“Then I Will Adopt Him As My Own!”

After seeing the last ep

YALL-

Synopsis: Being in love with Coriolanus Snow is putting her life in his hands. She trusts he'll treat it kindly. She trusts wrong.

aka: reader has hanahaki disease for a man she's not sure is even capable of having feelings.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader ; third person perspective

Words: 5.7k

18+, mdni

tw: author's first smut, brief mentions of vomiting, suffocation, mentions of blood, unrequited love, death, angst, handjobs, oral (male receiving), headpushing, minor humiliation, nipple play, nonconsensual oral (female receiving) if you squint (reader gets overstimulated and wants to stop, coryo doesn't), piv, unprotected sex, creampie, minor orgasm denial

a/n: please let me know how this is, i have never written smut in my life but this man deserved it.

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Roses.

What a lovely flower. The overlapping intricacies of the petals, the meadow honey musk that filled the air in their presence. The romantic connotations. The connotation to him.

What a lovely flower indeed.

She’d found they were awfully persistent too. Her knees were raw and red from the recurrent contact on the cold marble floors of the Academy bathroom. Bloodied petals littered the water of the gaudy gold toilet bowl, an attempt of the Capitol’s to show off wealth they’d only just regained after the war.

Her trembling frame lurched forward once more with another fit of coughs mixed with the sickening feeling of needing to vomit. She was well aware that nothing from any of her meals would find their way back up, but the nauseousness in and of itself was enough to find herself desperately wishing the agonizingly long school day would be over. More than anything she wanted to curl into her plush mattress and excessive amount of blankets and drift off to a slumber full of dreams of a better life.

Maybe a life where she wasn’t plagued by unrequited love. Crushes, she’d dealt with. She wasn’t exactly used to rejection, but she was certainly able to realize when she wasn’t someone’s cup of tea and excuse herself. Crushes weren’t the same thing as being in love though. That was something she was well aware of.

To fall in love was to put your life into another person’s hands. In fate’s hands, even. A good person would cherish and appreciate the paramount responsibility that had been placed upon them and do anything in their power to ensure that no harm was caused. Unfortunately, even the best of people can’t compel themselves to truly love someone that they don’t harbor genuine feelings for.

So in the grand scheme of things, all she could really do was force the remaining petals up her throat and into the water below her tear streaked face, rise to her feet, and flush the toilet on the way out of the stall. She stopped for a moment when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, drudging forward until she was face to face with herself.

She wasn’t sure if she still recognized that woman. The dark circles under her eyes, the smear of red at the corner of her lips. The light in her eyes drained to a pitiful dullness. She turns the sink on, wetting her thumb and dragging it along the corner of her mouth. At least that was something she could fix.

Her hands smoothed out the skirt of her uniform, and she did an unsteady spin in front of the large mirror to ensure that she was looking, at the very least, presentable. When she was tolerant of her appearance, she pushed the large wood door open, scampering back into the hallway and back to a class she hadn’t been able to focus on for the last week and a half.

A dozen eyes flickered to her face when she came in through the side entrance, though she found only one lingered on her after all the others had returned to the papers on their desk.

There was an entire ocean in that gaze. An entire sky. The entirety of the very planet they stood on swirled in the orbs that followed her from the door to her seat. His thin lips curled into a polite smile and she felt her heart skip a beat, accompanied by that ever familiar itch in her throat. She pressed the back of a shaky hand to her lips and muffled a cough, hoping to ease the feeling.

Coriolanus Snow was beauty incarnate. Platinum blond curls that fell in his face when he was deep in thought, sharp features that softened when he spoke about something that excited him, and those eyes. She could get lost in them. Some days she was sure she already had.

Ever perceptive, she watched as the blond cocked an eyebrow at her, a silent question. She waved him off with a less than convincing hand movement, which only caused him to cock his eyebrow higher.

Her second attempt was slightly more convincing with a jesty eye roll and a significantly more convincing wave of her hand, which she’d finally managed to subdue the shakiness in.

Still, it was no surprise that when the class had been dismissed and she’d finished collecting her things, Coriolanus was waiting outside of the classroom for her. His large hand found the small of her back, easily guiding her into the divot between a classroom and the hallway. She shuddered as the pad of his thumb brushed against the corner of her lip, the feeling quickly bringing on a coughing fit she had to turn away from him to subdue.

“You’d flounder as an actress.” His voice fills the air, and her body stiffens. He was far from stupid, and she’d known that from the beginning. Still, she’d thought at this point that she was doing well enough to hide it so that she’d be able to finish out the school year.

She turned to him, heart so far into her stomach that she could feel it thudding there, only adding to the nauseousness that was flooding her system once more.

“I never claimed to be a good liar.” She responds, her eyes falling to the crimson liquid pooled on his thumb. Delightful.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, taking a step forward, and she takes a step back on instinct. The muscles in his arm flex like he’s holding himself back from doing something, and she finds herself wishing he’d either touch her or go the fuck away.

There’s a tone to his voice that she doesn’t quite recognize. It’s certainly not loving, but it’s not feeling like rejection either. She tries to clear her throat, (easier said than done), before she croaks out, “I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me.”

To be fair, her reluctance doesn’t come from any form of self depreciation. She knew Coriolanus though, and she knew that in the entirety of the time she’d known him, he’d never shown interest in any of their fellow classmates. He always seemed too busy to bother with the base instincts of attraction. There had even been a rumor at one point that the Snow heir had been asexual, far too logical to indulge in senseless behaviors such as romance.

His voice dips lower for a moment, “Assumptions are rarely beneficial.” The words come out in a drawl, or at least, they replay in her head that way. He takes another step forward and her back hits the walls roughly, unaware that she’d run out of space.

“Let me walk you home. We can talk about this more in private.” He offers his hand, long nimble fingers stretched out in a proposition. She takes it carefully, each one of her manicured fingers individually slotting themselves between his. The feeling sends warmth through her frame, spreading out through each and every nerve in her body. She finds herself squeezing it idly, almost in an attempt to reassure herself that the events were grounded in reality. When he squeezes her smaller hand back, she allows some of the tension to flood from her body.

