Apr 16, 2024
Smash
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Japan
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
Smash
Reprisal | Chapter Twenty-One
coriolanus snow x gaul oc
Summary: Ten years after the Tenth Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow is under Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s wing as a Gamemaker alongside her niece. Unbeknownst to either of them, they’re both being prepared for a much greater task.
Warning: This story will contain explicit violence against adults and children alike (I mean, it’s Dr. Gaul AND Snow) as well as explicit language, and sexual situations.
***This fic is in no way, shape, or form, me endorsing or co-signing the horrific shit Snow does, nor am I trying to romanticize it. Also, apathy and will be the main driving force of any remnants of a relationship between my OC and Snow’s character. So if you’re interested in something very romantic and fluffy…it’s not gonna be this.
Thank you for reading, I hope you like it!
The days following their arrival in District Nine followed as planned.
Tawny retained her grip on her slipping mental wellbeing, facing the smiling, welcoming faces of the Mayor of District Three and District Six with the same stiff lip that only relaxed to offer a facade of cordialness in the disguise of a smile and gentle tone.
No more tirades of her brothers, nor threat of additional reparations, she merely acts as an accessory to the Capitol, allowing Snow to speak all on his own—which he silently thanked her for with a glint of his eyes in her direction at both stops.
Other than that, he hasn’t paid her any attention, nor has she paid any to him.
They don’t dine together, nor do they socialize with Mr. Marius in the main living quarters together. If Tawny enters the same space he’s in, she either immediately turns on her heel and flees, or he stands and dismisses himself.
His reasoning is merely keeping peace and proper conduct, acting accordingly as future President who cannot allow himself to be led by his prick.
Her reasoning is her bruised ego, feeling the harsh sting of his rejection.
For months it was him who chased her, fiending for the thrilling high she brought with her like a morphling addict chasing the next hit of paradise.
She had taken being wanted for granted, feeling hideous and undesirable the moment he turned her away, not looking at her since, unless on their Capitol dealings, and those looks are not personal the way she knew they could be.
Each night she calls home to speak to her mother and father, every other night she gets in contact with Pias, deliberately lewd in her words to provoke Snow—whilst also imagining whoever has the liberty of listening to the possibly recorded phone call turning bright with blush.
It always ends with her gushing about her love for her fiance—laying the lie on thick to disguise her disgust for the man that had taken part in killing her daughter—her brown eyes glaring at her former lover as he speaks quietly to his own significant other.
She knows when he’s overheard her phone calls, however, when he slams the phone on the hook and ignores her.
Little does she know he loses himself to his own hand in the privacy of the shower each night, imagining her wrapped around him tightly, sobbing his name as he punishes her for her ridiculous behavior that seemingly no one else seems to take notice of except him .
Because she only means for him to notice .
By the time they arrive in District Twelve, he’s seering at the sight of her.
Adorned in black—a distinct shade of it to express mourning, to be exact—she steps into the living quarters, black gloves adorning her hands, as a smug expression on her face as he eyes Coriolanus up and down.
“Are we attending a funeral?” He snips at her, Philo halting the sip of his tea as he watches the two of them.
“I’m wearing it in memory of your father.” She says, casually, wanting to add, Since you’ve forbade us from verbally mentioning those we love that the rebels have robbed from us, but deciding not to stoke him to anger.
“Go change.” He says flatly. “Something more uplifting.”
Glancing down at her outfit, severing her tongue between her teeth, she finally nods.
“Okay.” It’s nearly strangled leaving her throat in a polite tone, turning on her heels to go back to her room to change.
Instead, she shuts the door behind her and sits on the bed, taking in a few deep breath to compose herself.
She wants to go home, and the days are stretching by so slowly that she can’t fathom being trapped with him for another handful of them.
When their escorts of Peacekeepers come to collect them, Snow takes it upon himself to retrieve Tawny, hastily making his way to her door, only for her to open it before his knuckles can make contact with the wood.
It’s a red dress she wears now, with matching heels, the very color of the flag of Panem and the simplicity of it pleases him.
No muss, no fuss, no tantrums or petty statements to be made in her attire this time.
It’s just red.
“They’re here.” He says lowly, eyes still holding hers, deliberately working not to roam over her.
Again, she nods, refusing to speak anymore to him.
Commander Hoff is standing with a proud smile at the sight of Coriolanus Snow as he exits the train car—the nip in the air stronger than when they first arrived—Dr. Gaul and Mr. Marius trailing behind him.
Snow’s cold and stoic demeanor shifts when he sees the man, a genuine smile coming to his handsome face in a way Tawny hadn’t seen in ages from him.
“Mr. Snow.” Hoff greets him cordially, extending his hand to grasp ahold of his former Private.
“Commander,” Snow replies lightly, stepping aside to introduce Tawny and Philo. “This is Mr. Philo Marius, my exemplary apprentice through the last year as a Gamemaker, and this,” Tawny tenses when his hand holds at her back to usher her toward Commander Hoff once the man is done shaking Philo’s hand, “Is Dr. Tawny Gaul — one of our most prestigious Gamescientists in the Capitol.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Dr. Gaul. Truly a pleasure.” He nods to the woman and she forces a smile, replying swiftly, “Thank you. You as well.”
They’re escorted in a town car, snow that’s muddied from coal pollution littering the ground, making Tawny wish she had grabbed a thicker coat.
The car is imported from the Captiol surely, as District Twelve had never had anything so fine at its convenience, and upon squeezing in together, Tawny and Snow find themselves too close for comfort.
They smush into the backseat, his long, lanky right leg pressed smug against her left.
Shoulder to shoulder, tight and uncomfortable.
It’s as miserable for her as it is for him, her smooth skin exposed little by little the longer they sit as her skirt rides up her thighs more and more with each bump in the road or sharp turn.
And upon a sudden, abrupt stop caused by a railroad crossing, his hand leaves his own lap and grabs at her knee.
Upon the feel of his fingers gripped so tightly into her flesh, a shock rolls through her and settles between her legs, a familiar, dull throb growing more and more intense as his hand lingers on her.
No one has noticed, Hoff and another Peacekeepr up front while Philo sits on the left side of Snow, looking out the window with a curious gaze of the foreign environment.
Her breath grows heavier though she keeps it quiet, her chest rising and falling as he keeps his expression neutral.
Slowly, his fingers creep higher, causing to squirm just slightly, wishing she could wantonly splay her legs open and let him touch her however he pleases.
Only they stop on the inside of her thigh, barely at the middle of it, a near whimper leaving her when he pulls his hand away, a stroke of his ego occurring when she almost grabs his wrist to keep him.
But then she comes to her senses, forcing herself to regain her composure, and by the time they arrive at the Mayor’s home, she’s subtly gasping for fresh air as she practically stumbles from the car.
