summary: coriolanus snow, a man known for his charm, his wit, and his passion for power, meets a talented artist in the capitol. she spends most of her days painting portraits for prominent figures and finds herself painting one for none other than coriolanus snow himself. through all the ups and downs, will coriolanus and the artist be able to defy all odds? or is this so-called love merely another version of control and a means to a devastating ending?
word count: 1,960
warnings: mild sexual content
chapter 4: there’s snow falling over the city
The next couple of days were a whirlwind. You had finished Coriolanus’ portrait but he still wanted you there. You had barely spent any time at home in the past couple of days and your apartment began to feel less like yours and more like a place where you just laid your head and kept your stuff. Throughout the days, you learned a lot about Coriolanus. You learned that he was a perfectionist, that he was sometimes too honest, and that he was used to getting what he wanted. But you didn’t know anything about his past, you didn’t really know him like you wanted to. He had this tough exterior that was so hard to crack and sometimes you wondered if you ever really would know him and how long he would want to know you. You spent a good amount of time at the president’s mansion and Coriolanus would often tell you to cancel your appointments with promises he would cover whatever money you lost in the process. You decided to take a week off, something you never did, but it felt like you had to. Coriolanus wanted you by him almost at all times, besides when he had to do something important. You had to convince him to let you go home at night, you weren’t in a relationship, and sleeping with him when you’d only met him a couple days ago didn’t feel right. And don’t get me wrong, you wanted to, but you had to have self-control.
The last time you were in a serious relationship was when you were sixteen years old. It was with a boy who was the son of your father’s business partner. you fell hard and fast for him, it was an intense relationship. And in the end, he didn’t want you anymore. You were scared that the same revelation would happen with Coriolanus. it wasn’t a fear that caused you to run away from commitment or caused you to close yourself off emotionally, but it made you cautious. This experience had made it harder for you to love, made it harder for you to trust. But Coriolanus didn’t really seem to care about love. He cared about other things way before that, and that kind of brought you comfort. You felt like he didn’t expect so much from you so soon, even though it seemed like his every waking minute had to be with you.
Right now, you were sitting with him in the same room you had first had lunch with him. but this time it was different. There was tension in the room and you could feel it. You looked at Coriolanus, his blue eyes were like pools, frozen pools. they seemed to pierce through the facade of his carefully crafted exterior. They seemed to harbor complexity and hidden turmoil, something you hadn’t noticed about him before. “There’s a gala tonight,” he finally said and his hand reached out to rest around the glass that was placed in front of him. You were hoping you’d be able to paint tonight, something you hadn’t gotten to really do in the last couple of days. But it seemed like that wouldn’t be happening and a feeling of sadness crept into your mind. “I was hoping I’d be able to paint tonight,” Coriolanus shook his head, just like you thought, he always got everything he wanted. And although you were beginning to feel things for him that you had really never felt with anyone else, you still began to also feel the control that he had over everyone else settle onto you. “I don’t believe there’s anyone more fitting than you to accompany me,” he voiced as he began to tap his finger against the glass in front of him. You nodded your head slowly and gulped, this was just another way that Coriolanus kept you next to him, and you couldn’t refuse.
As the sun dipped below the glistening spires of the Capitol, Coriolanus’ staff began to dress you in something you never expected to see yourself in. This gown was meant to be worn by the elite of the Capitol, it was telling. It was a work of art in terms of grace, a sophisticated symphony of material and design. Delicate lace with complex patterns that told a tale of timeless charm graced the bodice. The sweetheart-shaped neckline, with its subtle and elegant details, suggested modesty as well as allure. The waist of the gown was seamlessly clinched to your waistline and it cascaded into a voluminous skirt of some of the Capitol’s finest satin. The fabric itself was a rich shade of blue, a color that you had recently learned was one of Coriolanus’ favorite colors. The back of the dress was open, allowing the subtle shimmer of the straps to contrast with your skin tone, making the dress all around look polished and regal. On your feet were heels, and you had barely ever worn heels. The last time you had worn heels was when you were fifteen at the academy’s semi-formal that you had been invited to by your ex-boyfriend. They were beautiful heels however, a silver color that pulled all the qualities of the dress together and made the look almost enchanting.
Conveniently, the gala was to be held at the President’s mansion, which meant there was no traveling that needed to be done. The gala was being held to celebrate the Capitol’s opulence and probably to commend Coriolanus’ sacrifices when it came to his dedicated work for the Hunger Games. You walked out of the fitting room that was on the second floor of the mansion, the hallways were empty, but you could hear the music coming from the back of the mansion. You could also see the lights, a mix of different hues, piercing through the upstairs windows. To say you were nervous was an understatement. Who would be attending this gala? Only the best of the best were probably invited. Meaning that you would be the only one deemed to be less fortunate than the rest. You wondered if people would be surprised by your attendance if they would whisper about you behind your back and pretend you didn’t hear it. You wondered if people would judge Coriolanus for being with someone who didn’t necessarily give him leverage in the Capitol. Finally, as you reached the end of the hallway, ready to descend down the stairs, you heard the door open. It was Coriolanus, he looked better than you had ever seen him before. You began to feel that warm feeling in your stomach that you had felt a couple days prior begin to creep up on you again. You hated that feeling because you had absolutely no idea what to do about it. Coriolanus was wearing a suit that was a testament to his refined taste. The jacket, just like your dress, was a midnight blue. The lapels, adorned with a subtle sheen, framed his chest with such elegance. The jacket fit him perfectly, accentuating his silhouette, making it almost impossible to turn away. The entire outfit was perfectly tailored to fit his every need, it was made for him. “Everyone’s waiting for me,” he stated, linking his arm with yours as he directed you down the stairs. The nervousness you had felt in your chest prior was beginning to become more prevalent. You had no choice but to show your face though, there was no running and hiding to go paint anymore. This was your life now.
