled to listen. You made your way to the bed, crawling on your hands and knees on it, and looked back at him teasingly.

He bit his bottom lip softly as he came close to you, his hand grazing along your back, dragging the shirt up to reveal your underwear. Getting full view of you, he comes onto the bed. “So, you were gonna leave me huh?” You feel a sting sensation of your behind and gasp while staring at him. “Not talking? Am I gonna have to force it out of you, hm?” You whimpered in emancipation of what he was going to do next. He yanked down your panties and threw them off in the distance. 

He played with your folds teasingly, pulling away when you moved back into his fingers. He kept toying you for what seemed hours. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Please,” you begged him but he payed no mercy. “I’m sorry, I was gonna leave but I would come back. I swear,” he smirked and his eyes glimmered. “That’s all I wanted to hear,” with that he pulls down his underwear fast and sinks into you. You moaned in delight but it started to hurt, bad. He pounded into you unmercifully, the angle and position began to make your body ache with pain. You pleaded for him to slow down but he didn’t listen.

Tears began to pour down your cheeks and you cry into the sheets. He stopped when he finally noticed your cries. “Y/n?” He touched your shoulders but you pushed him off. You slapped him away and he backed off instantly. You laid on your side with your knees to your chest. He tried to soothe you and hold you but you pushed him away each time. He didn’t understand that you couldn’t take it. You were new to this and vulnerable and he took advantage of that. You started to realize, maybe he is the bad person, maybe he is the villain.

You left a while after that, you didn’t say a word. You just continued on without him. Until the next night, you were walking home. You were about to enter on your block when you heard arguing. You were curious and his around a corner to see. To find Coriolanus and Livia talking. “Why? Why can’t we?” He tried walking away and she ran after him, “just give me a chance please.” He yelled violently at her, “go fall in a ditch, will you?! I don’t have time for this.” You hid away quickly and ran to your house when you saw him coming your direction. You barely made it inside when you heard a knock on your door. You reluctantly opened it, “hey.” He stood before you like nothing happened. You left him in for some reason and you both went to your living room. “Why are you here?” You asked suspiciously, waiting for the right moment to ask him about Livia.

“I wanted to apologize for the other night,” you rolled your eyes. “Don’t, I’m not in a forgiving mood.” He attempted to grab your arm but you pushed him off. “Don’t!.. Are you really here for me or Livia?” You huffed at him and he’s taken aback. “What are you talking about?” You began to get snarky, “Are you gonna deny that you were with her?!” He sighs and looks to his left, “No, we were just talking.” Looking away to the left is an obvious detection of lying. He couldn’t possibly believe that you would think it was nothing. “Oh, you think Imma believe that?” He abruptly reaches for your face, cupping his hands onto you cheeks, “I promised I wouldn’t lie to you again.” Tears filled in your eyes and you closed them, getting rid of them. “And you still did.” You pushed him off and you tried to make your way out of the living room.

He latches his hands onto you, “don’t walk away from me!” He gripped your wrist so tightly, your heart began to pound so hard in your chest. You imagined that he could hear it. You stared at him in fear, “let go of me.” He leaned in, yelling critical words to you. All the while, not once letting the tightening pain around your wrist go. Your body was frozen, you couldn’t fight back. He kept yelling and screaming, you fought your tears back. Until he said the words, “you’re such a monster,” it triggered something in you. You gathered the strength to fight back, you used the momentum and pushed him flying back into a vase.

“Don’t forget who I am! I am the first victor, I paved my way into this economy by killing! So, don’t think that I won’t do the same to you!” The glass under him clicks and he reveals a bloody arm, he stares at you from the ground. “You think I’m afraid of you? Don’t forget, I’ve killed too.” He begins to get up slowly, but, you reveal a knife from under a side table and grip it in your hand. “But I’ve killed more than you, experience over stupidy.” He’s cautious, keeping a distance from you. “You can’t hurt me, Dr. Gaul made you that way.” You smirk, “Well I’ve been reprogramming myself, finding multiple reasons to kill you.” You got yourself in a stable position, “and this is a pretty good reason.” He sighs and slowly makes his way to the entryway, he cautiously opens the front door and leaves. You felt as if you could breathe again and went to lock it. You plumped down your bed and slept for an eternity.

The next morning started like no other, you went into work with a smile. Feeling a weight off your shoulders that you stood your ground. “So I have this idea,” they listened intensely to you. “Maybe we should get makeup products up and running again?” They looked at each other and nodded, “the outfits certainly require some kind of makeup to pop out.” They all began to jot down notes while you continued. Tigris admiring you and sketching some ideas. “Also I’m thinking of recreating something from this victor, Lucy gray.” You pulled out a folder of the original dress and your new design, “I’ll call it, the Lucy gray. Not quite original but still.” Gian raises an eyebrow, “this might be controversial. I mean no one really remembers her.” You smile, “that’s exactly right. She won last year and no one remembers. That’s why I want to do this, she’s the first district 12 winner and she deserves this.” They all agreed and started work on the design.

You were caught up in your work and got interrupted by Dr. Gaul. “It’s time for our meeting,” you sighed knowing you would have to face Coriolanus. You dragged your feet all the way and you felt your mood drop instantly when you saw him. “The atmosphere feels tense all of a sudden,” Dr. Gaul mentioned while peering at the two of you. “So the next games are coming up soon, and we have to figure out a couple situations,” Dr. Gaul huffs when reminded of what happened last games. You suggest, “provided by me. Why don’t we have all the tributes wear matching outfits?”

She seemed impressed with the idea. Although you had something else planned, to remind everyone of Coriolanus’ mistakes. “To not repeat our mistakes from the past I have a suggestion.. why don’t we have the victors become mentors for the incoming tributes?” You stared at Coriolanus with fury as his suggestion was targeted towards you. Your nails pressed into your palms, retaining your urge to scratch his eyes out. “Well that sounds splendid! It would encourage the tributes to know that they have a chance, from getting advice from past victors.”

You noticed a flaw in his suggestion, “but not all would have a mentor, there’s only been 10 games. We have 24 tributes playing.” She nods her head in understanding, “that is true. But it would certainly solve that problem..” The pause of her speech made your stomach turn, she’s really thinking about this, really debating it. “It’s decided, when the 25 annual Hunger games comes around, the past victors will become mentors.” You dreaded the day it would come. You would try your best to protest, you couldn’t be responsible for another death like that. You left the meeting in distraught and anger.

