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strawbeerossi · 1 year

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This Is Me Trying

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Ex-wife!Reader

Description: Spencer shows up at his ex wife’s door late in the night, riddled with guilt from years of their separation and needing to confide to her why he left her the first place.

Content Warning: Prison arc discussed but no spoilers, mention of PTSD, mentions of drug addiction/relapse, mention of violence, heart wrenching angst, crying, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, missionary, lovemaking, aftercare, happy ending.

Word count: 4.5K

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The last thing that she expected was to hear a firm knock against her apartment door. It was ten in the evening, who would need anything from her this late? Maybe it was Mrs. Martin, the sweet little old lady next door, wanting to drop off some freshly baked treat that she wanted her to try before she took it to one of her game nights. Which, Y/N had to admit, she loved when she’d come by with her signature chocolate chip brownies, she always made a heaping amount to share with her younger neighbor just because she expressed liking them one time.

She was approaching the front door. Using the peephole of the door, her heart sunk. Instead of seeing an older woman with a plate of treats in her hand, she was met with Spencer Reid.

It had been years since they talked last, the last time being a tearful Y/N begging her husband not to walk out the door, to stay and work out their marriage that she was afraid was starting to crumble into a thousand pieces. She could remember the bitterness, the hatred in his voice.

“Wait! Spencer, baby, please.” Y/N’s voice was hoarse from sobbing, her throat raw from having to yell over his loud voice just to get him to listen. “I know it’s hard but I need you to stay, we can work this out together. You know that. We always do.” Spencer was turning his head to face his wife, already packing his clothes away. “I don’t want to fucking stay. I don’t want your pity. Ever since I got home, you’re treating me like I’m some sort of child! I’m not!” His tone was laced with venom, enough to make the tears spring up in Y/N’s eyes again.

She knew prison would chip away at the Spencer she’d fallen in love with five years ago but she never expected things to go down like this. She’d done everything she could’ve thought of. She always made him some of his favorite dishes, she’d read to him, she’d hold him when he sobbed in her arms and relived the most traumatic experience he’d went through thus far. It was never enough.

He was different now. Irritable, temperamental, and he had a hard time composing his anger, not to mention that his once beautiful honey colored irises were dull, almost lifeless. He lost himself in prison, he wasn’t ever going to be the same. Instead of always greeting her with a hug and a smile after his days at the BAU or after cases, she was greeted to him starting to distance himself from her. It went from him coming home an hour late, to two hours, then three. She stopped making dinner, she stopped staying up to wait for him, she even stopped trying to reach out to him.

There was guilt, her brain rattled with so many what-ifs. If she left him alone more, would he have stayed with her? Would he have given her the same amount of love and dedication he’d once given her before? What could she have done to make him slowly begin to push her away, to serve her with fucking divorce papers?

Her tears stained the documents, her signature blurred out from how much she sobbed over the idea of losing the one real thing she’d ever known. No matter how much she wanted to hate him for his decision, she just couldn’t. Spencer had her heart, he took it with him out of the door when he left her, tucked away in his suitcase covered by the numerous suits and other necessities.

She was pulled out of her pain filled memories the moment she heard yet another knock. Was this a cruel joke? She was taking in a breath, collecting what little confidence she could manage to build up before she was unlocking the front door, her hand shaking from fear. As she was opening the door just enough to peak her head out, her lips were pursed in a fine line.

“Spencer.” Y/N spoke, her gaze firm on the man who had given up on her. “Hi, Y/N.” His voice was soft, a stark contrast to the tone of their last conversation. “Can I come in..?” He asked, though his hand was slowly resting against the front door as he pushed it open, Y/N taking a few steps back to grant him access. She should’ve slammed the door shut, she should’ve locked it and sent him on his way. Yet here she was, slowly closing the door as she invited him to make himself at home.

“What are you doing here?” It took a lot of courage for her to open her mouth, her arms slowly crossing over her chest. She wasn’t going to cry anymore, mainly because she was so tired of crying over him. She’d done it enough within the past few years, if anything, she should’ve been out of tears.

“I’m here to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“Y/N. I haven’t been honest with you. Guilt has been eating away at me and I can’t help but feel shitty.”

You should.

She’d never say it out loud but judging by the face she made, Spencer already knew what went through her mind.

“I just want to apologize. You are owed that much. Whenever I got out of prison.. I was a different person entirely. I stopped putting much effort into any of my personal relationships..” He began, which before his ex wife could cut him off, he was looking up from his feet with glassy eyes. “It’s because I was getting comfort from.. Other influences. Dilaudid.”

Spencer’s last addictions never defined him throughout their entire relationship, in fact, she was proud of him. He’d been doing so good, the temptation coming up every now and then but she’d be there to push him, to give him so much love and support to try and curb the relapse that could occur.

“Drugs change the writing of neurotransmitters in your brain, which can lead to aggression or mood swings. That’s why I was always hostile towards you and why I didn’t want to be around you.” Spencer explained, eyes on the ground in shame while his hands were coming up to rest over his face. “I knew I had a problem, I did. There was one day when you were trying to get me to eat lunch and.. I wanted to hurt you.” His voice broke at the admission, unable to meet her gaze. “That made me realize that I had a problem. A problem that I couldn’t control. If I couldn’t control my emotions, I would get to the point where I couldn’t control my actions..”

Just the thought of that scared the hell out of him.