The President’s mansion had been decorated perfectly. Everything was where it should be, nothing out of place. To say it was impressive was an understatement. Coriolanus and yourself had already been introduced and it was practically impossible to ignore the whispers of the other attending guests as you walked towards the table that was adorned with all different kinds of food and drinks. You could feel the stares as you reached over and picked up a glass of a drink that had a pink hue. Before you could pick it up, a hand stopped you. You looked up about to protest when you saw your ex-boyfriend whom you had dated when you were sixteen. “You might not want to drink that,” he said with a smile. You hadn’t seen him in years, you were speechless. “It’s supposed to make you sick when you eat too much,” he said as he removed his hand from yours. “Oh.” That’s all you could say as you looked up at the boy, who was now a man, that you had once loved before. It made sense why he was here. His father had taken over your father’s business and made good money, leaving your family in the dark. You felt a mix of emotions, none too good. You hadn’t seen him since the night he had broken up with you. “It’s been a long time y/n,” he reminisced, looking down at you. “Yeah it has,” you agreed, picking up a water from the table. You wanted to drink, but it seemed like you weren’t having any luck with finding anything that would soothe you. You took a sip of the water and cleared your throat. "What are you doing here?" You asked, trying to find something to talk about. "My father was invited by President Snow. And it seems like you two are smitten," he retorted. You nodded your head, your eyes scanning the room for Coriolanus. And then you saw him. He looked upset, angry even. He was talking to an older man, someone you figured was important. But it seemed like he was fixated on you. You began to get nervous again, you had never seen Coriolanus angry before. Your eyes moved back to the man in front of you as you began to speak, "Yeah, you could say that," you answered as you brought the water up to your lips to take another sip. Before you could do so, you felt a strong grip on your waist. It was Coriolanus, and he wasn't happy. You watched as Coriolanus gave your ex-boyfriend the most condescending smile you had ever seen. "Excuse us," he said briefly as he led you towards the inside of the mansion.
The mansion was practically empty since everybody was enjoying the gala outside. The only voices you could hear were miscellaneous staff members who were further away in the home. Coriolanus led you into a hallway way that was dark, barely lit by any lights at all. You began to speak, but before you could you were slammed against the wall. The air you had in your lungs felt like it was being pushed out of you all in one second. "Coriolanus, I-" Before you could speak, a hand wrapped around your throat. You had never been touched like this before and that warm feeling you had in your stomach hours earlier began to find its way into your body again. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to see the woman you're with talking to another man in front of everyone?" Coriolanus' voice was rough, it was different than the usual kindness that seeped from his every word. "It wasn't like that," you pleaded, as you stared into the eyes of the man in front of you. Coriolanus' grip got tighter around your throat as your eyes began to water, you couldn't tell if you were scared or enjoying this occasion. "Oh, it wasn't like that?" He stated condescendingly. The hand that wasn't around your throat began to slowly lift your dress up and move furtively underneath. You drew in a breath of air, the touch of his cold fingers startling you. "We'll have to make sure it wasn't."
Hello! Thank you for reading chapter 4, I'm so sorry for the delay. The next chapter is going to be a little bit spicier, so stay tuned! I will try to get the next chapter out in the next couple of days. It is finals week for me, so bear with me.
summary: coriolanus snow, a man known for his charm, his wit, and his passion for power, meets a talented artist in the capitol. she spends most of her days painting portraits for prominent figures and finds herself painting one for none other than coriolanus snow himself. through all the ups and downs, will coriolanus and the artist be able to defy all odds? or is this so-called love merely another version of control and a means to a devastating ending?
word count: 1,960
warnings: mild sexual content
chapter 4: there’s snow falling over the city
The next couple of days were a whirlwind. You had finished Coriolanus’ portrait but he still wanted you there. You had barely spent any time at home in the past couple of days and your apartment began to feel less like yours and more like a place where you just laid your head and kept your stuff. Throughout the days, you learned a lot about Coriolanus. You learned that he was a perfectionist, that he was sometimes too honest, and that he was used to getting what he wanted. But you didn’t know anything about his past, you didn’t really know him like you wanted to. He had this tough exterior that was so hard to crack and sometimes you wondered if you ever really would know him and how long he would want to know you. You spent a good amount of time at the president’s mansion and Coriolanus would often tell you to cancel your appointments with promises he would cover whatever money you lost in the process. You decided to take a week off, something you never did, but it felt like you had to. Coriolanus wanted you by him almost at all times, besides when he had to do something important. You had to convince him to let you go home at night, you weren’t in a relationship, and sleeping with him when you’d only met him a couple days ago didn’t feel right. And don’t get me wrong, you wanted to, but you had to have self-control.
The last time you were in a serious relationship was when you were sixteen years old. It was with a boy who was the son of your father’s business partner. you fell hard and fast for him, it was an intense relationship. And in the end, he didn’t want you anymore. You were scared that the same revelation would happen with Coriolanus. it wasn’t a fear that caused you to run away from commitment or caused you to close yourself off emotionally, but it made you cautious. This experience had made it harder for you to love, made it harder for you to trust. But Coriolanus didn’t really seem to care about love. He cared about other things way before that, and that kind of brought you comfort. You felt like he didn’t expect so much from you so soon, even though it seemed like his every waking minute had to be with you.