You heard a pair of footsteps in the distance, like someone was following you. You tried your best to observe your surroundings, and you successfully spotted the man without him noticing. Coriolanus was following you, and you had to get rid of him. You walked to your offices and turned off the light, you grabbed a large pole and sat near the entrance, awaiting your victim. You heard the footsteps get closer and closer, until they came to halt, inches away from you. You swung the pole with all your might, earning a large groan and tumble from him. You stood above him, staring at his motionless body, not dead just unconscious. You heard something tumble behind you, but before you could see what it was. You felt a clap to your head, and all black was what you could see.

You woke up, hands bound down to a chair armrest with rope. Legs wrapped in tape and rope, mouth covered with a cloth. There’s a bright light shined down on you, but soon your eyes adjust. “You’re awake,” a female voices announces. Livia. She stands up and makes a way in the distance. You begin to move your wrists around, attempting to loosen the ropes. “They’re extra tight, you won’t be going anywhere.” His earth shattering voice makes you tremble in anger, you scream out into the cloth, muting all your rage. “Calm down, no one will hear you,” he shakes his head and rubs his forehead.

Livia exits the room and leaves you two alone. You look around, it’s definitely not the apartment. You observe closer and find a photo of Livia with her family. Her house. You mumble into the cloth and he tilts his head in amusement. “Would you wish to speak?” You nod your head fast, pleading him with puppy dog eyes. He steps slowly to you and rips off the cloth from your mouth. You lick your lips fast, trying to get rid of the dryness. “You can just let me go, I swear, I won’t tell a soul,” you say breathless and licking your lips at almost every word. “I can’t afford to let you go, I’ve learned from my mistakes. I can’t have loose ends, and I won’t,” he says getting low to the floor while keeping eye contact.

“And you think Livia won’t be a loose end?” He perks his lips out at the suggestion, “she wants to be with me so bad that she wouldn’t say a word. My perfect little puppet.” Your lips frown and you get the urge to spit in his face. But you can’t produce enough spit to do it, your mouth feels so dry. “You may be wondering why your tongue is so dry. It means the poison has begun to work.” Your heart drops and you begin to freak out. Tears develop down your cheeks and your heart is pounding. You muster up enough energy to speak, “Do you really think you’ll get away with it? I’m everywhere and I’ll live on to torture you.” He laughs and sits in amusement in front of you. “That’s what you think.”

You try to unleash yourself but it’s no use, you feel your heart begin to fail on you. You scream out in pain, you yell to him, “One day, you’ll have a death so poetic, a death by the people, I swear it.” Those words would haunt him. Your final words as the last breath left your mouth. Death was easy, you drifted away in the eternal darkness. You begged and begged that one day, you would be reincarnated. And you would be. Because this fate is what would end him, even though years passed that he forgot all about it. But you did live on, your ideas got passed on through generations. Which inspired the a rebellion who would destroy the world he created. And the leader of that, was you, reincarnation had a funny way. Katniss, the mockingjay who wore your pin into battle, was you. Although you didn’t remember.

But you may be wondering what happened to the rest of the characters. Tigris? As punishment for Tigris, he was going to transform into what you always called her. A tiger. And for your clothing line? Shut down. But your vision lived on through other designers. Your trusted Gian, had a son named Cinna who helped with the designs. Livia? She married the monster, a loveless marriage for life. Lucy gray may have been the reason why he never wanted love again, to feel weak and vulnerable. But you, he never wanted to be brought down to his knees again. To have someone expose him and punish him, so he will be the one to punish. Even if he gets caught, he will stand with a high head and never back down.

The end~

[spencerrsmopbucket]

Tides of Venom (3) | Finnick Odair

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You. the Snake of Seven, had a knack for being efficient. You'd do what needed to be done to get out of the arena alive. But is it that simple?

Warnings: Death. Brutality, basically. The reader being the Snake of Seven.

(NOTE: I am writing the arena and the games differently. It won't be exactly like the movie. The arena isn't a clock, for one. It's very similar to the one in Katniss's first games -- except more water.)

The waiting area was oppressively quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the training facility. Gone were the sounds of clashing metal and grunts of exertion. Here, the silence was almost deafening, broken only by the faint hum of Capitol machinery and the soft clicks of heels against polished floors as attendants flitted in and out, making final adjustments to the tributes’ outfits.

You sat in the corner of the room, perched on a small bench as you tightened the laces on your boots. The gear they’d given you was lightweight but durable, designed for speed and agility rather than brute force. Perfect. The Capitol had spared no expense in ensuring every tribute had what suited them. Something practical. You cracked your neck as you closed your eyes, taking a deep slow breath.

You were strapping in. You were becoming her.

Across the room, Reid paced nervously, his fingers twitching at his sides. His dark hair was slicked back, but a few strands had already fallen loose, sticking to his forehead. He looked up at you every so often, his expression a mix of fear and determination. You could see it in his eyes: he knew he didn’t stand a chance out there. Not against the Careers. Not against the arena itself. And certainly not against you.

“You need to stop pacing,” you said sharply, not looking up from your boots. “You’re wasting energy.”

He stopped mid-step, glancing over at you with a sheepish expression. “Sorry. It’s just… hard not to think about what’s coming.”

You finally looked up, your cold e/c eyes locking onto his. “Thinking won’t help you now. You either act, or you don’t. That’s the only thing that matters in this arena." You say coldly, standing up.

Reid nodded, though you could tell your words hadn’t reassured him. He sat on the bench opposite you, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. “You’re not scared?” he asked after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head, studying him. Scared? No, that wasn’t the right word. Fear had no place in your mind anymore. Not after everything you’d been through. “Fear’s a luxury I can’t afford,” you said finally. “Neither can you.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away. “I’ll try.”

You sighed, leaning back against the wall. Reid wasn’t going to last long. He was smart, sure. Probably the smartest person in the room. But intelligence only got you so far in the Games. The Careers would tear him apart the moment they got the chance. That thought settled heavily in your mind, twisting uncomfortably in your chest. You’d made up your mind days ago, but now, sitting here with him, it felt more real than ever.

