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phoward89 · 2 months

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Based on this ask & this ask

Dark!Coryo, Dark!Peacekeeper Coryo, Innocent!Reader, obsession

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1:

Coriolanus, now Private Snow, hated District 12. It was so depressing. Between the coal dust, mud, and poverty, he’s surprised that half of the district's population hasn't killed themselves yet. The atmosphere is horrible.

He hates it.

Would've never made it to adulthood if he was raised in the back hills of the Appalachian mountains. Seriously, he would've offed himself. Between the mud, the muggy heat, the never ending coal dust, the bugs (locals call them skeeters), and the overall atmosphere of despair, he hates District 12.

Oh, how he missed the view of the Rockies that surround his beloved Capitol. He had such a lovely view of the superior mountain range from his former penthouse. Even though it was falling apart, moldy, and rat infested, the penthouse was still on the Corso. Was still in the wealthiest part of town. Yes, he was struggling to stay afloat; was impoverished, but at least he lived in the prized and most sought after part of the Capitol.

Keyword: lived. As in past tense, as in he used to live there. Now he lives on Peacekeeper Base-12, District 12.

From a 12th floor Corso penthouse to a peacekeeper’s base in 12. Oh, how Coriolanus Snow has fallen.

High-as-a-kite-bottom must be shitting rainbows at Coriolanus being a peacekeeper in a backwater district.

And to think he was originally assigned to the peacekeeper base in 8. Oh, how he's glad he spent every last cent to his name to bribe his way into service in 12. He doubts that he could survive District 8 considering it's full of nothing but smog, tenant buildings, and textile factories.

At least in 12 he has some fresh air to breathe.

But, he hasn't been able to find his reason for being in 12.

Lucy Gray.

He's been in 12 for a few weeks now and can't locate her. Even Sejanus can't get anyone to tell him where she's at. That's bad considering how everyone seems to trust Sejanus; open up to the naive revolutionary due to his warm and friendly personality.

So, Coriolanus is stuck patrolling the streets of District 12 while rethinking his life choices. God, how he wants to be back in the Capitol so bad. He'll do anything to get back.

Anything at all.

One day, while on patrol in the Merchant Sector, he spotted you, a pretty Seam girl, making her way to the apothecary shop.

You had on a pretty floral dress.

No, not just a floral dress, but a dress with tiny red roses on it.

It suited you.

You had a book tucked under your arm as you walked down the cobbled streets of the nicer part of the district. And when you noticed him, you gave him a small smile.

That was the biggest goddamn mistake you've ever made in your entire life!

That one small smile sent Coriolanus’ mind into overdrive. You were so kind to him with that one tiny gesture. So kind when everyone else in the district looked at him with disgust because of the uniform he wore on a daily basis. Everyone else in this back asswards district looked at him like a bug to be squashed, but you didn't. You looked at him like he was a genuine person.

Your small smile was full of warmth and sunshine. It reminded him of his mother, who he lost such a long time ago.

Oh, how he secretly craved the warm gentleness of a woman. The warm gentleness that he's only known while in the embrace of his mother.

He wonders if you would sing to him late at night when sleep seemed to evade him. When he was deep in thought, too focused on a problem that needed solving to sleep. Would you wrap your arms around him, hold him when he needed solace? Would you be that gentle woman's touch he's craved his entire life?

Yes.

Yes, you will be.

Coriolanus vowed that he'd find a way back to the Capitol, but now that's changed. Now, he needs to find a way to bring both of you back to the Capitol.

As delusional as it might seem Coriolanus was instantly obsessed with you all because you gave him a kind, small smile while on your way to intern at the apothecary shop.

But he didn't view it as obsession, instead he viewed it as love. And he loves you with his entire being all because you smiled sweetly at him.

Your older brother Rein and his girlfriend Ashlie raised you to be leery and fearful of peacekeepers. They told you not to trust them; to stay away from them. And most of all, they told you to never ever look them in the eye or talk to them.

Not unless you wanted trouble to rain down on you like hellfire, that is.

But you made the mistake of flashing one a smile while on your way to the apothecary. The peacekeeper was young, you reckon around your age, and very tall. He had to be one of the tallest men you've ever seen in your entire life. But it wasn't his height that made you notice him. No, it was his eyes. Eyes such a pure blue, that they reminded you of the beautiful crystal clear water of the lake.

He seemed unlike any man you've ever seen before. Yes, he was a peacekeeper on watch duty, but he looked miserable. As if he didn't want to be here.

So, before you could think twice, you gave him a small, warm and friendly smile. Hoping that maybe you could cheer him up. Make his day a bit brighter in the desolate, depressing coal mining district you were cursed to be living in.

To your surprise, he smiled back. It was a closed lip smile, but it took over his entire face and just made his eyes sparkle. Made him look youthful underneath his peacekeeper's persona.

You barely made it a yard away from him when suddenly, a large shadow loomed over you. Looking up, you saw that the very same peacekeeper you just shared a smile with was right next to you. Walking by your side, like your personal golden retriever.

Except you didn't know that Private Snow isn't a golden retriever. He's more like a demon possessed Chihuahua from the deepest pits of hell. Shit, scratch that, he's legit the hellhound Cerberus that's guards the gate to the underworld for Hades.

Mhm…

But you didn't know that. How could you? You've just seen the man. Up until now he's been nothing, but a stranger to you.

Just another random peacekeeper.

“Um, hi.” You greeted your new companion, your voice a near stutter, as you passed by townspeople and shopkeepers while walking down the cobblestone street of the Merchant Sector.

Everyone looked a bit wide-eyed since you were side by side with a peacekeeper. Surely your name would be in the gossip mill tonight; it wouldn't be anything good either. Your older brother was going to flip his shit when he found out.

“Hello, Miss-” The peacekeeper at your side greeted, leaving an opening hanging for you to supply him your name.

“Y/N Halvir.” You simply supplied.

“Well, Miss Y/N, I'm Private Coriolanus Snow; I thought perhaps I could escort you to wherever you're going since, after all, it's my duty to patrol these streets and keep the good law-abiding citizens of 12 safe from harm.” Coriolanus told you, laying the charm on real thick since he wanted you to believe that he just wanted to do something nice and dutiful for you. He didn't want you to know that he wanted to take you to your destination in order to show you off to the entire Merchant Sector. To make sure that everyone (and he means everyone) in that part of 12 knows that you're with him.

Commissioned Officers are the only ones allowed in the Peacekeepers to have serious relationships (usually they would have an arranged match in the Capitol) but he didn't care. Coriolanus Snow did what he wanted; the hell with anybody else. He wanted something, he took it. Right now, he wanted you.

So…

He was taking you.

Or at least he would be taking you back to the Capitol with him once he figures out a way back there. But as for right now, Private Snow was letting everyone see you together; letting everyone know that you were his girl.

His girl and off limits to anyone else.

And if someone even did so much as look at you sideways, well, he'd kill them.

“Oh, you don't have to. The apothecary’s right up the bend and I'd hate to be a bother; make you take time out just to walk me there.”

“It's not a bother at all, darling. In fact, I insist on walking with you, to keep you safe.” Private Snow smiled, seeming to be a friendly and helpful gentleman underneath his grey uniform. “Never know who out there might try to harm such a pretty girl, like you.” He added in to drive home his reason for walking with you.

Hearing him call you pretty made your cheeks grow hot. Oh my… Nobody's called you pretty before, not even your own brother and his girlfriend (and they raised you). No, Rein and Ashlie always said that you looked nice.

Coriolanus calling you pretty did something to you.

The peacekeeper smirked to himself, knowing that his words had ensnared you to him. He honestly did think you were pretty, so having you react to the compliment by getting all flustered made his heart soar. It gave his obsessive nature a large ego boost, because to him your reaction meant that you loved him back, just like he loved you.

That the two of you shared the unbreakable bond of love at first sight.

But the truth of the matter was that Coriolanus was obsessed with you in an unhealthy way after seeing you and sharing a few words while you were just a kind person that wasn't used to being called pretty

You're from the Seam; girls from the seem don't get called pretty.

Well, not unless they're one Lucy Gray Baird.

But that reality would never be Private Snow's reality. No, his reality’s one where you're both crazy in love with each other after sharing smiles, a few words, and a walk.

Coming to a stop right in front of the apothecary, you looked at the peacekeeper and politely told him, “Thank you for walking me here, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus leaned forward, closing the space between you, only to request, “Please, call me Coryo. All my friends and family do.”

His words took you aback. Blinking, you asked in disbelief, “You want to be friends?”

“Yes.” Coryo nodded, a too wide smile showcasing his pearly whites on his face.

Lie!

That was a big fat fucking lie!

