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mrsnancywheeler · 3 months

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the river (2) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

the end of a trilogy series

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6.1k words

warnings: angst, fluff, self-destructive behavior, finnick's bias now so you can see how they both view the other as the more broken one, mental health issues, allusions to suicide, allusions to trafficking and trauma surrounding it, the opposite of a slowburn it's giving their soulmates, mentions of death/torture/violence/brainwashing, unedited, no use of y/n

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Seeing your face again could have sent Finnick into another frenzy, he'd been scared he'd forget it even though he thought about it every second of every day. But he couldn't do that, he needed to listen, hear your voice again. You had that smile plastered on your face that everyone could easily believe in, and had for years, except him. There was a mournful, numb look that would settle in the back of your eyes whenever you put on a performance, one that usually leads to dissociation. On top of that, you looked tired, the way you looked when after you'd won your Games and hadn't been able to escape the nightmares.

Your voice was like music in his ears when you greeted Ceasar back, a tune that could soothe his soul if he wasn't so worried about you. It pained him to notice that in the midst of everything, of holding you captive, of the rebellion, they'd still managed to play dress up with you. Goosebumps covering your skin, the outfit barely covered any of you, you'd always run cold, and the Capitol seemed to know this. “So you're saying you knew nothing about the rebel plan?"

You shook your head emphatically, “No, I told you all how sure I was that I was never coming out of that arena. It was just as much of a shock to me." His clever, clever girl, trying so hard to play it safe.

“At the end you were screaming about forgetting something, what was that?" Caesar asked.

The tracker. The stupid tracker. "Finnick…" You trailed off, looking into the camera for a second like you were trying to reach out to him, “We had a special way of communicating with each other that comes with being together that long, I needed to find him, I still don't remember why.”

"So did he know about the rebel plan?”

Your foot was tapping slightly and Finnick prayed, for your sake, that no one else knew how anxious that indicated you were. “If he did, he didn't tell me." You looked at the camera again, addressing the citizens of the Capitol, "And I want everyone to know that if he did know anything, he would only do it if he thought it meant we could be together. He would never want this, the rebellion, the terror, both of us love all of you and Panem so much. His intentions would've been of love, not harm.”

Finnick was so proud that your years of charisma for the Capitol was pulling through now. He felt like he was going to cry, the way you were defending him in the off chance that everything went wayward and he also ended up in Capitol clutches somehow. Maybe, if Snow really thought you knew nothing, he'd consider you more than just bait, maybe there'd be quite a few of these interviews left to boost morale for Capitol citizens. To see one of their favorite victors spewing out propaganda, it would also keep you alive longer, so out of all things that's what Finnick would place his hopes on.

“Peeta called for a ceasefire, would you agree with this, that things should just be called off?” You glanced off camera, anxiously scratching at your arms.

"Yes, a ceasefire needs to be called.” Your smile reeked of discomfort and fear, and he was even more grateful that it was something only he knew how to sense from you. “The destruction being caused, the death, will get so much worse if this continues. No one wants that, this can all be sorted out. President Snow is merciful, but only if a ceasefire is called for.” It was sickening, the lies you were being forced to tout. Snow was anything but merciful, he'd probably throw the victors into the arena again, or just line them all up to be shot, or make death causing ‘accidents’ occur as soon as possible. Then you were crying and Finnick longed to hold you, to tell you it would be okay, to give any words of comfort he could. "I'm sorry, so much has happened recently.”

"Well us in the Capitol are glad to still have you with us." Finnick hated that they had you, that Caesar could still force you to perform for all of Panem and act like you're fine.

"I'm glad to be here with all of you too!” You mutter through tears and your signature, fake smile.

"Before we go, is there anything you want to say if the rebels are watching out there, if Finnick, your husband is watching out there?”

“He's not a rebel." You say quickly, with as much urgency as you can. Your eyes shut for a second and you're muttering to yourself, “He's my husband, he's not a rebel, not a rebel."

"Right, he's not a rebel.” Caesar says with what's supposed to be a comforting smile.

Your eyes open and you nod, wiping away stray tears, “And I'm just reminding everyone how badly we need a ceasefire, to stop all of this. To stop the suffering and all that could come.” Your smiling again, so forced it looks like it hurts and you're rubbing your necks until it's red, "Ceasefire, ceasefire, ceasefire is important.” It's like you're chasing a thought you're being forced to remember.

“Yes, a ceasefire is important." Caesar nods, "Well a big thank you to the Capitol Princess for her message here today.” Your smile drops as you nod at the camera before it cuts and Finnick has been once again abandoned with his thoughts.

What are they doing to you to convince you to say things you would never believe? How sweet you are for insisting upon his innocence anyway you can, he misses you more than home, the ocean, the feeling of fresh air in his lungs, the sun shining down on his face, he would happily live without it all if you could just be here, with him. You'd looked so exhausted and he misses being able to hold you, keep you warm so you could rest and feel safe when you did. He longs to see your genuine smile, the way your eyes would soften and the way your nose crinkled when you laughed.

A fantasy he can drive himself into before the anger can fall back into place, how he needs to hijack something so he can rescue you. He'd rage to President Coin herself if he could force her to do it, but they barely even let him out of the hospital wing. He's sobbing again, calloused hands trying to clear his face of the tears. Maybe they think he hasn't seen it, so they aren't worried about his reaction, they probably assume he's sleeping or focused on tying his knots, but it's just the eye of the hurricane. He can only stain the plain, scratchy sheets with his tears for so long before the hysteria will return. But for now he can mourn. He can hate himself, wish the rope was long enough to let him leave, and wish you could've both just chosen to be together in death. It would've been better then torture he's going through now. How there's not a second he can't focus on you, what he misses, what he dreads could be happening to you, the dreams of your future.

Dreams where you could be at home, surrounded by friends and family having the traditional District 4 wedding, sea shanty's and all. Where there was no fear that Snow would manipulate the games to force your children to be spectacles so you'd had children, as many as you wanted. Who you'd take to the beach, teach them about the animals, teach them to swim, and be the family he knows deep down you'd both have wished for. There'd been a glimpse where that was possible and then there'd been the impending doom that it wasn't. That instead it would be the wish he had when they told him you were dead.

Death. You. The idea that death could creep up with its slender hands and drag you away into the cavernous pit, that would leave him forever alone. He'd gratefully dig the claws of death into himself to bring you back or lay with you in the lowest parts of the cliffs forever. Death. You. Him. Freedom. Chains broken, no more threats, no more needs, just the end with you.

Instead he needed to face the brazen winds to return you to his arms. You'd looked so cold and he missed being able to warm you, for you to cool him down. He had to get you back and the frenzy was back. Finnick was back on his feet, tearing himself from the bed, not giving a care to the things around him, if they fell to the floor it was something else out of his way. This commotion did alert the medics close by and Finnick was instantly trying to run by them.

“We have to save her, I need to save her!” He urged, but they were used to his antics. They'd long ago retrieved the manpower required to overpower him when he got like this. That didn't mean he still wouldn't fight, he still had the strength it took to shove most of them off, react violently when they got their hands on him, and struggle when eventually a larger group had their arms on him, ready to sedate once again. Maybe that was a good thing though, it allowed him to fully focus all of his thoughts on you and everything you two had.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

He was early, but he didn't care, well he kind of did when he paced by the cobblestones not far from your house wondering when he should knock. Wicker picnic basket being moved between each of his hands, careful not to hit the bouquet of flowers he was holding, as he anxiously counted down. Finnick knew he said noon, but did that mean five minutes before would be the right time to show up? 10 minutes? Exactly at noon? He wasn't used to feeling this anxious, he'd adopted a suave personality for Panem to gobble up that had become nearly effortless, but now he wanted desperately for you to ignore that and just be perfect.

The gift he had for you weighed heavy in the pocket of his shorts. He wanted to give it to you, he hoped you'd like it because he really wanted to see that smile that he'd daydreamed about again. He checked his watch, 13 minutes, and the worry was still there. Would you be scared off if you looked outside to see him waiting so early or would you find it sweet? What if you were inside anxiously waiting for him because you doubted it was real, because you wanted it to be genuine, and he reasoned from what he did know it was probably the correct assumption. You were too full of self-doubt, of an unspoken want to be seen, to be realized, and he wanted nothing more than to really comprehend each intricate detail that made you, you.

‘Fuck it,’ He told himself when he made his way up the cracked cement, the grass and weeds peeking through. All the way up the two steps on your crickety porch, light blue paint peeling away to reveal the rotting chunks of wood. Slowly he tapped his knuckles on the wooden door, hoping the knocks didn't seem aggressive, but were enough to gain attention. Since when had he worried about the way his knocks were perceived? Only to gain a chance to perceive you.

The door creaked open and there you were, glowing in another beautiful sundress. “Hi!” Your smile was enough to wash away most of his anxieties even if your own voice seemed riddled with them, he despised the fact you felt anything less than sure of yourself, then sure of his interest in you.

“Good morning, angel." Morning? Afternoon? Did he care which one was more accurate, did you? Finnick pulled on his dazzling smile, feeling like he was swept up by you.

