#treech x mentor reader

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

HIS BELLADONA PT.2 treech x mentor reader Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3

On the way back I just listened to Cory rant about the injustice towards him.,, The old fool wants to humiliate me completely. He gave me a girl and she's also from the twelfth district." he foamed. "Don't give up Coryo, be nice to her and help her," I answered him. I honestly wished he would go away. I understand that he wanted to win the Plinth scholarship, but this was about the lives of innocents headed for the slaughterhouse. It bothered me that he was talking about her as some piece of trash that was blocking his way.,, You're right, I should calm down." he admitted and we continued to discuss homework for the next week. When we arrived at our apartment complex, the mood was already full of joking and laughing. But the laughter passed me when I opened the door to the apartment that looked like a hurricane was raging. Before I could draw breath to call my father if he was still home, something glass hit me in the back. I fell to the ground in excruciating pain. The pain shot from several places, which only confirmed my suspicion that the glass bottle had broken and the shards were racing into my back. Before I could breathe out the pain, a hard, well-aimed kick landed in my stomach. "Ahhh.. what are you doing." I yelled at my father through clenched teeth.,, I should be asking you that." he yelled and grabbed my hair.,, I told you to stay away from danger and you're going straight into it, why are you participating in those Hunger Games games.” he spat right in my face and his alcohol breath made me want to throw up.Everything was overwhelming my head and back hurt and he just kept yelling at me, but suddenly he said a sentence that shocked us both.,, ... why do you have to keep putting yourself in danger Julia." My mother's name immediately brings me out of the foggy haze of my mind. It has the same effect on my father as he looks as if he has just been snapped out of a trance. Suddenly he lets go of my hair and grabs a full bottle of brandy and runs out the door. I wanted to scream and curse and curse whatever gods there are but now I had no choice strength. I just lay down on the floor and closed my eyes. I was woken up by voices and a gentle shaking on my hand, I moaned and tried to open my eyes.,, Coryo look she woke up, she's fine." that voice was Tigris after all. I opened my eyes and tried to sit up but my head quickly spun and I fell back onto my stomach,, Be careful not to get up, ohh he set you up real good. Coryo take her up to us and we'll treat her." Tigris ordered and walked forward to prepare the medical supplies.,, You don't need to, I'm fine.." I grunted into Coriolanus's chest as he carried me upstairs. However, the boy just held me tighter and carried me to their apartment where Tigris treated and cleaned my wounds. I was with them for about another hour when Coryo and I agreed that tomorrow morning we would go to welcome our tributes to the station. I spent the whole evening making sandwiches both for my tribute and for Coriolanus as a thank you. I prepared sandwiches, water and two apples.

Morning came all too quickly and before I knew it I was walking next to Coryo towards the station. I noticed that he was carrying one of his grandmother's precious roses.,, This is for your tribute." I asked curiously. "Um, what did you bring for your tribute?" he asked in return.,, I brought him food and water, I think he'll be exhausted from traveling, and by the way, I brought you food too, as a thank you." I said as I handed him a sandwich. Coryo just nodded gratefully and took a bite. We waited at the station for about a quarter of an hour before we heard the familiar whistle of the train. However, when the train appeared, I was confused, this train was used to transport animals and not people. When the train stopped, peacekeepers boarded it and began to open the doors of the carriages. At first, no one came out of them, but soon the peacekeepers began to shout abuse and bang on the walls to tributes climbed out. After a while people finally started to climb out. I was shocked most of the tributes were in really bad shape. They were tired, dirty and definitely hungry and thirsty. I noticed that Coryo had found his tribute and that forced me to find Treech myself . I just noticed him when he was jumping off the train and helping his partner from the district. I took a deep breath and took a few steps towards him. "Hello Treech." I spoke to him. He looked at me in return and muttered in a hostile tone. "And who are you?" I'd be lying if I expected a warmer welcome.,, I'm (Y/N) Belladon and I'm your assigned mentor, welcome to the Capitol Treech and Lamina." I addressed him and his district partner.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #tbosas #treech tbosas #tbosas x reader #treech x reader #treech x mentor reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo snow #capitol #fanfic #love #the hunger games x reader

[snowfll]

took a break on here to focus on my wattpad fic, but i missed writing on here! send in requests so i can get back to writing!

also why not add a lil edit for my treech fic on wattpad :)

@ snowfll on wattpad

📖 - i bet on losing dogs.

💌- treech

👤- vienna hawthorne

🎬- the ballad of songbirds and snakes

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #treech #the hunger games #treech x reader #treech fanfiction #treech tbosas #i love treech #lumberjack boy #district seven #mentor x treech #wattpad fic #requests open

[pinchofhoney]

Hi, could you write something for Coryo x reader were the reader is close if not equally as evil in the end. How would that relationship work? idk just a thought I had use it if you wish

crack in the mirror

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warning: i think none

summary: Many cling to the belief of their own goodness, until they meet someone who's just like them.

a/n: hii, thank you so much for your request!! i hope you'll enjoy what i've written for you!<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

How did it all begin?

With the 10th Hunger Games, where your academic excellence earned you the role of mentor to one of the tributes.

It was a time of innocence and youthful ambition, back when your paths met within the shadowy corridors of the Capitol's Academy. You and Coriolanus were close friends, unstained by the cruelty that life had in store for you and you pretty often looked back on those days, memories of laughter, shared dreams, and an unwavering friendship etched in your mind.

The two of you were bound by a shared ambition, shining among the brightest stars, each destined for greatness in the eyes of those who believed in you. The world was your playground, and you were determined to conquer it. Little did you know how that fateful year, with its trials and tribulations, would set the course of your life on a much darker path.

As the mentor to Treech from District 7, you hadn't yet embraced the darkness that would soon consume you. Back then, you were as eager as your colleagues, hoping to prove your worth, do your best, and guide your tribute to victory. It was pretty cruel twist of fate that Lucy Gray Baird, with her haunting charm and cunning nature, would change the course of everything.

In the heart of those unforgettable 10th Hunger Games, within the unforgiving arena, your dreams and aspirations slowly began to twist and corrode. Ambition transformed into ruthless manipulation, friendship into subtle deception, and innocence into a devouring thirst for power. The venomous snake mutt that took Treech's life before your very eyes became a symbol of the ruthless transformation that was gradually overtaking you.

That year marked the beginning of your involvement in the Games and the emergence of a darkness that would one day reflect the very core of President Snow himself. The metropolis watched, captivated by the spectacle of the tributes battling for their lives, while behind the scenes, a bitter change took root.

As you stood alongside the other students in the viewing room, preoccupied with the tributes, a chill ran down your spine. You didn't yet grasped the feeling, but something fundamental had shifted within you. You couldn't shake the realization that in the Capitol, victory meant survival, and survival allowed for anything. Lucy Gray's actions, no matter how brutal, were merely a reflection of the society to which you belonged.

Coriolanus tried to hold onto the purity of your friendship, to keep the darkness at bay, but you were the values he progressively ignored. Ambition has a way of distorting even the best intentions, and the path you had chosen was covered in shadows and secrecy.

As the Games progressed, the transformation hastened. The bonds you had formed with others became instruments of manipulation, and you enjoyed your newfound ability to bend their will to your desires.

The suffering of each tribute, each extinguished life, stoked the icy flames of ambition within you. You clutched to the logic that to climb up the Capitol's hierarchy, you had to be willing to destroy all who stood in the way. Your heart grew cold, your smile more deceitful, and your soul darkened, much like the future President of Panem that Coriolanus didn't yet realize he would become.

The Games ended with Treech taking the third place, a result you considered an absolute failure. It served as the catalyst for your final descent into the abyss. You had only tasted a little bit of success, and you hungered for more. The purity of your friendship with Coriolanus had been definitely tarnished, and the darkness that enveloped you continued.

The 10th Hunger Games and the Gamemakers marked not just the beginning of a change within you, but also foreshadowed the dark days to come.

You and Coriolanus would be leaders of a world where cruelty and manipulation held authority.

You had come a long way since those innocent days at the Academy, where laughter and shared dreams were the currency of friendship. As the Head Gamemaker, you wielded power over life and death, orchestrating the annual Hunger Games spectacle that captivated the Capitol.

Your importance in the Capitol was undeniable, but the bonds of friendship that once connected you to young Snow had weakened, stretched to their limits, and threatened to break. Since your graduation from the Academy, the warmth of your interactions had been replaced by a chilling formality. The echoes of your former closeness had grown faint, drowned out by the sounds of the ruthless Games you helped design.

Coriolanus, still crawling in his presidency, remained in your life as a hint of your teenage years and shared mentorship past. He was both intrigued and disturbed by the ideas you injected into the Games each year, but he never consciously acknowledged the rot that had taken root within him as well.

As the Head Gamemaker, you reveled in the dark art of power, where tributes became pawns and suffering was blend into the very fabric of the arena. Your ambitions had propelled you to the highest echelons of Capitol society, but the biggest cost had been the destruction of the humanity that once defined you.

Determined, you made your way to the meeting room, eager to introduce Coriolanus to your plan for the 23rd Hunger Games.

He was already there, wearing an expression that mixed curiosity with apprehension. You greeted him with a cool nod, fully aware of how your interactions had grown more formal over the years.

“Coryo,” you began, saying the familiar diminutive you'd used back at the Academy. The warmth of that old friendship may have cooled, but the nickname had grown in you, a habit you couldn't shake when you were alone with him. “I've prepared something truly phenomenal for this year's Games. Something that will cause goosebumps on the skin of every viewer, let alone the tributes in the arena,” you said, locking your gaze with your old friend with a mysterious smirk on your lips.

In response, Coriolanus leaned in with growing curiosity. “Please, continue,” he urged, which only caused a wider smile on your face.

You gestured toward a holographic projection on the wall, revealing a sinister, genetically created creature. Its elongated limbs, razor-sharp claws, and grotesque, misshapen features created a nightmarish creation.

“This,” you declared, “is the Umbra Noctis. It's a creature designed to terrify and torture the tributes in ways they could never have imagined. With its ability to blend into the shadows, it will stalk them relentlessly, striking fear into their hearts.”

Coriolanus observed the creature, a mixture of fascination and consternation in his eyes, narrowing the gap between you. “But how does it differ from the mutts we've used before?”

You leaned in, your voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “It carries a venom that induces hallucinations, distorting reality for its victims. The terror it inflicts will be as much psychological as it is physical.”

As you detailed your plan, the room seemed to grow colder, and the weight of your shared darkness pressed on Coriolanus. You described the various mutants and horrors destined for the arena, all designed to heighten the tributes' fear and despair.

“I want the 23rd Hunger Games to be remembered as the most nightmarish ever,” you declared. “A spectacle that reveals the true depths of human darkness, concealed behind the Capitol's glittering facade.”

As the weight of your words settled in the room, Coriolanus’ initial curiosity gave way to a growing skepticism. He couldn't help but question the depths of darkness you were willing to immerse.

“Isn't this,” Coriolanus began, his voice cautious, “perhaps too much, even for the Hunger Games? We want to entertain, to captivate the audience, not to... terrify to the point of despair.”

You turned to him, your gaze firm, and for a moment, the professional mask slipped, revealing the abyss beneath. “Coryo, don't you see? The Capitol's fascination with the Games is not just about entertainment. It's about the harsh reality that we, as a society, have become as ruthless and depraved as the Games themselves. We are a reflection of the horrors we create.”

Coriolanus eyed you, his features a blend of recognition and disquiet. Your words had hit the spot, reminding him that he, too, played a role in Panem's transformation as its president.

You continued, your voice now nearly a whisper, “The darkness, Coryo, is not just within the arena but within us. The Games merely show what has always been there. It's a reflection of who we've become, and it's time we faced that truth.”

For a brief moment, Coriolanus seemed to confront his own rottenness, an unsettling truth that had long been concealed in the shadows of his conscience and the room fell silent.

With measured steps, you circled around Coriolanus, stopping in front of him. You met his calm gaze, finding in it the shadow of chaos, reflecting his soul.

Your eyes wandered over his attire, and with a calculated, gentle touch, you adjusted the rose on his chest before gracing him with a faint smile.

“Look at you,” you began, taking a step back, creating a clear distance between you. “Remember when you used to fear Dr. Gaul? And now, what have you become?” your next question followed swiftly, with no pause for his response.

“You're the man who sends innocent kids to their deaths every year, a cruel reminder to the districts of who hold the power, who is in control. And I? I'm just one of the instruments in your hands.”

Your words hung in the air, and as Coriolanus opened his mouth to respond, you silenced him with an unspoken urgency. “You might tell yourself that you can sleep soundly, shifting the responsibility onto me and my team, washing your hands clean of the blood. But deep down, you know it's a lie, don't you?”

Coriolanus met your gaze, a blend of defiance and self-denial in his eyes. He had always been skilled at pushing the truth aside, shielding himself from the reality he had become.

“You're mistaken,” he finally said, his voice tensed. “I have a duty to maintain order, to ensure the Capitol's dominance. The Games are a means to an end, a necessary evil.”

Your expression remained unwavering as you countered, “But do you truly believe that, Coryo? Do you truly believe it's as simple as maintaining order? The depths of cruelty we've reached, the horrors we've unleashed, they go beyond mere necessity.”

He opened his mouth to respond, to argue his case further, but a hint of doubt flickered in his eyes, betraying the internal struggle within. The truth you had spoken, the darkness he had tried to repress, clawed at the edges of his conscience.

“That's what I thought,” you said with a note of satisfaction in your eyes, and resumed presenting your plan as if nothing had happened, not paying attention to Coriolanus' confusion. However, the shift in the room's atmosphere was palpable, and the unspoken tension lingered.

#do you hear that? it's the sound of snow falling #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games headcanon #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes headcanon #10th hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow scenario #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games headcanon #ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #ballad of songbirds and snakes headcanon #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #x reader #x y/n

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field VIII

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

masterlists // nav // requests

join my taglist here

a/n: omg so this is the final part of the first like, section of this story! i probably should have not called them parts bc idk what to do for the second like.. bit. season? maybe?) yeah sure, season two coming soon!! lol

thank you guys so much for being here and reading this and enjoying it as much as i have enjoyed writing it! it truly means so much to me :)

next part

You hear footsteps and turn around in the seat, hoping desperately that it's Coryo, and you are relieved to see that it finally is. He had been gone for close to an hour. You stand quickly, going to meet him halfway, what you had to tell him couldn't wait. "Coryo," You say quickly, before launching into the full story. "Lucy Gray came back, the others were chasing her and she hid in that vent and she's still in there, they're trying to figure out how to get in. She's stuck."

You follow him back to the desk, his eyes wide now too. "That's good... I think that's good." He's scanning the arena again, as if there's any inch of it he hasn't committed to memory, trying to see if there was any way Dr. Gaul's snakes could reach her in the vent you pointed to.

"No, no it's not good because I don't think there's another way out of that one except the way she came in." You dig into your bag as it hangs at his side, pulling out the notebook that you drew the map in. "Yeah, look- it's pinched off about thirty feet in." You point to the page, holding it out for him to see.

"She just has to wait them out." He insists, pushing your hand down. "Put that away- you shouldn't have that."

Why is he so calm about this? Lucy Gray was trapped, and this time there was nothing either of you could do to help her. "Yeah, but that's not going to work for much longer." You say, watching as the three make a plan to push her farther into the vent and try and get her out from the bottom.

Hurriedly, you close your notebook and put it away so you don't have to look away for long.

"Just a little longer, Lucy Gray..." Coryo mutters to himself and grips onto your hand at his side. At this, you reach across your body and rub his arm with your free hand. His whole future could collapse in a matter of moments if Lucy Gray doesn't survive. Yours could too. But as you watch Coral thrust her weapon up into the pipes that you know Lucy Gray is inside, you flinch, not knowing how much longer Lucy Gray can hold out.

You can't even process what is happening to Treech and the outcries of his mentor and people in the theatre, wondering what happened to him as he collapses with a bloody nose. You knew, so you avoided even looking in their direction as Lucy Gray tumbled from the now shredded vent, landing directly on top of Coral before making a run for it. You're sure Coriolanus isn't even breathing.

You aren't either when every one of the tributes freezing and the wind starts whipping Lucy Gray's hair around her face and her dress around her sides. Everyone watches as a large tank is lowered into the arena and dropped delicately on top of the pile of debris in the center.

"What is that?" You wonder out loud, and Coryo just shakes his head as you look up at him.

"C'mon Lucy Gray, get out of there..."

