#but i wanted to make this tribute so badly

[millionsknives]

*starts listening to the thg playlist*

augh -1 health

oof -1 health

ugh! -1 health

mmf -1 health

ugh! -1 health

augh -1 health

etc

GOOD that’s the effect i wanted >:)

[musical-chick-13]

I want to sing through some Weird Emotions, which has the effect of me wanting to share art, but also no one perceive me ever.

[strwberri-milk]

Oh I have one how about LaDS men reacting to reader having a some hidden tattoos or piercings that are usually covered up by her clothes. It would be even better if the tattoos or piercing is a tribute to the men.

im making the tribute after theyre in a committed relationship bc like. idk it just fit better in my head lolol i want to get tattoos so badly buti cannot afford to be kicked out of my home in this economy

Zayne doesn't know about your tattoos until the first time you have to remove some clothing for a physical. He didn't exactly expect it from you but that doesn't mean he hates them - he'll ask if any of them have meaning and if you want to get any more. If you get a tattoo that honors him he'd be extremely flattered, telling you that you didn't have to go that for for him.

Xavier doesn't see it until you come over to his place dressed for the heat. The ink on your skin befuddles him and he asks a little about the process - how it felt, if it hurt a lot, etc. He's very curious and if you show him a tattoo you got for him he'd think about it all the time honestly. Sometimes he wants to ask you to show him but he doesn't for fear of weirding you out.

Rafayel loves all your tattoos. He's been wanting to get a sleeve himself or something of the sort but since he can't commit he decides that it's enough for him to just buy markers and create semi-permanent tattoos. You end up taking one of the drawings he made for you and tattoo it onto yourself, Rafayel constantly looking at it and telling you that you should let him design more for you.

Sylus loves your tattoos as well, tracing his fingers over your skin when he holds you and telling you maybe he should get one himself. He likes the idea of getting one that honors you as well but you beat him to the punch, lifting your clothes to show it to him. He gets a little softer, not expecting you to have warmed up to him so much to the point of committing something about him on yourself permanently.

[p0orbaby]

Take One for the Team

summary: you and alexia are in a secret relationship

warnings: talks of sex

a/n: i volunteer as tribute

word count: 1.1k

-

Alexia's been on a warpath for a week now. You can tell because she's more vocal than usual about everyone else's inadequacies, and that's saying something. Today, she's pacing around the changing room like a caged lioness, ranting about the “abysmal” performance during training. You’re pretty sure she’s the only one who noticed anyone playing badly. The rest of the team looks at each other like, “What the hell is she talking about?”

To be fair, she's not entirely wrong. Someone did manage to miss an open goal from three yards out, but the way she's going on, you'd think that someone also insulted her grandmother and keyed her car.

In one particularly low moment, she accuses Ona of “running like she’s towing a tractor.” Ona’s response is to half-heartedly flip her off, which might’ve made Alexia angrier, but she’s already storming off to harass someone else.

You’re trying to stay under the radar because you’ve already received your daily dose of Alexia’s wrath earlier when you suggested—very helpfully, you thought—that she might want to “relax her shoulders a little.” You even demonstrated a quick shoulder roll for her. In response, she gave you a stare so cold you’re surprised you didn’t get frostbite on the spot.

So, you’re sitting on the bench, quietly tying your shoelaces and pretending you’re anywhere but here, when Aitana slides in next to you. She doesn’t say anything at first, just sighs dramatically and starts fiddling with a pretend loose thread on her shorts.

“Do you think she’s always like this?” Aitana asks eventually. “I mean, off the pitch. Like, what’s her problem?”

You shrug because what else can you do? You can’t exactly explain to Aitana that Alexia’s been on edge because you stole the last of her favorite cereal this morning and refused to apologise. In your defense, it was your cereal. But Alexia can hold a grudge like nobody’s business, and you’re pretty sure that’s why she’s been lashing out at everyone.

Still, you’re not about to say that out loud. You like your life the way it is, uncomplicated by having your secret relationship exposed by a rogue comment about breakfast food.

The others start to gather around, sensing a potential gossip session. The changing room is like that, everyone gravitating toward any sign of drama, like moths to a flame. Irene joins in, wiping sweat off her forehead with her shirt and making it clear she’s had enough of Alexia’s mood swings.

“She needs to get laid,” she declares, completely deadpan.

You almost choke on your own saliva, trying to play it cool while swallowing your surprise. The rest of the team nods in agreement, as if this is the most reasonable suggestion anyone has made in days. You, meanwhile, are caught between wanting to laugh and desperately trying not to give yourself away.

“She probably hasn’t gotten any in weeks,” Cata adds with a knowing smirk, like she’s an expert in Alexia’s sex life. Or her supposed lack thereof.

Mapi grins like she’s just figured out how to solve world hunger. “We need to volunteer someone”

Oh no. No, no, no. You can see where this is going, and you’re about to make a break for it when, Patri, Irene, and Mapi all turn to you simultaneously, their eyes practically gleaming with mischief.

“You should do it,” Patri says, pointing a finger at you like she’s accusing you of a crime.

You blink at her, feigning innocence. “Why me?”

Irene shrugs. “Why not? You’re like... the calmest person here. You can handle her”

Ingrid’s eyes narrow in on you, and she tilts her head. “Plus, you’re not bad-looking”

“I appreciate the backhanded compliment,” you say dryly, glancing at the door, wondering if you can make a run for it before they start making detailed plans. “But why would I want to-”

“Take one for the team!” Mapi interrupts, practically cackling. The others join in, laughing like they’ve just solved a great mystery. “It’s a win-win. She gets laid, and we don’t have to deal with her bullshit for at least a day”

You have to admit, it’s a decent plan. If you weren’t already sleeping with Alexia, that is. But they don’t know that, and you can’t exactly tell them without revealing your secret, which would definitely make things awkward.

You open your mouth to object, but Ona cuts you off. “It’s perfect. You’ve got that whole mysterious vibe. She’ll be into it”

“You think she’ll be into it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Marta grins. “She might kill you first, but that’s a risk we’re willing to take”

They all laugh, and you can’t help but smirk. They have no idea how much Alexia is “into it,” but you’re not about to spill the beans now.

“Fine,” you say with a dramatic sigh, pretending to mull it over. “I’ll do it. For the team”

Irene pats you on the back like you’re about to go off to war. “Good luck, soldier. You’re going to need it”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you deadpan, but they’re already high-fiving each other, congratulating themselves on their brilliant scheme.

-

Later, when you finally get Alexia alone, she’s still fuming, muttering something about people not taking the game seriously. You’re not really paying attention, though, because you’re still stuck on what the team said earlier. You can’t help but laugh when you think about it, which only makes Alexia glare at you more.

“What’s so funny?” she snaps, crossing her arms.

You shake your head, still grinning. “Nothing. Just thinking about how you’re really wound up lately”

Her eyes narrow, and she takes a step closer, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “And?”

“And,” you say, dropping your voice to a low murmur as you pull her in by the waist, “the team thinks you need to get laid”

Alexia blinks at you, her expression shifting from anger to surprise, and then she lets out a laugh, genuine and loud, like she hasn’t in days. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, nuzzling her neck as she relaxes in your arms. “They volunteered me. Said I should take one for the team”

Alexia pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, her mouth curving into a wicked smile. “You told them we’ve been doing that for months now?”

“Nah,” you say, shaking your head. “Figured I’d let them keep thinking they’re the geniuses”

She laughs again, shaking her head in disbelief, then leans in to kiss you, her lips warm and soft against yours. When she pulls back, she looks a lot less stressed than she did before, which you consider a job well done.

“Think I’ll have to thank them later,” she murmurs, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

You smirk, tilting your head playfully. “You mean thank me?”

Alexia’s eyes glint with that same dangerous edge from before, but this time it’s paired with a smirk that promises nothing but trouble. “I already do, don’t I?”

You can’t argue with that. And for once, neither can the team.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Thanks to my dad for filming this awesome, super hot send off to my breasts, which are getting removed today! Gotta make them nice and clean for the med students at the University of Charleston! I wouldn't want them to be all sweaty and gross after I masturbated all morning picturing my big gorgeous tits getting picked apart for someone's college assignment. Why am I losing my boobs, you may ask? Well, I got a letter in the mail last week saying that my breasts were the ideal size to be worked on by students at this University.

I kept getting surveys on my social media about my bra size and overall satisfaction with my breasts, and if I was worried they might 'be cancerous'. I have big boobs so stuff like this is common. I always answered honestly, I'm a HH-Cup and growing, that I like my breasts but feel they're probably too large, and that I'm very worried they probably have cancerous growths. Like why else are they so big???? That's what my doctor kept telling me anyway, that they're highly likely to be 'acutely cancerous'. Random men stop me when I'm out jogging and offer to give me breast exams because my boobs are so big it's concerning to them, I guess. They really grab and squeeze my boobs until they ache but I know they're professionals and know what they're doing, they tell me they're medical specialists or surgeons and a lot of them politely offer to escort me to their clinic or house to remove my breasts because they can feel 'all kinds of cysts and tumors in them'. I don't feel any lumps but they're the experts. I always politely decline...... until now, anyway.

The letter was really official looking and says I've been selected because of my untreated condition and it's irresponsible not to have my cancerous growths removed, which is what the letter calls my boobs. I called and they set up the appointment. My breasts are to be removed in front of an auditorium, the procedure being judged by the students' professor of surgery. So I called the university and they said they find candidates based on surveys like the ones I took on Instagram and TikTok. Apparently my videos are getting shared in various medical groups where surgeons make comments about how badly they want to remove my breasts and how they'd do anything to bring me to their shed or basement and remove them, don't know why they don't say clinic, I guess these surgeons work from home, maybe? But seeing their comments was such a wake up call about how badly I need to do this! They seem so eager to help me lose my 'cancer bags' as they put it. I always thought my breasts were sexy but they find them gross and unhealthy, I guess.....

So, I don't have much choice. I'll be detained if I don't fulfill my appointment with the University, it says in the letter, and the lady at the desk in the University said the same thing. I could go to jail for denying the students their ability to complete their project, and I could be fined on top of jail time. So I need to finally stop being so selfish by keeping these big bouncy tumor sacks of mine and let these students dismantle them for their big project. A bunch of other girls were picked so I won't be alone. It'll be kinda nice watching them go through the same thing and get their boobs taken apart and tossed in the trash. Only trouble is now that I got picked I'm getting a bunch more surveys..... some are asking if I'm satisfied with my clit, if I feel like I need to masturbate too frequently, and if I'd be willing to try out having it removed someday...... Other surveys are asking all kinds of other questions, about my limbs, even my uterus! I dunno..... daddy just says to answer honestly and he'll happily stand by me no matter what and film more before/after vids and tributes to whatever the university needs my body for....."

[bearambles]

sober (haymitch a.)

words: 3.9k

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f + m receiving) , teasing (?), too much plot 😭

notes: this is so late! i am so sorry to whoever requested, i got super busy and couldn’t post it the day i planned. also, this is my first ever smut! so i am sorry if this is terrible, i’ll get better over time. enjoy!

_

The party lasted hours. Your feet hurt, your stomach is churning, and your head pounds. You've never wanted your district bed more than now. This place reeks of wealth and lies.

Unfortunately, skipping these monthly events would anger Snow. He already dislikes you and your district, so you have to do whatever it takes to please him. If that means enduring long nights of drinking and throwing up, so be it. It's better than death, you suppose.

There's only one other District 12 victor here with you, and he disappeared halfway through the night. Haymitch, despite being a good friend and your former mentor, is possibly the worst person to rely on in these social situations. He's been sitting at the bar for who knows how long, drinking who knows how much. It's only when the host literally announces it's time to leave that you find him, slumped over the counter on a stool.

"Haymitch? Come on, we have to go," you urge, shaking his shoulders.

"What? No, let me stay. I'm sleeping," he mumbles.

"You're not sleeping. You're fine. Here, I have one of those drinks that make you throw up. It'll sober you up enough to say goodbyes," you say, handing him the glass. He pushes it back towards you without even looking up.

"I don't want that Capitol shit."

"This Capitol shit will help you a lot right now. Haymitch, get up!" You push his head to the side so you can see his face. He opens his eyes to look at you.

He's only in his late twenties, but his eyes seem older. He looks as rough as he acts. His hair is too long, and his beard is starting to come in slightly, despite him saying he'd groom himself for this occasion. Still, he looks handsome. Not that it matters; his current state reflects his antisocial night.

"Please. I'm trying to keep us out of trouble. You've been alone all night. At least come say goodbye to people with me. Then we can go home, okay?"

If harshness isn’t working, you'll try being soft with him. Sometimes, just sometimes, it works. It seems to today.

He sighs and sits up, steadying himself with his palms flat on the counter. He reaches for the purple liquid and swallows it like a shot, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing.

"Okay, I'll be back then," he says, going off to throw up.

You nod and take a seat on the stool next to where he was sitting, waiting. You can't help but feel guilty. You should have stayed with him longer that night before he went off on his own. You knew he'd go drinking, but you didn’t know it would get this bad.

Since you've known Haymitch, he's had a bit of a drinking problem. Mostly under control when he mentored you—never more than tipsy. But in recent years, as more of his tributes lost the Games, it's gotten worse. It's weighing on him, you can tell. You want to help so badly.

"Okay, let's go," he says, returning a few minutes later, running his fingers through his hair. He's clearly sobered up a bit, maybe even washed his face. His breath smells of mint.

The host and his wife are among about a dozen people remaining by the time you leave the bar and walk to the main room together. Nonetheless, you both put on a show, shaking hands and smiling, thanking them endlessly. You never know who's watching, present or otherwise.

As you make your rounds to the last few victors, Haymitch latches his arm closely with yours. The move surprises you; you realize he hasn't been this physical in a while. It seems to come with sobriety or maybe just part of the Capitol's show. Together, you almost look like a couple. It's odd.

When you leave through the doors, he doesn't let go of your arm. It's a cold night, and you shiver, but the warmth of his body next to yours feels weirdly nice.

"Thank you," you say, looking up at him on the train ride home.

"For what?" he asks, furrowing his brows.

"For taking the glass. I know you hate that stuff, but—"

"But I need to get sober," he says, looking away from you into the distance.

"I didn't say that, but it's nice when you are. I mean, it's helpful with the image when you aren't stumbling around—"

He detaches his arm from yours.

