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cosmicschmidt · 5 months

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UNTIL I FOUND YOU

PART 2, PART 3

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,4K

Warnings: Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was two days ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Coriolanus Snow did not mean for this to happen.

He did not intend to have this weird tingly feeling in his chest every time he caught a glimpse of her.

He did not mean to fall for his tribute from District 12.

As he patiently sat in his seat with his heart hammering in his chest due to not knowing if he´d receive the scholarship, adrenaline and excitement ran through his veins.

Yet, that was taken from him the moment Sejanus Plinth whispered to him that that certain day he looked forward to would not turn out as he hoped.

The Plinth Prize was won by the best mentor.

Each of them has to mentor a tribute and create the best version of them, create strategies and work on their behavior in the arena.

As all the tributes are presented, their names called alongside their mentors, Coriolanus´ hands start to sweat the longer he is not told who he has to work with.

The faces of his fellow students show different emotions, some cheer in happiness at their tributes state, others are laced with worry if their tribute even manages to walk straight.

"And last but not least, the girl from District 12, Coriolanus Snow."

His eyes shoot back to the small screen, his gaze falls to the name written underneath the short clip, Y/N L/N.

"I volunteer as tribute."

The screen shows a screaming girl, around the age of 11 as she trashes in the hold of someone else´s arms, desperately trying to escape their grasp to reach the other girl.

The other girl's face is slightly blurred due to the wide angle of the camera that is following her figure, but as the picture clears up, Coriolanus can´t help but suck in a breath.

A weird feeling boils in his chest that causes his heartbeat to pick up behind his ribcage, just as he thought it couldn´t get worse a few butterflies form in his stomach causing his white tunic to suddenly feel tighter. His hands go to the collar pulling a little on the fabric to calm his heartbeat.

The tribute from 12, stepped in for the younger girl and took her fate as her own. The girl, now known as Y/N doesn´t look back at the screaming girl, she takes small steps to the stage and steps on it the moment she reaches it.

Although her hands tremble beside her body, her eyes are stern and show no emotion, successfully keeping herself from spilling the dread that formed in her chest the moment her little sister's name was called.

"What a twist! Our first ever volunteer of 12, what an honor." the 12´s mayor speaks, yet no reaction falls from the crowd at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suppose that was your sister? Sweet little thing just turned 12, but luckily she has you as her big sister." Mayor Lipp tries to create small talk, but Y/N doesn´t seem to take interest in that, her eyes boring into the camera that is fixated on her face.

Everyone that surrounds Coriolanus watches intensely and waits for her next words.

Y/N´s jaw clenches a little as her gaze wanders over her district's citizens, some laugh at her situation, while others, alongside her family have tears in their eyes and hold a hand in front of their mouths to contain a sob from spilling past their lips.

Instead of words leaving her mouth, she does a mocking and overly dramatic bend forward with her arms stretched out on each side of her body.

Just as two Peacekeepers grab a hold of her arms and pull her off the stage she yells out,

"YOU CAN ALL SUCK I-" but her words muffle due to her being pulled away.

Meanwhile, everyone around Coriolanus starts to whisper.

Some voice behind him, "Who does she think she is?"

"Imagine having to work with that, guess who won´t win the Plinth Prize.." followed by laughing.

And more to his left, "The audacity, I´m telling you she´s the first to bleed out." followed by more remarks and chuckles.

Though Coriolanus can’t feel bothered by their remarks, as he watches her being dragged away from the stage with a stern look on her face.

The blonde watches with bewilderment yet with respect for her volunteering for someone else, a small smirk forming on his face as the side of his mouth pull up a little.

* ˚ ✦

Coriolanus´ gaze is fixated on the white rose in his palms, his eyes trail over each and every flaw he can spot.

Is it pretty enough?

Or is this gesture not normal in the relationship between a mentor and their tribute?

He wonders how you might react to this act of politeness, yet before he can keep up with his thoughts he´s pulled out of it when he hears the train near the train station.

There it is, it glides against the train racks before it comes to a harsh stop with a small screech, the blonde´s eyes trail over the different train carts, wondering where the certain girl from 12 is being kept.

At least a dozen armed Peacekeepers emerge from around the station, and the first cart´s handle is grabbed forcefully and shoved open, a small girl hesitantly jumps down to the ground, before she erupts into a few coughs as if she has to catch her breath from taking a run.

She´s followed by a tall boy who wears a expression he can´t read, although his brows are furrowed and a small line forms between them. The tall male´s eyes immediately find Coriolanus due to his bloody red outfit.

The male doesn´t seem to be the only one, almost everyone that already emerged from their part of the train has their eyes on him.

He fidgets with the rose again, a shiver running down his spine and all the way to his feet and then his toes.

As some tributes are escorted to the transporter outside, Coriolanus finally spots the male tribute from District 12, he remembers his name, Jessup. With a sigh of relief, he takes a few steps to him, and finally, his eyes spot the girl he so desperately tried to find the entire time.

Jessup´s hands are securely wrapped around her waist as he picks her up and helps her out of the train so she can steady herself. She smiles up at Jessup whispers a small ´thanks´ and pats him on his upper arm before she starts to take in all her surroundings.

Although their conversation is muffled, "Are you sure your neck is fine? The bite looks painful..."

Coriolanus´ breathing stops for a second, just now he notices that no camera ever will be able to take in all her beauty, his lips part a little and he can feel his mouth running dry.

Now that Y/N dusted her clothes off and had taken a look around the train station, her eyes move to her right and are met with piercing blue orbs. Although she acknowledged him, he couldn´t help but keep staring at her, the white rose in his left hand long forgotten as it rested next to his body. Confusion dawned on her face as she looked over to Jessup who offered the same expression.

The two of them share a look with a shrug before she turns her back to Coriolanus and starts to take a few steps away from him.

The blonde seems to snap out of it and with a small shake of his head and with two steps he keeps up with her smaller ones.

"Uhm- Welcome to the Capitol." he offers her a smile and holds the rose up for her to see.

Her mouth set in a hard line while her cheeks glowed a tad bit redder than before, "You don´t look like you should be here…?" she asked unsure, her eyes still trained up at his face before they fell on the flower in his hand - which slightly started to tremble -

"Uhm, I shouldn´t, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and I´m your mentor," he adds, the smile still coating his lips as he offers her the rose again.

"Mentor?" she laughs out in disbelief after she finally takes the flower out of his trembling hand and looks at it. Jessup is standing behind her, and his face still shows the same confusion it did earlier.

"Yeah, it´s my job to help you survive the arena," Coriolanus replies, the moment she took the rose out of his grasp his hand went limp and fell back to his side.

"And how exactly-" Y/N doesn´t get the opportunity to reply to his words before someone roughly pulls on her arm and drags her forcefully to the exit of the train station.

Peacekeepers decided to cut their conversation short, they pulled her with them like she weighed nothing, "I can walk by myself perfectly fine." she said loudly before she slapped the hand that was wrapped around her biceps off.

"Wait! I´m her Mentor!" Coriolanus speaks up, yet the distance between mentor and tribute is growing with each second, and the blonde picks up his steps in order to keep up with them.

A few shouts and orders are ringing through the air, the atmosphere filled with dread and an uncomfortable tension. Outside awaits a transporter for the tributes, and like pigs they are thrown and shoved into it, ready to be taken to the slaughterhouse.

The district 12 girl's eyes are trailing behind her trying to catch a glimpse of the red that coats her so-called ´mentor´, she can´t seem to see him but his shouts still reach her ringing ears.

A small hand wraps around her right hand startling the 17-year-old girl, but she quickly relaxes when she sees the small girl from District 8, Wovey. She seems scared by the loud noises, and Y/N offers her a small smile and squeeze of the hand in order to calm her down. Y/N spots a small seat at the back right corner and leads her over to it, there´s not enough space for the both of them, so she lets Wovey take it and stands beside her.

Coriolanus´ opportunity seems to flash in front of him for a split second as a tribute tries to make a run for it, the Peacekeepers running close behind, and with three steps the blonde leaps into the back of the transporter.

He runs all the way to the back of it, before he takes a few breaths trying to tame the adrenaline that shoots through his veins, his breathing calming down from the small thrill he felt.

He straightens down his clothes, and immediately spots Y/N, hand-in-hand with the little girl, her eyes holding awe, yet mostly confusion at why he just ran after her. "What are you doing here?" she whisper-yells, in order not to attract the Peacekeeper's attention.

He can´t help but draw his lower lip between his teeth, letting his actions sink in "Yeah who the hell are you?"

"Uhm-" he starts to speak up, as the other tributes´ eyes hold anger and confusion, most of them standing up and taking a few steps closer to him, cornering him a little. The red that radiates from his red clothes alerts the others.

"I suppose he´s my mentor." Y/N quickly speaks up, her voice cutting through the tension that started to build itself.

"What the hell is a mentor? And why did you get one but we didn´t?"

"Did she get one just because she was the first to volunteer?"

Y/N opens her mouth again to reply but Coriolanus beats her to it, "No, you all get a mentor, I promise the same chances are laid out for everyone." he says with a slightly raised voice so everyone hears his words.

A few unamused chuckles emerge from the ´crowd´ that formed around him, nevertheless a tall guy grabs him by the collar and slams Coriolanus back against the wall behind him pulling a gasp from his lips.

"Don´t shit talk us, what are you doing here?! Are you here to spy on us? What sick games did you plan?!" he yells in his face, although Coriolanus is taller than him, he raises his hands in surrender in order to calm the angry tribute.

Y/N sighs and softly drops Wolvey´s hand onto the girl's lap, she takes a step forward rests her hand on the tribute´s shoulder gently yet harshly, and pushes against him.

"You get your own mentor, now drop it," she says loudly, the tributes around them purse their lips and keep looking at Coriolanus like he´s some meal they can devour.

"A Capitol´s sweetheart could be helpful, why not kill him to send a fucking message." everyone around them agrees except for Y/N and a few in the back, them equally as terrified as Coriolanus.

Coriolanus laughs at their ´plan´ and breathes out a few pained breathes due to him being pressed against the wall, however, before anyone else gets the chance to speak up, the container they are kept in starts to shake a little and then does a jump that causes everyone to lose their balance. The tribute that held the blonde up against the wall let go of him, the everyone including Coriolanus hold onto the nearest thing they could find to steady themselves.

Y/N yelps at the sudden movement that throws her forward and grabs onto Coriolanus´ right arm, the boy in question sneaks his right arm around her waist to steady her and takes hold of a handle that sticks out of the metal wall.

With a rumble and another much harsher shake of the container, the doors suddenly swing open and the place they were kept in for the past 10 minutes moves upwards, changing the position from vertical to horizontal.

A few screams erupt from the group of tributes, and everyone starts to slide out like bags of flour. Y/N yelps again and tries to hold onto Coriolanus, he manages to hold both of their weights, but Y/N´s grip on him loosens when she wiggles in his grasp.

"Wait- Y/N hold on!" he hisses out, but Y/N moves in his grasp trying to get a hold of Wovey´s hand who´s close to sliding down as well.

"Grab my hand!" she yells, but Wovey slips away, and Y/N watches the little girl and Jessup move out of her view into the unknown.

Y/N removes herself from his grasp, just as Coriolanus can´t hold them up anymore due to the shaking wagon, and they all slide into whatever the Capitol planned for them.

I might consider writing a second part! I hope you enjoyed reading this <33

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #x reader #part 2?#fanfic #hunger games x reader #finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader

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perlelune · 5 months

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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | i.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Birdsong fills your ears as you meticulously unearth the last few weeds in the soil. Careful to not damage the stems, you pull gently while barely disturbing the dirt. The last step is pruning. With ginger motions, you cut each crooked branch pointing in the wrong direction. Beads of sweat drip down from your forehead into the soil.

The heat from the sun is unforgiving today.

But you welcome the labor, even with the sweltering weather. Time flies when you spend it in the garden.

It’s a welcome distraction, the kind you’ve sorely craved as of late. Idleness does you no good. It often ends with you curled beneath your blankets, drowning in a puddle of your own tears.

Each day you wake up hoping none of it was real.

The harsh reality swiftly claims its right however.

It’s everywhere. All the painful little reminders.

The empty chair at the dinner table. All the spots he loved in the house, now desolate without him. His untouched room, lacking the messiness he usually favored.

And there’s all the times you turn, words tingling on your tongue, hoping he’ll be there to listen to you as always.

Then you remember.

Your brother can never listen to you again. And neither will you listen to him.

You’ll never hear his stupid laugh again or his crazy stories.

And your whole life you’ll turn, hoping to see him standing right there, beside you, but he will not be here.

Your grip on the shears loosen. They hit the vibrant green grass with a quiet thud.

You lift your eyes to admire your handiwork.

The garden looks nice; the flowers are thriving. The roses in particular.

They have bloomed wonderfully this year, having blushed to a gorgeous scarlet.

Your heart sinks.

If only Sejanus were here to see it. Your brother spent most of his life helping you tend to this garden. Whenever he wasn’t busy at the Academy or with the various tasks Strabo had for him, your brother was here, with you.

You both worked in silence, basking in the warmth of the sun and the pleasure of each other’s company.

The garden turns into a watercolor rainbow before you as your eyes well up with tears.

“We have company, sweetie.”

You swivel towards the familiar airy tone your mother often uses. She often emphasizes the importance of poise and decorum in every situation. Even in the current situation, your mother’s held her head high. Still, you don’t miss the subtle red rims around her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks.

Like you, she’s suffering. While you may not share blood with your family, having been adopted when you were three, your bond with your mother has always been as strong as if she gave birth to you.

Confusion has your brows collide into each other.

“Company? We weren’t expecting anyone.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, gripping your shoulders. Heartbreak flashes in her eyes, the same soulful ones as her departed son. “I’m hurting too, but you can’t hide forever.”

She cups your face and advises, “Go put on a nice dress, and wash up some. You have dirt on your face.” Disapproval pinches your mother’s features as she gauges your disheveled appearance. She sighs. "You know you don’t have to do that. This is what we have staff for."

Help. You suppose your mother refers to the Avoxes who tend to the yard sometimes. The sight of them fills you with rage and disgust.

Just one of the Capitol’s many crimes against its own people. Who would even clip someone’s tongue as punishment, then have them serve their tormentors?

It’s beyond vile and sadistic. But what else to expect from a place that openly sponsors child murder?

At times, you feel as if you’re living amongst beasts masquerading as human beings.

Still, you feign nonchalance. Some opinions cannot be voiced aloud, even to your parents. Especially to your parents.

"It calms me down," you explain, shedding your gloves and removing your wide-brimmed hat.

“Sweetie…”

She gives you yet another lecture on proper ladylike behavior. As usual, you only listen with half an ear, checking out about five minutes into her querulous spiel.

You’ve heard it at least a million times before. Still, you indulge her like the dutiful daughter you are.

She then reminds you to get dressed. You don’t have to be told twice.

You head to the back door connecting the garden to your room.

While you do as you’ve been instructed, inquiries crowd your mind. Your parents haven’t been too fond of visitors lately. Besides, what kind of company requires you to dress up?

As you head to your massive closet, you wonder who’d visit your family at such a time.

Your mother’s refrained from entertaining altogether and your father’s poured all his energy in his business, turning down most social calls.

You randomly pick a dress, a pale blue one with a sweetheart neckline, before making your way downstairs.

Faint chatter echoes from the sunroom near your father’s office. You follow the hushed voices.

Astonishment rushes through you when you realize who’s having tea with your father.

You haven’t seen him since reaping day.

“Coriolanus?” you gasp.

He stands to his full height at the sound of you calling his name. Your surprise multiplies.

He seems so…different, yet you can’t pinpoint what exactly about him elicits that impression within you. After all, he's still the same tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, dashing young man you knew before.

But something has changed. You can feel it.

Even the air around him moves in a different way, it seems.

He makes his way to you, surprising you further by grabbing your hand and brushing his lips over the back of it.

“You look lovely,” he mumbles, cobalt eyes finding yours.

Warmth rushes to your cheeks. You don’t remember Coriolanus ever being so…chivalrous.

“T-Thank you,” you stammer.

“I’ll let you two kids catch up,” your father states, nodding at the blond before taking his leave.

“How are you holding up?” the young man asks, escorting you to a nearby bench.

It occurs to you that he’s still holding your hand, his long slender fingers curled around yours. Cheeks aflame once again, you draw it back and tuck it in your lap.

Coriolanus’ brow twitches at your tiny gesture.

“I…Dad said you were the one who brought the box with his things. That was so thoughtful of you.”

A subtle smile spreads on his lips.

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it means a lot,” you insist, shaking your head. “Any part of him it’s…it’s important to keep it.”

You fidget as he studies you, his crystalline gaze unreadable.