In your own interest and in the best interest of Reid, you would take him down first. Before anyone else touched him. In some twisted way, in a way that you knew his parents wouldn't understand, it was an act of mercy. An act of kindness. You would be quick, keeping it as painless as possible.

Maybe you would take the coward's way and kill him while he was asleep. Maybe you would creep up behind him and snap his neck. Whatever it was, it would be your first act in the arena. You weren't going to let one of the bloodthirsty careers, especially Cashmere, who had shown an interest, get to him.

He was too soft, too gentle, too kind.

The waiting room’s oppressive stillness was broken by the sharp sound of the door opening. A Capitol attendant stepped inside, her polished smile as jarring as it was false. Her words were clipped, her tone professional, like this was just another day at work for her.

“It’s time,” she announced.

You stood immediately, tightening the last strap on your gear. The air around you grew heavier, the tension suffocating as you glanced over at Reid. He hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides before he rose to his feet. His face was pale, his jaw set, but his trembling hands gave him away.

“Stay close,” you said again, your voice firm. It wasn’t a suggestion.

He nodded quickly, following behind you as the attendant led you into the hallway. The stark, polished walls glimmered under artificial light, the hum of Capitol machinery filling the air. Your boots clicked rhythmically against the floor, a steady beat counting down the seconds until everything changed.

The launch pads came into view, their cold metal surfaces gleaming with a sterile finality. Capitol technicians bustled around, making last-minute adjustments and murmuring instructions you ignored. The attendant gestured toward your designated platform, and you stepped onto it without hesitation.

The metal beneath your boots was icy, a jarring contrast to the heat simmering in your veins. The glass cylinder descended around you, sealing you inside with an eerie hiss. Across the room, you caught one last look at Reid as he stepped into his own tube. He glanced your way, his eyes wide, searching for reassurance you didn’t have to offer.

As you started ascending, you once more closed your eyes, speaking to yourself in your head.

Don't be merciful.

Don't slow down.

Don't show weakness. For the love of God, don't show pain either.

Get what you need, nothing extra. Don't waste time.

Be smart. Always be one step ahead.

Ignore Finnick Odair.

When your final thought rang through, you opened your eyes. You were being lifted into the arena.

The arena was a brilliantly crafted nightmare. It was a perfect circle, with the Cornucopia perched on a central island surrounded by water. The golden horn gleamed blindingly under the sun, its shadow stretching across the pristine white sand that encircled it.

The water surrounding the Cornucopia wasn’t the refreshing blue of a tropical paradise. It was a dark, ominous teal, its surface deceptively calm, rippling faintly under the weight of the tension in the air. Beyond the water, the arena’s outer edge formed a ring of dense jungle, the foliage impossibly thick and teeming with life. Towering trees with unnaturally large leaves cast deep shadows, and the air buzzed with the constant sound of unseen insects.

Your eyes narrowed as you looked around.

The jungle beyond the water loomed like a living wall, an unrelenting mass of greens and browns that seemed to move and breathe on its own. Thick vines twisted like snakes around tree trunks, and the undergrowth was so dense you could barely make out what lay beyond the first few feet. The shadows within the trees were darker than they should have been, as though the jungle itself was hiding secrets, waiting for the right moment to reveal them.

The air was heavy with the oppressive heat, already making it hard to breathe. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you stood still, your boots firmly planted on your platform. The sound of the jungle’s distant life—the chirps, growls, and rustles—melded with the faint lapping of water against the shore. It was a cacophony of unease, designed to unsettle even the strongest minds.

You shifted your focus to the Cornucopia, your sharp eyes scanning the scattered supplies. Weapons glinted in the sunlight, their edges polished to a lethal shine. Packs of various sizes were scattered haphazardly across the sandy island, their contents unknown but undoubtedly essential for survival. The tantalizing glimmer of resources was a trap—a lure for the desperate and the greedy.

To your left, Reid stood frozen on his platform, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he took in the scene. His wide-eyed terror was palpable even at a distance, and you clenched your jaw. You had no room for distractions. Reid was a dead man walking; it was only a matter of when, not if.

The countdown began.

A booming voice echoed through the arena, counting down from sixty, and the tension became suffocating. Your hands curled into fists, every muscle in your body coiled and ready to spring. Each second that ticked away felt like an eternity, the sound of the clock reverberating in your ears. You inhaled deeply, steadying your nerves. You had one chance, one opportunity to grab what you needed and retreat.

“Forty-five,” the voice droned.

You assessed the tributes, your mind calculating distances, reactions, and potential threats. Cashmere stood with a smirk on her face, her hand flexing at her side like she was already envisioning her next kill. Finnick’s expression was unreadable, though his stance was loose, casual, and far too confident. Brutus practically vibrated with anticipation, his eyes locked on the Cornucopia like a predator eyeing its prey.

You noted their placements and trajectories, marking who would go where. You weren’t the strongest or the fastest, but you were smarter, more calculated. You wouldn’t waste time vying for weapons with the Careers—those were theirs for the taking. You needed supplies, something to sustain you in the hellscape that awaited.

“Thirty.”

The seconds blurred together now, each heartbeat syncing with the countdown. Your eyes darted back to the Cornucopia, mentally tracing a path to the nearest pack that wouldn’t put you in the Careers’ immediate line of fire. A medium-sized bag lay just off-center, near a long, slender blade half-buried in the sand. Close enough to risk. Far enough to escape.

“Fifteen.”

Reid shifted nervously, glancing toward you as if looking for direction. You didn’t return the glance. He needed to make his own choices now. The arena wouldn’t wait for you to hold his hand.

“Ten.”

The sound of your own breathing drowned everything else out. Your chest rose and fell rhythmically as you prepared to sprint. Your fingers twitched at your sides, aching to move, to act.

“Nine.”

The sunlight glinted off the Cornucopia, a final cruel beacon of hope for those foolish enough to think they’d find safety there.

“Eight.”

Your muscles tensed, coiled tight like a spring about to release.

“Seven.”

This was it.

“Six.”

No hesitation.

“Five.”

Every second counted.

“Four.”

A decision was a life.

“Three.”

