#maeve writes 🎀

[maevesheart]

only angel (2)

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: wasn’t originally planning on making a part two to this but it just seemed so unfinished??!?! and i love ruthless reader idk she’s a queen

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 5.2k

tw: violence, death, brutal!!reader, blood, allusions to forced prostitution

only angel (1)

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER, THE 68TH HUNGER GAMES

Brutus and Enobaria sat in front of you and Mace, your district mate.

They reminded you of strategies that you had been taught your whole life, ensuring that as long as you two played into the Capitol’s hands, you’d get plenty of sponsors and come out alive.

Mace and you had never been close back home, but you saw him in the shopping centers, had some mutual friends. It was someone familiar, and even though your two mentors spent more time perfecting your wielding of knives and crocodile tears, you hoped Mace could somehow make it far in the games. Like you knew you would.

Enobaria and Brutus had introduced you to the various other Career Tributes, taking their time to butter up the other mentors, ensuring a ticket for your survival.

You were small compared to the other tributes, even the girl from Twelve was bigger than you.

But you trained, and you trained hard, showing off the various knife and sword tricks that had been engraved in your brain since you were a child.

Enobaria helped with your endurance, shocked by how fast you were. She had instructed you to not show that off to the other tributes, don’t give too much away.

After the private sessions with your mentors, you were stronger, faster, and more agile than Mace could even dream. You almost felt bad, the way Enobaria and Brutus were setting him up for death.

But, at the end of the day, only one can make it out alive.

Enobaria was strategic, determined for you to win. She instructed you to not show too many strengths in the private session with the Gamemakers, just enough to get a respectable score for someone from a Career District.

You followed her instructions to a tee, refusing to be one of the 23 fallen.

For the interviews, Ceasar laughed at your innocent comments and jokes, complimenting the head piece you wore, noting how it looked like a halo.

“Beautiful, like an Angel,” he smiled, the crowed cheering in agreement.

You giggled, smoothing down the uncomfortable golden dress they had sewn you into.

The crowd roared with your unwavering confidence, the arrogance paired with your baby-face and innocent smile was enough to send them into a fit of convivial.

It was just too easy.

The night before the games you had snuck out of the floor for Two, going up to the rooftop in hopes of having a moment to yourself.

You perched on the ledge, a small nightgown barely covering your shivering body.

You closed your eyes to relish in what could possibly be your last moments of peace, before being snapped from your trance by footsteps echoing.

You whipped around, teeth barring and senses on high alert. You were already acting like the wild animal Enobaria had been training you to be.

“Not in the arena just yet,” a smooth voice sounds out, a boy a few years older than you coming into view.

You recognized him as Finnick Odair. He had won a few years back, and was now returning as a mentor.

You ignored him, turning back to the outline of the Capitol.

He approached you slowly, leaning his body against the glass railing you were propped against.

You looked up to him, tired-eyes meeting his, somehow seemingly sparkling.

“Unfortunately,” you spoke, your mouth in a straight line. Enobaria had introduced you to him during the parade, but his tributes were not ally-material.

He laughed at your response. You stared at him, unamused.

“Feisty,” he smirked, watching you look away from him and back to the skyline.

“Not really in the mood to talk about my fate,” you said, his eyes still burning two holes into the side of your face.

His smile dropped slightly, having once been in your position himself.

He reminded himself you were only 15. A year older than he was when he won.

He had only won 3 years ago, and stood on this same rooftop. Looking out on the same city skyline.

Your peripheral vision caught him lean both his forearms onto the glass, shifting closer to you.

“Is it just as scary as it seems?” You ask. You were a child. A child that had been trained to hunt and kill. But deep down, you were just a scared kid. How would you kill all those people?

Finnick hums, acknowledging the same question that wracked his mind the nights before his games.

“It is,” he recognized your fear, but refused to give you false hope that it wouldn’t be as brutal as it truly is.

The words Enobaria had spoken to you earlier bounced around your brain, it’s just killing. Self-defense. All of it. Don’t be scared to kill someone who isn’t scared to kill you.

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes.

“I don’t want to die,”

It was quiet, but Finnick heard it, head perking up and turning to stare at you.

The role as a tribute was meant to bring great honor to someone from your district, but you were terrified. You were young, passionate. You had so much to give and so little time to give it all.

“Enobaria told me to hide my strengths, and I did. I’ll be able to kill them, once it comes down to it. But how will I live with myself?”

Finnick asked himself the same question everyday. How did he kill all those people? Sure, it was survival. Him or them. But how do you continue your life, pretending like you hadn’t murdered people on live national television?

“I—“ Finnick fell short, eyes still watching the side of your face.

“How do you cope with it all?” You finally turned to him, salty tears on your cheeks.

He knew you were preparing yourself for the inevitable. He had heard Enobaria boast about you, and had seen you in training. Other tributes would be frightened to get close to you.

He didn’t answer, swallowing thickly. You would soon understand, you would be in his position.

You choked out a sob, hands wrapping around your body.

He watched with wild eyes, before pulling you into his warm chest, head burrowing in his body.

You made no move to remove yourself from his body, and his arms were snug against your back.

“Kill as many as you can, as soon as you can. Then lay low, hunt. Don’t fall for any of that ally-bullshit.”

His voice was rushed, eyes filled with emotion. He felt for you, a scared child. He remembered his fear all too well.

You sniffled in his chest, hands balling at the thin fabric of his top.

And you listened to him.

In those next few hours, during the bloodbath, you killed two, both with knives to the chest. The Capitol citizens cheered as your face reflected the highest kill-count. You knew it was nothing to be proud of.

That next evening, while the rest of the Career pack slept, you stole the boy from One’s — Yves — backpack, shoving their weapons into it as quietly as possible.

Your small size came handy, being able to stealthily move around them, you were lucky the arena was a desert, sand not making a noise.

The girl from One — Aithon — began to lightly stir, and you knew it was now or never. Finnick’s words from the night before mixed with Enobaria’s, and that was all you needed to take a sword in each hand and take down the two tributes from One.

Their deaths were quick, the canons sounding out and Mace waking up, his laying figure looking up at you. Small but powerful.

You stood over his body, one foot on each of his arms, keeping him from reaching up to you.

His face twisted in confusion, looking over to the blood pouring from Yves and Aithon, each who had just been sleeping soundly next to him.

Your knife neared his face in milliseconds, and you had to force your arms down as he began to scream.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could whisper, guilt beginning to cloud your senses.

But you pushed past it, knowing you had to come out alive. No other option.

“Y/N! Please!”

And then there was silence.

He wasn’t anything special, but he was from home.

You held in tears as the canon sounded, running from the three as quickly as you could.

Whilst you hid behind one of the large cacti around the arena, Enobaria grinned as Capitol citizens celebrated her and you, her star tribute.

Finnick watched, heart tugging, knowing that he had encouraged the killings, he had told you to trust no one. And you had listened.

And from then on, you became the Capitol’s angel, their winged symbol of purity, despite the blood and deaths of many on your hands.

When Snow placed the crown on your head, you smiled, naively, and thanked the crowd. Thanked them for their donations, and their belief in you from the beginning.

But that’s all you were to them: a spectacle. A little girl who killed five in one day, a little girl who’s life had been dedicated to these games, to win. A little girl who would never get her purity back, never get to sleep without seeing Mace’s terrified face before she killed him.

He didn’t deserve it, none of them did. But it was life or death. And there was no way you were going to die.

PRESENT DAY, THE THIRD QUARTER QUELL

Your group continued up to the Cornucopia, you and Finnick taking the tail.

Peeta and Finnick drew a map in the dark sand, you leaned against the side of the metal Cornucopia, Johanna plopping down next to you, and Katniss on your other side.

It all happened in a blur. One second, Wiress was singing her song about a mouse and the clock, and the next, Gloss was on top of her, knife straight into the heart.

Katniss’s arrow struck him, you grabbing your swords to get Cashmere who was standing behind him.

Finnick rushed after you. He knew you could take Cashmere, but what happened if Brutus appeared? Brutus had never been kind to you, and it was doubtful he would start now.

Your sword stuck Cashmere in the leg, and she screamed, falling onto the little amount of ground that the middle sector offered.

She turned over, knife in her left hand, grazing your ankle slightly. Luckily your stylist had dressed you in thicker socks; she had been an absolute idiot about most things, but at least she had your back in the arena.

Your thigh was still slightly burning with pain, but you pushed through it, sticking both your swords into Cashmere’s chest, a strangled gasp leaving her lips and her head falling back against the ground.

The canon sounded out, but you continued to pull your swords out and drive them back into her chest, more blood pouring out.

You were grunting now, mind hyper-aware of your actions, but refusing to stop.

You kept driving the sharp tools into her chest, her body slightly moving up when you retracted the metal, and then caving in as you pushed them back.

You weren’t going to die; you refused to.

Hands were on your shoulders, pulling you backwards, and you turned, swinging.

Finnick let go and backed away, hands held up. He knew you’d never hurt him, but once you’re in the killing mindset, it’s very hard to break it.

You dropped the weapons to your side, a long breath leaving your lips that you hadn’t realized you’d be holding in.

Finnick pulled you along with him, hand on your side as he brought you over to everyone else.

All of them were staring with wide eyes — besides Johanna of course.

Katniss knew you were brutal, but she didn’t realize how quickly you did turn into the angel of death. One second you were smiling, laughing at something Johanna had said.

Then your eyes were lit with a fire, teeth out, and running, faster than Katniss had ever seen someone move.

She had watched you kill Cashmere in seconds, continuing to drive the weapons into her, sounds of exasperation leaving your lips but you were unrelenting.

You felt like you were fifteen again, scared and angry, brutal to anyone who crossed your path. Your swordsmanship was uncanny, and Katniss dreaded the moment that she had to try and kill you.

And then the Cornucopia began to spin, extremely fast. You grabbed onto Finnick, a sword sucking down into the water, your other tight in the palm of your opposite hand.

You and Finnick fell to the ground, grabbing at the hard rocks to keep from flying to the water.

And then you heard Peeta scream Katniss’s name, and the two of you both yelled a loud, “shit!”

You pushed off the hard ground, crawling to the side of the island, hand reaching down to grab Johanna’s axe and try to hoist the two of them up.

You grunted, holding onto a small portion of the metal that wasn’t sharp. Your feet dug into the ground, sword shoved into the rock to keep you grounded.

You watched as Katniss went flying down, and then Johanna was on top of you, the two of you gasping for oxygen when the spinning stopped.

You and Johanna were back on your feet, rushing to help Katniss out of the water.

You all made your way back onto the sand, where it was relatively safe.

You discussed strategy, your fingers tracing different shapes into Finnick’s thigh.

“Who’s left then?” Katniss asked, eyes flickering between you and Johanna, the two of you having a conversation with your eyes.

“Brutus and Chaff, I think that’s all,” Peeta announced, all eyes shifting to you at the mention of your district-mate.

“I get Brutus,” you spoke clearly, eyes hard.

“Y/N…” Finnick spoke, hand smoothing down your arm.

“Just… I know him. I can handle it, I swear,”

He had helped train you, of course you would know his methods like the back of your hand. You had been seeking revenge for years, waiting for the day you could get him back.

What had the games done to you? Fantasizing about killing someone?

And then you were back there, back to the moment your life really ended.

You were dressed in clothes Snow had picked out, a hairstyle Snow had picked out, makeup Snow had picked out. You were his newest doll, malleable to his every demand.

It was your victory tour, and Enobaria and Brutus were accompanying you, helping you with speeches and coming to terms with your new life as a Capitol pet.

You were finishing up in the Capitol, the final destination. Snow had laid out his conditions for you: your pride and body now belonged to the Capitol, and with it, they could do what they pleased. Your company came with a high price.

He had threatened your family back in Two, describing in detail what would become of them if you didn’t comply with his wishes.

You had gone back to the train and told Enobaria and Brutus, eyes spilling hot tears when Enobaria pulled you into her arms, hands stroking your hair. At least she was kind.

Brutus, however, was not.

His boisterous laugh rang off the walls of the train, your eyes peeking out from Enobaria’s embrace to glare at him.

“Let me know when you start, sweetheart,” he smirked, a scowl overtaking your features.

You had been waiting to get him back, to show him that weren’t a little slave for his disposal. Finnick understood your rage, more than any other person could.

He wanted to kill Brutus just as badly as you did.

No one else asked any questions, and for that you were grateful.

And then the screaming started, and you jumped to your feet, eyes frantic and scanning the area.

Whoever it was, they were screaming for Katniss, and rather brutally as well.

And off she took. You were the fastest, so you caught her first, arms around her shoulders to steady her, but she kept moving, screaming back to the voice.

She stopped abruptly, and shot an arrow into a large black bird that was flying over your heads.

The screaming stopped immediately. And then it began again, this time, it was the voice of Mace. And you felt the blood drain from your entire body, legs suddenly shaking and threatening to go out.

The words he had screamed to you before you had slit his throat were wrapping around your body, swallowing you whole.

“Y/N! Please! Y/N!” You were running then, the screaming getting louder and louder, tears streaming down your face as you tried to escape it; the horror that would haunt you forever.

“It’s not real, they’re jabberjays!” Katniss assured you, running behind you, trying to catch up.

You saw Finnick and Johanna’s faces ahead through your blurry vision, and you sped up, Finnick’s arms wide for you to run into.

But it was a force field, and you collided right into it, falling to the ground in a heap of tears and painful memories.

You covered your ears, head digging into the ground to stop the noise, but it wouldn’t stop. You wailed, and Finnick was hitting the force field, which he was standing on the direct other side, but there was no avail.

He was screaming for you, to look at him, listen to his voice. But the field was soundproof, and he had to watch with a heavy heart as you sobbed, the sounds of the person you betrayed all those years ago the only thing you could focus on.

Finnick’s hands were all over you, smoothing down your hair, checking your face, helping you stand.

Peeta was doing the same with Katniss, the both of you having tear-stains down your cheeks and dirt smudged into your cheeks.

You were frozen solid, eyes big and wide, legs slightly shaking. You had never felt worse about something than what you did to Mace that dreadful night. His screams haunted your dreams, and to have the Gamemakers play into that weakness reminded you just who the real enemy is.

“Y/N, look at me,” Finnick’s hands were on the sides of your face, pulling you closer to his protective figure.

“It wasn’t real. It wasn’t him,” he shook his head lightly, your lips still quivering from fear.

You could only muster the strength to simply nod, telling him that you knew, but the Gamemakers were cruel, so cruel, and they had hit you right where it hurt.

Just as you were beginning to regain your usual automatic-kill mindset, a small box flew down, straight into your hands.

Everyone gathered around you, curious as to what could’ve been sent.

You knew Enobaria would have your back, and considering the sponsors this year were based upon what you had left over from your games, you were lucky. You had a large pot of donations under your name, not needing much assistance when you were in your first games.

You screwed off the top, being met with a small vile of Crave Cure, the very concoction that she had sent you during your games. It came with a note reading: remember who the real enemy is. I’m always rooting for you. - Baria

That assured you of Enobaria’s stance, likely scheming with Haymitch and Plutarch behind the scenes, ensuring your protection by Thirteen.

Finnick smiled next to you, Johanna calling out with happiness.

“Finally!” Johanna cheered, axe thrust into the air.

You even broke a smile, suddenly distracted from the traumatic experience you had just endured.

You looked up, seeing the confused looks on Katniss and Peeta’s faces.

They would’ve never heard of Crave Cure, it was the most expensive thing a mentor could send their tribute, and required many sponsors. It was usually only sent to the Careers, both you and Finnick had received it during your games.

“Crave Cure,” you spoke, Katniss’s eyes meeting yours.

“One drop on your tongue and it cures hunger for 12 hours,” you smiled to them, picking up the vile.

“Enobaria is a saint,” Johanna spoke, watching as you dropped a tiny bit of the brown liquid onto your tongue, a content sigh escaping your lips.

Beetee went next, then Finnick and Johanna.

Katniss and Peeta stood awkwardly to the side, not knowing to approach or not.

“Oh, enough of that! We’re allied, aren’t we? Take a drop,” you urged, placing the vile into her hands.

Peeta nodded, and that seemed to be all the convincing Katniss needed before mimicking your action and gagging when she tasted the fluid.

You laughed at her expression, a light-hearted tease. “Not the best, but it does do its job,”

You figured you had really won her trust, considering how she walked next to you during the hike to the big tree.

The two of you talked about your families back home. You complimented her dedication, to protect her little sister.

She had killed your Cato and Clove; the two you had spent hours coaching, assuring they’d be okay in the end. Words you had needed so badly during your games.

Through talking with Katniss, you realized no one deserved to win as much as she did. She was selfless, willing to sacrifice herself for both her sister and Peeta, placing herself as a protector, not a victim.

And then the peace you had all been building crashed down, Katniss suddenly retreating from the trust you all had built after Beetee offered she go with you and Johanna.

“Why can’t Johanna and Y/N go? I’ll protect you with Peeta,” she spoke, and you met Finnick’s gaze. You read the fear in his eyes, knowing this the was now or never moment.

“Katniss,” you spoke, hands resting on her shoulders.

“You know who the true enemy is,” you whispered, holding her intense eye-contact.

Her eyes softened at your words, everything seemingly clicking into place. With a nod, you grabbed her hand, and pulled her with you and Johanna.

A look over your shoulder to Finnick, and a nod. Your eyes said it all: I love you. I’ll see you soon, once we are safe and out of the Capitol’s hands.

You and Johanna halted your movements, stopping Katniss as you did.

“Stay down,” Johanna instructed Katniss, grabbing her arm.

“What-“ Katniss was about to scream, and you could not let that happen.

You grabbed her face with your hands, eyes frantic for her faith.

“You can trust us,” you whispered, barely loud enough for the cameras to pick up on.

But the raw emotion in your eyes calmed Katniss, giving Johanna the opportunity to cut the tracker out, Katniss’s arm beginning to bleed heavily.

“It’s alright,” you soothed her, your arm out to Johanna, waiting for the inevitable sear of pain.

And then it came, and you placed your body over Katniss’s not allowing her to get up and try to attack.

But then you spotted Brutus over the rock, his hard eyes staring straight into yours.

“Y/N,” Johanna warned, watching the familiar fire begin to brew.

You were up in seconds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, running up the rocky hill. The pain in your arm was masked by the rush of adrenaline you ran high off, killing spree — if you will.

Johanna grunted in anger, but she knew not to expect anything different from you.

“Do not move,” she instructed Katniss, picking up her axe to follow you.

You had reached Brutus quickly, pouncing onto his back and driving your sword straight through his abdomen.

He cried out in pain, blood soon coating your legs that wrapped around his waist.

You pulled the sword out, taking the knife to his neck. He was dead in seconds, the familiar canon sounding throughout the arena.

After registering what you had done, images of Katniss flooded your mind and you internally cursed yourself, rushing back to the spot you had left her and Johanna.

Johanna was back to your side, but Katniss was no where to be seen.

“Fuck!” You cursed, sprinting back towards the tree where Beetee, Finnick, and Peeta were.

She had likely gone back to protect Peeta and kill Finnick, and you were not about to let that happen.

Johanna tried to keep up with you; but even with a gushing arm and slit leg, you were fast. Much faster than anyone else.

“Finnick!” You screamed, feet pounding against the hard ground, propelling you towards the tree, where you watched Katniss aim her arrow straight at Finnick’s head.

Beetee was on the ground, and you crouched, feeling for his pulse. His heart was still beating and you hovered over him protectively, in case Katniss decided to turn around and fire at you too. Which seemed very likely.

You watched as Finnick said something to Katniss, obviously resonating with her, the bow slightly lowering.

“Johanna! Give me your arm!” You swung around, panic-struck and searching for the familiar face.

And you saw her a few feet below, trying to climb the vines you had mounted with ease.

You looked between Finnick and her, torn as to which to try and protect. You knew Finnick would hold his own, so you turned back around and began to move for Johanna, quick feet avoiding possible injuries.

But just as you were in grabbing-distance of her, Finnick’s voice rang out, screaming, “Get away from that tree!”

A crack of something echoed around you, and you turned wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Then you understand what Finnick had meant, a loud crack of lightening rained down and sent you flying, reaching for Johanna as you flew past her, her terrified eyes meeting yours.

The last thing you remembered was being pulled up into the air by a large claw, head and limbs limp as you were hoisted up; sword still secure in your palm, a protection habit you had picked up since your games. You always needed to be armed, after all, life was the arena.

You awoke to the sound of a heart monitor, steady beeping lightly calming your high-alert nerves.

You winced sitting up, large bandages wrapped around your forearm and thigh.

You inspected your surroundings, two empty mats in front of you, and Katniss sleeping to your left.

You stood, hushed voices on the other side of the door that reached the ceiling of the craft you were on.

You looked for a weapon of sorts, not willing to go in unarmed. On the other side of the empty room was your sword, glimmering and coated in blood.

You walked over to it, legs sore and aching, the familiar metal calming against your palm.

The door immediately opened as you approached it, Haymitch and Plutarch’s widening as they spotted your weapon of choice clutched in your ruthless hands.

But it dropped to the floor with a loud clatter when your tired eyes met Finnick’s, a relieved smile coming over your features.

You rushed to him, throwing yourself into his arms. His lips met yours halfway, melting into his strong hold around your body.

The two of you fit together perfectly, like you had been made in the same mold.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tighter to your already close bodies.

You poured all your pent up feelings into the kiss, all the feelings you had suppressed since the fight that had ended your relationship.

It was the most relaxed you had been in the whole week, since your name was plucked from the bowl of living victors.

His lips moved against yours as he squeezed your hips, hands feeling everything they could, to ensure that it was in fact you, and you were alive and safe in front of him.

You pulled a part, a grin across your small face.

He smiled back, but your bliss was interrupted from the clearing of a throat behind you. You spun around, eyes meeting the expectant ones of Haymitch, Plutarch, and Beetee.

The look on your face said it all. And Haymitch nodded, validating all the thoughts that had been running through your head.

You were safe, headed for the secret hideout of Thirteen. All was okay.

You almost began to laugh thinking about how the Capitol would react, their Angel and Darling being two of the biggest conspirators in a rebellion. How ironic.

And Katniss was on the ship, you had successfully carried out your tasks.

“Where’s Johanna?” You asked, a smile still dotting your face.

Finnick’s composure broke, and your heart dropped, realizing the obvious.

“No, no, no, no,” you began to back away, spine hitting the hard metal of the table.

“I went after Brutus, I didn’t cut the tracker… fuck! Oh my god, Finnick, oh god,” you began to dry-heave, accepting her capture as your fault.

Finnick’s hands were on your biceps, steadying you and pulling you back into his chest.

“Johanna and Peeta are in the Capitol,” Plutarch spoke, your worst fears being confirmed.

“It’s all my fault,” you groaned, head in your hands. You had killed, hunted, and tortured. But the idea of a friend’s death being on your hands hurt more than any of those ever did.

Haymitch spoke reassuring words behind you, but Finnick’s hold and the idea of betraying Johanna was all you could focus on.

How would she forgive you? Was she alive? How would you ever cope if she wasn’t, and it was all your fault? Of course, you let the murderer take over, and went after Brutus.

Finnick’s arms soothed down your back, keeping your grounded as you were flooded with grief, with the heavy weight of betrayal.

Johanna and you were close friends, you were supposed to protect each other in the games. She had protected you, always by your side, and you neglected to do the same.

“We’re going to try and rescue them as soon as we can,” Haymitch said, even though you all knew that might be an impossible task.

And then Finnick slipped his hand into yours, fingers curling around yours and softly rubbing your knuckles.

You composed yourself, closing your eyes as you took in a deep breath, regaining focus on just your interlocked hands. Finnick always knew how to relax you.

All you had wanted initially was to get out of this quarter quell alive, to return home to your big mansion and family. To hug them again, to prove to the Capitol that they could take everything from you, but they couldn’t kill you.

But now, you realized that all had been in vain. Where you really belonged was here, holding hands with Finnick, discussing how you were going to break your friends from the Capitol’s mean grip.

You’d die for him, for them. You’d flap your wings once more to ensure they’d all live.

When Katniss first volunteered for Primrose, you hadn’t understood how she would sacrifice her life for another.

But now you knew, and you knew you’d do it too.

You finally had something to live for, someone you loved, who understood all that you had gone through better than anyone else.

Life was the arena, and if it came down to it, you knew the angel would sacrifice herself for the darling.

**

#imagine #angst #maeve writes 🎀 #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick odair x reader #catching fire

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beatrice’s stories archive 1 ✨

ikepri ocverse - insta!au

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[maevesheart]

only angel

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: takes place during the third quarter quell!

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 3.5k

tw: cursing, the different death traps within the arena

only angel (2)

Haymitch’s voice was sharp as he led Katniss and Peeta through the list of their new competition.

Your face lit up the screen, a smile as you took your place next to Brutus, your district-mate. Who you’d soon need to kill.

“Y/N L/N. District Two.”

“In the Capitol, they call her the angel,” Haymitch laughed, taking a swig from his flask after pointing to you.

“She looks harmless,” Peeta commented, noting your smaller-build as compared to other victors, especially Brutus.

“Trust me, she isn’t,” Haymitch shook his head, walking to the other side of the screen.

“The angel of death. One of the youngest Victors ever, winning the 68th games at 15. A Capitol favorite, but very different than the rest of the careers.”

Katniss and Peeta looked at each other in confusion. Considering you were from Two, you would’ve been a key member of a career pack.

Haymitch noted their expressions and continued, “she killed her career pack the first night. It was three versus one, very gruesome. But the Capitol loves her, and she’ll likely get lots of sponsors. The other careers will be hesitant to ally with her, including Brutus, who she publicly hates. Try not to make an enemy of her, she’s extremely well-trained in combat, especially with swords. Highest kill count the games had seen in years, around ten tributes.”

It was common that Career packs turned on each other as the games progressed, but to kill off the whole pack in one night was almost unheard of.

Katniss and Peeta remembered your games, they remembered watching as you slit your district-mate’s throat, and when you broke another’s neck while sitting on their shoulders. They remembered watching you in the final moments, taking out both tributes from Eleven with one sword, going through both their abdomens. You always put on a show for the Capitol citizen’s, killing the other contestants in the most gruesome ways possible.

And they knew that they definitely did not want to be on the receiving end of one of your death tricks.

“Why would we ally with her if she’s just going to kill us the first night, like she did her other games?” Katniss’ voice was hard and her lips were pressed in a straight line.

“Don’t we have that threat anyways? From all the other tributes as well?” Peeta asked Katniss, trying to get her more accustomed to the idea of an ally.

“The other Careers will steer clear of her, I recommend finding a way to get her on your side. The last thing you want is the Careers and the Angel hunting you.”

Katniss and Peeta both made a note to introduce themselves tomorrow during the parade, wanting to asses the angel of death themselves.

You scoffed looking down at your outfit, a thin, short bodycon dress that was golden, and a long flowing black and gold cape that reached the floor.

You had on knee-high boots, adding to the obvious sexual-appeal of your outfit. You would’ve killed your stylist on sight if it weren’t for the many other tributes and people around.

And of course, she had strapped you into a set of golden wings, always playing into the sardonic nickname you had been given all those years ago.

The sponsors loved it however, and you knew exactly how to play into the palms of their hands.

Brutus was in a matching get-up — without the wings, of course—, flexing his arms, waiting for a response from you. You hated him, and made it very well known.

You turned away, refusing to give a reaction. God, you detested your district. The only thing good that ever came out of the games for you was the money, which helped you and your family greatly, but you found your fellow Victor incompetent and selfish.

Your somewhat blissful bubble of isolation was broken when Finnick approached you, the two tributes from Twelve trailing him.

You rolled your eyes, rather dramatically, and stepped down from the Chariot, not missing the obvious ways the two men’s eyes raked up and down your very exposed body.

“I’ll make note of those stares when I decide to kill you,” you smile, earring a chuckle from Katniss. At least someone found it funny; you didn’t.

“And this is Y/N, my lovely friend,” Finnick announced, snaking an arm around you.

You and Finnick had a short-lived relationship a few years back, after you had won your games. He had won his very young, just like you had, and the two of you bonded over the shared trauma.

Snow had destined you to the same unwilling fate as Finnick, selling your body and pride to anyone interested in the Capitol.

Your brief love story ended after a rather bitter fight, you and Finnick throwing around baseless accusations.

You hadn’t talked to Finnick in over three years, other than the surface-level and small-talk conversations you shared at various parties and Victor events.

“Hardly a friend, but you know,” you smiled, pushing Finnick’s arm off your body.

If he was hurt by your action, he didn’t respond, and ushered for Peeta and Katniss to introduce themselves.

Finally, Peeta broke the tension.

“I’m Peeta, and this is Katniss,”

You recognized them, but honestly didn’t care. You knew Katniss could be a strategic killer but Peeta really didn’t have any skills other than his strength, and you figured he’d be an easy target.

“If we were under different circumstances, I’d say it’s nice to meet you. But I don’t think I should say that to someone I’ll be killing in a few days,” you laughed, the sickly-sweet one that you faked for the Capitol citizens. They loved you, more than they loved the star-crossed lovers. And you were not about to let two teenagers forget their place. 

Katniss’s face was hard, but Peeta broke an awkward laugh, eyes averting your gaze. Finnick was still smiling, trying hard to keep himself from laughing at your depreciating jokes.

You suddenly pointed to Katniss, a fire burning beneath your eyes.

“You’re the one who killed my Cato,” your voice was hard, almost… emotional?

Peeta’s eyes widening, remembering the boy from Two who almost killed them both. The boy you likely poured hours of training and dedication into.

“It was him or Peeta,” Katniss speaks, refusing to break your intense eye-contact.

You cock your head to the side, silently challenging her.

Cato was a strong warrior, fierce and powerful. You had high hopes he would win, unrelenting confidence in him. You mentored him the way Enobaria had mentored you… made him into a friend.

Looking back, you knew you had become too attached to the boy, but he was your shot of proving to everyone that you still had it in you. To not discount you.

Only other mentors would know the pain of becoming close with a tribute and then watching them die.

You didn’t respond to her, instead pursed your lips and held back a scoff, knowing he would’ve won if it weren’t for the Capitol’s adoration of the lovers from Twelve.

“I apologize for her crudeness. The games bring out her nasty side,” Finnick smiles, hiding a wince when you lodge your elbow into his ribs.

“Tiny but mighty!” He squeaks out, hand rubbing over where you just jammed him.

With one final rake over your unsuspecting body, Katniss grabbed Peeta and ushered him away. Much to your dismay, Finnick stayed next to you.

“I’m making us allies, Y/N. At least act a little civilized!” Finnick’s voice was low but stern, earning a scoff from you as a response.

“You think I’m going to fight alongside you?” You wonder aloud, narrowed eyes barring into his.

He looks slightly taken aback, eyes widening before he composes himself once again.

“Fine. I’ll see you later,” he brushes you off, walking away to his own Chariot.

You had your own friends in this game. Johanna, and… well that was really all. And you knew Johanna would want to work alongside Finnick as well.

You determined it wouldn’t be the end of the world, it would give you the ability to ensure that he wouldn’t be killed.

But that meant that you’d have to kill him in the end, right? There was only one winner, and you didn’t want to have to turn on your friends like you did the other Careers in your games.

The next day, during training, Katniss approached you alone.

She watched from behind as you practiced with Johanna, a sword in each hand blocking her repeated swings with her axe.

“No lover boy?” You asked, turning around and the swords lowering to your sides.

Johanna smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. She was one of the few who you didn’t dish out attitude to.

“Wanted to get to know you myself, Angel of death,” Katniss spoke, voice steady and unwavering.

You lightly tilted your head to the side, smirking at her use of your infamous nickname.

“Well here I am! An Angel in the flesh. What can I do for you, girl on fire?”

“If you teach me some of your combat tricks, I can teach you how to use a bow?”

You quirked a brow at her offer, Johanna stifling a laugh behind you.

“I know how to shoot a bow and arrow,” you replied. Katniss’s face didn’t falter, but she stayed silent for a moment before responding.

“Not like I do.”

You finally gave in, letting her instruct you how to properly pull the string back and which eye was most ideal for accuracy.

You worked with Katniss and found her company rather enjoyable. According to Enobaria, Katniss reminded her of you. Stubborn and combatant.

She was funny, usually without meaning to be, and as much as you hated to admit, your craftsmanship with the bow did increase. Even after just a few practices with her.

In the second day of training, you were teaching her how to effectively wield a knife, and where the best places to aim for were.

A few other tributes had gathered around to watch before you scared them off, mock-lunging at them from your spot on the mat.

“Making friends, are we?” Finnick’s voice cut through the sounds of Katniss’s grunts as you pinned her to the ground, snatching the blade from her hand.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, sticking out your hand for Katniss to take.

“Better than you, yes,” you smiled, hauling Katniss’s body up off the ground.

Katniss thanked you for the help and then excused herself, slinking back over to where Peeta stood with Mags.

“Finally taking my advice, it seems,” Finnick triumphantly smiled, watching you scowl.

“She wouldn’t make a bad accomplice,” you answer back, though slightly abashed.

“Mhm. Looks like we’re gonna be on the same team,” he picks his trident off the wall of weapons and you gesture for the mat you had just stepped off.

“Wanna go a round?”

You watched with annoyance as Cashmere and Gloss stood with Ceaser, fake crocodile tears down both their faces.

You agreed with all they were saying, but you couldn’t stand the faux-ness of everyone around you. You knew in a few moments it would be your turn, and you’d have to get up on that stage and act like the sweet little girl they all remembered you as. But you had changed, and all because of their stupid games.

“Everyone, please welcome our favorite angel, Y/N L/N of District Two!”

You plastered a grin on your face as you waltzed out, a large sun-inspired headpiece catching the attention of the audience.

Your halo, as they all would say.

You waved, laughing at every joke Ceasar cracked.

“We are so glad to have our Capitol’s Angel back, aren’t we everyone?!” Ceasar’s stark-white smile was bright and you mimicked it, blushing as the crowd cheered your name.

