SAME

Omg Yesss somebody please do this!!

Can someone please write a JJ x Reader fanfic based on the song Mine by Taylor Swift?

me to irl men vs fictional men

LOVE THIS SERIES SO MUCH!!

Silver Roses & Fallen Snow (Masterlist)

summary: You and Coriolanus Snow having been dating, but your father disapproves of it, leading to an Ultimatum. Will the deal be secured? Or will the 10th Annual Hunger Games ruin it all?

- prolouge

1. Reaping Day

2. Capitol Zoo

3. Arena Promotion

upcoming chapters…

Worst Fear (Dark Coriolanus snow x reader)

~~~~

(Summary: After you leave Coriolanus after the last straw you had you take your son and the rebels attack and kidnap your son.)

Masterlist : Request Info

Word Count:1.3k

(Warnings: kidnapping, Dark! Coriolanus, a bit messed up at the end, angst!, Lucy Gray mentioned, cheating, manipulating, murder, NOT Fully proffread. Think that’s if?)

~~~~

  It was a beautiful spring day in the capital so you decided to take Cassian and go look at the little out door market. It's been a little over a month since you left Coriolanus.. or was trying to leave. He hasn't left you alone and his peacekeepers always not that far from you. Tracking you with every step.

  The one time you had lunch with your friend from the Academy Flint and not long after you got back from said lunch who was at your apartment threatening you. Then a few days later he was announced dead. You felt absolutely sick that the man you’d once loved and trusted did this.

  You maybe wondering why Y/n had left him. Well the secrets, the lies. What he was doing to others... You didn't trust him. Especially after you had found Lucy Grays Earring. You always had your suspicions but it wasn't until you found the earring and a song that she had wrote just for him. That was the last straw. After that you had packed your and Cassians things when Coriolanus was working but before you left you made sure to put the items on his desk waiting for him like Lucy Grays ghost that has been haunting him. Maybe it was ignorant but you could've honestly cared less. You weren't going to live in something that had a ghost... something that was a lie...

"Mama look!" Cassian shouted tugging the hem of your dress snapping you out of your thoughts as he pointed over to a stall in the market that was selling to no surprise flowers. "Can we please go look at them."

"Of course my love. Just let me pay for this and we will." Y/n said smiling down at her son, Cassian huffed before wondering off around the other side of the stall they were currently at.

"Alright Cassia-" Y/n started but froze not seeing him. She then looked over at the flower stall to see him nowhere.

"Cassian!" She called out looking around the stalls.

"Excuse me have you seen my son Cassian? He was wearing a little brown coat?." Y/n asked a lady passing by. She hesitantly shook her head.

"Cassian!" Y/n yelled. Her throat tightening up as she was realising the horror of the situation. Her hand went over her mouth as she let out a sob.

"Mrs.Snow?" A peacekeeper asked. Emme looked up with tears in her eyes.

"I-it's Cassian.." She grabbed on to his arms as she shook he gave her a concerned look. "Madam-" "Cassians missing.. I-I think h-he's been kidnapped."

The peacekeeper straightened before going over to a group of other peacekeepers notifying them telling one to tell Snow and one to be there for her as the rest and more look for him.

A few moments later, Coriolanus showed up in a mad dash mode going straight to you and taking you home so you would be safe and nothing would happen to you. Where a peacekeeper awaited to get more information.

"Okay, where gonna need a description of what he was wearing." A peacekeeper asked. Y/n let out a shaky sigh.

"He was wearing a little brown coat with a white shirt and tailored jeans with stitching on them. And black shoes." Y/n said shaking as her voice broke.

The peacekeeper gave her a sad look before nodding and paging the others telling them the description and to fan out. As the peacekeeper and Coriolanus turned back she was gone.

Y/n found herself in Cassians room with her heart in hand. Thinking maybe if she'd stay.. he would be here.. he would be home.

Coriolanus came into his son's room. Where he found you sitting on Cassian's bed holding his favorite stuffed animal.

"They're still looking for him." Coriolanus

"You should've been there..to protect him.." Y/n whispered, Coriolanus looked at you.

"You should've been there... and I shouldn't have left.." She said tears streaming down her face. Coriolanus tried to reached out to her.

She moved away bringing the stuffed animal to her chest. Coriolanus reached out again bringing her into an embrace as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"I-I can't lose him.. he's all I have left.." Y/n said pulling back slightly only for him to pull her back into the embrace.