He pulled the bouquet up, "Um, I got these for you.” You stared at them for what felt like an eternity and made him blush, scared he'd misread something,"I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just-”

"They’re for me?” Features so soft it made his heart want to melt already, even the smile was so sweet and fond.

“Yeah, they're for you. These ones just reminded me of you." He wasn't about to say he'd spent hours at Mags this morning trying to pick the perfect flowers from her garden that he thought you would not only adore, but that gave off your very essence.

“They're perfect." You said in a soft amazement,"Really perfect.” Your fingers brush through them before you're ever so gently taking them from him,"Thank you.”

Flowers were definitely a win, something that could rely on for you to adore. “Of course, sweet girl." You smiled as you smelled the flowers and he concluded that you didn't get many gifts, even one's as easy as that. He'd plant garden after garden to keep you smiling like that. You shut the door and it clicked behind you as you stepped towards him, porch creaking.

“Really, thank you, Finnick." To his surprise you hugged him and how cold you were was almost as shocking, you had such a warm, inviting aura that it was hard to imagine the icincess of your skin. Yet he melted into it, he'd always been so warm that it was nice to have something to contradict that, like when he went for his early morning swim. You smelled the peaches and the ocean, it was delightful and an aroma he'd always want to remember. He longed for your touch to return the moment you pulled away and suddenly he was just hot again. He must have stood there staring and longing for a while because your melodic voice stopped this, “So, are we planning on standing here all day?”

“No, no sorry!" He shook his head, breaking into a nervous chuckle as he tilted his head to the side. You laughed as you began walking down the rickety steps and he followed. “How was dinner?" Maybe he was jealous, he shouldn't be, there was really no good reason to be, but he was.

You looked at Finnick for a moment, confused, like it hadn't quite processed in your brain. “Oh, yes! It went well!"

“What'd his sisters have for you?" The fond look you gave him for remembering a small moment in a conversation made his heart swell and he swore he'd remember everything about you.

“We like to try and find the prettiest things in the sand, seashells, sea glass, things like that and we all have little collections from each other. They're sweet."

“You're sweet."

“How would you know that, you don't know me." You said, fingers playing the flowers and trying to keep watch on the ground. The cobblestone was uneven, broken, crumbling apart and very just a tripping hazard.

“As you keep reminding me, it doesn't change the fact that you're sweet. ” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. His free hand slides into his pocket, “Saw something else that reminded me of you." He pulls out a necklace, something a vendor had made of shining seashell fragments and the occasional pearl, but something about it just seemed so much like you.

“Finnick." Your steps halted and he did the same,"I don't need you to buy me things.”

"I know, I want to buy you things.” The necklace dangled from his fingers, glistening in the rays of sun.

"But I don't have anything for you, so it's not-”

"You don't have to get me anything, I'm just spending time with you and I want to do it. Not because I feel obligated too, but because I like you.” Finnick reassured, this didn't have to be transactional, he just wanted to show you he paid attention, he cared.

You closed your eyes and sighed before nodding, “Okay."

“Unless you don't like it, in which case you should tell me now for future reference.”

“No, no, that's not what I mean, I mean I do, I just-"

“Need to get better at accepting gifts?" He finished, raising an eyebrow.

You scoffed, “I'm good at accepting gifts!" There was a beat of silence where the two of you both stared at each other, him with his brow still arched quizzically, before the two of you burst into laughter. “Sorry, that's not true."

“I can tell!" When the laughter had somewhat subsided, he took another step towards you, lifting the necklace slightly, “Here, let me help you." He was thankful for another chance to let his fingers ‘accidentally’ brush against the skin of your neck and be cooled by it.

His nimble fingers secured the clasp, "This seems to keep happening to us.” You said, trying not to bristle when his warm hands did in fact make slight contact with yours.

"Maybe I'm just a mastermind.” His voice was so close to your ear as he gave himself an extra second of touch before forcing himself to step back.

"Or maybe you're full of yourself." You turned back around to face him before the two of you continued on the walk.

Finnick shrugged, “Two things can be true."

“Maybe not those two." He felt like a lost puppy dog who'd trail behind you, at your beck and call, every single time you spoke. It was terrifying, bone chilling, to think he'd become infatuated from afar and now it was like he'd been bewitched. As if your aura had its own siren song attached to allure his own in and he'd gladly crash his ship on the rocky shores for you. Yet the fear was combated with the fact that you, the core of you, was closer to the shine of the lighthouse, guiding him to safety. A thin line between destruction and refuge.

Banter has easily continued until he'd finally led you to the beach locked behind the gates of Victors Village, its view was truly breathtaking. He laid out the blanket on the warm sand, picnic basket on top, and you'd already been rid of your sandals. You stood, arms out as the breeze blew through your arms, inhaling the salty air and Finnick would've sworn you were some type of ethereal blessing gifted to the Earth from the ocean itself. Slowly he lifted the lid on the wicker basket, “Here." He said, holding up a peach.

You opened your eyes to look over and he could see the instant surprise on them as you sat down, “Finnick!" You didn't take it from him, just put your hands around it to draw it closer as you smelled it like you weren't sure it was real. “Oh my god!" You exclaimed when you caught a glimpse of the bag of peaches within the basket.

“Thought it might convince you to not barter the necklace." He chuckled as if he hadn't been certain he'd buy the whole array of peaches to see you smile and hear your laugh, to see the spark in your eyes.

You paused to touch the necklace, suddenly serious, “I wouldn't do that." Your eyes were so gorgeous, so addictive, so kind. The type of eyes he wanted to gaze into until everything else had faded away. Every piece of art, every sunset, every sunrise, every star’s beauty lessened in comparison. “Finnick Odair, you can't be real." That shining smile had returned and he couldn't help but follow in your footsteps to give one back. “Seriously, you have to tell me what's wrong with you before I become too attached."

Finally you took the peach from his hand to bite into it, “Afraid I can't tell you yet, angel, scared you'd run away on me.” His tone was light enough to be a joke, but deep down he knew he'd never be able to tell you about the things that he felt the most self-loathing for, how self-destructive he could be would be something he'd try to keep you away from.

"Well you've already got me; hook, line, and sinker.” When you smiled and spoke, your nose would scrunch up in what he imagined was the most adorable thing possible. You stopped taking bites and quietly sat on the bed, observing him.

"No need to stare, I'm staying right here.”

"Oh my god, I could kiss you.” He wasn't even sure if you'd processed the words as you stared at him longer before your brain finally seemed to register what you'd said. The look of shock had barely begun to pass your face when he decided he'd just kiss you instead. Perhaps it was all too fast, a day for him to be tasting the peach on your lips, for his fingers to be on your cold face besides the slight warmth on your cheeks. Whirlwind romances were either tragedy's or a fairytale, so time would have to tell, but maybe it should've been a sign. The ending could be uncertain as it liked, but he was sure your souls were yoked in the first ocean tides to bless the world.

His nostrils filled with the scent of peaches and the salt air you had meshed with how you tasted like the peaches, once again, and vanilla. So calming, like he was being softly rocked in the waters, nothing less than perfect. When he finally pulled away from you all he wanted to do was be enveloped by the taste once again. You looked so flustered and taken aback, it was so precious to him. “I beat you to it, this time." Cocky smirk even if he was slightly breathless.

You nodded at him slowly with your eyes wide, like all thoughts had been taken from your head. Finnick would've said something else if it weren't for the refreshing chill of your hands grabbing his face to pull him in for another kiss. He'd never get sick of peaches when they reminded him so much of you, if he was ever to be away he'd spend his time learning endlessly about them just to feel near. Although it couldn't compare with the way your lips molded to his so easily. Then there were your hands in his hair, something he usually couldn't stand, but when it was your gentle hands he couldn't find it anything but endearing. Eventually you'd pulled away as well, chest heaving, yet it was like you couldn't say a thing. Faces and bodies mere inches from each other as you stared at each other, listening to each other breathe.

Suddenly you were quickly removing yourself from him, running forward in the sand. “Where are you going?" Finnick called after you, somewhat terrified he'd scared you off. But you turned back to him smiling like you hadn't a care in the world.

“Swimming!" You shed yourself of the sundress to be just left in the swimsuit you wore underneath, “Are you coming?" Now it was Finnick's to scramble up, chasing you towards the water.

You must have spent hours swimming, like there was no other world except the now. He'd swim under the water, scaring you when he'd pull at your ankle and you'd fight back by trying to dunk him under the moment he bobbed to the top. This was usually unsuccessful as he'd simply drag you down with him, except when he wanted you to feel like you had succeeded. He'd randomly lift you from the waters and you'd screech for him to put you down and once or twice he'd used it as an excuse to kiss you again. After hours of similar actions the sound of the waves hitting the shore was the only thing that could be heard as you both waded to stay afloat.

Finnick stared out at the horizon, “I want to take you sailing when I get back."

“When you get back from what?" You asked, looking at him. Suddenly he was flooded with guilt, here he was dragging you along when he couldn't even be fully yours or honest about it. But he wanted to be with you so bad and for now that was all he had to cling onto.