"So I shouldn't drink because the President said so?"

"He didn't say so, Haymitch. I'm saying so. You shouldn't drink because I say so."

"And why's that?"

"Because I like you better like this."

He goes quiet, then looks down at his feet, his hair falling in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, it's harder than it looks, sweetheart."

"I know that. I'm sorry," you say softly.

The rest of the ride is quiet. It's just the two of you on the train, and any sound you make seems to echo for ages. Neither of you wants to speak; too much is unsaid.

You care about him; you know that. You just aren't sure how. Though it seems increasingly clear to you in moments like this when all you want to do is tuck his hair behind his ear and kiss him softly. You have no idea how he'd feel about that, though. You have no idea how he feels most of the time.

In fact, just then, it's the first time he's seemed to feel bad about his drinking. And it doesn't seem like he cares about his health or the Capitol's opinion on his image. It seems like he feels bad for disappointing you.

When the train stops, you both get out, him first, then you. He offers his hand as you step down, and you take it with a slight smile. His hands are cold, as is the night.

Your houses are directly next to each other in Victor's Village, making the walk there excruciatingly awkward. You can't tell what he's thinking, or if he's thinking at all. Finally, after what feels like an hour, he speaks.

"That stuff is really nasty, you know that?" he says.

You look up at him. "The purging stuff?"

"No, the desserts they were serving," he says, rolling his eyes and bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah, the purging stuff."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You're right. What you said and stuff. That's all right. You're right."

You smile and look up at him. He looks back at you and smiles softly, then looks away. He clearly hates to admit it.

"Don't be cocky about it, though. And don't expect me to stop. It's not that easy."

"I don't. I just like you like this."

"Yeah, you mentioned that. What do you mean?"

You've reached your house, and he stops in front of your door, feet planted. He looks down at you with a questioning gaze, and his blue eyes seem to dart across your face. Your cheeks flush. You have no idea what to respond.

"You know, just... sober," you say, looking away.

"No, I know, but the 'like' part. What do you mean? Because you got all shy when you said it," he says, swaying a bit where he stands, impatiently waiting for a response.

"I don't know," you say quietly.

"You don't know?"

"No. I think we should go to sleep. You should go to sleep. No more drinks. At least wait until tomorrow."

You try to push past him to your door, but he takes both hands out of his pockets and gently shoves your shoulders back. Not hard, but enough to make you stumble. He gazes down at you and steps forward, closing the space between you.

"Whoa, you're so eager all of a sudden. Look at me," he says, tilting your head up with a hand under your chin. "Why are you so embarrassed?"

"I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. You like me?"

"Haymitch, stop. You're—" You stop, tears pricking at your eyes. He's teasing you, you're sure of it. The last thing you want is for him to figure out your feelings. Not after he's been your mentor, not after he's seen you at your worst, after he's been your friend (?) for this long. It doesn't make sense. You know that. And he knows that, most definitely. That's why you're sure he doesn't feel that way towards you. He can't.

"You're crying. I thought you were all tough?" he says.

He's right. You were tough. Crying makes you weak. You hate talking like this. So honestly.

"Stop it," you jerk away from his hand, which had crept up to your cheek. "Go to bed."

But you don't take a step forward, don't shove past him again. You just stand there, your breath heavy, looking away. He gazes at you like he's seeing you for the first time, his eyes darting from your eyes to your mouth to your body.

"I don't want to. I want to talk to you," he finally says.

"About what?" you say, still looking away.

"Us," he says softly.

"What about us?"

He takes a step forward.

"Come on, sweetheart. You're so good to me. Take care of me. Trust in me. Give me hope."

Your breathing speeds up as you feel his hand stoke your arm gently up and down as he speaks. You’d always been cautious of his words, so used to his drunken thoughts being untrustworthy and sometimes cruel. But this feels honest. Real.

“I know you feel something.” he says as you lift your head to look back at him. “You might not know what. I don’t know either. But c’mon.” 

He starts to lean closer and your eyes drift closed. Before you can even register, his lips are on yours, and you’re kissing back. Your hands hold his elbows and his hold your face. 

His mouth tastes of the mouthwash from the capitol washrooms. He’s so slow with you, like he’s trying not to scare you. You aren’t sure if he possibly could. 

Suddenly you pull away. 

“What’s wrong?” Haymitch asks, his eyes wide.

“We should go inside.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” He registers quickly what you mean. 

All along the village are cameras for the capitol to see what goes on. Although it’s unlikely you’d get in much trouble for a kiss, you never knew what would land you a meeting with snow. Or just become the talk of the next victor event. 

You push past him and unlock your door quickly, before turning back to him, motioning for him to come inside. By the time you close the door, he’s kissing you again, this time the careful act gone. He catches your lips and kisses you like his life depended on it. It’s messy and wet and you’re so turned on it’s insane. 

His hands both reach down to hold yours, and he pushes them up against the door. The motion catches you by surprise and you moan softly into his mouth. He hears you and holds down tighter on your wrists, just enough to feel but not to hurt. 

His knee starts to spread your legs apart slowly as he kisses down your neck, and you let his name slip from your mouth.

“Haymitch~”

He stops to look at you.

“Yeah? You like this?” He sounds like he’s genuinely asking. Like he needs to know. 

You nod, your brain already fuzzy. 

“Okay. Okay.” He sounds out of breath but resumes 

his task, getting down to your collarbone. 

Hes rough with his kisses when he’s below where any marks would be seen. As he unbuttons your shirt, he looks at you, smiling like an idiot. It hits you then that he seems to have wanted this as badly as you all along. He leans in to leave a soft kiss on your lips before pulling your sleeves off your arms and throwing your top to the floor. 

“Jesus…” He mutters as he looks down at your tits. 

You reach behind you to unhook your bra, and let it all forward and land next to your shirt. 

“Holy fuck.” 

You laugh quietly at his words. He looks up at you in awe and with a look of asking as he creeps his hands from your waist up to your chest. You nod and let out a sharp breath when his cold hands hold your tits and knead them slowly. 

You wonder then if he’d ever done this with a woman before. He was younger than you when he won, so probably not before the games. And after…he’d never really seemed the type. But then again, he was attractive and still young, so you couldn’t be sure. 

Besides him, you’d only been with one or two boys from district before you were reaped. They were, however, nothing like this. 

He takes one nipple between his thumb and pointer, pinching slightly. Between the pressure and his cold hands, you let out a noise of surprise and pleasure. 

“Does that hurt?” He asks

“No, just…it’s a lot.” You say through deep breaths. “K-keep going.”

He smiles and does the same with the other, and your hips jut forward slightly in reaction. He doesn’t notice, which you’re grateful for. You’re so eager it’s embarrassing. Every touch makes your stomach flip and your underwear wetter. 

Slowly he starts to kiss down from your collarbones to your chest and takes a breast in his mouth. He looks up at you as he sucks softly, his tongue swirling your nipple. His big eyes looking into yours makes you feel like you could cum then and there. you let out a moan instead. 

He plays with your breasts for a while longer before they’re nice and covered in both his spit and dark, red marks. He knew what he was doing, putting them where nobody could see. you thought of changing in front of a mirror days to come, just looking at them. Knowing it was from him. sober. He wants this. 

He gets to his knees before you can stop him, and begins to pull down your skirt. 

You’re left in your underwear, your slick having left a clear spot in the front. You turn your head in embarrassment as he touches up your thighs and leaves open mouth kisses. 

“All this from that, huh?” he asks, laughing softly 

“Shut up.” you mutter into your hand. 

“You want me to stop?” he asks, his fingers hooked under the sides of your panties. 

“N-no.”

“What was that sweetheart? C’mon, look at me.”

“Don’t stop.” you say, clearer now, making eye contact as he kneels in front of your pussy. You couldn’t be more vulnerable, and yet, you trust him with every inch of your being. 

He looks back at your core for a moment before licking a stripe up the thin fabric. You curse quietly and he pulls them down, the air hitting your heat before his tongue does. But when it does…

He laps at you like he’d wanted to for years, which you’re now sure that he has. The urgency makes your legs buckle and he uses both hands against your knees to hold them open. He switches between your folds and your clit, paying attention to both. Every so often he stops and just admires. 

At some point haymitch sucks at your clit, and your hands fly to his hair, pulling slightly. 

He lets out a groan of surprise against your core.

“Sorry, sorry…” you mutter, loosening your grip. 

“No, keep going, I like it.” he says, stopping to look up at you, his eyes nearly glazed over in bliss. 

You resume your hold on his head and tug as he continues. Between his lips and his tongue, you’re  overwhelmed. before you know it, you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. 

“Stop…stop…” you manage in between moans. 

He gives you one last kiss to your clit before standing up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“You okay?” 

“Just don’t wanna finish yet.” you say without thinking, before getting flushed. Even after all that, you couldn’t believe you were speaking to him like this. Haymitch. 

He smiles lazily and goes in to kiss you again, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It should repulse you, but instead, it turns you on more. He's so happy right now, and it’s so hot. 

“Do you wanna go to my bed?” you ask him when you get a breath, his forehead resting against yours. 

He picks you up and carries you. 

Haymitch knows your house as well as his from all the press training, meetings, and late night conversations you’ve had there. He practically lives with you at this point (Besides the sleeping over part. Usually. Unless he’d passed out.) 

He drops you on your mattress and pulls off his own shirt in one motion. Your breath is caught in your throat. 

You knew he was in shape, at least he was when he had mentored you all those years ago. But even now, behind the big shirts he wears and raggedy jackets, soft abs trace his stomach. His arms as big as your thighs. No wonder the pressure on your neck felt so nice. 

He sees you staring and smiles, leaning down to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“You gonna say anything, pretty girl?” 

You try, but you find no words. Instead, you kiss him, and slowly trail your hands down his chest. you can feel raised scars and for a moment, remember what he’s been through. What you both have been through. 

You reach his belt and whisper into his mouth, 

“Can i?”

He nods against your forehead and you start to undo it, throwing it to the side. You pull his pants down with urgency and run your palm against his boxers. 

He lets out a noise you’ve never heard him make before, a mix between a whimper and a moan. You smile and start to palm him faster, before taking him out of his underwear and looking between you at his length. 

He’s bigger than you expect, and definitely bigger than the boys you’ve been with before. A solid seven inches and thick. Your eyes can’t look away and your breath rises and falls. 

He takes your hand softly into his and guides it to his length. He looks up at you as he does, searching for any hesitation in your eyes. Instead, you look up at him before flipping you both over quickly, so you sit on his thighs. 

He’s strong, but so are you, and he doesn’t resist as you take charge over him. He does, however, look a bit surprised, and reaches to hold your hand again. You take it and kiss it, which he smiles at. Then, you lean down, and let a glob of spit dribble from your mouth to his cock. 

“Jesus christ…” he mutters, as you use your free hand to pump up and down. “When did you…fuck…feels so good sweetheart”

You smile and take him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down quickly. His other hand still holding yours, he grips at your hair (much gentler than you did his) and makes a make-shift ponytail so he can see your pretty face. 

Despite the view, his eyes flutter shut in pleasure, and your pace quickens. You feel him pulse inside your mouth and you’re sure he’s about to cum. 

You take him as deep as you can before pulling off, leaving his cock hard as a rock and covered in your saliva. You admire your work for a moment before he reaches forward and pulls you on top of him by your hips so you’re right against his chest. 

“C’mere” he moans, fucked out, before taking his cock in his own hand and looking over your shoulder to position himself in front of your entrance. 

“You want this?” he asks, taking your cheek in his free hand and stroking his thumb against it. 

“Please.” you whisper. 

Slowly, he inserts himself into you, catching your moans in his mouth as he kisses you slowly. He stretches you out so well, and your slick helps him move without much pain. Still, you bite down on his lip at the feeling of being full once he’s in. You let out a whimper. 

“I know baby, I know. Shhhh. Tell me when to move, okay?” he looks into your eyes. 

For a moment you just kiss him, his mouth so warm on yours and his cock so warm inside you. You could die like this. 

Then, you pull away, and lift your hips, before slowly moving back down. 

“Fuck…” he moans, before catching into the pace you set and moving you up and down on his cock. “So perfect for me, yeah? You feel that?” 

You nod dumbly at his words. He could say anything to you at this moment, and you’d agree. He feels so good. So right. 

“You wanted this huh? Is that why you want me sober? To fuck me?” he asks, and you shake your head as you bounce on his dick. 

“Hm, but that’s part of it, yeah?” he insists, “You like this. Me. C’mon sweetheart, you’re needy. That's okay, I'm givin’ it to you. I'm here.” 

You fall against him and place your head on his shoulder as he fucks into you like you’re a doll. He knows just what to say to get you so embarrassed and so wet. The words only add to your pleasure and you can feel yourself getting close. 

“Haymitch…” you moan against his shoulder. 

“M’ close pretty thing.” 

He takes one of the arms holding your hips and moves to your clit, rubbing quickly. The feeling sends you over the edge. 

“Fuck, haymitch, i’m cumming~” you mutter, raising your head to look at him as you fletch down and your orgasm washes over you. 

As you come down from your high, he speeds up rutting into you, and you put each hand on one of his shoulders for support. His eyes are closed and his mouth slightly open as he mind your name over and over like a prayer. 

He lifts you off of his cock and back onto his thighs before cumming all over your belly. You reach a hand down to stroke him as he does, but he catches your wrist. He’s sensitive, you can tell, and you laugh softly. 

“Sorry pretty girl. Made a mess.” he says, looking in between the two of you. Between his cum and yours, there’s not a part of either of you that isn’t slick. He takes a finger and swipes a bit of his own before putting it in front of your mouth. Grinning, you take it in your mouth and suck, tasting him.

“Jesus.” he says softly, as you lay down next to him, your face buried into his neck. 

You lay there like that for a moment, breathing. His hair sticks to his face in certain places, and his cheeks are rosy. The reality of what had happened hits you.

“You know, this isn’t the only reason you should drink less-“ You begin, propping your head up on your hand. 

He sighs. 

“I know. I’m too happy right now for lectures though, alright?” 

You consider for a moment before deciding that’s fair. Laying back down, you cuddle into his side.

“You admit this is part of why though, huh?” he says after a few moments, and you can hear the smugness in his voice.

“Was it worth it?” you ask

There’s a pause.

“I’d do anything for you.” he answers.

And for now?

That’s all you need. 