“But you have the most important part with you all the time. In the end it’s all we have, right? Our memories.”

Your heart swells with warmth. He’s right, you surmise. After all, every memory of your brother is yours. Forever. They will never be taken away.

You’re a little taken aback though. Who knew Coriolanus Snow to be so sentimental?

“Thanks, Coryo.”

His mouth tenses at the nickname but his tight-lipped smile expands. You used to call him that when you were little, having witnessed Tigris do it. It stuck and he never corrected you.

“I missed you. I think the last time you came to our house you were like seven or eight, right?” A soft giggle leaves your lips. “Janus had to drag you there. He kept asking and you always said no.”

He shrugs.

“All the other kids were picking on him. I didn’t want to make it worse for him.”

Your voice softens. “But you never did. Pick on him I mean.” They may not have been the closest but you remembered how much it meant to Sejanus at the time, that at least one kid in his class wasn’t harassing him for being from a district. While some thought he was merely upholding the grace befitting his name and status, you believed otherwise. You’ve always been convinced that beneath the sturdy layer of indifference he drapes over himself, Coriolanus is kinder than he seems. He was kind to you after all.

He spoke to you many times, even playing with you when many other children wouldn’t. Over the years, you grew a bit apart but he’s always been sweet whenever you ran into each other.

“So, what have you been up to?” he asks, changing the subject.

You sigh. “Not much,” you admit. “Gardening, reading, going to class. The preparations for the wedding take up most of my time anyway.”

His jaw ticks as a slight crease appears on his forehead.

“A wedding? Are you helping someone plan their wedding?”

“No…It’s for my wedding actually.”

Your engagement ring glimmers, catching the sunlight as you show it to him.

Coriolanus’ frown deepens.

“You’re engaged? I didn’t realize.”

Enthusiastic, you nod. “Yeah, he’s amazing. We met at Uni. Dad doesn’t like him too much though.”

This seems to catch his interest, his head leaning sideways.

“Is that so?”

“His family’s from the districts…and Dad said his breeding will drag down to our name.”

Just saying it boils your blood. How hypocritical of your father when the Plinth house had its roots in District 2. Sometimes, it stuns you how far your father’s strayed from the plight of his own people, going as far as sponsoring and financing the barbaric practice the Hunger Games are.

Sejanus never stood for it, rightfully so.

It’s one of the many reasons you miss him. He never embraced the horrors of Panem, fighting against your father’s plans for him at every turn. In the end, it even got him killed.

“He just wants what’s best for you." He pauses, plucking your hand from your lap. His long fingers twine with yours. His tone dips, oozing concern. "I do too. You deserve the best. I hope you know that.”

A wave of emotions engulfs you. You don’t notice you’ve begun shedding tears until he reaches up to your face, using his thumbs to collect them.

You give a watery smile.

“Thank you. For everything. For the box. For coming.”

He traces your tear-stained cheek with his finger.

“I should have reached out more," he says, glistening blue eyes locking with yours.

Your hands cover his. You never expected in a million to hear such words leaving Coriolanus’ mouth. He’s always been so…aloof.

This is the kind of change you can only welcome. You often hoped Coriolanus would open himself more to others.

“It’s okay. We can catch up now. Make up for lost time," you chime.

His lips twist upward. "Right. We have all the time in the world."

Struck with the abrupt realization of your closeness, the way he cups your face being easy to misconstrue for an onlooker, you scoot backwards and clear your throat.

Flames tickle your cheeks.

You’d be lying if you said you never harbored a little crush on the handsome heir of House Snow growing up. He on the other end, never seemed to notice you, his attention always on girls like Clemmie or Arachne. It makes sense, you suppose. They are, after all, cut from the same cloth. Bonded by generations upon generations of hoarded wealth and an elusive code of rules and conduct you never fully grasped.

The mere way you hold a cup of tea gives you away.

But it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re older now and about to get married. You can’t wander the wistful lands of childhood fantasies anymore.

So while keeping a careful distance, you offer solemnly, “I… Dad is attending this fundraiser tonight…to funnel the promotion funds for the next Hunger Games." Your brow furrows as disdain coats your tone. You can’t believe plans to repeat this ghastly tradition are being set in motion. "I didn’t want to go but he wants the family to present a strong front."

You pointedly omit to speak of your father’s blackmail and all he threatened to take from you if you didn’t show up, starting with the roof over your head.

See how well you fare as district trash, how long it takes you to crawl back home and beg for scraps.

You discard Strabo’s harsh warning to the deepest recesses of your mind. While you know he loves you, he also doesn’t tolerate any misstep from you. They took you in after all, saved you from a life of misery. Otherwise you’d have grown up an orphan. Instead, you get to live a lavish, easy existence in the lap of luxury, now the heir apparent to the Plinth fortune since Janus has passed.

You’re grateful, of course, for all they gave you. You just hate having to forsake your origins and partake passively in the slaughter of innocent children. Once you’re at the helm of the company, you’ll do everything in your power to stir up change. Every tidal wave begins with a small ripple. Perhaps one day all those tiny ripples will come together and form a tsunami, one that’ll wash away the sins of the Capitol and too many years of injustice.

"You should come. I could introduce you to my fiancé,” you offer.

Hopefully seeing both of them in one place will cement which one of them is your past and which one is your present. You don’t like the way a single touch from him flustered you so easily.

While you’re thrilled to resume your friendship with him, you and Coriolanus can never be more than that.

Besides the obvious matter of your impending nuptials, the two of you are so different. There has to be someone out there for him, some lucky girl that’ll make him so happy. And you bet he’ll make her happy too.

One thing's for sure however. That girl isn’t you.

Coriolanus sizes you up before giving a slow reply.

“I look forward to it,” he says.

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosbas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!fic #tbosas fanfiction

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hollyskywalker · 5 months

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Worst nightmare

She had him wrapped around her little finger.

Coriolanus knew she did. He's no longer the same teenage boy trying to wrap his head around what this achy feeling in his chest is. He no longer convinces himself it's hunger, or that he's just confused. He knows the feeling is longing, desire, lust, or maybe even love.

After everything that happened in District 12 with Sejanus, with Lucy and the people he left behind he had hoped he'd never have to go through this again. A foolish hope, he realizes now. He's a human being and it's almost unavoidable there are people out there who would know just the right thing to say or just the right thing to do for him to lose his ambition focused mind in the fog that is love, or obsession in his case. He's not sure there's really a difference between the two.

But he thought he knew better than to let someone in again. He hadn't liked how Lucy made him feel vulnerable, and how it had hurt when he realized she'd left him in the woods.

Yet here he was, pressing this infuriating woman against the wall with her legs wrapped around his hips, their lips barely parting to breathe before pulling the other back in.

She was perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

She was also his close friend's wife.

He always thought of himself as a gentleman. Sure, he did questionable things and studied under the most questionable woman of Panem during his time at university, but at least he was polite about it. Or at least, he acted in the way one would expect a gentleman to act.

Kissing your old classmate and close friend's wife is not very gentleman-like. He knows this but when she tangles her hand in his hair the way she does, he can't find it in himself to care.

“Festus will come find me” she murmured into the kiss. He ignored her and started to kiss his way down her neck. He's not going to acknowledge another man's name coming from her mouth when his mouth is the one making her keen so sweetly.

She repeated her words and when ignored her once again she gently nudged him back a bit so she could look into his eyes “Coriolanus, you know he can’t catch us. Everything will be ruined”

He thought he might start laughing. He honestly pities the tree somewhere out there whose single purpose is to replace the oxygen her husband wastes. “Festus Creed does not have the capability of ruining anything for me”

She hummed and brushed his hair off his face. “Your mood before we came here seemed pretty ruined to me”

His grip on her waist tightened at the memory of Festus drunkenly clinging to her, embarrassing her, during the entirety of the evening before Coriolanus had cleverly thought of an excuse to whisk her away.

“Very daring, to take me away from my husband in front of all those people” she whispers, her hands coming up to rest gently on his shoulders. “Not at all like you to take that kind of risks”

He didn't bother responding to that and simply rested his head in the crook of her neck, pulling her body as close as possible to his. She rolled her head to the side, giving him better access as her eyelids fell shut. His nose grazes up and down the length of her neck, breathing her in.

It had been a long day. His path to becoming Panem's president was set and he was prepared to wait for the perfect moment now that he has the right people on his side. He was not an impatient man, but so close to his goal it was hard not to long for time to speed up just a little bit.

That's why he'd already been annoyed when he arrived at this fundraiser which must be the 10th this month, and then he had to watch Festus wrap his arms around her. It was just too much.

When they are together, it's like all the noise is cancelled out and he can finally feel at peace. His mind finally rests and he enjoys when they focus solely on each other and nothing else.

“Marry me” she murmurs in a voice like honey.

He's taken aback, pulling away from her to look at her wide-eyed. He hardly noticed anything around him; he felt disorientated, dizzy. His mind worked feverishly. Did she really just ask that? Did he imagine things?

It takes a moment for him to gather himself enough to answer her. “What?”

She tilts her head to the side with a grin, linking their hands. “Marry me. You want to become president and you have all it takes to become one except for a wife. People will expect you to have one by the time the campaigning truly starts, and you know no one works a crowd better than me. I have them hanging onto my every word within seconds,” she pulled him down slightly so she could comfortably wrap her arms around his neck “With my family name, and influence, and your talent as a natural leader, combine the two of us and Panem would be yours by the end of the year”

He stared at the wall on the other side of the room.

Laying her fingers on his left cheek, she turned his face to look at her. “Just imagine how powerful we could be together as a couple”

He was imagining it. But...

“They'd never allow you to divorce Festus” he said with certainty. This he knew for sure. The family name and influence she spoke of would not be as impactful if everyone knew she divorced someone from the Creed family. They'd call her crazy, and steer clear of her.

“We could not marry unless Festus were dead”

Her eyes darted between his, her hand cupping his face. She truly was ethereal.

“I know”

Her response is entirely too calm and he frowned at her.

During events he would often watch her socialize and play the crowd just like she said, until they were hanging onto every word that fell past her pretty lips. She always seemed so genuine when she talked to people, but he had caught the glint of ambition in her eyes, just like him.

She was an impeccable liar without a tell. She could lie to whoever she wanted to. Despite that she tended to be a very honest woman. He knew he would be able to count on her if she was on his side. Her, with her always impeccable appearance and her fashionably styled hair wearing nothing but lavish clothing standing out blindingly, concealing her still very much venomous nature. Perfect. Absolutely perfect she was.

Festus was undeserving of a woman like her. He'd always thought it but now he was sure of it.

He could already picture it. Him, waving down at the crowd with her by his side, the envy of Panem. There would always be people against him and his tendency of making unethical choices. But how could they doubt his leadership if a woman as good as her was married to him? They'd believe she'd keep him on the right path.

She was working her way to the top, and she was succeeding. So it would only make sense for her to ask him. Festus had his sights set on presidency too, but if she believed Coriolanus had a better chance... Coriolanus tried not to let it get to his head.

Was she insinuating he kill Festus for her? So they could marry and she could become Panem's First Lady? Did she know he'd killed before? If she did, she obviously wasn't bothered by it or scared of him because of it.

But then there was Festus. Coriolanus didn't particularly like the guy, in fact, seeing Festus trip was the highlight of his day not even a week ago, but could he kill the Creed heir? He had killed before but in this situation it's less trivial. It's not about survival, nor about making it to the top. He was sure he could make it without her...but still... did he want to, without her? Is she not worth it? Is having her by his side worth killing Festus Creed for?

She's not worth it, he thought and tasted the lie as soon as it crossed his mind.

He met her eyes and thought of her smile – the smile he can't ever seem to get out of his head – and-

He was going to kill Festus Creed.

Memories of Sejanus flashed across his mind. Sejanus had been in the way of him ever returning to the Capitol. So he took choices that haunted him, but he didn't regret. Just like he wouldn't regretting ridding her of her infuriatingly incapable husband.

Truthfully, Coriolanus was surprised Festus was able to stand with a spine that weak. Always following what others told him to do, never thinking for himself, so easy to manipulate. Yet he saw himself suitable for presidency?

His hands have settled on her waist seemingly out of pure instinct. His throat felt dry, and he swallowed several times before he tried to speak.

“Yes” he nodded, decision made “Alright”

Something bright flared in her eyes as she looked at him. After a pause, she practically launched herself at him, knocking into him so hard that he had to take a step back. He laughed quickly. One of his hands is still on her waist, but the other cups the back of her neck as his thumb strokes over her throat.

She tilted her head up and pecked his lips. Something horrible tugged at his chest, and he knew. There's no one more dangerous in the world than her. Because he's obsessed and in love as she gazed up at him through her lashes.

The blood was thundering through his brain. Happiness filled his chest; a dizzying sensation and his head swam with emotion. His arm slid around her waist, his hand coming to rest on her hip.

“Mrs Snow” he whispered like a promise, smoothing his thumb over her cheek.

"What is it?" she chuckled "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, roughly but passionately.

"You are my worst nightmare and the woman of my dreams all at once"

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #tbosas #tbosbas #president snow #coryo x reader #coryo snow #the hunger games #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x you

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yesimwriting · 5 months

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Heyy ya!! Hwo you doing? I wanted to ask maybe you can write Coriolanus x reader when he gets to district after just finishing training for pacekeepers, or maybe where his tribute just arrived to the capitol and the reader maybe says the “what does my mentor do besides bring me roses?” Line? ❤️

A/n the turn around for this was so fast for me 😭 i got excited

hi!! i love these prompts and am so glad for the excuse to write something for him 😭,, also i didn't blatantly make the reader the district 12 tribute bc i didn't want to necessarily cute lucy gray out all together, but it's clear that she's from a poorer district and that being assigned to mentor her is an insult to the Snow name,, also reader pulls a katniss and volunteers for a younger family member bc the irony of that scratches an inch in my brain

Summary: After the very public slight of being assigned to mentor a female tribute from a lower district, all Snow can think about is the uphill battle that winning the Plinth prize will now be. Until, he realizes, that he's been given the first ever district volunteer who seems to have a quality that makes people care about her.

Warnings: my first time writing for a specific character, Coriolanus's internal thoughts are a little softer than they should be at some points but i love the accidental and deeply impractical crush trope so

---

Of Angels

The desperation masquerading as fierceness behind her eyes is undeniable. Coriolanus feels the way your panic, your shock as the weight of your own words dawn on you in his chest. He swallows, forcing down the feeling.

Take me--take me instead! The phrase is repeated again and again, shaky and pleading.

Something about the display, about the 12-year-old girl that desperately tries to cling to you as peace keepers push you forward, makes it hard to watch. Even worse, it makes it impossible to look away.

The first ever district volunteer. A suicide mission or a--a desperate call for attention? A decision made out of hysteria that you're already starting to regret?

He can't decide as the footage of you being ushered onto stage is played. Surely, Dr. Gaul and other Capitol officials won't find this acceptable. The concept of volunteering has always been reserved for the careers, the districts that produce well fed children that train for this. It's a way to allow them to pick their best, their strongest. It is not a way for someone to lay down their life for someone else.

"Are you saying you volunteer?"

You blink, eyes wild and bright as you openly survey the crowd. Coriolanus briefly thinks that you might attempt to take what he doubts is an actual out. You seem to be considering something before finally nodding once. The motion so stiff it makes you look smaller, like the girl whose name was originally called.

"Yes," you mumble. The softness of it is a personal accost. Your choice was made in panic, but that isn't who you are. You're not much of a performer or a fighter or even bold...you're not much of a chance at the Plinth Prize. "I-I volunteer."

----

In the end, he had come because of Tigris. She had insisted that there was a way to see his tribute as more than just another face from the districts, as more human than animal.

She loves that little girl enough to die in her place. If I was her, I'd want someone to tell me that my choice meant something. I'd want someone to show that they care about me.

The words had felt dismissible at first, but the more he thought about them, the more it made sense. Panem had seen the entire thing, had seen the way that his tribute continued to comfort the younger girl even after sentencing herself to death. There's a story worthy of a show in that.

If he can convince you to go on camera, to speak of the girl, of the choice...maybe he'd have a chance at his future. And if the public support manages to help you in some way or another, that'd only be an additional benefit. You love that girl enough to die for her, maybe that means you love her enough to fight tooth and nail to live for her as well.

The train that stops at each district pulls to a stop. The doors open, releasing the sound of tributes that are learning the consequences of attempting to cause issues for the peacekeepers.

A boy he vaguely recognizes steps out, and then a younger girl. Are you one of the tributes already risking their lives in an attempt to aggravate peacekeepers? Or maybe you're cowering at the back of the train, clinging onto the safety of a familiar space.

You prove to be neither. You emerge from the train, perfectly in tact and stable.