“Now, Y/N, it’s been seven years since you won your games. How do you think this time it will be different?”

You knew it was coming, the questions about your game. You hated speaking about it, but it was all a part of winning.

“Different? Oh, Ceasar, we both know this won’t be the last time you’re gonna see me!” You giggled, the crowd roaring with excitement over your confidence.

His laugh boomed through the auditorium and you smiled, having him eat right out of your palm.

He complimented your hair piece, noting that it was the perfect halo for the perfect Angel. You smiled, feigned innocence. Anything to get you sponsors.

“Our sweet Y/N, I don’t know how we’re going to let you go!”

“Well, you don’t have to!” You smiled again, the audience awe-ing.

“You all have been so gracious to me, so wonderful. I couldn’t have possibly been given a better life if it weren’t for you all,” you gestured out to the audience.

“You flatter us,”

“No, no. Just know that I’m not going by choice. And I would chose to stay with you all if I had the option.”

You shed a stray forced tear from your face, slightly smudging the makeup your prep-team had spent hours doing.

The audience loved it, continuing to play into your sweet facade.

How ironic. A sweet innocent angel who turns into a brutal murderer.

They roared as you stood up and gave them a small bow, before joining Brutus and the siblings up in the stands. The three of them offered you glares, knowing you had out-done them in sponsorships.

You watched impatiently as the other districts rolled in, holding in a gag when Finnick professed his love to a girl back in the districts.

The idea of him having a girl waiting back in Four caused your stomach to begin to hurt. How did he find someone else when your nights were spent alone in a cold bed?

You were jealous, though you wouldn’t admit it out loud. You were too stubborn for your own good.

You knew it wasn’t true though, just a ruse for possible sponsors and sympathy. You had done the same.

Finally, after Peeta had stepped down from the stage, you were all allowed to retreat back to your floors.

You laid in bed that night, every possible scenario wracking your mind. These weren’t gonna be like your games. There was no way.

These competitors, they were ruthless and driven, just like you. They had won once, just like you.

How the hell were you going to win this?

The first thing you noticed as you were brought to the surface was how hot it was. Blazing sun beating down onto your covered skin.

You didn’t let yourself focus on for long, and you looked to each side, Johanna on your left and the male tribute from Six on your right.

Johanna nodded to you, and you returned the gesture. She had snuck to your room last night and told you the plan. Haymitch had pitched it to her before the interviews, and your only job was to keep Katniss safe until Plutarch and Coin could retrieve all of you.

You took in your surroundings, lots of water — you were an excellent swimmer, you’d be fine —, a large cornucopia in the middle (easy enough if you’re fast), and dense forests with sand. The sand left a bad taste in your mouth, reminding you of your games, which had been in a desert.

You never wanted to see sand again in your life.

But you’d push through it, the idea of being rescued by Thirteen and finally getting to live in peace resonated in your mind, you knew who the real enemy was.

The sound of the familiar gong sounded out, and you dove into the water, moving your limbs as fast as you could.

You were small, but damn, you were fast.

You reached the Cornucopia in record time, lunging for your two swords, and then throwing a belt of knives around your body.

You turned, knife quickly entering the abdomen of the girl of Eight.

Gloss grinned at you from behind the girl, and you scowled back, running back down the middle to get to the sand.

You found Wiress in the middle of the rocks, and tugged her with you, finding Johanna and Beetee a little ways away.

“Let’s get as far as we can,” Johanna announced, axe glistening in her hand.

The four of you walked for what felt like hours, Beetee and Wiress whispering about something relating to technology that you didn’t care about.

Finally, once nightfall neared, you set up camp. Wiress and Beetee offered to stay up, and you and Johanna had no problem allowing that, drifting off to sleep against a tree.

The next day came quickly, the four of you trying to gain more ground and hopefully find Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta.

You had watched Mags’s name flash across the sky last night and felt your heart-strings tug, wishing you could console Finnick.

The landscape was vast and there was lots of vegetation, your sword becoming very useful to get through the thick plants.

You and Johanna walked behind the two tech-savvy’s, silence as the two of you tried your hardest not to trip.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” you groaned, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

Johanna hummed, but before she could respond, the sound of rain echoed around your bodies.

You cried in happiness, opening your mouth to take in the water.

As soon as the first drop hit your tongue you knew, eyes widening in realization.

“It’s blood! Run!” You screamed, tugging Beetee as you barreled to the ground, running through a thick fog of blood.

Who’s — you didn’t want to know.

You stumbled around in the dark, blood coating your entire body. You were choking on it, coughing and sputtering, not caring anymore if Beetee and Wiress were following.

Your foot caught on a root, and you went tumbling down, one sword being thrown to a side, out of your view.

The belt of knives sat snug around your waist, your other sword still in your palm.

You shrieked as you fell, Johanna’s voice distant as she called your name.

You hit a tree, back bracing most of the impact. You groaned, slightly pushing yourself up off the ground.

A hand gripped your bicep, tugging you off the ground. You weren’t entirely sure who it was, but they shoved your other sword back into your hand, and gave you a push forwards, encouraging you to keep moving forwards.

You obliged, using one sword as a brim to keep the blood rain from your eyes.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You now could hear Johanna more clearly, her hands grabbing you and pulling you into the sand, Beetee trailing out after you.

Johanna repeatedly slapped your back, helping you cough out all the blood. You were gagging on the air, a hand on Johanna’s shoulder to steady yourself.

She pulled you towards the beach, helping you sit down in the water.

“Tick tock, tick tock,” Wiress mumbled behind you two, wandering around on the sand.

“Nuts,” Johanna shook her head, cleaning off her face as you did the same.

You winced as you moved down to clean your legs, a large gash across your thigh.

“Ouch,” Johanna commented, noting the blood pouring out the wound.

“Guess I sliced it when I fell,” you bit your lip as you tried to clean the wound, using the sleeve of your top.

“Y/N! Johanna!”

Your head snapped up at the sound of Finnick’s voice, a relieved smile spreading across your face.

You ignored the pain searing through your leg as you rushed to him, hands wrapping around his torso.

He stumbled back in shock, but quickly wrapped his arms around you, asking what was wrong.

“Oh, Finn, I’m sorry about Mags,”

You pulled back to look at his face, eyes softening over the clear sleep-deprivation.

As you went to take a step backwards, you winced, Finnick’s hands on your biceps to keep you from toppling backwards.

“What happened?” He asked, eyes scouring your whole body.

You would’ve answered if you had the strength, but you fell forwards, straight into his chest, losing conscious.

Johanna helped Finnick prop you against the tree, and Katniss went to retrieve water while Peeta tried to fish for something to eat.

Finnick tried his hardest to clean the wound while you slept, prying all the information out of Johanna that she could.

You awoke to Katniss pouring water over your leg, grunting as you sat up, eyes screwing shut in pain.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, Katniss nodding before walking away to Peeta.

“You had me so worried,” Finnick shook his head, eyes not leaving your face.

“Just a cut, Finn. I’m alright,” you assure him, eyes soft as they meet his own.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” you add on, turning slightly so you’re facing him.

He shakes his head but you continue, “for all those awful things I said to you…. It wasn’t right.”

You knew this was being broadcasted for all the Districts to see, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that he knew how much you regretted your harsh words.

His hand comes up to cup your face, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry too, I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“We both did,” you lightly laugh, pulling a small smile from Finnick.

“I missed you,” he whispers, “you really scared me earlier. Thought I had lost you,”

You shook your head, leaning into his hand that still cupped your face.

“Could never lose me. Not now,”

You flutter your eyes closed as his lips meet yours. Your hands tangle around his neck and into his hair, both his hands on your cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

All the unhatched feelings and emotions, the words the two of you wished to declare to each other, were poured into this kiss.

It was slow, passionate. Picking right up where you left off those years ago.

“Alright, love birds! Time to hunt!” Johanna exclaims, the two of you pulling a part. A light blush dots your cheeks and Finnick is wearing one of his stupid shit-eating grins.

Finnick stands quickly, helping you up. The pain is mostly gone, just a light sting as you all make your way back to the Cornucopia.

And you know then, that you’d die for him. Over and over. You’d lose these games, lose the war. Just to ensure that he’d live.

**

#imagine #angst #maeve writes 🎀 #thg finnick #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x you #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fluff #the hunger games #catching fire

[maevesheart]

tolerate it

CORIOLANUS SNOW X CAPITOL!READER

note: hiiiii… guess i’m back from a brief hiatus… coriolanus snow has done something to me so i must write about it. this is set before the mentorships, reader is from a very prominent capitol family—also, i changed some things around and made felix’s father the president instead of his uncle. // also.. should i write more with this oc (sort of) and corio? i like the dynamic

summary: your relationship with felix ravinstill is anything but satisfying. thus, when you find yourself intoxicated and in a room with the ever-charming coriolanus snow, tensions run high.

wc: 5.4k

tw: alcohol, reader being drunk, cheating… oh! and of course, smut ;))))

The President’s Palace was filled with only the most prestigious and wealthy people that occupied the capitol.

You entered with Felix, your arm, adorned with only the finest gems in all of Panem, was linked tightly through his, as he lead you through the ornate doors into the ballroom.

The two of you had been together for a little over 6 months now, and to say the relationship was running its course was an understatement, to say the least.

You hated him, to put it simply.

He was arrogant, and displayed you like a shining new toy that no one else could touch.

How dare he! You seethed with anger for him. Your mother was the heiress of the Cardew fortune, spanning back decades of successful bankers. Livia, your cousin, was wealthy as well, but when your mother’s inheritance collided with your fathers, there was no comparison.

Your father, Hyades Mars, was the wealthiest man in all of Panem. Serbo Plinth could not even compare.

The Mars fortune could be attributed to both a long history and incredible reputation in the Panem military, and the production of precious metals that the country needed so badly.

Your ancestors had begun Mars Manufacturing, the biggest ore manufacturers in all of Panem. When the rebellion occurred, they moved to gun and bomb production, leading President Ravinstill to forever be in the debt of your family.

After all, Mars bombs had won the war.

It was baffling to you how Felix treated you like a mere object, nothing more.

You were far more intelligent, the most beautiful girl in all of Panem, and the labeled “Panem Princess”. Felix was a fool.

However, for your family’s sake, you must play the part. Or your father would die of embarrassment.

You plastered the sweetest smile onto your lips, and let Felix parade you around the room. You greeted the Cranes and Flickermans, making small talk with them before you spotted your mother and father speaking with your uncle in the center of the room.

Ushering a quick goodbye to the guests, and assuring Felix you’d be right back, you rushed for your family.

“Daddy,” you placed a peck on your fathers cheek as he placed a hand on your back.

“Hello, shining star.” His nickname for you caused your cheeks to redden, the pounds of makeup on your face covering the blush.

The Mars were the brightest stars in the entirety of Panem. And your father would never let you or your siblings forget it.

You greeted your mother, and then your Uncle Heracles, your father’s only sibling.

A quick kiss and hug, and then two of you were deep in conversation. Heracles was always your favorite. He never married, so all his money was spent on you and your siblings.

Beautiful jewelry, bags, clothing, anything you could dream of. He loved you as his own.

You threw a quick glance behind your shoulder, meeting the similar eyes that bore the same color as your own.

Heracles and you parents gently smiled as they watched your face take over with recognition.

“Percy?” You questioned, a beaming smile now on your lips.

You rushed away from your family, and straight into the arms of your elder brother, Perseus Mars.

“I’ve missed you dearly, little star,” he chuckled as you slammed yourself into him.

You hadn’t seen Percy in over a year. He joined the military right when he graduated from the Academy, and quickly climbed the ranks. He now bore the responsibility of Major, touring around the country and serving the capitol.

Every male in your family before him had done his duty in the military, but never rose as quickly as Percy. You were filled with pride.

“Well you look just beautiful, shining star.” Percy compliments you, making you do a little twirl.

He was right, you looked marvelous.

Your mother had a custom ruby red dress made for this occasion. It was strapless, and showed your chest off perfectly. It was a thick yet flowing material, that fell to the floor. A long slit accompanied the left side, leaving little to the imagination.

You paired the gorgeous dress with black heels, and a low updo sat on the nape of your neck. Your makeup was simple and timeless, accentuating your striking eyes and full lips. You couldn’t look more beautiful if you tried.

“How has it been in the districts? I cant imagine it’s been nice,” you ask, leading him to dive into a long speech about how it’s brought him wisdom beyond his years.

“Let’s get a drink, yes?” Percy finishes, linking your arm through his. He leads you to the ornate bar, and the two of you each receive a China glass, filled with shining red liquid.

You bring the concoction to your lips, and swallow down the rich taste of cherries. As obnoxious as the Ravinstills were, they sure knew how to throw a party.

Suddenly, Persephone, your older sister and Percy’s twin, appeared in front of the both of you.

Her hair was now suddenly pink, a different shade than from the last time you saw her.

Persephone had a strange fixation with constantly changing her appearance; your mother blamed it on her eclectic boss and vibrant coworker: Fabricia Whatnot and Tigris Snow.

“Hello, Perse.” Persephone smiles, giving Percy a hug.

“Hello back, Perse.” He smiles, rubbing her back. The two of them called each other Perse, crediting their shared names of two famous Greek heroes.

Your father loved mythology, and found it only appropriate to have children named after his favorite hero and goddess.

As your siblings fell into animated conversation, you excused yourself and made your way back to Felix.

He was now with his father, his head thrown back in laughter.

You placed your hand delicately on his back, alerting him of your presence.

“Oh, hello, darling,” he smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You smiled and curtsied to the President, before he took your small hand and brought it up to his mouth, leaving a haste kiss.

“Hello, Miss Mars. Pleasure to see you,”

“Pleasure is all mine, Mister President.” You smile.

The three of you fall into easy conversation. Felix and you soon break free, making your rounds to the many other guests, and friends from the Academy.

Soon the familiar sound of Panem’s Waltz began to play throughout the large room, and Felix lead you into the middle of the dance floor, taking your hand into his.

The two of you lead the waltz, other young couples joining in as the adults watching with pride blossoming onto their faces.

You wished the floor would swallow you whole.

Felix aggressively twirled you around the room, his hand rough and burning through your dress, and his other hand squeezing the life out of yours.

He spun you around and around, not delicately like Percy or even Festus Creed would’ve done.

Your eyes quickly met with Arachne’s, who gave you a solemn nod, knowing how much you hated him. You frowned back, and she mouthed “dance”, to encourage you to take lead and show him who was boss.

You quickly moved your feet in the motion of the foxtrot, causing Felix to follow your lead. The other couples soon followed, Arachne sending you a beaming smile.

Felix struggled to follow your lead, he never quite got the hang of any dance other than the waltz, and you knew this would cause an argument as his jaw tightened, and slightly stuck out his foot, sending you stumbling into his arms.

A smug smirk took over his features as you gave him a death stare, pulling yourself back into place and straightening your dress.

The other couples continues to dance while the two of you had a staring contest, before you shoved him slightly and went to leave the dance floor.

His hand harshly grabbed your arm, and pulled you back into his chest. Before you could comprehend it, you shoved his chest, and caught the attention of the entire room.

“Please excuse us, I’m afraid Miss Mars has had one too many drinks,” he laughed, causing the rest of the room to join in, soon making you into a joke.

You knew they weren’t truly laughing, having all drank a little too much themselves, but you refused to let Felix make you into a fool.

“I’ve just got to freshen up in the bathroom is all. I’ll be back momentarily. The foxtrot was never my best anyhow,” you smiled your sickly sweet grin, everyone believing the words falling from your tongue.

“Now, excuse you,” you shoved past Felix, letting your shoulder hit his as you passed him.

You were left with an awful taste in your mouth.

You grabbed a glass of something on your way out, tipping the glass back to empty all of the liquid into your throat.

What you failed to notice was the script Morphling enhanced written on the Avox’s tray.

You immediately felt calmer, the tension leaving your body.

After you finished the glass, you decided that was enough, and made your way through the crowds, needing some fresh air.

You found yourself in a deserted hall, and tears soon found themselves in your eyes. You told yourself to keep it in, but the mix of anger and morphling caused the hot salty tears to pour out of you.

You wailed, and slapped a hand across your mouth to stop the sound of more, eyes darting throughout the hall to make sure no one saw you.

The hall was empty, thank Heavensbee, and you leaned your head back against the portrait of some past Panem military leader, a string of tears passing down your cheeks.

Felix treated you like a fucking doll, and you weren’t some porcelain plaything that if he let go of would smash into millions of pieces.

You were a lady, a strong, beautiful, intelligent lady, who would not be defined by an ignorant, stupid, man-child who didn’t know his right foot from his left.

With that, you pushed off the wall, and headed towards the south end of the hall, which held two large doors that lead straight to the Royal Garden.

You exited to the garden, beautiful flowers lit by the light coming from the ball room. A small bench sat between the rows of colorful exotic plants.

A shadowed figure was hunched on this said bench, elbows on his knees and head in his palms.

You stumbled on your way over to him, picking up your flowing dark red dress to get to this figure quicker.

As you get closer, you notice the sharp black tuxedo and blonde hair. Immediate dread overtakes your body and you stop dead.

Coriolanus Snow.

Of fucking course. You scoff and let go of your dress. Coriolanus looks up, eyes widening as he takes in your distressed figure.

You and Coriolanus were once friends, but his ego got in the way and you found yourself parting ways from him. Sure, he used to be a sweet boy, but now his ego was as tall as he was, and his last name gave him power others could only dream of.

“Y/N Mars.” Coriolanus nodded, standing up and adjusting his cuff links.

“Coriolanus. Long time no see,” you rolled your eyes, morphling continuing to make your blood hot and coursing.

“Enjoying your party?” He asked, venom laced within his words.

You scowled. “My party? Funny.”

“Oh you don’t know? Felix plans on proposing. I supposed six months is the new six years,” a smirk adorned Coriolanus’s face as he watches yours twist with anger and confusion.

“Wha-… Why?” You spurt out. Suddenly you felt extremely sober.

“I couldn’t guess either. Who would want to marry you?” His words were bullets, hitting you right in the chest.

You couldn’t believe it. But as you thought into the night more, it all made perfect sense. Percy coming back from active duty, all of Panem’s most respectable being there, and Felix showing you off to everyone. He had never been that attached to your hip before.

Tears threatened to slip once more, the last thing you wished to do was marry Felix Ravinstill, but you knew once he was down on that knee, your father’s eyes would bore into yours. You wouldn’t have the heart to let him down.

Desperately wishing to change the subject, you placed your head up high and made eye contact once more with the mean boy in front of you.

“Why were you out here all alone, Coriolanus?”

Was that a hint of… of worry across your face? No, it couldn’t be, Coriolanus thought.

He found himself taken aback by your worried tone and soft eyes after he had repeatedly thrown insults your way.

“Some fresh air, that’s all,” he clears his throat, trying his best to suppress his feelings he had fought for so long.

Insulting you, hiding away. That was all he could do. He had be mean to you your entire life, teasing you, stealing your first kiss on a “dare”. He had never once been nice.

But you were Panem’s Princess, and he could not be in love with Panem’s Princess, so he shoved down his feelings and refused to admit them. After all, why would a rich girl like you be with a poor boy like him?

“I haven’t seen you once tonight. It’s freezing out here, come inside and get some warmth,” you take a step closer to him, causing him to sit up straighter on the bench.

Why were you acting like you cared? Did you know his secret? Or did you truly care? Were his feelings mutual?

“You must have been too preoccupied with Mister President Junior to notice my presence. Naturally, we don’t like each other.”

His statement caused you to take a step backwards. The cold radiated off his skin.

You had deep feelings for Coriolanus, and you assumed he knew. You had only given him your first kiss years ago, just to find out it was a dare from Clemensia.

It shattered your little heart, and you had sworn him off since that dreadful night.

So, to find him so cold and mean when you were so vulnerable, it felt like that night when you were 13 all over again.

It seemed Coriolanus had a specific talent for breaking your heart.

“Alright then. You can be miserable by yourself, Snow. All I’ve done is try to help.” You sniffled, turning brisk on your heel and marching back to the doors you had came out from.

Coriolanus leaned slightly back, wondering what he had just done.

The girl he had been pawning over for years came outside and was trying to comfort him, how could he have been so stupid as to turn you away?

On your solemn walk back through the hallway, you figured Felix could be a good husband. The future president of Panem, and not terribly unattractive.

But deep down, your heart yearned for a certain boy with blue eyes and pale hair, a certain boy who had crushed your heart countless times.

Instead of returning to the ballroom, you headed up the large marble staircase, and straight to the first bedroom.

You threw yourself onto the ornate golden bed, undoing your elaborate bun from the nape of your neck.

Your hair flowed down your back, and you stood in front of the mirror, wiping below your eyes. No one could see you like this.

An abrupt knock came from the other side of the door, and your head snapped.

Surely no one had seen you go upstairs. And there was absolutely no way Coriolanus had followed you.

Opening the door, the familiar face from the garden stood in front of you, eyebrows laced and fret covering his face.

“Coriolanus?” You whispered, the tears once more threatening to spill.

“Please, I am not in the mood.” He felt the crack in your voice deep in his core, and felt a pit begin to form in his stomach.

“Can I come in?” He whispered. You stepped aside and his broad frame crossed the floorboards onto the lush green carpet you stood atop.

“What is it now? Come to insult my dress as well? Tell me that my makeup has smeared?” You sat on the edge of the bed, and placed your face in your hands.

Coriolanus stood in silence for a few moments, then he got onto his knees before you and gently moved your hands from your face.

His fingertips gently traced the sides of your cheeks as they moved your delicate hands, and then he cupped your left cheek and you found yourself leaning in.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never been more sorry for something in my life.” His apology surprised you, and your eyes went wide.

“It’s alright, nothing I’m not used to with you,” you mustered a slight smile.

“No, it’s not alright. I’ve been a fool, Y/N.” Your eyes began to narrow, was this another aspect of his cruel games?

“I’ve been a fool for a long time. Trying to convince myself that I don’t love you. But the harder I try to fight my feelings, the harder they come back and burst into my heart. I love you more than a man could ever love a woman. And I’ve been terrible to you, utterly awful. And you deserve someone who treats you the right way, and I know that Felix cannot love you the way I can. Felix could never give you the things I could, he could never make you feel things I can make you feel.” Coriolanus is stroking your face, his eyes soft and glossy.

You want to believe him, you truly do, but he has never given you a reason to.

You brush his hand away from your face.

“Coriolanus Snow. You have tormented me for too long, knowing my feelings for you. You take, and take, and take, and I have nothing left. Felix, sure he’s not the brightest nor the most doting, but he makes a suitable choice at this point. I haven’t got anything left to give to you. So please, leave me alone.”

You go to stand up, but Coriolanus is pushing you back down.

“Cant you see, I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember!”

“You’ve never given me a reason to believe that, Coriolanus!”

The two of you were yelling at this point, and you were very thankful for the loud music down below.

“I know, I know. And I’m so deeply sorry. I should’ve been better, I know.”

“Yes, you should have. And you cannot have me just because you decided ten minutes ago that I was suddenly appealing.”

“You’ve always been beautiful, Y/N.”

You shake your head, looking down to the ground.

“Please, give me a chance. Just one. I won’t mess it up.”

You look up and meet his eyes. You debate his plea in your head.

You could give him a chance and dump Felix, a win-win. But what happens if he goes back to his old ways and hurts you again. He would make a fool of you and there’s no way you could ever beg Felix to take you back.

Before your mind can decide, your heart picks.

“Alright. But just one. No other chances.”

“No other chances. I love you, Y/N.”

You cant stop yourself from smiling, truly believing his words this time. “I love you, Coriolanus.”

A grin splays across his face and he places his hands on either side of your face, delicately tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“May I kiss you?” A small nod is all you offer before his lips come crashing down onto yours, feeling the exact way they did 5 years ago when the two of you sat in a dark closet.

His lips are cold, but they melt together with your warm ones. The kiss is passionate and slow, the both of you taking your time, cherishing the moment.

Soon, he is standing and pushing you back onto the bed, your head lightly hitting the pillow.

The kiss turns rushed and heated, the both of you breathing heavily. Your hand moves from his bicep to his hair, tugging, earning a groan from deep inside his throat.

He slots his legs between yours, and your thighs latch onto his sides.

You move your hands down to his shoulders, digging deep into his back, feeling the tough muscles contract beneath your perfectly polished red nails.

He pulls back briefly, with lust blown pupils. You assume yours look the same.

He takes your hand and examines the nails, the finest ruby ring around your middle finger, with diamonds forming a crown.

He brings your hand up to his mouth and sucks on your middle finger and ring finger, before pulling them back.

You watch with big eyes and a slightly open mouth, feeling your panties pool down below.

“I’ve only ever dreamt of having you like this.”

You don’t respond, just swallowing roughly.

He moves back to your lips, but only briefly, then moves down your neck, taking his time leaving marks. You’re sure you’ll need extra concealer and powder in the morning, but that is a worry for later.

The only thing you can focus on now is the way his lips feel against your sensitive skin.

He looks up while sucking your collarbone, his eyes dark and seductive. He had you exactly where he wanted, writhing beneath him.

His tongue finds its way down your cleavage, pecking the visible skin. “Such a pretty dress,” he whispers, you silently begging him to continue.

He’s soon shrugging off his tuxedo coat and undoing his bow tie.

You sit up and try to unzip the back of the dress, silently struggling.

He unbuttons his white collared shirt and throws it onto the ground before moving to help you, sliding down the zipper with ease.

He rips the dress down your body, throwing it to the floor. He sits up on his knees and assesses your whole body, suddenly bulging against his pants as he takes in your uncovered breasts.

“No bra? Naughty girl,” he tsks, placing his hands on either side of your waist.

The only part of your body covered is your genitals, a simple black floral lace thong sitting on your hips.

You start to wiggle, desperate for him to do something again.

“Use your words, pretty girl.” He taunts, running a finger across the band of your panties.

“Please,” you whisper, taking his hands into yours.

“Anything for you, my love, tell me what you want,” he leaves a quick kiss to your lips, pulling back to allow you to answer.

“Your mouth.” You’ve never given requests like this before. Ha! You’ve never even been listened to during your few times with Felix. He always had you go down on him or be on top. You had never been eaten out before, and you thought there was no better person than Coriolanus.

A smirk overtakes Coriolanus’s face as he realizes you’ve never had someone go down on you before. “Of course, love.” He shuffles down the bed, laying on his stomach.

You sit up on your elbows to get a better view of him, watching with your breath held as he pulls down your thong with his teeth.

You could melt on the spot.

He throws the panties somewhere over his shoulder, and begins to kiss the inside of each your thighs, taking his sweet time.

“Please, Coryo,” you pant, your chest rising quickly.

Before you even have a chance to close your mouth, he is on your skin, sucking on your clit. The feeling is unbelievable and you throw your head back in pleasure.

His tongue glides between your folds, exploring wildly as you try your hardest not to scream out in pleasure.

He continues to suck, and sticks a finger in while you’re mid-moan, leading to a loud, “Oh, Coryo,” falling from your parted lips.

He smirks against your swollen clit, adding a second finger, pumping at an almost impossible speed.

You feel the pit in your stomach start to come undone and once he feels you begin to wiggle he knows you’re close.

“C’mon, princess,” he urges in a hoarse whisper, adding a third finger.

You’re undone in seconds, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from screaming his name for all of Panem to hear.

He laps up everything you give, and sticks his fingers into his mouth to ducks off your juices.

His legs are back in between yours, swollen lips quickly reattaching to yours.

He wipes the few stray tears that fell, a sense of pride blossoming in his chest, knowing he was the first man to make you feel that way.

“Coryo, let me please you,” you beg, hands fumbling as you undo his belt and begin to pull down his velvet dress pants.

“Next time. I want to focus on you,” he simply states and your heart soars, no man has ever said that to you, especially in these circumstances.

“I need to feel you, Y/N,” he simply states, hands on your hips.

You nod, ready to feel him inside you. You can only imagine how good it will feel.

“Use your words, baby. I need verbal confirmation,”

“Please, Coriolanus, I need you,” you grab his face, pulling it back down to meet yours. You then move your hands down to his boxers, the both of you pulling them down and flinging them off to join your panties.

His impressive length bounces back, standing straight up against his stomach. Your eyes widen with shock and your clit throbs imagining it inside of you.

Felix is nothing compared to Coryo.

“You’re so big,” you mumble, likely the alcohol from earlier speaking.

He chuckles at your comment, watching you size him up. “Don’t worry, pretty thing, I’ll fit,” he smirks, cupping your face once again.

He lines himself up with your slick folds, bringing your hands down to push himself in.

His large hands cover your small ones, and he watches your face as he slowly pushes in.

Your face first twists with pain and he immediately halts his movements, beginning to pull out before you urge him to continue.

“No, no, it feels good,” you whisper, lightly hissing.

“Just tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop immediately,” he reassures, pushing his full length in.

You gasp as he fills you up, your tight folds holding his cock so well, Coryo’s head falls back in pleasure, a light groan falling from his lips.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whimpers, going down onto his elbows so he can be closer to you.

“I love you,” he kisses the corner of your mouth before pulling out and going right back in, your hands finding his back.

“Fuck, Coryo, I love—“ a moan interrupts your sentence as he roughly pushes his full length in at once, filling you up in ways you’d never imagined.

He continues to flick his hips into yours, your ankles crossing behind his back, pulling him even closer to your body. The both of you are panting and sweating, chests rising into each other.

Your body trembles in indescribable pleasure as he continues thrusting in at an incredible pace, your head thrown back against the pillow and your eyes closed.

You scream out, his hand slapping down over your mouth to keep you quiet. This turns you on even more, and you begin to move your hips with his, allowing him to push in even deeper.

The slapping of skin and your shared groans fill the air, and Coryo’s lips find your sweet spot against your neck, filling you with even more pleasure.

“Coryo,” you moan, fingernails scratching down his back.

Somehow, his thrusts get harder and faster, pounding into you like a fuck doll he couldn’t get enough of. Arousal drips out of you, and Coryo begins to pull all the out before slamming right back in.

You felt like you were going to explode from pure bliss, the feeling of Coryo’s lips on yours, his strong hands holding you in place, and the feeling of his cock deep inside your pulsing walls.

You feel the pit begin to form again, and Coryo knows you’re close when you begin to tighten around him, and you feel his thrusts get sloppier.

His cock twitches as you whimper underneath him, and he grunts, “I’m close, princess,”

“Me too, Coryo,” you moan, hands gripping his biceps.

With a final thrust, the both of you come undone together, Coryo collapsing onto your chest.

You kiss the side of his face, weakly smiling as his eyes meet yours.

He leaves a kiss to your lips before pushing himself off the bed and going into the en-suite bathroom, quickly running a wash cloth under water and coming back.

He wipes it down your legs and over your privates, kissing your knees as he does so.

He lays back down with you, stroking your face and examining the features he’s loved forever.

“You are beautiful,” he smiles, brushing your hair back.

You blush, shaking your head, “I’m probably a mess right now,”.

“Never.” He kisses your forehead and sits up, “but we do have to go back down there.”

You groan with the realization, quickly being snapped out of your bliss bubble with Coriolanus.

He helps you off the bed, steadying your hips. You assure him that you can walk, and he helps you slip into your dress and heels.

He pulls back on his clothing as you try your best to salvage whats left of your makeup in the bathroom.

“I’m ending it with him when we get down there.” You take Coryo’s hand, lacing it within yours.

“Don’t leave my side, please,” you beg.

“I would never.” He reassures you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

The two of you quietly exit the room, slowly descending the stairs.

You don’t even know how long you’ve been up there, or if the party is still going on.

The loud music assures you that it is, and Coryo stands directly behind you as you enter the ballroom, all eyes falling onto you two.

You catch Percy’s eye first, his face twisted with confusion. Persephone is behind him next to Tigris, the two of them size both of you up, worry evident in their features.

Felix makes his way up to you, and the Capitol citizens act as if they aren’t watching any more, despite the stolen glances and almost hushed conversations.

“Y/N. Where were you,” Felix grips your arm harshly, and you let out a whimper.

Coryo is between the two of you in seconds, his brooding frame easily towering over Felix’s cowering body.

“Don’t touch her.” He threatens, eyes narrowed.

He knows he is teetering in dangerous water. The Snow’s are almost nothing, and the Ravinstills rule all of Panem. Felix could have him dead with the snap of his fingers.

But all Felix does is laugh, brushing Coryo off.

“She is my girlfriend, Coriolanus, don’t overstep now,” Felix chuckles, shaking his head.

“Not anymore,” you say loudly from behind Coryo, who slightly shifts to let you have access to Felix.

Felix gives you a confused look, raising his eyebrow.

“Felix, I cannot be with you anymore. You treat me as if I am a porcelain doll who is only for you to show off. I am a woman, and I am no one’s to parade around.” You say, the large room dead silent.

Your father grins in the back, Uncle Heracles joining. Percy is as well, Pride swelling for his baby sister.

“What?” Felix chokes out, looking as if he’s seen a ghost.

“You heard me loud and clear. It’s done. And I will be leaving now.” You hold your chin up high, and march out, passing President Ravinstill.

You give him a small nod, thanking him once again for having you.

Coriolanus trails you, and you are sure everyone must suspect what happened upstairs. But that doesn’t matter to you at all in that moment.

As soon as the two of you are outside the Palace, and in one of the carriages, Coryo is holding your hand, and kissing it endlessly.

“I’m very proud of you, my love.” He says, and you tuck yourself into his side. “I’m happy it’s done. After all, I’ve got my Coriolanus Snow now, don’t I?” You ask, earning a chuckle from the man you love and a giggle from your own lips.