-

tysm for reading! like + reblog if you enjoyed :)

[purplecoffee13]

I’ve had this scenario in my head for ages now and yesterday after watching Harry’s performance with Stevie Nicks I couldn’t stop thinking abt it. I was wondering if you could make a one shot or smth abt y/n getting ready to see Harry perform (solo or w some1) and all of her emotions growing considering she was/still is a fan but not like before when she was a teen ykwim? She’s so in awe and loves him so much!! Once the show or wtv it’s over they get back home/ or hotel (you choose) order room service (or delivery) eat and then cuddle till the fall asleep. Idk it’s just so cute and It’s one of my fav scenarios to make me fall asleep 🤍

STAHP this is so cute yes ofc🥹💞 it’s on the short side, but I hope it lives up to your imagination at least a little bit, enjoy! xxx

General Masterlist

Blurb Masterlist

Proud was understatement for the way you felt about Harry performing with his friend Stevie tonight.

His friend, Stevie fucking Nicks.

The fact that he could call her a friend was insane. You knew how much he had looked up to her all his life, and for her to ask him to join her on stage once again was an honor which he couldn’t believe was bestowed upon him.

There was a giddiness that traveled through your entire body as you got ready for Harry’s performance. He had been gone since midday, as his presence was required for sound check. The smile on your face couldn’t have been beaten off with a bat; you were too happy for him.

He had been so nervous this morning, checking whether his keys were in his pocket three times before finally taking off. Last night in bed, after taking up your offer for a massage, he confessed he was afraid he’d mess it up. You assured him that he wouldn’t, but he merely sighed.

“This is different.” He had said. “She asked me, to help her.”

You had temporarily stopped massaging him then, almost tearing up at the worry in his voice. It made sense. She was asking him for a favor, and she’d never really done that before. It wasn’t just a performance, it was a tribute. It was about more than just Stevie, so he wanted to get it right.

And my god, did he get it right.

Your vision was partly blurry during the entirety of his time on stage, and you were glad that you had simultaneously—albeit badly—recorded the performance. Harry was shining of course; he always did when on stage.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen Harry perform. You had been to many shows since you started going out with him, and before that.

A show of his was actually how you two met.

It was years ago, and you were still working as a receptionist at one of New York’s finest hotels, when one night you had to check in someone under quite a peculiar name.

Ricky BlueLetter.

You had chuckled to yourself upon seeing the reservation, wondering who could possibly be so lucky as to have been named after Fleetwood Mac songs. No one, it turned out to be. It was Harry Styles’ alias.

It was hard to contain your heartbeat when Harry stood at your desk, greeting you and handing you his I.D. while he waited for the check-in to be completed. You were trembling a bit, and when he asked you if you were okay, you quickly made up a lie about being cold. To be fair, the air conditioning was always blowing quite harshly.

The following night, you were attending his concert. Your plan was to stay in the back of the pit, but upon realizing the stage went around the pit, you knew that you were going to be close to him anyway. You were far too nervous that he’d see you; it would’ve been too embarrassing considering you pretended not to know him the night before.

Safe to say, Harry did see you. He spotted you as he hopped around the stage, holding your gaze for a couple of seconds before laughing. You swore you could have melted through the floor, especially since you probably had to be confronted with this situation at work. You did have to work the rest of the weekend—it was the only way you would’ve gotten the night off—and Harry was performing both Saturday and Sunday. You wanted to slap yourself in the face for being so nonchalant the night before.

The next morning, you had a shift from 7am to 2pm. Upon going to soundcheck, Harry saw you, and approached you. He was cocky when he asked what you thought of his show, and you rolled your eyes before you could even stop yourself. Harry liked your playfulness, and before his stay officially came to an end, he asked you for your number.

Of course you said yes, the little girl inside of you was screaming and throwing a party. You couldn’t believe that the guy who you used to read about in a magazine as a kid was asking you out in real life. However, you never thought it would’ve lead to a stable, three year long relationship.

That first show, despite how embarrassing you thought it was back then, was the most special and defining event you’d ever been to.

And yet, it felt different this time.

Maybe it had to do with the audience not being there solely for Harry, and him performing songs he had loved so deeply ever since he was a kid, instead ones he wrote. There was a different type of love attached to those songs, and you felt the radiation of it burst through the speakers.

It was simple, yet intricate. The gruff edges of his voice blended perfectly with the soft tone in which he sang, making for an almost impossible cohesiveness that was as complex as the feeling of grief itself. Without necessarily intending to, he had mirrored the harsh reality of loss interwoven with precious memories. It was pure, in a sad way. In a way that had you go through two packs of tissues in the short time that he had accompanied his friend on stage.

It was beautiful— he was beautiful, and perfect.

Your eyes were red, and your make-up was ruined by the time Harry left the stage. The fact that the first thing he did was walk towards you and pull you into an embrace could’ve made you run through seven more packs of tissues. How lucky were you to have a man who could not only write and tell you his feelings, but express them with the sole sound of his voice? You felt blessed.

Afterwards, Harry introduced you to Stevie—which was the second most scary thing you had ever done, because meeting his sister was the first—and you talked for an hour or two. The active reminder in your head that these were normal people with normal feelings who just happened to have a shit ton of money and talent was the only thing that kept you slightly calm, as did the touch of Harry’s hand on you at all times.

Later that night, as you lie in bed with Harry, eating some grapes from the dessert plate you ordered, you are still gushing about every aspect of the night.

“She called me pretty.”

“Well, you are pretty.” Harry says, pulling you further into him. The soft noise of the TV playing some random movie makes the night feel a lot more normal than it actually was.

“And smart!” You giggle, biting your lip at the feeling of Harry’s lips pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You’re very smart, too.” He responds softly. You turn around to face him, and climb onto his lap. Observing his beautiful face, you run a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment at the soothing feeling, before they softly flutter open again.

“I am so proud of you, Harry.” You whisper. The smile on your face feels light and easy, just as easy as it is to love him.

“Thank you baby.” He breathes, the corner of his mouth slowly rising as he looks down. You cup his face, moving his face until it’s directed toward you again, and inch closer to your boyfriend.

“I don’t think you understand. I am so fucking proud of you, Harry. The way you sang on that stage, it— you are the first person who has ever made sorrow look so stunning to me.” You elaborate, needing him to know the significance of what he did today. Not only did he not mess up at all, he went above and beyond the definition of a great performance. “She saw it too, she felt it.”

A breathy laugh escapes Harry’s throat, and he slowly shakes his head, his hands sneaking around your waist. His head dips down as he pulls you closer, and he buries himself into your neck. It stays awfully quiet, but the deep breath that follows from his side tells you enough. That exhale made way for the anxiety and nervousness to leave his body, so that he could be proud of the perfect memory that replaced those feelings. You both stay like that for a few minutes, before you interrupt the self-made silence, and tap him softly on the back of his head.

“Harry…”

He hums from inside your neck, tightening his grip around you to communicate that, in case you were gonna ask him to let go, he doesn’t want to.

“Could I interest you in a grape?” You offer. It had occurred to you that so far, you had been the only one to eat from the plate, and you want to make sure that Harry eats something before he goes to bed. You don’t know how much he ate since he left home early today, because he was too nervous this morning.

Harry pulls his head away from your neck, a lazy smirk on his face as his eyes meet yours. He chuckles at the way you grab the plate and hold it up in front of him with a sweet smile.

“You’re a dork.” He says. You frown at the comment.

“That’s not an answer.” You pout, pushing the plate further towards him. He laughs, grabbing the plate from your hands and putting it next to the two of you where it was before. He plucks two grapes and throws them into his mouth, raising his brows at you as he chews and swallows them.

“Happy?”

You grin. “The happiest.”

[hamletthedane]

Since everybody is talking about Goncharov again, I wanted to bring back one of my favorite posters from the “For Your Consideration” Campaign.

I love that Martin Scorsese wanted to make a Godfather movie so badly, his Goncharov poster straight up toes the line between “tribute” and “copyright lawsuit” 😂

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field VII

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and discussion of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing

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next part

"Mister Snow, Miss Y/L/N."

At the voice of the Dean, you're both shoving off of each other, faster than you believed it was possible for you to move. You slide back across the floor, stumbling to stand up at the same time as Coryo as Dean Highbottom stares you down.

You didn't realize how completely dead to the world you were it was too late. "Uh, Dean Highbottom." You say, noticing he wasn't about to speak anymore, just staring you down with disappointment. "We were just, um-"

"Don't even try." He cuts you off, holding a hand up to you to shut you up. "I knew it was an irresponsible decision to let the two of you work together on something apparently so important. You're both disqualified, effective immediately, and at the very least demerited. If I get it my way, you'll be expelled."

Coriolanus goes completely pale, fully in shock. He was screwed, without the prize he had nothing. It was his prize, they couldn't take that from him over a juvenile mistake.

"No." He looks at you, shocked, as you argue with the Dean. "Whatever you think you saw has nothing to do with Coryo's mentorship- with my mentorship."

He rolls his eyes. "Y/N, my decision is final."

"I don't think it is." You cross your arms. "And we both know why, and unless you want me to tell someone-"

"No." The Dean replies firmly, and you can see he's trying to hide his panic. "Just get back, please. And make it hasty." He waves you off, and the two of you rush along.

"What was that?" Coryo whispers to you once you are out of earshot.

"Nothing." You insist, not so much as looking in his direction now.

"No, that was not nothing, you threatened the Dean."

"What? No, I didn't." You try and lie, but he's smarter than that. Of course he's smarter than that.

"Yes, Y/N, you did. I was right there, I heard-"

"Coriolanus, it's in your best interest to drop it."

"But-"

"Now."

He sighs at the finality behind your statement. "What are we going to do? He told us that we're disqualified."

"We're not disqualified." You chuckle, shaking your head and stopping in the hall next to a reflective window to wipe off the smeared mascara from under your eyes.

"What if they take it out on Lucy Gray? She could be in serious trouble, here." He asks, and reasonably so. If this gets to Dr. Gaul, which he doesn't doubt that it will, it is not a stretch to assume that if they get disqualified, they will find a way to do the same to Lucy Gray.

"Oh, who cares Coryo? She's district." You scoff, cleaning your fingers on the underside of your skirt. You knew that Lucy Gray would be just fine, nothing that you could do would harm her, and you wouldn't want that. You really liked Lucy Gray, but why would he pinball from kissing you like it was his life in the balance to being so concerned for her in a minute?

"She's my tribute! If she doesn't win I am fucked- do you realize that? Do you realize how badly you could have screwed this up for me? My whole life depends on Lucy Gray right now!" At least it wasn't personal, you think at his outburst.

You let out a sigh, managing a small, smug smile. "Coryo, trust me. They won't hurt her- not on our account anyway. Just trust me."

Coriolanus sighs, running a hand over his face and then through his hair. You can't threaten a powerful man like Casca Highbottom with nothing; he's certain that you know something you most definitely should not, but what that could be is lost on Coriolanus. "Okay." He agrees, watching you as you finish cleaning up what's left of your makeup after your breakdown. Seemingly it's gone. To him, if he hadn't seen it, if you hadn't cried in his arms, he wouldn't have known it happened at all.

"But still, don't tell anyone. Yeah?" You add, turning back to face him now.

"Not a word." He promises.

You giggle, reaching up and wiping his mouth with your sleeve. "You've got a little lipstick, there..."

Coryo chuckles, pulling his head back to do it himself, attempting to cover the burning he can feel appearing in his cheeks. How you could go from crying, to kissing him the way you had, to angry and then back to your normal self could give him whiplash if he didn't know you better. Luckily, the idea of you has never scared him.

Lucy Gray hadn't made another appearance after Jessup's death that afternoon, so Coryo had gone home and come back with a couple of blankets and his pillow. He really just ran home, stripped his bed and showered before returning to you. In the morning you had folded everything up for him and tucked it in the bleachers next to you when other people started arriving. Why were you the only mentors who even decided to spend the night? It was laughable how much more you deserved a mentorship than any of them, but this is all the more chance to prove yourself. Your classmates make it so easy. It's not like you wanted them around, so it was a win-win through and through.

Coryo had been shocked that morning when Dr. Gaul arrived, not saying a word to either or you or even so much as sparing him a knowing glance. He had anticipated a very uncomfortable meeting with her following the events of the day before, but no such moment came. The Dean must have decided that keeping that secret was the right move.

It was itching at Coriolanus that you hadn't talked about it either, but he was not about to be the one to bring it up. Maybe he should go talk to Tigris about it- she had been kind enough to come in on her day off today to watch. Not that it mattered to him, though, it didn't. It was an act of comfort, just like the hug. He had asked you what you needed, and you answered with your actions. That was all. That's all it had to be, after all. You both needed to focus, and he needed to not start falling for you now- of all times. Even if deep down he knew this infatuation, if that's the right word, started years ago. The way he used to think it was hunger causing his stomach to lurch when you so much as looked at him, or that was the envy of your family wealth when you would show up to academy events in a dress that fit you so flawlessly it made the room spin around him, voices fading out to nothing. But no, that had always been side effects of hunger. Or at least, that's what he used to think. Until he got to hold you the way he has these last couple weeks, and the way your hair splayed out over his arm when you used him as a pillow last night, curled up on the floor in the academy.

Now, everything is different at the most inconvenient time possible. The worst part, the worst part of it all was that you seemed entirely unphased. That is why this was bothering him. That even though he's been fed, he's still so hungry.

God, you were so bored. You don't ever remember the games being this boring before, but that was when you could snack away on endless trays of hors d'oeuvres and your parents allowed you to drink with other party guests until the games were done by a reasonable hour in the evening. "Finally." You sigh, standing up as Lucy Gray emerges from the tunnel, likely in search of food or water.

Coral and her pack of seemingly mindless followers were making a move on attacking Lamina, which hardly had you lifting your head. "Y/N." Coryo summons you over and you smile, making your way to his side. "She looks like she needs something, but if I send anything the drone will point them right to her."

You hum in agreement, scanning the widescreen of the arena. "They have their own pile of water over there, she could take that if she sees it. And if she's quick." You point, as if somehow you could relay this information to her.

It feels like you did when you see her head lock in the direction of the pile of bottles, hand instinctually patting over her pocket. "She's checking if she still has it." You whisper to Coryo, breath fanning over his neck. He just nods, knowing this isn't a topic anyone could hear you discuss. "Looks like she doesn't want water, she wants them out. Smart." You add quietly, eyes locked on the screen.

