#thg Coriolanus snow

[francixoxoxo]

⋆.° Swaddled in Silk ୨ৎ

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐓𝐖: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜., 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞!), 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

Little note: reader doesn’t get the abortion not because of pro-life beliefs, but because of personal wishes, this is NOT an anti-abortion sentiment!! Very much pro choice over here!!!!

Mornings tended to be peaceful with Coriolanus.

Your eyes would flutter open, the pale skin of your husband’s bare neck and chest cast in golden morning sunshine the first thing you see. You’d shift, groaning softly at the morning aches and nosing the crook of his neck, grateful he’s a light sleeper when his strong arms wrap tighter around you.

Technically, Coryo had his own room in the Presidential mansion. But he’d admitted to you in soft words late into the night, long ago, that he couldn’t sleep without you.

So you’d wake up in his arms, him holding you close as if somebody would take you from him. You found it endearing, just how possessive Coriolanus was over you. It wasn’t just in the way he held you; it was in the way he made sure you looked and felt your best at every event, so that he hold a hand on your waist and boast his wife’s beauty. It was in the way he spoiled you in just about every aspect, dipping you in diamonds and rubies, keeping your appearance manicured with days at the spa, keeping your every need satisfied, physical or emotional. Doting on you the best he could while running the damn country, loving you like a good husband should.

Except that his love was a bit inconvenient at the moment, as you tried to move from his arms and his grip only tightened. You felt a recognizable bile rising up, a sick feeling taking over your gut. Coriolanus grumbled, his brows drawing and eyes impossibly more blue in the morning as they opened a crack. “Darling..? Where…”

You peeled his arms away from you, and this time Coryo let you go. His expression was twisted in confusion as you jumped to your feet, hand clasped over your mouth as you beelined for the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Oh. He stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and making his way to the bathroom to soothe you. He picked up the pace as he heard you retching.

Coriolanus knelt beside you, gathering up your smooth tresses and holding the hair back from your face in a ponytail. His other hand rubbed your back with a strong palm. “There you go, there you go. Get it out.”

God, you wouldn’t be surprised if you threw up an intestine. It felt like eternity before you got everything out of your system. “Sorry.” You croaked, wincing and sitting back on your calves.

“Why are you sorry? You can’t control it.” Coryo cooed, the hand holding your hair moving to the side of your head and pressing a kiss to your crown. His forehead creased after a moment though, he leaned away to grab you a towel. He watched you wipe your mouth before speaking hesitantly. “My love?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, swallowing hard and grimacing at the sour taste on your tongue.

“Do you think you ate something bad?” Coryo murmured, his voice suddenly dropping to a whisper. You met his eyes. You knew what he was really asking.

You pressed your lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” It seemed unlikely, you weren’t one to get sick at a whim. And you’d eaten rather healthy yesterday.

You two had been.. trying. To say the least. Coriolanus was very eager for a family, as were you. Baby fever actually had a strong hold on you. But you hadn’t realized how difficult it would be. Coryo and you went to the best doctor he could get his hands on, and his meticulous nature led to keeping track of your schedule, the windows where you’d be most fertile. You never grew tired of intimacy with him, but every negative test was daunting. Every vitamin and supplement was growing tiring to keep tabs on.

For months this went on. You couldn’t help feeling that you were failing Coriolanus. He wanted a baby so terribly, and your body just wouldn’t seem to work with you. Whispers were beginning to spread around high society women, questioning why a marriage of four years had yet to produce babies. You were questioning it yourself.

“My love, it’s okay.” Coryo had cooed, folding you into his arms the first night you’d cried to him about the cruel gossip about your marriage and your “failings” as a wife. He shook his head passionately, showering you with kisses. “I love you. A baby will come in time.”

You’d sniffled, burying your face and hiding your eyes into his chest. “But why won’t it come now? We’ve been doing everything right, Coryo, at this point it has to be me.”

Coryo sighed, his arms squeezing you tighter. You were perfect in his eyes, whether or not your body was sustaining a baby didn’t matter to him. He loved you regardless, and he told you so. “Just trust me. You’ll get pregnant when time is right for us. I love you, we have plenty of time.” Coriolanus took your chin in his fingers, tilting up your chin to press his lips to your forehead tenderly.

It seemed that the time was finally right for you. A broad smile spread over Coriolanus’ lips, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. You laughed a bit breathlessly.

“I’ll call the doctor.” Coryo cooed, pressing his lips between your brows. He hummed against your forehead, murmuring after a moment, “I love you. You know that?”

“I know.” You breathed, finding his bare arm and squeezing it affectionately as he pulled away. “I love you.”

The moments the words “You’re pregnant, Mrs. Snow,” slipped from the doctors lips, Coriolanus was changing gears.

He was coaxing you into coming with him to buy baby clothes the very next day. The day after that, you discovered that one of the rooms neighboring your bedroom was being renovated into a nursery. Coryo was delighted when a package he sent his secretary for came in, he’d hurried to find you wherever you’d been and showed you a box full of brand new baby toys. Plush bears, rattles, another large box holding a rocking chair; you wondered how your baby would even get around to using it all.

“You’re spoiling it before it’s even born!” You teased one day as he happily presented a soft muslin baby blanket.

“Damn right.” Coryo had smiled broadly, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone, correcting you, “I’m spoiling her.”

“Girls?” You cocked a brow, slipping a hand into his gelled-locks and probably messing up his styling. He didn’t care. “I’m confident it’s a girl, my love. And I live to spoil my girls.”

His attention didn’t only apply to the baby. You were his top priority these days; he took more time away from his work to dote on your every whim. Coryo was holding your hair back every morning you fell ill. He constantly was taking you shopping, making sure that your maternity clothes weren’t frumpy or ugly, but made you feel beautiful. He had the cooking staff preparing every craving you had.

But sooner than later, pregnancy proved itself to be difficult.

No matter what Coryo did, no matter what doctors he called in or what home remedies he found, you just wouldn’t get healthy. You were wasting away before his eyes. Your ribs jutted out from your sides, your face becoming gaunt and hollow. You simply couldn’t stomach food.

Coriolanus had never been more terrified than when a simple common flu had bedridden you for days. Your immune system was so weakened by your pregnancy, and nothing seemed to help. You looked deathly pale, just the sight of you was enough to bring Coryo to tears. Though he never let you see his distress.

But dear God, he couldn’t lose you. You were scaring him, with that resigned glint in your eyes. As if you knew, and were comfortable with dying. Coriolanus was the furthest thing from comfortable.

At night, he’d run his hands along your ribs, his nose brushing yours as he watched your eyes. They’d be peacefully shut, your breathing calm from his soothing touch. Coriolanus’ hand would always end up on your belly, his thumb rubbing along the gentle curve of it under your night slip. You were featherlight nowadays, when you should’ve been full and glowing.

When your dizzy spells became too powerful to handle without laying down, Coryo called in the doctor again. He wanted a baby with you, he didn’t want this. If he knew that this would’ve been so taxing on your body, he never would’ve done this to you.

That’s how he comforted himself as the doctor left the room, leaving you to sit on the chaise at the foot of your bed and Coryo to pace about, his fingers on his lips and his eyes buggy. You’d just been warned.

This baby was life or death. If you gave birth, you might not survive. It was simply a genetic condition in your family. Nothing to be done. Except..

“We’re getting rid of it.” Coriolanus announced firmly, shaking his head. You lifted your face.

You gawked at your husband. “No!” You huffed, eyes darting around to avoid another bout of tears. Your hands were wrung in your lap, squeezing tight to the point of your knuckles paling. “Don’t even suggest it.”