“Just a warning, Snow,” Hoff says, shutting the car door behind him. “Mayor Lipp hasn’t quite been the same since his wife’s death. She couldn’t handle the grief of losing their daughter and . . .” He trails off, unable to speak of her suicide.
A tug at Tawny’s heart somewhat surprises her.
“If he speaks out of turn, or appears inebriated , he may very well be.” Hoff finishes.
“Understood.” Snow nods.
The four of them step onto the porch of the large house made of white wood, Hoff knocking at the door.
While they wait, Snow glances at Philo and Tawny, the latter looking at him like a wounded puppy.
He nearly smirks, hoping to have gotten back at her for the times she has caused him to screw himself for relief.
The upturn of his lips fades, however, with the image of her desperately plunging her fingers in and out of her soaked cunt, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tries to deliver relief to herself.
Gritting his teeth together, he corrects the image in his mind, instead replacing it with that of his hand grabbing a fistful of her hair, her beautiful face in the mattress to muffle her screams as he bends her over the bed, buried to the hilt in her, forcing her to come until it’s painful, until she’s made a mess of the entire room, her own spent running down both of their legs.
They’d shower, rest briefly and do it all over again, no matter how sore they’d be, or fucked out she would get, crying but pleading for him not to stop, repeating how good he felt, how she was his.
The already uncomfortable tightness of his trousers since grabbing her in the car, turns painful.
For a split second, the blink of her eyes, she catches him looking at her.
The way he had during their affair, the lust, the want, the longing.
It’s gone as soon he reaches out himself and knocks on the door once more to hurry this ordeal along.
The door opens, leaving only the screen door between Mayor Lipp and the group of Capitol visitors.
He’s not even dressed, not truly.
A white tank top and his briefs.
Tawny averts her eyes from the sight of the man’s indecency.
“Mayor Lipp,” Hoff starts, cordially. “This is Coriolanus Snow, Dr. Tawny Gaul, and Mr. Philo Marius from the Capitol…they’re here on behalf of the unsettled nature of District Twelve before the elections.” He explains to the hazy Mayor, his drunken eyes lingering on Tawny before falling to Coriolanus.
“ You .” He points, lips nearly slurring the single word. “I know you.”
Anxiousness roots itself in his gut, flashes of the past he had worked endlessly to forget, to bury, seem to be dug up before his very eyes.
At least he assumes.
“You were a Peacekeeper when those rebels killed my little girl.”
Tawny eyes shift to Coriolanus as he somewhat feels a bit more relief.
“Yes.” He confirms, looking to Hoff.
Awkward silence looms in the air before the Mayor clears his throat and looks behind himself, stepping back to invite his company inside.
“Please, come in, just…excuse the mess.”
Empty whiskey bottles litter the home, stray laundry scattered here and there, to the extent that Tawny has to toss aside a shirt to sit on the sofa, blue eyes staring as she does so, looking up at him before he settles beside her.
“Would any of you like a drink?” Lipp inquires, holding another bottle that’s partly empty already.
“No, thank you.” Snow replies politely despite his distaste for the Mayor drinking so early in the morning.
No wonder so much has been able to happen right under their noses—the mayor is too drunk to pay attention to much of anything.
“Why are you here, again?” He asks, next, sitting with his bottle, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Rebel activity has increased here in Twelve. With an election around the corner, the Capitol just wanted to establish a mutual understanding .” Coriolanus answers, raising his brows.
Again, Lipp glares at Tawny, then Philo, before settling on Coriolanus.
“The Capitol , or you , Mr. Snow?” He presses, wanting to muck through the formalities. “Being as you are the Capitol at this point.”
The future President is sitting on his couch and threatening him to ensure District Twelve doesn’t rebel.
“I’m only a candidate, Mayor Lipp.” It’s humble coming from him of all people, the faux humility to his tone nearly causing Tawny to scoff.
“Your fiancé doesn’t mind you showboating with his competition, Dr. Gaul?” Lipp shifts the subject, focusing on her.
Tawny can hear the skepticism in his voice.
“He’s endorsing him, Mayor Lipp.” She retorts sweetly, as if it’s all handled and thought through.
As if Pias won’t be infuriated with the decision to plant Snow at the head of Panem.
“Is he, now?” He asks, next, glancing around. “Where is he?”
“He had matters to tend to in the Capitol and was unable to join us.” It’s not a lie, not completely, at least.
“Hmm.” He leans back, drinking his poison straight from its dusty, blurry brown bottle as the fire in the hearth dwindles somewhat. “I hate to be a waste of your time, truly, but I assure you there is no matter of rebellion in Twelve. Not after my daughter.” He assures them blankly.
Tawny bites at the inside of her cheek, relating too closely to the way Mayor Lipp carries himself.
If she hadn’t had a reputation to uphold, she too would have fallen into a bottle and never climbed out of it after she lost Tullia.
It’s now that she somewhat spits in the face of Snow’s order of not getting personal as she stands and moves around the wooden coffee table to sit across from him, adding softly, “I understand, Mayor Lipp. Truly. It’s a horrible thing to lose a child to the hands of monsters.”
Coriolanus bristles at her words, glaring at her.
Mayor Lipp keeps his face stoic, stern, strong, for a moment.
Her empathy reels a twisted expression from him as his eyes squeeze shut, tears toppling forth.
Snow sighs out, rubbing his forehead briefly, trying to find how this will be explained:
Yes, the tour went wonderfully. Tawny had a heart-to-heart with the wealthiest alcoholic of District Twelve .
“The twisted part…” He trails off, having to let a few sobs out before collecting himself once more, the sight lodging a lump in her throat. “...We never truly found the gun…or the person responsible.”
Nausea rises at the back of Snow’s throat at the words, Hoff meeting his gaze with an expression of remorse—guilt, perhaps, for not being able to bring forth justice for Mayfair.
The look only confirms to Snow that his expression reads that of sympathy, as well.
Not impending doom of being randomly found out ten years later.
“Mr. Snow’s Presidency will prevent anything like you and I have suffered to happen, again. So many believe that the reason tragedies such as this occurred was due to too much leniency from our former Presidential cabinet.” It’s a soothing promise, Snow leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as if wanting to hear her brag about him closer up.
Philo sits silently as Tawny goes on, shamelessly stroking Snow’s ego as if it’s a form of foreplay they’re all bearing witness to.
How protective he is, how vigilant , how she doesn’t fear having more children in the future because she knows they’ll be safe in a Panem guided by Coriolanus Snow …that their daughters’ deaths won’t be in vain because every moment Coriolanus will spend as President will be dedicated to honoring them, keeping their memory alive in every executive decision made.