Coriolanus is nothing short of a gentleman the entire walk home. He opens the doors for her, walks on the side of the sidewalk nearest the road, and pulls her closer when they walk past a group of men that he surmises makes her uncomfortable. Her heart pounds so wildly that she makes him stop halfway to her family home so that can clear her throat of the abundance of silky petals that had jammed themselves in the soft tissue.

She’s surprised at how gentle he is with her, the way his hands collect her hair and hold it out of her face, how his free one strokes up and down her back to comfort her. She has to stop him despite her appreciation when it only causes more coughing.

It’s not unusual when she finds her home empty when they finally arrive. Her parents, ever busy people, tended to not return until sometime in the late evening when her mother would throw a meal she’d prepared into the oven, and they’d have a silent and often uncomfortable family dinner. A true Capitol tradition, if her friend’s accounts were to be believed. She found herself wondering if anyone in the “happiest place in Panem” actually even liked each other.

When she wiped her lips and felt the sticky, hot blood transfer to the back of her hand, she was reminded of why so many affluent names might stifle those emotions.

“Can I get you anything? A water? Some apple juice?” She knew that was showing off by her offer of fruit juice, still such a scarcity in the Capitol. Agriculture had been hit hard in the war. But Coriolanus was in her home, and she was going to pull out all of the stops.

His lips twitched up into a smile, and her heart fluttered once again. “Water is fine. I won’t waste your delicacies.” He responds modestly, and she’s reminded again of what a gentleman he is. She knew that her parents would approve. Now she just needed to play her cards right. Nothing in the world sounded quite as sweet as being paraded on the arm of the young man of Snow.

She happily pours him a glass of water, the thick engravings of their family crest sparkling in the ray of sunshine that slipped through the silk curtains. Wealth was something her family far from lacked.

Love, however, was scarce.

She hoists herself onto the marble counters, watching him as he sips from the glass. She can’t help but to think to herself that she could sit here for the eternity of the day, watching his lips part around the cup and his Adam's apple bob with each sip.

The silence should be awkward, and she worries that it is for him, but she finds herself woefully unable to figure out where to begin a conversation like this. She lets out a breath of relief she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding when he rises to his feet, sets the water on the dining room table, and begins speaking for her.

“I’m astounded that someone as beautiful as you could be fearful that a man would not reciprocate their feelings.” He says, and his voice is so hushed and he’s suddenly so close to her that she can feel her throat close up in a mix of anxiety and absolute and utter infatuation.

“You always seemed so preoccupied and I feared that perhaps romance was something that didn’t cross your mind, and-” She cut herself off when she realized she was blabbering on, the words dying suddenly in her throat. She feels like a fool around him, as if her brain is no longer connected to her mouth. She’s convinced something in him causes her entire body to short circuit.

“No one else seemed worthy of distraction.” He replies when the silence hangs in the air for a moment too long, and she’s thankful for the words, not just because of the way they make her heart swell and her limbs feel electric, but also because it gives her a moment to regain her footing instead of opening her mouth just to verbally tumble around the floor once more.

“I’m nothing special,” She replies humbly, her eyes trailing to the floor. It was not as if this was her first time being courted, but it was certainly the first time she felt inclined to accept. Still, she knew there was a game to be played here. Everything in the Capitol seemed to be a game of some sort.

“You can skip the modesties with me,” He begins, lithe fingers reaching forward and gripping her chin softly, forcing her eyes to his. She found herself getting lost in the oceanic pools once more. “I can see right through them. I much prefer honesty.” He finishes his thought with a finality that cuts her denial from her lips before she can even speak it.

“May I kiss you?” He asks before she can even right herself on this new playing ground, but after a moment, she nods, stricken wordless even further. He wastes no time in pressing his lips to hers, and she finds that he’s not nearly as gentle as she would have imagined. His lips are forceful and she’s jolted back slightly by the force. In response to this, his hands find her hips, fleshy and pliable, and he pulls her forward again, devouring her whole. There is no fighting for dominance, she needs no verbal cues to know it would be pointless. Despite this being her confession, she is clearly no longer the one in charge.

The room seems to be spinning for a moment as her brain struggles to catch up to the rushed intimacy, and when she finally regains her footing, her hands desperately reach out for his broad shoulders, digging into the red wool of his Academy jacket. He peels himself away from her to shrug it off of his shoulders, letting it pool on the kitchen floor beneath their feet. He stares at her face for a moment, stroking his thumb along her flushed bottom lip, and she parts them instinctively.

He falters for a moment before he shoves the digit into her mouth, stroking across her tongue. Her lips seal around the digit, her tongue moving to explore every centimeter of his salty skin. Coriolanus grunts at the sensation, his eyes flickering back and forth between her lips and her eyes, shifting slightly to accommodate the tightening in the front of his pants.

Emboldened by his response, she eagerly sucks at the pollex, letting her eyes fall until half-lidded, imitating acts she was sure they’d find themselves in relatively soon.

With more restraint than she’d previously given him credit for, he pulls his thumb from her lips and dives back down to encapture them once more, bending and molding her until she’s not sure where she ends and he begins. Her teeth clash against his once and he grunts at the unpleasant feeling, his hand moving to her jaw and keeping her steady as to ensure that he could take what he wanted without her petulant, inexperienced movements.

His roughness is unprecedented, so unlike the gentle hesitant touches from any of her prior romances. She finds it’s not unpleasant, though slightly surprising. The unfamiliarity of it doesn’t stop the heat that continues to pool between her thighs, especially when his pearly white canines sink into her bottom lip, drawing a cry from her throat before her brain has even finished fully processing the feeling.

The residual stinging was clue enough of a puncture in the sheer skin, only proven further when he pulls away and the carmine fluid has tinted his teeth. His pink tongue glides over them effortlessly, and her mouth falls agape slightly when his azure eyes flutter shut and he groans at the taste, his hips stuttering forward just enough to catch her attention.

