My name is Frenchie. No, I'm not French. French Pink is a color I like. I write. Will be dabbling in whatever fandom I feel like.
Right now, I'm obsessed with The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and Sunrise on the Reaping. I remember enjoying the original trilogy quite a bit, and well, here I am. I may also post Uglies fanfiction along with my other interests.
Ungodly Hour
Coriolanus x OC x Sejanus.
Lucy Gray Baird x OC (platonic)
Summary: Araya Sunshine Coppershire. She comes from new blood money, made from the Dark Days. Her father and mother made their family wealth by developing and spearheading "technological medical" advancements that Dr.Gaul took interest in. With her new life bought in the glittering Capitol, Araya does her best not to let her new status change her.
sejanus harbours an aching crush for you, a head-in-the-clouds, daydreamer, covey girl from district 12. he’s determined to show you how he feels before you get swept up by some other guy, though it’s difficult when your head is seemingly stuck in the clouds. requested here
note: um hiii my hunger games obsession (and therefore sejanus obsession) is back after finishing sotr… this fic is for me and the 3 other sejanus fans on here (the rest of you come out of hiding please)
peacekeeper!sejanus x covey!reader, 1.5k words
Sejanus has been about as obvious as a guy can be about his feelings for you, and still, you’re yet to catch on. It’s not that you’re dumb. If anything, you’re a lot smarter than him. You write music like nothing else he’s ever heard, like sunlight spun into lyrics, and half of the words you use in them he doesn’t even understand.
As smart as you are, you’ve constantly got your head in the clouds. You’re not a ditz, but you’re always daydreaming about something or other, and you don’t tend to come down from the clouds often. Because of this, you’ve been completely oblivious to his advances.
You don’t seem to notice that he’s flirting when he does, and though you’ve accepted his flowers and pretty hair ribbons with a bashful smile, he’s seen you give the same smile to guys at the Hob after one of your performances with the Covey band.
Despite himself, Sejanus has continued to try. Today he’s managed to get the morning off from his Peacekeeper duties, and he’s not going to waste it. He’s already been to the markets to spend most of his money for the week on something for you. He knows the path to your meadow like the back of his hand. It’s not far from your place, your Covey don’t like you to stray too far.
You’re exactly where he’s expecting you to be when he gets there. Right at the edge of the pond, knee deep in the tall grass, squatting to feed the ducks. They’ve just had ducklings about a week ago, and you’re enamoured by them.
“Don’t be frightened, little ducks,” you’re saying in your lovely soft voice, as Sejanus approaches from behind. He tries to be quiet, so as not to startle you or your gaggle of ducks. There’s two adult ones, and four tiny fluffy ones, all crowded around your hand, which is filled with what looks like bits of stale cracker.
As Sejanus gets closer, he accidentally steps on a branch and it snaps, breaking the silence. One of the adult ducks spots him, gives a loud quack, and they all take off across the pond, the little ones in single file following their parents.
Whoops, Sejanus thinks.
“Hello, Sejanus,” you say knowingly, without turning round. Sejanus has no idea how you know it’s him, but he can’t say he’s surprised.
He watches as you pocket the remains of your crackers and dust your hands off on your flowy skirt, then turn around to face him.
“You scared my ducks,” you say, giving him an indignant look.
He’s well aware. “Sorry. I don’t think they like me.”
You shrug, then lift your skirt, the bottom hem stained with mud, and start wading through the grass towards him. “They would if you sang to them,” you say, like it’s obvious.
Sejanus highly doubts that. “Do you think so?” He asks, indulging you.
“Worked for me,” you say simply, coming to a stop right in front of him. You’re rather close — you tend to do that. He knows you’d give him his space if he cared, but he doesn’t.
“That’s ‘cos you sound like an angel, sweetheart,” he tells you. He’s not sugar-coating it. You really do.
You beam. “Well thanks, handsome,” you say, swaying happily on the spot, your skirts swishing. “What you got there?”
You point to his pocket, where he’s got his hand shoved, keeping your gift out of view.
“It’s a surprise,” he says, dipping his head down towards yours like you’re sharing a secret.
You hum, and lift your chin a bit, like you’re meeting him in the middle. You seem to do it without noticing.
“For me?” You ask hopefully.
Who else? Sejanus thinks. “Maybe,” he says conspiratorially. “You wanna see it?”
You nod eagerly.
“Alright,” he says. “Close your eyes, pretty.”
You do as you’re told, letting your eyes slip shut. Sejanus takes a moment to admire you, your hair tied back from your face with a cream coloured ribbon, your dewy skin, and the way the sun dips you in gold. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
“Put your hands out,” he says. You obey.
Sejanus pulls his hand out of his pocket and places a small box wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine in your cupped hands. Your shoulders go up excitedly.
“Okay, you can open ‘em,” he says.
Your eyes fly open and land on the box. “It is really for me?” You ask, practically buzzing, and lift your eyes to meet his.
There’s a look in your eyes that Sejanus doesn’t quite understand, but it makes him nervous anyway. It’s quite often that you make him nervous seemingly without even trying.
He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, yeah,” he says. “‘Course it is. Open it, yeah?”
“Okay,” you say.
Sejanus watches as you open his gift with so much care you’d think he’d spent millions on it. You untie the twine, and that goes into your pocket, along with the brown paper wrapping. Sejanus holds his breath as you lift the lid of the box to reveal a silver heart pendant, engraved with a swan. Your favourite bird.
You go dead silent for a long moment. Sejanus wonders if you hate it.
“Sejanus…” you whisper. You pull the pendant from the box and brush your thumb over the engraved swan, as gentle as if it were a real one. For once, you seem lost for words.
“They didn’t have any chain,” Sejanus explains quickly. “But I thought you could tie it with one of your ribbons. Do you … like it?”
You lift your head, blinking rather rapidly. Sejanus realises with horror that your eyes are shining with tears.
“It’s beautiful,” you say. “I love it.”
Your bottom lip wobbles. Sejanus panics and grabs you.
“Don’t cry,” he says frantically. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him. The box digs into his ribs and you’ve made a fist around the pendant, your knuckles pressing into his chest.
“Sorry,” you gasp.
Sejanus frowns. He’s happy you like the gift but hates to see you cry. After a moment you come out, pulling your face away from his chest, freeing one hand to scrub at your damp cheeks. You haven’t cried much, only a few tears. You blink up at him, a bit like a doe.
“Sorry,” you say again. “I don’t mean to, but I always cry when I see something beautiful.”
You open up your palm and gaze at the pendant again, as if checking it’s real. Sejanus waits for you to say something else but you don’t.
“So you like it?” He asks tentatively.
You laugh, and it sounds as pretty and as light as birdsong. “Yes. I love it, it’s perfect.”
You squeeze your fist back around the pendant and hold it to your heart. Then you lift your eyes to Sejanus’, giving him this look that makes his heart race.
“Thank you, Sejanus,” you say softly, reverently almost, like he’s one of your wild ducks.
Sejanus feels flowers blooming in his chest as if you’ve put them there and nurtured them. He’s about to wrap you up in his arms again when you say,
“Do you think I could give you something, too?” In this lilting, hopeful tone.
Sejanus blinks. “Yeah, sure, honey.” He can’t imagine what, but you tend to carry a lot of miscellaneous things you’ve foraged in your pockets. A pretty rock, maybe?
“Okay.” You sound almost shy, which is completely new, and trips Sejanus up a bit. He wonders what on earth it is that you’re about to give him. “Close your eyes, then.”
Sejanus does as he’s told. He hears you rustling around in your pocket for a second, before he feels you step closer, the toes of your boots touching his. He smells all your smells, that sweet flowery scent you seem to live in a cloud of, plus the warm vanilla in your hair. Then come your hands, both palms flat on his chest.
“Stay still,” you whisper, and Sejanus startles at how close you sound, your breath actually brushing his lips.
He realises what you’re about to do a second before you do it. Your hands press to his chest for stability and then your mouth lands on his, soft and gentle, but earnest all the same. You kiss him gently, shyly, but with so much warmth it tingles, and you taste like sugar. Sejanus grabs you, hands hot on your waist, and kisses you back.
He forces himself to exercise a bit of restraint so as not to scare you off after the first kiss. When you pull away, you’re flushed, and you won’t look him in the eye, though he thanks you and gives you another kiss on your warm cheek.
You press your palm to the spot he’s kissed, looking as flustered as he’s ever seen you. He’s been a fool, Sejanus realises. You weren’t as oblivious as he thought you were, after all.
about ; in the glittering world of panem high society, you were raised to be perfect — the prized daughter of a powerful family. your family was prepared to make the match of the season. but when king coriolanus snow arrives unexpectedly, announcing his intention to marry, everything changes.
chapter specifics: kissing, THOUGHTS of fingering, talk of marriage. angst. drama. arguing.
authors note ; i decided to split up this chapter to release one tn . . . cause im !!!!!!!!!!!!! okok go read now.
The silverware chimed delicately against porcelain. The low murmur of polite conversation floated about the room through the soft shimmer of candlelight, punctuated by soft laughter and the occasional clink of crystal glasses. Set with delicate threaded linens and silk, the table was decorated with flickering candelabras that made everything feel hazy and warm. There was a thick smell of perfume from your mother on the other side of the room and from the servants as they came and went with different plates for dinner.
Your parents were adamant about inviting Coriolanus to dinner, that it was almost abysmal that they had not done so earlier. You knew that it was all a ploy for Lucien and your father to try and pry into Coriolanus’ mind about what he was doing and if he was determined to properly court you or ask for your hand. But despite everything, you were excited the entire day that the King would be making an appearance. When he arrived, he brought flowers for your mother, he even talked with your younger brothers. He talked perfectly with your father about District One, like he had studied for tonight. Knowing him, he probably did.
Stupidly perfect.
You sat at the long table, your back perfectly straight, our fork moving mechanically to lift tiny amounts of food into your mouth. Though you barely tasted them. You sat right next to Coriolanus, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body. When he shifted, his knee brushed yours beneath the table.
Once.
And then twice.
Your heart gave a humiliating stutter every single time that it happened.
You had tried not to think about the last afternoon that you had seen him, almost a week ago at this point. You tried. Tried not to think about how he took your finger so brazenly into his mouth like it was second nature to him, or how his tongue had brushed over your skin, drawing away the blood like it somehow belonged to him.
And the worst part of it was that you could tell that he knew what you were thinking about, like he could somehow read your mind. He was watching you, not in the polite Capitol way where men watched their future wives, adoration and kindness. No, he watched you like you were a secret that he had already begun to unravel. Like you were something that he had to make as much of a mess of in order to pick up the pieces for his own collection. As the conversation around you drifted to something about political trade routes that your father was trying to secure, and your mothers relentless gossip about someone’s second cousin’s scandal, you felt a brush of something at your knee.
His leg. For the third time.
You were going to go crazy, you were sure of it.
You turned your face back towards your plate, hiding your burning cheeks from the King. Your mother was laughing now, telling some story about the duchess who had embarrassed herself at last season’s games. Your father nodded along, your little brothers flicking mashed potatoes towards each other at the very far end of the table.
By the time the last course was cleared, your nerves felt stretched thin. You rose from your seat as the butler began to clear the table completely. The men were invited to enjoy some brandy in the library; the ladies would retire to the parlor for tea and some music. You barely heard the hum of conversation from the men as you followed your mother to the parlor, the walls felt as though they were closing in towards you.
You were suffocating.
The fire, the heavy scent of tea, the rustles of your mothers fans, it pressed into you, too much after the nearness of him. You needed air, you needed space. You murmured some excuse about a headache to your mother, slipping through the side doors into the wide marble hallway that led toward the back of the house. Your footsteps echoed as you moved, almost running, heart pounding. Outside, you needed to be outside with the fresh air.
The terrace doors were cracked to let in some air, and you easily slipped through them, your skirts rustling as you continued on your path. The night met you like a cooling balm, clearing your mind the further you walked. Above, the stars burned faintly, twinkling in the darkness. The gardens stretched out before you and the breeze caught the hem of your gown. You inhaled deeply. At least no one would see you now, no one could see the fire burning under your skin just begging to crawl out. You moved to the edge of the terrace before the paths split off, resting your hands lightly on the stone, letting your head fall back. Eyes closed, gathering yourself.
It was terribly foolish to think you could escape him.
You had gotten so used to him being there that you felt him before you heard him.
You didn’t turn around, you truly didn’t need to. You just knew it was him.
“You always follow me,” you said, your voice sharp.
Silence.
You turned fast, your dress whispering around your ankles and legs.
“What do you want from me?” you demanded, voice low in a tremble you didn’t even know was in your character to do so. “Why are you doing this? You sit next to me, watch me like you already own me. You touch me like . . . how a debutante isn’t supposed to be touched!”
His jaw tensed just barely.
“What exactly do you gain from this? From me? I’ve tried to be quiet, tried to be good. I’ve smiled at all the right moments, pretending that you weren’t — weren’t —”
“Weren’t what?” he asked softly, stepping closer. You countered by stepping back into the stone railing.
“Messing with me!” you snapped. The word echoed off the terrace stone, loud and sharp. “Playing your little Capitol mind games, toying with me like I’m someone from the Districts. You sit there all composed, all knowing.”
“I didn’t —”
“Oh please,” you cut him off, almost laughing. “Don’t insult me with lies. Do you think I don’t see it? One minute you’re handing me a rose like a perfect King and then next you’re putting your mouth on me like I’m already yours!”
His face tightened, like he was an inch from cracking. “You didn’t pull away,” he stated, like the fact that it was, voice cutting impossibly low.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, so it’s my fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself?” You shot back, taking a step toward him. “Is that how it works now? You prowl around me, you touch me without my explicit permission, you put your filthy mouth on me, and I’m to blame for not screaming?”
“You didn’t want to scream,” he said, matching your fury.
You scoffed. “You think that you know what I want?”
“I know you. I know how you tremble when I touch you, how you flush every time I catch your gaze, how you stare at my mouth when you think I won’t notice.”
You couldn’t help but gasp, your eyes widening that he would say it so . . . plainly. You hated the brutal honesty, how naked he made you feel with just his words. “You’re sick,” you said. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
That finally did it.
Coriolanus’ eyes darkened, not with hurt, but with something hot, furious, and possessive. He took a step toward you, like the leash keeping you from him finally had snapped. His hand caught your wrist in a split second, his fingertips burning into your skin permanently so you would never forget it. “I know you better than anyone ever will. Better than your perfect family, better than all of the little boys your parents paraded in front of you since you were a mere child. You think they see you? They see a dowry, a perfect face to breed a better line.”
You blinked.
“You were made for something greater. You were made for me.”
Your other hand shot out before you thought too much about it, shoving at his chest to no avail. You struggled against his grip, despite how hot he made you feel being this close to you. “Let me go,” you hissed.
For a heartbeat, he just stared at you. Coriolanus’ jaw was clenched so tight that it looked like it hurt. And then, like nothing had happened, he let you go. Or maybe you let yourself go. This stupid life that your parents had crafted for you, one where you were perfect. You let it all go for a moment, alone, in this garden where no one would see you. You could pretend this never happened.
Because in the next breath, you were crashing into one another, mouths molding together in a kiss that was brutal. His hands found your waist, yanking you flush against him like he had lost all semblance of his patience. Your fingers curled into the front of his vest, like you hated him despite how far from the truth it really was. It wasn’t gentle or sweet. It wasn’t like the way that your mother described what your first kiss should be like. At the altar of your wedding, in front of your whole family and his, sealing a love match. It was angry. Like you were cursing one another. His mouth moved against yours that made your knees go weak, gasping into his mouth that he quickly swallowed, like the sound fed him, like he had been starving for such a thing.
You barely noticed the way his hands moved, one sliding up to grasp against your hair, the other’s bold fingers slipping over the curve of your hips, roaming downward and skimming dangerously close to the hem of your skirts as he bunched them up. Fingertips brushed along the top of your thigh and your breath hitched hard, not in protest, but in want.
“Coriolanus —” You whispered against his mouth, half a plea, another a warning.
“I know,” he muttered. “Just a moment . . . a little more.” His hand slipped higher, fingertips ghosting over the crease between your thigh and hip bone —
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The voice ripped through the air like you had been shot with an arrow to the heart.
You broke apart from him, stumbling back. Your skirts fell back into place, your breath coming in short bursts. You pressed a hand against your mouth, as if you could somehow shove the moment back inside of you, hide it from anyone to see, ever.
Lucien stormed forward. Not at you. At him.
“You filthy bastard,” he growled.
“Lucien! Please, don’t. Stop.”
He rounded onto you so fast it made you flinch. “Stop?” he hissed. “You want me to stop after I find you pinned against the terrace with his hands halfway under your skirts?” You opened your mouth to try and deny it, to try and explain something, though Lucien was far from finished. “You have ruined yourself! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? If anyone, a servant, a lord in the ton, anyone saw you?”