He didn't want to be your friend, he wanted to be your boyfriend. No, no. That's not true either. Scratch that, Peacekeeper Snow wanted to be your husband.

Yes, that's right. He just met you and barely knows you, but he wants to be your husband. All because he's obsessed with you; thinks that you share some kind of special undying love all because of a kind smile and a blush.

Boy oh boy, seems like he forgot about Lucy Gray real quick.

Lucy Gray. Lucy Gray who?

She didn't matter to him anymore. Coriolanus realizes now that the songbird was just a means to an end; that it would've never worked out between them.

That you're his true prize. The girl that's meant for him. The girl that's kind and pretty, just like his mother used to be before she was taken away from him by dying in the birthing bed with his baby sister.

You're his perfect girl.

“Okay. We can be friends.” You naively responded.

If only you knew what he truly meant by ‘being friends’. It'd save your family a whole lot of trouble and heartbreak. That's for sure.

“I'll wait around; escort you back when your done.” Coriolanus offered as the young dirty blonde man inside of the apothecary shop looked at the window, stunned to see you talking so easily with a peacekeeper.

A peacekeeper that had no need for herbs, remedies, and healers since he had access to all the modern medical marvels Panem’s Capitol had to offer at the PKB-12 Military Hospital. The young shopkeeper was concerned for your safety, seeing you exchanging words effortlessly with the uniformed grunt.

“I’m interning here til 5:30, sometimes 6.” You told Coriolanus because you didn't want your new friend waiting around for you when he had work to do.

Before Coriolanus could tell you that he'd be back around then to escort you home, the door to the apothecary flung open and out walked Juris Ashberry.

Juris was a dirty blonde of average height that you had gone to school with. His father was a clerk at the Justice Building; worked closely with the mayor. His mother was good friends with the old hag that owned the apothecary.

So, Juris arranged for you to get an internship at the shop after his family had arranged for him to be in a courtship with Belladonna, the daughter of the old hag that ran the apothecary.

Belladonna hated you because her intended, Juris, had a sweet spot for you. A sweet spot he was too chicken to openly declare.

And it was the worried look in his eyes that tipped Coriolanus off that the man who just walked out of the apothecary felt something for you. He wanted to stab that dirty merchant boy's eyes out for looking at you.

Coriolanus is the only one allowed to look at you with such sweet worry and care.

“Y/N, you're needed inside.” Juris told you as a way to separate you and Coryo. His eyes sized up the Capitol born and bred peacekeeper, concluding that if he had to then he could take the tall and athletically built peacekeeper on in a fight.

“Bye, Coryo.” You waved at your new friend before turning towards the apothecary.

You were almost to the door whenever it opened and out strolled Belladonna, your boss's daughter. She gave you a glare before skipping over to Juris and snatching his hand in hers. “Now that she's finally here, we can go have midmorning tea with Mayfair and Billy.”

Juris just nodded before silently walking off with Belladonna in the direction that the Mayor's large lavish house was in.

Coriolanus didn't like Juris. Even though Juris has himself a pretty flaxen blonde on his arm, the way he looked at you was dangerous. And the fact that the man seemed comfortable at your place of employment (internship, but practically the same thing) didn't go over well with him either.

Coriolanus decided that he needed to get you away from that dirty blonde man; he needed to make you dependent on him. And he needed to do those things because it was the only way to ensure that you'll join him back in the Capitol.

So, while you went about your midmorning in the apothecary, Coriolanus patrolled the streets while scheming up a way to get you fired. Hmm, maybe he could threaten the shopkeeper’s family? People seemed to do anything to keep their family safe.

Whatever he’s got to do to get you out of that shop, he’s going to do it. He was going to stop at nothing to have you on his arm as he stepped out of the train and onto the platform during his return to the best city in all of Panem.

The Capitol.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @staylowessafe

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renthony · 3 months

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Multiple Seattle gay bars have been raided to make sure patrons are wearing the "proper" clothing. These closed locations, where no children are allowed to be present, where nobody can possibly expose anything to any minors, where nobody outside can accidentally see a single goddamn thing they don't want to see, are still being raided, policed, and put under unreasonable scrutiny by the government.

The cops claim it's "routine," but that's what they said at Stonewall, too, so let this be a reminder: THIS is why all cops are bastards, THIS is why cops should never be welcome at Pride, and THIS is why kinksters and queers go hand-in-hand. If we are not safe to express our queer sexuality in an adults-only space created for that very purpose, we are not safe as queer people, period.

Using liquor license laws as an excuse to raid queer bars has a long, long history. Using liquor licensing as an excuse to put queer bars under intense scrutiny is a jolly tradition for cops. I highly, highly recommend reading the book The Stonewall Riots: A Documentary History, edited by Marc Stein, if you're wanting to learn more about that historical context, because it is vital.

Outlets reporting on this story:

The Stranger: "Police, Fire, and the Liquor Board Raided Two Seattle Gay Bars"

Advocate: "Outrage in Seattle after ‘raids’ of several gay bars citing ‘lewd conduct’ laws"

The Seattle Times: "Seattle LGBTQ+ bars, clubs on edge after ‘lewd conduct’ violations"

KUOW: "Seattle gay bar could be cited for possible ‘exposure of a male nipple’"

Capitol Hill Seattle: "‘Lewd conduct’ — Capitol Hill gay bars and clubs band together to push back on liquor board inspections"

Them: "After Two Seattle Gay Bars Received “Lewd Conduct” Citations, Owners Demand Answers"

Fox 13 Seattle: "Seattle LGBTQ nightclubs allegedly raided: Routine inspections or intimidation?"

Edge Media Network: "Two Gay Bars in Seattle Were Just Raided By the Police, Fire, and Liquor Board"

KUOW: "Is it 'lewd' to show your nipple or wear a jockstrap at a gay bar?"

LGBTQ Nation: "Seattle cops raided two gay bars, finding an exposed nipple & a jock strap"

#queer history #queer news #original post

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 5 months

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Capitol Punishment Prologue

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 5.2K (sorry)

Masterlist | Prologue (II)

“Y/N L/N!” Your heart dropped and your blood ran with ice. No, no. You were 18 fucking years old for god’s sake. You were so close to being out. Six years of reapings and even more slips with your name, because you had to take out tesserae, had finally caught up with you.

You realized the girls around you were backing up, leaving you to stand in the middle with nowhere to hide. You had always felt bad for the kids being singled out like this but now you realized just how isolating it already was. You looked up to the stage, your face already projected onto the screen. Just below that, your district escort, Salvia Vala, was beckoning for you to come up on the stage. You were already so close you could see the flaws in her caked on makeup and artificial… everything.

Realizing that just standing there would neither give you a better chance nor keep you from going into the games, you made your way to the stairs. As you were pulled towards the center of the stage, you tried desperately not to look at the people of your district. You were a bit of a loner in 12 so you weren’t avoiding the gazes of those who cared about you, you were avoiding the pity in the eyes of the people who never bothered to help you.

Next was the boys’ reaping. “Alder Oakly,” Salvia called out. You didn’t look at the boy until he was facing you on the stage, trying to give him the slightest bit of dignity. You shook his hand when prompted, observing him. He was clean, unlike the people you knew in the Seam. He probably came from the wealthier part of 12 but he was still pale like a lot of 12. His dark hair had the slightest bit of coal dust, also very common in 12 despite his wealthier status. His clothing was pristine in contrast to your best dress which was covered in coal dust and faded with age.

You were quickly ushered into the district capital building, into a nicely decorated room. One of the few buildings the Capitol had actually built in the districts so when they had to grace the poorest district with their presence, they wouldn’t immediately go running for the hills.

You sat quietly. This was supposed to be the room people said their goodbyes to you in. But there was no one to wish you luck or mourn you when you died. So you sat with your thoughts. Your head was simultaneously empty and racing with thoughts. Across the hall, you could hear sobs of presumably Alder’s mother. Maybe his girlfriend. You had no idea. You were kind of relieved no one came to see you. At least you knew you wouldn’t cause any pain to anyone when you were gone.

You were then jolted from your thoughts by the door opening. You recognized Haymitch Abernathy, the victor of the 50th Hunger Games. Apparently, he was supposed to attend the reapings but, after being so drunk one time, he fell off the stage and they had stopped requiring him to be there. You had seen him a few times at the Hobb buying alcohol but other than that, the only things you knew about him were rumors. That he had won the “wrong” way and the Capitol had killed his family for it.

He made his way into the room, only stumbling slightly until he slumped on the chair. As he sat he took a moment to observe her. Rather than a tear-stained face or eyes wide with fear, she just stared at him quizzically. Clearly taken off guard by his presence. Her eyes were filled with curiosity, giving her a look of innocence he knew the Capitol would love.

