A promising undercover officer assigned to lure and arrest gay men defies orders when he falls in love with a target.
Plainclothes is brimming with an atmosphere of paranoia and anxiety. As Lucas, a young police officer contending with a secret attraction to men, Tom Blyth palpably embodies this tension in a breakout performance. Straining to fill a prescribed role in the implicitly straight culture of the police force, he carries the crushing weight of both the consequences of his increasingly fraught undercover work as well as the threat of exposure of his exhilarating, clandestine encounters with Andrew (Russell Tovey). Writer-director Carmen Emmi, making his feature directorial debut, cleverly deploys lo-fi VHS footage at key moments to ramp up the sense of unease, alternately signifying the police surveillance that haunts his conscience as well as flashes of memory. A shrewd play with chronology similarly keeps the audience on its toes, wondering if Lucas will be able to handle the stress of his secret or if he’ll finally reach a breaking point.—Basil Tsiokos"
summary: being around coriolanus snow was like a forest fire, intense and heated, but can quickly turn out of control with a change of wind.
pairings: modern!coriolanus snow x reader
warnings: swearing, drinking
The temperature starts to decline, and so does whatever conversational habits had bloomed between you and Coriolanus. It isn't back to normal animosity, you had decided you wouldn't go back to typical hating him after all, but you aren't nearly as chatty as you usually have been. You blamed midterms, you blamed whatever happened that night, you blamed weak feeling slipping through the cracks confusing your thoughts and dreams. You hate that you wonder, you hate that there is an odd ache of longing for him, you hate that there is no hate no matter how hard you try to grasp at it.
Flickerman doesn't push the intimate scenes stating he's still busy figuring them out, but everything else is still business as usual, you look internally for gratitude but instead silence greets you and you are thankful for that at least as you try not to examine your feelings too closely.
You're heading to campus, stopping by the little coffee shop for a warmer drink when you see him standing in line on his phone. You pause, watching him through the window as your heart picks up its rhythm, willing, wanting him to see you.
He does. He picks his head up blue eyes meeting yours as your hand slowly rises in a small wave. The corner of his mouth ticks up as his hand mirrors yours and then you're tugging the door open to walk towards him. You think of a before, of a time you would have stuck your nose up and kept moving to avoid him, but that seemed long ago, in a different life.
"Hey," You say standing off to the side so people don't think you're cutting.
He looks down at you, "Hey."
"What are you doing?"
"Getting coffee," He motions to the barista at the register the condescending smirk on his lips.
You roll your eyes the heat in your cheeks from the wind, nothing more. "You know what I mean."
"I was heading to the library to study for my stats midterm." He responds.
"Yeah that one was a little rough." You nodded.
"Are you two done flirting with each other so we can order?" The man standing behind him bites out.
Coriolanus shoots him a look but his eyes soften when they turn back to you, "What do you want?"
"What?"
"Were you dropped on your head as a child?" He muses your hair, his hand lingering too long as it glides off of your head. "My treat." He motions to the menu, "If you tell me whats on the midterm."
You cross your arms, "No then you'll get a better grade than me."
"Exactly." He beams.
You tell him your order anyways, "I'm going to tell you everything thats not on there."
He pays for both drinks and moves to the side while they're being made. "I can work with that."
"Cheater."
He pokes your nose, "Work smarter not harder kitten." He glanced at the door, "Where were you headed?"
"Poli-sci midterm." They call his name sliding both drinks across the counter for you to take.
Coriolanus Snow smiled, more to himself, "You'll do fine." It actually sounded genuine, a tone that surprised was directed at you. Then you're walking down the sidewalk together towards campus, "Any big plans for the holidays?"
"When have you ever cared?" You scoff sipping your warm drink.
"Since your spit was almost in my mouth."
You cringe, "Gross, don't say it like that." It almost distracts you from the original question...almost. You sigh, "Probably staying here."
"Did you do something to piss your father off?" He chuckled to himself.
You glare at him, "I hate that you know so much about my family."
He only smirks deeper, "No you don't." He takes a step sideways, closer to you, his knuckle brushes against yours accidentally causing yours to twitch towards his in response. "Also, I know you go on the offensive when you're avoiding questions."
You shove him with your shoulder to break the connection, "So, what's your grand plans for the holiday Snow?" His face falls, eyes overshadowed by overwhelming grief.
"I have to go." He's off before you can stop him, before you can pull back the words that had set him off. You don't know why, it's not like you had ever cared for hurting each other's feelings, but you can't shake the look on his face, you can't shake the sympathy.
You sit outside your classroom after the test staring at old pictures on his page once again; pictures of him and Sejanus. He had been an orphan for most of his life, fostered with his cousin Tigris with various family members. Then suddenly The Plinth's had adopted him, taken him in like a second son, then Sejanus had died. You only knew part of the story, only parts you heard through other people, and now you knew he had gone to military camp for some reason after Sejanus had died.
You trace his name on the empty coffee cup you were still holding.
You're moving before you realize, before you can let reason stop you from making your way to the library. He's still there thankfully, hunched over a notebook writing things out a stray curl loose against his forehead. He brushes it back as he glances up at you.
"We have this dinner." You say coming around to stand in front of him. "My friends and I...we have this dinner and spend the holiday together." You toy with the wood on the chair avoiding looking at him. After everything, after every hurtful word and angry stare, after the party and the alley and his apartment, you should not let the words leave your mouth. "You should come." You meet his hard gaze watching his jaw tighten, "Or don't, it's up to you. You know where to find me." Then you're leaving before anything else can come from the conversation, from the invitation you left open
"You've grown soft in your old age." Clemensia shakes her head at you as you help her place plates down.
He had texted you later that night asking for the time and place of the dinner ending the conversation at that not hearing much since. "He doesn't have anyone else."
"You don't know that." She looks up at you eyes narrowing remembering your long rant regarding Livia Cardew, "Something's changed between you two."
You chuckle to hide the flush forming in your cheeks, "Did Arch tell you about my dream?"
Clemensia gasp, "No, but now I know something is definitely going on." You chew on your cheek staring down at the place setting unable to think too much on the statement. "Be careful, you two have always shared a similar...fire." She comes around the table running a soothing hand down your arm, "I don't want you to get burned by his." She drops her hand, "Is you mother devastated you're not going home?"
You're thankful for the change in subject. "Yes."
"Why don't you tell her? Tell both of them?" She goes to the kitchen grabbing the dish she had made to move it to the center of the table.
"It wouldn't do any good." There's a knock on the door cutting off any further deep dive into you familial ties. You knew your mother was upset, you knew it the minute you had turned off your phone to avoid her texts. You're not even sure how to phrase it to her, to them, how you didn't want what they wanted for you anymore. And it wouldn't do good at all, that much was true, your father would have none of your feelings, your self doubts. He wouldn't care for what you wanted at all. You greet your friends watching as they add their dishes to the table grabbing their various drinks and taking up unoccupied seats.
You can't help but glance at the door, waiting and waiting for someone you had once wished would never come. Maybe he had decided not to come after all, he never really had given you a definitive answer. You try not to let it effect you even as your head whips around at the sound of an additional knock. You glance around the room, at ever accounted body, and stand up to open the door yourself.
He stares down at you in the doorframe, "You didn't answer my message."
"I uh..." You close your eyes and open them again trying to shake the warm feeling blooming in your chest. "I turned my phone off." You allow him to step into the apartment closing the door behind him, "What did it say?"
"I asked if you needed anything while I was at the store." He sets the brown paper bag down. "I got you wine anyways." He hands you the bottle.
You trace the label, it was a favorite of yours, "Thank you." You motion to the cabinet, "I'll get us some glasses, you can sit next to me." You turn to head into the kitchen hearing various mutual friends saying hello to him, even Arachne's sly voice being cordial with him. You smiled to yourself as you opened the bottle realizing you could get used to the mingling voices. You pour it out into two glasses and walk them back towards the table.
You avoid his hand ghosting your back, avoid it guiding you into your chair. He rest it on the back of your chair strands of hair caught between fingers as his thumb twitches forward. His knee brushes against yours as you settle in; it was a small space, nothing more, yet it isn't jerked away, its heat sneaking into your thigh. Everyone eats, everyone laughs, the room filled with warmth and joy and everything a family was supposed to consist of. You steal a glance at him over the rim of your glass seeing a genuine soft smile on his lips.
"What?" He asked, catching you in the act of staring at him.
"Nothing," You shake your head chuckling to yourself.
He smirks leaning towards you, "Tell me what's so funny about my face kitten."
You take a breath, eyes fluttering around his pretty blue ones, "I'm just...thankful." He snorts pulling back, "I'm thankful for our mutual truce." Something flashes across his face, you can't read it, and then its gone as he looks away from you, only to turn back with a familiar cold expression.
"I'll add your white flag to my collection."
You laugh humorlessly, "You mean your shrine." It has always been difficult with him, always trying to one up the other, but now things seemed simple, quiet acts of joy instead of cruelty for the sake of cruelness.
The rest of the dinner is filled with casual conversation and a gentle flow of soft laughter. He seemed to be enjoying himself enough that you two are amongst the last to leave. "Thank you for dinner Clemmie." He tugs on his coat.
"Thanks for the snake," Her painted nails hold the door for the two of you. "I sleep with it every night."
He smirks, "As long as you're thinking of me."
"You're a shameless flirt Coriolanus Snow." She rolls her eyes, "Get her home safe please."
He glances at you, "Always do."
You waved goodbye to her and walk out together heading out into the chilly night. "Why didn't Arachne go home, she's always had a nice family."
"They weren't too happy when she came out a few years ago." You frowned hands stuck in your coat pockets. "They're better now, but things are still a little tense."
He shook his head, "And you? Are things tense?" Your jaw sets as you refuse to answer, he didn't need to know everything. He pushes anyways, "Oh come on I know your parents, I met them on all those little events at Academy. They adore you."
"Adore what they've made of me." You mutter.
"What do you mean?"
You shake your hair out. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."
"Is this why you're having an existential crisis on docks?" He scoffs. "You're so spoiled."
You stop on the sidewalk the door to your apartment a few meters away. "Excuse me."
He stops too heaving a breath towards the sky like he too didn't want to have this conversation, like you were always destined to fight on concrete slabs. "I just mean they've given you everything you've every wanted and you're upset about it."
"Maybe I didn't want it." You cross your arms.
"Didn't want what exactly?" He turns towards you, "A family? Money? Success no matter what?"
You grid your teeth, he made you sound so shallow. "You don't know anything about me."