It’s clear he’s growing impatient with the lack of true intimacy, especially when he wraps a hand in her hair, guiding her roughly to the tiled floor in front of him. She resists slightly as her bottom slips from the high counter, and as a result, she hits the ground rougher than she’d intended.

He seems to find it no priority to ensure she’s okay, instead spending the time eagerly pushing down the flowing kilt like fabric of his uniform, followed by the slacks beneath them. His eager cock twitched behind the cotton fabric of his briefs, and despite her discomfort on the way down to her resting place, she finds herself reaching out wantonly, her hand trailing over the thick outline in the fabric.

The man above her sucks in a choked breath at the sensation, and it encourages her to continue on. She crawls forward on the cold floors, her fingers hooking into the elastic waistband and helping the fabric bunch at his knees where the rest of his clothing resided. His cock sprung up, heavy and leaking, hitting his stomach and leaving a smear of precum on the blue undershirt of his uniform.

She reaches up, hand curling around the velvety length, solid and hard at its core but oh so soft and smooth as her hand glides along the skin. She pulls her hand back, spitting on it eagerly. Saliva runs down her chin slightly, but she finds it easy to ignore as she slathers the makeshift lube over his erection.

“Fuck, darling.” He hisses, and she finds herself wondering if the exclamation is at the sensation or at her eagerness. She decides she won’t deprive him of either, just in case. Her hand slides up and down his dripping cock, collecting what she can of the precum droplets pooling on top to help the slickness of her ministrations. When she finds there’s no resistance to her movements, she tightens her fist around him, speeding up the strokes around his velvety shaft. His hips stutter a few times in an attempt to find her rhythm before he’s fucking her hand, hunched over as his nails dig into the thick fabric of her jacket. Every jut of his hips pulls a soft grunt from his lips, his eyes falling closed as he enjoys the pleasure that she’s happy to give him.

When she’s sure he’s sufficiently hard, and his length is throbbing eagerly in her soft palm, she gently pulls her hand back. His hips thrust into the empty air once before he realizes she’s not got her hand curled around him anymore, and he whines, oh god, he whines, at the loss of contact. The noise sends heat directly between her legs and she unconsciously shifts in an attempt to lessen the sudden increase in pressure.

She eagerly sits up on her haunches, sticking her tongue out as far as she can as she moves forward, letting the heaviness of his cock rest on the pink muscle. His fingers curl in her hair and attempt to guide her forward, but she glances up at him with a look of warning, pressing gently into his hip bone to keep him from sliding any deeper. She was going at her pace, and he’d find a way to respect that.

She slowly dips her head further down his shaft, taking him in centimeter by painfully slow centimeter as his nails dig into her scalp punishingly. She finds his lack of patience almost comical in a way. How a man so poised and level headed in most circumstances can be brought to primal nature by the minutest amount of pleasure. A man is a man, after all.

It doesn’t take long for her to crave more from him, desperate to see him crumble at her hands. He’s so incredibly prepossessing, and she finds that this is better than anything her clearly uninventive mind could have conquered up. The way his blond curls cling to his forehead encourages her further, and she wraps her hand around the base of his dick to ensure she doesn’t get too eager and choke herself on his length. Her cheeks hollow when she begins to bob her head, spit quickly budding on the edges of her lips. Coriolanus groans above her, his grip growing tighter in her hair. Her eyes widen when his hips snap forward, her lips meeting her wrapped hand in less than a second. She gags suddenly, hints of sickness swirling in her stomach as tears prick her eyes. His cock twitches in her throat, and she notices the way the veins in his wrist bulge with how roughly he’s gripping onto her.

She’s just managing to gather her bearings when his patience seems to fade completely, and his hands move to the back of her head, shoving her hand away from his shaft before thrusting forward once more, her nose pressing into the course curls of his pubes. Her stomach heaves and she struggles to swallow down the much stronger surge of nausea. He wastes no time in pulling himself back out until his tip brushes against the inside of her lips before he’s back down her throat once more.

He leans over her, the tight V of his adonis belt pressed into her forehead as one of his hands rests on her shoulder to keep him upright. His groans fill the air around them, accompanied by the noise of her gagging around his cock with each thrust. Spittle drips down her chin, dirtying her uniform. She has no time to swallow any of it, instead focusing on staying alive as she’s used as a living sex toy.

“Such a pretty mouth, baby. You’re doing such a good job,” Coriolanus chokes out between licentious groans, and just that smallest amount of praise seems to make his rough treatment that much easier to handle. His dick leaps in her mouth, once, twice, and then he’s pulling out of her mouth, his hand wrapping around the base of his shaft so tightly that she watches as the color drains from his fingers. He leaks precum so heavily that it drips to her tiled floor, and a few moments later, when he seems to have effectively staved off his impending orgasm, he pushes her head down towards it.

She cocks an eyebrow, looking up at him in confusion. “Lick it up, doll. Don’t want any of it to go to waste.” He smirks, shoving her head down once again. Her face blossoms into a blush, humiliated by the thought of licking something off the floor like a pitiful dog, but she leans down, pink tongue dragging across the porcelain flooring. The thick liquid is salty and clings to her tongue, lingering behind no matter how many times she attempts to swallow it down.

His fingers grip her chin gently, a sharp contrast to the way his hips brutalized her mouth moments before, and tilts her face up. Her eyes meet his icy orbs, and his lips curl into a soft smile. “What a good girl. So obedient.” He hums, and her dripping cunt clenches around nothing.

“Let’s get you undressed, hm?” He supplicates, and she nods, swallowing heavily, the saliva soothing her sore throat as he helps her to her feet, guiding her until her back hits the closest wall. He guides her jacket off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in the pile with his. His agile fingers easily undo the buttons of her shirt, and his head dips down, placing kisses on each expanse of newly exposed skin.