You were unsure what to say as he took a deep swig from his flask. “Okay,” he slurred out, his tone as if he were correcting you, “I don’t normally do this but I’ve seen you around the Hobb, and that Al kid has more than enough support.” You still didn’t know what was going on, given that he was the only living Victor in 12 you thought he was supposed to prepare you together. “My advice? Start drinking now. You wanna start?” he asked, holding out the flask to you.

You took it hesitantly, still unsure how to react to the situation. You took a whiff first, your nose burning. But seeing as you had nothing better to do, you pressed it to your lips, tipping it back tentatively. There was a surprising amount in there based on how inebriated he already was so you got a full swig. You immediately began coughing, hating the burn that seemed to course through your body as you swallowed.

Haymitch chuckled a little. “What? You never have whisky?” You only shook your head. “Seriously?” he stopped laughing. “I thought they said you were 18. I’d understand if you were 12 or even 14 but 18 years and you never got drunk?” He looked shocked. Despite alcohol being technically illegal it was probably the most popular thing sold on the black market.

“It was either buy food or liquor,” you explained. “And when it came to stealing, it was either risk getting caught stealing food or liquor.” Haymitch hummed before pulling a roll wrapped in a napkin out of his jacket pocket, holding it out to you. You shook your head no, “Can’t even think about eating.” For the first time in god knows how long you didn’t feel the lingering hunger.

“My real advice? Eat. You’ll need it to keep you going in the games.”

At that you laughed. “You think I can win? The starving girl, from 12, with no prospects, winning the fucking hunger games? I don’t know, maybe someone like that hunter girl could win but I have no skills.”

“Can you hold a knife? Can you point it at someone? You’ve got skills,” Haymitch shrugged.

You rolled your eyes. “You and I both know it’s more than that. It’s about survival, sponsors, fighting skills, the ability to actually take a life.”

“Don’t assume what I know. I actually went to the games. I know what it’s like. You don’t.”

“Yet,” you added. “Maybe I‘ll never know. They have bombs in the arena, right? If you step off the platform early? Instant death has to be better than getting hacked apart by a career,” you mused.

Haymitch was horrified by the calm she exuded while talking about how she was planning to kill herself.

Haymitch shook his head. “If you jump off that platform you just give them what they want. Submission. Fight to survive. Be the first female victor from 12 in 57 years.”

“Why do you even care?” you asked, sick of being told what to do. “I know you’ve never exactly been mentor of the year. Why are you going out of your way to talk to me? Convincing me to try?”

Haymitch opened and closed his mouth a few times at a loss for words. He then just sighed, downing another swig of whiskey before standing up. “I’ll see you on the train.”

You sat on the train, staring down at your empty plate. The train car was full of food you never dreamed you’d get the opportunity to eat. But you still couldn’t bear the idea of actually eating. Then, the door opened and Alder came in. He sat down and immediately began serving himself, digging in. “You can eat?” you asked. “I haven’t been able to stomach the idea of eating since…”

“I wasn’t able to either, at first, until dinner last night. I forced myself to take a bite and ever since then I’ve had an appetite,” he explained. You turned your attention back to the food, contemplating his words. Reaching for a muffin, you pulled a little off, popping it in your mouth. “Have you met our mentor yet? He came to dinner and asked about you. When he realized we weren’t both here he just grabbed some food and left.”

“Uh, no,” you lied, taking another bite of the muffin. It was nothing like you had ever had before. It was sweet and filling but also light and airy. “He’s a drunk. Only here because he had to be.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” a voice cut in from the door. You didn’t even turn around, just waited for him to walk into your eyeline. “I’m here for the desserts,” he picked up a pastry as he sat down, “and refreshments,” he held up a glass of brown liquor.

“So what do we do? How do we survive?” Alder asked.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “All you wealthier kids are all the same. ‘How do I survive? How do I win?’ You know who wins? The kids who have struggled. Who’ve provided for themselves and their families,” he ranted, looking at you over the rim of his glass.

You watched Alder visibly deflate. Clearly he wasn’t ready to die. “You’ve had kids from all over 12, right? Where are they now?” you asked. You knew it was wrong but you were already sick of this drunk’s disparity in attitudes.

Haymitch just pursed his lips, getting up and taking his drink and plate with him.

“Why’d you say that?” Alder asked angrily. “He’s our best shot at getting out of that arena.”

“I said it because he was being a dick. Besides, he’s lost every tribute in the past 17 years. That’s 34 kids he’s had the opportunity to save but he was probably too busy drinking.”

“I mean… it’s not entirely his fault. There are factors out of his control.”

You just rolled your eyes. “Get off his dick, he’s not gonna give you anything more just because you’re kissing his ass.” Standing up, you left Alder alone, heading towards your room on the train. Maybe you could get at least some more sleep. But as you made your way there, Haymitch appeared in the hall, looking stern.

“You have something you wanna say?” he asked, expecting an apology.

“Not really,” you dismissed, trying to walk past him. But he reached out, grabbing your bicep in a surprisingly strong grip for someone so drunk all the time.

“What is your problem?”

“You’re the one with the fucking problem!” you practically yelled. “Why’d you have to scare someone who actually wants to fight? Why are you so insistent on wasting your time with me?”

Haymitch once again opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. He finally clenched his jaw before shaking his head, changing the topic. “You need sponsors if ‘the starving girl from 12’ is gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “I’m not playing their fucking game. I’m not going to win.”

Now Haymitch rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “Don’t you get it? By winning you defy them. They are trying their hardest to kill you. Win,” he was now practically pleading. “If you’re so eager to kill yourself now, why didn’t you just give up a long time ago? I’ve seen you around 12, I know you’re resilient and if you really wanted to die, you would’ve frozen or starved to death by now.”

You were so taken aback by his words all you could do was tug yourself away from his grasp but he held firm. “Let go of me,” you demanded.

“Promise me you’ll try to get sponsors and actually try to win.”

You stared at him, finding sincerity in his eyes. “Fine,” you agreed.

He nodded, satisfied, before letting you go.

The first thing the Capitol did to you was wax and scrub your entire body. This was probably the cleanest you had ever been but the lingering sting all over your body was not worth it. You had overheard a few stylists whispering about being short on time. Apparently your train had arrived late. So you only got a few brief minutes to revel in being clean because soon you were dressed in a black, tarp skirt that barely covered you, and a sheer bandeau top before being powdered with black dust, clearly meant to be coal dust.

You coughed repeatedly as they dumped a bucket of it over your head. They had told you repeatedly to stop moving but you couldn’t help it.

“Ah, isn’t this the most beautiful outfit you’ve ever worn in your life?” a cheery voice came from the doorway. “It’s a fashionable take on the drab coveralls you people in 12 wear.” You opened your eyes, hoping more dust wouldn’t fall into them. You finally caught a glimpse of who you presumed your stylist was. She had a big mess of green curls and everything else about her was as outrageous as her hair. “I’m Vodka, I’ll be your personal stylist while you’re here,” she smiled brightly.

You tried to force a smile but another powder of dust over your face stopped you. “Hold still,” the woman reprimanded you.

When they finally deemed you “covered” enough you were sent out to the chariots. You walked in hesitantly, not finding Alder there yet. Heading over to the very last chariot you could feel the gazes on you but you just kept walking, trying to cover yourself as much as possible. You weren’t the only one subject to the leering gaze of teenage boys, the girl from 4 was only wearing a net.

Soon enough Alder joined you and you were off, being pulled down the chariot line. Alder and all the other tributes were smiling and waving but you just stared ahead, refusing to acknowledge anyone even when Alder tried to make you smile and wave.

Once you were finally back inside, out of public view, you spotted Haymitch. He clapped for you and Alder as he approached. You noticed the way he kept his gaze firmly locked on your face. When he did look away from your face it was firmly above your chest line. “Al, good job. See that Y/N? He’s gonna get sponsors while you starve out in the arena because he’s likeable.”

“I’m not a huge fan of smiling at the people ogling at me but I’ll keep that in mind,” you answered sarcastically. You headed for the elevator, arms covering yourself, avoiding the gazes of the smirking boys as you passed. Upon reaching the elevator, the District 10 tributes and mentors joined you along with Haymitch and Alder finally catching up. Once the metal doors opened, you stepped inside, trying to ignore all of their presences. You held yourself tighter noticing the gazes of the District 10 people. Haymitch must have noticed it too because he stepped away from the wall of the elevator, placing a gentle hand on your hip to push you back so he could step in front of you. You just stared at Haymitch quizzically, touched by his simple reaction, even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

Eventually, District 10 got off the elevator and you were able to leave the tense elevator too. Alder immediately headed to his room, you following behind. But while he continued on, you stopped before disappearing into the hallway. Turning, you found Haymitch already at the bar cart. “Uh thanks,” you said weakly. “For um…”

He just waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.” He then turned his attention to his glass, “Didn’t like the way they were looking at you anyways,” he mumbled mostly to himself.