Right now, you were sitting with him in the same room you had first had lunch with him. but this time it was different. There was tension in the room and you could feel it. You looked at Coriolanus, his blue eyes were like pools, frozen pools. they seemed to pierce through the facade of his carefully crafted exterior. They seemed to harbor complexity and hidden turmoil, something you hadn’t noticed about him before. “There’s a gala tonight,” he finally said and his hand reached out to rest around the glass that was placed in front of him. You were hoping you’d be able to paint tonight, something you hadn’t gotten to really do in the last couple of days. But it seemed like that wouldn’t be happening and a feeling of sadness crept into your mind. “I was hoping I’d be able to paint tonight,” Coriolanus shook his head, just like you thought, he always got everything he wanted. And although you were beginning to feel things for him that you had really never felt with anyone else, you still began to also feel the control that he had over everyone else settle onto you. “I don’t believe there’s anyone more fitting than you to accompany me,” he voiced as he began to tap his finger against the glass in front of him. You nodded your head slowly and gulped, this was just another way that Coriolanus kept you next to him, and you couldn’t refuse.
As the sun dipped below the glistening spires of the Capitol, Coriolanus’ staff began to dress you in something you never expected to see yourself in. This gown was meant to be worn by the elite of the Capitol, it was telling. It was a work of art in terms of grace, a sophisticated symphony of material and design. Delicate lace with complex patterns that told a tale of timeless charm graced the bodice. The sweetheart-shaped neckline, with its subtle and elegant details, suggested modesty as well as allure. The waist of the gown was seamlessly clinched to your waistline and it cascaded into a voluminous skirt of some of the Capitol’s finest satin. The fabric itself was a rich shade of blue, a color that you had recently learned was one of Coriolanus’ favorite colors. The back of the dress was open, allowing the subtle shimmer of the straps to contrast with your skin tone, making the dress all around look polished and regal. On your feet were heels, and you had barely ever worn heels. The last time you had worn heels was when you were fifteen at the academy’s semi-formal that you had been invited to by your ex-boyfriend. They were beautiful heels however, a silver color that pulled all the qualities of the dress together and made the look almost enchanting.
Conveniently, the gala was to be held at the President’s mansion, which meant there was no traveling that needed to be done. The gala was being held to celebrate the Capitol’s opulence and probably to commend Coriolanus’ sacrifices when it came to his dedicated work for the Hunger Games. You walked out of the fitting room that was on the second floor of the mansion, the hallways were empty, but you could hear the music coming from the back of the mansion. You could also see the lights, a mix of different hues, piercing through the upstairs windows. To say you were nervous was an understatement. Who would be attending this gala? Only the best of the best were probably invited. Meaning that you would be the only one deemed to be less fortunate than the rest. You wondered if people would be surprised by your attendance if they would whisper about you behind your back and pretend you didn’t hear it. You wondered if people would judge Coriolanus for being with someone who didn’t necessarily give him leverage in the Capitol. Finally, as you reached the end of the hallway, ready to descend down the stairs, you heard the door open. It was Coriolanus, he looked better than you had ever seen him before. You began to feel that warm feeling in your stomach that you had felt a couple days prior begin to creep up on you again. You hated that feeling because you had absolutely no idea what to do about it. Coriolanus was wearing a suit that was a testament to his refined taste. The jacket, just like your dress, was a midnight blue. The lapels, adorned with a subtle sheen, framed his chest with such elegance. The jacket fit him perfectly, accentuating his silhouette, making it almost impossible to turn away. The entire outfit was perfectly tailored to fit his every need, it was made for him. “Everyone’s waiting for me,” he stated, linking his arm with yours as he directed you down the stairs. The nervousness you had felt in your chest prior was beginning to become more prevalent. You had no choice but to show your face though, there was no running and hiding to go paint anymore. This was your life now.
The President’s mansion had been decorated perfectly. Everything was where it should be, nothing out of place. To say it was impressive was an understatement. Coriolanus and yourself had already been introduced and it was practically impossible to ignore the whispers of the other attending guests as you walked towards the table that was adorned with all different kinds of food and drinks. You could feel the stares as you reached over and picked up a glass of a drink that had a pink hue. Before you could pick it up, a hand stopped you. You looked up about to protest when you saw your ex-boyfriend whom you had dated when you were sixteen. “You might not want to drink that,” he said with a smile. You hadn’t seen him in years, you were speechless. “It’s supposed to make you sick when you eat too much,” he said as he removed his hand from yours. “Oh.” That’s all you could say as you looked up at the boy, who was now a man, that you had once loved before. It made sense why he was here. His father had taken over your father’s business and made good money, leaving your family in the dark. You felt a mix of emotions, none too good. You hadn’t seen him since the night he had broken up with you. “It’s been a long time y/n,” he reminisced, looking down at you. “Yeah it has,” you agreed, picking up a water from the table. You wanted to drink, but it seemed like you weren’t having any luck with finding anything that would soothe you. You took a sip of the water and cleared your throat. "What are you doing here?" You asked, trying to find something to talk about. "My father was invited by President Snow. And it seems like you two are smitten," he retorted. You nodded your head, your eyes scanning the room for Coriolanus. And then you saw him. He looked upset, angry even. He was talking to an older man, someone you figured was important. But it seemed like he was fixated on you. You began to get nervous again, you had never seen Coriolanus angry before. Your eyes moved back to the man in front of you as you began to speak, "Yeah, you could say that," you answered as you brought the water up to your lips to take another sip. Before you could do so, you felt a strong grip on your waist. It was Coriolanus, and he wasn't happy. You watched as Coriolanus gave your ex-boyfriend the most condescending smile you had ever seen. "Excuse us," he said briefly as he led you towards the inside of the mansion.