“I’m not suggesting it, I’m telling you. My love, we are not keeping this baby.” Coriolanus stepped closer, standing in front of you. He outstretched his hand to tilt your chin with a finger, his eyes glimmering with something adamant.

You shook your head, grabbing Coryo’s wrist and squeezing. Your brows pinched up at him. “You aren’t serious. You can’t— you can’t force me. It’s my body.”

Your husbands expression melted like ice in a heatwave, his eyes softening. He snuck his hand around to hold yours in a tight grip. “I won’t force you. I..” Coriolanus sighed in exasperation, moving to sit beside you. His tone was earnest and as kind as he could muster. “But I can’t let you do this.”

“It’s our baby, Coryo.” You pleaded, the hand not holding his coming to rest on your belly defensively. How could he contradict himself so greatly, telling you it was your choice while making it sound like his word was final, as always?

“It will kill you.” Coriolanus hissed, suddenly to his wits end with you. His brow creased, his lips pulling over his teeth in a sneer. He shook his head adamantly. “My love, I won’t lose you for—for it.”

You couldn’t help the lump rising in your throat, making breathing suddenly quite a task. “For her.” You corrected him this time.

Coriolanus sighed, letting go of your hand and pushing himself to his feet. He had to loosen his tie, the red article suddenly suffocating. You helplessly watched him pace, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “It would be okay. I’ve already lived, I think she should get a chance.”

The absurdity of your words brought a humorless snort from Coryo’s nose. He shook his head but seemed so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t reply, so you went on. “And you’d have a piece of me, anyway! Coryo, you’d love her so much it’d outweigh whatever grief you’d have, you’d be so happy I went through with it, because you’d get a baby out of—“

Coriolanus was staring at you with wide and buggy eyes, as if you’d suggested he eat you alive. “How dare you say that?” Your husband snapped, stepping towards you with purpose. “How could you think I’d be able to tolerate, let alone love this baby if it killed you?” His nostrils flared in frustration and in his shining sapphire eyes, a wild kind of hurt.

At the sight of the tears welling in Coryo’s eyes, you couldn’t resist reaching for his hands with both of yours. He let you take them, he rubbed his thumbs over the backs of your hands— the ridges of your increasingly apparent bones under his fingers only adding to the wetness in his eyes. “Please.” Coriolanus murmured after a moment, his brows drawing together and creasing his forehead. “Please, my love. We can get a doctor who’ll abort it, no matter what trimester. Please.”

God, he made it sound so easy. Like it was just a procedure. It wasn’t, not to you. You desperately wanted this baby, you couldn’t just wake up to a morning without its life within you.

Perhaps he could see the indecision in your eyes. He squeezed your hands. “Please. I can’t lose you.”

You couldn’t look Coriolanus in the eyes as you shook your head. “I’m keeping it.”

You kept your gaze fixed on his dress shoes, the leather freshly polished and shiny. You didn’t look up to see the way he wiped his eyes with his knuckles, his nostrils flaring and throat bobbing. You only knew that his hands slipped from yours, his footsteps were departing from you, the door falling shut behind him.

Your due date was nearing. Coriolanus took more time to be with you, masterfully hiding the sadness behind his eyes as you mentioned anything baby-related. You thought he’d distance himself.

Completely the opposite. Though every conversation about the baby brought on a nasty argument, Coryo wasn’t too big a fool to know that you needed him right now. Regardless of his constant reminders that you two could simply adopt, you could go the surrogacy route, anything to keep you alive, you denied him. You were determined to give him a baby of his own from your body.

But no matter how many fights he’d resolve by folding you into his arms, cooing an apology and petting your hair, he knew he would never love the baby that’ll take you away from him.

Coriolanus couldn’t bear watching you waste away like this. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted his wife to be glowing, to be happy and full with his baby— he didn’t want to choose between his child and you. He would choose you, if you let him.

Still. You tried to maintain normalcy.

Maybe it was nature, a maternal instinct implanted deep within you, but you were willing to die for this baby. You couldn’t describe it to Coriolanus if you tried. You felt a strange calm, in the weeks leading up to the baby’s birth. Knowing that one might die, being aware of one’s expiration date, well, it was eye-opening. You took to writing down your thoughts, writing down messages to your daughter. You were still quite certain she was a she, though you were keeping the sex a surprise. Oh, you had so much to tell her!

When you told Coryo about the journal, he’d smiled gently and nodded, humming that it was a darling idea. But he left the room a minute later, coming back with eyes rubbed pink.

You were aware of how much of a toll it was taking on Coryo. But you knew it was best. You knew he deserved a baby. You deserved the pride of giving that life to him, to the world.

One day, you’d been helping your maid with folding your clothes and the towels for your bathroom. You’d insisted you help, especially because you loved to chat with her.

You were laughing with her, listening to a story she was telling. You were listening, until you felt an indescribable pain in your lower half. You’d winced, clutching the towel you’d been folding, looking down at yourself and holding your belly with your other hand.

“Mrs. Snow?” Your maid’s voice was full of concern. “Is it—“

“I don’t know.” You gasped, the pain washing over you like a wave, and leaving just as fast as it had come. “Do you think..”

“I’ll call the doctor.” She rose to her feet hesitantly, eyes wide as if you were a time bomb in her hands. You could almost laugh at her expression.

You nodded. “Don’t rush, it might not be—“ you proved yourself wrong as an immense pain knocked the words from your mouth. You fold over, groaning, and sending your maid bolting for the phone.

You’d certainly underestimated childbirth.

It was absolutely the most painful experience of your life. If you hadn’t been afraid of death up until now, you definitely were now. It was a terrifying pain, a terrifying feeling knowing that while most women were strong enough to withstand such a natural pain, you might not be.

An ambulance came to bring you from the presidential mansion to the hospital. The entire ride, screams and tears filled the tiny vehicle. You’d begged for someone to call Coriolanus, the prospect of doing this without him was daunting and downright petrifying.

When you got to the hospital room, Coryo was there, dress-shirt disheveled and hair ungelled. He’d been working at the office today. You thanked every god out there for him, as he squeezed your hand and smoothed back your hair, doing his very best to hide his fear. Your screams wrung his heart, he made sure to wipe your tears and kiss your sweaty brow.

“You’re doing great, my love.” Coriolanus cooed, letting you squeeze his hand until he was numb. You’d whimpered, the pain subsiding and crashing over you again like an ocean wave.

You’d wailed to kingdom come. “I don’t want to die, Coryo!” You’d groaned. He was grateful you weren’t paying much attention to his face, your eyes on the ceiling, otherwise you would’ve seen the way your pleading broke him.

Coryo squeezed your hand, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “You won’t. You’ll be fine, darling, you’re doing everything right.” He’d promised, voice as assured as he could manage.

Another thing you underestimated was how stupid long the whole ordeal was.

Atleast another hour ticking by meant another hour you were alive. But it also meant another hour of searing pain, the feeling of your body betraying you and ripping itself open, tears wetting your cheeks and wails parting your lips.

Suddenly, it was like all that intense cramping and sharp pains were alleviated in a moment. As if some divine being had graciously lifted you off a bed of nails. Woozily, you lifted your head to see the baby in the nurse’s hands, another nurse cutting the ambilical cord. God, did it look rough, but it was yours. It was beautiful. You immediately reached for your baby, eyes bleary and voice hoarse, “I want to hold it.”

As if anybody would deny the First Lady. Oh, you could bawl as they lowered the baby onto your chest, who was actually bawling and crying. You laughed a bit breathlessly, eyes lifting to Coriolanus. His eyes were wide, bluer than you’d ever seen them, perhaps from the shine to them. But he’d never let his tears escape his eyes, blinking them away to lay a hand on his baby’s head, smiling stupidly.