“I left because I didn’t want to hurt you. It would kill me if I ever did anything to you. I mean, I was already spiralling because of the vivid nightmares from prison. PTSD and drug use are a horrible combination, dangerous. I couldn’t risk hurting you.”

The explanation had hot Y/N like a ton of bricks. How could she not notice he had a relapse, she was supposed to be by his side and she couldn’t even fucking tell that he was struggling with impulse control as well as his emotions. “Why didn’t you tell me? Spencer, I could’ve helped you.” She whispered, stepping closer to her ex husband while slowly taking her hands in his.

“Because you didn’t deserve a damaged husband who would weigh you down. I can’t expect you to babysit me all day and night, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You have a career, you have friends, you have so much going for you. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if you threw your life away to essentially take care of me.” His words were barely above a whisper, as if the two had a risk of anyone listening in on their conversation.

“You are not damaged.” Y/N scolded softly while she was squeezing his hands slowly. “Spencer, I love you so much, I’ll always be here for you. Wife or not.” She said softly while her hand was now coming to rest gently against his cheek, as if he were fragile and one wrong move would shatter him like a stained glass window.

Spencer was finally meeting the irises that he couldn’t ever get out of his mind, the way there was a shine in them. Eyes were the window to the soul and hers reflected a beautiful, colorful soul and a strong fighting spirit she always carried with her. Even when she was broken down, that shine was there.

Her love was radiating onto him at the smallest touch, the man’s eyes closing briefly as if to compose himself. “I love you so much, Y/N. I will never be able to forgive myself for the way I pushed you away, the way I ended our marriage. I should’ve confided in you sooner. I just.. I was worried about you.” His words were genuine, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He whispered soon after.

If his pupils could be the shape of hearts, they would be. One thing about Y/N was that he adored her. He cherished her, took care of her. Even in the end when things went south, part of him still had that love that was locked away behind a crippling addiction that broke him down in the worst way possible. “When I wanted to just go back to using, I thought of you. How proud you’d be of me if I held off, how you’d tell me I did an amazing job getting back on track. You are my inspiration.” He whispered, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks, holding her face in his hands as his thumbs traced over her soft skin.

There was a soft smile gracing Y/N’s features. “I am so proud of you. It takes a lot to admit when you have a problem, it takes even more to better yourself. Even if I’m not fond of the way you went about it, I understand.” She was honest. She didn’t like how he had to divorce her and disappear from her life. Nobody in their right mind would be okay with that.

For the first time since he’d came inside, there was a content silence filling the living room. It was comfortable. For the first time, home felt like home. However as the both of them stayed within each other’s embrace, it wasn’t long before Spencer was leaning down to kiss her.

Their lips met in a bittersweet collision, as years of longing and unresolved emotions surged through their bodies. The kiss began tenderly, a delicate exploration of familiar territory, before gradually intensifying with the fiery passion that had once defined their relationship. In that moment, they momentarily forgot the pain that had driven them apart, reveling in the sheer magnetism that still bound them together. There was no more pain, no more wondering what had gone wrong.

Their tongues danced in a rhythm only they could understand, tasting the remnants of past love and the promise of a future reignited. As they reluctantly pulled away, their gaze locked, and they both knew that their love still burned strong, an everlasting flame that kept them bound together. After all they’d been through, the love and care was permanent.

While drawing in a breath, Y/N kept her gaze on Spencer before slowly running her hands up his chest. It wasn’t a suit tailored for him like she’d been so used to before, instead a casual cotton shirt. In a way, it was comforting. He thought about her at times where he wasn’t chasing evil men and women on cases, when instead he was home at.. Well, wherever he lived now.

“Do you want to stay tonight?” She asked after a moment, her words coming out slow and her tone delicate, as if she had to worry about scaring him off if she was anything but. “I always sleep so much better with you..” She added on soon after while playing with a loose thread on the shirt, almost as if she had to distract herself from the way her heart was nearly beating out of her chest.

It gave her flashbacks to when she and Spencer had first started dating, the both of them being soft with each other. The way that they’d both be nervous to ask the other to stay the night or when they’d be laying together and spoil each other in the wonders of intimate touch, their lips moving in sync.

That seemed so long ago now.

“Yes,” Spencer responded, not needing to spare a second thought. “I’d love to.” His own heart was racing, the feeling of being home slowly coming back to him. The comfort of Y/N being home, willing to hold him when he needed her. Tonight, he knew he needed her. In more ways than one.

Without a passing thought, the woman was being lifted into his arms while Spencer was reattaching their lips. There was love and need, yearning for the soft touch that they once shared. With the feeling of fingers tangling in his longer hair, he was almost running back to the bedroom that he’d remembered so well.

Without breaking the contact of their lips, Spencer was leaning down while carefully placing Y/N on her back, as if she was breakable. She needed to be handled with care, with appreciation. Not anyone would accept their ex husband despite his faults or listen to him when he’s explaining why he left. Most women would probably slam the door in his face. Not Y/N. Not the woman with a heart of gold. He didn’t deserve her love but she was willing to continue serving it to him.

Once she was on her back, Spencer was slowly pulling away. “I love you.” He whispered, the words just falling out of his mouth, reverting back to the ways that once were. The nights where they’d lay in the darkness, embracing one another during lazy post-coital conversations before falling asleep in those same positions.