"Wouldn't it be funny if it was candy?" Lucky jokes and you stifle a laugh.

At this moment, the young girl from District Eight wanders out into the clearing, pale and skinny. "Is it over?" She asks no one in particular, making your smile fade.

"Wovey..." Reaper warns her from where he's kneeling next to the bodies he had covered with the flag.

"Can we go home now?" You clutch your hand back to your chest as she walks toward the tank- you don't know what was in the tank, but you know it wouldn't be good.

"Wovey." He warns again, more stern this time with a slight shake of his head.

The tank starts to splinter, cracking steadily along all sides until it bursts open. You gasp at the amount of snakes that come out. A wave of moving, rainbow destruction crashes over the floor and completely engulfs the little girl in a fraction of a second, as everyone else starts to run.

As Lucy Gray and Coral make a break for the walls, trying to get up to the stands, Reaper seems to just accept his fate. You feel... bad. He could have taken your offer made days before, he could be winning right now. At least he and Wovey didn't suffer.

As Lucy Gray pushes herself backward up the pile of rubble away from the fast moving snakes, Coral starts speaking to her. You can't hear what she's saying, but you can see she's crying- maybe pleading for Lucy Gray's help, maybe just saying her goodbyes to this world. It didn't matter, Lucy Gray was the last one alive as Coral's body got surrounded by the snakes.

Please work. Coriolanus begs the universe, hoping that the cloth he had used to wipe her tears and the one she used to wipe away the dirt from her skin before the interview, which he took from your bag and shoved into slots in the tank would be enough to save her.

"She won!" You grin, shaking Coryo's shoulder as he stands beside you, eyes still locked on Lucy Gray.

That's when she starts to sing, just as the snakes catch up to her. Why aren't they letting her out? It was over.

"Why aren't they getting her out?" You ask him, confused as everyone watches intensely, entranced by her voice.

"I'll be along, when I've finished my song..."

Coryo and you both turn, facing the audience now and all eyes immediately lock on Dr. Gaul. "Dr. Gaul, she won." He says, as if somehow she's missed it- surely she had. Surely she's not watching the same thing you are.

"When I've shut down the band, played out my hand..."

"It's over, let her out!" You shout, attempting to draw her attention.

"Paid all my debts..."

"Why aren't they attacking her?" You hear someone ask, noticing the snakes are almost entirely covering Lucy Gray's shirt now.

"Have no regrets, right here..."

"It must be the singing," Coryo replies, and you look up at him. You don't know that that's true, but you won't ask. "It's calming them."

"In the old therebefore..."

"She can't sing forever."

"Then let her out!" You yell, looking pleadingly up at Dr. Gaul in the stands. "Dr. Gaul!" You demand her attention now, stomping your foot down.

Your blood is boiling when she still won't look at you and the sound of Lucy Gray's voice fills the theatre. "Look at me!" You scream, and clearly, people are getting annoyed at you for interrupting Lucy Gray's song. "Look at me now or let her out!"

She does neither, not until Lucy Gray's song moves everyone else to match your cries for her to be released. Only then does Dr. Gaul look at the two of you, and you drop Coryo's hand.

The doctor sighs, leaning over to her assistant. "Get her out. Now." She says, and cheers erupt in the room previously filled with emotional tears.

"I did it." Coryo says, and you have to lean close to hear it over everyone's delight.

"You did it!" You laugh, throwing your arms over his shoulders. You scream in excitement as he hugs you back, lifting you up and spinning you around as people crowd the two of you. You don't think you've ever been happier.

As he lets you down gently, grabbing your cheeks and pressing a kiss to your forehead, you wonder if your parents are watching. You can't wait to get home, to see your family and let them sing your praises for Coriolanus's success in the games. Well, Lucy Gray's success that the two of you get to reap the rewards of.

Then, he's gone, leaving you to gather your things while he goes to see Tigris. You smile, sighing to yourself as you watch. It's likely your father has already sent the car to collect you, so you should probably get going. You're in dire need of a celebratory bath, anyway.

Last night, you had the best sleep you had gotten in weeks. A full eight hours- a privilege you didn't know you missed so bad. Even when you had to get up for school around six, you felt so well rested you knew you could take on the world.

That was until you walked downstairs for breakfast. "Good morning." You grin, skipping down the last couple of steps only to be met with your father hanging up the phone, storming over to you, and shoving you back onto the staircase.

"Sit down. Listen to me." He spits as you groan, holding your head from where it hit the railing and adjusting yourself so you are sitting properly on the stairs.

"Ow... What did I do?"

"You know what you did, Y/N." He hisses, pacing in front of you. "Un-fucking-believable! They went out on a limb for you, and this is how you repay them? Do you even realize what you have done? To me? To this family?"

The poison.

"Dad, I didn't do anything! I had no say in it! Coryo gave her the compact empty- it wasn't our business what she did with it!" You argue, standing up only to earn yourself a slap across the face.

"You were to give her nothing. You knew that." You hold your cheek while he lectures you, and you just nod.

"Yes, sir." You sniff, rubbing your jaw to soothe the sting of your already burning skin. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me- you will apologize to Dean Highbottom first thing this morning and hope he's smart enough to forgive you. Now, go."

You pull your bag back over your shoulder, avoiding eye contact with your little brother and your mother sat at the table as you walked out the door. It looks like you're walking today.

You make it to your first class, obviously not feeling too excited about the concept of speaking with the Dean. Coryo walks in just a few moments after you, stealing the seat at your side. You can't even look at him.

"Good morning." He whispers, pulling his textbook out of his bag. He's in good spirits it seems, but you know that won't last long. "You left in a hurry after the games yesterday, I was hoping we would celebrate together."

When you don't respond, he furrows his brow. Were you mad at him? Had he done something? "Wow, you're a ray of sunshine this morning, aren't you?" He asks, disguising his hurt as a joke. His intention was to come back to you after speaking with Tigris, he wanted to see if you would like to go for a walk or something and discuss everything. He didn't really have a plan, but he didn't want you to leave his side, not yet. The games had ended all too quickly, and you had yet to even discuss what had happened with the kiss you shared. He couldn't let you slip back into a routine of only seeing each other in class and during breaks, he couldn't bear the mere idea of it.

You slam your pen down on the desk, turning to look at him now. "We are in such deep, deep shit, Coriolanus." You hiss, taking notice of everyone looking at you so you quiet down.

"Your... your cheek." He just mutters, leaning in to look closely at the other side of your face and the maroon bruise that now adorned it. Even under your makeup he could see it. "What happened?" He reaches out to gently brush his hand over your jaw and you flinch away quickly.

You sigh, looking around quickly before leaning in closer to whisper to him. "They know, about the poison. We're done for, enjoy your final moments of freedom." You move away quickly as your professor starts speaking and the world begins to crash down around your best friend.

He sits back, face pale as his stomach turns. How could they know? They must have found the compact on Lucy Gray- it must not have been empty. Or was it the cloths in the tank? Those would be easier to find, probably, but how could they be traced back to you?

"We need to borrow Miss Y/L/N and Mister Snow, please." A peacekeeper says as he knocks on the open door frame, eyes quickly finding the two of you.

"It was nice knowing you." You sigh, quickly gathering your things and making your way down to the door.

He follows quickly behind, and for once, your classmates are silent.

A group of three peacekeepers lead you down a quiet hallway of the school, and stop at an open door gesturing for the two of you to enter.

"Ladies first," Coriolanus says softly, stepping aside for you to enter.

"Oh, so now I'm a lady." You scoff quietly, walking into the large open room, the high biology room, with nothing but a table in the center. The table is adorned only with the compact he had given to Lucy Gray, and two handkerchiefs. One of his, and one of yours. How did they get that?

"Kids." Dean Highbottom greets the two of you as the door slams shut behind you.

You open your mouth to speak, taking a breath and he stops you before you get the chance. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, Y/N, but I don't want to hear it."

"No, I think you do." You protest, "Because my-"

"Your father?" He cuts you off. "What about him? Because I just got off the phone with him this morning, and judging by the state of your face, I would argue that I am in agreement with him."

You swallow, fighting the urge to look down and avoid his gaze. If you had any chance of walking out of here without being in too much trouble, you had to prove that you were not afraid.

"Don't you think that she's been punished enough?" Coryo argues, looking between the two of you.

"Coriolanus." He ignores his plea, tapping the table next to the compact. "How many times did I see your mother pull this from her handbag to check her face? Your pretty, vapid mother, who'd somehow convinced himself that your father would give her freedom and love. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as they say."

"She wasn't." Coryo protests, referring to the Dean's insinuations about his mother. You look at him, but he won't meet your gaze.

"Only her youth excused her, and, really, she seemed fated to be a child forever. Just like the opposite of your girl, here." He gestures to you. "Eighteen going on thirty-five, and a hard thirty-five, at that. Your songbird, too."

"She gave you the compact?" Coriolanus asks, the sadness of betrayal evident on his features at the idea of Lucy Gray handing it over.

"Oh, don't blame her. The peacekeepers had to wrestle her to get the thing. Naturally, we do a thorough search of the victors when they leave the arena." Dean Highbottom explains, tilting his head as he looks between the two of you. "So smart of her, to poison the water Dill drank and dust it over Treech the way she did. If I didn't know better, I would have thought I was watching you, Miss Y/L/N."

You take a sharp breath, making an effort to straighten your posture.

"She claimed that the poison was her idea, that the compact was nothing but a token." He adds.

"It was." You state, though he is likely speaking to Coriolanus.

"Oh, I'm glad to see you got your story straight." Highbottom nods at you, voice dripping in sarcasm. "But I don't believe you. Even if I did, what am I to make of these?" He taps next to the handkerchiefs now next to it. "One of the lab assistants found these in the snake tank last night. Everyone was baffled at first, checking to see if it was one of their own that they had dropped. Until we noticed the initials. Not yours. Your father's. So delicately stitched into the corner..."

You look at Coryo, who is fighting to keep a straight face through his urge to vomit. "Why haven't you made this public?" He asks.

"I know why." You say, crossing your arms and looking the Dean up and down, who just rolls his eyes.

"I was tempted," He ignores you. "Believe me, I was. But the academy, when expelling students, has a tradition of offering them a lifeline. As an alternative to public disgrace, Coriolanus, you may join the peacekeepers by the end of the day."

Coryo's heart drops, as does yours. "The other one, it's hers." He points suddenly to the other cloth, next to his father's. Your jaw drops. How dare he throw you under the bus like that?

"I was getting to that." The Dean sighs as you shoot glares into the side of Coriolanus's head.

"I didn't do that! He took my bag, he took it and put it in the tank- I didn't know anything!" You argue, and he once again raises a hand at you to shut you up.

"Coriolanus, you better hurry. The office closes in twenty minutes, if you run you can make it in time." Highbottom says to your classmate, who just nods and turns for the door. "Oh, and what's that?" He asks, looking up at the skylight. "It's the sound of Snow, falling."

Coriolanus glares at him, pacing quickly out of the door and slamming it behind himself.

You're in shock still over why he would do that to you, but you don't have the time to process it before the Dean is scolding you. "Now, what will happen to you, huh?" He asks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. "Be honest, did you know?"

"No, sir." You reply, giving a firm shake of your head.

"That's a shame. He really threw you under, huh?" He laughs, mocking you. "After what I saw the other day, I was expecting he would defend you tooth and nail... but no. I mean, he is a Snow, after all."

You don't say a word, just glaring at the man in front of you and waiting for him to tell you your fate.

"Anyway, if it was up to me, you would already be undergoing the necessary procedures to become an Avox. Oh, how I would love to see you without a tongue." He muses, sighing in disappointment. "But I know your father would be embarrassed so I think it best to leave your punishment in his hands, would you agree? Outside, of course, your expulsion."

"You can't expel me!" You shout, fists clenched around the sleeves of your coat.

"Enough of your tantrums, Y/N. You're too old for this. But, alas, you're right. I'm obligated to extend you the olive branch too." He concedes. "You are allowed to graduate under the condition that you work in service for the next ten years. Although keep in mind, your father won't like that."

"Fuck your olive branch! How dare you threaten me like this! I did nothing wrong, we won!" You fire off, practically twitching with anger at this point. "If you won't go public with it, I will! I've got nothing to lose now, the whole country will know what you and my dad are doing! What you're selling! I'll tell everyone! You'll be executed for treason!" You didn't even notice when you started grabbing anything you could reach and launching it in his direction until the peacekeepers were grabbing the back of your arms and dragging you away kicking and screaming. "You'll hang for this!"

You hardly make it to the door before you feel a stab in your neck, and the world fades to black around you.

taglist: @keziahcore, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @babyspice6, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @gloryekaterina, @andrewgarfieldsbitch, @queenofspades6, @pixiepopz, @pepperonipastas, @ladybug0095, @lunamothwrites, @nhlfs, @sbrewer21, @mus-tbe-a-weasley, @splxtscreen, @unclecrunkle, @karmaswitch, @sunghoonsbakery, @coconut-dreamz, @nekee-lilac02, @ooooglymoooogly, @riddlerloveb0t, @lovedbalances, @notyourwildestdream, @snowlandson-top, @too-lit-for-fanfic, @utopiakys, @deafeningballoonnacho, @roosterschanelslut, @impeterporker, @chmpgneprblem, @cosmoetik, @http-ilysm, @Lauravanderbooben20, @dry0campa, @luclue, @lokidala, @urvampgfsworld, @carolanns-world @nan-nie, @shakespearseclipse, @iovemoonyy, @notyoursweetheart-honey, @girlalwaysathome, @gingerpixie, @xyzstar, @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland, @chess1ca, @queenofshinigamis, @elodiebeau, @soulessjourney, @emeixho, 

if your user has a strikethrough that means i was unable to tag you! double-check that your user is correct! I also did some googling and it says it's possible you aren't being tagged because you could be a new blog or they've flagged you as a possible bot, so try reblogging something or leaving some comments. you can do that here if you'd like ;)

fill out my form linked here to join my taglist!

#tbosas #tbosas x reader #tbosas fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #thg series #thg fanfiction #hunger games #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coryo snow

[imsofuckingdonewiththisgoddamn]

When Our Stars Cross Paths; Treech x Mentor!Reader

Pairing: Treech x Mentor!Reader

Word Count: 1.55k

Warnings: None

“You alright, DuPont?”

You was snapped out of your thoughts as Clemensia entered the bathroom you were currently brooding in. Her eyes were fixed on the rim of the sink you were currently stood over, glossy red nails digging into the sleek marble. It was reaping day, and unlike most of your peers, the games didn’t elicit boredom or disinterest. They evoked anger.

As much as your parents wanted to believe they had raised a Capitol sweetheart, you were as passionate about the cruelty of the Hunger Games as your dear friend Sejanus, maybe even more at times. You had cried yourself to sleep the first year the games were broadcasted out of sheer disgust and heartache, not being able to stomach the sight of all the gore and death. From that day forward, you had spent every reaping day locked away in your room, silently mourning children you would never be able to save. This year however, you and a handful of your fellow classmates had been asked personally by the Dean to make an appearance at the school’s broadcast of the reapings. Most had quickly came to the conclusion that the annual winner of the Plinth Prize, a hefty sum of money that Sejanus’s father annually awarded to the highest performing student, was going to be announced. The prize money failed to excite you as well. While you were one of the top scoring students of your class, you had more than enough money to put you and half of the student body through University. You assumed however, Coriolanus, another one of your classmates, would be eyeing that award.

You turned to face Clemensia, who had grown worried by your prolonged silence, Opting to stare aimlessly into the gold rimmed mirror instead of answering her. Your hands released the cool stone of the sink, and instead twisted together and wrung out, as if there was an invisible towel in your hands. Lips pursing together, attempting to force some form of a smile.

“Never better Clemmie!”

Your eyes grazed over the clusters of people as you entered the main hall. Clemensia had split off from you to go join Coriolanus and Festus Creed, who were having what appeared to be a rather one-sided conversation. Across from them you could see Dean Casca Highbottom trying to not-so-subtly intoxicate himself with morphling drops. Despite him being the creator of the Hunger Games, you were shocked he was still allowed to make public appearances, let alone give speeches. Your eyes finally landed on Sejanus, who was standing off in one of the corners of the room, a scowl prominent on his face.

“Sejanus!” You called to him, as you made your way over to where he was standing, being careful to not let your velvety black dress get snagged on anything as you weaved between students and staff members.