The terrace door slammed open, your mother and father spilling from it. Your mother looked at you, and then him, and understood completely.
“Oh gods,” she gasped. “What did you do?”
“She’s been compromised,” Lucien explained.
Your mother gave a strangled sob, your father cursing under his breath, unsure of what to do, especially with it being the King of Panem.
And then Lucien turned to Coriolanus. “You will marry her,” he said. Low and absolute. “You will marry her tonight.”
The war never left you, so you find a way to cope. One where you never lost your childhood. One where the world is still pure and safe. And Coriolanus can’t resist that innocence.
Warnings: NON-CON, Dd/lg, Little!Reader, Innocence Kink, Mentions of war, PTSD, Manipulation, Age Regression, Capitol!Reader
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
about ; in the glittering world of panem high society, you were raised to be perfect — the prized daughter of a powerful family. your family was prepared to make the match of the season. but when king coriolanus snow arrives unexpectedly, announcing his intention to marry, everything changes.
chapter specifics: lowkey horny reader. horny coriolanus. pining. flirting. finger sucking. talks of being 'ruined' in society.
authors note ; i felt silly while writing this
It had been a week.
A week of the King — Coriolanus — courting you.
The words still felt strange in your mind, as if they belonged in some kind of book, not your own life. You had read many times of this happening in history books, or in the gossip sheets that sometimes were passed around the ton. Every time it felt like something unattainable, something that didn’t happen to people like you, people who considered themselves like every other debutante that was looking for a husband this season.
And yet, it had become routine. Almost.
Sometimes it was lunch beneath the gilded awnings of Victory Square, a private table with crystal and silver while Peacekeepers stood just far enough away to pretend that they weren’t watching for any type of trouble. He would ask questions, never invasive, but always insightful and always one step ahead of where you thought the conversation might go. Other times he invited you to promenade through the palace gardens, your gloved hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm as you walked beneath blooming cherry trees.
He never rushed. Never pushed. He moved like time bent for him.
You were becoming more aware of him, not as the King, not as a man, but as Coriolanus.
You noticed the way that the sunlight often caught in his pale hair when it filtered through the Capitol treetops, how the corner of his eyes crinkled faintly when you were able to genuinely amuse him, how the lines of his jaw shifted when he was deep in thought. He was beautiful, you realized one night when you were laying down staring at your carved ceiling, thinking about nothing but him.
Not in the way that normal Capitol boys were beautiful, soft and perfumed and eager, always so desperately eager. Their hands reached too quickly, their compliments spilled out like coins towards anyone who would take them. His beauty was quiet, brutal, like something that was earned. Every angle was carved in place to the miniscule detail. He looked like marble and winter and something that you were never supposed to touch. Something ancient, still, and always watching.
The way he listened. The way he moved. The way he spoke your name like it belonged to him already. The way his fingers brushed yours when he handed you a cup.
One afternoon, during a quieter lunch in the upper part of the greenhouse, beneath a trellis of flowering vines, he reached for a pomegranate. It sat in the center of the silver tray separating you two like something mythic, heavy and red. You were never allowed to eat these much at home due to how messy they were, your mother would rather have an aneurysm. You especially wouldn’t ever be allowed to eat one in the presence of company. Without a word, he took a knife from the table and split it open.
Juice spilled across the fruit's inner skin in a soft glow. He pulled a free cluster of the seeds and offered them to you in his palm. You hesitated, not because you were unsure, but because you were too aware of how your fingers would brush his if you took them. And you did. Just a whisper of contact.
Then he brought a cluster into his own mouth.
And you watched.
Coriolanus’ lips parted, his teeth grazed at the seeds, and a single drop of juice escaped down the corner of his mouth. His tongue darted out, slow and precise, to catch it.
You forgot your name for a moment.
He must have noticed.
“Sweet,” he said. Not looking at the fruit.
Looking at you.
When you went to bed that night, all you could think about was what this all meant, what this could mean for you and your station.
There were rules.
Unspoken, but ironclad. Your mother stitched them into your corsets and your governess had woved into every lesson. You were meant to be admired, not touched. Desired, but just out of reach, like you were to only be seen like you were behind a piece of glass. You had never been kissed. Not properly. A peck on the cheek at a childhood game, perhaps, or a clumsy bow from a nervous boy one spring when you were ten. But not the kind of kiss that left you breathless. Not the kind you’d once read about in books that you weren’t supposed to read. Stories about girls who wanted too much and boys who took it all.
A debutante wasn’t meant to kiss.
Your mother had warned you, in a voice too calm to be kind. The fastest way to ruin was to let your heart get ahead of your station. Even the suggestion of impropriety could cost you and your family everything. Your name, your chances, your family’s station. Kisses should be saved for marriage. And here you were, heart racing like a foolish girl because the King had eaten a piece of fruit in front of you. But it was then and there that you realized that it wasn’t the fruit. It wasn’t the act at all. It was him.
It was the way he sat across from you with a composure so complete and proper that it unraveled your own, or the way he listened not with the indulgence of a suitor, but with the hunger of a man who intended to know everything about you. Even if you didn’t know those things about you yourself.
And it was the terrifying realization that hit you that you wanted him to. You wanted him to know everything about you.
Not because it was expected of a suitor. But because some reckless, forbidden part of you wanted to know what it would feel like if he stopped holding back. What would it feel like to have his marble and winter complexion pressed against your skin? What would it feel like to be chosen, not for your family name, your dowry, but because he could not bear to have you?
You pressed your palms into the mattress, grounding yourself.
You were not trained for wanting.
Certainly not for wanting him.
When you woke up the next morning, Indira seemed to not notice how flush you were.
You sat stiffly at the vanity as she brushed and pinned your hair, smoothing it into something elegant and forgettable. Once that was finished, you continued to watch in the mirror as she fastened the tiny buttons down the back, her fingers deft and careful.
“You seem nervous,” she said lightly, glancing at you in the mirror and making eye contact.
“I’m not nervous,” you lied.
“I can hear your heart beating from here.”
“He’s only coming for tea.”
You could sense her smiling.
Moments later, you’re seated in the east parlor of your home. The china had been set, a tiny fire stewing in the fireplace. This has always been your favorite room in the house. There were grand windows that were along one side of the room, the doors to them open to shine the sunlight in and the breeze. The scent of sweet jasmine tea drifted through the hair, mingling with the fresh smell of garden roses that had been placed in a crystal vase at the center of the table. White curtains danced gently in the wind, casting shifting patterns of white across the floor. You could remember playing here as a child, weaving between the armchairs with your brothers, imagining you were a princess holding court.
There was commotion in the corridor, signalling that the royal carriage had arrived. You could hear it: the soft, purposeful tread of boots on the polished floor, the low murmur of greeting from your family.
The doors to the parlor swung open.
You rose automatically.
Coriolanus cut a striking figure against the light, dressed in a white collared shirt with a blue vest that matched his eyes over it. Against the collar of his shirt was a simple silver pin, like he was a normal man coming to court you. His eyes found you instantly, not sweeping the room or politely glancing over the setting, but straight to you.
“My lady,” he greeted, low and rich.
You dipped into a small curtsey. “My king.”
In his hand was a simple white rose. It was unlike the ones that were sitting on the table in front of you, red and boisterous. This one was slim at the stem, pruned of any dead petals or thorns, but full, its petals thick and soft as cream. It was pure in a way that didn’t belong to the Capitol, like the ones that were in his grandmother’s garden.
Coriolanus offered it to you, wordlessly. The rose was cool and soft against your palm.
“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.
His lips tilted, just slightly. “I thought it suited you better than the others.”
During tea, you spoke about everything and nothing. He was careful with his words, thoughtful. And somehow, you found yourself laughing more than you meant to, smiling without thinking. No one ever disturbed the two of you. The servants kept a respectful distance, slipping in and out only when necessary. Coriolanus sat beside you, just enough that your skirts brushed when either of you shifted. You held the white rose loosely in your lap now, twirling the slim stem between your fingers without thinking.
“Why a white rose?” You asked softly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “You could have picked a red rose, gold . . . lilies, even.”
Coriolanus turned his head slightly toward you, his profile sharply defined in the light, all high cheekbones and long lashes. Beautiful and utterly — frustratingly — unreadable. “Red is too loud,” he said after a tiny moment. “White, it endures. It doesn’t need to shout in order to be seen.”
You looked back down at the rose, your chest tightening. But as you turned it absentmindedly, your finger caught on something sharp. You gasped softly, instinctively pulling your hand back. A thorn — hidden along the slim green stem, completely invisible until it had already broken your skin. A bead of blood welled up at the tip of your finger, bright and stark. You gasped softly, instinctively pulling your hand back.
But before you could withdraw completely, Coriolanus’ fingers closed around yours. He turned your hand slightly, inspecting the tiny red bead welling at the tip of your finger. His grip was steady, though there was nothing detached about the way he looked at you. You expected him to reach for the handkerchief, tucked neatly in his coat pocket.
He didn’t.
Instead, without a word, he lifted your hand to his mouth.
Taking the injured finger into his mouth.
Your head went dizzy.
Coriolanus’ lips were warm, impossibly soft at first as your finger touched it, the brief brush of his tongue gathering the blood in a way that made your skin burn. You could feel every movement, the careful pressure, the heat, the hollow of his cheek. He sucked gently, drawing the blood away, the sensation traveled up your arm and settling low in your stomach.
Warm. Wet. Impossibly deliberate.
Your entire body stilled beneath the weight of it. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
When he finally pulled back, he kept your hand in his. His thumb brushed against the tip of your finger, as though confirming that the wound was gone, the blood had stopped. Coriolanus’ touch gentled again, but it didn’t feel any less possessive.
“Thank you,” you managed.
He just sat back slightly, just enough to give you the illusion of space. He didn’t pretend it hadn't happened. He just watched you, calm and collected, like he hadn’t just taken your finger into his mouth in the middle of your family’s sitting room.
Your throat tightened as you reached for your teacup, hoping that grounded you and tethered you back to reality. But your fingers trembled slightly.
“You shouldn’t have —”
“Shouldn’t have what?”
You swallowed. “That wasn’t proper.”
“And did it feel improper, or did it just feel good?”
You nearly dropped your teacup. He reached for his own tea like nothing had happened.
credit to @jadiwrites for helping write the blowjob scene
dark!Peacekeeper!Coriolanus Snow x f!Reader with a side of dark!Sejanus Plinth (only one scene for Sejanus)
Warnings: smut, noncon (dead dove do not eat), forced sex, forced oral (m!recieving), reader is held up at gunpoint, unprotected sex, degradation, slight spit kink, kidnapping, violence, misogyny, free use themes, abuse of power, power imbalance
The sky over district 12 was cloudy and grey the first time you ever took notice of Coriolanus Snow.
Growing up in the aftermath of the districts’ rebellion meant that you had barely known a life that wasn’t ruled by Peacekeeping grunts. Your memories before then were murky, you could remember a difficult life without many pleasures or much to eat, followed by periods of war, when food was even harder to come by.
You could remember countless faceless Peacekeepers blurring together, all of them looked the same to you. Just a bunch of capitol brutes who struck fear into the heart and souls of everyone in your district, yourself included. You had learned at a young age to never talk to, or talk back to, a Peacekeeper.
Even making eye contact with a Peacekeeper was never a good idea, any facial expression that implied dissent could be punished. After all, who would question the word of a Peacekeeper over some district scum, as they often liked to call you.
However, as you made your way across the market, trading some leather for food and purchasing several jugs of water and any medicine you could, you couldn’t shake the burning feeling that you were being watched, maybe even followed.
You glanced around the crowded market, trying to catch the eye of whoever might be watching you, but you couldn’t figure it out. You had convinced yourself that you had to be paranoid, that you were just working yourself up over nothing, when you finally spotted him.
He was standing several yards away from you, and despite the many people in the busy market, his cold, blue eyes were trained on you. This Peacekeeper seemed on edge, like he was hoping for a fight to break out just so he could break it apart.
You felt a shiver pass through your body, averting your eyes immediately to avoid any suspicions from falling on to you.
It had to be a coincidence, you catching him staring at you once didn’t mean anything really, but something about the look in his eyes made you feel profoundly anxious for reasons you couldn’t identify.
You spent the entire walk to your house glancing over your shoulder to make sure you weren’t being followed, and when you finally got to your house and closed the door behind you, even the safe walls of your home couldn’t calm your nerves for hours.
The second time that you took notice of Coriolanus Snow was a week after the incident in the market, but this time he got much closer to you.
You had been on a nighttime walk in the woods, trying to clear your head after the stressful shift you had just worked at the bar.
Your boss had yelled at your several times, threatening to cut your already measly pay if you messed up another order, but it wasn’t your fault that all the men who came into the bar harassed you so much that you could hardly remember if a certain order of beers went to the table where the red-faced pigs called you a whore or to the table of rowdy men that kept smacking your ass every time you walked by.
Unfortunately, you couldn’t quit. You and your family were barely surviving as it was, your mother too ill to work and your brother was too young.
You were so consumed in thought that you didn’t hear the rustling of the branches nearby.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be out here this late, young lady.”
You spun around, fear shooting through your body when you came face to face with a familiar pair of blue eyes.
The peacekeeper towered over you, and your heart skipped a beat when he took a step closer. His helmet was gone now, allowing you a glimpse at his blond buzz cut.
“Don’t you know there’s a curfew right now? You could get into serious trouble if I reported you to my superiors.” The man’s voice was low and threatening, his eyes sharp and determined.
“I’m sorry,” you replied quietly, trying to make yourself sound as non-argumentative as possible. Fear was pulsing through your veins. You had heard about the kind of things Peacekeepers would do to the districters that pissed them off, and you were terrified of something bad happening to you when you knew no one else could take care of your family.
“I just wanted to take a walk. I’m not doing anything wrong.”
He took a step closer and your fear rooted you in place. Coriolanus studied you for a moment, his lips twitching into a scowl.
“What’s your name?”
“Y/N Y/L/N, sir.” Your heart was hammering in your chest. “Am I in trouble?”
“Depends, Y/N. Turn around and put your hands on that tree.”
“What?” Your eyes widened before nervously glancing around. You were still a 10 minute walk from the town, and 15 from your house. An area this remote was not one anyone would be visiting for hours. There was no one else around this late at night, and the cool breeze now gave you chills.
“Did I stutter?” He took another step towards you, crowding your space, and you backed away from him in fear. You didn’t miss the way that his hand came to rest on the pistol at his hip. “I said, turn around and lean against that tree, I need to search you for counterfeit goods.”
You had been searched by Peacekeepers before, but this was different. Before, it had always occurred in the market or the main square, but now you found yourself all alone in the dark, completely at the mercy of this stranger who held absolute power and authority above you.
You took a breath to calm yourself, trying to tell yourself that you were fine. That he was just going to search you and then let you leave. You turned your back to him and placed your hands on the large tree in front of you.
When he moved closer to you, chest practically pressing to your back before he had begun to search you, you took in a sharp breath. Why was he so close to you? Had the Peacekeepers always conducted their searches like this?
His large hands came to your waist, patting around the fabric of your clothes, circling your waist before returning to your sides. They trailed lower, grabbing at the cloth of your skirt before passing over your hips. His hands ghosted over your ass for just a moment before moving to your legs. It was so quick you weren’t even sure if it had actually happened or if you imagined it.
When he was satisfied with checking your lower body, his hands returned to your waist, climbing up the sides of your ribcage.
You yelped in surprise when you felt his large hands cover your chest, roughly squeezing your tits as he held his body close to you. This time, you felt no doubt at all about whether he knew he was doing. You couldn’t move, terrified of what he might do if you tried to break away from him.
You skin crawled when his lips pressed to your neck, smooth voice whispering into your ear, “just need to be thorough.”
He inhaled deeply through his nose, giving your breasts one final pinch before pushing you against the tree and stepping back.
You spun around to look at him, back pressed to the rough bark and eyes fearful.
He looked amused as he stared down his nose at you and you were both quiet for a few moments before he spoke again.
“Don’t let me catch you breaking curfew again, Miss Y/L/N.” His voice was cold and hard. “Now get out of here before I change my mind and decide to write you up.”
You shuddered at what it might mean if he caught you again, but you didn’t have time to think about it, because when he stepped aside to let you past him, you ran the entire way home, bolting all of the doors when you got there.
You came to learn through passing that his name was Coriolanus Snow. Several of your friends had experienced run ins with him before, but nothing like what had happened to you.
After the night that he searched you in the woods, you started to notice him everywhere. He must have figured out your daily and weekly schedule, because even though you had started to try avoiding him, he was always at the market when you went shopping and you found that he had been stationed outside of the bar you worked at every night you were on the schedule.
You grew to expect the feeling of his eyes following you everywhere, although that didn’t mean it unnerved you any less.
One night, completely exhausted from your shift, you exited the bar in a hurry, forgetting to do your usual sweep to scan for Coriolanus lurking around.