Hoff nods with each word, fully in agreement as Coriolanus had been his star pupil, his most diligent and thorough.
She sells him, peddles him, as convincingly as a high-dollar Capitol whore peddles high-dollar cunt.
Once their visit has come to a close, Mayor Lipp has his bottle set aside, shaking Coriolanus’ hand, thanking him for taking the time to visit—clearly not understanding that this was all mandatory—and he hugs Tawny.
It’s excused due to his liquor-fueled daze, but the ride back to the train is even heavier than it was on the way.
Snow’s floating from how perfectly Tawny spoke of him.
Floating so effortlessly, in fact, that he completely ignores the opportunity given to call home, deciding to blame it on the snow interrupting phone lines—should Livia ask tomorrow night—stepping directly onto the train, following closely behind Tawny.
She sheds her coat, stretching and yawning simultaneously whilst kicking her heels off.
“I am freezing.” She declares to Snow and Philo. “I’m about to get a hot shower and then I’ll be back for dinner.”
“I’m so exhausted I might just do the same and go to bed.” Philo retorts, walking with her until he reaches his own bedroom.
Coriolanus needed something to do to keep himself from barging in to shower with her, ultimately deciding to go to his own bathroom and scrub himself of the pollution and snow.
Once he’s finished, he eats what he can, gathering a roll to offer her for his behavior earlier in the morning—his behavior the last few days, actually.
Tawny’s plucking the pins from her hair she had used to keep it from getting wet when a knock at her door pulls her attention away from herself, tying her robe around her before sliding the door open.
Coriolanus extends the napkin-wrapped roll to her, only for her to raise her brows and glance from it to him.
Knowing it’s more-so a front, an excuse to come see her, she accepts it and steps aside, not a word between the two being spoken as he reaches around her and slides the door shut, locking it.
She sets the roll aside, once more reaching her hand up to pull another pin from her head, only to find it’s stuck in her hair.
Wincing, she pauses, trying to configure how to pull it loose without breaking any strands.
“Allow me.” He offers, stepping behind her before she can argue, gently untangling the raven hair from the silver, doing so with each one left until her hair is free.
“Thank you.” She whispers, her voice catching in her throat from holding her breath throughout the process of him touching her so gently, carefully.
“I suppose I should be thanking you, too.” He speaks lowly, his breath fanning her neck as he moves her hair to one shoulder, causing her brown eyes to flutter close, the hitch in her breath bringing a smirk to his lips as his hands reach around her waist to pluck the belt of her robe loose. “Speaking so highly of me.” He continues, fingertips running across her skin to catch on the silky fabric at her shoulders.
It pools at their feet, his palms smoothing down her arms, his lips pressing to her shoulder.
His cock engorges when she grinds her ass into his crotch, her head resting on his shoulder as she assures him, “I meant every word of it,” while his hands grab at her breasts, fingers rolling over her nipples teasingly, causing her mouth to fall open.
“You want me to be President?” He knows her answer, the mere power in the possibility has her legs squeezing together to aid some form of friction, his right hand sparking at her skin as it descends between her legs, circling her slick clit, her hand grabbing his wrist as she fervently nods, whining out a pathetic, “Yes,” before biting into her lip.
“Aren’t you sweet .” He grins as he holds back his own groan as he looks down at the outline of his cock against the plump curve of her ass.
He steps back from her just enough to get his hand between them, freeing his length to run it along her wet folds, the thick tip of it having her reaching between her legs to try to angle it into her, the pinch of it pushing a hiss from her as he grins.
It’s a cute attempt, angling herself once more, Coriolanus’ chest rising and falling as he grabs her hips, watching her try to stuff him into herself. After the third time of discomfort despite her throbbing, slickend cunt, he chuckles, grabbing a fistful of her hair to pull her back against him.
“You can’t take it, yet.” He speaks it in a taunt, as if it’s a reminder she’s forgotten—as if the months spent apart has rid her of the details of their time spent together.
His tongue and teeth leave a sweltering path in its wake on her neck, her hand reaching behind her to wrap around him, his length slippery from her attempts, the action stalling his own movements as she once more rubs her thighs together and pleads in a sultry tone, “Make me take it.”
His teeth scrape against hers as his grip in her hair only tightens, Tawny turning to face him, wrapping around him the moment he grasps at her, her legs snaking around him, her arms capturing his shoulders, her greedy mouth assaulting his own.
Reprisal | Chapter Twenty
coriolanus snow x gaul oc
Summary: Ten years after the Tenth Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow is under Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s wing as a Gamemaker alongside her niece. Unbeknownst to either of them, they’re both being prepared for a much greater task.
Warning: This story will contain explicit violence against adults and children alike (I mean, it’s Dr. Gaul AND Snow) as well as explicit language, and sexual situations.
***This fic is in no way, shape, or form, me endorsing or co-signing the horrific shit Snow does, nor am I trying to romanticize it. Also, apathy and will be the main driving force of any remnants of a relationship between my OC and Snow’s character. So if you’re interested in something very romantic and fluffy…it’s not gonna be this.
Thank you for reading, I hope you like it!
An uncomfortable heaviness spreads throughout the small group of three, accompanied by a shroud of Peacekeepers.
Snow, Tawny, and Philo approach Mayor Lockleer’s home with hesitance and dragging feet.
“Remember what I said.” Coriolanus reminds her under his breath.
Behave yourself , she can hear his words echo in her mind.
Fumbling with the string of pearls adorning her neck and burrowing further into the gray and black fur covering her arms and shoulders, she nods at him in acknowledgement.
The door of the home is snapping open in another blink of Tawny’s brown eye, a short, bright eyed and bushy-tailed man shining bright with a wide smile.
“Mr. Snow!” He pipes, eagerly extending his hand, but Snow has already beat him to the punch, grasping control of the situation as he firmly grasps Mayor Lockleer’s hand.
“Mayor Lockleer, pleased to make your acquaintance.” He replies, his hand leaving his to fall to the small of Tawny’s back, Philo’s eyes darting from the sight of it to Mayor Lockleer once more, as Snow adds, “This is Dr. Tawny Gaul,”
“Wonderful to meet you, Dr. Gaul.” Lockleer replies nervously, holding his hand out to her.
She glances at it, a lump in her throat forming—it feels like cement the way it refuses to be swallowed down, blocking her from speaking comfortably.
“And my right hand, Mr. Philo Marius,” Snow doesn’t miss a beat, speaking the words while he steps aside and allows Philo to be introduced to the Mayor, though the future President glares at Tawny throughout the exchange.
“Wonderful to meet you, Mayor Lockleer.” Philo says to him.
“Well, let's get you all out of the cold!” Lockleer says, ushering them into his house.