The mansion was practically empty since everybody was enjoying the gala outside. The only voices you could hear were miscellaneous staff members who were further away in the home. Coriolanus led you into a hallway way that was dark, barely lit by any lights at all. You began to speak, but before you could you were slammed against the wall. The air you had in your lungs felt like it was being pushed out of you all in one second. "Coriolanus, I-" Before you could speak, a hand wrapped around your throat. You had never been touched like this before and that warm feeling you had in your stomach hours earlier began to find its way into your body again. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to see the woman you're with talking to another man in front of everyone?" Coriolanus' voice was rough, it was different than the usual kindness that seeped from his every word. "It wasn't like that," you pleaded, as you stared into the eyes of the man in front of you. Coriolanus' grip got tighter around your throat as your eyes began to water, you couldn't tell if you were scared or enjoying this occasion. "Oh, it wasn't like that?" He stated condescendingly. The hand that wasn't around your throat began to slowly lift your dress up and move furtively underneath. You drew in a breath of air, the touch of his cold fingers startling you. "We'll have to make sure it wasn't."
Hello! Thank you for reading chapter 4, I'm so sorry for the delay. The next chapter is going to be a little bit spicier, so stay tuned! I will try to get the next chapter out in the next couple of days. It is finals week for me, so bear with me.
summary: coriolanus snow, a man known for his charm, his wit, and his passion for power, meets a talented artist in the capitol. she spends most of her days painting portraits for prominent figures and finds herself painting one for none other than coriolanus snow himself. through all the ups and downs, will coriolanus and the artist be able to defy all odds? or is this so-called love merely another version of control and a means to a devastating ending?
word count: 2,506
(chapter one | chapter two)
chapter three: shadow's of us are still dancin'
What is a "shadow dance?" A shadow dance can be described as a complex relationship between two people. Where hidden motives, secrets, and unspoken dynamics arise. In a relationship where there are secrets, hidden motives, and thoughts unspoken can it really prevail? Do people from seemingly two different worlds make sense together? What is the gain of the most powerful man in Panem taking an interest in a budding artist who's just trying to get by?
You set down your journal at the edge of your nightstand, the cover glistening from the moonlight that came in from the window that was behind your bed. The curtains danced in the wind as you laid your head on your pillow, the midnight breeze softly singing you to sleep. But you couldn't sleep, not after today's events. The thought of Coriolanus' lips against yours echoed in every cavern of your being. You stared into the darkness wondering how a truly innocent portrait painting led you to being kissed by the man that every woman yearned to be with and every man yearned to be. Did you consider yourself lucky? No. Not yet. Maybe it was a one-time thing. The atmosphere of the greenhouse and the conversations you had might have made him sentimental for the moment. Maybe it was the fact that you had shown interest in something other than his power. Or maybe it was because you held onto his every word like your life depended on it. But it didn't make sense that Coriolanus Snow, the President of Panem, had kissed you. Now you weren't one to have low self-esteem. You knew you were significantly good-looking, there was no doubt in your mind that was true, but you couldn't help but feel insecure about how he saw you and what he thought. You rolled over in bed, tossing and turning, going over the facts over and over again. The facts were that you were going to finish your painting, you were going to go back to your old life, and you were probably never going to see him again besides on a TV screen. Those were your facts, the facts that finally put you to sleep.
In the morning, the sun bled through your thin curtains lighting the room. You turned over and looked at your clock, it was around six in the morning. You never woke up this early, you usually woke up around nine. But your sleep had been restless. Dreams of what had happened and what was to come crept through your mind. And the facts that you had told yourself last night began to dissolve. You decided there was no point in getting up yet, the birds had barely begun to sing in the cool morning air. You were not one to get up before the birds.
A couple hours went by, you must've dozed off to sleep again. A knock on your door shook you awake as your eyes slowly opened. You planted your bare feet on the floor of your apartment and began to walk towards the door of your room, grabbing your bathrobe that you had discarded lazily on your floor. You wondered who it could be. It was probably your landlord asking about the electricity bill again. You hadn't paid it this month and he had given you a week's extension. You opened the door to your bedroom and walked towards your apartment door as whoever it was knocked again. "I'm coming! I'm coming!" You said with haste as you opened the front door of your apartment.
Standing in front of you was the last person you expected to see in your building. It was Coriolanus Snow. His skin was fair, matching the sky on a winter morning. It was so clear, not a blemish in sight, practically perfect. His hair was well done like he had taken his time with it, and it looked even more vibrant than it had the day before. He was wearing a clearly custom-made suit made from the finest textiles you had ever seen, probably nicer than anyone in District 8 could even get their hands on. His undershirt was a tasteful complementary color, probably something you would have recommended if you had the chance. And on his feet were the cleanest pair of dress shoes you have ever seen. His outfit embodied Capitol style, it was almost designed to command attention. "What are you doing here?" You asked, clearly in shock. He pushed past you, entering your apartment. Normally, you would have found this extremely rude, but it was Coriolanus, he always did and got what he wanted. "I wanted to see where you live," he said as he stood in the front of your apartment. Why did he care where you lived? Why did it matter? "Oh," you said, not really knowing what to say. You watched. as he turned around, looking at your apartment. Now, you loved your apartment. It wasn't the nicest but it was home and it was cozy. But him being in it made you hate it and made you feel embarrassed. It was nothing compared to what the President's mansion was. The President's mansion made your apartment look like a hole in the wall.
"Coriolanus, what are you really doing here?" You asked after a couple of minutes. It wasn't like you minded his company, but an unannounced visit was strange and you were due to return to the mansion anyway to finish the painting. "I thought we could spend the day together, it would give you a break from that painting," he replied, his back still turned to you. If you agreed, this meant that you would have to cancel on other clients again, which meant that you would have to find time for another day to be with him. "I-I have other clients, I was supposed to paint for someone tomorrow," you stuttered nervously. "I can pay more than they will, I can give you more than they ever will," he stated simply as he turned towards you. This was probably true, he probably could pay more than really anyone could in the Capitol and Districts combined. But give you? What could he give you? "I can't cancel again. These are loyal customers." You felt like you were pleading with him, art was so important to you and the thought of losing people who counted on you to paint for them made your stomach churn with anxiety. "Cancel," he said as he began to step closer to you. This time, it didn't sound like a suggestion, it sounded like a demand. You opened your mouth to protest and as you did, his hand reached out and clamped itself on the base of your jaw. You closed your mouth, not even wanting to move. This was the Coriolanus people had talked about, the one that had run up the ranks to become what he is today. And you didn't dare to question him. His face was plain now, the happiness that he exerted before was gone. The light that had been in his eyes when he walked in the door was now replaced with something else, you weren't sure what it was. "Okay, I'll cancel," you finally said as reality began to push its way back into your mind. You watched as his hand dropped back to his side and that happiness that had been there at the start of the encounter slowly crept back into his features.