Wanting to take the shortest route possible, you opted to head through the dimly lit alleyway behind the bar.
“Get any good tips tonight, Y/N?” The voice from behind washed over you like a bucket of cold water.
You turned to see Coriolanus leering above you, blocking the way you had came, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. The sounds of the bar were muffled but still loud and raucous, although the only thing you could hear was your heart beating quickly in your chest.
You cleared your throat, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice, “No, not really.”
“Mm, tough night?” He asked, voice lighter now, but it didn’t do anything to make you feel better.
“Every night is here,” you responded, nodding your head to the bar behind you.
“I bet,” the taller man answered, inching closer to you as he did. “Why don’t you pull out your wallet, sweetheart?” Although it was phrased more like a statement than a question.
“My wallet?” You repeated nervously, reaching for your purse slowly.
He grinned as he snatched the bag from your hands and started to rifle through it. “I mean, you said you didn’t make any good tips tonight, so I figured you wouldn’t miss ‘em.”
“But I need that money!” You huffed with frustration. “My Ma’s sick! She needs medicine all the time.”
Coriolanus chucked darkly, starting to grow annoyed, “You think I give a fuck about whether your Ma lives or dies?” He grabbed the handful of cash that you had been saving up for weeks and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Hmm, seems like a lot of money, Y/N. I wonder how a simple waitress could have made so much?”
“That’s my money I’ve been saving! I told you, it’s for my Ma, I’m just trying to get her better treatments, please!” You pleaded with him, tears beginning to form at your waterline.
He just shook his head, tsk-ing like he was disappointed in you. “First you broke curfew, and now this, Y/N? You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight. I’m taking this money and letting you off with another warning. Unless of course, you wanna give me a reason to search you again.”
Coriolanus towered above you, drinking you in with amused eyes and enjoying the frustration written all over your face, “How does that sound?”
You bit your tongue, rage boiling inside you, “fine,” you answered through gritted teeth.
He threw your now empty purse at you, before moving to let you pass. As you walked by him, however, his hand shot out to roughly slap your ass, and you could still hear his chuckles echoing off the walls as you ran out of the alley with tear stained eyes.
Two days after that incident, you returned home from a double shift at the bar to madness. You needed to make up for the money that Coriolanus had taken from you somehow, and now you were working yourself to the bone to try to cover for the unexpected loss.
You were shocked to find the place swarming with Peacekeepers who were tearing your home apart. You entered slowly, not wanting any trouble from them, but needing to check on your ma and little brother.
“What’s going on?” You demanded of one of the Peacekeepers, but you got no answers.
Well, not until an all too familiar face emerged from your room with something clutched in his hand. His piercing blue eyes found you immediately, but his face remained hardened. Your mouth dropped in surprise when you realized what he was holding.
“This room is clear,” he announced loudly, not breaking his eye contact as you watched him stuff a pair of your panties into his pocket.
A horrible chill passed through your body and you felt like you could be sick. Why of all people was he choosing to target you? What had you ever done to him to warrant any of this?
Your brother began to cry when they entered his room, and you hugged him tight, brushing your fingers through his hair and quietly singing a lullaby to calm him. You nervously glanced at your mother, who was seated in the kitchen with you.
“Y/N Y/L/N?”
Your head snapped to Coriolanus, who gestured for you to come over to him. You pressed a kiss to your brother’s head before standing and crossing over to him, making sure you kept your distance.
“What do you want, Coriolanus?” You hissed quietly, trying not to draw the attention of the other Peacekeepers.
“Got some reports of possible rebel activity taking place here. We have to check out any tips we get.” His cool response made you want to scream. You knew that he was lying through his teeth, the only people who even came to your home were you, your brother, and your Ma.
“You and I both know that’s not true!” You hopelessly pleaded with him. “Please, can’t you leave my family alone? It’s hard enough for them as is.”
He chuckled at your desperation, clearly pleased with the panicked response he was receiving, before barking at the men in your brother’s room to get out.
When he pushed you into the doorway of your brother’s room, your ma and brother cried out in protest, but Coriolanus yelled at them to shut the fuck up before he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
“Maybe you didn’t learn your lesson the first two times. And since the other Peacekeepers haven’t gotten the chance, I think I should search you myself.” He pushed you up against the wall that you were facing, roughly pressing your cheek to it while the hand at the back of your neck clenched down.
This time he didn’t even pretend to properly search you, the hand at your neck immediately clamping over your mouth to muffle your protests, while the other groped your chest, plucking at your tits while you struggled in his grasp. He slid his hand under your shirt and bra this time, sighing into your ear when he finally squeezed the soft, tender skin of your breast.
“You’re so beautiful, y’know that, Y/N?” He whispered, and you wanted to be sick at the feeling of his fingers tweaking your hardening nipple. “With a little make up and some better clothes, you’d fit right in with the rich capital girls.”
A tear escaped, trailing down your cheek and you blinked more away. You felt impossibly trapped, frozen in fear and trembling in his arms. His hands came to your hips, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he rubbed his hard on against your ass.
His lips were close to your ear, “if you want to protect your family, you need to stop trying to avoid me.”
“Fuck you,” you whispered, against your better judgment.
At this he chuckled, and one of his hands left your hips, grabbing onto your chin, forcing your head to the side and holding you still as his lips smothered yours with a rough kiss.
And then he backed off, walking out of the room before he called off the other men.
You were still in shock as you caught your breath, staring at the space he was just occupying as you tried to collect your head.
Lips still burning from his kiss, you shuddered as you thought about what you might need to do to keep your ma and brother safe from him.
After they had all filed out and you took a moment to adjust your clothes, you finally left your brother’s room and took in the wreckage they had left behind. The house was trashed, furniture knocked over and papers scattered about everywhere.
Your room was the worst of all though, everything had been pulled out of the drawers and piled on the floor, your mattress was up against the wall, your desk had been toppled over, leaving anything on top of it to scatter across your room, and they had shattered your mirror, leaving a jagged piece reflecting your misery back at you as you stood in the door.
Your ma was a mess, crying and hugging you and your brother for an hour afterwards, repeatedly questioning out loud why they would do this to your family.
Unfortunately, the answer was all too plain to you now, although you were still too freighted to fully admit it to yourself.
For whatever reason, Coriolanus Snow had decided to stake his claim on you, and based on your previous interactions with him, you knew that it was only a matter of time before he would take what he wanted.
For a week, you were terrified to leave your house alone, always calling on your friends to ask them to walk with you too and from work or the market.
In those days, Coriolanus’ presence always weighed heavy on you, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. Even having your friends nearby couldn’t stave off the fear that clutched your heart when you noticed Coriolanus stalking behind your group, always a good deal of distance away, but you knew that he made himself visible to you on purpose.
The feeling of safety became something of the past. Everywhere that you went, he was there, although he hadn’t spoken to you since he and his other Peacekeeping brutes tore your home apart. But that didn’t make him any less terrifying.
Even your house, which had felt secure and safe for so long was no longer sacred. It had taken days to clean up the place, and much of your furniture had been broken in the frenzy.
After Coriolanus had assaulted you in your home, you bartered with some friends to acquire a large lock to place on the front door of the house, but it still didn’t provide much protection when the peacekeepers could just break the door down.
Unfortunately for you, having that lock also didn’t do you any good if you forgot to use it.
After waving goodbye to your friend as you walked up to your door after a late night shift, you pulled out your key and turned the lock, leaving it hanging on the door and closing it behind you.
The first thing that you noticed when you stepped inside was how unusually quiet it was. Usually your brother would be at the door to greet you, even at this late hour, but he wasn’t there this time, and when you called out for your ma and brother, you only heard silence in response. Where were they?
Alarm bells started ringing in your head as you ventured further, and you had just stepped into the doorway of your room when you heard a heavy click and felt cold steel press against the back of your head.
You froze in place, staring ahead into the broken mirror across from you that confirmed who was behind the trigger.
Your eyes locked in the mirror, the cold resolve set in his icy blue gaze made you shudder.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop trying to stay away from me, Y/N?” He was angry, a lethal poison infecting his voice.
You couldn’t speak, your mouth was dry, and your mind was racing a million miles a second, but you needed to know that your family was safe.
“Did you hurt them?” You whispered.
“Not yet. Your Ma and brother will be fine. As long as you do what I say.”
You let out a shaky breath at the confirmation that they were safe, but your stomach still turned at his words. You were terrified of Coriolanus, and now that he had you completely at his mercy, you knew that he wouldn’t let you go until he took exactly what he wanted from you.
“You understand, yes?” The gun pressed to your skull harder and you quickly nodded.
“Yes.”
“Get on your knees, slowly.” You felt him move the pistol away from your head for a moment, and you turned around, meeting his eyes fearfully before lowering yourself to kneel before him.
Coriolanus unbuttoned his blue shirt, dropping it on the floor behind him. He looked at you expectantly and you realized he wanted you to unbuckle his belt. Your trembling fingers fumbled with the belt before reaching forward to unbutton his pants and slide down the zipper. He pushed his pants down his legs before removing his boxers as well.
He smirked down at you as you took in the size of him.
“Such a pretty girl,” you flinched when you felt one hand twist into your hair while the other brought the pistol to your temple. “But I think you’d look better with your lips wrapped around my cock.”
The hand in your hair tightened, pulling at your scalp and dragging your head forward.
Reluctantly, you lifted your hand to wrap around the base of his thick cock, nervously wetting your lips before parting them and taking the tip into your mouth.
Coriolanus pushed himself deeper, nudging the back of your throat and groaning lowly when your eyes flitted up to meet his.
You pressed your tongue flat to the bottom of your mouth, trying to make more room for him as he sped up his pace.
You closed you eyes, bringing every thought to controlling your breath as he pushed his cock to the back of your throat, in and out between your lips. The cooling metal of the gun barrel was still taut against your skin, trembling slightly as Coriolanus gritted his teeth above you.
"Look at that, you're relaxing for me, good girl." But where did your pretty eyes go? That wouldn't do, he needed all of your attention. The nails of his fingers dug into your scalp, and tears sprung into your eyes. Your muffled yelp reached his ears.
"You'll keep," a groan interrupted him as your hand tightened around his cock, "your eyes open, and on me.”
“Do....you...understand?" Each word was punctuated by a harsh thrust into your throat, pushing past your tongue and slamming against the back of your neck.
You pathetically hummed around his cock in agreement, nervously keeping your eyes on his, not wanting to give him any reasons to hurt you.
By the time he was coming down your throat, your lips were puffy from his brutal pace, and your tears made your cheeks slick and shiny. You gagged at the sensation, throat closing around his length as he spilled his seed down your throat. He held your head in place, choking you with his cock until you had swallowed every drop of his salty cum.
Coriolanus’ grip on the gun had tightened as he came and you fearfully glanced at it before meeting his eyes again.
When he pulled his cock out of your mouth, he was quick to drag you to your feet before tossing you stomach first onto the bed behind you.
Coryo finally holstered his gun, turning back to you and easily pushing you against the bed as he bunched your skirt up at your waist. He let out a low whistle as he admired your ass, reaching out a hand to grope you before giving the soft flesh a sharp smack, earning him a whine from you. You could feel your hips digging into the hard mattress that you had had for your whole life.
You struggled in his arms, but when his hand found it’s home around your throat and you felt his cockhead start sliding past your lips, you realized there was nothing you could do to avoid what was coming.
Coriolanus pushed all of himself into you in one slow, punishing thrust. You didn’t have any time at all to adjust to his thick length before he was gripping your ass tightly, canting his hips back and thrusting into you again.
Your gasps and cries were muffled by his large hand at your throat. The way he tightened his grip combined with the feeling of him stretching you out had you seeing stars.
His pace was brutal. Coriolanus had been imagining this for weeks, and after you kept yourself away from him the past few days, he wanted to make the most of the first time he fucked you.
Each time you tried to escape from under him, his large arms wrapped around you again, holding you in place as he snapped his hips against your ass, burying himself deep inside you with every thrust.
“Keep trying to get away sweetheart,” his hot breath fanned over your neck, and the blond drew closer to suck at a tender spot until you whined and melted back into his arms. “I like watching you struggle.”
Your stomach turned and you tried to ignore how weak your knees felt at the peacekeeper’s whispered threats in your ear.
Coriolanus pulled out of you, not giving you time to process his actions before he was flipping you onto your back.
Adrenaline coursed through your veins and you tried to break away from the terrifying man above you while you had the chance, but you were too slow.
The blond captured you again, throwing you onto the bed and straddling you as you thrashed against him. When Coriolanus reached his hand out again to choke you, you could feel your heart beating against his hand.
You flinched when he drew close to you, his nose practically touching yours as he forced you to look at his eyes.
When he pushed into you again, stretching you out from a new angle, you whimpered, trying hard not to let your lashes flutter closed.
Coriolanus reveled at the sight of your sweet, tear filled eyes meeting his as he split you open with his cock. The way that you trembled beneath him gave him a thrilling sense of control over you. He knew that you already would let him do whatever he wanted, but for some twisted reason he wished he had held onto his gun so he could press it to your temple as he fucked you and see the fear in your eyes.
Your cunt was pulling him in, squeezing and twitching around his length with every thrust. He could feel you getting wetter around him with every brush against your walls.
“You’re so tight, so wet,” he strained, getting distracted by the sounds of your cunt squelching with every move he made. “I need to fill up that pretty pussy, Y/N.”
At the sight of your eyes widening and your lips parting in protest, Coriolanus clamped his hand over your mouth before fucking you faster, groaning and cursing under his breath.
“Someone needed to- fuck,“ Coriolanus’ voice caught in his throat when he felt you clench around him, “someone needed to teach you a lesson about respecting authority. You should feel lucky that I was willing to.”
Begging and sobbing against his hand only spurred him on and he laughed at every pathetic attempt you made to push him off.
Coriolanus’ hand crept from your mouth to frame your jaw and he roughly squeezed your cheeks until you opened your mouth. The blond spat into your mouth and you gagged, your repulsion making your skin crawl. You wanted to throw up at the feeling of his spit sliding down your throat when you swallowed it, and Coriolanus chuckled at your disgust as he leered over you.
“You’re just a filthy district slut,” his hand returned to your throat, choking you harder than he had before, “and that’s all you’ll ever be, Y/N.” The venom and hatred in his voice shocked you, and the way he was thrusting into you was downright punishing.
You were clenching around him so tight, and the sight of your sweet, innocent face marred with so much fear was enough to send Coriolanus over the edge.
He slowed, groaning as he pumped you full of his seed, his cock still twitching inside of you.
After he pulled out and moved off of you, you tried to turn away from him, but his hand shot out and latched onto your wrist, twisting your arm painfully before forcing you to face him and firmly kissing you.
When he pulled away, the words that he uttered sent a chill over your skin, “Snow lands on top.”
The next few days were a blur as you blinked in and out of dissociation. Coriolanus had his way with you more times than you could count, never caring about your distress at him using your body however he pleased.
Any resistance you put up was easily squashed when he snapped back threats to hurt your family. However if he was in a really bad mood, he would brandish his pistol, pressing the sharp metal to your forehead until you sobbed, and apologized for fighting back.
You weren’t even sure how many days had passed since you first discovered that Coriolanus had your ma and brother thrown in jail.
Every time Coriolanus sank into you, you could feel yourself receding into your mind, trying to protect yourself from the nightmare you found yourself in.
During the days, he would go out to terrorize the people of district 12, and during the nights, he would return to terrorize you.
One night you lay in your bed, praying that your ma and brother were safe. You could only imagine the horrible things they could be being subjected to at the hands of the peacekeepers.
Your neck was sore and bruised, as were your wrists. Your entire body was aching with pain from Coriolanus’ repeated abuse.
When you heard the front door swing open, you tensed instinctively, closing in on yourself in anxiety. Hushed voices reached your ears and you craned your neck to try to hear better. They seemed to be in the midst of a conversation.
“I mean, don’t you think that maybe what you’re doing here is wrong?”
“Sejanus, if anything, you’d be helping the poor girl, we’ll give her food for every load she takes.” Your stomach turned at the disgusting way Coriolanus was talking about you, and the way his friend laughed along with him.
“And you’re sure she’s not going to try to tell somebody?”
“Nobody would believe her over a Peacekeeper, and besides, who will there be to tell? I have dirt on every officer in 12, if they tried to do anything to put a stop to this, they’d be taking themself down as well.”
The men were both silent as Coriolanus’ words sunk in.
“You promise you’ll actually help her out afterwards?” His friend, Sejanus apparently, sounded somewhat concerned, but clearly not concerned enough to report Coriolanus. “And she’s gonna get something in return?”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure her brother gets some candy or something,” Coriolanus chuckled and you heard the other man laughing too.
“Is she in there right now?” Those words had you sitting up in bed, fear clutching your heart. Coriolanus wasn’t seriously discussing pimping you out to his friends, was he?