"Oh yeah?" He takes a step closer, "I know your father is an important man and he wanted you to follow in his footsteps like a little puppet." Another step closer to you, "And you fucking hate that you're so good at it, that your perfect life will always be his." He looms over you, "I know you better than you know yourself."
It flies out of your mouth before you can catch it, "What's your story then? The Plinths stop feeling sorry for you and finally kicked you out?" His foot falters backwards shock crossing over his face at your harsh words, "I-I'm-I shouldn't have-!"
He takes a step back the air so much colder now, "No." He laughs, it's a cruel sound that cuts deep. "That's who you are isn't it, I knew that, always have." He stares forward, gaze empty. "Your father raised you as vicious as him, power hungry and armed to the teeth like a little viper."
"Aren't you the same?" You stare at his face while he stares at nothing. "Just as loathsome and lonely as I?"
His eyes quiver as he finally meets your gaze, "I don't need your pity."
Your eyes flicker around his angry face, "I don't pity you."
He glares down at you. "Then stop trying to be my friend, stop trying to care when we both know the only thing you care about is yourself and your shallow little life."
"That isn't true." It's a whisper, you hate the sinking feeling in your chest, and yet you had only cared about your life until...until...
"Just because I bought you some coffees, and took you to a party doesn't mean anything." He seethes, the white flag up in glorious flames around the pair of you. "You are nothing to me."
You swallow, throat dry. You will not cry in front of him of all people, so you dig your heels something familiar. "Like I care what I am to you." You spit out taking a step closer so he can soak up every hateful word. "You want to know what I truly hate? You, Snow, you." You go to turn, purse tucked tight against you. "Once this play is over I'll be happy to never see you again." Evil words sat on your tongue, evil vicious words that would poison a soul; you can't bring yourself to say them, and maybe that was pity. You walk away before you could sink you teeth in to rip apart his frosted heart.
You don't really see him the rest of the semester, it was for the best anyways as you focused on finals. It wouldn't be strange, to fall back into the pattern of glaring and undermining him, but for some reason you don't think you would have been able to.
You don't think on the why.
He claimed to be sick, avoiding rehearsals and stating he would be back when the semester started up again.
You don't hear anything from him, not through any of your friends, he had blocked you on social media finally cutting of any form of communication. It was fine. You didn't need him in your life, but you couldn't deny the want of his presence there, and that doesn't seem right at all.
"I wish you could have come home honey." Your mom says on the other line. "They decorations were so nice, I'll send you some pictures." She sighed, "Your father is upset, he was throwing this party to help you network and-!"
You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I know mom, but I have this big project I need to work on."
She doesn't even think on the lie you tell her, "Oh we understand, we just miss you, and you father wants you to do well." Her tongue clicks, "Oh and did you get his email about those internships?"
"Yes." You mute yourself before you sigh letting her ramble on with the speech your father gave her, he always used her to get through to you. There's a knock on the door though and you clicked the unmute button, "Hey I have to go, can I call you tomorrow?"
"Of course," You hear her smile, "And happy new years honey, we love you."
"Love you." You hang up going over towards your door to peer out of the peep hole. No one is there. You shrug, well it was a good excuse to get off the phone.
There's another knock, slower, lazier. You stomp back over and fling it open. "This isn't fu-!" He's slouched against your doorframe sitting on the hallway ground. "What are you doing here?"
He hiccuped, "You're so lame spending the holiday alone kitten." He hadn't spoken to you in weeks, he cut you off and avoided you and now he had the audacity to show up drunk on your doorstep to add insult to injury. You go to slam the door on him, but he shoves his foot through to stop it, "Ouch." He peers up at you, eyes red rimmed and lost. "So cruel to me."
"What do you want Snow?"
"Some water." He's wasted and you decide to be nice despite it all. You help him up and into your apartment. He stumbles onto your couch while you grab him some water. "I unblocked you." He rest his head on the back of the couch staring at the ceiling. "You never messaged me."
You hand him the water, "What would I have said?"
He smirks at you taking the glass. "That you miss me."
You take a seat on your coffee table across from him, "I didn't miss you."
"Liar."
You glared at him, "You were rude to me, why would I miss you."
He gives you a lazy smile, "You're so pretty when you glare at me."
"You're obliterated." You scoff standing up and going to your pantry to find food to sober him up. "Where were you tonight anyways?" You ask pulling out bread to make a sandwich, but he never responds and when you turn around he isn't on your couch. You glance at the still locked door, then down the hallway towards your bedroom. You hurry down the hall spotting him standing at your bedside flipping through the book on your nightstand.
He glances up at you, "I recommended this book in class." He shook the title at you, "And you said I was stupid to even think it was a good book." You watch him approach you, "Yet here it is on your nightstand. I know you've read it before, can tell by all the annotations, the crinkles in the pages, the cracks in the spine. I know you're reading it now from the bookmark tucked away on page 314."
He's in front of you, too close and you gape up at him. "I-uh..." You had no explanation besides the truth; that you had picked it up to see for yourself after that class, and then again when his absence had filled your life. "Friends close, enemies closer thing," You throw his words back in his face.
"Back to enemies then?" He drunkenly chuckles swaying on his feet causing your hands to dart out to steady him. "Hm," He mumbles as your fingers twist into fabric gripping his sides to hold him up. "Cruel, wicked curse of mine."
"Why are you here?" You blinked up at him.
He stares down at you, "Would you even believe the truth?" You shake your head, so he sighed coming even closer, "You were right, I am just as loathsome and lonely as you."
His hand comes up to your face and all you can do is look at him, "I thought I was nothing." Your eyes flicker around his face, "I can't keep up with you."
"Then don't." His thumb strokes your cheek and its tender, too tender.
"Coriolanus." You breath up at him.
He tilts your face up the same time he leans his down towards yours. "You've never called me that before." He whispers, his breath fanning onto your face, you can taste the vodka he had drank, the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, the unknown shape of his name still tingling along your tongue. His lips are so close now, a featherlight touch against your own, and one inch closer would connect your mouth to his.
The book clatters out of his hand as he goes to hold the other side of your face, and you're stepping out of his hold clearing your throat. "I'll go get your water." You leave him there not even caring what else he could find in there as you go to get him water. He almost kissed you, you almost kissed him, even after every spewed venomous word that came out of the other's mouth. This was messy and chaotic and shouldn't be happening, but he tugs on something drawing you back to his wildfire. "Here." You pushed the door open to find him lying on your bed fast asleep.
You set the water on the bedside table anyways and go to leave when his hand wraps around your fingers. "I missed you." His voice is heavy with sleep, but you caught it. "You keep me warm."
"You could get burned." Your voice cracks remembering Clemensia's warning.
"Burn me." He tugs on your hand, "Burn me until I'm nothing but ashes."
You squeeze it once before letting go, "Goodnight Snow." He doesn't answer as you leave him alone in your dark room.
You don't sleep much, tossing and turning on your couch while he sleeps off the alcohol in your bed. You spend most of the night staring at your ceiling wondering how you had ended up here with him. You had hated him, you wanted nothing to do with him, and he had proven time and time again how much of that was true, and you knew you had done the same for him. But here the two of you were, almost kissing in your bedroom, and not for the play.
Blame the alcohol, always a good excuse.
He sleeps until the late afternoon coming out into the kitchen with sleep mused hair and his clothes on from yesterday. "You should have made me sleep on the couch." He tells you sleep still dragging his voice down a couple octaves.
"I tried." You smile sarcastically going to your cabinet to pull down a clean coffee mug.
"I shouldn't have come here." It isn't anger; it's guilt lacing his tone.
You pour coffee into the cup. "No you shouldn't have." You turned around sliding it across the island towards him. "Why did you?"
He doesn't look at you, just at the black swirling liquid in the cup. "I don't know." He does know, he had muttered it to you in the dark, and you wanted-needed to hear it in sober words. "I didn't mean what I said that night." He blinked up at you. "I was trying to hurt you."
The corners of you mouth turn up in surrender, "Isn't that what we do best?"
"You aren't shallow." His hand wraps around the mug pulling it closer. "You are not your father." His blue eyes quiver, "And you are not nothing to...you are not nothing."
You turn your back on him pretending to search through your cabinets for food, you didn't like the way he was looking at you, the way it made your insides twist, so you attempt to break up the mood. "I tend to say unkind things I don't mean as well. I'm a pain in the ass, your pain."
He chuckles, but it's weak and you avoid the urge to turn around to take in his facial expression. "Guess you are." You pull down bagels. "So...are we..." You slide four into the toaster. "Okay?"
"When have we ever been okay Snow?" You twist the sleeve back up. "We've been at each others throats since we met." You finally turn back around blue eyes meeting yours and your fickle heart thumps two extra beats at the lost expression there. "We're fine." You cup your own coffee in your hands, "Isn't that the glory of being enemies, we have seen that absolute worst side of each other."
He brings the mug to his lips, "Are we still enemies?"
The toaster dings, bagels popping up. "That's for me to know and you to find out." You turn back around gathering the food and setting it on plates. "Do you remember anything from last night?" You're stiff as you ask it, wondering if he remembered his lips so close to yours, the words he had spilled across bedsheets.
"No." He forces out a laugh, "Why did I say anything embarrassing?"
You wave your hand around lying through your teeth as you joke back. "Obviously just that I am the most amazing person ever and how I am so much more smarter than you." You turn back towards him sliding the plate across from him as you both wear mask; no one will surrender tonight leaving you two forever in this roundabout game. "Any big plans for tonight? Should I leave my door unlocked just in case?"
"No." He chuckles. "I was stupid last night, went to the bar and got even more stupid."
You chew through food. "On that we can agree." He stares down at his plate pushing it around before eating himself. You knew he was just going to go home to be alone again, you swallow. "Stay tonight." He blinks up at you, "I can make hot chocolate and we can watch cheesy holiday movies." You set your bagel down, "No one should be alone this time of year."
"Take your own advice kitten."
You glare, "I am Snow, that's why I am asking you." His eyes flicker around your face, you're so pretty when you glare at me. You relax your face remembering his words and wonder if he was too.
He mockingly sighed, "Fine only because you begged me to."
You shake your head fighting the smile as you continue to eat breakfast with him.
Soon enough under the cover of snowy darkness the two of you sit beneath separate blankets watching some of your favorite holiday movies with large cups of hot chocolate smothered in whipped cream. You're laughing, you're crying, you're having too much of a good time with someone you're supposed to dislike.
But it's beginning to become hard to dislike him, it's beginning to frustrate you how much you didn't dislike him as much as you should. He was cruel and cunning and everything you had always hated about power hungry men. You weren't that much different though as you suddenly were starting to see that.