"Sounds like you." He replies, making you smile to yourself.

The two of you watch on baited breaths as she waits for the right moment, and she finds the perfect one. She takes off toward the bottles, quickly and quietly just as you whisper for her to go, now.

"Watch, if she's really smart, she'll take one, then dump the rest." You say, watching as she just grabs one before darting to the middle, hiding under the rubble in the center while the others are still preoccupied. "Oh. Well, that's an interesting approach." You cross your arms, standing up straight again. At least this was at least exciting.

"Remind me why we didn't throw you in with them?" Coryo asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"You kinda did, didn't you?" You laugh quietly, pretending to hit his shoulder.

"That's fair." He agrees, focussing once more on the screen, trying to keep track of Lucy Gray. She goes out of sight from any of the cameras underneath the debris, before emerging a few moments later and running over to the remaining water bottles.

"As you predicted..." Coryo sighs, gesturing to the screen you were already watching as she begins to dump the other bottles, placing the one she just had next to them.

"She just has to hurry." You reply, resisting the urge to gloat over your accurate call. And again, you were right because it isn't long after Lamina's now dead body falls to the ground and the other tributes finally notice Lucy Gray's presence, chasing her back into the tunnels. You're hoping the map you drew up for her was helpful, and that she can hide. If she dies down there, you won't know.

You give Coryo a high-five with both hands, feeling glares on you from the other mentors about the waste of their tributes water. They're just mad that they got stuck with tributes dumber than Lucy Gray, and you can't fault them for that. "Cake with the cream." The blonde grins at you, mocking Lucy Gray's accent.

"Snow lands on top." You smile back in confirmation, his hands wrapping into yours and shaking them happily. "Now we just have to hope that..."

You trail off, not getting the chance to finish as you see one of the other tributes stumble out of the tunnels and toward the lone water bottle Lucy Gray left. "Who do we have here?" Lucky's narration interrupts your thought process. "Ah, it's Ill Dill. Tuberculosis on legs." The shock of his statement has you dropping your jaw, laughing and earning you a glare from your classmate who was designated her mentor. It wasn't funny, truly, but just the shock of him saying that. Regardless, you hadn't seen her since day one, and even before then, she was incredibly sick. Never a threat, hardly a thought.

Coryo sees this shift in your demeanor, looking back to the screen as well and slowly dropping your hands. The tribute, Dill, you think, takes a sip, and the two of you hold your breath as she lays down next to the uncapped bottle, ceasing all movement after only a few moments with blood dripping from her nose onto the cement beneath her.

You glance nervously around the room, making sure no one is making the same connections you are, knowing what you know. So far, no one seems alarmed, but Dr. Gaul has apparently left- which is shocking to you. Regardless, Dill was knocking on death's door anyway, you're surprised she came out at all. You place your hand on Coryo's shoulder trying to be reassuring, as if to say no one knows.

It's at that moment where Reaper comes out, calling out for his district partner. She remains unmoving even as he runs to her side, trying to shake her awake. Cue the buzzer; that's one less tribute between Lucy Gray and you getting your dream job.

Your heart stops as he eyes the bottle next to her, your hand gripping tighter onto Coryo's shoulder. You're both waiting for the other shoe to drop, Reaper knows that something isn't right. Luckily for the two of you, he ignores it. He lifts the dead girl up, looking around before carrying her to Lamina's side under the beam. Followed by Marcus, then Jessup, then Bobbin.

"What's he doing?" You ask quietly among other whispers which you are sure that if you could hear them clearly would echo your sentiments.

"I don't know..." Coryo replies, slightly shaking his head as the boy moves away from his line of bodies and over to the wall.

You have to fight the urge to laugh when he rips the flag down from the wall, causing all sorts of chaos to break out in your theatre. "He just tore down the flag..." You hear Lucky say, and as you look around at the chaos it caused, it makes you want to cheer for the boy. He had been looking at the flag when you tried to speak to him just before the bombing- had he known?

He lays the large red fabric over the row of bodies, turning to look directly into the camera everyone is fixated on. You get chills as if he's staring at you directly. Personally. "Are you gonna punish me now?" He shouts, making people jump in the now, suddenly silent room. "Are you going to punish m-?"

He's cut off abruptly by the face of Dr. Gaul, in an apparent emergency broadcast. So that's where she went. Coryo sits up straighter to listen in, and you can feel him tense under your palm.

"I am devastated to announce that due to injuries sustained in the rebel bombing of the arena, another one of our academy students, the son of our President, Felix Ravenstill has died." You gasp, lifting a hand to cover your mouth as chatter erupts in the room. You never loved Felix, far from it, but it seemed to you that your classmates were dropping like flies. That would make anyone a little on edge. "We cannot allow the rebels to continually get away with such violent, senseless acts. This is why we have to retaliate, with something very special for our tributes in the arena. Even if that means there will be no winner." You don't hear what else she says as Coriolanus is abruptly pushing his chair back as he stands.

"Hey, what are you doing?" You ask as he starts to back away, eyes still locked on the screen. You reach out and grab his hand. "Coryo?"

"Where's your bag?" He asks, ignoring your question.

"Uh, over there." You point to your now unoccupied seat.

"Okay, I'm going to take it. I'll be back. Stay here." He prompts you, squeezing your hand for just a second before going and grabbing your bag, leaving in a flash.

"Alrighty then." You mumble to yourself, taking over his spot.

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[coryoskywalker]

Save Me (Part One) Young! Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Description - Coriolanus has returned to the capitol after his time serving as a peacekeeper with one thing on his mind…..you. (Basically Coriolanus and Reader reuniting with unspoken feelings)

Ps I wrote this half asleep so don’t mind the grammar mistakes

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Coriolanus Snow had always been one for the rules and following them, but the Hunger Games... well, it was hard to follow the rules in the games if it meant losing your life. After having cheated in the games, the Capitol couldn't let him get away with nothing. Coriolanus Snow was forced out of the Capitol, sent away from his family and forced to become a Peacekeeper. And now, months later, as he walked through the Capitol, he looked almost unrecognizable. He had a stern expression on his face, never showing more than he had to.

Coriolanus Snow walked quietly through the campus of the academy that was in the Capitol. As he walked, he heard whispers about him. He almost couldn't understand what exactly people were saying about him, but he got the gist of it. They were talking about him, Coryo, a cheater and a liar and a traitor. Coriolanus had his face in a straight expression, looking at no one. His mind was blank except for one thought... finding you.

Coriolanus Snow walked through the library, but suddenly he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you. He looked at you for a moment, a thought crossing his mind. What if he just... spoke to you? Coriolanus took a few deep breaths and started to walk towards you. As he walked up to yourself, he suddenly cleared his throat, which almost seemed to get your attention almost immediately.

“Coryo” you whispered.

Coriolanus Snow felt a chill as you called out his childhood nickname. He turned to face you, still with that blank expression on his face, but his mind was racing.

"y/n." He said quietly, keeping his voice low so only you could hear it. "Hello." He almost wished that he could see your expression right now.

“Where were you? No one told me where you went” you expressed.

"I was sentenced to become a Peacekeeper." Coriolanus said. It sounded silly to tell you that the Capitol had sent him to be a Peacekeeper, but it was true. "I had... broken the rules in order to keep my tribute alive." He almost wanted to punch himself in the face as he explained it. He was always someone that followed the rules, even if he may not like them, why had he broken the rules just to keep his tribute alive? Did he want her that badly?

“One would assume you have feelings for your tribute, lucygray” you teased him.

Coriolanus Snow looked at you, your words almost hitting a nerve in him, making him want to punch something. If only you knew how he felt about her... it would certainly change your perception of him, but Coriolanus kept his emotions hidden. "What?" He asked. "What a strange notion." He said mockingly, shaking his head. As if he could love Lucy. You just rolled your eyes with a smile planted on your face.

Coriolanus felt his face turn red. He had never felt like this before. When you looked at him with a small grin on your face, as if you already knew the reason he broke the rules in the Games. What was this feeling? Did he care this much about a tribute, that he wanted to break the rules for her? Coryo shook his head, trying to clear himself of all doubts and thoughts. "Nevermind that." He said blankly, forcing himself to calm down.

You nod “well Coryo come sit down. Tell me everything that has happened to you in the past few months” you spoke softly.

Coriolanus Snow, or Coryo, as many calls him, couldn't believe this was happening. You were…. smiling at him. You wanted to know about him, how he has been over the last few months. He couldn't understand why he felt nervous at this, it was almost a bad feeling, but he followed by going to sit beside her, still not looking at her. "Well... what do you want to know?" He asked bluntly.

“Everything”

Coriolanus felt a chill go up his spine as you said that. Tell you everything? The Capitol, what he had done, the guilt he carried? He wanted to tell her, he didn't want to keep these secrets anymore. The Capitol was where he made a mistake, telling you would help him feel... relief.

"Okay." He said, taking a breath. "Everything is a lot to say, but I guess I can tell you..." Coryo looked at the floor as he spoke.

He wasn't ready for you to look at him. Coriolanus told you everything. From how the Capitol had given him the position as a Peacekeeper, how he didn't fit in there, to the games. To the fact that he had broken the rules in order to keep Lucy alive. He expected you to walk away then and there, tell him what a monster he was, and never look at him again. But instead, she stayed, listening earnestly, then spoke quietly.

"I still think you did the right thing, Coryo." The words came as a shock. You didn't judge him. Instead, you... approved him? “You were willing to sacrifice everything to keep her alive. I find it admireable. I wish I was brave enough to do the same for my tribute” you spoke with admiration.

Coriolanus wasn't sure if he should feel flattered by her words or disturbed. His actions weren't something to be proud of. He had broken the rules in order to keep his tribute alive. While, in some way, you were telling him it was alright... Coriolanus thought back about his actions. He couldn't bring himself to feel proud nor shame for what he had done. Instead, he just felt... empty. "It was wrong to do it, y/n" He said, his voice soft. "I should have stayed loyal to the Capitol."

“The Capitol is corrupt Coriolanus”

Coriolanus felt a chill go down his spine as you spoke those words. You were right of course, the Capitol was corrupt. He knew it, had always known it, but there was always a part of him that believed the Capitol was just and right. But then, as he met your gaze and felt your steady eyes on him, something in him changed. "You're right. It is corrupt." He said, more to himself than to you.

[pawnshopbleus]

The songbird was soo good I’m a sucker for jealousy 💗 could you maybe do jealous!snow x reader 🤭 ik he’d be so broody and hot

Flickerman's Charm

Summary - Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman was charismatic and charming, not to mention pretty handsome. Women all over Panem (well, the ones with televisions) fawned over the weathercaster. He seemed harmless enough, but during the games, Lucretius gets a little too close to you and Coriolanus doesn’t like it.

Warning - Jealous Coriolanus, Cunty Draco Malfoy can do no wrong, P in V sex, Quickie in a closet, possessive Coriolanus. No contraceptives, Creampie, Coral slander (She's the 'District Four scum.' I did not like her 🤷🏿‍♀️), Mention of death, Not beta read :0

Author's Note - I AM OBSESSED WITH MAKING THE READER A PLINTH!! Anon, I hope I made you proud.

You cursed under your breath as you watched the big screen. Your tribute had been killed in the most brutal way. Your heart hurts for the poor kid. He was so young, so full of life, and now he was dead. Dead in less than twenty seconds by a group of tributes that had made an alliance. They stole his food and medicine. The food and medicine that you had begged your father for was now in the hands of some District Four scum.

With a huff, you remove yourself from your seat and sit with the other students from the Academy in the regular audience. Your classmates patted you on the back and gave their condolences as you sat there with your arms crossed. 

Your reaction was better than your brother who threw his desk in anger as he saw his tribute, Marcus. He was strung up by steel poles and left to hang by his manacles. He was alive but badly beaten, but Sejanus didn’t know that. He was gone before he could see that Marcus was still alive, but there was no saving him. He was mercifully killed by another tribute. 

His reaction was understandable. Marcus and him were boys together. They were one and the same, but the Plinths had money. They could afford to get out of there, but if they hadn't, that could have been Sejanus or you up there. That thought caused a chill to run down your spine. 

Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman had announced your tribute's death and watched you walk away. He said something witty and winked at the camera. Coriolanus subtly rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the big screen. 

It had been some time since the last death. People yawned and talked as the cameras flicked between tributes. It was quiet and dead. For the first time that night, there was no action going on. Coriolanus finally let his shoulders fall. He had been so tense throughout the entire first half of the games. At first, Lucy Grey didn’t take his advice. She was selfless and wanted to help the other tribute from her district. That would have been admirable if it wasn’t a life-or-death situation. 

Coriolanus got up from his desk and scanned the room for you. He wanted to check in on you and see if you were okay. He knew that the games were hard for you and Sejanus. You two weren’t born in the capital which made you stand out. No matter how much money you had, people would still consider you District trash. Not him though. You were so much more than your status and wealth. You were kind, funny, bright, and extremely beautiful. Coriolanus was lucky you picked him. Out of every man in the Capital, you picked him. 

Coriolanus’s eyes found you in the corner of the room. You were sitting in a chair while Flickerman leaned up against the wall. You looked up at him eagerly and ready to please. Flickerman tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and tapped your chin affectionately. To the untrained eye, these gestures might have seemed innocent, but to Coriolanus, they didn’t. 

His hands balled up into fists at his sides. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from yelling. He didn’t blame you, of course. You could do no wrong. It was Flickerman who was in the wrong. He was so much older than you. He was taking advantage of someone younger and sweeter. 

He couldn’t believe the balls of this man. Everyone in the Capital knew that Coriolanus Snow and the daughter of Strabo Plinth were in a very committed relationship. Flickerman must have had a death wish because he patted your cheek affectionately. Coriolanus was the only one who was allowed to touch you. Coriolanus was the only one who got the pleasure of feeling your soft skin under his touch.

Before he knew it, Coriolanus was standing in front of you and Flickerman. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled you out of the screening room. He didn’t care that the games were just starting to get interesting. He didn’t care that him storming out with you in his arms had just been broadcast on live television. All he cared about in this moment was you, and only you. 

He dragged you to a closet not too far from the screening room. People gave the two of you confused looks as you stumbled every few steps. 

Coriolanus pushed you into the dark closet and followed you in. He slammed the door behind him, leaving the two of you in the dark closet. The room was cold and you shuddered at the thought of what might come next. 