Coriolanus parts his lips, yet no words manage to come out. You're different in person, the white you're dressed in is objectively dirtier than it was when you were reaped and yet somehow, here in the dim, gray station it feels brighter. A stray beam of sunlight breaking through a cluster of clouds. A promise that the storm will end soon and that the angels have yet to abandon the earth.

Your dress is a simple thing, loose enough to be a hand-me-down or maybe even borrowed, the lace of the skirt falling farther down your knees than it should. That paired with the ribbon scraps tied to each side of your head make you look younger and cruelly innocent.

"Hello." The blandness of his own beginning forces a burning sort of regret to take over his chest. You attentively turn, expression kind and expecting. It only makes the embarrassment he doesn't fully understand scorch him from the inside out with more violence. He's once again struck with the desire to look away and finding himself incapable of doing so. "My name is Coriolanus Snow, and I'm your mentor."

You nod, features hardening. You've pieced it all together--his appearance, what he's saying, and where you are. He's revealed himself as part of the Capitol and now you can no longer watch him with kind, accepting eyes. The look you're giving him is almost enough to make him wish he could have presented this differently.

Coriolanus extends an arm, the carefully chosen pure white rose an olive branch. You blink, eyebrows drawing together before you slowly reach out and take the flower by its stem. Your fingertips brush against his own, the warmth of your skin is so shocking he has to remind himself not to flinch.

"A mentor?" You repeat the word like your only reason for doing so is to try out the foreign word on your tongue. "Does everyone get one or am I just lucky?" You look down at the rose you're now holding. "Or has the rumor that I'm a rebellion trick spread to the Capitol?"

The last question genuinely surprises him. It shouldn't, there had been some talk about why anyone from a poor district would ever choose to go into the games. The way you and the girl you saved reacted to each other could have been staged...but Coriolanus didn't think it was enough to warrant genuine rumors. Anyone that had looked at your eyes and seen the fear in them would have known that it was sacrifice. Is sacrifice. That girl means the world to you.

"No," he starts slowly, "No, everyone gets one and no one here has any preconceptions about you."

You raise your eyebrows, making it clear that you don't believe him. No preconceptions had been a strong way to phrase things, but the urge to assure you had taken over with no warning. You then look away, glancing around to take in your surroundings.

"Then why isn't there..." You trail off, your gaze landing firmly on him. "You're not supposed to be here."

He blinks. For the first time, it feels like you're truly looking at him. His own susceptibility to your wide eyes turns his stomach. You're the one that should feel like something up for display under his stare. "No, I'm not."

The admission forces the edge of your lips to pull upwards. "Alright," you hum, "So what does my mentor do for me besides bring me roses?"

"I do my best to take care of you."

For a second, all you do is stare. He's surprised you. The realization brings him more relief than it should. "The girl who you volunteered for..."

You tilt your head downwards, hiding your expression as your fingers carefully toy with the exterior of the soft petals. "My cousin," the explanation is low, cautious, "But we uh--we're more like sisters."

An in that he doesn't even have to work for. "I understand that." You look up, not bothering to hide your confusion. Maybe you weren't expecting something so human to come out. Maybe human works for you. "During the war, we took care of each other...and then after our parents passed, we were left in the care of our grandmother."

The silence that follows is tight, straining against the sympathies you're not willing to extend to someone like him. Your lips part, and Coriolanus is disgusted by the part of him that's curious about what's going to come next.

You're pushed back with no warning. His attention snaps towards the peacekeeper who is shoving against your shoulder with more force than necessary.

"Excuse--" No reaction, no response as another peacekeeper grabs your arm. "Excuse me, I'm her--" You're being dragged away in order to be packed into another vehicle of transportation with the rest of them.

Coriolanus stays near, doing his best to never lose sight of you in the chaos. A tribute breaks free from the hold of the peacekeepers and launches his body forward. An ill thought out escape attempt. The distraction is all Coriolanus needs. This is his chance to go after you, to cement a connection that will guarantee cooperation.

It's not the distraction that gets him to move or even thoughts of the Plinth prize, it's the final flash of angel white fabric as its forced back into darkness. He rushes forward before he can overthink, entering the vehicle just as the doors shut.

----

i think i might make a part 2!!

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #coriolanus x reader

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darknight3904 · 4 months

Text

See You in the Morning, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴄʟɪᴍᴀx ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ. ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ᴄʜᴀɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴜᴘ. ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱᴇxʏ ᴡᴀʏ, ꜱᴀᴅʟʏ.

The first time you met him you were 12. It was only your fourth day at the Capitol's Academy and you wished you could go home and bury yourself in your bed and never return. You had yet to meet anyone interested in being friends with you, the homeschooled freak who started oh so late compared to her peers. Sure, you had met Arachne and Festus at big lavish parties your parents threw but that didn't mean they liked you.

And then, on your fourth day of school, everything changes. Big blue eyes are fixated on the overly large sandwich and fruit bowl that had been in your lunch bag. A soft gurgle of a hungry stomach fills your ears and you turn to see a boy with the prettiest blonde curls atop his head staring at you.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." You ask, picking up a strawberry and holding it out to him.

He hesitates for a moment but eventually reaches out and takes a small bite.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

"I already ate it." He said

Something inside you said he was lying and so you offered the rest of the fruit to him. Your sandwich would be enough for today, after all, no one should go hungry if another had something else to give.

You chat with the boy with blue eyes and pretty blonde curls. His name is Coriolanus Snow and he lives with his Grandma'am and his cousin. You smile at him as he eats the fruit, savoring the taste of the grapes that were mixed in. As you sit beside your new friend, you smile to yourself and hope he'll be your friend tomorrow too.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Coriolanus knows how bad it sounds. He knows you're angry when you go to step around him and he blocks your path. Your engagement ring feels like a brick as it sits in his shirt pocket.

"Coryo. Move. I'm going home." You say, determined to get away from him.

Where do you think you're running off to? You have no place in society besides your spot next to him.

"You can't. You have to stay here. With me." He insists, hoping his softer tone will change your silly little mind.

"Please, Coriolanus. Just let me go home for tonight. I'll come back tomorrow. I promise." You whisper.

He hates that. Coriolanus. Why are you calling him that? He's always been Coryo to you why are you changing it now? The way his full name lingers in the air makes his blood boil.

Rage is something that's hard to control. Coriolanus has seen it first hand when the Districts rebelled against the Capitol all those years ago. He saw it Dr. Gaul when Lucy Gray survived her snakes thanks to him. He sees it now, in you as you give him a hard shove to his shoulders and begin moving toward the door.

Rage. That's why he does it. It's something he and so many others can't control. Rage. What a funny concept it is, how it causes someone to think so irrationally.

Truly though, you are to blame for it all. If only you had just talked to him rationally. taking off your ring and throwing a fit, demanding to go home like you're some petulant child who needs a nap.

Perhaps this will change your attitude, after all, you couldn't just run off, he needed you.

There's an ache in the back of your skull when you finally open your eyes. A soft blanket is covering you and the soft scent of apples and cinnamon is wafting through the air.

"This is your favorite, right?"

A voice that used to bring a smile to your face now sends a jolt of fear down your spine as you quickly sit up.

Coriolanus is sitting in a plush-looking chair, with your favorite candle burning on a little side table next to him.

What the hell had he done to you?

"You sat up too quickly. There's some painkillers on the nightstand if you want them." He says

His voice is so calm as you gradually take in your new surroundings.

"Where am I?" You croak, your voice sounds terrible.

"You're still in our mansion. This is the basement. Part of it anyway. Over the past two weeks, I got them to transform a section of it into a room perfect for you." He says, closing the book in his lap.

Weeks? How long had it been since that dinner when you tried to leave? What the hell had even happened? The last thing you clearly remember was shoving Coriolanus and beginning to walk away. Had he hit you with something? But then how did he keep you down for two weeks so he could bring you here?

"You're wondering what happened. I'm not proud of it but I hit you with a serving tray before you could leave."

Your mind briefly conjures up the silver trays that the food you often enjoyed was served on.

"I had a doctor give you injections to keep you asleep until this room was ready. The headache you feel is the hangover from the drugs, not a concussion. I made sure he gave you an exam and he's cleared you from any injuries."

Corionus' explanation is making your brain ache. What the fuck was happening? Why are you in a basement bedroom instead of your normal one? When was he going to let you out? Would he ever let you out?

Your stomach gurgles and you just barely make it to the small garbage can that's sitting on the ground next to the bed.

"Ah, the doctor said vomiting was another side effect. I'm sure it will pass soon." Coriolanus says, unbothered as you heave up whatever gunk he had gotten the doctor to pump into your stomach.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, wishing for something to take away the burning at the back of your throat.

"Alright. Since you're awake now, I'll be leaving. Lots of meetings today and the arena is nearly ready I just have to approve a few more things." Coriolanus says, standing up and fixing his tie as he begins to walk away.

"Wait." You groan, trying to reach out to him

"I'll be back for dinner. I know how much you love to listen to me talk about my day."

Two months later

There's been a certain warmness about you recently. Perhaps it's the flowers he brought you your maybe the fact that he takes the heavy chain off your ankle when he visits you. He decides it's the latter as he watches thumb through the new books he handed you.

"Do you like them?" He asks

"Yes." You smile as you gently place them on your shelf.

You're so effortlessly pretty, even here, locked away from the sunlight and every inch of society. Here, you're all his, every bit of you hinges on him opening the heavy metal door that keeps you here. It's been so long since you had even tried to argue or fight back against him. Sure, the beginning had been rough, you had thrown things at him and had at one point threatened him with a butter knife but now you we so docile. Almost like he had domesticated a wild animal and now it was trained perfectly.

"Could you bring the little cakes tonight?" You ask

"The ones with the powdered sugar on top?"

You nod as you sit on your bed, stretching out your right ankle which is marked with a heavy bruise from the chain he had to put on you. It wasn't what he wanted but after you tried attacking him when he entered the room on the second day of your enclosure, he knew it was a necessity.

"I'll have the chef make extra. We can eat as many as you like and get fat." He teases

You smile at him but he can see something else behind your eyes.

Sadness.

You remind him of a bird with clipped wings. Freedom so effortlessly in reach but unable to fly to reach it.

If only he could trust you enough to let you back into the main floors of the mansion.

Time passes slowly whenever Coriolanus is gone and it gives you time to think. You were going mad, chained up all day, waiting for him to bring you your meals and sit with you at night. So in an effort to chase your impending insanity away, you thought. You thought about your childhood and if things would be different had you never given Coriolanus that stupid bowl of fruit. Perhaps you'd be head of your father's company now, or maybe you'd be married to some elite capitol man.

Your mind was always racing, overanalyzing every little thing and every little mistake you had ever made.

Perhaps you should've never confronted him about those pictures. If you had just slipped out of the mansion one day what would had happened? Maybe he would've caught you or perhaps you would've made it back to your parents, back to your old life and self.

How naive you had been at that gala years ago, thinking that you didn't need anything but Coriolanus. What a stupid girl you had grown up to be.

The past few weeks had been rough. You had been sucking up to Coriolanus to be let back into the main part of the mansion. You claimed to just want to feel sunlight again. Of course, you also planned on running the moment you had an opening but he didn't need to know that half.

Coriolanus was simply insane, it was a conclusion you had come to after all these long days. Maybe he had always been like this but you were just too blind to see it. Maybe his nice gestures and honey-coated words had disguised the monster that lurked behind those eyes. All you knew was that he was the worst man in all of Panem and here you sat, suffering all because you were his favorite.

"My heart burns for you."

What a load of bullshit.

He stays true to his word and arrives that night for dinner, cakes in hand. Silenced Avoxes serve you your food and Coriolanus sits across from you at the table that had mysteriously appeared one night when you were asleep. The chain on your ankle made an unpleasant sound as you shifted in your seat.

"The salmon is nice, isn't it?" Coriolanus asks as he eats

"Yes, it's wonderful. Very buttery." You say, struggling to find exactly what was good about it.

You didn't want salmon, you didn't really want anything anymore, perhaps you were finally giving into whatever game he was playing by keeping you here.

"I've decided to replace the curtains throughout the mansion. I've found the blue to be a bit ugly. Tomorrow there will be beautiful maroon ones hung." He informs you

You had hand-picked the blue ones, years ago.

"I'm sure they will be beautiful." You say looking down at your lap.

Coriolanus stops chewing and sets his silverware down.

"If you're going to mock me, you shouldn't even open your mouth. You know I hate it when you're full of attitude so why do you still try?" He says

It's a warning. You know it, he knows it.

"I know. I was being serious." You say, "I hope I get to see the maroon curtains soon, Coriolanus."

"Coryo." He corrects, placing a bite of food in his mouth

"Coryo." You parrot.

He smiles, pleased with you.

"You will, soon."

Dinner passes slowly as you finish your salmon to the tune of Coriolanus' talking. Something about the latest games being a wonderful success and that the big finale would be either tomorrow or the next. He suggests you watch on the little TV that sits in the corner, untouched, it was something that was added a week ago, specifically so you could watch the games. You promise to watch and he smiles at you again.

Coriolanus bids you goodnight after dessert. He double-checks your chain before straightening up and gently kissing your forehead.

"Goodnight, darling. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you in the morning, Coryo."

The past week had been going nearly perfectly for Coriolanus. Not only had the games been perfect, but you had been impressing him. Sure, a few days ago at dinner you had called him Coriolanus and he nearly lost his cool after he thought you insulted the curtains but that was behind him now.

He had finally concluded that he'd release you from the basement. He missed your presence in the mansion and at the normal dinner table. He wasn't quite sure about letting you have full roam yet, perhaps he'd sedate you during the days and let you walk around at night, when he could personally keep an eye on you before bedtime. The idea of one of the Axoxes watching you didn't sit right, after all, if you ran what would they do? They couldn't even shout for help to bring you back inside.

He was positively giddy as he walked down the many flights of steps that led to where you were. He wanted to show you the greenhouse first. Sure, you had seen it before but the way the roses were blooming recently was simply too good to pass up. He had planted new ones recently too, blushing pink ones that reminded him of you and your warmness to him.

The metal door was cool against his palm as he opened it to reveal your darkened room. The door let out a heavy groan as it shut behind him.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be sleeping when he entered, he often visited during the night and would watch you, as if you were going to disappear. However, this time the darkness confused him. It was the middle of the day, surely you weren't still asleep?

The soft clink of that ridiculous chain filled his ears as he stepped towards the lamp that sat on your shelf.

"Are you hiding from me, darling?" He asked into the darkness, ready to scoop you up and hold you close.

Silence answered his question as his eyes tried to focus on anything.

The softest rustle of fabric fills his ears as he quickly turns to his right. The slightest shimmer of color reaches his eyes, illuminated by what little light wormed its way under the door. It's you, in that sweater you often wore.

"I see you." He says reaching out to what he thinks might be your arm. "What a pretty shade of blue that is. I'll have a designer make a dress in that color for you."

He swears he hears you whisper his name but perhaps it was just in his head as he steps forward.

Coriolanus feels the smile that was on his face drop into his stomach when he hears it again, the rustle of fabric. You were behind him now.

His hands twitch one, then twice, and before he can react, you're there, in front of him again, anger polluting your pretty face.

His lips form your name but it never leaves his mouth. Instead, the cool metal of that chain he had intended on removing was cutting his vocal cords off.

The chain he hated putting on you, the chain you had desperately tried to claw off many times as he watched through a grainy video feed was rapidly wrapping its way around his neck, ready to destroy him.

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lunamadhatter99 · 5 months

Text

All for the cameras

Chapter 1

Finnnick Odair x Fem!reader

So... here's the first chapter of my Finnick series. I hope you'll like it and comment if you want to be tagged in the next chapters.

I warn you, it's a slow burn with LOTS of tension. But I think it's going to be worth it in the end. ❤️❤️❤️

Chapter summary: Y/n is the Capitol's Princess. Everybody in the Capitol loves her... unfortunately for her. This first chapter is a little introduction about her role as a "support mentor".

Chapter warnsings: mention of rape, prostitution, and... it's the Hunger Games... what can you expect.

The Victory Tour is probably the one thing I like about the Hunger Games. The attention of the Capitol isn't directly at me, but at the Victor in question, especially the pervs' attention.

Everyone thinks that being President Snow's protégé is like being Capitol's Princess, well... that's just what the cameras catch, but it really isn't. I am no different from someone living in the districts.

I am a slave like anyone else.

Even though I won't have to deal with the creeps at the Capitol during the tour, I still have a job to do, I can't exactly let out a sigh of relief.

This tour is probably the hardest one I've ever had to experience. Turning a hunter into an actress for the Capitol is no easy job.

Katnis has many skills... many, but pretending to be in love with someone isn't her best. Unfortunately, her life, anyone's life, actually depends on it.

Snow made it clear to me.