“I made this.” You breathed, staring down at the little thing. The baby, that you glanced down to find was a girl. Your daughter.

Coriolanus nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. You could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re so strong, my love. So strong.”

“And I’m alive.” You laughed, so focused on your daughter than you didn’t notice Coryo’s sidelong glance to the sheer amount of blood between your legs. He caught the eye of a nurse, who’d given him a curt nod.

Coriolanus let out the breath he’d been holding for the past two months. “I’m infinitely grateful.” He spoke softly, reverently. He was afraid that if he said any more, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Isn’t she pretty?” You sighed, looking up to meet your husband’s eye. Coryo just shook his head, smiling to the point that his eyes crinkled— speaking of which, they were welling up again.

“Beautiful.” He cooed. “What’re we calling her?” Coriolanus said that last bit in a breathy chuckle, squeezing your arm gently as a nurse moved to take the baby to be cleaned. You two had spoken about names before, but never decided on something definite.

You stared after your daughter, your tears drying on your cheeks and the pain twixt your legs fading into the background. Your heart was beating, your chest rising and falling. You were alive. Oh, you went from resigning to never feel the swell of your lungs with air to filling them as much as possible.

“Ruby, I think.” You breathed. A name that Coryo had suggested, long ago, perhaps in the first months of your pregnancy. A broad smile tiptoed across his lips as he smoothed down your hair.

Coryo nosed your cheekbone, not minding the sweat lingering on your skin from the whole ordeal, mumbling against you, “A gem.”

“A gem.” You agreed, turning your cheek to press your lips to his. Oh, how you loved him. Your husband. Your lover. The father of your baby. You know he’ll be the best father— doting, loving, protective..

If the way he clutched onto your arm as you kissed, his eyes and grip betraying his anxiety was any indication of how much he cared for you, how terrified he was to lose you? Then you’d married the right man.

If the way he dutifully fluffed your pillows and got his hands on a sleeping mask was a gesture of his love? You were set for life.

If the way his sapphire eyes shone with admiration, with affection and devotion for your little daughter, swaddled in silk in her crib was a testament to the father Coriolanus would be?

Then Ruby was a lucky little girl. You were certainly a lucky woman.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎCandy Cane Mocktails౨ৎ꣑ৎ

౨ৎ꣑ৎ12 Days of Christmas Masterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ [fem reader] contains: hurt/comfort pairing: fem reader x university coriolanus snow summary: the university's annual christmas gala with coriolanus author’s note: some good old forced proximity for you my darlings <3 Spotify Playlist

Sweethearts. That was the idea of it. You begrudgingly took Coriolanus' outstretched hand, walking with him through the open doors of the library. Being who you were attracted certain looks, and being on the arm of Coriolanus Snow attracted even more of them.

He led you down the front steps, chin held high, shoulders squared. Of course he looked handsome- nobody ever expected anything less. The way he carried himself exerted power, drew one's eye to him. You supposed you would be the same way if you were happy about being engaged.

It had come out of nowhere. Your father's announcement that your family and the Snows would be intertwined. He made it sound like such a gift, but all it did was dim your spirits. And now you were wondering what the point was of sending you to the university to begin with. Why educate you if you were destined for a life of social calls and public appearances on his arm? At least he was young, you supposed.

It wasn't that he ignored you. If there was ever a man more attentive to his fiancée, you knew him not. There was no shortage of affection, and not in public certainly. But it was all tainted by the circumstances of this engagement. He was only good to you for the inheritance with your name on it, for the sake of having an accessory.

It was for all these reasons that you were not looking forward to the upcoming gala hosted by the university.

Naturally you were expected to attend with your betrothed and do all the usual couple-in-public things.

Kiss his cheek. Hold his hand. Laugh at the appropriate times. Act like you were in love. It was sure to be exhausting. With Coriolanus' expectations, you would be on your toes, glancing over your shoulder at every turn. You were already dreading it all.

You nearly slipped on the icy steps in your heels, gripping Coriolanus' hand. He turned his head, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Careful, darling." Your next step was slow, supported by him, but you still managed to slide. He huffed through his nose, hoisting his bag over his shoulder and leaning down to hoist you into his arms.

When you gasped, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I'll contact someone about salting the steps." As if he hadn't just done what he'd done, he began to descend the stairs again, ignoring the watchful eyes of onlookers in the street.

Naturally there'd been a flutter in your heart at his show of strength, one that you quickly suppressed. Only for appearances, you reminded yourself. He just wants to seem like a gentleman.

You'd known little of Coriolanus Snow from your time at the Academy, only that he was a star pupil, the apple of nearly every teacher's eye. For the most part, you'd kept to yourself, keeping your grades up and your head down. If he'd recognized you from school when you'd become acquainted, he hadn't shown it.

The rock on your finger was a sign of intimacy that you hadn't earned. Given how shy you'd been at the Academy, before Coriolanus you'd never kissed anybody. He'd caught you by surprise when he did it for the first time on one of your study dates, late at night in the library. It was another thing you shelved away as mere curiosity, almost-marital duty.

The strangest thing about it was that you'd been alone. Not a single other soul in the library that night, and still he'd kissed you, lips surprisingly soft against yours. Sometimes in the moments between wakefulness and sleep, you replayed it, wondering things you didn't want the answers to.

You kept your eyes on the scenery once in the car, enchanted by the snow that began to drift from the sky, fat flakes melting on the window. Determinedly, you were not looking at him, although you could feel his sharp blue gaze on you.

Only once he said your name did you turn, blinking innocently. Coriolanus had set his bag to the side, and you let him bridge the space between your seats to grasp your hand. “I’ll be there to pick you up at seven tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to, we can just find each other once we’re there,” you said, looking down at your joined hands.

“It would be best if we arrived together,” he countered, and you nodded simply, looking out the window again. In truth, you’d known he would insist on going together- you’d only wanted to see how he’d refuse.

Every facet of Coriolanus Snow you uncovered was one you turned over until there was nothing left to study about it. He was so closed, you felt as though you were collecting fragments and piecing the puzzle together. Heaven knew if you’d ever finish it.

You never quite knew which part of him you would uncover next. Even now, as the car parked in front of your home and he looked at you expectantly, you were unsure what he was thinking. Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he looked pleased, reaching into his bag and rummaging for a moment. “I want you to wear this tomorrow. Hopefully it’ll go with your dress.”

His hand emerged from the bag holding a sleek box, which he promptly opened to reveal a creamy string of pearls. Perfect and pure and predictable. But they were beautiful, and you risked a look into his eyes, surprised by how much you liked the gift.

"It will," you confirmed, accepting the box from him once he'd closed it. "Thank you. They're lovely."

"You're welcome, darling." You gave him a little smile as you tucked your new necklace into your bag, reaching for the door handle. Coriolanus caught your elbow before you could step outside. "Seven o'clock. Remember."

"I will," you affirmed, blinking innocently at him until he let go, leaning back in his seat. The image wasn't at all bad on the eyes- Coriolanus Snow, knees lazily spread, eyes blue as a summer sky, expression slightly amused. He was a picture many a woman would like to have in their hands.

You shut the door before you could think anything else you didn't want to.

The party was dreadfully predictable, but at least your dress was pretty.

Low neckline, thin straps, silky material with a high slit in the leg. The color matched his tie- deep wine red. The pearls he'd given you fell perfectly on your collarbone, and you'd noted his look of approval when you'd gotten in the car. He preferred when you wore his family's color, and you supposed you'd done it tonight so things would go smoothly.