“Sorry, what?” you asked, unable to make out his words from across the room.

“Nothing,” Haymitch brushed off again. “It was nothing. Get some sleep. You start training tomorrow.” Unconvinced but knowing you wouldn’t get what you were asking for you just nodded, turning to head to bed.

The next morning you stood lined up with all the other tributes. You noticed everyone was sending each other glares and eager smiles. Well… the careers were. That was sort of the nice thing about being a career. They have built in friends for the days they spend in existential dread and isolation in the Capitol. Until they all turn their backs on one another and go on a murder spree, slaughtering their fellow children.

You noticed they spared the occasional glance at Alder along with some of the other tributes. Whether they were determining their fellow allies or their first victims, you weren’t sure but you were just glad they weren’t looking at you now that you had all your clothes on.

“In two weeks, 23 of you will be dead,” the head instructor announced, catching everyone’s attention. “One of you will be alive. Who that is will depend on how well you pay attention for the next four days. Particularly to what I’m about to say. First, no fighting with the other tributes. You’ll have plenty of time for that in the arena. My advice is, don’t ignore the survival skills. Everyone wants to grab a sword but most of you will die from natural causes. About three of you will die from infection, and about five from dehydration. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife. You’ll begin with combat training, then survival. After today, you’ll be free to practice whatever skills for the remaining three days before your individual evaluations.”

Being the girl from 12, you were the last to practice everything. You learned quickly that while the careers may laugh at those who failed whatever the exercise was, they dismissed them. You could faintly hear their mumbles as a non-career tribute excelled in any particular skill. Deciding to take a little public humiliation over a target on your back, you purposely failed at every skill. You barely struggled your way up a net, let your arms shake as you picked up the axes, failed miserably at starting a fire, and repeatedly chose poisonous plants to eat.

You weren’t alone in your struggles. The question was, is everyone else faking too?

After your first day of training, you went back up to the District 12 floor, straight to your room. You were exhausted as you stepped into the shower, reveling in the luxury of warm water.

After probably far too long you finally got out, wrapping a towel around yourself. Heading out to the main room you didn’t spot your mentor until you were fully out of the bathroom. “Holy shit,” you exclaimed in surprise, seeing him seated on your bed. You immediately pulled the towel tighter around yourself, not missing the way his gaze lingered on your legs for a second.

“Uh, sorry,” he quickly tried to disguise where his attention was. “I- uh… just…” he looked to be seriously trying to figure out what he had initially been here to say before breaking out into a chuckle. “Sorry, I completely forgot what I was gonna say.” He then snapped his fingers, pointing at you. “I know what I was gonna say. You fucking suck. I was watching you. You somehow managed to fail every possible skill. You’ve survived god knows how long without your parents. I find it hard to believe you don’t have any survival skills. Your score is impacted by this training time too. Sponsors don’t send money to tributes who don’t score well.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? For whatever reason I can survive in the Seam but it’s not exactly the same as the fucking wilderness where I’m actively being hunted. Besides, before I came here I don’t think I had ever had a full meal so I can’t exactly help that everyone else is stronger than me.”

Haymitch sighed, standing up. “Look, I get it, a lifetime of malnourishment can’t be fixed by a few days in the Capitol so that’s why you learn how to survive. I’m begging you, figure out your survival skills so the cold or dehydration or even hunger don’t kill you.”

“Why do you care so much?” you asked again. “You don’t treat Alder like this. As far as I know, you haven’t given a damn about any of your tributes.”

Haymitch just sighed, shaking his head. “Get some sleep,” he dismissed, stepping towards the door.

Sick of not knowing what was going on and being treated like a doll, you blocked his path. “No, you’re gonna tell me what’s going on. You’ve been weird like this ever since we met.”

“You don’t know me, you don’t know what’s weird for me. Maybe I'm just looking out for the kid who was raised in the Seam just like me,” Haymitch bullshitted a response. He was desperately hoping she’d accept that because he wasn’t about to tell her he’d been keeping an eye on her the past few months.

He could see it in your eyes, you didn’t fully believe his lies but you let him go anyway. Stepping aside, still in only a towel, water dripping from your hair down your neck and chest, you let him pass, feeling his arm brush against your shoulder.

“What do I say to him?” you asked Haymitch frantically as the stylist did your hair.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he tried to assure you. “He'll just ask you a couple questions so the audience gets to know you.”

Over the past few days, you and Haymitch became closer. He wasn’t nearly as perpetually drunk as he was when you first met him. He was actually helping you rather than just yelling at you to be better. And because of that, you were more open to talking to him instead of just giving him sarcastic remarks.

“Up,” the stylist told you. You complied, not questioning it until he began undoing your robe.

“Woah,” Haymitch reacted to it even before you did, gaze averted up to the ceiling.

“Hey-” you protested, holding the robe to your body.

“Vodka wants you dressed,” he explained.

“I know but you’re just doing it in front of him?”

The man gave you a look that said ‘seriously?’ “Your tits were just broadcast on national television a few days ago,” he dismissed, taking off your robe. “Besides, this outfit isn’t much more conservative,” he smiled. Completely unsure what to say you just allowed him to help you into it.

Upon getting the outfit on you knew it was absurdly impractical. It was a black dress, the skirt was long but any modesty was thwarted by a part on your left leg, exposed by the fact that the skirt was only actually on one side, the rest of the fabric was cut short at the hip. This left the bodysuit connected to the corset top exposed. As for the top, the only thing not sheer about it was the boning which did actually provide you a little modesty.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” the stylist asked Haymitch with a smile. He finally looked away from the mirror, jaw genuinely slacked upon seeing the dress. You were gorgeous, anyone would say the same. But he cringed as you were clearly uncomfortable being on display so much.

“You look great,” Haymitch smiled awkwardly. He noticed a slight blush coat your cheeks despite the caked on makeup covering your skin.

Then the door opened and the human equivalent of a tropical bird entered. Vodka literally squealed upon seeing you. “Ah, isn’t the dress just stunning? All the men in the audience are just gonna eat you up,” she gushed. “Come, come,” she ushered, “you have to start lining up for your interview.” You looked back at Haymitch, silently pleading for help as you were practically dragged away.

Taking his spot with the other mentors, Haymitch turned his attention to the screen as his tribute walked up on stage. He admired the grace you walked with despite the impossibly tall shoes. Caesar also noticed your outfit as he stood, reaching out a polite hand to you. “My, my, my, Y/N, don’t you look like Capitol royalty,” he complimented. “Doesn’t she look fabulous?” he turned to the audience. They erupted into cheers, a shocking amount of engagement for a District 12 tribute.

The pair sat down and the interview truly began. “It’s hard to believe such a pretty face comes from the coal mining district. Tell me, have you ever been inside or worked in the mines?” Caesar asked.

You nodded, looking down at your lap, fiddling with your hands. “I did work there. I was younger than most but I needed a way to provide for myself.”

“How come?”

You looked like this was the last thing you wanted to talk about but answered anyway. “My mom died giving birth. Mine explosion killed my dad a few years later.”

The crowd made noises of sympathy. At least that was something. But Haymitch already knew your story.

He had been buying booze at the Hobb when he noticed you.

“Come on, I come here every damn week and the first time I’m a few cents short you won’t give me a break?” you had asked the Hobb baker. “You gotta help me out,” you pleaded, “I’ve got nothing else this week. With the northeastern mine collapse no one’s getting paid until they figure it out.”

‘This girl is already working in the mines?’ he has thought to himself. Looking at Lou, who had just sold him alcohol. “Who is she?” he asked, nodding over towards where the girl stood, arguing with the vendor.

Lou took one look at you. “Y/N L/N, she’s been coming since she was about ten after her dad died. Never talked to or sold to her but the others say she’s sweet. Too bad such a young thing is already working. Has been since she was 16.”

Haymitch fished a few coins out of his pocket. “Make up the difference for me, will ya? And don’t mention me.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Caesar sympathized. “Well, in contrast to the dreary District 12, how are you finding the Capitol so far?”

“The, uh, food is really good,” you offered with a weak smile.

“That seems to be a popular answer among tributes,” the interviewer smiled. “Any boys back home?” Haymitch didn’t know why he held his breath at that.

“No,” you answered with a gentle shake of your head. “Too busy trying to survive to think about boys.”

“Well I think everyone in the Capitol is in love with you right now,” Caesar laughed, gesturing to the dress again. “And if you win, you’ll have any pick of Capitol men.” You smiled as Caesar took your hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N L/N,” he reintroduced you before you walked off stage.