*

#imagine #angst #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #corio snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x y/n #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #panem #smut #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus snow x reader #maeve writes 🎀

[maevesheart]

FOOLS - PART II

CORIOLANUS SNOW X CAPITOL!READER

note: continuing to use the mars family name for reader, but different storyline than tolerate it. i recommend listening to fleetwood mac’s “storms” while reading :)

PART I // PART II // PART III

summary: only fools would fall for coriolanus snow, and you’re the biggest fool of them all.

wc: 7.5k (she’s a long one)

tw: smut, pet names, curse words

Coriolanus had kept his promise, and that next morning, you awoke to the sounds of Coryo’s small snores and the chirping of birds outside. 

You raked your nails through his soft curls, now a little messy from his deep slumber. He lightly stirred, and you giggled, he was so pretty with half his face smashed into your pillow, back to the ceiling and one arm tucked securely around your waist. You could really get used to this. 

“A photo will last longer,” Coryo’s hoarse voice cuts through the silence, catching you staring at him. “You’re just so pretty,” you smile, “how could I not stare?”

He gives your hip a tight squeeze, causing you to giggle. 

“Goodmorning, gorgeous,” he murmurs, sitting up and placing a kiss on your temple. 

“Goodmorning,” you chirp back, watching as he rises from the bed, removing his top. He throws it to the floor, and then pulls off his socks, going for his pants next. 

“Woah, steady tiger!” you joke, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Just going to shower. Would love if you’d join me,” he smirks, lust dripping from his words. 

“Normally you know I wouldn’t decline, but we have to be down at the Academy at 9… or well, you have to be at the Academy…” your situation still hadn’t completely settled yet, you were disappointed to be taken out of the competition, but you couldn’t fathom meeting an end like Arachne’s. 

Coryo nods, “I’m sorry, darling. I’ll win for you,” he winks, opening your en-suite bathroom door and stepping into the room. 

You decide you’ll go get him a clean uniform from your elder brother, Perseus’s, room; he graduated two years ago, so his uniform was still in crisp condition, and he and Coryo shared the same muscular, broad frame. 

Percy was a Major in the Peacekeepers, currently probably keeping people in line in District 1. He hadn’t been home since his graduation two years ago, except for the brief visits during the holidays or someone’s birthday. Duty calls, as your father would proudly claim when describing Percy. 

It was still early, but you knew that your father was awake, no doubt. Probably sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and the newspaper in his hands. 

Luckily for you, Percy’s room was directly across the hallway from yours, a straight-shot. 

You scurried across, shuffling around in his closet, the bright red uniform sticking out compared to his rather black and blue wardrobe. 

Percy was a tad bit taller than Coryo, but it would do for one day. Coryo didn’t have time to go home, and if he walked down wearing an Academy uniform, your father was sure to believe he arrived this morning. He wouldn’t be too pleased knowing he spent the night. 

You pulled the uniform off its respected hanger, took a pair of socks, and then some dress shoes from the floor of his closet. Percy could spare a pair, after all, he had about 20 pairs of identical shoes. 

You opened his door, ready to exit the room, looking up to meet the suspicious eyes of your older sister, Persephone. 

Where you and Percy were close and told each other almost everything, you and Persephone were distant and hardly trusted each other. Never since she ratted you out years ago for hiding a bottle of posca under your bed. 

“Why were you in Percy’s room?” she questions, words like daggers. 

You roll your eyes, but fear begins to creep into your body. 

You have the uniform in your arm which is hidden by Percy’s door, the only thing visible are the extra pair of dress shoes, hanging from your hand. 

“Why do you have his shoes?” she sneers, finally noticing the footwear. 

You ignore her, finally pushing past, the uniform meeting her gaze. Her eyes narrow, trying to connect the dots on why you’d need a male’s Academy Uniform. 

“I’m going to cut up the fabric and make some bows, you know I need some new ones. And I’m going to mail the shoes to Percy, he wrote to me requesting them,” the lies were mediocre, at best. You had more than enough money to go out and buy some new bows, and you have Avoxes who could easily make them for you. For the shoes, Percy didn’t wear shoes other than the ones that paired with his uniform, but Persephone never paid enough attention to him to know that.

You get lucky, and Persephone doesn’t question you further, nose up in the air as she continues down the hall, the sound of her loafers echoing off the walls as she continues down the hall.

Finally back in the safety of your four walls, you let out a sigh of relief, throwing the clothing onto the now made bed, and the shoes onto the floor. 

The Avoxes must have come in while you were gone. You were suddenly very thankful that they couldn’t talk, meaning they wouldn’t be able to snitch. 

You hear the shower turn off, the cease of the sound of water. Coryo comes out next, just a towel tied around his waist. You have to keep yourself back from drooling, watching water droplets fall down his chest. 

His hand rakes through his hair, his curls dripping water onto your expensive rug. 

“I got you one of Percy’s old uniforms, and some shoes,” you explain, bashfully, feeling his eyes all over your body. 

You were dressed in your silk pajamas from last night, a rose-pink tank top and little shorts, suddenly feeling very exposed under Coryo’s gaze. 

“Quick, dress. Cook made breakfast, you can get something before you have to leave for the Academy,” you usher him towards the outfit, picking up his clothing from before, quickly bringing them to the laundry basket in your closet. 

“I’ll have them washed and bring them to you later, and don’t worry about returning the uniform or shoes,” you throw a smile over your shoulder at him, flipping through your clothing options for the day. 

“Y/N, I will return them,” he shakes his head. You know he hates to accept help, but you love him. And when you love someone, you help them. 

“Seriously, Coryo. Percy is gone, and he’s graduated, so it's not like he needs it anyways. He has plenty of shoes, he won’t miss one pair,”

Coryo looks down at the shoes, last season's best design, straight out of the box it seems. To most people, your family's money would be intimidating, but not to Coriolanus. He strived to be able to support you the way your father does, to be able to buy you the things that your father buys you now.  

Not willing to press the issue further, he pulls on the outfit, fitting relatively perfect except for the extra length in the sleeves and pants, but no one will notice. He slips on the fresh socks and Percy’s fine shoes, fitting like a glove. 

You pull on a simple pair of white form-fitting pants, a white long-sleeve blouse that has a large bow in the front, and some dark navy-blue pumps that accentuate your long legs. 

Coryo’s eyes take over your now more conservatively-dressed body, pausing to stare at the way the slightly-too-tight pants hug the curves of your ass perfectly, and the top of your cleavage that peeks out in the opening of the bow. 

“Alright, you go down first, that way my father won’t assume you’ve been up here this whole time,” 

Coryo smirks while nodding, he wants everyone to know you’re his, but the public displays will have to wait until you’re out of your penthouse. 

Coryo leaves, giving you a quick kiss to your lips before exiting. 

After a few seconds, you follow suite, hearing the conversation flowing from the kitchen.

Coryo is standing next to the kitchen table when you enter, hand on his chest as he laughs over one of your fathers (probably not very funny) jokes. 

You walk over, placing your hand on the outside of Coryo’s arm, leaning down to peck your father’s cheek. 

“Goodmorning, shining star. Did you sleep well?” he asks, taking a quick sip from his cup of coffee. 

“Always do, daddy. Good morning to you as well, Coriolanus,” you smile, catching the glint in Coryo’s eye as he nods back to you. 

“Coriolanus here was just telling us how he stopped by say good morning, darling. How caring,” your mother swoons, placing her hands over her heart.

“That is very considerate, thank you,” you look back to him, hand still on his arm. 

Persephone, sat in between your mother and father, looks down to where the two of you are touching, eyes flitting down to see Percy’s old shoes on Coriolanus’s feet, and connecting the dots as to why you really needed his old uniform. 

She catches your eye, and shakes her head, and you know you’re caught. But you’re not scared of her, not anymore. You slightly lift your head, showing your defiance. 

“Alright, I’m going to run some errands and go find a dress for the opera later, daddy,” 

“Okay, darling. Once again, it was splendid to see you, young Snow.” 

Coriolanus returns the compliment, following you as you head for the front coat closet, retrieving your old fox fur coat, the sharp orange contrasting with the dark blue in your shoes. You throw your navy bag over your shoulder and guester for Coryo to exit first, extending your hand to the door. 

“Y/N!” Persephone is marching down the hall. You urge Coryo to continue, assuring him that you’ll be right behind him. 

“Are you mad?” she sneers, face mere inches away from your own. 

“What are you on about now, Persephone?” you roll your eyes, ready to escape from your neurotic sister. 

“I will play dumb this one time, Y/N. But I know the Snow family just as well as you do. And Coriolanus Snow is a cunning, deceitful boy. Only a fool would allow themselves to fall for him, let alone help him.” she shook her head, placing a hand tenderly on your shoulder. 

“Don’t be a fool, Y/N,” 

You shoved her hand away, taking a step back away from her. 

“You just don’t know him the way I do, Persephone. Mind your own business.” 

With that, you turned on your heel, slamming the front door behind you.

The bell rings out as you enter Fabricia Whatnot’s shop, Tigris quickly pulling you into her arms. 

You had asked her to design your dress, knowing there was no one more suited for the job than Tigris Snow. 

“Oh, Y/N, you are just going to play so beautifully! I’ve been so excited all week, telling all the clients how lucky I am to know the artist herself!”

You blushed, shaking your head. “You flatter me,” 

She tuts, pulling you over to the small platform, gesturing for you to stand up on it, and slip on the dress hanging in front of the mirror. 

It was beautiful, long and a deep scarlet red. It was sleeveless, and a ballgown, large billows of fabric falling out from the cinched waist. A large bow sat at the back, right on your waist and above your bum, the tails of the bow flowing down to the floor, creating a train. Bows were your signature touch on every item you wore, you made sure of it. 

“Oh, Tigris,” you murmured as she helped you step into the dress, pulling it up your perfectly sculpted curves. 

She smiled, zipping up the backs, the hidden corset within the dress hugging you tight, accentuating your hips and waist. It billowed out perfectly, showcasing your cleavage strategically, leaving enough to the imagination while showing off what you were assessed with. The dress glimmered in the bright lights of the shop, making you shine like a star. 

Once she was satisfied with her work, Tigris pulled back, hands covering her mouth in awe. 

“You look like a princess,” she complimented, watching you twist and turn in the mirror, smiling as you took yourself in. 

“You are fabulous, Tigris. This dress is everything I wanted and more,” you pull her in for a hug, endless thanks falling from your lips. 

She helps you out of the design, and packs it into a gown bag for you to bring home. 

As you pay for the dress, she makes light conversation, asking, “Have you seen Coryo recently? He disappeared last night to check on Lucy Gray and hasn’t returned home since.” 

You feel like you’ve been hit by a rebel bomb when the words leave her mouth, brain failing to place the pieces together. 

Did he see her before he came to you? Or did he once again sneak from your bed to visit his pitiful songbird? 

You composed yourself, not willing to be embarrassed in front of his cousin. 

“I walked him to the Academy this morning, and then made my way over here. He seemed perfectly normal,” you stated, when deep down you wanted to rip all of the curls off of his perfect head. 

Tigris sighs in relief, handing you the gown bag. 

“I’ll see you later. You’ll perform wonderfully, I know it,” you smile at her compliment, bidding goodbye, while a silent fire rages within your belly. 

The ride home is short, and soon you’re hanging up the marvelous dress in your walk-in closet, bare feet against the cold marble tiles. 

For your recital, you had decided on one simply instrumental piece, and then one where you sang. You were nervous, though you had been practicing for ages. You had sang while playing at a few parties, but when you were a guest, people never paying much to you. This time, all the attention would be on you, and you had to make sure this performance was perfect. 

Usually in the Capitol, the only successful singers were those who sang in the opera, but you had a rich and smooth voice, one that many would die for. The original song you had picked to sing was a classic, one that everyone would be expecting and familiar with. 

But you now decided that you wanted to stand out, give them something they aren’t expecting. It would either be detrimental or skyrocketing, and you were choosing to believe it would be the latter. 

You tried to calm your ever-present nerves, smoothing your hands onto the front of your gorgeous dress, toying with the massive sapphire stones on your ears. A matching necklace hung deep from your neck, into your cleavage. They were your mothers, a token of pure beauty and wisdom, something you were hoping would come to you. 

You needed to calm down. Stress never mixed well with your mind. You had decided on a song; it was from the old world. Something all the guests sitting before you had most likely never heard. It was soulful, slow, and emotional. You hoped you would pull a few heartstrings, maybe get some audience members to cry. With your voice, nothing was unlikely. 

Coriolanus had been rushing around backstage for the past few minutes, wanting to steal you for a few moments alone. He wanted to wish you luck, not having seen you since you walked him to the Academy days ago. 

He felt like you were avoiding him, the Avoxes not letting him into your home, you only speaking to Clemmie and Sejanus at school…he was confused about what he could have possibly done, questioning Tigris and Sejanus, but neither could decipher it themselves. 

He had asked various staff members where you were, all giving different answers. It was like you told them not to tell him where you were. 

Finally, he rounded a corner, eyes settling on your back. 

He gawked at the dress, practically eye-fucking you. Your hair was in long curls down your back, and as you turned to face him, he saw a deep red color on your lips, matching the shade of your dress. 

The last person you wanted to see was Coriolanus, but as your eyes settle on his piercing blue ones, you know you’re in for it. 

You stay put, unwavering as he strides up to you, eating you up with his eyes.

“You are the most marvelous thing I have ever seen,” he compliments, going in for a kiss, expectant lips meeting your cold cheek. 

He is taken aback, confidence slightly faltering as you cross your arms against your chest, eyes on his – or should you say Percy’s – shoes, the ones you had given him before you knew him as the traitor he is. 

He watched as you looked in every direction but his, trying your hardest not to give into his gaze. 

He takes your face in his hands, moving your head so your eyes meet his, anger burning in the back of your pupils. You had been pushing yourself away from him the past few days, as it was clear Lucy Gray demanded all his time and attention. 

“Not with your songbird?” you sneer out, venom seeping from your words. Coriolanus’s eyes narrow as he realizes that this is what the avoidance has been about. 

“Darling, I already told you that she means nothing to me. Less than nothing, she is district. I am to take care of her if she is supposed to win, don’t let it get to you,” he is soft with his words, care laced within every consonance. 

You want to believe him, you really do, but it seems his words don’t match up with his actions.

“Once you can show me you truly mean your words, I will listen. Besides, I think it’s time for you to take your seat, Mr. Snow. The show is about to start.”

Coryo is raging as he makes his way back to the box seats you provided him, sitting back in the seat between Grandma’am and your mother. Your words were replaying in his mind, not understanding how you couldn’t see that you were all he wanted. Not some flamboyant little girl from District 12. 

He knew, deep down, that Lucy Gray was becoming important to him. He tried to deny it, but he couldn’t. The more time he spent with her, he began to sympathize with her, trying to ease her pain as much as possible. 

The thick, dark green curtains covering the ornate stage pulled back, revealing a black glossy grand piano, likely a fortune, and you sat on the adjacent bench, your dress billowing out from your back. It was gorgeous. Your mother turned to compliment Tigris’s work, as well did Persephone. It was the most beautiful dress that had ever been crafted in Panem. 

Coriolanus watched with adoration as your fingers delicately danced across the black and white keys of the piano, playing the original piece perfectly. The audience watched in awe, a beautiful girl playing a piano even more beautifully. It was captivating, how someone so gentle and caring could play such a dramatic piece, a song with such emotion that it brought tears to many people’s eyes. You chose this particular piece on purpose, it was one that Coriolanus had asked for you to write years ago, when the two of you were just close friends who messed around in your family’s music room. 

He froze still, the notes going straight to his nervous system, setting him into overdrive. You were performing for him, and he couldn’t decide if it was the most romantic thing he had ever seen, or the most infuriating. You had just been chastising him, but now you were playing his song, the one you wrote for him. 

The song became fast, striking. People would be talking about this piece for weeks, it would be drilled into young students' minds the next time they sat on a similar bench. On the program they had given everyone when they entered, named the song “A Snow Waltz”. You could not have been more obvious if you tried, and the idea of having a song written and named after him sent Coriolanus spiraling, wanting to kiss the sense out of you that very moment.

He sat in disbelief as the elaborate tune turned into something slower, something more calculated. 

Then you began to sing, and he knew he was done for. 

“Every night that goes between, I feel a little less,” 

The audience sat upright, eyes wide as they ingested your words, ones that Coriolanus knew you had pored over for weeks, trying to find the most fitting song for your relationship. And based on the first two lines, he wasn’t feeling overly pleased with your song of choice. 

“As you slowly go away from me, this is only another test,” 

And then he understood. This isn't a love ballad. You weren’t professing your love for him in the most public way possible… you were claiming it back. 

“Every night you do not come, your softness fades away,”

The emotion in your voice is strong and compelling, anyone who is listening can sense the sorrow in your words, the pain you must have endured. 

Coriolanus now knows that he has caused this pain. He is the reason for the best performance the Capitol has seen in a long time. 

“Is there anything left to say? Every hour of fear I spend, my body tries to cry, living through each empty night, a deadly call inside,” 

He looks around, engrossed faces all around him. Grandma’am’s eyes are glossed over, and Tigris is dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. Your father is holding your mother’s hand, tight. Sejanus is upright, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. 

“I haven’t felt this way I feel, since many a years ago. But in those years and the lifetime passed, I did not deal with you, I know.” 

Your voice ceases, a lovely piano piece following your words, giving Coryo a chance to finally digest what he’s just heard. You’re professing great fondness for someone, admitting that the relationship is fading away, running its course. 

Your voice faintly picks back up, adding in a few lyrics to compliment the complex piano piece. 

“She said, ‘Every night he will break your heart’, I should’ve known from the first, I’d be the broken hearted” 

Coryo’s chest is tight. You look up and out to the crowd, eyes falling onto his. He sees the emotion, the sadness. He knows that it’s his fault, and could’ve prevented it. 

“I loved you from the start, and now not all the prayers in the world, could save us, oh save us,”

The piano begins to slightly fade, and you stand from the bench, dress flowing as you make your way to the middle of the stage, bowing for the now standing and cheering audience, bouquets of flowers thrown to your feet. 

As you take your bow, your eyes are back on him, but this time, his hold the emotion. 

The show was a success, a vibrant grin across your beautiful face as you flitted around to greet all the guests. Various old family friends, distant relatives, even some of your professors at the Academy. 

After the performance, your parents find you first, kisses pressed to your cheek, and comforting hugs as tears slip from your mother’s eyes. 

“Panem hasn’t seen talent like yours in forever, darling.” Your father speaks, pride sparkling behind his eyes, bearing the same color as your own. 

You blush, nodding at his words, accepting his compliment. 

You break from them, finding the Plinth’s next. Sejanus gives you a kiss on each cheek, rambling about how your talent must have been given to you from the stars above. 

You giggle, letting him and his mother rain down on you with millions of compliments, all more enchanting than the last. 

“Thank you for being here, Mr. And Mrs. Plinth. It means so much,” you nod, taking Mrs. Plinth’s hands into yours. 

“Darling, believe me when I say you’ve just done something the Capitol hasn’t seen in decades. You will be more talk than the games, that’s for sure,” 

And with a kiss to your temple, Serbo Plinth walks away, Sejanus and his mother trailing. 

The room that all the guests were brought in after was a large room; high ceilings, a plush (likely expensive) rug, rows of tables with regal chairs, and various portraits of Panem’s most prominent leaders and talents up on the walls. 

You spotted the portrait of your father and Serbo Plinth easily, it was the largest in the room, other than the Presidential portrait. It was commissioned after the war, to show how your father and Mr. Plinth had been the greatest allies throughout the war, proving true to the president. 

You were sat at the center table, where everyone could come over to speak to you, or watch as you ate. Your fathers portrait hung above your seat, a silent expression of how the most successful in Panem continued to produce the best, and only the best. 

You looked at who would be sitting next to you, your father on your left, and Sejanus on your right. You were happy with that, you would speak to Sejanus through dinner, ask him how the games were going. 

You hadn’t been paying much attention to the mentorships after your dismissal, hearing bits and pieces from Clemensia during school. They had a small meeting, gathering information about their respective tribute. 

Excusing yourself quickly, despite the table still being empty as the guests continued to make conversation, you slipped through the crowds and went to the ladies room. 

You touched up on your makeup, and quickly returned back to the table. To your surprise, Coryo was now sitting in the seat that was labeled for Sejanus. 

You tried your hardest to act nonchalant as you sat back down, your father acknowledging your presence was a small pat on the knee, and then he turned back to Mr Plinth on his other side. Sejanus was now across the table from you, all sorts of different food items piled high on his fine china plate. 

Coryo’s eyes were burning into the side of your face, you could feel his harsh gaze. In all honesty, you were quite scared to turn to him. Your song was compassionate, and your deliverance of it was in the most public possible way. The best from the Capitol watching it in person, and everyone through the districts watching it on the soon-to-be Hunger Games broadcasting screens. 

You were the Gem of Panem, their princess. This had secured your place in society, you had established yourself among the most brilliant, the commanders, the leaders. You were proud of yourself. 

Criolanus stood from the table, going to gather food onto his plate. You hoped he would gather lots; it was all paid for by your father, and Coriolanus needed to eat. You always worried about him, even if you weren’t happy with him. 

He returned, plate piled up, like you hoped, and you accidentally slipped a small smile, a tiny corner of your mouth going up in happiness. 

Coryo caught it. He was always able to catch even the faintest changes in your expressions and demeanor. 

Once he had taken his seat, and loud conversation engulfed the room, you finally spoke. 

“I thought Sejanus was meant to be sat there,” you take a small bite of steamed carrots. 

“Last minute change, I suppose,” Coryo lightly shrugs his shoulders, turning his head to get a better look at you. 

“Mhm,” you breathe out, blush tickling your cheeks ever so lightly. 

“You played beautifully out there. And your voice, well, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. Why didn’t you tell me you’d be singing?” Is that… hurt behind his words? You turn to look at him, eyes finally meeting, and you swear you see the faintest stain of tear tracks on his cheeks, filling your stomach with fulfillment. 

“Well, you’d been too busy. I didn’t want to burden you while you save your songbird,” you try your hardest to mask the words, but you know he can hear the venom and jealousy peeking out from behind them. 

He doesn’t look smug, no, he looks hurt. Extremely hurt. 

“Y/N,” he breathes out, placing his barely used fork onto the table. 

“I know you visited her the night that you came to me.” You whisper, composure starting to crumble. 

All he does is nod, proving your accusation to be true. You lightly slouch at his silence, so that was his response? He has nothing else to say? “Is that all you have to say?” you whisper, you knew if you tried to speak any louder your voice would crack, giving your emotion away. 

“What is there to say, Y/N? You played our song up there, The Snow Waltz. You sang a song about our relationship, one where the words insinuated that you had once loved me but my betrayal was too strong. Help me understand you, Y/N, how could I possibly respond to that?” He was closer to you now, downcast faces mere inches away. 

To any onlooker, you two would look like a few teenagers who had deep set feelings for each other, feelings that must be voiced at that very second. 

You had a feeling that he would be upset with your song choices, that it would hit him deep in the chest, give him the same feeling that he had recently been giving you. 

“I played your song because I love you. And then I sang that song because I want you to know that I don’t feel loved by you.” 

Coriolanus feels as if a blow has gone straight to his gut, knife clattering as he accidentally drops it on the table. 

His eyes are hard, unreadable. But they’re glossy, the only part that is giving him away. You read him better than any other person, and he knows this. 

He stands up, chair screeching as it pushes out behind him. You watch with wide eyes, staring up at him. He spares you one last solemn look, a slight shake of his head, before he is storming off, down the isles of tables and through hundreds of guests, straight to the doors. 

You feel possessed, your feet pulling you up and forcing you after him, feeling as if they have a mind of their own. Everyone is silenced now, eyes following your every move. The young, beautiful, and talented Mars girl chasing the abrasive, orphaned, tarnished Snow boy.

“Fool,” Persephone mutters under her breath, shaking her head.  

You find Coryo in the empty lobby, no one but you and him. 

He is pacing, hands in his hair, mumbles of inaudible words spilling from his perfect lips, you want to scream at him. Scream at him for showing up before the performance, scream at him for leaving your dinner. You want to scream at him for leaving your bed to see Lucy Gray, for telling you he loves you and then going and proving to do the opposite. 

“Coriolanus,” you announce your presence, slow steps up to his brooding figure as he ceases his pacing, eyebrows twisting together. 

He first ignores you, going and taking a seat on the golden bench beside the entrance for the auditorium. 

You walk over, perching next to him. He timidly reaches a hand out, laying it onto the red dress, smoothing down the thick material. 

“You assume the worst in me, Y/N.” he shakes his head, light amusement behind his words. 

“I already told you what I believe, Coriolanus. You tell me beautiful words, give me special moments. But you then contradict yourself, going back to her. I know you need to win the prize, I know, I know, but I love you. And you’re supposed to love me. And when you love someone, you don’t abandon them for another person,” tears brim on your eyes, threatening to spill out and ruin your flawless makeup. 

“I love you, more than anything in the entire planet, Y/N. Can’t you see that I am helping Lucy Gray to win because that prize ensures I can give us the future that we deserve. The future you deserve…I want to give that to you. To be able to continue to live your life as luxuriously as you do now. Dresses, jewelry, pianos. Anything you would ever want.” His voice is soft, wavering.

You stare at him, lips slightly parted, not expecting him to voice his deepest insecurities. 

“I don’t care about all those things, Croyo…” you murmur, grabbing his hands in his lap. 

“Darling, I just watched you play the most highly acclaimed piano concert that Panem has seen in decades. You are a spectacle, a performer. You love your piano, and your dresses, and all the things that make you pretty, the things that make you shine. You are meant to be a star.” his voice drips with desperation, embarrassment. He thinks the life he lives now isn’t good enough for you. 

“I need Lucy Gray to win so that I can give you the life full of luxury that you deserve. So that I can buy you a new piano every year, a new ruby ring every birthday. Darling, it’s all for you.” his hands come up, cupping your face. They are soft, rubbing your skin. 

“Love me, Coriolanus. Show me that you can.” 

With that, he grips your jaw, hard, and yanks you into him, a small whimper falling from your lips. He is rough, pent up anger finally spilling out. “I love you,” he murmurs out, kissing your chin. “I love you,” he’s now on your neck, sucking as hard as he can, being sure to leave marks. “I love you, more than anyone else,” 

He’s standing, pulling you up with him, his hands moving down to your biceps, lips back on top of yours, pulling you into the coat room. 

He locks the door behind you two, pressing you against it. 

His leg slotted between yours, keeping you pressed tight against the doorframe. His lips continued their vicious attack against your neck and collarbones, tongue gliding across the prominent bone. 

You watched as he slowly trailed further down your body, getting onto his knees. He pulled back from your skin, watched from below as you panted, trying to catch your breath. With a final smirk, he flipped up your skirt and disappeared under the hem, hiking one of your knees over his shoulder. 

Your breath hitched as you felt his hot breath over your clothed pussy, head falling back against the mahogany as he trailed a calloused finger over the red lace, cock twitching at the sound of your light moan. 

His fingers toy with the lace, before ripping it off your legs, you hear the lingerie tear. 

“Coryoooo,” you whine, upset that he just ruined your brand new panties. 

“I’ll get you some new ones, darling,” he promises, throwing the disheveled garment to some corner of the closet. He grins, knowing some Avox will find the star performers panties sometime later tonight, and know she was fucked in the coat closet. 

Before you have time to prepare yourself, Coryo is licking a strip up your folds, and then his mouth is sucking on your bud, whimpers falling from your lips, your hands digging into the wooden walls of the room. 

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, Coryo lapping you up, his lips ravenging you at an unbearable speed, pressure begging to brew in your stomach. 

He knows the easiest way to get you undone is to give you head, and lucky you, he loved to do it. 

His one hand squeezing the fat in your ass, kneading the sensitive skin. 

You moan, loudly, when his tongue starts to circle around your clit, and he squeezes your ass extra hard: a warning. 

The burning sensation in your core continues as he enters two fingers, pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace. Though you can’t see him, you know that he is smirking, hearing you fall apart above him.

Finally, the mix of his two fingers, tongue, and thumb rubbing circles around your clit causes you to finally come undone, legs shaking as Coryo drinks up all the juices you spill. His rough hands hold your legs up, and soon he’s out from under the dress, lips quick to attach to yours, making you taste all of your juices on his tongue. 

He pulls away and smiles at you, “I love you,” he whispers, brushing your hair from in front of your face, fingers delicate and soft. 

“I love you,” you smile, lightly melting into his touch. 

“Can I fuck you now?” he smirks, a mischievous glint to eyes, fingers rubbing your jaw. “Please, pretty thing? I’ll show you just how much I love you…I’ll fuck it into you,” 

His lips are re-attacking your neck, hands pulling down the zipper of your beautiful dress. 

“When I’m president,” he pants out, your hands tangled in his hair, humming, 

“I’m hanging this dress up for everyone to see, the most beautiful dress ever worn,” he finished, attacking your lips with his own. He’s sure your lipstick is smeared across his chin, likely off the corners of his lips. He doesn’t care, everyone should know that you’re his. He is the one who gets to kiss you, gets to fuck you. 

He helps you step out of it, gently placing it over a near chair, not wanting to ruin the masterpiece. 

“In fact, I’ll have a whole wing dedicated to you, my love. It’ll have dresses, coats, portraits..” you shut him up sucking on the sweet spot under his right ear, knowing it turns him on the most. 

And you are right, watching him tear off his black coat and shred off his slacks, left in his boxers and white button down. He pulls you back into him, watching with lust blown pupils as your perfectly painted fingernails unbutton all the way down the shirt. You help him remove it, discarding it to the pile of his other clothing. 

Then, his boxers are tugged down, carelessly kicked off, and he’s back to you, pressing you harder into the wall. 

He tells you to jump, and you oblige, legs wrapped around his hips as he lines himself up with you. “Just one more, princess,” he mewls, noticing your sudden nervousness. You nod, knowing Coryo would stop if you became too overstimulated. 

You dig your head into his shoulder, biting the hard skin as he pushes in, your pussy taking him so perfectly that he almost passes out. 

The two of you hadn’t had sex in weeks. Sure, you had done other things, but you hadn’t done the thing that ties two people so closely together, barring ever single part of themselves. 

His hands are secure around your ass, moving you in synchronization while he relentlessly continues to bottom out in you. 

“Coryo,” you moan, slightly muted by it being said deep into his shoulder. 

“Taking me so well, baby,” he groans, feeling himself slowly untie. You feel the same sensation, his dick hitting your sweet spot so perfectly with every thrust. 

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, and then move your free hand down between the two of you, massaging circular motions to your clit. 

Coryo goes even faster, earning whines and various other noises from your lips, beginning to squirm from the sensitivity. 

“Come for me, darling,” he says, eyes following your every movement. You begin to massage faster, head falling back against the mahogany door as his thrusts become sloppier. 

The two of you come undone at the same time, Coryo lightly leaning against your body, slipping out before delicately dropping your leg. 

He makes sure you’re able to stand up before walking away, gathering your dress, and helping you step back into it. He ties the corset, and then the zipper.

He slips back into his outfit, pulling up the slacks and sliding his feet into the shoes. You button up his top, and smooth down the collar. You go to run your fingers through his now slightly tangled curls, making them look as perfectly curled as they were when he arrived to the show. 

Finally, he gets down on one knee, holding your heels. You prop a bare foot onto his knee, looking down at him with lust-blown pupils, swollen lips, your hair slightly messy and smudged lipstick. How he got so lucky, he has no idea. 

He slides the expensive heel delicately onto your foot, like he’s scared of hurting you. As he begins to buckle it close, he cuts the silence. 

“I love you, Y/N Mars. I love everything about you. Your voice, your eyes, your spirit. I love your dedication, your talent that so very few possess. I love how you care for me, and make sure I’m alright, always bringing me whatever I need. They say that love can arise from the most unsuspecting of places, and in my case, that was you. As a child, I would trail you like a lost puppy, always seeking your validation, some sort of indication that you saw me, knew me. I know we’ve had our initial clashes, loud, aggressive fights in the middle of class or in lunch, and I know you don’t always listen to me, and I don’t always listen to you, but you see me differently than anyone else, you see a side of me that I don’t know to anyone else. And amongst the original animosity, I found myself drawn to you, seeking your approval. The deeper I got to know you, the more I began to fall for you. Everything I’ve done, every person I’ve hurt, it’s all been for you. And now, here I am, professing my undying love for you. Love that will burn for as long as I live, as long as you’re by my side.” 

You are speechless, mouth agape, Coriolanus’s glossy eyes raking over all your features. You were bewildered, wondering how something so romantic could come out of a man’s mouth who was simply doing-up your shoes. 

He is still down on one knee, and once he’s finished your other shoe, you pull him up, arms winding tightly around his waist. 

His large hands rub your back, holding you as close as possible. You dig your face into his chest, his chin atop your head. 

A slight sniffle, and then you murmur out, “I love you, Coriolanus. I don’t know how I could’ve doubted you.” Persephone’s words echo in the back of your head, over and over again, “fool”.

**

tagged

@snowsgames

#coriolanus x oc #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow angst #maeve writes 🎀

[maevesheart]

FOOLS - PART I

CORIOLANUS SNOW X CAPITOL!READER

note: continuing to use the mars family for reader, but different storyline than tolerate it.

PART I // PART II // PART III

summary: only fools would fall for coriolanus snow, and you’re the biggest fool of them all.

wc: 5.1k

tw: fingering, pet names, curse words

The sound of your blinds being torn apart pulls you from your peaceful slumber, and the now streaming sunlight causes you to rub your eyes and yawn.

Today was the announcement of the Plinth Prize, all of your fellow classmates would be seething when your name fell from the lips of Dean Highbottom.

The thought made you grin.

You had never once missed classed, and your grades were the very highest they could possibly be. The only thing standing in your way is Coriolanus Snow.

The boy who is just as intelligent and cunning as you are.

Rumors had been spreading for weeks as to who was going to win the lavish prize money, the most common names falling from lips were yours and Coriolanus.

It infuriated you.