“I love you so much.” He repeated as he felt like she needed to know his feelings never changed. His lips began to trail down her neck, his hands running down the silk nightgown. “I love you.” Y/N finally whispered in return, her head relaxing in her pillow while her eyes were fluttered shut, melting at each placed kiss.

Spencer let his teeth graze the now burning skin of her neck, eliciting a beautiful moan to fall from the woman’s lips.

This was heaven.

His lips were moving from her neck soon after that, his head lifting while the two were interlocking in a shared loving gaze. “You can keep going, you know.” She whispered, a little giggle leaving her lips at the way his eyes glistened in the soft lighting of the bedside lamp at her urging him to continue.

Spencer’s fingers were coming up to the flimsy straps of the nightgown, slowly pulling them from her arms while leaning down to trail kisses along her right shoulder. His hands were working to slowly tug the sleep garment off, almost as if he had to carefully unwrap a present to preserve the wrapping paper. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted her to see how much he truly did love and miss her.

He’d take care of her tonight.

Once she lifted her hips to assist in discarding the nightgown, he was drinking in the sight of the near bare woman in front of him.

Spencer had eidetic memory, however, when it came to Y/N’s body, you’d think it was his first time seeing it. The way his cheeks would flush, the way he’d revert back to being the shy man who couldn’t help but stare as if she were a beautiful oil painting hanging in one of the highest esteemed art galleries in Paris, France.

He was now sitting between her open legs, eyes scanning over her body as his large hands were slowly running up her inner thighs. “I’ve missed you, so much.” He spoke, gaze now moving to the beautiful smile that was spreading across her face. “I’m glad you’re here.” She spoke softly, the two basking in the moment. There was no rush, no. Instead, they were enjoying the intimacy of soft touches, admiring bodies, sharing longing glances.

“May I?” He asked, fingers now getting dangerously close to the place where she needed him most.

“Of course.” Her head nodded, a blush on her face.

The panties she had on had a sizeable wet patch in the center of them, her body reacting so positively to his kisses, his touch, everything. His fingers were slowly running over her clothed cunt, electricity shooting through her body at the mere touch.

“My beautiful girl.” His voice was husky now, fingers looping in the waistband of her panties before he was tugging them down her thighs, a groan ripping from his throat once he could see her glistening pussy, sticky with arousal. “God, I love you.” He repeated for what felt like the millionth time in the night.

Spencer was getting up momentarily, pulling his shirt over his head before discarding his pants as well, leaving him in his boxers. As he’d gotten onto the bed, he was now laying between her thighs, hips pressed into the bed for when he ultimately needed relief of his own.

With one hand keeping her plush thighs apart, his tongue was now licking a stripe up her pussy, collecting just a taste of her arousal. Hearing her shaky breath from above him was enough to encourage his movements. After a few more long and teasing licks, his fingers were coming up to spread her puffy labia apart, his lips blowing cool air while the woman was mewling from pleasure, goosebumps spreading across her skin.

He ate like a man starved, his tongue lapping up all she had to offer to him, like eating one of the ripest fruits on the vine that was bursting with more flavor and sweetness after being freshly pulled from the tree branch. His chin was coated in her glistening juices, his nose brushing against her clit while his tongue was focused on swiping over her velvety walls.

With the sounds of pornographic moans filling the room along with the way her fingernails were digging in his scalp, it became to a point where Spencer was desperate for relief, his hips rocking against the mattress while he was focused on bringing the woman to her peak. As soon as he could feel her thighs begin to shake and her words were more incoherent, he knew what was to come next.

It wasn’t long though until he was pulling away, chuckling at the way she was desperately clenching around nothing as soon as he pulled away. “Hold on, pretty girl.” He purred, getting his fingers lubed up with his own spit before he was plunging them into the woman, a low moan leaving his lips as she was greedily clenching around his digits and pulling them in more.

“There we go.” He praised, the two fingers being thrusted inside of her needy core.

“I’m gonna— oh fuck, Spencer.” Y/N breathed out as her eyes were squeezing shut, her words encouraging him to fuck her faster with his fingers. She could feel the coil tightening in her stomach, her moans and whimpers of his name falling steadily from her lips.

All it took was him curling his fingers and pushing against her spongy sweet spot before she was cumming around his fingers, her hips rocking steadily against Spencer’s hand as she was doing her best to catch her breath, chest rising and falling rapidly.

As she’s ridden out the high, Spencer’s hair was being tugged in a gesture that was telling him move your ass, Reid.

So he was nearly stumbling to crawl up to hover over her again, the two attaching their lips in a much needed, more messy kiss than before. “Please,” She mumbled against his lips, making Spencer pull away. “Please what?” He asked, needing to hear her say it.

“I need you.”

Those words had his already hard cock aching in his boxers, making him stumble a bit just to get them down his legs before they were being tossed with the rest of the clothes in the bedroom.

“I don’t have a condom.” Spencer spoke, letting out a hiss of pleasure from the feeling of her hand wrapping around his cock to give it a few tugs. “We don’t need one. I don’t care right now.” Her voice came out in a desperate tone, making the man nod as he was letting her line up his tip with her leaking mound.

He was pushing into her slowly, sinking all the way to the hilt while the two let out a collective moan, Spencer’s head falling against Y/N’s shoulder as he let his eyes flutter shut, kisses being sponged to her shoulders as he gave her a minute. The way her hands were gripping onto him was a big indicator that just like himself, she’d probably not really gotten much action in a while.