It's why you began to distance yourself from your parents, noticing how you father was turning you just as cold as him, only allowing you to focus on one thing; remaining on top, destroying anyone close enough to you that could jeopardize that. You know you needed to continue the path he set for you in order to succeed, but the appeal was lackluster and you were resentful.
You glanced out of the window watching the snow fall silently outside.
"Do you like snow?"
You blink looking at him. "Hmm?"
"Snow?" He motioned outside. "Do you like it?"
You chuckled to yourself, "I guess so." You were standing up padding over to the large glass doors to open up onto the balcony. "I like when it makes the world so quiet." You lean against the railing closing your eyes listening to nothing as the snow trickles down to the cement below. Your fingers were chilling as they held onto the frozen railing, but you didn't mind, just a little while longer. He slides next to you, "We never did normal things." You stare out into the world, "Never went ice skating, or made gingerbread houses." You met his blue eyes, "Watched holiday movies together. He never had time." You scoffed shaking your head, "Always dragged us around to parties and events."
"A company ski trip." He nudged you.
"Don't remind me." You rolled your eyes enjoying his warm shoulder remaining pressed into yours. "Some parts were fun." You nodded, "But I think I just craved normalcy, emotionally present parents, I don't know, a father who didn't view me as a pawn." You cringed at yourself looking down, "I do sound spoiled."
"No." His voice was so soft you don't dare look up. "It's okay to be upset they weren't there for you in ways you needed." He nudged you again, gentle this time. "Even if you got everything else you wanted."
You sighed, "Maybe I need to move on from it all, stop holding a grudge over something so silly."
He doesn't answer for a while forcing you to finally look up at him. "It's not silly."
"How is Tigris?" You force the change in subject.
"She's good...really good." He smiled to himself, "Thinking about opening up her own store, launching a new line in a few weeks, all the cool stuff."
You smile with him pinkie twitching towards his against the railing. "That's awesome for her."
His eyes lower taking in your face, your lips. "You have..." He brings his hand up thumb brushing off whatever was there. "Whip cream." He whispered out fingers still under your jaw holding your face.
"Thanks." You breath.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, skin too hot for the frigid temperatures as he gazes down at you, as he caresses your flushed face. It felt too intimate for this without the buffer of alcohol, the buffer of a play. You were here alone with him in the snow while the sound of holiday music floated outside from the movie playing on your television. He turns his body completely towards you tilting your face up so much that you have to turn as well. He cups your face, you lean into it,
"Coriolanus." You sigh hand gently wrapping around his wrist to touch him, stop him, stop yourself.
His grip tightened, "Don't." He isn't angry, he's conflicted. "Don't say my name like that." His other hand is on your waist, "You test my patience enough as it is."
"What do you want?"
He leans down, nose brushing yours. "To stop feeling this way, to know it doesn't always lead to ruin."
Your brows furrow, "Am I truly so horrible?"
"No." He breaths you in, the only thing separating your lips. "Gods no."
"We..." You swallow down the overwhelming urge to connect your mouth to his. "We should go back inside."
He nods, but doesn't move. "We should." He licked his lips, "You were always the stronger one."
You hated that it was true as you slowly peel yourself away from him. Your brain feels muddled and consumed by him as you walk back into your too warm apartment. He closes the balcony door with a soft click the room tense with unsaid words. You have too much to say, to ask; why, why now, when, is this real or a game? You don't ask it, you can't, you can't formulate words as your heart throbs for the man you had always loathed.
But why? Why did you hate him? You suddenly couldn't remember the reason behind such intense emotions. You can't remember much besides the feel of his breath on your lips, his hand on your waist, how much you wanted to kiss him.
You were lonely, simply lonely from the holidays and not thinking straight, blurring the lines between reality and fiction of theater. You didn't like him, you couldn't. He and Clemensia were right, it would all be ruin and flames.
You take your spot back on the couch the energy shifting between the two of you, suddenly too aware of how close he sat down on the same couch. "I never thanked you for letting me come to your dinner party."
"What are friends for?"
He smirked, "So, friends now?"
You rolled your eyes, "Don't make it such a big deal Snow."
"Coryo," He sighs, "Call me Coryo, you always use Snow when you're scolding me."
You softly smile, "Okay...Coryo."
You didn't mind the taste of it on your tongue.
endnotes: omgggg what yall feeling so farrr hehehe
He pants in your ear, bodies slick with sweat as his mouth trails your moist neck, teeth gently grazing skin as his hands wrap around your naked body. It feels so good that a soft whine leaves your mouth his smile felt against your jaw. His hands, his mouth, you wanted him everywhere, you craved all the heat shooting through your veins.
His low laugh vibrates against scorched skin, "You purr for me so good." He picks his head up blue eyes burning into yours, "Kitten."
You scream shooting upward in bed drenched in sweat and soaked between your legs. Your room is coated in a lavender glow as the sun rises through your window, and your bed is inexplicably empty no warm body to be found beside yours. You run your hand over smooth, cool sheets before quickly shaking your head. This was horrible, sex dreams about Coriolanus Snow? Horrible. Sure, you had both decided to be more cordial towards each other, but that didn't mean he needs to sneak his way into your dreams now.
You throw the blankets off of you and plan to take a cold shower to prepare for the day.
You treat yourself to a nice coffee before heading to class to ward away the bad vibes you had received from that horrendous nightmare. You didn't look forward to facing him after dreaming about his face buried into your chest. Okay it didn't feel horrible even though it was horrible. What did psychologist say? Your brain can't make up new faces in dreams so it uses ones you've seen before, so thats what happened. Your brain just reused a face, a pretty face...a pretty annoying face.
"There's my star." Mr. Flickerman says once you walk down towards the stage.
Coriolanus is lounging off of the edge, long legs dangling, hands stretched behind him, a small sliver of skin exposed where his shirt rides up. You began to miss those gaudy crimson Academy uniforms as you know you are staring. Screw that dream and screw him.
"Sleep well?"
Your bag slams down a little too loudly on the chair. "What?" You sip your coffee to hide the ridiculous look on your face, there was no way he could know right? Right. He was smart but no one was that smart.
"You got a different coffee than you usually do."
You glanced down, and he was correct given you had opted for a drink with espresso instead of a normal cold brew. "I uh..."
He slides off the stage, "Cat got your tongue kitten?"
Your face burns with the blush suddenly remembering how husky his voice had sounded in your dreams as he spoke the same nickname. "Trying something new." You sneer forcing yourself to turn around to set the coffee down to avoid continuing to look at him. But something strikes you and you reel on him, "How do you know-!"
"Alright guys." Flickerman claps his hands walking across the stage. "Important scene today - our lovers will share their first kiss! I want emotion! Passion! Sexual tension!"
Fucking hell.
You read through your lines slowly, messing up on purpose to make the class drag on longer than it should to simply avoid him coming close to you. Mr. Flickerman is growing frustrated by you, increasingly losing patience as he glances at the large clock on the back wall.
"Okay, okay let's just skip to the couch scene." He waves his hand as the props begin to change slightly to set the mood.
You eye the couch being pushed to the center of the stage and know your palms are sweating. You can feel your heart throbbing in your throat as you take your seat on it. This was silly, it was just a kiss. You should be grossed out not scared, but you watch his knees turn towards you. You watch his mouth move as he recites his line and you curse your stupid brain for that dream, nerves buzzing too much, you choose to blame the four shots of espresso you had chugged down...no other reason.
He moves closer, his hand going to your waist your breath hitching as if remembering how he felt in your dream. His other hand comes up to your face, and everything in you wants to melt into it. He's never held you before, and you know if it wasn't for show he wouldn't hold you so tenderly, but your heart flutters at the softness in his blue eyes. He's never looked at you like that, only ever with hatred and anger, but maybe not so much lately.
He tilts your face up and you close your eyes feeling the heat of his breath on your face.
He was gunna kiss you. Coriolanus Snow, your sworn enemy turned acquaintance, was going to kiss you and the thought doesn't repulse you so much anymore. You nearly feel the brush of his lips as yours part.
"Stop!" Flickerman shouts and your eyes fly open staring up into his face reality crashing into you. You're flickering back and forth trying to figure out what he could possibly be thinking as he continues to hold you, as you scramble for composure. "I don't like this..." He's rambling about how he wants to change it, rewrite the scene, but all you can focus on is his hands splayed across your body and his nose pressed to yours. "Well that's why we have rehearsal eh? We'll do this another time then..."
Coriolanus sighs, but its not one of relief, and soon enough his hands are slowly sliding off of you and he's pulling away.
"Was it me?" You ask quietly.
"No!" He shakes his head. "You were perfect, you two really conveyed the longing in your eyes. I'm just wondering if it's the scenery or positioning or something else."
You pack your things up as everyone else leaves around you. You feel strange, different and you're not sure if its nerves or something else as you walk up the aisle to leave. "If they could see us now?" He's leaning against the door frame as you approach it. "Who would have thought we'd be making out?"
"We didn't make out." You roll your eyes to steal back normalcy between the two of you.
He chuckles, "Careful kitten, you almost sound disappointed."
"Don't mistake my disgust for disappointment." You shove his arm as you walk past him. "I need to go rinse my mouth."
He catches up, pressing in close to whisper against your head, "How would I taste?"
"Gross." It doesn't have as much vigor as it should.
He pauses and you turn to look at him. "Come out with me this weekend." You raise your eyebrow at him, "There's a party." He steps towards you, "It's a costume party." You had forgotten about the holiday coming up.
"Are you asking me out Snow?"
He scoffs at you, "No I just figured it would be better than doing whatever boring plans you had."
The two of you continue walking out of the building the city traffic breaking the quiet. "My plans this weekend were very riveting."
"Wine and reading a smutty book don't count."
"Maybe I had a hot date."
He smirks down at you, "You do kitten," His arms slings around you and you are weary of how nice it feels. "With me."
The weekend comes too quickly. You barely had time to get a costume but thankfully Arachne has extra lying around that she dumps on your bed. "Why are you going exactly?" She ask as you sift through all the colorful and tight fabrics.
You shrug the corners of your lips tugged upward, "Curiosity."
"Oh gods don't tell me you're falling for the boy."
"No!" You reel on her. "No of course not." You pick up the green corset bodysuit outfit. "I think the play has made us hit pause on our ever growing competitive natures."
You hold up the outfit to your body. "Have you kissed him yet?"
Your lip curls in disgust, but it seems fake. "No."
"You're going to have to soon for that silly play and what then?" You begin to change, pulling the tight outfit on. "What if your hatred morphs into something else entirely?" You don't answer only smooth down the outfit as you look in the mirror. You don't want to think about it, or imagine what his lips would feel like, taste like. "Cute." She stands up holding the red wig, "Well if he didn't want to kiss you yet, he will now." You glare at her in the mirror. "What? Maybe his hatred is just pent up sexual tension."