The Mars family was the highest esteemed in all of the Capitol. Who deserved the prize more than you, of course, Y/N Mars?

Your Avox quickly left the room as you stood up from your massive ornate bed, feet lightly padding on the cold marble floors.

You made your way into your closet, where your long plum-purple colored dress hang. It was to your mid-thigh, a large bow sat on the back that draped to the floor. It was beautiful, made custom for you.

You slipped on a pair of thin tights and some black heels, allowing your Avox to meticulously curl your hair and do subtle yet elegant makeup upon your face.

You made your way down the marvelous marble staircase outside your bedroom, meeting your father and mother at the bottom.

“Here darling,” your mother smiled, placing her string of pearls around your neck, and delicately sliding in matching Pearl studs to your ears.

“Oh, mother, your pearls?” You smiled, your mother wore the pearls throughout the war and claimed they were what kept you all afloat.

In reality, it was your fathers expansive fortune and manufacturing company that produced the capitol’s guns and bombs, but the pearls were touching.

“Thank you,” you smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

The ride to the Academy was short, and soon you waltzed into the building followed by your doting parents.

When you three entered the gathering room, where all of the Capitol’s brightest and richest stood, you father dispersed to speak to Serbo Plinth, and your mother found Mrs. Crane.

You quickly found Clemensia, your closest friend, and the two of you eased into simple conversation, discussing who you thought would win.

Clemmie assured you that the prize would soon be yours as the both of you made your way to fellow classmates Felix, Festus, and Arachne.

Arachne and you offered each other a quick hug before Felix and Festus were complimenting your dress and how marvelous it was.

“Thank you, boys,” you smile, loving the attention.

As you continue to indulge in their compliments, you feel a light touch on the back of your elbow, Coriolanus Snow now by your side.

“Finally, the Star pupil.” Arachne snottily says, looking down at Coryo’s shirt.

“Arachne,” he nods, smirking as he feels the annoyance radiating off your body.

“We were just talking about how lovely Y/N’s dress is, Coryo, don’t you agree?” Clemmie sets the bait. She has this feeling that Coriolanus and you have some deep set feelings for each other that have yet to reach the surface. You think it’s all just her imagination running wild.

But Clemmie doesn’t know about the few nights the two of you have spent together, in the back of your car, in your bed, anytime the two of you had been alone.

No one knows. And you plan on keeping it that way.

You feel Coryo’s eyes take over your figure, pausing briefly as he sets his sight on your cleavage peaking out.

“Yes, you look quite nice, Y/N.” He smiles, hand secretly toying with the end of your curls down the middle of your back.

Before you have a chance to react, Sejanus has found his way to your other side, offering you a slight peck on the cheek as greeting.

“Sejanus,” you smile, patting his arm.

The two of you were close, as you found Festus and Felix’s distaste for him to be rather childish and ignorant.

He was a nice, respectable boy. And your father and Serbo Plinth had worked closely during the war, your families were allied. Something that was especially so important now.

Coriolanus felt a tinge of jealousy as you leaned in to peck Sejanus’ cheek back. Everyone knew the two of you were close, yet it was still anger-provoking whenever he truly saw how close you two were.

Before Sejanus could fully join in the conversation, the familiar sound of Panem’s anthem began to play, signaling for you all to take your seats.

You sat between Clemmie and Coriolanus, eyes focused in front before you heard Sejanus offer a quick apology to Coryo, about something you failed to decipher.

Dr. Gaul’s sinister laugh boomed throughout the hall, and your eyes widened with shock.

She spoke of her responsibilities and how you all before her were the leaders of the new generation. You looked over to Coryo with confusion splayed on your face, his eyes wide and frantic.

Dr. Gaul stepped down from the podium and moved away for Dean Highbottom, who was once again drunk off morphling and slurring his words.

“I cannot believe they continue to let him speak in public,” Clemmie whispers, shaking her head.

“And here sit our own 24 top prospects, all waiting to hear the results of hard study in this prestigious institution.”

Your heart races as he continues to ramble on, “eager to learn who’s won that Plinth Prize, no doubt. And a golden future. However, I am here to tell you that there has been a change this year. One final assignment to prove your worth.”

Clemmie slumps back into her seat, you hear Festus behind you suck in his breath. This was it.

“…the prize will now be determined by who is the best mentor in the Hunger Games.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Against your better judgement, you are reaching for Coriolanus’s hand, and intertwine your fingers.

You knew how bad he needed this prize. You were one of the only people who knew.

His eyes flicker down to your hands twisted together, and he offers you a slight smile, but you know he is freaking out to his core.

Dean Highbottom announces how he will assign the tributes, and soon comes to sit in front of you all when the anthem once again plays out.

“Coryo..” you whisper, he looks over to you and you shake your head, a silent apology. He nods, accepting it, and shrugs. What is he supposed to do but pray he gets a good tribute from One or Two?

You and Sejanus secure the tributes from District Two, most likely his fathers doing.

You untangle your fingers from Coriolanus and reach across to grab Sejanus. You give his arm a squeez, assuring him that you are there.

He continues to look straight, obviously torn by this revelation.

Coriolanus finds himself even more annoyed, watching you fawn over the boy next to him. You were holding him first…

He immediately snaps himself out of it. He was showing weakness. He reminds himself that weakness is a curse, and there is no room for that in success.

Finally, the runt girl from District 12, belongs to Coriolanus.

He looks to the floor, shaking his head. You refrain from taking his hand again, knowing he would most likely shoo it away.

You and Arachne giggle as the girl floods the screen, wearing a rainbow dress. One quick glare from Coriolanus shuts you up and forces your eyes back on the screen.

Soon, the girl is shoving a snake down another girls back, and Coriolanus is quick to his feet, watching with rapt attention.

She starts to sing, a somber tune that you had never heard before.

“Singing?” You question, Arachne quickly adding in, “is she out of her mind?”

Coriolanus ignores you this time, eyes straight ahead.

Her singing is enchanting, and you focus in, laughing when she screams profanities into the microphone.

“Well, she’s obviously mentally ill.” Arachne claims, Sejanus still staring straight ahead, and your eyes trained on Coriolanus.

All of you quickly disperse out of the hall, your fathers hands are on your shoulders, shielding you from the press as you make your way to the car.

Once safely inside, he is stern and stoic, unwavering in his stance, “no. You will not do it.”

“Daddy, it’s just one games. We meet with the tributes maybe once, never let them get too close.”

You were fighting a battle already lost, you knew.

“Absolutely not Y/N. I will not have you frolicking around with district.”

He is seething, obviously feeling deeply betrayed and upset with Serbo, how could he not have told him?

“Please? I know I won’t win the prize, but it’s good experience.”

Your father can’t argue there. If you are to one day rule his empire with your siblings, then he must allow you to get some experience under your wing.

“Alright. But as soon as something goes wrong, which it will, you are out of the contest. Understood?”

“Understood.”

You’re laid in bed, a book propped up on your chest, trying your hardest to distract yourself from the confusing day you’ve had.

A light rap on the door shakes you from your focus.

“Come in,” you say, body slightly turning to see who would come this late in the night.

The gold handle of your massive white door turns, and to your great contentment it’s Coriolanus who silently walks in, shutting the door tightly behind him.

It wasn’t unlikely for Coriolanus to come to your home, usually you two worked on homework or studied together, but he never came at night.

The sight of his deep eye bags made your chest sink. You knew how he must be feeling.

“The Avoxes let me in,” he murmurs, making his way over to your bed.

He sits down on the edge next to you, and you feel the mattress lightly dip to support his weight.

You sit up, leaning your back against the headboard, and place your hand on his shoulder, soothing it up and down his back.

His back was to you, lightly hunched over.

“I talked to Tigris,” he speaks after moments of silence.

You hum, “what did she say?”

You lightly crawl over to him, wrapping yourself around his back, hands snaking around his waist and pulling him closer to you.

His body was warm, but you could feel his spine lightly stick out his back and the thought made you want to cry.

You place your cheek against his shoulder blade, and close your eyes, his presence easing you.

“She told me I should get the girl to trust me. Saying she’s probably so scared and feels alone right now.”

“I would be too,” you hummed back, eyes flitting up to get a better view of his face.

From your position, you can make out the trace of his nose and his light eyelashes, the moonlight coming in through your large windows accentuating his features.

He places one of his hands over yours, entwined across his lap.

“You will win, Coryo,” you assure him, a small whisper falling from your lips.

You weren’t confident, but he needed reassurance, and who were you to deprive him of what he needs most?

He doesn’t say anything, the two of you sitting in silence for a few moments.

He then turns around, glossy eyes staring straight into yours.

“Oh, love,” you coo, taking his cheek in your palm, and pulling him into you, wrapping your arms tightly around his body, one hand on the back of his head.

Coryo didn’t cry. That was weakness, and Coriolanus Snow did not show weakness.

“I need this scholarship, Y/N,” he quietly peeps, head buried in your shoulder.

You say nothing, hand massaging his scalp, and the other lightly rubbing his back.

You let him compose himself before he pulls back, and you lightly tug his arm, scooting over and giving him room to slip under the covers next to you.

You curl around his body, him only wearing a white t-shirt and loose lounge pants.

You place a small kiss to the back of his neck, assuring him you’re there as you begin to hear his light snoring fill the room.

You wake up to an empty bed. The only sign of Coriolanus even being there is the lingering scent of his cologne on your bedsheets and the light indentation in your mattress.

You want to cry. Of all the times you had consoled him, held him, given him the most sacred parts of you, he up and leaves, like you mean nothing.

Obviously you had to mean something if he kept coming back, right?

You care for him, deeply, and despite your agreement to keep your sexual relationship hushed, you cannot help but to want to care for him.

You hastily get dressed and ready, and throw a few books into your pack, rushing down to the kitchen. You have Cook pack a blueberry muffin into your pack, knowing Coryo won’t have the means for breakfast.

You have the driver take you straight to school instead of your usual stop for coffee.

Entering the classroom, Coryo’s usual seat next to you is bare. He’s never once skipped class. Why would he start now?

The screen in your classroom brights up, showing Luvky Flickerman outside the monkey cage at the zoo, where the tributes fall into.

A bright red uniform sticks out, and you’re on your feet, prying for a better look.

Dean Highbottom is watching unimpressed, Sejanus on your other side shaking his head in disbelief.

You realize it is Coriolanus and a gasp falls from your lips, he is standing with Lucy Gray, his tribute, and watch as he places his Grandma’am’s precious rose in her hair.

You couldn’t believe him. He left your bed to go be with that… that district slut!

Distaste brews in your mouth as he takes her hand and parades her around to all the young children. Clemmie watches as a scowl takes over your features.

He smugly looks into the camera, and you feel as if he’s directly looking to you, as he gives his cunning responses to every question Lucky throws his way. You know Dean will be far from pleased.

Before you know it, Coriolanus is entering the classroom, and you give him the meanest stare you can conjure.

Sejanus starts to stick up for him as Coryo takes his seat next to you. You side-eye him as he sits down, wanting him to know how stupid he is for putting his life at risk.

“Have you lost your mind?” You whisper through gritted teeth.

He doesn’t answer you, giving you a snide look before turning to the sound of Dr. Gaul entering the room.

She waltzes in, congratulating Coryo for his initiative. You scoff, and he looks down on you, eyes narrowing.

Dr. Gaul promptly leaves, and a silence engulfs the room.

Soon, your fellow peers are whispering to each other, trying to figure out how Coryo ended up in that cage.

Sejanus is silent, eyes on his shoes.

You stick your hand deep into your pack and pull out the muffin from earlier, not wanting it to go to waste.

Without another word, you shove the muffin into Coryo’s hands under the desk, and catch his eyes softening as he looks over to you.

“Dean? May I be excused?” You keep your composure, quietly slipping out of the classroom.

Clemmie watches Coryo, how he lightly shakes his head before shoving the muffin into his pack and jumping to his feet, rushing to follow you out the classroom.

He finds you in the library, your pack sitting at a mahogany table which gives you away.

He sets his down on the same table, and sets off between the rows of hardback books to find you.

This library was sprawling, three-stories of endless books, it could take hours to find you.

“Y/N?” He quietly calls out, hoping you’re nearby.

He hears a scoff a row over, quickly darting down the isle to find the one that the noise comes from.

As he rounds the corner, there you are, leaning against the wall at the end, arms crossed against your chest.

He thinks he sees a tear stain down your normally perfect makeup and complexion, and crosses over, hands falling on your face.

He turns your head in his hands, checking for signs of pain.

“What’s wrong?” He sounds worried, and you laugh, pushing him off of you.

His face twists in a mix of confusion and anger, hands falling to his sides.

You shake your head, biting your lip as you look up. You’re no longer upset, just majorly pissed off.

“You left my bed, to go greet your bitch from the districts.” You spit out at him, eyes narrowing as you watch him comprehend your words.

He knew you could get jealous sometimes, but didn’t realize it went quite this deep.

“Y/N/N—“

“Nope. I don’t want to hear it.” You hold your hand up, silencing him. You close your eyes, sighing.

But before you can open them back up, you feel Coriolanus’ lips on yours, molding together like they do so perfectly.

His hands grip your face, pulling you into him, your hands gripping onto his biceps.

The kiss is passionate, the air being sucked out of your lungs.

He only kisses you like this when he’s hungry for you, absolutely starving. When he needs you like a feral animal.

He knows what it does to you.

You use all your strength to pull back, hands resting on his chest to keep him from lunging back in.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says, “you know I would never touch another girl. Especially one from the districts.”

You nod, knowing that while your jealousy was just, it was also a little exaggerated.

The familiar sound of lunch time’s bell rings out, and Coryo backs off of you, and the two of you head for the cafeteria.

You walk with him until you spot Clemmie, excusing yourself from Coryo’s side.

You follow Clemmie to your usual table, parting with Coryo, you two girls sitting with Arachne and Livia, who both have lots to say about their chances in the games.

You ignore them, peeking over to where Coryo sits, across the cafeteria. Sejanus is sat across from him, the two of them deep in conversation.

You watch as they pack up their lunches, and stand from their spots, rushing to the nearest exit.

You stand to follow, and Arachne trails after you.

You follow them all the way to the zoo, and you once again brew anger in your core.

Arachne kneels before her tribute and begins to tease her with the food, and you watch with the audience as Coryo gives his full lunch to Lucy Gray and Jessup.

You come up to his side and snake your arm around his, plastering the most sickly-sweet smile on your face that you can muster.

“And who might this beautiful girl be, Coriolanus?” Lucy Gray asks, a slight smile pulling at her lips as she eats.

Coriolanus is taken aback by your display of affection and sudden appearance at the zoo. You’re the last person he would have expected to show up.

“This is my classmate, Y/N Mars.”

The words my classmate falling from his lips when describing you does not settle right in your stomach. But you two haven’t established what you are… just that you want each other all to yourselves.

“Splendid to meet you, Lucy Gray. That dress is just gorgeous!” You claim, talking with your hands.

Coriolanus holds back from rolling his eyes, remembering the snide comments you made at the reaping about her dress and how she must be mentally unhinged.

“Thank you, Miss Y/N.” You watch like a hawk as Lucy Gray scarfs down her sandwich and then eyes your spectacular ruby ring upon your middle finger.

“Beautiful ring,” she compliments, Coryo’s eyes flickering down to the present you received for your 17th birthday.

“Oh! This old thing, it’s quite small, I believe. I think I’ll ask for a bigger one next year,” you smile, watching Jessup and Lucy Gray’s faces twist with slight envy.

“Right,” Lucy Gray slightly smiles, sitting down.

You and Coriolanus look over to Arachne, who is waving food in front of her tribute’s face, obviously taunting her.

You purse your lips, undoing yourself from Coryo’s side. “I’m going to tell her to stop it, she might get killed over there.”

Coryo nods and watches as you make your way down to Arachne’s side.

He doesn’t want you to get too close, knowing that Arachne and her tribute are a seam ready to burst at any moment.

Just as he’s looking back to Lucy Gray, he hears your shriek and spins around, immediately at your side.

Arachne is on the ground, choking on the loss of air, a glass bottle sticking out from her neck.

“Y/N!” He screams, next to you in seconds, trying to pull you away from the monkey cage.

“Help!” You screech, using your red Academy coat to try to stop the blood.

Coriolanus falls on top of you to shield you from the gun shots that ring out, heading straight past your head to the tribute behind bars.

“Oh, Arachne,” you smooth her hair down, your eyes teary and glossy, watching as she lays limp, no longer struggling.

Peacekeepers and Sejanus reach you two at the same time, Sejanus pulling you up off the ground, and into his chest, Coriolanus watching as the Peacekeepers escort all of you away.

Coryo seethes with envy, watching you tuck your head into Sejanus’ chest as he hauls you away, loud sobs falling from your lips.

He shouldn’t be jealous, Sejanus is just comforting you. You had just watched your close friend die, how could Coriolanus be jealous while you grieve.

As the three of you renter the Academy, Sejanus stops walking, halting your movements as well, coming face-to-face with your father.

“Mr. Mars,” Sejanus nods, and your father is quick to lift you into his arms, silent whimpers coming from your lips.

“Thank you, boys,” he nods to Coryo and Sejanus, and the two reluctantly continue their movement back to the cafeteria.

“C’mon darling, let’s go home,”

Coriolanus had gone back that night to visit Lucy Gray, to make sure she was alright.

“You must love her, Coriolanus,” Lucy Gray spoke, lightly smiling while shaking her head.

“What?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Your friend, Y/N. You shielded her body with your own. I saw the way you watched to make sure she wouldn’t get too close to Arachne.”

The wheels in Coriolanus’s head were turning, reenacting the events of earlier that day.

“And I gather she likes you just as much,” Lucy Gray finishes, “she sure doesn’t like you spending so much time with me,”

“Nonsense, Y/N is a close friend, that’s all.” He dismissed the topic like it wasn’t anything at all.

“Alright then, but I’d imagine she won’t wait these entire games for you to admit your feelings. That other boy, the one who held her, he seems quite keen as well.”

With that, Coriolanus felt his jaw tighten, angered by the idea of anyone touching you other than him. Especially Sejanus Plinth touching you.

With a quick nod, Coriolanus turned on his heel, and began his venture to your penthouse.

It was pitch black out, yet Coriolanus found himself scaling the outside of your building, finally rapping his knuckles against the pristine glass covering your window.

He sees straight in, you curled up under your silk sheets, hair around you like a halo.

He had snuck in through your window countless times now, and he lightly pressed on the bottom, and the window gave way, allowing him just enough room to crawl through and lightly pad to your bed.

He slipped off his shoes and opened the covers, sliding in and curling around you.

His finger traced shapes onto your skin, trying his hardest to calm both himself and you.

You lightly started to stir, and finally turned to face Coryo, he gave you a small tight-lipped smile, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Hi, Y/N/N.”

“Hi, Coryo,” you smile, nuzzling in closer to him.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, your head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

“I was so scared,” you murmur out, Coriolanus sensing the vulnerability in your voice, something you normally only let him see.

He pulled you closer into him, softly smoothing your hair.

“I won’t let anything ever touch you, Y/N.” He states like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Coriolanus had declared his feelings for you vaguely a few other times, usually only when he was buried inside of you.

This was different. You were barring your soul, showing him weakness.

“Do you mean it?” You whisper out, lightly pushing off his chest to look him in the eyes.

“More than I’ve ever meant anything else.” His eyes are stern, his face unwavering.

A smile starts to overtake your lips, and Coriolanus places his hand on your cheek, lightly bringing you down to his level.

You lightly move his curls out of his face, and the two of you lean into each other, lips meeting halfway.

This kiss is different than your others, it’s slower, not as heated. It’s a kiss that two people who love each other would share.

“It could’ve been you, Y/N. How could I have lived with myself,” he lightly huffs out, in between quiet kisses.

“But it wasn’t me, Coriolanus. It wouldn’t have been your fault,” you reassure him, hand finding his under the covers.

“My father is removing me from the mentorship. Highbottom is finding another student to take my place. Nothing can touch me now,” you smile, despite being deeply upset by your father removing you from the possible achievement of a lifetime. 

“I’m sorry,” he coos, genuine feeling in his words.

You fall back into him, lips connecting once more, his hands roaming, pulling you into his lap, legs going to either side of his hips.

The kiss is still the same, but now his tongue finds its way into your mouth, somehow bringing your lips even closer together.

His hands are all over you, groping your ass from over your silk pink pajama shorts, another hand gathering a fist full of your hair and wrapping it throughout his fingers, pulling you as close to your body as possible.

He had never been so vulnerably affectionate before, but the thought of losing you to someone else wrung his heart dry. He wanted you all to himself.

Soon he was pushing your shorts down, helping you quickly discard of them.

You weren’t wearing any panties, and Coryo felt himself getting hard at the sight of your bare mound.

“Fuck,” he curses, eyes dark and filled with lust. He watches as your tongue darts out over your bottom lip, and he pulls you back into him, sticking two of his fingers into you at the same time.

His lips on yours stifles your moan, and the sound of his fingers pumping in and out of your slick folds is the only thing to be heard in your large bedroom.

You start to squirm above him, the feeling of his fingers inside of you being immensely pleasurable.

He then uses his thumb to start massaging your clit, a pit beginning to form deep in your core, threatening to soon burst.

“Fuck, Coryo,” you moan, your head finding place in the crook of his shoulder.

He kisses up your bare shoulder, entwining his free hand with one of yours, “say you’re mine,” he groans, feeling you start to grind down on his fingers and slightly on his bulge.

“I-I’m yours, Coryo—“ you mewl, lightly biting his shoulder to stop from waking your parents.

“You’re mine only,” he quietly tells you, fingers picking up a faster pace as you become undone.

“I’m gonna come,” you pant, and with one last circling of his thumb, you come undone on his lap, spilling all over his fingers still deep inside of you.

He tenderly pulls them out, as you sink down into his chest, and bring the two fingers up to his mouth, sucking off all the juices that he could never get enough of.

You watch with blown pupils, he quickly reconnects your lips, and you taste yourself all over his mouth.

“I love you,” he says, pulling back, tucking your hair behind your ears.

Of all the times you’d been intimate with Coriolanus, he had never been this gentle and caring.

“Do you really?” You ask, refusing to believe his confession. You had only been waiting for those three words to leave his mouth for what felt like eternity.

“I do, really, how could I not?” he grinned as you smiled, pecking your lips. “I love you, Coriolanus. I’m yours,”

He grins at your confession, a sense of pride overcoming his being knowing that he’s won, no other man will touch you for as long as he lives.

“You’ll stay this time, right?” You ask, all walls down, barring the most vulnerable corners of your soul.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving,” he assured you, kissing your shoulder.

Only fools would ever fall for Coriolanus Snow and his cunning love spells. But you were the biggest fool of them all, weren’t you?

**

#imagine #angst #smut #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #maeve writes 🎀

[maevesheart]

FOOLS - PART III

CORIOLANUS SNOW X CAPITOL!READER

note: continuing to use the mars family name for reader, but different storyline than tolerate it. i recommend listening to troye sivan’s “fools” while reading :)

PART I // PART II / PART III

summary: only fools would fall for coriolanus snow, and you’re the biggest fool of them all.

wc: 11.2k (hehe)

tw: possessive!!jealous!!snow, violence, cursing, death, jealous!!reader

Arachne’s funeral was one for someone of high esteem, President Ravinstill himself officiating it. They had asked you to sing Gem of Panem, one final serenade to your friend before she was 6 feet under. 

But they had decided to keep the games going, much to almost everyone’s dismay. Coriolanus was still unwavering, determined to win. 

It was somewhat late, after supper, when you received the phone call. It was from Tigris, her voice strained and hushed, whispering like she might get caught. 

“Tigris, what’s the matter,” you humm, still slowly drifting away from sleep. 

“It’s Coriolanus, there… there was a horrible rebel bombing at the arena and he was there,” 

Your heart drops, immediately making you feel awake as you’ve ever been. Before she is even finishing the rest of her sentence, you are on your feet, wrapping a long mauve colored coat around your scantily clad body, and slipping on some black ballerina flats. 

You rush out of the house, everyone is dispersed around the house, likely waiting for the Tribute interviews, and you tell the butler to alert your father of your whereabouts when he asks (which he is sure to). 

The ride feels long, you tapping your fingers, bouncing your leg, anything to keep your mind busy and off the millions of thoughts of what could’ve happened to Coryo. 

Once you arrive, the nurse leads you straight to his room, and there he is, limp on the small hospital bed. Your heart tightens and your eyes drop, quickly rushing to his side. 

You are alerted of Tigris’s presence when she finally speaks, hushed words once again. 

“He was calling for you in his sleep,” she smiles, watching as you smooth his hair down away from his face. 

“What happened Tigris?” you ask. If there had been a news report, you would’ve been held up in your room, nose buried deep in a book. And if this report did happen, which it likely did, your father would have demanded your entire family not leave for the next week. He would always get paranoid when the rebels sparsely attacked, worried that it would be someone of his who was laying in that hospital bed, hooked up to an oxygen machine. 

“They think the rebels had been planning it. A few tributes ran, mine included,” Sejanus speaks, and you whip around, watching as his large figure crosses the room. 

“I’m so sorry, Sej,” you soothe, standing up from Coryo’s bedside to wrap your arms around Sejanus’s figure. He accepted your hug, practically melting into it. 

“There’s peacekeepers on every corner looking for him. But I hope he got as far away as possible, then they can’t hurt him anymore,” you rub his back, understanding his deep empathy for his once-friend. 

“Y/N?” you whip your head around, Croyo’s faint whisper falling from his lips as his fingers lightly twitch. “Been doing that every few minutes since he was brought here,” Tigris laughs. “I didn’t realize the two of you were that close,” she says, suddenly both pairs of eyes directly on you. 

“Just over the past couple of weeks. We’ve been helping each other, and he saved me from having Arachne’s same fate.” 

At the mention of Arachne’s name, the three of you fall into somber conversation, discussing small details about her life, honoring the girl you once called a friend. 

“Though she had her moments—“ 

You’re cut off by a small grunt, and then movement. Your eyes snap to Coryo, who is trying to sit up, eyes open and adjusting to the bright hospital lights. 

You jump to his side, delicately sitting down on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in yours. 

“Y/N,” he breathes out, a smile overtaking his face before he winces, sore everywhere. 

“Oh darling, I’ll get the nurse,” 

But before you can stand to alert for help, the small television in the room clicks on, a picture of Lucky Flickerman and Lucy Gray overtaking the screen. 

“She saved me,” you hear lightly behind you, Coryo’s eyes wide as he watches her every movement. 

Your heart strains, stomach twisting at his words. 

Then her voice fills the room, smooth and beautiful with every word. 

“When I was a babe, I fell down in a holler. When I was a girl, I fell into your arms,” the four of you watched with wide eyes, her words filling up all your senses. 

The donations began to pour in, Coriolanus’s mouth pulling up in the shape of a smile. This time, he doesn’t wince. 

“You say you won’t love me, I won’t love you neither, just let me remind you what I am to you,” your eyes flicker to Coryo, 

“Cause I am the one who looks out when you’re leaping, I am the one who knows how you were brave, And I am the one who heard what you said sleeping, I’ll take that and more when I go to my grave,” 

Coriolanus won’t meet your eyes, his feet reaching the ground as he pushes himself off the bed, slowly walking to the screen. 

You hold the emotion back, plastering an unassuming look on your face. 

“It’s sooner than later that I’m six feet under, it’s sooner than later that you’ll be alone, so who will you turn to, tomorrow, I wonder? For when the bell rings, lover, you’re on your own.” 

A weep falls from Tigris’s lips, and all of you turn to look, Sejanus’s pained expression briefly flashing over your face, sensing the pain. 

“Oh, Coryo, she’s amazing,” 

You sat in the living room with your family, your large television broadcasting the first day of the games. 

You had been sitting there for hours now, your father engrossed, watching children fight to the death. 

Persephone was unfazed, sipping from a China glass with some sort of pink fizzy soda inside. 

Your mother busied herself with filing her nails, looking up every few moments and asking if it was over yet. 

Some sinister part of you, deep within your core, hoped that Lucy Gray would be the first out. So you’d never have to see her face again, hear her voice again. Then you’d have Coriolanus all to yourself, no more distractions and flamboyant performances. 

There were only a few tributes left, including Lucy Gray, the boy from 11 – Reaper, little Wovey, and the pack of tributes who traveled together. 

Coral, her name, the leader — she frightened you. 

Your father had been sending in donation after donation, mostly to Reaper, the tribute from 11. If Clemmie was conscious, you would’ve told her how your whole family was rooting for him. 

The second day of the games, Coriolanus invited you and Tigris to come with him, walking in with each of you on an arm. 

You and Tigris took your seats in the first row, eyes straining to make out the small shapes of tributes as they scurried around the arena, very few left at this time. 

You wished the games would hurry up and be finished already, Lucy Gray dead and some strong tribute pronounced the winner. You were tired of Coryo’s little fascination with the delicate songbird – you didn’t even think she was that great of a singer, anyways – and once she was dead the two of you could go back to your old ways. No distractions. 

It was soon nightfall, Tigris had left to get some sleep, and you felt yourself starting to drift off, Coryo’s jacket around your shoulders, keeping you warm from the chill in the large room. 

You lightly drifted off, awakened by the loud beep as the large monitor turned off. You jumped, pulling Coryo’s jacket tighter around your body. 

When you frantically searched around for him, he was nowhere to be seen. You rushed to Festus, one of the few of your classmates still left, begging him for answers. 

“Festus? Where did Coriolanus go?” you ushered out, words spilling out of your mouth in a hurry. Festus rolled his eyes, many of the boys in your grade had become annoyed with your obsession over the Snow boy. 

“No idea, Y/N. Dr. Gaul called him over and the next second he was being escorted away by some peacekeepers, Sejanus’s name was thrown around as well,” He was preoccupied with yelling at Lucky Flickerman, demanding to know what happened with the screen that he didn’t answer more question you threw at him. 

You rushed away from him to Dean Highbottom, who laid on the couch adjacent to the 24 desks set up in front of the screen. 

“Dean!” he snapped from his slumber, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

“What can I do for you, Miss Mars?” he asked, much nicer to you than the rest of the students. It may have had to do with your fathers large donation to the Academy. 

“Do you know where Coriolanus went?” you were calmer this time, knowing the Dean’s distaste for your beloved. Dean shrugged, taking a sip of something from a vial – morphling you assumed – before answering you. 

“Your friend has something he cares about in that arena, and he went to retrieve it.” 

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. It couldn’t be, there was no way Coriolanus would risk his life for Lucy Grays… right? 

Before you could think of anything else, your feet were taking you straight home, slamming the front door to your mansion before stomping into the living room, your father laughing while shoving something blue into his mouth. 

All his friends were over, them all drinking expensive posca and eating expensive foods while relishing in the death of district children. 

“Daddy,” 

Your father’s eyes snapped to you, taking in your disheveled appearance, Coryo’s jacket now in your hand, lightly dragging on the marbled floor. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” his friends all listening in, them all curious of what could be the matter. 

“I want you to start donating to Coral, the girl from 4. From what I saw today, she has a fair chance at winning, very fierce,” it took all of you to restrain from adding, and she’ll take out his little songbird, too.

Your father nodded, grinning that you had finally wanted to make a donation. You had spent the whole past two days moping around and refusing to place any bets on the tributes. Now Mr. Mars could finally send his fortune somewhere. 

He trailed over to the superscreen, pressing a few buttons and then clicking CORAL. He sent a few thousand dollars, all his friends doing the same. 

You would never mention this to Festus, and especially not to Coriolanus. All that mattered to you was for Lucy Gray to be gone and forgotten, taking her ugly dresses and somber songs with her. You were tired of her intrusions in your life, in the people you loved.

The screen snapped back on, no longer just a black screen with the embalm of the Capitol displayed. No, it showed Sejanus, and Coriolanus, sprinting as fast as they could. The background… well the background was the arena. And there were tributes trailing them. And suddenly you felt very sick. 

You knew now why the screen went back, and why Coriolanus went into that arena. Not to save Lucy Gray, no, but to save Sejanus. And all those dollars that your father and his friends had just sent in were now in Festus Creed’s pocket, and his tribute, the girl who was hot on your friend’s trails. 

You covered your mouth, feeling like your food from earlier was about to come up. The color was drained from your father and his friends' faces, them all standing, shocked to see the wealthy Plinth boy and noble Snow in the arena housing vicious children. Who, undeniably so, wanted the two of them dead. 

Your mind flooded with thoughts, thinking that you would be the one to cause Coryo’s death, it would be your fault if Coral caught up with him, if she reached him in time. 

The cameras panned to the exit of the arena, the peacekeepers opening the gate just enough for the two Capitol boys to escape, just enough room for them to slide out. 

A breath you didn’t realize you were holding escapes your lips, and you place a hand on your large white couch, steadying yourself. 

“Was.. was that the Snow boy, darling?” your father’s voice is faint, you can barely hear it over the ringing in your ears. One of his friends answers for you, and soon another’s hands are on your back, bringing you to sit down in one of the nearby plush chairs. 

Lyssie’s dad and one of your father’s closest friends, Dr. Vickers, is soon by your side, feeling your forehead and handing you some ice to place on your face. 

All the voices are mixing, blurring together in a fury of anxiety and worry, multiple powerful men all standing around, making sure of your wellbeing. 

Finally, after what feels like long treacherous hours, you’re able to squeak out, “I’m fine.”

Your father has an Avox escort you upstairs to your room, with a glass of water and some bright orange pill that is typically used for migraines. You know Dr. Vickers prescribed it, probably the only thing he could possibly think of you having. 

You take the small pill, hoping it will give you some sort of relief from your stress. You can’t help but blame yourself, knowing that if he died in there, it would’ve been your fathers money that placed the weapon in Coral’s hands. 

You would visit him tomorrow, pretend you had no idea what happened in that arena. You’d have the Avoxe’s clean his uniform coat, and give it back to him, good as new. You would tell him you went to bed early, leaving the viewing room before the television turned off. You would give him no intell that you know he went in there, that you know how Coral got her weapons. It would be a secret, one that you hoped you’d be able to keep. 

