LOVE THIS SERIES SO MUCH!!

Absolute masterpiece as always!! Can not wait for more! If y’all have not read this series. YOU NEED TOO!! Once again another chapter to lie awake at night and think about what’s going to happen next!🫶🏻🫶🏻

Shadows of Affection

warnings: despriction of death

slow burn Coriolanus Snow x reader, slight Felix Ravinstill x reader

Chapter 15: Sejanus

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

Pepper spray and a flashlight. That was all Dr. Gaul had given you before you left. You had asked for a gun, or at least a knife, but Dr. Gaul had shut you down. "Since you're not trained, this is safer. Remember, you're not there to do damage—you’re there to bring your friend out as quickly and as quietly as possible."

But you didn’t have time to complain.

"You idiot," you muttered under your breath. "You absolute fool."

Of course, Sejanus would rope you into something like this. And of course—of course—you would drag Coryo into it too. You were surprised he had agreed. Well, you hadn’t exactly given him much of a chance to refuse. If anyone else had asked him, he would have fought against it, refused to put his life on the line. He barely even considered Sejanus a friend. But deep down, in that black heart of his, you hoped he still cared—at least enough not to let you die.

Maybe another student, or even yourself a few years ago, would have protested, insisted on calling your mother or your stepfather, pleaded for help. But after the snake attack on Clemensia, the aftermath of the bombing, and Marcus’s torture, you knew it was pointless. If Dr. Gaul decided you were going into the Capitol arena, then that’s where you were going. Even if Sejanus’s life wasn’t at stake, you were just another one of Gaul’s experiments. Students and tributes alike were of no more consequence than the Avoxes in the cages—powerless to object. But you had known what you were getting into on your first day at the Academy. You had known the moment Dr. Gaul first shook your hand and made you an apprentice. You had signed your soul away.

You didn’t know if it had been hours or minutes by the time you reached the arena. You had run the entire way—it wasn’t far, only about a mile—but you were panting, your breath coming in sharp gasps. Your mind was a chaotic mess, thoughts scattered and incoherent. But one thing remained clear: Sejanus. You needed to get him out.

You scanned the area. Peacekeepers were stationed by the entrance, but they didn’t acknowledge you, didn’t stop you. You assumed they had already been informed of the situation. Still, Coryo wasn’t here yet.

Your pulse pounded. Should you go in alone? You only had an hour, and the countdown had already begun the moment you left the lab. Every second wasted was a second closer to disaster.

"Fuck it," you murmured, steeling yourself to move forward.

Before you could take a step, a voice cut through the night. "What the fuck is going on?"

You turned sharply. Coryo had finally arrived, his expression twisted in anger and concern. His breath was ragged, and there was a wildness in his eyes that you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before. "Why the hell did you call me here?"

"I don’t have time to explain," you said quickly. "Sejanus is in the arena."

Coryo blinked. Then scoffed. "Are you kidding me?"

"I wish I was. He bribed a Peacekeeper and got in somehow. Dr. Gaul is giving us an hour to get him out before she turns the feed back on."

His face twisted in frustration. "No. I’m not putting my life on the line for him. And I’m sure as hell not letting you do it either."

"Coryo, we don’t have time for this," you snapped. "If you’re not going in, I am. I don’t give a damn if you follow me or not, but through hell or high water, I’m getting Sejanus out of that fucking arena."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Goddamn it. Fine. Let’s go."

As you approached the entrance, the damage from the bombing was stark. The main doors had taken a direct hit—one was entirely gone, leaving a jagged, gaping hole framed by twisted metal. The only security in place was a set of concrete barriers, haphazardly arranged. If Sejanus had planned this, he wouldn’t have had much trouble getting in.

An old Peacekeeper standing behind the barriers caught your movement and approached. "You have a token?"

Coryo scowled. "A token?"

The Peacekeeper dug into his pocket and produced two small discs. "These are for you."

Coryo hesitated, turning the disc over in his fingers. "How did he think he was getting out?"

"I don’t think he did," you muttered.

"And how the hell am I supposed to get out?"

You almost laughed. Of course, that was his concern. Selfish bastard. But you weren’t surprised.

The Peacekeeper gestured toward the barricade. "We’ll pull back the barbed wire and tilt the bars forward when you return. You’ll have to crawl under, but it’ll be quick."

"And if we can’t convince him to come out?" Coryo asked.

The Peacekeeper shrugged. "Then you stay until the mission is accomplished."

A cold sweat broke over your skin. No way out without Sejanus.

You clenched your jaw and looked past the barricade toward the field. The tributes were supposed to be asleep, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting for you.

"We’ve got you covered up to the barricade," the Peacekeeper assured you.

"So you’ll kill any tributes who try to attack us?" Coryo asked sharply.

"Scare them off, anyway."

"Excellent," you muttered, not at all reassured.

Coryo exhaled, then shoved the token into the slot. The turnstile groaned loudly, the sound far too sharp in the stillness of the night. One of the Peacekeepers chuckled as you stepped through.

You moved in silence, your only light the dim red glow of the emergency bulbs. The air was thick with dust, the ground littered with debris. Your footsteps crunched softly against the gravel.

Without thinking, your hands found each other. His grip was tight, firm—but not painful. Just enough.

"Don’t let go," he whispered. There was an edge of desperation in his voice.

You pressed your lips together, breathing steadily through your nose. Right foot, left foot. Forward. Keep moving. No one stirred. Maybe you were lucky. Maybe Lucky Flickerman had been right—the tributes had all gone to sleep.

You reached the barricade. Just as the Peacekeeper had said, it was flimsy—clumsy layers of barbed wire and wooden frames meant more for obscuring the view than keeping anything in or out. A stage prop. Not a real barrier.

You took a slow breath, gripping the edge of the wire. Beyond the barricade, the field stretched out before you, bathed in silver light.

And at its center, a single figure knelt in the dirt.

You hear Coriolanus take a deep breath, and he lets go of your hand as he steps onto the field.

Please don’t.

You aren’t going to admit it, but you think it’s reasonable to be afraid. And you are very afraid.

Please don’t let me go.

You want to say it, but you keep your mouth shut and follow him slowly. You tread carefully across the dirt, knowing not to spook Sejanus but needing to get close enough to talk. When you and Coriolanus are about ten feet behind him, you stop. In a hushed voice, you call out:

"Sejanus, It’s me."

Sejanus’ shoulders begin to shake. At first, you mistake it for sobbing, but it’s quite the opposite.

"You two really can’t stop rescuing me, can you?" he says, laughter slipping through his voice.

Coriolanus exhales a quiet chuckle. "Can’t do it"

"so they sent you two to fish me out. What madness."

Sejanus’ laughter trails off, and he rises to his feet. "Did you ever see a dead body?"

"A lot. During the war," Coriolanus replies.

You stay silent. "A lot" is an understatement. You’ve seen bodies being dragged, seen people put down in the streets, seen them waste away. You’ve seen what people become when you take away their food, their luxuries. Animals. much like the one who are in this cage with you

You both move in closer. It doesn’t matter now, you tell yourself. No more dead bodies. No more.

"I haven’t. Not this close," Sejanus says. "At funerals, I guess. And at the zoo the other night. Only those girls hadn’t been dead long enough to stiffen up."

A hollow feeling creeps into your chest as he continues.

"I don’t know if I’d rather be burned or buried. Not that it matters, really."

"Well, you don’t have to decide now," you say.

Your eyes sweep the field. In the shadows beyond the wall—was that movement?

"Oh, it won’t be up to me." Sejanus’ voice is distant. "I don’t know what’s taking the tributes so long to find me. I must have been in here a while."

He finally looks at you, brows furrowing in concern.

"You two should go."

"I’d like to," Coriolanus says carefully. "I really would. Only there’s a matter of your ma. She’s waiting out front, pretty upset. I promised I’d bring you to her."

Your eyebrows knit together. What is he talking about? When did he speak to his mother? Maybe it’s a lie to coax Sejanus out, but you doubt it will be enough.

Sejanus’ expression turns indescribably sad. "Poor Ma. She never wanted any of this, you know. Not the money, not the move, not the fancy clothes or the driver. She just wanted to stay in Two. With my father."

He pauses.

"But he isn’t here, is he? No, he’ll keep his distance until this is settled. Then let the buying begin."

"Buying what?" you ask.

A breeze ruffles your hair, the sound of it hollow in the vast arena.

"He bought our way here. Bought my schooling. Bought my mentorship. And he goes nuts because he can’t buy me," Sejanus murmurs. "He’ll buy you, if you let him. Or at least compensate you for trying to help me."