You tug the wig on letting her help you set it in place correctly. "That isn't true."
She holds your shoulders setting her chin on one as you both admire the reflection. "Listen, when two very attractive people have such high tension between each other it will lead to something; murder or sex." She shrugs, "Hate fucking is always the best."
"You're so gross." You shove her off laughing, but you chew on your lip as you play with the straps on the green heels.
"Oh my gosh." Your eyes snap to her as she watches you. "You had a sex dream didn't you?"
"Psh no!" It's not convincing enough as the flush spreads across your cheeks.
Arachne laughs, "There's no going back from a sex dream. You're fucked figuratively and literally." She motions for you to come back to the vanity. "Sit, let's do your makeup and tell me all about this wet dream."
It is nice to get it off your chest in every gory detail as you both drink while she does your makeup, doing the wings on your eyelids like green leaves setting it all with a pretty green shimmer. She takes too long, but you don't mind as music plays in the background and the wine disappears. You forget you're even going out as she paints you lips a dark rouge puckering up for you, "So kissable." She mocks the same time your phone vibrates.
"I'm heading up since you never texted me you were ready."
You hate the butterflies in your stomach blaming the alcohol. She finishes it with a gentle coat of blush across your nose and stands back to admire her own work. "I'm so good." She boast as the knock breaks through the noise. "I'll get it."
You continue to chew on your cheek to avoid messing up her lipstick as you reach down to slip on the green heels. Then you're standing up realizing you look like a completely different person, and wonder if he'll think the same, if maybe for truly one night you could be someone different. Shaking your head you slide the vine covered sheer green gloves on, the pair to the stockings you wore, as Arachne voice echoes down the hall, "Come in for a drink Coriolanus."
You see him before he sees you glancing up and down his tall frame, at the flannel under suspenders, at the fake gun slung behind his back, the cowboy hat. "And who are you supposed to be?" You try to ask nonchalantly pouring out another glass of wine to avoid meeting his gaze.
"William H. Bonney." He says it in a southern accent nodding his hat to you. You stare at him confused "Billy the Kid." He says matter of factly in his normal voice.
"Save a horse, ride a cowboy." Arachne says under her breath making you chuckle. You look up at him, his dark gaze seeming to eat every inch of your body up.
He trains his eyes on your face, "And you are?"
"Poison Ivy, dumbass." You take a large drink. "I didn't have a costume so she let me borrow one."
He glances at Arachne, "You always were poison with perfect teeth."
She doesn't take it as an insult. "Thank you." She glances at you, "I must be off."
"You should come with us." You trace your finger along the rim of your glass suddenly too nervous to be alone with him.
Instead she hugs your side. "No that's alright, as enjoyable as it is three sometimes is a crowd." She looks over at Coriolanus pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Don't ruin my makeup."
"How would I do that?"
Arachne grabs her purse the mischievous glint in her eyes, "You know how." She blows you a kiss and leaves, plunging your apartment into silence.
He clears his throat as you drain your glass, "You do look...nice."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment."
"Shut up." He rolls his eyes at you playfully and walks towards the door. "Come on now we're already running late."
You stare at him, "Late? It's a party." He only pulls the door open and stares back at you expectingly. "Let me just grab a roadie." You dig into your fridge for a seltzer and walk out with him.
"A roadie..." He shakes his head at you as the outside wind takes you with it, "Don't have too much I don't-!" He cuts off hand shooting out to snake around your waist as you slide too close to the curb.
"It's this dumb wig." You push the hair out of your face. You clear your throat wiggling the can towards him to avoid his hand still warm along your hip. "Want a sip?" He only takes it because it's a challenge, a dare if he would, and he does, chugging half of the can. "Rude." You take it back sipping daintily on it feeling colder with his hand removed. "How do you know these people?"
He smirks, "Don't worry about it."
You grip his arm, "Are you in a frat Snow?"
"If I say yes will you stop pestering me?" He shoos you away
"No because I know its a lie." Your heels click on concrete various costumed people parading around the city. "Also, why did you invite me if you didn't want to be pestered?"
He only looks straight ahead as he says again, "Don't worry about it."
The rest of the walk is filled with silence as you finish your drink following him wherever this place was. He ends up at a large apartment complex, showing the security guard his phone, and then ushering you towards a set of elevators. It was nice and apparently by invitation only if he needed to prove where he was going within the nice building. You don't even ask him, you don't want to know, want to listen to him gloat about how he knew special people. The elevator doors open loud house music blaring down the fake fog coated hallway. Theres fake blood splatter down the wall, black lights shining down from above you making his shirt glow beside you as various strobe lights go off.
It was intense.
There had to be hundreds of people here moving in and out of this one singular door frame leading to the expanse of a pent house. He grabs your wrist breaking your trance and pulling you close, "Do you want a drink?"
"I thought I've had enough?" The music is so loud your screaming it into his face.
He has a smug expression as he stares down at you, "Didn't want you falling into traffic kitten."
Your hand is on his chest as you blink up at him, "Then get me something I'll like."
He's off before you can even regret the shameless flirting. You rub your hands on your legs staring around the room at everyone, some dancing, some talking. You don't recognize anyone but then again it wasn't fairly easy to see in here. "Nice costume!" Someone shouts a green glow-stick necklace throw at you.
You let your body relax, you had been to a million of events and clubs like these with your friends, just because you were here with him didn't mean you couldn't have fun. "Here." He comes back a blue glow stick around his neck.
You take your drink. "Vodka soda." You say after taking the harsh first sip. "I would be impressed if I didn't think you were so creepy for knowing my second favorite drink."
"They weren't serving wine."
You turn your face to the body of people dancing to avoid looking at him. You had always forgotten how observant he was, you never thought he'd care enough to observe these small details of yours; friends close, enemies closer he had told you. "I'm going to dance." You look over your shoulder at him, "Want to come?" He follows you as the bass throbs around you, neon lights flying around the room as you weave your way through the crowd finding a place somewhere in the middle of it all.
Then, you're letting the music take you. You close your eyes swaying with the heavy thump of it pounding through the speakers lost in a sea of monsters. It feels freeing to not be so tightly held by the constraints of everyday mundane life so you sip on the tiny black straw and you dance. You open your eyes seeing him watching you sipping on his own tan colored drink.
'What?' You mouth because it is far too loud to hear each other. He shakes his head the small smile on his lips. 'Too cool to dance?' He only nods as you take his hand and tug at him trying to make him dance with you. You shimmy in close to him, chest brushing against his as colors flash above him, 'Live a little Snow.'
His hand slips from yours and you think he's going to step away entirely, but it lands on your cheek, a thumb tracing the vine wing along the edge of your eyelid. The room spins around you, blurring out at the edges as he caresses your face. "You look different." You're not sure why you can hear him, why the music seemed so distant now as his face is directly above yours covered in blues, purples, greens and reds. His hand shifts finger tracing your bottom lip, "Poisonous." You need to retort, you have to, but all you can do is stare up at him, feel the knock of his leg against yours. He's making some joke about your costume, he is trying to play pretend or rile you up. Your head just feels empty, it was one thing to be this close during practice of a play, this was another...He runs the red wig strands through two fingers, "I don't like it."
"Good." You shove away from him, the music flowing back through your ears and body. It breaks the trance. He laughs along with as you continue to drink, continue to dance around him.
He takes your empty cup your hands flying upward swaying and jumping whenever you wanted to not even asking where he was going, figuring it was to get you a refill. You keep dancing, spinning around the floor, colors melding behind your eyelids. You lose yourself, you lose time, it could have been minutes or hours you would never know. You wait for his hands on your waist, you wait for his chest against your back, you wait for him not even thinking to hard on why you were.
But he never comes back.
You stop moving looking around for him, but it's so hard to tell with so many people clouding your vision. You push closer to the edge the music still pulsing in your ear drums, but you do hear your name. Lysistrata is bobbing through the crowd towards you, hands wrapping around your body. "It's so good to see you!" You hug her back tightly glad to see a familiar face. "Let's get a drink." She tugs you away like a lifeboat in dangerous waters.
"How are you?" You ask once you have another strong drink in your hand still occasionally looking for Coriolanus.
"I'm good! Almost done with undergrad and then I'll be off to medical school." She smiled sipping on a rather bright pink drink. "How about you?"
You toyed with your straw, "I'm alright nothing going on as exciting as you." You gave her a fake smile, one you're happy she doesn't pick up on. You let her ramble on more about herself, about her degree and all the things she was getting to do and going to do. It was impressive and passionate and everything you weren't. You finish your drink and order another one before finally asking, "How did you end up here anyways?"
"A couple of my friends knew the people hosting." She moves to stand next to you pointing off to the distant wall. "I came here with Livia, you remember Livia right?" Your eyes narrow in on him standing in front of her, hand outstretched against the wall behind her, clearly flirting. "Oh my gosh is that-it's Coriolanus. Don't you two..."
You don't even hear what she says, don't hear her telling you, reminding you that you hated Coriolanus Snow. You didn't need to hear it, he made you remember why. He used you no doubt to somehow make Livia jealous. He had used you and left you out there to fend for yourself drunk and alone while he tried to get with some girl from high school. You hate him and you hate the fact your heart sinks even more. "I need a shot."
"You haven't even finished your drink."
You glance down at your drink and then back at her face, "It'll be my chaser." You turn back towards the bar ordered two shots and throwing back both of them letting them burn away any hurt feelings you may have felt. They needed to die in a blazing fire of vodka. Lysistrata excuses herself at some point uncomfortable at your blatant self destruction as you down the third shot. Why did you even care? This was stupid, he was stupid, you were stupid for letting him in even the tiniest bit. You groan putting your head in your hands, was this because of that silly dream? You go to put your hand up to order another shot when a large one wraps around your wrist.
"That's enough."
You reel on him. "Don't tell me what to do." You rip your hand away from him. "And don't touch me."
"Ouch kitten," He smirks down at you. "Put the claws away."
"Don't." You point up at him turning slightly to grab your actual drink.
He tugs it gently out of your hands, "Ah ah ah Lyssie said you were on a mission over here."
"Yeah well she needs to mind her own business." You sneer not really meaning it, the girl was sweet you were just in a bad mood. "And so do you." You motion to behind him out into the oblivion of flashing lights. "Go back to Livia."
He only chuckled walking towards you, backing you against the bar, hands on either side of you. "Jealousy doesn't suit you kitten."
You snort looking away. "I am not jealous."