After making some calls and having to anxiously explain why you had to cancel to at least three different families, you let out a sigh of relief that it was finally over. You hated not being able to follow through on things, but Coriolanus had insisted. And after your brief interaction with him, you knew it was smart to try and question it. Coriolanus was now sitting on the edge of your bed, flipping through the pages of your journal as you entered the room. Your eyes widened as you briskly stepped towards him, yanking the book from his hands. "You can't read that," you said as you opened one of the drawers of your dresser and pushed the book under a couple of pants. "You will let me one day." He was so confident in his words that you honestly believed him. You could see yourself sitting next to him as he read your deepest and darkest thoughts and desires. "I like what you wrote about me though," he added a snarky looking appearing on his face as he said this. Your eyes widened as you turned around, grabbing a towel from your laundry basket, along with some clothes. You stayed silent as you walked towards your bathroom and closed the door behind you.
After showering and getting dressed, you brushed through your hair. The mirror in your bathroom was still foggy from the hot shower you had taken so you couldn't really see your reflection. You opened the door of your bathroom, Coriolanus was still sitting in the same place you had left him. This time, he had one of the smaller paintings you had made in his hands. He set the painting down on your bed and stood up. "Ready?" He asked. You nodded your head and followed him out the door of your room and then to the door of your apartment. He opened the door for you and let you walk out before him. You wondered what he had in store for you today.
Coriolanus couldn't really walk around Panem without getting noticed by somebody. Everybody knew him and everybody loved him. He was a celebrity in a sense, the biggest one. You knew this to be true as you walked down the stairs of your apartment building, passing by your landlord who was probably on the way up to bitch at you about your unpaid bill. His eyes widened as he scurried up the stairs, maybe you didn't have to worry about your electric bill anymore after he saw you with Snow. You smiled to yourself as you continued to walk down the stairs, following Coriolanus. You exited the building and the crisp morning air whipped at your face. A car was parked in front of your building. It was a rather out-of-ordinary car, but elegant nonetheless. A chauffeur exited the front seat of the car and opened the door for the two of them, allowing you to slip into the warmer air that was inside the car. You wondered where he was taking you and to be frank you were nervous.
Subsequently, you arrived at a building, one you had seen many times. Coriolanus had taken you to the Capitol's art museum. Panem's only art museum was a cultural sanctuary, it was a place where people gathered to reminisce about the dark days and the times before. Most of the art in the museum was rather old, some of it dating back to over two hundred years ago. But your favorite piece was in the back of the museum, hidden in a dark room. It was called the "Echos of Desolation." The painting used charcoal blacks, midnight blues, and blood-red accents to depict despair in the most regal way possible, and you loved it. "Are you happy?" Coriolanus queried. He was always trying to figure out if you were happy. It was like he was trying to find the things that made you happy so he could store the knowledge away and use it later. "You could say that," you returned as you both began to walk up the steps into the art museum.
The art museum was practically empty, so you weren't surprised. The Capitol had somewhat turned away from this kind of art a while ago. Most people were now focused on how colorful their clothes could be, rather than what someone could create on a canvas. The both of you began to walk down the hallway that led to your favorite painting. You hadn't been to the art museum in a while, so this was kind of nice. Even though Coriolanus made you extremely nervous, being in the art museum made you feel at peace. He took your wrist, his fingers feeling like they were burning holes into your skin as he led you into a dark room where a video installation was playing.
The installation was called "Shadows of Us." The video showed vibrant circles and colors intricately forming together, like a dance. You watched the video, the colors flashing back and forth on your face. You turned to look at Coriolanus, his eyes pacing back and forth as he watched the video alongside you. The colors of the video contrasted against his skin beautifully, lighting up all of his features. You turned your attention back to the installation and for a brief moment, you truly felt a peace, that was until you felt the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. You turned your head slightly and noticed that Coriolanus was looking at you intently.
"This city belongs to me," he started as he looked down at you, making you feel so small. "Which means that you do too," he said as the hand that was still placed on your wrist pulled you closer. "I find that everything and everyone associated with me tends to have a way of falling perfectly in line." His voice was deep and resonant, making goosebumps run up and down your arm. "With me, you could paint whenever you want, never having to worry about money or when you'll get the next call," he finished. He turned back towards the video installation, still holding your wrist in his hands that were significantly larger than yours.
Finally, he said, "Do you trust me?"
Did you trust him? All the thoughts you had the night prior about Coriolanus being a one-time thing and that you would never see him again, vanished into thin air. "I think so," you finally said as you thought about what things could be with him.
"Good, because I'm going to make you the most sought-out artist in Panem," he said enigmatically, pulling you roughly into his chest, letting your hand rest against him. You were barely able to look at him before he kissed you roughly. The kiss was not a mere meeting of lips; it was a calculated exchange, a subtle negotiation of dominance. His lips, firm and deliberate, pressed upon yours with a deliberate force that spoke of authority. There was an unspoken understanding in the way he held you close, a possessive grip that conveyed not just passion, but a claim to power. The kiss was a dance of influence, a manifestation of the power dynamics that existed between them.
This was the first time you truly felt a pang in your heart. You needed him and you wanted him. No matter how much you felt like he might control you, it gave you a warm feeling you could no longer deny and you needed more.