“I’m ready.” She whispered, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she was practically hugging him close. “I’ll go slow.” He spoke in return, now lifting his head to smear their lips against one another’s.

Spencer loved slow and intimate sex, the way they were pressed flush against one another, drinking each others moans while the world slowly stood still. His hips were thrusting at a steady pace, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his waist just to try and bury him impossibly deeper inside of her.

It was the ultimate form of love. Being able to savor one another, enjoy the closeness. There were times in the past where the two would talk and even giggle with one another while his cock was buried inside of her. It was comforting in its own odd way.

Tonight though, there wasn’t much talking. Instead there was soft, loving kisses, the mixture of moans and groans falling between the both of them, as well as the sound of the bed squeaking along with each thrust that the man made.

There was nothing but love in that bedroom, the two whispering sweet nothings to one another and making promises that would fully be fulfilled going forward. This was going to be the start of something beautiful, that was something the two were confident of.

“I’m close,” Spencer’s words were being muffled into Y/N’s mouth, the woman slowly pulling out of their shared kiss while she was bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks. “Me too, don’t stop.” Her words were soft, a moan leaving her lips as she was letting her eyes flutter shut, head falling back against the mattress as she could feel her stomach tightening again.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Fuck.” His words slurring together as he brought one hand between their bodies, his thumb swiping over her clit in order to have her cum first. He prided himself on pleasuring her first and foremost, himself being mostly an afterthought.

As the warmth of her orgasm was washing over her, Y/N was hugging him as close as she could get him while a soft cry of the male’s name slipped from her lips. Chasing her orgasm, it wasn’t long until Spencer was letting go, a few more thrusts doing the trick as his warm cum was filling her to the brim. The feeling had the woman shuddering in pleasure.

With a thin layer of sweat coating their skin and their bodies still intertwined, Spencer was turning his attention down to the woman who he felt an intense and burning love for. “I promise you that I am not going anywhere this time. I’m tired of fighting M on my own.” His words were soft, his breathing still uneven. “I love you and I never want to be away from you like that again..”

“I love you so much more. You know that I’m always here for you, right? No matter what you’re struggling with. We are supposed to always be by each other’s sides. I made that promise to you and I never intend on breaking it.” Y/N assured.

“How about we to get cleaned up?” The make suggested, forcing himself to move away from the warmth of her embrace briefly. Instead of letting her get up though, Spencer’s hand was wrapping around her ankle before he was playfully pulling her to the end of the bed, making the woman laugh as she was being lifted in his arms.

“You could’ve broke my leg!” She gasped, a teasing tone chasing the words as she was letting her arms wrap around his shoulders, lips pressing kisses across his face.

A she was carefully sitting her on the edge of the tub, Spencer was turning on the faucet. After he’d gotten the water warm enough for the both of them, he’d retrieved the plug for the drain. Approaching the bathroom cabinet, he was kneeling down and rummaging until he was grinning triumphantly as he was retrieving a bottle of bubble bath soap, holding it up. “I knew you’d never get rid of this. As dumb as it sounds, I was so pissed because I didn’t take this with me.”

After putting a generous amount of the soap in the tub and watching it foam up, he was waiting until the tub was filled to their liking until he was turning off the water. He was the first to step in, getting comfortable before holding his hand out to help Y/N get in, a smile on his face. Even if it was a little awkward considering he was a tall guy in a small tub, they managed to get comfortable together with her on his lap.

One of her hands was collecting a bit of bubbles from the water before she was moving to place them over his face, a little laugh leaving her lips as she’d given him a bit of a bubble beard. “How old are we?” Spencer asked teasingly as he was doing the same thing with her, the two unable to help the soft laugh filling the bathroom.

“So, I have a legitimate question,” Spencer began while leaning back against the tub, a smile on his face. “Does this mean we have to get married again?”

The question made Y/N pull a face as she was pondering over the question. He had a point. How did this work?

“I say yes. Only because I think you owe me a much bigger wedding this time.” She joked, making the male laugh.

“My queen gets whatever she wants.”

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1K notes · View notes

shankschewtoy · 2 months

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Hiiii. So this is my first time requesting or anything so I’m kinda really nervous??? Anyways, I love your crack fics, I literally giggle non stop and they bring light into my soul.

So, that being said, I have a request. Could you do something with Crocodile and Ace (and whichever other characters) reacting to their s/o having a spider or some type of scary bug on their back? Idk if your can go anywhere with this but hey, it’s worth a shot.

Okay that’s it bye bye have a good day :)))

a/n - omg I’m so glad I can bring light into your life 😭🫶 literally my goal when I’m writing this stuff 💜 oml bro crocodile is afraid of bugs I just know he is 💀 that’s why he had robin, so she could handle them for him

warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, crack, crocodile would leave you with the the bug just to run as far away as possible 💀🫶

- pls if he sees a single bug in his house he’d move out of his mansion and go to another sea of ocean 💀

- don’t get me wrong he takes you with him of course and makes sure you’re protected from those heinous insects. Get ready for loads of bug spray and pest killing chemicals, because your house is going to smell like that for at least a couple weeks 😃🫶

- so one day, you’re relaxing on the sofa, listening to some ambient music, the lights a bit dimmed, with the shutters open just enough for some light to shine through without being too harsh. It was a weekend, so it was due time for some relaxation!