“Ms. DuPont, to what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice dripping with over sophisticated sarcasm as you approached. What was likely his first smile of the day creeping onto his tan face.

“How are you holding up?” Your voice lowering down to what was just below a whisper. Unlike you, Sejanus was born in the districts, only moving to the Capitol after his father made a risky bet, siding against the district rebels during the war. As a reward, the Capitol offered him and his family a place in the city, with an income that put even yours to shame. Although he was only eight when he left, part of Sejanus had always resented his father for making him and his Ma leave District two. Here he was ostracized by the majority of his peers, and merely tolerated by the rest. The reapings were just another reminder of another thing he had lost when he left. His sense of belonging.

“I don’t understand…” The boy’s former smile was quickly replaced by a grimace. “How can they all act so nonchalant about all this?? Like this is just any other day?”

You knew deep down he was feeling guilty, for the money he had, the immunity he was granted, all of it. While he was safe in the Capitol, all his former classmates from district two were at risk of being selected as tribute, most of whom were even at their young age dropping out of school to work, just to support their families. You wanted to comfort the boy more than anything, to tell him he wasn’t alone and that you understood the agony he was going through. But the words refused to leave your mouth, already choked up at the sight of your friend in front of you. Instead you chose to gently place a hand on his shoulder, tracing the intricate detailing of his suit as you tried to collect yourself, so you would be able to console the compassionate boy. “It’s going to be fine Sejanus, we’ll figure out wh-”

Your attempts at comforting the boy were cut short by the sound of a throat clearing at the front of the hall. Dean Highbottom had taken his place in front of a large wooden podium, where a woman with graying hair and cold dead eyes stood. A shiver was sent down your spine as you caught a glimpse of them, the one milky white eye contrasting against the electric blue one. The woman had a sinister aura and you could feel yourself backing away out of instinct. On either side of her TVs displayed the beginnings of the reapings, cameras giving brief flashes of each of the twelve districts, where children were standing in fenced off sections. Your heart sank as the grainy footage showed a cluster of twelve year old girls from what you believed to be district eleven. All wide eyes and jerky movements, this was the first year that they were at risk of being reaped.

“I’m assuming you all are waiting for news of the Plinth Prize?” The Dean was clearly more than just a little inebriated by the sound of it, yet his words inspired an excited buzz to fill the hall, with many of your fellow peers speculating on who would be this year’s recipient.

“I’m here to inform you that the prize will work a little differently this year.” Highbottom’s voice echoed off the walls as an anticipatory silence fell over the crowd.

“Twenty four of the top accomplished students will each receive a tribute that is reaped today, to mentor and guide throughout the games. Whichever mentor gets their tribute to…perform the best, will receive the prize. Winning will be taken into consideration, but will not be the deciding factor.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You turned to face Sejanus to see if he was in as much shock as you were. How were a group of capitol kids who had no experience whatsoever with fighting or survival skills supposed to “guide” their tributes?? Considering what the Capitol was forcing them to do, you would be surprised if any of them would even speak to you.

Sejanus returned your stare, a look of imminent dread appearing on his face. Knowing his father, he had probably already bribed the dean to give him a tribute from District two.

Highbottom then began to roll of the names of students who would act as mentors, coinciding with the reapings from each district, as photos of the tributes appeared on the TVs, their names listed below them.

“District two male, Sejanus Plinth…” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sejanus sink lower into his seat. You silently reached over to grasp his hand as a photo of a well built eighteen year old boy appeared on the TV to your left. He had wide set shoulders and a scowl smeared across his face as a group of Peacekeepers ushered him onto the stage, nudging him in the back with the butts of their riffles. In large text below his figure you could read out the name Marcus. From the apparent misery plastered across your friend’s face, it was easy to assume that the two had known at each other at one point.

As the Dean went down the list of mentors, you found yourself zoning out, trying to think of ways in which you would be able to help your tribute. You would need to find out whether or not they were of any use with a weapon, and if not, where would they be able to hide and lay low. As your mind raced with all different types of scenarios you would need to prepare your tribute for, you almost missed Dean Highbottom calling out your name.

“District seven male, Y/N DuPont…”

Eyes bolting up to the screens in front of you, you were met with the sight of him. He was well built like Marcus, with dark curls peeking out from under a worn out hat. He looked like he was your age— seventeen or maybe eighteen, yet his eyes were those of a young child, filled with fear and terror. His olive skin seemed to have drained of all its color as he was marched to the platform, Peacekeepers on either side of him.

Your eyes trailed down the screen to where his name was listed…

‘Treech’

A/N

I haven’t seen enough fanfics for this man, so I decided to make one myself! Let me know if you would like a part two!

xoxo

#treech tbosas #treech x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #fluff #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #tbosbas x reader #thg #thg series #imagine #enemies to lovers #district 7 #lucy gray baird #hunger games x reader #sejanus plinth #jessup diggs #reaper ash #clemensia dovecote #casca highbottom #tbosbas spoilers #tbosbas fanfiction #tbosbas imagine #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosbas fic

[itsbuckytm]

A Lumberjack's love story / Coriolanus Snow (ft Treech)

summary : You found yourself appointed as Treech's mentor. You had believed that falling in love, especially with someone from a District, was an impossibility. The idea of developing feelings for your tribute seemed even more far-fetched. However, it became unmistakably evident that Snow had become somewhat obsessed and jealous of this unexpected connection. The love that was once rumored to be a mere Game strategy now revealed itself as undeniable truth. Snow is determined to assert your allegiance and make you aware of where your loyalties lie, employing Treech's memories as a strategic tool in the process.

p.s.: english is not my native language, so I apologize for any errors or mistakes. Additionally, I am open to writing about other tributes, like Treech x reader, or any other characters. Feel free to make requests; my ask box is always open!

Snow was never inclined to publicly display the bond between the two of you. Given the stakes of his family name, he recognized that their relationship was merely a facade. As time passed, it became not only unattractive for a woman of her youth but also jeopardized her reputation as a young aristocrat in the streets of the Capitol. Such thoughts that became fueled within your mind as you were compiled with a reminder of your mother’s desire to know what were your plans upon graduations. And to be completely fair, you had zero idea. 

While the Academy expected you to maintain unwavering focus, Snow found himself increasingly intrigued by you. However, he wasn't the type to initiate things. Instead, he expressed his interest through subtle glances, careful not to be caught observing you during class. Despite his reserved yet confident demeanor, it was evident that Snow harbored an attraction towards you during his time as a student at the Academy. If only both of you were aware of the mutual sentiments brewing between you. If only. 

In the initial weeks of the 10th Games, he witnessed you under the relentless summer sun of the Capitol. Your forehead glistened with a sheen of sweat as you struggled to maintain professionalism with your tribute. Treech.  Recognizing the challenging nature of the task, he found himself increasingly captivated as your vulnerability became more pronounced each day. It was this vulnerability that marked Snow's first overt fixation on you. From the way you pampered Treech’s wound after training, to how you carefully swiped his sweet, making it slightly harder due to his curls peaking beneath his hat. How he had envied to be in Treech’s place.

The following day, as you prepared lunch for your tribute, he offered his suggestion. His very first interaction with you. "I'd recommend the sandwich." He said. Having noticed your early arrival in the cafeteria, he quietly approached you from behind, his gaze fixed on the softness of your skin as your fingers delicately folded the freshly cooked food into an aluminum bag. The aroma lingered, a distinct scent that had left an indelible impression on him since the first day he could approach. You responded with a smile, taking his advice to heart and adding additional sandwiches based on Snow's recommendation, expressing deep appreciation for his input. 

On that very first day, Snow found himself unable to divert his thoughts. Whenever both of you shared the same space, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy when you attended to Treech’s skills during training. At times, he pondered whether your sentiments were equally directed towards someone like him, someone he considered beneath you. This notion offended him, yet he couldn't deny that he, too, harbored affection for his tribute. However, for Snow, it was more about care and presentation than genuine emotions. 

Unlike Snow, you had gradually developed deep feelings for Treech. Similarly, even though he needed to take care for his female tribute, especially in your absence. Treech could only think about you. He often expressed his longing for you, complaining about how much he missed your presence or simply wanting to catch a glimpse of your face when you served him his regular meals. These seemingly ordinary gestures were significant to Treech, and he was determined to make you proud once declared the victor. To run away from the Capitol– To build a family of your own. However, that aspiration crumbled when, in the end, Lucy—Snow's tribute—claimed victory herself. Despite your efforts to conceal any sorrow and refrain from openly grieving for the person you loved, Treech's name appeared from Flickerman's announcements, and he was declared as deceased. 

On that fateful evening, during the closure event of the 10th Hunger Games, Snow observed you closely. A sense of pride welled up within him as he witnessed his tribute not only surviving but excelling. However, this sentiment quickly shifted when he laid eyes on Treech's lifeless body in the arena, just moments before his demise. In his mind, he could almost hear Treech's voice pleading. "Be proud of me, Y/N." Despite suspecting that you might not be able to, given the emotional toll, Snow couldn't resist locking eyes with you, even with other tributes still alive. 

Before just a few minutes that Lucy was announced the winner. Snow had yearned to approach you, to envelop you in a comforting hug, assuring you that everything would be alright. He wanted to commend your efforts in standing by Treech's side, supporting him in his quest for victory. Yet, a conflicting feeling gnawed at him, a sense that he was supposed to be the one you cared for, the one you cherished as you did Treech. It was a realization that he, too, would soon need to confront. 

It was inevitable that you will be compelled to pay homage to your District. The profound impact of your care for Treech had touched his family, leading them to extend an invitation for you to visit his home District. Gratefully acknowledging this gesture, you agreed to be present at Treech's funeral. Simultaneously, Snow, prompted to return to District 12 himself, sought a distraction for his troubled mind. Before his departure as a Peacekeeper, you seized the opportunity to express your congratulations, a sentiment you had unintentionally neglected during the Games. And informed Snow about Treech’s funeral. "Treech's family invited me to their son’s funeral... I'm uncertain about the duration of my stay, but can you promise me something before I go?" 

Your melodious voice, as you spoke to him, almost turned his stomach. He observed every nuance of your movements, noting the way your gaze traversed from his body to his lips. The awareness of your attraction to him lingered in the air, though you attempted, albeit futilely, to conceal it—thanks in part to Treech providing a convenient distraction. Or was it only in his head?

 As you prepared to share your concerns, expressing the challenges of being a Peacekeeper, a role your sibling had also undertaken, he sought to reassure you. His fingers tenderly traced the contours of your soft cheeks, creating an irresistible desire to kiss those plump lips of yours. They appeared too tempting to resist, with a fleeting fear crossing his mind that Treech might have been the first to experience that indulgence. Despite the conflicting emotions, Snow found a peculiar satisfaction in Treech's demise. Yet, he remained steadfast and resolute in ensuring your promise. "I'll promise. I swear on my father's grave." 

"Promise me you'll be cautious? When I return, let's meet at your grandmother's garden. No questions asked." Clarity was crucial, and Snow understood your aversion to ambiguity. Even in the aftermath of the Games, with Snow away during your grieving for Treech, the uncertainty gnawed at you. You couldn't shake off the nagging doubt about whether Snow would indeed come back from his duty or, worse, not return at all. "I will." He assured you sincerely. Leaning in, he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead just as his name was called to depart the Capitol and head back to District 12. What you didn't know was that his decision to serve as a Peacekeeper and be in District 12 wasn't solely an act of care; it was driven by a desire to reunite with Lucy. If only you were aware that things weren't unfolding as expected, and Snow was returning as a completely different man. "Noon?" He asked quickly before nodding to his colleague, indicating that it was his cue to leave. 

“Noon.” 

Snow detested every moment of his stay to District 12. Honestly, witnessing how he treated Lucy served as a constant reminder of you back in the Capitol. Your image would casually infiltrate his thoughts, diverting his actions as he found himself doing everything with you in mind. Forgetting that the Games were still being aired, the revelation of the strong opinions on other Districts held about the tributes and their mentors left a bitter taste in Snow's mouth. It was especially repugnant if your name was uttered by those with the filthiest tongues. Snow harbored a visceral reaction, ready to eliminate anyone who dared to disrespect you with tasteless comments or words he hoped you hadn't heard during your time in Treech's District. Since emerging from that harrowing experience, he vowed to ensure that those in District 12 who spoke ill of you would suffer the consequences, every bit of it. 

And the memory was etched in his mind, vivid as if it happened yesterday. Snow hadn't intended to be invited to the Hob, yet he found no reason to object when offered. Lucy remained a distraction for him, seated just a few tables away when he overheard those contemptible words. While he tried his very best to remain his eyes on the silhouette that was on the stage. The one he “Loved”. He imagined as each words began to fuel his determination to make their speaker cleanse their mouth with the foulest soap, a gesture to demonstrate that such opinions should be worn like armor, wielded like a weapon. "You know, Treech's mentor? Apparently, they fell in love during the Games... I can't even imagine, let alone see the person you loved in such a distraught situation." Although the speaker may not have sounded offensive to an average person, to Snow, it was the complete opposite.  

Without a moment's hesitation, Snow unleashed a punch. He paid no heed to the gasps around him or the attempts of other boys to pull him away or defend themselves. In his mind, you belonged to him, and he couldn't fathom, let alone accept, the idea of you being with anyone else but him. The mere thought of enduring more distasteful words about you from the most insensitive individuals during your absence was unbearable. Regardless of the consequences, he was determined not to let it slide. When Snow, meant he’d do anything for you, he meant every words. 

As Snow neared the end of his tenure as a Peacekeeper, with only a few months remaining, his anticipation to reunite with you grew stronger. Fortunately, he had the opportunity to receive updates about you during his breaks, thanks to calls with Tigris. Hearing her speak about your successes in university brought immense joy to Snow. Knowing that you were thriving and well was what mattered most to him. However, there was an underlying concern that continued to nag at him. Despite your objections, Tigris felt compelled to address it, especially considering Snow's already demanding role as a Peacekeeper. "She hasn't been coping well with Treech's death, Coryo. There are times when I see her crying in her sleep. She mentioned how she wishes he were here, sensing his presence, you know? I can’t believe I am going to say that but– I think they were genuinely in love. And it wasn’t just for the show."  

Truly in love, the revelation that struck Snow the hardest was the hidden well of genuine skill that only emerged when necessary. Lucy lingered in his thoughts, a constant presence, while you were navigated the grieving process for you first love as well. He too, had doubts that Lucy was amongst his first love. Although genuine doubts crept in as he questioned whether the efforts he invested were truly worthwhile. The chaos he instigated at the Hob last night, the desperate plea from Sejanus – all of it was orchestrated for your sake. Yet, the realization that you hadn't given up on Treech, your former love, dampened his spirits. Snow, however, knew that your heart now belonged to him. Upon his return, he vowed to assert his claim unequivocally, free from any expectations. 

Anticipating his imminent return, Tigris meticulously selected the most exquisite dress she could envision for someone of your stature. While the occasion might have seemed extravagant, she understood that her cousin Snow would value the effort, especially since your meeting was set to take place on Snow's rooftop—an ethereal space where innocence, purity, and passion converged. Restlessly, you began nervously nibbling at the cuticles of your fingers. "Don't be too shocked when you see him without his curls." Tigris quipped as you arrived at their apartment.

Since Snow became a victor, you noticed a shift in the opulence of the place compared to your last visit. Tigris's room now exuded her fashion sensibilities with a palette of pinks and light beiges, while Snow's room contrasted sharply with bright white walls and accents of crimson red. A broken frame holding his father's portrait captured your attention, and as you surveyed your surroundings in Snow's empire, you couldn't help but see a parallel with yourself—a broken frame that Snow seemed determined to mend with his love. 

Before encountering you, Snow had a few errands to run, one of which involved settling the score with Casca. The second stop was to finally meet you. As the gentle rays of Capitol sunshine transitioned into the evening darkness adorned with stars, anticipation for the exciting yet thrilling meeting with you heightened since his return. "Where is she?" Arriving just in time at the entrance of his apartment, although he was well aware of your whereabouts. He played the part to make it appear otherwise, a little trick that didn't escape Tigris's notice. Her chuckle prompted him to follow her, momentarily catching his breath as she revealed. "At the rooftop. Waiting for you." 

A wave of relief swept over him, and he expressed continuous gratitude to his cousins. Tigris attempted to assist him in catching his breath, noticing Snow's heightened excitement upon seeing you. She, too, was well aware of his intense fascination with you. However, witnessing the spectacle involving Treech and you, she grasped the potential threat her cousin might have posed.  Bound by blood and family, she couldn't deny the reality and opted not to pretend. If Snow was genuinely in love with you, she had to believe him. "Just be gentle, okay? She just returned from Treech's District. Even if it’s been a few months. She might need more comfort than one can fathom." 