"You're not going to lose him. I promise. We- I will find him." Coriolanus vowed.

"Sir." Coriolanus looked up to see one of the peacekeepers. He nodded to him.

"I have to go talk with them.." Coriolanus murmured to you. You sniffed before pulling away but he grabbed your hand. "Come with me.." he whispered.

  You nodded an okay not wanting to be alone. Taking his hand making your way to his office.

"Mama!" You heard a yell. Y/n looked over to see Cassian letting go of Coriolanus's hand. "Baby."

She let out a cry of relief as she ran over to her son and picking him up. Holding him close to her chest and placing a kiss on his forehead. Tears falling down her face as she thanked the heavens that he was safe and sound.

Coriolanus, told the peacekeepers to bring the one that took him to the ward and kill the others. They nodded and left to do their duty.

Y/n turned around feeling Coriolanus's presence and turned around to his embrace. His arms immediately wrapping around her and kissing the top of her head.

"I-I'm so sorry. What happened to you?" Y/n said/asked between sobs.

"It's okay.. everything's okay now.." Coriolanus said kissing your hair as he held you both close.

  It wasn't long before Cassian fell asleep in your arms exhausted from the day but finally safe in his mother's arms.

"I'll have one of the staff send for your stuff to bring it back home." Coriolanus said, you nodded to exhausted and shook up to answer. "Hey look at me." You sighed tears slipping out as you looked at him.

"He's okay. He's safe. Your safe. I will make sure this NEVER happens to any of you again. Okay? I promise" Coriolanus assured, y/n nodded as silent tears fell. He gave you kiss on your head.

"Why don't you both go to bed. I'll be there in a minute." Coriolanus said. She gave a look. "I promise." She sighed to exhausted to argue or stay as she held Cassian in her arms and leaving to the bedroom.

~~~~

"I told you to scare her. NOT to take my child from her-from US." Coriolanus seethed at the ragged man who he had hired to scare you so you would come back to him.

"I did what you asked me to do." He said in pain from the whips from the peacekeepers.

"No." The man looked at him in horror as his tone turned even more darker and sinister like.

"No you didn't. You touched what's mine. You don't touch what's mine. Not my girl and certainly NOT my child." Coriolanus seethed. Turning to the peacekeepers.

  "Make sure he pays for what he's done and make sure he's NEVER seen agin." He ordered, the peacekeepers bowed their heads understanding what he exactly meant as Coriolanus left the last thing heard before the door shut was a loud curdling scream.

~~~~

  He made his way to the their bedroom to see

y/n  laying on her side with Cassian asleep next to her and her arms wrapped around him holding him close. Coriolanus went up to her sleeping form his finger brushing against her cheek.

"I told you before I'd never let you go.. and I'm never having you leave again.."  He whispered before bending down placing a kiss on her forehead and taking a whiff of her hair. Before discarding his day outfit leaving him in nothing but his boxers and lose white tank top. Slipping into the bed finally having his wife and child back. Never planing on let them escape his grasp again..

Relationship Aesthetics:

Emme + Coriolanus~

Emme + Ash~

The LoveTriangle~

Send Requests!

Masterlist

Who I Write For:

(For Now)

Henry Creel (Stranger Things)

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things)

Coriolanus Snow (Tbosas)

Finnick Odair (THG)

JJ Maybank (Outerbanks/Obx)

Barty Crouch Jr (Harry Potter)

Theodore Nott (Harry Potter)

Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

Wally Clark (School Spirits)

What I WILL write:

(Scenarios, One shot, Preferences, ect)

Fluff

Angst

Smut

Fem reader

Gen Reader

Angst w/ Happy ending

Sad endings

Yandere

Dark themes : Gore, Possiveness, If I can’t have you no one can. Stalking

What I WON’T write:

Male Reader

Ships

Threesomes +

Rape scene/ SA scenes (will mention it but will NOT write it!!)

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.

Can I request a fluffy Steve Harrington x fem! reader oneshot where Steve is playing hide and seek with their daughter and he pretends he doesn’t know where she is but he can hear her giggling and he eventually sneaks up on her and grabs her and starts tickling her and reader watches and thinks how adorable he is with her and how much their little girl adores him?

Spring Days (Steve Harrington x reader)

(Summary: While Steve plays hide n seek with your and his daughter. Y/n watches them admiring how their daughter adores her father.)