Out of public view, you stumbled off the stage, headed back where all the other tributes and mentors were watching the remaining interviews on the screen. You made your way over to Haymitch, standing next to him as you turned your attention to the screen where Alder was being introduced.

“Nice job not puking,” Haymitch ‘complimented.’

“Thanks,” you smiled briefly. “He got really personal,” you tried to laugh off the dredging up of all your personal trauma.

Haymitch hummed, trying not to let on that he knew your story already. He sensed that you were somewhat private with your life given your lack of interaction with anyone in 12. “He made you look sympathetic. Sometimes that’s all you can ask for.”

You hummed in agreement. “Or pointless. I don’t have anyone to go home to. No one to fight for.”

“Hey,” he immediately reprimanded, “remember what I said, win out of spite. They want to kill you.”

“‘S that why you won?” you murmured.

“Sort of,” Haymitch relented. “I had a family to go home to but I was so angry I wanted to win just because everyone says District 12 can’t win. I was also the second name drawn and…”

“And if it weren’t for the quarter quell you wouldn’t have gone in,” you finished for him.

Haymitch nodded. “My family would still be here and I wouldn’t be such a…”

“I’m sorry,” you sympathized, placing a comforting hand on his arm. As you remembered where you were, you drew back your hand, returning your attention to Alder who was being dismissed from the stage.

“Go on ahead to the elevator, Alder and I will be right up,” Haymitch suggested. You nodded, walking over towards the elevator.

You got on it with a few other tributes and mentors, groaning internally as you stopped on nearly every floor. But upon reaching the penthouse you went straight to bed. Not because you were tired but because you were drained by your anxiety about tomorrow.

Requesting sleeping pills you took double the dose before laying down in the first comfortable clothes you could find. But after a few hours of tossing and turning, you gave up. You headed to the kitchen that you were sure had never been used as Avoxes brought your meals up to the penthouse. Probably from a bigger kitchen somewhere in the building.

As you were getting a glass of water you noticed someone’s presence. Looking over, you found Alder glaring at you, giving you a start. “Alder!” you said in surprise. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“What’d he tell you?” he asked.

Completely and utterly confused you just stared at him. “What? Who?”

He rolled his eyes. “I know Haymitch has been training you without me. I know that technically we should have two mentors but just because I'm not fucking him doesn’t mean I don’t deserve help.”

“Woah!” you cut him off. “I’m not- Haymitch and I aren’t-”

“Don’t play stupid. I see the way he looks at you. God, you don’t even have a family. You have no one worth living for so why is he helping you?” He paused as if waiting for an explanation but you couldn’t exactly give him one. “If you’re going into the arena with more knowledge then I think it’s only fair we level the playing field,” he said menacingly. Seeing as you were backed against the wall and you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight back without sustaining any injuries yourself, you screamed.

“Shut up!” he screamed, knocking you into the wall.

Hardly a second later, Haymitch’s voice pierced the air. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he yelled, ripping Alder away from you. The boy tried to stammer out an explanation but Haymitch was too angry to listen. “I don’t wanna hear it. You have plenty of time to fight in the morning. Go to bed.” Alder looked angry but walked off anyway. Haymitch then turned to you, his expression softening with genuine concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, pushing yourself off the ground. “I’ll be taking a lot more than just a shove tomorrow.”

Haymitch looked like he wanted to say more but he just bid you goodnight before heading back to bed, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

Masterlist | Prologue (II)

#haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #capitol punishment

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words-on-a-tightrope · 6 months

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Hunger Games Relevance

(Please read/boost if you’ve ever read/watched the hunger games or you care about what’s going on)

I don’t know if other people feel the same way but especially with the new hunger games film coming out I’ve been absolutely floored by some of the parallels between the world in the series and the current conflict in Palestine.

Firstly, Suzanne Collins did say that she partially got the idea from flicking between channels showing reality TV interspersed with footage from the Iraq war so I guess there’s a good reason for me to be seeing similarities now.

But the fact it’s being live-streamed - the carnage - the propaganda - the fact that lots of us have been following the same few (often very young) journalists who have become the ‘face’ of Palestinian resistance (because right now journalism IS resistance being actively targeted by Israel) - it’s all crazy familiar.

I saw a clip of Israeli’s sitting on a hill watching and laughing at the bombs dropping on Gaza today as though they were fireworks just minutes before Israel bombed the 3rd floor of a paediatric hospital. The same ‘Sderot Cinema’ where Israeli’s bought deck chairs and snacks to ‘watch the spectacle’ of the 2014 bombing campaign on Gaza.

The way not everyone in the capitol was evil or bad and some people actively supported the districts but realistically they were still complicit in the exploitation - even if just through ignorance.

The incredible amount of children dying - the bombing of hospitals and withholding of resources (like in District 8 in Mockingjay), the taking of people not involved in Hamas into administrative detention (hundreds arrested in the West Bank - like how the victors were taken in Catching Fire even the ones who weren’t involved in the rebellion), the collective punishment of Gaza (the firebombing of District 12).

The way Israel dropped pamphlets from the sky to tell Gazans to evacuate south and then bombed the route (literally straight out of the games I swear - the video of the pamphlets falling was like the scene with the parachutes in Mockingjay which represent hope and then detonate).

It’s so eerily similar and I just wonder how so many watched those films and read those books and are silent now - why could they identify resistance and oppression and desperation and exploitation in fiction and not reality?

And I wonder if maybe it’s because we have to remind ourselves that we aren’t Katniss in this situation - we aren’t the heroes - we are the Capitol and District citizens watching it all happen on our screens - and that’s an unfortunate and uncomfortable concept to grapple with.

#palestine #israel #levant #middle east #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #everlark #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #war crimes #human rights #humanity #words #spilled words #tbosas #tbosbas

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apoemaday · 6 days

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The Rules

by Kyle Carrero Lopez

after Adrian Piper

1. I will always mean what I say.

(In all things art, put quality first. Being a dick can fly, to a point, if you know they’ll coin it “sass.” Shake the dice. Switch the code. Girls and gays: that’s Bible. Pre-Bible, really — a duo waaay back to cuneiform slabs. Not really. It’s all too yum to make stuff like that up. I been Mister Jester from the jump, stay tellin’ tall tales. Stay worried what could come if I stop being fun. How the glances change, how they might do me, what I might do.)

2. I will always do what I say I am going to do.

(Never ever date a babe with your name. Put some drama in each umbrella unfurl. Walk like you know where you’re going, where you come from. Like a too-loud blouse from a not-close friend, discomfort’s a gift I’ll quickly return. I’m a bill on Capitol Hill; I sing the body electorate. Your contracts for you ain’t for me to sign. If contraction’s not an option, be massive: Fagamemnon. Break any rule that would break you.)

3. I will always be too expensive to buy.

(At brokest broke I took seven caramel chews from a book launch, ate ’em all, called it a night. Was this a queering of dinner? Time is money in that I got neither. My sweet friend Mikey once paid half my March rent. Though I’m not much one to pray — I sit by a dad who resembles my uncle D with a baby in a stroller lookin’ just like one of my cousins, we’re waiting for the A train, I’m dying to tell him his son, a sleepy, pouting dahlia sprout, is so angelic, so darling, but no guarantee it’d go well, assumptions create assumptions create silence — I’m not a girl, not yet a father, who the fuck am I to this man but guise of gay voice, gay shirt, shadow, beard; the A arrives, we board separate cars — my eyes shut with the doors. I hold tight to the handrail, ask something please, please, hold them.)

#poetry #kyle carrero lopez #the rules

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anacademicsoliloquy · 2 years

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Old books, classical music and rainy days…

#sound on #dark acadamia aesthetic #second hand bookstores #capitol hill books #studyblr #dark academia #university #mine #aesthetic #books #reading #old books #rain

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harryspet · 2 years

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the alpha’s trophy [2] s.rogers

[Warnings] dark!alpha!steve rogers x reader, omega!innocent!reader, reader is the last omega, military!steve to the max, non-werewolf a/b/o dynamics, heavy on the praise kink, agegap, size difference/size kink, spanking, oral sex (male/female recieving), inexperience reader, teacher!steve, manipulation

A/N: a little conclusion to the story :)

In which you fall deeper under Steve’s influence.

word count: 3.3k

taglist: @cherienymphe @onsunnyside @isysen @inlovewithhisblueeyes @reveise @speechlessxx @lesbians4levinson2021 @darksideofthecocoamoon @darkndirtyndangerous @mayasreadingnook @yelenabelovadeservesbetter @queenoftheworldisdead @khaleesiaura @tastycakee @honeydulcewrites @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @samwilsonsbabymama @obsessedprincess @cats-and-sheep @goldensunshines @autumnrose40

main masterlist

part one

For the first time in weeks, you were able to clear your head. Steve wasn’t inside you or lapping at you or massaging your breasts. He was gone on an emergency and, although you craved him, you were beginning to remember the circumstances that led you here. How Steve had carefully and calculatingly planned all of this. You dressed yourself, wearing clothing for the first time in too long, choosing a black t-shirt of yours and a floral midi skirt.