She might need more comfort than one can fathom. Was read like butter to Snow’s ears. As if this was his very own speciality let alone being with the one he truly learned to hear that she was the one for him. He did not approached this statement as a sort of threat. In fact, he was going to use to his full potential and let you completely be compiled by him and emblembed the relationship between the two.

Upon entering, the familiar fragrance of fresh roses enveloped him—a scent he had sorely missed since his grandmother used to present him with one during the reaping ceremony. Despite his absence, the care bestowed upon the flowers was evident. It became clear that, much like him, you had also been away for some time. However, upon your return, you diligently attended to the flowers daily, diverting your focus from Treech. Among the many qualities Snow admired in you was your meticulous attention to detail, a fact he subtly acknowledged as he casually plucked a fresh rose and delicately inhaled its scent, all while listening to your sweet voice. "I'd be careful if I were you." he remarked nonchalantly. 

And there you stood, flesh and blood. Your skin bore a slight tan from the harsh weather of Treech’s District, which quickly faded upon your return to the Capitol, where the grief over Treech proved more challenging than anticipated. Tigris noticed the change in your complexion, the lack of color that had manifested in your skin. Fortunately, you maintained the bold red lip, a shade crafted from the lipstick your mother often made for you—a detail Snow admired, especially as it harmoniously blended with his own colors.

"Thank you.” He managed to say, though in his defense, he was so captivated by your beauty that he found himself absentmindedly caressing the rose, which had fallen on its own. "You've picked the wrong rose. It was about to wither." You added, your words revealing both concern and almost boredom.

Snow detected a subtle tremor in your demeanor, observing how you had become fragile and adrift amid the chaos of your own emotions. Despite your efforts to conceal them, your vulnerability remained apparent. Inwardly, Snow acknowledged that he, too, wasn't immune, having fallen for a Snake that led him back to a recurring beginning. "How are you doing?" Was all he managed to say, careful not to exacerbate your grief for Treech or delve into the complexities of Lucy's memory. This one-on-one interaction became a delicate balancing act, particularly since you were well aware of the romantic display he had been showcasing. 

"Okay, I suppose." Was your cautious response, accompanied by a hint of uncertainty, as if contemplating whether to revise your answer. In truth, you hadn't been doing well, resorting to sleeping at Snow's place to hide your tears. It added another layer of complexity to rest in Coriolanus's room, knowing he would return soon. You were aware that upon his return, you'd need to find your own place, a life independent of others. Yet, it seemed this wasn't part of Snow's agenda. "How was District 12?" You inquired, steering the conversation toward another topic. 

"Could ask the same, sweetheart." Snow retorted, a reluctance to recall evident in his expression. Yet, for you, forgetting proved to be a much harder task. The memories of moments spent with Treech haunted you – sneaking him out of the Capitol's Zoo, hand in hand, discussing a future that now felt lost. Memories of him teaching you to wield an axe, his relationship with Lamina, and the dreams of building a family together. The breaking point came when you saw his eyes on the screen, calling out your name, almost begging and apologizing for deciding your fate. In that moment, you desperately tried to erase it all, but it only resulted in a torrent of tears. Your trembling fingers betrayed the pain at the thought of Treech. Sensing your anguish, Snow reached out, comforting you and reassuring. That it wasn’t all your fault. "Hey— Hey— I'm here." 

Snow, despite his aversion to everything, understood the pain of losing someone dear. Despite his pride and the incident that involved being bitten by a snake, Lucy had become a memory he learned to rely on, blurring the lines between that memory and the reality of you. "You did everything you could..." He spoke, the resonance of his voice echoing the tone he maintained during the Games. "You taught him everything, prepared him to be a victor, and yet—" He paused, a moment of reflection taking him back to his own experiences in a similar position with Lucy. 

"Please..." You pleaded, attempting to bury the remnants of memories. Yet, as your gaze locked onto Snow's, you found yourself fully engulfed in his eyes, surrendering to a state of vulnerability and desperation. You implored Snow silently, begging him to restore you to the woman you once were. Snow was prepared to undertake that task, ready to unveil the true essence of himself.

"Stay with me." You uttered the same words spoken that night with Treech by your side, the eve before the Games commenced. Feeling Snow's arms enveloping you, he whispered the same reassurance Treech told you, that everything would be okay, that tomorrow would bring us all home. Unfortunately, that promise remained unfulfilled. “You are at home now.” Snow implied on reassuring you the best he can offer. An offer of love, protection, and making sure you were the queen in his very own eyes. The same way Treech did. 

"I'll ensure your protection, shower you with love, and take care of you." Snow vowed, his words echoing those once spoken by Treech when he confessed his love to you. With that commitment hanging in the air, Snow approached, and this time, with no Peacekeepers present. Snow was fortunate enough to feel his lips meeting yours for the first, and not the last, time. As he leaned in, he silently and gently brushed the bottom of your lips. Unbeknownst to you, Snow had been well aware of the connection between Treech and you. He had observed the way Treech looked at you and noted the similarities in their demeanor just before a kiss. Everything had been meticulously calculated to make you his own. 

Every details were orchestrated to convey the authenticity of a man you had once deeply fell in love. 

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus imagines #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #treech x reader #treech x you #treech imaginess #the hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #president snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagines #treech imagines #hunger games imagines

[rainbowmilk]

Don't Forget Me III

Warnings: Violence, Death, Language

Treech x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

series masterlist | <- Prev Next -> |

All you wanted was to get away from the people gawking at you, yet oddly enough, the Capitol boy and the rainbow girl were approaching the crowd. Hand-in-hand, no less. That's something you never thought you'd see: a girl from Twelve and a boy from the Capitol holding hands.

They started talking to a clownish-looking man. You couldn’t hear much, but you did learn their names were Lucy Gray and Coriolanus Snow. You couldn’t imagine a situation where you'd willingly talk to anyone from the Capitol. Lucy Gray, however, seemed to thrive under cameras.

Treech, also watching, said, “Y’know, I think I’d rather take my chances in the arena than have to talk to him.”

“Don’t be an ass! He doesn't look that bad,” you say while trying and failing to suppress your laugh.

He raised an eyebrow, staring at you as if you’ve just said the sky is green. “If you say so,” he teased.

The interview, or whatever you want to call it, was cut short when the metal doors swung open, and a group of Peacekeepers marched in, dragging Coriolanus out.

“Do you think he was even supposed to be in here?” You asked as you watched him get dragged out.

“Course not,” Treech smirked, “he looked ready to piss himself when he realized this was being recorded.” He said, once again making you laugh. For a minute, everything felt normal. If you close your eyes, you could pretend you are back home at the market laughing with your friends.

As the day went on, more and more people started showing up. There must’ve been a crowd of about one hundred people when you spotted the familiar red uniform. At first, you thought it was Coriolanus, but as he got closer, you saw that it was a boy with dark brown hair.

He was carrying a large backpack, which was full of food. The boy pulled a sandwich from the bag and tried to coax Marcus, the boy from Two, to take it. He wasn’t having much luck, though. Marcus wouldn’t even acknowledge him.

You were much more inclined to trust him than Coriolanus. Something about him seemed genuine, kinder even. Maybe if you approached him, he’d give you food. It couldn’t hurt to try.

Treech as if sensing your thoughts grabbed your arm. He shook his head at you, saying, “We can’t trust him. He’s Capitol.”

You wanted to argue but decided it wasn’t worth the headache. Treech could be painfully stubborn when he wanted to be.

Coriolanus came by later in the day and seated himself by the bars. A sting of jealousy hit you when you saw him hand Lucy Gray a sandwich. Why hadn’t your mentor shown up?

You didn’t have to wallow for long because Lucy Gray yelled, “You all should get one. They’re real good! Go on, Jessup!”

Her district partner, Jessup, slowly approached the boy with the sandwiches and took one from his hand. He waited until a plum followed and then walked off without a word.

Emboldened, you sprung up, pulling Treech along with you. Rushing to the fence where the boy gave each of you a sandwich and a plum. Satisfied, you walked back to the rocky patch you’d been sitting at. It’s a good thing you got there early because, within a minute, the backpack was almost depleted by the other tributes.

You had to resist the urge to devour the sandwich, forcing yourself to savor every bite. Who knew when your next meal would be? You had to enjoy it while it lasted.

As the sun set, the crowd thinned, and everyone started to settle in for the night. Most tributes opted to stay in the place they’d claimed the first day. Everybody was getting increasingly ill-tempered, yourself included, the more days you spent trapped in the zoo.

Almost on cue, two boys started fighting over a bale of hay, but Marcus broke them up. His display of strength unsettled you. How could you win against that?

I mean, you could handle an ax. Which already left you better off than most tributes. But you weren’t an expert by any means. If you had to face Marcus in the arena, you’d have no chance. Just thinking of the arena made you uneasy. Seeking comfort, you nestled up next to Treech. Letting his steady heartbeat lull you to sleep

The sun beating down on the enclosure stirred you from your slumber. Your eyes flickered open, but the influx of light has you snapping them shut again.

“Mornin,” Treech whispered, his voice still groggy.

“Mmm..too early,” you grumbled, burrowing your head deeper into his chest.

Running on a limited amount of sleep, you didn’t feel up to do anything besides stay curled up behind the rock. The morning passed by uneventfully, with few visitors stopping by. Until Peacekeepers came and corralled you onto a truck. They offered no explanation as to where you were going.

After a short ride, they unloaded all of you at a large building. You were escorted by Peacekeepers who outnumbered you two to one, which you felt was overkill, considering you had heavy shackles attached to your wrists and ankles. They led you to a table and then chained you with concrete weights, telling you to wait for your mentors.

Without much to do, you tilted your head back and surveyed the hall. It was a beautiful space with marble columns, arched windows, and a vaulted ceiling. You should feel awed, you’d never see anything like this in Seven, but it only made you miss home even more.

You glanced over to Treech, but before you could say anything, the doors opened, and twenty-four teenagers marched out. You wondered which one would be your mentor. You hoped they actually cared, but you doubted it, considering they hadn’t visited.

A tall boy who must be your mentor approached your table, sitting in the chair across from you. He introduced himself as “Pliny Harrington”. He seemed nice enough, if not a bit tactless. Maybe this won’t be that bad you allowed yourself to hope.

It was that bad. You were ready to tear your hair by the end of the session. You misheard one question, and Pliny spent the rest of the time talking to you like a toddler. The most infuriating part was his self-satisfied grin because he was so sure he was being helpful.

When the whistle blew to signal the end of the session, you could’ve cried with relief. Even as the Peacekeepers rounded you back into the truck, you were just glad to be done. You’d had enough interactions with Capitol folks to last you a lifetime.

In the truck, you find yourself sitting next to Lucy Gray while she stares at you with a unreadable expression. You are not sure what to make of her.

“Hi...you’re Lucy Gray, right?” you say, wondering why she’s staring at you.

“The one and only,” she quipped back.

Over her shoulder, you could see Treech watching you, his eyes flitting between you and Lucy Gray, unsure if it was a friendly conversation. You shot him a smile, letting him know you were okay.

Lucy Gray must’ve caught the interaction because she gave you a knowing look. She leaned in and whispered, “So, what’s up with you and your district partner?”

Startled, your eyes scanned the others to make sure no one had heard, “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, “You two seem very close, plus he gets this glint in his eyes when he looks at you.”

You glanced up, and sure enough, Treech was still staring at you. He looked startled to have been caught again and looked away. “He’s just—we’ve just been friends for a while,” you say, though your voice has an annoyingly hopeful twinge to it.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that…well, you at least like him, don’t you?” She asked.

The expression on your face must answer her question because she gave you a pitying smile. Are you really that obvious? You must be. Because it seems everyone, but Treech knew at this point. Even his brothers would tease you about it.

When you arrived back at the zoo, a crowd waited for you. Morning attendance was scarce, but now visitors were pouring in. Annoyed, you tried to hide yourself behind a rock to escape prying eyes.

“What were you and Twelve talkin’ about?” Treech asked, plopping himself beside you.

“It’s a secret,” you say, winking at him, hoping he doesn’t see right through you. Wanting to change the topic, you ask, “How was your mentor?”

He winced at your question “She was very irritating,” he replied. By the look on his face, he was clearly holding himself back from saying anything meaner. “How was yours?”

“God, don’t get me started,” you groan. “He talked to me like I was a five-year-old the whole time!”

You didn’t even think it was possible, but somehow, more people came as the day progressed. Unsurprisingly, Lucy Gray was by the bars entertaining the crowd. What caught your eye, though, was they seemed to be passing her food. The thought of begging for scraps made you flush with humiliation. But it was slowly becoming evident that if you wanted to eat, you’d need to perform.

Other tributes realized this as well. The girl from District 9 did a back handspring, which was rewarded with applause and a bread roll. You stared longingly at the bread, what you would give for a bite.

“Are you hungry?” Treech asked, his mouth turned into a frown.

“I’m fine,” you say, not wanting to worry him.

Treech stared at you blankly, making it clear he didn’t believe you. He stood up, fetching three walnuts off the floor, and marched up to the crowd. He made a good show of juggling the walnuts and keeping the crowd entertained. He was rewarded with a bread roll and an apple.

Once he’s finished, he tipped his hat at the crowd before rushing back to you. He looked pleased with himself as he offered the food to you.

You immediately protested, “No! Don’t worry about me. I’m not that hungry anyway.” In embarrassingly perfect timing, your stomach lets out a growl.

Treech face broke out into a smile, holding out the food again. Sighing in defeat, you ripped a chunk off the bread. As you sat eating, you heard the crowd laughing. When you turned toward the noise, you saw one of the mentors holding out a sandwich in front of her tribute to the girl from Ten, only to pull it away at the last second, much to the crowd’s amusement.

“That’s awfully cruel,” you mumbled, clutching your food protectively to your chest. You tried to block out the noise. No point in making yourself needlessly upset.

However, shrieks coming from the audience members had you snapping your head back towards the bars. You saw the girl from Ten holding a bloody knife. The Capitol girl's face was drained of color as she dropped the sandwich and clawed at her neck. Blood was pouring from her neck and down her fingers as the District 10 girl released her and gave her a small shove.

The Capitol girl stepped back, turning and reaching out, imploring the audience for help. People were either too stunned or too scared to respond. Many drew away as she fell to her knees and began to bleed out. You held no love for the Capitol, but you couldn’t help but pity the girl. It was a horrible way to die.

Coriolanus rushed towards the Capitol girl. Shouting for a medic. He must know her. Your heart dropped when you saw Peacekeepers shouldering their way toward the enclosure. The gunshots sounded almost immediately after. Bullets were fired into the cage without care of who they hit.

You sit stunned for a second as you watch the bullets pierce the District 10 girl's body. Treech practically throws himself toward you, pushing you behind the rock. The bullets continued firing, flying just past your heads.

Even when the gunshots died down, you and Treech remained on the ground. Both of you clinging tightly to one another. After enough time passed, you peeked out and saw soldiers swarming the place, clearing out the last remnants of the audience. Without warning, they swarmed the enclosure, dragging all of you to the back of the cage and lining you up with your hands on top of your heads.

As you stood there, you wondered if they were going to shoot all of you and get it over with. Maybe it would be easier if you died now. At least it would be quick.

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #treech tbosas #the hunger games #treech #treech x reader #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow

[bimb0fy]

the heart wants what it want; treech

pairings: mentor!treech x reaped!reader

warnings; angst, super short (i have exams T-T)

summary; treech, the 10th hunger games victor, and most importantly, your boyfriend came back from the hunger games in your honor. he has killed for you, done anything in the world only to return to you and your comfort, only to go through the same pain again.

word count; 382

a/n; i made treech the winner of the games and also set it two years later, like snow became dr gaul's mentor after the first games and he suggested having the tributes as the mentors to keep things in control n stuff.

ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡⁱˢᵗ!! | ⁿᵃᵛⁱᵍᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ!!

— You stood in your place as you watched Treech stand up on the stage, being the only mentor as he was the only victor. You stood in your brown dress overalls and his shirt, the shirt he had worn during his games. A token of good love he always said.

Just as the announcer placed her hand into the bowl, your heart beated faster, and faster, then suddenly stopped as she opened the paper. "Y/n L/n!" She announced. You couldn't comprehend with had happened, standing still as Treech's eyes widened, he searched for you, finding you frozen as he attempted to stop the tears in his eyes.