“Coryo, what are you-” 

You were shut up by Coriolanus' lips on yours. His lips moved in tandem with yours as the kiss got deeper and deeper. Coriolanus’s hands snaked up to the sides of your face, guiding you through the kiss. His lips were soft, contrasting the rhythm of the kiss. His body melted into yours. His hips rutted into yours as the two of you got carried away. 

Coriolanus pulled away. He softly placed his forehead on yours and looked into your half-lidded eyes. 

“Who do you belong to?” he asked, his mouth just inches away from yours. 

You smirked, “No one.” 

“Who do you belong to?” he bellowed. The people outside of the closet must have been too naive or too invested in the drama to care about Coriolanus's tone. 

“You,” you breathed as you kissed him this time. He ripped his uniform off of himself and returned to the warmth of your lips. He squeezed at the flesh of your hips, silently begging you to take off your pants. You followed his request and kicked the red pants and skirt off of you. The Academy’s uniform was very impractical during this time. 

Coriolanus' breathing was heavy from kissing you. “Are you sure you want this?” Like the gentleman he is, he asked for your consent. Even during the heated moments of passion, he wanted to let you know that you had the opportunity to say ‘no.’ 

You nodded your head but that wasn’t good enough. He bit the sensitive part of your neck, urging you to use your words. “Yes, Coryo. Fuck me.” 

And he did just that. You were already wet from the way his hips rutted into yours earlier. That simple action made your clit throb and pussy soak your two hundred-dollar panties. Coriolanus flipped you around. Your clothed chest was against the cold wall of the closet and your legs were spread, exposing your cunt to the cold air. Coriolanus circled your clit with the tip of his hard cock and smeared your slick all along his length. 

“Look at you. Already wet and I haven’t even touched you.”  That was a lie. He’s done a lot more than just touch you, but you didn’t want to correct him. 

Coriolanus slowly eased into you, letting your pussy stretch deliciously around him. He groaned in pleasure as your insides welcomed him with ease. You were made for him and only him. 

Coriolanus’s hips slapped into your ass as he began to thrust in and out of you. He couldn’t choose what to do with his hands so he decided to alternate between slapping your ass cheeks and holding onto your waist. You, on the other hand, had one hand clamped over your mouth and the other was planted on the wall. 

Coriolanus guided your hand from the wall to your clit, urging you to play with it. God, did it feel good. With his balls slapping your tender pussy, and his cock thrusting in and out of you, your clit was already begging to be played with. She was insatiable and begged to be the object that you spent the most time focusing on. You rubbed your clit from side to side, back and forth, trying to find the right angle until you found it. Your eyes fluttered close as you let out a silent moan, loving the way everything felt. Even though the closet was colder than ice, you were getting warm. Your hand rubbed your clit faster and faster as Coriolanus’s thrust matched your movements. If he kept going like that, you were going to come. The delicious thrust against your G-spot caused you to arch your back, searching for a deeper angle. 

Coriolanus moaned at the newfound angle. You were so goddamn beautiful and for a split second, he couldn’t believe that you were real. He couldn’t believe that you chose him to be your boyfriend when there were more suitable men in the Capital, but he was thankful that you chose him. So thankful that he was the only one who could feel the way your pussy spasmed as you came. Your body shook with intense pleasure and Coriolanus continued his persistent thrusts, guiding you through your orgasm. 

Coriolanus was close too. The way your pussy squeezed his cock made him double over in pleasure. His thrusts became slow and drawn out. His breathing became labored and rough as he tried to hold off his orgasm. Not too long after, he came inside of you. His cock painted your insides white. You could feel his throbbing cock release inside of you, and you nearly came again. 

He slowly eased out of you. He knew how sensitive you were after sex and he always tried to make sure that this part was as painless as possible. He grabbed your underwear from the floor and handed them to you. His come had already begun to drip down your thighs. The sight made his cock twitch. You slide your panties up your thighs and let them take their rightful place on your pussy, trapping his come inside of you. 

Once the two of you were fully dressed and ready, Coriolanus placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You did so good for me, dove. I’m sorry I was so rough earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled. “I just want to know what I did wrong.” 

Coriolanus sighed, “You did nothing wrong. It was Flickerman.” 

You were confused as to what Coriolanus was referring to. All he did was tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and oh- Was Coriolanus jealous? 

“Coryo, you have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you.” You booped his nose affectionately which caused him to crinkle it and smile. A smile from him was rare these days. He was always so stressed about school, money, the games, or how he was going to style his hair in the mornings. 

Outside of the closet, cheers could be heard. You looked at Coriolanus in the dark closet and he opened the door. It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light from the hallway. Coriolanus looked at you in the light and you looked at him. The two of you definitely looked like you two just fucked. You went to go fix your hair, but he moved your hand away from your own hair. 

“Leave it. I want them to know that I'm the only man that can fuck you."

[xotaemintol]

PERVY BOYFRIEND JISUNG X FEM BLACK READER (oneshot)

*im still editing pt3 of my Jisung AU, so in the meantime I wanted to post something else. I was originally going to do a pervy bf hc for Jisung (I’m still going to) but I took one part of it and well…*

PRONOUNS: none (fem reader)

TWS: sex toy, masturbation(m), cum tribute.

Word count: 553

Jisung can get off to you no matter what, when your hair is done and when it’s messy; unshaved, as smooth as the skin of a grape or with drool on the side of your cheek. Jisung thinks you look sexy no matter what, but he thinks you look especially sexy when you smile or when you’re in the sunlight. He’s so obsessed with the way your smile looks, your two toned lips and pretty brown skin have always been his weakness; he could never help himself when he sees you happy. His obsession is so bad that once when you were out Jisung begged you to take pictures for him before the sunset. You thought it was cute that he wanted to see some golden hour pictures of you and did it without a second thought, but not even 20 minutes later he sent a video of himself jerking off with the picture in front of him. calling your name as he told the camera how badly he wanted to fuck you and how pretty your skin would look painted with his cum.

But you could never understand the extent of his love for your beauty until you caught him in the act. You wanted to surprise him with some flowers since he had been working so hard with the dreamies and decided to come over unannounced. You knew that he wouldn't mind—he does it to you all the time so you didn’t think twice about showing up without a call or text. But when you got to his room, his door was wide open, and he was standing in front of his computer screen with a picture of you in a beautiful yellow sundress on display. You could remember the day you had taken this picture, the sky was clear and the sun was beaming down onto you, making your beautiful brown skin glow—it almost looked like you were made of glitter. And right before the picture was Jisung, fucking a fleshlight he had strapped to the desk with a pair of your underwear clutched in his large hand and pressed against his nose.

Panting and huffing like a dog, he placed his other hand on the desk as his knees buckled. His strokes were so strong and sharp, you could tell just from watching him how badly he wished that it was you instead. His voice trembled as he groaned and slammed his other hand on the desk, fucking the poor plastic even harder as his head dropped and the desk shook. With every thrust the desk hit the wall harder and harder—you couldn’t tell what would break first; the desk, the fleshlight, or him. It only took a few seconds longer for him to quickly pull out of the abused toy, the second he did he began to fuck his hand, aiming right at his screen as he imagined how pretty you’d look if you were standing right in front of him. The sound of his desperate and lustful moans made your stomach feel warm and tight, and as he came onto the picture of you your knees felt weak.

You waited until he finished until the last drop had been released, and when he was finally catching his breath, you made yourself known.

[tabitha12]

Oh, pleese, I need Dark!coryo so badly. Love his possessive ass. Can someone write anything? I even have some ideas. Maybe it will help you to find inspiration.

1. Peacemaker!coryo. Reader is a medical nurse in 12. She helps coryo with a snake bite after his return from forest and breakup with Lucy Gray. She is kind and pure so he becomes really possessive trying to make her his own girl and not to end up like Lucy. It starts innocently with some flowers and gifts but we all know how it's gonna end.

2. Coryo came back from a 12 district. Seeing that girl he likes doesn't wanna be with him he starts to poison her, not to kill but to feel sick. Pretending that he is seeking the cure he just uses it to control her. She feels better when she is kind with him but every time she tries to live he makes her feel bad. In the end she has no choice but to be his wife.

3. Reader is a volunteer in Hunger Games. She is 100% againsts it and wants to show that it's madness to kill each other. In her interview she is clear that she will not fight and is ready to die. President!Coryo sees it and decides to make her a winner to leave with him. He threatens one of the tributes to kill his family so this guy has to protect the reader. In the end just to of them left and reader ready to commite suicide thinking that she doesn't deserve winning. But Coryo sends snakes who kill guy tribute and makes his girl a winner.

4. Coryo is a teacher in university and he becomes really possessive about one of his students. Reader is about 16 and she's shy and naive. Coryo controls her, not letting her leave. And when he sees her with another student he becomes feral and makes her move to her apartment and become his. After graduation she becomes his personal assistant and almost his property.

Any volunteers?

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Harry’s Birthday Weekend PR

Don’t mind me, I’m just making a list here…

Before we get into it, the Emmys are tomorrow so any exclusive attention Harry or Meghan might get will be quickly pushed out of the news cycle by the red carpet. (If you're not familiar, the Emmys are the E in EGOT and recognize accomplishment in television. This year's ceremony is hosted by Eugene and Dan Levy and will mark the 25th anniversary of one of my favorite shows of all-time, The West Wing.)

Anyway, let's see how the fauxyals are celebrating this weekend. No links today because I'm already a bit queasy from painting.

September 10--

How Prince Harry plans to spend his 40th birthday - with help from Meghan Markle (Page Six exclusive)

September 12–

Bryony Gordon: What my friends Harry and Meghan are really like (Daily Mail exclusive)

Who's who in Prince Harry's 40th party posse? And will he let his hair down? (Daily Mail exclusive)

Prince Harry: I was anxious about 30, I'm excited about 40 (BBC exclusive statement)

Prince Harry shares the best gift he's ever received ahead of 40th birthday (Page Six)

September 13–

Pap photos of Meghan and Archie in California. Archie is cropped out of the photos. (Apparently the photos were a People exclusive from September 4th)

Prince Harry's thoughts on turning 40 and how Duke plans to celebrate with family and inner circle (Daily Mail)

Prince Harry tells of his excitement at turning 40 ahead of his birthday celebrations this weekend (Daily Mail)

The problem with Harry in royal circles? He's left behind feelings of disgust, is accused of wreaking Biblical vengeance...and some vow never to speak to him again (Daily Mail exclusive)

Prince Harry reveals the 'best gift' he's ever received as he prepares to celebrate his 40th birthday at home in California with 'close friends' (Daily Mail)

Prince Harry on turning 40: My mission is to do good in the world (Telegraph)

How the Queen Mother spent her fortune - and the millions Prince Harry is set to inherit from her (Telegraph)

Prince Harry's troubling admission amid Meghan Markle's 'absence' on trip (Mirror)

Prince Harry 'could never have envisaged his life as it is now' when he turned 30 (Mirror exclusive)

Prince William 'sent last-minute text to Prince Harry in olive branch move' (Mirror; remember, olive branch is a Sussex PR phrase)

Prince Harry hit with warning before 40th birthday as he 'wants one thing so badly' (Mirror)

Prince Harry's sweet Archie and Lilibet update could be painful for King Charles (Mirror)

Prince Harry's cryptic statement on 'fresh perspective' as painful feud rumbles on (Mirror)

Prince Harry issues surprise message about 'his mission' to mark his 40th birthdhay (Mirror)

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle 'invited to UK for Christmas' by forgotten family (Mirror)

Prince Harry facing up to 'saddest part of exile,' says royal expert (Mirror)

'Sad reason Prince Harry is determined to give Archie and Lili perfect childhood' - expert (Mirror)

Prince William's devastating text to Prince Harry that left him at a loss over next steps (Mirror)

Meghan Markle's UK return date 'revealed' amid Prince Harry Christmas royal reunion rumors (Mirror)

'Here's the real reason Prince Harry has grumpy look in photos', royal expert claims (Mirror; royal expert is Ingrid Seward and she says the grumpy look is because Harry doesn't want to be photographed)

Prince Harry's special tribute to Princess Diana in his Montecito home (Express)

Prince Harry's heartbreaking last moments with late Queen revealed (Express)

Prince Harry says he's 'excited' to turn 40 in birthday message: 'A fresh perspective on life' (People)

September 14–

Meghan is dubbed 'Duchess Difficult' by 'terrified' US staff as source claims she throws 'tantrums' and 'makes grown men cry' - while 'enabler' Harry is increasingly isolated with his closest friend his bodyguard-for-hire (Daily Mail)

King Charles 'will reach out to Prince Harry on his 40th birthday' (Daily Mail)

How conflict over fashion industry contacts sparked tension in Meghan and Kate's relationship (Daily Mail; remember, any article that lists Meghan first is Meghan PR)

Prince Harry's 'best friend': The security guard who has royal's back for more than a decade (Daily Mail)

When Prince Harry was the cheekiest member of the Royal Family (Daily Mail)

Harry at 40: Prince will be worried about 'financing' next decade says royal biographer (Mirror)

Prince Harry to receive olive branch from King Charles with huge gesture on his birthday (Mirror; olive branch is a Sussex PR phrase)

Prince Harry 'relegated from royal heir to Meghan Markle's sidekick' ahead of milestone birthday (Mirror)

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's neighbors in California are 'fed up' with couple (Mirror)

Truth behind Prince Harry's final birthday present from Diana weeks after tragic death (Mirror; Spare recap)

'Cheeky' Prince Harry's daring escape from palace prompted frantic search (Mirror)

Princess Diana's nickname for Prince Harry resurfaces as fans all say same thing (Mirror; the nickname is "my little Spencer")

Royals won't 'trust' Prince Harry again amid 'fractured' relationship, expert claims (Mirror; the expert is Chris Ship)

Meghan Markle question that meant Prince Harry 'lost a friend' (Mirror)

Princess Diana's brother's 'warning' to Prince Harry over Meghan Markle (Mirror)

Harry thought he could 'step in' during Royal crisis but William 'drew a line in the sand' (Mirror)

Hidden reason Prince William 'cut ties' with Prince Harry revealed by expert (Mirror exclusive)

Prince William won't make birthday call to Prince Harry as key reason revealed - 'don't even speak' (Mirror exclusive)

Prince Harry's pal's 5-word verdit on his life in US with Meghan (Express)

King Charles extends olive branch to Prince Harry (Express)

Meghan Markle preparing to 'take off the gloves' in plans for tell-all memoir (Express)

Prince Harr's pal 'refuses to speak to him' after private remark about Royal Family (Express)

Rare boost for Prince Harry who's 'more popular than King Charles' in US before birthday (Express)

Prince Harry and Prince William could take years to speak again (Express)

Prince Harry insists he will 'always love' the UK despite unpopularity with Brits (Express)

Prince Harry takes key steps to give 'trauma-free childhood' to Archie and Lilibet (Express)

Prince Harry is unhappy in California and filled with regret (Express)

Prince William will 'not call' brother Harry on his 40th birthday as pair no longer speak (Express)

Prince Harry snubbed by 2 celebrity pals for his birthday (Express)

Prince Harry's birthday woes as deeply unpopular in UK (Express; or something like that - the Express's website has a ton of phishing ads on it)

Prince Harry's one skewed 'belief' over UK security pleas and King Charles's position (Express)

Prince Harry reveals biggest regret about his mum Diana as milestone birthday approaches (Express)

POLL: Should the Royal Family wish Prince Harry a happy 40th birthday? (Express)

Prince Harry's heartbreaking 11-word remark about late Queen as he reveals 'real problem' (Express)

Meghan Markle is a 'dictator' who 'terrifies' staff, has 'reduced grown men to tears', bombshell Hollywood Reporter expose claims (New York Post)

[captainlunaxmen]

All for the Cameras

Chapter 9

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Hello! I'm sorry it takes me this long to write each chapter, but I have so many ideas for so many fics, and also, I don't want to fuck this one up😅

Let me know what you think, especially now that we're entering Mockingjay pt1, I would appreciate some feedback, so I can get better and better.♥️♥️♥️

Chapter summary: time to face the consequences. But that doesn't mean the fight is over.