You understand both sides. Sejanus doesn’t want to be here. His mother doesn’t want to be here. But you also understand his father’s perspective: you do what you must. Buy as many people as needed. Sacrifices have to be made.

Leaving Two behind was one of them.

"You’re our friend. He doesn’t need to pay us to help you," you say.

Sejanus places a hand on your shoulder, the other on Coriolanus. "You’re the only reason I’ve lasted this long. I need to stop causing you two trouble. I didn’t realize how bad this was for yall."

"I should’ve traded tributes when you asked," Coriolanus mutters.

Sejanus sighs. "It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does, really."

"Of course it matters," you snap.

They’re coming. You can feel it—a pack closing in.

"Come out with me."

"No. There’s no point," Sejanus says. "There’s nothing left to do but die."

Coriolanus presses him. "That’s it? That’s your only choice?"

"It’s the only way I might possibly make a statement. Let the world see me die in protest."

You roll your eyes. "Do you really think they’ll show this? They’ll quietly remove your body and say you died from the flu."

Sejanus falters.

"If you really want to make a difference, you have to be alive. With us."

His face clouds over. "They won’t show it, will they?"

"No," you say, your voice sharp. "You’ll be dead for nothing. And you’ll have wasted your chance to make things better."

You almost scoff at the question. Why would they show it? Only an idiot would think that. You know as well as anyone that the Capitol won’t give anyone a public fuck you by showing a capitol citizen mourn a tribute's death like that. Not in a million years. They'd bury it, pretend it never happened, and move on like it was just another day in the arena. It was always about control, never about making a statement.

Coriolanus squeezes your arm. A cough—soft and muffled but unmistakable—echoes from the stands.

"What chance?" Sejanus asks.

"You have money. Maybe not now, but one day. Money has a lot of uses. Look how it changed your world. Maybe you can change the world too. The right way," you urge. "If you don’t, more kids will die. Every year."

"What makes you think I could do that?" he asks.

"You’re the only one who had the guts to stand up to Dr. Gaul," Coriolanus says.

Sejanus hesitates. He looks tired, but something shifts in him.

"Thank you for that, Coriolanus."

Coriolanus places a hand on Sejanus’ arm—half comfort, half restraint. "Come with us."

Sejanus stares at Marcus’ body for a long moment, then finally nods. "You’re right. If I believe what I say, it’s my responsibility to take her down. To end this whole atrocity."

Then, realization dawns in his eyes. He looks toward the stands.

"But I won’t leave Marcus."

You want to strangle him. You open your mouth to protest, but Coriolanus acts first.

"I’ll get his feet."

He grips Marcus’ stiff, heavy legs. You circle his chest, heaving him up. The stench of blood and filth clings to the body as you start moving.

Ten yards. Five yards. Almost there.

Coriolanus stumbles on a rock, knee slamming into something sharp. He hisses but pushes forward. Almost—

Footsteps. Quick and light, rushing toward you from behind.

Coriolanus drops Marcus and whirls around just as Bobbin lunges, knife flashing in the moonlight.

The blade slices into Coriolanus’s left upper arm. He leaps backward. He swings at Bobbin, but only encounters air. He lands on a pile of debris, old boards, and plaster as his hand searches for some kind of defense. Bobbin springs at him again, knife aimed at his face, seemingly focused only on Coriolanus and not you or Sejanus.

Coriolanus’s fingers close around a 2x4, and he brings it up, catching Bobbin in the temple hard, sending him to his knees. Then, he’s on his feet again, using the board like a club, bringing it down again and again. Blood splatters on you and Coriolanus.

“We have to go!” Sejanus shouts, and you can hear the catcalls now, the pounding of feet down the bleachers.

Confused, Coriolanus moves away from Marcus’s body, but you grab him and yank him away.

“No, leave him! Run!” you shout.

He doesn’t seem to need any persuasion and starts running. The three of you sprint toward the barricade. When you reach it, barbed wire bites into your shirt, and you yank it free. You see them—two tributes from District 4: Coral and Mission, and Tanner, the slaughterhouse kid—making a beeline for you, armed to the teeth. Reamed draws his arm back to throw a trident. The fabric on your sleeve rips wide as you yank yourself from the barbed wire and dive out of the line of fire with Sejanus right behind you.

Only a few weak rays of moonlight penetrate the layers of the barricade. You crash into wood and fencing, like a wild animal in a cage, surely alerting any tribute who somehow missed your presence. You run, face-first, and watch as Coriolanus runs into a concrete slab, then Sejanus plows into him from behind, smacking his forehead into the unrelenting surface a second time.

Thankfully, you stop just before the tributes start making a whooping sound, rattling their weapons against the barricade as they track the three of you through the labyrinth.

“Which direction?” Sejanus gasps, but the tributes seem to be all around you.

Coriolanus starts lagging, and you grab his arm, urging him to keep moving. He stumbles blindly behind, wounded and terrified. Something must have surged through him because he crashes into Sejanus, knocking him onto his hands and knees in front of a cloud of soft red light.

The passageway up ahead starts to take shape, and you can make out the turn, still with the peacekeepers clustered at the temporary bars. You run for your life, but the passageway isn’t long—it seems interminable. Your legs rise and fall as if you're wading through waist-high glue. Black specs dot your vision, and Sejanus stays steady at Coriolanus’s elbow, but you can hear the tributes gaining. Something heavy and unyielding—maybe a brick—clips the side of your neck. Another object punctures what’s left of your shirt, and you duck behind Sejanus until it falls with a clank.

Where is the cover? Where’s the protective gunfire from the peacekeepers? There’s nothing—nothing at all, and the bars still stand flush with the floor. You want to scream at them to kill the tributes, to shoot them dead in their tracks, but your breath is too short.

Someone heavy-footed shrinks the distance to a few yards. You don’t dare look back, too terrified to waste a second.

The peacekeepers finally manage to open the unit of bars inward, achieving a gap of about 12 inches at the ground. Coriolanus dives, skinning several layers of his chin on the rough floor, but getting his hands beneath the bars where the peacekeepers latch onto him and yank him through.

You’re next, scraping your face against the filthy surface, but you reach safety. You crumble into Coriolanus as the guards go to retrieve Sejanus, who gives a sharp cry as Tanner’s knife cuts open the back of his calf before he slides out of range. The bars are slammed into place, locked down tight, but the tributes are undeterred. Tanner and Coral jab their weapons through the bars at you, Coriolanus, and Sejanus, who are peeling back, desperate to get away.

The peacekeepers are doing nothing, banging their batons against the bars. Not a shot. Not even pepper spray. You realize they must have been under orders to leave the tributes untouched.

The peacekeepers help you and Coriolanus to your feet. You’re angry, but you can’t even muster words as Coriolanus grits his teeth, shaking with fury.

“Thanks for having our backs,” he spits bitterly. The peacekeeper shrugs, indifferent.

“Just following orders. Don’t blame us if Goal thinks you’re expandable,” says one of them.

Before you can respond, Coriolanus starts muttering a long string of profanities, his anger making no impression. He hangs like dead weight, barely able to stand until they drop him unceremoniously outside of the arena. You, with only a few scratches and a mild concussion, walk the entire way.

A minute later, Sejanus is dropped behind the two of you. Both Coriolanus and Sejanus lay panting on the tiles, glancing toward the front of the arena. You’re barely standing, your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath. You sit beside them, exhausted.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I did this to you,” Sejanus keeps saying. “I’m sorry, Coryo. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Coriolanus glances at him, and for a moment, it looks like he’s going to strangle him. But instead, they just sit in silence. The peacekeepers watch, silent, unmoving. Sejanus just keeps crying, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You want to scream at him to please just shut up, but you keep your mouth shut, feeling the weight of the situation.

Then you hear the screech of tires, and you look up to see Sejanus’s mother getting out of the car, crying, frantic. She rushes over to him, tears in her eyes.

You see Sejanus’s father sitting still in the car, not bothering to get out. It makes you wonder if they called your parents. But you doubt it, and even if they did, you doubt they’d show up.

An ambulance pulls up not long after, checking on Coriolanus, you, and Sejanus. You’re not in bad shape—just a few scratches and a mild concussion. Nothing you haven’t been through before. Sejanus is sitting with his mom, and then it’s just you and Coriolanus. You both sit in silence outside the arena, neither knowing what to say, not even looking at each other.

Dean Highbottom and Dr. Gaul eventually show up. Dr. Gual looks as excited as ever, while Dean Highbottom doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for anything. He stands off to the side, randomly taking a shot of something.