You walked along the passage, climbing up the stairs as Treech stared at you. He watched as you barely managed to wall correctly, tripping as he quickly caught you, holding you up as you stood waiting for the male tribute.

"Hey baby, it's okay, I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise." He whispered into your ear as you bit back tears. You remembered watching Treech in the games, the Snakes nearly killing him as they killed Lucy Gray and well, you were terrified as he climbed up the wall. You remembered him coughing, almost choking to death, you watched Lamina, your best friend die and Treech blaming himself for it.

You remembered what it was like watching him play the games two years ago, only now you'd go through it. You didn't know if you were as strong or as motivated as him. He placed his hand into yours and rubbed your shoulders as his breaths shallowed. As the male tribute was announced you felt wierry. His breath hitched as he looked at the tribute. You looked beside him to realize it was his best friend. Theo.

It was now clear as day, he had to choose between his lover and best friend, in a way he wished he never had to. You looked up to watch your family weep as his family looked in shock. Treech's mother stared at you, shaking her head as she stared at you then looked over at her son.

"I'm sorry baby." Treech cried as you both walked off towards the train, it was the end, you were going into the games that destroyed him two years ago.

#fanfic #x reader #x female reader #treech tbosas #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #treech x reader #treech fanfiction #district 7 #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #thg x reader

[the7thheroine]

Treech x reader part 5/5

I do genuinely hope that by having some treech content will lead to other creators making some too so there’s something I can read too 😭

Im going to continue the story onto my wattpad 😋 so be ready for that, but this is all that will be uploaded onto tumblr.

“He will kill you, when he returns from district 4.” Mr Highbottom said slowly, gently flicking open the lid to one of his drinks.

“You don’t know that, snow is-”

“Coriolanus snow is always the winner, and now Treech has been declared the proper winner that makes you the proper mentor winner.” He interrupts sharply letting out a nose through his breath.

“And without the prize? If you were to, per se mysteriously go missing or, die. He’d be entitled to the money more than you.” He says almost, amused.

You could feel your blood go cold, Snow, someone you could have considered your friend, your ally at chance, could kill you, or hurt you. And Treech could there for be hurt, if you didn’t come back he’d see it as you abandoning him by not writing.

“And, where is he now?.. Snow I mean.” You say nervously twisting your hands. You look at Mr Highbottom.

“He’s on the train to district 12, but from what I’ve heard, he’s managed to snag a position to district 12 to see his songbird.” He murmurs picking up a pen beginning to write. “You have one opportunity, only one. You can stay here, risk when he comes back having him kill you, or you leave. We wipe your name from the system, the school, your home, everywhere. And you go with your tribute to district 7.” He says putting down the pen ripping a piece of paper and offering it to you.

“What is it.” You reach out taking the piece of paper from his hands, a ticket.

“A one way ticket to district 7, under the guise of you needing to work on something in the Capitol and are now heading back home.” He says looking into your eyes. “One chance, to stop one large risk.” He says simply.

“And if I go, what about my friends? My family? Sejanus?” You worry staring down at the ticket.

“Sejanus’s is on the train alongside Snow, your friends won’t even remember you existed in a few years, from what I’ve heard to, Dr Gaul wants to erase the tapes, erase this years history.”

You frown. Staring at Mr Highbottom. If you go, your safe from the risk of Snow coming for you, your with Treech permanently, but your friends, everyone will be forced to forget your existence.

“And if I go… your certain snow won’t come for me?” You question looking nervously at his face.

“I can’t promise it but, but it buys you time. Enough for you to get old, live a life.” He says turning towards the stack of paperwork on his desk.

“I’ll go.”

It’s quiet, the darkness has enclosed the academy now leaving you alone in the wake of the early morning. You had a small bag packed. Filled with simple clothes, and a few belongings. You were given a cloak covering your face and hair. You turn to look up, on the next floor was Treeches room. By now he’d be awake, considering in a couple of hours he’d be leaving to the train station.

Quietly you clamber up the stairs knocking on the oak door.

“Who’s there?” You hear him call, you take a deep breath pushing the door open.

“You’re here, you came back..” he whispers moving to you wrapping his arms around you. “What did that teacher say to you? You didn’t come back after so I was worried about you..” he says unwrapping one arm from you to cup your face.

“I’m ok treech, it’s just, I have to leave. Leave the academy, leave the Capitol.” You frown looking up into his eyes.

“What? What do you- your leaving? What the hell where are you going?” He says stunned taking a step back from you looking you over as his gaze drifts to your hand where a ticket still sits.

“I’m going to district 7, any history of me here is being erased, I’ll be killed by snow if I.. if I stay..” your brows furrow as you feel tears begin to overflow from your eyes.

“Hey… hey don’t cry.” He reaches his hands out brushing the tears from your face his eyes furrowing. “You’re coming with me to 7?” He says as the realisation sinks in.

“Everything about me here won’t exist anymore. No one will ever see me.. or he’ll even know me.” You say pushing the tears out of your face as you sniffle

“That’s.. god that’s awful.” He says his eyes no longer meeting yours. “So.. you’re leaving now, with me.” He says hopefully his hands going to your shoulders.

“Yes, yes I guess I am.” You say looking back at him, his face had changed since you first saw him, his dark curls no longer matted but nicely styled and neatly resting under his hat. His eyes once dark and cold, were now brighter and warmer. His skin no longer marked from small bruises and injuries but now a tanned olive as it was before.

“You’re staring at me..” he murmurs his hands moving to grab you closer. “Sorry, it’s just, you’re so different.” You smile gently moving your hands to his cheeks caressing them. “You mean I was an asshole?” He says quirking a brow. “No. I mean it, you weren’t! You were just.. scared..” you immediately answer.

“We better go, we have an hour before the train leaves and, you know the way better then me..” he says leaning down to pick his bag up before then grabbing yours. “You don’t have to do that.” You say giggling at him. He rolls his eyes before nodding to the door. “My hands are full, you need to open the door.” He says furrowing his brows. You nod and pull the doors open.

‘This is it.’ You take a deep breath as treech begins to leave through the doors turning to you. “Come on now, we need to go..” he calls to you gesturing for you to follow.

————————————————————

THE END OMG?? Thanks for the support gang also this chapter is super duper short but yah know what who cares. 😋

@5utumn HUGE THANKS TO YOU FOR UR HELP AND IDEAS AND ALSO MOTIVATING ME TO WRITE <3333

The original idea was snow kills the reader and takes the money leaving treech vulnerable and at risk but icl i was a bit lazy and decided to change it. 😊

Again like I said, I want this story to encourage people to read this and be inspired to read and write more for treech because he’s actually my fav so if you read this, PLEASE WRITE MORE FOR TREECH.

#treech #treech x reader #tbosbas #tbosbas x reader #treech tbosbas #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #snow x reader #coriolanus x reader

[venusbyline]

Omg can you imagine Treech holding your hand and talking you through it😭 he’s such a sweet boy, and his sweetheart’s comfort and pleasure is above everything else to him.

💌 -> omg that's so sweet 😭😭 i'm really obsessed with soft treech scenario

⚠️: Smut, Praise Kink, Soft Treech, Riding, Mentor Treech x Mentor Reader (female).

Treech's more of a giver than a receiver. The most important part of sex was seeing how good he makes you feel. Your moans, your face... You were so pretty that he could easily cum just by watching you.

“Such a good girl…” Treech intertwined his hands with yours as you chased your orgasm, your pussy squeezing his cock every time you rolled the hips.

You were so lost in the feeling of being fucked so deep that you could barely keep your eyes open. Your brain was completely blank, the only thought being about how good it felt having Treech inside you.

He groaned when you bit your own lip, just trying to prevent the volume of your sounds from increasing even more. Disturbing the other mentors on the train would be a very embarrassing and unnecessary situation.

"You look so gorgeous, my sweetheart..." It was his turn to bite his lips. He was ecstatic as he admired the sight of your bouncing boobs and the sound of your whimpers. "Such a good girl for me."

#venusbyline #treech x reader #treech fanfiction #treech tbosas #treech thg #treech #treech x female reader #treech smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas smut #tbosas x reader #tbosas x you #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x y/n #hunger games #thg smut #thg fanfiction #fanfiction requests #writing requests #my writing #tbosas scenarios

[bumblebugwrites]

chapter 1: nothing's new

Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader

Summary: After nearly two years of peace, you are called back to the Capitol only to find that the future they promised you was a lie.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Use of Weapons, Mention of Injuries, Minor Character Death.

Word Count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Coriolanus Snow is many things, he thinks to himself, but incompetent is not one of them. So there had been the Lucy Gray hiccup. Helping her cheat the Games only for her to die at the hands of Dr. Gaul’s snakes after he failed to slip the handkerchief into their tank was inconvenient, to say the least. As was his brief stint as a Peacekeeper as punishment for his dishonest tactics following the discovery of a certain compact with her remains. Still, he had learned a valuable lesson. Love is no more than a disadvantage, a distraction lodging itself like an unfortunate bump in his flawless plan. And now, he is back, having traded Sejanus’s life for his own advancement. It was nothing personal, really. Personal is a luxury, the only one he can not afford.

Sure, the loss had hurt, but the District 7 boy made a fine victor and one he could control with a far greater degree of ease, given the detachment he felt in regard to the kid’s safety. New year, new him, new Games, and this time, things would be different. 

His proposals had gone through without much struggle, especially with Dr. Gaul practically eating out of the palm of his hand. He is the protege; his mentor is the kind of woman you do not cross without bearing the consequences. 

And so, on this fine morning, as he stands with the casual grace of a cat, elegantly perched on the corner of his desk, he can’t fight the grin that spreads across his face as he delivers the order he’s been waiting for weeks to give.

“Well? Go get them.”

It is a cold day in District 10, at least colder than most you think as you finish your daily sweep of the ranch and its expansive territory. You pull back lightly on the reins, bringing the horse to a slow stop.

“To name an animal, any animal, it’s counterproductive. Selfish even. Makes for a more difficult slaughter; always best to remain detached.” Your father’s words echo in your head as you dip your neck to whisper soft praise to the creature below, her hind branded with a string of three numbers: 039. Her label, to call it a name, would be to demean anyone granted the privilege of such a thing.

“That was good Bluebell, nice easy ride. Told you it would get better.” She is young. Young enough to spook with a fair amount of ease, but then so are you. Had been ever since your Games.

You dismount, hitting the ground with a soft thud before coming around to face the gentle giant and fishing a handful of sugar cubes out of your pocket. She nuzzles the food in your palm before beginning to eat, and you run a hand up and down the bridge of her nose. The world is quiet, dew still catching the light of the rising sun when you see it in the distance: the armored vehicle speeding towards the cabin housing the front office. It is not unusual for Peacekeepers to come and go from the building, but the night shift typically does not end until 8:00 am, and dawn’s colors still paint the lower half of the sky. Something is wrong.

Two men exit the vehicle, entering the small building before quickly reappearing at its entrance, a third companion in tow. He stands on the porch for one beat, two, a lazy hand draped over his eyes as he scans the field for something. Someone. And then he points. You. They are looking for you.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and your body screams at you to mount once more and ride as fast and as far away as you can, but you stay rooted. Frozen. You watch, helplessly still, as the car only comes closer, pulling to a stop on the other side of the fence, keeping the pastures separated from the open road. The Peacekeeper in the passenger seat steps out, boots scraping the gravel.

“Ms. L/N?” You only nod.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us; you’ve been called to the Capitol.” You feel like screaming, but your throat constricts, and all you can do is take slow, encumbered breaths as your body caves in on itself and you crumple to the ground.

“I– What?”

You do not mind the mud on your knees, and the slow chill that begins to spread from the places dampened by the wet grass is barely perceptible in your state of shock. Called to the Capitol. Your mind jumps back home, your brother and sister still tucked away, blankets to their chins. They would not rise for another thirty minutes at least. You picture your mother. Savoring a final moment of quiet in her busy day, sipping the coffee you’d left in the pot just for her. Your mind replays the goodbyes you had paid them this morning. Careless and quick, not like the day of the reaping. Just sloppy kisses pressed haphazardly to their foreheads and a gentle farewell on your way out the door.

“That’s not possible– It’s not– I haven’t…” There is an eerie stillness to the world at this time of day. One that only seems to press inwards, suffocating you. Distantly, you feel the soft pressure of Bluebell’s muzzle on your shoulder as though urging you to get up

Though the man in the driver’s seat seems annoyed by the inconvenience, his partner fails to shield the look of pity that flits across his face as he dips to pass through the fence, pulling you up and then back through the gap with him. He is not rough as he sets you in the backseat, not like the Peacekeepers you remember from your Games, or maybe he is; everything seems a blur as the car makes its way to the train station, and it is only as the compartment doors to close behind you that you think of Bluebell, left out in the pasture, probably licking fallen sugar cubes off the ground.

Treech releases a labored exhale as he tries once more to readjust his grip on the axe. It’s just a tree. He can sense the nearby Peacekeeper shuffling from foot to foot, anxious for him to get on with the process. This is not the arena. I am safe. I am home.

There is no time off granted to returning victors following their stint in the Games. Production is production, and there are quotas to be met, so Treech had arrived home, and the following morning, before the sun had kissed the hilltops with its light, he had risen to go to work. Only work didn’t come easy the way it used to, lulling him into a rhythmic sense of comfort with its repetitive motions, and each time he raised his axe, all he saw was them. The other tributes waiting to receive the killing blow.

Treech wipes the sweat from his brow in a single frustrated motion in spite of the cold, then, squaring his jaw, he takes a swing. Crunch. The axe lodges itself in Teslee’s head, and he stumbles back, eyes wide with fear. Only it is not Teslee. No. He blinks once, twice, and it is only a pine tree, and he is back in the forest, sinking under the weight of the Peacekeeper’s heavy glare. The man, stationed less than a yard away, begins to move towards him, and Treech prepares himself for another beating, the sharp threats from the last time still ringing in his ears.

“Officer,” a voice calls out in their direction as another man of higher rank, from what Treech can gauge, approaches the pair. The two men meet and begin to speak in hushed voices, eyes flitting in his direction every few sentences. They’re gonna fire me. Or worse, string me up in the square and use me as an example. His grip on the axe tightens. His axe. His father’s before him. He will not go down without a fight.

“Hey, you,” Treech keeps his eyes on the forest floor, silently praying to any higher power that will listen that he is not the you in question. 

“Hey! Hey, you!” He can hear the man approaching, but the sound of his footsteps is dulled by the pounding of Treech’s heart. He feels like a child in a bathtub, head halfway under the surface as the water beats at his eardrums, completely still and as loud as a tidal wave. A firm grasp settles around the fabric of his winter coat, far too thin for the cold but the best he can afford.

“Listen to me when I’m fucking speaking to you,” the Peacekeeper spits, and Treech’s mouth settles into a hard line, his hand curled into a tight fist, twitching by his side. The man before him huffs in frustration.

“Call came in from the Capitol; you’re on the next train out,” he moves as though he’s going to release Treech before yanking him back in, close enough to press his mouth to the boy’s ear. 

“You’re lucky the order came from above; if I had a say, I’d gun you down right here for the disrespect.” With that, he gives the kid before him a hard shove before beginning to stalk off.

“Let’s go.” But Treech feels as though the ground beneath him has disappeared. Back to the Capitol? Would they send him into the arena? He was done. Won his Games fair and square. He was supposed to be free. What more could they want?

The first thing you notice about the train is that it is the nicest thing you have ever set foot inside of. During your Games, and all those before and after, transport to the Capitol had been relegated to old cattle cars used to shuttle livestock across Panem, and the same had been true on your return trip. This is different. Every inch of the compartment is decorated with the lavish and ornate, all-cushioned seats and elaborate chandeliers.

The second thing you notice is the boy. He is older than you, you think, by several years. Five, maybe six. He seems out of place, tucked into the corner of one of the booths, sizing you up suspiciously. He looks familiar.

“I– Do I know you?”

“We’ve never met before,” he responds, cold and guarded. But there is something about him, his build, tall and broad, dark skin and brown eyes; you could almost imagine them looking soft and kind in a different environment. 

He keeps the sharp look on his face, and you have yet to move from the doors when it clicks.

“You won seven years ago; I remember you. District 11. Teff, right?”

“You’re the girl from 10,” he says, and his posture relaxes, if only by a fraction.