It’s now that they see an even shorter woman, shaking like a scared lap dog at the sight of the Capitol at their door—in their home—somewhat invading, the feeling even more looming as two Peacekeepers follow them inside.
“This is my wife, Ardith.” Lockleer pipes,, a familiar charming smile coming to Snow’s lips, Tawny eyeing him as he grasps Ardith’s hand, warmly, stating, “A great pleasure, Mrs. Lockleer.”
She blushes, Tawny raising her brows as she turns her head to look at Philo who’s standing behind them, still.
He knows she’s silently mocking Snow’s words with her eyes, but he widens his own a smidgen as if silently telling her to cooperate.
When Coriolanus is finished with his flirting, Ardith looks at Tawny and clears her throat, plucking the woman’s attention forward once more.
“It’s such an honor, Dr. Gaul.” She reaches for her hand, taking it by near force, paralyzing Tawny with the touch of her hand. “Truly.”
Her full lip twitches, fighting back a snarl as she plucks her hand from Ardith’s grasp.
“Mhmm.” Is all she can muster with her brows raised for the moment, Philo swooping in to rescue her and introduce himself while Tawny quickly follows after Snow, who’s following the Mayor into his living room.
It’s clear they’ve tried to dress it up a bit to host such company, old but decently conditioned furniture, a few pieces of crystal here and there in the form of a vase, ash tray, and candle holder. It’s as if they’ve rummaged through dumpsters of the Capitol and collected out-of-season prizes.
“Make yourselves at home.” The mayor says, looking at Ardith as she comes in to say, “Is the tea ready?”
“Yes, dear.” She replies, offering up, “Would you all like some tea?”
“We don’t want any.” Tawny says it as politely as she can, grimacing at the thought of it but Coriolanus pinches her leg, out of sight from their hosts, and states, “We would love some. Thank you.”
“Alrighty, coming right up.” Ardith smiles, stepping into the kitchen as Mayor Lockleer adds, “Give me just one moment while I help her,” and disappears.
Without warning, one of the Peacekeepers follows after them, the other standing neutral attention in the corner farthest away as if not even present.
“I’ve never been a guest to hosts that vanish before we can even have a decent conversation .” Tawny mumbles as Snow stares at her, sharply.
“You won’t even speak to them, Tawny. What kind of conversation do you expect from them, exactly?” He hisses, lowly.
“They’re in that kitchen cooking up bombs . We’re about to be martyrs. And you're at fault for thinking any of this was a good idea.” She speaks hushedly through her clenched teeth.
“We have security, Dr. Gaul. We’ll be here for just a few minutes, and then we’ll get to leave.” Philo assures her quietly.
“Thank you, Mr. Marius.” Snow says to him before stating, “Dull your paranoia before you fuck this up for all three of us,” in a manner that the Peacekeeper in the corner can’t quite make out what he says.
“Oh, I’m paranoid?” Tawny whispers harshly as the blonde spits out in the same tone, “You can at least pretend to want to get along with them.”
“Like you? ‘A great pleasure, Mrs. Lockleer’.” She mocks him.
“We are not speaking about this right now.” He cuts at her, blue eyes bearing into hers before she continues, lowly, “Is that how we’re going to maintain an amicable relationship with the Districts? Have all the Mayor’s wives rubbing their legs together at the mere thought of the ever so charming future President Snow in their home?”
Her question has him seething, and when he goes to reply, Philo abruptly stops him, hearing steps approach from the kitchen.
“Shh!” Mr. Marius says as the Mayor and his wife return, bearing three tea cups, resting on finely painted saucers.
“It’s still a bit hot.” Ardith says sweetly, offering it to Coriolanus.
Tawny grits her teeth but accepts her own from Mayor Lockleer.
“Thank you.” Snow says politely, as the Mayor and Ardith sit across from them on the opposing sofa, waiting patiently for someone to speak.
room, Tawny’s jaw rolling as she eyes Mayor Lockleer, waiting for either him or Snow to speak from where they’re seated in his home.
It’s painful for Snow, truthfully.
He wishes to speak plainly, to skirt around the cordial routine of upkeep appearances.
He knows Tawny is somewhat right by not trusting any of these people, but he also doesn’t want to leave the condition of the rumored rebellion in worse condition than when they arrived.
He needs allies in the Districts.
Not Mayors that will condone their Districts’ uprising.
Everyone in the room hates each other equally, it’s merely about favoring peace over who is right in their hatred.
“. . .Those are neat shoes.” Ardith says, motioning down to Tawny’s heels that match her coat, Snow’s attention snapping in the direction of Mrs. Lockleers gaze, only his eyes get there by sliding down the smooth skin of Tawny’s legs.
Tawny ignores her, earning a subtle nudge from Coriolanus.
“Thank you,” She forces out, clearing her throat. “They’re maddeningly uncomfortable.”
Another moment of silence drives both the Mayor and Snow closer to insanity with each passing second.
“Mr. Snow,” Lockleer begins, the young man raising his brows as he takes a small sip of the bitter liquid and sets it aside, clearing his throat as he awaits the mayor’s words, “Not that me or my wife don’t appreciate your company, but we are a bit confused as to why you all are here? We weren’t even made aware you would be here until early this morning, truthfully.” He continues, nervous but even, Ardith wringing her hands as she nods. “We just. . .” He pauses, “. . .Is something the matter?”
Snow rolls his jaw, glancing at Tawny before asking, “Is something the matter, Dr. Gaul?”
She doesn’t know if it’s a test, if he’s wanting to see if she’ll reply politically or merely as herself, but there’s a shift in the air around them once he asks the question to her, her brows raising as she discards her own tea onto the coffee table in front of them and states, “I don’t believe so.”
Snow watches as the two across from them look somewhat relieved, only for him to add, “Unless the whispers of possible uprising in District Nine are true.”
Color drains from their faces, Snow waiting patiently for them to respond, Tawny no longer hiding her glare that threatens to melt them under its intensity.
“Which I don’t think they are.” He adds. “But there are some in the Capitol who do. We’re here to find middle ground on the matter, if need be.”
“Oh, no, there’s no need.” Ardith immediately chimes in before her husband can answer, shaking her head. “District Nine has always agreed and complied with the Capitol.”
“Do you have siblings, Ardith?” Tawny asks her, Snow feeling her tense up beside him, looking at her cautiously as she eyes the mayor’s wife.
“I do. Two older brothers.” She replies.
“Old enough to have possibly been in the war, I presume?”
Ardith’s expression, gentle and optimistic, slowly drops.
With a small nod she replies, “Yes, Dr. Gaul.”
“Up North?” Tawny presses further, to which Ardith swallows and once again nods. “I had four older brothers.” Tawny informs her with a soft smile. “All of them were in the war, too.” She adds, raising her brows. “In fact, if I recall correctly—and I do —Cicero was also here in Nine. . .up North. . .” She pretends to think about it, clearly a show of sarcasm because every detail of it will forever be ingrained in her mind forever.