Word count: 868

Masterlist : Request info

(A/n: I hope you liked it! It's short and sweet! You are literally my first request so I really hope you like it and feel free to send more requests!!)

(Warnings: Pure fluff!, NOT FULLY PROFF READ)

~~~

   It was a perfect spring Sunday not to cold and not to hot. Y/n and Steve had decided to do some spring cleaning around the house. They had almost gotten everything done except the kitchen. Sitting down at the island for a mini break, when they hear little foot steps come running in to see their 4 year old daughter Layla with a giddy glint in her eyes.

"Daddy! Please come play hide n seek with me!" Layla pleaded giving her father puppy dog eyes.

  Steve looks at Y/n as if asking if it was okay. Y/n giggled before nodding.

"Alright only for a little. You better go hide!" Steve said, as Layla shouted "yay!!" before running off to hide.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like I'm making you do everything." Steve asked. Y/n waved him off before leaning in and whispering.

  Little well known fact about Steve he never wanted to be one of those boyfriends/husbands that made their wife to do everything around the house or in general. Whether it stemmed from his own father and his actions or for his actions in the past. So when occurrences like this happens he needs a bit of a reassurance.

"You don't make me do everything plus I'm just cleaning. You are awful at that especially the kitchen! Which is what I'm doing now." She said in a joking manner. Hoping to lighten his guilt.

  Steve huffed at her comment.

"I'm not that bad..." he said.

"At cleaning the kitchen yes you are!" Y/n giggled. "Now go play hide n seek with our daughter." He smiled.

"Alright! Ready or not here I come!" Steve shouted lightly before getting up off the stool at the kitchen island.

He checked around the downstairs before going upstairs and as he was about to walk past Laylas room going into Layla's room until he heard a giggle. Smirking as he headed inside.

"Hmm.. I wonder where Layla is? Is she under her bed?" He said as he checked. "Hmm nope not under there." As he heard another little giggle.

"oh no! She's not under there either! Oh where oh where could she have gone? I guess she's not in here!" Steve said playfully trying to full his daughter. As he neared the closet. Hearing a sweet little giggle again.

Before she slowly opens the door and he grabs her. She lets out a surprised scream and starts laughing as Steve tickles her.

"Ahh! I found you!" Steve said, ticking her as she laughed.

  Layla manages to stands up. "You scared me daddy! But I am so happy you found me!" She said! Wrapping her small arms around his neck.

"Oh I'm sorry I scared you.." Layla pulled away ever so slightly. "It's okay! I forgive you!" Before going back into the hug.

"I love you daddy!" She whispered. Steve smiled hugging and give her a kiss on the forehead.

  Neither of them noticing Y/n leaning on the frame of the door way as she watched how much their daughter adored her father. Steve looked over smiling which Y/n returned.

"Alright. Layla can you please go clean up your toys in the playroom?" Y/n asked. Layla pouted not wanting to do it. Looking at her father with big eyes.

"Layla you have to do it... and after we can go get ice cream!" Steve said trying to bribe her just a bit. Laylas eyes lit up before getting out of her father's arms.

"Okay I'll do it!!" She said excitedly before running out of the room.

Y/n giggled. Giving Steve a 'are you serious look?' Which Steve shrugged his shoulders. Coming up and wrapping his arms around her giving her a kiss on the lips. She kissed back. Leaning against the hug smiling up at him.

"She absolutely adores you. You know that?" Y/n said. Looking at Steve in admiration.

"Well we did have experience before hand." He said, remembering the group of kids who are now all out of school and pursuing their own careers. After everything that happened. They still were all okay.

  Y/n laughed remembering her brother and his friends that coincidentally they both ended up looking after taking the roles of the 'babysitters'.

"And to think of it wasn't for my little punk of a brother we would have never met." Y/n said.

"I really have a lot to thank that little shit for.."

y/n laughed.

"That little shit is going to be your brother in law." She said. Steve sighed before laughing."Now come on you promised us ice cream." Grabbing his hand pulling him away to get their daughter. He laughed shaking his head.

  Thinking how he wouldn't have it any other way...

@borhapgirlforlife19

I don’t know about anyone else but I would like it to be JJ but that’s up to you :)

if i did an imagine based off the song 'somebody else' by the 1975, who would you want it to be about? rafe or jj 🥺

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.