When the final button is undone, the fabric bunched up around her arms, he shoves it away eagerly. Her bra is unclasped with such ease that she has no doubts that he has some form of experience with them, and the realization causes a confusing heaviness in her chest. She does her best to shove it down, especially when his pale lips find the soft flesh of her breast, white teeth nipping hard enough that it draws a yelp from her. He quickly drags his tongue along the reddening flesh before his lips suction around it, sucking harshly. She writhes between him, pleasure blossoming in her lower stomach. Her pussy throbs needily, soaking the pink cotton underwear hidden beneath her skirt.

His nose drags against her sensitive skin as he makes his way down to her nipple, the bud already hardened by her arousal and the cool air. His tongue brushes against her and her back arches slightly, her mouth falling open in a soft whimper. She opens her mouth to implore him to continue, but before words can even fall from her lips, he’s picking her up, carrying her back over to the counter, settling her on it before his large hands drag her pants down her legs, growling under his breath slightly as they get stuck on her shoes, impatiently tugging until both her shoes and burgundy pants fly halfway across the room. He doesn’t even bother with her skirt, simply shoving it up until it bundles around her stomach.

She bashfully closes her legs, embarrassed of the slick arousal that’s soaked a nearly transparent oval into the crotch of her panties. Snow’s lips turn down at the corners, glancing up to meet her eyes before he’s pulling her thighs apart, his tongue running across his bottom lip as he takes in the sight. He runs a finger down the front of her underwear and she squirms, her canines biting into the soft skin of her bottom lip.

He shoves her panties to the side, exposing her glistening cunt to him. He groans deep in his throat, his head falling forward slightly. “Shit, darling, all this for me?” His voice is deeper than she’d ever recalled hearing it, and it only serves to get her more excited, legs spreading slightly wider to give him a better view. He whistles lowly, a seductive grin climbing his lips before his hands find her thighs, pushing them even further apart as he leans down towards her. His tongue meets her clit immediately and she jolts slightly, the sudden, intense pleasure too much to handle right off the bat. Her reaction only seems to fuel his enthusiasm, and he begins to lap at her bundle of nerves like a dehydrated dog. She undulates frantically, attempting to escape further up the counter but held in place by his strong hands. The sensation is overstimulating, overwhelming, far too much far too fast.

“C-Co-Coryo!” She cries, tears beginning to bud in her eyes as she writhes in desperation. Her hands shove at his head, trying to push him off. His gorgeous blue eyes glint as he stares up at her, taking in every movement, every reaction. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. If anything, his grip tightens on her legs, delving further into her sopping heat.

The coil in her stomach tightens in a way that’s so intense that it hurts, her legs shaking as he continues to eat her out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have in his life. Her vision goes black when his lips wrap around her clit and his lips form a suction that’s so pleasurable that she sees stars, and she’s not entirely sure she hasn’t died on the spot. Her hips jerk uncontrollably, her protests devolving into nothing but incoherent babbling as she orgasms so violently that it genuinely hurts more than it brings her pleasure. She doesn’t even realize she’d been crying until she’s in a coherent mindset again and finds that her cheeks and neck are drenched in the evidence of just how overstimulating his mouth had been.

In the time it had taken her to come back to some semblance of reality, Coriolanus had already spread her juices over his dick, the angry red cockhead and shaft glistening in her arousal as his hand pumped over it a final few times.

“You ready, pretty girl? I know you’re gonna take my cock so well.” He purrs, his lips still glistening with her fluids. She jolts slightly when his tip rubs against her entrance, her pussy sore and overwhelmed from his onslaught. The hand not guiding his cock presses into her lower stomach, keeping her stationary as he presses into her, her cunt clenching around him so tightly that she’s not even sure he’ll be able to stuff himself inside her.

His head falls forward, chin to chest as a strangled noise leaves his lips, and she watches as his knees buckle for just a moment. “You didn’t warn me you were so fucking tight.” He grunts, his eyelids fluttering as he struggles to gain control of himself. His hips snap forward in one, swift movement, and her fingers find the edge of the counter, a scream ripped from her lips. His palm covers her mouth quickly, his lips finding the shell of her ear as he shushes her, stilling as deep inside her as he can.

“It’s okay, baby. Just gonna hurt for a second. It’s okay.” He comforts, or attempts to, and she finds herself brought to the brink of tears for the third time during their encounter. She struggles to control her breathing, her toes curled tightly in an attempt to distract from the pain.

His impatience blossoms again, and rather than waiting for any semblance of approval from her, he waits until he’s no longer at risk of blowing his load like a preteen boy before he pulls out to the very tip, thrusting himself back into her roughly. She cries out in discomfort, but it seems the two noises sound similar enough for him to take the noise as assent.

He ruts into her with such force that her breasts bounce with each thrust, slapping against her skin roughly. Each time his cock sinks into her wet cunt, he lets out a strangled grunt, ever vocal of the pleasure her body supplied him with. One of his hands travels down her leg, gripping onto her calf. He forces it up and back up into the air, the angle letting his girthy cock press even deeper into her. His nails dig halfmoon circles into the soft flesh, marking her up. Pleasure begins to wind in her stomach as the pain subsides, and she whines wantonly, her forearms shaky as they pressed into the granite counter tops, keeping her upper body raised.

It’s barely been three minutes but she can already feel his cock twitching inside of her as his thrusts lose their rhythm, falling into a directionless pounding of his hips into hers. His breath comes out in pants, his free hand grabbing at any part of her he can reach, squeezing and groping her needily.

“Gonna… fucking hell, dar-ling, gonna cum for you.” He rasped, and not a second later, his hips stuttered as his cock pulsed inside her. She could feel each twitch of his fill her up with rope after rope of hot cum, the warmth radiating from inside of her before beginning to pour out of her aching hole, pooling on the counter below her. He stays inside her for a moment, hips pressed into hers before he slowly withdraws his cock, shuddering as the head slides out of her cunt. His eyes immediately fall to the combination of their fluids beneath her, and he collects them on her fingers, trailing them back up her sopping pussy before shoving it back inside her. She can feel the kindlings of pleasure die in her stomach, forgotten and discarded.