It didn't mean he could look at you when he tried to explain it, so he looked down into the waters, “I'm supposed to leave for the Capitol tomorrow, just Victor related things.” He mumbled, shrugging off the mention.

"Oh, okay.” You didn't sound actually upset, "When will you be back?”

"A week at the most.” He peeked up at you through his eyelashes surprised to see you didn't look upset either, at most a little dejected that you wouldn't see him for so long.

"Well, we better have a killer party then to end all of this off, make sure you don't forget me.” You teased, raising your eyebrows.

"I could never forget about you… but you're not upset?"

You shot him a quizzical look, “Why would I be upset, we all have responsibilities, even if they come with different territory.” You shrugged and nearly fell backwards when he pressed his lips to yours again, steadying your back when you began to fall backwards. You had to be an angel who'd been sent to keep him sane and grace him, but a darker side of him urged him to realize he didn't deserve someone as understanding as you.

“You're so perfect." His arms held you and he looked at you with nothing less than amazement.

“I'm definitely not."

‘You’re perfect for me, we're perfect together,’ Finnick thought as he looked at you, water droplets running down your skin, breathing hard from all the excursions, eyes sparked with their usual twinkle and so many hidden thoughts he wanted to dive into. He accepted the conclusion that the only reason he would be feeling all this so fast would be because you were destined to be, all the stars had aligned for this moment, and the oceans had moved mountains to ensure this lifetime was no different. If you were Eurydice he had been your Orpheus, the Dante to your Beatrice, you would have been the Penelope to his Odysseus, regardless of any fate he knew there was never a life where you'd not been irrevocably bound together.

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You were going to be rescued, saved from the Capitol's grasps, and what had brought elation at first was quickly ruined when he learned that he couldn't help rescue you. He wasn't quite yet considered mentally stable enough for it, even if slowly he'd been able to mask it all better. Instead he had to stay in District 13 and do nothing but beg the universe to return you to him. Hadn't there been enough tragedy in your short lives? Hadn't there been enough tragedy in every other ending, in every other life? They should've let him brave death to bring you back, it would've settled him more then the torture of not knowing. Especially since he'd caught every airing you'd had from the Capitol which made him grateful that Katniss had wagered for your immunity. Snow had you begging for ceasefire, showing off outfits to parade, as if there wasn't a textile shortage, and it broke him when you seemed to be getting less sure of questions regarding him, regarding you. Then had been when Peeta announced the planned attack on District 13 and seeing you scream when he was violently attacked for the warning. A scream that would have forced Finnick to be sedated if it weren't for the more impending doom of the bombs.

Katniss was filming a distraction propo about Peeta, how he'd saved her, loved her from the beginning. It was intimate, but apparently not enough for Plutarch who was calling Finnick over. Or maybe he's thought of something when Katniss mentions Snow's own admission of the Capitol's fragility.

“The Capitol is fragile, Snow is fragile, if we can manage to make a major blow to that, it could take their focus off of the prisoners. Force them to focus on damage control instead." Plutarch explains.

“And you want me to say something that could do that?” Finnick looks down at his rope, you'd never been able to master the butterfly knot, and he can imagine himself going over it again to try and teach you.

“If you have anything worth sharing." Of course everyone knows he does, among the elite, the powerful, the other victors it's just an open secret. “It could help us save her."

"But you don't have to open that up, there's no guarantee it'll do anything.” Haymitch argues, he's been forced into sobriety and has maintained his aggression.

“I have something, more than one." Finnick finally says once he's completed his knot and Plutarch can't hide how pleased he is with this outcome. Finnick swears he can hear the blood draining from his face and the nausea rising in his stomach as each second passes, but he persists to stand in front of the cameras.

"You don't have to do this.” Haymitch reiterates.

"Yes I do, if it'll help her.” There's no other option, if the only thing that stopped you from being safely brought to District 13 was the lack of a good distraction, he'd find a way to get a longer rope. He undid the knot before balling it tightly in his hand, “I'm ready." Finnick says to the camera crew and he thinks of you. He turns off any physical sign of emotions he may have because he knows if he doesn't it would lead to another damaging spiral.

The cameras click on and he's given the all clear to begin, “President Snow used to… sell me… my body, that is. I wasn't the only one.” Far from it, and Finnick wanted revenge for all of them, for him, for you, for Cashmere, for everyone Snow had forced into his scheme. "If a Victor is considered desirable, the President gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.” What had happened to Johanna, what he'd been terrified would happen to you when you'd first been together. “I wasn't the only one." He repeats and this time it really is for you, for how much he had to watch it break you. The nightmares, how long it took for you to accept any form of physical contact, how even years after it still affected your own intimacy with each other. They stole it all, your girlhood, most of your spark, whatever they could they ravaged from you like vultures on a corpse. Wasn't the prize of winning supposed to be life? “But I was the most popular. And perhaps the most defenseless because the people I loved were so defenseless." Finnick would never have mentioned this to you, but he'd begged Snow to give him more rather than give you any. The President had said you were too popular for none, but had given you less than what you could've had in exchange for even more of Finnick's time, his so-called uses. “To make themselves feel better my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry, but I found a much more valuable form of payment. Secrets.”

That's why he was such a threat to Snow, he knew too much, he needed to be silenced, but he hadn't and now he could tell all of Panem each one. “And this is where you're going to want to stay tuned, President Snow because so very many of them were about you. But let's begin with some of the others.” And prominent name after name spewed off of his tongue. It felt like he was dropping chains off of his body to reveal them to the nation. Each one more heinous than the next, “And now, on to our good President Coriolanus Snow. Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you must ask yourself, did he do it? One word. That's all you really need to know. Poison." More names, victims of Snow's climb to power, the elite he trampled so he could trample the weak. Suddenly he's on fire, Finnick can't stop thinking about all the pain it caused you, about how it ruined his own childhood and life, how Johanna lost everyone she loved, how Cashmere worked so hard to protect her brother only for them both to be dead and he's so very detailed. Ensuring that it can't be swept under the rug and it's so harrowing that no one cuts the camera even when he's stopped speaking. There's too much shock, too much intensity, "Cut.” Finnick eventually intervenes.

Finally the stupor is over and people rush to air the footage, Plutarch is making endless comments that Finnick can't comprehend when he's so lost in his own head. Auto-pilot took control for most of the day, he tied knots until his fingers bled. You would've scolded him and bandaged them up, insisting it's why you didn't care for them even if you loved pouting for him to help you just so he could be so close by. Then he's got his arms wrapped around his knees, the day has been too slow, what if you were dead and he'd have no idea until they arrived and he would be at peak hope.

“Did you love her right away, Finnick?" Katniss' voice finally pulls him away from the endless myriad of thoughts.

“Not for the years when I knew of her and then I don't know what changed. She was just so herself in every way and I knew I wanted to just speak with her at least, but once I had a taste of it, yes. Like I'd been knocked over by a wave with it. For a while she didn't understand, but I didn't either, I just knew that there was no else for me." He feels like he's tearing up again when Haymitch rushes into the room.

“They're back. We’re wanted in the hospital. That's all I know." But Finnick feels like he can't move, he realizes he's scared of what you'll be like now. The Capitol had taken the you with her free-spirit and love of being in the moment and made her hate that she was able to breathe oxygen, which he'd so diligently worked to prove you were worthy of. Now they'd had you again, a version that was already hurt, untrusting, and self-destructive, and he couldn't imagine what they could have done to you now. Katniss is softly grabbing his hand to guide him upwards and he feels robotic. She guides him through the winding, gray hallways to the hospital wing. It's not until he can hear your screams that his brain clicks back into action. He has a responsibility to you, one of care, of love, of support in your weakest moments.

He's screaming your name as he runs from Katniss, searching for you desperately. Then he spots you on a hospital bed, pushing off the doctors trying to take care of you. Finnick needs to just be there with his soft words, let you know they're trying to help, so you'll stop. But that's not what happens when you hear his voice or see him. “Angel!" Your panicked screams become more shrill when you see him and in his confusion he steps closer, “It's just me." His voice is more broken then he wanted it to sound, more dejected.

“Get him away from me!" You're frenzied, scrambling to get out of the hospital bed or as far away in it as you can. The doctors are trying to reassure you as you scratch, and kick, and hit, and scream, begging for them to keep you safe from him. He feels the doctors trying to lead him away, hears Johanna laughing harshly in the background noise, but he's frozen. Your head is banging on the metal back of the bed which rattles. “Please, please.” You're sobbing and they're staying to sedate you, "He wants me dead, you don't get it, he's gonna kill me.”

And Finnick is once again determined to get hands on a much longer rope.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so, so much for reading I am so sorry this took me so long! I hope you enjoyed it and as always feedback, comments, likes, reblogs are all much appreciated. my ask box is always open and currently so are requests which I'm working through! love you all and thank you again 💋

taglist: @coriolanussnowswife @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @libertyybellls @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery @ang3lflor @maxinehufflepuffprincess @prettybiching @miserablebl00d @wowzabowza69 @nomorespahgetti @problematicpastries @abaker74 @nj01 @whens-naptime @sarcasticbooknerd12 @cakes-hq @honethatty12 @s1lngwns @alliex-o

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keeplcving · 2 months

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Hii I’ve been waiting for a blog I like to ask and I really adore your writing!!