His hand was on your waist, big and warm as he spoke to a man whose name you did not know, making you feel more like a decoration than ever. You were looking around, trying to distract yourself, but your fiancé squeezed your side, making you turn your head back to him. His signal. You weren't being interesting enough.

"I agree," you said automatically, and he lifted his eyebrows, searching your face.

"Let's get you a drink," he said, reaching for a glass before you could protest and setting it in your grasp.

Coriolanus watched you expectantly, and you decided, screw it. Pulling a wide-eyed doll face look, you batted your lashes, pushing it back at him. "You said I can only have one tonight." It was true that you'd already had one, but it had been non-alcoholic, tasting vaguely of peppermint. You didn't feel like drinking tonight, knowing alcohol would only make you sluggish.

He melted a little- you could see it as he took the glass, pressing a kiss to your temple. "That's right, sweetheart." You watched as he took a sip, fingers rubbing up and down your side. Trying not to slump, you turned your head, weary of what was sure to be hours more of this. Of talking, of pretending to be interested, of clinging to your fiancé's arm and acting enamored with him.

Coriolanus' hand on your waist tightened, and you looked up at him, confused. There was a shift in the air- something was wrong. Your heart began to pound, and you blinked, shoulders tensing. A feeling of dread pierced you, and the instinct to run was strong. You had to get out of here.

Covering his arm on your waist, you began to speak, voice tiny and strained. "Coriolanus-"

The lights were cut. You heard the hiss of something being shattered and then you were on the floor, body tense with fear as Coriolanus pulled you into him. His arms were fully wrapped around you, covering your back and pressing your face into his chest. You didn't resist, feeling limp as the threads of anxiety pulled you tight.

It felt like an eternity that you were on the ground under your fiancé, the worried chatter in the air causing tears to spring to your eyes. You tried to hold it back, but a whimper escaped you, faint under the noise.

Embarrassingly, Coriolanus seemed to catch it, his arms under you tightening, his nose falling to your hair. You unwillingly took in a sharp breath, your tears building up to the point where you couldn’t freeze them anymore.

He didn’t say a word, just shifted so you were more comfortable, one hand starting to rub up and down your back faintly. You fell into a lapse, senses blurring, mind going numb. Rebels. It had to be rebels. And this was the perfect time to attack too, at one of the most important events of the year.

In your fog, you didn’t notice Coriolanus nudging your side, voice hushed but urgent. Snapping awake, you found his eyes in the dark. “Darling. We’re going to go to the safe room. Come on.”

Feeling weak, you tiredly reached for him. He exhaled, sliding his arms under you to hoist your body into his chest. As he stood, you hid your face in his shoulder, nearly trembling. Suddenly he was the safest person in the world- your only hope in this dark hour.

He was all you had.

You barely registered making it to the safe room, only that he was there and he was warm and he was safe. Someone else was speaking and you weren’t sure if it was to you. Fabric draped over your shoulders, and you shivered as he pulled the edges of his suit jacket over you.

It was nearly humiliating how shaken you were. In all the parties you’d attended, all the events you’d graced, the rebels that were whispered about so much hadn’t ever shown their faces. A part of you had shelved them away as an urban legend, something feared but never come to life.

But now as the crashes from upstairs grew louder, the evidence was overwhelming. Looking up, you found Coriolanus’ eyes, still sharp although the rest of him was the closest to a mess you’d ever seen on him. His hair was no longer neat, tie slightly askew. He was kneeling on the floor with you, hands on your knees. He was studying you like a map, trying to ask something you didn’t know the answer to.

Shivering, you tensed and he squeezed your knee lightly. Softly, Coriolanus said, "It's okay. We're going to be okay."

With no choice but to believe him, you nodded, eyes darting around the darkened room. For once, nobody was paying attention to the two of you, caught up in their own fear. In a different setting, that would mean you could drop your act, seek respite from your game of pretend. But you found yourself leaning into him, your forehead meeting his chest.

Shifting, Coriolanus parted his legs so you were closer to him, leaning sideways so you were right against his heart. Covering your ear with his other hand, he dropped his chin to your head. You closed your eyes.

He'd never done anything like this before, but you supposed you'd never let him.

It felt like hours before the lights came back on. Even then, you kept your face hidden, and his hand remained on your back. You took in a breath as he pressed his lips to the part in your hair. "We're going to go home now."

It seemed that all you could do was nod. Coriolanus helped you stand, and the rest was a blur.

Getting out of the building and into the car were blips in memory, mere seconds to you. All you knew was that he was there, grounding you to the earth and holding you close.

"I'll get you home as soon as I can," he murmured, and you shook your head, fingers closing around his shirt.

"Can we go to yours?" The words were tiny, punctuated immediately by his kiss to your temple. He nodded, immediately telling the driver where to go. You clung to him all the way there, steps shaky when you finally did get out of the car with him.

Reaching the floor to the penthouse, you forgot your fear for a moment as you looked around wide eyed. You'd never been here before, and your imagination hadn't done it justice. It was somehow sleeker than you'd thought it'd be, more polished. Coriolanus flipped on the lights, revealing a tree in the corner, scarlet ornaments gleaming along with the star on top. You stopped, staring at it with wonder in your gaze.

"Darling?" He paused too, hand on your elbow. "What's wrong?"

"I just..." you almost didn't say it, but something compelled you to. "I didn't expect you to have a Christmas tree."

There was a pause. Then he nodded, swallowing. "Of course I do."

You let him lead you to a bedroom that must have been his, if the desk in the corner strewn with papers was any indication. He left you standing close to the bed, disappearing behind a nearby door. While waiting, your eyes fell to your hand, at the ring sparkling on your wedding finger.

Here was the intimacy you'd lacked all this time. Hardly a bit of him had been known to you, and now you were swathed in it. His scent, how he lived. It was intoxicating.

"Here." You looked up at him, suddenly before you holding out a folded pair of silk pajamas. His.

Taking them hesitantly, you whispered, "What will you sleep in?"

Coriolanus shrugged, a boyish move you wouldn't have expected from him. Putting a hand on your shoulder, he brushed it off. "Let's get you to your bedroom."

You swallowed, looking to the door. It seemed terrifying to leave this room, to be alone with only the thoughts in your head. Inhaling sharply, you looked up at him, trying to hide the conflict within.

Hesitating, he studied you, looking into your eyes. "Do you want to stay here?"

Fidgeting, you bit your lip, wearing a hole in the ground with your eyes.

Sighing a bit, he nodded, turning you back around. "Okay. Alright." You let him guide you closer to the bed. "Change. I'll be back, alright?" Though a pit of dread opened in your stomach at the thought of him leaving you, even for a minute, you nodded.

Before you could ask, he reached around, unzipping part of your dress and leaving you afterwards, shutting the door with a click. You methodically undressed, stepping out of your heels and donning his pajamas, trying to ignore how cozy it felt to be surrounded by something that smelled like him.

Sitting on the bed, you took a moment to look around this space you'd built up to be so mysterious in your mind. It was easy to see how this space was his when you really looked at it. Wandering over to his desk, you scanned his possessions, smiling a bit when you saw his planner, tonight's event penciled in alongside your name in neat cursive.

When he returned, you were picking up your dress from where it had pooled on the floor, hooking your shoes on your fingers. Coriolanus set two mugs on the bedside, holding out his hands and nodding at the mugs. "I can take those. Drink that, it'll make you feel better."

You sat on the bed, reaching for your allotted one and taking a sip. Warm chocolate with a hint of peppermint. A little smile crept onto your face, and you drank some more as he set your dress neatly over a chair, your shoes with it.