You got your answer immediately however, when your door opened and you came face to face with a man you recognized as another peacekeeper. He seemed anxious, but after he noticed your state of undress, he advanced on you with the same sick desire you had seen in Coriolanus’ eyes several times now.
Your throat was dry and anxiety laced your words as you pleaded with him, “Wait, please don’t!”
“Shut up,” he growled, leering over you as you sat on the bed.
You tried to put up a fight, but it was all in vain. You really should have known you couldn’t take on a peacekeeper. Despite your attempt to run past him and reach the door, he easily grabbed you and shoved you back onto the bed. His hands pawed at your undergarments, throwing them behind him without a second thought before he removed his pants and stroked his hard cock.
When he forcefully pushed himself into your sore pussy, you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes and spilling over when he began to rock back and forth.
Sejanus was different than his friend in several ways. While Coriolanus had been rough and kept a fast pace, you found that Sejanus preferred to take his time, slowly pushing his cock into you as you trembled in his grasp. After the initial struggle, he was surprisingly tender and gentle, caressing your soft skin, pressing kisses to your breasts, and sucking on your sensitive nipples.
Unlike the blond, Sejanus seemed almost unwilling to meet your eyes, and when you protested or put up any resistance, instead of reveling in the fight, Sejanus just covered your mouth with his large palm so your yelps couldn’t reach his ears.
“I’m doing this for you, Y/N.” He whispered against your skin when he drew close, tilting his hips back so he almost slid all the way out before slowly filling you up again all the way to the hilt.
His words only made you feel worse. You didn’t want any of this, and when you grabbed his hand off of your mouth and told him as much, his eyes darkened in anger.
You whimpered when his hand came to your throat, squeezing harshly against the faded bruises.
“I’m not a bad guy, okay?” It was hard to discern if he was trying to convince you or himself, and after he slapped you for not agreeing with him, you nodded and tearfully responded.
“You’re not.”
“I’m not,” his hot breath fanned over your dewy skin as he repeated himself on a loop, thrusting his cock into your tight cunt again and again. “I’m not. I’m not.”
You whined when his hand came between your legs, swirling around your clit and stealing unwanted gasps from you.
Every drag of his thick cock against your snug walls mixed with his twitching fingers at your clit brought you closer to the brink or orgasm.
Tears fell past your eyes which were squeezed shut, and you whimpered as you came around him and he fucked you harder, fingers never leaving your clit.
When you came again, Sejanus kissed you for the first time, desperation and hunger evident in the way his tongue pushed its way into your mouth, swallowing your moans as his lips slid over yours. You felt disgusted, but also couldn’t ignore the confusing way you clenched around him when his lips first found yours.
Your third orgasm was close behind the second, tearing through you with force and Sejanus grunted at the feeling of your slick cunt choking his cock, fucking you faster and chasing his own release.
He cursed loudly when he came, shuddering as he slowly snapped his hips against yours to fuck his cum deeper inside of you.
Sejanus kissed you again before pulling out, quietly apologizing without meeting your eyes and then he was gone, leaving you exhausted and sore in a bed you no longer felt safe in.
As you lay there, trying to ground yourself and comprehend what you had just gone through, you couldn’t help but think of your mother and brother, who were being held in prison just because of the twisted infatuation Coriolanus had with you.
How different would your life be now if he had never approached you that late night several weeks ago?
And what was your life going to look like now that he had claimed his stake on you and was planning to let his Peacekeeper friends “share” you and take advantage of you whenever they pleased?
Hours had passed as you tried to think of any way out of the bottomless pit that you now found yourself in. Tears had subsided a while ago, but now you were just left with emptiness. You were still lost in thought when the door opened and Coriolanus’ large frame cast a shadow across your bed.
The grin he shot you after he took in your distressed state was smug, triumphant even, and the glint in his eyes told you exactly why he was entering your room at the early hours of the morning.
summary: Coriolanus never forgets about the nurse who treated his snakebite, and he is determined to not let her forget him.
Warnings: unrequited love, graphic wounds, stalking, coryo being de lu lu, non-con, pretty tame for me to be honest.
Word Count: 12, 250
Thank you all for you patience and kind words!
Coriolanus was sure he was going to die. He could feel the poison traveling up his arm, and through the rest of his body.
He never should have trusted Lucy-gray. Love made him stupid.
Now just as he was getting his life back, it was being slowly sucked from his body.
Betrayed by someone that owed him her life. She would have died in the Hunger games if not for him. He sacrificed everything for her, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted his final breath.
She couldn’t have it. Not now that everything he had fought his whole life for was within his reach. His fathers compass agrees. It points him in the direction of help.
Through blurry eyes, he could see the gates of the compound. There they could fix him and send him onward to officer training. There he could live up to his name.
Coriolanus struggles to put one foot in front of the other. His body felt like it was on fire. Sweat poured from him, the snake's poison, and his long journey back in the sun teamed up to exhaust him.
The ringing ears indicated that Coriolanus was done. He could no longer place where he was. Was the gate in front of him, or has he spun in a completely different direction?
The weight of the compass falls from his hands, unable to help him. The world felt as if it was spinning him around. His vision was blurry and limited to two feet in front of him.
“Sir, are you alright?”, a low yell was heard over his ringing ears.
He swiped his hand to see if he could touch them, but it shoosh’s through the air. It used all the energy he had left. No longer with the energy to stand, he crumbles to his knees.He feels the hard rocks dig into him, so he knew he was on the path to the compound.
After everything, this is how he dies. He regrets trying to make it back. It would have been better if his body was lost in the woods. Less humiliating than being found trying to crawl back like a coward.
“You’re okay”, the sweet voice spoke, closer.
He looks to see eyes staring at him. In a panic, he pushes away from them, certain it was Lucy-Gray coming to finish the job. The action pushes the side of his body into the road's gravel, scraping his skin, and leaving smaller rocks wedged in his side.
“I want to help. I just want to help. It’s okay”, the voice spoke. Not Lucy-Gray. Not a threat.
He could feel his body being hoisted up. You tucked your small shoulders under his arm, and wrapped your arm around his waist.
“You’re going to be okay”, you spoke again.
He tried to assist you in walking him forward. All his weight was lent on you, but you were determined not to drop him.
You yell for the guarding peacekeepers to come help, as they shuffle forward.
He stumbles, nearly taking you to the ground with him, but you are quick to steady the weight again. You move forward again, slower this time to allow for Coriolanus to balance himself without his senses.
You scream a name that he recognised from training, but couldn’t place a face to.
It was lucky that you was friendlier than he was. The gate swung wide at the name. No formal checks of identity that should have been done according to protocol were made.
Your name was called back, but Coriolanus screamed in pain over it. His arm began to pound in agony. He tried to move it up to his chest, but his arm had lost all movement.
You ordered the men to abandon their post to take him to the medical camp. He was surprised when they did it without a fight.
The weight of him is lifted off you as he is lifted off the ground by two officers. With one carrying his legs, and one lifting him under his arms, Coriolaus is jogged to the medical tent.
It didn’t matter. It was too late. Coriolanus Snow would die in district 12 like his father. Rebels would end the great Snow line.
He could hear you as you led the men. All sight was lost, his consciousness slipping in and out as he heard curtains being drawn, and a hasty search for something.
Coriolanus is placed on a hard bed, and something tight is wrapped around his arm.
The last thing he felt was a soothing hand sweeping over his head. A kind last touch, he thought.
He woke from heat. His whole body felt as if he was in a furnace.
A cool rag was wiped over his head, and he opened his eyes enough to see you staring back. His eyesight had returned but he had to fight to keep his eyes open.
He was laying on his uninjured arm. He raises it slightly to catch your small wrist in his hand as you go to dab his sweat again. You remain calm, waiting for him to fall back asleep.
His hand drops to the bed with your wrist.His cheek presses up against your fingers, the wet rage soaks the bedding beneath. Still you leave it there until he is back asleep before you continue your work.
The next time he woke up, he was alone with a pounding headache.
His sight was back, but his arm still ached, and he could feel the sweat on his head from his temperature.
The medical facility was large, rows and rows of beds stretched out. Most were filled with men of various ailments.
Across the large space was a wall that separated the patients from the rest of the medical facility. A large glass window showed the nurses den.
Two nurses sat behind it talking. Their uniform was light blue like the peacekeepers uniform. Only the uniform was fashioned into half length sleeves which were cuffed at their elbows and a form fitting skirt. Despite efforts of the design, it was manly.
The collars seemed too large for womens neck, the pockets on each side were too big across their chests. Coriolanus realized that they were old peacekeeper uniforms repurposed for the nurses.
Coriolaus looked up to see the railings of the curtain that could be pulled for privacy but he was too weak to rise.
He layed in disbelief that he had survived. A second chance was given to him. Nothing would stand in his way now. No longer will he be swayed by his emotions. His only focus would be rising to the top. How he got there no longer mattered. He had tried hard work, and moral reasoning, and it left him dead in the forest.
Coriolanus looked down at his bite, it was covered in a white wrap, but he could see the discolouration of his skin, and feel the liquid as it oozed out of the bite.
He hoped it would leave a scar. A reminder of a hard lesson learnt.
A doctor interrupted his thoughts to check his vitals. He was an older doctor, with gray, thin hair, and wrinkled skin. But he wore no glasses, and walked tall, and straight.
“You were lucky, Mr Snow. You were found just in time. Even two minutes later, and you would have been dead”, he said, writing down on his clipboard.
Coriolanus huffs. After everything he was owed a bit of luck.
He remembers the girl who found him. Her soft touch, and beautiful eyes. The same women who had attended to him with the cool rag.
“Who found me?”, he asks the doctor.
“One of the nurses here. Very lucky indeed, Mr Snow. One of my favorite nurses, Nurse Y/n. She took good care of you. You owe her your life”.
It felt as if he had been bitten again. He didn’t want to owe anybody anything.
“I would like to thank her”.
He remembers how you struggled to keep his weight up right. You could have left him. Had him be someone else's problem, but you didn’t. You were still learning that goodness would not come back to you.
“You’ll get your chance. She’s on night shift tonight”.
He felt eager to see you. Someone in this world yet to learn it was dog eat dog.
The doctor said you were his favorite. That could only mean that you were kind, and beautiful. Coriolanus expected nothing less from you.
Coriolanus waits while the others sleep. The shifts had still not been switched yet. He grew inpatient. He wanted to thank you, and go to sleep.
But the same nurse who delivered his dinner sat there flipping through a magazine behind the glass.
Hours passed, he thought about abandoning the idea, and going to sleep. The hospital was small, and inadequately staffed. He was sure to run into you at a later date. Yet he made no move to sleep. Part of him wanted to see you tonight.
Finally, he did. The shifts were changed, and the nurse he had grown to detest was putting down her magazine to greet you.
He recognized you instantly as you entered the nurses den.You put down your coat and bag, as you talk to the nurse on duty. For a late night shift you seemed in good spirits.
You look out from the window, and for some reason Coriolanus pretended to be asleep. He didn’t want you to think he was a stalker, waiting up for you.
Only one nurse was on duty overnight due to staff shortage, and Coriolanus felt relieved when the other nurse returned back to the nurses quarters. He wanted to be alone with you.
He waits patiently until you come out to check on the men.
You pulled blankets over them like they were children, put their limbs back onto their small beds. You made sure every man's vitals were where they were supposed to be. More work than the other nurse did her entire shift.
You are slow getting to him, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoyed watching you as you worked.
It was dark, and you were so focused on your task, you didn’t see him staring at you until you reached his bed.
“Hello” he greets.
“Mr Snow”, you address, “You should be asleep”.
“I was waiting for you. I hear it is you that I have to thank for saving my life”.
“Hardly. I just assisted”.
You were bashful about saving a man's life.
“Well thank you for assisting to save my life, and for carrying me to the gates. I wouldn’t have got there if you hadn’t arrived”.
The blush on your cheeks was heavenly. A small smile teased your lips, and you looked shyly down. It wasn’t often you got praised, he guessed, he would try to do it as often as possible.
“It was no problem”, you mutter.
Your eyes suddenly shoot down to him, and your posture straightens.
“Is your arm giving you pain?”, you ask him.
It was, but he didn’t want anymore drugs making him hazy so he denies the throbbing sensation.
“No. I feel fine”.
“Can I get you an extra blanket or pillow?”.
His heart twists at your words. He very rarely hears ‘what can i do for you’, instead of ‘what can i take from you’. It was a nice change.
“No, thank you”.
“If you change your mind, let me know. I have rounds to do. Any problem, push your call button” you point to a yellow light clicker next to him, “try to get some sleep. Rest is important in your recovery”.
He almost begged you to stay, but it was a childish need.
“Thank you, nurse Y/n”, he returns.
You leave him with a smile, “of course”.
Over the next couple of days of bed rest Coriolanus grew restless to see you. It felt like torture, waiting hours to sometimes only catch a glimpse of you as you pottered in the staffs den, or made your rounds on the other side of the hospital.
He mostly hated Tuesdays, and Fridays, as they were your days off.
He felt jealous when he saw you attend to other patients. He knew it was silly, it was your job, but he didn’t like being attended to by anyone else, and he didn’t like you attending to anyone else. He didn’t like that you had a job at all. Let alone one this taxing.
But it did mean that he got to see you.
He liked to think that he was your favorite, but you gave no indication that it was true.
You were kind to everyone. Had repours with nearly all of the men in your wards. Some even called you by your first name only. Coriolanus felt it was disrespectful and too familiar for his likening.
The man next to him had a leg blown off in an explosive test gone wrong. Sometimes it felt as if he was your favorite. You would spend more time at his bed, than Coriolanus’s. And you always called him by his name, Francies, but always called Coriolanus, Mr snow.
Still you found his compass for him, polished and delivered it straight to him, that was a sign that you favorited him. You only performed within your job requirements for Francies, you went beyond for him.
He began to worry that love had made him stupid again. Like Lucy-Gray, you consumed his thoughts.
Except here, you held the power. He could only see you when you decided to visit him, where he could visit Lucy-Gray in her enclosure anytime he wished. You fed him, he fed Lucy-Gray. He hated being on the other side of the power imbalance. He promised himself that he would only be on top from now on.
It was stupid after everything to fall so quickly back into his obsessive nature. He thought he would never love again. Never give someone that much power over him again. He would marry for power, and to someone who had no sway over him at all.
Yet when he saw you eating soup for the millionth time in the nurses den, he wished for nothing more than to give you every luxury life had to offer. You saved his life. You were kind to him, when all he had ever known was being of use to someone.
He would get back to the Capitol, Hoff had promised him that district 2 was still on the cards. All he had to do was get better, and he could complete officer training, get back to the Capitol, and send for you there.
Without school in the way, he could get a good job. Plinth had managed to get Coriolanus’ academy diploma. That still had use, even with his time as a peacekeeper.
He would get the Snow apartment back. It might be crowded, and run down, but he would slowly fix that. He figured you wouldn’t mind so long as he was working towards a better future.
He would daydream of a better future for you both, while he waited to see you. Not only was he given another chance, he was given motivation to take it.
Why would you want a low Peacekeeper for a husband? You were surrounded by them all day. What good were they to you? How would they take care of you, and provide all that you need.
Even on an officer's wage, it would be a struggle. He still had to send home money. Even as an officer he would be no good to you. He had to get home, and rise to the top.
But, he was going to miss you in doing so. He faked being hurt just a little bit longer than necessary. He would have to go soon, but two extra weeks of your attention wouldn’t derail his plans too much.
You worked mostly night shifts which distributed Coriolanus sleep. But it worked in his favor too. Rarely was anyone else awake. It could just be the two of you
He thought you liked it too. You would smile when you saw him awake.
He found himself smiling back on reflex.
“Do you sleep, Mr Snow?” you tease him.
“Not when you’re around”, he admits.
His words still you. It’s clear you feel uncomfortable that he said it. Coriolanus wished he could disappear.
“Is your arm giving you pain again?” you ask. He takes the opportunity for the dismissal.
“Ah-Yes”, he deflects.
You turn up his pain relief, and unwrap his bandage to take a look.
Coriolanus set his record for two wrong things said in a row. He was always cool, and calculated. You had to be to survive in the Capitol. Honey-tongued he was called, but now he was acting like a fool.
He didn’t want the extra pain relief that would make him tired, and he definitely didn’t want you to look at his wound that was yellow and pusy.
It didn’t irk you like he suspected that it would have, but still he tried to yank his arm away and hide it under the blanket.
You catch his hand with yours to keep his arm still as you inspect it. He suddenly felt very hot as you held his hand on the bed, while you looked put together and focused like always.
“Yellow bellies have the most painful bite of any snake in the district. I am surprised you complain so little”.
You jerk your hand from his, causing his fingers to curl. He keeps his fingers tight against his palm which aggravates the sore muscles on his bitten arm.
Taking a bottle from his nightstand, and dapping it into a medical cloth, you turn your focus back on him.
“I am just going to clean it. It might hurt a little”.