He pulls his fingers away, wiping them on her thigh before pressing a chaste kiss to her sweaty forehead. He helps her down from the counter before beginning to collect his clothing, redressing in a way that settles an unwelcome feeling of rejection in her stomach. “Are you leaving?” She questions softly, and he turns to her, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“I have a project due, doll. Surely you understand.” He replies in a tone that she can tell should have been reassuring but was decidedly not. “Of course.” She swallows roughly, giving a polite nod of her head as he grabs his bag from her kitchen table. She pulls her clothes on with the unsteadiness of a baby deer, watching him collect his things as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” She asks, looking up at him pleadingly. He places a kiss on her cheek, running fingers through her messy hair. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He replies before he’s out the door and heading in the direction of the Corso.

The relief from impending death doesn’t feel as good as she’d imagined. Requited love feels like soreness between her legs and a heaviness in her chest. She chokes down the feelings, busying herself in cleaning up the kitchen. Her parents would be the cause of her untimely death if they found what she’d done.

She finds that despite the sun being out, she’s dreadfully tired. She vows to wake up early in the morning to finish her homework, and stalks up to her bedroom, burying herself in the plush sheets of her overly expensive bed. She doesn’t know when she starts crying, but she knows it doesn’t end until she’s exhausted herself asleep.

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She’s startled awake gasping for air. It doesn’t matter how many times her mouth opens, she can’t suck in air. She flails frantically, falling off the side of her bed with a thud on the carpeted floor. She wrestles with the blankets, suddenly killer constrictors. Panic rises in her chest, and she coughs, swallows, heaves frenetically. She crawls, hands and knees to the in suite bathroom, hunched over the toilet.

She shoves her fingers into her mouth, desperately attempting to clear her airways. It triggers her gag reflex but nothing comes up. Her stomach heaves, tears streaming down her face. She can see the darkness of death begin to seep into the corners of her vision. She tries to scream but the sound dies in her throat with her breath.

She continues to shove her fingers down her throat, increasingly frantic as she feels herself growing weak at the lack of oxygen. She heaves again, and finally, she feels the object loosen. Her fingers brush against it the next time she shoves her fingers down, and finally, she gets it up, accompanied by such an excess of blood that she’s not sure how she’s still somewhat upright.

Lying in that puddle of blood is a full rose, stem and all. The thin stalk of the flower is littered in thorns, the petals covered in droplets of crimson liquid. She doesn’t understand. This should have been over. He’d loved her back.

Her hands move to her throat suddenly, the suffocating feeling returning. Her hands clench into fists, pounding on the granite flooring. She knows this one isn’t coming up.

She finds that more than anything, she’s tired. She curls up on the cold floor, fingers curling around the rose. Her cheek presses into the warm puddle of her own blood. The thorns on the rose draw more from her shaking hand. Coriolanus Snow was just like his roses - beautiful.

Beauty - a deceitful bait with a deadly hook.

Claudia really said fuck 12😋.

The motivation this just gave me

Dear black readers,

Don’t be afraid to write that fanfic . Regardless of the film, celebrity, book, show, character, sexuality, genre, or whether you think it's good or not write it! There isn't nearly enough fan fiction for us to appreciate or relate to as it is. We’re just as important as any other reader and if the fandom claims that the character would never be interested in a black person, and?! How the hell they know? There's a reason it’s called fan fiction... Don't be ashamed to write it because you fear nobody will read it, they will. It's important, in my opinion, that black readers be able to visualize themselves in the book. So write the story! 🫶🏾

- Ary 💜

I KNOW YALL WANNA STOMP CALLIOPE FOR BEING CLOSE TO DREAM BUT THAT SCENE WHERE HE SAID “I will do all of that… and more” “He must be punished.” AND ABOVE ALL BEGGING HER TO LET HIM HELP HAS ME GOING CRAZY BECAUSE THAT LETS ME KNOW HE CARES FOR HIS LOVERS WELL BEING EVEN IF THEY’RE NOT TOGETHER!

As someone who is genderfluid my page will be open to everyone in the LGBTQIA+ community.

Please Reblog is Your Blog is Safe for Non-Binary People.

If my mutuals can’t rb this then we can’t be mutuals

Eyes Never Lie: Part III

gif made by kvtnisseverdeen

summary: Being friends with Coriolanus for a long time lets you what drives him to succeed and survive. You've also gained the insight to guess how he's feeling or what he's about to say just by the expression on his face. But only things that you could never decipher were the thoughts behind his eyes.

A.N: Part 3 is here! Sorry it’s late

word count: 4.3K

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You didn’t know how you got in front of the arena, but here you were, being led to the place where all of these innocent kids would die. You then froze, and Coriolanus’ turned and looked at you. “don’t want you to be alone right now.” He added, holding your hand tighter. “Please.” He whispered, letting you know he didn’t want to be alone too. You nodded and squeezed his hand as he walked you toward the arena once more.

Before you realized it you were standing behind Lucy Gray and were ushered to walk forward. The darkness of the tunnel made it a bit hard to see, but the red lights made it easier. Walking forward, the turnstile turned and a voice said “Enjoy the show!” Definitely not creepy. Now beside Lucy, you felt her hand slip into yours, and you welcomed it.

As you walked further in, the hold on your hand got tighter, and you looked at her. She was holding onto your hand for dear life, Lucy was terrified. Suddenly, a noise made you look up and see the arena opening up the top window panels, letting the light in. It was eerie, somewhat amusing, and haunting at the same time. But the decor couldn’t dispel you from an ugly truth: 23 kids are coming into this arena, but only 1 is coming out tomorrow.

“Welcome to the arena for the 10th annual Hunger Games!” A voice cut through the arena. “Tributes, mentors, you have 15 minutes to survey the space and discuss strategy.” You let go of Lucy’s hand and rubbed your hands together. You saw her face contort into one of worry as her eyes darted to you. “Please,” Lucy whispered. “Coriolanus, please don’t let me die in here tomorrow.”

Before any of you could answer, an explosion cut your train of thought off as you were thrown to the ground. You covered your nose as you watched the arena get blown to hell and back. You, Lucy, and Coriolanus stood for a moment as the debris started to fall to the ground, a scream finally leaving your mouth as you ran away, Lucy in front of you and Coriolanus behind you. While you were running, though looked back for Coriolanus and felt a piece of the arena slide across your face, making you fall.