The world stilled.

“Two.”

The game began.

“One.”

And then, the gong rang.

The instant the gong rang, you propelled yourself forward, your boots slamming against the metal platform as you launched into motion. The sand was firmer than you expected beneath your feet, but you didn’t let it slow you down. Your eyes stayed fixed on your target: the medium-sized pack lying just off-center from the Cornucopia, its muted green fabric almost blending into the sand.

Around you, chaos erupted. Tributes surged toward the golden horn or scattered into the jungle, their movements frantic and desperate. The sharp clanging of metal meeting metal filled the air as the Careers, with their practiced ease, went straight for the weapons. The sounds of screaming began almost immediately, some cut short, others turning into gurgles as blood spilled into the pristine sand.

You tuned it out. All of it. Your focus was singular.

The pack was closer now, and you adjusted your path to grab the blade lying beside it. You skidded to a halt, crouching low as your fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife. Its weight was perfect—light enough for precision but heavy enough to do damage. You sheathed it quickly, slinging the bag over your shoulder in one fluid motion before turning back the way you came.

You darted away from the Cornucopia, weaving between other tributes as the chaos continued to unfold. A boy from District 10 lunged at you with a spear, his face contorted with fear and desperation. You sidestepped him easily, slamming the heel of your boot into his knee as you passed. He crumpled to the ground with a scream, but you didn’t look back.

The jungle loomed ahead, its thick shadows promising cover but also danger. You pushed forward, your breath steady, your movements calculated. You didn’t hesitate as you plunged into the dense foliage, the cool shade of the trees enveloping you like a second skin. The sound of the bloodbath at the Cornucopia faded slightly, muffled by the jungle’s oppressive canopy.

You didn’t stop running until you were deep enough that the sounds of violence were just an echo. Finally, you slowed, your breaths coming hard and fast as you ducked behind a massive tree trunk. You slid the pack from your shoulder, quickly unzipping it to assess your supplies.

A waterskin. A few packs of dried meat. A coil of rope. A small first-aid kit.

Not bad. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get you through the first day. You slipped the knife from its sheath, holding it tightly as you scanned your surroundings. The jungle was eerily alive, its sounds louder now that you’d stopped moving. Insects buzzed relentlessly, and the occasional rustle of leaves hinted at unseen creatures moving through the underbrush.

Your mind raced as you considered your next move. The Careers would consolidate their power at the Cornucopia, picking off stragglers who lingered too long. You had to stay ahead of them, keep moving, and find a vantage point to observe the arena’s layout. Knowledge was your best weapon here, even more than the blade in your hand.

Your eyes narrowed as you thought of Reid. He’d run in the opposite direction, veering off toward the water’s edge when the gong sounded. He hadn’t even tried for supplies, his fear and lack of instinct driving him to flee. You exhaled sharply. You couldn’t think about him now. Not yet.

A faint rustle nearby snapped you back to the present. You tensed, the knife in your hand at the ready. Your heart pounded in your chest as you strained your ears, trying to determine whether it was an animal or another tribute.

“Come out,” you said coldly, your voice steady despite the tension in your muscles. “I don’t have time for games.”

The underbrush parted slowly, revealing…

...a woman, a Victor you didn't recognize, her wide brown eyes filled with terror. Her hair was tied back messily, dirt streaking her face. She held no weapon, just her trembling hands raised slightly in a gesture of surrender. She was from one of the outlying districts—you recognized her as the girl from 11, the one with the quick hands during training.

She froze when she saw you, her chest heaving as though she’d been running for her life, which, in a way, she had.

You didn’t lower your knife. “What do you want?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the blade in your hand, then back to your face. Finally, she whispered, “Please... don’t.”

Your grip tightened on the hilt, but you didn’t make a move toward her. Your mind calculated the risks. She wasn’t a threat—not yet. If you let her go, she could alert others to your position. If you killed her now, it would be cleaner, simpler, less risky in the long run.

But her trembling frame, her pleading eyes—it twisted something in your chest. A pang of something unfamiliar. You shoved it down. Compassion had no place in this arena.

“Turn around,” you ordered sharply. “Walk away, and don’t let me see you again.”

She hesitated for a moment, her body rigid with fear. Then, with a quick nod, she backed away, keeping her eyes on you until she disappeared into the foliage.

You exhaled heavily, letting your arm drop as the knife remained at your side. A small part of you cursed your decision, but the rest—the part that still clung to a shred of humanity—felt relief.

You slid the knife back into its sheath and adjusted the pack on your shoulder. The jungle wasn’t going to wait for you, and neither would the other tributes. You needed to find higher ground, something that would give you a better vantage point to scope out the arena.

The faint sound of running water caught your attention, and you followed it cautiously, keeping low and moving quickly. The dense jungle opened up slightly, revealing a narrow stream cutting through the terrain. You knelt by the water, cupping your hands to take a quick drink, your ears tuned to every sound around you.

As you rose, your thoughts returned to the bloodbath. The Careers would be regrouping by now, and anyone who had tried to challenge them was likely dead. Reid’s face flashed in your mind again, pale and terrified as he’d sprinted toward the water’s edge.

He wouldn’t survive the night.

Your jaw clenched as you forced the thought away. Survival came first. Attachments—emotional or otherwise—were liabilities. You tightened the straps on your pack and began moving upstream, your eyes scanning for any sign of movement.

The arena was waking up now, and you could feel it. The air grew thicker, the sounds of the jungle louder, more chaotic. The Capitol’s hand was everywhere here, manipulating the environment to push you, trap you, force you into confrontation.

And yet, as the sun began its slow descent, you felt a flicker of resolve deep within you. You weren’t here to survive. You were here to win.

Whatever it took.

-

Hours had passed. The sound of the cannon was like a beautiful melody, reminding you of those that you wouldn't have to take care of. You were up a tree, glaring down onto the ground, waiting for someone to drop down on.

Alerting the others of your position was stupid. You wouldn't move until you had to. You wouldn't move until there was someone to get rid of, to get you closer to home.

Your bag hung on the branch securely as you sat next to it, your expression mildly bored. You prayed to yourself that Reid hadn't died yet.

As if on cue, you heard his voice.

Pleading.

Then, you heard Cashmere's.