The first dap felt like acid on his arm. He grits his teeth from the pain.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself. How long have you been a peacekeeper for?”.
You were trying to distract him. He picked up on it easily. He should have felt like a child, but he felt thrilled at the opportunity to talk to you about something other than his arm.
“Not long. I am going to Officer training in two, and then I’ll make my way back to the Capitol”.
“Oh the Capitol? You aren’t a transfer from another district”, you observe as you tap his yellow, and flaky skin with your rag.
“Do you know the Campbells?”, you ask.
He did. He was surprised that you did.
“We were neighbors, before the war” you explain.
“You’re from the Capitol?” he asks.
“I was. The war took both my parents. After that there was nothing left for me there”.
There was no emotion as you said it. No hidden anguish at all you had lost.
“I am sorry that happened to you”, he offered.
“Don’t be. Plenty of orphans due to the war. I am grateful that the medic school took me. But the Campbells had this little white dog that I used to love. I always wondered if it survived”.
Coriolanus knew that the dog was long gone. The Campbells had eaten it when supplies were cut off to the Capitol. They tried to sell its fur to Grandma’am.
He didn’t want to disappoint you with the news, so a lie fell off his tongue.
“Yes, it did. Mrs Campbell carries it everywhere with her”.
You smile and he is glad he chose to lie.
“My parents died in the war too. I have my grandmother, and cousin waiting for me to get back to the Capitol’’.
“I hope you get there, Mr Snow”, you say as you wrap his arm back up.
“Would you come with me?”, he asks.
Your pause made him worry that you were going to laugh at him, but instead you looked shyly up and smiled.
“This is my home. I am happy here’, you state.
“The Capitol would be better than here. I could give you the life you deserve”.
“The Capitol is not for me”, you deflect.
He felt angry at your resistance. Did you not think he could look after you? Did you not trust that he would not remain a peacekeeper all his days.
“So that’s a no. You wouldn’t come with me”, he determines.
It should have been disheartening. He should have left the idea alone there, but if anything it was a challenge. A call for action. Motivation to leave the hospital and become the man you would leave the district for.
“That’s a no,” you agree, “But when you get to the Capitol, I want you to give Mrs Campbell's dog a pat for me.”
The dog is dead, he wanted to say. You had hurt him, so he wanted to hurt you, but cool, and calculated is how he survived, and it’s how he would get everything he is after.
“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he barters.
You look surprised he said it. Unsure at first, before your lips turned into a sly smile.
Bending down, he thinks you are about to accept his offer. He parts his lips slightly for you, bringing his head towards yours slowly.
His heart pounds in his chest. If his arm wasn’t so sore he would reach out for your face.
He remembers the anticipation of Lucy-grays first kiss. It was a dizzing feeling that he hated.
He swears he feels your lips graze his but you duck your head away and kiss both his cheeks quickly.
“You can tell Mrs Campbell I said hi too”, you giggle.
“Was that amusing for you?”, he asks.
You nod your head with a grin across your face.
“Goodnight, Mr Snow. I’ll see you for breakfast”.
Wasting no more time with him, you continue your work with other patients.
“Goodnight, nurse y/n.”
Coriolanus rests his head on the pillow as you disappear into the other side of the hospital.
He must have been a child the last time he couldn’t help but smile. All that had happened seemed like a lifetime ago, and not only a couple of weeks. He was a new person. Lucy-Gray had killed the boy, and raised the man.
Wouldn’t come to the Capitol with him? He would be the final decider of that. He smiled thinking about the future ahead of him.
The news of his discharge did not bring him the pleasure he was expecting.
Who knew how long officer training would take. It could be years before he got back to the Capitol and that was only when his journey began. He was sure he would not forget you, but would time cause you to forget him.
His fellow Peacekeepers wished him well as he packed his truck up. Commander Hoff had signed him out this morning, but you weren’t there to say goodbye.
He couldn’t let you forget him.
He owed you his life, he had a debt to pay.
Everyone told him how happy he should be. To get out of 12, but you were in 12. Surrounded by young men with little brains but big muscles.
How lonely could he expect you to get before you found warmth in the arms of a soldier.
He tosses in his uncomfortable bed. In the morning he would be sent
miles away. Could he trust you to assume his love? No. He had to tell you. Had to assure you that he was coming back.
Tonight you did night shift. He had to tell you to wait for him.
He leaps out of his bunk, pulling on his cardigan before sneaking out of the bunks.
If a commanding officer caught him outside after lights out, the punishment was a night in the compound jail. He wouldn’t be released until late morning and would miss his train.
He is quick as he moves through the darkness. Only stopping to hide when night staff were approaching. He made it safely to the nurses door.
It was late. Night guard focused on the boundaries so Coriolanus felt safe to approach the door to the nurses den despite the light illuminating the door.
He knocks on the entry, and you open it shortly after. Unsuspecting, and untroubled.
“Mr Snow,” you smile at him, causing him to unknowingly smile back.
“Is something wrong?”, you step aside to allow him in out of the cold. He closes the door behind him, and feels secure being trapped in the room with you.
“Yes-No”, he wasn’t sure where to begin.
“Your arm?” you guessed.
“I am going to officer training tomorrow”, he states.
You smile wide at him again, but this time no smile on his lips curled back. He could tell you had not realized your stake in this.
“Congratulations.’’ you move past him to place a clip bored back on the shelf behind him, “I am happy for you.”
“Are you?” he asks.
“Of course. I remember you telling me your plans to reach the Capitol. Officer training is a good stepping stone”.
He grabs your arm to turn you towards him.
“I don’t want you to forget me”.
You looked unsettled, but made no attempt to break away.
“Of course not”, you answer.
“I don’t want you to think I’ll forget you either. I’ll send for you as soon as I can”.
Your face twists, and you slightly attempt to raise your arm out of his hold.
“Mr Snow, I am afraid you are confused. Maybe you should go back to your bunk”.
He uses his grip on your arm to shake you slightly.
“Don’t speak to me like that”, he requests. He wasn’t one of your patients.
“I told you, I have no interest in returning to the Capitol”. Your voice had changed from your usual sweet tone. It carried a hint of irritation, and strong determination.
You try to tug your arm back from him but it was too tight,
“I have an interest in you returning to the Capitol”.
You look past him to the door. It causes great irritation for Coriolanus. Who wanted all of your focus.
With his hold on your arm he pushes you back into the wall and kisses you. His lips are hard against yours. His eyes are closed but yours remain open from the shock.
You struggle against his kiss, but his grip was tight on your jaw and his lips pressed unmercifully against yours.
He was the one to break the kiss, leaving you breathless and shrunk against the wall.
“I need you to tell me you’ll wait for me”, he demands.
“Mr Snow, I-”.
He brings you forward to slam you back into the wall as punishment for your hesitation.
“Say it”.
Your hands come up in defense between you.
“I am sorry if I misled you”.
“Misled me? You saved my life”
“It’s normal for patients to feel this way after a traumatic experience. Your body has been through a lot of shock, wait for it to heal”.
“Say it. Say the words, Coriolanus Snow, I am yours, and I’ll wait for you”.
You look out the window to the sleeping patients. Even if one woke and saw you, most of them were too sick to even get out of bed.
“Don’t look at them. Look at me”, he demands. The hands that held you in place moved up to your neck
“Okay” you agreed quickly before he started to apply pressure.
“Say it”, he declared.
“I’ll wait for you”. You say but it doesn’t satisfy him.
“The whole thing”, he directs.
“Coriolanus, I am yours and I’ll wait, okay?”.
With his hands still on your neck he kisses you once more. You make no attempt to stop him as you place your hands on arms.
He pulls back with a boyish smile on his lips.
“I love you”, he states.
You pull his hands away from your throat and keep them still between your hands.
“You must go back to bed now. You have a big day ahead of you. You need your rest for it”, you push him away slightly as you spoke, hoping it would be enough to redirect him.
He removes his hands from you completely with a smile.
He knew you were right. He needed to arrive his best tomorrow. Show district 2 that he wouldn’t be there for very long.
“I’ll send for you as soon as I can”, he promised.
You nod your head enthusiastically, pushing firmly on his arm to the exit.
His feet shuffle on the floor as he slowly walks to the door.
He stops just as his foot hits the cold air from the open door. It felt like you had run into a brick wall as you knocked against him.
“I promise y/n, I’ll take care of you”, he vows.
He comes in for a kiss again. His hand found its way to the side of your face to pull you in, and his lips pressed hard against yours.
You yank yourself away and push on him to retreat back to his bunk.
“Go” you whisper and he does.
You watch as he runs back into the buildings and under cover of the darkness.
Your shaky hands turn the lock of the door as he disappears from sight.
The next morning,as soon as he wakes he heads to the medical facility to say goodbye to you. He skips breakfast to do so.
You weren’t there, and he had no clue where the nurse quarters were kept. He had no time to find out, his train would leave soon.
He arrived at the train station disheartened that he couldn’t see you one last time. You must have been greatly upset at his departure. A goodbye must have been too much.
He pictured you crying in your bed, and his heart pulled to think of you in such a state because of him. He would write as soon as he landed in district 2, never mind the cost.
It was a delight when Commander Hoff spoke of a change of plans. Dr Gaul had requested your presence, Hoff said.
His luck had finally turned. He was back in the Capitol. Back where he was supposed to be in a high position of power and money to burn.
It was too soon to bring you back. The ground beneath him could still turn to quick sand under his feet. He thought of you often, every second that he had spare. He worried that you were angry with him. It had been too long since he had talked to you. He has been so busy settling in, and flaunting his new success that he didn’t have time to sit down to write. The few times he tried to squeeze in on the car ride, or while waiting for a meeting, his hands would shake too much.
He felt stupid. A simple letter should not make his hands shake. On the way back from the lake, he had promised himself that he would never allow love to make him weak again. Now he is worried about your feelings towards him.
Finally he decided that enough was enough. He rises from his bed after tossing nearly the whole night through, and enters his study.
The pen felt heavy in his hand as he sat. He wasn’t sure what to say, or where to start.
He shakes the pen in his hand. Enough was enough. He would be careful how much you swayed his emotions.
‘Dear Nurse Y/n,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. ‘
He strikes his pen through the words, before crumpling up the paper and throwing it away. So formal.
‘Dear Y/n,
My plans to reach the Capitol have been expedited. I am now working under Dr Gaul in the war department. We have plans to run for senate.
I have not forgotten my promise that I would send for you. ‘
His pen stills. With everything going on, he wasn’t sure that now was the best time to bring you. Tigres had limited contact. He was working until late at night. Nearly all his money went to the run for senate.
Once he wins things would be different. He would send for you then. Until then, he wanted you to have a piece of him. A token of his promise.
He picks up his old peacekeeper dog tags from his desk drawer. It felt like a collar in his hands.
He tosses them into the envelope and continues writing his letter to you.
‘I have enclosed my dog days. I wish for you to wear them while I am away. A symbol of my love. We will not be parted for too long. Take care of yourself.
Yours,
C.Snow’
Coriolanus writes to you every evening before bed, but no letter is ever returned. He didn’t mind, he was sure that it was because you missed him too much. Writing would cause you pain, and that’s the last thing he wanted to cause, even if a reply was all he wanted.
He would write mundane things. What he did that day, how much he missed you, how his election for senator was going.
It was going well. He won voters easily. But the run kept him busy, with little time and energy left to write to you. He worried that you would be upset with him. Sometimes all he could manage to write was, ‘I love you. I am tired.’
The gifts he would send were returned. Every letter he would assure you that he was working towards bringing you here. Begged you not to be mad at him.
But you would not accept his telephone calls and your presents piled at his feet.
It had been nearly six months since he left district 12. Six months of not seeing you. Not hearing from you. It drove him mad.
He called you a spiteful woman in one of his late night letters after a fundraising gala.
The next letter that arrived the same day apologized. You were not a spiteful woman. He was a stupid man. You had every right to be angry with him. He is taking too long. He begged for your forgiveness and reminded you of his love.
You threw the letters in the bin and clocked on for your shift. The days were longer now that you don’t talk to the patients.
Coriolanus sits in his office after a long day. He wanted nothing more than to go home and have you there. Ready to care for him like you did at the hospital.
He twirls the pen between his fingers. The other hand played with the coins he planned to give you.
He wished you would reply to him. A single sentence would be enough to quench his thirst.
Begging for a letter would seem desperate. With a beginning in mind he set his pen to paper.
‘Dear Y/n,
I hope to hear from you that you have been well. ‘
Yes, good. Set the expectation of a reply.
‘Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to ease any discomfort. I have been well. Apologies for the delay in writing to you. I have been busy preparing to run for senator. With the support I have managed to gather I believe victory is set. You’ll be a senator's wife upon returning to the Capitol. As soon as I win, and it is safe, I will send for you. I haven’t forgotten you.
I have missed you terribly, and think of you often.
I hope to be reunited soon.
Yours,
C.Snow.’
Nothing but the money he sent was returned.
It sent him into a fit of rage. Papers were thrown off his desk. Decorative ornaments were thrown across the room and into walls.
He decided that no more letters were going to be sent unless he could tell you the news you have been waiting for.
He worked harder than ever. No longer playing fair. He cut corners where he could. Relied on money, rather than charm. He used to be opposed to the use of poison. Told Dr Gaul that he would win the senate seat through his wit, but time was passing too quickly. Coriolanus grew impatient. A nasty rumor about what he was doing spread around the Capitol, but he quickly shut it down.
It paid off with a landslide victory. He hadn’t just won his entry to the presidency. He had won you.
Surely, you could no longer be mad at him with such an impressive victory. He had his assistant organize a train out of district 12 for you.
With it in his hand he sat in his office chair and penned you a letter still dressed in his uncomfortable formal attire.
‘Dearest,
You may of heard the news of my win last night.
I have attached a train ticket out of 12. It leaves next monday at noon. Don’t miss it.
Forever yours,
C.Snow. ‘
With no reply back, Coriolanus was hopeful that he would see you on the train. He arrived too early to collect you, and spent the hour waiting by pacing the platform with the dying rose.
When it finally pulled up, he could hardly hide his excitement. It had felt like years without seeing you. He sent you beautiful green luggage set to back what you wanted, and a new dress to arrive in.
He waits for you to arrive out of the first class carriage but it emptied without sight of you. He continued down, weaving through the people down to the luggage carriage. Maybe you had gotten off the train while he was distracted.
The green set of luggage he had sent you was being carried off the train. He rushed to the carriage to greet you, but only a working man was there.
“Where’s the girl who owns this luggage?”, he demanded.
“No girl, sir. Only the luggage and the ticket”, replied the man.
The rose dropped from his hand. It felt as if the venom from the snake had begun to pulse through his body again.
He rushes back to his office where he hastily grabs a piece of paper, and pen.
His pen digs a hole into the paper from where he pressed down, but through his anger no words could be formed.
After everything you would not come. You were stubborn like Lucy-gray. Didn’t know when to quit. He would have to change that about you when you became a senate's wife.
He crumples up the letter and throws it in the bin. There would be no warning for you.
The next week he arrived back in district 12. It was a surprise to the district which meant it was a surprise to you.
A trip as a new senate leader to ensure the medical facilities were up to standard, he had told the Commander.
The new Commander of district 12 was chuffed with a visit from the Capitol. It proved difficult to be left alone at the hospital. Coriolanus’s eyes the small hospital he managed to push his way too.
The Commander was too loud. He would take the element of surprise away. It would give you a chance to escape, and Coriolanus would spend hours searching the compound for you.
He wanted to wrap his hands around the new Commander's throat. Coriolanus despised Hoff during his peacekeeper days. But at least Hoff knew the importance of composure. This man nearly leaped into Coriolanus' arms.
A lie of a headache landed Coriolanus in the doctor's den. It was a bigger, self-contained room than the nurses' den. It was situated at the very back of the hospital, away from the noise and eyes of others. It made it a perfect place to bring you.
“There was a nurse”, Coriolanus spoke as he took a seat at the table, “back in my old peacekeeping days. Nurse Y/N, I think? Could you send for her? I’d like to see a familiar face”.
“Of course, Senator Snow. I’ll send her, and a doctor right along”. The Commander turns to leave. Panic and annoyance rises through Coriolanus.
“Just her”, Coriolanus said, a little too sharply. He takes a breath to regain himself before directing the Commander once more.
“And Commander, take two of my peacekeepers to escort her back. You’re a busy man, and they will want to do their security measures anyway”.
The Commander nods back before leaving the room.
Coriolanus lets out a shaky breath, running his fingers through his hair to smooth the curls back. After all this time he was going to see you again. He would be able to hold you, he was sure.
How would you greet him? Should he wait for you to set the tone? See your reaction and base his off that. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from touching you if you were within arms distance.
He sat back down behind the table. It would give him an excuse so you would be forced to make first contact.
His finger locks with his curls. He should have got his hair professionally done, but he was in such a hurry to get here to you. Instead he focuses on straightening his suit. It was expensive and well made. It should impress you, but not if it was crumpled.