Chapter warnings: violence, torture, guilt, implied rape, non-consensual touching, Cal, Finnick being a sweetie pie.

Tag list:

@guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying @katherinejess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @abaker74 @syd649 @meikoo @secretsicanthideanymore @p1stachi @laylasshiftingtonight @yourmumstoy @s0urw00lf @kermits-bitch @littleshadow17 @piya-re

I'm sorry if I can't tag everyone😔🥺

Masterlist

Y/n's Pov

My mind can't register nothing but pain.

In my head.

In my chest.

Everywhere.

All I can feel is pain.

I can vaguely hear voices around me, but I can't make out what they are saying.

I'm tied down on a table, lights prevent me from seeing more of the room. I try my best to move, but I can't, I can't move an inch and breathing gets harder.

Suddenly the pain is gone. I immediately try to catch my breath and I try to also understand where I am exactly.

"The pain you feel right now is nothing compared to what I felt when I found out about your betrayal."

My chest tightens even more when I hear Cal's voice.

"Do you have any idea what that felt like?" He comes into my line of sight, I can clearly see his anger, jaw clenching as he leans over me, "you hurt me, princess."

"You... you... hurt me... f-first..." I stutter out, my throat hurts badly.

"Me?" He scoffs, "I hurt you first? Princess, do you hear yourself? I gave you everything."

I want to scoff, want to throw everything I've hold back all these years, but I'm too weak.

"You..."

"Shut up!" He screams right at my face.

"General." A voice calls from what I assume is the door.

Cal immediately stands straight, hard look on his face as he steps back.

"President Snow." Cal nods his head.

"Leave us, general." Snow orders.

"Yes, sir." Cal nods and looks down at me, "I will see you soon."

I look up at the ceiling, focusing on calming my heart and breathing.

"You know, miss L/n," he starts speaking as he walks closer, "I have to give it to you, you did fool me. I did thought you were finally realising what being in the Capitol means. What these games mean."

I dare look at him once he's close enough. He has a smirk on his face.

"And you believed me?" I ask with the voice I have left.

"I did, and for that I owe you my respect. If only you were this good at lying before I had to kill your brother... such a shame." He sighs, "I remember that day too, miss L/n, I remember the hatred in your eyes, how easily I could read you, your thoughts and your intentions. You wanted to die, didn't you?"

"Better... than this..." I mutter.

"Oh, yes, I know. But you made a mistake." He states, it's almost like he's teaching to a class, "do you know what mistake?"

I gulp and take a breath to answer.

"I... I cared..." I answer weakly.

"Exactly." He nods, "you started to care not only about the tributes you were assigned to, but the mentors... and the tributes you weren't supposed to help." My eyes shot to his face, "I have to say you also got better at hiding that, for a good while I thought you stopped. This will be no comfort to you, I'm sure, but I am very proud of you, my dear."

"An insult..." I grit out.

"Of course. Oh and let's not forget the threats you had to invent... wonderful ideas, absolutely wonderful. With that you convinced me, I have to admit. Ideas worthy of the Capitol." He says this knowing I feel guilty, knowing that I hated being part of the games.

"Just kill me already." I breath out.

"Kill you? My dear girl, how could I? I would never kill Capitol's Princess, no, no." He chuckles.

"Then what? Torture me until I don't know who I am anymore?" I try to raise my voice a little, but the pain in my chest makes it hard.

"No, that's for Mr. Mellark to find out. " He casually say and I open my mouth to say something but he cuts me off, "no, you will be always aware of what's going on. And whatever mistake you make, they will pay."

"No..."

"You see, miss L/n, you might think you got so good at lying that I wouldn't know you anymore. But I do. And I know the worst torture for you is not pain, even though that will come too of course, no, it's hearing your loved ones in pain and not being able to help them." He looks proudly at me, satisfied with my terrified reaction, "or better... knowing you are the reason they're screaming."

He then looks beyond me, to someone, nod his head and in that moment screaming fills my ears. My eye widen recognising the voice.

"No... no..."

"It's Mr. Mellark first session, thought you wanted to assist." He says, I pull at the restraints, but they're too hard and I'm too weak, "know that the pain he's feeling right now is sponsored by you, miss L/n."

After that he walks away, I scream at him all the insults that come to mind, but the exhaustion is kicking in.

Peeta screams and screams and screams, I can't imagine what they're doing to him, what he's thinking...

It's all my fault...

My fault.

--------------

Finnick's Pov

All Finnick can do now is make knots, knots, and knots. The only thing to try and keep his mind busy... but it's no use.

All his thoughts are consumed by guilt as he sits on the hospital bed in 13. He doesn't deserve it. He keeps repeating to himself. He should've gone back.

"Finnick." Katniss suddenly calls.

"I wanted to go back for Peeta and Johanna... but I, uh...I... I couldn't move." He dares look at Katniss. He can't read her expression, and he doesn't even want to. He sighs, "they have Y/n, too. They took her." He notices her expression softening, knowing the two girls were slowly developing a friendship, "she's, uh... she's in the Capitol." Then a horrible thought makes its way into his mind, "I wish she was dead. I wish they were dead and we were too."

Does he actually want it? He knows what the Capitol is capable of, and he knows that death would be more merciful. He can't even imagine what they're doing to his friends right now, how they're torturing them.

Death sounds so much more appealing.

Y/n's Pov.

The fetal position doesn't offer that much comfort as people say. The cold floor makes sure of it. I don't know how long they kept me tied up to that table, how long they forced me to hear they screams.

The doors opening get my attention and I immediately sit up and move closer to the wall. I hear the cell's door next to mine opening and closing. Then footsteps exiting the room.

"Y/n?" Peeta's weak and tired voice calls me.

"P-Peeta..." I move to the bars, along the wall we share, "Peeta, I'm so sorry..."

"Don't..." he groans, I can hear he's getting closer too, "don't blame yourself. It's... not your fault."

"I feel like it is... If I..."

"No," he cuts me off, "don't go down there. Don't blame yourself."

"What... what did they do to you?" I ask, hesitantly.

"I don't think thay will do you any good." He says, even in this situation he tries to look out for others.

"Please..." I whisper.

"Electrocuting." He sighs.

"Peeta..."

"Not your fault." He firmly says. "What about you?"

I sigh, still feeling my head throbbing.

"Same, and in the meantime they made me... listen to you."

"Oh..."

"You have to be stronger then them," I tell him.

"What... what do you mean?"

"Don't let them change you. They know it's your fear... Don't let them." I instruct, "Whatever they're going to do to you, whatever they're going to tell you, it's not real."

"I... I'll try." He says, his tone is scared and unsure. I wish I could do more, I wish I could take that pain from him.

"You have to."

An angry scream interrupts us and suddenly the doors are open again.

"Fucking assholes! Let me fucking go!"

I can see Johanna's being thrown into the cell in front of ours and the guards immediately leave without a word.

"Fuck!" She screams hitting her hands on the ground.

"Johanna..?" I call.

"Y/n! I thought they killed you!" She exclaims.

"That would've been too kind."

"You're right. Torturing people is more like their style." She agrees.

"What's their plan?" Peeta asks, a little hesitant, "I mean, what use could we be?"

"To convince the Capitol." I say.

"What do you mean?" Johanna asks.

"The Capitol loved Katniss and Snow wants to discredit her, he needs to." I explain, "he needs to convince the Capitol Katniss is the villain... or... convince them she was a victim too."

"Why would he do that?" Peeta's confused.

"Because it could use this to convince the districts too. If the districts believe she never wanted a revolution, if they believe she's only wants everything to go back to normal, they won't raise against the Capitol. They won't have a leader anymore. He could still control them."

"Why would they believe it?" She asks again.

"They managed to convince everyone of all sort of thing in the past few years, I wouldn't be surprised." I say.

"Right... and where do we fit in this plan?"

"Make us say what they want."

"How?" Johanna spats.

"Don't underestimate them." I glare, "don't think they don't have the means to get you to do what they need you to. And trust they will do whatever they can. And the Capitol can do a lot. You should know."

"Fuck. Fuck!" Johanna punches the wall, frustrated.

"No need to hurt yourself now, Johanna. Don't steal all the fun." I sarcastically tell her.

"So much fun, indeed." She agrees, "fuck! We better be dead."

"I wish... I wish." I breath out, I notice Peeta has been quiet for a while, "Peeta? Are you okay?"

"Yeah... I mean, no. Sorry, I..." he sighs, I can tell he's holding back tears, "I guess I'm scared."

"I know, I am too."

I hold out a hand between the bars, hoping he would see it and take it, thankfully he does, it's not the most comfortable position, but it gives us some comfort, I wish I could do the same with Johanna. I look at her and she sadly smiles and nods her head.

"It's okay." She whispers.

The doors suddenly open, harshly. Automatically we all move to the walls, to somwhow hide, knowing full well ot would be no use.

Then Cal gets in front on my cell, and my chest tightens again at the sight.

"Stand." He orders as he open the door.

I'm apparently taking too much time so he enters and yanks me up.

"Hey! Leave her alone!" Johanna yells and hits the bars.

"It's okay..." I tell her, and Cal drags me out.

"You shut up," he says to Johanna, "unless you want another session."

"I'm okay, don't worry ab-"

"Shut up. Walk." Cal orders me.

No other choice but to walk.

--------------

Cal drags me all the way to a long corridor until we reach a room, in which he, not so kindly, push me.

The room is small, there's only a table and two chairs, it looks like an interrogation room or something. But what scares me the most is being alone in such a tiny space with Cal.

"We need to talk." He states, closing the door behind him. "Sit."

I do as he says, my eyes on him in case he wants to try something... not that I could be able to do anything about it, but it's little comfort... little.

"Why?" He simply asks.

"Uh?" I'm a little taken aback by the question.

"Why you? Why did they had to corrupt you?" He asks.

"Corrupt me..? What... what do you mean?" I'm just as confused.

"Why would you risk everything for them? It doesn't make sense to me." He says, sitting down in front of me, he tries to take my hands but I move them out of the way.

"Everything? What everything?"

"Your life, our life together. "

"You... are you serious?" I can't help the anger raising.

"We were so happy together, we want-"

"You were." I cut him off, "you were happy, I was miserable. Your father paid me to be with you, then you kept on paying me. You forced me to. Snow forced me to. You and any other person in the Capitol."

"I gave you everything." He grits out.

"Gave me every- what the fuck are you referring to? The clothes? The jewellery? Or the bruises? Maybe the nightmares" I spit back.

"I love you." He says.

"No you don't." I'm exasperated now, "you don't. I don't know what you think you love, but it's not me."

"Don't you ever tell me what I feel. I know damn well." He stands up, and come closer.

Once he's too close I get up too, to get as far as the small room allows me to.

"You have no idea what love is." I tell him.

"And you do?" He scoffs, "don't tell me..." He stops for a moment, considering me, "was I right all this time?"

"About what?"

"Odair." He simply says and I instinctively look away from him, "I was right!"

He quickly corners me into the wall, hand around my neck and the other grabs my wrist tightly as I try to push him off.

"Cal..."

"Remember this: you are mine. Mine. We will get married soon, the people will see you as a victim of this mess, and once I get my hands on him... I will kill him and you will watch." He threatens.

"No..."

"Yes, now, if you don't mind I missed our time together... I plan on making up for lost time." He whispers, face getting closer to mine.

It's when I feel his lips on mine that I start to push and turn around, but he's too strong for me... all I can do is let him.

Finnick's Pov

Finnick's been sitting all day, he doesn't even want to eat or sleep, he only does because he knows Y/n would scold him for it.

The door opening catches his attention, and relaxes a little seeing Haymitch walking in.

"Mr. Odair." Haymitch nods and stands in front of him, "how do we feel today?"

"Maybe better than you." Finnick answers, "How's rehab doing?"

"It could be better... I have to admit." He replies, tone's heavy.

"I have to ask..." Finnick starts.

"She was supposed to be at the rooftop with me, we waited, we did wait... until we couldn't anymore." Haymitch starts to explain, guilty visible in his expression and talking, "I kept my eyes open the whole time just to catch a glimpse of her, but I'm afraid the peacekeepers were already at her apartment." He sighs, "I'm sorry."

"I don't think she would like you blaming yourself." Finnick tries to joke, tears in his eyes.

"Oh, I know." Haymitch sadly smiles, "we'll get them all back."

"Really?" Finnick doesn't want to hold his hopes up, but if there's even the smallest chance of seeing her again, he would grab it.