It’s when her brown eyes flicker once more to lock with Ardith’s own, that her facade of naive pondering comes to an abrupt halt.
Bitterness overtaking her pretty features, venom enriching each word, “ Your brothers and their rebels chased my brother down through the snow. With starved dogs.” She says, Ardith’s eyes fleeing the lock of hers after she says it—so Tawny turns her attention to Mayor Lockleer. “We eventually got what was left of him after he’d been maimed and eaten alive .”
Philo glances at Snow, who looks at him, keeping his mouth shut as the mental image of Tawny’s brother getting torn to shreds and being able to feel all of it replays in his mind.
There’s no telling how many Capitol soldiers fell so sadistically at the hands of the rebels.
At the hands of the Districts .
“So, Ardith, we can all sit here with one another and pretend as if District Nine has always agreed and complied with the Capitol, but there is a few bones buried in the Gaul crypt that are proof that District Nine did rebel, and it did actively participate in the unnecessary war that killed thousands of Capitol men, women, and children. And it’s reckless to pretend rebels aren’t very well lingering under our noses—my dead daughter can attest to that, as well.”
Blue hues look at her, she feels them burning into the side of her face.
He has to keep his smirk hidden.
“I agree.” Mayor Lockleer states, gently. “Several arrests and executions have been made, Dr. Gaul, in the passing months.”
He now looks to Coriolanus—the man he very well knows will be the President whose thumb he’ll have to grow accustomed to being under.
“Any and every mutter of rebellion launches a thorough investigation that rarely ever happens to be a waste of time.” He adds to him.
“Is that so?” Snow asks evenly, his interest now piqued.
“Certainly.” Lockleer confirms with a nod, a proud nod.
“And why is it, exactly, that so many here in Nine feel comfortable enough to even consider defying the laws set in place to protect not only the Capitol, but their own District as well?” Snow asks, watching the Mayor clear his throat before scrambling to explain, “Mr. Snow, there’s rebels everywhere—as Dr. Gaul stated before.” He explains. “But they aren’t welcomed nor tolerated here.”
“Then why so many?” Tawny presses, interrupting just to watch Lockleer further squirm.
“I understand your concern, but I assure you, The Capitol has nothing to worry about.”
“We know.” Snow retorts, flatly. “Increased security will ensure that. Accompanied by more. . .discouraging shows of execution to better get the point across. Yes?”
Lockleer frantically looks from Snow to Tawny, to Philo, and back to Snow.
“President Ravinstill recently adjusted the taxes as well as executions—”
“Giving District Nine a generous inch. . .yet it appears as if they’ve all taken a greedy mile from it.” Snow points out.
“Like a dog on a lax leash .” Tawny adds.
Lockleer sees now that there is no room for an argument.
They’re being as nice as they can be given the circumstances.
Ardith keeps her mouth shut, allowing them to finish their conversation.
“Thank you, Mr. Snow, Dr. Gaul, and Mr. Marius for the honor of your company. I District Nine would be more than pleased to see more security to ensure the safety and peace of the Disctrict.”
A faint grin holds at Snow’s lips as he smoothly replies, “ Wonderful .”
The ringing of the phone drags on for seemingly forever as his fingers tap impatiently against the wall, waiting for Livia or her mother to pick up the phone.
Just as he’s about to hang up, someone picks it up.
“Hello?” He sighs at the sound of his wife’s voice.
“Livia, Darling, it’s Coriolanus.”
“Sweetheart!” She pipes, bringing a smile to his lips.
“Hello, darling, how are you?” He asks her, glancing around in the empty train station where they’re permitted to make personal calls home.
“I’m a little better since you’ve called.” She replies sweetly. “How’s life among the barbarians?” She adds, raising a brow.
“District Nine is much like the Capitol.” He sarcastically mumbles, making her scoff.
“How are you, Livia? And the baby! Is she out, yet?” He chuckles it lightly.
“No, we’ve discussed it and she agrees that we want you home before any of that happens.” She tells him, her hand rubbing at her huge stomach.
“Well, we’ve gotten one District down—only four more to go and then we’ll be home.” He assures her. “I’ll be home. And then I can have my inauguration, you can have my baby—”
“Oh, your baby, is she? Maybe we should’ve waited for Scientists to find a way for the husband to have a baby for the wife.”
“You know what I meant.” He says to her. “You’re both mine. I’m struggling with the notion of having to share you once you’re First Lady.”
“You won’t be sharing me more than I’ll have to share you.” She comments, raising her brows. “You aren’t even President, yet, and it’s already started.” She adds with a heavy breath just as the echo of heels sound around him, his eyes looking up to see Tawny stepping toward a phone on the other side of the empty lobby.
“I won’t have to take trips like these often, Liv. This is just a freak thing I’m having to settle out.” He explains.
“. . .With Tawny Gaul. . .” She comments, waiting for his response as Tawny dials a number.
“Livia.” He turns his back to Tawny casually, guarding her from hearing their conversation while being as honest as he can be.
He and Tawny had been finished for months—though, of course, Livia hadn’t known they actually ever had an affair in the first place.
“I don’t understand why she can’t endorse you from the Capitol.” She asks, next.
“Because that doesn’t. . .”
“. . . Hey, honey ,” Tawny pipes, causing Snow to clench his fist up at the sound of her doting on her criminal fiance.
“. . .Dr. Gaul highly suggested we do this tour together. To show a united front that Pias’ withdrawal in the race only means he sees me more suited for Panem.”
Livia doesn’t say anything for a moment.
“I’ll be home before you know it, Darling. And we’ll be together again, and have our little girl, and everything we’ve both wanted for a decade, now.” He assures her.
“I’m not sure this is something I want, Coriolanus.” She confesses softly, and he can hear the tears pooling in her blue eyes.
He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose while Tawny’s giggling grates against his nerves.
“You only feel that because I’m not with you when I need to be.” He tells his wife, calmly. “But I’ll be back soon, Darling, and I miss you,” He adds.
She takes another moment of silent and finally nods to herself.
“I miss you, too. Be careful out there. I’ll see you when you come home.” She says, gently. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He knows she needs to hear it—whether he genuinely feels it or not.
“Goodnight, dear.” She tells him, and he replies, “Goodnight, darling.”
She doesn’t hang up until he does, slowly dropping the phone back to its hook as she wipes stray tears, the muted television of her room flashing video of his arrival in District Nine, Tawny and Philo on his heels.
He turns to see Tawny twisting a piece of her hair around her finger, grinning into the receiver of the phone as she pipes, “I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”
“Ha! Hopefully I’m done with all of this by then.” Pias mumbles to her. “I really shot myself in the foot with this entire debacle.”