Coriolanus began to unbutton his shirt, and you looked away, listening to his belt clink as he undid it, fabric rustling. The mattress sunk on your other side and you looked up when his arm reached across you to take his drink. A faint blush colored your cheeks when you saw that he was shirtless, and you averted your eyes even when he leaned against the headboard, holding out an arm for you.

"Here." He nodded when you looked over. "It's okay." When you still didn't venture over, he raised an eyebrow. "We're engaged."

That got you over, leaning into his body as he settled his hand to your side. Coriolanus' fingers stirred a soft rhythm on your hip, and you felt yourself relax. In the back of your mind, you wondered how something so terrifying had coaxed you into him so quickly.

Thinking back to all the times you'd smothered the twinges of what was caused by his touch, you wondered if it was sudden at all. Maybe it had been there all along, just waiting for you to accept it.

Swallowing, you softly said, "I've never seen your room before."

His response was quiet too. "You never asked to."

Silence. You looked up, meeting his eyes. Coriolanus' mouth was pulled straight, but you could see something else behind it. He was tired, and the usual mask he kept up wasn't as firm as it normally was.

Maybe he wanted what you pretended not to. Maybe he was just as lonely in this as you were.

You took in a breath, lowering your head to his shoulder and closing your eyes. He took your empty mug before it could tip, and you let your hand float down to his chest, finding a home there. His body seemed to loosen, and you relished the feeling.

"Tonight was scary," you found yourself whispering, and he stroked your side.

"It was." You nodded, letting him slide you down so you were laying with him, something soft covering your legs.

"I'm glad you were with me." It was so soft, you weren't sure if he would hear it.

You swore he pressed another kiss to your hair. "I'm always going to protect you."

It only made you feel safer as you slipped into sleep, swaddled in his pajamas and his arms.

[wormw00ds]

Anus #1 and Anus 2#

[jo-the-cosmic-being]

I swear if someone comes to me again saying that young Snow is not fucking fine af THEN BITCH YOU AREN’T FUCKING STRAIGHT GIRL!!!!

HOW CAN SOMEONE SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT???!?!?!!?!?

HOW???!!???!????????!!!!?!

AAAAÆÁAAAAAÂAàãaaaaæAâåAaaaÄĀAAAÀA

[anirexxic]

“You look like you shouldn’t be here.”

[desireve]

freezing hunger ¡ coriolanus snow drabble

coriolanus snow is the type of boyfriend who refused to release his grasp. In the Capitol, you are unique beauty, eccentricity, and vibrant allure. Your image outshone even the brilliance of your kindness. Yet, the hunger of the Capitol couldn't be satiated by your pretty face alone. They craved more, and Snow was there to purposely keep them starving. 

In every corner, in every party, within the academia, and through the districts, your radiant presence was always followed with the icy shadow. Where you went, Coriolanus was there, fiercely protective, asserting his claim, wielding his gun, and manipulating his own image. He didn't just breathe for you; he lived, survived, and killed for you. And he'd do it repeatedly, shamelessly displaying that he wasn't just solely about you but was the one craving you the most.

"no hands this time; my dress is way too shiny.." you hummed, facing the mirror in a dress as vibrant as lichfield angels. Snow stood behind you, eyes locked on the reflection, fingers already tracing your waist. The mirror bore witness to his intense gaze, ‘’can’t promise my darling''.

okay maybe i see the potential, going to write a whole fic...

[thetypewritingkate]

sneak peek of my fanfic, title to be determined:

"Maybe it was time to admit that the Mockingjay had finally gotten the best of Snow.

The smell of his failure taunts him. Looms around the room, coiling itself around his throat until he can't take it anymore. Snow can't hide the shake in his hands as he practically rips the rose from his pocket and drops it on his desk.

Snow refuses to allow the sigh lodged in his throat to escape into the room of lingering eyes. Instead, he just looks into the nothingness in front of him.

"Like it or not, the boy is the only thing we have left. We can't kill him. We can only think of another way to use him against her." 

And so they went back to the drawing board, suggesting every way that this boy could be used to break the Mockingjay. And when each suggestion was inevitably dismissed, they would think of another. And another. And another. 

Because Snow refused to forfeit his pieces this late in the game. He refused to melt, despite the ever-approaching heat.

[rookthebird]

to me the most interesting snow and katniss dynamic is if Lucy Gray is metaphorically in the room with them.

“me, the dictator obsessed with training me as his successor, and the girl he loved as a teenager who looks exactly like me but is also nothing like me but who is inspiring me to survive him.”

she is haunting the narrative!!!

[sweetlucygray]

sadly the only copy of s10 of thg i found is in the spanish dub but the only thing theyre saying is i love you and i know thats not right so can someone hook me up with their panem plus pleasee

[janeaustensgf123]

The Percy Jackson renaissance and The Hunger Games renaissance happening in the same year is something so special to me

[francixoxoxo]

˚ .✧ Precious as Rubies

𝒞ℴ𝓇𝒾ℴ𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈 𝒮𝓃ℴ𝓌 𝒳 ℛℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓇

𝒞ℴ𝓇𝒾ℴ𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒽ℯ 𝒸ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈ℴ𝓂ℯ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒽ℯ𝓁𝓁． 𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝓅𝓇ℴ𝓋ℯ𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓌𝓇ℴ𝓃𝑔， ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓎ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓈．

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭!

𝐓𝐖: 𝐦𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Lollllll sorry for angst

Coriolanus’ world had nearly stopped turning when the doctor told him your pregnancy could be fatal.

He swore he would never, never love the child who killed the love of his life. The only woman he could ever love. Coryo’s late-night tears became cries of anger, tears of spite. That damn fetus. He did this to you, he put that parasite into your perfect body and now you wouldn’t let him fix his mistake. Now you forced him to live with the consequences.

He would never love the child that killed you.

Coriolanus had been paralyzed with fear that all that spite, all that hate for his own baby might dampen whatever love he had left, now that she had let you live. He was proved impossibly wrong, the very moment Ruby wrapped her little, chubby fingers around his pinky and his azure eyes flooded with tears. Oh, it was him wrapped around her finger from then on.

The first night you brought her home, Coriolanus held you close to him, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead and cheeks. Telling you just how grateful he was for you. Murmuring just how much he adored you. Putting his foot down and whispering that you two would have no more children after this whole wreck. It seemed like just after you two fell asleep, Ruby’s cries came from the nursery.

Coryo moved to get up, but you shook your head. “She’s hungry. I’ll get it.” You cooed, a gentle hand on his chest pushing him back against the mattress. He grumbled something but obliged you.

When you slipped back into his arms, Coryo stirred only enough to press a kiss to your hairline and mumble a goodnight. You were exhausted, sleep was calling your name.

Until a few hours later you awoke to your daughter’s bawls from the room over. This time, your husband threw the covers off him before you could protest. He leaned over you to press a kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “It’s only fair.”

You don’t protest. Childbirth has exhausted you, quite frankly. So you let your eyes flutter shut, and your mind slip into sleep.

You wake up only just a few hours later, though not to Ruby crying. Some instinct in you forces you to your feet— Coryo isn’t in his side of the bed. Barefoot and sore, you make your way to the nursery, all sorts of nerves shooting through you.

When you push open the door, the hallway lights pour into the dark nursery to illuminate Coriolanus, sitting in the rocking chair beside Ruby’s bassinet. He was absolutely knocked out, baby in his arms, bottle empty in his hand and head tipped back against the chair, blonde curls loose and mussed. Oh, what a sight.