Dr. Gaul is talking to Sejanus’s parents. You and Coriolanus exchange a look, and it’s like you both haven’t looked at each other in a while. Almost like when you were kids again, scared during the war. Maybe even before that. It’s been a while since you’ve looked at each other—not in a way of hate, or anger, or even less—but in a quiet moment of recognition.

Just as Coriolanus opens his mouth to speak, you hear car doors slam. You turn your head a little too fast, and your vision goes blurry again, but not so much that you can’t tell who it is. It’s Felix Ravensdale, in all his glory.

He walks toward you first, examining you like a mother would examine a child after they’ve gotten hurt. “What happened?” he demands, his tone pissed but also deeply concerned.

“I don’t know,” you reply quickly, trying to keep the situation under control.

Felix isn’t having it. “What happened? Are you okay? You’re not okay, are you?” His voice shakes with worry, but underneath it, there’s a simmering anger. “What the hell is going on here?”

Before you can explain, Felix turns to Dr. Gaul, his anger rising. “What the hell are you doing here, Felix?” Dean Highbottom says, cutting through the tension.

Felix snaps. “You don’t think I know what’s going on? How dare you? How dare you put her out there like that? You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Dr. Gaul is standing back, watching the interaction with almost sadistic amusement.

“I’m going to tell my father about this,” Felix says, his voice cold with fury. “He’ll take care of this. He won’t let this go.”

Dean Highbottom stumbles over his words. “Felix, calm down.”

You try to calm him down too, but it’s not working. “Felix, please—it’s fine,” you say, but Felix shakes his head, his anger still boiling.

“No, it’s not fine! What if something happened to you?” he yells. His face softens for a second, but it’s fleeting.

Felix drags you back toward the car. You glance back at Coriolanus, who’s looking at you with tired eyes. For a moment, there was something—some bond—but it’s gone now. You’re not sure it’ll come back.

The ride back is painfully quiet, except for Felix’s persistent questions.

“Y/n , are you sure you're okay? You don’t look okay. You sure you're alright?”

You can barely summon the energy to answer, your body aching from head to toe. The exhaustion weighs on you like a heavy blanket, and your bones are screaming for rest. You don’t even want to talk, but Felix keeps pressing.

“I mean, I can’t believe Dr. Gaul sent you in there like that. It was ridiculous! You could’ve gotten hurt. You could’ve died, Y/n.” His voice rises with every word, but all you can do is let him talk, feeling more and more like you’re fading into the seat.

You close your eyes, wishing the world would just stop spinning.

“I’m just so tired,” you mutter, barely a whisper.

Felix doesn’t hear you, or maybe he does, but he doesn’t know how to stop. He goes on, venting about how dangerous it was, how you shouldn’t have been put in that situation, how it was a huge mistake. You nod every now and then, not even sure what you're agreeing to.

"I just don’t understand why they do this to you..." he continues, his frustration palpable. “You’re exhausted. You’ve been through enough already. And they put you through more for what? To save Sejanus?”

The name makes your stomach turn. You're so done with everything right now. You're done with the arena, done with being a pawn in all this. You're just so tired.

“You know,” you murmur, more to yourself than him, “I'm just so tired. My bones hurt. I just want to sleep.”

Felix quiets down, noticing the strain in your voice. You lean against the window, closing your eyes, and for the first time in what feels like hours, you let the quiet settle over you. But then, as you start to drift, something feels off.

You sit up, blinking, confused.

“Felix...” you say, your voice slurring with exhaustion. “Where are we going?”

Felix glances at you, his expression unreadable for a second before it shifts to something more serious. “To my house.”

You blink again, more awake now, a sense of urgency creeping into your tone. “Felix, you can just bring me home, it's late. My parents are going to freak. They’ll be worried.”

Felix doesn’t waver. “No, it’s fine. My parents won’t care. What matters is that you’re safe. You’re going to stay with me tonight. I can’t trust anyone else to look after you. You need to get proper medical attention.”

His words send a cold shiver through you, but you're so tired, so utterly drained, that you don’t protest. If you weren’t so exhausted, you might’ve said something. The way he says it, like you’re his responsibility, like he owns you—like you’re something to be taken care of, a possession—hits a little too close to home.

But you don’t have the energy to argue. “Fine,” you mutter, sinking back into your seat. “I won’t fight you.”

You let out a sigh, your mind too foggy to process it all. Whatever. It’s been a hell of a day.

When you finally pull up to the Presidents mansion, you can’t help but feel a bit of apprehension. You’ve been here a handful of times, but it’s always been for brief visits, never for a stay. The house is grand, sprawling, the kind of place where everything gleams with wealth, but right now, it all feels so distant, so unimportant compared to how heavy your limbs feel.

Felix doesn’t ask; he just opens your door and helps you out, his hands gentle but insistent. You don’t even argue when he lifts you into his arms, carrying you up the stairs and into his room.

His room is grand, but not in the way you expected. It's a bit more personal—soft, warm lighting, and a massive bed that looks almost too big for just one person. The walls are lined with books, and there’s a touch of his personality in every corner. You can tell it’s his space, and even though it's beautiful, you feel out of place here.

He sets you down on the bed, his touch lingering just a bit too long before he speaks again. “I’ll have the maids run you a bath,” he says quietly, his usual flirty charm replaced by something softer. “You need it.”

You don’t protest. You just nod, your eyes barely open. The bath is exactly what you need. As soon as you slip into the warm water, you feel your body relax in a way it hasn’t all day. It’s like you could fall asleep right there.

You’re tempted to.

When you step out, the clothes they bring you make you stifle a laugh. A pair of Felix’s pajama pants and a loose shirt. It’s so typical, you can’t help but find it funny in the only way you can right now. You know they have spare clothes, but you end up with his clothes, the ones you know he picked out for you.

You slip into them, feeling the soft fabric settle over your tired body, and when you emerge, you see Felix waiting for you, his expression unreadable.

“You’re sleeping here tonight,” he says, a slight edge to his voice that you can’t quite place.

You blink. “Felix, what are you talking about? There’s like a million rooms here. Why would I sleep in here?”

His gaze softens, but his stance is firm. “I want you here with me. It’s safer. And I don’t want you alone.” He’s standing so close now, and something shifts in the air between you two, but you’re too tired to fight it.

“Fine,” you murmur. “Whatever.”

You lie down, and Felix pulls the covers up around you both. He holds you close, his arms around you like you're the only thing that matters. Normally, you’d push him away, but tonight? Tonight, you don’t have the strength to.

You settle into his warmth, resting your head on his chest, letting the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat lull you into a strange kind of comfort.

Felix strokes your hair lightly, his voice breaking the silence. “You okay?”

You want to say no—you want to say everything’s falling apart—but all you can muster is a tired, “Yeah.”

Then, you speak again, your tone softer than before. “How did you get in there? To the arena I mean... no one was supposed to know.”

You can feel him tense, but you stay quiet, not wanting to talk. The question lingers in the air for a long moment before Felix laughs softly. It’s not a happy laugh, not a joyful one. More like one of disbelief.

“I’m the President’s son,” he says, his voice quiet. “I make sure I know everything that’s happening around here. Besides, you told me you’d be home safely. You didn’t call, so I assumed something went wrong.”

You don’t answer. You just lay there, staring at the ceiling. The weight of the day hits you all over again, and the exhaustion sets in deeper.

Felix’s voice interrupts your thoughts again, his words playful despite the situation. “You know, you look kind of cute in my pajamas. But I think I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

You barely hear him, too lost in your own tiredness. You think about how you ended up here, in his bed, at the mansion. How Felix is always looking out for you, even when you didn’t ask for it.

Your mind drifts, though, and for a moment, you think back to a time not too long ago—another bed, another room. You remember the feel of the sheets, the quiet tension in the air, and that blonde figure who made everything so... complicated. You try to push the thought away. It was a different time, a different situation, and you don’t want to deal with it now.

But as you close your eyes, you can’t help it. In the dark of your mind, Coriolanus’s eyes flash before you, his gaze cold, intense, and knowing. The memory lingers like an unwanted ghost, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter, trying to push it out of your head.

You don’t want to think about him. Not now.

But as sleep begins to take you, his eyes are still there, haunting the back of your mind.

Shadows of Affection

warnings: death

slow burn Coriolanus Snow x reader, slight Felix Ravinstill x reader

Chapter 16: Aftermath

You wake up feeling dazed, disoriented. The ceiling above you is unfamiliar, high and intricate with golden detailing carved into its moldings. The bed beneath you is too soft, the sheets too smooth, like silk against your skin. You shift slightly, trying to sit up, when an arm tightens around your waist. Your body stiffens.

What the fuck?