His pocket bore a hole with the present he had brought for you. A lovely pair of diamond dangle earrings.
He twisted the box around in his fingers, and took another deep breath. He hoped that upon seeing him your anger would disappear.
Maybe it was all a test. You wanted him to come back. To put on a show for your friends here. The prince took the princess away to live happily ever after.
The prince brought a nice pair of earrings with him. Surely, you could forgive him for his delay. He couldn’t bear your anger.
His anxiety was matched with the ticking of his wrist watch. What could be taking so long? He wonders. Were you also readying yourself for him? Didn’t you know that you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on? It didn’t matter to him if your face was dirty, or your eyes carried sleep. Your heart blinded him to mere appearances. It was your soul he loved, and your soul he would have.
“Hello, dearest” he greets with a soft smile.
You slam the door closed behind you, shutting the Peacekeepers out.
“What are you doing here?” you seeth.
Coriolanus pockets the box once more. He would give it to you when you would appreciate them more.
“Would you like a cup of tea?”, he pours the pot that was given to him into the single teacup provided.
“I have work to do. What do you want?”, you state.
“I just want to talk. Sit please”. He gets up to show his full height. Sometimes he swore you forgot the noticeable size difference when you talked.
He gestures to the chair across the small table. He places the cup in front of you as you sit, before returning to his seat across from you.
“How have you been?”, he asks casually.
“You want to talk about my health?”, you spat back at him.
“You never responded to my letters”.
“I told you to stop sending them to me”.
“No”, Coriolanus rejects, “I never heard anything from you”.
It was a sore point for him that swelled a lot of the emotions he had pushed down.
“If I didn’t have tabs on you, I would have thought you were dead”, he let slip.
His eyes closed in frustration as he said it. Just your presence made him lose his composure. At least with you, he knew his secrets were safe.
“You were keeping tabs on me?”, you muttered in disbelief.
“As I said, I thought you could be dead. I was just making sure you were safe. I wasn’t sure my letters or presents were even reaching you”, he reasons. He leans his hand across the table, wanting so badly to touch you.
“What are you doing here?”, you ask again.
“I’ve come to take you home. Back to the Capitol”.
You did not look joyed at the news like you should have.
“District 12 is my home”, you accounce.
He pulls himself back from across the table. A harsher approach would be needed, so he squares his shoulders, and sits up as tall as he can. His face hardenings, and he feels a scowl edge across his face.
“You are happy here?”.
Flashes of the forest cross his mind. The endless wandering. The dull ache of thinking that he had failed his father. The betrayal.
“Yes”, you answer.
Coriolaus trains his eyes on the teapot, no longer able to look at you with such hate.
“That’s a shame”, he states.
“Shame?” You question.
“I didn’t come here to leave without you”.
“Mr snow-“
He sighs deeply, leaning on the table
“Coriolaus, please”, he begs.
You suddenly stand up, your chair falling back at movement.
“Coriolanus, get out. Keep your letters to yourself, and never bother me again”.
Coriolaus doesn’t move, just stares at you from his chair as if you were the crazy one.
“Get out!” you scream at him.
His puzzled expression turns back to a neutral stare as he rises from his chair.
“Forgive me, nurse Y/N. I wasn’t aware of your indifference”.
His shoulders brush yours as he passes you to the door.
He had a plan B. He always had a plan B.
The next morning you were assigned to blood donation. A overhanging tent was placed near the front of the gates where districts, and fellow peacekeepers could donate for a few dollars.
You assisted a doctor in drawing, categorizing and storing the blood for use. You knew Coriolanus was still in the Compound. The Commander drove him around, showing him new additions since he was a peacekeeper. Coriolanus could care less, but he caught two glimpses of you as the car passed.
You were always busy working like he remembered. The tent quieted as it reached late afternoon. By 4 o’clock, it was just you and one other doctor attending the tent.
You still had three districts in chairs as the blood was pumped out of them. Coriolanus waited behind a building until he could see only one district left.
The doctor looks to be packing up while you talk to the man in the chair. Coriolanus hated that you were speaking to him. He was nothing. Less than nothing; he was district. He didn’t deserve to be talking to you.
Coriolanus made his way over with a calm demeanor, despite how he was feeling.
The doctor noticed him before you did.
“Mr Snow. Can we help you, sir?”, the doctor asked.
“I’d like to donate blood for the cause”, he answered. He made a point not to look at you.
“Mr Snow, that’s quite generous, but unnecessary”, the man replied.
“Please, I insist”. Coriolanus rolled up the sleeve of his left arm to prepare himself for the chair.
The Doctor looks to you, before accepting Coriolanus’s request.
“Very well. If you follow me I’ll just check your levels, and then I’ll send you to my nurse”.
Coriolanus could hear your protest leaving your lips, so he spoke loud and clear over them.
“Excellent”, he exclaimed.
He follows the Doctor to a small metal table with two fold out chairs opposite each other. He could partially see you from where he sat. You were still attending to the man in the chair but the talking had stopped.
Coriolanus engages the doctor in idle small talk so you couldn’t ask to be excused. He could see that the district had grown uncomfortable in Coriolanus’s presence, and kept asking how long he had left.
By the time Coriolanus had his blood pressure taken, and a sample of his blood taken, the district was being sent away from the tent with a coin, and a loaf of bread you had given him. Just in time for Coriolanus' time in the chair.
You ignore him, talking only to the doctor.
“Sir-I”, you begin but Coriolanus started his sentence in the middle of yours.
“I admit I have other motives aside from my patriotism. Nurse, would you mind answering a few questions I have? I want to hear every voice before I implement new changes”.
After hearing the Doctors complaints about the resources and pay, Coriolanus knew that the promise of change was his way in.
“Yes! yes, of course. You must hear all sides” the Doctor boasts.
“Doctor, would you mind leaving us? I find people speak easier truths without an audience”.
“Of course. She’ll tell you. It’s like working in a shooting range with limited bullets”, the Doctor turns to walk away, causing you to call out for him, taking his coat in your hands to tug him back.
He yanks it away from your grip. “Tell him”, he demands, “You won’t be in trouble he wants to know”.
Coriolanus gently touches your elbow, taking it in his hand, but releasing it as the Doctor becomes more focused on you.
“I’ll be back in half-an-hour. Don’t take anymore patients, I want to be packed up before it gets dark”.
The Doctor walks away from the tent, and the half-an-hour time frame begins to tick.
You looked sour, and slightly worried. He hated to see it, especially by cause of him.
You don’t move as he shuffles past you. He wanted to ease you so you could speak like you did when you visited his bedside. It was easy conversation, and for maybe the first time in his life, he felt seen by somebody. He wanted it back, but first he had to regain his familiar status with you.
“We’re in broad daylight, surrounded by Peacekeepers who like you more than me. What could I do?”, Coriolanus states as he takes his seat in the chair.
“You are unbelievable”, you scold, but move to swap his pressure point with disinfectant.
“I am sorry. Truely”. It had been so long since you were so close. Mere inches between you and him. It felt so right, could you feel it too? He thought.
“I never meant to offend you. My actions never held any ill intent”, he consoles.
The needle dug harshly into his arm, but he showed no effect of it.
“Sending me gifts, keeping tabs on me. You think I have forgotten that night in the nurses den?”. You pull back away from him once the needle begins drawing blood. He hated to let you, but plan B involved good terms.
“I am sorry for all of it. I misinterpreted, and fed delusion from my own fantasies. I never meant you harm”, he shouted his words across the tent hoping no other person was listening.
“I hope you can forgive me, Y/N. You saved my life”.
He could see your common sense fighting with your mercy. Your hands fidgeted, and your eyes kept bouncing from what you were doing to Coriolanus.
“Let’s just forget it”, you mutter.
“What?” he calls, despite hearing fine.
His plan works and you move back over to him to speak again.
“I forgive you. Bridge over water” you offer.
The saying was ‘water over the bridge’, but he didn’t want to correct you. If you said it was bridge over water, he would accept it.
“Thank you”, he gushed. “Why don’t you sit beside me like old times? I really do want to hear your opinions on reform”.
To his delight you do take a seat and discuss the issues with the Compound hospital. The Doctor focused on the long hours, disproportionate pay to Capitol doctors, and few resources.
You were more patient focused. You talked about rehabilitative care outside of the hospital. The food offered to recovering patients was poor which he could attest to. Beds were too hard, you wanted patients to be able to reach home and talk to their families more, resources were an issue for you too but in a patient care angle rather than a hindrance to your innate ability to save the injured.
You spoke passionately. It was wonderful to listen to you, Coriolanus almost felt bad that he had pushed the call button to his head peacekeeper nearly five minutes ago. He would have let you talk for as long as you liked. Sat happily without a word so long as you were speaking to him, but the Doctor would be back soon, plan B had to be set into action.
Coriolanus could see the Commander, and a string of Peacekeepers with guns as they came from across the field. It was impressive timing given that the file would have been put in the Commanders hands only a few minutes ago.
He tried to focus on you as you talked. Revell in your attention, and joy before it was ripped away.
You turn as you hear the marching
“What is going on?” Coriolanus questioned with fake outrage.
“Senator Snow, it is with great displeasure that I must announce that we have been harboring a traitor to Panem”.
“Traitor?” you gasp.
The Commander throws the fabricated file on the desk for all to see.
You take a look at a picture that had been manipulated to look as if you were talking to a man in the forest. Others show you talking to the same man in the middle of town, and rooms you had never seen before. Copies of notes in your handwriting passed Compound information along, and spoke of recruiting injured patients.
“Victorn layman. A known rebel who has been successful in many of his attacks, no doubt thanks to you”, the Commander accuses.
“I have never seen that man before, I swear”, you turn to Coriolanus with pleading eyes
“The evidence doesn’t lie”, the Commander screeched, “Cuff her, and throw her in the gaol”.
“Wait” you implore as the heavy cuffs are secured around your wrists, “I am not a traitor”.
“Commander, please. There must be a mistake”, Coriolanus felt compelled to speak on your behalf.
“If there is, Mr Snow, the committee of justice will reach the bottom of it”, the Commander promises. If Coriolanus didn’t hold control over the situation, it would have worried him. The committee of justice was very rarely, if ever, interested in justice.
Two Peacekeepers take each of your arms to push you forward. Coriolanus has to clench his fist to stop himself from tearing you free from them.
You call for him to do something as they lead you to the jail, but he watches with the needle still in his arm. The Doctor returns to see you being taken away by the Peacekeepers.
Coriolanus rips the needle from his arm, leaving it dangling as he walks away from the Doctor full of questions.
Plan B would drive you into his arms, or the grave.
He lets your brew in the compound jail for a week as the committee of justice overlooks your case.
The day they declare you guilty and sentence you to death by hanging. He knew you were ready for the picking.
That night he visits you, sure that you would now see the light.
He enters the compound jail, and saw you on the floor in the furthest corner.
The jail cell was bare, apart from a toilet.
A long stretch of bars that enclosed a dirty, concrete floor. You were alone, per his request, but not even a blanket was given to you.
You look up at him as he enters. His hands were in the pocket of his coat. His shoulders were square, and his hair was neatly pushed back into small curls.
“Nurse Y/n. I hate to see you like this”.
You scramble up from the floor towards him as you speak.
“Senator Snow, I didn’t do it. I am not a traitor”, you explain.
“The evidence would suggest otherwise”
“It’s not true” you shake your head, the tears fall off your cheek, “I swear. I swear I have no idea what is going on.”
Seeing you like this felt right. He was back in the position of power. Like Lucy-Gray you were trapped where he could always find you. You depended on him for food and water.
He holds tightly onto the iron bars, and presses his face as close as he could,
“I could get you out’’.
Your face seemed hopeful. He hated to crush it moments later.
“If you reconsider my offer of the Capital”.
You rub your face with your hands. Your tears were yet to stop spilling.
“Why are you doing this?”, you sob.
“I don’t want to”. He pushes his whole body as close as he could to the bars, but you remain five feet away.
“I owe you my life. I just want to help.”
“I didn’t do it!”, you exclaim.
“Y/n, they are going to hang you for treason If you don’t accept my offer. Please. I just want to help”.
“I don’t-’ a sharp breath interrupts your sentence, “I have never- I don’t know that man.”
“It doesn’t matter. Come noon tomorrow, you’ll hang”.
“Please, don’t let them.”
You move to the other side of the bars from him. Your hand curled under the same bars, just under his hand.
“I won’t. You just have to say it”, he speaks softly and slowly, peering down at you, “Coriolanus Snow, I am yours”.
“You said I saved your life. It would make us even”.
Coriolanus shakes his head
‘’I can protect you only if you are mine. Say it’’, he demands.
You’re silent for a moment causing Coriolanus to worry that you would not accept his offer. Was he so bad that you would choose the noose over him?
“I don’t want to die”, you admit finally.
He reaches through the bars to your waist, pulling you as far as he could to him. You keep your hands tight around the metal.
“You saved my life, let me save yours. I just need to hear those five little words”.
“I’ll go back to the Capitol?”, you asked.
“Yes, with me. Far from the noose”.
You squeeze your eyes shut, and your hands tighten around the bars, but you nod your head.
“Coriolanus Snow”, he begins for you.
You take a big breath but finally say the words he had been longing to hear.
“Coriolanus Snow, I am yours”. You repeat.
He smiles, moving his hands from your waist up to your face so he could wipe away the tears.
He brings your face as close as he could to the bars and kisses you. The bars hindered his passion. His lips would only barely press against yours.
When he pulls away he keeps your face in his hands as he speaks.
“You’ll be okay. Peacekeepers will come get you early tomorrow morning, and take you to the train. I’ll meet you there, and we’ll leave, okay? We’ll go back to the Capitol to live the life we were supposed to live”, he promises.
“Tomorrow?”, you question, “no, you said you could get me out”.
You pull back out of his hold and he returns his hands to the bars.
“I can. But if I whisk you away under the cover of night, how will that look? Like a guilty person laying down for the right man? Tomorrow it will look like they are taking you back to the Capitol for further investigation. In the Capitol I can clear your name.’’
You go further away from him, centering yourself in your cell. He wanted to reach out and pull you back but you were too far out of his grasp.
“This is my home. These people are my family” you say softly.
“And look how quickly they have turned on you. If it wasn’t for me, they would watch you hang tomorrow.”
Your eyes fill up with tears again. He had hit a sore spot.
“Hey, I am sorry. Come here”.
His hands stretch through the bars for you but you don’t move from your spot.
The tears turn into a scolding look causing him to retract himself from the bars, feeling foolish once more.
He turns to leave, but being alone in the dark cell panicked you.
“Wait”, you call out. He turns to see you reaching through the bars for him, “Don’t leave me here. Please.”
Coriolanus returns back to the cage, taking your hands in his, and kissing them.
“You stayed by my bed. I’ll stay by your cell”.
“Coriolanus. Get me out please”, you beg. You couldn’t stand one more night in the cold cell.
“Tomorrow, my love”, he comforts.
Your hands felt like ice in his hold. He should have come the first night to make sure that you at least had a blanket and pillow. He hadn’t meant for such poor conditions. What if you got sick from the damp, cold cell.
He reaches out to your shoulders. They were cold to touch. His poor sweet girl was cold and hungry. Tomorrow neither of you would be ever again.
He takes off his jacket and passes it through the bars, over your shoulders.
“Lay down”, he requests “When you wake all of this will just be a bad dream”.
You do lie down on the ground, and Coriolanus follows.
He lays down outside of the cell, but puts his hand through to hold yours through the bar.
With his spare hand he rubs your back to provide warmth and comfort until you fall asleep.
He shivers on the floor without his jacket. But it mattered little to him.
You would go back to the Capitol with him tomorrow. From there he would rise from senator to President.
You slept easy next to him. The bars separating your body from his touch. He wanted to hold you. Not only for his own gratification, but to keep you warm through the night. You had become the object of his worry. He had thought that his school-boy anxiety left as he hardened into a man, but he had instead just focused it entirely on you.
He worried that you would get hypothermia from your week in jail. Then his worry took him to your teeth. When was the last time you had got them checked? It was doubtful that there was an adequate dentist at base. He had never heard of one. What about your iron, and calcium levels? Being part of the Capitol charge surely they would ensure you were fed properly. He remembered being amazed at the food given to the Peacekeepers but that was a low bar.
He would get you checked over by his doctor once you got home. Then he would take you out for something nice to eat. Maybe, you would want to watch a show, even if you wanted to go home and lay in bed with him that would be fine too.
He was so close to it all. After this feat, there was nothing stopping his way to the top. He would be president after a term as a senator. You would be first lady. Spend your days shopping, and organizing dinners.
He would pay you back for your kindness at his deathbed. He laughs quietly thinking that it was Lucy-Gray who showed him the path to you.
When you woke the next morning, Coriolanus and his jacket were gone. Instead, a Peacekeeper greeted you by yanking you up from the floor by your arm.