You worked hard to keep your laughter to yourself, carefully stepping closer and kissing Coryo’s forehead. You almost lifted Ruby from his arms, but it was such a tender vision that you couldn’t bring yourself to. You slept very soundly, knowing that your baby was safely tucked into her father’s arms.

Coriolanus proved himself over and over again just how good a father he could be. You and him both agreed that you needed to be involved with Ruby, you couldn’t just leave her to a nanny as most capitol socialites would.

Ruby was a blessing, and Coryo always treated her as such. He read to her at night, you’d sit in that same rocking chair he’d fallen asleep in all those years ago, looking between your daughter and husband. His eyes would be trained on the book, occasionally he smiled up at Ruby. Oh, she’d grown into the most darling little girl.

With your dark locks in the shape of Coryo’s thick curls, and his bright, sapphire eyes, rosy little cheeks and sweet smiles. Ruby stole everyone’s heart the moment she spoke. Coriolanus absolutely spoiled her, adorning her little neck in expensive yet simple and childish necklaces, a favorite of hers becoming a dainty ruby on a golden chain. You dressed her in the cutest baby doll dresses, wrapping her up in the best fashions and most darling colors to suit her cheery nature. Every toy that girl wanted, her father was holding behind his back, cooing for her to close her eyes as he presented it to her the very next day. Spoiled absolutely rotten, you’d say to Coryo.

“Well, I don’t see a problem.” Coriolanus shrugged, looking up from the documents on his desk and peering at you through his lashes. You were sprawled out over a chaise against the wall of his office, feet propped up on the armrest and a hand splayed over your belly. You’d put a five year old Ruby to bed about thirty minutes ago. it was another late night for Coryo and a restless one for you, so you figured you might stay up with him.

You shake your head. “She’ll get a big head if we aren’t careful.” Coriolanus shook his head, smiling softly to himself. He scrawled his signature on a bill.

“She hasn’t yet. Ruby’s a very humble girl.” Coriolanus announced with pride, glancing towards you. You didn’t seem convinced, still worrying for your daughter. “My love, you never got snobbish. I could shower her in jewels bigger than her fist and she would still take after you.” You were relieved to find that, years later, he was correct.

She never got greedy, or snobbish. Surrounded by spoiled children of her father’s colleagues, you were very careful to remind her to be humble. To be kind.

While you and Coryo got ready for a gala, she’d sit on your bed, watching her father clasp expensive diamond necklaces around your neck, pressing sweet kisses to your shoulder as he zipped up the back of your dress. Watching as you fixed his tie, listening as your wit brought laughter from his lips. The two of you showed Ruby what love was, what it meant to give your whole heart to a person.

Coryo would stand behind you, letting you use up the mirror as he rested his hands on your hips. You’d adjust your hair, and your husband’d rest his chin on your shoulder, meeting Ruby’s eyes in the mirror. “Isn’t your mother beautiful?” He’d say, every single time, lifting his brows. And every single time, Ruby’d nod enthusiastically.

Coriolanus certainly made sure to raise a daughter who adored her mother as much as he did, especially when you’d gone through such hell to have one at all.

When Ruby turned seven, Coryo had excused himself from breakfast for a moment. You’d stood behind your daughter, your hands on her shoulders, raising your brows at your husband as he reentered. Ruby was watching him with big eyes.

“You’re a responsible little girl, aren’t you?” Coriolanus raised his brows, but unable to resist a smile at his daughter. He held his hands behind his back, hiding the present from her. She nodded passionately. “And you’ll take care of this gift?” Ruby would nod her head off her neck if she could.

Coryo glanced up at you, and at your little nod, he brought his hands ‘round to his front to present to a Ruby a kitten, hardly the size of both his palms. Ruby gaped at the little muss of fur, pelt white as snow. “For me? It’s for me?” Ruby gasped, grabbing at the cat eagerly.

“It’s for you, darling girl.” You cooed, watching her hold the kitten. Coryo steps around his daughter and her new cat to slip an arm around your waist.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” Ruby squealed, moving to sit on her knees with her legs tucked under her, setting the kitten on the floor of the dining room. You watched as Ruby stroked the kitten twixt the ears, her brows drawing in deep thought.

“What’s the matter?” You frown. Ruby shakes her head, shifting the little kitten to the crook of her elbow and coming to hug Coriolanus. Her arms could only wrap around his hips, her head hardly reaching his stomach. His hand instantly came to card through her dark locks. “Nothing… I just don’t know what to name her.” Ruby mumbles into her father’s suit.

Coriolanus reaches down and scoops her up, resting her on his hip. He pretends he isn’t grossed out by the cat on his new suit jacket. “Well, it’s up to you.” He raises his brows. You shrug, slipping a hand between your daughter and husband to stroke Ruby’s cheek.

“What about…” You squint a moment, staring at the rosy hue of your daughter’s cheeks. The color of a— “Poppy?”

Ruby’s sapphire eye lit up, that was the one. She gasped a little, smiling brightly. “Poppy!”

“Mm, mama’s just full of good ideas.” Coryo hummed, leaning over to press a tender but quick kiss to your lips. He turns so Ruby can get a chance to smack a little kiss to your cheek. God, he wished she could stay so little forever.

But she couldn’t. She grew too fast for both of your likings. Before you knew it she was a teenager, earning scoldings from her father practically left and right. “She’s got your rebellious streak,” Coriolanus would huff in the aftermath of a reprimanding. You’d often send him to her room to make things up before bed. He would go reluctantly, but to your satisfaction always come back with a lighter heart and an easier mind.

Before your eyes, Ruby grew into a captivating woman. Yet often she’d still sit on the floor beside your chair, laying her head in your lap and letting her long, luscious dark curls wash across your legs. Ruby would come to you when she was arguing with her father, huffing harsh words about Coriolanus, but biting her tongue as you gently defended his intentions. You’d push your fingers through her hair, watching as those familiar azure eyes stared up at you with an equally familiar adoration.

“Mama, he’s just cruel sometimes.” Ruby muttered, nosing your thigh, her arms tightening around your waist. You absentmindedly braided a few ringlets together as you shake your head.

“He means well, baby.” You promise. Ruby was complaining of the most recent fight, over a man she was seeing. You personally took a liking to the boy, but Coryo made it very clear to you that he didn’t want him anywhere near his little girl. Ruby insisted that she wasn’t so little, that her father didn’t get to make her decisions for her anymore. “He just wants a good partner for you.”

“Nandor is a good man.” Ruby sighed, tilted her head and lifted her eyes to your face. “Won’t you convince him?”

You smile a bit regretfully, stroking the backs of your fingers down her rosy cheeks. “Not good enough for you, my heart.” Nothing would ever be good enough for Ruby, not to Coriolanus. But you agreed to talk to your husband about the boy.

Sometimes you missed when she had been little, moldable and curious. But you were so, unbelievably proud of how far from moldable she was now, as a young woman. Your Ruby was a steadfast, wise girl.

Late at night, you’d murmur these thoughts to Coryo. You’d trace the extra creases in his handsome face that time had etched as he spoke without any bite in his words. “She’s bullheaded.” He’d smile, the action creasing his eyes. You mirrored him.

“Like her father.” You’d remind him, gently.

No matter how stubborn she was, Coriolanus absolutely loved his daughter with his whole heart. He’d try and put up a strong face but she had him wrapped around her finger since the day she was born. And had been making Coryo proud ever since. Proud of her intelligence. Proud of her fiery spirit. Proud of the woman she had became.

All the pain Ruby had caused you was infinitely worth it.

Where the time had gone, Coriolanus didn’t have a clue.