Panic shoots through you for a second before last night’s memories come flooding back. The exhaustion. Felix insisting you come home with him. Falling into bed before you could even think twice about it.

Oh no. No, no, no.

You groan internally. You were tired, sure, but how could you have let this happen? Felix’s house. Felix’s bed. Felix’s arms wrapped so tightly around you that escape feels impossible. And when you get home—if you get home—Quincy is going to have a field day. He always does. Though lately, he’s been too busy. You don’t see him as often. You don’t sit down for dinner together. You try to come home after everyone’s asleep and leave before they wake. But he’ll know. He always knows. And you have no explanation to give him.

You shift again, trying to pry yourself from Felix’s grasp, but he groans in annoyance and only pulls you closer.

“Felix,” you mutter, voice still rough with sleep. “I have to go.”

He buries his face against your shoulder. “No, no we don’t have to go anywhere,” he mumbles sleepily. “Stay. Let’s get breakfast. Let’s take the day off.”

You shake your head. “I can’t. I really can’t.”

Felix sighs, rubbing at his face before propping himself up on one elbow. “Why?”

You sit up, already scanning the room for your clothes. “I have to talk to Dr. Gaul. She’s going to be expecting me.”

His expression shifts, his easygoing sleepiness fading into something more tense. “Why do you always have to leave?” His voice is sharper than before, tinged with frustration. “Why can’t you just stay with me?”

You glance at him, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “What are you talking about? You know I’m busy. So are you. I can’t just take a day off.”

Felix scoffs, running a hand through his messy hair. “Is it Coriolanus?”

You freeze for a second before rolling your eyes. “Oh, please. You’re being dramatic. This has nothing to do with Coriolanus.”

“It always has something to do with him,” Felix presses, his voice darkening. “I saw it. The way you looked at him.”

You push against his chest, trying to create space between you, but he doesn’t let you. “Felix, you’re blind.”

“Then prove it,” he says. “Stay.” His grip tightens on your wrist. “Stay with me. Stay in bed.” His voice softens. “Please.”

You inhale sharply, heart hammering. “No. I can’t.”

Felix exhales slowly, finally loosening his hold. But even as he releases you, his fingers remain tangled with yours. He always does this—always finds a way to touch you. Whether it’s a hand on your knee, fingers brushing against your wrist, his presence always lingering.

He sits up, watching you as you move around the room, aimlessly searching. “Where are my clothes?” you ask.

“I had them thrown away.”

You turn sharply. “What?”

“They were filthy,” Felix says simply. “They were torn. You weren’t going to wear them again, so I had the maids bring you something new.” He gestures lazily. “They’ll bring it to you in a minute.”

You let out a slow breath, trying not to get more frustrated than you already are. “Fine.”

Minutes later, the maids arrive, carrying a neatly folded dress. You take it, holding it up in front of you. The fabric is luxurious, softer than anything you’d normally wear. The cut is modest—but just barely. If it were any shorter, it would cross the line from refined to provocative.

And it’s white.

You frown. White. You never wear white. It makes you feel like a child bride. And you know, without a doubt, that Felix picked this. He didn’t choose something you’d like—he chose something he would like to see you in.

You slip into the dress, brushing out your hair, trying to ignore the way it fits too perfectly, like it was tailored for you overnight. You stare at yourself in the mirror, lost in thought, when Felix moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips brush against your neck. “Stay,” he murmurs against your skin. “We could be comfortable. Come back to bed.”

You stiffen. His kisses become sloppier, more insistent. You know exactly what he’s trying to do.

“No,” you say firmly, stepping out of his grip.

Felix’s hands drop to his sides, his face darkening. For a second, it looks like he might argue, but instead, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine.” His voice is flat. “Call me later.”

You nod, barely listening.

“Call me tonight,” he repeats, watching you carefully. “We’ll go to dinner.”

You exhale. “Okay.”

Felix calls your driver, and soon enough, you’re slipping out of the house, walking through the eerily silent halls of the President’s mansion. It’s strange—so many people live here, so many servants, so many visitors from powerful families, and yet it always feels... empty. Hollow. Like the walls themselves are absorbing all the life inside them.

Finally, you step outside, into the fresh air, and climb into the car waiting for you. As soon as the door shuts, you let your head fall back against the seat and sigh.

You moved quickly through the corridors of the Capitol, your footsteps echoing off the pristine marble floor. The peacekeepers at the entrance barely gave you a glance before granting you access to the underground levels, where Dr. Gaul’s true domain lay.

The air grew colder the deeper you went, the artificial lights casting long, eerie shadows. As you descended, the scent of raw fish curled into your nose, unmistakable and putrid. A sharp chorus of squeals rang out—feeding time. Then, silence.

You swallowed thickly, keeping your eyes forward, pretending you didn’t hear, pretending you didn’t know what happened in these halls. You had always done that, because fear made it easier. Fear kept you from wondering too hard about what went on behind the reinforced glass or what kind of creatures lurked in the shadows of Gaul’s twisted creations. Fear reminded you that if it ever came down to you or them, you would always choose yourself.

When you reached the lab, Dr. Gaul was standing over a steel enclosure, dropping chunks of flesh into it. A wet, slithering sound accompanied each drop, followed by quick, greedy gulps. Your stomach twisted, but you forced yourself to remain composed.

Dr. Gaul turned to you, her smile wide and unnatural. “Oh, my little dove,” she cooed. “How was your little excursion last night?”

Your spine stiffened. “Eventful.”

“Eventful, she says,” Gaul chuckled, tilting her head. “Come, let’s check you up.”

She stepped forward, her gloved hands reaching out to examine you. Cold fingertips brushed against your wrist, then your jaw, tilting your head side to side as Gaul’s grin stretched wider, inspecting you like you were just another one of her projects. You forced yourself not to recoil.

“I started out as a medical doctor, you know,” Gaul said conversationally, stepping back. “Sterile. How awful, you must imagine, to be the first thing a baby sees in this world.” She sighed dramatically. “Parents always expect reassurances, but what can I possibly tell them? How could I know what their children would face?”

You said nothing, but you knew where this was going.

“Like you, last night,” Gaul continued, voice filled with an eerie amusement. “Who would have imagined the darling daughter of Lason Royce, fighting for her life in the Capitol arena? Not him, for one.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you had no response. You barely remembered your father anymore. His face was always a blur, shifting in your memory like a phantom you could never quite catch.

“What was it like?” Gaul asked. “The arena?”

You met her gaze, unwavering. “Terrifying. Just like it was designed to be.”

Gaul let out a laugh. “Yes, indeed.”

You exhaled sharply.

“What about the tributes?” Gaul smirked. “What about them?”

You hesitated.

“What did you think of them, now that their chains were removed? Now that they tried to kill you, not because they had to, but because they wanted to?”

Gaul’s eyes gleamed. “Ah. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

You thought back to the escape, to the sheer bloodlust in the tributes’ eyes even after they were free. “I felt like an animal. Like prey being hunted.”

“But you weren’t.”

“No,” you admitted. “But I always am. No matter where I go, I’m always prey.”

Gaul let out a delighted hum, as if you had just said exactly what she wanted to hear. “Mission accomplished, then.”

She walked over to a counter, idly flipping through a file. “That little one from Eight—Snow beat him to a pulp. Now we’ll have to fabricate some lovely tale for Flickerman to spin. What a wonderful opportunity for you.” She glanced up, her grin sharp. “Transformative, wasn’t it?”

You felt the phantom sensation of blood on your skin, the memory of Coryo bashing into that boy’s face over and over again. The sickening crunch, the shiver down your spine. It brought back too many memories—war, home, the never-ending cycle of violence.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

It was all you ever saw.

Gaul tapped her fingers against the counter. “Wasn’t it more than you could’ve hoped for?”

You inhaled slowly. “You needed me to get Sejanus out of the arena, obviously. But you also wanted me to… what? Experience it?”

Gaul’s grin widened.

“Even if it killed me?” Your voice tightened.

“That was a risk.”

“Without the threat of death, what’s the point of a lesson?” Gaul mused. She gestured vaguely. “What happens in the arena, my dear, that is humanity undressed. The tributes. And you. How quickly civilization disappears. All your fine manners, your education, your family background—it all falls away in an instant, revealing what you really are.”

Your stomach twisted, but you weren’t surprised. “And? What was the point? I already knew all this.” Your voice sharpened. “I’ve always known. I’ve seen it before.”

Gaul let out a pleased hum. “I thought you might need a reminder, little dove.” She stepped closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I don’t want you going soft.”

Your jaw clenched.

Gaul tilted her head, watching you carefully. “I need you to realize where you are in this world… and where you will stay if you don’t change it.”