Good afternoon everyone! Thank you for reading the 3rd chapter, this one was really fun to write and I had to get creative. I also want to thank everyone for the compliments on chapter 2, it made me super happy. I love writing and it's great to be able to share it with people!
summary: coriolanus snow, a man known for his charm, his wit, and his passion for power, meets a talented artist in the capitol. she spends most of her days painting portraits for prominent figures and finds herself painting one for none other than coriolanus snow himself. through all the ups and downs, will coriolanus and the artist be able to defy all odds? or is this so-called love merely another version of control and a means to a devastating ending?
warnings: small mention of blood
word count: 1,942 words
(chapter 1)
chapter 2: writing all over the wall
Have you ever seen a gameshow? Like the ones where they ask you to choose between a million dollars or a brand-new car? It's a seemingly impossible choice. On one hand, you could be set for life, and on the other, you could get to wherever you need to go. That's what it felt like to be asked to lunch by Coriolanus Snow, a seemingly impossible choice, and any option led towards a winning situation.
You were surprised by his question, you had never been invited to lunch by a customer before. Especially one of this magnitude. Who were you to say no to him? "Yes, I think that would be nice," you finally answered as you brushed your paint-stained hands on the legs of your pants. You suddenly became quite aware of what was to come. A lunch with the president of Panem, meaning you would probably have to muster up the courage to have a full conversation. You looked down at the clothes you were wearing. Fortunately, you had always had a knack for picking attire, but even still you didn't think this was good enough to have lunch with someone so admired. Yet, it would have to do.
"Walk with me to the dining room," he said as he stood up from his spot on the couch. He looked especially alluring today, something was different about him than the day before. His bright blue eyes were filled with more enthusiasm, more life than the day before. You wondered why he was so interested in your company. After all, he could truly have lunch with anyone he wanted. Anyone would've been stupid to say no to his request. Yet, he offered you a seat at the table. You stood up from your spot, ready to follow him into probably an even more magnificent room than the one you were currently in.
Coriolanus opened the door for you, letting you walk out of the room before him. You stood in the dimly lit hallway that you had just admired the day before. He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, and ushered you to follow him further into the home. You walked behind him quietly, not sure what to do or say. It wasn't every day that you were going to be able to have lunch in the president's home and you wanted to make a good impression. What if he wanted you to paint for him again? You could make some real money off a job like this. After a few short minutes, you entered a bigger room with a mahogany table in the center. There were two chairs, each spot adorned with an opulent-looking placemat, a plate, a set of silverware, and a glass cup. Coriolanus pulled out the chair nearest to the door for you and you sat down and watched as he walked to the other chair and sat down himself.
After a while, Avox's began to bring in food that you had only dreamed of eating, even seeing. They poured you a glass of fresh water, setting a small bowl of lemons in front of you. "So tell me, what do you think of me?" Coriolanus said, breaking the silence in the room. "Well I-," you were startled unsure of what to say. "And tell me the truth, I don't like lies," he interjected before you were able to muster up any thoughts. What did you think of him? You only knew what you heard, no firsthand experience. You knew stories of him from your friend who went to the academy and you knew how everyone else felt in the Capitol about him. But how did you feel? "I think that there's a darkness to you, something that you aren't telling people. I only know what I can see, as we don't know each other well," you began, watching his facial expressions twist and turn as you spoke. "But I think that I like that about you. It makes you real, it makes you more human," you finished as you picked up your fork and began to eat the food that was placed in front of you. He nodded his head slowly as a pit began to form in your stomach. Had you said something wrong? "And what do you think that darkness is?" He asked, the tone of his voice dark and low. "I think everyone who has some sort of power has it, it's not easy to get to the top and it's not innocent either," you responded, feeling more confident as you continued to speak. Never once had any of your customers given you the opportunity to speak about how you really felt, this was brand new to you. It gave you a powerful feeling that someone cared about your opinion.
The rest of the lunch was rather easy. You talked to him about how you started painting, your family, and pretty much anything he asked you about. You got to know him a little bit better too. You learned that he was somewhat of a simple man when it came to hobbies. He liked reading, going on walks, and tending to the greenhouse that he owned in the back of the mansion. He was interesting too and because you were sitting right next to him, you began to see what kind of person he was. You concluded that he was brutally honest, that he was driven, and yearned to succeed in all aspects of life. All of these qualities made him a confident man, no wonder he carried himself the way that he did.
It was the early hours of the afternoon now and the sun was making its way into the windows of the dining room where you and him sat. There was no longer any food on the table, just the glasses of water that were frequently refilled by Avox's. You hadn't realized how long you had been talking to him until he abruptly stood up from the table. "Let's go on a walk around the estate." You had almost forgotten about your painting, what you were really here for. "Shouldn't I finish your portrait?" You asked as you stood up along with him, pushing the chair back into the table. "You can finish it tomorrow," he said curtly as he walked towards you, putting his hand on your lower back as he directed you out of the dining room. Tomorrow? You thought. This project was only supposed to last a day, maybe two, and now he was having you come back for a third day? Was he doing this on purpose so that you would keep coming back to him until you never left?