- crocodile had just gotten finished with his work, and finally he’d get to spend some quality time with you. As he walked over, getting ready to join you on the couch, he froze.

- his eyes were locked onto your back, his breathing completely stopped, his body stiff as a board

- a tiny black speck on your back was… moving. Could that be a- SPIDER? You turned around because you heard footsteps, and you looked confused to see crocodile just- frozen, with wide, disgusted, fearful eyes as if you just committed some heinous crime against humanity

- “….Crocodile? You ok?”

- …

- “Hello???? Earth to crocodile?”

- “Y/n. You know I love you right?“

- “…What?”

- “Then you know why I must do this.”

- “What do you me- hey where’re you going?!”

- to go bag (he has one prepared for this exact situation bruh 💀) materializes out of thin air, then cue crocodile skedaddling out the door without explaining or warning you like a scared selfish asshole

- “CROCODILE IT’S NOT EVEN THE SIZE OF MY FINGERNAIL.”

- “IT’S AN INSECT Y/N.”

- “SO YOU’D LEAVE ME WITH THE FUCKING BUG SO YOU COULD GET AWAY FIRST-? 😭”

- “..well of course I would’ve sent someone back for you-“

- “SENT SOMEONE?!”

- see now ace is afraid of bugs too. But he’s not a selfish asshole like crocodile 💀 bro would at least try and protect you while screaming and sobbing

- you two were relaxing, snuggling together and watching the sun set on the deck of the Moby dick. It always never failed to amaze you with how many colors spread across the sky.

- ace absolutely adored these moments with you. It made him feel so- alive but also dead at the same time. Because how could one be this happy and in love with you?

- he looked down at you, and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head, and that’s when he saw… it

- cue the scream of a demon plus a kid who just saw a clown

- “WTF ACE WHAT?!”

- “BABE- DO NOT MOVE. THERE’S A BIGASS BUG ON YOUR HEAD.”

- “EXCUSE ME?!”

- ace grabbed his shoe in a panic, and aimed directly at your head. But since he was so afraid, he was closing his eyes.. as he was swinging to kill the bug.. and he ended up slapping the absolute shit out of you instead of the bug

- “Phew, think I got it- Y/N?! WHAT HAPPENED ARE YOU OK?!”

- “WDYM AM I OK YOU SLAPPED THE SHIT OUT OF ME-“

- “Sorry.. OH SHIT I MISSED-“

- “NONONONO ACE WAIT-“

- you got hit five times before he actually got it. 💀🫶 I hope your brain isn’t damaged 😭

- luffy was one of those kids who collected beetles and watched them fight each other like it was the most intense battle he’s ever seen 💀

- so of course he’s not afraid of them. Bro likes them so much that he doesn’t know if the one piece is better or if beetles are better 😭

- luffy was rambling to you about the various different types of beetles, and which ones were the strongest in fights. He was giving you the WHOLE lowdown, their stats, weaknesses, special skills, traits, etc. 💀 you were surprised luffy had this level of knowledge on- anything really

- “Yeah so the atlas beetle can DEFINITELY take down the rhino beetle because of its really tough shell and- OH MY GOD-“

- “Huh-?! What’s wrong?!”

- “OMG OMG Y/N YOU HAVE AN ATLAS BEETLE ON YOUR HEAD!”

- “Luffy you better be joking. Is it even April yet?”

- “Nono it’s right here see?”

- he pulled it off your head and put it in front of your face. The way you froze, and the way your heart stopped, dropped down to your feet, and then climbed back up 😭

- you couldn’t even scream, you just got up and hauled ass away from whatever that abomination of a creature was

- “Y/n where are you going?! I have to show you how it fights!”

- “I’M PERFECTLY FINE NOT SEEING THAT LUFFY-“

- “But y/n they really like you! You’ve got a rhino beetle on your back too!”

- “WHAT?!”

- you legit stopped, dropped, and rolled 💀💀💀 poor robin was watching the whole thing transpire from really far away so she couldn’t hear the context of what the hell was happening 😭

a/n - bro I missed writing these. I’m a bit rusty tho 😂

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runningfrom2am · 9 months

Text

in this life or the next

summary: It's the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games, and you were just unlucky enough to get picked; but lucky enough for this Quarter Quell to feature pre-selected teams. You get paired up with District One's pride and joy, the one and only Rafe Cameron.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 15k (oh my LORD)

tags/warnings: its the hunger games so like... yeah... violence and gore and stuff. definitely swearing, spoilers for the og Hunger Games movie I guess (but also not bc i changed it up a bit- you'll see), reader has a special talent that i won't spoil here, Rafe is lowkey a dick at the beginning, Ward being a shitty dad (what's new). also this isn't thoroughly edited bc.. its 15k words and i'm lazy.

masterlists // nav // requests

join my taglist here

a/n: hello lovelies!! oh my gosh i have been slowly chipping away at this for actual literal months, and i am so proud of how it turned out!! i’m really glad i could finally post it by my birthday!! (i’m 23 wtf??)

thank you so much if you're going to put in the time to read this, but it honestly means a lot to me that you've made it this far. reblogs and likes would be so appreciated and let me know your thoughts in the replies! i really, really hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. let me know if you want a part two of what happens post games, bc i think i left it at a minor baby sized cliffhanger. anyway, i’m off to eat cake now! enjoy!

Staring blankly out at the crowd in front of you, you attempt to process the echoing of your heartbeat in your ears.