I arrive in district 12 with Effie and the rest of the crew, ready to help the two victors make everything as believable as possible.

I decided to go to Peeta first, while Effie and Cinna went to Katniss.

"Yes?" Peeta calls from behind the door.

"It's Y/n," I answer.

He immediately opens the door to let me and his stylist in and pulls me in a big hug.

"I'm happy to see you," he says, almost relieved.

"Well, it's my job, pretty boy," I pull away with a smile, "how do you feel today?"

He takes a moment to answer.

"I'm okay, I guess, nervous too,"

"You'll be fine, trust me. You're a natural." I try to lighten the mood. He does chuckle, but I think it's not to make me feel bad. "Did Haymitch tell you what to expect, or did he offer a drink?"

"A bit of both," he actually chuckles this time, "more of the latter, but yeah."

"Good," I let out a small laugh too, "I guess a good thing about your situation is that maybe you two can help each other out."

"If she stopped treating me like a wounded puppy..." he bitterly says, shrugging.

"Yeah, well, try talk to her. Your situation is already hard as it is, dealing with it on your own... it's suicide."

He nods, so I decide to let his stylist work and go see how Katniss is doing.

"Hey there," I say once I enter the room Katniss is getting ready in.

"Hi," she says.

"How are you?" I ask, sitting on a chair.

"I've been better," she forces a smile in my direction.

"I figured," I send her a sympathetic smile in return.

I look around the studio, the atmosphere is quite cold despite the luxury, we are still in 12 after all. My eyes stop suddenly on the desk, that was pushed a little out of the way to make more room.

"That's..." I start, my throat feels tight all of a sudden, "That's a pretty rose."

I notice Katniss tensing at the observation.

Confirming my suspicion.

Snow's been here.

"Yeah," she flatly says. She turns to look at me, with a look that seems suspicious... or cautious, more likely.

I respond with a sympathetic look. Hopefully, she will understand I'm just as tense as her. She seems to, because she half smiles at me.

"It's showtime," Effie cheers, walking in.

"Break a leg," I say, hugging myself as I watch her heading to the door.

I take a deep breath and decide I need a drink, and the only person who can help me is a certain victor.

I sneak out from the back and walk to Haymitch's house.

"Haymitch?" I call as I knock at his door.

"It's open," I hear his grumpy tone from the inside, so I let myself in and look around for Haymitch.

"Oh!" He calls from the kitchen, "it's the Princess herself! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Care to help a lady out? I need a drink,"

"Take whatever you want," he offers, taking a sip of his own drink.

I look around at the variety of bottles on display, finding my drink of choice. I take the whole bottle.

"You don't mind if I don't use a glass, do you?" I say, sitting down with him.

"Make yourself at home," he actually chuckles at that, and I soon follow after taking a big sip from the bottle.

This is what I like more about this tour, Haymitch's company. We can just sit in total silence and still be able to give each other comfort. He's one of the very few people who knows the truth behind the Princess facade, and I know about what happened to his family.

"Ready for the tour, princess?" He suddenly asks me.

"It's the only time I get to feel like my own person again, so... yeah, I'm ready," I answer with a bitter smile, "what about you?"

"It's gonna be hard for them," he simply says.

"I know," I deeply sigh, taking another big sip, "they need us... and we need them."

Haymitch just nods.

"Things are about to change," he says, almost solemnly, "better keep those eyes open."

I send him a questioning look to which he answers with a wink. Then, a knock on the door prevents him from elaborating if he even wanted to.

"Guess it's time to go," he announes, clapping his hands.

"Let the show begin," I take one last gulp before following him out and towards the train station with everyone else.

--------------

We're heading to the first stop of this journey, distric 11. I already know this particular stop is gonna be hard for my Victors, especially Katniss. I take notice of her quietness and the tension in her body as Effie keeps in rumbling about all the fabulous things this tour will provide.

"Fabulous food, fabulous wine, the massages, spa treatments." She explains, "I told them nothing but the best for my two victors. It all needs to be..."

"Fabulous?" Haymitch finishes for her with a hint of teasing in his voice, mimicking her demeanour. I try to hide my smile into my cup in tea.

"Exactly." Effie answer, not bothered by him, "Now, the schedule is a bit of a bear. 12 days, 12 districts. But it's mostly parties, celebrations, adoring fans to greet you at every stop along the way, and then wrap it up on the Capitol. All you need to do is give a few speeches, wave at the crowds, and enjoy your time in the spotlight. You've earned it."

Oh shit.

"What did you say?" Katniss, basically, demands.

Here we go.

"Katniss." Peeta calls, trying to calm her or make her drop the subject.

"I said, 'Enjoy it, Katniss, you've earned it.'" Effie repeats.

"By killing people." Katniss scoffs and stands up to leave, ignoring Effie's weak try at scolding her.

There's silence.

"Well, isn't this a good start?" I say, holding my hand out to Haymitch, who catches on and passes me a bottle of whiskey chuckling.

I ignore Effie's glare and pour some alcohol into my tea.

My eyes lock with Peeta's, so I take the opportunity to glance at the direction Katniss went to silently telling him to go check on her. He nods and gets up to follow Katniss.

Haymitch follows him with his eyes, then turns to me.

"Are you plotting something?" He asks.

"Not at all." I simply answer, "they need to stop avoiding each other like the plague when they're not on TV. It's better to pretend to be in love with a friend than a stranger."

He simply looks at me nodding, impressed.

Effie lets out an annoyed puff and walks away.

Once she's out of the carriage, I turn towards Haymitch.

"Anything to say about my eyes?" I ask, hinting at the conversation we had back at his house.

He simply smiles and pours some more alcohol into his glass.

"Just keep 'em open, princess," he says, "wide open, guard up."

I roll my eyes, "Alright, alright. I will. Anything else you wanna share?"

"Did you hear from a certain fisherman?" Haymitch asks, instead of answering my questions.

"I don't know what you're talking about. " I say shrugging, and I take a sip from my cup.

"Mh," he hums, "isn't he the first Victor you helped train?"

"Why all these questions?" I slightly snap.

"No reason. This is the first time we get to properly bond, don't wanna waste it,"

"You want to bond?" I let out an incredulous laugh, "why?"

"I just proclaimed myself your... father figure," he opens his arms to present himself.

"Okay..." I trail off, standing up, "Whatever you say,"

I start to walk off, too, shaking my head slightly laughing.

"Oh, c'mon!" I hear him yell and laugh.

I shake my head while I'm heading to my room to rest a bit before we arrive in district 11.

As I lay on the bed, my mind can't help but wander to said fisherman.

Finnick freaking Odair. Winner of the 65th Hunger Games.

That was my 4th time assisting the mentors in preparing the tributes for the games. At the time, Snow wanted the people to see me more involved in the making of the games since they 'love' me so much. The president saw this as an opportunity, I saw it as a punishment, having to help train tributes, some of them being my age only to see them get killed. Then the 65th Hunger Games came, and so did Finnick. We were the same age, bonding was inevitable, even though he was cautious... which was understandable, but we managed before he had to go into the arena.

When he won, I was the happiest I've ever been. Then when he came back he was changed, again, that's understandable, but he started to push me away... with no explanation.

Then we both turned 16. Then we were forced to be close again.

----------

A knock on the door pulled me away from my thoughts, Haymitch's voice warning me we had arrived in district 11, and it was time to go.

We get out of the train, expecting some people celebrating and stuff like that, but nothing of sort. Effie is quick to express her disapproval.

They lead us to a car and let us in, where Effie start to explain the situation to Katniss and Peeta.

"The mayor will make some introductory remarks. And then you just have to say a few words." She says, "it's customary, of course, to give a brief eulogy to the district's fallen Tributes. For 11, that's Thresh and Rue. Here are the speeches."

Effie hands some piece of paper for them to take, I see Katniss' expression falling even more at the mention of Rue, predictable, so Peeta offers to be the one doing the talking. Katniss' grateful face almost breaks my heart, I'm... sort of used to see children die in the games, she wasn't... worst of all, she built a friendship with her.

"You got this." I say to them both, Peeta sends me a kind smile, while Katniss nods and takes a deep breath.

We arrive at the Justice Building, where we all wait for the mayor to call the Victors out.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Victors of the 74th Hunger Games. Katnis Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!"

Once they are out, we get to see them through a screen.

"Thank you," Peeta says into the microphone, while Katnis is staring at something, I can imagine it's Rue's family. "We're honoured to be here with you today. And to be with the families of your fallen Tributes."

There's a long pause, Peeta glances at the cards in his hand and... put them down...

"He put down the cards." Effie gasps.

Haymitch tries to shush her, and she slightly snaps, "Why do I bother?"

I lock eyes with Cinna, who's standing next to me, we share a questioning look before looking back at the screen.

"Though they fought and lived with honour and dignity until the end... both Thresh and Rue were so young. But our lives aren't just measured in years. They're measured I the lives of the people we touch around us. For myself, for Katniss, we know that without Rue and without Thresh, we wouldn't be standing here today." He really is a natural. "So in recognition of that, knowing that it in no way can make up for your loss, we'd like to donate one month of our winnings to the families of the Tributes, every year, for the rest of out lives."

Oh, oh...

"Oh shit," Haymitch comments, and I bring a hand up to my open mouth shocked.

"Can he do that?" Cinna asks, though, I think he already knows the answer.

"He can't. But he did."

"Why doesn't he just stick to the cards?" Effie sighs.

Peeta than thanks the audience, looks at Katniss, and starts to walk back inside.

Katniss does just a few steps backwards, but she keeps staring at Rue's family.

Then, she gets closer to the microphone.

"Oh..."

"I just wanted to say I didn't know Thresh. I only spoke to him once. He could've killed me, but instead, he showed me mercy. That's a debt I'll never be able to repay." Then her eyes are back on Rue's family, " I did know Rue. She wasn't just my allay. She was my friend. I see her in the flowers that grow in the meadow by my house. I hear her in a Mockingjay song. I see her in my sister Prim. She was too young. Too gentle. And I couldn't save her. I'm sorry."

I feel my heart breaking at her words. She's right. She's too fucking right.

Before Katniss could add anything, there's a whistle coming from the crowd.

A very familiar one.

A man does the same salut Katnis did on the arena after Rue's death. Everyone in the crowd soon follows, and the Peacemakers are quick to weapon up and head towards the people, who can't do nothing but clamoring.

They're clearly pointing at the man who started it all.

As Katniss tries to get to him, to stop the Peacemakers, she is sized by two of them and forced back inside.

The man was dragged on the stage, the people are screaming, terrified. Before the doors can close we see one of the guards shoot and kill the man.

"Fuck!" I turn around, Cinna a gently rubs my back. I hear Katniss screaming and trashing around, I look back at them and see Haymitch gathering both Peeta and Katniss to follow him, he nods at mw to do the same and I do.

Once we are out of sight and ears Haymitch just snaps.

"You two have a very simple task." He scolds them, angry.

"I never meant for anyone to get killed," Katnis cries, "he has to know that."

"What are you talking about? Who has to know what?" Haymitch asks.

Snow...

"Snow. He came to see me. He's worried about rebellion in the districts. He thinks that they don't believe our love story," she explains, breathless.

I run my hand through my hair, frustrated.

"So he wants you to make them believe it? Does he thinks it will calm this shit down?" I ask and Katnis nods.

"You know, Katniss, you should told me that before I went put there, and tried to give these people the money." It's Peeta's turn to snap.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. He threatened to kill my family." She explains.

"Well, I have family, too" He replies, almost annoyed at her, "Okay? People that I need to protect."

"What about them? Who protect them?" Haymitch pressures.

I shake my head, still shocked and still infuriated.

"Katniss, what were you thinking?" Haymitch keeps going.

"I was thinking about Rue. Haymitch, please... please, just help me get through this trip. Please just help us get through this." Katniss begs, crying even more.

"This trip? Girl, wake up." He snaps his fingers to emphasise his words, "this trip doesn't end when you get back home. You never get off this train. You two are mentors now. That means that every year, they're gonna drag you out, and broadcast the details of your romance. Every year, your private life becomes theirs. From now on, your job is to be a distraction so people forget what the real problems are." He explains perfectly the 'life of a victor', it's so true it's nauseating.

"So what do we do?" Peeta asks, already composed him.

"You're gonna smile," I say, "stick to the cards Effie put effort into. And be the happy, forever in love couple the Capitol thinks you are... you'll get used to it." I say the last part with a heavy heart, knowing they don't deserve it. No one does.

Haymitch brings Katniss is for a hug, trying to reassure her, I squeeze Peeta's arm.

"We'll help you."

Peeta gives me a grateful smile, then they both take a deep breath and we all head back down.

"Eyes open, princess." Haymitch whispers to me, gently patting my back. I, again, look at him confused and just keep on following everyone back to the train.

And sticked to the cards they did.

----------

I feel like I can't breathe, I'm constricted, I can't move.

I look up and see the blue-haired guy on top of me, he's probably enjoying my terrified expression, because he smirks, he shushes me as if he's dealing with a child. He thinks he's being sweet and reassuring, while he's the complete opposite.

I try to push him away, in vain. It's like moving a wall... yet he's not that much bigger...

"Sshh, sweetie... it's okay, I'll take care of you." He says, caging me in even more.

I attempt to move back, but he's faster, he opens my legs with his in one quick motion.

----------

I wake up, shaking and panting. My heart is beating so fast I'm sure it's going to explode. I shake my head.

"Just a nightmare, just a nightmare," I keep repeating to myself like a mantra.

I get up from the bed and head to the bathroom where I wash my face to wake me up more. I look at my reflection and again I repeat that it was just a nightmare.

I get dressed, I figure there's no point in going back to sleep, I don't think I would be able too, so I exit my room and head to the restaurant car where I find Haymitch. Not so surprising.

He looks up as soon as he hears me, his expression almost asleep, but when his eyes meet mine, his expression turns into a worried one.

I sadly smile at him as I sit next to him, the car is still quiet dark except for the dim light coming from a small lamp next to him.

"Who was it this time?" He asks, he's trying to not make it look like it bothers him, but I know he's worried.

"The general's son," I say monotonously.

"Aah," he sighs, "the one with blue hair?"

"Yep."

"The loyal one." He nods to himself.

"The very one, the first too." I sigh, leaning back in the armchair. "The asshole thinks that just because we 'lost it' together means he owns me."

"Was that his first time too?" I know he wants to laugh at him, but he keeps it too himself, this time.

"Yap. His father thought it was 'right about time' so he talked to Snow, who, oh so kindly, accepted. Next thing I know I'm treated like a present. Everytime he achieved something big, his dad paid for my company, every birthday too." I sigh again, more deeply, bouncing my leg anxiously. "When he got a job, I was with him. Every month."

Haymitch takes a deep breath and hands me a bottle, which I gladly accept taking a big swig from it. He then takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly, then lets go.

"He got daddy's job."

"Oh yeah. He couldn't do anything without daddy's power," I scoff out a laugh, Haymitch does too.

We, then, keep silent until it's time for everybody to come I'm and have breakfast and get ready for the final stop.

The Capitol.

#the hunger games x reader #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games #hunger games fic #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n

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idksmtms · 3 months

Text

The Only Way... (District Mentor!Aemond Targaryen x Tribute!reader)

(first Aemond pic was found on tumblr and edited by @kyloremus)

AN: Huge shoutout to @valeskafics for inspiring my HoTD x Hunger Games stories. Without her, I would never even have thought to connect the two. Highly HIGHLY recommend her writing! - Also, yes, I did pick a random HoTD name for the male tribute, sue me -

Summary: There were only two past winners from your district, and one of them didn’t even bother with his mentor duties anymore. But this year, for one last time, Aemond decides to attempt to mentor one of the tributes, not expecting how it would change his life.

Word count: 6.5k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, slight age gap (I made the reader a couple years younger than him for story purposes), vague p in v s*x, oral f receiving, mentions of blood, discussions of death, discussions of trauma, discussions of disfigurement, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

Aemond Targaryen was reaped for the Hunger Games in his first year of eligibility. At 12 years old he had been shipped into the arena, and he had won. Though he had lost an eye in the process, he deemed it a worthy sacrifice for getting out alive. He had been responsible for half the cannons that sounded in the arena, had gotten his revenge for the eye taken from him, and had emerged the victor. He strongly believed the world was against him at every turn, (how else does one explain getting reaped and losing an eye?) but he knew that he was strong enough to fight back against fate.

The first couple of years after his victory, he had attempted to mentor tributes alongside his own mentor, Rhaenys Velaryon. But each one had met their own gruesome end in the arena and eventually he had given up on his duties altogether, much preferring to stay in his home at the victor’s village with his family.