You felt Lucy’s hand turn you towards her, “Where’s Coriolanus?” She asked, making your blood freeze. That was when a familiar voice yelled out, “Help me!” You immediately knew it was Coriolanus. Following the sound of his voice, you soon found him under a piece of debris. You immediately tried to lift it but had trouble. You saw the fire on his back, and it almost sent you into a panic. “Lucy! Help me, please!” You begged, looking into the smoke where you think you saw her last.

She soon ran towards you and joined in the attempt of trying to get it off of him. You were so focused on lifting the beam you almost missed a tribute trying to convince Lucy to run out of the arena with her. “He wouldn’t save you.” You heard Marcus, Senjanus’ tribute say, before running to the blown open doors. But your eyes didn’t leave the beam, and to your suprise, Lucy never stopped to run.

You both lifted it just enough so he could slip away from it. You turned to Lucy, saying a quick thank you before she www dragged away. In that moment, you finally noticed your hands were singing, and saw the beam had burned your hands. But that wasn’t it, your head was also singing a symphony. In fact, the world was spinning.

The next thing you knew, you were falling to the ground, and the next, you were in a hospital bed. Your mother sprung up and hugged you, “Honey! Oh, thank god.” She sighed, holding onto you. “What happened?” You immediately asked. “The rebels bombed the arena. One of those animals from the districts escaped.” Your father said, holding onto you tight. “Coriolanus? Sejanus?” You asked, sitting up, tears starting to well up. “They’re fine, Coriolanus came in right before you did, Sejanus is fine.” Your mother said, and a breath of relief left your lips.

“You, on the other hand, will have a scar on your forehead as well as sore hands.” Your dad said, handing you a mirror. There was a long red scar starting at your left forehead, going across your eyebrow and nose, and ending in the middle of your right cheek. It was ugly, but nothing makeup couldn’t smooth out.

You then reached for your, neck and felt nothing. “My…..my necklace.” You said in a soft tone. “I’m sorry honey. We can get you another one.” Your father soothed, but you shook your head, the sentimental value now gone up in smoke. “Should I be good to go?” You asked, standing up, and finally getting a good look at yourself. You still had your uniform on, riddled now with dust and smoke, as well as your face. Other than the scar now on your face, you looked okay, as well as an exhausted Capitol child who’s survived a rebel bombing and the loss of two friends in one week can be.

You then walked past the rest of the beds, and one sight made you get chills. You saw the president’s son, Felix, your classmate, on a ventilator, scars all over his face. You let out a surprised shout before a nurse turned towards you and shut the curtain, closing off any view from him. Then started to walk out of the hospital and passed a TV.

Turns out they were still going on with the games. Lucky Flickerman was enticing the crowds once more as they were bringing out the tributes to give them one final spotting before they had to die. That was when you got an idea. You walked with a purpose past the beds, but slowed down when you saw a familiar blonde boy asleep in a bed. Coriolanus was okay, he was alive. You forced yourself to run with sore muscles to your house, and go to the back of your closet. You recalled when Lucy said she could “play the strings,” today would be her chance to prove it.

You finally found your guitar, still in its white case, and brought it out. After giving it an experimental strum, you walked towards the last showing of the tributes, and tried to sneak past a peacekeeper.

Unfortunately, you weren’t the best at it. “Hey! What are you doing back here?” One shouted. “I’m here to do one last observation for Dr. Gaul.” You said in your best calm voice, almost scaring yourself from how much you sounded like someone else. You stared back at them when one looked at the other, “Stay right there.” He said and walked out of the room. The minutes going by made you shift from foot to foot until he came back, “Go right in, we’ll be outside.” He said, letting you pass.

Slowly, you walked to the back of the stage and saw Lucy picking at her dress. “Lucy.” You whispered, getting her attention. She immediately ran towards you and before the both of you knew it, you were hugging. She looked at you, her head going to the scar on your face, “Your head.” “I’ll be fine, but I need a favor.” You said, holding the guitar out to her. “I know you said you won’t sing unless you have something to say, I get it. But this is your last chance before the games.” You said, a more serious tone in your voice.

“One last song to put your memory in the minds of everyone who has and will know your name.” You said, watching as she took the guitar and gave it a strum. “You had this? She asked, to which you nodded. You saw her nod towards you, a look of thankfulness before she walked out. You let out a sigh as you watched from a screen as she sang her song, letting her story be told for everyone to hear, making you smile. For someone who just got to the Capitol, she sure learned how to make a lasting impression, one that wouldn’t be forgotten for decades you would say.

As Lucy finished her song, she walked back towards you and tried to speak, but you silenced her. “You did amazing,” you said, taking your guitar back. You then took her hand and held it tightly. “I know you’re not my tribute, Lucy Gray, but I hope you win.” You said, before giving her one last hug before walking home. You laid in bed that night hoping for her survival. That morning you dressed and could barely eat, thinking about the games. As you left, you passed a mirror and got a glimpse of your face. Even though you put concealer over the scar, it was still red.

As you walked to the academy, you ran into Dean Highbottom. “Ah, ms capitol flower, what are you doing up here?” He asked. You then turned to him, “Just wishing my friends good luck.” You answered. For a moment, he didn’t answer, obviously looking at the scar on your face. “I’d only wish one of your friends luck, little miss.” Dean Highbottom said and turned away from you. As you looked for Coriolanus and Sejanus, Sejanus found you first.

“Hey. I didn’t see you at the hospital.” He said, looking at your face and not your eyes. “I left, they had already treated me.” You said. He then held your hand and squeezed it. “Are you okay?” He asked. “I’ll be fine.” You said, knowing what he was implying. Sejanus’ focus then shifted to someone behind you. “Corio.” Senjanus said, walking up to him. “How are you doing? You all right?” He asked, to which Coriolanus shrugged off.