"I'd like us to give a round of applause for our brave, brave tributes this year, and wish them the best of luck in this year's quarter quell!" Your attention is drawn to the woman next to you, the District Five escort, Opal, dressed head to toe in bright yellow. A universally happy color- what a joke.

The crowd is mostly silent and you can't bear the thought of even glancing in the direction of your parents. You turn silently as you're ushered back into the building from the stage, tripping slightly over your feet as the shock sets in. People are talking, possibly to you, but you can hardly hear a thing. You almost made it. You were almost eighteen- one more year and you would have been free.

You were granted the briefest of goodbyes to your family, but you were tempted to even turn that down. An action you regret not taking as your parents walk into the room, your mother with tears already coating her cheeks and your father trying to keep a strong resolve for you and your siblings.

"We'll see you soon, Bug. Remember we love you," He whispers into your hair as you sob into his shoulder. You know he doesn't necessarily mean in this lifetime.

Your tunnel vision settles back in as you're walked out of the room, glancing one last time over your shoulder only to see your dad's shoulders shaking from his silent cries as he turns his back to you.

You are quickly pushed onto the train taking you out of District Five, ignoring the other three tributes and your mentors as they talk. You just stare out the window with tired, red eyes and say a silent goodbye to the home you're already sure you'll never see again.

"Y/N..?" The girl next to you says, tapping you on the shoulder and making you jump.

"Hm?" You hum your acknowledgment, looking at the girl beside you. She's only a year older than you, and you went to school together for years; Maisie, you remember.

"I just wanted to make sure you hear them," Maisie whispers, gesturing to Opal as she starts to explain what the premise of the games is this year.

"So," she claps her hands together, clad in tacky yellow gloves. "I'm sure you have noticed that this year there are four of you, and you'll each be paired up with another tribute to compete. Not necessarily from your own District, but, anything is possible, I suppose. The exciting news is that there's a possibility for two winners this year! You and your teammate will be given a score throughout the games, and if your score as the final two is above ten, you will both be crowned victors!" The woman says excitedly- like it's a good thing.

"And if we don't have over ten?" The boy sitting across from you asks flatly.

"Well... the games shall continue," Opal explains vaguely, but you know what that means. You've seen it before.

"Okay, well, how do we get a good score?" The boy asks.

"I-" The escort starts, hesitance clear in her tone as she's quickly interrupted.

"You kill people," Your female mentor answers. She's leaning her elbows on the end of the table, standing with a knife in her hand, spinning it around like it's some kind of toy.

Your eyes drop from her form, staring down at the table in front of you, suddenly remembering your glass of water and quickly grabbing it when you realize your mouth has gone completely dry just from the idea of what's to come.

You arrive at the Capitol in the middle of the night and despite this fact, the crowds are still there. You didn't expect this, even though you've seen it on the beat-up television in your living room every year. It feels less real, somehow, when you're the one getting pushed through the crowd, not knowing what to do besides give awkward smiles to people yelling your name.

Your room is beautiful. You've never seen anything like this, but you can fully customize it at will with a remote, and this level of technology fascinates you. You spend hours flicking through different images that can appear on the walls, surrounding you in another world. Exhaustion and the sound of an artificial thunderstorm put you to sleep with the remote still resting in your palm.

"Up, up, up, my dear! We've got a big day ahead!" Opal's cheery voice startles you awake from your less-than-cozy spot on the floor. "There's breakfast on the table then we've got to get you down to prep, so hurry up, please." She says, and just like that she's gone, no doubt off to wake the other District Five tributes in a similar fashion.

"You're going to be meeting your teammates for the first time today so you can train together- gosh isn't that just so exciting!" Opal claps as you all stand in the elevator. There's a silence that follows as you and Maisie just nod, not excited about the whole idea. You're about to meet someone who will either be spending the last days of your life with you, or be killing you themselves, and you're not fond of either.

"This way you'll get to train together first, which I do believe to be a very generous act on behalf of the game makers." She adds, making you roll your eyes. How considerate. The most you can hope for is someone who is capable, and preferably someone who isn't in the twelve to fifteen age range, having seen that there were several drawn from different districts.

You shift on your feet as you try to adjust to the uncomfortably tight catsuit they squeezed you into, covered in what must be sapphire and diamond rhinestones, pinching your skin with every slight movement. Gold accents line the seams of the suit, extending out into something that resembles wings and lightning bolts protruding from your back. District Five; power. You get it, but we're the diamonds necessary? You hardly take note of the varying outfits you're surrounded with from the other kids in your district, before Opal is guiding the four of you up the line of extravagant carriages you're meant to parade out on for the people of the Capitol to fawn over.

You take note of where all of the other tributes from Five are lead, guessing based on the order of carriages that Maisie got paired up with another girl from Eleven, and the boys somehow ended up paired together. There must be some sort of personal aspect to this decision, considering you have watched those two boys fight back home. You're last, and Opal looks at you excitedly as you follow her up, and up, and up- to the very front of the line.

"Surprise!" She grins, clapping excitedly as you approach the very first carriage. "Y/N, getting paired with a career is huge. Your odds are good already, your partner has trained his whole life- he even volunteered."

"Sucks for him." You mutter under your breath as you get closer, eyeing up the boy in front of you, wearing an almost matching outfit. All the rhinestones make sense now, blending power with luxury could only mean as much.

"Y/N Y/L/N, meet Rafe Cameron. He'll be your teammate in the games." She smiles as she introduces you.