Her eyes lock with Snow’s as he steps toward her casually, causing her to take in a breath and add, “This will all blow over soon, sweetie. My aunt’s pulling a few strings and you’ll have your career and reputation still intact because no one knows why you’re withdrawing. It’ll be as if none of this happened.”
“That’s the part I’m worried about.” He admits, clearing his throat. “How is Snow ? Is he behaving himself? Provoking anyone else to blind rage?”
“No, no, he’s on his best behavior.” She assures him with a small grin, still eyeing the blonde who merely stares down at her. “It’s myself I’m trying to keep a hold on, truthfully.” She informs him. “I think Mr. Marius is nearly ready to throw me off the tour.”
“Just grin and bear it and it’ll be over soon.” He tells her before a Peacekeeper approaches him.
He sighs out and adds, “I have to go. I love you, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I love you, too, Pias.” She replies.
“Bye.” He hangs up, and she lets out a sigh, slamming the phone onto the hook before stepping past Snow, heading toward the train.
He doesn’t say a word to her, nor her to him, the two of them stepping past the Peacekeeper guarding the entrance of the train cart.
Philo is already eating his dinner, watching the two of them walk by him, Tawny muttering about taking a shower.
He downs the rest of the burning liquid that has him wincing with its bite, setting the glass aside as his racing mind starts to dull some.
Orange flames from the fire shine against the blue of his eyes as quiet steps approach.
“I take it you’re doing to him what you did to Crane?” He says lowly, not looking at her until she’s sitting on the rug by his feet, propping her elbow on the sofa next to him, her hair damp from her shower—her body only covered in a lilac colored silk bathrobe. “Acting like you don’t know a damn thing.”
“I’m doing the same to my aunt.” She says to him. “We can’t do anything until you’re elected. So why let them know that we know.”
“Pias knows that I do.” He states, rubbing his forehead. “Of course he won’t suspect that you know if you keep laying it on as thick as you are.” He adds.
There’s a bitterness in his voice that has her glaring at him.
“How’s your wife ? And her baby ?” She does what she’s been doing the last several months, digging into him with her words like he had done to her.
“They’re fucking peachy, Tawny.” He hisses, leaning his head back, staying quiet another moment before adding, “I know this is difficult, being in the Districts your brothers were killed in. . .but what happened today does not happen again.”
“Me clarifying their horseshit?”
“ You getting personal with these people.” He clarifies. “They do not care about our losses. The only reason they pretend to is to stay in our good graces as best as they can.” He adds. “I don’t want any arguing or tension between us and them.”
“They started a war that killed our families! Excuse me for being a little hard-pressed when it comes to not having tension—”
“I know what they did!” He leans forward, his eyes holding her own captive. “But I’m saying enough . Not here . For the last time, we will deal with what we need to deal with when we get back to the Capitol.”
She lets out a defeated breath, her finger tracing the pleat of his slacks—taking note of the way he clenches his jaw—before asking, “What do you plan to do with Pias and my aunt?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.” He lies, and she knows it, but she doesn’t push any further, allowing the soft hum of the fireplace to be the only sound before she adds, “What do you plan to do with me once we get back to the Capitol?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.” He repeats honestly, letting out a breath as she shifts to her knees, her fingers reaching up to twist at one of his curls starting to form from wear through the day.
He flinches and grasps her wrist.
She expects him to toss it aside and her with it, dismissing her.
But he doesn’t, he just stares at her, trying to get his tipsy thoughts together.
All of which, now, are of their past.
He wonders if she still tastes the same, if she still sounds the same, if she still feels the same.
It’s only been months apart but it feels like decades.
She recognizes the look in his eye, the one she’s seen from him so many times before.
The one she’s missed so much despite it being her own stubbornness that kept her from him.
She grasps the hand around her wrist with her free hand, standing on her knees, their faces inches apart as she whispers, “What do you plan to do with me, now ?”
He closes his eyes momentarily, before recoiling from her.
“We can’t do this.” He tells her quietly. “I have a family and a Presidency—”
“You’ve said it yourself.” She says softly, gently tugging at the silk fabric of her robe tie. “We’ll deal with what we need to deal with when we get back to the Capitol.”
She doesn’t take it off, the robe merely falling open just enough to see she’s completely naked underneath, her smooth, supple skin taunting him with the fragrance of her bath soaps and moisturizers.
It’s a dose of his own medicine, all those months he’d cruelly tease her, trying to seduce her.
She always stood her ground, no matter how tempting he was.
He doesn’t protest when she straddles him, the growing strain in his pants becoming painful when she gets on his lap, her lips brushing against his softly, leaving a delicate kiss that sharply contradicts the second one they share.
His hands grab handfuls of her hair, tongues meeting as she grinds against the bulge she feels underneath her, friction of her bare skin against the material of his pants causing her to break their kiss and let out a quiet moan that he once more smothers with his lips before trailing his tongue along her neck.
She reaches between them, fumbling with this belt, pulling him out of his hazey trance.
Anyone can walk in at any moment and everything will be ruined .
He pulls away from her neck, and she kisses him once more, only for him to reciprocate it for only a second.
Furrowing her brows, he takes a deep breath and grasps her robe closed, stating, “Go get some clothes on.”
want young president snow to dress me up like his personal fuck doll and then rail me on his bed 💔
MDNI
God I can see him telling you a lingerie set to be in before he gets home, and where you need to be in the house so he knows what to expect and where to find you so he can use you in anyway he wants after a stressful day.
He’d barely say anything once he got home too, knowing you behaving like this is agreeing. After all, dolls don’t need to be spoken to anyway.
MILESTONE!!!🌹🥀
Thank you guys so much for following my fic, I love every single one of you and hope you stick around for more of Snowball's vile, evil lil' schemes 😈🥰😘
president!coryo and rough sex in his office after he had a bad day 🙏🙏
Thank you so much for sending me this right after I asked. I forgot how bad I am at writing rough stuff so I hope this is okay <3
Afab reader~MDNI
He wouldn’t even take off his suit jacket or his shoes. He’d send someone off to get you without context, just saying he needs you with him soon for “personal matters” and nobody questioned him. The moment you stepped through the door he’d wave off every member of staff within the room, leaving the two of you together in his office.
“Today has been quite a rough day.” Coriolanus started, taking off his gloves slowly. “I need some relief. If you are alright with aiding in that I’d like for you to strip and sit on the desk.” His tone was similar to the professionalism he uses in meetings, matter of fact and to the point.
He didn’t even bother taking anything else off, simply undoing his pants just enough for his cock to slip out. You could feel his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he fucked into you, hands clawing at your hips to keep them pinned in place while your own dragged down his back.