You stumbled as he cuffed you and pushed you forward out of the cell.
It was early morning, but most people were already up to see you being manhandled into a Peacekeeper van.
You had no way of blocking your face to hide your shame. The van had a thin fabric roof, and doors that shut waist height.
People stared as you passed them in the van. People who had known you since you were a little girl stood as you were whisked away as a traitor.
The Peacekeeper took you to the train station as promised where you were taken out of the van by a Capitol Peacekeeper who led you to the right carriage.
Coriolanus stood by the door waiting for you. His shoulders sagged upon seeing your tears. The Peacekeeper hands Coriolanus the keys to your cuffs, stating it was his decision to release you or not.
As soon as the Peacekeeper leaves, he rushes over to you to undo the cuffs.
“Just for appearances” he comments.
“They all looked at me like I was a traitor”, you sobbed.
“When we reach the Capitol we will clear your name”, He promises, coming back to stand in front of you.
“But i’ll never see them again to tell them the truth”.
He brings you into his shoulder to cease the sound of your wailing. He couldn’t see why it mattered so much if they thought you were a traitor. You were right, you would never see them again.
“It’s alright”, he comforts.
You wrap your arms around the back of his shoulders as you cry. After a minute or two Coriolanus could no longer take it. He hated the sound of you crying. He thought he could be a fierce husband, but now he was sure to fold every time you wanted something.
You had slowed enough that he could pull away slightly to look at you. Your eyes were swollen, your cheeks and nose were red. The way you sounded, your nose was blocked from your tears.
“They will know the truth. I’ll ensure it”, he vows. “But until then you’ll just have to settle for me knowing the truth”.
He takes another step away from you, reaching for the bedroom door.
“Me, and him”, he teases.
As the door opens a small, white puppy with a large pink bow around its neck bounces out.
You gasp as you bend down to pat the dog. It jumped up at you, running in circles and then jumping up to place its paws on your knees.
“He’s yours”, Coriolanus says, “You’ll have to name him”.
You wipe away your tears, but your smile is still sad. He would have to work harder to please you.
“He’s beautiful. Thank you”, your voice is small, and hoarse from the crying.
“And there’s a whole wardrobe, and jewelry for you if you want to take a shower”, he offers.
Another misstep from a man so calculated. You rise from the floor with an angry expression.
“I am lucky you were expecting me”, you mocked.
“If I hadn’t been you would be looking at the noose”, Coriolanus spat back.
It was too late to turn back now.
His comment silenced you, and Coriolanus took the opportunity to take your hand and lead you through the bedroom to the bathroom door.
“Come on. You’ll feel better after a shower. Take your time. I’ll wait out in the common area”, he said.
You don’t answer him as you enter the bathroom.
You take a long time to join him in the common room. He had ordered morning tea, and coffee. He felt too uneasy to eat the biscuits, and small sandwiches offered so they were still available for you, but the coffee had long gone cold before you re-entered his presence.
Your hair was dripping down the dress you had put on. There were no shoes on your feet, or jewelry hanging off you. He was glad you were comfortable, but you looked uncared for. Which was not the case.
Your little dog barked upon seeing you which made you smile and say hello. Coriolanus was glad that he decided against passing the dog to the attendants. At least the dog offered an ice breaker.
“Feel better?”, he asks. He stands as you move to sit in the booth.
“Yes, thank you”.
As you sit Coriolanus moves with you. Wedging you between him and the wall.
“Your hair is still wet”, he comments.
A thick napkin is used by him to press the water out the ends of your hair.
“I had no energy to dry it”, you admit.
“Yes, I am sure this has been a lot for you”, he agrees, “but it’s almost over. As soon as we reach the Capitol that’s the end of it”.
He moves the napkin to rub it against the top to absorb moisture. It leaves your hair messy, and frizzy. He tries to fix it, gently clawing his fingernails through to soothe the uncooperative hairs.
“There” he says, “good as new”.
The dog barks as he runs around the room, exploring. Coriolanus wanted to kick it out but he knew it would upset you.
“Are you hungry?”, he asks.
You shake your head ‘no’, and turn from him to look out the window.
He allows you your peace. The dog is too loud. He would have to get it trained, but for now it filled the awkward silence.
Looking for something to do, he straightens the table fixtures. Making sure everything was perfectly in its place.
You lean against the glass instead of on him, which annoyed Coriolanus.
The only time you broke stature was when Coriolanus picked up the dog and placed him in between the seat. He didn’t like it there after he got bored with you and whined to be put down.
Besides that you sat and stared out the window until it became night. He couldn’t get you to eat anything. You had drunk some water which made him worry less, but you wouldn’t speak to him, and he didn’t want to come across needy by constantly talking to you with no response.
He had a speech to write for an upcoming bill proposal which engaged him throughout the day, but night fell and he was ready to connect with you.
He didn’t ask as he tugged you from your seat, and back to the bedroom. You didn’t fight him as he led. Coriolanus kicks the door shut on the yapping dog, hoping it would go to sleep.
You turn to open the door to the dog, but he catches your arms to continue the way into the bedroom closest.
“Given that there are not too many leisurely trips to the districts there is only one suitable bed, so we’ll have to share”, he encourages.
He passes you a nice pair of pajamas to change into which you accept.
‘And when we reach the Capitol. What will be your excuse then?”.
He couldn’t tell if you meant it in a criticizing way. Your voice was light as if it was a joke, but even toned enough to make him consider it as a genuine question.
He tried to appease both possible situations with a humorous answer.
“Bed bugs”.
It earns a scoff in a light hearted manner. His school-boy smile returned to his face like it did when you used to sit by his bed and talk during the night.
You hum before you disappear into the bathroom to change. The smile is still on Coriolanus’s face as he dresses for bed.
He had his joy back after it being ripped from his hands since the dark days.
When you come back out you are silent once more. Your expression had changed to one of deep and unpleasant contemplation.
“Are you okay?”, he asks.
You brush past him without an answer to the door. You find it’s locked but you try and force it open. The force of the door causes the dog to begin his nonsense again.
“What are you doing?” he questions.
You looked dazed as he neared you. He gently takes your elbow and leads you back to the bed.
He lets go of you to toss the pillows around but speaks to keep you focused.
“You nearly died today. You must be feeling all sorts of emotions”.
He remembered how it felt to knock on death's door. He almost feels his scar burn under your watchful gaze.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”, you whisper.
“Pardon?”. He almost coaks upon hearing it. He knew you would figure it out with some distance, but he had planned for you to already be in love. Maybe with a child or two.
“It was you. Who planted that evidence to get me to come with you”, you state it this time round as a fact instead of a question. It made Coriolanus sweat.
“How dare you” he acts astonished, “ After everything I have done for you. How could you suggest that?”.
Something in you registers. You take a look around at the train that raced you to the Capitol. A place you became a stranger to long ago, and a place where he held all the power. There was no getting off this train. Your fate had been sealed.
You smile at him lightly, “I don’t know. I am sorry. Forget it”, you brush off, “Bridge over water”.
He pulls back the covers as he repeats your sentiment “Bridge over water”.
Everybody Knows That I'm A Good Girl, Officer (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)
WARNINGS: Dub-Con, power imbalance, abuse of power, degradation, manipulation, slight stalking, choking, semi public sex, mentions of cockwarming, mentions of gun kink, dom/sub elements, free use elements, jealousy
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies
summary: ...and everybody knows. Everybody knows...that he fucks you.
~
You didn’t know a thing about Coriolanus Snow.
Not until he quite literally cornered you in the meadow one day.
Peacekeepers came and went, especially in District 12, so you never took it upon yourself to pay attention to any new face that appeared on the streets of your district in those blue uniforms. In truth, you never took it upon yourself to pay attention to any of their faces. They all perfectly blended together into one faceless being that was merely a puppet of The Capitol, anyway.
However, standing in front Coriolanus Snow, you wondered how you missed him. Not because he was handsome—and he was—but because there was a hard glint to his blue gaze that told you he wasn’t the average capitol dog. Gun tight in his hand at his side, he stared at you like he wasn’t at all surprised to find you there.
He wasn’t.
You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked to watch you, silent footsteps shadowing yours as he wondered what you were up to when you crossed the district line. He liked to watch you pick flowers and write underneath a tree and bring back the occasional caught animal for your ma and pa. He watched you play with the children in your district and help that old neighbor with her window…and steal food on occasions when your family couldn’t afford it.
“You could get into a lot of trouble for that.”
His tone was even and strong, but something about it told you that he didn’t want you to get in trouble for that.
“I know,” you told him, jutting out your chin as if challenging him to do something about it.
You said nothing, merely pressing your back to the tree when he moved closer, the gentle breeze ruffling the tall grass around his feet. You said nothing when he stood so close that you could smell him, wondering to yourself what a peacekeeper could possibly have access to that would make him smell so good. You even remained quiet when his free hand reached for yours, the softness of it shocking you, a sharp inhale when he turned your hand over.
Your palm was lightly stained from the bird you’d killed.
You curiously eyed him, a slight frown between your brows as he studied the skin. You drank in his prominent nose, full lips, and those unsettling blue eyes. Staring at them for too long actually made you uneasy, and when his gaze lifted to meet yours, you couldn’t look away fast enough. It only then occurred to you that you were out in the woods alone…with a peacekeeper who could do absolutely anything he wanted to you.
His next words surprised you.
“If someone other than me were to catch you…I can’t imagine what they’d do to you,” he murmured, making your frown deepen. “So, I would advise you to stop.”
By the way the corner of his mouth twitched, you knew that your shock and confusion was all over your face. When he dropped your hand, he pointed his gun at your catch of the day in a gesture for you to get your things, waiting for you to grab your dinner and your book.
You thought that he was letting you off the hook.
You thought wrong.
You learned that Coriolanus Snow was not a good man.
“Your daughter dropped these, ma’am, and I knew she’d kick herself if I didn’t bring these home.”
That smile on his pink lips was perfect, blue eyes twinkling when your mother thanked him profusely for bringing home your groceries—groceries you both knew you didn’t buy. When your eyes met his over her shoulder, that charming smile didn’t move an inch, and the longer he stared at you, the more uncomfortable you felt.
“Thank you,” you told him the next day, seeking him out.
He wasn’t technically on duty, and you found your gaze lingering on the dog tag around his neck. However, you found your gaze lingering on his face instead when he took a step closer, gaze unreadable.
“Anytime.”
It was a strange thing to say about bringing you food that you didn’t buy, and when he took another step towards you, your face pinched ever so slightly. You were all too aware of your close proximity, and when you felt his chest lightly brush against yours, your lips parted in realization. The moment it clicked had your blood running both hot and cold, uneasy and conflicted.
As you stared at each other, there seemed to be a lot of unspoken words between you, Coriolanus with one hand on the wall and you with one hand fidgeting with your shirt. You looked between his eyes, looking for some hint of hesitation, some evidence that deep down this wasn’t something he actually wanted to do…but there was none. There was a resolve in his gaze that felt all too familiar. It was the same determination you were sure was in your gaze anytime you swiped food for your household.
The same determination when your desperation won.
You took a deep shuddery breath.
“Anytime…?” you wondered, keeping your eyes on him.
Something in his face relaxed, evening out as he completely crowded you, now.
“Anytime.”
When his lips met yours, you didn’t exactly know what to do, feeling both unsure and sure at the same time. You were sure that you wanted to live comfortably and not have to wonder how you’d get your next meal, but you were so unsure of how this would end and what this would mean for you. You wouldn’t be the first girl to give herself to a peacekeeper or the mayor or whoever else she needed to just to ease the weight in her chest.
Coriolanus kissed you like he was the hungry one, lips moving against yours in a way that left you breathless. His hand wouldn’t stop kneading into your waist through your shirt, and his other found a home on your face, thumb brushing over your skin and tilting your head back. The only thing to pull you apart was a noise coming from inside the building you were pressed against, and when the blond man told you to hurry home, you did.
You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked obedience.
He wasn’t the kind of man who enjoyed repeating himself, and you learned that quickly, so now when he told you to get on your knees, you didn’t hesitate. When he told you to open your mouth, you did, and when he practically begged you to look up at him, you did. Coriolanus would never beg, he would never do that, but it was evident in the way his voice strained—the way the words left him breathlessly.
Or maybe that was because you had your lips around his cock.
With a hand in your hair and a hand on your chin, he gently guided you to take him into your throat again and again. You were no virgin, but there were still a lot of firsts to be had for you, and sliding your tongue over the tip of him was one of them. The feel of his fingers massaging your scalp soothed you, made this less nerve-wracking, and to your surprise, it even stroked a slowly burning fire between your legs.
There was such a stark contrast between the gentle touch of his fingers in your hair and the harsh hold of his hand on your chin. It wasn’t the easiest to take all of him into your mouth, and you couldn’t swallow down the noise that escaped when he hit the back of your throat. His smooth baritone reached your ears when he gently shushed you, softly telling you to use your hands.
“Wrap them around me,” he whispered in the otherwise quiet room.
Coriolanus liked obedience…so you did.
Your hand slid along his length in time with your lips, twisting around his cock, an easy task with the help of the mess you were making. He didn’t seem to mind though, only groaning above you, and when you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes, you took in the way his head was thrown back, the skin of his throat straining and bobbing as he swallowed.
When he lowered his head, you started to look away, but the tightening of his hand in your hair told you not to. You kept your eyes on his as best as you could, sucking your cheeks in and flattening your tongue against the side of his cock. Every bob of your head made him shudder, and you dropped your hand when his hands came to rest on both sides of your head.
Remaining still for the man standing over you, you kept your mouth open as he slowly began to push his hips forward. With every surge of them, his cock dipped into your waiting lips, sliding over your tongue and against the inside of your cheeks. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks as he lost himself in his movements, blue eyes gazing down at you as he filled your mouth.
You didn’t know why—couldn’t understand it—but something about his outright use of your body and your lips had you squeezing your thighs together. It made heat settle in the pit of your stomach, twisting and burning violently until your not-so-subtle movements became noticed by him. In between his uneven breathing, a soft chuckle reached your ears.
“You’ll get your turn.”
…and he was a man of his word.
With the taste of him still on your tongue, Coriolanus had one forearm completely pinning your hips to the bed as he pressed his face between your thighs. Another first ripped away from you, wide gaze on the ceiling as you fought to keep from squirming. The feel of his tongue inside of you was jarring, and you couldn’t stop your toes from curling at the warm feel of it quite literally lapping at you.
Your hands came down to rest on his short blond hair, hips attempting to lift from the mattress, chest arching upwards towards the ceiling. When he hummed between your legs, you felt it all over, and you couldn’t stop the moans that climbed out of your throat. With him holding you down, the only appropriate thing to do was claw at whatever you could, turning your head from side to side.
It wasn’t enough for you to come into his mouth once. Coriolanus needed to know that he was the best you’d ever get, and even when you were out of breath and exhausted and overstimulated, he didn’t let your thighs go, only using them to drag you closer as he knelt between them. His perfect teeth winked at you when he leaned in to kiss you.
If your ma and pa wondered what kind of job you lucked out with to afford all of the food and clothes you started to bring home, they didn’t ask. Although, something in you suspected that they had an inkling of just what you had to do to bring home the freshest bread and the warmest clothes they’d ever had. You started to suspect that everyone did.
Coriolanus wasn’t exactly the most discreet, and you learned that he didn’t intend to be.
On the off chance you crossed paths in the street, he stopped you for all to see, voice lowering as he got really close and asked you how you were. You would feel the eyes of his peacekeeper friends on you as the unspoken questions lingered between you. Did you need more food? Did you need a new dress? You would tell him that you were fine, code for you didn’t need anything at the moment, and he wouldn’t try to hide his perusal of you, those unsettling blue eyes slowly dragging over your frame.
He didn’t seem the kind of asshole to brag about such things, but you weren’t stupid. Even without saying it, he made your arrangement abundantly clear. The way he talked to you, studied you, and ran his fingers over the back of your arm without a care as to who saw. Coriolanus had staked a claim on you, an unspoken display of ownership, and you wrote it off to some sick power trip.
…but you learned that Coriolanus Snow was a very jealous man.
That revelation struck you as odd because you didn’t think anyone would have anything he’d be jealous of, and you certainly didn’t think he’d be jealous over you. You were some average thieving girl whom he exploited the first moment he saw an opportunity to do so. Considering that he was willing to do it to you, you didn’t doubt that he was willing to do it to someone else should he find himself unable to have you anymore. That was what you believed anyway…
Until his fist was ruining the face of some District 12 boy you’d grown up with. You were far from friends, but he’d been a familiar constant in your life for years, and so sharing a drink with him while everyone danced to the live music on stage seemed like nothing at all to you. You didn’t even think there were lines to cross, a sentiment that was quickly corrected.