He fidgets with the cuffs of his suit, trying to retrace his steps as if to find exactly where the past two decades went. Twenty-five years. Too soon, he had told Ruby, but that girl was stubborn as all hell. Too soon, he had told you, but you’d smiled and reminded him of how young you both were at your wedding.

Still, Coriolanus drew his eyebrows, he recently had become aware of the amount of creases in his forehead all that time had awarded him. Ruby had just been born, hadn’t she? He’d just had the scare of his life; the relief of his life. He’d just fallen asleep at her crib, watching her sleep through tired eyes. He’d just been picking out a kitten for his little girl, just been smiling like a fool at you while he let her stand on his feet as they danced, he could’ve sworn Ruby had just been little.

But clearly that wasn’t the case. He rubbed his temple, trying to sort the words that he needed to say when he returned to your side later. Trying to think of how he could describe how distraught he felt.

Coryo was giving her away. Too soon. Too young. Oh, it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. You seemed so calm. You were always calm, though, weren’t you? He’s glad Ruby didn’t inherit his anxiety.

No, you seemed happy for her. Coriolanus was happy for her, of course. But he couldn’t overlook the fact that Ruby would no longer be under his roof. No longer would she be at his breakfast table, or just down the hall, or just in the garden. He would send her off well, of course; he made sure she and her new husband had the house of their dreams, completely paid for. But that wasn’t any consolation.

It was bittersweet, that’s the word he decided on.

Coryo stood the moment the door opened, smoothing down his tie and buttoning his suit jacket. A smile creeps across his face as he takes in Ruby, his daughter, his darling girl, dressed in a smooth, white sheath dress. He steps forward, brows lifting as his eyes drift over her long sleeves, the lace around her waist, the elegance of the dress.

“Oh, darling.” Coriolanus breathes, nostrils flaring to keep the tears out of his eyes. He lifts her hand, giving her a little twirl and eyeing the lace of her veil. “You’re a beautiful bride.”

“I feel beautiful, really.” Ruby grins, and Coryo is forced to face it. Forced to look into her eyes, her irises like mirrors of his own, forced to realize that she was grown. She was a woman, not a little girl. She looked like you, his heart swelled to think.

Maybe his eyes are wetting, because Ruby hooks her arm around the crook of his elbow, and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. Coriolanus turns his face to look at her, smiling a bit sadly. “You ready for this?”

“Not in the slightest.” He admits, and as Ruby laughs he realizes that her eyes were wet too. His other hand comes to cup over hers resting on his arm.

Ruby stares at the double doors that they’d walked in front of, her eyes wide and bright. Coriolanus inspected her face. Oh, he didn’t care how old she got, or where she lived, nor who with, he would never stop adoring his daughter.

“I love you, Papa.” Ruby breathes as two servants begin to push the doors open, the muffled piano suddenly filling her ears.

Coryo blinks away some more tears, his chest swelling with a deep breath. “I loved you first.”

Perhaps half a year later, Ruby told the two of you over lunch that she was pregnant.

Pregnant.

Ruby, your little darling girl, was having a child of her own. Oh, you felt so happy that your heart threatened to swell enough to burst. Your daughter was making her own life, and though Coriolanus was convinced that it would be separate from yours, you two would most certainly be in it.

Coryo tried his best to hide it, but you could see those little tears pricking his eyes. Tears of joy, that boyish grin stretching across his lips told you. You clasped his hand tight, the gesture reciprocated with a lingering peck to your cheek.

You feared the worst for a bit. You were paralyzed by the thought that Ruby’s pregnancy would be as horrific as yours was.

But she seemed fine. She didn’t become gaunt, as you had. She was full, glowing and happy. Ruby didn’t feel faint or ill, though she did have normal aches. Everything about her pregnancy was just normal. Perfectly healthy.

Ruby insisted on having her baby at home. You had your qualms, but that girl had always been bullheaded. You just asked that she call you and Coriolanus, so you could be there.

Well, she hadn’t. Neither had her dolt of a husband.

Her dolt of a husband who, scrambling over his words on the phone to Coriolanus, he thought the amount of blood was normal, thought nothing of it, until it had been too late. The midwife couldn’t staunch the blood.

It took everything in him to not kill Nandor himself. He instead sent one of his men, his nostrils flaring as he used the phone built into the back of the limousine to call him, clutching your hand. That idiot, that fool, that devil had practically killed Ruby. The moment he hung up, he was consoling you. Coryo pet your hair away from your face as you wept, your fists clutching onto his suit.

How could this happen? She was perfectly fine, you thought. “She was healthy, she was meant to be healthy. This wasn’t meant to happen! It was meant to be better for her!” You rambled as you bawled, sobbing into Coriolanus’s chest. You stood in the corner of the room, paramedics swarming your daughter. Oh, your poor daughter.

Your darling girl.

Your Ruby.

Coryo, for one, was furious. White hot rage licked at his skin like wildfire. All of his power. All of his control. It meant nothing here. He knew this silly home birth bullshit would only end poorly. But had Ruby listened to him? Had Ruby accepted his money, his offer of the best doctors, the best medicine, the best hospitals? No. She never listened to him, that girl.

He feels out of his mind. His hand is on your band, holding you close and tight, his nose is in your hair, his eyes are stinging, but his mind feels like trudging through murky water.

Coriolanus vaguely recalls wishing that the baby would die, and not you. That God would save you, his love, his life, his everything, in return for taking the fetus. When he got to have both, he wondered how he could ever pray for such a thing.

But he was certain now that God was listening. What a sick joke, he thought, to let Coryo hold his baby. To let him dance with her, read to her, walk with her, love her, only to rip her away. Oh, he regrets every vile thought he’d ever had about Ruby before she was born, when all she was to him was a parasite trying to kill you.

She was killing you now, all over again. Your body shook with sobs, the sound heartbreaking. It was a sharp, consuming pain, to lose a child. To lose a daughter. You felt as if something integral to your soul had been shattered. What hadn’t taken you, had taken your baby.

What a cruel joke.

You weren’t sure when Coriolanus let go of you, his arms unwinding from around you to receive the infant from a paramedic. Cleaned and wrapped in an inoffensive, white cloth. There wasn’t much your distraught mind could manage besides resting a hand on— as the paramedics told you— your granddaughter’s head. You sniffled as fresh bouts of tears poured down your cheeks.

For a moment, Coriolanus was terrified that this was Deja vu. Paralyzing fear shot through him, fear that he would be unable to love this baby. The same way he feared he would be unable to love the child that killed you, he feared he’d resent the child that killed Ruby. His darling Ruby. How could he feel kinship to the parasite that killed his daughter?

But as he held the infant in his hands, his brow pulled taut, oh, no, it was clear. Crystal. He murmured, voice featherlight, “I’ve got you.” You thumped your head to his shoulder, your tears wetting his sleeve. You saw some kind of fierce love in Coryo’s eyes, his jaw ticking.

He could see Ruby in her.

[milliesfishes]

꣑ৎ౨ৎthrowing a halloween party as coriolanus' first lady (part two)꣑ৎ౨ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

The contents of your list hadn't stopped banging around in your head for the last few weeks. Every second you were awake you were thinking, planning, imagining something to do with your party.

You felt as though you were moving in slow motion while the rest of the world raced by. And some days it was the other way around. Either way, time did not move the way it was supposed to, and you suffered for it.

Now as you looked at the various papers spread across your desk, it was like the clock was taunting you. Leaning back in your chair, you tried to view it all from a higher perspective. It felt like a mess now but maybe it would be better put together?

Running a hand through your hair, you shut your eyes briefly, trying to ward off the headache that had been pounding at your head for two days. The flowers, the food, your costume. Your eyes flew open. Your costume. You needed to go pick it up so ensure the measurements were correct.