By now, you were in the garden. The greenhouse he had told you about was at the back of the property. It was large, larger than you had imagined. You could see plants of all different kinds growing inside through the windows decorated with flowers from probably all over Panem. It was beautiful and you were impressed with his craftsmanship. It took a delicate touch to be able to grow and maintain such beautiful plants, almost like art. Coriolanus removed his hand from your lower back and instead linked his arm with yours as you began to walk around the intricate courtyard. It was mildly warm outside, but not enough for you to be wearing a short-sleeved shirt. So your hands were slightly covered by the sleeves of your brown shirt. "Do you like it here?" Coriolanus questioned. You looked up at the taller man, whose platinum blonde hair lay seemingly perfect against his forehead. "It's probably one of the biggest houses I've ever seen," you retorted as you neared the greenhouse doors. "That's not what I asked. I asked if you liked it here," he responded, his voice darker than before. You gulped quietly and nodded your head, "Yes, I do." And you weren't lying. You could imagine a wonderful life here. People waiting on your every beck in call, never going hungry, never shivering at night when the sun went down. It was like a dream, a dream that most people thought about and then moved passed because it would never be possible. "I'm glad you do." Coriolanus opened the doors to the greenhouse, revealing the most beautiful garden you had ever seen. Ferns lined the greenhouse walls giving a sense of privacy, katniss plants were deeply rooted giving an earthly glow of white flowers near the bases of every pot. There were tons of plants you couldn't even name, ones you had never seen before. It was beautiful, warm, and decedent inside the greenhouse. A bench sat under a small tree that was blossoming with pink flowers, and next to it bushes of white roses. Coriolanus guided you to the bench and sat down and so did you. He angled himself towards you so that he could look directly into your eyes.
"So why white roses?" You asked, reaching over to touch the soft petals with the tip of your finger. "My grandm'am used to grow them on the roof of our old family home," he responded as you sat back, resting your back against the back of the bench. "They were her favorite, they still are and then they became my favorite too," he continued. "They symbolize purity to me and although each rose is different, they're all seemingly perfect." His story was beautiful, it gave a more in-depth view into his soul and his desires. It seemed like Coriolanus valued purity, something you really were not. With all the baggage you kept inside of you, how could you be? "They're beautiful too, the most powerful in the garden," he finished. He reached over and picked one, the thorns gently poking his skin. He handed you the perfect flower and you smiled, looking at it delicately. As you twisted the flower stem between your fingertips, you were pricked by a thorn. A small droplet of blood began to form as you accidentally dropped the innocent flower onto the surface of the bench. You winced and brought your hand closer to your chest as a small pool of blood began to form from the small prick in your finger. Before you could wipe your finger on the legs of your pants, Coriolanus took your hand. He brought your finger closer to his lips before opening his mouth and gently putting your finger inside. You gasped, a larger pit now forming your stomach. After he was finished, he brought your hand back to your lap. You were shocked. His doing what he just did was something you had never expected. You couldn't rip your eyes away from his as your mouth lazily fell open, trying to understand what had just happened. His actions were so intimate, something you may have expected from a long-term boyfriend, not someone you had just met the day prior. His hand reached out, brushing a piece of hair off your cheek that had fallen in the process of your shock. You felt bile building up in your stomach. Was he going to kiss you? He leaned forward, brushing his soft lips against yours. And then he kissed you. The feeling was transcendent. You had never felt a kiss like this before. It was power, as powerful as he was. The feeling in your stomach subsided as you leaned into the kiss, letting him caress your face with the hand that had previously brushed the hair off of your cheek. As he pulled back he said,
"You'll come back tomorrow, won't you? I know you will."
Hi! Thank you for reading chapter 2. I'm kind of excited about this chapter. It's definitely a slow build, but I feel like that's what makes it fun. Thank you so much for the previous support on my first chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed this one as well, I know I did.
summary: coriolanus snow, a man known for his charm, his wit, and his passion for power, meets a talented artist in the capitol. she spends most of her days painting portraits for prominent figures and finds herself painting one for none other than coriolanus snow himself. through all the ups and downs, will coriolanus and the artist be able to defy all odds? or is this so-called love merely another version of control and a means to a devastating ending?
word count: 1,806
chapter 1: blood on the side of the mountain
Elitism has always been a terrible thing, but it pays well. At least that's what you told yourself whenever you got hired to paint portraits for the most prominent figures in Panem. It wasn't always easy living in the Capitol, especially when your wages depended on your customers. If someone didn't like your painting, they simply didn't pay. And that's how it had been for years. You painted, people looked at it and then decided if it was good enough. It was an endless cycle of not knowing whether you'd be able to afford rent that week. But, it was better than living in the districts.
It was an early morning when you received a phone call from an unknown individual. At first, it sounded like a prank and you almost hung up. "President Snow is requesting that you paint his portrait," the monotone voice said at the other end of the line. Your heart stopped. President Snow? The most powerful and prominent figure in Panem? You were definitely going to be able to afford rent for a while. "Um y-yeah, I could do that," you stuttered as you shuffled around your small and stuffy apartment for a pen and a piece of paper. "When?" You asked as you finally found what you needed. "Do you have time for this afternoon?" Shit, you thought to yourself. You had other clients, people that needed you. But this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make some real money, one that you couldn't deny. "Yes, I'll be there." The person at the other end of the line swiftly hung up after giving you details about a specific time, what President Snow wanted for his portrait, and where to enter the President's mansion. You couldn't believe this was real.
Now don't get me wrong, you weren't the biggest fan of President Snow. He had a reputation, one that said he was cunning, cold, and hungry for power. You believed that he cared about the people in the Capitol, but you knew that care didn't go past the boundaries of District One and beyond. At least that's what you were told. One of your friends had been in the academy with him. She had said he was determined and motivated, but heartless behind the eyes. He would do anything to get what he wants.
You gathered your paints, making sure the edges of the pans were clean. You turned to your left and looked at the mess of brushes that were splattered all over your floor. You hastily picked them up, washing them off in a small bowl of water that was sitting on your desk. You didn't usually pay much mind to what your paint set and brushes looked like, but this was the President, someone you wanted to impress.