“Y/N.” You smile, and you mean it to be a comfort, but there’s a fear in your eyes that betrays the anxiety deep in your gut. Still, you move closer, sliding into the seat across from him and bringing your hands into a neat pile on your lap.

“What are we doing here?” It’s small and whispered as it escapes your lips, and your gaze refuses to meet Teff’s as you wait for an answer.

“I have no idea.”

It is several hours before the train stops again, and though they are mostly passed in silence, the occasional attempt is made at small talk. Whispered theories mingle among everyday questions. So, what do you do in District 11? Do you think they’re gonna kill us? There’s lots of horses back home, cows too. They can’t put us back in, right? Only once, that’s what they said. 

The next time the doors open, you are in 2, as indicated by the towering stone walls keeping it separate from neighboring Districts. Three people get on. One of the boys you recognize immediately: Octavian Blackwell, the first victor. His hair is dark, clipped short in a sort of military cut, and his eyes look as though they are carved from steel. Beside him is a girl, small and lithe, her posture relaxed and tense all at once. Antonia. The name echos out from some dark, cavernous corner of your mind. The first female victor, 3rd Hunger Games. The final boy is taller than both his counterparts, though leaner in build than Octavian; you wrack your brain, praying for some form of recollection, but he remains unfamiliar to you.

“More victors,” whispers Teff, and you watch as the three faces before you seem to come to the same realization.

“What the fuck is going on?” It’s the District 2 boy who breaks the silence, the one whose name continues to elude you. 

“Hector,” Antonia hisses, a warning lacing her tone, but her eyes betray a curiosity lingering beneath the surface. 

“They can’t put us back in, right? There’s not enough. Not to mention, half the districts wouldn’t even have tributes,” you sputter the words up, an involuntary torrent of concern spewing from your mouth. Your gaze flits nervously from face to face, and in spite of the many hardened exteriors, you can feel it beneath the surface, a brewing apprehension. Octavian breaks the silence.

“They won’t put us back in.” And he seems certain. He is old, you think. Not old in the way a grandparent is, but aged certainly. You had never taken the time to imagine a tribute outside childhood, escaping adolescence into fully formed adulthood, but here was Octavian, who must have been at least twenty-six, with several deep-set wrinkles beginning to mar his brow.

“Probably just rounding us all up to kill us, send a real message after those shitshow Games last year,” Hector grumbles, moving further into the compartment and thrusting himself into the booth across from you and Teff. “Just watch; I bet we’ll hit 4 next, then 7, and 1.”

The noise of uncomfortable shuffling seems to fill the compartment, and eventually, Octavian and Antonia settle into the booth beside Hector. You can’t help but allow the shell of a laugh to brush past your lips. A whole train car for the lot of you, and here you were, pressed into the two corner booths. Sure, the cage is bigger, but you still cower like animals. Like you’re back in those trucks ushering you from the train to the arena, gleaning a last moment of comfort as you brushed shoulders with the children you would watch die.

Hector was right. The train stopped at 4, though only one boy got on. Trawl, he’d won the 8th Games, just before yours. You remember distantly hearing of another victor from 4, a boy who was killed upon return. Murdered by the father of his district partner, who accused him of killing her. Stabbed him in the town square, they said. The Peacekeepers only watched.

The train grinds once more to a halt in 7, and quick glance outside the window reveals a station made entirely of wood, grand posts carved with ornate designs supporting the massive roof. You glance towards the door, waiting for him, the newest victor. You do not have to work hard to recall his name, Treech; the two syllables had echoed from every radio in your mother's house the day the 10th Games ended.

The doors open with a hiss, and he stumbles in as though pushed, a mop of curls obscuring his eyes. He seems dazed. As he lifts his head, you watch it happen. The same realization that had dawned on every victor to enter the compartment after you, but then his gaze only grows dull as though accepting some secret fate you had yet to be alerted of before he shuffles forward, taking a seat on a longer bench facing the door. Alone. 

It is several more hours before you reach 1, and although some hushed conversation continues to fill the train car, you sit in silence, casting worried glances at the quiet boy with his head in his hands. He is not crying, you think; his shoulders are too still, but his breathing remains too rapid to indicate sleep. Maybe he just likes to listen, you suppose, trying to grasp the newest direction of the chatter around you. Maybe he’s scared. As you turn once more to analyze his hunched shape, Trawl catches your line of sight, speaking up from beside you.

“Just leave him alone; if he wants to sit by himself sulking, that’s his problem,” he mutters close to your ear.

“For all we know, we could be walking into an ambush. Give him a break,” you say, moving to stand before making your way over to the place on the bench beside him. You are quiet for a time, unsure how to start, but as your lips begin to purse around a greeting, he interrupts you.

“I like your hat.” His voice is flat, a single eye visible from behind the curtain of his hair. You forgot you were wearing a hat. It was your father’s from his brief time on the ranch before transferring to the slaughterhouse, where he met your mom. Your hand darts up to trace the brim.

“Thanks, it was–” But then his tone registers, and you recognize the snark behind the compliment, “You don’t mean that, do you?”

“You some sort of cowgirl?”

“How do you know what a cowgirl is?” You ask, and your eyebrows draw together in surprise at the knowledge.

“Read about them in school once, before I dropped out.”

“I guess so. Usually, people just call me a ranch hand.” He lifts his head at this, and you realize he’s quite pretty on closer viewing.

“Doesn’t sound as cool.” The ghost of a smirk lights his face as he says it.

“No, I guess it doesn’t,” you say, grinning back. His smile is quick to fade, and he turns once more, fixing his gaze ahead, away from you.

“Why are we here?” He asks, his cocky demeanor gone in an instant. You ache to be able to provide him with an answer, but the same question has been clawing at you since the two men showed up on the ranch this morning. 

“I– I’m not sure.” He nods, and it is solemn, like a prayer, but he does not return his face to his hands, instead watching the miles of land roll by in a blur, no single thing occupying the space outside the window for longer than a second. You find yourself looking, too, imagining how it must feel to go 250 mph. You decide it's probably like flying.

By the time you reach 1 to collect its two victors, a searing silence has spread over the train, the atmosphere tense. The journey to the Capitol is so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and as the skyline appears over the barriers built to keep people like you out, you feel the apprehension shrouding the compartment begin to buzz. It is only then that Hector speaks, shattering the stillness with a single phrase.

“Welcome back to Hell.”

The sun is setting as the train pulls into the station, and you twitch nervously, scraping your nails against the pads of your fingertips. Beside you, Treech watches your movements with a fixed gaze as though pondering reaching out to still the repetitive motions himself. He does not, and you fail to notice his attention on you at all, eyes fixed ahead on the double doors. 

When they open, a swarm of Peacekeepers descends on the car within a matter of seconds, hoisting you from the seats, snatching at arms and shoulders in their attempts to muscle you out of the compartment. A startled yelp escapes your lips as the man with a harsh grasp on the collar of your shirt rips you forward and onto the platform, jostling your hat from your head. 

“No–” You lunge for the single remnant of your father, straining against the Peacekeeper working to wrangle you towards an awaiting vehicle, but it is no use. He wraps you in a firm pair of arms, lifting you, kicking and biting from the ground the remainder of the distance before tossing you onto the floor of the car. As you whip around to assail him once more, the doors fall closed with a thud, leaving you to pound futilely against them.

Eventually, your jabs lose their power, and you sink down, forehead pressed to the cool metal, biting your lip to prevent the oncoming tears from spilling over. A hand makes its presence known on your shoulder as the car begins to move, and you turn to glimpse Trawl, his face painted with concern. A quick once over of the vehicle reveals only half the victors had been loaded on: you, Trawl, and the two tributes from 1, Lux, who sits with both hands clasped primly in her lap, and Beau, whose only visible sign of distress is the repeated preening of his hair.

“My– My hat. It was my dad’s–” you stutter out as Trawl helps you onto the seat beside his, “I don’t– there’s nothing else left.” The concern in his eyes settles into pity, and you feel like shrinking under the weight of his compassion, tired of feeling helpless.

It is not long before the car pulls to a stop, and the doors come open once more. It is dark out now, and you can’t help but find it unusual, the feeling that you are being smuggled, rushed in under the cover of night. Typically everything is a display in the Capitol. If they are going to kill you, where are the cameras? You are ushered into an elevator, and one of the Peacekeepers extends an arm, scanning a card before pressing the button for the top floor. You think distantly this might be some sort of hotel. You have never been inside a hotel before. A simple ding alerts you to the fact that you have reached your destination, and you are jostled out and through the door directly before you following the swipe of another card.

It is a large room. You had always believed hotels came with the promise of a bed, but this seems more like a home: a kitchen with appliances you do not recognize, a luxurious lounge with a semicircular couch facing a large projection, and a man, his hair as white as snow.

“Please, let’s not manhandle our guests,” he calls out to the group of Peacekeepers herding you into the center of the room, and they back away, taking up posts on the surrounding walls. Their message is clear: you are not permitted to leave. 

You reach up to rub at the place where, only moments before, your arm had been kept in an iron grip when the door to the room flings open again, the remainder of the victors stumbling in. Teff comes first, ripping his bicep from the man beside him upon entrance, followed by Hector, Antonia, and Octavian, who seem more contained. Last is Treech, a newly formed bruise beginning to darken the area around his eye, and your father's hat held delicately in his hand, fingers pinched around the rim. He keeps his gaze fixed on the floor but lifts his head upon hearing your stifled gasp. 

“Come, make yourselves comfortable. I don’t bite, I promise.” The man at the front of the room speaks with a placating tone and words meant to dulcify, but he smiles like a wolf. No one moves.

“Let’s try this again. Sit down.” From behind you, you can hear the Peacekeepers beginning to shuffle from their stations, inching forward. Octavian is the first to budge. He takes a tentative step in the direction of the couch before nodding at Antonia and Hector, who follow close behind. You look to Teff and then to Treech, only a few feet away from him, still holding your father’s hat. The former surveys the room once before giving you a slow nod, and you move to sit. They file in behind you, Trawl quick on their heels, and the four of you occupy a single corner of the couch being sure to leave room for Lux and Beau. As he slides into the seat next to yours, Treech tenderly sets the hat atop your lap, and you mouth a subtle thank you that he leaves unacknowledged.

“Much better.” The man before you grins, and out of the corner of your eye, you see a look of recognition pass across Treech’s face.

“So glad you could all join us.” He claps his hands together before clearing his throat to begin.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering what you’re doing here, and I want to assure you that in spite of the worries you expressed on the train, we are not going to kill you.” A chill passes down your spine at his implication: they had been watching you.

“See, you represent a new beginning. The birth of a different kind of Games. A better kind of Games.” A wave of confusion seems to pass over the lot of you. Though it is more like anxiety, and you feel a bit like you are drowning in it.

“Now, last year, well, that was quite the mess,” he says, nodding to Treech as though they are in on some sort of joke together. Your stomach turns. 

“But the important thing is, we learned something: the people of the Capitol need someone to care about. To root for, if you will. Which means it’s time for a new way of thinking.” He pauses as though for dramatic effect, and you can’t help but think his speech feels practiced. Had he smiled this morning, delivering his death knell to the bathroom mirror?

“Right now, the Games, they make people sad, uncomfortable even. Too much humanity, not enough spectacle.” Beside you, Treech tenses. “There is nothing commodifiable about the current structure. But if, say, we were to place a higher value on the victors and make you celebrities of sorts, then this blight becomes an honor.” The nine faces before him appear as though they are sculpted from stone; he clears his throat before continuing.

“And how, you may ask, do we plan to do that? Well, starting this year, the past victors will be in charge of mentoring the children from your districts.” Here, there is some breakage. Anger, plain and simple, seeping through the masks. Antonia begins to speak.

“Fuck no–”

“I’m not finished, thank you. Now, this will come with an array of new challenges. There will, of course, be interviews to prepare them for, something you obviously have no experience with, as well as a tribute parade.” Your nose crinkles in disgust as the sole image your mind conjures is last year’s tributes chained to a flatbed truck, Brandy’s dead body swaying from a crane above them. Brandy, who you knew. Who was only one year younger than you. Who had a talent for soothing any creature with which she came in contact and who cried for three days the first time she killed a hog.

“And you will be in charge of organizing sponsorships once they are in the arena, networking, and such. But not to worry, each of you will be given an escort from the Capitol, someone to help you navigate the trickier aspects of the job. And you will not go unrewarded either. Starting this year, victors will be granted financial compensation as well as eventual housing in a Victor’s Village, which will be put up in each of your home districts. Still, we will need to begin with a sort of reintroduction to teach the public what your new role as a victor is, and–”

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, so quiet you think no one hears.

“Excuse me?” The man’s gaze is icy cold, like a knife to the chest.

“That’s– That’s not fair. What about the kids in 12? 8? 6 and 5? If you do this, the same people will win every year.” You stare back, and when your hands begin to shake, you hide them beneath your thighs.

“I don’t typically give lessons in power for free; you should be grateful.”

“You’re evil.” And it is not a question. You are certain.

“Not evil, just practical.”

“The Capitol hates us, they think we’re scum. They’ll never get behind this,” Treech offers from beside you, and you see it on him, the mark of last year's Games. The toll they took.

“If the citizens of the Capitol think we care, they will too. I’ll put you on television with the goddamned President if I have to. This will work.”

“What if we won’t do it?” Teff demands, his voice low, tinged with a warning.

“You have a family, do you not?” The man asks, and the threat pools in his eyes, but he voices it anyway. “Would you like to continue having a family?” It is quiet for a moment, and the weight of his words feels heavier than anything you’ve ever carried in your life.

“We were supposed to be done. We won our Games,” It is Hector who speaks this time, rising from his seat. He pauses for a moment, then raises his brow as though in a challenge. “Well, I don’t have any family. Not anymore. Not thanks to this bullshit fucking system, so you know what? I think I’ll pass.” From beside him, Antonia claws at his arm, a pleading look in her eyes. It is too late. The man with the white hair nods, and two of the Peacekeepers on the back wall step forward. 

“That’s too bad. He can go.” They are on Hector in a matter of seconds, but they do not make for the door; instead, they seize him, one on each arm, and turn towards the hallway, splitting off from the large central room. Several victors move to stand, with Trawl and Octavian making an attempt to follow, but they are swiftly restrained, and you sit in silent shock as the sounds of Hector’s struggle become distant. A door slams. Then, a gunshot. After that, it is quiet. Your limbs feel stiff, frozen even. From your other side, Lux releases a stifled sob. Somewhere in the distance, you hear Teff throw up.

“Anyone else have any concerns they wish to voice?” It’s as though you have all stopped breathing.

“Wonderful. We’ll begin in the morning. You’ll each have a team here to prepare you for the press tour. Your rooms are numbered by district. Be ready at 5:00 am sharp. I’d hate to have any more incidents.”

“So, we’re trapped here?” You speak again, though the sound of your own voice comes as a shock. The man only sighs.

“This is not a prison, no. Though we would prefer you not leave the premises–” You don’t give him time to finish, making a hasty exit through the door where you came in.

“Just make sure she doesn’t leave the building,” he sighs with a haphazard wave of his hand in your direction.

You are at the bar when Treech finds you, two glasses of Posca deep.

He hadn’t meant to go looking for you, really, only to clear his head and get away from that room. Shortly after your departure, two men had entered with a stretcher and left only minutes later with it full, the vague outline of a body visible beneath a white linen sheet. He had followed them out and then quickly abandoned their company at the prospect of sharing their elevator, instead descending the stairs. From the 32nd floor. And there you were, right as the door to the lobby opened, hat on the bar and your eyes fixed on something he wasn’t sure was really there.

“No hard liquor here. At least not for us,” you huff, slumping in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. 

“And don’t bother asking for the bottle either. They’ll just give you one of these. Nothing more dignified than drowning my sorrows in a glass that costs more than my mother’s house,” you wave a limp hand at the ornate flute before you, doing little to disguise the biting sarcasm in your tone.

“I’ll take what she’s having,” Treech mutters to the man behind the bar, though he keeps his eyes fixed on the counter, unwilling to bear the weight of the curious gaze being pressed upon the pair of you.

“Do you remember them, the other tributes?” You ask suddenly, as though the thought had been clouding your mind for hours.

“The other victors?” You shake your head.

“No. The other kids in the arena.” Treech freezes for only a moment, caught off guard, but it’s enough time for the truth to plaster itself across his face. Every day.