I keep thinking about coriolanus x reader set before the reaping and the reader is being sent to the districts (maybe as a punishment from the plinths for “filling sejanus’ head with rebel ideas” or smth) but anything works!! 🩷

awe, thank you so much, sweet anon! i am honored :). i hope i understood what you wanted, and wrote it to your standards. enjoy, xoxo.

dark paradise.

(academy!coriolanus x fem!reader)

summary: she may be a rebel at heart, but only one man can tame her.

cw: discussion of arranged marriage, sweet!coryo (i love writing him like that i’m sorry!), soft sex, oral (m receiving), cuddling, pet names, talking bad about the plinths, lmk if i missed anything.

“Me? To District Two? Why? What did I do?” You interrogate the peacekeeper who had pulled you out class, mid lesson.

“Orders of a Mr. Strabo Plinth. Says here you ‘filled my son’s head of anti-Capitol propaganda’. Enough grounds to see you removed from the Capitol, I believe.”

You couldn’t believe it. You hadn’t told Sejanus anything he didn’t already believe, you merely agreed with him. The Hunger Games were awful, and cruel. You knew enough about the world before Panem, and that in the country that existed before Panem, cruel and unusual punishment was against the country’s rules. Why wouldn’t that be the case in Panem?

“What? No I didn’t! Please, believe me.” You begged, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. You couldn’t leave the Capitol, it was your home, and had been your family’s home for years. You couldn't move to the districts, you wouldn't survive.

Your family had more than enough money and influence, but not as much as the Plinths. At this moment, you regretted befriending Sejanus. Sure, he was a sweet boy, but now his father was using you as a scapegoat to explain his son's inability to conform to Capitol standards and beliefs. All for simply agreeing with one of Sej's opinions.

You thought, for a moment, that this was it. You would never see the Capitol, or anyone in it, ever again, for the crime of having an opinion. You were a top student at the academy, set to be in the running for the Plinth Prize. How could they just kick you out of your home? You felt faint, overwhelmed with emotions, unsure of what to do, or even how to react.

"What's going on?" A voice interrupts your thoughts, and you let out a sigh of relief in recognition of the voice. Coriolanus Snow. He could get you out of this, he could easily explain that Sejanus was the rebel, not you. His family had more power and influence than the Plinths did, as they weren't from the districts.

"Miss Y/L/N here is about to be transported to District Two. She's a rebel. She's been filling Sejanus Plinth's head with anti-Capitol ideals, which Strabo isn't very pleased with. His son was supposed to make the Capitol his home, not turn against it." The peacekeeper explained to Coriolanus, and Coriolanus looked like he was in utter disbelief.

"Y/N?" Coriolanus spat out, "A rebel? Unlikely. If anybody is filling anyone's head with anti-Capitol ideals, it's Sejanus. Not Y/N." He states to the peacekeeper, hoping that he will believe the heir of the mighty house of Snow over district scum. The Plinths would never be Capitol, not really.

"Is that so?" The peacekeeper responds, "How is Miss Y/L/N not a rebel? Is there anything tying her to the Capitol, other than her family? Has she agreed to be married into a family of status?"

You couldn't believe that simply agreeing to be married into a family of status could keep you in the Capitol. That really couldn't prove anything, right?

"Yes, she is set to be married to me, upon our graduation from the Academy." You almost gasped in shock, not thinking that Coriolanus would come to your defense, lying for you in order to keep you in the Capitol. You held the gasp in though, and simply nodded your head.

"I am in love with him, sir. I wouldn't dare leave the Capitol, or say anything negative about it, when I have a man like Coriolanus to continue to show me the good that lies in the Capitol." You explain, stepping back to stand side by side with Coriolanus. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side, rubbing his fingers soothingly on your side.

"How could you insinuate that my future wife is anti-Capitol? That is simply preposterous." Snow spits out, rolling his eyes before continuing, "I would never marry a woman that was anti-Capitol. I wouldn't taint my future heir's blood with someone that stood against everything that I believe in. This is absurd."

Coriolanus made a very strong case for you, leaving very little room for the peacekeeper to argue. You knew you had to go along with his lie, and keep up the act, in order to save your place in Capitol society. You lean up, and press a light kiss to Coriolanus' cheek, smiling sweetly once you pull away.

"I see, I will relay this information to my superiors. In the mean time, Miss Y/L/N is to stay at your manor, Mister Snow. There will be a trial, you will be called to testify on Miss Y/L/N's character, and her personal ties to you. I am going to dismiss you both from classes for the rest of the day, and I will be by tomorrow to collect you both." The peacekeeper grunts, turning on his heel, leaving you and Coriolanus standing in the empty hallway.

"I cannot believe you would lie for me like that, Snow." You whisper to him, and he grins at you.

"Well, Y/N, I have always had an infatuation with you, as you know," You roll your eyes at him, knowing of the crush Snow harbored on you as children. "And I could not let that district scum Plinth take you away from me before I even had the opportunity to have you." He explains, and you blush in response to his words. You couldn't believe that he still, after all this time, was interested in you. You knew you were beautiful, sure, but not nearly as gorgeous as the other girls Coriolanus spent time with, like Clemensia, Livia, or Arachne.

"You... you want me?" You ask cautiously, still in shock of his confession.

"Yes, you foolish girl. I realize I have not made my true interest in you more pronounced in the past, but I was just thinking of bringing my proposal to your father. What I was telling the peacekeeper wasn't all lies, I want you to be my future wife." Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head, not expecting a full on love confession from Coriolanus.

"Oh, Coryo." You whisper, looking directly into his eyes. You have always thought his eyes were one of his best features, and up close, you couldn't deny it. "I would love to be your wife." You smile at him sweetly, and you swear there is a blush on his cheeks, though you could never get him to admit to that.

"Really?" He asks, and you laugh, nodding. He then ducks his head, meeting your lips with a hesitant kiss. You press your lips back against his, hard, and he groans. You reach yours arms up, wrapping them lightly around his neck. You pull back for air, and press your forehead against his.

"I think we should go back to your apartment, so I can thank you. And show you that I am serious about wanting to become your wife." You tell him, and he groans again, thinking about all of the ways you could potentially thank him. You peck his lips once more, before he pulls away, gently guiding you to follow him.

As you both make the walk to the Snow's apartment, you talk about everything and anything, getting to know each other better. You both were serious, about wanting to marry each other, and if you were to marry, you should at least semi-court beforehand. And that involved a lot of getting to know each other: mind, body, and soul.

As he unlocked the door to the penthouse, you were slightly surprised to not see a fancy apartment. Rather, you saw a ramshackle place, that you could tell once held glory. You glanced at Coriolanus, who looked ashamed. You would never judge him, or his family's true financial situation, and you wanted to voice that to him. You didn't care that the Snows weren't as rich as they were before the war, all you cared about was Coriolanus. Besides, you could easily afford to pay for your future wedding, as well as help the Snow family out.

"Y/N..." Was all that Coriolanus was able to get out, before you started talking.

"Don't even bother, Coryo. I don't care that your family doesn't have as much money as it did before the war. I don't care at all about money. I know what I feel for you, and no amount of money that you have will change my feelings. Besides," You stop, worried that you may accidentally offend him with your offer, before continuing, "I could afford to pay for our wedding, and more, with all of my own money. You won't have to worry about a thing, darling. I could even help your family. I know that your cousin is a talented seamstress, and deserves more than what she has."

You see Coriolanus' jaw fall slack, before he cracks a smile you hadn't seen in years. It was beautiful, it was radiant, it was so Coryo, and you loved it.

"Really? You mean that, Y/N? You are not messing with me, are you?" He questions, worried that you did not mean a word you just told him, that you were simply toying with his heart.

"No, Coriolanus," You grab his hands in your small hands, yours quickly becoming engulfed by his large hands as he squeezes gently, "I am not messing with you. My father has a stupid amount of money, and I am his only child. I want to use the money I have for good. And helping your family is the good." You explain, wanting him to fully believe you. You would spend all of your allowance on him, if he wanted it. You had more than enough things that you knew he and his family merely wished for.

"Oh, darling. You are the sweetest woman in all of the Capitol, and you are all mine. Mine." He responds to your declaration, before leading you further into the apartment, and into his bedroom.

"All yours." You whisper, meeting his eyes. They were shining with unshed tears and love. You had never seen Coriolanus as a kind, loving man, as he was very guarded and reserved at the academy, only speaking when spoken to. However, you were so thankful that he trusted you enough to show that side of him, and it made your heart race.

He smiled at you once more, before speaking. "I remember you promising to thank me, and show me how you really feel about becoming mine, my darling." You knew that he wouldn't forget that you said that, and you were more than happy to show him how you cared for him.

You dropped to your knees in front of him, quickly unbuttoning his school uniform, and yanking the slacks down with the boxers he wore underneath. You gasped in shock at the size of his cock as it sprung up, slapping his stomach. He unbuttoned his top, quickly discarding in on the floor next to his bottoms, leaving him totally exposed for you, whilst you were still fully clothed. It felt powerful, him bare before you had everything on. He was surrendering himself to you, and you wanted to show your appreciation.