Your body tensed immediately, muscles coiling like a spring as you shifted silently on the branch. The sound of Reid’s voice, frantic and desperate, cut through the humid air, sharp enough to make your chest tighten.

“No, please,” he begged, his voice trembling but still carrying that faint, foolish hope that someone might show mercy. “I don’t have anything you want. Just let me go.”

Cashmere’s laugh followed, low and cruel. It echoed through the jungle like a predator’s growl. “Let you go? Oh, sweetheart, it’s not about what you have. It’s about making a statement.”

You inched forward on the branch, your e/c eyes narrowing as you spotted them through the foliage below. Reid was on his knees, hands raised defensively in front of him, his face pale and streaked with sweat. Cashmere stood over him, a spear glinting in her hand, her posture casual yet predatory. She was savoring this moment, drawing it out like a cat playing with its prey.

“Please,” Reid tried again, his voice cracking. “I’m not a threat to you.”

“That’s the problem,” Cashmere said smoothly, twirling the spear. “You’re too easy, Reid. No challenge. No fun. But I’ll admit...” She tilted her head, smirking. “Your fear is so fun.”

Your grip tightened on your knife as you watched, anger simmering in your chest. Cashmere wasn’t killing him for strategy or supplies—she was doing it for the thrill, the spectacle. It was pointless. Cruel.

And you weren’t going to let her have the satisfaction.

Carefully, you secured your pack and shifted your weight, positioning yourself on the branch directly above them. Your mind worked quickly, calculating the angle and force you’d need to take her down cleanly. You couldn’t afford a drawn-out fight—not with other tributes potentially nearby.

“Any last words?” Cashmere purred, raising the spear with a flourish.

“Yeah,” you muttered under your breath, pushing off the branch. “Mine.”

You dropped like a shadow, landing squarely on her back with all your weight. The impact sent her stumbling forward, the spear clattering to the ground as you wrapped an arm around her throat, yanking her off balance. She thrashed wildly, her hands clawing at you, but your grip was ironclad.

“Reid, move!” you barked, your voice sharp.

He scrambled back, wide-eyed, as you wrestled Cashmere to the ground. Her nails raked against your skin, drawing blood, but you didn’t flinch. With a quick, precise motion, you drove your knife into her side, aiming just below her ribs. Her body went rigid beneath you, a strangled gasp escaping her lips before she collapsed.

You heard garbled speech as crimson poured from her mouth, her eyes still wide in shock. Moments later, they closed in what seemed to be exhaustion.

The cannon boomed a second later, the sound reverberating through the jungle like a judge’s gavel.

You shoved her body off you and stood, breathing hard as you turned to face Reid. He was staring at you, his face pale, his hands trembling. “You... you saved me.”

You barely registered the words before your gaze snapped to Reid, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. But as you took a step forward, your instincts screamed at you. You were being watched.

A shadow darted behind a nearby tree, too subtle for Reid to notice, but not for you. Your heart sank as another figure emerged from the foliage.

It was the girl with the dark hair, the one who had been trailing behind you both. You didn't have time to think. She’d seen everything—Cashmere's death, your unguarded moment. She wouldn’t hesitate.

Reid was too distracted by the scene unfolding before him, too overwhelmed by the adrenaline and shock. You had to act fast.

Before the girl had a chance to make her move, you whirled around to face Reid, your hand snaking out like a viper. You grabbed his neck in a brutal grip, yanking him toward you with surprising ease. His eyes widened in panic, but he didn’t scream. He just stared at you, trying to process the sudden shift in your demeanor.

“W-what—what are you doing?” Reid gasped, his voice trembling.

“I’m doing what needs to be done,” you hissed, your face cold and emotionless. “I'm sorry. But this is the easiest way. I'm doing it for you.”

His face contorted with confusion, his body struggling weakly against your iron grip. His hands clawed at your arm, but it was futile. You could feel his pulse racing under your fingers, his fear palpable.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Don’t... please don’t do this. I trust you.”

But the trust was meaningless. You had your orders, your mission. And that mission wasn’t to protect him. It was to survive.

With a swift motion, you twisted his head to the side. His body went limp instantly, the bones in his neck snapping like a twig, the life leaving his eyes in an instant.

The cannon fired immediately after. The sound deafening, final.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you stood over his lifeless form, your hands slick with blood. It didn’t matter how much your heart ached in that moment. It had to be ended before he suffered a worse fate. The worry was setting you off focus -- and even if you'd tried to save him, to bring him home, it wouldn't have worked. You couldn't act as well as Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. It would've cost you too much.

You stood over Reid’s body, your chest heaving with a mixture of exhaustion and something darker—something you didn’t want to acknowledge. But then, as you looked down at him, something unexpected happened.

A single tear, clear and cold, slipped from the corner of your eye and ran down your cheek. It was slow at first, as if the reality of what you had just done was finally settling in. The warmth of it contrasted sharply with the coldness of your heart, and for the first time in a long while, you felt the weight of your actions.

You quickly wiped it away, as if the motion could erase the moment. But it stayed with you, the faint trace of moisture on your skin, lingering like a whisper of the person you used to be—the one who might have hesitated, the one who might have saved him.

But you couldn’t afford that weakness now.

With one last glance at Reid, you turned and disappeared into the jungle, the tear still burning a path on your face, even as you moved further away from everything that had just happened. The silence swallowed you whole, and the only thing left was the sound of the jungle and the fading memory of a decision made in the name of survival.

[ellswritings]

They Don’t Know About Us

Peeta Mellark x Reader

TW: Regular Hunger Games angst, Coriolanus Snow being a douche, semi-sweet fluff. Let me know if I missed anything!

(This is based on the song “They Don’t Know About Us” by One Direction if you’d like to listen while reading 🤍)

✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•��̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩

Winning the Hunger Games was never something the children of the lower Districts were prepared for. All their lives, they watched as the Careers won countless times, with the occasional lower District pulling out a victory. When Y/N L/N was reaped for the 73rd Hunger Games at a mere fourteen years old, she never imagined she’d be the one to emerge victorious. The only other individual who won that young was Finnick Odair from District Four, who had become a rather close friend of the now sixteen year old from District Nine.