The medication knocked you out pretty quickly, and you slept for a good 12 hours, waking up around 11 am the next day. You could hear your father downstairs, pacing the marble floors. You know he definitely only went away from the TV while Lucky Flickerman talked about the weather, likely showering or maybe taking a power nap. 

If there was one thing your father loved, it was the hunger games.

You pulled on some clean clothes, simple gray pants and a light pink blouse, and made your way downstairs, handing the closest Avox Coryo’s jacket, silently asking them to clean it. 

You had no idea how many tributes were left, hopefully only a few. And you still wished one of them wouldn’t be Lucy Gray.  

Much to your dismay, she was still very much alive and breathing. Your father stated that Jessup had died earlier that morning, as with one of the other boys, a bloody nose, your father said. What a peculiar way to die. 

That left Lucy Gray, Reaper, Wovey, Coral, and one more of her henchmen. The final five. You were nervous yet eager to get down to the Academy, to see Coriolanus and make sure he was alright. 

Cook packed you a meal, and you took Coriolanus’s now clean jacket, directing your driver to take you straight to school. 

When you arrived, you waltzed in, saying a quick hello to Tigris before rushing over to Coryo, placing his jacket over his chair, and shoving some food into his hands. 

“Coryo, eat,” you urged, trying to subtly check out his broad frame for any sort of scar or mark. You saw a large amount of gauze coming out from under his uniform, obviously wrapped around his body. 

“Coriolanus, what happened,” you whispered, fingers trailing the gauze. His eyes briefly snapped away from the screen, watching as you inspected his new attire. 

“Nothing, fell in the shower last night,” you knew it was lie, but you chose to spare him the argument, sinking back and taking a seat next to Tigris. If anyone could distract you, it would be her. 

You all sat for what felt like hours, and then came the announcement. Felix Ravinstill had succumbed to his injuries, and there would be no victor. No tribute deserved to live after the rebel’s merciless killing of the Presiden’t son. 

You and Felix weren’t the closet of friends, but you had grown up together, and your fathers had been good to each other. You remembered playing with Felix when the circus would come in town, or running around together at the zoo, faces pressed against the enclosures of various exotic animals. 

You covered your mouth with your hand, a gasp falling out, Tigris rubbed your back, her face sharing a pained expression. 

When you finally did look away from the screen, Coriolanus was gone. And you didn’t feel like trying to figure out where he went this time. 

You were sure it was to go convince Dr. Gaul or Dean Highbottom to spare his rainbow songbird, to save her life, takes his instead. 

You were tired of chasing, running down for answers, the puzzle pieces were beginning to click. 

You had too much stress already, worrying about the upcoming piano tour your father and President Ravinstill had been planning; wanting for you to tour the districts and give them a sense of national pride. To tell them: I am Panem. 

In a way, you were thankful. Your brother, Percy, would be the head peacekeeper on the tour, he’d escort you to all your shows, ride with you on the train. You’d be safe with him, not a thing in the world could touch you. 

The concerts were advertised for only the richest and of highest esteem in the districts, you doubted there would be many guests in Districts 11 and 12. Your parents were overwhelmed with pride, you were to be the symbol of the Capitol. A beautiful, talented, young girl. The future of Panem. 

You hadn’t told Coriolanus yet, you were planning on telling him once the games were over, once he had won the prize. That way the two of you could celebrate together. 

But Coriolanus was soon back, marching straight pass you and Tigris, eyes wide as he watched a tank of colorful serpents being dropped into the vast arena. 

You stood at the same time as Tigris, the two of you walking in sync to Coriolanus, both straining your necks to get a better view. 

Then the tank came crashing down, and you watched your prized tribute, Coral, go down in a sea of rainbow snakes. 

Festus was raging, turning to Coryo, wondering how his delicate little thing hadn’t gone down too. 

But she was singing. Go fucking figure. 

Murmurs were heard throughout the room, everyone with expectant eyes as you all watched the snakes curl up and around Lucy Gray, but refusing to harm her. 

Then they were chanting, calling for her release. You felt the tears spring in your eyes. There was no way she had won. You were sick of this little girl, sick of her obnoxious dresses, long songs, and sick of her hold on Coriolanus. 

When Coryo turned around, a grin adorning his face, he noticed your face, a deep frown and glossed eyes, and he knew. He knew you had given up, surrendered the war. 

Once he realized the depth of his actions, it was too late. People were being ushered out of the room by peacekeepers, one grabbed your arm, and he lunged forwards, demanding they take their hands off you. 

Your eyes stayed on him the whole time as the peacekeeper carried you away. He was left in the room, Dr. Gaul appearing from a dark corner, Dean Highbottom sitting up from the couch. 

You shook your head, once, and Coriolanus wanted to cry. Lock himself in his room and cry. He was caught, by both you and the Head Gamemaker. And that was all there was to it. He was done for.

The next thing you knew, you were being marched to a classroom in the back of the Academy, a peacekeeper on each of your sides. 

Your father had gotten word of what happened from Serbo Plinth. Coriolanus Snow, being sent to 12. No one knew why, or what prompted the sudden want to be a peacekeeper in the most frowned upon district, but you were determined to find out. 

Coryo was in the room alone, a hankerchief and silver compact sitting on the desk in front of him, his hands cuffed on his lap. 

His head lifted as you entered the room, a smile quickly onto his lips. 

“Y/N,” he breathed out, relief behind his words. He was worried it would be Highbottom again, coming back to remind him how he would never have a future. 

You were stone-faced, eyes like a robot. There was no emotion now. 

One look on the desk and you knew why he was being sent away, why his decision to leave was so sudden, so hushed. 

“You cheated?” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Coriolanus looked down, shame deep in his stomach, unable to look you in the eye. You had done so much for him, fed him when he was the hungriest, cleaned his clothes when he was the dirtiest, cradled him when he was the most delicate. 

“Coriolanus,” his head snapped up at your use of his full name, a slight frown tugging at his lips, threatening to give him away. “I hate you right now, I really do. But my father can get you out of this, he can… he can do something. I don’t know what, but better than 12,” and at the end of the day, you still couldn’t keep yourself from wanting to help him, wanting to ease his pain in any way possible. 

“No, Y/N, I can’t–” 

“Coryo, he can help you! Somewhere better, nicer conditions–”

“Will you please stop,” he interrupts you, a little more harshly than you liked. 

You took an instinctive step back, shaking your head from confusion. 

“But you cheated because you needed to win. You seriously don't want to go to 12, do you?” 

He left your question sitting uncomfortably in the air. The tension was so thick, it could’ve been cut by a knife. 

It dawned on you then, all your previous fears proving truer by the minute. 

“You seriously don’t want to go to 12, do you, Coriolanus?” you urged on, almost on the brink of tears. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. 

When he didn’t answer, you took that as all the confirmation you needed, turning on your heel and stomping to the door. 

You cleared your throat, slightly turning around, Coryo’s head turning as well. 

You made the strongest eye-contact you could muster, narrowing your eyes. 

He flinched under your harsh gaze, and you gave him one last look up and down before spitting venom at him. 

“I hope she’s dead once you get there.”

Coriolanus couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the last words you said to him. He knew the power your family held, the immense amounts of influence. 

Just the snap of your father’s fingers would send Lucy Gray six feet under in seconds. 

It was the only thing on his mind when he traveled to the train station. 

Would you take it that far? Did your hatred for her — hatred that he had brewed — really settled that far deep in your soul? 

He thought he knew you well, but with this, he just couldn’t read you. 

The walk to the train station was short. He had one trunk, scarcely filled with various items. A t-shirt, extra pair of pants. A few photos, that was really all. 

Dean Highbottom had assured him that the peacekeeper base in 12 would have everything he needed, there was no reason to fret over forgetting something. 

So, as he sat inside the train, looking outside the window to the mostly empty platform, the only thing he could worry about was what he would find in 12. 

Would she be alive? Or would you have reached her first? 

His thoughts weren’t all in vain, no. He heard a loud, “wait!” 

Your voice. He could recognize it anywhere. 

He stood up, hands pressed to the glass, searching for where you were coming from. 

Who were you yelling for? Him? You had been stern with your words, he was sure you’d never want to see him again. 

But then he saw him. Sejanus. 

Sejanus turned at the sound of your voice, first a perplexed look on his face, and then a smile. 

Then Coryo saw you, running, your long yellow dress following you, a blur of hair and white heels as you moved as quickly as you could. 

You were holding something, a necklace? A bracelet, maybe? He couldn’t tell, but he could see it swinging in your palm. 

You finally reached Sejanus, a peacekeeper on your trail, telling you that you must leave, now. 

You ignored him, brushing off his hand that settled on your shoulder. 

Coryo heard you hiss at him, “get off me!” 

He smiled, there was your feistiness that he began to miss. 

“Y/N,” Sejanus breathed out, eyes soft and a big smile on his face. 

You felt a twinge of guilt in your stomach for what you were about to do, but Sejanus had always been a close friend. You knew that he would make a fine man, he was sweet, empathetic, and caring. 

He would do just fine. 

One look to your left, you saw Coriolanus’s face in a train window not too far from where you stood. He was staring straight at your face, mouth slightly agape, and curiosity in his eyes. 

You reminded yourself, he deserved this. You deserved it as well, someone better. 

The two of you held eye-contact for a brief moment before you turned back to Sejanus, and launched yourself at him. 

Your hungry lips met his, and you were up on your tiptoes, arms wrapping around his neck. 

Sejanus was taken aback, but soon his hands were resting on your hips, and he was kissing you back. 

It was gentle, slow. Nothing like kissing Coryo, but you pushed all those memories to the back of your mind, knowing if you thought about it too long you’d cry. 

You opened your eyes, Sejanus’s still closed, and made direct eye contact with Coriolanus. 

He was seething, you could tell. His mouth downturned in a scowl as you continued to move your lips against Sejanus’s. 

Finally, after what you decided was enough torture, you pulled back, and placed the necklace you had been holding in his hand. 

He looked down, wondering, creasing his eyebrows together. 

“A token. To remember me by,” you smiled, closing his palm around the chain. 

It was a long gold chain, one that likely cost a fortune, with a small gold plate, your initial carved into it. A small ruby stone sat at the top, one to match the ring you never took off. 

You knew Sejanus would wear it everyday, never taking it off. And that’s all you needed. For Coriolanus to see the token every day, to see your initial, your stone. To know that wherever he went, you’d be following. 

Sejanus thanked you, left a kiss to your cheek, and placed the chain around his neck, waving to you as he boarded the train, a grin never leaving his features. 

You began to feel bad, but you knew you could form feelings for him. They’d never be as strong as your feelings for Coryo, but they’d do. Sejanus had a fortune at his feet, he would be able to give you the life you deserved, even if it wasn’t the one you wanted. 

When Sejanus took a seat across from Coryo, a grin was wide across his features, and Coryo wanted to reach across the seat and smack it off his face. 

He had watched you place a chain in Sejanus’s hands, but it was now that he could finally get a look. 

The ruby left a raging feeling in his gut, remembering the words he had spoken to you in times of intimacy. 

“…a new ruby ring every birthday. Darling, it’s all for you,” 

He watched with envy as Sejanus traced his finger along the carving of your initial, hand balled in a fist under the table. 

Sejanus had surprised him, unwilling for him to travel to 12 alone. “That’s what friends do,” he had said. 

But Coriolanus knew that a friend wouldn’t be dreaming about ripping the others' head off. 

And that’s when he knew he had to take Sejanus out. One way or another. 

Your tour around the districts had been going magnificently. Better than you ever could have hoped. Persephone insisted on coming with you, declaring you needed support after everything that happened with Coryo. 

Somehow, the situation had brought the two of you together, forming a sister-bond that you had never experienced before. 

Percy was your personal peacekeeper, his room always connected to yours, his body always hovering slightly behind as you walked around the districts, meeting various people and sightseeing around. 

The three of you stayed in the Crane’s various hotels, given the nicest rooms, and best service. After all, you were Panem’s Princess. 

But once you reached District 11, it all started to go down. 

President Ravinstill insisted you do the districts in order, starting with One and ending with Twelve. “Give them something to look forward to,” he had said. 

You were worried for the poorer districts, you couldn’t lie. The people were more violent, dirtier. They would risk their lives to try and kill you, the precious gem of the Capitol. 

Connection was compliance, and you knew these people hated anyone having to do with President Ravinstill. He had punished them tirelessly after the war, and didn’t seem to be letting up any time soon. 

You were scared someone would throw themselves up onto the stage as you played, maybe charge into your dressing room with a knife after the show. You had no idea what to expect. You hadn’t seen these districts apart from their features once a year at the reapings. 

You had vacationed to Districts One and Two before the war, when your family would parade around with the Cranes to their various homes. But now, you were in the last two districts, and though all your other shows had gone marvelously, you were sure they wouldn’t all be good. One had to be an outlier. 

District 11 was kind to you when you first arrived, a little girl had walked up to you at the station, holding a small pink flower. Percy stood straight next to you, guarding you from any potential danger this flower could harm. 

“It’s alright, Perse,” you assured him, taking the flower from the little girl’s hands. 

“You look like a princess,” she had spoken, big eyes raking up and down your travel outfit, which was likely more expensive than all the money she would ever make. 

You giggled at her compliment, gracefully accepting it, and holding the flower close to your heart. 

Just as you were about to compliment her little dress, Percy pushed you backwards, yelling for you and Persephone to get back onto the train. 

You looked around in confusion, Percy’s backup peacekeepers coming out and grabbing your arms, pulling you back into the comforts of the bullet-proof train, one especially made for Capitol citizens. 

Your eyes darted around as they continued to pull you, the sound of gunshots being the only thing you could hear. You were suddenly hyper-aware, realizing that Percy had just raced after whatever was posing the threat. 

You thrashed against the peacekeeper's hard grip, trying to get back to the little girl, watching as people ran across the station; she was likely to get trampled. 

“Help her!” you screamed, motioning for the multiple peacekeepers surrounding you to go help the frightened little girl. 

She was looking around, shaking profusely. No one knew what was happening, only that there had been rebels waiting outside the underground station, wanting to get their hands on the three holders of the Mars fortune. 

The loud boom of the bombs then began to fall, and you fell to the ground, Persephone coming down next to you. She grabbed you, pulling you into her lap, and the two of you covered your heads with your arms, like you had been trained to do during the war. 

A peacekeeper was on top of you two, gun positioned up as more went out to shoot at the innocent civilians who were just trying to escape. 

You felt sick, like you were going to throw up. So this was how President Ravinstill was punishing the districts? By shooting them at random and trampling them in public spaces? 

You resonated with his loss of Felix, his only child, but to you, this seemed extreme. You suddenly realized that Sejanus had been right the whole time; the government was meant to protect its people, not kill them. 

Finally, the shaking and sounds stopped, and a peacekeeper took your hand to help you stand, legs wobbly from the fear still coursing throughout your body. 

When he placed his hands on your hips to ensure you could stand, it reminded you too much of Coriolanus, and you broke, “get your hands off me!” 

He was taken aback, hands immediately leaving your body, and giving you a bewildered look. You realized he was only trying to help, and apologized, smoothing down your long dress. 

Percy finally returned, engulfed you into his arms, and you began your trek to the Peacekeeper barracks, where the President now wished for you to stay. 

You hated the idea of living among hundreds of men, but there was nowhere else you’d be safer. Percy assured you that he’d sleep in the bunk next to yours, it would just be you and your siblings in the room, no one else. You finally agreed, realizing you really didn’t want to sleep alone after that rebel scare. 

Percy explained it all to you on the ride to the barracks. Some rebels knew when your train was arriving, and they had planned to grab you and run, from what he saw, there were a lot of them, definitely enough to take you if they hadn’t last-minute called for extra peacekeepers. They had feared something like this would happen, especially after Reaper’s public humiliation of the Capitol in the games. 

They got a few of the rebels, and they were currently being sent to the Capitol for interrogation. Percy said they would have more information in a few hours, once Dr. Gaul had received the men. 

Your mind was going a mile a minute, trying to comprehend all the information you just received. Someone was trying to kill you? To take you and run, then kill you later, broadcasting all around the districts? Showing the Capitol that they can kill, but the districts can too? 

Your stomach began to turn. You were absolutely dreading your performance that night. Originally, it had been planned that you would do two shows in each district, except 12. But you had managed to pull a few strings, and now had one night in 11 and two nights in 12. 

You wanted to see Sejanus. To kiss him again, dance with him. You knew deep down that you really longed to see Coriolanus, to see if Lucy Gray was still alive. You had been writing to Sejanus, and he had been sending you updates. 

He claimed it was so dark and dreary there, everyone was poor, dirty. He wanted to help them but he didn’t know how. The last thing you wanted was Sejanus to be killed for being an accomplice to some rebels, so you reminded him to just lay low. Do his duties, and then come home as soon as possible. 

The only thing on your mind the entire time you performed in 11, went to bed, and then boarded the train the next morning was seeing him again. Coriolanus. You had pushed him to the back of your head, trying your hardest to forget about him and all his stolen promises. But as you came closer and closer to seeing him again, you couldn’t keep the thoughts contained anymore. 

And as the train zoomed past the break in the gate that read “District Twelve”, your stomach began to twist. 

Sejanus had bought tickets for your show tonight, three, enough for him, Coriolanus, and Lucy Gray to all attend. 

Coriolanus didn’t think it was right for Lucy Gray to go. After all, she was the reason that you kissed Sejanus, the reason that he was now stuck in District 12, when he should really be in the Capitol, with you. 

He was excited for the performance, he couldn’t lie. He had told Lucy Gray not to come, that she would hate it. Besides, Lucy Gray had her own show that night. She was not happy that Coriolanus was skipping it to see you, but nothing had progressed between the two of them. They hadn’t kissed, they had barely spoken. But she didn’t know of your history with Coriolanus, all she knew was that she had once persuaded him to profess his love for you, and now, there she was, the man she loved skipping her performance for his ex-lovers.

Sejanus didn’t know, nobody did. No one knew of the nights the two of you spent, the moment in the coat closet, the whispered promises in moments of passion. 

Coriolanus still hoped that you were holding out for him, despite your goodbye kiss with Sejanus. He had wanted to strangle Sejanus on the spot, but he knew something would arise, something that he could turn him in for. Sejanus could never stay away from a “good cause”, and Coriolanus had finally caught him. He had given some rebels money, and Coriolanus fully planned on turning him in. 

The two of them took their seats in the small amphitheater. It was the only one that Twelve had, and it could fit maybe 100 people. That meant only the richest in all of Twelve. You doubted all the seats would fill, but you really just wanted to finish the show and see the boys. That’s all you wanted. 

So when you walked out on stage, wearing a camel-colored dress and a big black bow in your hair, Coriolanus thought he was going to faint. 

He was curious about which songs you would choose to play. You hadn’t played A Snow Waltz since your very first performance, and Coriolanys doubted you would play it tonight. But each night, without fail, you sang. And the songs were usually from the old world, each one somehow resonating with the District you were in. It was your touch. You got to pick what you performed, the one thing that the President gave you freewill over. 

Tonight, you had chosen A Snow Waltz. You had changed the name on the program, therefore no one would be able to predict it. But as soon as your fingers began to dance along the keys, Coriolanus began to melt, immediately recognizing the piece. 

You knew he would recognize it, that was the whole reason you chose it. It was for him, everything always was. And so, when you sang the same song that you had played the very first time, the very first song you had sang to the people of Panem, Coriolanus knew. He knew that he had to win you back, no matter what it took. 

You were showered with praise, bowing before the people of Twelve. You had to admit, they had been a better audience than you expected. 

And when a white rose fell at your feet, you looked up, eyes meeting those cold ones that belonged to Coriolanus. 

He offered you a slight smile, which turned to a grin when you smiled back. 

After the show, Sejanus had been escorted back to your dressing room, swooping you into his arms and kissing all over your face, begging you to join him at the bar. 

“I don’t know if that is really my scene, Sej,” you rubbed your arm awkwardly, looking up at him with big doe eyes. 

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N/N, I promise, I’ll make it worth your while!” 

You dressed in the most normal outfit you had packed, a short white dress with bell sleeves, lace trimming the neckline and sleeves. 

It was a dress you picked up in District One, Persephone commenting how it went great with your hair and eyes. 

You put on your tan boots, and tied them up. You looked like someone from the districts, and if it weren’t for the big ruby ring on your middle finger, and perfectly done makeup upon your face, you could’ve possibly passed for a district girl. 

You left the big black bow in your hair, wanting to keep a piece of your distinct style with you, despite all your clothing being picked up on your journey around Panem. 

You saw your necklace still around Sejanus’s neck, and it gave you a sense of pride, knowing Coriolanus definitely had spotted it too, probably grinding his teeth to keep himself from launching at Sejanus from across the room. 

So finally, when you had convinced Percy that you’d be safe with Sejanus and all the other peacekeepers who were going, you linked arms with Sejanus and let him lead you away.

But when you walked into the club with Sejanus, and there was an old-feeling country song on, you pulled him into the middle of the dancefloor and demonstrated the moves you had danced to alone in your bedroom, for many, many years. Dancing like this would have never been allowed in the Capitol. If your father saw you flipping your hair around and jumping with a bunch of strangers, he’d probably have dropped dead. 

You didn’t even realize it was Lucy Gray performing until you spinned in Sejanus’s arms, eyes meeting hers. You froze, watching her mouth move to the lyrics of the song she sang at the reaping. 

You watched her eyes slightly narrow before she smiled at you, and before you could stop yourself, you were smiling back, continuing to spin in Sej’s arms. 

Coriolanus watched from a corner deep in the bar, eyes on you and your tiny dress, when they really should’ve been on Lucy Gray. But he couldn’t look away. Not from the beaming smile upon your lips, or the way your hair flew as Sejanus spinned you to the beat of the song. 

When Lucy Gray finished her song, she announced your presence, and all the blood suddenly drained from your face. You had no idea what she was doing, but the whoops from the people throughout the small place assured you that your presence was welcomed. 

“Come up and sing us a song, Y/N!” Lucy Gray reached out for your hand, tugging you up onto the stage. Coriolanus wondered what game she was playing at, eyes narrowing as you walked up the steps to the stage, a light blush dotting your cheeks. 

You walked up to the microphone, pushing the hair out of your face. Sejanus was right below you, and you knew that if anything were to happen, he would be the first to you, pulling you away from the danger. 

“Hi everyone, I’m Y/N,” you speak into the microphone, giggling as the whole bar begins to cheer, begging you to sing them a song. You didn’t realize people enjoyed your music so much. 

“I don’t have my piano! What am I supposed to perform?” you asked them, various people shouting at you to just sing instead. 

“Alright, I guess I will. This song I wrote myself, to help me cope with a particularly hard situation. I hope you all like it.” 

Coriolanus wondered what you could’ve been talking about, but then your voice invaded his senses and he brought the bottle of alcohol to his lips, taking a long sip. His eyes never once left your body, his gaze making you feel hot. 

“I’m tired of this place, I hope people change,” you smiled to the crowd, this song was more upbeat than any of the others you had ever sang. 

“I need time to replace what I gave away, and my hopes they are high, I must keep them small,” the crowd swayed along to your mesmerizing voice, Lucy Gray suddenly feeling very jealous of the way you commanded attention. 

“Though I try to resist, I still want it all! I see swimming pools, and living rooms, and aeroplanes, I see a little house on a hill and children’s names,” you began to move as you sang, the microphone in your hand. Even Lucy Gray and the Covey began to dance, your words getting faster by the second. 

“But everything shattered and it’s my mistake, only fools fall for you, only fools fall,” Coriolanus was suddenly hyperaware. Every song you had performed that night was because of him. He didn’t know if he should feel great shame or great pride. 

“Only fools do what I do, only fools fall,” 

And suddenly the Covey was grabbing their instruments, forging a beat to go along with the song. You smiled over your shoulder, the few members giving you encouraging nods. 

People started to cheer, obviously liking the way you demanded their attention. 

“Oh, our lives don’t collide, I’m aware of this, we’ve got differences, and impulses,” 

Your eyes met Coriolanus’s, and you grinned, his face soon matching the giddy expression. 

“And your obsession with the little things. I don’t care at all, I’m not giving up!” 

People cheered again, and you watched as Coryo slowly made his way through the crowd, trying to get a better view of you performing. 

“I still want it all!” 

You giggled as you twirled around the stage, lyrics continuing to pour from your mouth. You thought you made your message pretty clear, but when you watched both Coryo and Sejanus disappear down a hall, you briefly lost your liveliness and wrapped up the song with a loud, “Thank you all!”

You rushed down the side-stairs, and went straight down the hallway that your two boys disappeared down. You could hear raised voices, though the words were muffled through the thick walls. 

You pushed open the door, a gun immediately being pointed in your face. 

“Spruce, it’s alright,” Sejanus assured, but Coryo was first to you, his hands pushing you behind him. 

A girl with red hair was eyeing you from across the room, her eyes raking over your expensive jewelry and pretty clothing. 

“And who’s this?” the man – Spruce, you assumed – asked, motioning his gun to your body hidden behind Coriolanus. 

“You don’t look at her,” Coryo seethed out, one hand snaking behind him to hold your waist against his body, and another out in front of him, keeping Spruce and the two other strangers at bay. 

Sejanus mistook his possessiveness for just wanting to protect an old friend, but you and Coriolanus both knew that the protection meant something else. 

So Coryo still wanted you as badly as you wanted him? Did he regret going to Twelve? You supposed there was no bad blood with Lucy Gray after she brought you up onto her stage, so clearly nothing had happened in the few weeks the boys had been in Twelve. 

Your hands balled in the back of Coryo’s shirt, the harsh fabric being the only thing grounding you right then. 

You closed your eyes, reminding yourself to breathe, but your eyes snapped open as the red-haired girl began to cackle. You peeked your head out from behind Coryo, trying to get a better look. 

Her head was thrown back in mock-amusement, another man, Billy (maybe?), trying to calm her down, a hand on her shoulder. 

She saw you peeking around, and as she took in your hair, your eyes, and your figure, realization dawned on her. There was no one as pretty as you in Twelve. Probably in all of the districts! You weren’t a district girl, no way. 

“Oh! It’s the Capitol Princess! I should’ve known! Billy, why don’t you try to bed that songbird too, huh? Or I can just tell my Daddy about –” she shut up at the sound of a gunshot, Spruce had shot at the ceiling, causing you to jump and shriek. You hated the violence. 

“Spruce!” the other man yelled at him, back to the other girl. There was fire burning behind her eyes, and you finally recognized her as the girl that Lucy Gray had attacked with a snake at the reaping. You understood now. She really was insufferable. 

“Control your woman, Billy Taupe.” 

With that, Billy turned around, reaching out for the girl. “Mayfair, just settle down. The girl ain’t gonna say a thing…” you had no idea what was going on, your vision still slightly blocked. 

“Sejanus, what were you thinking?” Coryo roars, the anger in his voice would’ve made you cower if you were on the receiving end. 

You slowly began to peek out from Coryo, hand on his lower back as you tucked yourself into his side, his hand instinctively wrapping around you. 

“They told me it was for supplies! Not guns! I didn’t know, I swear–” 

“And you trusted them?” 

Coryo sounds the angriest you’ve ever heard him. You look up at his face, eyes softening as you read it as fear. He was scared. 

“Coryo,” you coo, hand rubbing his hip. The second his eyes locked down on you, he was calm, trying to steady his breathing. 

“Sejanus,” your voice was soft, cutting through the thick tension in the room. Sej looked at you, and you saw how upset he was. 

“We’ll go to Percy. He can fix this, I promise,” 

But you spoke too soon, because Mayfair was now yelling again, this time straight in your direction. And then you realized your mistake.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re related to Major Percy Mars too? Oh this will be so good. Just wait until my daddy hears that a Capitol Mars girl is an accomplice! You’re all–” her words were cut off when Coryo lunged for one of the guns sitting in the middle table, lifting it up and firing it directly into the middle of Mayfair’s chest. You yelped, jumping backwards into Coryo’s open arms, him bringing your face into his chest, shielding you from the blood pouring onto the floor. 

You heard screams, likely from the Billy boy, and then Spruce trying to resonate with him. Sejanus’s laboring breathing was loud, and you tried to focus on your own as you heard the men around you fight. 

“You killed her,” Billy spoke, and you finally looked up, tear brimmed eyes meeting Coryo’s. He placed his hands on either side of your face, crouching so your noses were touching. 

“Hey, listen to me. We’re gonna be fine, alright. I’m not gonna let anyone touch you,” 

His words settled you, and you nodded, turning your head slightly to the sound of Billy’s raised voice. 

“You think you’re gonna walk away free from this? I don’t think so, Capitol Pretty Boy. If I swing, you’re swinging with me,” 

Another gunshot, you covered your ears, watching Billy Taupe fall to the floor next to his Mayfair. 

“I didn’t trust him anyways,” Spruce shrugged, slinging the gun over his shoulder. 

Coryo was moving fast, wrapping the guns that Sejanus paid for into a large duffle bag, and shoved it into Spruce’s arms. 

“Get rid of these, Spruce, go!” and Spruce was running out the room, disappearing into the darkness outside. 

You were shaking, staring at the two dead bodies on the floor, blood pouring out in what seemed never-ending quantities. 

Coryo’s hands were on your shoulders, leading you out of the room. He was shouting things at Sejanus over his shoulder, but the ringing in your ears wouldn’t let you focus on what he was saying.  

When you re-entered the bar, Lucy Gray watched with confused eyes as Coryo lead you away, a shaken Sejanus following. Coryo’s protective grip was the only thing you could focus on the entire walk back to the Peacekeeper barracks. 

Finally when you returned, Coryo sent Sejanus straight to their bunks and walked you to your shared room with your siblings. 

“Don’t tell them anything,” Coryo whispered, frantic eyes searching your features for a sign of distress. You nodded, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“I wasn’t gonna let them hurt you, Y/N.” 

You looked up at him, wide and glossy eyes meeting his stern ones. Ice cold but softening when they saw your fear. 

“I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he left a haste kiss to your lips, which you barely had time to process before Percy was opening the door, saying goodnight to Coryo, and pulling you into the room. 

He hadn’t liked the idea of you going out in the first place, so there was no way you were going to tell him what happened in the small back room of the dreary bar you were in. 

They could tell something was wrong, but they didn’t push it. Persephone took Coryo’s presence as more than an answer and helped you undress and get into bed.

You kept Coryo’s secret and screwed your mouth shut, answering their surface-level question with one-word, assuring them you were fine, just tired. 

They finally left you alone and you rolled onto your side, facing the wall. You didn’t sleep a second that night. 

The next morning you awoke from loud yelling outside your door, Percy quick to his feet to examine what was the matter. 

He was out there for a few moments before rushing back in, words spilling from his mouth, “Dress quickly, they’ve found rebels and we all must attend.” 

You got out of bed, fearing that they had found out about Coriolanus and Sejanus. You pulled on a white skirt and light pink blouse, slipped into the boots you wore last night, and didn't bother to do your hair or makeup. 

Percy had a protective hand on your shoulder as the three of you made your way to the District Square, you couldn’t help but think the worst. You knew they had done something punishable by death, but was it possible that Spruce had been caught immediately? It was the Peacekeeper’s night off, there were none on duty. How could they have found the guns that quickly? 

Peacekeepers situated the three of you in the front, your hand intwined with Persephone’s. You spotted Coryo in front of the stage and you smiled, a relieved laugh falling from your lips. Percy looked down at you, bewildered, and you managed to squeak out an excuse. The last thing you needed was to involve your Major brother. 

Coryo’s face was stiff, but he met your eye and nodded to you, acknowledging that everything would be okay. You strained your neck looking for Sejanus, wanting to make sure he was alright too. But he was nowhere in sight. 

Commander Hoff took the stage, and you saw Spruce standing on his other side, your entire face dropping. “No..” you whispered out, Percy’s harsh gaze shutting you up. 

“Three years, I fought for the Capitol during the war. I’ve been angry, but this is the first time I’ve felt ashamed…Get the other one up here!” and then you knew. You knew that Sejanus had been caught. 

Two Peacekeepers pushed their way through the audience, Sejanus’s beat up body being held up in between them. 

“No!” you shrieked as he passed you, Percy’s arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from chasing after him. 

Everyone turned to look. The Capitol Princess throwing a fit over a Peacekeeper being a traitor. They wondered why you weren’t shot on sight for thrashing in the arms of another Peacekeeper. 

“Let him go! Let him go!” you wailed and kicked Percy with your legs as he held you back into his chest, Persephone’s hand slapping over your mouth to keep you quiet. 

You reached out your hands to grab Sejanus, but then moved them down to Percy’s arms to unravel them from your body. 

Coryo winced as your sobs echoed from the mouths of the mockingjays, large tears spilling from your eyes and falling to the ground. 

You heard as Sejanus called out for Coryo while he was being pulled up the stairs, and then onto the stage as the noose was wrapped around his neck. 

Persephone instinctively removed her hand when you bit down on it, once again screaming for your friend. 

“Please, Sejanus! No!” Everyone ignored you, heads hung low as your blood-curdling weeps were heard for miles. 

“He didn’t do anything wrong!” you insisted, another Peacekeeper coming to help Percy keep you restrained. You knew this would make its way back to the Capitol somehow, but you didn’t care. Your father and President Ravinstill would excuse it for the sympathy of a dear friend, and pardon you. But as you watched Sejanus struggle for his life, you wished you could do something greater to help. 

“The Capitol has received word via jabberjay that these two men conspired to break into our base’s jail and flee north. To release this terrorist from captivity,” the Commander motioned behind him to a woman, one you didn’t recognize. 

You looked around, everyone stone-faced and silent. You didn’t understand how they could all be bystanders, but then understood that their death’s meant much less than yours did. In the eyes of the President and Capitol anyways. 