"Hi." You say quietly, taking his hand as he holds it out to you to help you up onto the carriage.

"Hey." He mutters, avoiding your gaze. It's off to a rough start for him for sure, seeing he's being paired up with someone from an outlying district must be daunting, when for you it should be exciting. Rafe did volunteer, yes, but he doesn't want to risk any kind of attachment- despite what the people of the Capitol want for their entertainment. He wants to come out alive, he doesn't care so much about who he's with.

"Okay, Y/N, remember to smile, please." Opal reminds you and you nod, looking down at her as you hold onto the handle in front of you.

You promise her with a nod, willing to do almost anything at this point to win the favour of possible sponsors. Again, your odds look better next to a career on that front, as well.

Quickly everyone is cleared away from the horses and the carriages and you start moving, catching you off guard and you stumble a little, readjusting your grip on the railing. "Careful." Rafe says beside you, quick to reach out to steady you if you needed it. You think you see the smallest of smiles on his face, but that must have just been your own mind trying to find comfort in anything around you.

"I got it." You whisper, blushing slightly. You've been with your teammate for all of a minute, and you're already proving yourself to be clumsy.

The lights hit your eyes the same time all the cheering does, being the first carriage, it's already so loud you can hardly hear yourself think. You snap out of it quickly, plastering on a smile once you see your own face on a giant screen ahead of you, you don't even look like yourself anymore. Your eyes land on the screen adjacent to the one showing you, seeing Rafe as well. He's smiling too, clearly having headed Opal's advice, or his many years of training is getting to him and he's excited. You really don't know. Then his head turns, and you turn your head as well, making dead eye contact with him for only a moment before he's looking past you into the crowds, taking in the moment.

When you finally get out of the extremely public eye and back into the building you exited from, you feel like you can finally breathe again. Not fully, in the tight, rigid suit they had you dressed up in, but more than you realized you were with all that yelling in your ears and lights in your face.

"District Five, right?" Rafe asks you as you're both stepping down and you nod. "Jeez, you don't talk much, do you?" He follows up with, taking a water bottle from someone who's walking by with them.

"I talk." You reply quietly. "Just... not much to talk about at the moment."

"The shock? Yeah, that'll do it." He nods, taking a sip from the water bottle and holding it out to you. You shake your head and push it away, making him shrug. "Shitty bust when you're not a volunteer."

You just stare at him, taken off guard by the comment. "That being said..." He leans in closer to make sure no one else hears. "I've been waiting my whole life for this, so don't ruin it for me, yeah?"

You pull back away from him and just nod again, not wanting to get on his bad side already. He won't be the one to kill you, probably, but it would still be nice if you spent your final days without your teammate hating your guts. "Thanks, darling." He smirks, patting your shoulder and brushing past you to go to the elevators.

The next day, bright and early yet again, you have your first day of training. You're sure Rafe won't even need it, but you certainly will. Your mentor told you he will likely be using it to size up the other tributes, especially considering there is a staggering amount of them this year, and you will need to focus on survival skills. Only survival skills, if you had to pick one thing- and your mentor drove that into your head until it was all that was echoing in your mind when you entered the training center.

After the trainers speech which ironically tried to do the same thing, you beeline straight for the fire making station. You're shocked to see almost no one else listened, definitely none of the boys, mostly lining up to show off their physical strengths, likely to try and intimidate each other. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't working.

You look up as you hear echoing laughter coming from the other side of the room, eyes scanning over the wall lined with silhouette targets, and racks with an array of weapons before landing on your teammate, laughing away with the other career tributes over a joke you didn't hear. He's got a spear in one hand, leaning his weight on it as his head drops back with laughter. You shake your head to get back on task, rolling the rough wood in your palms in hopes of making a spark. Good to see at least one of you is having fun, especially in your final days.

After a few minutes you get it, sitting back into your calves where you were kneeling on the ground, taking a breath of relief as you're satisfied with your success. You glance around to see how others are doing, giving a small smile and wave to Maisie when you see her, reading a book about different edible plants and trying desperately to memorize every image. You watch as Rafe takes the same spear he was leaning on before, hurling towards one of the targets. A direct hit, right in the chest, slightly right of the centre. You jump a little at the sound it makes on impact, looking finally at the boy who threw it.

He's pacing, huffing and looking a little frustrated with himself. A little to the left would have been perfect, but it was a kill shot nonetheless. There would be no coming back from that, and you count yourself lucky that it likely won't be you in place of the target in the games.

You quickly put out your fire and try again, making sure you've got the hang of it. You'll sit here all day if you must. After three more successful attempts, you're satisfied for the day, deciding you'll return to that station tomorrow and try again. You get up and brush the dirt off your knees, trekking over to where they have supplies to make game traps. You've never done this before, but there's no better time to learn, especially since your teammate has shown no interest in survival skills so far today.

"What are you doing?" Suddenly Rafe is standing behind you, as you're once again kneeling on the ground attempting to get the trigger on your bladeless trap to work.

You jump a little, startled by someone talking to you. "Uh, trying to make a snare, I think." You answer, turning to look up at him.

"Looks good." He nods, crouching down next to you. "Uh, isn't there supposed to be a blade or a spearhead or something on that piece?" He says, pointing to it.

"Well, yeah, I just didn't want to stab myself by accident." You laugh slightly, trying the trigger again- and this time it works, snapping forward into his arm.