There would be no words exchanged, his mouth wouldn’t leave your neck. His marks would be so deep you couldn’t tell if the wetness you were feeling was his spit or your own blood.
The awkward stares in the hall afterwards would be worth it
Reprisal | Chapter Nineteen
coriolanus snow x gaul oc
Summary: Ten years after the Tenth Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow is under Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s wing as a Gamemaker alongside her niece. Unbeknownst to either of them, they’re both being prepared for a much greater task.
Warning: This story will contain explicit violence against adults and children alike (I mean, it’s Dr. Gaul AND Snow) as well as explicit language, and sexual situations.
***This fic is in no way, shape, or form, me endorsing or co-signing the horrific shit Snow does, nor am I trying to romanticize it. Also, apathy and will be the main driving force of any remnants of a relationship between my OC and Snow’s character. So if you’re interested in something very romantic and fluffy…it’s not gonna be this.
Thank you for reading, I hope you like it!
Livia Snow watches solemnly as her husband hands off his bag to Philo, his blue eyes meeting hers once they’re left alone in her bedroom at her mother’s house.
Sitting up on the plush mattress, legs crossed underneath her, fingers nervously wringing at the floral comforter. . .
“It will only be for a little over a week, Darling.” He assures her, hands in his pockets as he slowly steps closer to her. “I’ll be back before you know it.” It’s added with his finger tips grazing her chin, a sweet smile spreading across his lips.
Her face is more painful today, bruised more than it was the night of the incident.
He wants to wince each time she has to move her mouth, knowing she’s in pain.
Livia doesn’t try to speak, just as she hadn’t the last three days since losing so many teeth.
So, she nods.
Kissing the top of her hair while reminding her, “I love you,” he leans down and kisses her pregnant stomach, “Goodbye, dear.”
Again, she nods, not wanting to try to speak.
Not wanting him to see how horrid she looks now when she speaks.
Truth be told she doesn’t mind not speaking to him at the moment, anyway.
Frustrated and hurt that he would leave her side now of all times.
She tries not to let it hurt her feelings or bother her too badly as he shuts the door behind as while he goes, a few stray tears trickle down her swollen cheek.
Philo and Snow arrive at the train station after Tawny, her father already handing her bags off to the luggage attendant as the two men step onto the platform.
Snow grows frigid when unwanted memories slip through the seams of his mind, his lip threatening to curl with its intrusion.
“You have everything you need, right?” Tiberius asks his daughter, clearly worried senseless about her traveling to the Districts.
“Yes, I do.” She tells him, a small smile coming to her lips before she’s hugging him tightly. “I’ll be perfectly fine, dad. We’ll have security at each stop, and we won’t be mixed with the public at all. These are merely discussions with Mayors and whatnot.” It does little to ease his concern, but he nods, kissing her cheek.
“I love you,” he says, next, to which she replies, “I love you, too. I’ll see you in a week.”
“See you in a week.” He mumbles as she and Philo head toward the train cart, leaving Snow and Tiberius. “Keep an eye on her.” He adds to him. “They have yet to release Dr. Pinnacle. She’s getting more and more frantic over it as the days pass. . .I took her cigarettes out of her bag but I’m sure she has more somewhere. If you see her with one please take it. She’s been smoking quite a bit more recently, and was coughing and hacking yesterday morning.” He continues, his words bringing a slight furrow to Snow’s brows. “My father died with a tumor the size of a grapefruit in his lungs. Volumnia said it was more than likely because he smoked so much. . .me and Mini have lost so much already between our boys and our granddaughter. . .if anything were to happen to our Tawny Owl, they’d have to put us down like mad dogs.” Tiberius explains, honestly.
Snow nods, assuring him, “I’ll take care of her, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Snow.” He pats his shoulder, turning to go, but stops himself to say, “I appreciate what you said at that debate. So many people suffered just as much here as we were in the Districts. Thank you for reminding certain people of that.”
Snow accepts his compliment from someone he actually respects, saying, “I’m glad I could do so, sir.”
With one last smile and nod from Tiberius, he’s leaving the platform.
Snow enters the rather lavish train, the last time he had traveled to the Districts, it was mere benches and wide windows — though he supposes those are for public citizens, not potential Presidents.
This one is laid out like a regular living room, a sofa and leather parlor chairs, rich, mahogany side tables that match the coffee table, a thick, fluffy area rug that’s beautifully woven.
A gas fireplace is the finishing touch.
“. . .The dining room is through this door,” he points to the door along the wall in front of them, sleeping quarters are here,” he motions to the door in the wall behind them.
“What about bathrooms?” Tawny asks, raising a brow.
“Each bedroom has a private restroom.” The attendant informs her.
She only nods, glancing around their living space for the next week.
She and Coriolanus both feel the room spinning at the idea of being In such close confines with one another for so long.
“Who gets what room?” Tawny asks, next, crossing her arms.
“All the rooms are the same, so it doesn’t particularly matter I suppose, Dr. Gaul.” He replies. “If you’d like me to take your luggage, I can—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Snow interrupts him.
Her eyes flicker to Coriolanus to see he hasn’t broken his gaze, her throat going dry.
“Thank you, Mr. Siphon.” Snow extends a bill, a generous tip that the attendant gladly accepts.
“You’re more than welcome, Mr. Snow. Do ring anytime you need me.” He motions to the phone on the wall beside the window, and takes his leave.
The three of them are left in an awkward silence, Philo more than observant of his boss’ attention toward Tawny.
“I’m going to my room.” Philo clears his throat, grabbing his luggage.
Neither person acknowledges him, glaring at one another, instead.
Once Philo goes, leaving them be, Snow’s stepping closer to her, leering down his nose at her.
“I expect we will keep this trip civil, Dr. Gaul. Which means bickering, petty comments, ugly looks and smart remarks stay to a minimum—and don’t happen at all while we’re working.” He says plainly, sternly. “Don’t fuck this up for me.” He adds.
She looks at him, her tongue running across the inside of her bottom lip before she says, “‘Don’t fuck this up for me’.” She quotes him. “The first time I’ve heard you acknowledge there’s nothing left of mine to fuck up.”
“The actions of Crane and Pinnacle and your blind devotion to them has nothing to do with me.”
“My husband, who you framed for murdering the President, and my fiancé, who you deliberately pushed at publicly—on national television—until he snapped.” She states. “Do you see the common thread the disintegration of my personal life has been woven with?”
“I did what had to be done for the sake of Panem—”
“Oh, fuck Panem!” She outbursts, anger clenching at her fists that curl up until her hand shakes. “You do not snuff out every relationship I’ve been in for the sake of the country—you do it all for yourself !”