Your breath hitched.

Gaul’s voice turned saccharine, condescending. “You can’t stay my little dove forever.”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. You had nothing to say to that. Because deep down, you weren’t sure if you wanted to argue.

Gaul simply smiled and turned away.

The conversation was over. But the lesson lingered.

The main student body had been told to report at 7:45, so the early arrivals consisted of active mentors and a few aides tidying up the hall. You couldn’t help but throw a guilty glance at Juno Phipps, who sat discussing her strategy, knowing she could’ve just slept in. Your thoughts wandered to how they would announce Bobbin’s death and how Coriolanus would react—but you doubted he would care.

Everything from yesterday had already been set up, and since the crowds hadn’t arrived yet, you decided to join Festus. The only thing being served in Heavensbee Hall was tea, which brought grumblings from Festus. “If we have to be here early, you’d think they could at least feed us,” he muttered.

“You’d think,” you replied.

Coriolanus sauntered up beside Festus, casually joining the small group. “What happened to your face?”

“Bike accident,” Coriolanus said loud enough for everyone to hear, his eyes briefly glancing at you. He tossed a bag containing a roll to Festus.

“Thanks, this looks great,” Festus said, digging in immediately.

Conversations continued around you, but you barely paid attention. Your mind drifted, replaying the events of the past few weeks. Your life had suddenly become a living nightmare with the start of the Hunger Games, and it didn’t help that Coriolanus kept making eye contact with you. As the rest of the school arrived and took their seats, you chose to separate from the group, heading toward the game makers’ station to observe behind the screens.

The monitors showed little change—except for the disappearance of Marcus’s body. No one seemed to question it. You assumed it was still by the barricade, where Coriolanus and Sejanus had abandoned it last night, just out of range of the cameras.

At the stroke of eight, the anthem played, and everyone stood. You weren’t much of a singer, so you remained quiet as Lucky Flickerman appeared on the screens, welcoming everyone to Day Two of the Hunger Games.

“While you were sleeping, something pretty important happened,” Lucky announced. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

The feed cut to a wide shot of the arena before slowly panning in on the barricade. As you expected, Marcus’s body lay nearby, but your stomach twisted when Bobbin’s battered form came into view. He looked much worse than you had imagined—his limbs twisted unnaturally, his swollen face barely recognizable. Coriolanus had really done that to another boy—a young boy. You stole a glance at him, but all you saw was the back of his head. Even from there, you knew he was nervous. He might have seemed like a good liar to everyone else, but you always knew better.

After a long look at the bodies, the show cut back to Lucky, who pondered aloud who might have committed the act. His mood abruptly shifted. “One thing we do know is that we’ve got something to celebrate!”

Confetti rained from the ceiling as Lucky blew wildly on a plastic horn. “We’ve just hit the halfway mark! That’s right—twelve tributes down, only twelve to go!” A string of brightly colored handkerchiefs shot from his sleeve as he swung them around his head, laughing and cheering. When he finally calmed, he adopted a somber expression. “But that also means we have to say farewell to Miss Juno Phipps.”

A man approached Juno’s side to escort her out, but she suddenly spoke up. “Something seems off to me,” she said. “I mean, what’s he doing over there with Marcus’s body? Who moved it? And how did Bobbin end up dead? I can’t even imagine a likely scenario.”

The reporter, intrigued, pressed further. “What exactly would qualify as foul play?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Juno admitted. “But I, for one, would really like to see a replay of last night’s events.”

Good luck with that, you thought. But then the idea lingered. Maybe a recording did exist. Maybe there were two versions—one for the public and another kept private. You’d have to look into it later, though you doubted you could access it or that Dr. Gaul would even keep such a thing.

Juno was dismissed with a patronizing pat on the back, still sparkling with confetti. Lucky, oblivious to her frustration, leaned toward the camera with barely contained glee.

“And now, I suppose you’re all wondering about our extra big surprise! Especially if you’re one of the twelve remaining mentors.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. What the hell was he talking about?

Before you could dwell on it, Lucky bounded across the stage to reveal two men sitting side by side—his father, Strabo Plinth, whose stern expression was as immovable as the granite of his home district, and Sejanus, looking hollow-eyed and stiff.

Lucky took the host chair and patted Sejanus’s leg. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a moment with you yesterday to comment on your tribute’s… unfortunate demise.”

Sejanus merely stared, uncomprehending. Lucky seemed to notice his injuries for the first time. “You look like you’ve been mixing it up yourself.”

“I fell off my bike,” Sejanus rasped.

Two biking accidents in twelve hours? That seemed highly unlikely.

“Ouch! Well, I guess you’ve had some pretty big news to share with us,” Lucky continued, nodding encouragingly.

Sejanus hesitated, while neither he nor his father acknowledged each other. A silent battle raged between them. Finally, Sejanus exhaled. “The Plinth family would like to announce that we will be awarding a full-ride university scholarship to the mentor whose tribute wins the Hunger Games.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Several mentors gasped in delight. You rolled your eyes, knowing that most of them didn’t need the money nearly as much as others did.

As the interview dragged on, your thoughts churned. Sejanus had been right—his father was trying to cover up his son’s disgraceful behavior with a generous bribe. Not that it didn’t merit damage control. You hadn’t heard much gossip about the outburst with the chair yet, but you suspected stories were already spreading.

As the interview ended and the Games were broadcast once again, nothing particularly interesting happened throughout the morning. The tributes seemed hesitant to make any bold moves. Coral and Mizzen roamed together for a while, collecting food and water from their mentors, Festus and Persephone. The two mentors had been strategizing together, and it was clear that Festus had a crush on Persephone. It wasn’t exactly breaking news—he’d harbored feelings for her for a long time. Still, every time you looked at Persephone, you couldn’t help but think of Coriolanus and the story he had told you about her war time stew.

Would you tell one of your close friends that their crush was a cannibal? It seemed unorthodox, even cruel. For all you knew, Persephone herself might not even be aware. But the thought lingered, unsettling you as you moved through the uneventful lunch period. At least, this time, when people sent food or water, the drones didn’t crash. You had one of the other Gamemakers bring you whatever was being served—a small sandwich, nothing remarkable.

Later in the afternoon, You had the Gamemakers reduce the mentor seats to twelve, leaving only space for those whose tributes were still in the Games. “It makes it easier for the audience to keep track of who’s still a contender,” you told them, instructing them to keep removing seats as more tributes fell. A grim game of musical chairs, but with real consequences. The decision seemed to make livia even more bitter, if that was possible. You felt a twinge of sympathy—but only a small one. What caught your attention more was how this change forced Coriolanus closer to Clemencia, who remained scaley, snake-like, and entirely focused on him, her glare never wavering.

As the afternoon stretched on, your exhaustion caught up with you. Your head grew heavier, and at one point, a fellow Gamemaker had to nudge you awake—twice. Perhaps it was fortunate that so little was required of you today, given how last night had nearly killed you.

Tributes remained mostly hidden until late in the day when the Hunger Games finally delivered the kind of action audiences expected. The girl from District 5—a wiry, forgettable thing whose name escaped you—was caught wandering the arena. Lucky Flickerman managed to connect her to her equally forgettable mentor, Iphigenia Moss, the daughter of the man who oversaw agriculture and the distribution of food across Panem.

Contrary to expectations, Iphigenia always seemed on the verge of malnutrition. She had a reputation for giving her school lunches to classmates, sometimes blacking out from hunger. Festus had once mentioned that it was her only form of revenge against her father, though he refused to elaborate. True to form, Iphigenia funneled every bit of food she could to her tribute. But even as the drones made their long trek across the arena, the trio of Coral, Tanner, and Mizzen emerged from the tunnels, hunting.

After a brief chase along the bleachers, they surrounded the District 5 girl. Coral ended it with a trident to the throat, making you cringe.

“Well, that’s that,” Lucky said, unable to recall the girl’s name.

When prompted, Iphigenia had already left the dais. “Her name was Sol. Or maybe Sal,” the reporter said with a shrug.

“Not much more to tell.”

“Nice job getting her to the second day, alibina,” Lucky added.

“It’s Iphigenia,” she corrected over her shoulder as she exited, not bothering to glance back.

“Right,” Lucky continued smoothly. “And that means we’re down to just eleven tributes left!”

Thank God, you thought. I’m one step closer to finally going home.

The rest of the day passed without much excitement, and as you were finally being dismissed—something you were immensely grateful for—Lucy Gray made an entrance.

You groaned aloud as she sprinted out of a tunnel, her braid unraveling, her hair flying wild behind her. In your head, you were already hoping that one of the trio—maybe Coral—would kill her just to get this over with. Then you could finally go home.