"You're a bad liar."
Your head snaps back. "Well at least I'm not a selfish bastard who enjoys manipulating people."
His smirk slides off his lips, hands falling back to his side like the insult took root finally. "I'm..."
You shove him away, not caring for the excuse, and make a beeline for the door hearing him shout after you. He's toying with you, distracting you for some personal gain of his own. He was flirting with Livia, and only played nice with you to make you forget his deceit. But Coriolanus Snow will always be the selfish manipulative cocky bastard.
You stumble out of the building hugging yourself tightly as cool October air passes around you. You start walking in the direction you think you came from not entirely sure it's the right way. You should call for an Uber but as you dig for your phone you remember you gave it to him since he had pockets.
So, you keep walking.
It gets quieter, darker and you start to realize you aren't sure where you are, the cool air reminding you how much you had to drink. You stop, turning around seeing someone following behind you. You start walking again, faster the world seeming to spin on its axis causing you to stumble sideways.
"Hey wait up!" He calls to you, whistling and cat calling. Then suddenly he's running, and so are you, but you're in heels and too drunk and this stupid wig keeps getting in your eyes.
A hand covers your mouth as he drags you sideways into an alley shoving you back into the hard bricks. "Come here." You start crying as his hands roam over your body trying to kick and claw at him, vines and leaves ripping from broken seams. "Shouldn't dress like a slut if you don't want attention." He backhands you, your lip splitting with the force as hands go to your top intending to rip it off of your body, but soon you're flying sideways until you hit asphalt.
Your head bounces off the ground and you groan trying to look up through strands of red hair seeing the man lying on the ground being punched repeatedly. You're seeing double and you don't know if its the alcohol or a concussion. You hear the sickening crunch of bone and blood as he beats the man into the concrete. You try to tell him to stop, but your throat is too dry and numb, so your clawing up the brick wall to stagger to your feet. You stumble over to him wrapping your arm around his bicep before he can hammer it down into the creep's face. You slam forward into his back as he does it anyway blood and spit splattering across your skin. "Stop," You croak out. "Stop it Snow!"
He reels on you, fury in his gaze, lost to the rage of it all. You feel fear creep back up, but it washes away as his face comes into blurry view. "Are you alright?" His blue eyes search yours, they flicker around taking in the blood suddenly cradling your tearstained face. "Are you okay?"
"Did you kill him?"
Something dark cross his face, "I should have." He blinks it away. "Let me take you home."
"No." You try to tug yourself back but he has a hold on you, probably for your own safety. "Get off of me!" You push him away storming back off down the sidewalk as if he didn't save you from something horrific.
He yells you name running after you, "I get that you're upset but please just let me make sure you get home safe."
You hug yourself tighter stumbling as you walked knowing he was right, "You're a jerk Snow."
"I know." He sighs keeping his distance but remaining near. "But you shouldn't have run off like that, you're lucky I followed you."
You stop. "Lucky? I wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you." You poke his chest, "You made me come out." Poke. "You left me alone for some chick." Poke. "You made me storm off."
"I didn't make you storm off." He rolled his eyes, he was right again of course but you were too stubborn to admit that.
"Yes you did." You went to poke him again but he grabbed your wrist.
"No I didn't." He emphasized yanking you close. "Stop being stubborn."
You blinked up at him swaying on your feet and suddenly his hand was slipping around your waist to steady you the simply touch sending a jolt through your body, "Don't do that." You hated drunk you for making the sentence so breathy.
His eyes darkened, eyebrows furrowing in confusion that didn't seem sincere. "Do what?"
"Touch me." You swallowed and to make matters worse you knee buckled forward moving you even closer to him until his chest touched yours.
"I'm making sure you don't fall over." But his fingers splayed out across your body and you had a feeling it was intentional.
"Fine."
You let him keep a tight grip on you, never even thinking about shaking off the hand around your waist as he walks you home, too afraid someone else would snatch you away, too afraid to lose his warmth. You don't even let yourself think how you found safety in Coriolanus Snow, not as he opens the door to his apartment and locks it behind himself. "Come here." He drags you to the kitchen setting you on the cool counter, grabbing a nice decretive towel and wetting it in the sink water.
"I'm still mad at you." You say, voice slurring slightly, as he tilts your face up to dab at the bloody split lip. You try to look past him, take in his home, but its dark and your eyes can't seem to focus.
He huffs a laugh, "You're always mad at me." You wince and all playfulness leaves his eyes, "I shouldn't have left alone." That's the only form of an apology you'll get as he continues to clean your face.
You wanted to blame him more, fight more, that it was his fault you had left so angry, but that couldn't be true. Because if that was true that meant you had been jealous and you couldn't be jealous. "You used me didn't you." It comes out so feeble, so weak you hate it as he holds your face.
He doesn't answer. He does step back slightly, large hands panning down your thigh as he takes in the abrasion on your knee from when you hit the ground. He cleans that off too as your fingers curl around his counter's edge ignoring the heat working through your skin as his fingers splayed along your bare inner leg. You can't prevent the shaky exhale from coming out feeling the flush in your cheeks as his eyes flicker up to study your face. You stare back at him, suddenly chewing on your bottom lip the words a single breath away; touch me. You wonder if he could tell, wonder if he too was blaming your intoxication level, wonder why his eyes were too dark to see the blue in them.
He set down the towel and goes digging through cabinets before pulling out a glass to fill with water, "For all those shots." He forces you to take it into your hands. You take a large gulp of it because he's right and you'll hate it in the morning. You need to hate him again in the morning too, but you're not sure you can stick to that plan. You set it against your lap as he watches you, then slowly his hands come up and he's tugging the wig off your head freeing your hair. "There." He brushes the strands off of your face too delicately. "Better."
You catch his hand, cradling it in your own, running a thumb over broken skin. "We should have called him help."
"He'll be fine." He doesn't take back his hand, he lets it sit between your palms like a bruised apple. "Don't know why you care, he would have..."
You eyes snap up to his, he's too close, nearly bracketing himself in between your knees. "I don't want that to be on your conscious." You pick up the still damp towel to wipe off the bloody cracks along his knuckles where each punch hit its mark.
"Too late for that." He muttered his thumb twitching along your finger sending a shock up your bone. You drop the towel to the side, you drop his hand. He makes you finish the whole glass of water then ushers you off to bed, his bed. You don't focus on it, not as he gives you his clothes to sleep in you don't even bother to take off the silly makeup as he refills your water.
He closes the door behind him as you change, pulling his t-shirt over your head. You can't help it, can't stop your bare feet from going over to his desk eyes glazing over the contents. It was normal stuff, books and pens and a planner, his closed laptop, your eyes stop at the sight of the picture frame. You go to pick it up, to take in every grieving detail of those two youthful faces but you hear his footsteps down the hall.
You rush to the bed burying yourself under his blankets as he comes into the bedroom to set the glass on his night stand. "I should probably make sure you don't die in your sleep." He motions to your head, "You hit your head pretty hard."
You can barely form the words that that may have been his fault as well as he takes a seat at the end of his bed watching you sit up slightly. You feel engulfed in him, his scent, his heat, he surrounded you. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"Military camp." You furrow your brows. He went to school with you your whole life you would have known that about him. "It was only for three months after...after..." He clears his throat unable to finish.
"I know." You whisper mind going back to the picture on his desk.
After Sejanus had died. You remembered the funeral, remembered how he wasn't there, and you figured something horrible had happened to him too, but then you saw him at University that fall like nothing had changed. You want to keep asking, keep pushing for the question that always swarmed your head about it all, but now wasn't the time and maybe there would never be one. "Do you still talk to anyone else from school?" You smirk even though its fake, "Besides Livia."
He relaxes as he rambles on about how he runs into Felix and Festus often, and other old friends the two of you shared during school. You talk well into the night until you start to fall asleep to his voice. You don't realize it's happening until the light turns off and the covers are pulled up around your neck, "I'll hate you tomorrow." You mumble out at him, at no one maybe.
"No you won't." The back of a finger runs down your cheek sending you off into a dreamless sleep.
summary: romance isn't easy to fake when ur supposed to hate ur scene partner, can u put aside a feud for the sake of art or will you lose the role refusing to give coriolanus snow your...passion
pairings: modern!coriolanus snow x reader
warnings: mature content, swearing, drinking
notes: happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate! i am thankful for all of you reading this or other stories of mine you all make me so happy 🤍🤍
"Stop, stop, stop!" Mr. Flickerman waves his hands around the exhausted expression all over his face. "Can't you two pretend to like each other any better?"
You glance upward at Coriolanus who was attempting to hold you in a rather romantic embrace, but you were so rigid and he didn't seem to want to be there either. You meet his eyes, trying to soften them with a deep breath, but instead you feel your eyes narrowing on him. He runs his hand down your cheek opening his mouth to speak, but his top lip curls in disgust.
"Enough!" Flickerman stands up climbing up onto the stage. "This is ridiculous where was all that passion I saw in your auditions!"
You crossed your arms, "I had a better scene partner."
"You wouldn't even know what passion was if it bit you in the ass." He glared at you.
"Says the one holding me like a dead fish!"
He comes in between the two of you. "Okay, okay we're going to try something." He motions for you to walk near the back half of the stage where a prop table sat. "Sit." You match Coriolanus's confused look. "Just sit up there." The pair of you climb atop the table to sit down across from one another. You pick at your nails until Mr. Flickerman grabs them and places them within Coriolanus's, you avoid thinking how his hands felt so warm, how they dwarfed yours sitting tensely in his palm. "Tell him something you like about him."
"What?" You laugh, he only glares at you. "Fine umm..."
"Look at him not the ceiling."
You take a deep breath and land on his face. "I've always admired...drive towards hard work, your ambition." Which could never be a lie since that quality of his had always been your detriment.
Something like shock passes over his blue eyes, but he masked it with concentration. Flickerman gave him the same instructions, "Your willingness to break a mold," he smirked, "You're full of surprises."
The corner of your mouth ticks up subtly. "Now something you like...physically."
You roll your eyes, but your answer comes too easy. "Your hair, especially when it curls."
"Your eyes." You blink. "In that moment anger sparks within them."
Flickerman takes a step back, "Closer." You inch forward. "Closer." Your knees touch. "Closer." You're nearly in his lap, "Now show me passion."
You swallow spreading his legs and going up onto your knees understanding why he made you do that exercise as you run your hands through his hair. It was shorter now than it had been in school, but something the ends still curled when the wind had mused it. His hands splay along your hips, dragging across accidentally exposed skin the breath you take is a sharp inhale.