“Sure.” You don’t say anything, only sit patiently, waiting for him to continue. “There was– There was Lamina; she was from home.” I watched her die. I sat by and did nothing. “And there was Coral and Mizzen; they were from 4. And the youngest. She was from 8. Had these hearts made of buttons on her pants. Wovey, I think. From 12, there was Lucy Gray, the girl who sang. Reaper, he was the last to die. I killed him. Killed the girl from 3, too. Teslee.”

He feels his voice begin to waver and opts to stop talking. You sit in silence for a moment, trading quiet nods with the bartender as he returns with Treech’s drink.

“Rye.”

“Sorry?” Treech asks, still lost in the memories of his fellow tributes.

“He was the youngest. He had these eyes just like my kid brother, big and sad. He just stood there, I remember, when the games started. The boy from 2 killed him; just walked up and broke his neck. Couldn’t have been that hard; he was so small. But he looked so surprised like he hadn’t known it was coming, even after he hit the ground.” Treech thinks he might be sick, and beside him, the color has drained from your face.

“Twenty-four kids every year, and we’ll have front-row seats to all of it. The people in the districts, in the Capitol, they’ll forget, let a name or two slip, but we’ll see them all. Watch them train, see their interviews, pick them apart in hopes of a weakness.” Treech downs his glass in one go before signaling to the bartender he needs a refill. You push your flute in the same direction, looking the District 7 boy up and down as though you’d never given him too much thought before.

“I never envied you. The way the Capitol dragged you through the streets for all those funerals, put you behind bars in a fuckin’ zoo, had you play nice and pleasant before sending you off to slaughter. At least ours was quick. Picked us all up on the train, threw us in the back of a truck, and then dumped us in the arena. Nobody knew who we were. Nobody wanted to.” You break off in a laugh that is brittle and unforgiving.

“Maybe it’ll be better this way. I’m in the market for a new job. Turns out you’re no good at chopping trees when you can barely hold an axe anymore,” Treech jokes, but the smile on his face does not reach his eyes.

“They–” but you are quick to pause, halting mid-sentence as though contemplating continuing. You exhale softly before clearing your throat and lifting your eyes once more to meet his. 

“They had to fire me.” Treech’s brows lurch forward in confusion, creating two dimples in the flesh just above his nose. 

“At the slaughterhouse,” you supply. “They had to fire me. I couldn’t– I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t kill anything. The Peacekeepers, they just wanted me gone. I’m pretty sure they would have just gotten rid of me too, you know, set an example, but I knew the guy who ran the place. I used to give his daughter art lessons. He made a call, and I got transferred. Started working as a ranch hand instead.” You stop, and for a moment, Treech thinks you’ve finished.

“I kept thinking they were him. I would pick up the knife, and suddenly, it was like I was back in the arena, watching him die.” The last part came out in a whisper.

“They say what I did to that kid; they say it was mercy. A mercy kill. But I still killed him, and he’s still dead. And I have never stopped thinking about it.” You clear your throat once more and cast your gaze down, hoping to disguise the tears collecting in your eyes. Treech takes notice. He remembers a conversation not two months prior with his mother. The way his voice shook as he spoke. About the games. About the other tributes. He recalls the twisted expression of discomfort she bore, the pity, and above all, his own anger at feeling helpless. Wounded.

“Art lessons? You paint?” Relief, instant and undisguised, etches itself across your features. 

“Draw, mostly. Charcoal, pencil, anything easy to come by. I was gonna be a veterinarian before– Well, you know. I was practicing for scientific sketches, but I just sort of fell in love with the way they moved– animals.”

“You have a favorite?”

“Horses are the hardest. Cows– they’re soft, like people. Some people, I guess. I saw a fox once, little gray thing, sleeping in the grass. I think maybe I liked that one the best. My mom used to say it was good luck, a fox crossing your path. Though, I can’t imagine how. That– That was the day before my reaping.”

You sit in silence for a moment before Treech speaks again.

“You lived. Maybe that was it: the good luck.”

“Sometimes I wish I hadn’t. Like maybe everyone else got out easy, and here we are still living in a nightmare.”

“It won’t be like this forever,” he whispers, but it’s as though he’s pleading with some higher power that it might be true. “It can’t be.”

“Wake up, Treech. This is it for us. They are gonna drag us out here every year to flounce around the capitol, parading new kids to their deaths– or worse, whatever this is, the horrible aftermath–”

“There’ll be new mentors. New winners–”

“Yeah, in 1 and 2 and maybe 4. Don’t you get it? We’re the runt districts. We’ll be lucky if we see another Victor in the next twenty-five years,” Treech swallows hard, willing his mouth to stop tasting so dry; he can feel his heart in the pit of his stomach. “Maybe you ran with the pack in your games, but things are gonna change. Look around. They already are.”

#treech #treech fanfiction #treech thg #treech x reader #treech tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #hunger games #district 7 #x reader #thg #no evil angel but love #neabl

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

HIS BELLADONA PT.3 treech x mentor reader Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3

But before I could continue, several peacekeepers roughly grabbed Treech and Lamina and dragged them into a waiting van.,, Hey stop dragging them like that, you're going to hurt them, let them go, they'll go on their own." I yelled at the peacekeeper and shoved him. ,, Hey what are you doing what do you think you're doing you stupid girl.” he yelled back at me but stopped when he realized who I was. Even though my father was a violent drunk, he was still one of the peacekeepers in the Capitol.,, I'm sorry Miss Belladon I..." I cut him off sharply, "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to" I said and pointed at tribute. The man very reluctantly apologized and encouraged the rest of the tributes to get into the car themselves. I wondered where they were going to take them, but before I could come to an opinion, someone quickly grabbed my hand and pulled me into the car. It was Coriolanus, I gave him a confused look, but before I could say anything the truck door closed and the whole truck started moving. Only now did I realize that everyone was staring at Coriolanus and me.,, What happened, doves, you are in the wrong cage." asked a tall boy, I think his name was Reaper. "No this cage is delightful." answered Coryo with irony in voice. However, the tributes didn't like that and Reaper came after us. He slammed us both against the wall and I let out a mad scream as the wall dug right into my wounds with stitches from last night. The scream obviously shocked everyone, so much so that Reaper let go of me.,, Leave her alone.....please." Coriolanus defended me.,, If I were you, I would worry about myself first," Reaper snapped back. "He's right we'll kill you first and then we'll have some fun with this capitol girl." added another boy I think it's Tanner. "Please Reaper, Tanner don't hurt him we just wanted to help you." I rasped. Both boys looked at me with disbelief in their eyes.,, How do you know our names." Tanner blurted out.,, I remember most of your names, how else should I call you Hey you from the tenth district." I replied trying to get up from floors.,, Prove it." someone else blurted out again.,, Okay so you're Coral, Tanner, Dill, Reaper, Brandy, Jessup, Lucy Gray, Mizzen, Lamina, Marcus, Bobbin, Wovey.....and finally my tribute to Treech." I finished a very long monologue. All the tributes looked at me like I was crazy. "Why did lumberjack and songbird get mentors?" Coral exclaimed angrily. "You all got them but only the two of us came earlier." Coryo answered her. "I think the two of us got the best trainers what do you think songbird," Treech said after a while, looking at Lucy Gray who just giggled. Her laughter quickly faded as the floor below us tilted.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas x reader #treech tbosas #treech #treech x reader #treech x mentor reader #the hunger games x reader #thg series #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo snow #capitol #lucy gray baird #love #his belladona #sejanus plinth #lamina #reaper ash

[faithisasuperstar]

hi! i literally love your treech fics so much! do you think you could write a treech x mentor!reader where she goes to see him at the zoo the night before the games (a bit like coryo and lucy gray)?

kiss of life → treech

treech!tbosas x reader

notes → in which love and life are fleeting as you say your final goodbye to treech. (i stole dialogue directly from the book for this LOL)

warnings → not edited & uploaded via iphone.

     “treech?” you whispered out into the dark. faint hints of moonlight peeked in through the clouds, becoming the only source of illumination in the pitch black of the night. falteringly, you crept closer to the bars of the monkey house, eyes scanning for a sight of your tribute you had grown rather fond of.

     “y/n,” he answered, and you followed the sound of his voice, which had turned far more gravelly since the last time he had spoken to you. once you had located him, you scampered over to the boy, eyes lighting up.

     “thank goodness you’re okay,” you cried, placing a hand to his face. you hadn’t gotten to see him after the explosion in the arena, and you wanted to make sure that he was alright. “gosh, i can’t believe they’re still making you go in there tomorrow!” tense, heavy air settled between the two of you.

     “i’ll be alright. me and the pack got a plan,” he reassured you as your fingers snuck into his hair, which had become rather matted since his arrival in the capitol.

     “just… don’t trust them too much. keep a good distance, please. i have a feeling they’re just going to use you.” you cautioned him, voice unsteadied by worry. the pair from four scared you the most. they had fierce determination in levels you had never witnessed before. while it was admirable, it was rightfully daunting.

     “thank you. for what you’ve done for me. i really have a chance now, ‘cause of you.” although his expression was blank, you could see in his eyes that he meant what he had said. pangs of guilt struck you, as you felt there was so much more you could have done for him. nonetheless, a tender smile made its way across your face.

     “it’s my job. i can’t let you die in there, you mean too much to me.. not just as my tribute, but you. you matter to me. you’re the most incredible boy i’ve ever met.” you confessed, eyes beginning to brim with salty tears, devastated that you would have to part with him when the night came to an end.

     “don’t cry over me, y/n. especially because i’m going to win. for you.” treech promised with certainty. the immense wholeheartedness of his tone brought you an ounce of optimism, and you couldn’t help but add on.

     “i’ll be there in the arena with you. we’ll win together. and once you’re announced victor and i get the plinth prize, i can buy you and your family a way into the capitol,” you suggested. a rather farfetched idea, but desperation and maybe even love had clouded your vision and infiltrated your thoughts. you shouldn’t allow your fantasies to get the best of you, but they all seemed too real as treech became an honest contender to win the tenth annual hunger games. he humored your idea, even though it may not have been possible, as he reached for your hand, squeezing it firmly. his calloused palm, having seen years of labor and hardships, juxtaposed against your softer one. the feeling truly highlighted the difference in your upbringing compared to his own. never had your living conditions led you to have to get a job, or even consider it. you couldn’t imagine having to do so for years in order to make ends meet. it hurt you that treech was not able to make the most of his childhood.

     you and treech had come a long way since the first time you had met him at the zoo. two weeks may not have been that long of a time, but it seemed like an eternity to the two of you, as each day you grew closer to the boy. he seemed to warm up to you more and more with each gift and lingering touch you had left him. originally, treech was quite cautious of you. he didn’t think he could trust you, knowing you were capitol, supposedly endorsing the very systems that wanted to kill him, while still claiming to want to help him. but over the course of the twelve days treech had spent in the capitol, more vulnerable than ever, he realized that not every citizen there had as much ill intent as he once believed, or at least, you didn’t. you too discovered that the district people were not at all like the animals your family made them out to be. they were humans, like yourself. of course, you had been wary when your parents made claims of the district people drinking blood and turning to means of savagery, but it had always lingered in the back of your mind. that was, until you met your tribute. the boy like quality of his aura diminished any doubt you had left of the children being bestial, replaced by guilt that you had ever felt that way in the first place.

     as his hands entwined with yours, you managed to slip your silver bracelet onto his wrist, something you had been waiting for the perfect time to do. treech looked at you with confusion. “it’s my good luck charm,” you explained, as he inspected the jewelry. “it may just be like a placebo effect or something, but it helps me feel better. i want you to have it. as a loan. you can return it to me once you win the games.” you claimed, ever so confident of your statement.

     “you’re all i’m going to think about in there.” treech admitted. in that moment, your temptations overcame you, and you gave into the desire to kiss the boy. sure, it was rather uncomfortable for the both of you, necks strained as you both tried to reach the other through the bars, but none of that mattered the moment his lips met yours. the feeling alone sent sparks through your body. you felt reenergized, now more than ever as his kiss breathed new purpose into you. when he pulled away, you were left hungry for more.

     “we can pick this back up after the games,” treech promised you, giving you one last knowing glance before the two of you parted ways. the games would commence, but underneath all of your anxiousness, a flicker of hope had sparked.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #tbosas #thg #thg x reader #tbosas x reader #treech tbosas x reader #treech #treech x reader #treech thg x reader #treech thg #treech tbosas #thg fanfiction #tbosas fanfiction

[mirrorsmoonlight]

☆ ~ giving you some sugar

pairings: victor!treech x mentor!reader summary: your love language is gift giving and now that treech won the games you feel like showing him how much he means to you warnings: fluff, reader takes care of their bbg, gn!reader, this is before they’re in an established relationship, they want each other so bad but they’re oblivious to each others feelings, second person, reader uses pet names, treech ditches his hat (just for today :0), in this they’re still in the capitol

the last few weeks for treech were hell. if getting reaped wasn’t enough then the humiliating treatment he gotten from the capitol citizens definitely was. killing his pride, and leaving a broken shell of the man that he was before.

and when he was announced as victor he was almost grateful, but the overbearing amount of blood on his hands left him unable to fully embrace that feeling.

that’s how you found him when you entered the infirmary. eyes glassed, as he was unable to pull his gaze off his hands even as the surrounding nurses patched up his injuries.

you waited until they were finished, patiently with the clean stacks of clothes held in your arms. you strode towards him, gently placing the clothes on the spot next to him before gently cupping his cheeks.

“hey,” your eyes scanned every part of his face, taking in the scratches ranging from small to large on his cheeks to the sheen of dirt mixed with sweat illuminating his face, “ ‘re you with me sweetheart?”

his eyebrows crinkled as he squinted, trying to get a clear view of you as tears began to pool in his eyes. the intensity of the situation leaving him exhausted and willing to take comfort from anyone at this point, anyone that would hold him.

you let him grip onto your waist, burying his head onto your chest as your hands rested on the back of his head. staying silent as you let him release all his anguish and anger of everything he was forced to do to survive.

once his sobs turned into sniffles you brought your lips down to meet with the mess of his hair, before cupping his face again so he could look at you. “after you bathe i brought these for you to get changed into,” his clothes were stained with a mix of dirt, sweat and blood, “you haven’t gotten the comfort of a shower for weeks. and i assumed you wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing this any longer, like you had for the past weeks.”

the words were stuck in his throat, so he resorted to an affirmative nod. “ ‘kay let’s get you in the bath then.”

-

he didn’t know the last time he was this clean; his skin and curls lacking the dirtiness it held before, smelling rich from the expensive suds he lathered them with. his wet fingertips grasped the softness of the towel, removing the dripping water from his skin before lathering himself with the lavender scented lotion you left with the rest of his things.

once his skin was left moisturized and soft he pulled on the fresh undergarments, before pulling on the black pleated slanted pocket pants. uncapping the deodorant and smoothing it on his underarms before pulling the white dress shirt on and buttoning it.

the creak of the door opening brought your eyes away from your book, your eyes widening once you saw him. “feel like that shower stripped me a whole new identity,” a tiny smile appearing on his face as he made his way towards you.

in return a smile was brought to yours, dropping your book into your tote before coming up to him to brush away stray curls hanging infront of his forehead. “you do look good,” you looked into his eyes, that just moments prior were red and puffy, “i’ll have to keep you close to me, don’t want anyone stealing you since you were mine first.”

-

the capitol’s streets were packed tight as you two walked through the shopping strip, having to grab onto his hand to make sure he wasn’t whisked away. your eyes widening as you spotted the shop you’d planned to take him to.

the sound of the bell ringing overhead echoed through the bare space of the store, alerting the shop owner of your arrival. “oh (name), i didn’t expect you to come back too soon,” her attention later drawn by the man on your side, “and you brought a handsome young man with you, never thought i would see the time.”

you ignored the teasing comment she shot your way and smiled as you introduced him, “this is treech, he was the tribute i mentored.” her eyes crinkled as she smiled, gesturing for us to get closer, “treech from district 7, so your the man they’ve been yapping about.”

an embarrassed blush washed over your face, treech looking back at you in shock almost like he couldn’t believe it. a laugh pouring out of the lady’s - your aunt’s - mouth as she watched the two of you.

“auntie, you promised you wouldn’t tell,” you looked at her, betrayal mixed with the blush on your face. “it’s okay, guess no one is able to resist my charm,” you were too focused on your embarrassment to realize just after he’d found out a smirk played itself on his face. reminding you of the charm he’d displayed to gain the favor of the capitolites watching the games.

you pushed his shoulder at his comment, but his playful smile made your eyes shine with fondness - happy you were able to distract him from the dark thoughts that’ll haunt him later. “yeah yeah, you’re irresistible now let’s get what we came for.”