With one hand curled around your throat—holding you in place—there wasn’t any other option but to take Coriolanus’ thrusts. The sound of guitars and flutes and fiddles bled through the thin walls, everyone quickly moving on from the brief display of violence they’d witnessed. You could still remember the shock on your face as other peacekeepers pulled him off of the unsuspecting man who’d never been anything more than an acquaintance, really.
Your horrified gaze had met that of a familiar blue, and there wasn’t much time to do anything before Coriolanus neared you, reaching for the back of your neck as he walked you away from the crowd. It had been hard to ignore the numerous eyes following your movements, and you wondered now if they quickly moved on from the display because it was nothing or because they were too nervous to get involved with Coriolanus and the girl the whole district knew belonged to him.
“I’m sorry,” you choked out in some back room, your chest pressed to the table.
Your eyes were squeezed shut as he stretched you out, cock pushing into you and throbbing with every push of his hips. You knew that the words wouldn’t change anything, but you felt compelled to say them, anyway. His fingers were tight against your neck, and every time you reached up towards them, he only squeezed tighter. Despite the discomfort, you couldn’t stop your stomach from squeezing, coiling tight as you gripped him.
When he pulled you up so that your back was firm against his, his hold on your neck loosened a bit, and you took a deep inhale. His thumb was pressed to your jaw, and he brought his face down to rest on the other side of your neck where his arm didn’t rest, pressing open mouthed kisses there.
“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he whispered against your skin.
It was the truth, and at your silence, he squeezed your neck again.
Your nails scraped against the table he fucked you on, upper body straining as he kept you upright and against him, hips lifting to push his cock into you with the kind of thrusts meant to make a point. When his teeth grazed your skin, you shuddered in his hold, and despite the fact that you couldn’t hear his laugh, you felt it deep within his chest.
“He can’t give you what I can…”
You started to tell him that you knew that, but Coriolanus didn’t let you.
“…so, don’t go thinking he can.”
“I wouldn’t…”
Your words died in the air when he pushed you back down, completely pressed against you and pinning you between him and the table.
“Wouldn’t you?” he hummed, his free hand trailing over your visible cheek. “Everybody knows your price.”
The demeaning words made your stomach turn, but the way he curved his hips against you only had you clenching down on him at the insulting insinuation.
“They see the nicer clothes…the better living conditions…and they know why. They know what you did to get that.”
His lips brushed against your skin with every word, and as if it make his point, he reached down between your legs to brush his thumb over you, making you gasp. With the circling of his fingers, you fidgeted beneath him, toes pushed to the absolute tip to get some reprieve and lips parted as you scraped and clawed at the table.
When he came inside of you, something he never did before, he held you down, forcing you to milk his cock until he was completely satisfied. The nice dress he’d gotten sewn for you was ripped, and you reached up to touch it with trembling lips the moment he let you go. He was so determined to get his hands on you the moment the door was shut that you liked to think it was an accident, but the way you were forced to wear the jacket of his uniform as you walked out made you think otherwise.
Even though Coriolanus was nowhere near you once you rejoined the crowd, his presence was still loud and clear. No one needed to be a genius to figure out where you’d been, and as you glanced around, you realized that he was right. The discreet looks and nervousness around you… Everyone knew.
…and you didn’t know how to feel about it.
You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked to have you whenever and wherever he wanted.
Whether it was in his bunk when he should’ve been on duty or in your room during the early hours of the morning when your pa was in the mines and your ma was asleep or between the openness of the trees when you were only amongst the grass and the birds. He didn’t like disobedience, and so, he didn’t like the word no. So, you never uttered it.
Even when you wanted to.
“Good girl,” he purred into your lips when you did as he wanted, reaching down between you and sliding yourself onto his cock.
It was late when he knocked on your door, gently telling your ma to go back to bed when you answered it. You didn’t know if you wanted to see the look on her face when you left with him, afraid of what you’d see. There was a rare stillness about District 12 when you crossed the district line, Coriolanus’ fingers brushing over your neck the entire way.
The only light was from the moon, his soft hands gripping your hips and guiding you over him. His gaze alternated between your face and his lap where you two connected. Occasionally he lifted his own hips, driving his cock up into you and making you gasp. His hands ran up and down your frame, kneading your skin and basking in the thin layer of sweat that clung to you—to both of you.
“Show me how bad you want it,” he’d murmur in the darkness, completely letting you go.
He opted for leaning back on his elbows, his own pink lips parted, blue eyes glinting under the light of the moon as he watched you fuck yourself onto his cock. Your hands pressed against his chest, keeping yourself upright as your lashes fluttered. There was a burn in your hips that ached too good to stop, the sound of you squeezing him and sliding up and down him loud to your ears.
“Make yourself come,” he’d whisper, refusing to touch you as his voice lowered. “Work for it.”
When you finally did tense on top of him, shuddering and pressing your nails into his chest, the blond man wouldn’t hesitate to circle his arm around your waist, flipping you before you could even catch your breath. Back pressed into the grass, he snapped his hips against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the air.
Under the cover of darkness, Coriolanus allowed himself to lose control, holding your throat and pushing into you—taking full advantage of having you at his mercy. He plunged his cock into your walls, praising how wet you were for him and how snugly he fit inside of you.
“Whenever I want,” he told you.
“Whenever you want,” you agreed, nails digging into his back.
When you returned in the early hours of the morning, your ma never acknowledged it. She never acknowledged how the house stayed stocked with food despite you never going to the market. Her only acknowledgement of the clothes sewn for her were quiet ‘thank yous’…but she knew. Everyone knew.
…and it bothered you less and less until it didn’t bother you, at all.
It couldn’t bother you.
…because if it did you would have to say no when Coriolanus wanted you to rest in his lap, cock fitting snugly inside of you as he held you there. You would have to say no when he brought you another dress he had made or the freshest groceries you would’ve never been able to afford. You would have to say no when he asked if you were his good girl, demanding you prove it as he slid his gun between your legs, telling you to remain completely still.
…but you didn’t say no to any of that because it didn’t bother you—because it couldn’t bother you. Even when the discreet looks were hard to ignore or your ma started to ask if you’d be out late or you started to feel cheap and used. You couldn’t let it bother you.
You were his good girl, and that was what he told you when he tied a pretty delicate ribbon around your neck for all to see one evening.
"isn't it unrealistic that every time some rebellion shit goes on in District 12 it's someone related to or connected to Lucy Gray" no because Snow committed the cardinal sin of dating someone from a big family in a small town
I haven't seen anyone talk about this random sunrise on the reaping detail. When the tributes are being brought for training and prep, one of the peacekeepers says something about how the tributes shouldn't be at the school. The other notes that this gymnasium has barely seen use in 40 years. Didn't the Plinths purchase that gym for the school while trying to bail Sejanus out of trouble? Snow you diabolical bastard, training and preparing the tributes for slaughter in a space paid for by your "friend's" family. Sejanus would HATE knowing that when he wanted to use his family fortune for good. How long did he wait until he started that? Probably right after Strabo and Ma Plinth met their (likely untimely) end.
The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes was an excellent movie adaptation plot wise. It also solidified to me 2 reasons why Snow knew Katniss was such a threat beyond the basics and they were that
He recognized Haymitch as a mentor rewarding romantic behavior within the arena with sponsored gifts because a) it was his idea and b) before the drone system was perfected he saw how mentors themselves could technically follow rules while influencing the games and
He noticed how much sympathy and connection the Capitol citizens could form with the Tributes from all the nurses crying at Lucy Gray’s “last performance” to his entire class chanting to get her out of the arena which forced someone as influential as Dr. Gaul to listen
Snow’s not an idiot he knows Katniss herself held very little power at least at the beginning. But he instantly recognized how her story could be marketed and used to turn both District and Capitol citizens against him especially by people like Haymitch or Coin who knew what they were doing
Summary: Araya Sunshine Coppershire. She comes from new blood money, made from the Dark Days. Her father and mother made their family wealth by developing and spearheading "technological medical" advancements that Dr.Gual took interest in. With her new life bought in the glittering Capitol, Araya does her best not to let her new status change her.
Pairings: Sejanus x OC, Coriolanus x OC, Coriolanus x Lucy Gray Baird, Lucy Gray Baird x OC (platonic), Dr.Gual x OC (mentor x mentee)
Chapter 1: New Money Kids
Master list
10 years ago...
"You're district too?" Sejanus can't believe it when he meets her. In his young mind, he thought that only his family had bought their way out of being in the districts. His brown eyes widened first in surprise, and then they water from tears of happiness. The transition had been hard on him since making the move. Most of the mates in his age group had shunned him, called him district scum and laughed at him. He hated how they treated him and hated even more that they only tampered down their scorn after they learned how wealthy he was. "My name is Sejanus Plinth, District 2." He held out his hand to the young girl.
She furrowed her brows at him, clutching her satchel close to her chest. She has heard of the name Plinth, the family that stepped up and funded weapon making for the war. Her mother drilled all of the prominent families into her and told her who to associate with, who not to associate with. The name Plinth was on the list of associates. She took his hand a sweet smile on her face. "Araya." She gives a firm shake, just like her father taught her. "Araya Sunshine Coppershire, from District 3." She had a bit of an accent. She most definitely sounded like a district child, who learned Capital manners only just recently.
Sejanus took note of how neat and clean her uniform was pressed. Hair was short shoulder length locs, pinned back with rose gold butterfly clips. While he had only been in the Academy for a month, he already knew that the others wouldn't take to her well. It wouldn't matter. They would have each other, he thought. They would brave this new change and take solace in each other. "You can sit next to me, Araya Sunshine." Her name was fun to say. It was cute. It didn't even fit the normal names that came from District 3. "The others don't normally like sitting next to me."
She tilted her head to the side and readjusted to hold his other hand so they could walk together. "I can't see why they wouldn't." She shook her head, "You seem like good people." They held hands as they entered the school. Araya looked around the gleaming hallways and large lit windows. She had never seen such a place. The school she came from wasn't nearly as pretty or grand. It was three rooms at most with a dirt floor and chalkboards that were cracked. There weren't any peacekeepers marching about. Everything was clean, and the airflow was steady. "Gosh, this place is pretty, Sejanus. People really go to school here?"
Sejanus had been staring at their hands the whole time. Her words were going in one ear and out the other. It had been forever since an age mate had held his hand, not since he started his new life in the Capital that is. He only nodded his head and looked up to catch glimpses of other children sneering and whispering about them. Araya didn't bother to be bothered by the stares. It was almost like she was already used to it.
"Class." The instructor stood at the front of the room, "Please welcome Araya Coppershire." The doughty woman glanced down with a look of barely hidden disdain at Araya.
Araya stood at the front of the room, tall, head held high with a bright smile. "It's Araya Sunshine, ma'am. You have to say the whole thing." Her voice was light and chipper. There were kids that giggled quietly at the ridiculous name.
Coriolanus Snow didn't care for the girl already. She was just another district scum that managed to buy their way out of being lesser than. His blue eyes jealously took in how well and effortlessly put together she was. He thought her matted hair was weird and couldn't for the life of him fathom why her parents would let her walk around hair so unkempt.
"Take your seat, please." The instructor spoke with such a dead voice. Araya took her seat next to the other side of Sejanus.
"She looks so ratty with her hair. It's a shame that money can't buy her looks." Arachne snickers just loud enough to be heard in their row. She peers around Coriolanus just a bit to see the other girl's reaction.
He rolls his eyes and tries to pay attention, but his friend has a point. She does look unkempt for a Capital citizen. Other kids who have heard the cheap shot snicker, giggle, and snort at the joke. Coriolanus can see Sejanus frowning, his cheeks looking a bit flushed, mouth poised to defend the girl, but she beats him to it.
"And yet money couldn't buy your family enough food during the dark days...is that why your dog went missing or did it get rabbies?" Araya snaps back. The sweetness in her voice is gone, harsh with her district accent. The comment makes everyone quiet immediately. Wide eyes are turned towards her. She has her head tilted, and she leans fully around Sejanus to make eye contact with a flustered Arachne. "However, I'm sorry you had to go to lengths. My father knows a puppy breeder. Maybe we can get you another one that you don't have to eat."
Coriolanus is surprised at how she digs the knife in and twists. He remembers how sad Arachne was when she revealed to him that her prized dog Lotus could no longer be kept. She mentioned it once and hadn't said anything else on the matter as the wound was still too fresh for her. Cold calculating eyes size up Araya a second time. He notes the rose gold butterfly clips the second go around. Such little luxuries and accessories are still hard to come by these days. He spots matching earrings in her ears, with the body of the butterfly being soft pink diamonds. While she is district born, someone must have dressed her well and appropriately. Just enough sparkle and just enough put into showing her wealth and place subtly.
Arachne sputters and sneers at her, "You're just district trash." She promptly goes back to her text book and begins to scribble her notes. Coriolanus can tell that she is thoroughly embarrassed.
"And yet I've never eaten a dog." Araya smiles and also goes back to her book. She whispers something to Sejanus. It almost sounds like she's saying sorry to him for her being so harsh.
Coriolanus doesn't think she should be sorry about her words. Outwardly, he will condemn her with the rest of their cohort. Privately, he will be intrigued and surprised that such viciousness could come from the districts. She's nothing like Sejanus, who will attach himself to his side during shared classes. She doesn't say passive-aggressive complements. Araya certainly got that but of information from somewhere, though. There's a hunger pain in his stomach that snaps him out of his musings. He prays that his stomach decides not to be loud during the lecture.
Araya is a bit annoyed as she waits outside the academy for her driver. Sejanus offered to wait with her, however; his own driver insisted that he come along. The sky was pouring down rain, and her umbrella just barely held on against the wind. Other children were waiting or being picked up or deciding if they were going to wait out the rain before walking the short distance home. The sound of the school door slamming shuts gets her attention, and she sees the boy from class. She had seen him sitting next to Arachne (she learned her name from whispers after their quick verbal exchange). His striking blue eyes were glaring out into the down pour of rain. The coat he wore wouldn't be enough to withstand the elements.
"Hi!" Araya shouted over the rain, "Do ya wanna share my umbrella?" She called to him. At first he didn't answer her, maybe he didn't hear her. She approaches him and squeezes next to him to share her umbrella. "My name is Araya Sunshine, and you are?"
The boy slowly turns to glare at her. She can tell that he wants to shuffle from under her umbrella, but he doesn't. Not immediately, at least. No, instead, he raises his head up so he can look down his nose at her. Then he speaks, "You shouldn't make it a habit to just go invading people's space."
"You were getting all wet." She huffs with a laugh. "Unless you wanna wait for your driver in the rain."
"I don't live far. I was going to -" He stops himself mid sentence. He doesn't exactly want to admit that he doesn't have a driver to come and get him. There's a certain indignity about walking in the rain even if he doesn't live far from the academy. In the back of his mind, he thinks about Grandma'am and Tigris waiting for him, worried. He wants to wait and pretend that his own nonexistent driver is just running late, but he doesn't want Tigris braving the rain without even an umbrella to get him.
Araya smiles at him, "It's fine, my driver is new to the whole driving thing, so he will take a while to get here." She links her arm through his and shuffles closer to him, giving him more of the umbrella. "You were pretty good in history class today. Do you normally score top marks?"
She watches as he shifts a bit, clearly uncomfortable with the close proximity. His jaw clenches as a gust of wind blows at them. Araya squeals and huddles herself closer to the boy. When the wind calms down, he only gives her a slight glance, "Of course I do. We Snows always land on top."
"Oh!" She's heard of that name. Another on the list of families she was to associate with. "You're Crassus Snow's son, right?" She nodded her head, affirming her own question, "My daddy knew your daddy. He said he was a good man, good people." She gives him a small smile.
She watches as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He wasn't expecting familiarity with this district girl. She couldn't possibly be bad stock if her father knew and worked under his father. Though she would need to work on how to properly address her parents. "You should call your father, father, and not daddy." He corrects her, "and your mother should be called mother. You won't stick out so badly if you do that."
Araya scowls and rears back in disgust, "I'm not doing that. Why fix what ain't -"
"Isn't." He corrects easily.
"Isn't...broke?"
The two of them stare at each other, neither backing down. Just then, a black car pulls up, and Araya smiles when the driver steps out. She turns back and pulls the boy along to the car, "I'll have Awintor drop you off home. I'm sure your mama can just let them know." She manages to tug and pull him along the way to awaiting car. "You never gave me your name."
He didn't want to get in the car, but he also didn't want his uniform soaked from the rain. He slid into the spacious back seat with her. The interior was a soft cream color with deep brown wood accents. He sank into the warmth and luxury of the car. This is what he should have, not some district girl. "Coriolanus." He mumbles.
"I like that name." Araya smiles at him. "Awintor, can we take Coriolanus home? It'll be good practice driving for you!" She clicks her safety belt on.
The driver, Awintor, chuckles and nods his head, "Yeah, don't see why not."
Araya leans back in her seat and talks the entire drive. She talks about a whole lot of nothing. Coriolanus just enjoys going home and staying dry. Maybe Coppershire would be okay... even if she was an unpolished district girl.