You peppered a few kisses to his thighs, before running your tongue up the entire length of his shaft. He was so long, so thick, you weren't entirely sure you would be able to fit him in your mouth. You had experience, sure, but you had never been with someone as large as Coriolanus.

He let out a low growl at the feeling of you tracing the vein that ran from bottom to top with your tongue, and you rewarded him by licking the slit of his cock, tasting his precome. Normally, the taste of a man's precome disgusted you, but his did not.

You then took the tip in your mouth gently, before hollowing your cheeks. You took him as far in your mouth as far as you could, feeling his cock bump into the back of your throat. You estimated he was about eight inches, with girth. You were one lucky woman, with a man that was far above average. You knew he would be able to pleasure you easily. But right now, all you were focused on was pleasuring him, thanking him for lying for you.

You bobbed your head up and down slowly, grabbing what you couldn't fit in your mouth with one of your hands, matching the bobs of your head with the twists of your wrist as you jerked the base of his dick. He was going crazy above you, letting out animalistic groans, hands fisted in your hair, gently tugging, as your worked your mouth over his cock.

You could tell he was close, by how loud his grunts got, and the way the hands tangled in your hair were pulling harder. You doubled down your efforts, moving your head up and down faster, making sure your hand was setting the same pace.

"Darling, I am so close. I am going to come down your throat." He warned you, panting. You didn't respond, continuing your efforts. You wanted him to come in your mouth, to truly thank him for being a kind man, at least a kind man to you. He came with a grunt, seed trickling in your throat, you swallowing it quickly.

Once he was done, you pulled off his cock, smiling sweetly up at him. He gently helped you onto your feet, making sure you were stable enough to stand after being on your knees.

"Thank you, my sweet." He told you earnestly, detangling the knots he had made in your hair with his gently with his fingers. You moaned at the sensation, and you could see his eyes turn dark at the sound you made.

He stopped running his fingers through your hair, instead setting his hands on your ass, pulling you to kiss him. The kiss was passionate, and you felt yourself beginning to dampen your panties. You pulled away from the embrace, panting heavily. You attempted to begin unbuttoning you uniform, but Coriolanus pushed your hands away.

"I want to undress you, darling. That's my job, from now on." He told you, removing both your top and bottoms, leaving you in your black, lacy bra and underwear. He groans at the sight of your breasts held up delicately in the bra, and hardens again instantly.

"May I?" He asks, his hands slipping to the clasp of your bra, waiting for your approval. When you nod, he unhooks it, gently pulling the straps down your arms, and tossing it somewhere you don't see.

Coriolanus lets out a grunt at the sight of your pretty breasts, bare for him. He kneads one experimentally, and you let out a noise of satisfaction. He smirks at your reaction, before stopping the ministration entirely. Instead, he sweeps you up, into his arms, carrying you over to his bed, gently settling you down in the center of it.

Clambering onto the bed next to you, he slips his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, meeting your eyes, searching for approval to remove them. When you nodded with a smile, he pulls them down your legs. Once they are fully removed, he spreads your thighs apart, revealing your glistening cunt to him.

He groans at the sight, and gently sweeps a finger through your folds, gathering your slick on the digit. He pops the digit into his mouth, making a noise of pleasure at the taste of you. That makes you gush a little more, pleased that Coriolanus likes the way you taste.

"Please, Coryo." You plead, "Take me. I'm yours. Please." You see him think for a moment, before climbing over top of you, muscular forearms holding him from crushing you with his weight.

"Oh darling, you are all mine. I can't wait to feel my tight little pussy clenching for me. Mine." He whispers hotly in your ear.

You grab his cock, pumping it a few times, then position the head at your entrance for him, and meet his eyes. He thrusts in, harder than you expected, immediately bumping into your cervix. You both let out noises of pleasure, overwhelmed with the feeling of one another. He begins thrusting rapidly, grunting at your slick coating his cock.

You were squeezing him like a vice, and he didn't want to embarrass himself by coming too quickly, before you could even meet your own end. He angled his hips, and slammed directly into the spot deep inside of you that had you seeing stars. You screamed, rapidly approaching your orgasm at the feeling of his dick stretching you out, slamming into your g-spot roughly.

Reaching a hand down your body, you rubbed at your clit roughly, and you feel your peak approaching. "Coryo!" You moan, "I'm so close. I need to come."

"I am close as well, my sweet. I promise, I will make you feel oh so good. Come for me" He smirks, continuing to pound into your tight heat.

"Oh! Coryo!" You scream, coming undone on his cock, your spend quickly forming a frothy circle around his dick as he continued driving into you, attempting to reach his own end.

"Please, come inside." You whimper out, and that was all he needed, spurting deep inside of you. You begin to feel faint from the overstimulation, but you fight it, and Coriolanus pulls out of you gently, the mix of your spend and his spilling out, onto your thighs and onto the bed sheets.

He climbed off of you, rolling you onto your side, before pulling you to his close, your back to his chest. You were both breathing heavily, and laid in silence for several minutes, until your breathing returned to normal.

"That was a perfect thank you, my future wife." Coriolanus whispers into your ear as you cuddle, basking in the after glow of your activities.

"I'm glad, my future husband. Thank you for everything you said today, Coryo. I mean it. I would probably be on the train right now, going to district two, if it wasn't for you, and your intelligent brain." You say, pressing back closer to him.

"It was no problem, my sweet. I knew I couldn't let that Plinth boy take you away from me, because of his own stupidity. That isn't your fault, and trust me when I say, the Plinth family will be dealt with." He tells you, eyes narrowing in anger.

"It's alright, Coryo." You attempt to soothe him, turning slightly to press a kiss to his sweaty chest, and he grunts back at you. "I'm still here, with you, my darling. There is nothing to deal with, I promise."

"He tried to take you from me. He knew I liked you, and lied to his father, to get rid of you. He thought by getting rid of you, he could get to me, without another in the way." Coriolanus tells you, and you gasp in shock. You didn't want to believe the words that were just spoken, but it wouldn't surprise you.

You knew Sejanus wanted more of Coriolanus' friendship than he had, and it didn't surprise you that he thought you were in the way of that. Sejanus was friends with both of you, or so you thought. He knew that his one best friend liked his other friend, and so he sought to destroy it. How truly awful.

"Oh, Coriolanus. I wish you had just told me that you liked me, rather than keep it a secret. Maybe this wouldn't have had to happen like this." You tell him, reaching a hand up to ruffle his curls. "I'm just glad you were there today, and defended me. I am no rebel, you know that." You giggled, continuing to run your fingers through his curls.

"You are a rebel, you are my rebel." He tells you, leaning into your touch. You blush at his words, before letting out another giggle.

You may not be the anti-Capitol rebel that the Plinths tried to pin you as, but you were a rebel in the way you loved Coriolanus Snow without a care in the world, money be damned. And that rebellious love that Coriolanus was able to tame was the only thing that mattered.

©keeplcving 2024. please let me know what you think, and feel free to send me requests! :) i’d love to write more of what y’all would like to see!!

#coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x y/n

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thestarlightforge · 5 months

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TBOSAS Meta

This started as a couple-paragraphs-long Everlark & Coryo x Lucy Gray rant. It turned into an essay on the politics of systemic oppression and how we illustrate it in fiction, with The Hunger Games and Ballad as case studies. Regardless, I hope others enjoy, lol. This is where my brain lives, now, as I expect it will the rest of 2023. Cheers!

***

It’s been interesting, the last few days, some of the discourse that’s popped up around TBOSAS. FASCINATING political discussions, as I’ve come to expect for a Suzanne Collins release. (#1 in my heart.)

Personally, I always separate books vs. movie canon with her franchise. With the OG Hunger Games, sometimes I felt the films were better—like she got another pass at it and REALLY took advantage, and utilized the hell out of taking it out of Katniss’s first-person POV to develop other characters and the world (still without detracting from her narrative)—while for some details, I preferred the books.

With TBOSAS, though, the book and movie feel almost entirely different to me.

There are MANY shared elements, of course, and I feel either version gels quite nicely with the OG franchise. It’s not even that there’s that many continuity differences—some things cut or altered for time, sure, but the bones of the plot are the same. Both illustrate astute political commentary, Coriolanus’s descent into madness, Tigris’s shift in position on him (foreshadowing her full turn by Mockingjay), and Lucy Gray’s role in his life in both his initial downfall and his defeat by Katniss. The actors and creative team all did BEAUTIFUL work bringing it to life, and I honestly love both versions.

But fans who mainly like the book may be frustrated by the sympathy Coryo garners in the film.

Normally, I’d say this is because the book reveals more internal monologue—and it does. But honestly, one of the things I was most impressed by in this film was how legible the actors’ internal monologues were. It was clear, the amount of work they all did to that end. So I don’t know that it is just more. I think it’s also different.

Book Coriolanus devolves much earlier and more obviously. He starts from the same pressed circumstances and has moments of goodness, but he becomes the villain we know him eventually to be pretty damn fast.