You almost didn’t have the courage to face the house staff, knowing they’d been hearing your desperate mewling for hours on end. You put on the bravest face you could as you pushed through the swinging, kitchen doors. Cynthia, the chef, was peeling boiled eggs by the sink and you slowly made your way around the island so you could face her. Her smile widened when she saw you and you felt an instant relief.

She was a woman who you guessed was in her late forties, with curly blonde hair and dimples on both sides of her mouth.

“Hi.”

“Hi, honey. Are you hungry?”

You shook your head, your hands tightly gripping the counter, “I was wondering if there was a telephone I could use.”

“Do you need to speak to Captain Rogers?” She further questioned and you were glad she didn’t seem taken aback by your request.

“Maria Hill,” You responded, “Do you know her?”

“Not personally, honey. Do you know her phone number?”

“Well … no.” You went on to ask her about the various ways one could find someone’s phone number. That led to a history lesson on phone books and how Cynthia basically hadn’t seen one in a decade. Besides that, Maria Hill was too important of a figure for her personal phone number to be just found online.

It wasn’t a hard task for Steve to keep you hidden away. All he had to do was rely on the fact that you didn’t know anyone else, knew way too little about the outside world, and that it would always be his word against yours.

“Maybe you can ask Captain Rogers to help you get in contact with her,” It was your only option. Unless she found you herself, you’d probably had to go through Steve to get to her.

You were silent for a moment, “When do you think he’ll be back?”

“He’s making the talk show and roundtable runs all day so I wouldn’t expect him to be back until late night.”

“Talk show?” Your eyes widened, “W-What do you mean?”

She rinsed off her hands, implying that you should follow as she made her way to the living room. “People have been wondering about you and Captain Rogers after the senate meeting. I think he wants to make sure there aren’t any rumors out there.” You watched her grab one of the remotes and flick on the flat screen television.

Immediately, you saw one of the photos of you standing beside Steve inside the capitol. Your doe eyes were looking up at him and it didn’t seem like you were scared but in awe of him. The picture faded away and Steve appeared, all smiles, as he sat next to a dark skinned woman with pin-straight, perfectly styled hair. Her hot pink, peplum dress contrasted against her skin and the blue background. Across the bottom of the screen you saw the words GMA and “CAPTAIN STEVE ROGERS TELLS ALL ABOUT LAST OMEGA”.

“Oh my stars,” You thought out loud, your eyes wide with fear.

“The entire country – excuse me, the entire world has been reeling ever since the news broke. We all had no idea what we’d be seeing, what this Omega would like, what they would be like, how the government would choose to react. I mean, we all knew how important this woman is going to be in the grand scheme but it's safe to say we were all still a little caught off guard by the situation. What was your first reaction to seeing her?”

“My first reaction to seeing Y/N,” Steve repeated the question and you sensed he was faking sincerity, “Well, I felt what any Alpha might feel in that sort of moment. Seeing the sea of reporters and cameras following her, knowing that every eye was on her, I felt she needed protection. She didn’t ask for any of this. She didn’t ask to be treated like a celebrity nor did she choose to be in the care of people that didn’t have her best interest.”

A picture of Bruce appeared on the screen and you completely lost all the air in your lungs.

“What do you think Bruce Banner’s ultimate plan was? A lot of people are confused as to why such a respected man like him would engage in this kind of behavior.”

“I believe he thought there was an evolutionary reason for why no more Omegas were being born. He believed that as a society, we didn’t need them, and eventually we wouldn't need a ranking system. If it was up to him, Y/N would die as the last Omega. I’m not sure what or who radicalized him but dangerous ideas like that … they serve no place in our society.”

The woman feigned shock, “Wow, the world without a ranking system? I can’t even imagine that. More reason to thank our brave federal agents for rescuing her. Now, I’m sure as much as the world is confused by this situation, I’m sure Y/N was even more baffled herself. It’s even been rumored that she developed some sort of Stockholm syndrome while living with Dr. Banner.”

“I’d say there was a lot of confusion, at first, and I completely respect her feelings towards Dr. Banner. To her, she lost a father figure which I wouldn’t wish on anyone,” Tears pricked your eyes at his words. It was like he was using this entire situation, manipulating it, so he’d come out as the understanding and compassionate, good guy, “But I’m sure everyone would be happy to know she’s adjusting well.”

“And there’s no point in beating around the bush anymore. Apparently, your relationship with Y/N has changed quite a bit. I have to admit, after seeing you two together, I was hoping sparks would fly. Is it true that she’s chosen you as her mate?”

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, like he was attempting to choose his words with the utmost precision. It was like he was trying to come off as humble as possible, “It’s true. But the details I’ll leave for her to share in the future. I just want the world to know how much of a special person that she is and getting to know her these past few weeks, I do believe she represents a bright future for this country.”

“Thank you for sitting down with me, Captain,” It seemed like the reporter was looking you right in the eyes as she turned to the camera, “We’ll be right back in a minute.”

Who knew how many people were tuning in to watch the famous Alpha on TV. He wasn’t even finished telling this false story, Cynthia had said he’d be making that rounds all day. And implying that you’d tell your own story eventually? He expected you to lie to the world too and you decided right then that you wouldn’t let him parade you around the news. He could keep you locked in the house, touch you until you couldn’t remember your own name, but you wouldn’t help him put up this façade of you.

“Honey-”

“Don’t call me honey, please,” Steve’s pet names were enough. You didn’t want Omega or honey or sweetie or baby. You just wanted to be yourself. You wiped your tears as they fell, “I-I’m sorry. I’m going upstairs. Please don’t send any food up.”

You walked away, making your way through the pristine home, up the stairs, and sadly to the only place that made you feel comfortable. A bed covered in Steve’s scent.

Steve’s raised voice woke you from your hibernation. You couldn’t hear what was exactly said but you recognized another female’s voice as Cynthia’s. You sat up in bed as you heard heavy footsteps approaching the door. You pulled the covers over your head, balling up your limbs into the fetal position, and shut your eyes tightly.

You heard a sigh leave his lips as the door opened. He moved relatively quietly but you picked up the sound of glass being placed on the nightstand. The bed dipped beside you and you began to whisper to yourself, praying that you’d be reunited with Bruce and that you could have the room you loved back.

“Y/N?” You ignored him, continuing to pray, “You have to eat three meals a day. You can’t order Cynthia to not fix your food.”

As you continued to not respond or move, Steve finally grew frustrated and pulled the comforter away from your body. Instantly, you pushed your body away from him, settling in on the other side of the huge bed, “I need you healthy-”

“I want to talk to Maria,” You stated plainly.

“Y/N-”

“If you’re not a cold hearted liar, you’ll at least let us have a phone call. I want to speak to her. And soon.”

“Why the name calling, Omega?” It was meant to bruise my ego and you didn’t know why you expected him to not fight your fire with his own, “We’ve been doing so good lately.”

“Because you lie to the entire world like it’s nothing.”

“The world wouldn’t care about the truth, Y/N. What I say out there doesn’t actually affect our personal lives. I just have a certain reputation to maintain.”

“I want to speak to Maria.”

“Fine. I’ll arrange a call for you two. I don’t know what you’re expecting her to say. She doesn’t have the power to reverse any of this.”

“I have no doubt there’s someone out there, more powerful than you, that sees through your lies,” You spat, your back still turned to him.

“You’re more naive than I thought then,” You felt like a hand was wrapped around the heart in your chest, squeezing it. His words had struck you deep and had hurt your Omega even more. Yesterday, she was begging him to call her a good girl and now he was practically calling you stupid.

You rose from the bed vehemently. “I’m not naive,” You seethed.

“You are,” Steve stood, his voice completely stern, “You’ve only really known two people well throughout your whole life. You never went to school. Never had the chance to make friends. You’ve never really traveled. You have no idea who you are yet.”

“I do.” Your voice came out in such a whisper that you could barely recognize it, “Don’t . . . don’t say that-”

“People have lied to you your entire life, I’m not sure you know what’s really fact and fiction. You’re the only one of your kind and you’re lost.”

His words piled onto you like heavy weight and you felt your knees buckling until you were on the ground, “Please,” You whispered, your face wet with tears that you hadn’t realized started falling. His words were on top of you, crushing you, but soon you were weightless as he lifted you into his arms.