It’s not that he wasn’t a good mentor, he truly believed he taught them a decent amount in the short time he had with them, and that allowed them to live longer than they would have without him, but they all lacked his ruthlessness. He had a certain cold-hearted quality that allowed him to kill without batting an eye in the arena, and he could happily admit to it. Every single victor had either gone in with that quality already bred in their veins or they had built it in the arena. He wasn’t sure which side he fell on, but he knew he possessed it. After two or three years of watching kids he had gotten to know, most older than him, die at the hands of others who had been just like him, he had gotten tired and decided to step away. He knew Rhaenys could handle it, she had been doing it much longer than him anyway.

But this year, something felt different. Maybe it was the long speech his mother had given him about doing his duty, regardless of his own feelings. Maybe it was the thought that it was the last year of eligibility for his brother Daeron and he wanted to be there to ensure that if he was reaped he would at least have a mentor he knew. Whatever it was, he decided he would attempt mentoring one last time and do his utmost to make his tribute a victor.

A part of him was worried to start showing his face in public again. Though he was used to his eyepatch and he didn’t shy away from venturing out of the house if need be, this would put him directly in the limelight once more after many years. Everyone in Panem knew he wore an eyepatch, everyone in Panem had seen the initial wound he had been dealt, but he had kept away from the scene for so long that he felt self-conscious about his appearance. People would stare, people would be horrified, and- and he would just have to deal with it anyway.

On reaping day he put on his best suit, a beautiful two-piece made of fabrics of black and dark green and ventured into the square with his mother on his right arm and his sister on his left. He didn’t say a word to either as they entered the space and he left them to go stand near the back of the stage. Old memories of his own reaping day were flooding back in. The nervous energy that had thrummed through him, the sudden stillness of his body when they had called his name, his mother screaming and sobbing, pleading for it to be anybody else. Aemond closed his eyes and swallowed, ignoring the sudden pain that throbbed where his eye should be. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked across to where Rhaenys stood on the other side of the stage.

She was staring out at the gathering crowd with a blank face. Her hair was neatly braided at the top then flowed down her back in a white similar to his own. They were relatives, somehow, he could never quite remember the relation. He could see the signs of age on her face now, the wrinkles around her mouth had multiplied since she had last been here with him. Her dress was a deep blue, matching her eyes, and covered her arms until her wrists. He knew she bore scars on those arms from her own fight in the arena, but he felt a bitter pang of jealousy at how easily she was able to hide them. He would never have that luxury.

Aemond waited as the bustling died down and everyone was gathered in the square. He could see the lines of peacekeepers all over, their guns shining in the watery sunlight. He could see his brother standing among the men, a shock of white hair in a sea of brunettes and blondes. He wanted to smile at Daeron, to try and reassure him somehow that everything would be alright, but that was a lie and he would never be able to promise him that. Instead he looked away and began searching for his mother’s and sister’s faces as the anthem played and the formalities ensued. They were harder to find, but eventually he spotted his mother standing next to a girl in an emerald green dress. It was you.

Aemond was shocked for a moment to see that colour in the crowd. Everyone else was dressed in varying shades of grey, with the odd yellow popping out from somewhere in the crowd. Even his mother was more unique than most by wearing a completely black outfit, but you stood out like a flare. The dress was made of some satiny material and shined in the light. It was a relatively modest dress, with a collared neckline and short sleeves, the hem falling below the knee, but it was so… green.

Aemond stared at you, at your pretty hair and apprehensive eyes, posture straight but so tense he was sure your muscles must hurt. This must have been your last year of eligibility as well, he thought, you looked to be about Daeron’s age. Your name was populating that bowl, just as Daeron’s was, and he could understand the dread. You were so close to freedom, but if fate decided to be against you today, there was nothing you could do but face it.

“Alright! It’s now time to pick one young man and woman for the honour of representing this district in the next annual hunger games! Our courageous young man will be…” the brightly dressed capitol man reached his hand into the bowl and began mixing it around. Aemond silently prayed to the seven that he would accept anything, even his name being pulled again, as long as it wasn’t Daeron. He didn’t want to see the pain on his mother’s face if her youngest child was reaped. He didn’t think he could stand idly by if they picked Daeron. “Jasper Wylde! Come on up!” There was a moment of commotion as people looked around to try and find the unfortunate boy and eventually he stepped warily out onto the path made for the tributes. The capitol attendant clapped happily but no one joined in, watching with morose faces as he walked up to the stage and stood beside the bowl full of male names.

First Aemond breathed a sigh of relief. He truly did feel like smiling this time because Daeron was free. His family was finally free. They could live in their house in the victor’s village on his salary and die peacefully, a luxury. Then a wave of solemnity washed over him once more and he bowed his head slightly. He knew what it felt like to be reaped, he knew with what hatred that boy now stared at the bowl full of names, wondering why it was him and not the thousands of other names piled in there. No one should celebrate at this moment, a child was still being sent to his death.

“And now, last but not least, the ladies…” the representative hopped across the stage and shoved his hand into the other bowl. He swirled it around a few more times than he did for the boys, then picked a piece of paper right from the bottom. He slowly peeled it open and you could hear the way the paper stuck together slightly in the silence. “Y/n L/n!” Murmurs again filled the crowd but Aemond knew exactly who it was. You were the only one that didn’t move. People began turning and looking but you stood still. His mother gently rested a hand on your shoulder, whispering something in your ear. You turned to look at Alicent then tipped your head down in a swift nod. Then, back straight and head held high, you stepped through the crowd and onto the path.

You were a sight to behold. A girl in green striding down the path. A bright spot of paint on a white background. Aemond hadn’t realised his breath was held in his chest. Somewhere in the distance he could hear weeping, but you didn’t turn back. You stared at the stage and kept walking until you stood beside the capitol representative. It was only when you had gotten near that Aemond realised he could see your lip wobbling, that your hands shook like trees in a storm and tears made silent, shiny, tracks down your cheeks.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, here are our district’s tributes! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour…”

In the time the tributes were given to say their goodbyes to their families, Aemond took the opportunity to make his own farewells. He had already said goodbye to his father and Aegon who had stayed behind at the house during the reaping ceremony. His father was too ill to leave the house and it was Aegon’s turn to stay behind in case peacekeepers came asking for the health declaration. Though Aemond knew this wouldn’t happen as they were all here, and it gave Aegon a good excuse to laze around the house.

Helaena, Daeron, and his mother had been sad to see him go, though they took comfort in the knowledge that if no one else, at least he would return. Helaena shed a tear as she hugged him, making him promise to eat well and stay strong. Daeron’s goodbye was quicker, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t want Aemond to see him upset or because he wanted to go celebrate his newfound freedom. He hugged Aemond quickly then dragged Helaena off to home, chattering to her about something or other.

Aemond watched his siblings walk away then turned to his mother who watched him with sombre eyes. She was silent for a moment, then reached out and gently folded his hands between hers. She looked down at them then back up at him with a sniff and he wondered if she was about to start crying.

“Take care of her, Aemond,” she finally said, voice quiet but firm. “Until the end, you must take care of her.” Alicent looked him in the eyes until he nodded before squeezing his hands lightly. She pulled him into a hug and gently rubbed his back. “She needs you, Aemond, and if anyone can help her, it will be you. Leave that boy to Rhaenys, hm? She can handle him, and he will do what he will regardless. But Y/n has potential to win. People may not see it, but I believe, and only you can get her there.” Alicent let him go and stepped back, blowing a kiss to her son and beginning to walk away.

“Wait, mother-”

“Time to go,” the capitol representative came up beside him and clasped his shoulder but Aemond was quick to shove him off. He couldn’t threaten a capitol citizen, but gosh was he close.

Aemond still had so many questions for his mother but he was being herded toward the train and she had disappeared among the buildings. He let out a sigh of dejection and allowed himself to be brought onto the train, sitting down in the lavish room and pressing his head into his hands. The eyepatch was digging into his skin and he just wanted to rip it off and itch at his scars. But he couldn’t, because he didn’t want to look at what was underneath, and he didn’t want anyone else to walk in while his face was completely bare. So he pulled the leather away just slightly and scratched at the edges then let it snap back into place. He stared at the floor as he tried to sort out the pieces in his head and come up with a plan. He always had to have a plan. That’s how he survived his first games, and that’s how he would survive his last.

The doors to the compartment opened and Rhaenys walked in, her dress swishing around her ankles. He stood to greet her and she smiled, a small dejected thing that was as pathetic as he felt. She walked over to the bar and poured herself a glass of sweet alcohol. He remembered the taste from his first train ride, sickly sweet to the point of pain then fiery as it slipped down your throat. One taste had been enough for his whole life.

“I see you’ve returned to your duties,” Rhaenys said, voice full of mirth as she sipped from her glass. Aemond nodded, watching as she sat down on a plush velvet chair. He followed suit, sitting opposite her across an ornate glass coffee table.

“Yes, one last time,” Aemond replied simply, turning away from her to stare out the window as the train began to move. “I have a request, concerning the tributes.”

“Oh?” Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, lips pulling up into a smirk as she brought the glass to her lips to drain the rest of her drink. “Do tell.”

“I will solely mentor Y/n, and you can take charge of the boy,” Aemond said, lacing his fingers together in his lap.

“Why?” Rhaenys furrowed her brows and put the glass down on the coffee table.

“It will be easier on everyone, focus all your energy on one tribute and do what you can to get them to win.,” he shrugged, as if the answer had been there all along.

“Yes I know that, but why do you want to mentor her?” Rhaenys asked, and he went quiet, staring at her as he tried to think of his answer. All his mind conjured was the image of you walking to the stage, the green dress and the tear tracks.

“I’m sure you see the potential in the boy. He has muscle, he has experience from the mines which means he already has the brute strength that can be honed with skill, but I see potential in her. I’d like to see what I can do with it.” He stared directly into Rhaenys’ eyes and sat up straight.

Aemond believed what he said. If his mother saw potential in you, then so did he. He would do what he could to get you ready for the games, then he would do whatever he could to help you survive in the arena. The world was always against him, but if there was one thing he knew, it was how to survive. Now, he would make sure you did too.

“Alright, have it your way,” Rhaenys shrugged, and this time Aemond allowed himself to smile.

Aemond and Rhaenys walked through three train compartments before they found the tributes. You were sitting at the right wall on a purple velvet sofa, legs curled up under you, staring out of the window. Jasper was busying himself at the bar and the air was heavy with silence. Both of you refused to acknowledge the other, and Aemond cleared his throat to draw your eyes to him. You merely raised your eyes to them while Jasper made to rush around the bar as if they had caught him doing something he shouldn’t.

“Oh don’t stop on our account, it’s only right you drink what you will before you die,” Rhaenys smiled genially, and Jasper had enough sense to look sheepish. “Alright, you come with me, I’ll be your mentor,” she pointed to Jasper then motioned for him to follow her before walking back out of the room. Jasper hesitated, looking around as if he was unsure what the protocol was, but Aemond just motioned his head to where Rhaenys had disappeared and Jasper jogged after her.

The room was quiet again. You had returned to staring out of the window, and Aemond slowly made his way over to the sofa you were sitting on. He left a seat between you and sat down, only turned slightly toward you. You finally tore your eyes away from the landscape and looked at him and he could see how red and puffy they were. Red veins crawled over the whites of your eyes and your nose was shiny and a pang of something painful hit his chest.

“Did you get to say goodbye?” He asked quietly, lacing his hands together in his lap. You nodded, gulping and opening your mouth once, twice, before a croaking voice spoke.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat before speaking again, “I only have my parents so… it was a quick goodbye.” Your lower lip began trembling and your whole face crumpled as you began to sob once more.

Aemond had seen tributes cry before, it was normal, but not this much. By the time they got on the train they usually gathered themselves up and began trying to concoct a plan. But you, you seemed to be completely lost to despair. Your face was the picture of pain, and you brought your knees up to your chest and rocked yourself slightly. His mouth turned down in pity.

“My mother bought me this dress,” you finally said through the tears, voice slightly blubbery and high-pitched as you began breathing in to calm yourself. You looked up to meet his eyes and he could barely make out your irises through your crinkled lids and the heaps of water pouring over your lashes. “She wanted to get me something special for my last year in the reaping and she spent a whole salary on the fabric. She toiled night after night, coming home from work to painstakingly stitch every piece together.” You gently caressed the fabric and smiled through the tears and somehow this sight was so much worse than the frown. Aemond’s chest clenched so tight he thought his heart might stop beating altogether. You let out a huff of a chuckle, a watery sound that was quickly followed by a sniffle as you pressed your hands to the fabric before looking up at him and directly into his eyes. Your own were open now, wide as they could go, serious as they could be.

“I know I can’t win. You know I can’t win. Everyone who watched the reaping knows I can’t win. I’m a girl who’s only skill is dressing pretty. So, Aemond Targaryen, tell me what to do?” You looked at him in earnest, as if he held all the answers, and for a moment Aemond began to question what his mother saw in you. What was this potential she spoke of? All he saw was a weak little girl who couldn’t even be bothered to believe in herself. But then he remembered your walk up to the stage, the strength with which you had held yourself even while you had cried. Now he understood what his mother wanted him to do.

“You think you can’t win.” He turned to fully face you and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “There’s more to the games than just surviving the arena. You’re good at looking pretty? Then you’ll survive the parade, you’ll excel at the interview, you’ll get sponsors and I’ll be able to help you for longer in the games with that. Not everything is about brute force and murderous intent. You’ll have some time to train before going into the arena, we can use it to teach you a few things. Don’t think about winning, just try surviving,” he watched you as he spoke, noting the way you seemed to breathe easier and your eyes seemed to lighten slightly. Your hands stopped trembling and you uncurled from around your knees, instead spreading your toes out over the plush fabric.

“Ok,” you breathed out, “I can try,” you affirmed, nodding to yourself, and he allowed you a small smile before becoming sombre again.

“I won’t lie to you, you will have to do things in the arena that will haunt you if you manage to make it out. The games are designed to turn you into an animal. Even if you go in there without the intention of killing, no one comes out unscathed. So, the real question isn’t about if people believe you can win. Are you willing to do what it takes?”

Aemond had thought about all the people he had killed for a long time. He remembered every detail about them, from district and family history to what they had looked like the moment life had finally drained from their eyes. He often thought about his final victim, the only person he had gotten along with before they had entered the arena. He thought of the way she had grabbed his wrist and forced the knife into her own stomach, the way she had smiled as she fell to the floor, the eternal smile as the cannon sounded and her blood warmed his hand. The realisation that he was alone in the arena.

When he saw the smile on your face as you wiped at your tears and brought your feet off the couch, nodding your head and repeating the word yes until you seemed to believe yourself, he thought of the final girl.

When you reached the capitol, you were separated and attendants led you off to… somewhere. You were stripped bare and forced into a roiling bath filled with all sorts of serums and scents and oils. Your scalp was scrubbed until you could feel each individual hair follicle growing and your skin was pink. They cut and polished your fingernails and toenails and waxed you all over until your skin burned. You were moved onto your stylist who greeted you with kisses on your cheeks before whirling you around to scrutinise your body. He had a gentle smile, and conversed with you all the while you stood on a pedestal in the middle of his room. He told you about the dress he had made for you, all the jewellery available to you and how you had the next few hours to prepare yourself for the parade.

You allowed yourself to revel in this one luxury. You loved to dress up, to wear fancy clothes and beautify yourself whenever you could. The opportunities had been few and far between back home, despite your parents doing their best to provide you with them. Even if you were going to die in a few weeks time, at least you could enjoy the luxuries offered until then.

Ursa brought out a garment bag and one of his attendants rolled in three carts covered in jewellery one by one. Ursa hung the bag up right in front of you and zipped it open, to reveal the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. “I watched the reaping and just knew what I would make,” he whispered as both of you stared at it. You brought your hand to your mouth and stepped forward to touch the fabric.

The dress was dark green, like leaves in the deepest, darkest, part of a forest. A sweetheart neckline with off the shoulder straps that led into long swaths of tulle that would flow behind your arms. Rhinestones were sewn into the fabric almost at random to look like sunlight falling onto the fabric. It had a long train that you knew would drag behind you on the ground and force the carriage behind you to keep at a distance. You realised how he wanted to single you out. The organisers would keep everything symmetrical, so the long gap behind you would mean there was a long gap ahead of you too. Spectators would be drawn to the sight of you two taking up so much space. You would be the centre of attention.

Ursa helped you into the dress and set the sleeves for you as you gazed at yourself in the mirror. It truly was made for you, each measurement perfect. All the effort Ursa had put into this… you began to tear up but he just hushed you and began fussing over the jewellery carts. He suggested putting a tiara on you but you were hesitant. It felt presumptuous to already wear a crown at the tribute parade.

“Darling,” he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced you to look into his eyes. “Act like you’ve already won. Nothing else will make it easier, and nothing else will grab their attention more.” He slid the comb of the tiara into your hair and forced you to hold your head up high.