Film-Coriolanus has a much slower descent. Ironic, honestly, given the film has far less time than the book does.

I think as a result of this, I’ve seen discourse comparing beats in his relationship with Lucy Gray to Katniss and Peeta. For example, that beautifully shot/choreographed/performed scene in TBOSAS with him and Lucy Gray on either side of the fence after the bombings that night, where they almost kiss and he asks her, “Is this real? If I’m going to risk everything?” being compared to Peeta’s long game of “real or not real” throughout Mockingjay. Everlark folks (rightfully) pointing out that for Peeta, the refrain is about shared trauma, especially between him and Katniss, and both of them grounding their relationship in mutual trust—while asserting that for Coryo, the same refrain comes from a place of selfishness.

I get where this opinion comes from: President Snow is probably one of the most violent, sadistic, genocidal dictators in modern popular fiction. His relationship with Lucy Gray started as transactional—even more acutely in the book. Nearly everything Book-Coryo does is for his or his family’s personal gain.

But to me, half the beauty and tragedy of the film is this delicious possibility—the hope—they showed us.

THG has always had a strong anti-war philosophy in general, with through-line commentary on showmanship, propaganda, surveillance and performance: The recurrent themes of cameras always bring on them, the arenas and entirety of Panem being a stage/game—and how those things impact authentic human relationships. Everlark hit for so many because of the ways authenticity bloomed out of that hellish, contrived pit. Coriolanus and Lucy Gray’s relationship started out similarly contrived: Thrown together by the politics of the Academy, the uprising, the districts, the Capitol and the Games—helping one another survive. Largely unlike Katniss and Peeta, they both played the game intentionally, to varying degrees. (Personality wise, these four really have almost nothing in common, lol.) Lucy Gray is a good person, both in the end and from her start (unlike the terrorist Coriolanus becomes). But she is a performer. He’s right about that.

So honestly, I don’t see much purpose in reading Peeta’s question as valid while Coryo’s wasn’t. I think that judgment is colored by dramatic irony—us knowing who they each become. But in theatre, we talk about living honestly in imagined circumstances. It’s used in a lot of acting techniques, but particularly for people playing villains. To stay grounded in the truth of it, you have to believe honestly in the imagined moment, not the gestalt; Leslie Odom Jr. was a great Aaron Burr because every performance, he believed in the whole journey, from hope to ruin. Tom Blythe was a great Coryo because he invested in the earnest reality of Snow as a young man, not the devil we know he becomes. And at that point in the story, at the cages that night with Lucy Gray, Coriolanus was honestly grounded in similar struggles as our OG heroes: Trying to provide for and protect his starving family. His family (and the Capitol at large) reeks of privilege, and his prejudices were obviously flawed. But in his developing love for her, he was steeped in starvation, the same political forces as lashed all citizens of Panem, and was clawing his way from beneath just as much Capitol propaganda as people from the Districts—perhaps even more so, given his Grandma’am and how his father died. Because of their given circumstances, politics bled into everything—but eventually, so did feeling, and they had several moments of genuine bonding, trust and connection which the actors invested in beyond their political need for each other. There’s a constant push and pull: Holding hands at the zoo for the cameras was political; her reaching for his hand in the arena visit was less so. The first “Stop treating me like I’ve already lost” in front of everyone was wit-soaked survival, while “Please don’t let me die in that arena tomorrow,” near-whispered and with hands held between them where the camera would struggle to see, bled into real vulnerability. Saving him from the other tributes in the cage-ride to the zoo was about survival; risking her life to go back for him when the arena was bombed was at least a mix. Her motivations for singing in her interview are complex—perhaps guilt that a “rebel” attack nearly killed Coriolanus, his advice she’d get the most money that way—but I feel strongly that a non-zero amount of her was motivated by wanting to demonstrate that she trusts him, which for her is even higher-prized than love. And I also feel that, after the hospital and her “final performance”—leading up to their near-kiss at the zoo—Coriolanus scoped out the arena (and ultimately took all those risks to help her cheat the Games) both because he wanted the Plinth prize, in theory, and because he increasingly desperately wanted her to live.

The waters between them were thoroughly, legitimately muddied—which I believe was intentional, that constant tension between authenticity and politics. And as much as he was falling for her, Coriolanus saw that Lucy Gray was just as clever and good at crowd-work as he was—maybe better.

So to circle all the way back to this Everlark comparison: Given the absurdly multilayered situation, is it really that selfish or unreasonable he would check in with her during that moment through the fence? That this child—wrapped in oppressive patriarchy, violence, starvation and propaganda—would ask for reassurance before he was willing to be vulnerable, or to potentially risk his family’s lives?

Some artists are hesitant to engage with the humanity of “villains,” their origins, because they feel humanizing them excuses them. In real life, I get this: Second chances aren’t always the answer, and people need to be held accountable. But isn’t it more powerful storytelling to demonstrate the corrosive nature of all systems of oppression in our fiction, to show how they can corrupt even those who try, than to condemn people before they’ve even had a chance? Isn’t the beauty of Lucy Gray’s whole thing that everyone starts out good, and it’s our job to choose to stay on the right side of that line?

And when President Coriolanus Snow finally chokes on his last rose, wouldn’t it be a more satisfying victory if we imagined him as a real-feeling person—full owner of sixty years of horrifying choices—rather than a cartoonishly evil cardboard cutout?

Book-Coryo has a more obviously manipulative/evil streak, much earlier on. To make it plain: He’s an ass, and his “love” for her reads more like obsession. But my favorite aspect of the film (and I feel one of the most compelling) was how it illustrated that these systems of oppression can make tragedies of almost anyone: All but those at the very, very top. Suzanne’s anti-capitalist politicking—how classism turns everyone below the 1% against each other, where the “upper middle class” (doctors/lawyers/actors) is vilified to the poor as a red herring while a handful of robber-baron CEOs amass almost all wealth on the planet—strikes again. She, Francis Lawrence, the film’s creative team and these actors came together to put tragically human faces on that struggle—how hard it is to stay a good person amidst intense, violent, systemic oppression.

But none of that sings quite as true if you go into it having decided that Coriolanus was evil in his bones. The stakes are so much higher, richer, otherwise. If his love—for Tigris, for his family, for Sejanus, and yes, for Lucy Gray—was, or became, authentic.

It’s not a descent into madness if he’s already mad. Or, as he put it in the original Hunger Games film: “Hope. It is the only thing stronger than fear.”

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braidsandarrows · 2 years

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Our duty

Songbirds and Snakes propaganda poster (set remake)

#the hunger games #thg #thgedit #graphic #ballad of songbirds and snakes #panem #propaganda #fan art #fan edit #fan made #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #prequel

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phoward89 · 9 days

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Series Masterlist

Chapter 5:

Coriolanus is at the PK Base in the communications center, sitting in one of the video phone booths. He's holding the receiver to his ear and watching the staticy small screen; waiting for Tigris to answer. He has so much to tell her. In fact, he's over the moon to tell her all about the love of his life: you. He's absolutely positive that she'll be happy for him.

When the static breaks and then clears slightly to show his cousin, he smiles like a madman. “Tigris, it's so good to see you!” Coriolanus exclaims, so much excitement in his baritone.

Tigris' gentle blue eyes widened slightly at her cousin's chipper demeanor. He was usually sullen during their sporatic calls. “Oh, Coryo, you look so much happier since the last time we talked. Did something happen?” The blonde girl asked, curious to know why her cousin was suddenly in a better mood.

“Yes.” Coryo nodded. Beaming, he blurted out, “I got a girl, Y/N, and she's just a perfect sweet darling.” His baby blues were sparkling with pride as he added in, “We’re serious, have our own place and when I pass the Elite Officer's Examine we’ll be able to leave 8.”

“Oh…” Tigris trailed off, her face full of shock. She wasn't expecting her cousin to be so serious with somebody so soon. Especially after he seemed so heartbroken about never being able to see Lucy Gray ever again.

Was Tigris wrong in her assumption that Coryo loved the songbird? If so, then she truly hopes that he's found love with you. But she also knows that her cousin has the genetics that can easily make him become like his father: General Crassus Snow.

Hearing him say that he's taking an Elite Officer's Exam makes her skin crawl. Tigris knows how cold the officers are in the various branches of Panem's military; she doesn't want her sweet cousin to be turned into a cold, heartless, hateful man to be used as a tool for the country.

A country that kills tweens and teens for entertainment disguised as punishment. Gosh, everything about Panem makes Tigris sick. And to think that her cousin, her sweet little Coryo who's a good person, could be used in a way to support the country's propaganda and skewed outlook bothers her. Makes her blood freeze up in her veins.

“Isn’t it great news, Tigris?” The platinum blonde peacekeeper asked, fishing for praises.

“Yes, yes it is, Coryo.” Tigris replied, her smile a bit too tight, too forced, and her voice a bit flat.

Coryo's face fell at his cousin's overly fake reply. “I thought you'd be happy for me Tigris.”

“I am happy for you, Coryo. I am.” Tigris weakly assured her cousin.