The world shifts as you stare down at him, it tumbles and turns and spirals as a blue ocean drags your under feeling his nose brush against yours. Eyes dark, nails dig in and time stands still in that moment. The stage disappears, Flickerman a forgotten speck in a distant reality; the only thing that seemed to exist was you in his arms.
You inhale the same air, you swallow down his warm breath.
A door slams at the other side of the theater and everything floods back in. You scramble to cover new emotions you never wanted to encounter as you push away from him with a groan.
Mr. Flickerman sighed, "Okay we're done for the day." You climb off the table both going to grab your things but he stops you. "I have an assignment, for both of you." You could do that. "Together." You and Coriolanus both began shaking your heads.
"Professor." "Sir."
"No. If you want these roles you will do this." You grind your teeth nails digging into your palms. He smiles too widely, "I want you to go home and watch some romantic classics, study them, try to take what you watch and use it."
He blinks, "Watch movies?"
Flickerman laughs, "Together Mr. Snow. Order a pizza, bond, put away this childhood feud or else I'll find new leads." He walks away while you both stutter out protest.
You glare at Coriolanus, "You could just back out."
"I like the idea of you backing out."
"Why do you even want this?" You wave your hands around.
"Why do you?"
Then you're both staring at each other in the classic stalemate where you both just glared at each other instead of revealing your truths. You shake your head, "This is ridiculous."
"Agreed," He nodded. "So your place or mine?"
You grab your bag, "Mine."
He comes over later that night with three gentle knocks on your apartment door. "Nice place." He says brushing past you to take in your small one bedroom apartment. "What did you trade to make daddy buy it for you?"
You roll your eyes going to your fridge pulling out the chilled bottle of wine. He eyes you as you begin to open it avoiding his question, "What? I'm gunna need alcohol to deal with you tonight."
"Do you want food?" He asked it with his head turned taking in various artwork you had on the wall.
You pour out the wine into your glass, "Do you?"
"He said order a pizza." He turned back to you watching you take a small sip.
"As long as its not-!"
"Pepperoni, I know." He's pulling out his phone. You narrow your eyes over you wine glass and he looks back at you. "Friends close, enemies closer thing." He hold it up to his ear to call in the order, "Had to know your weaknesses."
You watch him pace while he orders and realize you didn't know a lot of his weaknesses. You felt suddenly unprepared, so you go to your T.V. picking up the remote to scroll through the romance category on the streaming services. "What's your least favorite topping?" You ask as he walks back over to sit down on your couch strangely too comfortable in your home.
"Wouldn't you like to know." He chuckles.
"Do you want some wine?" You looked over your shoulder at him.
He smirks, "Trying to get me drunk so I spill all my secrets kitten?" You snort making your way to the kitchen to get him a glass anyways. "It's mushroom." He says quieter once you hand him the glass.
You take a seat on the far end of the couch, "If only bonding was as easy as that." You lean forward a little, "Why do you hate me so much?"
"Curiosity, kitten." He reaches forward and plucks the remote from your hand. "Now come on, the sooner we watch something that inspires us the sooner I can be rid of you." He scrolls, "Do you have a favorite?"
You settle back into the couch, "I love a good romcom, or a period piece."
He laughs to himself, "You would."
You toss a throw pillow at him, "All that quiet yearning is to die for, the slow burn of it all!"
"Boring!" He yawns. "Let's watch something raunchy."
You go back and forth for a while, so long you have to go refill your glasses, but finally settling on something in the middle. You grab a small blanket and curl into your couch to watch a movie with Coriolanus Snow, the thought makes you feel uneasy.
It isn't horrible. You feel like you should take notes, pausing to dissect what seemed to be missing between the two of you. He didn't protest, not even as you powered through very intimate scenes. You drain your third glass blaming the wine for the sudden heat in your cheeks and prickling in your skin. This was a bad movie choice, why did you pick the one where they actually fucking do it on screen instead of those ones that just elude to it? A period piece would have never put you in the uncomfortable position and you regret not pushing him more to agree with you. You dare a glance at him. He's engrossed in it with furrowed brows like he's trying to understand everything they were doing so he could somehow replicate it. Could he? You watch as his long fingers scratch at his jaw and find yourself itching for him to run those same fingers across your skin. For some reason your mind goes back to his fingertips running across the exposed skin of your back, his hair between the gaps of yours. You know you're staring too long at him, know that his side profile had no right being that gorgeous, when did you start attributing gorgeous to him, why couldn't he just be ugly, why did heat spread to your lower body the longer you looked at him.
You fly to your feet making a beeline for your kitchen fumbling with the bottle stopper on the wine to pour more out. You look back over at him and he's watching you too intensely its hard to look away. You needed to look away, needed to stop letting him look at you like that. It was making confusing thoughts appear in a clouded head.
There's a knock on the door.
He pauses the movie standing up. "I got it." You tell him digging through your purse on the counter.
"It's fine." He pulls out his wallet from his back pocket.
"No please let me." You're fumbling with your cash to beat him to the door and you get there with your hand on the handle, but his hands land on your hips.
You still, skin burning. "I got it." He turns you around staring down at you, hands still splayed along your waist making your brain empty as it hones in on every place he's touching. "I may not like you but I am not that rude." You stare up at him trying not to focus on his hands touching your body, his face too close. He pushes you to the side as he opens the door, one hand still wrapped around you, and smiles out into the hall as you come up behind him. "Hi, thanks. Keep the change." He takes the pizza box with one hand and closes the door. "You're a pest you know that."
He let's you go reality finally flooding back into your senses, your body seeming too cold all of a sudden. "I don't want to be in debt to you." You wrap your hands around your body.
"Buy the next one then kitten." He slides it across the counter and opens it up.
"There will be no next one."
You go back to watching your movie, the food dulling the alcohol and any traces of whatever unwanted ideas it provoked. It did make you unreasonably tired and you know by middle of the second movie your eyes are starting to close. You should tell him to lock the door behind him when he leaves, but your mouth feels heavy with sleep and soon enough it takes you.
Sunlight wakes you up first, peaking through your blinds warming your already toasty skin. You knew you had dozed off during the movie, but you had hoped you would wander back into your room instead of the couch. Theres a slight kink in your neck from the angle, but you do feel rather cozy. You close your eyes again, tugging the blankets back up to your neck, and cuddling down into your warm couch.
Your couch was breathing.
You peeked one eye open turning slightly to peer at Coriolanus sleeping soundly next to you. You breath hitches as you glance down seeing your legs entangled under the same blanket. You shout clambering off of him. His body flies up in surprise the same time your foot catches the blankets and you're both crashing to the ground with him on top of you. "What are you doing!" Your hands go to his chest to push him off of you.
"What are you doing!" He yells back hands on either side of your head.
"Why are you sleeping on my couch?"
"I didn't mean to!"
You crawl out from under him as he sits back on his feet. "I thought you would have left."
He runs a hand through sleep mused hair and you ignore that it's cute now that gel isn't controlling it, "I was going to, but I must have dozed off."
"How did I-..." You couldn't even finish the sentence. How did you end up in his arms?
"I don't know." He shook his head standing up. You must have turned and fallen asleep on his side and then he rolled tucking you into his chest. "I should go." He starts gathering his things and you know it's best he leaves, but for some reason you want to apologize for the bite in your tone. That seemed wrong, you would never apologize to him, never had, never will.
"Snow," You start as he stands by your door. He turns around eyes expecting something, "Don't tell anyone."
Whatever was there in his face is gone, replaced with his normal glare for you, "Wouldn't dream of it." He leaves abruptly the door slamming a little too loud.
Mr. Flickerman had been on to something in assigning you those movies together because it had worked. Maybe it had been the forced proximity, or the threat of being let go in the lead part, but you two got your shit together and pretended to never hate each other while on stage. It's not like you spent the whole play together, you both had other scenes with other characters, but the ones you did have together...
You were dreading the kissing scenes, and thankfully Flickerman was no where near ready to practice them yet.
It had been a month since that night he had accidentally stayed over and Coriolanus seemed rather docile towards you. He mostly stayed away instead of his normal snide comments and bickering and distant glaring you could feel even with your head turned. You found yourself missing his gaze.
You started feeling rather bad, which was a new and strange feeling, was he starting to put aside this feud and you were holding onto it? You packed up your bag and began making your way to the door. He would have said something, spoken to you about putting aside your long history of differences. You stopped at the door turning back to look at him a strange air to him, like he was...sad.
"Snow." You called watching his head snap up to look at you blue eyes twinkling from the overhead stage lights. You made your way back over to him, "Clemensia is having a birthday party at her apartment tonight."
He raised an eyebrow, "Okay?"
You sighed, "Do you want to come..." You gritted your teeth, "With me?"
"Are you asking me out kitten?" He smirked some life returning to his face at this normal banter.
"No." You slapped his arm. "I'll text you the address, you can meet me there."
"You don't have my number."
This was getting into uncharted waters, "I'll DM you then." You answer walking away before he could convince you to take his number. That was a line you both didn't needed to cross.
Later that night you find your back pressed into the counter you're leaning on as Arachne fills you in on her latest romantic disaster, "She completely ghosted me."
"Does this have anything to do with a face made when you showed up to the restaurant she picked?" You smirk at her over your drink.
She rolled her eyes, "How was I supposed to know she had bad taste, she was into me?"
"You can't judge people so quickly Arch."
She stares pointedly at you, "I think it's perfectly fine to judge quickly especially on the first date." Her gaze lingers away a scowl appearing on her face. "What is he doing here?"
You follow her gaze as Coriolanus walks through the front door. "I invited him."
Her nails dig into your arm. "Excuse me!" You take a long slow drink. "Do I need to leave before a murder happens and if so why wasn't I invited to the planning?"
"No." You laugh. "We're trying to get along for the play."
"You and Coriolanus Snow do not get along." She stated like it was a fact from a history book.
You turned to take a step out of the kitchen, "Emphasis on the trying." You walk away before she can ask anymore questions. Given the fact you had all went to Academy together, she knew the long history between the two of you. "Hey." You offer him a smile taking in the small gift bag in his hand. "You brought a gift."
"You said it was a birthday party." He glared at you.
"It's not that kind of birthday party." You chuckled.
He shook his head, "So stupid."
"Excuse me?"
His head snapped towards you. "Who has a birthday party that's not actually a birthday party."
You grinned, "Clemensia." Your fake smile slide off of your mouth. "What did you get her anyways?"
"It's nothing." He took a step back.
"Let me see." You took a step forward.
"No."
"Please." You lunged forward but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you until your chest hit his too close for comfort.
His blue eyes flared, "You are so annoying."