“I’d expect this from a rebel, but not from one of our own. This is treason, plain and simple!” 

Then, a loud recording sounded out, Sejanus’s voice filled your senses. For the first time in what felt like eternity, you looked at Coryo, tears slightly overlapping your vision. He was breathing heavily, slightly shaking. Sejanus began to scream for Coryo again, and you had to turn away, face in Percy’s chest. 

He wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you closer. Then the stage gave, and you heard the loud cracks as the three of their neck’s gave out. You shuddered and felt Percy pick you up into his arms and push through the crowd, heading back for the base. 

He’d probably scold you for making such a scene, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was that Sejanus was dead, and it was likely your fault. 

When you finally got back to the room, Percy laid you on your bed, silent as he paced the room, tugging at his hair. The Plinth’s were your closest family friends. Sejanus’s death hit the three of you hard. Persephone immediately went to the phone, dialing your mother, small whimpers falling from her lips. 

You cried into your pillow, soaking it with salty tears. You heard ruffling around, assuming Percy was packing up all your bags, not wanting to disturb your mourning. 

You had eventually dozed off, but were woken by Persephone lightly shaking you awake. “Coriolanus Snow is at the door for you,” she lightly smiled, no anger or annoyance dripped in her words. You supposed she was being kind about Coryo due to the day’s earlier events. 

You nodded, pushing up off the bed, and made your way to the door. 

And there Coryo was, stoic as ever. He immediately pulled you into his arms, stroking your hair with his hand while the other was tight around your waist. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” he murmured, letting you whimper into his chest. He would never tell you that he sent the mockingjay, that Sejanus’s blood was on his hands. You would never forgive him. 

When you pulled back, you spotted the necklace that you had given Sejanus hanging around Coryo’s neck, where it should be. You had originally bought it for him, but felt it shouldn’t go to waste. 

Coryo watched as you ran your fingers over the solid gold, tracing the red ruby. 

“He gave it to me, last night,” Coryo whispered. 

“He saw the way you clung to me, and knew, I guess. Said it should belong to me. And I couldn’t argue with him there.” 

“He was right,” you whispered, finally cracking a smile. 

He let you relish in the happiness for a moment, before lightly crouching to be at your level. 

“Lucy Gray found out where the gun is. The one used on Mayfair. I’m going with her to get rid of it, and then I’ll be back. No loose ends.” You nodded at his words, but extremely afraid. 

“Does that mean Lucy Gray too?” you held the cold gold in your hands, the refreshing chill calming your senses. 

“I…I haven’t decided yet. I don’t think she’s a threat, but you never know, I suppose.” 

You didn’t think Lucy Gray should die, not anymore. She hadn’t really done anything wrong, just survived. You felt bad for her more than anything. 

“Don’t hurt her unless you have to, Coryo. All she’s done is survive.” Coryo nodded at your words and pulled you into his chest, your lips connecting. 

An unspoken goodbye, in case he didn’t return. 

“I love you,” you pulled away from him, hand running through his buzzed hair. 

“I love you more,”

You’d find out later that night that Lucy Gray had been “taken care of” in Coryo’s words, and soon you were sitting next to him on the train home, fingers playing with his as you neared the Capitol entrance.

10 years later…

Lucky Flickerman stood atop the glimmering stage, Coriolanus on his left side, and Festus Creed on his other. 

You and Tigris sat in the front row, hands enclosed around each other. Yours and Coryo’s four-year-old son is on your other side, he is dressed in a sharp deep blue suit and his blond hair slicked back. He looks just like Coriolanus, holding your hand and swaying his feet out of impatience in his seat. 

His name is Apollo Crassus Snow, and his name precedes him. He is like a ball of sunshine, always smiley and begging you to sing for him. He reminded you just of his father when he was that age.

“And now I am pleased to announce the final round of votes is in!” Lucky exclaims, looking over to Coryo who offers him a charming smile, eyes flickering down to you in the audience. You offer him a beaming smile, assuring him that you’ll be with him, no matter what happens. 

What feels like a torturously long few minutes as Lucky asks Coryo and Festus each their last few questions, he finally turns to the audience, and announces what everyone has been waiting for. 

“I am proud to announce the President-Elect for Panem is… Coriolanus Snow!” 

Clapping breaks out in the large amphitheater, and a grin takes over your features, watching as Coriolanus waves out to the crowd, a broad smile upon his lips. 

“As my first duty as president of Panem, I’d like to invite my magnificent wife and son up on stage,” he is as charming as ever, extending his hand to where you and Apollo sit in the front row. 

Apollo is up immediately, holding his little hand out for you to take. The audience oohs-and-awes as you take his hand, laughing as your little boy leads you up the stairs. 

Your white dress trails along the ground. It was an exact replica of the dress you wore for your first ever performance, just colored as white as snow, as Coriolanus had stated. 

The two of you make it up the stairs, and Coriolanus scoops Apollo up into his arms, setting him onto his hip, and pulling you tight against his other side, a hand wrapping around your waist. 

His deep-scarlet colored three-piece suit mixes perfectly with yours and Apollo’s outfits, the Snow family looking like perfect Panem royalty.

You beam and wave out to the crowd, acting like the perfect First Lady. 

Apollo waves as well, his hand going wild. You and Coriolanus giggle at your son, the perfect first-child of Panem. He was beautiful, like a little model, and his spirit made him magnetic. 

You were so lucky. 

Coriolanus then slightly leans forward to once again speak into the microphone, thanking the crowd for believing in him from the beginning and giving him the prestigious responsibility of ruling the ever-flourishing Panem. 

When he leans back, the crowd erupts into the loudest applause you’ve ever heard, and you all wave goodbye before being escorted off the stage and into the banquet hall, where the Presidential Gala would now be held. 

That night, after you and Coriolanus tucked Apollo into his new majestic room, the two of you curled into your new bedroom, a large four-poster bed with golden tapestries around each side. 

The walls were tall and painted a dark red, gold piping along the many walls. Different portraits hung around the room, but the one above your bed, that Coriolanus had made sure was the first installed, included the portrait he commissioned after Apollo’s birth. 

You sat in the middle, a long silk dress hanging off your immaculate figure. Coriolanus stood behind you, a hand pressed to your shoulder, and the other supporting the child you cradled in your arms. It was his favorite, showcasing the most important things in his life. 

You laid against his chest, playing with the gold embalm that laid against his heart, your initial traced into it. 

“Darling,” his voice cuts you out out your trance, and you look up, meeting his eyes. 

“I have something for you,” he smiles, reaching over to his nightstand. 

“Oh, Coriolanus, it’s your day, you don’t need to give me anything..” your words trail off as he opens the small black velvet case, revealing the most ornate and beautiful ruby ring you had ever seen. 

Coryo had stuck to his promise, gifting you a new, and more expensive, ruby ring for every one of your birthdays. They gained size each year, and began to be cut into more complex shapes and sizes. 

This one was huge, shimmering from the moonlight streaming in. A halo of diamonds surrounded the large oval-shaped stone, with another halo of sapphires behind the small diamonds. 

You were speechless, mouth agape as you stared at the ring. The last piece of jewelry you had received that even compared to this one was your engagement ring, which was the biggest diamond ever crafted in Panem’s history. 

Coryo wiped the stray tear that slipped from your eye, and then took your hand, slipping the heavy ring onto your middle finger. 

“It’s beautiful, Coryo,” you smiled, admiring the beautiful creation. 

“This is all for you, my love. And I never want you to forget it.” 

*

tagged

@snowsgames @mrsjobarnes

#imagine #angst #maeve writes 🎀 #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine

[maevesheart]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ she-devil

╰┈➤ ❝ summary ❞

you, y/n griswold, smart, spoiled, gorgeous, and the most popular girl at midtown. him…. peter parker. there’s not much else to say…. at least that’s what you think. so when your evident best friend, harry osborn, spills to you that peter parker told everybody he took your virginity, you spiral into a complex and confusing love-hate relationship with the boy you once had no idea existed.

she-devil; a malicious or spiteful woman.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

╰┈➤ ❝ pairing ❞ peter parker x fem!reader

╰┈➤ ❝ genre ❞ enemies to lovers (sort of)

╰┈➤ ❝ wordcount ❞ tbd

╰┈➤ ❝ status ❞ on going

╰┈➤ ❝ moodboards ❞ here

╰┈➤ ❝ warnings ❞ 18+, smut, dark themes, bullying (kind of), slut shaming, violence, underage drinking, drug use

╰┈➤ ❝ note ❞ if you have trouble “casting” y/n’s dad and brother, i imagine george clooney as ken griswold (dad), and gavin casalengo as georgie griswold (brother).

NSFW MARKED WITH *

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ table of contents

i ➵ you… perv? (1.8k)

ii ➵ let’s make a deal (2k)

iii ➵ top secret (3k)

iv ➵ evil little thing (4.2k)

v ➵ stranger danger (2.2k)

vi ➵ speak of the devil (3.1k) *

vii ➵ make up, make out (

viii ➵ devil in disguise (

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ last updated june 5, 2023

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ next update tbd

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker series #spiderman x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #imagine #angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker tom holland #peter parker au #she devil series #maeve writes 🎀

[maevesheart]

speak of the devil

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ she-devil (06)

PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

note: —

summary: you cant avoid peter much longer, especially after he gets jealous and shows you just how much he likes you.

WC: 3.1k

TW: i don’t want to give too much away, but there’s sexual content ;)

“y/n?”

your head snaps up, eyes meeting those of mr. kammadi, your physics teacher, who’s face looks rather angry.

“sorry, mr. kammadi,”

he huffs and turns back around, drawing more complex figures on the board.

it’s been a week since harry’s party, and a week since you told your dad you wouldn’t follow through with the internship.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

ONE WEEK AGO, GRIS-RISE

“daddy, i won’t do it anymore,” your arms are crossed across your chest, and your father is fuming in front of you.

“y/n/n, you had one fucking job!” he screams, and you flinch back, the echo of his booming voice bouncing off the walls of his office.

“please don’t yell,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“i have never been more disappointed in you. i gave you one single task, one thing that could keep me up at the top, and you can’t even do it.” his words are venom, seeping into your skin and sticking there.

“i’m sorry, but i, i can’t fake it.”

“your mother would be incredibly disappointed in you. i don’t even understand how you’re her daughter.”

a tear slips down your cheek, and you turn around and rush out of his office, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

you were already disappointed in yourself, and then he had to bring your mother into it. he knew the mention of her would hurt you.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

PRESENT DAY, MIDTOWN HIGH SCHOOL

the sound of gym shoes squeaking is loud behind you, as you storm down the hallway, trying to get to anatomy as quickly as possible.

unfortunately for you, peter sits behind you in anatomy.

he’s hot on your trail, matching your pace and trying to muster up the courage to talk to you.

he heard you cry, and you admitted everything to him, or well, spiderman, so he was well aware of all your feelings.

you still had no clue that it was peter under that mask, who held you while you sobbed in the street.

you slip into your seat in anatomy, pulling at the collar of the white button down you’re wearing, suddenly feelings very choked as peter sits down behind you.

his eyes are trained on the back of your head, following the trail of your long, shining, bouncy y/h/c hair.

he remembered how it felt to wrap his hands around it and then….

“parker!” mrs grier’s voice snaps peter from his thoughts.

“uhm, yes, mrs g?”

“can you tell me what this is?” she points at the drawing of a woman’s vagina on the board, the whole class stifles a laugh, waiting for nerdy, clearly a virgin, peter parker to answer.

“um, that’s the hymen, ma’am.” his voice cracks as he speaks, red flushing his cheeks.

flash is quick to quip back, “how’d you figure that one out, penis parker? i’m sure-“

“oh shut up, flash!” you groan, peter’s mouth opening and eyes flashing to you. this is the first time you’ve acknowledged his existence since harry’s party.

“don’t worry, y/n/n, i can teach you all the inner workings of a-“

“flash thompson, that is quite enough,” mrs grier finally cuts in, turning the class attention back to the diagrams on the board.

15 minutes later, after she’s handed out the homework, mrs grier is sat at her desk, giving the class time to finish their assignments.

peter’s finger is light on your shoulder, and you quickly spin around, narrowed y/e/c eyes meeting his wide brown ones.

“i, uh, i want to talk to you,” he stammers, nervously tapping his pencil on the desk. his voice is quieter than a whisper, hoping no one is listening in on the conversation.

“no.” is all you answer back, spinning around in your chair and averting your attention back to the paper in front of you.

as much as you wanted to talk to him, you couldn’t. it was far too embarrassing for him to reject you once, and you definitely were not going to let it happen again.

the bell rang, and you rushed out of the classroom as quickly as possible. liz finally catches up to you, and stops you outside your locker.

“woah, y/n, didn’t realize we were joining the track team,” she lightly laughs, hoping to pull at least a smile from you.

your friends had noticed you had been more upset recently. the only one who knew about peter was harry, as you had left your phone at his house after peter left the party, and texts from peter came through before harry returned it to you.

harry didn’t believe it, so he confronted you himself.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

SIX DAYS AGO, STACY RESIDENCE

gwen had invited all of you over for reality tv night, something the four of you had been doing since freshman year.

harry had picked the real housewives of beverly hills, and lisa rinna’s voice reached your ears as you poured another diet coke for yourself in the kitchen.

harry was leaned against the counter next to you, your phone in his hand.

“i believe this belongs to you,” he smiled, your face relaxing as you took the phone from him.

“thanks, h. i left in such a rush i didn’t even remember to grab it. you’re a life saver.” he smiles, accepting all the compliments.

“oh please, you flatter me.” he prods your side, earning a giggle from you. harry was your best friend. you decided you owed it to him to spill about peter.

“harry, i have something-“

“i know about peter, y/n.”

your lips form an ‘o’ shape, and he raises an eyebrow.

“i saw your phone light up with texts from him after you left my house. i was confused, so i opened your phone,”

harry had put his face id in your phone years ago, and you knew this. you just were never dumb enough to give him the opportunity to use it, well, until last night.

“and i saw at least 15 texts from peter streaming in. it was all him apologizing. i was confused, so i scrolled up and found texts of you two talking. i didn’t realize how close you two were,” he doesn’t say it accusatory. and it’s not malicious. it’s actually, well, it’s almost worry laced in his words.

“harry, i need to tell someone. please, just listen.” you plead, and he nods, using his frame to block liz and gwen from view.

so you tell him, about the internship, your fathers request, the walk in the park, the small flirting, then the kiss. the terrible kiss. you tell him how you left his party sobbing, the first boy you had given yourself to since brad didn’t want you. you were crushed.

harry’s arms are quick to gather around you as a small tear falls from your eye. his hand is warm where he rubs your shoulder, and his other hand is cupping the back of your head, massaging your hair.

the two of you have always been close, a brother-sister bond. harry comes on all of your family vacations, the guest bedroom in your penthouse is practically his.

after his parents divorce your family had taken him as one of your own… your father and gregor loved him as a son, considering his own father cared little to none about him. damn norman osborn, as your father would say. norman, harry’s dad, owned oscorp; the top partner of gristech. oscorp supplied all the laboratory studies for gristech’s engineering and space technology programs.

so telling him about peter and watching as his face twisted from sympathy to anger was all the confirmation you needed to be done with peter parker.

“he’s a dick, y/n/n. i’m so sorry.” his long lanky arms surround your body, and you tuck your face into his chest.

he was a dick. and you wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

PRESENT DAY, MIDTOWN HIGH SCHOOL

you dropped your backpack to the floor and squeezed in next to liz on the bench across from harry and gwen, the three of them deep in conversation.

“hey girl,” liz smiled, pulling you into their meaningless conversation about their best hookups.

“mine was that random guy from the bar on 5th, 100%.” harry stated, like it was completely obvious.

“the one with pink hair?” you asked, raising your eyebrows as he frivolously nodded his head.

“mine was that luke dude on the football team. total worldie!” gwen giggled as she remembered the time she got with brad’s best friend over the summer.

“ew. football boys.” you shuddered. “well mine was georgie. sorry y/n/n,” liz laughs as your jaw drops. “you got with him?! since when!” you smile, prodding liz’s side.

“when we were like 14! i swear!” you all laugh before gwen’s face falls.

“uh, y/n…” her voice trails and you see her looking over your head, eyes wide and frantic.

“what?” you question, watching as harry bites his lip and looks down.

you turn around at the same time as liz, met with the chest of brad.

liz’s eyes narrow, and you swear you see steam coming out of her ears.

“what do you want?” you demand, crossing your arms. his lips turn into a smirk as your cheeks burn with anger.

“hey, angel eyes. long time no see,”

your lips turn into a snarl as he uses the familiar pet name that you used to adore.

people at the surrounding tables are staring, and you’re sure they can feel the disgust radiating off your body.

peter and ned are watching with intense concentration, peter’s super senses allowing him to hear as if he was sitting right next to you.

“don’t call me that.” you seethe, “you lost that right a long time ago, bradley.”

“ouch. the full name. that really hurts, y/n/n.” he says with mock sadness.

“what do you want, brad?” harry questions, his words sharp as knives.

georgie is sat with flash and kyle at the table behind you, where brad came from.

you give georgie a death stare, and he winces, knowing he will be getting yelled at once you two are at home.

“i wanna talk to you.” brads eyes meet yours, his black and mournful, just the way you remembered them.

your eyes soften when he stares into them, the familiar feeling of longing settling deep in your stomach.

“i don’t want to talk to you,” you break away from his eyes, instead staring at his shoes. you won’t let him have this control over you.

“just five minutes. please.” he pleads, his puppy dog eyes making it hard to resist.

liz’s hand is hard on your arm, refusing to let you stand up.

“maybe later,” you squeak, your mind betraying your heart.

no! y/n, what the fuck?!??!?! you internally curse yourself.

“definitely later.” he smiles and with a wink, he’s gone, sitting back down next to kyle.

georgie gives you a sad look, telling you he’s sorry. you shrug, grabbing your bag and rushing to the bathroom, the eyes of the entire grade on your back.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

you feel like throwing up. and crying. and screaming. why would you tell him maybe? that’s worse than yes!

you’re so busy with scolding yourself that you don’t hear the door to the locker room open.

you’re hiding out in the lacrosse locker room, knowing that no one will come for you here. but, you’re wrong.

little to your knowing, peter quietly trailed after you out of the cafeteria, his handy super stealth coming to his advantage.

he felt wrong following you into the girls locker room, but he had to know that you wouldn’t talk to brad.

when he enters, your staring into the mirror on the inside of your locker, calming yourself down.

“tell me you wont talk to him,” peter huffs, a sudden stream of courage surging through his veins.

you jump, not expecting him. “go away peter.” you rolls your eyes, slamming the locker closed and picking up your backpack off the ground.

peter is faster than you though, at your side and grabbing your hand before you can grab the bag.

“tell me.” it’s not a question. it’s a demand.

you’re in surprise really. you’ve never seen peter like this before, he was always so soft and gentle.

“i-i don’t understand, wha-“ you stutter, a light blush dotting your cheeks.

“i’m not letting you go until you swear you won’t talk to him later.” his eyes are dark, angry. you’ve never experienced angry peter.

“you’re not the boss of me.” you tilt your head up with a surge of confidence. peter cocks and eyebrow, finding your sudden conviction amusing. “y/n, i’m not leaving until i have verbal confirmation from you.” a smirk plays at the corner of his lips as you scowl. your hands are still snug in his. they fit perfect, something you don’t fail to notice.

this was a side to peter you’d never seen, and you had to admit, you kinda liked it. but then you reminded yourself that he left you all alone, and you hated him once again.

“let go of me peter. i don’t want to see you.” his smirk faltered, and his grip loosened just enough for you to pull your hands back and slam the door to your locker shut.

“what’s wrong?” he questions, though he already knows the answer. “why won’t you talk or even look at me?” his pleading eyes make your heart hurt, and you give in.

“you left me at harry’s,” your voice is small, eyes trained on your shoes.

“y/n, i swear, i didn’t want to leave,” he’s back at your side, his big hands cupping your face, forcing you to look at him.

“i have to go peter. i need to talk to brad.” you push him away, and quickly make your way to the exit.

peter is faster, and soon your pushed up against the lockers, his hands on either side of your face.

“no.” is all he answers, eyebrows narrowed.

“yes.” you speak back, chin up. your fighting back a smile, getting off on seeing him so worked up.

“now out of my way, parker,” you roll your eyes and duck under his arms, not getting far before he’s quickly guiding you backwards, and swiftly pushing you down onto the blue bench in the middle of the room.

“brad can’t kiss you like i can,” peter smirks, your mouth dropping into an “o” shape before his lips slam onto yours, a groan falls from your lips and into his mouth, he smirks, knowing he’s got you know.

his hands land on your hips, pulling you up off the bench, and then your suddenly straddling him, him sat on the bench this time.

his hands are hard on your hips, keeping you pressed down onto him. you can feel his excitement against the inside of your thigh, and pink dots your cheeks.

your hands are tangled in his hair, tugging the deep curls, earning tight squeezes on your hips from him.

a throaty groan leaves his mouth and enters yours as you push down further into his lap, your skirt gathering high up on your legs.

you’re the first to pull away, and peter’s lips attack your neck. “no hickeys,” you warn, earning a whine from the needy boy under you. “but whyyy? they’re fun,” he whispers, trailing kisses now down your collarbone. “none.” you demand, and he finally complied, attaching his hungry lips back to yours.

he was a shockingly good kisser, you never expected him to be as good as he was.

“you were right,” you sigh against his mouth, and he pulls away and cocks an eyebrow, “about what?” he smirks watching you roll your eyes.

“brad can’t kiss me like you can,” you giggle, watching as his eyes darken, his hands soon under your skirt, holding the skin of your ass in his hand.

“glad you finally came to your senses,” he says, toying with the band to your lacy thong.

“can i?” he whispers, eyes suddenly filled with gentleness, compared to his previous look of lust.

“yes,” you answer, watching as his long fingers slide the light pink thong down to your knees.

peter can smell your arousal, and it makes him harden even more in his suddenly very tight jeans.

jesus, is all he can think. he’s never been more turned on in his life. here you are, sitting so pretty and obedient about to do what ever he asks in the school locker rooms.

he couldn’t believe his luck.

he takes his thumb and lightly circles around your swollen clit, earning a whimper from your lips.

he watches with admiration as you slightly writhe above him, your hands tight on his broad, strong shoulders.

he picks up the pace, just wanting to watch you. “peter,” you say quietly, trying your hardest to keep your eyes open so you could look at him.

“yeah?” he halts his movements, and your eyelashes flutter at him. he can hear your heartbeat, going 100 beats a minute.

you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“we can’t do this here,” you shake your head, even though you wanted to continue, you knew school was not the place to do it.

he pouts, but he understands. “okay,” he smiles softly, pulling your thong back up your legs.

“can i come to your place later?” you ask, and now he knows he’s done for. “i’d like that,” he smirks, leaving one last hasty kiss to your lips before swiftly standing up and setting you down.

he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, giving you one last smile, and then he walks out of the room, leaving you to compose yourself.

“peter!” you call, causing him to halt his movements. “yeah?” he turns his head, met with a big smile across your lips.

“i promise i won’t talk to brad,” you giggle, and blow him a kiss while he playfully rolls his eyes and exits the room again.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

#imagine #angst #peter parker angst #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #she devil series #maeve writes 🎀

[maevesheart]

stranger danger

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ she-devil (05)

PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

note: shorter one :( im sorry... the next chapter is a long one though ;)

summary: harry's party leaves you crying in the arms of spiderman on the cold streets of manhattan.

WC: 2.2k

TW: cussing, i think thats all...

you were humiliated honestly. to think that you let peter parker do that to you.

make out with you and then leave as if you’re nothing. and to make it even better, he threw in a half-assed apology as if that was better than no apology at all.

you were sad, drunk, and tired, so obviously, you decided you were going to head home.

your head hanging low, you exited the guest bedroom and walked down the hallway, hoping to make a hasty exit, only to be abruptly stopped by georgie.

“y/n/n? you alright,” he asks, and you sway. “whoa…” he light-heartedly laughs, placing both his hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“i wanna go home, geo,” you whine, trying to get out of his grasp.

“okay, um, lemme grab my coat,” he reluctantly lets go of you, and you start towards the front door, yanking it open and letting it slam behind you.

you don’t even think about georgie as you get into the evelator, hot stinging tears beginning to brew in your eyes, and a lump forming itself deep in your throat.

you swallow the embarrassment, just wanting to get home and crawl into bed. you want to cry the weekend away and then never think of peter again.

the elevator dings, and you walk out of the lobby into the cold late-winter air of new york city.

the chilly wind nips at your exposed legs and feet, and seeps through the thin sheer material of your dress, goosebumps dotting your skin.

you hurry down the road, the streets the dark and dreary. you never realized how scary it really was at night.

the fact that you left georgie now dawns on you, and you suddenly feel very sober. you spin around, hoping to be met with georgie’s e/c eyes, but when you are met with darkness, internal panic sets in.

you realize that you have no idea where you are. and the sound of footsteps down the alleyway to your left suddenly sound a lot louder.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

20 MINUTES EARLIER

peter ran out of harry’s penthouse, and exited out the nearest window once he was in the hallway.

his mind was at war deciding if this bank robbery was worth leaving you all alone in an empty bedroom, where you clearly wanted more of him.

he groaned, and landed in an empty alleyway, clicking his watch that suddenly engulfed his entire body in his nanotech spidey-suit.

his head tingles, sensing the crime near him. he sighs and jumps off to go find the criminals.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the whole time he fights, he thinks of you. how much he regrets leaving you.

he knows you’ll be upset, angry even. this could ruin all the progress you two were making.

mr. stark will be so mad at him.

finishing up the mission, he hands the two druggies who decided to rob a bank over to the cops, and heads back to harry’s building, hoping you’re still at the party….. maybe even waiting for him.

a part of him, deep deep down in his heart, knows you left. he knows that he’s disappointed you, and upset you, and that you are not the forgiving type.

as he lightly jogs down the street, getting closer and closer to NW Street, he sees a small, shivering figure walking away from the building he’s headed towards.

he figures it’s just some person leaving the party, but then his super senses kick in and he…. he smells… he smells you.

he panics, not knowing what to do.

does he go up to you and potentially expose his identity? or does he let you walk home alone in the dark and dangerous streets of new york city?

he goes with the latter, figuring your safety is more important than his identity. he has cared for you far too long to worry about silly things like that now.

he can sense the dread in your body as you freeze watching him head towards you.

no, no, no, this was not supposed to go this way.

your eyes go wide, and a screech prepares itself to rip from your throat as the shadow comes to light, revealing itself to be… to be spiderman?

your breath hitches, and you take a step backwards.

if spiderman is supposed to make you feel safe, why are you so fucking scared?

because why would spiderman present himself unless there’s a problem. why would he approach you?

peter takes a few steps forwards, and you take one back, shaking your head.

“what do you want?” you whisper through gritted teeth.

you slip your left hand into your dress, reaching for your phone that’s tucked away somewhere, only to be met with cold everywhere.

of course. you left your phone sitting on harry’s kitchen counter.

dread settles itself in, and you accept your fate.

spiderman is horny or something, and despite him supposedly being good, and friendly, he is going to use you and leave you in a ditch.

the golden girl. billionaire ken griswold’s daughter. it couldn’t get better. the news would go crazy, your father would rage war, and spiderman would go on living his life, no one ever expecting the villain in this story to be him.

you swallow, not wanting to accept the impending doom that swirls in your mind.

you shake your head, mustering up all the courage and strength you have in your extremely drunken state.

peter’s heart drops as you step away from him, clearly terrified of spiderman.

he puts his hands up in surrender and slowly takes a few more steps to you.

you go to move backwards, but your heel gets stuck in a crack in the pavement, and you go barreling backwards.

just as your head is about to make contact with the hard and cold ground, peter in under you, cushioning your fall.

you’re splayed in his lap, his arms tight around your waist, and one of your arms draped around his shoulders.

your lips part, and you stare into his mask, trying to figure out who is under there.

“i won’t hurt you,” peter whispers, you still snug in his lap.

you shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes, your lip trembling, threatening to give you away.

“what’s wrong,” he whispers, brushing a piece of hair out of your eyes, just like he did inside.

that reminds you too much off peter, and you push off spider-man’s lap, to stand up on your own.

you untie one of your heels as spider-man springs up, and hold it in your hand, as a weapon.

like a dainty heel with defeat mighty strong spiderman. it’s worth a try, though.

peter puts his hands up in surrender, showing you that he had no intent of hurting you.

all he wants to do is take you in his arms again and wipe your tears. the tears that are most likely there because of him and his stupid decisions.

“what do you want!” you seethe, waving the magenta heel at his face.

“i’m not going to hurt you, i promise,” he quietly says, watching your arm involuntarily lower the heel.

“i just want to know what’s making you so upset,” he chokes out. it’s eating him inside to think that he’s upset you in any way.

you’re so drunk that you don’t think twice, your arm falling to your side and the tears spilling out, sobs ripping from your chest.

peter’s rushes to you, the suit still on. he’s reluctant to take it off, scared you will be more upset.

his steel covered arms wrap around your small frame, and your hands cover your face, muffling the sound of your heart-wrenching sobs.

peter’s super hearing continues to make the sobs incredibly loud, and he can feel the tears springing at the corner of his eyes.

he’s so angry at himself. he knows he caused this.

“please tell me what’s wrong,” he coos, one hand stroking the back of your head, smoothing down the stray hairs.

“i-i,” you start, struggling to catch your breath.

“he left me.” you cry, voice breaking as you speak. peter pulls you in tighter, feeling the most guilty he’s ever felt.

“i shouldn’t like him as much as i do, but i can’t help it. but he fucking left me!”

you’re drunk, and don’t realize what you’re saying.

the alcohol didn’t affect peter per his enhanced abilities, so he’s sober as ever listening to how he hurt you.

he nods, and you continue, his arms still secure around you.

“i’ve never been so stupid in my life,”

“you’re not stupid,”

“i feel like an idiot.”

“i promise you’re not. and i promise that he is good, and wasn’t trying to hurt you, and that he wanted to stay at harry’s with you” peter realizes too late that this was the wrong thing to say.

you try to pull yourself out of his arms, tired eyes peering into the mask, trying to figure out who’s hiding in there.

“how did you know it was at harry’s?”

“i, uh, well,” peter stammers over his words, internally screaming at himself for giving so much away.

“i swung past earlier, and saw you, uh, through a window,” he makes it up as he goes along. which would’ve been obvious to someone who hadn’t drank as much as you did.

“oh.”

peter swallows, and reluctantly opens his arms. you sigh as you pull yourself away from him, side-eyeing as you slowly back away.

“uh, thanks spiderman, um, i’m going home now…” you start slowly walking, and then break out into a sprint to get home.

peter shakes his head as he watches you run, wishing he wouldn’t have left.

seconds later, he hears a scragged “y/n!” from behind him, turning to met with georgie.

this is really the first time peter has ever seen georgie so close up. he immediately recognizes the similarities between you two.

the deep, soulful y/e/c eyes, the bouncy, shimmering y/h/c hair, and freckles that dot over georgie’s nose and cheeks that are mimicked on your face.

georgie is tall, standing at least at 6’3, towering over peter. peter watches with wide eyes as georgie jogs up to him, wonder twinkling in his eyes.

“yo! spiderman! have you seen my sister, looks just like me, about this tall,” georgie holds his hand up to his shoulder, showing where your head would reach if you were standing next to him.

“yes, she just headed that way,” peter points ahead, georgie giving him a grateful nod before running after you.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

you hugged your arms around your shivering body on the elevator ride up to your penthouse.

you heard georgie run into the lobby just as the elevator doors closed, knowing he was probably right behind you.

the last thing you wanted was georgie’s pestering questions, he would poke and prod you until you gave in, and you really didn’t wanna deal with that while in an emotional state.

the doors chimed, and you sprinted out, kicking your now untied heels off in the wide lobby, bare feet padding against the cold, marble floors.

hayes, the butler, called your name as you ran past him, huffing when you wouldn’t turn around.

your footsteps were light against the grand marble staircase as you sprinted upstairs, and down the left wing to your bedroom.

you slammed the door behind you, locking it, and then letting your back rest against the cold wood.

you slowly slid downwards, letting the hard floor catch your weak body.

you were so tired. emotionally, you wanted to crawl in a hole and never return again, and physically, the alcohol made you feel weak and sick and you hated peter for what he did to you.

you were tiered, and just wanted to sleep.

pushing off the floor, you slowly dragged yourself into your closet, stripped off your clothes, and put on an oversized t shirt that engulfed your whole body.

next was the bathroom, you washed off your smudged makeup and brushed your teeth, trying to get the smell of vodka out of your mouth.

your bed was warm and inviting as you slid into it, the crisp sheets warm against your shivering body.

a small sob escaped your lips and you let yourself quietly cry to sleep. there was nothing wrong with crying at the end of a long day, you know this.

but, of course, peter felt his breaking heart crack into two as he sat outside your window and heard the quiet sobs that you tried to hide.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

#imagine #angst #peter parker angst #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #she devil series #maeve writes 🎀

[maevesheart]

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪ masochistic desires

♪ summary: prince harry, known for his extensive drug use and lewd band, openly rebels against his birth into the most famous english family in the world. his norm of getting everything he wants is challenged when you, the know-it-all, smug american, rejects his advances. but the prince is never one to turn down a challenge.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

♪ pairing: prince!dark!harry styles x fem!reader

♪ wordcount: tbd

♪ status: ongoing

♪ warnings: dark!harry, drug & alcohol use, domestic violence, mentions of self harm

♪ note: just recently re-read the selection… will never get over those books so i had to feed my royalty / celebrity prince obsession somehow. also wanted to do something involving grunge (if you can call it that lol) and like rock so here we are. super excited to write this and for u guys to read this :))))!!!!