In the next few hours, you were draped with necklaces and bracelets and rings. Just before you were helped up onto the carriage, Aemond appeared at your side. You looked up at him and for a moment he didn’t say a word. He just stared at you, at the dress and the crown and the whole picture of finery. You couldn’t read what was in his eyes and you looked down nervously, trying not to shuffle back out of embarrassment.

“You look like a winner,” he finally said.

When training started, your confidence began to wane. You watched all the other tributes heft axes, shoot arrows, slice swords or destroy dummies with their bare hands. You watched other tributes practice building traps or gain strength in their legs for running. It felt like you were the only one starting from rock bottom. You wanted to yell at Aemond, to say “look! Look at my glaring lack of ability! Whatever belief you had in me must be dead!” But everyday he came back, dressed in black athletic wear ready to teach you something new.

He didn’t bother with any weapon bigger than a dagger, telling you it would only weigh you down. He made you run until you were sick for the first half of every day, then run some more. The second half was spent learning how to use the simplest of supplies to make traps or alarms. He would use rope or wire with a handful of leaves he had gathered from outside the facility. He taught you about plants and water sources and made you list every possible terrain and the best possible strategy to handle it before you could leave for the day.

Despite the intense rigour with which he attacked your training, he was endlessly patient. He listened to every complaint before forcing you back onto the treadmill. He rubbed ointment on your fingertips after you cut them on the wire but made you rebuild the trap. He made sure you ate a full meal but quizzed you about everything he taught you while you sat together. And on the nights when you missed home, when the world felt like it was ending and your mind could only play the sight of your mother’s face crumpled with tears, the sound of your father crying, he held you and whispered stories of history long past into your ears until you slept.

He had so quickly become everything to you. At times you thought about how only a little while ago he had been nothing but an image on a screen, a name whispered around town, and now he was your comfort, your nourishment, your whole life, your very soul. You tried to imagine doing this without him, and you simply couldn’t. You knew you would have given up a long time ago if he had not been there to carry you through.

As the time to enter the arena crept closer and closer, the training got harder and harder. It was on a particularly difficult day that you returned from the facility and began rummaging in your closet for your reaping day dress. You hugged it as you slept sometimes, imagining that you could still smell the faint scent of your mother’s perfume on it. But it wasn’t there. You threw out every scrap of cloth that the capitol had provided for you, opened every drawer and pawed through every nook and cranny like a desperate mouse searching for food. It was nowhere to be found.

Aemond heard all the noise coming from your room and decided to venture in to figure out what was wrong. He found you sitting on the floor in a pile of underwear and training gear, hair still wet from the shower and tears streaming down your face. You were sobbing quietly, shoulders hunched forward and body bobbing slightly with every hiccuped breath. Your hands were clenched in the clothes you were surrounded by and he could see the chaos that had occurred. Aemond knelt down beside you and gently unclasped one of your hands from the clothes.

“What’s happened?” He asked quietly, softly touching each one of your fingertips where they were still red from working with the metal wire.

“My dress is gone,” you whispered hoarsely, looking up at him with big teary eyes. You looked like a child then, the way Daeron had when he used to fall down outside the house and cry until mother soothed his cuts and bruises. Aemond reached up and collected a tear with his thumb.

“They must have taken it for a wash, I’ll call down and find it,” he soothed, wiping the tear on his pants before repeating the gesture on your other cheek.

You continued to stare up into his eyes, and he let go of your hand to cup your cheek. He moved closer until his nose gently touched yours. You closed your eyes and waited, feeling his breaths brush over your lips. You waited and waited but he still didn’t kiss you. You opened your eyes again and he was staring at your face with such pain, such sadness that it crushed something in your chest.

Aemond had never felt such guilt for loving someone. He had happily loved his family and happily loved the one girl who had kissed him while they were still in school (though that had ended quickly). But here, with you, he felt the crushing weight of helplessness as he looked upon your face. He loved you, yet he could do nothing to get you out of this. He loved you, yet all he could give you were a few days, a few kisses, mere moments before everything was thrown into the air.

You leaned forward and slid your hands into Aemond’s hair. You pressed your lips to his mouth and gently kissed him then pulled away. You did it once more, staying just longer than a peck then pulling back. Then he was kissing you, pressing his tongue into your mouth and leaning over you so your neck tilted back. The tip of his nose pressed into your cheek and he kissed your lips like they should be cherished.

You pulled away and caressed his cheek, smiling then gently bumping his nose with yours. He smiled back, huffing out a sad little chuckle. You pressed your nose and mouth to his cheek and kissed him before mumbling against his skin.

“Thank you, for everything.”

It was your final night. Tomorrow you would be tossed in the arena and expected to survive for the entertainment of the capitol citizens. While you had done well with the parade, and people had immensely enjoyed your interview, you had scored appallingly low on your assessment. Aemond told you not to worry, that it was a good thing for people to underestimate you, they wouldn’t worry about killing you first because they believed you would end up dying on your own. You at least had cover for now.

You had eaten in silence, all four of you gathered for your last supper. Jasper had talked and talked, asking last-minute advice and making commentary about the other tributes, but you felt like any energy you might have had before had been completely zapped away. You drank three glasses of water, then walked to your room without a glance back, sitting in your bed to wait for Aemond to come to you.

It was as you began to doze off that he stepped into your room, the lights dimmed and casting shadows over his face. He walked over and sat in front of you on the bed, reaching over and gently caressing your head for a moment. You didn’t speak for the first few moments, what could you really say? Aemond cleared his throat.

“Don’t run for the cornucopia, just run for cove-”

“No advice please,” you interrupted, “not tonight. Tell me everything you can tomorrow morning, speak to me even as I’m being lifted away, but not tonight.” He nodded and shifted closer to you, watching as you reached out to hold his hands. “Will you show me?” You finally asked, and his heart stopped in his chest.

He knew what you were asking for, but somehow this still terrified him. It was… grotesque, horrifying, and a million other gruesome words. What would you say after seeing it? Aemond gulped and turned away from you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“When he slashed my eye, that was the most pain I had ever felt in my eye,” he began, voice rough. “Rhaenys sent me bandages and I was able to keep it wrapped up until the end of the games, but after I was lifted out, they took me straight to the hospital. I was delirious, but I remember the medics said there were a million things that could have gone wrong. I was lucky it wasn’t infected, and I was lucky they could perform surgery quickly.” Aemond closed his eye as he spoke but his fists were clenched on his knees. “When I finally woke up, blind in one eye, they brought me a mirror to show me their work. They said they were so proud, that not only had I been given the best care but they had made me seem truly capitol. You know what they did to my eye?” He snapped in your direction and you jumped. He stared at you with his one blue eye, unforgiving as steel. “They shoved a huge chunk of sapphire into the empty socket. There’s no eye in there, no cavity, not even scarred over skin. Every time I take off this eyepatch, the evidence of the games stares back at me. The thought that I have been forever changed by the capitol, disfigured by them in the name of beauty…” his chest was heaving and he had gone deathly pale. You reached over but he swiftly grabbed your hand, grip tight. He stared at your face, at the look of earnest care and pure love in your eyes, and slowly peeled away his fingers.

You didn’t make a sound as you gripped the strap of his eyepatch and lifted it over his head. You didn’t say a word as you looked upon the rough cut sapphire that sat where his eye should have been. All you did was lean over and kiss him, smiling against his lips and kissing him again. He pushed you onto your back and kissed you until you were breathless. He kissed over your neck, and after removing your nightgown, he kissed down your chest and over your stomach. He pulled down your pants and kissed you between your thighs until you could only call out his name. He kissed your thighs, your stomach, your breasts, and back up to your lips. He pressed into you for the first time, and you whined into his mouth. You dug your nails into his shoulders and he pressed into you once more. He did it again and again and again until you were overcome with pleasure. Then he did it again.

You stood beside the tube that would take you up into the arena. You couldn’t explain how you felt. Your entire body felt like it was thrumming but your mind was quiet. There were a million things you wanted to say, but not one word passed your lips.

Aemond had come down with you even though he wasn’t supposed to. You held tight to his hand and he didn’t say a word. He had spent the morning rapidly telling you things you were sure you would forget the moment the horn went off. He had stopped occasionally to kiss you, to caress your hair and hold you until he started breathing normally again. But he could do no more. The countdown had started, and you had a minute before you had to get into the tube.

“You know what you’re doing, you can survive,” he said simply, holding onto your hands. But you only shook your head and hushed him.

“Aemond, if I don’t make it out-”

“Don’t say that,” he spat out, gripping your face in his hands, but you just shook your head as much as you could in his grip.

“If I don’t make it out, I want you to know how much I love you. I need you to know. It’s the only thing that will let me die peacefully in the arena. I’ll fight, and I’ll try and make my way back to you, but if it should happen that I can’t… I need you to know.” Your lip trembled and you smiled at him, nodding as if everything was fine and you would be back in a minute.

“I know, I know, of course I know,” he whispered, pressing his lips so tightly to yours that when you pulled away they throbbed. “But you…” he gulped and shook his head and you saw the tears begin to collect in his eyes. “You just make it out,” was all he whispered, and kissed you again.

He kissed you until you had to rush to get into the tube. He stood by the glass as the final countdown began, ten seconds ticking by faster than they ever had before. And just as you began to rise, hands slipping against the glass, he mouthed ‘I love you,’ but he didn’t know if you had seen it.

Endnote: I truly believe Rhaenys would win the shit out of the hunger games

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the-turtleduck-pond · 1 year

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I keep seeing so much Hunger Games stuff and then I see people calling district 4 a career district and it always makes me get a little confused because yes it is and no it isn't at the same time and I'm not sure why no one else ever seems to go into that intricacy.

People like to use Finnick as a reason that 4 is oh so definitely a career district, but he is in fact the very reason why it is not actually one. Annie is actually another why they're not and Mags is the most like a career.

The career districts are the ones who have all the capital funding and support. They can literally train their kids to fight so they almost always win and if they don't it's because the other district kids somehow got a one up on them that wasn't expected.

Careers are also the ones who volunteer for their spot to the point where there's literally so many just about to be out of the Reaping children who are ready to fight.

4 is at best an honorary career district because they are always well fed and their export requires them to have a decent amount of strength, both from swimming and needing to move things.

Except 4 doesn't have dozens of people clambering for their spot if someone who won't do good gets pulled.

Like 14 year old Finnick who won his games because he was pretty. That is not me choosing to say that remember, this is canonical. Finnick got sent a trident, the most expensive sponsor gift ever, because they thought he was pretty and wanted him to do better. So he weaved nets out of vines and then caught other tributes before killing them because he couldn't do close combat.

Annie was I think either 16 or 17 and she was far from a career, she won her games on sheer luck. Her entire plan in the games was to hide. And she did. She hid and she was okay until she saw her district partner get fucking decapitated. She hid more after that until an earthquake that the Game Makers caused broke a dam in the arena. That's right. She won because someone fucked up and the arena fucking flooded and she was the only remaining tribute with any real strength in swimming. So she managed to survive and was traumatized.

Also, don't forget that in the 74th games that the male tribute from district 4 was a 12 year old. That wasn't a career and he died in the initial bloodbath.

The only one we see that was even potentially close to a career was Mags and we have no clue how she won her game. Just that she won the 11th and that she was 18 at the time.

Calling them 'careers' is laughable and even though Katniss herself does you need to remember that she is an unreliable narrator, especially about other districts.

4 is only a career district when it suits 1 and 2.

#the hunger games

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majimemegoro · 5 months

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Kamurocho dashboard simulator

🏵 tojoc0re Follow

nishiki was 27 years old???

🏵 tojoc0re Follow

he shouldnt have been made a patriarch the dragon of dojima would of been better at it :/

( 420 notes )

📸 daily-mac-photos Follow

#kamurocho #tokyo #tenkaichi street #japan landscapes #photographers of japan #travel #cyberpunk #not as zesty as my usual subject matter but #lmao pls reblog this i almost got beat up by color gang members taking this photo

( 79 notes )

🦢 chinpiraposting Follow

my hungry ass can't be left alone with staminam x i suck those bad boys down like juice

( 9,839 notes )

🚲 wackycyclist Follow

#the entitlement i see on this site sometimes is disgusting #y'all will just post about having easy access to bicycles??? #some of us had our bicycles wrecked in fights??? #vent #do not rb

( 3 notes )

🗡 koinodiscoqueen Follow

CALLOUT FOR SHIMANO FUTOSHI

I've talked a lot about this already on this blog, but I want to have everything collected in one post so next time some dipshit with a hannya hand icon slides into my inbox to call me a liar I can just link to this post. tl;dr shimano futoshi made my cousin feel realy unsafe while she was shaving his head, and here are the receipts:

Keep reading

( 38 notes )

🚡 matsushigeboss-deactivated30190547

fr we need to stop letting twunks be in charge of anything

( 3 notes )

🍜 i<3kazama Follow

i stg if one more of you tells me the old yakuza way is dying I KNOW ALREADY shut UP

#feel like pure shit just want cold noodles

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📖 kamuroscamwatch Follow

today's scam: Aha water (again)

Was walking down pink street when I got stopped by a barker who promised that all my problems could be solved..., long story short, anyone remember Aha water from the 80s? Well, they rebranded as AHA water (subtle, I know) and they''re back at it. I stalked the people who make it and they literally collected puddle water from the champion district to put in the concoction. I didn't really feel well after drinking it, but the overall experience was good because they totally tapped into that nostalgia. Overall a really solid scam. Stay safe out there kamurocho.

4/5 stars

#scamblr #aha water #1980s #scams #scam rating #safety #scam review

( 12 notes )

👺 hannya69 Follow

batting center is a normal place to get nastay in reblog if u agree

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🚗 thepocketcricuitfighter Follow

Does anyone here still play pocket circuit? :)

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📈 reglarsalaryman Follow

wtf this guy just ripped off his shirt in the street and started whaling on some guys?? everyone else started clapping and cheering and I just went along with it lmao 😅 am I missing something????

#this is right after he sang a song and saved a couple from jumping off a building #he was glowing too.... #average night in kamurocho

( 85 notes )

🐛 majimaunderlingbaddiebracket Follow

ULTIMATE HOTTEST MAJIMA UNDERLING BADDIE TOURNAMENT FINALS!!!!

🔘 shinji-deactivated30190303

here y'all go again pitting two bad bitches against each other

🌀 jingusforehead Follow

🌊 thugbaby Follow

everyone who voted minami is an arson apologist #nishidasweep

( 4,271 notes )

🔥 businessboi Follow

fuck my job so much. everyone manifest an attack on millennium tower so I can go home.

🔥 businessboi Follow

by talos this can't be happening

( 38,386 notes )

#kamurocho #yakuza #rgg #ryu ga gotoku #video games #meme #memecomradeoriginal #THIS IS ABSOLTELY NOT HOW I NEEDED TO BE SPENDING MY TIME LOLLLLL I FEEL INSAAAAANE #majima #kiryu #majima family #i had other ideas but im so tired #feel free to add on #this post is based off the tolkien one

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hadeantaiga · 7 months

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anyway I love Haymitch and I while I completely understand why he didn't get as much attention in the books because he is not the main character,

I still think about him.

Guy hated the hunger games just like everyone else, but he doesn't even try to play by the rules. He is openly resentful and mocking of the whole affair from his first interview in the Capitol.

He tells Katniss and Peeta not to fight the stylists. I wonder how much trouble he gave his stylists. He must've been a nightmare.

Did he even have a mentor? According to the wiki, the prior District 12 victor won 40 years before he won his quarter quell. I'm betting she was dead. He had no one to help him.

So he goes into the arena and just. Avoids everyone almost completely. Allies up with the girl from his district, but truly does not "play the game". He just goes looking for the edge of the arena. And finds it. And exploits it. And wins.

The Capitol tries to control him after he wins, tried to sell him for sexual favors just like they later do to Finnick, but Haymitch refuses.

So The Capitol kills his entire family.

Downside is now they have no way to control him. Upside, they don't have to since he spends the next few decades trying to drink himself to death.

And then suddenly these two kids show up on the train and one is stupidly in love and the other is stubborn as hell and oh no he sees so much of himself in her, and suddenly there's a glimmer of hope in the haze of pain that has been his life.

And he manages to pull it off. District 12 wins. Not only does District 12 win, but they both live. But it doesn't fill his heart with joy. He sees the danger, probably saw it the second Katniss pulled out the berries. He knows she's in trouble because he was in trouble for "defying" the Capitol, too.

So he does everything he can to help them through the next few months, and then the disastrous mid-year District tour, and he knows it's hopeless. Who knows how long he's had connections to the rebels, but I'm convinced the failed District Tour, seeing 11 and the other districts starting to revolt - that pushes him fully into the resistance.