He pulled you back to the bed, resting you on his lap, as you whimpered into his shoulder. Soothing hands petted your hair, slowly coaxing the sadness out of you, “One thing I can tell you that you are is mine. I’m going to show you your true purpose, little girl. I know you can behave better than this.”

“I can’t-” You hiccupped, “I can’t, I can’t–”

You weren’t shocked by your own tears or the turmoil you felt inside. Your emotions had never been so up and down since meeting Steve. He’d insist it was because you were still resisting your true nature.

Steve shushed you, “You can be exactly what I want. My perfect mate. You want to be a good girl, right?”

Your body tensed, fingernails digging into the fabric as your throat became tight. You were trying to hold the words inside you back, to push them down into the pits of your stomach. No longer could you distinguish between Steve’s real voice and the voice used to control you. It was all the same now. He’d discovered the first time you’d been intimate that you craved his approval and praise.

Steve rubbed your lower back, placing soft kisses near your ear, “Good girls get lots of privileges.”

“Privileges?” Your voice was a whisper.

“They get to feel good, all the time,” You peeled your face from his shoulder and the two of your eyes met. It was like you hadn’t truly looked at each other till now. There was always anger and frustration, at first, and then you two ended up crumbling. He could be just as gentle as you when he wanted to.

“What if they want you to feel good?” You asked not very nonchalantly, “Wouldn’t that be the … kind thing to do?”

“You want your Alpha to feel good?” Steve’s hands traveled up your waist, caressing you like you were velvet. His strong hands were gently with your breasts, exploring one of your sensitive peaks with his fingertips, “Well, that’s a little bit of a predicament. Because Alpha’s always put their Omega’s first.”

“We can feel good together,” Steve grinned wickedly at your words.

“Of course,” The hand on your breasts moved to your face and he easily pulled your lips to his.

Steve felt so young with you in his arms. Your movements were always so eager, never taking a break to breathe when your lips were on each other. The dry humping, your bouncing hips, made him feel like a teenager but he liked how the tension built this way. It drove him crazy until the Alpha had to flip you over and taste what he’d been missing all day. This time, however, it was you that wanted to taste him.

It was only when Steve was laid down on the bed and you were gripping him in your hand that you lost a bit of your confidence. Although Steve had pleased you plenty in these past few weeks, you hadn’t gotten personal with him in this way yet and you soon realized you really had no idea what you were doing. Steve seemed to notice, sitting up until you were face to face again.

“It’s okay, you’re doing good. Hold it exactly like you are, just a little tighter, honey,” You did as he instructed, applying more pressure to his shaft, “Now move your hand up and down, stroke it. Good girl.”

Steve leaned back on his elbows, “Now, put your mouth around me. Get it wet.”

You started with your tongue, tasting his tip and licking around it. Although his size was intimidating, you felt your desire increasing, “Let me see those eyes, Y/N,” You felt your cheeks heat up but you did your best. As you took him fully in your mouth, it was easier to tell what he liked by the expressions on his face.

With every praise from his lips, you were even more enthusiastic and even more wet than before. You went faster, using both hands and your mouth to pleasure your Alpha. Steve’s head tilted back suddenly, “Wait, Y/N,” It was the most desperate his voice had sounded, “Wait-”

You knew you were sending him over the edge, and despite the fact that you were meant to let him guide you, you needed to fully taste him. Steve finished in your mouth and you weren’t hesitant to taste him or swallow it. Sitting back on your own knees, a smile formed on your lips, as some of his cum dripped down your chin. Steve was smirking evilly as he admired you, “Don’t you think for one second that this means we’re done.”

Still breathing heavily, Steve grabbed you, pulling you in before pinning you beneath him, “I’ll be ready again soon,” He said, “In the meantime, I’m gonna taste you until you're begging me to stop.”

Later

The neighborhood you and Steve lived in was military housing for Fort Meade. Like Steve had said, being a good girl had its privileges. Guarded by several armed men, Steve showed you around the base, even allowing you to meet some of the military wives that lived in your cul de sac. Surprisingly, other than the giant planes and huge tanks, the location was quite boring. There were only a few activities servicemen could do for entertainment and one of them was bingo at the community center.

You didn’t win your game but Steve promised to bring you back, surprised by how entertaining you found it.

Steve was right about Maria Hill. There was really nothing she could do. You could still tell the woman was genuine and wanted to help you. Part of you wasn’t really listening as she began to list the politicians and people she was in contact with. Maybe you’d become weaker but what Steve said earlier in the week was still sitting with you. Maybe you didn’t truly know what the world was. Maybe he was the best thing for you.

“Y/N, what are you most excited about when it comes to your future?”

The woman in front of you seemed disappointed when she met you at first, probably because you didn’t gush over her or know exactly how popular she was. Steve had only told you the name of her show thirty minutes before she walked into your house. There was an entire TV crew inside and several cameras pointed at you currently.

“Traveling,” You answered truthfully, your hands neatly folded in your lap, over your white dress. Steve was dressed nicely as well because you were meant to do a full photoshoot after the interview. The interview would air and you and Steve would be plastered on magazine covers soon afterwards, “With Captain Rogers,” You added.

“There’s so much Y/N hasn’t seen and I know the people of the world want to meet her. People are losing faith in the ranking system and we’re proof that it’s still alive and well. It’s a special thing we have to preserve,” Steve said in his much more detailed and eloquent answer. If you looked past the interviewer, you could see a monitor showing exactly what the camera was seeing. Steve was so much larger than you that you were afraid it might appear that you were sinking into the couch beneath you.

You suddenly felt insignificant despite the words he was saying.

“How long do you guys plan on traveling?”

“Only a few months. We want to make sure everything is perfectly safe for Y/N,” You felt a hand on your waist, snaking around your hips, and you were reminded of where you were, “Fortunately, we have a good excuse.”

“I know you guys have breaking news,” The reporter smiled so wide you were sure she was going to hurt herself, “Y/N, is there something you would like to announce?”

Steve looked at you and the air in the room seemed to thicken. Your lips parted but no words left. You hadn’t completely wrapped your mind around the news and yet you were still announcing it to the entire world. Steve was patient and seemed to notice your hesitancy.

“We’re expecting,” Steve announced instead, “She’s three months along…”

In that moment, as you began to tune the rest of the conversation out, you realized that you were trusting Steve not only with your life but with the life of the baby inside you. By the time the interview was over, you were back on earth, with an adoring Steve holding you to him. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, one of his hands roaming on your belly, “You were perfect, honey. Perfect.”

The anxiety left you at his words. You leaned into his touch, your body knowing that when you were good for him, everything in your world was good too.

#dark fic #omega!reader #alpha!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #mcu smut #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega AU #alpha!bucky barnes #black!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #dark fics

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zirawrites · 1 year

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What do you think would be each Romanced!Companions + Gage biggest parenting screw up when it comes to raising Synth Shaun? Nothing traumatic, just those funny cringy “Yeah I screwed up” moments.

Cait:

As someone who grew up with severely abusive parents, Cait is an awkward mixture of��“fun mom” and overbearing guardian

She spoils Shaun with toys and gadgets she finds on trips

However, she isn’t sure how to discipline him; fearing she’ll come off too much like her own folks, but also afraid if Shaun doesn’t learn any lessons that he’ll become prey in the Commonwealth

Since Cait realizes she doesn’t have it in her to ever punish Shaun, she decides to toughen him up and teach him to fight. Even though he looks ridiculous, Cait pads Shaun up with plenty of protective gear before teaching him to spar.

As she’s explaining how to block, Shaun mishears and thinks Cait asked him to punch. He hits her directly in the eye. She doubles over as he bursts into tears apologizing.

But Cait isn’t upset; she’s laughing. He gave her a black eye that’d make any veteran of the Combat Zone proud.

Cait and Shaun agree to tell Sole that Cait got it in a skirmish with raiders.

Next time Cait and Shaun step in the ring, Shaun suggests she wear protective gear. Cait wasn’t laughing then.

Codsworth (synth):

Shaun falls and scrapes his knee? Codsworth is spooling his entire leg in gauze. Shaun gets stung by an insect? Codsworth is holding him down to administer three stimpacks. Shaun and MacCready have a burping contest? Codsworth is making up a diet plan for Shaun to combat possible indigestion.

He’s the definition of a helicopter mom

“I waited over 200 years for your return, young master. I’m not about to lose you to the common cold!”

Sole finally draws the line when Codsworth wouldn’t let Shaun play in a light drizzle, claiming it was the “gateway to a full-blown radstorm”.

Unless one of Shaun’s limbs are literally hanging off his body, Codsworth is now only allowed to administer light first aid.