"I owe her." Haymitch mutters more to himself than to Finnick.

Finnick wants to ask him how he thinks they're alive, but suddenly, the Capitol theme starts, and the Capitol symbol appears on the TV in the room.

"What's this now?" Haymitch groans.

"Hello. Good evening." Ceaser face appears as he greets the audience, "and a big welcome to all in Panem. I'm Ceasar Flickerman. And whoever you are, whatever it is you're doing... if you're working, out down your work. If you're having dinner, stop having dinner. Because you are going to want to witness this tonight."

"What do you think they're doing?" Finnick asks.

"No clue." Haymitch replies, eyes focused on the TV.

"There has been rampant speculation about what really happened in the Quartel Quell. And here to shed a little light on the subject for us is a very special guest. Please welcome Mr. Peeta Mellark."

"What the fuck...?" Haymitch scoffs.

"He looks well..." Finnick comments.

"Yeah, you know better than anyone how good the Capitol is too hide all sort of bruise." Haymitch says.

They pay attention to what Peeta's saying, he explains what happened, how he lost Katniss before the end.

"What do they want to do?" Finnick's confused to see Peeta like this.

"I don't know... maybe they want to destroy Katniss' image of leader...I don't know." Haymitch mutters, "or maybe Snow wants to destabilise her."

They fall silent again seeing Peeta referring to the camera.

"I want everyone who's watching to stop and to think about what a civil war could mean. We almost went extinct once before. And now our numbers are even fewer. Is this really what we wanna do? Kill ourselves off? Killing is not the answer. Everyone needs to lay down their weapons immediately. Or else that's it. For all of us."

"Peeta... are you calling for a cease-fire?" Ceaser checks.

"Yeah. I am. I want everyone to stop the senseless violence. This is not the path to change." Peeta agrees.

"What..." Finnick starts, alarmed, "what are they doing to them?"

"I don't even want to imagine." Haymitch groans.

"Now. Ladies and gentlemen... a special surprise." Ceaser begin to speak again, "you love her, she's part of everyone's family and now she's been entwined in today's speculations, but such misunderstanding will be easily wiped off once she gets to say her side. Please welcome our Princess, Y/n L/n!" He announces.

"What?" Finnicks stands immediately getting closer to the screen.

"Hello, Ceasar, long time no see." She brightly smiles at the host.

"Indeed, my dear." Ceaser takes her hand and kiss the back of it, "it's so nice to have you back here. Unfortunately, we're not here for our usual chat, are we?"

"No..." she says, sadly. Finnick gets even close to the screen so he can notice any detail possible. "But I think I can make some clearance on this whole situation, if you'll allow me of course."

"Look." Finnick tells Haymitch pointing at Y/n's hands, "look at her fidgeting."

"She's nervous... what about it?" Haymitch asks, getting close too.

"Look at it." Finnick repeats.

Haymitch then focuses on her hands, she's wearing rings and she is turning them left and right.

"There's a scheme." Haymitch breaths out, "she's sending a message."

"Yes, she is!" Finnick can't help but exclaim, "she is! My brave girl."

"You know that if they find it they will kill her." Haymitch warns.

"I know... she does too." Finnick goes back at looking at her face, she doesn't show any emotion except the ones she uses to fool the Capitol.

"I have to tell Plutarch." Haymitch walks out.

"As you could hear, all a misunderstanding." Ceaser announces, "It's great, let me tell you, you would've broken my heart."

"I could never!" Y/n fakes pity, "you're my favourite person!"

"Hear that! I'm her favourite person!" He laughs and takes her hands, "let's not make your future husband jealous now" he winks.

Finnick notices Y/n slightly tensing, he notices because he knows her, everyone else wouldn't blink an eye at that.

"Oh he knows he can't top you." She winks back.

"Now you flatter me, my ego is too big without all these praises." He smiles, "Alright, people of Panem, it's all for today. Have all a good day and stay tuned for more news!"

And with that the TV turns off.

"You're still fighting..." Finnick mutters by himself, relieved by seeing her on screen, "my brave girl."

[musings-of-a-rose]

Hey! I don’t know if you’re taking requests but I just had a really angsty, sad Frankie idea. Reader used to be in Delta force with the guys but something bad happened, reader dies or is really badly injured. Frankie takes her hat, Standard Heating Oil, and from then on, he wears it every single day as a tribute to his fallen team member (who he was secretly in love with. Maybe he told reader, maybe he didn’t…) Anyway, that’s my idea. Thanks!

Catfish and Shadow

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f! Reader

Word Count: 5400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: This was such a good ask! It hurts in all the right ways. I’m actually going to pull a little from a real life experience that happened to my husband. If I remember, I’ll put an author’s note at the end with what happened! Huge thanks to @rhoorl for beta reading - if you haven't checked our her fics, go now!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

“Hold on, Shadow. There’s still some hair sticking out from under your hat.” Frankie turns slightly to me from his place next to me in the dark hallway, reaching up to tuck a random strand of my loose hair under my hat. His fingers linger slightly as his eyes glance down at mine, a quick, soft smile on his face, seeming like he wants to say something but changes his mind at the last minute.

“One of these days you’ll have to tell me what the Standard Heating Oil is from,” Frankie says to me, nodding up to the patch label on my hat. 

“If we get out of this alive, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“It’s a deal. Please be safe, Shadow.”

“I always am. Plus, I have you watching my ass so I know I’ll be good.” His ears turn pink as he stammers. But before he can retort, Redfly, our leader, clears his throat. “Everyone ready? Shadow, your hat secure? We don’t want them knowing you’re a woman if we can help it.”

I nod, swallowing down the nerves in my stomach. “Yes, sir.”

Redfly nods at me before looking at Frankie. “Make sure to watch her six. She’s smaller than you, less noticeable, so she’ll be on the ground.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ironhead, Pope, Benny. Ready?” They all grunt their affirmatives, shifting their stance and double checking their concealed weapons were still concealed. “Alright. Let’s move.”

Quietly, we all file out from the darkened hallway, making our way to the front of the clay hut where we had changed into our undercover civilian clothes. The mission was to make it to a building several blocks away and gain access, taking out the mercenaries inside. So far, they have no idea we’re here. Waiting a minute or 2 between people, I leave the hut, taking a left turn towards the center of the town, feeling Frankie’s eyes on me from the rooftops, where he had assumed his position several minutes earlier. 

“Duck your head to the right when you round this corner. There’s a group of men,” His voice rasps in my ear over the speaker. I’ll never get over how sexy his voice sounds in this thing, and maybe one day I’ll have the guts to actually tell him. I do as he says, shifting my head more right as I round the corner, pretending to look at some wares a shopkeeper had set up. Luckily the men took zero notice of me, laughing loudly at some joke, their guns slung over their shoulders swaying with their laughter. 

“Lookin’ good, Shadow. Just normal civiies all the way to the rendezvous.” I nod slightly, following my orders to say nothing as my voice would give me away not only as a female, but an American as well. I make it to the rendezvous and lean against a wall, looking like I was bored waiting for someone but really I was watching the building front several feet away. A few men file out, but the door closes behind them solidly. I watch the building for several more minutes, hearing the rest of my squad all make it to their positions.

“Advance.” Redfly’s voice speaks in my ear and I push off from the wall, nonchalantly heading towards the front door. No one even looks at me aside from Frankie, who’s eyes I feel boring into me. Taking a deep breath, I make it to the front door, raise my fist, and knock twice, then once, then 3 more times in rapid succession, repeating the pattern the other men had used before entering. The door opens and a man stands there, his eyes meeting mine and briefly showing his non-recognition before the smoke bomb I had concealed in my hand clanks to the floor behind him. 

Smoke billows out quickly from the bomb and I duck to the side of the building, hearing Benny, Ironhead, and Pope advance, their gunfire quietly echoing inside the thick clay building. I meet Redfly around the back and he slides me a gun, both of us covering the back exit, taking out a few men who tried to escape instead of holding down the building. One man we miss, but Frankie’s silent but deadly shot rings out from above, the man crumpling to ground, his body silent and unmoving, eyes open but the person gone. 

We hear the team move through the rest of the small, 3-storied house, clearing out the floors, Redfly taking out another 2 that tried to escape through the front door where he had moved to a few minutes earlier. No one else tries to come out the back door and then we hear Benny call through the mic. “Clear.” Redfly and I move inside, me following behind him in through the front, meeting the rest of the ground team inside. I stand near the front door, watching the boys as I wait for Redfly to tell Frankie to meet up with us. I’ll feel better once he’s here. 

“Frankie, make your way here,” Redfly commands in his mic, Frankie confirming before going quiet again. 

“Did you locate the stash?” Redfly addresses the ground team. Benny shakes his head. 

“There’s a large trunk upstairs that we need to inspect.” 

Redlfy nods. “Anything else?”

Suddenly, a large, unfamiliar arm wraps around me, pulling me tight to someone’s chest, a gun barrel shoved into my temple, rapid words in a language I barely understand being spewed out over my head. My hands wrap around his arm but I can’t force it, the gun barrel pushing in further to my head. I don’t need to understand the language to know he’s telling me to not move. I freeze, the men in front of me desperately trying to negotiate my release, Ironhead rapidly spitting back words in the language I’m kicking myself for not picking up quicker. But then I hear a voice that instantly warms me, tells me everything will be ok and I swear if I make it out of here, I’m telling him exactly how I feel. 

“Let her go and put down the gun.” Frankie’s voice is low and demanding, sending a shudder up my spine but not for the same reason as the man behind me, desperately clutching me to his chest. Ironhead repeats Frankie’s words back to him in his language, a quick conversation happening between them. I feel the man’s grip start to loosen, but then a quiet pop sounds, Frankie’s yell ripping through the room as another shot follows, the man that had been holding me falling to the side, a bullet ripping through his neck as he clutches at it, the last few moments of his life spewing from him before he slumps and doesn’t move. It’s not until he hits the ground that I start to feel lightheaded.

“Shadow? Shadow, talk to me!” Frankie is there, dropping himself to the floor as he holds me in his lap, his hand moving to lift up my shirt. Pain rips through me and I grunt, his quiet shushing holding me here as he lifts the edge of my shirt up. He schools his face and that’s when I know it’s bad.

“You didn’t have to wait for me to get shot to take off my shirt, you know.” I can feel the pain sinking in now, the bullet lodged somewhere in my abdomen, slowly signing my death warrant. 

Frankie chuckles, swallowing hard to fight back tears. “Is that so?” I can hear Redfly yelling into his mic demanding a medic chopper to our location, the rest of the boys close but giving Frankie and I a little space.

I nod, coughing a little and whimpering at the pain that is caused by the soft movement. “You only had to ask.”

He smiles, tears he can’t stop welling up in the corners of his eyes. “Well that’s good to know. When you get patched up, I’ll take you up on that.”

I smile as best I can, my head feeling like it’s harder and harder to stay here. I blink and Frankie squeezes me lightly. “Hey, stay with me querida. Medic is almost here.”

I swallow hard, now feeling the pool of blood that’s collecting on the floor as it sinks into my pant leg. “Frankie, I don’t-”

“Sshh. Don’t say anything. You’re going to make it. You just have to hold on.”

But already there’s black at the edge of my vision, quickly beckoning me to unconsciousness, my head feeling more and more heavy as I lose more blood. I feel my eyes start to flutter closed as Frankie calls my name, the sound of a chopper getting louder and I’m trying to focus on his voice, his beautiful voice, but then I can’t, sleep taking me over as Frankie yells my real name…

“No! No, you have to stay with me!” Frankie yells, slightly shaking her body which had become more limp as her eyes flutter closed. Medics push in and at first Frankie tries to hold on to her tight, but then Pope and Benny are pulling him from her, letting the medics move in and try to stabilize her.

His Shadow. The love of his life. Why had he never told her?

Quick, rushed movements over her body, rapid words exchanged between the few medics before they place her on a stretcher, quickly moving her to the chopper waiting just beyond the buildings outside. Frankie moves to follow her, but Redfly grabs his arm. 

“We need to finish the mission, Cat.”

Frankie’s eyes flash with anger. “What the fuck, Redlfy? Shadow is dying on that chopper. I’m going with her!”

“No you aren’t. That’s an order.”

“Then court marshal me.” But it’s already too late. Frankie hears the chopper ascend, carrying the person he loves most in this world away from him as she bleeds out, alone. Well not alone, but not with him. 

Frankie screams, dropping to his knees as pushes his face into his hands, tugging on his hair. They let him have this moment, all of them feeling the loss of her, like a gaping hole that they have to patch up quickly that won’t feel the same. A minute goes by before Benny moves forward, dropping to a knee next to Frankie and putting his hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. 

“Hey man. I’m sure she’ll be ok.”

Frankie’s tear stained face looks up at him. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I do know we have to finish this mission so we can all get back safe and find her. She wouldn’t want to lose all of us because we didn’t move in time.”

The anger in Frankie’s eyes simmers at Benny’s words. He’s right. He may hate it but he’s right. Frankie nods, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. He moves to stand up but then he sees it on the floor, Shadow’s hat, the Standard Heating Oil logo dusty from being on the dirt floor. Frankie picks it up and dusts it off, quickly adjusting it to his size before snugly placing it on his head. Everyone nods at him, accepting this way to honor their injured teammate. 

The mission is a success and they all get lifted back to base. It had been a few days since Shadow was airlifted back to medics and Frankie was itching to see if she was ok. He was determined to tell her how he feels the moment his eyes find hers. He makes his way to the medical building as soon as his boots hit the floor, Benny following behind him as the rest of the team goes to debrief. Frankie pushes open the front door and stops at the little receptionist desk, the woman behind it squinting at the screen as she slaps the side of the monitor.

“I swear they need to get us a flat panel or something. This thing is ancient.” She looks up at Frankie, a smile on her face. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a soldier who would’ve come in 3 days ago, gunshot wound to the abdomen.” She nods as he gives her her name, the receptionist’s fingers clinking away at the keyboard. She squints at the screen again, another slap to the side of the monitor. 

“Yes I see her here…gunshot wound…and you are her...?”

“Teammate. We both are,” Frankie says as Benny nods over his shoulder. 

Her eyes move back to the screen as she reads some more, her lips moving with the words as she reads them. Then she stops, taking off her glasses and setting them to the side. She takes a breath and Frankie’s stomach falls out. 

“I’m sorry to tell you, but she passed.”

