Coriolanus Snow x Female Reader (Lucy Gray’s younger sister)
Warnings: NSFW ,dark themes, murder, obsession, possessiveness, emotional manipulation, non-graphic death of a main character, forced cohabitation/trophy wife dynamic, age gap
Your sister, Lucy Gray, was the wildflower of District 12. She was bold, bright, born to sing.
You were softer. Didn’t sing. Always in her shadow. Always the “little sister.” The one she tried to protect.
Until the boy she thought she loved, the Capitol boy with the pale hair and cold ambition saw you instead.
And everything unraveled.
You never meant to fall into this mess.
After the Games, Coriolanus ran with Lucy Gray and she helped him. You followed because she told you to. You trusted her. Trusted him, because she did. For a while, it almost felt like a dream, running barefoot through woods, stealing bread from kitchens, sleeping under stars. But it wasn’t freedom. Not really. Not with the way Coriolanus looked at you.
And then came the moment that split your world in half. It happened too fast to stop.
Lucy Gray turned her back for just a second. You were gathering firewood. The gunshot rang out like thunder.
You dropped the twigs in your arms. “Lucy Gray?”
She was facedown. A smear of red blooming beneath her.
You ran to her, screaming, sobbing, cradling her limp body, your hands shaking violently as they pressed against her blood slicked back. “No, no, please, no”
You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. Your heart beat like a drum in your ears, trying to keep pace with the weight of it all. Your sister was dead. Your sister was gone.
And Coriolanus, the boy she loved, the boy who once looked at her like she hung the stars now looked only at you.
“You… you killed her” you sobbed.
Coriolanus stood behind you.
“I had no choice,” he said softly, like he was offering comfort. “She was going to leave me. Turn me in.” He started to manipulate.
You turned, face wet with tears. “You killed her!”
He looked at you , almost… devoted. “But I didn’t kill you.”
You didn’t think. You just ran. The trees were a blur, branches slashing your arms, feet stumbling over roots and leaves. Your sobs tore through the quiet like sirens. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stop seeing Lucy’s face ,her last breath, her blood. Her.
His voice echoed behind you. You didn’t stop. But he was faster.
You broke into a small clearing and collapsed, knees buckling beneath you. You clawed at the ground, screaming, crying, shaking. And then his hands grabbed you.
“Shhh,” he murmured, burying his face into your hair. “It’s over now. You’re safe. You’re mine.” You thrashed. You sobbed. You screamed in anger.
He turned you in his arms, gripping your face, forcing you to look at him.
“She was never going to let you go. She was going to drag you back to that hole in the dirt. But I saved you”
Your chest heaved. “You’re a monster.” He kissed you. You froze.
His mouth was warm, hungry. His fingers pressed into your jaw, holding you still as he devoured the sob from your lips. You trembled under him.
When he pulled back, you were shaking.
“I did it for you,” he whispered. “I’ve always loved you.” He didn’t leave you behind.
The journey back to the Capitol wasn’t pleasant. You wanted to be free. Not live in the Capitol with the murderer of your sister.
Coriolanus made the fire. Caught a rabbit. Kept you wrapped in his coat at night while your whole body trembled with grief. You wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t speak. He held you anyway.
On the second night, when your sobs turned to silence, he kissed you again. You didn’t kiss him.
His hands were gentle that night.
He touched you like you were something delicate, something he’d bled for. Something he’d won.
“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, sliding your dress down your shoulders. “I’ll make you forget all of it.”
You whimpered when his mouth closed around your nipple, hot breath ghosting over your skin. He laid you down on the mossy earth, worshipping every inch of your trembling form with kisses, with fingers, with soft whispers.
“You were always meant to be mine.”
His tongue found you soaked whether from grief or need, you didn’t know. But your body ached for something real, something warm, even if it came from the same hands that killed your sister.
He made you come on his mouth, groaning into your folds like he was starving. You cried through it, gasping and when he slid into you, slow and deep, your body clenched around him like it knew.
His thrusts were slow, deliberate, possessive.
“I love you,” he said, panting in your ear. “I’ve always loved you. You were the one.”
And he kissed your tears like they were sacred. He carried you back to the Capitol like you were some rare flower he’d stolen from the wild.
Three months later in the Capitol.
You were beautiful in white.
The veil fell down your back like snow. Your hands trembled as you held the white bouquet. Coriolanus stood beside you, tall and proud, in a uniform of pure white. He kissed your hand in front of the crowd, in front of the cameras.
The Capitol called it a love story.
No one asked about the missing girl from District 12. No one saw the way your smile faltered when he touched your waist. No one noticed the way his hand never left your waist. You were his now. Trophy wife.
Now the wife of Coriolanus Snow.
He studied in university. You stayed in Snow Manor, attended luncheons, wore pearls.
At night, he came home and tasted you.
The bed was silk and red. You wore white nightgowns, delicate and sheer. He liked to see the outline of your breasts, your thighs.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured every time. “Perfect and mine.”
He made love to you like he was claiming territory. Deep strokes, slow rhythm, hands gripping your wrists above your head. He whispered promises into your ear.
“You’ll bear my children. Be my First Lady when I become president. Stand beside me when I rule.”
He kissed your throat, marked your collarbones, fucked you until your legs shook. He moved deeply, grinding against your sensitive spot with every thrust. The stretch stung, but the rhythm numbed it, pleasure blooming like poison in your veins.
Your hands clutched his back without thinking. Your body betrayed you. You cried his name when you came, shaking under him, and he kissed you hard through it.
He spilled inside you seconds later, groaning your name like a vow. And then you cried afterward.
Soon he became the president and you knew the chances of escaping was low. You still tried and planned everything perfectly for an escape.
But you should’ve known that Coriolanus was always two steps ahead.
“I should’ve known you’d try this.”
His voice was calm. Too calm.
You turned, breath catching, staring at the man who had stolen everything from you. He stood in your bedroom doorway, holding the small satchel of supplies you hide weeks ago. Food, a knife. One chance to disappear.
“You don’t get to act like this,” you whispered. “You killed her.”
His eyes flickered. “Lucy Gray made a choice. Besides everything changed when she introduced me to you”
“She turned her back on me,” he said, stepping inside. “And she tried to take you with her. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“She didn’t deserve you.” His tone shifted, sharp, wounded, full of something so heavy it stuck in your throat. “She never did. Not the way I saw you. Not the moment she said your name and you looked up at me and smiled like you had no idea who I was.”
Soon his eyes darken, a slight part of his true sick identity showing. “But remember this. If I can’t have you,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your temple, “no one can, my love”.
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