♪ playlist: kiwi - harry styles / when the sun goes down - the arctic monkeys / stargirl interlude - the weeknd / sex - the 1975 / teeth - 5 seconds of summer / lurk - the neighbourhood / in my feelings - lana del rey / cry - cas

NSFW MARKED WITH *

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

prologue

one

two

three

four

five

epilogue

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

last updated: jun 22, 2023

next update: tbd

#imagine #angst #harry styles #harry styles au #masochistic desires series #harry styles series #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #prince harry styles #maeve writes 🎀

[maevesheart]

top secret

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ she-devil (03)

PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

note: --

summary: making you fall for Peter may be a lot easier than he expected, except... he's finding it particularly hard on himself.

WC: 3k

TW: none

GRISWOLD PENTHOUSE, HOME

you tossed and turned all night, trying to come to terms with your new predicament.

peter parker.

how were you ever going to make that happen? you knew boys at school liked you, i mean they didn’t try to hide it.

hell, you were asked to senior prom your freshman year.

but peter was different. peter was sweet, and seemed genuinely upset that you assumed he would say those things.

snapping you out of your treacherous thoughts, your alarm clock finally blared as the number 7 came up on the screen.

your blinds automatically opened themselves, displaying the big, bright, and open city beneath you.

skyscrapers stood tall next to your floor to ceiling windows, and you could barely make out people walking on the streets below.

the sun streamed in, and you peeled yourself out of your sheets, sighing and slipping into your pink fuzzy slippers.

jaela did your makeup and you slipped into your uniform. you opted for a pair of miu miu mary jane platforms, and just kept your h/c hair long and flowing down your back.

grabbing your backpack off the ground after putting a pair of simple pearls into your ears, you went down your large marble staircase that lead into the foyer.

long, wide, and all white marble, the foyer was bright. the elevator sat at one end, and the walls were each 40 feet tall, with a massive archway on the wall opposite the foyer.

the archway led into a pristine and all white formal living room, with a single massive glass chandelier hanging down over the two grey leather couches. the marble fireplace sat in between the two couches opposite of each other.

a large family portrait sat above the fire place. featuring 5-year-old you and georgie sitting in the grass wearing all white outfits. your mother, your beautiful mother, sat in between you two, wearing white jeans and a white blouse and dripping in diamond jewelry, like always. your father was sitting on the other side of her, one hand on your mothers knee, and the other on georgie’s back. axel, your doberman, is a puppy in the painting, and sits tall and proper next to your father.

you take a moment to stare at the photograph, lingering over your mothers smile. she was radiant, and your heart strings pull as you remember her laugh.

the photo was taken a month before her death. it was sudden, and unexpected. they say she had a seizure in her sleep, and she went peacefully. you were happy at least that she went without any pain.

after the formal living room, that was at least the size of a small gymnasium and at least 80 feet tall, there are two archways, one leading to the large, white, marble kitchen, and the other leading to your fathers office, which looked exactly like his office in the gris-rise.

you entered the kitchen, meeting georgie’s eyes with a small smile and sitting down next to him at the first island.

sara stood behind you two at the last island, chopping vegetables.

moments later, gregor enters through the archway on the opposite side of the kitchen that leads to the laundry room, bathroom, indoor pool & patio, alternate elevator, and theater.

his smile immediately brightens up the room and both you and georgie offer him grins.

“hey greg. what’s up,” georgie speaks through spoonfuls of cereal.

“not much, geo. how are the both of you this morning?” he speaks as he walks into the walk-in fridge, which stands opposite you and georgie.

“i’m trying to make the best of it. i barely slept last night.” you sigh and place your hand on your forehead.

“someone’s in a weirdly good mood,” georgie smiles, hitting your shoulder with his.

“i’m trying,” you lightly laugh, throwing a small orange at georgie’s face, which he quickly intercepts.

“what’re you doing here so early, greg? not like you to come anytime before dinner.”

“i’m taking you two to school today, executing my doting uncle skills.” he joked, causing both you and georgie to laugh.

gregor wasn’t actually your uncle. he attended college with your mother and father, and was their best friend. he officiated their wedding, was in the delivery room when you two were born, and was named the godfather of you both.

after your mothers death, he stepped in even more than before, considering he had no children or significant other of his own.

he was also extremely high up at gristech. his phd in aeronautics from MIT and a phd in space engineering from stanford made him especially useful, and he was named the top rocket scientist after his internship with nasa.

he was like your second father, well, most of the time it felt like he was the only father you had.

speaking of the devil, your father waltzed into the kitchen moments later, wearing a crisp grey suit, a grin adorning his face as he gave gregor a playful slap on the back.

“hey, greg. goodmorning, y/n, goodmorning george.” your father gave both you and georgie each a kiss on the top of the head, and approached the massive fridge next to where gregor was leaning against the counter.

“morn, dad.” georgie muffles out in between large gulps of milk. “take it easy, boy. nobodies gonna take the milk from you!” gregor playfully teased, making the four of you laugh, and georgie even spits out some of the milk onto the counter.

“you two have an excellent day, alright. and y/n, i’ll see you later, yes? remember what i told you.” your father sternfully said, nodding his head as he exited into the foyer.

you heard the elevator chime, and your father say a quick goodbye to hayes, your butler.

you sighed, once again reminded of the things you promised your father.

“what was dad talking about? remember what i told you,” georgie light-heartedly laughs.

you trail quietly behind him and gregor to the back elevator, the two of them laughing and spewing jokes every opportunity.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

MIDTOWN CAFETERIA, LUNCH

you picked around at the salad sara had packed for you. harry sat next to you, loudly gossiping with liz, like always.

you felt terrible. thoughts of second period bounced around in your mind as you tried to bury them as deep as possible.

you walked into ap chemistry, taking your usual seat in the front, next to gwen. brad sat behind you, something you tried to block out.

but what was strange, was that instead of ned slipping into the seat on your right (which was entirely because of the seating chart, not because you wanted to sit next to him), peter slid into the chair instead.

you gave him and confused look, before plastering a sickly-sweet smile onto your shiny lips. “morning, peter,”.

peter was confused. maybe this would be a lot easier than he thought. hell, if you already like him, then he didn’t even need to do anything!

“good morning, y/n” he softly smiled back, speaking in a light voice. it was…. kind of cute.

you reminded yourself that this was all for a good cause. you were helping your dad and his company! it would all work out. ….. right?

you laid it on as thick as possible. all class, touching his arm lightly, brushing against him when walking past his seat, asking for help.

he had to know. you were making it extremely obvious.

your heart tugged when you looked back to be met with the dark eyes of brad. the same brad who you loved so much. the same brad who took everything from you and didn’t even apologize.

swallowing your tears, you faked another smile and turned back to peter, nodding as he explained the complex stoiciometry equation.

the harsh bell sounded throughout the classroom, and you quickly packed up your things, giving peter a light squeeze on the forearm as you breezed pass him, tilting your head slightly to smile.

“bye,” he smiled, slighting waving as you walked past. his arm fell awkwardly to his side and he groaned after you left the classroom. suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he would be able to fake this.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the end of the school day could not come any slower. finally, when the long, screeching bell sounds to signal the end of last period, you bolt for the door.

you rush into the parking lot, searching for the black maserati that will escort you to gristech.

your heart tightens as you watch peter struggle to get his bike out of the bike rack. you look away before he sees you, and bite down the aching want to ask him if he’d like a ride.

slipping into the matte black leather seats, sigmund, your chauffeur, quickly pulls the car out of the crowded parking lot and into the busy streets of new york city.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

GRIS-HIGH

your fathers booming voice is the first thing you hear as you enter gris-high, watching him walk up to you with open arms.

“ready for day one?” he asks, once again displaying his bright white sparkling smile. you nod, tight lipped.

he claps his hands together, “wonderful.”

you silently ride with him up to the labs, spinning the simple gold ring on your middle finger around.

you gasp as you the elevator to the labs opens, revealing peter, already in a lab coat and goggles, hunched over a table, quietly looking through a microscope.

i guess his bike was faster anyways, you tell yourself, making yourself feel better about not offering him a ride.

“hey, y/n,” he squeaks, awkward under the pressing gaze of your father.

“hi, peter,” you whisper, falling slow behind your fathers long footsteps.

“y/n, dr hitch is here to help, and peter’s already had the rundown, he can teach you. you both are free to go at 4. i expect big things.” and with that, he left the room, leaving just you and peter and a whole lot of awkward tension.

“well, um, here i’ll show you,” peter rubbed his neck, and you moved closer to him, arm pressing against his.

you could smell his cologne, which did smell good. you breathed in heavily, trying to get as much of it as possible.

a smirk pulled at the corners of his lips as he watched you, even though he tried to fight it.

you watched him with wide, yet careful eyes as he explained the ins and outs of the labs your father assigned. they were fairly easy, you remembered doing most of it in intro to chemistry during your freshman year.

you peter silently worked, stealing glances every once in a while, and occasionally brushing against each other as you walked past.

his smell was driving you crazy, and he was actively resisting the urge to pull you into his arms.

but he needed to take this slow. make sure he’s really got you before he does anything extreme. he can’t mess this up. mr stark is counting on him.

as much as he didn’t want to admit, and would never admit, he was fucking terrified. you’d been his dream girl since freshman year, when he first saw you walk into advanced latin. he knew he was done for the moment he saw your e/c eyes.

and now here he was, working with the girl he had liked for so long, and his only command from mr stark was to make her love him. something he had been wanting for years now.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

dr hitch walked up to you as you dumped the last of the water out of the graduated cylinder. “you both are free to go. it’s 4.”

you nodded, and silently took the white apron off your body, and then the goggles off your eyes.

“hey,”

you turn to peter as the word leaves his lips, quietly, shyly.

“wanna go get churros or something? to celebrate the end of our first day.”

you nodded, holding back a smile.

it was cold out, the early march air nipping at the exposed skin on your long legs.

you shivered, inching closer to peters warm body as the two of you strolled in central park.

“cold?” peter asked, his cheeks rosy pink from the freezing wind. he looked down at you, his height giving him an advantage in watching you.

“unfortunately, yeah,” you nodded, wrapping your smalls arms around your slim body, trying to conjure up as much warmth as possible.

“here, take my coat,” he offered, slipping off the simple black lined windbreaker he was wearing.

“oh, you don’t have to do that—“

“i insist. i cant leave a lady cold, can i?” he joked, holding out the coat for you to take.

you smiled up at him before taking it out of his hands, and slipping into it. it engulfed your body, making you small as compared to the warm jacket.

you sighed in content as warmth spread across your body.

“better?” he questioned, laughing slightly.

“much. thank you,”

he nodded and looked ahead, spotting the churro stand a few yards in front of you two.

“there it is! i swear, you’ll love them. they’re my favorites, i hope the have the ones with caramel…” his voice trailed off as he imagined all the delicious possibilities in front of him.

you smiled and let out a small giggle at the giddy boy next to you. he was cute, you would admit.

he looked down at you with a big smile and his brown eyes, eyebrows slightly narrowed.

“hey! what’re you laughing at!? i promise, you won’t be laughing once you taste these churros.” he smiles, lightly knocking his bicep into your shoulder, making you sway just a bit.

you laughed again, trailing behind him as he jogged to the stand.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the two of you found a small bench in the back of the park, surrounded by tall trees staring to blossom as spring approached.

you shared a caramel drizzled churro, alternately taking bites and basking in the comfortable silence.

“so, tell me something about you, give me the essentials,” peter broke the silence, turning to face you, letting his knees hit yours.

“where to start,” you jokingly swooned, making peter laugh.

“well, i’ve got georgie, my twin brother, obviously. he’s my best friend i guess,” you shrugged, taking a bite from the churro.

“um, you know, i really like school. especially stuff with space. um, i wanna be an aerospace engineer. yeah. that’s about it.” you lightly laugh, realizing there really isn’t that much to know about you.

peter nodded. “what about you? what’s the essentials to peter parker?”

he looks ahead, before turning back and answering.

“i love chemistry, and physics. i intern at stark industries, well and now gristech. my best friend is ned leeds, no siblings, i live with my aunt. that’s about it.”

you smile as you listen to him talk about himself. how his eyes brighten when he mentions his aunt. it’s cute.

“you sound more interesting than me, that’s for sure,” you smile, offering the last bite of the churro to peter.

“no thanks, you can have it,” he smiles, watching as you take the last bite.

you debate whether or not you should ask, i mean, you’d feel pretty silly if it wasn’t true. but you need to know.

“peter,”

he looks at you, expectantly.

“i know this is probably silly, and you probably didn’t, but i need to know if you really did tell people that you took my virginity… so, did you?” you ask, searching his face for any sign of an answer.

“y/n, you really think i’d do that? to answer your question, no, i didn’t say it.”

you let out a relieved breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding. “that makes me feel a lot better,” you smile up at him.

“oh, and i’m sorry about the, the um,”

he smirks, knowing what’s coming next.

“i’m sorry for slapping you…” you barely whisper, watching as his smirk turns smug.

“what was that? i didn’t hear you.” he laughs and you playfully hit his arm.

“shut up,” you laughed, his eyes trained on the way your nose scrunched.

“seriously though, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have slapped you.” you shook your head, remembering what happened in the cafeteria just 2 days ago.

“it’s not a big deal, really. i, i would’ve been pissed too if someone said that about me.” he reassures you.

you give him a small smile and look down to your feet, the guilt slowly fading away.

you look up and make eye contact, watching as he scans your face.

his eyebrows are slightly scrunched, like he’s figuring things out in his mind, analyzing you.

but his brown eyes are soft. they stay on yours. but yours betray you, they flicker down to his lips. his soft, pink lips.

lips that look so inviting.

especially as you two are sat in the back of the park, hidden from everyone’s view.

it’s almost too perfect….

you snap your gaze, looking back up to his eyes. as he opens his mouth to speak, you abruptly look away, standing up.

“walk me home, yeah?”

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

you said goodbye to peter and left him a confused mess on the street in front of your penthouse building as you rushed inside.

as soon as the elevator dinged and you entered the large foyer of your home, you placed your hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing.

you didn’t like peter, no way. it was just the moment. you’ve been somewhat lonely lately, and that’s fine, you don’t actually like peter.

it was just the moment.

you repeat it in your head multiple times, making yourself believe it.

it was just the moment.

it was just…. fuck.

you want to crawl into a hole as you realize the worst part of it all.

you wanted to kiss peter parker.

not because he was there and it was convenient, but because you like him.

you have feelings for peter parker.

real feelings.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

#peter parker series #imagine #peter parker smut #angst #peter parker angst #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #she devil series #maeve writes 🎀

[maevesheart]

the hunger games - masterlist 🏹

╰┈➤ ❝ coriolanus snow ❞

tolerate it - angst / smut

FOOLS - angst / smut / fluff

(part one) (part two) (part three)

╰┈➤ ❝ finnick odair ❞

only angel - fluff / angst

only angel (2) - fluff / angst

#maeve writes 🎀 #masterlist #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow

[maevesheart]

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪ masochistic desires

series masterlist

note: quick intro before we dive in :) this y/n is my favorite i’ve written i think ;)

summary: your and harry’s meeting is anything short of romantic.

WC: 1.2k

TW: harry’s kind of a perv lol

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

the brown trousers you were wearing became increasingly uncomfortable as you perched on the bar stool, waiting for the guy from your journalistic research class.

you couldn’t believe his guts. you had been waiting almost 15 minutes now.

the bartender gave you a sad smile as he passed, offering you a drink.

“want anything?” he asks. you don’t fail to notice his eyes flick down to your cleavage peaking out of your white cropped tank top.

“uh, a gin and tonic is fine, thanks,” you gave him a tight lipped smile, rolling your eyes as he walked away.

men. their audacity was astounding.

your gin and tonic was soon in your hand, you taking small sips scanning the bar, trying to find the familiar face.

he was no where found, and you were done waiting.

placing a ten on the bar counter, you threw back on your worn black leather jacket, and threw the strap of your brown mini gucci blondie over your shoulder.

unbeknownst to you, the green eyes of the royal pain in the ass, prince harry, watched as you left the bar, a light smirk playing at his lips.

his table was filled with his band members and closest friends - well, only friends - zev, nash, leo, and lennon. they were hidden in the dark of the back corner of the bar.

harry stood up abruptly, nash’s eyes following as he strutted through the bar to follow you.

“where’s he going this time?” nash wondered aloud, eyes training back down to the coke lennon was lining up on the table.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” zev teased, earning a chuckle from leo and a shove from nash.

“chill it! i’m tryna line these perfectly!” lennon barked, the three others rolling their eyes at his usual uptight-ness.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

you were leaned against the cold outside wall of the bar, waiting for your uber.

you were tapping the toe of your black saint laurent boots on the ground, coming to a stop as a dark brooding shadow appeared before you.

“too late now, charlie,” you quipped, pissed that he was only now showing up.

“don’t know a charlie. but you can call me that if you’d like,” a smug voice sounds out, and you watch with narrowed eyes as an attractive man with green eyes and dark hair steps out into the dim light.

a smirk is playing on his lips, a cigarette hanging between them.

“can i help you?” you ask, just wanting to get home. plus, you don’t really appreciate being approached by strangers in the dark.

not used to sass, harry stands stunned, before quickly replying, smug as ever. “you can actually, i’ve got a particular problem down here…”

he grabs your hand, leading it down to his pants. you snatch it away, leaving a nice red mark on his cheek and a loud smack! sound in the quiet street.

his eyes darken.

“you pervert! get away from me!” you shove his chest, but no avail. instead, you squirm out to get closer to the street.

his arms lock in on either side of you, pining you in. you suddenly regret your decision, frozen in between him and the wall.

no one is on the street either.

“don’t ever think about doing that again,” he whispers through gritted teeth.

the only solution to get out of his arms is probably the most violent thing you’ve ever done. you shake your head, you’re not a violent person, but you definitely don’t feel safe right now.

before you can respond, your knee is quick to land in his groin, and he doubles over in pain.

“you… bitch!” he groans out in pain, and you take it as your moment to get a good word in.

“don’t ever speak to me again,” you spit out, spinning on your heel and sprinting as fast as you can in the opposite direction.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

you finally reached your apartment, slamming the door closed behind you.

you kicked off your boots and threw your leather jacket onto the back of your white sectional couch, and making your way into your kitchen.

you sit down at the island, pulling your macbook to the edge and opening it up, scrolling through your email.

considering it was only 8 pm, you figured you may as well get some stuff done before the first day of your internship with condé nast tomorrow.

quickly scanning daily news, you click on an article titled “royal wild child harry in raft with elder brother roscoe!”

you had never cared much for the british royal family. neither of your parents families were british, and you never bothered to learn the history apart from us history class and government in high school.

you knew a few names, king damien and queen annabella for starters, and then princess gabrielle, who was soon to be queen. you knew there were two other children, but didn’t know their genders or names.

prince harry and his older brother prince roscoe must be the other two, you assumed, scrolling down the article.

the photo at the top of the passage showed a man, he couldn’t have been much older than you, wearing a long black coat with his dark tousled curls over his face, his arms out, shoving a man who look just like him, just a bit taller and thinner.

the photo was taken from afar and blurry, but you could tell both men were dressed in expensive clothing and most likely in some sort of argument.

continuing to scroll, a portrait of the royal family sat in the middle of your screen.

you read the caption as you examined the photo, queen annabella delicately perched on the throne in the middle, king damien and his elaborate crown on her right, crown princess gabrielle sits at her feet, her hands laying in her mother’s lap.

behind, prince roscoe wears a smug smirk on his lips, a crown sitting atop his buzzed hair.

you freeze as your eyes land on prince harry, the familiar green eyes you had encountered that exact night.

refusing to believe it, you pulled up a new tab and searched his name.

after pressing enter, images of the same man you kneed in the groin popped up all over your screen.

he was undeniably attractive, but much too pompous and perverted for your taste.

your hand flew to your mouth and you internally cursed yourself.

you had assaulted a prince! not just any prince, the fucking prince of the uk!

hopefully he didn’t remember what you looked like. hopefully he was too drunk or high (based off some of the articles u scrolled through — the prince had a rather excessive drug problem) to remember you the next morning.

but with your luck, that was near unlikely.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

#imagine #angst #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #prince harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #one direction #maeve writes 🎀

[maevesheart]

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪ masochistic desires

series masterlist

note: harlem gage is a completely fictional character, as with cillian, petra, and jane.

summary: prince harry, known for his extensive drug use and lewd band, openly rebels against his birth into the most famous english family in the world. his norm of getting everything he wants is challenged when you, the know-it-all, smug american, rejects his advances. but the prince is never one to turn down a challenge.

WC: 6.4k

TW: swearing, drugs

listen to: babylon - 5 seconds of summer

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

the halls of condé nast’s london headquarters were bustling with men and women dressed to the nines in all designer clothes.

you had been expecting this, but not quite to the extent you were experiencing this moment. a flurry of directions were flown at you by the woman giving you directions — bella, maybe? you couldn’t really remember, your focus was trained on keeping up with her long strides.

words flew out of her mouth, before she came to a sudden halt in a large window-lined room filled with cubicles, whiteboards covered in posters and samples, and racks of clothing.

she leads you to one of the cubicles in the front, a man wearing thick black glasses on the opposite end.

“here’s where you’ll be, harlem, the fashion lead of british vogue will be here shortly to speak to you.” she smiles and walks away, leaving with the glasses-clad man, who is now staring at you with wide-child-like eyes.

“hello, i’m y/n,” you smile at him, sticking out your hand.

“cillian, nice to meet you,” his irish accent is thick, and he swallows quickly before placing his hand in yours.

“where’re you from? i mean, that’s a stupid question, i can tell from your accent — god, i’m sorry sometimes i—“

you cut off his awkward rambling, “i’m from new york. you’re irish?”

he nods sharply, turning red and leaning his head down to go back to his work.

okay, awkward…

you pull your computer out of your black goyard tote, but before you have a chance to pick it up, harlem, the fashion lead, is standing above your desk, his famous wide smile across his cheeks.

“y/n l/n? your outfit is amazing,” he examines as you stand, eyes raking down your body, picking at the tan tweed chanel jacket your wearing.

a sewn bow goes across the cropped jacket, tying together in the front. thick black lines the collar, and the matching skirt has small slits on each side, with gold buttons down the middle.

you paired the set with tweed black chanel flats, simple yet elegant, perfect for a first day at a famous magazine house.

“thank you,” you smile, his bright blue eyes still scanning down your body.

“alright, follow me,” he smiles, and you follow closely behind him.

people stop to say hello to him, their eyes following you in a mix of jealousy and admiration.

you didn’t know why he wanted to speak to you, you were just as much confused as everyone else.

he turns the corner and enters the large doorway into a big office with floor-to-ceiling windows, a simple black desk in the middle with a rolling chair.

a white board sits behind his desk, different sample pieces taped up and scribbles in dark ink, the words the masochists are in all caps and underlined three times, you assume that is the issue of the month, even though you’ve barely heard of the group, or person, or whatever it was.

“please, have a seat,” harlem speaks, unbuttoning his jacket as he sits in his chair.

you sit down across from him, folding your hands into your lap, suddenly feeling very nervous.

“you met jane this morning, i’m assuming she gave you the rundown of how things work here?”

jane! that was her name, the secretary who led you to your desk. you nod to him, remembering the directions and few names jane threw at you this morning.

anna wintour, the global head of vogue, roger lynch, the coo, and then a few other names who worked in various departments, like harlem gage as head of fashion and petra taylor as head of design.

he continues, “perfect. i can dive right in,” he opens a drawer, pulling out a folder with your name scribbled on the front.

he flips it open, flicking through a few papers before pulling one out. the same words, the masochists, is printed on the paper in large letters, followed by a few names and a location.

“miss l/n, i’d like to personally give you your first piece.”

you watch as he slides the paper over to you, his demeanor a bit more uncomfortable than it was when you had met him just a few moments earlier.

you were confused. on the paper it says that the masochists is a band, an up-and-coming “punk rock” band that was founded on the basis of rebelling against societal norms.

“i’m sorry, i thought i was writing about fashion?” you question, shaking your head.

you had been hired as a paid intern for vogue’s fashion department. you assumed this would mean going to shows and dissecting the various pieces; not some band you had never heard of.

“that is correct, miss l/n, we, um well i, thought it would be great to put you on with the masochists. they’re a young band with great talents, their members are rather famous,”

you raise an eyebrow. if this band was so famous, wouldn’t you have heard of them? or even have an understanding of who was in the band?

“sorry, but i’m failing to find the connections,” you gave an awkward smile, not wanting to overstep. but this was ridiculous! you didn’t want to write about some random punk band you’ve never heard of.

“it’s custom that we do a background check on each employee, and with you, our data team found some connections, within your family or friends, or whoever you’ve posted on instagram. but they’re there. and they’re hard to miss,” an awkward smile falls on his lips, as if he’s trying to say he’s sorry.

you had worked so hard, trying not to let your fathers last name determine your work or career.

at first, you hoped they recognized your name from mitch y/l/n, your little brother, who plays d1 lacrosse at unc.

but you knew that was way too far fetched.

your father had owned a publishing company, one that held heaps of stock in various other magazine houses.

one of which was condé nast. the building you were sitting in right now.

after his and your mother’s death a few years back, your eldest brother, noah, had been given sole inheritance to the company.

he sold it for a pretty penny, and now the three of you — you and your brothers — were living quite comfortably.

“so you’re implying that i only received this internship because of my late father’s stake in the company?” you wondered, peaking an eyebrow as harlem shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“no, of course not, but it was a key factor.”

he realized soon that he shouldn’t have said that, and scrambled to cover up the mess he was creating.

“miss l/n, your connections are immaculate. as are your talents. we’ve reviewed your portfolio and previous pieces you did at parsons and nyu. but the masochists, this band is a diamond in hiding. i think it could do wonders for your career here. and i like you, as i liked your father. so i’d like to offer the review to you first.” he was composed, almost compassionate.

you found it hard to believe him. but you were selfish by nature, and knew that you wanted to write. you wanted to show your talents, show that you were more than your last name and father’s connections.

“alright.”

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

the job was easy enough. you were to attend the masochists gig at some college bar, and write about their outfits. maybe even get an interview with their stylist.

seemed easy enough.

harlem walked you back to your desk, gave you a hasty and awkward hug before waltzing back to his office.

the fellow people in the room gawked at you, shocked to see a brand new intern hugging and whispering with the harlem gage.

if only they knew why. you scoffed, grabbing your tote, ready to head out and start the first day of second term at the imperial college of london.

you were lucky to be one of the few nyu students selected to do a year abroad. you were a senior, majoring in journalism and a minor in fashion design, this would hopefully make a big break in your career.

you hoped it would be as good as harlem was promising.

you were sitting in one of the back rows of your trend forecasting class, having entered a few minutes late, you didn’t think it would be right to interrupt the entire class in order to find a good seat.

so here you were, stowed away in the back of the lecturing hall, your computer propped in front of you, glasses sat atop the bridge of your nose, trying desperately to concentrate.

you lightly tap the end of your pen onto the desk, feeling extremely sleepy listening to your boring professor explain something you had already learned; it was custom that you had to take this class, even though the intro to trend forecasting was required as a freshman at nyu.

a warm hand reached out and slammed your pen onto the desk, you looked behind you, a scowl playing on your lips, eyes meeting the light green you couldn’t seem to escape.

you rolled your eyes, not wanting to deal with his royal-pain-in-the-ass, and turned around.

harry was extremely amused. he assumed you’d be more feisty, maybe give him a good lecture, but nope. just an eye roll. he wasn’t willing to settle for that.

“where’s my feisty girl, eh?” he leaned down to your seat, lips brushing your ear.

your body shuddered, and harry didn’t miss the light sigh that left your lips.

“leave me alone.” you growl out. leaning forward, getting some more space between you two.

you didn’t understand how he was everywhere you turned. the bar, and now sitting behind you in class. he was a prince, yes, but that did not mean he deserved your respect.

he had been nothing but an arse. if anything, he should be demanding your respect. not the other way around.

“cmon princess, don’t be like that,” a smirk tugs on his lips as he watches you spin around, not expecting that word to fall from his lips.

“just because you have a title does not mean you can treat me like a piece of meat.” you surge forwards, face inches away from his. you swear there’s steam coming from your ears.

a blond boy sits to harry’s right, letting a chuckle fall through as he watches the two of you argue.

you turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow. he was handsome, light blond hair scattered across his forehead, a muscle tank hanging loosely on his body, arms crossed against his chest. his silver lip ring glimmering in the dim light.

“and who’re you?” you cross your arms, almost fully turned around in your chair at this point.

harry sends him a side-eye, pissed that nash is at the receiving end of your attention.

“he doesn’t matter,” harry spits out, reclaiming your attention that he so badly craves.

“darling, my title’s never denied me anything. i don’t expect you’ll be an exception, either,” harry smirks, your frown somehow turning deeper.

you huff and turn back around in your seat, refusing to feed his ego or slightly give in… his eyes were too pretty! you weren’t always perfect… your self control lacked sometimes, just like everyone else.

“the glasses are cute. i like them.” he leaned down once again, lips ghosting back over your ear. he pulled away immediately, you gnawing on your bottom lip, trying to stop the red from flushing into your cheeks, ultimately failing.

was he being… nice? giving you a genuine compliment?

no! snap out of it y/n… he doesn’t even know your name! or bothered to ask for that matter…

you ignored him, and the growing heat in your cheeks by tuning in with your stoic professor, hanging onto his words, trying your absolute hardest to block harry out.

this became increasingly difficult, as much as you didn’t want him to get a rise out of you, his continued chuckles and kicks to the back of your chair were driving you mad.

“oh will you just stop it!” you whipped your head around, almost 100% sure that the entire class was watching, as you may have said that a bit too loud to go unnoticed.

harry’s eyes have a gleam in them, nash (you think his name is that, harry said something starting with an n — you aren’t the best with names) is awkward? trying to sink to the bottom of his seat watching you and harry size each other up.

you were far too stressed about your assignment for harlem to worry about harry right now, and he was really pissing you off.

all you wanted was to get the stupid concert over with and write the dumb report, you did not have time to deal with harry on top of all of it.

“miss l/n, could you take it outside please?” your professor asks. you tuck your chin into your chest, immediately feeling extremely self conscious.

“of course. i’m sorry, sir,” you speak out, shocked your voice hadn’t betrayed you yet.

gathering your things, you threw harry one last glare, eyes softening as his face held a look of… pity?

turning back, tears burned into your eyes, but you refused to cry. no, you would not let yourself unravel over something as ridiculous as a prince who needed some serious humbling.

you walked as fast as you possibly could, wanting to put as much distance between yourself and harry as possible.

he had ruined your weekend, now ruining one of your easiest classes. he was a dick and you despised him. how could he sit there and be so smug? so… mean? how could he be so mean to you? all you had done was stick up for yourself, but you assumed he wasn’t used to that. a man like him was used to taking what he wants and not caring who he hurts in the process.

you could see that between he and nash. how nash was timid, lips sealing as soon as harry gave him a look out of the corner of his eye.

yet you found it hard to feel bad for him. anyone who was associated with harry left a sour taste on your tongue, and you usually weren’t the forgiving type either.

once you had made it out of the design building, you sat down on the concrete steps, placing your head in your hands.

you didn’t care about your chanel skirt possibly getting dirty, or how you threw your goyard down onto the pavement.

you wanted to go home. desperately. first semester was fine, you did well in class and landed your internship with condé nast.

but now, here you were, feeling like prey in the eyes of the king of the safari — hunted, stalked. you did not like the feeling whatsoever.

someone dropped down next to you, you saw their dirty black converse through the cracks in your fingers, where your head lay.

lifting your head up, you met harry’s friends blue eyes, filled with a look that simply stated, i’m sorry.

“i’m nash, by the way.” he offered a tight lipped smile, extending his hand.

you looked down to it, before looking back up into his eyes. you took his hand, giving it a weak shake.

“y/n,” you muttered out, resting your elbows on your knees, and then setting your chin atop your palms.

“sorry, about…harry. he’s difficult sometimes. i know firsthand how much of a dick he can be,” nash awkwardly laughed, watching you with careful eyes.

harry had sent him daggers when he dashed out after you. harry wasn’t the type to apologize, he usually let nash do it for him.

“whatever. i don’t feel like dealing with the disrespect today.” you brush off your skirt, chin still resting in one palm.

neither of you say anything, nash’s presence helping the pit in your stomach.

you feel sick. sick with hatred and anger. you hate how much you let harry get to you in there, how you had resorting to yelling at him.

you weren’t loud, or obnoxious, or flashy. he had just proper pissed you off, and you never let people walk all over you.

“harry is difficult sometimes… but he’s not evil. and i don’t know what went down with you two before but he made us move so we could sit behind you in class today. the other boys wouldn’t… so it was me who had to.” go figure.

nash was his puppy dog, eyes soft and genuine, you figured it probably hurt him to speak badly of harry.

but… he made them move? he wanted to sit near you? you couldn’t think of any other reason except to annoy you, adding it to your growing list of cons.

silence created a blanket over top the two of you. while nash’s presence pissed you off (greatly), it was also weirdly comforting.

you were extremely conflicted.

nash left you moments later, his coarse hand lightly pressing into your shoulder, saying goodbye.

back inside, nash slumped in next to harry, who was twisting a tooth pick in his mouth.