“I've found somebody that makes me happy, who needs me; makes me feel powerful, and I'm one step closer to getting us back home, to the Capitol. But, you don't sound as happy about it as you claim to be.”

“Coryo…” Tigris sighed, trying to find the right words to tell him about the hardships that have fallen upon their family within the last few weeks.

“Is Grandma’am around?” Asked the platinum peacekeeper. “I'm sure that she'd be happy to hear about my accomplishments.”

“Coryo, Grandma'am’s in hospice.” Tigris revealed, her tone sad as her face twitched with sorrow.

“Hospice! What do you mean she's in hospice? She was fine a month ago, what the hell did you do to her, Tigris?!”

“Me? Oh, Coriolanus, do you hear yourself right now?” The blonde aspiring fashionista snipped. Shaking her head, Tigris started to explain, “Grandma’am just shut down and started to wither away after we lost the penthouse-”

Coriolanus icy eyes popped out of his head. “Y-you lost the penthouse?! When were you going to tell me this, Tigris? Huh?”

“The back taxes were just too much to pay, so the penthouse was put on the market. But, Pluribus is letting me stay in the apartment above his club.”

“Okay, but what does any of this have to do with Grandma'am being admitted to hospice care?”

“Coryo, having to declare bankruptcy and sell the penthouse; letting all of the Capitol know that the Snow's are poor just broke her dear old heart.”

“She's dying from a broken heart? Really?” Coriolanus asked in disbelief.

“Yes.” Tigris nods. “The doctor said that Grandma’am lost the will to live; that it'll only be a short matter of time before she goes. And she's already in a catatonic state.”

“Are you still working for Fabricia Whatnot?” Coryo asked, his baritone colder than it had been mere minutes ago.

“Yes, I'm still working for her.” His cousin confirms with a nod.

“Good, because I won't be sending half of my pay to you anymore. The Grandma’am will be dead soon, due to her own pride and self induced delusions, and my money, honestly, is better suited taking care of my girl here in 8.” Coriolanus told Tigris in a chilly tone. One so chilly that it'd cause hell to freeze over.

“Coryo-” Tigris began, confusion all over her makeup slathered face, only to be cut off by Coriolanus’ icily steady voice saying, “I'm all my girl’s got, Tigris. I have to take care of her.” Looking at his cousin like he didn't even know her anymore, he remarked, “Unlike you, Y/N doesn't lie to me about how bad things are. At least she's honest, but you've had to have known for months about the past due back taxes on the penthouse and you never said a damn word to me about it.”

“Coryo…I didn't want you to worry about us. I was taking care of everything.”

“Time’s about up, Tigris.” The platinum peacekeeper announced, feeling betrayed and lied to by his cousin, who he viewed as more of a sister then a cousin.

“Coriolanus, you sound just like your father right now.” Tigris pointed out, her heart breaking at hearing the frostiness in his baritone and seeing cold deadness in his eyes.

“Well, I am his son. Perhaps I'll follow in his footsteps; rise to military greatness.” Private Snow told his cousin before saying a curt goodbye and hanging up on her.

It's getting close to the time that Coryo usually comes home from work and you're in the small kitchenette making dinner. It's nothing too fancy, just a simple stew. But your platinum peacekeeper never complained about what you made. He always ate his supper with a smile plastered on his face. In fact, he'd usually get seconds; pester you into eating another share too (he always said it was in order to build up your strength so you'll heal faster).

You're stirring the pot, making sure that nothing sticks to the bottom, whenever a faint knock appears at your door. You almost don't hear it over the sound of the radio, that's how light the knock is. Not wanting the stew you worked so hard on this afternoon to burn, you turn off the stove before going to answer the door.

“Ashlie, what're you doing here?” You asked your brother’s former girlfriend as she stood in front of you.

“Some of the girls at the factory are worried about you; I said I'd stop by and check up on you after my shift.” Ashlie answered as you heard the sound of Coryo's boots clambering up the building’s staircase.

Nodding, you simply said, “I'm fine.”

“Are you, Y/N?” Ashlie pressed.

Nice of her to worry about you now, but where was she before?

“There's been rumors that you've taken up with that blonde peacekeeper. That he's been living with you.” Ashlie all but hissed in a shameful tone.

“It's not a rumor.” You told her while noticing Coryo's tall denim clad frame appear at the top of the stairs, right down the hall.

“Look, Y/N, I'm sorry about not being around as often as I should, but if you need help gettin’ away from that peacekeeper I'm sure that Declan can help smuggle you out of the district.”

Smuggle you out where? You don't have any money and you're all alone. How are you going to survive hiding out in another district? Districts you're sure are just as bad if not worse than 8. The poor, lower end districts are all clumped together and, frankly, they seem to get worse and worse as you start going between them.

At least with Coryo your rent's paid, you've got enough food to eat, and you're not cold anymore. He’s decent company, when he's not in a condescending mood, and he seems to be devoted to you despite not knowing you that long. With Coryo you're comfortable for the first time in a long time. For once since moving to 8 you're not tempted to do a swan dive off the bridge into the toxic river surrounding the district.

You'll take your chances with your peacekeeper.

Shaking your head, as Coriolanus trudged down the hall, you told Ashlie, “I'm fine here with Coryo. He takes good care of me, so you don't need to worry.”

“And what happens when he gets bored of you; tosses you aside for another girl?” Ashlie asked as your boyfriend got closer. “Y/N, sweetheart, don't be a fool and trust him. He's a Peacekeeper for Christ’s sakes.” Berates your once sister. “One bred straight from the Capitol as I understand too.” The brunette spat out in disgust, right as your platinum peacekeeper appeared behind the girl that's slandering him.

“Darling, is this ratty whore bothering you?” Coryo coldly asked, his icy eyes narrowed at the girl blocking his way into the apartment, as he came to a stop right by the door.

His frosty timbre startles Ashlie; has her jumping out of her skin. Coryo's tone of voice doesn't bother you one bit. Why should it? His coldness isn't aimed at you.

“She was just leaving.” You assure your boyfriend, only to give Ashlie a look that reads ‘you need to go, now'.

“Well the girls at the factory are worried about you; hopefully you'll be able to return to work soon.” Ashlie remarked instead of leaving, like she should’ve done.

“She won't be returning to work at the factory.” Coryo bluntly announced, pushing himself by Ashlie and literally shoving you inside of the apartment. He blocked your view with his tall, sinewy frame while standing right in the doorway.

The platinum blonde's head lifted up in superiority. His glacier blue eyes bore into the former Seam girl with disdain as he explained, “As Y/N’s man, I take care of her and pride myself in treating her the way a proper Capitol born man treats his girl.” Gripping the door so hard that the wood began to splinter and crack, he barked out, “You're not needed around here. She's got me, so leave or else I'll bring you to base and turn you in as a rebel.”

Ashlie's Seam grey eyes widened in fear and horror at hearing Coriolanus’ words. With the rumors that she's heard about you being kept under lock and key by the platinum blonde peacekeeper, who by now everyone knew was sent from the Capitol; was a second generation military man, Ashlie was starting to worry about you. And when the girls that worked with you on the looms in the PK uniform factory’s weaving room started to express their worries to Ashlie, well she decided to pay you a visit.

Offer you some much needed support. A lifeline out of the predicament you're in.

But the brunette wasn't expecting you to turn down her help, to insist on staying with your oppressor. She also didn't think she'd be threatened by said oppressor, the pretty boy peacekeeper from hell itself. Ashlie feared for both her own safety and yours.

Maybe she should've came around more often, then maybe you wouldn't have become such easy prey for a peacekeeper with a cold hateful glint in his eyes.

“And the next time you show up to my house I'll have you hanged off the bridge’s trestle.” Coriolanus darkly promised, his face a mask showing no feelings, before slamming the door shut in Ashlie's face.

Coryo was quiet as he shed his coat, hanging it up on the hook near the door. “I made stew. I'll go dip it up.” You told him while he began to unlace his boots.

“It smells good, darling.” Coriolanus complimented, slipping out of his black boots, as you grabbed some bowls from the cabinet.

“You say that about everything I make.” You teased, portioning out the stew into a pair of bowls as Coryo pulled off his denim fatigue shirt.

Walking over to the table and laying his denim overshirt on the back of his chair, the platinum blonde simply said, “Because it's true.”

The atmosphere in the room wasn't heavy per say, but it wasn't light either. You felt like something happened today, something to put him in a sort of mood. And not a good one either. You really didn't want to stoke his mood into a roaring fire of unliveable sassy attitude, so you didn't say a teasing word back to him.

No, you just carried the bowls of stew over to the small table as Coryo took his seat at it. You couldn't help, but slip on a smile at the sight of your giant of a boyfriend dwarfing the sorry excuse for a kitchen table you had. Hell, the table looked more like a small school desk as he sat at it.

Silently, Coryo followed your every move with his icy eyes. He watched as you set the food on the table before fetching the bottle of milk from the fridge. Coryo knows how luxurious fresh milk is, so he's proud that he can buy it for you. He himself went without it for so many years in the Capitol.

The Snow family always seemed to go without; to struggle within the safe borders of the Capitol. Something that he was supposed to change. Coriolanus was supposed to dig his family out of poverty, but instead his family's been torn apart.