Standing up so quickly that spots dotted your vision, you smoothed the front of your sleek sweater dress and searched for wherever you'd discarded your shoes. Sudden movements only made your head pound worse but still you rushed. There was no time to slow down.

Even as you sook out your heels, you were going over details. Make sure it's the right brand of champagne, approve the decoration sketches-

Aha. You reached for one black heel, cramming it onto your foot and doing the same with the other. Maybe after stopping at the seamstress you could pop into the flower shop instead of calling them back. Surely it'd be better to view the arrangements in person?

Standing up straight, you turned to the nearby floor-length mirror, straightening your dress. It had gotten rumpled from sitting down for so long. Behind you, the door opened and your husband appeared, shutting it behind him.

"Coryo," you greeted absentmindedly, raking your fingers through your hair as a makeshift brush.

He stood behind you, setting his hands on your waist, but you made no movement to turn into him or tilt your cheek up for a kiss as usual. "Sweetheart."

"I've got to head out," you said, stepping out of his grasp to snatch your handbag from the floor by your desk chair. "But I might be back before dinner."

"Where to this time?" He sounded a little wary, but you brushed it off. All this time you'd been carefully piecing together your event he'd been quietly supportive, asking you tentatively about what you wanted to be asked about, which was very little. But you could feel him growing worried and you weren't sure why.

"Seamstress. Then to look at the flowers." You brushed it off, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm not sure how long it'll take. And when I get home I have to go over a few more things, maybe call the catering and ask them-"

"Darling." Coriolanus took you by the arms, his blue eyes boring a hole into you. "You need to relax. Stop for a minute."

"I can't," you said hurriedly. "I'm behind. And there's still so much to do." Taking in a deep breath, you squeezed your fist, manicured nails digging into your palm for a moment before you released. "I'm fine."

"I've watched you running around for nearly a month," he countered, still holding you by the arms. "You should take the night off. I feel like I haven't seen you when you aren't asleep in weeks."

"You can see me after the party's over." But that didn't work on him, and he smoothed that same stubborn strand from your eyes and exhaled softly.

"Darling..." he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "You've been doing such a good job with everything but you're going to wear yourself out."

"I want everything to be perfect," you insisted, fussing with your purse strap. "I don't have time to stop-"

"Hey." Coriolanus tilted your chin up, looking you right in the eye. "It's okay. No need to get worked up over something like this." He rubbed your cheek. "Sweetheart. You're going to leave all this in here and come with me."

"No!" The forcefulness of the word surprised both of you. You tried to remedy it. "I'm sorry...I just...I can't. I need to do this."

He must have seen the determination in your eyes. Or maybe those blue eyes could stare straight into your soul, and see the new dreadful feeling that was poking its head from where you'd shoved it so many times. Either way, now Coriolanus was gently pulling you to sit back down, taking your bag and setting it to the side.

You stared at your lap until he knelt and took both your hands, squeezing them lightly. When you looked up at him, his eyes tore it all from your lips.

"If I don't do a good job..." your lower lip began to tremble.

"You will do a good job," he cut in, rubbing your hands with his thumbs. Coriolanus' brow furrowed and he reached up to cup your cheek with one hand. "Is this what all this is about?"

Silence. You nodded, blinking quickly to still the tears in your eyes, an effort that did not work. Coriolanus hummed, stroking your cheek.

Then in a quick movement, he stood up, bringing you to your feet too. Before you could ask what he was doing, he crushed you to his chest, holding your head to his shoulder. You let out a little cry at that, arms twining around his waist and hugging him close. All the tension and stress from the past few weeks came pouring out of you in the form of tears, and it was almost relieving.

"I'm going to run you a bath," he murmured, lips finding the top of your head. "And then we're going to relax. You can pick up where you left off some other time. But tonight is for us."

Melting in his hands, all you could do was nod. He rubbed your back soothingly, ironing the places where your dress had bunched up. You sighed, some of the pieces of your mental list tearing away and dissipating into smoke. Breathing in once, his rosy scent engulfed you. It was his flowery soap. Your favorite smell in the world.

He filled your bath in the room adjacent to his own, wanting you to step further away from your work, you gathered. There, soaking in his pale porcelain bathtub, you began to relax for the first time in who knew how long.

Coriolanus sat with you, pulling a chair from the other room and propping it close, obliging when you reached out a hand for him. He kissed your knuckles, letting you grasp his fingers even though yours were wet.

It all began to spill out the more you sat with him. What had been causing all the stress in your mind and body this last week was now in the air, and he listened intently.

"What's your costume, sweetheart?" he asked, smiling as you played with his hand, bubbles frothing at your wrist.

"An angel," you said, looking away shyly with a smile.

Squeezing your hand, Coriolanus stroked your thumb with his own. "Well isn't that perfect?" It made you giggle, maybe the first time you'd laughed in a long time.

Later he had you wrapped up in his arms, cozy under the plush blankets as he ran his fingers through your hair. You breathed easy now, every semblance of tension wrung out of your body with nothing remaining but exhaustion.

"Go to sleep, darling," he whispered, kissing your damp hair.

The covers smelled like him. You shifted your bare legs, smooth against the sheets, and let your eyes fall shut. He whispered that he loved you before you passed out.

And you could feel it surrounding you, breathing air into your lungs and soft under your back.

How much he loved you.

tagging @kellielovesmovies because <3

mixedfandxms <3

[stephsycamore]

I think the most radical thing the hunger games does is tell young people that the most revolutionary thing you can do is have unconditional love for humanity. Katniss throughout the entire series is guided by a deep sense of compassion for the people around her. It is what causes her to volunteer, to bury rue, to mercy kill cato, its why she tries to save peeta, why finnick telling her to remember who the real enemy is works, and even though her compassion for the larger world falters when peeta is kidnapped, it comes back when she visits hospitals and asks for mercy for other victors and ultimately, it is love and belief in a better humanity that makes her kill coin. Through it all, she maintains an unfaltering belief in the fundemental goodness of humanity, which is diametrically opposed to dr gaul's and snow's worldview. Peeta is even more unwaveringly compassionate

So the series tells young people that the most revolutionary thing you can be is compassionate. Let compassion drive your politics. Let yourself believe in the fundemental goodness of people. And i think that's deeply important in a world that touts the superiority of pure reason or logic, to allow yourself to be guided by something as emotional as compassion. Katniss everdeen tells us that your politics should be rooted in compassion in a world that thinks detatchment or cynicism is intelligence and i think thats v cool

[agentmilayawithshield]

The moment Tigris tells Snow he looks like his father, my heart broke.

That's her Prim.

That's the child she took care of while being a child herself, stuck with an adult who couldn't care for them all that well. She tried so hard and sacrificed so much for the boy that despite all her love still turns into a monster.

Katniss's Prim dies, but Tigris' Prim destroys every part of the boy she raised, to the point she wants him dead and has nothing in her heart for him except absolute loathing.

[cant-find-anyone-elseeee]

there was a moment when the people in the movie theatre and the capitol audience in the stands were laughing at the same things, having the same reactions to the games, to the deaths, to flickermans jokes, to the doctor's announcement...i wonder aren't we watching it for entertainment too

suzanne collins' books may exist in popular culture as "dystopian", but they have always been a meticulous and startlingly close social critique of our world. at what point does our own idolization of the movies and the books repeat that story? we watch just as the capitol audience does.

all dystopia eventually crosses a line from realistic futurism to current relevancy. how long will it take us to realize we've already crossed that line with these books? and the very people who need to realize this are the ones in that audience...real or fake, we're the same: consuming and consuming.