You places a hand on his chest ignoring the tone muscles underneath, "Please tell me."
For a moment his eyes flicker down to your pouted lips before he groaned and pushed you away gently. "It's a plush snake." He opened the bag letting you peer inside at the pretty thing. "I remember she used to be into snakes back in school."
"She still is." You genuinely smiles for him and nodded your head. "Want a drink?"
"Sure."
He sets the bag down on an end table for Clemensia to find whenever she was alone and followed you towards the kitchen. "Hi Coriolanus." Arachne cooed at him when she saw the two of you.
"Be wary, she's in a mood." You muttered. "She had a bad date so she is overly miserable."
"Can't imagine what went wrong." He leaned down to whisper the joke into your ear causing you to actually laugh.
You motioned to the makeshift bar, "Take whatever you want." You go to the fridge where you had secretly stuffed your seltzers and pulled one out.
"So Coriolanus Snow." Arachne called to him too loudly. "What have you been up to these days?"
He shrugged sipping on a beer. "Nothing crazy."
She smirked, "Always the enigma Snow."
"Got to keep em guessing Crane." He winked at her and something rolled in your gut.
Arachne's laugh is laced with malice, hand landing on his forearm long nails digging in to skin like claws. "Please be nice to my friend...or else."
He leaned in close to her, "No promises."
She shook her head at him, jokingly disapproving of him and walked off letting him slowly turn towards you, "Ignore her."
"Ignore her asking me to be nice to you." Your only response was to take a drink. "In reality we both know you are always crueler than I."
"I beg to differ."
The night passes unceremoniously, you both drink a little bit more, you dance with your friends to loud obnoxious music while the night slips away. You spin around Clemensia laughing along with her when you spy him leaning against the back wall alone, watching you.
Come dance.You mouth watching him shake his head in decline which makes you roll your eyes the small laugh in your chest.
"Go on and save him from boredom." Clem says into your ear pulling you too tight. You look at her suspiciously, but she only nudges you in his direction. "Hey." She calls to you as you step around her, "Be careful." You open your mouth to ask what she means but she's already turned around and dancing again.
You make your way towards him out of breath and flushed. You stare up at him and he stares down at you and you avoid the upward twitch of his fingers as you brush hair out of your face.
"Wanna get outta here?"
"Where to?"
You smiles, "I think I owe you a pizza."
You make your way onto the streets the traffic lights guiding you through the blocks as artificial night blares down at you. The city is quiet, the only noise coming from a distant police siren and the honking of random traffic. You glance over at him as you meander through street poles while he watches his shoes hit the concrete. "Do you like the city?"
"Do you?"
He only peers forward, "I asked you first."
You sighed, "I think I'm supposed to so I guess so." You move closer to him until you're walking side by side. "Your turn."
"No." He answers quickly, but doesn't elaborate and you know you shouldn't care but the curiosity nestles in tight.
The rest of the walk is comfortably silent as you arrive at the only open pizza place and you even the score by purchasing the large pizza and continuing to walk with it towards the distant shoreline. He doesn't ask anymore questions as he follows you blindly to wherever you're taking him.
You tell him anyways. "I used to come here a lot when I first moved here." You pointed to the dock where the boats bobbed
"Why?"
You shrugged, "I like to watch the boats. It's calming in this jungle of background chatter." You kick off your shoes as the sand starts and walk inward slightly finding the perfect spot and settling in. He sits down next to you, "It's nice to just sit here as they start to peel away and wonder all of the places they could be going."
"They're probably off to get drunk in the middle of the water."
"Maybe," You open the box up. "Maybe not, and that's the fun in it all." He picks up a slice, "Why do you not like it here?"
You eat half of your slice before he finally responds, "Why do you feel like you're supposed to like it?"
"I asked you first."
He shakes his head, a subtle glare in his eyes, theres no malice behind it, "Not doing this with you."
You nudge him with your foot, "Play nice with me remember."
"I don't play well with others."
"You've always played well with me." Because isn't that what this was, what this has always been. A tennis match, a game of chess, the constant back and forth until someone wins. The sentence comes out too gentle of a whisper and he looks away, so you do too watching the sun break the horizon in a blood orange glow splitting the sky into bright pinks and indigos. You realize you've been out all night with him and for some reason the thought isn't followed by regret. "There goes one." You point as the small boat peels away from the others and out into the dark waters a small horn blaring in the distance.
His lips part, "I feel small here." Your eyes shoot over to him too quickly. "I want to be great, I want to have power, but so does everyone else and I feel like I'll never be seen." He looks over at you, "I want to be great or I want to be nothing."
You know you need to answer, spill your minuscule confession, but it seemed too raw to let his go. He wanted you to let it go because letting you hear it would be wrong, you don't tell your enemy your darkest secrets, yet he had spoke it anyways. "My father wants me to like it, wants me to be what he wants me to be." You drag your finger through the sand. "So I am."
"What do you want be?"
You look at him again, the sun reflecting in his blue eyes like the waves in the water rippling off the shore, "Me."
He raises his eyebrow jokingly, "And who is that?"
"Wouldn't you like to know Snow." You smile.
"I've always known who you are." He stretches his legs out leaning back on his hands. "An annoying, nosy pain in my ass."
You close the pizza box climbing to your feet and wiping your hands off on your clothes. You stare down at him as the morning sun beats down on your back. You hold out your hand, "You are as much a pain in my ass as I am to you, but..." He cocks his head to the side playfully watching you as if he knew where this was going. "You've grown on me this past month, so I'm willing to consider a truce."
He takes your hand standing up, "Is this what you say to all the guys kitten?" You roll your eyes, "Fine I'll be your friend since you asked so desperately."
You ignore that he's still holding your hand, ignore how soft it is, how perfect it cradles yours. "A truce, not friends, at least until this play is over." You pack up the pizza letting him carry it as you begin the journey homeward walking side by side, the sunrise guiding your paths home.
summary: you needed the fine arts credit to fill your schedule and finish out your junior year at university, but so did your sworn enemy coriolanus snow because of course he did.
warnings: swearing
paring: modern!coriolanus snow x reader
notes: omg so happy to have this out!! this story has been so fun to write!! i hope u enjoy!! it took me way too long to write this whole story out but its finally ready to have someone else enjoy it (hopefully)
You're staring forward with a blank expression on your face as your mother rambles into your ear through the phone. You chew your cuticle to avoid sighing or groaning at her, letting her into the obvious feelings of annoyance of the subject of her conversation; your father, your career, your school.
"Yes. Yes, Mom I know." You scoop up the iced coffee into your hands and make for the door. You shift your bag around shoving the phone further into shoulder as your other one pushed the door open. "I'll come visit for the holidays I promise." You lie turning around the glass door and smacking into a solid wall. Your coffee smashes to the floor and all over your feet, "I am so-Oh it's you." You glance down as your destroyed beverage, "I have to go." You hang up mid questions.
He glares at you, "Do you ever watch where you're going?"
"Do you?" You shove back inside to grab napkins to clean the coffee off of your ankles. You grab your now empty cup and toss it into the trash along with the wet napkins before pushing past him down the street. You don't even try to go and reorder too annoyed and needing distance from him of all people. "You owe me $6 for that coffee you made me spill."
"I made you spill." He catches up to you matching your stride easily with his long legs and you feel more annoyance settle into your stomach. "You ran into me!"
You don't even look over at him as you cross the street. "You should have held the door open for me like a gentleman."
He snorts, "You've known me our whole lives...when have I ever been a gentleman?"
"Maybe you could start." You take a left to head down another block your campus coming into sight. It had been three years since you had seen him, three peaceful years of never having to look at his aggravating face besides a rare sighting in the library, but what should have been a docile dislike still burned in a raging blaze of fury. You searched for maturity, for a sophisticated phrase to send him off, but he brought out the worst in you. "Don't you have somewhere else to be? Schemes to plot in an evil lair?"
"I actually am heading to class this way too." He chuckles. "Has anyone ever told you you are a ray of sunshine?"
You smile sarcastically, "I would be a lot nicer if I had my coffee."
"So dramatic." He shakes his head laughing at you. You stop, looking at his grinning face. Three years and time had treated him well which only infuriates you more. He was taller somehow, his hair shorter and trained straight instead of those adolescent curls you begrudgingly despised. There was slight bags under his eyes no doubt from the start of the semester changing his sleep habits because you were the same, even more reason to be upset over spilled coffee. He looked good, and it made you hate him even more.
You decide not to respond, but pick up your own pace to put distance between you and your sworn enemy, but he kept following. You knew he had classes in this building since you had the same classes given he decided to pick the same major as you, but when you take a right down the stairs you believe he's simply following you. "You're being creepy."
He points ahead of you, "I have class this way too... like I told you." Your stomach drops. No, no, no this can't be happening. You reel on him eyes narrowed in anger watching his smug face slowly drop in realization as well. "You've got to be kidding me."
"I needed the fine art credit."
He pinches the bridge of his nose, "So did I."
You slap you hands against your legs in exasperation because of course you had the same curriculum with the same required credits. "You simply always need to copy me."
"Could say the same about you." He pushes past you and into the classroom ahead. It wasn't just a classroom, it was a theater. You had chosen this for the credit on your transcript because it was different than anything else you have done, you had a chance to prove yourself in something new, be the main lead if you wanted; gain attention, notoriety, and an ever growing boost to your resume. You chose it because you knew you would excel and exceed where others could not simply based on who you were and how you treated everything academically in your life.
Okay maybe you also figured it would be a fairly easy pass.
And so had you old Academy rival Coriolanus Snow.
It wasn't horrible. He mostly sat on the opposite end of the room as you and you barely had to interact with each other those first few classes. It had consisted of generic information, a slow introduction to the world of pretending, nothing too intense that you knew was surely coming.
You had the same major, political science with a minor in business, but you had had freedom structuring when you took certain subjects, carefully crafting something that never put him a few desk away from you again, thankfully you both never had crossing seminars...besides this one.
You and Coriolanus Snow had a long history together. You had grown up together, not closely, and not anything of note, enough to be aware of each other, but this growing animosity didn't take root truly until you both attended Academy together. You can't always picture how it started in the depths of your mind, but it had been there for some reason. You see snippets of niceties but that always seemed like delusional daydreams of a world that never existed, never could exist. You had both wanted to be top of the class, always fighting for the number one position, teacher's favoritism, student body president, valedictorian... It gnawed at both of you eating away at any form of camaraderie to the point anyone who knew you, knew you hated each other.
You glared over at him as he wrote things down in his notebook. You knew he would be attending University with you, you wished he had been dumb enough to not be accepted, but nope he was here, sitting a few seats away from you again. And of course the asshole had to be gunning for you here just the same.