But before you could even guess what was chasing her, Jessup staggered out of the same tunnel. At first, you thought he was wounded—maybe he’d been protecting Lucy Gray. They were from the same district, so it made sense that they would have formed a pact. But if they were allies, why had she run?

As the cameras zoomed in, it became clear that Jessup wasn’t injured—he was sick. Stiff, feverish, twitching with erratic movements. He swiped at the sun, crouched, then sprang to his feet again in an unsettling cycle. His behavior made your skin crawl.

Your first thought was poison. Had Coriolanus’s little songbird found a way to get rid of her own ally? But that seemed unlikely. Jessup was a valuable protector, especially with those other tributes prowling around. Any number of things in that arena could have sickened him—contaminated water, spoiled food.

But then, you saw the telltale foam bubbling over his lips.

Oh, God, you thought.

Jessup had rabies.

Rabies had made a comeback in the Capitol during the war, with doctors needed in the field and medical faculties and supply lines compromised by the bombings. Medical treatment had been sketchy for humans, and for a lot of people, it had become essentially nonexistent. Pampered pets were no longer a priority when people couldn’t even afford bread.

How it began remained a matter of debate—an infected coyote from the mountains, a nocturnal encounter with a bat—but the dogs spread it. Most of them were starving, abandoned casualties of the war themselves. From dog to dog, then to people, the violent strain developed with unprecedented speed, killing over a dozen Capitol citizens before a vaccination program brought it under control. You remembered the posters alerting people to the warning signs in both animals and humans, adding just one more potential threat to your world.

And poor Jessup had been bitten—by what, you weren’t sure. But it was on the neck. The quicker the virus reached the brain, the quicker you died. And of course, he was half-starved and weak. Poor Jessup, you thought. Even his death had to be horrible.

The recognition of Jessup’s illness put the audience on edge, setting off a wave of comments thick with fear and revulsion.

“Rabies? How did he get that? Must’ve come from the district.”

“I bet he’s gonna infect the whole city.”

“A little unprecedented, but not after seeing it spread through the city once.”

“The Capitol should just put him down. They knew he had it before he tried to spread it around like some apocalypse.”

The students seemed to draw back into their seats, not wanting to miss anything, but the murmurs of unease were unmistakable. The disease dredged up childhood memories of public warnings, and no one wanted to see its horrors play out again. You stayed silent, watching Jessup zigzag across the arena in Lucy Gray’s direction. There was no telling what was going on in his mind. Under normal circumstances, maybe he’d protect her, maybe not. But he had clearly lost his reason. If she had any sense, she’d run for her life.

The cameras tracked Lucy Gray as she sprinted across the arena, scrambling up the broken wall into the stands. The press box occupied a midway position, somehow spared in the bombings. She stopped a moment, panting, considering Jessup’s erratic pursuit. Then she made for the debris of the nearby concession stand. The skeleton of its frame remained, but the center had been blasted to bits and the roof flung thirty feet away, strewn with bricks and boards. It was an obstacle course as she traveled until she planted herself at the top of the mess. The Gamemakers took advantage of her stillness, zooming in for a close-up.

Much to your delight, she looked like hell. You didn’t know why you disliked her so much—you just did. And you weren’t sure you were ready to tackle the whole of that dislike just yet.

An order for a bottle of water came through from Coriolanus, which you approved with little interest, sending a drone out. Jessup, meanwhile, had made his way across the arena, climbing into the stands after Lucy Gray. His balance wavered as he entered the debris field. He fell twice, with such force that he opened gashes on his knee and temple. The second wound produced a fair amount of blood. He sat, somewhat stunned, reaching a trembling hand toward Lucy Gray, his mouth moving, but only foam dripped from his chin.

Lucy Gray remained motionless, watching Jessup with a pained expression. The scene created a strange tableau—rabid boy, trapped girl, bombed-out building—a tale that could only end in tragedy. Star-crossed lovers meeting their fate? A revenge story turned inward? A war saga that took no prisoners?

Just die already, you thought. Enough with the dramatics.

A drone carrying the water flew into the arena. Lucy Gray lifted her face, tracking its wobbly progress. Her tongue flicked across her lips in anticipation. However, as it passed over Jessup, something in him registered the sight. A shudder raked through his body. He swung at the drone with a broken board, and it crashed into the stands, the water pouring out of the cracked bottle. That was when he truly lost it.

Suddenly, five more water orders came through from Coriolanus. Then ten. You approved them absentmindedly, wondering what he was trying to do. And then it clicked. Hydrophobia. Rabies victims couldn’t swallow and went wild at the sight of water.

Clever, you thought, glancing down at the screen where Coriolanus seemed to be arguing with Sejanus. You couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Lucy Gray had worked herself into a tight spot. To her left was the high back wall of the arena; to her right, the thick glass side of the press box. As Jessup continued his pursuit, she made several attempts to escape him, but he kept cutting her off. When he came within twenty feet, she spoke to him, holding out her hand in a soothing manner. It stopped him, but only momentarily before he lunged again.

Across the arena, the first bottle of water began its flight toward her. The machine was steady and true in its course—a rare feat that disappointed you, given the drones’ tendency to crash. The small fleet that followed was more unpredictable. As soon as Lucy Gray spotted them, she stopped retreating, patting the ruffles of her skirt over a pocket, checking for something. Then she pointed at the drones, shouting, and succeeded in turning Jessup’s attention toward them.

Jessup froze, his eyes bulging with fear. The drones closed in. He batted at them but failed to connect. Then they started releasing the bottles of water. The impact of the first smacking into the seats sent him into a frenzy. When the contents of one splashed onto his hand, he recoiled as if burned by acid.

He turned to flee, bounding down toward the field, but another dozen drones arrived and bombarded him. Since they were programmed to deliver directly to the tribute, there was no escaping them. He flew toward the front row seats, his foot caught, and he tripped forward—hurtling over the arena wall and onto the field.

The sickening crack of snapping bones filled the speakers. The audience gasped. Even you felt queasy. Jessup had landed in a rare pocket of the arena with good audio. He lay on his back, motionless except for the heaving of his chest. The remaining bottles rained down on him, his lips curled back, his eyes locked unblinkingly on the bright sun glinting off the water.

Lucy Gray darted down the steps and hung over the railing. “Jessup!” she shouted.

You weren’t interested. You were tired. You wanted to go home. So you did. You told the Gamemakers to keep things running until the students left, then dismissed them as well. And with that, you made your way out of Heavensbee Hall.

I just reread this I want more to this series so badly!! It literally sits in the back of my mind all the time💀

Shadows of Affection

warnings: none

Coriolanus Snow x reader, slight Felix Ravinstill x reader

Chapter 7: The explosion

authors note/ Hey everyone, Sorry for disappearing for a bit. I've been stuck with writer's block, but I'm getting back on track. Chapter 8 is in the works and should be out soon. Also, sorry if the last chapter was short. Sometimes, ideas come in small packages.Thanks for being patient and supportive. I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far and what you'd like to see in future chapters. Do you prefer Reader with Felix or Corio? Let me know in the comments.

The explosion ripped through the arena, hurling you off your feet and sending you crashing to the ground. The thunderous boom echoed as chaos erupted around you. You grappled to keep your balance, clinging to the trembling earth, desperately trying to push back the rising panic.

Memories of past horrors flooded your mind—the blood, the cold, the fear. You longed for home, for the reassurance of your father's presence, the soothing words that nothing could harm you. Curling into a ball, you sought solace in a moment of vulnerability, praying for the chaos to cease.

Amidst the turmoil, hands reached out, wrapping around you protectively, pulling you close. A voice whispered softly, reassuringly, promising safety in the chaos. Though the thick haze clouded your vision, you recognized the voice instantly. It was Felix.

His presence was a lifeline in the turmoil, a comfort that shone through the darkness. With his arms encircling you, he murmured words of solace, assuring you that you would weather this storm together. And in that moment, his presence felt like a refuge in the midst of chaos.

The deafening silence deceived them, luring them into a false sense of security as you cautiously began to rise. However, the illusion shattered with a final explosion that ripped through the stands above, sending debris, flames, and chaos cascading down upon you.

you stumbled, disoriented, attempting to regain your footing when a force pushed you, sending you sprawling to the ground. The impact slammed your head against the unforgiving surface, sending you spiraling into unconsciousness. In the haze between consciousness and oblivion, you caught fleeting echoes of someone calling your name.

When you emerged from the void, you found yourself in a starkly bright room, disoriented and groggy. But before you could make sense of your surroundings, darkness enveloped you once more.

