THANK YOU SO MUCHH!! ✨️♡

THANK YOU SO MUCHH!! ✨️♡

Hi, I didn’t see a what not to request thing so ignore this if your not comfortable writing death - but can I request Coriolanus Snow x reader who is a tribute in the games but dies and there’s nothing he can do about it. Just pure angst.

The Fall Of Snow

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: She was just supposed to be a pawn in his games, a way to get the Plinth Prize. He wasn't supposed to care. She was just a tribute, after all.

Warning/s: angst, death, kind-of-psycho Snow, Snow in love, crying, probably some spelling and/or grammar mistakes

Author's note: So Snow's actions and behavior may be a little out of his character here, but that is because I made him helplessly in love with reader. I hope this is okay. Enjoy!

The red chair where he sat now seemed to uncomfortable to sit in.

Coriolanus' already strong grip on the armrests of the chair somehow just seemed to tighten, he felt certain that he will probably brake the wood out of which the chair is made of. He felt cold sweat dripping down his forehead as he felt the uncomfortable feeling of shivers going down his spine.

His breathing became raspy, his academy's red uniform somehow became tighter around his neck. He felt like he was grasping the last strings of air in the room crowded with the other mentors, he felt like he was breathing just for the hell of it.

His chest started to squeeze so much it started to hurt him.

He couldn't get the air to tear through to his lungs, and for the first time in a long time Coriolanus' vision became blurry with tears.

He knew that she would be dead either way. She was from District 12 for God's sake! She was the weakest target. Her lack of throat-slicing, bloodthirsty, violent nature was going to be her downfall the moment she stepped into that arena.

She was quite small, weak even, but not like that was surprising to him. She came from the loser District. She was somehow a person who wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone kill someone. Even if it was a stranger.

He knew all of this, therefore he didn't have any reason to be surprised.

Yet it felt like he was going to choke on the uncomfortable, unbearable even, feeling of something in his throat as he felt cameras moving onto his face to capture the moment where a tribute lost a mentor. Or rather mentor losing their tribute. But this wasn't like the times before, with the other mentors, with his classmates, that left the room before him.

He knew that this is different. He felt it.

Coriolanus Snow was aware that he was supposed to have the control of his emotions like many times before.

Right now, what he was supposed to do is what was expected of him to do. Look into the camera and wave it off. Play it off as if he was just happy to be here. To play a modest, charming, bright and above all young Capitol citizen and to lean over toward Lucky Flickerman's microphone, that was already showed into his face, and to answer the questions with a charming smile pressed onto his face.

Yet he couldn't even look away from the screen on the wa in the middle of the room, let alone answer Lucky Flickerman's questions like many before him.

He watched her dead body on the floor in the middle of the arena with a shaky breath that left his lips without his permission.

Lucky Flickerman's questions rang next to his ear.

It seems like he was repeatedly asking him something yet Coriolanus somehow never heard him. Every noise in the room came into his ears as a form of beeping.

His vision blurry even tho he tried to stop it.

The only noise that seemed to constantly increase its volume is his ragged breathing.

Coriolanus watched as another tribute grabbed her body by the ankles as he started to drag her over to the pile of bodies that belonged to other deceased tributes.

Coriolanus watched her laid out hand dragging itself after her, her hair everywhere as one single tear slid down her eyes that were still open.

Haunting him.

Why didn't he do more? What didn't he save her? Why didn't she win? She should have won...

She should have won.

Coriolanus Snow didn't know how it happened and why was it happening.

He suddenly stood up, his hand gripping something in the pocket of his uniform, and without even spearing one glance towards Lucky Flickerman, Clemensia who tried to grab his shoulder before he did something stupid.

He didn't spare a glance at anyone for that matter as his legs carried him away from his chair, away from the room, away from the look of her dead body.

He walked out of the room as fast as he could, trying not to look at any cameras.

He pulled the handkerchief that she used before she was violently thrown into the games to fight for her own life.

It was still wet from her tears.

He felt his own tear dropping onto the handkerchief, mixing with her tears. The tears of his now forever lost tribute.

Coriolanus Snow promised something to himself that day.

When he gets married one day, he will do it out of profit, out of perhaps mutual interest, not out of love.

Never out of love.

Love he had for his tribute brought him here. It brought him this tight feeling in his chest that, no matter what happens or what he does, he can't get rid of.

As he wiped one lost tear with her (his) handkerchief, he promised himself to never loose control ever again.

Yet he knew one thing. Those eyes, hair and smile would haunt him forever, as long as he was alive, but he will gladly remember it. The last thing, along with the handkerchief, he had left of her. His love, his tribute, that died in the arena.