"Alright my lovely students." Mr. Flickerman clapped his hands. "Now that were a couple classes in I want to go over our huge project for the year." You sat up straight, this was your moment. "I have written a play that we will be performing, and I'll be holding auditions next week for different parts." He smiled glancing around the room, "The final show won't be until the end of the spring semester, and as we go through it we'll be going over different techniques of line delivery and stage directions and play writes...you get the point. Once we're done you won't be able to view a show without analyzing it."
The class flatly laughs.
You smile after he dismisses you heading down to the sign up sheet quickly. You wanted the lead, you needed the lead. You wanted him to be so impressed he makes a reporter come down here to add you to the paper. Okay that was silly. Mostly you wanted your father to come watch and maybe see your more than just his pawn, that maybe there was more to you than his perfect molding. You wanted Coriolanus to be some boring side part with no lines that no one would ever pay attention to. You scribble you name down on the part you want and take the script copies home to practice and then you're heading back home to your apartment with that ever growing fire under you.
You lose yourself in preparing for it you barely hear your phone ring until it goes off for the second time. "Tell me you're getting dick and that's why you're not answering."
"I wish Clem." You run your hand over your face. "No I'm studying up for something."
She groans, "You're so boring, come out with us tonight there's a new place in town that has really good espresso martinis."
"I can't." You sigh. "Maybe once I land this part."
"Wait." She chuckles. "Part? Is this for that theater class you wanted to take or does daddy have you off doing side quests again?"
You actually laugh as you set the script aside, "It's for a class, for a credit I need." You trace the words absentmindedly. "I figured it would be different...fun. Nice break between all the other boring shit I'm doing." You stare down at the lines of your future male counterpart, "You'll never guess who-!"
"Are you and Coriolanus Snow in the same fucking class...again?" She sounds shocked as if the possibility of running into him had always been small despite the agitation around it every coming semester.
You flop back onto the couch, "Yes ugh he's obsessed with ruining my life."
"Surprised the building hasn't combusted from your two inflated egos." Clemensia jokes.
"His is bigger than mine."
She laughs even louder. "I'm sure it is darling. Well, I got to run, our car is here but you'll have to tell me how it all goes next weekend over these martinis if they're actually any good."
"It's a date." You smile as the line cuts off plunging you into silence. You shove the script away and stand up going to your fridge grabbing out the bottle of wine and opening it to pour yourself a large glass. You sit back down on the couch, curling your feet under yourself as you scroll through social media.
You find yourself on his page seeing his stupid pictures with his stupid face doing stupid things as you sip on your wine. It wasn't fair that someone so annoying was so good looking, it also wasn't fair that he was aging like fine wine. You chuckle into your own wine. You keep scrolling and scrolling through his pictures more of your wine disappearing before you neared when he was back in Academy with you. You pause on one of him with a group of the other boys. He looked so young, with his longer blonde curling hair, and a little grin on his lips before the cruel world could steal the light from his eyes. You're trying to zoom in when your phone slightly slips the red heart appearing on your screen.
"Oh no." You quickly unlike the photo. "Shit, shit, shit." You close the app throwing your phone across the couch. Maybe he wouldn't see it. You drain your wine, your nerves buzzing.
Your phone vibrates.
"Are you stalking me?"
It spreads out across your bright screen that sends adrenaline coursing through your thumping heart. It's a direct message from him.
You stare at it for so long considering all your options. You could lie, say it was your friend, a pet you didn't have, maybe you were babysitting or hacked! You could just tell him you slipped but then he would know you were looking through his old photos.
You could just...never respond.
"I thought I blocked you." Is all you type back. He didn't need an explanation, or your time and beating heart, screw him.
"Clearly not if you're looking through my photos from years ago." He types back too quick, "Reminiscing on the good ole' days?"
You tap your fingers on the side of your phone, "You did look so innocent back then, how deceiving." You're on your feet going to the fridge for more wine to avoid the three little bubbles going off while he typed back.
"What are you doing right now besides looking at pictures of me?"
"What?"
"Can you read?"
"Yes, but why do you care."
"Call it boredom..."
"Drinking."
"What are you drinking?"
"The blood of my enemies."
He doesn't respond for a while, so long you think this little game is finished. But then your phone goes off again bringing a blush to your cheeks as you read his message, "You wish."
You never type back, you turn your phone off and go to bed.
You avoid messaging him again the rest of the weekend heading to class with your head down. You blames the alcohol for even letting you give him the time of day. You take your seat in your normal spot grabbing out your notebook as a coffee slides across your desk. You follow the hand holding it until you're staring into his blue eyes. "Figured it's better than the blood of your enemies." He says finally taking his hand off of it you glance at his name scribed out on the cup by the barista then back to him, "And I owed you one from last time." You scowl at him, "It's not poisoned."
You narrow your eyes at him venom dripping from your ever present emotional fangs, "Just because we had a little DM session doesn't mean we're friends."
He rolls his eyes, "Can't you just accept one act of kindness and move on."
"I don't trust your kindness." You cross your arms, "It's manipulative."
"At least I can fake kindness, you don't have a nice bone in your body."
You smirk, "Only to people I don't like."
He glares at you, "Then block me." He storms off.
"I did already!" You lie watching his back as he makes his way to the other side of the room. You trace the letters of his name.
You get the lead...obviously. The play was an original romantic tragedy that Flickerman had constructed, you were surprised by his lighthearted nature he was able to produce something so solemn, something that encompassed what you had always longed for within romantic entertainment; yearning and passion; everything your life lacked. It didn't matter as long as you did well with what you were given, and you would. You had to.
Clemensia had kept true to her word by taking you out for celebratory drinks, and as your drinks clink with your friends you can picture the applause you will receive after the performance, the smug smile on your face as Coriolanus lurks in the shadow of anonymity. "You always were into the dramatics." Arachne Crane watches you over the rim of her drink.
"Well now I can put that trait to good use." You laugh taking a drink.
"How romantic is it?" Clem ask with a mischievous gleam in her eye.
You shrug, "Nothing crazy just some kissing scenes."
Arachne swirls her drink, "Do you know your scene partner? Is he at least cute?"
You racked your brain trying to imagine the rest of the class, for some reason the only 'cute' person that showed up in your imagination was Coriolanus, and that didn't seem accurate because he wasn't cute, he was annoying. "No idea Arch." You sigh, eyes wandering out into the dim restaurant, but your phone vibrates in your purse.
You glance at your friends who are engrossed in their side conversation before tugging your phone gently out of your purse. You chew on the side of your finger smirking down at your phone reading the name pinging on your screen.
Then its being ripped out of your hands, "Who has you smiling-Coriolanus Snow!" Arachne's eyes widened in shock, "'I thought you blocked me.' That isn't even clever and why don't you have him blocked?"
"Yes, how did he ever get through those defenses." Clem chuckles. You had never blocked him during your time at the Academy, it had never seemed important at the time, and after the whole direct message debacle you had blocked him...for about a day.
You snatch your phone back, "I must have forgot and he's in the same class as me, probably just wants to ask about a test or something."
"I did. How did you figure out I unblocked you?"
"Curiosity killed the cat, also I'm smart."
"So I'm the cat or are you?"
"Wouldn't you like to know, kitten."
Your head spins, he's teasing...right? "Then what are you in this story?"
"Whatever you want me to be."
"Are you flirting with me Coriolanus Snow?"
"Do you want me to flirt with you...kitten?"
You know your face is flushed, why did he text you when you had been drinking and can't think straight. Why was he even talking to you? He wasn't flirting with you, he hated you and you hated him and that had always been the status quo you both enjoyed. This had to simply be banter to get into your head, to throw you off, he's always been personable, smoozing his way to the top, sarcastically nice towards you; this seemed different. "Gross." You had sent the puking emoji for good measure.
You watch the three bubbles for quite some time, you actually begin to feel bad you were on your phone but it dragged you in for some reason, making it incapable to look away, like a horrible car wreck happening in the palm of your hand.
Until finally his messaged popped up, "Congratulations on getting the part, looking forward to working with you." He had sent a kissing emoji next to it making your heart stop.
"He's my scene partner." You stare up at your friends all joy dripping out of you. "He got the lead part too." Because who else in that room would have been capable if not him.
Arachne nearly spits her drink out while Clemensia burst out laughing. "Oh that is perfect."
"Who knows." Arachne states condescendingly, "Maybe it will bring you two...closer." Which only brings laughter from both of them as you put your head in your hands. This was bad, bad news and you needed to end it before wreckage could ensue.
Once the week starts you go into class earlier than everyone to search out Mr. Flickerman. This had to be some mistake, or game he must be playing at to continue to ruin your life. "Professor." You breath. "I need to talk to you about the play."
He doesn't look up at you as he filters through papers, "What about?"
"Coriolanus can't be my scene partner."
Mr. Flickerman glances up at you. "Why not? I think you two will be wonderful, you both had the best auditions for your respective roles."
You close your eyes trying to phrase it nicely. "We have a long history and-!"
"Romantically?"
You cringe, "Gods no."
"Then what's the issue?"
You sigh. "We don't like each other and I'm worried that will...reflect in our performances."
Mr. Flickerman pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you backing out then?"
"No." You stand up straighter, why would you ever give into him. "He should."
He laughed. "Good luck convincing him of that." But he saw the distressed look on your face and took a deep breath. "Look I suggest perhaps figuring your issues out, maybe this will be a bonding experience!" He nudged you with his shoulder, "Maybe it will heal old wounds."
You know you won't get anywhere, he's too caught up in making his play perfect for reviews and you didn't blame him. You turn around watching Coriolanus striding down the row of desk in all his wicked glory. "This is a new low for you Snow." You seethe at him. "I know you're only doing this to make me back out."
"Did you?" He smirked but for some reason its doesn't have the usual flair behind it.
You held you chin up. "No, and I won't be, but you will."
He leans down, closer to your face. "Is that a threat, kitten?" You feel the blush burning through your cheeks and he laughs at you. It's the first time he uses the pet name outside of your phone and you lose words. "Have fun trying though." He pushes past you towards his seat leaving you grid your teeth in frustration.
He was impossible, he was rude and narcissistic and-and you had to kiss him or else your pride would be in shambles. You wouldn't-couldn't back out or else you'd be viewed as a failure, a quitter.
You would have to kiss Coriolanus Snow.
endnotes: hope u all enjoyed this first chapter i had hopes the first chapter was longer but alas this is where we are at!! hoping you stick along for the ride!!
annaxmalina
snowghoul
discoholicmusic
jbbartram-illu
areudirty
stormborns