“what you came for,” his head tilted towards you with a knowing look, “all i’ve been doing was following you around, in these unfortunately good-looking dress clothes.”

“what i came for to get you,” you rolled your eyes before taking his hand to lead him to the jewelry section.

you scanned the jewelry adoring the shelves and table top before grasping the the macrame bracelet holding multiple spheres of tigers eye. turning towards him with it hidden between your palms.

“can you guess what it is,” your eyebrows raised up as you challenged him. his eyebrows furrowing before he shrugged, “i’m not too caught up in the materialistic goods capitolites indulge themselves in. but since we’re in the jewelry section i assume it’s a product produced by district 1?”

a frown overtook your face but you continued nonetheless, “well yes, it is a piece of jewelry but no it wasn’t produced by district 1.”

you uncapped your hands to reveal the bracelet, setting it down in his palm to let him mull over what might’ve been the reason for this sudden present. but when he looked at it, it stole his breath. something that only his name getting picked in the reaping had done.

it was a bracelet that held tiny beads of tigers eye; a crystal that aids in releasing fear and anxiety, promoting mental clarity, heals the emotional body and produces insight into internal conflicts. he remembered you telling him about it when he’d asked, when you’d visited him to bring him food.

“seeing how interested you were when you first saw it i asked my aunt if i could take one for you,” you loosened the ties of the bracelet so it’s opening was big, so he could slip his hand inside. his eyes gleaming like the crystal that now sat on his wrist as he admired the piece.

“it’s also good because i know despite you arising as the victor, you’ve been dealing with a lot mentally too,” you paused as he looked up into your eyes. seeing him so vulnerably open as if now you’d broken every obstacle that kept you from seeing the true him, “so, i wanted you to have it. i wanted you to atleast have one good thing from the capitol.”

his hands clasped with yours - more intimately than it’s ever been before, as if the tigers eye was already bringing clarity to his mind. him now able to see how much you meant to him.. - for a few seconds before he cupped your check, “the second good thing. nothing materialistic could ever take your place.”

you paused momentarily out of shock before breaking out into a tearful smile, “yeah?” he shook his head up and down into a nod, “yeah.” at that you leaned in, placing your plush lips on his chapped ones. lips moving fervently until slowing to feel him smiling into the kiss, yeah he could get used to this.

you spent almost a month together, who said you couldn’t spend a few more?

-

a/n: the first time i’ve written something that’s not sad! i wanted to get it out of my drafts as soon as possible cause winter break is coming to an end :(

#🪓. lumberjack #🕊️🐍. tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #hunger games #tbosas #tbosas x you #tbosas imagine #tbosas x reader #treech tbosas #district 7 #the hunger games x reader #hunger games imagine #the hunger games x you #treech x reader

[imsofuckingdonewiththisgoddamn]

When Our Stars Cross Paths; IV Treech x Mentor!Reader

Pairing: Treech x Mentor!Reader

Word Count: 1.71k

Warnings: Swearing, Violence

Sweet Angels🪻: @nemesii @mrsyixingunicorn10 @chmpgneprblem @thxmiss @storiesofmyhead @valdezsttuff @nekee-lilac02 @shykittycat @aceofspades190

🎬Mood boards🎬

Let the record show that you went above and beyond as a mentor.

That was the first thought to pass through your mind as the heavy doors of the van were slammed shut by oblivious peacekeepers, trapping you and Coriolanus in a confined space with around a dozen tributes who wanted you dead.

You kept your eyes fixed at a point on the floor towards the opposite end of the van, scared of what—or rather who you would see if you lifted your gaze. Not that you would be able to blame them. Had you been in their position, you would’ve jumped at the opportunity to seek revenge.

If Coriolanus was as unsettled as you were, he did a damn good job of hiding it. Straightening his posture, he brushed off the dust that had accumulated on his vermillion Academy uniform. While he may have had the confidence, he stuck out like a sore thumb and you were suddenly very grateful for having chosen against such a conspicuous outfit. Coming to the conclusion that you were just as safe, if not more safe than Coriolanus, due to having introduced yourself and offered food to several of the tributes you were currently riding with, you allowed your eyes to slowly lift from the dirty metal floor of the van. Unfortunately for you, the spot where you had previously been fixating at had been right where Treech was standing, with your eyes suddenly meeting as your gaze ascended from the floor. His arm was hanging onto the railing that ran along the length of the van, and his eyes bore into you the same way they had when you had slapped him minutes prior. Behind him you could see a little girl who you believed to be Wovey from District eight. Your few tedious moments of tension were broken by Coriolanus clearing his throat, an action that brought the rest of the tributes attention towards the two of you. If they hadn’t been staring already.

“Hi.” It was barely audible, but the echo of the van carried the single word and let it hang in anticipatory silence. Your face cringed at t he sound of if. Here you two were, a couple of rich Capitol kids who had waltzed into a vehicle with a bunch of exhausted kids who were being held like prisoners, and he was acting like it was some sort of field trip.

“What’s the matter, Pretty Boy? Got in the wrong cage?” The boy from District eleven, Reaper spoke up from where he stood at the opposite end of the van, next to Treech. Clemmie had been assigned as his mentor and had been more than pleased when it was announced, and you could see why. The boy was by far the biggest out of everyone in the van and stood well past six feet tall, with huge shoulders and a square jaw permanently shaped into a scowl, he was downright terrifying.

“No, not at all. This cage is delightful.” It was an awful attempt at clearing the tension, but you had to give your classmate credit for having the balls to make such a statement.

Reaper, however, didn’t appreciate the boy’s comment and suddenly lurched forward, making great strides across the van from where he formerly stood next to Treech. Before you knew it, the dark skinned boy had Coriolanus pressed up against the wall of the vehicle, his large hands fisting the material of his Academy coat.

The van suddenly came to life with action, with variously tributes egging on Reaper to kill Coriolanus. Exceptionally happy for the sudden opportunity to retaliate in the violence that was being imposed upon them.

“Get him Reaper!” You could hear a boy urging from somewhere behind you. Coriolanus’s formerly collected facade was quickly falling apart at the realization of his probable imminent death, his hands desperately reaching out in a feeble attempt to push the much larger boy off of him.

“I’ll kill you right now.” Reaper growled as he somehow managed to push Coriolanus further into the wall. You didn’t take Reaper as someone who was all bark and no bite, and was nearly certain he would go through with his threat if there was no immediate intervention.

“He’ll do it.” A raspy voice piped up from next to you—Dill, Reaper’s district partner. “He killed a peacekeeper back in eleven. They never found out who did it.” The young girl smirked a bit after the past comment, before a cough came over her and she was sent into a fit.

“Quiet Dill.” Reaper turned around only long enough to reprimand the younger girl, but his scolding had already brought all eyes towards Dill, which subsequently brought attention to you.

“Looks like Pretty Boy came with a friend.” Tanner, the boy from District ten, whistled out. He was Domitia’s tribute, and you had been severely disturbed by his reaping, where his hands had been shown to be bloody from what you hoped was a morning at the slaughterhouse. While now there was only faint traces of blood buried underneath his fingernails, the taller boy still wore a particularly wicked grin on his face as he slowly approached you, eyes never leaving yours. You subconsciously took a few steps back, your body now flush against the cold metal wall alongside Coriolanus. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in here?” Tanner’s question might have been phrased more nicely than Reaper’s, but it was still laced with the same tone of anger and vengeance. Your petrified eyes left Tanner’s unnerving gaze, and you peered over his shoulder, to shaken to answer the District ten boy. Treech’s eyes were also fixed on you, but in a way that was much more contemplative and pensive, as if he was debating on whether or not he should intervene. However, much to your shock it wasn’t Treech nor Coriolanus who came to your rescue. It was Lamina.

The sullen girl had slipped from her spot beside Treech without anyone noticing and moved to stand between you and Tanner, acting as a barrier to protect you despite her obvious shaking. Lucy Gray also made herself known, appearing from her spot deep in the van to approach Reaper, a silence falling over the riled up tributes as the girl spoke up.

“You got family back home?” The question was obviously intended for Reaper and Tanner, but she looked around the van as if her question was pointed towards all of them.

“They’ll kill them if you hurt either of them, and then they’ll kill you.” Lucy Gray spoke as if it were obvious, and the realization seemed to set in on the two boys and they thankfully backed away towards their respective district partners. Lamina let out a sigh of relief, her hands still shaking in little balled fists. You were in awe at her bravery, not only for confronting a much larger tribute, but also that she did it for you, someone who was virtually a stranger.

“Besides, I might need him, being my mentor and all.” The last part caused Coriolanus’s gaze to immediately shift to Lucy Gray, as if he was shocked that she was coming to his defense.

“Mender? How come you get a mender?” A girl with a bright red bob, Coral, interrogated from her corner of the van.

“A mentor.” Coriolanus corrected, he was always a stickler when it came to grammar and pronunciation. Something that could annoy you to no end when he went of his rants during class. “Each of you get one, to help guide you throughout the games.”

“And were supposed to trust you on that?” Coral retorted, unimpressed with the boy’s answer. “Why does Little Miss Rainbow get special treatment?” The redheaded girl pointed an accusatory finger at Lucy Gray, as if she was responsible for her mentor’s shortcomings. You made a mental reminder to warn Festus, Coral’s mentor, on how much of a firecracker she was before he could meet her for himself. You were near certain he would pleased though, feisty types tended to fare well in the games. Getting her to entertain the Capitol however, would be a different battle.

“She doesn’t get special treatment, you all have mentors.” Coriolanus reiterated, clearly still on edge from his close encounter with Reaper. “Then why aren’t they here?” This time Bobbin, a boy from District eight spoke up, clearly interested in the prospect of having a mentor.

“Just not inspired, I guess.” Lucy Gray added, a smirk forming on her face. She must’ve known her performance at the Reapings had garnered her mentor’s attention. You felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Little did she know that only a few moments before her singing, Coriolanus had already given up any hope of her winning.

“Who does she belong to?” Tanner inquired, although he had backed a few feet away, his stare had never broken away from you. He slightly licked his lips which was already enough to make you shudder. What was his deal?

“Back of ten.” Your eyes suddenly moved towards the voice, landing on the tall frame of Treech, who had let go of his railing and was moving closer towards Tanner. “You got lucky Lumberjack, I’m honestly a bit jeal-”

Tanner didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Because before you knew it, the van jerked, knocking everyone to the ground in a wave on shock and confusion. Lamina landed on top of you, which surprisingly didn’t hurt due to her being much smaller. She quickly moved off of you with a soft apology as everyone tried to regain their balance. However, another lurch sent everyone tumbling onto the floor once again. This time you landed next to Treech, your head falling against his chest as the floor started sloping, sending the piles of tributes and mentors into the metal doors with a slam. You tried to raise your head from Treech’s chest to get a grasp as to what was happening, but his arm reached out to wrap around you, holding you in place against his body. Before you could fight against him the metal doors of the van suddenly jutted open, dumping everyone out, and sending them falling towards the ground below.

A/N

We are Lamina stans here!!! Love to see Treech’s protectiveness as well, so stay prepared for that in coming chapters! Hopefully I will be able to post another chapter in the next day or two!

XOXO

#district 7 #tbosas #the hunger games #thg #thg series #treech tbosas #treech x reader #clemensia dovecote #coriolanus snow #hunger games x reader #lamina #tbosas x reader #sejanus plinth #sejanus deserved better #lucy gray baird #lysistrata vickers #jessup diggs #mizzen #reaper ash #tbosbas #tbosbas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[whenykyk]

Fate

Chapter II

Treech tbosas X fem mentor! Reader

The next day at around 10 AM you and Coriolanus stood at the train station waiting for the tributes to arrive. Coriolanus was holding a white Rose and looking deep into thought as he stared at the Rose.

“Are you nevrous?”

“No, I believe i might have some luck with her. The way she sang showed me she’s a performer…they make the best spectacles which means my odds of winning the plinth prize are not too bad.” He said in a nonchalant tone.

You where genuinely shocked to hear your dear friend speak about her as if the only reason she mattered was so he can succeed.

“Well, what about her well being?”

“What about it?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“I- well…it’s just…they are so much more than just spectacles for entertainment Coryo…they’re children just like us. The youngest of them is 12 and the oldest is 18. Imagine if the roles where reversed and your mentor cared only for his success and not for your salvation.”

“They’re district. They’re filth.”

You where shocked to hear your friend, your Coryo, to speak about the districts in such a way. He’s friends with Sejanus and this is how he views districts? How could he possibly be friends with Sejanus who is from a district himself but have these views?. It had you thinking. What if Coryo sees Sejanus as filth? What if it’s all and act? Is this why he lies so much? You where so confused…never did you think this is how Coryo viewed them…maybe even viewed Sejanus…

“They’re here.”

You shifted your attention to the tributes coming out of the trains as Coriolanus went to go look for Lucy Gray. You looked around till you saw him. Treech looked much different in person. His eyes where a bit red and swollen, his face was contorted in a angry look. He helped his district partner get down. The poor girl looked wrecked as tears kept falling from her eyes. Regardless of her crying state and treech’s angry look you approached them.

“Hello!”

Your voice ringed out as the two shifted their attention to you. Treech looked on guard as he stood infront of Lamina.

“I’m (Y/N), your mentor!”

“Whats a mentor?”

“Well…I’m basically suppose to help you win the games.”

His face quickly turned into one of anger and disgust.

“You’re capitol?”

“Yes..”

“I don’t want your help. I dont want anything from you or anyone that has anything to do with this!”

He raised his voice and peacekeepers came over and grabbed and took him away towards a van. You knew he’d be angry but you need him to trust you. You turned your attention to a peacekeeper.

“Excuse me…where is the van taking them?”

“We cant say miss, you should leave. No one is allowed here.”

The peacekeeper walked away. As you looked back at the van you saw one of the tributes try to run away with several peacekeepers hot on his heels. You went closer to see what would happen and before you know it someone grabbed her arm and pulled you with them into the van. You fell onto the metal floor as the person wraps his arm around you pulling you into a corner. You looked up and saw it was Coriolanus who did so. As you where about to say something he put his hand over your mouth as the peacekeepers threw the tribute in the van and closed the doors. Now you where beginning to get scared. You where in a vehicle with 24 people who hate the capitol. You and Coriolanus stood up and you held his arm tightly. Everyone was staring at you and Coriolanus.

“Hi.”

Coriolanus spoke up as went more behind him.

“Whats the matter pretty boy, you two in the wrong cage?”

The district 11 male asked looking dead into Coriolanus eyes.

“No, this cage is delightful.”

The moment those words left Coriolanus mouth the 11 boy came over and held him tightly against the wall of the vehicle. You heard some tributes encourage the boy to hurt Coriolanus and that made your heart race with panic.

“I will kill you right now!”

You couldn’t just stand their as your friend was gettting threatened.

“Stop!”

Your voice rang out as everyone’s attention shifted to you.

“Don’t hurt him please…he- we don’t want any trouble!”

The girl from 4 stood up and creeped towards you.

“Whats stopping us from killing him… and you.”

“I wouldn’t do that if i where you.”

It was Lucy Gray who spoke up this time.

“If you kill either of them they’ll just kill you and your people back home…besides blondie’s my mentor, i might need him.”

“Oh yeah? And why does rainbow over here get a mender? What makes her special?”

“You all get mentors.”

“Why aren’t they here then?”

“Just wasn’t inspired i guess..”

Lucy Gray looked up at Coriolanus with a slight smirk. The district 11 boy let go of Coriolanus and he pulled you towards him. The district 10 boy spoke up.

“Who has the pleasure of being the little lady’s tribute?

“Back off ten.”

You did not expect Treech to say something. The whole time he just stared as the tributes threatened you and Coriolanus and now he wants to say something. Your thought where cut off by the vehicle jerking. Suddenly you fell to the floor along with most tributes. He hit against a firm chest and felt someone hold you. You looked and saw Treech but just as you where about to say something the door flew open and you along with everyone else fell out.

A/N: english isnt my first language y’all so lets not judge too much ALSO i really want ro make a love triangel for treech, you and Coryo lmk.

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #treech x reader #treech tbosas #lucy gray baird #fanfic #lucy gray x coriolanus #treech fanfiction #coriolanus x you #sejanus plinth #sejanus x reader