“It’s my fault that you just so happen to crawl into bed with treasonist bastard after treasonist bastard.” He harshly states.
“Pias didn’t commit treason by having an opinion different than yours!”
“He committed treason by bombing that arena and killing Capitol children!” He barks back.
Her brows furrow deeply, her beautiful face twisting in disgust at his words as her stomach drops.
“What?” She asks just as he adds, “It was a plan to shift the layout of the arena in the tenth games—to make it more challenging—”
“You’re lying.” She shakes her head, feeling lightheaded as she stumbles back, turning from him.
“It worked, but not without killing Tullia Gaul, Felix Ravinstill—”
“—Enough.” She holds her hand up to get him to stop, but he continues with, “Your aunt knew about it, Pias Pinnacle knew about it—”
“Enough!” She screams, tears falling to her cheeks as she squeezes her eyes together as he shouts back, “—Because they planned it!”
He watches the realization wash over her face, the confusion following, all mingling with tears. . .he watches her for minutes it seems, the time dragging by, slowing down.
Eventually, she hears him leave once she turns her back, and with the closing of the door behind him, she’s allowing a quiet sob to rack up her throat.
Over a day passes before Coriolanus sees her.
She’s pushing her breakfast around her plate as Philo goes through the itinerary.
“Tonight we arrive in town in Nine, and then Eight by noon Tuesday, then Three Wednesday evening, and Six by Friday morning, and then—” He stops reading off the paper Dr. Gaul had left him with, his eyes catching on the last District to visit.
“Then what?” Coriolanus presses.
“This one was written it, it seems. An annotation—”
“What does it fucking say, Philo?” Tawny spares no feelings in her hoarse tone, tired of the bullshitting and dancing around corners.
Tired of the lies, the coverups and the sugarcoating.
“It appears the order is Nine, Six, Three, Twelve, and Eight.” He reads off the edit made by hand in Volumnia’s handwriting.
“ Twelve .” Snow repeats, realizing why Philo had hesitated to say it, his fists tensing as he restrains from throwing his glass of orange juice at the wall and pitching a fit.
It’s a sick joke that Gaul’s making at his expense.
“Three, Six, Eight, Nine, Twelve.” She repeats, pushing her unkept hair out of her face. “The districts plotting rebellion are the ones my brothers and your father got murdered in.” Tawny dryly says to Snow, eyes watering, anger once more rising within her. “After all those ungrateful bastards have taken from us, yet they still feel entitled to peace separated from the Capitol.” She grimaces. “And it’s us they send out here to endorse that peace when all I want to do is blow them off the fucking map.” She kicks out of her chair, ringing her hands as she stomps out of the dining cart to her room.
“Excuse me one moment.” Snow tells Philo, clearing his throat.
“Of course.” He replies, watching as the blonde follows after her.
As soon as Tawny shuts the door of the cabin only big enough to fit a full sized bed and small chest of drawers, the door opens without a knock.
“I want to go home, I shouldn’t even be here.” She shakily tells him, her voice low and thick with the attempt at keeping herself calm.
“Tawny—”
“—This is not what I signed up for. I agreed to accompany you and make you look good, I did not agree to a great tour of soils my brothers got gunned down on.” She
“And that’s all you’ll do.” He raises his brows. “Just smile and play nice with the other children and we’ll be done with this entire. . . production , before we even realize it.”
“ Production .” She mutters, turning from him to sit on the bed.
“That’s all it is.” Snow steps closer. “Pairing us together–you accompanying me as if you’re going to be an integral part of my Presidency. . .it’s for show. Spectacle .” He informs her, piecing it together in his mind, thinking the way Dr. Gaul and her ring of bureaucratic politicians think.
“‘ As if ’?” Her dark brows drop, nostrils flaring slightly as she repeats him. “If the goal is for me to be Head of the Department of War when my aunt is gone, and the goal is for you to be President, then there is no ‘if’ about it, Snow. I will be a rather integral part of your presidency.” She argues, only for him to roll his jaw, his expression giving way to the thoughts in his head.
Her face falls flat.
“The position is for me to appoint when Dr. Gaul’s time in it ends.” He reminds her.
“And you won’t let me see the light of day in it.” It’s said more-so to herself, taking in a deep breath. “Yet another man I’ve shared my bed with that winces at the thought of me having some control.”
“It has nothing to do with—”
“Yes, it—”
His palm is covering her mouth to shut her up, his forehead almost pressing to hers as he outbursts, “You were just throwing around wanting to incinerate five districts, Tawny!”
Her chest heaves with each breath, while he calms and continues, “You think I’d trust you with our War Department?”
She refuses to admit that he’s right, that she can’t be trusted with such a responsibility.
She’s not a big enough person to stand for the greater good of the Capitol without him holding her hand to the flame of peace .
Soft fingers gently rest over his hand, pulling it from her lips, but he doesn’t make a move to back away from her from where he’s leering over her, still so close.
“Believe or not, I have been trying to figure where you’re going to fit in all of this. . .I want you to fit.” He admits quietly, his eyes scorching hers as he speaks. “Not as my mistress, or someone I’m taking along to secure people’s support, but as an indispensable asset. Because you’re good at what you do, it’s valuable to the Capitol , and it’s valuable to Panem .”
Her eyes play tricks on her, she's sure of it, when she sees blue flicker down to glance her lips for a split second, before once more meeting her eyes in the amount of time it takes to blink.
“But not you. . . Mr. President. . .” She whispers bitterly, long, black lashes framing her watering eyes, a lump forming in her throat.
It’s quite clear in this moment, to him at least, that she’s not well-rested.
Her words sound as if she’s had a bit too much to drink in a sense, though he knows she hasn’t.
She’s not drunk, only exhausted.
He can’t tell if it’s due to the shambles of her personal life, or him merely exhausting her.
Irritation bubbles in him at the latter.
If anything, he should be the one crawling to the finish line of this madness, begging for it to just be over with—under far more pressure than her and concealing it better.
“Stop trying to figure out where to put me in your circle.” She tells him in a rasp. “Because I’m going to smile and be cordial, and do my damndest to sell the shit out of you as President, and then as soon as we get back home, and I’m released from this torture chamber on wheels, I’m staying as far away from you as humanly possible. And I will stay as far away from you as humanly possible until one of us dies .
They look at one another once she says it, staring, his features hardening again as if to protect his ego from her relentless words.
Pulling away from him, she’s reaching behind her pillow, pulling her cigarette compact out from under it, along with her lighter.
It’s fitted between her lips, the flame flickering as she strikes it before it’s catching.
Before she can even inhale, he’s snatching it from her lips, grabbing the compact of them.
He ignores the daggers she shoots at him with her eyes as he steps to the door, not saying another word.
Quality Coriolanus Snow meme 😭