Rescheduling your afternoon appointments was rough. You figured people were going to be upset. But this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You had now gathered all your belongings in a medium-sized burlap bag. You had plenty of extra canvas left over that would suit the portrait President Snow was asking for, so you picked one out and began your trip out of your apartment. You closed the door and struggled to lock it behind you. You didn't have the nicest apartment in Capitol, that's for sure. But it was enough. You couldn't really complain either, this was the life of an artist, this was the life you had always wanted.
The President's Mansion was one of the most elegant places you had ever seen. The yard was well maintained, as you expected, but it was like nothing you'd ever seen before. You followed the instructions that you had written down on the notepad that was given to you on the phone and walked towards the entrance. A staff member was waiting at the door for you, it seemed like everyone was always at the right place at the right time. You smiled anxiously and said, "I'm here to paint President Snow's portrait." Fuck, I probably sounded so stupid when I said that. Of course, they know I'm here to do that you thought to yourself as you looked down at the canvas that was shoved between the crease in your arm. "Yes, we've been expecting you," the staff member retorted as she opened the door revealing the inner workings of the magnificent mansion. You stepped inside, feeling out of place. You had been in some nice places before because your job took you there, but nothing like this.
The staff member led you to a room further down the hallway in the mansion. The hallways were dimly lit with tasteful light fixtures, ones that you probably would've picked out yourself if you had a place like this. The woman opened the door and stepped aside, allowing you to enter the room first. "You can set up over there," she said as she gestured towards a chair at the far end of the room. You nodded and began to walk towards the chair that had been set up for you. "President Snow will be in shortly." The door closed loudly, causing you to jump a little bit. You were on edge, this whole experience was nerve-racking. What was President Snow really like? Was he like everyone said he was? Was he going to intimidate you? You placed your bag on the ground, pulled your foldable easel out, and placed it in front of the chair. You began to set everything up.
It had been about ten minutes since the woman who had let you into the mansion had left the room. You were too nervous to sit down, yet too nervous to pace. So you just stood there, waiting for something to happen. About five minutes later, the door opened. A man, a little over six feet tall, with platinum hair entered the room. His eyes, even from across the room were pools of blue that you had probably only seen one other time in your entire life. He walked with confidence, the confidence of a man who had power. You knew this to be, President Snow.
"Are you going to shake my hand?" You hadn't realized you had just been standing there the entire time, staring. The deep voice caused you to refocus as you looked up at the man you had been admiring just moments before. It was hard not to admire such an esteemed individual, especially an attractive one. "Oh yes, my apologies," you said as you reached out your hand it meet his. His. handshake was firm, his hands were soft and warm. "My apologies President Snow," you said once again as your hand left his. "Call me Coriolanus, y/n," he said as he walked across the room to sit down on the couch that was perfectly placed in front of your easel. Coriolanus, you thought to yourself, the name fits perfectly. And he knew your name too, of course he did. He hired you.
You had been painting for some time now and the sun was beginning to set, meaning that the light you had been using for your portrait was no longer pouring in through the windows like it had been before. Pres- Coriolanus had been silent the entire time you had been painting. It was intimidating. He sat still, only blinked when he had to, and never moved a muscle. He was the perfect person to paint. Most people you painted complained about having to stay in one spot for so long, but Coriolanus never did. It seemed like he might be someone who appreciated the arts and knew that in order for you to finish, there couldn't be any obstacles. The last bit of light left the room until all that was left was the light from the light fixtures you had admired before.
"Okay," you said as you dipped your paintbrush into the water bowl you had brought. "We'll have to continue tomorrow when the natural light is back." Coriolanus nodded his head and stretched out his arms. The fabric of his button-down tightened around his muscles as he did so, allowing you to see the curvature of his figure. You stood up and turned around and began to put away your paints when you felt a hand on the small of your back. Your entire body froze at this moment, a shiver running up your spine. "The painting," he said slowly as he looked at the canvas, "it's good." You let out a sigh of relief as his hand removed itself from your back. "It's not finished yet," you said as you stood up to look at the man who was inflicting you with so many emotions. You really never allowed people to see your work before it was done, but who were you to deny the President of Panem that right? "I'll be pleased to see it when it's done," he responded as he began to walk towards the door. "I'll have my staff walk you to the door and I'll see you in the morning." And with that, he exited the room, leaving you with so many thoughts.
After leaving the mansion, you could finally breathe again. It was as though you hadn't breathed the entire time you were painting. This feeling made you exhausted, it made you feel all kinds of things. A part of you was excited to go back in the morning, to analyze the almost mysterious man that was the President.
In the morning, you made your way back to the mansion. It was the same routine as before, but this time with a different staff member. You sat down this time to wait for Coriolanus to come into the room. And when he did, you stood up to greet him. The morning sun cast a beautiful shadow of curly blonde hair across his forehead, his tired eyes meeting yours as he sat down on the couch after the greeting. "There's something about you," he finally said as you began to lay your paints out in front of you. "How do you mean?" You asked raising your eyebrow slightly. "You're quiet, you hold yourself with care, I like that," he responded. You felt a warmness enter your body, a sense of validation. He had complimented you. "Thank you," you said as you sat down on the same chair you had sat in for hours the day before.
After a couple of hours, you were nearly done with the painting. A twinge of sadness entered your body. You liked the time you spent at the mansion. It was more peaceful than your apartment, it felt distinguished, and you liked that. "Would you accompany me to lunch?" Coriolanus suddenly asked as you prepared yourself to take a short break from painting.
Now why would the President ever ask you to lunch?
Hi! This is the first thing I've written in a long time but I was just feeling inspired by the new movie. I'd like to continue this series and make longer chapters, but I wanted to see if anyone was interested in the plot. If so, I'll write a much longer chapter 2. I feel like this chapter is a little bit slow because it's just the beginning of what could be a wild series. If you've gotten this far thank you for reading! Chapter 2, if wanted, will be even better.
Edit: Chapter 2 coming out 12/03/23 thanks for all the support!