Even if he really wants to force Shaun on bedrest after falling off his bike.

Curie:

Curie is constantly assuring Shaun that knowledge is just as important as strength when navigating the Commonwealth

It’s hard for Shaun to believe when he hangs around the likes of Cait and MacCready all day

“Just because Monsieur MacCready lived in a cave does not mean you need to act like you do, too.”

Sometimes she takes his education too seriously. Curie makes up tests and lesson plans on everything from calculus to marine science.

Curie finally admits she is going too far when she unironically asked Shaun to name every pre-war state capitol.

To let him get silly revenge, Curie allows Shaun to make his own pop quiz for her to take. It’s filled with questions like “who was the most popular villain in Grognak the Barbarian?” and “what is my favorite flavor of Nuka Cola?”

She answers them all correctly :)

Danse:

Danse knows the best soldier is one who is prepared. That’s why -- against Sole’s absolute disagreement -- he takes Shaun on a routine patrol with other Brotherhood members.

Danse turned his back for just a moment, and Shaun slipped over debris and slid down a startlingly steep hill.

Danse literally shrieked as he watched Shaun’s little head disappear down the incline.

He went charging after Shaun on instinct, slipping on the same debris and falling flat on his ass.

When he reached the bottom of the hill, he quickly checked Shaun for injuries. When it was clear the boy was unharmed, Danse shook his head, face red with embarrassment.

“Lets head back to the Prydwyn,” he mumbled. “Don’t tell your father/mother about this. Now hurry. Sole packed us a really nice lunch.”

Deacon

Deacon had always wanted to be a father. When he was married to Barbara, he read every pre-war parenting book he could find.

However, the sterile pages of “make sure to speak gently but firmly” and “check your baby has reached certain developmental milestones per year” never covered what to do when you adopt the synth child of an Institute genius.

Shaun was constantly building (and blowing up) contraptions. Wiring strange blinking inventions. Asking Deacon to find textbooks on physiology and number theory.

Deacon’s biggest fault was giving into every whimsical request Shaun made of him. He was the first one to volunteer for Shaun’s whacky science experiments. Filled Shaun’s bookshelves with salvage from pre-war classrooms and hospitals. Let Shaun paint his face with weird ink the kid claimed would turn him invisible.

(The paint didn’t work. Deacon broke out in hives.)

He could just never tell the boy no. And he never would. Shaun was the son he always wanted.

Gage:

“Well shit, boy. Of course you got hurt. What’dya think would happen playing on a scrapheap?”

Gage was a loving parent, but also a blunt one. He was just as quick to point out Shaun’s strengths as he was the kid’s youthful stupidity.

Gage called it “tough love”. Sole said it was “asshole advice”.

He just didn’t want Shaun growing up in a way that wouldn’t teach him to defend himself. Even if that defense was against sarcasm.

Shaun is jumping on the couch when Gage enters his room, startling him. In Shaun’s panic, he falls to the floor and twists his ankle.

“Ya can’t jump on the damn furniture and not expect to --” Gage had barely started his lecture when Shaun burst into tears. The boy started babbling about always being a disappointment and never doing anything right.

Gage fell to his knees next to Shaun, his own face twisted in pain.

“No, no! Shaun, that ain’t what I meant, son. You’re smart and creative and all that wonderful shit. Please don’t cry! Here...” Gage took off the armor over his torso and flexed his arm. “Punch me hard as you can. Then we’re even.”

Shaun’s sobs turned to sniveled giggling. “Are you trying to get me to stop crying before dad/mom finds out? Afraid we’re gonna get grounded?”

Gage laughed heartily. What had he been thinking?! Shaun was his son, not a little brother who needed to feel equal.

“Your damn right,” Gage lied, smiling. “‘Cause if Sole won’t let us read past bedtime after this I’m blame’n you, kiddo.”

Hancock

Don’t judge Hancock’s parenting skills. Not many could raise a boy in a neighborhood known for its lack of goodness. Despite its name.

He was a hands-off parent. Hancock observed Shaun from afar, of course. But he wanted Shaun to make his own mistakes. Find his passions without any authority nudging him in a certain direction.

That all changed when he caught Shaun smoking a cigarette in his room. Hancock acted like the kid was snorting buffout.

“We raised you better than this, Shaun!” Hancock snatched the cigarette from Shaun’s mouth and stomped on it. “This stuff’ll kill you! You think smoking is cool? You wanna impress the ladies? Get a good head on your shoulders. Do something with your life. That’s how you get status. Not...” He gestured exasperatedly around them. “...drugs!”

Shaun bust out laughing. “You gave me a pack last night, Hancock. When you and dad/mom came back from the Third Rail. You were going on about me finally being a man and if I was going to do something reckless might as well do it in the house.”

Hancock was speechless.

“And you were, like, totally high,” Shaun added.

[Hancock disapproves... of himself]

MacCready:

MacCready is a family man. He loves Shaun like his own flesh-and-blood.

He’d do anything for the kid. Storm the Glowing Sea. Infiltrate an Institute 2.0. Join the damn Brotherhood of Steel if needed.

And MacCready shows it. He is the one who teaches Shaun to shoot his first gun, ride a bike and change the radio station by shooting a rubber band.

Which is why it is shocking every time........ MacCready calls Shaun by the wrong name.

“Hey Duncan! Shoot, I mean Dogmeat! Darn it. Codsworth! Um, no. Shaun!”

It’s a classic dad move to call your kid the dog’s name.

It’s an advanced dad move to call your kid after your partner’s Mr. Handy.

Shaun is always flustered but laughing. “Did you call me every person’s name in this house but my own?”

“Can it. And, um, please bring me a rubber band so I can change the station.”

Preston:

Preston was happy to teach Shaun to shoot a gun or repair a generator. There were plenty of mundane tasks and skills that needed mastered to survive in the Commonwealth.

It was the growing-up talks Preston needed to have with him that were the hardest.

He rather help Shaun scrub the entire Castle with a toothbrush than explain where babies come from.

Preston wasn’t some delicate wallflower. He hadn’t survived so long in the Commonwealth by being overly-sensitive.

But there was something about answering questions about bodily functions and puberty that twisted his stomach.

“Well, you see Shaun...” Preston coughed. “When a mommy and a... you know, when a...”

Shaun blinked. “When a mommy and a who do what?”

“Can’t you just ask Sole?”

Piper

The woman who profits off her kid sister’s labor is not the most ethical of mothers.

Piper lets Shaun get away with far more than he should, and pushes him further than he sometimes wants to go.

She doesn’t understand why Sole won’t let him get a part-time job at the water treatment plant.

“When I was his age I was cleaning chimneys and bartering with caravans!”

Piper encourages Shaun to work hard, and so when Sole deems most jobs in Diamond City too dangerous, she lets him sell papers with Nat.

Unfortunately, Shaun is garbage at it. He’s more occupied with pointing out Piper’s typos than actually advertising.

Piper eventually drops the whole “child labor” thing and allows him to be more of a kid. She knows he deserves a break after all he’s been through.

Nick:

As someone who has encountered many cases of missing children, Nick can be a little overbearing.

He’s adamant about enforcing curfew and knowing exactly which friends Shaun hangs out with.

However, he struggles to understand Shaun’s youthful desire to be “normal”

“One of your parents is a gen-2 synth detective and the other is a pre-war popsicle, Shaun. You were never going to be boring, that’s for sure.”

He really tries to make Shaun feel like a regular kid. Nick introduces him to crime noir comics and a respectable wardrobe. Even if Shaun feels like an outsider, the kid has developed excellent taste.

X6-88

Coursers were designed for killing. Not parenthood.

X6 tries his best to be a sensitive father. He listens to Shaun’s problems and, only when asked, offers solutions.

He even researches games Shaun might like to play, just so they could experience some traditional pre-war father-son bonding.

However, Sole banned sports in the house. An errant baseball through a window could be blamed for that.

X6′s biggest mistake was trying to impress Shaun. He didn’t realize Shaun loved him unconditionally. Coursers only knew the value of usefulness. If he wasn’t actively showing his worth as a father, he felt like he was failing.

Shaun finally begs X6 to stop his constant posturing. “I don’t love you because you give me toys and take me on cool trips,” Shaun explained. “I love you because you’re my dad.”

X6 felt like Father of Shaun was a better title than even Father of the Institute.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 reactions #i forgot this was romanced for a sec and added codsworth so this'll be him as a synth #which is still one of my favorite AUs and im dying to write it #each reaction got more crack the harder my sleeping pills hit #hancock #danse #maccready #nick valentine #fallout 4 piper #fallout 4 cait #fallout 4 curie #fallout 4 deacon #codsworth #fallout 4 gage #x6-88 #preston garvey #babbiebooc

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