He then turned to you, his eyes widening at the sight of the scar. Before he could speak, a man got the attention of the 3 of you, and signaled he wanted a picture. Sejanus put his arm across you to put his hand on Coriolanus’ shoulder as you felt his hand go to your hip, the same mannerism he used in the zoo. You put your arm around Sejanus’ back & Coriolanus’, and gave a small smile.

The man snapped the camera, immortalizing the moment in the photo. Sejanus walked off and Coriolanus suddenly held you still, looking at the scar closely. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking at you, his eyes, for once you could see how he was feeling: concerned. “I’m fine. It just stings.” you said, rubbing small circles on his hand. “Before I forget, here.” He said, holding up your necklace, the one you thought you would never see again. “How did you get it?” You asked, staring at the pendant dangling in front of you.

“I owed you and Lucy Gray a favor, this is yours.” He said, walking behind you and putting it back around your neck. You turned towards him, only to see him staring at you from over your shoulder. You two were so close to each other, you could feel the faint blow of his breath on your nose. Nervous, you broke the silence. “I hope you win, Corio.” you whispered, but he only looked at you in silence. “When I woke up in the hospital, no one had seen you, not even Sejanus. I thought you were dead.” he said, his voice breaking at the end.

“You haven't lost me, Cori, and you never will.” you said, putting your forehead to his, and kissing it. He then took your hand and kissed it, before smiling. “Happy Hunger Games.” he whispered. “And good luck to you.” you replied before walking out of the room and towards Gaul’s lab. As soon as she laid her eyes on you, that same sinister grin “Let me see you, my flower of death.” Squaring your shoulders, you approached Dr. Gaul, and her hand held your chin still. She chuckled, her eyes going over the length of your scar, before her other hand held one side of your face.

“Hmmm. This rosebud is tougher than I thought.” she then turned and went to her lab. “Come child, I have much to teach you today. For the whole day, you shadowed Dr. Gaul in her lab, learning her methods of creating her “babies” for the games, how to tame them, and how to make them vicious. During one moment, she looked at you as she handed you a snake, letting it get used to your scent. “One reason I chose the colors is to make an illusion. The colors are to make them enticing, the beauty masking their true nature, their deadly nature.” Dr. Gaul said, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Before you know it, you're too busy looking at the beauty of the colors to see you're about to be bitten with their poison, doomed to drown in the beautiful sea of death.” The snake was now circling your neck, before resting still, allowing you to let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. “Let me guess, I'm the fool drowning in the sea?” you asked. She only smirked in response, “Not yet, I'm still deciding if you're the snake not yet radicalized or the flower not yet fertilized with the malicious poison.”

“And how would the flower be poisoned, who does it?” You asked, wondering what her riddle meant. “That is a question that doesn't have an answer.” she said, chuckling as she took the snake from your neck. After a long day, you began to walk home just as a car pulled up in front of you. You began to reach up for your necklace to wrap around your knuckles just as a woman stepped out, looking frantic. You realized it was Senjanus’ mother. “Mrs, Plinth, what's wrong?” you asked. “Honey, have you seen Sejanus?” she asked, walking towards you.

“No. I haven't seen him since the games started. Did something happen?” you asked. “They captured Marcus and put him up in the arena before a tribute mercy killed him.” she said in a sorrowful tone. “One of the tributes mercy killed him, but he was home for one minute and the next he was gone.” she said, slowing her speech down to calm herself some. That was when something dawned on you, and the idea made your stomach do flips. “I'll help look for him.” you said and squeezed her hand.

“Thank you, dearie,” she said and walked back to the car. As you watched her go back, you noticed Mr. Plinth give you a nod before he joined his wife in the car. You, on the other hand, walked toward the arena and convinced yourself to not turn around with every step. You made a quick stop at Dr. Gaul’s lab, noticing she was already walking out. You both froze, looking into each other's eyes. “I take it you found out where your friend is.” She said, you nodding in response. “Go ahead, I'll send someone to go with you in a minute.” she said, and walked away from you.

“When you finally got to the gate, the peacekeepers eyed you, “Let me in, his mother is worried sick.” you said, looking between the two. It didn't take long for them to open the gates and let you in, as well as locking you in. You slowed your breath as you began to walk into the arena, missing the turnstile to avoid the sound going off. You looked around, making sure to keep your steps as quiet as possible so you could get to Sejanus. As you passed a pile of debris, you saw a bow and some arrows and decided to take one of them in case needed it. When you got close enough, his head whipped towards you and relaxed.

He didn't say anything, but he looked back toward Marcus’ body and you kneeled beside him. Against your better judgment, you helped him grieve for a moment, one of his hands finding yours, and you let your head rest on his shoulder. “Thank you.” he said, you only hummed in response. That was when you felt someone walking towards the two of you, raising the arrow in front of you, only to see it pointing at an equally nervous Coriolanus.

“I thought they'd send my ma.” Sejanus said. “I wish they had.” you said, looking back at him. “You need to go, Corio. Both of you.” Sejanus said, standing up. “I'd like to. I really would. But I promised I'd get you out.” Coriolanus whispered. So he was the backup Gaul sent? “Why?” Sej asked. “Because you're our friend.” You added, looking him in the eyes. “I have to do this. I had to go where the cameras are.” He argued. “You think anyone's watching this,” Coriolanus asked, “Gaul cut the feed. Tributes kill you in here, she's just gonna say you died of the flu.”

You then looked at the beam above you 3 and saw a tribute wake up and grab her weapon. You tightened your fist around the arrow as Corio started to pull you closer to his side. “You need to decide right now. Do you wanna fight these tributes, or fight for them?” Coriolanus asked Sejanus, “Because if you wanna make real change, you need to stay alive to do it.” “How can I make any change from out there?” Sejanus asked.

“You're rich, you have your father’s money. You're smart, you care,” you said, looking between Sejanus and the female tribute looking at you three, “You're the only one who stood up to Gaul in that class, not us.” That moment you heard a clatter from somewhere in the arena, putting all of you on edge. You could see Sejanus was starting to get antsy. “We're dead if we don't leave right now.” You whispered to Sejanus. “Come with us. Spend your father's money, and do some real good. Or just be another dead body in Gaul's war.” Coriolanus whispered, getting close to his ear.