As you gradually came to, the afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the room. Despite the light, your body ached, and each movement was a struggle. An uninjured  Sejanus sat nearby, concern etched across his face. When he asked how you were, you attempted to sit up, wincing at the pain.

"Where's my mother? Did she come?" you inquired, scanning the room with a glimmer of hope.

Sejanus shook his head, his expression turning solemn. "No, Y/n. I'm the only one who's been here."

your heart sank at his response, but you pressed on, asking about Coriolanus. 

"He took a hard hit, but the doctors are optimistic. He'll pull through."

When you inquired about Felix, Sejanus' demeanor turned even graver. "He's not doing well. He's in surgery right now."

you felt a pang of guilt, realizing that Felix had saved you, or at least you suspected he did. "He pushed me out of the way," you whispered, a mix of gratitude and concern coloring your words.

Sejanus explained the aftermath of the explosions, the chaos that had unfolded. "They didn’t know what triggered the bombs. The losses shook the Capitol. The casualties... they're devastating."

Your heart weighed heavily with the toll of the event. "How bad is it?" you asked, bracing yourself for Sejanus' response.

"District 6 tributes are gone. The Ring twins too," he recounted with a grimace. "Androcles Anderson and Gaius Breen are in critical condition. Gaius lost both his legs. It's a mess, Y/n.”

If Dr. Gaul wanted a makeover for the Hunger Games, she’d gotten it. You thought, Shortly after Sejanus departed, the doctor arrived with news about your injuries. According to them, the blow to your head required monitoring but wasn't too severe.You also had a bruised rib, prompting them to recommend a few days' stay for observation.

The following afternoon, a parade of well-wishers started with Festus, who bore a sling on his arm and a few stitches on his cheek from a shard of metal. He shared the news that the Academy had canceled classes, but students were expected to attend the Rings' funeral the next morning. 

After a while, Sejanus made another appearance, this time with a stack of his mother's delicious meatloaf sandwiches. He stayed for a brief visit, offering comfort in the form of familiar homemade food, before taking his leave. 

after a while of sitting in your hospital room and thinking you decide its finally time to do what you've been avoiding

As you entered Felix's hospital room, you found him lying there, seemingly in a peaceful slumber. Despite the visible cuts and bruises on his tan face, the nurse had informed you that he had already undergone surgery but had yet to wake up. A mixture of relief and uncertainty washed over you—glad that he wasn't awake to witness your vulnerable state, unsure of what to say to him even if he were.

You approached the bed and settled beside him, your hand reaching out to gently brush his dark hair away from his face. The tenderness in Felix's nature had always struck you, a stark contrast to your own soul tainted by the deeds and pain you had encountered. Though you cared for Felix, you grappled with the complexity of your feelings. Did you truly love him, or did you just love the way he made you feel.

You sat there, your lips forming a soft frown, eyes brimming with unshed tears you were determined not to let fall. "Oh, Felix," you whispered. 

As you sat in silence, the sterile hospital room offered little solace as your thoughts drifted back to a time when everything seemed simpler. You reminisced about the days when You and Felix were just children, blissfully unaware of the harsh realities that awaited them in the years to come. Felix, always the sweet boy, had been a constant presence in your childhood. You thought of the innocent days when he used to pick pretty flowers for you, a gesture that somehow always went unnoticed.

You remembered how Felix would blush, a rosy hue spreading across his cheeks whenever you talked to him or merely glanced in his direction. Back then, You hadn't paid much attention to those signs of affection. After all, your focus was firmly fixed on Coriolanus Snow, Your childhood companion.

Your families had been close, Your parents best friends, and the idea of marrying the two of you seemed almost inevitable. You once overheard conversations between your fathers discussing the possibility of a future marriage between the two of you. It now seemed like a silly notion, a relic from a time when life was uncomplicated.

As the war unfolded, your visits to the Snows' penthouse became less frequent. After Coriolanus's mother passed away, those visits ceased altogether. Your own father's death marked a turning point, a moment that shattered the illusions of a carefree childhood. The memories of those simpler times clashed with the harsh reality of the present, leaving you lost in contemplation within the sterile confines of the hospital room.

I do have the aesthetics and Prologue but I am asking because I’m wonder who would read it in here.

Netflix you know what you’re doing

Wake Up Call (Coriolanus Snow x Fem! Reader)

(Summary: You caught Coriolanus cheating on you so you decided to take matters into your own hands... let's just say you should've known better..)

Masterlist : Request Info

(A/n: omg I have no idea where this came from but surprise? (Think I blacked out a bit as well😂) I get a lot of inspiration from songs😅💀 also I'm not the best at writing smut so apologies!)

Word count: 1.2

(Warnings!: Cheating, infidelity, sexual themes, Coriolanus is his own warning, implications of murder, possibly slight ooc Coriolanus?)