During her games, Y/N was assumed to be the weakest link. She was easily underestimated by the other Tributes, until the individual evaluation scores came back.

An eleven.

After that, she had a rather large target on her back. Not that it mattered. At fourteen years old, she killed twelve Tributes on her own. No alliances, no sponsor gifts, absolutely nothing. Just her sickle and a belt of daggers wrapped around her waist to get her to victory.

She truly thought that was the end of it. The moment she stepped out of the arena, leg broken, blood profusely cascading down her face from the cut on her forehead, she thought it was over. But she was so wrong. She had no idea what was in store for her when she stepped foot back into the Capitol.

Unbeknownst to her, she was and remains a fan favorite to this day. The people of the Capitol adored her. They love her snarky remarks yet cherish her innocent eyes when she bats her lashes on stage. They love the way she dances at the parties the Capitol throws, and how polite she is when someone offers her a drink. She didn’t realize escaping those games would mean being stuck in another cage. Snow’s cage to be exact.

He kept her under surveillance quite often. Never let her stray too far from him. She was special. He knew that the second he watched her impale someone with her sickle in the original bloodbath. He knew when he watched how graceful she moved walking on stage for her interview with Caesar. And it was all confirmed for him when he watched her dancing with such fluidity during her Victors tour that he knew he had to keep her close. She had a certain power, a way to make audiences listen to her. And at such a young age, that’s too much of a threat.

Y/N spent most of her time in the Capitol, rarely being able to visit home. She tried to fight it in the beginning, but once Snow threatened her family, she knew better than to defy him. So she tried her hardest to find a home in the place that took advantage of her and stole her innocence.

It wasn’t all bad being stuck. She met many people, older Victors who helped her adjust since her winnings. Finnick Odair and Johanna Mason have been particularly helpful. Finnick is around much more than Johanna and he’s taken on a brotherly figure in her life, protecting her from the rotten slime of the Capitol. He felt for the young girl. She won at the same age he did and managed to obtain the highest amount of kills out of any Tribute. Simply observing her, he knew that she would be haunted by her Games for the rest of her life. She might’ve got out of the arena, but she never won. None of them did.

Whenever she would wake up screaming from a nightmare, he was there. He would sit with her until she fell asleep, humming soft sea shanty’s for her.

They got stuck in a pattern for awhile. One that they didn’t necessarily like, but that they got used to. At least until the 74th Hunger Games ended. Y/N’s Tributes didn’t last very long. They made it further than some, but not far enough to be noticeable. Finnick could tell that the girl purposefully didn’t mentor the best way she could’ve so the children didn’t have to face the fate of a Victor. He didn’t blame her. Most of the other mentors are the same way. But when Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark both were crowned Victors, something in Y/N shifted.

It wasn’t in the way that most would think. Yes, she shifted in the aspect that the tables of power seem to be turning, but she suddenly appeared happier. He noticed her being absent more, disappearing from her room late at night, and even being more secretive about who she speaks to. He didn’t know what caused the shift until the 74th Games’ Victory tour. The moment he walked into their party in the President’s mansion, he saw what caused the change.

Y/N stands by one of the many large pillars of the mansion, hiding behind the marble structure. She giggles under her breath as she watches Peeta try his hardest to look around discretely. He has no idea that she’s looking right at him. She furrows her eyebrows, losing him in the large sea of people that are all there for him and Katniss. A small frown makes its way onto her face until a pair of strong hands grips her hips softly.

She lets out a quiet yelp before spinning around. She smiles when Peeta’s honey brown eyes meet hers and a cheeky little smile takes over his face. “Hi,” she greets shyly.

“Hi,” he replies, finding the light pink dusting on her cheeks adorable. He pulls her gently to hide them a little more in the shadows. There’s too many people here who wouldn’t be thrilled seeing the two of them together in this proximity. Especially since he is supposedly married to Katniss.

“How are you enjoying the party?” She asks quietly, resting her hands on his chest with a teasing smile.

“It’s a bit underwhelming,” he comments sarcastically, glancing around the area with a high level of distaste.

“You can say it’s appalling,” Y/N assures him. “People are starving in the Districts and here they don’t even bother finishing their plates.” She can see the cogs turning in his brain. Ever since she’s met him, she’s admired how big his heart is. If he could save every individual in the Districts, he would. But the last thing they need is to draw unwanted attention to themselves getting worked up over something they can’t currently control. She sighs, shaking off the agitation before cupping the side of his face. “Hey, it’s alright. Nobody said you have to enjoy tonight.”

“Are you enjoying it?” He queries.

She shakes her head, “Never in a million years.” A cocky grin takes over her face as she stands on her tippy toes to get closer to him, “I am enjoying your company though.”

Her answer makes him smirk as well before he places a small kiss on her lips. Peeta cherishes every moment he gets to spend with Y/N as most of their time together is fleeting. They can only be together for mere minutes at a time in order to avoid suspicion. The only two people who know about their dalliance are Haymitch and Katniss, who have been supportive in their own creative ways. They try their hardest to give the young couple more time together, but it gets rather difficult when Peeta and Katniss need to be seen together all the time.

In order to make up for the time that they lose, Peeta and Y/N create their own ways to display their affections. Sometimes it entails slipping love notes in one another’s pockets in passing, pulling each other behind large structures to sneak in a kiss, leaving their rooms in the middle of the night to meet in a dark alleyway just to have some time to themselves.

Neither of them minded it. It was thrilling almost to know that nobody knew about them. Sneaking behind Snow’s back gave them both a sense of freedom that they thought they’d never get back. Peeta sighs happily as he rests his head against hers. Y/N rubs the pad of her thumb on the back of his hand, “When do you have to leave?” She asks him in a whisper.

The smile on his face falls, “Tomorrow morning,” he answers. “With the 75th reaping coming up, Katniss and I have to be back in Twelve.”

She nods in understanding, “Then I guess we’ll just have to make the most of tonight.” Her smile is solemn, but she knows better than to make him feel bad for their lack of time. She won’t be leaving the Capitol for another two days. Snow is only allowing her to return home solely for the Reaping.

“That we will,” Peeta smirks. He plays with a loose strand of her hair, twirling it between his fingers. “Meet me tonight at our spot?”

“Always.”