“Please, Sejanus, trust us.” You begged, wanting him to leave with the two of you. That was when you heard a scream from the end of the arena, and saw a male tribute charging towards you. “Let's go!” you yelled and ran for the gate. Even though you were running as fast as you could, they both were faster than you. You saw Coriolanus’ hand reach for yours, and he helped you keep up with him. You were able to jump over the turnstile, Sejanus couldn't and you heard a bone in him snap. You ran over to help him up just as the tribute lashed at the three of you.

You were able to miss his first swing, but when he swung his blade low, he cut your leg, making you scream. By instinct, you swung at his leg with the arrow and surprisingly managed to get a cut on his leg before Corio bashed the boy with a piece of debris. Before you could get out the way you felt the boy's blade cut a long line up your back, dragging another scream out of your mouth.

For a moment your vision blurred, hitting the wall as Coriolanus pleaded with the tribute. It didn't work. You heard Coriolanus scream and then proceed to hit the boy with the beam before hitting him in the head, making him fall through the turnstile. You had just gone over to help Sejanus up with you saw Coriolanus hit the boy one more time, and he no longer moved. You and Sejnaus stared at the sight, the horrible display of the dead tribute making you sick. Your best friend just killed someone, and he didn’t need to.

You then heard a group of tributes start to run towards you. “Get up, Sejanus!” You yelled, hoisting him up with one arm and running towards the gate. “Open the gate!” Coriolanus yelled. You ran through the gate and let out a small sigh of relief when it slammed shut, stopping the tributes from coming through. That was when one female tribute, Coral, looked at you briefly before looking directly at Coriolanus. “Watch those screens, gorgeous. ‘Cause I may have missed you tonight, but your songbird’s next on my list.” She smirked before walking away from the gate. You let out a breath and. As you stood up, you then leaned on the gate, and a wave of pain went down your back to the cut on your leg.

Holding yourself up, you let out a whimper as you saw the blood going down your leg. You could also see the gash on Coriolanus back when Sejanus spoke up, apologizing, “I’m… I’m sorry, both of you, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, for all of it.” He looked up at both of you. Behind him, you saw Sejanus’ parents drive up. “My father. Let the buying begin.” He said, and slowly stood up and walked towards his mother. You had just managed to stand up straight again when you and Coriolanus caught the eyes of his father, giving you a silent but grateful nod.

You and Coriolanus were led away and back to Dr. Gaul’s lab. “Snow and his rose stormed down, down on their heads. It stormed down on their heads, and now the boy is...” She stopped and made a noise, imitating the sound of a knife slashing. “Dead.” You whispered to yourself while she chuckled. You two have had enough of the Games tonight, I see,” she said, “Come, sit, I'll stitch you up.”

Coriolanus tried to usher you forward, but you sat down in another seat, “You saved us, you first.” He didn’t argue further. As he sat down, you grabbed a stool and sat beside him. “Who could imagine Crassus Snow's baby boy fighting for his life in the arena one day? What happened in there, that's humanity undressed,” Dr. Gaul let out a sigh before continuing, “Fueled with the terror of becoming prey, see how quickly we become predator. See how quickly civilization disappears?”

“Those tributes didn’t have a choice.” Coriolanus said, finally finding his voice. “I was talking about the two of you.” She said, your eyes finding his stare. “All your fine manners, education, background, stripped away in the blink of an eye, leaving a boy with a club who beats another boy to death to stay alive.” Dr Gaul said, before looking up at you, “And a girl who takes up an arrow and draws blood out of desperation to keep her life.” “You wanna protect people, Mr. Snow? To govern them like your father?

Then it’s essential you accept what human beings are and what it takes to control them.” She then patted his back, signaling him to move.

He squeezed your hand before he slowly walked out of the lab, leaving you alone with your mentor. For a while she stitched up your back, she didn’t say a single word, and neither did you. When she turned you around to sew up your leg, that changed. “So, Snow’s rose is growing her thorns,” She chuckled, “The daughter of the Capitol goes into the arena, who would’ve thought?” “I didn’t intend to humor you tonight, I went in to get my friend.” You replied. Dr. Gaul raised an eyebrow in response, “Be cautious of your loyalty and friendship, young girl.” “They would do the same for me.” You said, looking at her. “Oh I’m sure they would, that’s why you all could’ve died tonight.” Dr Gaul chuckled.

“It’s like I said earlier. Friendship like the one you have with Snow and Plinth can help you thrive as easy as it can be to die following your friend and lover into danger.” Your mouth fell open, but she raised her hand in response. “For a child so wise, you’re very blind to see the eyes of affection that boy has for you?” Dr. Gaul teased. “How are you sure?” You asked, curiously getting the best of you. Dr. Gaul chuckled, “Do you want me to point out the fact he calls you Calanthe, which translates to beautiful flower?”

As she finished the stitch on your leg, she smirked. “Love is a funny thing, pupil. It can be your greatest strength, weapon, or weakness.” “I don’t have a crush on-.” “Don’t lie!” Dr. Gaul shouted at you, making you shut up immediately. “If you don’t love that boy why did you protect him with that arrow in your hand?” She asked, holding your arm up, showing you the arrow still in your clenched hand.

You forgot you still had it.

Dr. Gaul looked at the arrow and then at you, helping you stand up, the stitch now complete. “You’re a strange one, little flower,” Dr. Gaul said, “You don’t see your strengths.” You then looked up at her, “And what do you see?” You asked, grabbing your blazer, and getting ready to leave. As you turned to leave, her chuckle made you freeze and turn around, “I still see what I saw the first time we talked my dear: potential.”

Me when I finally find this post

when she says she doesn’t send nudes

Ik my unfinished fics side eyes me hard as a mf but the Deadpool & Wolverine fics calling me like the Phantom to Christine😳🫣.

Call me Michael Jackson because I can’t help it😫

Update: Baby Come Over is out