The choices he makes. We all see it from Katniss' point of view, through her lens of resentment at being used as a pawn and feeling powerless to all the adults in her life - the Capitol Gamemakers, President Snow, Haymitch, President Coin, etc.

Idk. I love Haymitch.

#the hunger games #haymitch abernathy

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gh0stsp1d3r · 3 months

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𝒮𝓌𝒶𝓃

-coryo with a dancer! Reader cause why not. Might make this a series. Love at first sight type trope

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Part 2, part 3

Coriolanus Snow's heart belonged to you the second he laid his eyes on you. The dancer girl he's been told he had to mentor.

Everyone in district 12 knew you, the girl who danced before she walked, some liked to call you. Though you were mostly known as swan. The white frilly dress you usually wore was the main reason, the way you danced so gracefully.

You, like everyone else in the districts, were poor. You had no family, no one to go home to. But still, you were happy. You served as a sign of hope, of love and care to everyone who could see you dance.

Your heart sunk as your name was called, people murmured as they turned to you. You took a deep breath before walking up, ignoring the stares and the whispers.

You stood up to the stage, looking directly into the cameras with a glare. You detested the games, they were inhumane and terrible.

“The “runt girl” from district 12. She belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

That’s the moment that the entirety of the capital knew Coriolanus snow would have his hands full with this girl.

The train came to a slow stop, you were helped out by Jessup, the man from your district who you’ve gotten to know.

You both had turned around when a blonde haired boy came up. He was gorgeous, he stood in front of you and held out a white rose.

“Welcome to the capital.”

You looked at the rose, slowly taking it and admiring it.

“You look like you shouldn’t be here.” You remarked, a small smile on your face as your fingers pulled off a petal or two.

“Well, I shouldn’t. But I’m your mentor.” He was interested in you.

“A rebel, huh?” You joked. “What is a mentor supposed to do, exactly?” You asked curiously.

“To take care of their tribute.”

“What’s your name..?” You asked him.

“Coriolanus Snow.”

“Y/n L/n. But most people in 12 know me as swan.”

He was about to ask you something when he was cut off by a scream.

“No!” Some girl shouted as she was thrown out, you looked up and frowned as the peacekeepers grabbed her and forced her to stand up.

“Assholes.” You mumbled when they walked past you, looking them up and down. Some others came from behind and told you guys to move along.

He had followed them into the truck, once the peacekeepers were distracted, running into it. You watched him with a furrowed brow, he looked back and saw all the tributes looking at him.

What an odd man, you thought.

“Hi.” He said to them.

“What’s the matter pretty boy? You in the wrong cage?”

“No. This cage is delightful.”

“Get him reaper.” One said.

“I will kill you right now.” He pinned him to the wall of the truck.

“He’ll do it too. He killed a peacekeeper back in 11.” One girl said.

“I say we all kill him.”

“Do you guys have family back home? Friends? They’ll kill everyone you know if you kill him. Probably not the best idea.” You shrugged, not looking up at them and still just messing with the rose.

“And he’s my mentor, I would rather you not kill him.”

“How come you get a mender?”

“Mentor. You each get one.” He corrected.

“And we’re all just supposed to believe you?”

“I’m just.. here to help you.”

“Why does uh.. dancer girl here get special treatment? Why aren’t our menders here?”

You looked up from the rose now, looking at the girl in your face. You then looked over to the blonde boy, he was looking back at you. You shrugged, “Just not inspired, I guess.”

He sent you a small smirk, and the truck started to beep. Everyone started falling, and the blonde boy quickly grabbed you, holding you. You both had fallen down together, and looked out.

You were both inside some cage, there was a crowd of people outside, looking as if you were all animals.

“It’s terrible.” You mumbled out, he looked at you now, curiosity in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Everything. Why do we have to pay the price for something we had no part in? It’s like we’re fuckin’ animals.” You turned to him now.

He didn’t say anything, instead swallowing the lump in his throat and looking at the crowd. You did as well.

He liked that you were fierce. You weren't afraid to speak your mind, or your truth. It made him all the more enamored with you.

A performer forced to fight. That’s all you were. He knew it, of course he did. He was your only shot of winning, of surviving. You slowly learned to trust him and began to do what he had asked of you.

He asked you to dance once you got up on that stage, and he was right. The donations came pouring in, the people loved you, and now it wasn't people only from the districts, it was people from the capitol.

He watched with a small smile on his face as you leaped across the stage, you seemed at peace when you danced. It was graceful, and elegant even with the now worn-out dress.

You truly were just a little swan, his swan to protect and keep.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #president coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #president snow x reader #snow x reader #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow drabble #tbosbas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games

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melusinealarice · 1 year

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Somewhere in Panem with the victors the 74th year

Katniss climbing the tree

Gloss: Really Haymitch, this is the girl that got an 11 as a training score??

Cato falls

Haymitch: At least she got up the fuckin tree.

Cashmere: It’s fine someone else will get her.

None if the carriers climbing

Enobaria: You gotta be kidding me.

Johanna and Finnick join on the couch

Johanna: Even Finnick’s kids could climb a fucking tree,

Finnick hiding laughter

Brutus: At least our kids made it past the blood bath, can’t say the same for either of yours.

Johanna: I bet you wish they’d kept one of mine around right about now.

Gloss: its fine, she’s a sitting duck, they can just shoot her, its not like she can dodge it, or move.

Glimmer misses shot

Haymitch: Did that girl ever hit any target with her arrow? Because mine did.

Cashmere: We told her to grab a short distance weapon, she has no aim.

Enobaria: that’s embarrassing, for the careers. Cato will get her, he doesn’t miss.

Cato fires arrow and misses

Brutus: Oh my god, I can’t watch this, im getting second hand embarrassment.

Haymitch: Can none of your kids climb a tree???

Cashmere: I guess not.

Marvel throws spear and misses

Finnick: None of them can aim either, this is just sad

Peeta: lets wait her out, she has to come down at some point.

Haymitch laughing hysterically,

Some time later

Katniss starting to cut down tracker jackers

Gloss: Did all our kids seriously fall asleep,

Cashmere rubbing her temples: Yea, they did

Johanna: Who sleeps that heavily in the arena??? Shes making so much noise how are they not awake?

Enobaria: She’s gonna die from those jackers before that nest falls,

Nest falls and careers scatter

Brutus: I need another drink,

Glimmer dies

Johanna: HAH HOW DOES IT FEEL HAVING YOUR CAREER BE TAKEN OUT BY THE DISTRICT 12 GIRL!

Cashmere: no comment,

Some more time later

Katniss plots with rue to blow up food

Gloss: they aren’t gonna fall for that.

They fall for it

Haymitch: you were saying?

Enobaria: This year sucks

Katniss kills Marvel

Johanna (drunk) : HAH BOTH OF YOUR TRIBUTES TAKEN OUT BY THE 12 GIRL!

Gloss: Ok im leaving now.

Cashmere: yea i think im also gonna head out…

Johanna (drunk): LOOSERS HAHAHAHAHAH!!!!

Finnick: ok Jo, come on, that’s enough for you,

Takes her alcohol

Johanna: no fairrrr, you never take Haymitch’s alcohol

Haymitch: he knows not to mess with me

Finnick: Every time you get drunk, you end up in a fist fight, or breaking something, or both, Haymitch just passes out.

Johanna: OH WHAT YOU WANNA FIGHT LETS FIGHT!

Finnick picks Jo up and carries her to the elevator as she continues screaming and fighting

Haymitch to Brutus and Enobaria: Haha, your tributes arent as cool as mineeee,

Brutus: at least our girl doesn’t look like she wants to vomit getting close to her supposed lover.

Finnick returns

Enobaria: that was fast?

Finnick: I locked her in her bathroom,

Haymitch: Didn’t she just break down the door last time?

Finnick: I handcuffed one of her hands to the pipes and the other to the door.

Elevator doors open revealing Johanna, drenched in water, still handcuffed to a pipe, and the door.

Finnick: I give up. *sits down*

Brutus: what the fuck is wrong with you.

Both Finnick and Jo simultaneously: A lot.

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artist-issues · 4 months

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Also how interesting is it that the thing that killed Snow was the thing he knew he needed to grow out of in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes: obsessing over one problem, thinking that solving it will fix everything else?

That's how Coin outmaneuvered him. She got him to focus on the girl from District 12 while she turned his people against him.

And THEN, how interesting is it that the lesson he learned from his failed relationship with Lucy Gray is what saved him from Katniss' arrow?

In Ballad, Lucy Gray turned on him because he lied to her. She knew he'd killed three people, and he lied about the third, so he lost her trust in him.

But the one thing Snow made a point of in his antagonistic relationship with Katniss is to make sure they were both totally honest with each other.

When it's suggested to Katniss that the Rebels bombed the Capitol children and Prim, she's so confused she can't decide what she believes. And she specifically says she needs someone she can trust.

And when it comes right down to it? She does trust Snow's word. Because he's never lied to her. So she shoots Coin instead of him.

This is why The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes is such an interesting prequel. It really does set up Lucy Gray as the foundation for Snow's whole battle with Katniss--actually, for who he is by the time Katniss comes into the picture.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the hunger games: the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #suzanne collins #lionsgate #character analysis #storytelling #the hunger games

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avoxrising · 4 months

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The Feral One • Ch 30

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I can’t believe this is the last chapter 😭 Enjoy!

Content Warnings - none :)

On the one year anniversary of Snow’s death, aka Freedom Day, you married Finnick for real. He had proposed to you in your garden a few weeks after you’d returned home from the capital. You said yes of course.

Your friends traveled from all over Panem to witness your real special day. Katniss and Peeta (who were on good terms but not quite dating yet) took the train from 12, dragging a not so sober Haymitch along with them. Beetee, who is now living in the capital as Panem’s head of military technology, arrived along with Effie and Tigris. Finally, Johanna arrived a few days early from 7 to spend some extra time with Annie (much to Mags’ delight).

Mags, Annie, and Jo had decided that wedding planning was their new favorite activity and planned the whole thing for you and Finnick. They even arranged for Peeta to make and decorate the cake again. Tigris designed your dress and Effie helped with the makeup.

Everything was perfect. Finnick had suggested that Mags officiate the wedding because in District 4, it’s tradition to have the elder of the family perform the ceremony. Although neither you nor Finnick had any living relatives, Mags was a mother figure to both of you.

The ceremony commenced half an hour before the sun was set to disappear over the waters. Beetee had designed cool contacts for everyone so they could watch the sunset behind you and Finnick without going blind.

District 4’s wedding march boomed out over the ceremony as a group of local children played it on their hand drums. Your dress flows beautifully behind you as you walk your bare feet down the sandy aisle, without the assistance of anyone else.

You catch Finnick’s eyes as you approach him and Mags. He’s standing there in awe of you as he wears somewhat casual dress pants and a flowy button down shirt. Mags signals for the children to stop drumming when you reach Finnick.

Mags pulls out a net, handwoven by herself, to drape over you and Finnick. Finnick has to help her a bit due to her height but eventually you’re both caught under the net. Mags proceeds to sign the ceremony dialogue as the net rests over both of you.

When she finishes the formalities, she has Finnick lift the net off and wrap it around your shoulders, securing it so it doesn’t slip while still allowing your arms to move freely.

You take the bowl of salt water from Mags and dip your fingers in it before gently gliding them over Finnick’s lips. He then takes the bowl from you and traces your lips, leaving saltwater in the wake of his fingers.

This is where District 4 does the vows. You both do your best to convey in words your love for each other but words can’t possibly describe the depth of your love.

Finally, your love is sealed in a salty kiss. Nothing else matters in this moment; not the watching crowd, not the scars of your own battles, nor the pain you had endured. Your life was complete as long as he was in it.

To everyone else, you’re a survivor, a human, a warrior. To yourself, you’re healing, you’re safe, you’re loved. To him, you’re everything.

The epilogue will be out sometime soonish (I still haven’t finished it lol but I promise I’m working on it).

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @|3хі3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @lvsticm @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @finnysmusic @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom @yizhoutv @livingdead-reilly @coriolanussnowswife @faephoria @omwtkydttfym @iris1587 @sarcasm-and-stiles @10ava01 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @littleanubis21 @scorpiolystoned @maxinehufflepuffprincess

*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x y/n #finnick fluff #thg finnick #finnick odair fluff #the feral one

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helloalycia · 4 months

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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃

summary: after you hear about Lucy Gray's breakup, you wonder if you'll finally have a chance with her. Of course, your father, the head peacekeeper, can never know you like the 'troublemaker' from the Covey.

warning/s: none i don't think?

author's note: okay so after a million years i finally got this one written, an idea that came to me like a week ago and took forever to write because life lol. I hope you all like it anyway, it’s a three parter and was fun to write :)

something to note - Y/BF/N = your best friend's name and Y/D/N = your dad's name

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

"...and I told him that he shouldn't say stuff he doesn't mean, especially when it's just plain old rude, but of course he didn't care..."

I hummed, nodding along as my best friend, Y/BF/N, rambled about an encounter she'd had with one of her neighbours, but I was also glancing around the hallway casually. It was the end of the school day and I was waiting for Y/BF/N to collect her books from her locker so we could go, but she easily got distracted.

Apparently so did I though, as my eyes fell upon Lucy Gray Baird, a talented musician and outsider in my grade, part of a group called the Covey that everyone either tended to avoid or fell in love with for their musical charm. I always found her fascinating, beautiful, as many others did, but she had a boyfriend which pretty much meant there was no chance there. Still, it didn't hurt to admire her.

She was talking to another member of the Covey, Tam Amber, when she accidentally walked into none other than the mayor's daughter, Mayfair Lipp. It wouldn't have mattered so much if there wasn't a clear tension between both girls.

"If only you could open your eyes like you open your damn mouth," Mayfair snapped at her, making passers-by glance their way, listening in.

"Was an accident," was all Lucy Gray said, and she didn't seem very apologetic.

Mayfair scoffed. "'Course it was. A lot of things with you seem to be, don't they?"

Lucy Gray rolled her eyes as Tam Amber tugged her away, the two girls going their separate ways. Y/BF/N, who had stopped talking to observe the argument with everyone else, tried to stifle her laughter.

"Wow, their hatred for each other does not seem to be going away, does it?" she commented to me.

"Do you know why they don't like each other?" I asked, curious.

Y/BF/N shrugged, closing her locker. "Mayfair's jealous, I think. Dunno why, since she's literally the mayor's daughter and the Covey are just a bunch of weirdos singing for their supper."

"They aren't weird," I corrected her as we walked outside. "They're talented. A little different, is all."

"Same thing," Y/BF/N mumbled. "Don't go saying that to your dad. You know how he feels about them."

I tried not to laugh. "He feels like that about anything fun."

Y/BF/N cracked a smile, before chuckling. "Very true."

My father was the head peacekeeper of our district, a very strict man who was a little too overprotective for my liking. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful for the hard work he put in which meant I could live in the nice part of town and never struggle to have a meal on the table. That was something not everyone in District 12 could count on. But it also meant he hated anything that wasn't to his standard.

He had high hopes for me, hoping I'd land a rare but possible job in the Justice Building when I finished school. It wasn't too far fetched considering I was a straight A student. But he also thought I was a goody two shoes who followed the rules – oh, how that couldn't have been far from the truth. If he ever found out how I snuck out at night to visit the Hob and flirt with most of his unit, I was certain he'd have a heart attack.

Being the head peacekeeper's daughter meant that it was out of my hands when he had to attend something important and I, too, had to be present. For example, today was Mayfair's birthday and the mayor had thrown a formal affair in her honour, of which my family had been invited to.

I tolerated Mayfair, but despite our similar stance in society, we didn't share anything else in common. She was too snarky and easily irritated and always killed the mood, so I remained polite with her and that was it. Her party was as boring as she was, full of the mayor's friends, the odd Capitol resident from her dad's circle, and their kids whom I wasn't sure Mayfair even spoke to. If she had any real friends, they weren't here.

Her home was pretty big, for a District 12 house anyway, which made sense since the mayor was the richest in the district, though poor by any other Panem standard. I kept to myself during her celebrations, occasionally chatting with my mum and her friends or picking at the snacks table. That was until a special performance, dedicated solely to Mayfair from her father himself, was announced. An amused grin fell on my lips when I saw who it was.

The Covey.

"Ladies an' gentlemen, how are we feelin' this afternoon?!" Lucy Gray said into her mic at the front of the space cleared in the huge dining room.

Everybody began to clap as I saw the mayor tugging his daughter to the left of the makeshift stage. To say she was angry was an understatement. But if Lucy Gray had any qualms with the arrangement, she didn't let it show.