And she did just that. About four hours after the party ends, Y/N manages to sneak out of her suite. She uses her stealth to make it all the way up to the roof without alerting any nearby Peacekeepers of her late night rendezvous with the Baker Boy from Twelve. She slowly pushes open the heavy door that leads outside and she gently slides it closed. Clearly her silence is rather impressive as Peeta, who is standing at the ledge of the building, didn’t hear her coming up behind him.

She smiles before walking forward and wrapping her hands around his eyes, “Guess who?”

Peeta tenses at first, not expecting his sight to be impaired, but he’s quick to relax when he recognizes Y/N’s voice. “Well I can happily say it’s not Haymitch,” he tells her jokingly.

Y/N chuckles, allowing him to turn around as their lips meet in a sweet embrace. She wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers fiddling with his soft blonde hair. He wasn’t kidding in his interview with Caesar before his Games. He really does smell like roses, and maybe a hint of cinnamon and other sweet spices from his time spent in the bakery.

Peeta casually lifts her up by her thighs, setting her down on the ledge of the roof so she can sit. He cages her in with his muscular arms, simply admiring how the moonlight makes her skin glow. The stars in the sky could never compare to the way her eyes constantly shine. He knows that she would never be able to see the beauty he sees. Her damage prevents her from seeing the wonderful things he sees, but he has no issue showing it to her. He would gladly spend the rest of his life showing Y/N all the things that make her the stunning woman she is.

“What?” Y/N questions, blushing slightly from him staring at her for so long. “Do I got something in my teeth?” A dopey smile covers her face at her attempt to joke.

“I’m just looking at the most beautiful woman in Panem,” he answers simply with a shrug. That’s all.”

Y/N giggles, “Don’t you know, Mister Mellark?” She laces her hands with his, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

It was moments like this, holding her in his arms where Peeta momentarily forgets of their circumstances. He forgets that they’re under the control of tyrannical dictator who could easily torture them and their family for their forbidden romance. Staring into her sparkling e/c eyes, it made him realize that there has to be more than this. There has to be more for them somewhere. Where they can be together without worrying about being executed. That’s when Katniss’s words echo in his mind.

“Run away with me,” he blurts out.

Y/N’s eyes go wide, “What?” She asks incredulously, not believing what she’s hearing.

“C’mon Y/N,” he begs with a sweet desperation. “Think about it. If we left now, no one would know. We could run away somewhere, away from here. We could be happy.”

His words sound more than enticing. She wants to, more than anything. But leaving her family to face the consequences of those actions is out of the question. Her realism prevents her from even dreaming of such a possibility. She knows they wouldn’t even make it to the entrance of the Capitol before being shot down by Peacekeepers.

“Peeta…” Y/N says softly, her tone already giving away her answer. “You know we can’t do that. They’d find us in a week,” she frowns as she watches the light behind his eyes dim.

Disappointment radiates around them. Y/N loves his determination to get them the life together that they want. The two teens never thought they’d meet someone they’d connect with so deeply. They don’t even know the jealousy they invoke from the very few people who do know about them. The romance they share is something everyone would covet, even though it has to be hidden.

The blonde sighs defeatedly. She’s right. Even if they did somehow miraculously get out of the Capitol unseen, they’d still have the issue of finding where to run to. “I know,” he admits quietly. “But it doesn’t hurt to think about. Just you and me in an abandoned cabin, far away from all of this.”

Y/N squeezes his bicep with a sad smile, “Maybe someday.” Hope is a dangerous thing for people in Panem, especially false hope. Staring into his eyes, she almost believes that it could be possible. Perhaps she does deserve that happy ending despite the atrocities she’s committed.

The couple simply spends the next few hours in each others arms. They exchange stories of their homes, their families, the hobbies that distract them from the life they live. Y/N can’t wait to bake with Peeta one day. The way his eyes light up when he talks about being in the kitchen, it makes her wish she had taken up the art sooner. Peeta on the other hand is always entranced when she talks to him about her passion for dancing. He’s seen her on the dance floor a couple of times and he can see how much she truly loves it. It transports her to another world.

Y/N even takes it upon herself to show him a simple waltz on that rooftop. The two break into a fit of giggles every time Peeta accidentally steps on her toes or when he gets too focused and his tongue subconsciously pokes out of his mouth. Even though it’s been a few hours, it still doesn’t feel long enough. They continue to talk about meaningless nothings, but as soon as the sun rises from its long slumber, they know their time has come to an end.

“I don’t want you to go,” Y/N mumbles, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. His grip on her waist is tight as he holds her as close to him as she can.

“I don’t want to go either,” he whispers, kissing her temple. “But it’s not for forever, okay? We’ll see each other soon. I promise.”

And how right he was. But he was right in a way that made both him and Y/N sick to their stomachs. When he promised her they’d see each other again, she didn’t think it would be under the circumstances of them both being reaped for the 75th Hunger Games.

Y/N seethed with anger the moment she heard the words leave Snow’s mouth. She had gotten home only moments before the announcement, and as soon as he walked into her large house in the Victors Village, that is what she was met with.

There aren’t many other Victors in District Nine, and she’s well aware that none of them hold as high of a reputation as her. So deep down, she knew her name would be the one called. She would be forced right back into the place that made her a monster in the first place. Sixteen years old and she’s now been reaped twice. Looking at her Tribute partner on that stage, she knew she’d be able to take him. He’s older, no doubt his reflexes have been impaired due to lack of time training. Her only having won two years ago gives her a certain edge, and not too be blunt, but her young age comes with its perks as well.

When they arrived at the Capitol, her and her Tribute partner are briefed on the other Tributes who were reaped. Her stomach twists in knots as she watches Finnick’s face flash across the screen. He’s basically her older brother and now they have to fight to the death. She bites her bottom lip anxiously as their “mentor” continues to show them their opponents. Y/N bites her lip anxiously as he moves onto the District Twelve Tributes. She knows Katniss doesn’t have a choice as she is the only female Victor, but she hopes with every fiber of her being that Haymitch is the person she sees next on that screen.

Peeta Mellark.