'Came without a warnin so I had to Shoot him dead...'

~~~

  You thought you and Coriolanus had a happy strong marriage but of course you should've known it was all a thieving lie coming from the snake himself.

  You never paid much attention to what people said. That he was a cheater, a liar, a murder. Since you had known him and Tigris since you were kids you never fully believed it. Oh how naive you were...

   Especially one day when you decided to swing by his office to see if he wanted to grab lunch together only to see him railing his assistant in his office.

  Most people would've made a scene but you conjured up an even more scandalous taste of revenge that would be the perfect all star payback.

  Before you had officially ended up with  Coriolanus, you had a guy that you had fallen for Atlas James. He was the light of your life before Coriolanus came in and swept you off your feet again.

  You decided to had call him up and so it began Coriolanus being way to busy at the office and the media are already being aware of your close friendship with Atlas they thought nothing of it.

  Little did you know that one of Coriolanus peacekeepers had caught you and Atlas one day. Which lead to this moment.

"So you thought you could deceive me?" Coriolanus spat as he shoved you into your shared bedroom that hadn't been shared in weeks.

"You're one to talk about deceiving." You spat back sending him death glare. "I found you screwing your assistant a few weeks ago and Atlas was there for me. Besides it gave you the taste of you own medicine."

  That statement made Coriolanus snap as he grabbed your neck pushing you against the door harshly making the door knob jam into your side as you managed to let out a cry from his strong grip.

"Your just a little thieving slut aren't you? Or have you forgotten that Your mine!" He seethed as you let out a whine as your body betrayed you letting your undergarments get soaked. His eyes gleaming with something you couldn't understand.

"I think it's time I show you exactly who you belong too.." He growled before pushing her down onto the bed bringing her into a rough hard kiss as he ripped off your panties.

"Filthy slut." He grumbled at your soaked garment and entrance. Without warning he shoved two fingers into your core making you let out a strangle moan as he held you in a bruising kiss as his fingers plunged in and out of you.

"Cori-" Shut up. Shut that filthy little mouth of yours." He snapped as he pulled her hair back roughly making her gasp.

  He ripped off her silk dress completely now making it tear before pulling his fingers out pushing her into the mattress with his hand around your throat squeezing it harshly as he unbuckled his pants and shoving his cock into you before pulling out and slamming back in making hers eyes widened in pain at the unreadiness before letting out a strangled moan as he continued at the very rough pace.

"You belong to me!" He growled as he snapped his hips into you. "Mine." "Mine." "MINE!" Her eyes rolling back into the back of her head with a mix of pleasure and light headedness.

"Say it! Say your mine!" He snapped letting go of your throat.

"I-im yours!" You shouted into a moan as you crumbled underneath him letting him win once again.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked making you look into his eyes as he fucked into you.

"Y-you! Only ever you!" You moaned. The smirk on his face displayed he was satisfied but you knew. You knew better and should've known better.

  He licked and sucked down your neck as he brought your legs over his shoulders giving a new angle making you cry out in pain as you felt him in your cervix.

"You feel that?" He grumbled pushing down on your lower stomach making your eyes widen and gasp. "Me. That's my spot.and only mine.."

"Tell me did he make you feel this good when he fucked you?" He asked lifting his head from her neck and looking into your eyes.

"N-no." You moaned looking into his eyes. "O-only you have made me feel this g-good!"

  He kissed your ear and whispering. "Good girl."

"Cum for me. Cum on my cock baby let everybody know how good you are being fucked." And of course you obeyed as you finally came with a loud moan as he pushed himself in balls deep a final time before spilling his seed deep inside your womb.

  His hands letting go of your arms as they came around you holding you as you both panted sweat dripping down your bodies. Before unwrapping his arms pulling out of you making you whine at the sudden emptiness. You honestly thought he was going to just leave you a mess once you saw him get up and leave. But to your surprise he came back and picked you up taking you to the bathroom placing you into the hot steamy bath before stripping his own clothes and getting in behind you before bringing you to lay against him.

  You felt too tired to say a word or protest his actions only to relax against his chest in his arms.

"I apologise for deceiving our marriage.. for deceiving you." He said making you freeze and wonder if this was just another manipulation temp or actually coming from the Corio you once thought you knew.

"I was stressed and I didn't think about you." ‘Obviously’ you thought. "But it's you. It's been you. My wife." Coriolanus said pressing kiss on the back of her neck.

"Why did you do it? With your assistant?" You asked at the risk of angering him again.

"I was working late hours. Barley home and... I missed you." He confessed. "I know it's a bullshit excuse.. but it's true.."

"I-I only slept with him the time you found out about it all the other times I would meet up with him was just to mess with you.. to see if you would care." You admitted feeling an unwanted sense of guilt however this filled Coriolanus with pride at your sense of knowing. Before bringing her head up as he pressed his lips to yours in a wanting kiss.

  You turned around in the kiss coming to straddle him neither of you caring much if some water spilled out of the tub as he slipped himself back into you causing you to moan in mix of pleasure and pain against his lips.

  Coriolanus smirked against your lips as he got her exactly where he wanted you. As he also smirked at the knowing fact that your beloved ex and his slut of an assistant will no longer be a problem after tonight and won't be coming around anymore.

SAME

Look I know okay but listen

This is me waiting for young Coriolanus Snow x reader stories:

The Valley Song

Requested: nope, I just wanted to write this

TW: just Coriolanus’ being himself.

Pairing: possible Coriolanus x reader, Sejanus x reader, Lucy gray x platonic!reader

Authors note: Listen to this for the story. I imagine this is what the reader sounds like when singing <3, I’m also changing the lore a little to the reader wrote the valley song to fit the story :)

Part 2

The Hob was filled with people as usual. The crowd of people made the heat even more unbearable, but everyone arrived to hear the Covey preform as always. The summer heat caused sweat to drip down everyone’s faces, but no one seemed to mind as they awaited the Covery to preform.

Drinks were being passed sound eagerly as the members of the district awaited the sound of the music and voices that allowed them to escape just for a few hours.

Coriolanus Snow stood towards the back of the Hob, Sejanus by his side as they spoke to his bunkmates, what were their names? Smiley and Bug. Such stupid names, Coriolanus thought he to himself as he leaned against the back, unsecured wall of the hob.

It wasn’t always his first idea of what to do in their night off, but then again they were in District Twelve…there wasn’t much to do to begin with.

Coriolanus’ attention was turned back to the stage as eager whoops and applause filled the Hob as Lucy Gray and the rest of the Covey made their way on stage.

With their clothes and make up, the girls had flowers entangled in their hair. It made it seem like they had rolled around in a field before coming up on stage. It was intriguing, but very much district, and it made Coriolanus internally scowl.

The covey continued to play for a few hours, rotating songs and singers. Giving each other a break, Maude Ivory sang for a while before Lucy Gray returned. Of course she held the audience in a captivated gaze at the sound of her voice.

Coriolanus and the other off duty peacekeepers were no exception as she twirled around the stage with her black guitar in hand. It was a sight, certainly one that would make her plenty of money if she came with him back to the capital. She would make a pretty capital girl, once she was cleaned up and better fed at least, Coriolanus thought.

The end of the night was winding down, and everyone was exhausted from the dancing over the last few hours. Lucy Gray panted softly before approaching the microphone once more.

“District Twelve ya’ll have been amazing as always,” she said with the biggest grin, like it was a privilege to be preforming at the Hob in the lowest district in Panem.

“And just before we go for the night we got a special treat. My cousin Y/N Rose Baird! She got an awful special song for y’all tonight to finish us off.. y/n!” Lucy gray turned and beckoned her cousin up front.

A girl, maybe not much older than Lucy Gray, maybe a year or two stepped up wearing a pink blouse and off white skirt, her hair was done half up, help of what looked like baby’s breath through her hair.

Coriolanus’ eyes widened a bit at the side of her, the soft rouge on her cheeks and pink on her lips. It was soft. Not harsh make up like Lucy gray had worn, but very little.

“Oh wow…” he heard Sejanus’ voice beside him, and for a moment he had completely forgotten he was there, “she’s beautiful,”

Sejanus was right though. This Y/N Rose was beautiful. Even from the way that she held the old brown guitar in her hands, everything about her intrigued him. The softness in her eyes and expression. Glancing around the room, he felt a hot jealously spring through him as he saw many of the other men looking at her the same way.

They didn’t deserve to look at you that way. You were too gentle, too soft and vulnerable. He could tell by just looking at you. The shy way you were glancing around the room. You preferred the background, and he liked that.

Lucy gray was always upfront, bold. Abrasive. But that wasn’t you. You weren’t like your cousin, who had killed in the games, you would never hurt anyone. And you needed protecting. He could do that.

“Thank y’all for comin’” Y/N’s voice rang into the microphone and he couldn’t help but stare. In the corner of his eye he could see Sejanus almost making heart eyes.

“This is a song I wrote a little while ago. Lost someone as we all have. Hope y’all like it,” she said nervously before she gently began to strum the guitar in her hands. One note after another. Then she began to sing.

“Down in the valley, valley so low,

Late in the evening, hear the train blow.

The train, love, hear the train blow.

Late in the evening, hear the train blow.”

Coriolanus felt like he was in a trance as she began to sing. Her voice was soft and airy, almost shy. It was so different to Lucy Gray. Though his mind snapped out of his thoughts as Lucy Gray found her way over to him with a grin.

“Hi! Good ain’t she?” She asked happily, rather proud of her cousin.

“Good isn’t the word for it,” Sejanus said, his cheek flushing a bit as he looked from Lucy Gray back to the stage.

Coriolanus cleared his throat, “yes, she’s quite good. But most of the Covey is,” he said, listening as Y/N continued.

“Go build me a mansion, build it so high,

So I can see my true love go by.

See him go by, love, see him go by.

So I can see my true love go by.”

“She was always shyer than most,” Lucy Gray said, “prefers the background. But I couldn’t let her not sing this one,” she said, and it make Coriolanus think….who was it about? Was this recent?

“Go write a letter, send it by mail.

Bake it and stamp it to the Capitol jail.

Capitol jail, love, to the Capitol jail.”

“Who is it about?” Coriolanus asked, he couldn’t help himself.

Lucy gray let out a small sigh, “someone she was with about a year ago. He was the bakers son. Honestly I never seen someone so smitten before,” she said fondly, remembering how Y/N was with the boy before shaking her head,

“but he got himself into some bad trouble with the peacekeepers. Attempted to bribe one of the commanders. They thought he was all involved with the rebels and then he was sent off to the capital jail. Never seen someone so heart broken before.” Lucy gray shook her head, her messy black curls moving as she did so.

“But anyway, she wrote this a while ago. But just finished coming up with the music. I think it’s a hit with the district. Many people lost a lot of loved ones. For things like stealing and illegal trading,” she finished explaining.

“Roses are red, love; violets are blue.

Birds in the heavens know I love you.

Know I love you, oh, know I love you,

Birds in the heavens know I love you.”

Coriolanus’ head snapped back as she continued to sing the last verses of her song. It reminded him of his mother, she would sing those same lines to him. And it made his stomach flutter. Nerves? Anxiety? He couldn’t tell.

Sejanus cleared his throat, “Lucy Gray….do you think you could introduce us?” He asked hopefully, and Lucy Gray gave a knowing grin.

“Why of course. Once the crowd clears,” Lucy Gray said.

Coriolanus couldn’t help but internally scoff at Sejanus. What could he do for a sweet shy girl like you? Sejanus was just as weak. You needed someone to protect you, who knew better. Sejanus couldn’t do that to you. But Coriolanus could. And he wouldn’t lose to someone like Sejanus.

His pale eyes moved from Sejanus as the crowd erupted into applause, and watched as Y/N gave a bashful smile and a cute little bow.

Yes.

He couldn’t lose you to anyone.

I LOVE THIS THANK YOU!!

Get Better | Rudy Pankow

a.n; hey bitches :)  back at it again with angst

summary, requested; rudy and reader get into an argument and she goes out on a drive during a bad storm.

w; car wreck, cursing, angst

wc; 1.7k

x.

Keep reading

Idea

Imagine Where it’s Coriolanus snow x fem reader and they have known each other for a long time and maybe even dated (until Lucy gray) and somebody says in a speech:

“A Toast To Y/n always the second love, never the first..”

Or something like that and yes it’s inspired by the quote in corpse bride..

(Like honestly how would he react? How would the reader react? What would happen?)