All because Tigris lied to him about how bad things really were.

Fuck!

He would've found a way to get her the money for the back taxes, to avoid a foreclosure on the Snow ancestral home, if she would've only told him that she couldn't pay.

How could Tigris, his own cousin, do that to Grandma’am; to him? And most of all to you.

You!

Who he promised to whisk away to the Capitol once he was able to. Now where are the both of you going to go when he gets clearance as an Elite Officer to return home: to the Capitol? He sure as hell can't bring you to the above club shoebox apartment Pluribus gave Tigris.

And to think that his Grandma’am's dying from a broken heart because her home was taken from her. Her beloved rooftop rose garden that was her joy is now withered if not destroyed by the highest bidder. To think that the old lady's in hospice, due to no will to live, all because Tigris couldn't be honest about the back taxes.

Damnit, fucking bitch should've worked a few corners to come up with the money. Anything to pay the past due taxes; keep the Snow family penthouse in the Snow family.

Where it belongs.

The sound of the milk glasses lightly clinking against the warped wooden table tore Coriolanus out of his thoughts. Watching you sit down next to him, he grabbed his spoon and told you, “Darling, let's promise not to lie to each other. Shall we?”

Oh boy, something definitely happened to him today. You didn't know what, but his remark about lying to each other tipped you off that he was lied to and he's upset about it.

Picking up your own spoon, you tell him, “I promise I won't lie to you, Coryo.”

“And I won't lie to you, Y/N. Which is why I have to tell you something very unsettling.”

Something very unsettling? What the hell did he do, shoot somebody during target practice? Murder somebody for a spot on the Elite Officer's Examine roster? Hell, the suspense is killing you.

Not literally, just figuratively.

“Today I talked to my cousin, Tigris, on the phone in the base’s communications center and I learned that things are worse than I thought they were back home: in the Capitol.” He revealed in between eating his stew.

Having a bad feeling, you asked, “What's wrong, Coryo?”

“The Snow penthouse has been seized and put into foreclosure for unpaid back taxes.” Coryo spat out, his eyes full of anger, as he held his spoon so hard that it was about to bend between his fingers.

His family home foreclosed due to back taxes. Oh boy… You weren't expecting to hear that. You can only imagine how high priced the taxes are in the Capitol considering how pricey things are in the districts. Capitol City, Panem is full of rich elites or wannabe rich elites, so…Yea…The price tag on things in the Gem of Panem, the Capitol, is surely higher than in the rest of the country.

“Tigris told me that everything was fine, but she lied.” Shaking his head, he tossed his spoon in his bowl, causing a loud clang to ring out. “I've been sending home money, assuming that Tigris was using it wisely, but now I don't even know what she did with it.” Reaching for his milk glass, he dryly added, “She didn't pay the taxes, that much I know.”

Reaching forward and placing your hand on top of his, you gave him an empathetic look. You felt for him, for his family. “Coryo, I'm sorry she lied; made you think everything’s ok when it isn't.”

Your boyfriend threads your fingers together, holding your hand, as he sips on his milk. He can't help, but feel lucky to have you. You're being so supportive and understanding about his family's fall from grace.

About him losing the Snow ancestral home. The home that he was supposed to take you to.

Placing his glass down after drinking from it, Coryo shook his head while gritting out, “And now Grandma’am's in hospice, dying of a broken heart, because she was forced out of her home.”

Poor Coryo…

To lose his home, his grandma, and to be lied to by his cousin.

“Seems like we've got more in common than what meets the eye.” You told him, letting him know that you sympathized with his situation.

“It seems we do, darling.” Coryo nodded. Picking his spoon up and scooping a portion of stew out of his bowl, he repeated, “It seems we do.”

You're washing the dishes whenever you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. Coryo's right behind you, hanging on you, but you don't pay him any mind. You just keep on washing the bowl in your hand with the sponge- a sponge that has seen better days.

Your boyfriend nuzzles his nose into your temple, inhaling your scent. Kissing your cheek, he swears, “I promise, once I'm an officer and get into a wealthy position I'll buy back our home. We'll live in it once again.”

“Don't make promises that you can't keep, Coryo.” You advised him, rinsing out the bowl and setting it aside on the makeshift drying rack (which was a cookie cooling rack resting on a dishtowel).

“I intend to keep that promise, baby.” He told you in between peppering kisses up and down your neck.

“Coryo, stop that. I still have dishes to do.” You sighed, trying and failing to wiggle out of his hold while starting on the second dirty bowl.

“One day when I become President and make you my First Lady you won't ever have to lift a finger to wash a dish ever again.” Coryo smoothly murmured, kissing the sweet spot right below your ear.

“To make me your First Lady you'll have to marry me, Mister President.” You sarcastically pointed out, rinsing soap suds and bubbles out of the bowl.

You're placing the bowl onto the drying rack whenever Coryo spins you around. Tipping your chin up, making your eyes lock onto his baby blues, he seriously tells you, “Once I get my officer’s stripes I'm going to marry you.”

The weight of his words comes crashing down on your head like an anvil in an old cartoon. “You really want to marry me?” You asked, not quite believing the situation to be real.

You're just some district girl that he got into trouble and felt pity for. Yes, he takes care of you, but making you his wife's a whole other story. That's a lifetime commitment considering divorce was abolished in the early years of Panem's creation- which was after the end of both WW3 and the 2nd Civil War, which coincided.

“Yes, baby.” The platinum blonde nodded. A wide smile spread across his face as he cemented his fate with the words of, “I'm going to marry you and give you the life that we both deserve as Snows once I get my officer's commission.”

“You know, people in the districts have different ceremonies then Capitolites do for marriages.” You informed him; knowing that you're going down a path you can't turn off of as you do. “Couples in 12 do a toasting by breaking bread at the hearth over a fire they stoke.”

“Too bad we don't have a fireplace.” Coriolanus seriously pouted.

Oh wow, he's serious about this marriage thing. Lucky you.

“Yes, too bad.” You half heartedly agreed with him. Resting your hands on his chest, you decided to explain what you learned about weddings in District 8. “I've heard that here in 8 most weddings are typically held on Tuesdays and Thursdays in November and December.”

Your boyfriend’s brow rose with interest. “December you say?”

“Yes.” You confirm as he strokes your cheek with his thumb. “The bride sews her own dress, which is typically blue or purple, and makes a large amount of food for the guests who stay for dinner and then a late supper. While family and friends are gathered at the house, the couple’s joined hands are bound by a strip of cloth; then they recite words or poetry to complete the ritual.”

“And this ritual’s binding in the eyes of District 8?” Coriolanus asked, holding your gaze with his icy eyes. Eyes that were filled with both trepidation and hope.

“It's binding in all of the districts. I'm not sure about the Capitol tho.”

Bringing his forehead to rest against yours, he simply said, “Mary me on Thursday. I'll bring Sejanus home with me and we'll do the 8 ceremony.”

Believing it impossible to marry so soon, you react with, “But that's in 2 days, Coryo. I'll barely have enough time to make a dress. Plus I have to cook food.”

Bringing his other hand up to your face, so he was cradling it between his large calloused hands, the platinum blonde told you, “I'll bring home some material for your dress tomorrow and the only guest you need to cook for is Sejanus. You don't need to cook up our entire pantry.” His lips ghosted over yours. “Let me take care of you; marry me, baby.”

If you say yes to this sudden spur of the moment wedding you'll be giving up your freedom. In the districts’ eyes you'll become Mrs. Snow, wife of a Peacekeeper. One who's certain he'll become an Elite Officer. Is that what you want?

Hell…

You honestly don't even know what you want. But you do know that you refuse to go cold and hungry ever again because you're alone and can barely get by.

So, for survival purposes, you give Coryo a smile and tell him, “I’ll marry you.”

Without warning, Coryo kisses you. His lips hungrily pressed against yours, as if he was a man starved and his only fulfillment came from your mouth. You moved your lips against his, which only caused him to deepen the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your fingers twisted and dug into his white T-shirt as your tongues intimately danced while your lips clashed, pushing and pulling for purchase.

You let out a little breathless sigh as Coryo broke the kiss, pulling back slightly so the two of you could catch your breath.

Coryo's icy blue eyes were nearly black with lust as he looked into the windows of your soul. His large hands still cup your face as he confessed, “I’d love nothing more than to bring you to our bed and fuck you right now, but since we're to be married in 2 days I'll wait til the wedding night.”

“Oh, so you're going to make an honest woman out of me first before you corrupt me?” You asked, your tone a bit light and teasing.

What difference was a couple of days? It wasn't like you're from a rich aristocratic family that needs to see the sheets in the morning for proof of innocence lost and consummation.of marriage. You're a district girl, nobody in the districts care about purity til marriage, etc.

Besides, even before you agreed to marry him you knew you'd be fucking Coriolanus. He's your boyfriend, it comes with the territory. The only question was when.

Now you have your answer: this Thursday night- your district style wedding night.

Leaning his forehead against yours, Coryo steadfastly declared, “You can't corrupt someone who's willing to drink from the silver cup, my darling.”

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