Her heart shatters into a million pieces. At that moment, Y/N told herself she would do anything to get him out. She would kill whoever it takes and even sacrifice her own life to make sure Peeta survives. He has too pure of a soul to be put back into the arena, but the odds never seem to be quite in his favor. Or any of their favors for that matter. Her fists are clenched so tightly that they’ve turned pale. An intimidating frown etches its way onto her face as they’re released to their stylists to be prepared for the Tribute Parade.

Being from District Nine, she wasn’t expecting much. The stylist she had during her games practically put her in a burlap sack with pieces of wheat in her hair and called it good. She’s escorted down the hallway, but becomes increasingly confused as two Peacekeepers emerge from both sides of her.

“Miss L/N, come with us. The President has requested your presence,” the taller of the two guards announces.

She furrows her eyebrows. What would Snow want with her only a few hours before the Parade? She’s used to being summoned to see the President due to him keeping her on such a tight leash, but she wasn’t expecting a call from him during the preparation process.

They stop at a wooden door, covered in a dark burgundy paint. There’s a small golden snake that rests in the center, serving as a way to knock on the door. The Peacekeeper to her right utilizes the tool and a small “come in” is muttered by their dear leader. The second Y/N’s foot makes it through the door, she feels the need to vomit. The venomous smile on the man’s face is enough to make her question the decision she made to try and survive the arena the first time.

“Miss L/N,” he greets, “Please, take a seat.”

Knowing better than to fight the titan in front of her, she slowly inches down into the armchair in front of his desk. He retains his smile, his gaze never leaving her form. He folds his hands together and rests them on the desk, “How unfortunate we have to meet again under such pitiful circumstances.”

She swallows thickly, “Yes, I suppose it is quite a shame.” Her voice is as polite as she can make it. Her posture is rigid and her tone is ice cold. Something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the man in front of her, but he does appreciate her effort to save face.

“Miss L/N, are you aware of why I have called you here?” He asks as if he was a teacher trying to teach a lesson. Y/N knows there’s something much more sinister going on, but she finds herself becoming too afraid to know what it could be.

“No,” she replies shortly.

He lifts an eyebrow in amusement. A small, almost disappointed sigh escapes his lips as he fiddles with one of the many white roses in the vase on his desk. “Perhaps a visual aid will help you understand why I’ve requested your presence.”

He presses the button on the hologram sitting at the center of his desk and Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat as an image of her and Peeta kissing on the rooftop flashes in front of her. Her jaw falls slack. She thought they were careful. There had been no cameras the previous times they’ve met there. No Peacekeepers were around. It made no sense. He wasn’t supposed to know.

Dread fills her entire body. She had been gone from Nine since yesterday. He could’ve easily slaughtered her entire family in that amount of time. Was this why she was reaped? What if he tries to kill Peeta specifically in the arena because of this?

“Relax, my dear,” Snow’s smug expression makes her blood boil. He flicks of the projection before focusing fully on the girl in front of him. “I understand the appeal of forbidden love. It’s rather exciting, is it not?” Y/N can feel him about to sink his teeth into her soft flesh. She can feel the numerous amount of threats about to leave his lips. “Unfortunately, your love story with Mister Mellark is not apart of the narrative I’ve so carefully curated.” She’s startled by how calm he sounds, but that has always been the unnerving thing about Snow. No one ever knows what truly goes on in his mind as he hides his true intentions behind his politics. “I truly am disappointed that you haven’t been honest with me Miss L/N. I thought we were better than that.”

Y/N’s at a loss for words. She simply stares at the President, digging her nails into the supple flesh of her palms as she tries to hold back the anger bubbling inside of her. “The relationship between Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark is one that inspires hope,” he begins. “It distracts the people of Panem, keeps the system in balance. Our citizens have fallen in love with their love. They follow their story. The last thing we need is a scandal, wouldn’t you agree?”

Her eyes are steely as she grits her teeth, “Yes sir.”

“The star-crossed lovers will not be interfered with,” he instructs. “And if I find that you’ve continued this dalliance, I am well accustomed to finding a suitor for you myself. Perhaps through the same methods of your dear friend Finnick Odair?”

There it is. The threat she was waiting for. She knows all about Snow and how he sells the Victors deemed desirable. He never sold her when she won because she was too precious too him. Her talent for dancing and kind persona are what kept him from selling her off to the highest bidder. He figured she would be more valuable as an item people could see, but not touch. Clearly he is willing to sacrifice that because of her defiance.

“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” she says, keeping her voice as steady as possible. Anyone listening to this conversation would believe it is as civil as it could get, but the look behind both of their eyes suggests a silent duel is going on between the two. Neither of them blink as a satisfied smile appears on Snow’s face. “Whatever you saw, it won’t happen again.

“Good,” he nods approvingly. “I knew I could count on you to be sensible.”

Y/N stands without another word. She dusts herself off as the Peacekeepers open the door for her. As soon as she’s rounded the corner to head to her stylist, that’s when the tears start cascading down her cheeks. She puts a hand over mouth to muffle her sobs as she sinks down onto the floor. She should’ve known that their secret wouldn’t have stayed that way for long. Snow always has a way of finding things out, and now she’s not only out her life in jeopardy, but Peeta’s as well.

That’s when she realizes that he doesn’t even know what just happened. She squeezes her eyes tightly in pain, knowing that she’ll have to end things with the only person who’s managed to make her feel whole again after emerging from the arena. Picturing the heartbreak on his face is enough to make her want to beg someone to kill her in the bloodbath. But she won’t. She can’t. She made a vow to herself that she would protect Peeta, keep him safe. Even if they can’t be together, she won’t let him die.

Her tears dry and a certain determination fuels her to keep moving. She wipes her face and forgets all of her emotions on the floor she just left. There’s no use in mourning. She needs to be in the correct headspace if she’s going to get him out.

And she will.

————————————————————————

Pt. 2 anyone?

[sunsetling-12]

wanna know what? since suzanne collins wrote a snow origin story she should also write a coin origin story

how different or how similar she and snow are? was coin always >like that< or she was made into that way? how are her views on the world? how was like growing up in district 13? how she became the president?

i never imagined there was something to say about snow, but she did it anyway, so i could only speculate the wonders she could do in a coin centered prequel

[mr-nauseam]

Every day I am thankful that Crassus "the people of the district would drink blood if they could" Snow is dead in TBOSAS