“Passed? What do you mean passed?” Frankie asks, the lady looking from him to Benny behind him, who had silent tears streaming down his cheeks already. 

“Fish-” Benny puts his hand on his shoulder but Frankie shrugs it off.

“No, don’t! What does she mean? Tell me!” He’s yelling now, Benny trying to pull him away from the receptionist, apologizing to her. She smiles sadly, a knowing look on her face. 

Frankie turns to Benny, gripping his sleeves as Benny tries to pull him into his chest. “No Ben, what..she..she can’t, I never told her-” and then he crumbles into Benny’s chest, face buried in his shoulder as he wails, a hole in his gut getting larger and larger as his grief consumes him. Benny holds him tight, his own tears at the loss of his friend that was like a sister to him, trickling down his cheeks as he listens to his best friend wail into the quiet hall. 

24 hours later they’re called out for another mission, Frankie pulling her hat on tight, the way he can carry her with him as he swallows down the grief that consumes him whenever he isn’t on a mission. He pours himself into his work, protecting his friends and doing what his country asks of him. 

I blink awake, the lights in whatever room I’m in are dimmed, giving the room a slight yellow-white glow. I shift and wince, the bullet would in my abdomen screaming at me to be still. I place my hand over it and feel a large bandage. It’s then I realize that I’m in a hospital gown and in a hospital bed, definitely not the med bay back at base. A nurse walks into the room and smiles at me.

“Oh you’re awake! How do you feel?”

“Like I was shot in the stomach,” I croak out as she hands me a cup of water, a straw sticking out of the top.

“Small sips. Yeah I would imagine it doesn’t feel great. Would you like something more for the pain?”

I take a small sip and cough, managing to swallow a little of it. “I don’t know, honestly. How long have I been out?”

She glances at my chart. “Several days.”

“Where am I?”

She names off a hospital and seems to see that I have no idea what she’s talking about. “It’s an American run hospital here.”

“So, I’m not on base then?”

She shakes her head. “No. They moved you here because of the severity of your wounds. Let me grab the doctor.” She leaves the room and returns 20 minutes later with a man in a white coat. He takes my chart from her and scans it, nodding. 

“How are we feeling?”

“Like we were shot in the stomach.” 

He chuckles at my recycled joke. “Yeah I imagine so. If you need anything stronger let us know.”

I nod. “The nurse mentioned I’m not on base?”

He shakes his head. “Your injuries were too extensive to be treated on base so they brought you here immediately. We had to do surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage it caused. You’ll feel it for a while but there shouldn’t be any long term damage, aside from a scar.”

I nod. “Thank you, doctor.” He nods and leaves the room, the nurse coming back over to me.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Uh yeah, actually. Do you have clearance? To ask about another soldier?”

She nods. “I do.” She takes a paper and pen from her scrub pocket. “Write down their names and I’ll see what I can find out.”

I write down the names of my team mates, my heart tightening when I write Frankie’s name, him screaming my name with wide eyes the last thing I remember before blacking out. I hate that I put him through the ringer. It’s not my fault I know, but at least I made it and now I can tell him how I feel. I think he may feel the same for me?

The nurse leaves with my thanks and I’m left to flip through channels on the older tv that’s sitting on a hanging shelf in the upper corner of the room. There’s nothing on but I mindlessly flip through them, nervously waiting for the nurse to return. She comes back a few hours later, bringing with her my medication. 

“I’m sorry it took me a minute. There’s a lot of Miller’s to sift through.” 

I smile. “Yeah. Common name.” She hands me a cup with pills in it, telling me it’s my pain meds and other post surgery ones. But it’s the way she’s not quite meeting my eyes that puts me on alert. I take the meds as requested, handing her back the small paper cup.

“Just me tell me. Please.”

The nurse sighs and hesitates a brief moment before taking my hand, gently swiping her tumb across the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry dear. But none of them made it. Looks like a classified mission. ”

I pause. “What?”

“N-none of them made it.”

“Did you tell them Delta Force? Sometimes we’re in a different section.”

She nods. “Yes, ma’am. It’s…confirmed.” She squeezes my hand but I can’t register anything else she says over the high pitched ringing in my ears. Gone? That can’t be right. They were all very much alive when I…no no no! They can’t be…Frankie can’t be….The wail that rips from my throat sounds inhuman, grief spewing from my body as I scream, the nurse trying to calm me, the stitches on my stomach bursting with pain as my stomach contracts and I throw up, continuing to scream as other nurses come into the room, one of them pushing a needle into my arm and I slowly pass out, the last thought I have is of Frankie and his big, brown eyes and how I’ll never see them again.

There was no funeral. Or rather it had been finished before I could leave the hospital. I couldn’t bring myself to fly out to their graves, to see their names etched in stone. Instead, I stayed at my parent’s house, grief and depression consuming me for years. Eventually I crawled out, poking my head above the surface and taking a small breath in the form of painting. I was pretty good at it too. I sold several pieces and some rich guy commissioned me to do paintings for every room in his house. Once that was completed, several of his friends reached out and before I knew it, I had quite a little business going. 

It felt good, to do something with my hands besides peeling back the skin at the corners of my nails. The hole the boys left was still very much there and I suspect it will never quite go away. But the wound Frankie’s death left behind still hurts almost as much as it did when I first found out he died about 7 years ago. Once I started painting, my parents tried to set me up on dates, but nothing ever took. I don’t want any of them. The other half of me is buried in the earth and I’ve been coming to terms with that. Which will probably take the rest of my life and the next. 

My phone bings and I set down my brush, swallowing hard as I look at the shade of brown paint, nearly an exact match for Frankie’s eyes. A quick glance and it’s a text from my mom.

Mom: You’re still coming this weekend?

Yes mom. I promised I’d house sit for you after the party.

Mom: Are you sure? It’s such a long way

Mom, it’s your 30th anniversary. I’m not missing that.

Mom: Well, if you’re sure. Don’t forget to pack that lovely dress I bought you.

Of course. Just promise not to set me up with anyone

Mom: See you Friday!

I don’t like the way she avoided that last one, but I can easily get rid of them. Once they get a glimpse of my PTSD, they run. 

Friday rolls around and I step off the plane, pulling my backpack up higher on my shoulder, spotting my dad through the crowd of people waiting just beyond TSA. He smiles wide and pulls me to him in a tight hug. 

“Your mom wanted to come but there was some last minute emergency with the cake.”

“Sounds serious.”

He chuckles and I smile. I had missed my parents. 

“Wanna grab a drink before we head home?”

“Shit, she set me up didn’t she?”

He laughs loudly this time. “She’s pretty obvious, huh? She’s just worried about you, kid. But-” he puts his hands in the air as I open my mouth to protest “-I told her you wouldn’t be interested and to leave you alone. As far as I know, she understands. Or at least she pretends to.”

A quick drink at an unfamiliar bar and then I’m walking back into my childhood home, nearly the same as it was from my childhood, just newer electronics. My mom comes into the room, her phone clutched to her ear as she listens to someone rattle off on the other end. 

“Well I don’t care how it’s done but do it! The party is tomorrow!” She hangs up and sighs before giving me a tight hug.

“Everything ok, mom?”

“Oh yeah. Just people not wanting to do their jobs. But it’s fine! You’re here!”

The party passes in a blur, one guy coming to talk to me briefly before my dad whisks him away, giving me a wink as he does so. The party was beautiful and romantic, my parent’s love on full display. They leave right after the party, jetting off to Europe for 2 weeks, the honeymoon they never got to have. And as the only child without my own children, I get the honor of house-sitting, which isn’t too bad. It’s nice to get away from the city and all the bustle it brings. 

Sunday morning I wake when I want, stretching before I head downstairs for some coffee, scratching absentmindedly at the scar on my stomach as I slide my hand under my Fleetwood Mac shirt. No, not mine. His. I had swiped it from him before our mission, a practical joke for when we returned from our mission and he saw it was missing. I slept with it for months after his death, eventually putting it in a ziploc bag when I noticed the smell fading and only brought it out on his birthday and when life got a little too hard. With all the love celebrating last night, my heart hurt and hung heavy, old tears falling new on my cheeks as I excused myself to cry in the bathroom for a bit, missing my what could have been. So I figured I needed the shirt. Sighing, I take a sip of my coffee, staring out of the back window at my mother’s garden, trying to take in it’s beauty and not fall too far into my own grief.

“You’re really going out there?” Benny asks Frankie, watching him toss clothes into a backpack.

“Yeah. We never went out there when we got back and I think it’s time. I just feel it.”

Benny nods. “I get it man, but what are you gonna say to her parents? ‘Sorry I never came to the funeral?’”

Frankie gives his friend a look as he zips up his backpack. “I don’t know, Ben. I just…after all these years, and the shit I’ve been through, I…I need to see her.”

Benny gives his friend a small smile. “Tell Shadow we’ll make it an annual thing and all come out to see her next year. Put an extra flower down for me?”

“I’ll make sure she knows one of them is from you.”

Benny takes his friend to the airport, pulling him into a bear hug before he boarded. The flight was uneventful, Frankie constantly checking the note in his phone with her parent’s address on it. He’d had it all these years, but never could bring himself to visit, to tell them her death was his fault, that he should’ve shot sooner or just taken the guy out. But he couldn’t tell them that, classified, and then he poured himself into his work, earning himself a sleeping disorder, a drug addiction, and a strong case of PTSD. He’d come out the other side of the addiction with the help of his friends, but the sleeping issues and PTSD remained. He supposed they always would, watching her face as the life drains from her, the love of his life. 

He gets out of the rental car, taking a deep breath as he walks up the drive to the front door. It’s a nice house on a quiet street and for a moment, he listens to the sounds of the neighborhood, picturing what it must have been like for her to have grown up here, run up and down these same front steps. Tears well in his eyes and he tries to swallow them back as he knocks, afraid that if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll back out and run away, not able to at least look her parents in the eye.

But when the door opens, it’s not her mom or dad or any of her siblings. Frankie’s breath catches in his throat, his heart beating so rapidly he’d swear it was beating out of his chest, his brain trying to process what he’s seeing. 

“Frankie?” 

I’m halfway through my cup of coffee when someone knocks at the door. I think my mom said some packages were being delivered but I don’t want them to sit on the porch. I set my mug down and walk to the front door, unlocking it and opening it to look into deep brown eyes. Eyes I thought I would never see again. My heart leaps from my chest, my stomach twisting, my brain rapidly trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Have I finally lost it? Gone mad with grief? But then a slight breeze picks up and his hair moves and I snap out of it just enough.

“Frankie?” I think I say it, my brain still not sure if I’m hallucinating.

“Sh-Shadow?” His fingers reach towards me, barely ghosting across my cheek, but..they’re real. I can feel him touching me. He’s real and alive and I’m so confused but it can’t be my brain tricking me, right?

Suddenly he reaches out, yanking me to his chest and burying his nose in my hair, my arms winding around him and gripping him tight, inhaling him as my face presses to his chest. Tears flow freely as I grab at him, feeling him solidly under my grasp. 

“I thought you were dead,” he cries into me, his tears making my hair damp.

“I thought you were dead!”

He pulls away a small bit and takes my face in his hands, his eyes looking between mine. “This is real, right? You’re really…real?”

I nod. “I am. Are you?”

“I am. I…I love you!” And then his lips are pressed to mine, soft and slightly chapped, one of his hands sliding around to the back of my head, the other settling on my hip. I kiss him back, pouring a decades worth of love and grief into that kiss for several moments before a sob erupts from my throat and I break the kiss, heaving as I cling to his shirt.

“I-I-I’m s-s-s-sorry! I-I-I l-l-love y-you t-t-too!” My sobs break up my speech and I feel ridiculous, but Frankie laughs and I start to cry all over again. I’d forgotten his laugh and how warm it makes me feel and I would do anything to hear that sound for the rest of my life. 

“I am barely holding it together, querida. I-wait. Is that my Fleetwood Mac shirt?”

My sobs turn into a seal bark of a laugh, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, feeling his fingers on my hip still. 

“Yeah. Ha-ha I got you!”

He chuckles as he kisses me again, fingers digging deeper into my hip as he walks me back into the house, kicking the door closed behind him. 

Instead of talking, we spend the next several hours in bed, Frankie pressing himself between my legs, sliding into me as if we were made for each other, years of longing and grief poured into every meet of our hips. Once we get out of a lengthy shower, Frankie lays on my childhood bed and beckons me to him, pulling me down to him as I cuddle into his side, my hand on his chest and leg over his, his fingers tracing the end of the scar that derailed my life. Our lives.

“You’ve been alive all this time?” I ask, turning my head up to look at him. 

He nods sadly. “Yeah.”

“All of you?”

“Yeah, why?”

I cry again, guilty that I didn’t confirm this before he pressed me into my bed but I was so overwhelmed I didn’t even think about it. He holds me and gives me time to cry, speaking words of comfort in my ear. 

“I asked the nurse to look you all up and she said you had died. That…that all of you had…had…”

“What? No, we came back from the mission a few days…after. Then we had to ship out a day later on a new one. I asked the receptionist at the med building and she said you had died.”

Anger surges through me at the years we lost over incorrect records. “Ok, who do I have to fuck up for this? Because this was bullshit. I…I don’t have words, Frankie, I-”

“I know, querida. It was either wrong records or they looked at the wrong name. And I may seem calm, but inside I’m seething. I just…I’ll deal with that later. For now, I just want to hold you and celebrate the fact that you’re alive and…wait. Did you say you love me too?”

“Francisco Morales, you have touched my body in nearly every way possible and you’re questioning my love?”

“Well I’m still not entirely sure you’re real.”

I shift, leaning up to press my lips to his. “I guess we have all the time in the world to find out.”

2 months later, we get married in my parent’s backyard, all of the Delta Force boys there to cheer us on. 

Author’s Note: My husband is a veteran who served around the time of 9/11. He was injured overseas and left the army. His friends/team mates all signed back up. When he was able, he asked about his friends in order to stay in contact and was told they had all died, killed in action overseas. 

Flash forward nearly 2 decades later, he makes a comment in a Facebook page for memes and gets a comment back with his nickname from back in the day. One of his friends had actually been alive this entire time and that friend had been told that my husband had died. 

Facebook may be a lot of shit, but will always have a spot in my heart for it for bringing back my husband’s friend from the dead. I will never forget the look on his face when he came out to tell me!

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