"This one's for the birthday girl," Lucy Gray continued, smiling widely at the glaring girl in question. "Happy birthday, dear Mayfair."

After the count of three, the Covey were plucking their strings, banging their drums and joining together in a melodious rendition of 'Happy Birthday', and I tried very hard not to laugh as Mayfair was forced to endure it all. To be fair, the Covey were great, and when they performed several songs after that, half the party were cheering them on, either drunk or genuinely amazed by their talent.

Once they'd finished performing for a moment and took a break, Mayfair stormed off with her father in tow, who was attempting not to draw attention to the mishap with his party guests. Again, I couldn't help but stifle my laughter at the turn of events.

Lucy Gray caught my eyes again though, as she was approaching the snacks table I was sat at the edge of, in search of something.

"You guys performed great out there," I said to her when she was close enough, and she glanced up at me, before recognition flashed across her face and she began to smile.

"Why thank you."

"Bet you loved the gig," I said lightheartedly, and it took her a moment to realise what I was implying when she began to laugh.

"It wasn't ideal," she said in a low yet amused voice, "but a job's a job. And technically Mayfair's daddy hired us, not her."

I chuckled to myself. "Hey, it was pretty funny to witness. I'm not complaining."

She shot me a disapproving look as she tossed a grape into her mouth, but a playful smile was breaking out on her lips.

"I didn't know you and Mayfair were so close," she said with intrigue, flipping the conversation to me.

"We're not," I corrected. "Kind of a package deal when my dad's invited to these things. But your performance certainly made this whole thing worth it."

She began to smile, cheeks turning pink slightly. "You've seen our performances enough times now. You ain't sick of me yet?"

I gasped sarcastically. "Lucy Gray, I could never be sick of you. What nonsense are you talkin' about?"

Her smile widened with amusement, before her eyes flickered behind me. "Your daddy's coming. I should go. Wouldn't want him to find out about your sneakin' out and blame it on me."

"As far as he knows, you're a stranger," I played along with a teasing wink, before straightening up and turning around to face my dad.

I heard Lucy Gray walking away behind me just in time for my dad to smile down at me.

"Y/N, how are you enjoying the party?" he asked.

I smiled innocently. "It's great, dad, thanks for bringing me."

He nodded. "Good, I'm glad."

I glanced over my shoulder as he began to talk about what the mayor was saying to him earlier, searching for the Covey girl. Then I spotted her, talking to her family across the room and also shooting me a glance, her cheeky smile on her lips, mirroring mine.

A little flirting didn't hurt anybody, right?

With my father's job came many responsibilities that meant he had a lot of late nights at their base camp, including the weekend when I sneaked out the house to meet Y/BF/N at the Hob and have some fun. It was difficult at first, making sure I timed it right so my mum would be asleep when I left and also generally sneaking downstairs and out the back door. But the more I did it, the easier it became, and soon enough it was second nature.

By the time I reached the Hob tonight, everything was in full swing. The Covey were performing as usual and everybody was up and dancing. I found Y/BF/N at a table, flirting with some boys from our grade. It didn't take long for me to join them, and between the two of us, we landed free drinks just because we played our cards right.

It was so freeing at the Hob, not having to worry about my dad breathing down my neck or about being such a goody two shoes in his eyes. No, here I could do whatever I wanted. The night was always young and nobody could stop me from having fun.

I found myself dancing around with a peacekeeper, Terrence, who had finished his shift for the day and always happened to be around when I did. He'd been flirting for a while and it was easy to play along, have a little fun.

"It's too bad I can't be lookin' for a wife," he said with a boyish grin as he spun me around. "You'd be my first choice."

I tried not to laugh as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Yeah, that's too bad for you."

"Your dad would kill me if he knew what I was doing," he said, leaning in close for a kiss.

But I tilted his head and pressed one to his cheek instead, before saying in his ear, "Good thing he won't ever find out, right?"

He snorted. "Right."

I smiled contently, before letting him spin me around some more. It was always so easy to do what I wanted here without the fear of it getting back to my father because either everyone was scared of him and what power he held, or they knew it was my word against theirs and my father would never believe them. Besides, I was doing no harm. Some people just wanted a dance and a little flirting, which was exactly what I gave them. What was the big deal?

After finishing my dance with Terrence, I joined Y/BF/N's side again, grabbing her hands and pulling her onto the dancefloor for one final dance for the evening. She laughed, letting me, and we began to chat as we swung about gently.

"How was your dance with Terrence?" she asked with amusement. "You still leadin' the poor boy on?"

"It's not leading him on if he knows it's just a dance," I reminded her. "Besides, it can never happen. He's in my dad's unit. And I don't even like him like that."

"You just flirt with him for fun," she said sarcastically, but I grinned anyway.

"Duh."

Laughing again, she let me spin her around, and then my eyes found sight of Lucy Gray beside the stage. She was talking to her boyfriend, Billy Taupe, the two of them looking awfully cosy with one another. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, knowing it was just an irrational jealousy, nothing more. I'd never even hinted that I'd liked her, and she'd been taken for a while now, but it was easy to wonder what if.

"You're staring," Y/BF/N noticed, before following my gaze. "Ooh, Y/N, you've gotta let that one go. She's trouble, I heard."

"I didn't even say anything," I defended myself.

"You don't need to," she said knowingly. "Your face says it all. And I'm warning you now. It's not worth it."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Yeah, yeah, just keep dancing, idiot."

She stifled a chuckle and we got back to it, but not without me stealing one last lingering glance at Lucy Gray.

Of course, after that evening, news of her and Billy Taupe travelled all around school. Rumour had it that he'd cheated on her with Mayfair and, as a result, they'd broken up. Of course it was horrible to hear, but admittedly, the first thing I wondered was did I finally have a chance?

Almost two weeks after hearing the news of Lucy Gray's breakup, I was at the Hob again. I'd been watching the Covey perform all evening, though this time without Billy Taupe who was permanently out of the band it seemed. I'd been waiting for Lucy Gray to be free so I could attempt to make a move.

And after what felt like forever, she finally took to the bar to have some water, and I sucked up a breath before approaching her with a skip in my step.

"Lucy Gray," I started with a smile, earning her attention. "You okay?"

She took a sip before nodding at me. "Yeah, just havin' a break."

"Just a break from singing, right?" I asked, making her quirk a brow. I continued, "Because I'd love to ask you to dance."

A smile grew on her lips, matching the sparkle in her eyes. "I've seen you around, Y/L/N. You probably ask everyone that, don't you?"

I resisted the urge to laugh. "Without sounding big headed, they ask me. So, no, not everyone. Just you. I'd like to dance with you, if you'll have me."

She pursed her lips, eyes flickering between mine considerately and in a way that purposely left me waiting, hoping she'd say yes. Finally, she sighed lightheartedly. "Well, I suppose if you'd like it, who am I to decline?"

My smile widened as I put out my hand and she gladly accepted. The rest of the Covey were playing a song slow enough to have us swaying to the melody, joining the other dancers on the floor.

"You're pretty good at this," Lucy Gray mumbled with amusement, hands wrapped around my shoulders and her head looking over it so I couldn't see her expression.

"Can't be stepping on your toes now, can I?" I said quietly, as to not interrupt the momentary peace that had washed over the Hob. "What sort of impression would that make?"

She snickered. "And why would you be tryin' to make any impression, darlin'? It's just a dance, ain't it?"

A smile crept on my lips. "That it is. But you never know."

She pulled back for a moment, honey-coloured eyes glancing between mine as if trying to decipher my words. I thought I was pretty straightforward, but she clearly didn't agree. Finally, her smile mirrored mine and she leaned her head on my shoulder as we swayed to the song.

It was only a few minutes long, of which, despite my apparent calmness, I was a little nervous to be dancing with such a beautiful girl. I hoped she couldn't feel my heart racing between us. It certainly didn't help when she began to hum lowly, clearly knowing the words to Maude Ivory's ballad, and the deep reverberation of her humming echoed in my ear.

When the song came to an end, everybody parted and applauded the band for their song. Meanwhile, Lucy Gray pulled apart, hands moving from my shoulders and to my hands, squeezing them gently.

"Thanks for the dance," I said to her with a suppressed smile.

"Thanks for askin'," she replied.

My smile was permanently fixed on my face as I watched her walk away, back to the stage for her next number. It wasn't until Y/BF/N appeared out of nowhere, patting me on the back, that I was pulled from my Lucy Gray-induced stupor.

"Someone's crushing," she teased, and I simply ignored her as I glanced back at the brunette onstage.

I was lucky she was giving me a chance at all.

After that initial dance, it became almost tradition to dance with her every time I could, and she always accepted, for some reason giving me the time of day. Visiting the Hob had a new, exciting meaning now, and not just to have some fun fooling around.

Getting to know her more, hearing her talk about her love of performing or something that happened to her that day, meant we were growing closer. Not quite friends, but not anything less either. We'd see each other around school and greet each other, or she'd walk past me in the markets and flash me a smile. Y/BF/N thought I was insane to like her, but I couldn't help it.

A few weeks after that initial dance, she was rambling about some frustrating things before her show, including her shoes not tying quite right, or the step on the stage being a little dodgy and making everyone trip up. One of her complaints was about her red lipstick, which had officially ran out and was her favourite one to wear for performing. Lipstick and makeup in general were rare finds, and she must have searched around a lot to get it, but now she couldn't replace it, not for a while anyway, and it was upsetting her more than she let on.

I couldn't help it, of course. I had to rectify the issue. So, I found a way to trade some meaningless things at the markets in exchange for a red lipstick, one that looked fresh from the Capitol and that I knew Lucy Gray would love. Later that evening, after sneaking out of my house, I headed straight for the garage behind the Hob that the Covey had claimed, where they prepared for their shows.

When I entered, everybody was doing different things, from tuning their instruments to fixing their hair.

"Lucy Gray, Y/N's here!" someone shouted in a teasing voice, and I didn't get chance to see who as Lucy Gray suddenly appeared, stealing my attention.

"Hey, darlin', what're you doing here?" she asked with a bright smile, looking as beautiful as ever.

"Just wanted to wish you luck," I told her, returning her smile. "And of course, bring you a little something."

Her dark brows knitted together above confused eyes, and I took the lipstick from my jacket pocket before holding it out to her.

"You were saying how you felt weird performing without it," I explained as she curiously took it to inspect it, "so I got you another one. Can't have the iconic Lucy Gray without her iconic red lipstick, can we?"

An amazed smile grew on her lips as she looked at the colour, and I couldn't stop looking at her.

"Y/N, this... how did you get this?" she asked with a laugh, meeting my gaze.

I shrugged, and she rolled her eyes before hugging me.

"Thank you so much," she said gratefully, pulling back to grin at me. "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, just wear it," I said.

She laughed again before going up to the mirror hung on the wall, applying the lipstick as she always did before every show. And when she turned around, I knew I'd made the right choice. As always, she stole my breath away.

"You look beautiful," I told her truthfully. "But you always do."

The pink tingeing her cheeks was contrasted to the deep red of her lips, but she remained confident as she stepped towards me knowingly.

"There's only one way to truly test it," she said, and I didn't get chance to ask what she meant before she pressed a slow but firm kiss on my cheek.

I was dumbstruck, not expecting that at all, and she pulled back with a satisfied smile. Her hand ghosted my cheek, thumb rubbing gently on the inevitable lipstick stain on my face.

"I'll see you out there," she said, dropping her hand but not her smile. "Thanks again, Y/N."

Still reeling at the sensation of her lips on my cheek, I couldn't find the words to reply. She laughed before returning to the Covey, and somehow I found myself walking to the Hob to sit with Y/BF/N. As soon as she spotted the lipstick on my cheek, the laughing and teasing began, but it didn't mean much when Lucy Gray walked out onstage, her matching red-painted lips curved into a grin.

It was easy to fall quicker and harder for Lucy Gray after that, so much in fact that the only thing I wanted to do was kiss her for real.

No matter how much time we spent together, the shameless flirting and banter wasn't enough. I didn't want to be platonic, I wanted more, and I was sure she might have wanted it too.

One evening at the Hob, we were both sat at the bar chatting. Well, she was chatting and I was very much distracted by the sharp curve of her jaw and the curly ringlets of hair that kept spilling into her eyes and the way her mouth moved with each word she spoke and–

"You're not listenin', are you?" she asked lightheartedly, humoured smirk on her lips, matching the quirk of her brow.

That seemed to be the final straw for me, and I couldn't help but lean in, kissing her. Only as I did it did I realise the insanity of my actions, the carelessness, and I pulled away just as quickly. Before I could even scold myself for acting so recklessly, endless apologies on the tip of my tongue, something caught my eye from behind her.

My eyes widened when I recognised the person who had just walked into the Hob. It was my father, the head peacekeeper who hated coming in here because he believed it was a distraction and a bad influence. He was here, and he'd just walked in with some of his peacekeeper friends.

And I was sat in here, a little too close to a girl he also deemed a bad influence. Oh, shit.

"My dad," was all I could get out, before I forgot everything that had happened with Lucy Gray and immediately threw myself over the bar, hiding behind it.

"What are you doin'?!" Lucy Gray leaned over, looking down at me with a puzzled expression.

I couldn't have hunkered down anymore if I tried. "Dad. Doorway. Now!" I whisper-shouted, as if he'd suddenly hear me from all the way across the room.

She must have looked and recognised him as her shadow disappeared and she was no longer trying to talk to me. As I formulated a plan to escape, hoping the full house and loud music would be the perfect distraction, I heard a familiar voice nearing.

"Commander Y/L/N!" Lucy Gray exclaimed loudly, and my heart sank at the possibility of getting caught. "Hi!"

He hesitated, before responding, quite literally just above me. "Lucy Gray, right? The Covey. You performed at Mayfair's birthday a couple of months ago."

I could practically picture the grin on her face as she answered enthusiastically, "The one an' only!"

Sounding a little more laid back than usual, he said, "It was an excellent performance."

"Why, thank you, sir," she replied kindly.

It was quiet between them for a moment, as he ordered a drink with the bartender who thankfully seemed to understand why I was hiding right next to his feet, but he mustn't have left afterwards, as Lucy Gray spoke up.

"Oh, they'll bring your drinks to your table, sir."

"It's fine, I'll wait," he said dismissively, and Lucy Gray merely hummed in response, but I didn't hear her leave.

My heart was racing as I didn't dare move a muscle. My father was stood right next to me, only a bar between us, and I was sure he'd kill me if he knew I was here. Why the hell was he even here?! This was so unlike him!

But no, I couldn't think about that right now. I could only focus on leaving before he discovered my presence.

"So, are you performing here?" my dad asked Lucy Gray in an awkward attempt at filling the silence. He was never good at small talk.

"Uh-huh," she responded just as awkwardly, and I appreciated that, despite my previous mistake with her, she was still willing to keep my secret.

"Nice," was all he said. "I look forward to it. The officers say you're really good."

She didn't reply, must have smiled or nodded or something, because the conversation ended and I was back to hearing the blood rushing in my ears.

After what felt like forever, I heard the bartender serve my dad his drink, and then the latter wished Lucy Gray a good evening before leaving. I didn't dare move, not until I was certain, but Lucy Gray banged the top of the bar to get my attention.

"He's on the other side talking to some officers," she assured me.

"I need to leave out the back," I said, not showing my head just yet. "He'll kill me."

"Okay, just wait," she instructed, and I did just that until I realised she had rounded the bar and was holding her hand out to me. "Come on."

Accepting her hand, I let her keep a look out before she dragged me through the back and out the door, away from my father's prying eyes.

A sigh of relief escaped me as I was in the clear, and Lucy Gray was laughing at my expense.

"That was close," she said between laughter, glancing back as the door closed behind us.

Straightening up, I nodded in agreement. "It was. Thanks for the assist."

She settled on an amused smile before her eyes met mine and her expression softened. "You know, you were in the middle of somethin' back there."

And just like that, the mortifying realisation of kissing her returned to memory, and I was instantly about to apologise.

"Yeah, I–"

She cut me off with a kiss, just as abrupt as mine, but unlike me, she didn't pull away, and I was left to melt into her lips, savouring the warmth of her skin pressed to mine. Her hand cupped my cheek, fingertips pressing down gently, and I sighed into her lips as she began to pull away for air.

"That was... unexpected," I muttered, lips still tingling.

She tried not to laugh. "As unexpected as you kissin' me before?"

I exhaled, slightly embarassed, and she licked her lips before taking my hand and squeezing it gently.

"You should probably head home before your daddy finds you out here," she said, a hint of humour in her voice.

"Home, right," I agreed, before meeting her eyes. "I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

She grinned. "See you then."

I smiled softly before kissing her hand and leaving. It was safe to say I couldn't sleep the rest of the night, my only thoughts of the curly-haired Covey girl who'd stolen my heart.

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