“she’s kind of… almost reserved, harry.” nash murmurs out, harry looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“well whatever she is, i know she’ll be a good shag. always love the feisty ones,” he smirks, running a hand through his tousled curls.

nash wanted to rebuttal, to argue with him. he knew it would be no avail, yet he found himself wanting to stick up for you.

in his eyes, you were weak, no match for harry.

harry was… powerful. he had connections, obviously, and his parents were willing to give him anything to keep him docile and submissive. but harry wasn’t either of those things.

harry would tear down everything to get to a person, he was egotistical, and self-important, and nash believed you to be the exact opposite of what you truly were. he thought you’d be easily swayed, and give in to harry. a swipe of harry’s credit card and you’d be on your knees.

but you didn’t need money, and you didn’t want power, or the ego trip of hooking up with a prince, you wanted to make a name for yourself, to have a career.

harry was willing to stand in the way of that. and you were willing to fight back.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

september 28, 2013

you had been staying off the internet for the past day, wanting to be completely surprised at the masochists concert tonight.

you did listen to their album, and while you weren’t a complete fan of their style, you had to admit that it was good.

your favorite song had to either be clouds or only angel, the lead singers voice was mesmerizing, and you found yourself lost in the music.

figuring you could get away with being a little casual tonight, you slipped on your favorite pair of jeans, black and slightly faded, with distressed cuffs at the bottom.

you paired them with your black adidas spezials, a simple vintage fleetwood mac shirt that you had thrifted thrown onto your body, you had rolled up the short sleeves to make it into a makeshift “tank top”.

tucking it into the jeans, you buckled your thick black belt, the buckle in the shape of a silver horseshoe — it was one of your favorites.

you threw your signature black leather jacket on over the outfit, the concert was outside at a college bar, and considering it was october and the weather was changing, you figured warmth was a must.

grabbing your black the row tote bag, you shoved a notebook, a few pencils, your ipad, and other essentials. and your pepper spray — just in case. you could never be too careful.

the walk to the venue from your apartment was short — the outdoor space was just around the block. close to your favorite coffee shop.

you were surprisingly in a good mood. harry had pissed you off once again, and you wished you could’ve kneed him again.

you were shocked he would even come near you after what he pulled outside the bar. you had seen him twice in one day! it was too much — you wanted nothing to do with him.

he was far too self important for you. his ego smeared all over his face, screaming i’m better than you to every person he met.

you also didn’t understand how no one ever seemed to recognize him. his father ruled the country you were in, his sister next in line. he was one of the most famous people in the world — why was he so unrecognizable?

maybe people chose to ignore him. you knew he was violent and irrational, the people of the uk must know the same.

the venue was already packed once you arrived, getting your hand stamped and giving them your ticket — that condé nast was paying for.

your outfit was perfect for the scene, the only colors in the sea of people were black, white, and red, clearly this band had an in-sync fan base.

drums were set on the stage, along with a microphone standing tall in the middle.

teen girls mostly made up the audience, their love struck eyes trained on the stage as they waiting for the boys to come out.

you were stuck in the back, loads of people had shoved their way to the front, filling the entire outside space.

you retired to a small corner, close to the exit. you could still see and hear everything perfectly, the lawn wasn’t that big.

the lights dimmed, a sudden hush falling on the audience. you watched with wide eyes, wanting desperately to put a face to the voice you had been listening to for the past few hours.

a loud guitar strum is heard, lights still pitch black. suddenly the lights blink on, girls screaming as the masochists play the introduction to their song woman — one that you did like.

you watched, a light smile tugging on your lips. the lead singer was turned around, lightly moving his hips to the beat, a melodic sound coming out of his mouth.

it was like sex for the ears, and you were loving every second of it.

you forced yourself to tear your eyes away from his body and the way it was perfectly moving, his back still turned, and shifting your line of sight to the other band members.

one with cropped brown hair and dark brown eyes was on the drums, his arms flexing as he hit the different parts of the instrument, a concentrated look on his face.

you took note of his outfit, all you could see was his tight grey flannel, a few buttons undone, revealing his upper chest.

you shifted to the boy on the right of the lead singer, his black hair sticking straight up and into a million other directions. a piece hung down low over his forehead and eyes, moving as he beat down on his red guitar, eyebrows furrowing in focus.

he was beautiful. dark eyes coated with dark, long lashes, a light stubble and mustache, earrings in his ears, and a simple black t-shirt straining against his muscles as he moved his arm up and down the guitar.

he had a microphone pressed against his mouth, singing along to the song, your eyes trained on his lips. you assumed he was the role of the lead guitar, as well as backup vocals.

there were two boys on the opposite side, the farthest right had light brown hair, flat against his forehead, high cheekbones, and bright blue eyes.

a tattoo sat above his right eyebrow, something scribbled that you couldn’t make out because of your distance from the stage.

he was beautiful also, playing the rhythm guitar, smiling out to the crowed, enjoying the attention.

the other boy was shorter, wearing beat up black converse, ripped black skinny jeans, and a loose grey tank.

his blond hair splayed across his face, sweat beading down as he beat against the guitar, obviously on the bass.

your eyes flicked up from the black guitar, taking in all his features.

it was… nash? his eyes were trained down, but you could make out all his features. it was the boy who had chased after you… sticking up for you against harry.

harry! you flicked to the lead singer, his back finally turned, letting the audience get a good view of his toned chest, his shirt completely unbuttoned and flying to the side as he writhed his body along with the strum of the guitars and the beats of the drums.

his green eyes were on yours, a smirk toying at his lips as your mouth dropped into an “o” shape, and your eyebrows knitted together in frustration.

why was he everywhere you turned! and why were you starting to like it…

no! y/n enough!

he was hot, there was no point in denying it, but you’d never tell him that.

you busied yourself with writing down the outfits of choice for each the boys, so that you wouldn’t have to stare into the eyes that you hated so much, yet seemed to be blushing because of.

blushing?! you couldn’t believe yourself.

no boy had ever gotten to you like this before, and you would not let harry be the first.

he was a pompous, arrogant prick who couldn’t tell his arse from his head. you wanted nothing to do with him.

but yet again… here was a free show, with music you did like, and some serious eye candy, all for you… you could stay a little bit longer.

a little bit longer turned into a while longer, and you had stayed for the whole show, swaying along to their covers of my chemical romance and green day. harry’s voice was magnificent. if being a prince didn’t work out, he should seriously continue this path of music.

pretty soon you were hanging off the arm of a cute blond boy named luke, his brunette friend callum cracking a joke, you and luke doubling over in laughter.

them and their other friends michael and ashton had gotten a round of drinks, and you figured why not. luke had approached you after seeing you all alone in the back, his presence was comforting and he seemed genuine.

he was dressed much like the masochists were, skinny black jeans and a metallica graphic tee hanging loosely off him.

ashton had run off to speak to the band, luke had said. they were friends with them, they had told you, they had all started their music journeys together, and luke and his bandmates wanted to be supportive friends.

after thanking luke and callum for their generosity, you told them you had to leave.

“why don’t you come with us to the after party? we’re going down the street to a bar, it’s chill, you’ll like it,” luke encouraged, callum humming in agreement.

“i don’t know, i’ve got work tomorrow and —“

“y/nnnnnn, please?” callum pouted, tugging on your arm.

you caved, not really wanting to go home anyways.

“i guess i’ve got a few spare hours,” you smiled, callum and luke now tugging you away into the streets of london.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

alcohol was coursing through your veins, mind cloudy with thoughts of more beer and getting your ass on the tile floor to dance.

“dance with me!” you shouted over the blaring music, callum and luke shrugging, allowing you to pull them into the dance floor.

now you were grateful for your loose t shirt and jeans, they allowed you to move freely.

your dance moves were all over the place, grinding against thin air, your hips methodically moving along to the addicting song engulfing your senses.

“i want another drink!” you screamed, scurrying away to the bar, ordering a cosmo.

you suddenly found yourself needing to use the restroom, heading down a hallway that you assumed they’d be in.

it was dimly lit, and the music was muted, making the hallway eerie.

your senses were heightened as you turned a corner, your pepper spray clutched tightly in your left hand… you could never be too careful.

“hi.” the silky smooth voice with the accent that you refused to admit turned you on caused you to jump, and you lifted up the pink spray bottle, pressing the button.

harry shrieked, hands coming up to cover his eyes. it was too late now, the damage had been done.

“oh god, oh my god, are you alright?!” you rushed over to him, your hands trying to pry his off his face.

“no i’m not okay! you just assaulted me!” he groaned, slumping against the nearest wall.

“i’m sorry harry, you just startled me,” you trailed off, watching with gentle eyes as he rubbed his, trying to rid off all the spray.

“could you get me some water?” he asks, quietly, gently, possibly the most gentle he’s ever spoke to you.

“of course,” you murmur, rushing into the closest door, running a paper towel underneath the sink.

you brought it back to him, carefully pressing it against his eyes, his head tilting backwards, pressed against the brick wall.

silence surrounds the two of you, his quiet breathing the only noise. though you didn’t like him, you couldn’t help but feel bad. he wasn’t trying to hurt you, he was just saying hello. and you sprayed pepper into his eyes.

“i deserved it,” he lightly laughs, carefully peeling the wet paper off his eyes, his hand around your wrist.

“what?” you question, almost all the alcohol in your system had dissipated once you had sprayed him.

“i deserved it. for how i’ve treated you.” he stared into your eyes, his a little bloodshot and red — likely due to the irritation.

“maybe,” you giggled, looking down at his long fingers still around your wrist.

“but it still wasn’t nice of me,” you whisper, smiling back at him.

“nonetheless. i’m sorry.” you nod at his apology, a silent acceptance.

“you were great, by the way,” you are staring at him, sipping down all of his features, trying to take a photo and remember it forever. he was gorgeous.

he nods, trying to find the right words. “yeah, i was surprised to see you here. y’know, i still don’t know your name,”

you smile as you realize he’s never bothered to ask, and you’ve never cared enough to tell him.

“y/n.” you smile, “and i actually didn’t know you were the singer until i got here. i’m here for work, to do a diagnostic piece on your wardrobe, but i had no idea who i’d be looking at,”

“i hope i didn’t disappoint,”

you go silent, harry’s been quiet, gentle? he’s the most reserved you’ve ever seen it. “i can assure you didn’t,” you say lightly.

you didn’t know what to make of this. sitting on the floor of a dirty bar, harry leaning his back against the wall, you on your knees, pressing into the side of his thigh.

he looked like a painting, big, round green eyes staring up into yours, dark curly hair creating a halo around his head. freckles dot his nose, something you’ve never noticed before.

he has dimples when he chuckles or smiles, and his nose lightly scrunches. his laugh is melodic, you could listen to it forever.

your heart beats faster in your chest, unsure of what is going on. here you are, pressed against the man who tried to have you grope him last night.

yet this harry, he was… well, different. he had apologized, owned up to his actions.

for some reason, your mind betrayed you, a whisper ghosting on your lips, you hoped he hadn’t heard the soft words, “i also know you’re a prince,”

you were afraid to look at him. for whatever reason, you did not know. but all of a sudden you felt small, timid. here you were, sitting with a prince. a prince who was wearing tattered clothing, tattoos peaking out under the long sleeves of his white button down, studs in his ears.

“hmph. that i am,” he shrugged, his hand leaving your wrist. the cool air hit the burning on your wrist, aching for his touch once more.

“i didn’t know you were one last night. if i had… i probably wouldn’t have kneed you.” you sheepishly admit, feeling very small.

he chuckled, his head turned away, his hand on the concrete floor dangerously close to resting on your thigh.

“still better than letting me be a perv.” he turned back, apology swirling in his eyes. maybe he did truly feel sorry.

you nod, flustered.

a heavy silence followed, the both of you refusing to look at each other.

“well, i, um, i better get back. luke will probably be looking for me, i think,” you stumble over your words, clamoring to your feet.

“luke? as in luke hemmings?” harry quirks an eyebrow.

“oh— i don’t know, really. i met him tonight at your show. he was with a guy named callum. they’re real nice. australians, i’m pretty sure.”

“yeah that’d be luke. he’s a cool guy,” harry said while climbing to his feet, brushing off his jeans as he peaked over to you.

he took in your outfit, effortless but you were beautiful. he figured you’d be beautiful in any situation. in his bed, in a cafe, in a fancy restaurant, anywhere he could get you.

“yeah, he’s nice,” you smile at harry, suddenly feeling very awkward as the two of you just stand there and stare at anything but each other.

“okay, well,” you mutter, awkwardly swaying your arms. harry nods, lips in a tight line, neither of you knowing what to do next.

you finally look up to harry, his hair thrown in all different directions, your eyes softening as you drink him in.

he was different alone. he was gentle, nice to you. maybe he wants all that ba—

“y/n!” nash and one of harry’s band members — the name, you weren’t sure of — rush up to you two, eyes widening when they see you two alone.

“and harry.” nash breathes out, nodding to his friend. “hey nash, zev,” harry speaks, nodding to each of them, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“y/n, i was uh - looking for you,” nash smiles, a hand rubbing his cheek.

“oh, okay,” you smile. “well, here i am!” you awkwardly laugh, zev and harry sharing a silent conversation. their eyes bore into each others, harry’s soft and zev’s questioning.

“i’ll see you guys later,” harry coughs out, his body suddenly rigid, cold, distant. if you reached out and touched him, he’d feel like ice, you think.

zev follows after him, placing a hand on his shoulder, the two obviously close.

you walk past nash, wanting to get back to your other friends, and your drink. you didn’t have to use the restroom anymore, the feeling long gone after you saw harry.

nash matches your pace, stuffing his hands in his pockets. he thought you were rather stand-offish, he couldn’t understand why you and harry were alone. the two of you couldn’t even sit next to each other and get along — how were you alone for such a long period of time and no one heard shouting?

all of you made your way back to the bar, harry and zev going straight out the door back into london.

nash went to where the other two boys were — a table in the back. as soon as his back was turned, you rushed outside, wanting to now where harry was going.

somehow he had weaseled his way into your brain and now he would not leave, and for some completely unknown reason to you… you didn’t want him to leave.

you had known him for 24 hours… yet he was all you could think of, whether it was of him up on that stage or slumped against the wall of the hallway.

obviously you weren’t as sneaky as you thought you were, harry and zev both whipping around to see you.

“hi.” you quietly peep, zev’s eyes narrowing. the street was dimly lit by a few lampposts.

“hey, y/n, why aren’t you back there?” harry asked, taking a step towards you.

“dunno. wanted to go home,” you lightly sway and both of the boys rush to your side, neither of them wanting you to face plant into the pavement.

“uh, zev, bro can you call her a cab?”

zev’s shadow moves further away to the edge of the sidewalk, harry’s arms snug around your waist to keep you from falling.

“your hair’s pretty,” you whisper, sticking your pointer finger in his hair and twirling it around.

harry nods, then clears his throat, not knowing what to do with you. should he come with you to make sure you get home safe? or should he just get you in the cab? after all, you weren’t his responsibility. and he didn’t care about you.

….did he?

his thoughts were extremely conflicted. if the paparazzi caught him now it wouldn’t be a good look… he had never been the best son but he was trying now.

“haz, the cabs here.” zev walked over, offering another arm for you to take.

the two boys helped you to the cab, and harry placed you in the seat, you giggled as you hit the harsh leather, hand slipping from harry’s shoulder down into his palm.

“bye,” you smiled, loopy and soft.

“bye,” he echoed back, a tight-lipped smile, much colder than he had been before.

“alright, man, we gotta go,” zev’s voice is rushed and worried, clearly you had interrupted them at not quite the best time.

harry nodded, taking one last glance at you before slamming the cab door shut.

he was feeling things that he really didn’t want to feel.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

#imagine #angst #harry styles au #prince harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #one direction #masochistic desires series #maeve writes 🎀

[maevesheart]

evil little thing

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ she-devil (04)

PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

note: the parts just keeping getting longer and longer... but I think this is the best part yet ;)

summary: a party brings your feelings for peter to light, and you question if all this feels right after he leaves you all alone in harry’s guest bedroom.

WC: 4.2k

TW: cussing… i think that’s it

4 DAYS LATER

it had been four days since you realized you liked peter. not like as in a silly middle school crush, but like as in really really like.

it was now friday, and you were finishing up the first week of you and peters “internship”, which mostly consisted of you two just examining different chemicals for 2 hours everyday.

after coming to terms with your attraction towards him, you continued the soft, innocent flirting during class. but when it came to the internship, you kept it strictly professional, with exception of the occasional flirty eye contact and brush of skin against each other.

yet, every time you found yourself looking at him, intending to or not, your stomach erupted with butterflies.

he was cute. and sweet. and as you got to know him more, he was kind.

you two hadn’t had a real conversation since the one in central park on the secluded bench. you and peter both were itching for another conversation.

after that talk, the first time you and peter really spoke, peter realized how he had misjudged you.

he was always under the impression that you were a cold, selfish snob, despite being so beautiful.

but when you talked to him the park, and told him that you wanted to pursue space engineering, he realized how little people really knew about you.

people hated you. despised you even. whether it was for how unexpectedly smart you are, or the fact that you’re the prettiest girl at midtown — and every guy would dump his girlfriend if you asked, or because of the mounds of money sitting under your name in the bank, or even the fact that you made varsity lacrosse your freshman year, and then became the team captain the same season.

you always seemed to do everything better than someone. a lot wondered if your father had some sort of relationship with the school that ensured you’d come out on top every time, or if you were really just that good at everything.

sure, you were mean sometimes. at school, you truly only spoke to your 3 friends and brother, and well, and now peter.

your new blossoming friendship with peter was all that the school could talk about.

it was so weird, to see you speak to anyone but your brother or posse of rich stuck up friends.

the students of midtown were shocked. especially since it was peter parker of all people. smart, quiet, and super awkward.

sure, he was cute. a lot of the girls harbored school girl crushes on him. but he was peter parker. and you were you.

and it was not expected.

after you and brad’s big blowout breakup the summer before, many believed you two would get back together. the schools golden couple, star athlete and the prettiest girl, you two were made for each other.

and you thought that too.

well, that was until he cheated on you, lied about it, and then took away some of your most precious personal assets.

you could never forgive him. ever.

even if georgie could, and continue to be friends with him. something you couldn’t understand, but you didn’t push him on it, because you knew how brad and his family had been there to help after your mothers death.

you hadn’t been to single party since you and brad’s break up. you were terrified to see him, or even worse, see him and zoe lopez. the girl he cheated with.

but, of course, since harry was hosting tonight, you were gonna go. fuck brad and fuck zoe, you weren’t gonna let two fuck-up losers ruin a crucial aspect to your high school experience.

a smile crept on your face as you thought about what the night would bring.

whenever harry hosted you knew it would be a good time. since his parents were always gone for work, he was always able to host massive ragers.

you silently finished cleaning the bunsen burner and flask you had been using, turning around to see peter intensely watching you.

“what’s got you so happy?” he teased, watching you smile bigger.

“oh well, harry’s having a party tonight. you should totally come.” you walked towards him, placing the burner and flask on the counter next to the one he was leaning against.

“oh.. i don’t know,” he awkwardly itched him arm.

he stopped his movements as you laid a delicate hand on his arm. “i want you to come. it’ll be fun. i promise.”

his skin was on fire under the place you were touching him. he nodded and swallowed the nervous lump forming in his throat.

“y-yeah. sure. why not,” he lightly laughed, earning a big smile from you.

“yay! ok, i’ll text you the address,” you nodded to him, removing your hand from his arm.

his skin longed for your touch, and he wished you would put your hand back.

you turned around, quickly swiping your phone from the lab table across from you two.

“i, i um, i don’t have your number,” peter called out as you walked away, stumbling over his words.

“oh right, my bad. um here,” you handed him your phone, with an empty contact page open, inviting him to put his name in.

he softly took your phone from your stretched out hand, fingers momentarily brushing over your skin, leaving a trail of flames. you swallowed, suppressing the want to ask him to put his hands all over you.

he silently filled in the contact page, first putting in his name, giving it a little “:)” at the end. he next entered his number, triple checking every digit was correct.

he handed the phone back to you, and you smiled down when you saw his name.

Peter Parker :)

he really was so cute. you almost couldn’t bear it.

“okay, cool. i’ll text you once i’m home.”

he nodded adding a small “bye”, as you turned and left the lab, leaving him alone with his million-miles-an-hour thoughts.

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you sat in the back of the black maserati, sigmund lightly tapping on the steering wheel as you two sat in traffic.

you were lucky, it was only 4:30 and the party started at 8. you had plenty of time.

harry lived in a penthouse in a building just two blocks away from yours. you could walk over to his house, and he asked you to come over early to help set up so it worked perfectly.

you pulled out your phone, it immediately opening to peter’s contact.

you tapped the text button, and the keyboard appeared. apprehensive as what to say, not wanting to seem too excited or too nervous, you let your subconscious do the thinking.

hey peter! it’s y/n

Hey y/n. Nice to hear from you

you giggled as his message came in, finding it cute how formal he was. it was clear he had never talked to a girl before.

on the other hand, peter groaned as he re-read what he had wrote. he was laying shirtless in bed, as he had swung home to skip waiting in traffic.

he felt so stupid. how was he supposed to text a girl? he had no clue. and it’s not like he could text ned, or worse, mj. the thought made him shiver.

his nerves subdued as a message came through from you.

i’m super happy u decided to come tn. it’s gonna be really fun. here’s harry’s address PH#2 80 NW St Manhattan, NY. be there at 8!

Thanks! Is there a dress code or anything? I’m not good at this kind of stuff lol

haha no there’s not a dress code, but most of the time people do dress up. just wear something nice. im sure you’ll look good in whatever you wear

he gulped as he read the last sentence you sent. it was clearly flirting… right? he blushed at your words.

instead of answering, as he had zero clue how to respond to that, he just thumbs up-ed the message, and threw his phone to the other side of his bed.

this pretending was getting harder and harder. well, not even pretending, as he didn’t have to pretend to think you’re pretty, or to want to talk to you or anything like that. more the lying part of it.

he hated to think that you developed feelings for him because of a lie. he wanted to have you by just being himself. he had dreamed of this forever.

mr starks words ringed in his mind.

“don’t trust the girl. she’s beautiful, yes, but she’s a little devil.”

how could mr stark say those things when he didn’t even know you? i mean, peter was getting to know you and he could tell that you weren’t malicious. despite the cafeteria slap that he had decided to pretend didn’t exist.

pushing mr starks words away, he sat up to begin to get dressed, as the clock read 5, and he wanted to get a little patrolling done before heading over to harry’s.

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it was 5:45 by the time you got home, and 6:30 by the time you finished eating and the last of your homework.

harry wanted you to his house by 7:15. you really needed to hurry up.

you rushed up the stairs, and heading down the hallway, or should i say wing, left of the staircase. georgie’s room was across from yours, his tall white door barely cracked open. you could hear the elton john from his record player streaming through the crack.

you lightly pushed open the door, revealing his messy room, clothes sprawled across the floor, a hoodie sitting in front of your bare feet. posters of different bands lined his walls, a pink floyd and queen above his bed, elton john and greta van fleet tickets pinned to the pin board above his desk, on the left wall of the one his bed is pressed against. the grey plush carpet on his floor covers the cold white marble, his white plain wall space almost completely covered with varying band posters, tapestries, and guitars mounted to the walls. two large bookshelves sit on either side of his desk, and his drums are in a corner next to the left bookcase. his bed lay on the middle wall, a dark grey comforter and white pillows peaking out. windows line the wall his bed is against, the one across from where you stand at the door. you always thought his room was bland, but it was his taste. and it made him happy. and you loved happy georgie.

he lay on his bed on his stomach, lazily scrolling through his phone.

his curls are messy, and he lightly scratches his eyes. the same color as yours. you loved how similar you looked to him.

“hey,” you spoke, walking further into the room, scrunching up your nose at the stale smell.

“george kennedy griswold. it smells terrible in here!” he rolled his eyes as you entered his bathroom to retrieve a room spray.

“when’re you heading to harry’s?” you asked, spraying every inch of the massive bedroom.

“eh. whenever you do, i guess,” he spoke up, making sure you could hear him above rocketman that played in the background.

“okay. well i think i’m gonna leave around 7:20. harry wanted me there at 7:15 but it’s a 10 minute walk and i won’t be ready in a half hour.”

georgie hummed along to the song as you spoke, making you realize that you hadn’t heard him sing in a while.

since your room was across from his, you usually were able to hear everything that happened. that included his loud music, when he played the drums, and even when he had girls over. something you tried to block out of your memory.

“g, i haven’t heard you sing in forever,” you state, a fact, not a question.

“yeah, well. i don’t know, i haven’t been feeling it lately,” he shrugs, standing up off the bed and walking past you into his closet, which stands next to the bathroom door.

that makes you upset. georgie used to always sing, using it as a way to let out his emotions. the therapist said it helped him feel in control and connect with himself.

“oh, well your voice is amazing. you should start doing it again.” he smiles at your words but shakes his head.

“dad hates it,”

“well, dads never here. so who cares. i love it. and i am always here.” you smile, watching as he digs through his closet to find a white t shirt to wear with the khakis he slipped on to wear to harry’s.

“i’ll think about it, y/n/n.” he offers a half smile, and you turn around and walk out of the room, and straight into yours.

now your room is much different than georgie’s. while his is dark and everything is grey, yours is bright and littered with pinks.

the door into the room stands across from a 35 ft wall lined with big windows that reach from floor to ceiling. your bed lay against a patch of white wall in-between two of the windows. a white comforter lay on your king sized bed, pink accent pillows perfectly placed, and a light baby pink blanket draped across the end of your bed. on the right wall of your room, your big white desk sits against the wall, a fancy blush colored chair sat in front of it. a large gold ornate mirror sits above the desk, and two tall bookshelves sit on either side of the desk. both are filled with varying colorful books, expensive trinkets from your father and his wealthy friends, and photographs of you with family and friends. on the opposite wall, a tall white dresser with gold hardwire sits in between the door to your glamorous and massive bathroom, and the door to your equally massive and glamorous closet. a beautiful painting sits above the dresser, painted by your mother for you many years ago.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

7 PM

you stand with your hands on your hips, scanning the long walls of your closet, searching for an acceptable outfit.

you’ve tried on many now, and you have to leave in 20 minutes. that’s barely enough time to even do your makeup.

you finally grab the dress you had been wanting to wear forever.

it’s black, sheer, and slightly sparkly, dipping down in the front, showing off just the right amount of cleavage. it’s long sleeves, with feathers around the end of the sleeve, where your wrists come out. since it’s see through, you opt for a plain black bra, and a matching black thong to wear underneath. it’s one of your favorites, coming from gucci’s most recent collection.

you put on bright magenta strappy heels from the attico, tied halfway up your calf. you put on simple diamond earrings, and a matching necklace that sits perfectly along your collar bones.

just leaving your hair long and wavy, you apply light makeup and put on lipstick that lightly matches the color of your heels.

you look hot. and feel hot too. you couldn’t be more excited for tonight, and a little nervous too, considering peter will be in attendance.

spritzing yourself with your favorite perfume, you curse the gods for the dress not having any pockets, just accepting that you will have to carry your phone the whole night.

you exit your room and check your phones clock, it’s 7:25. fuck.

you rush down the stairs, as fast as your heeled feet will take you, and run into the kitchen, finding georgie stuffing his face.

“stop it! you’re gonna get strawberry on that new white polo. we have to leave!” you take his arm and pull him towards the elevator, quickly clicking the button.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the walk to harry’s was cold, and you had to wrap your arms around yourself to keep warm.

you were grateful that you’d be spending the night at harry’s, knowing you wouldn’t want to return home drunk. you also had clothes and a toothbrush stuffed somewhere in harry’s closet.

entering harry’s building, you pushed the button for his penthouse, and waited as the elevator took you and georgie up to his place.

the door opened, and you were met with harry’s furious eyes.

“i know! i know! i’m late, i’m sorry!” you rush over to him, pulling him into a quick hug.

“ugh it’s fine. thank god liz came early to help,”

after hearing her name, liz appears from the dining room and walks up to you and georgie.

“hey guys. seen gwen?”

“nope. she probably won’t be let out, especially after drunk-ingly calling her dad last time,” you all laugh, remembering how drunk gwen called her dad and ranted about how angry she was at him for leaving for work again.

she got in loads of trouble and probably won’t be allowed out again for the rest of her life.

“okay. what can we do to help?”

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

you and georgie set out all the alcohol, and you grab a twisted tea for yourself, wanting to start pregaming before everyone arrives.

liz sets out food, and harry went down to the lobby to retrieve the 4 pizzas he ordered.

tyler, the creator, blares through his speakers, and red lights fill the big penthouse. you and georgie quietly talk as people begin to filter in, your eyes trained on the elevator, waiting for a special someone to appear.

some guy from your calculus class, who you don’t know the name of, approaches you, licking his lips as he scans you up and down. “hey,” he lightly sways, obviously already tipsy.

“not interested,” you turn around. rolling your eyes.

you feel a rough hand grab your arm and spin you around, causing the twisted tea to slosh in the red solo cup you’re holding.

“hey!” you screech out, before the guy is turned away from you.

“i believe the lady said she wasn’t interested,” a voice speaks from where the guy is facing, and he backs away with his arms raised.

you turn to meet peter’s eyes, a relieved sigh falling from your lips.

“thanks, i appreciate it.” you thank him, rubbing your hand up and down his bare arm.

you look him up and down as he stands in front of you. he looks nice. and well, he looks hot.

he’s wearing black pants that lightly strain against his thighs, which you didn’t realize were so muscular, now that you look down at them.

he’s got on a simple pair of nike dunks, and then a loose black t-shirt tucked into the jeans.

“you look nice,” he softly speaks, looking down at you.

the alcohol rushes through your veins and in the moment you want to kiss him. you push down the thought, knowing that right now was not the time to be thinking those things.

“thank you,” you slightly slur, looking up at him.

“you look nice too,” you smile, turning around to grab him a beer.

“here,” you hand it out, and he reluctantly takes it, slowly holding it up to his lips. he leans the bottle back and takes a long swig, nodding as he liquid goes down.

“not bad,” he shrugs, suddenly feeling a lot more confident.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the party has only gotten bigger, as more and more people showed up.

you and liz were tucked into a corner, talking about the most recent guy she had been talking to on snapchat.

“yeah well, he just turned out to be interested in nudes,” she sighs, bringing the white claw up to her lips.

“liz! how many times do i have to tell you that you are so hot and can do so much better than all those losers?” you shake your head, watching as she lightly laughs.

“you’re so drunk,” she giggles, holding up her can to take another sip.

“i am not.” you pout, crossing your arms, and looking away from her.

your eyes find peter, who is awkwardly sitting on the couch as a couple makes out next to him. he is leaning away from them, talking to ethan or whatever his name is who plays soccer.

“um, i’ll be back,” you say, not even looking back at liz and rushing over to peter.

the alcohol courses through your veins, making you feel light on your feet and unnaturally giddy. it gave you a new sense of courage, wanting to just pull peter into you and suck off his face.

peter’s eyes meet yours as you’re about 8 feet away, raising his eyebrows and smiling warmly at you.

his beer sits in his left hand, and you grab his right as you abruptly stop in front of him.

“i wanna show you something.” you simply state, watching as his face twists in confusion.

“alright,” he smiles, pushing himself off the couch, his hand still firmly in yours.

“sorry, ethan,” you say over your shoulder, already leading peter away.

“it’s evan!” he groans, shaking his head. you assume that’s not the first time you’ve made that mistake.

you lead peter down a dark hallway, and then push open the last door on the left to reveal a tidy guest bedroom, one that you knew harry specifically leaves to you for when you meet someone at parties. something that you had never done. well, until now. sort of.

peter’s mind swirls with confused thoughts. is this what he thinks it is? a bedroom? as much as he’d love to do things, sinful things, with you, he wants to wait just a little longer.

you two haven’t even kissed yet!

you pull him into the room, shutting the door behind him.

the room is dark besides the city lights that creep in through the two windows.

suddenly you feel extremely sober. oh god. this was so soon, you just pulled him into a bedroom! you remind yourself that you like him. and you’re pretty sure he likes you too.

“come here,” you lightly speak, pulling him over to the couch that sits on the right side of the room.

he lowers himself down first, and you perch on his left, your legs under you, and your knees against the side of his left leg.

he lifts his hand up to move the stray hair that has fallen in front of your face, the touch so delicate, so intimate, that you feel a small fire light in deep in your belly.

he looks up at you with soft, yet somehow dark eyes, eyes that tell you he wants you, that he’s ready whenever you are.

“can i ask you something?” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering as peter delicately draws circles on your arm with his pointer finger.

“of course,” he whispers back, a lopsided smile falling on his lips.

“i don’t want you to say no, though,” you whisper again. god, you really are drunk.

“i don’t think i will,” his eyes flicker to your lips, and you silently watch his as he speaks.

with that being all the confirmation you needed, you dip your head down and meet his lips halfway.

the fire in your belly turns deep and raging, and you swing your right leg over his body, so now you are straddling him, not removing your lips once.

your left hand finds the curls on the back of his neck, and your right goes to rest on his chest, feeling his pecs flex as he moves his arms so that his hands can rest on your body.

one of his hands goes to rest on your hips, the heat from his hand burning straight through the sheer dress.

his other hand gets tangled in your hair, pulling your face closer to his.

your noses lightly bump as you two continue to kiss, his lips soft and perfectly molding into yours.

you didn’t realize how good it actually would be.

his hands roam your body, leaving mini fires everywhere they touch.

you pull away from him, resting your forehead against his.

the two of you pant in the quiet room, sounds from Frank Oceans Lost creeping into the room through the crack under the door.

“oh you evil little thing,” he smirks, rubbing his hand up and down your thing.

peter’s eyes flick up to meet yours, and he quickly connects his lips back, never getting enough of you.

the moment only lasts a few seconds longer, as his watch, which is really his crime detector, starts vibrating on his wrist.

you feel the vibrations against your neck, reluctantly pulling away to look at what is causing the vibrations.

a look of panic is shown on peter’s face, and you reach out and cup his check with your hand.

“shit.” he mumbles, delicately taking you off his lap and setting you down next to him, before standing up.

“i’m so so so sorry, y/n but i, i-i have to go,” he mumbles, leaving a quick kiss to your lips and then sprinting out the door.

a feeling of rejection brews in your throat, suddenly wanting to throw up all the contents in your stomach.

you couldn’t believe him. sure, you initiated the kiss, but he wanted it just as much as you did. and then he has the nerve to pull you back in just to leave seconds later?

some nerve he has.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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