"Ouch, yeah, fair enough." Rafe chuckles, rubbing the spot on his arm where the wood made contact.

You just nod and begin to reset it to test it again. "What if you can't get any of this shit in the arena?" He asks.

"What, a stick?" You ask, hitting the trigger one more time, sending the stick into his arm again, which he had decided not to move.

"Ow! Yes, a stick. We don't know what it will look like." He rubs his arm, examining the trap you built closer now.

"Then we're screwed I guess." You joke, leaning back on your calves again, watching him dissect it piece by piece to figure out how it works.

"So, is this like, your thing?" Rafe asks, and you tilt your head at him as you think it over.

"My thing?" You ask, unsure entirely what he meant. "I've never made one before, if that's what you're asking."

"Really?" He seems shocked by this.

"Uh, yeah, really. Unfortunately for you, you got paired up with someone who has zero survival or combat skills."

Rafe looks at you, a smug grin crossing his features. "Ha ha, very funny." He clearly thinks you're joking, but you're definitely not.

"I'm serious." You say, confused as to why he doesn't believe you.

His smile falters, replaced with wrinkles of confusion on his forehead. "But- I just watched you look at the instruction book for no more than like, three seconds before sitting down to make this."

"And..?"

"If you've never done it before it's supposed to be harder than that."

"Well, I've seen other people do it on TV and stuff every year for like, ever." You shrug. "I've just got a good memory, I guess."

Rafe nods, looking at the deconstructed trap in front of him for a moment, thinking about the implications of this. How far does this go? Could he use it? He'd never dreamt of having to work in a team in his games, but maybe it would benefit him after all. "Come with me." He stands up, and you follow as he paces over to two big screens, covered with a large array of different symbols.

"Try this, I just want to see something." Rafe says, standing next to you with his arms crossed as you quickly look over the screen, reaching down toward the one in front of you. You notice quickly that the screens mirror each other, all the images placed in the same spots as they are above. You look up at your teammate briefly who nods at you and then you tap one, watching it disappear from both screens before you tap the matching symbol. It's a matching game.

Your eyes are locked on the top screen as you tap away at the bottom one, quickly making all the images disappear one by one. It takes you no more than a minute to get rid of them all, and then a timer appears on the screen replaying your every move in real-time. Forty-two seconds. Were you really going that fast?

"Neat." Rafe says to himself, nodding as he watches it replay on the screen. That was impressive, sure, but his mind is straining to find a practical implication for this in the arena. "Go back to survival stuff. Learn as much as you can." He settles on, turning and walking off back to where he was before, returning to combat training.

The four days of training fly by insanely fast, and that's likely due to your dread of what's to come. you've got through everything in survival no less than three times, and you're pretty sure last night you dreamt of plants and making a fire. Not surprisingly, Rafe has left you pretty much alone the whole time, but you did watch from a distance as he cycled through every weapon the training center had to offer, proving he's almost mastered every last one. Of course, with over ten years of training, anything less wouldn't make sense. What scares you is the other careers showing a similar skill level to that of your teammate, but he seems to be on good terms with them. Again, maybe this would be a good thing in the beginning of the games.

You sit down for your last day of making fires and fishing hooks, working solely on memory since day one, you're feeling pretty confident that the elements or exposure won't be what takes you out- but you don't know if that's a good thing or not. You just hope your death will be quick.

"Y/N, c'mere." Rafe is suddenly calling to you, motioning for you to join him in the combat area. Not seeing much of a choice, and not looking forward to another day of doing the same thing over and over, you listen.

You make your way over, avoiding the gaze of other tributes who are looking at you like you're about to make a fool of yourself. It's possible you are. "I want you to learn how to use this." He says as you walk up, holding out the handle of a knife to you.

You take it, turning the sharp blade over in your hand. "I thought you were the weapons master." You joke, looking up at him briefly.

"Well, I need you to make fires and shit so you have to stay alive somehow, and if we get separated or something I need to know you can at least defend yourself. These are good from a distance and up close, but remember that any weapon you have they can take and use against you. So keep distance whenever you can." He answers, pointing over to the target about fifteen feet away. "So, throw it."

You look over to where he was pointing, adjusting your grip on the handle as you nod, taking in the information he's dumping on you. He is probably right, especially since you don't think he plans on protecting you himself. Why would he? If you die, he can still win without you.

You lift your arm over your shoulder, closing one eye to narrow down your aim before throwing it hard towards the target, which the knife bounces off of and clatters to the ground. You and Rafe both turn at the same time to look at the group that's laughing at you, the clang of the metal on the cement echoing loudly in the vast space.

"Don't worry about them. They're not there." Rafe is quick to grab another one, handing it to you the same way. "Try again, this time, hold it like this..." He says, grabbing your hand and placing your fingers in the correct spots on the handle. "Keep your wrist tense and straight, don't flick it or anything. Yeah, like that." He nods, taking a step back.

You look over how you're holding it, committing the feeling and finger placement to memory before raising your arm again. You throw it again, and this time it sticks, but your aim is off and it ends up in the target's leg. You look over at Rafe, unsure if you're hoping for approval or just satisfaction. "That's perfect." He nods. "Not a death blow, but that'll buy you time to get away. which is all you need."

"Okay." You agree quietly.

"Would it help if you watched me?" He offered, already grabbing a new knife while you nod. "So, you want to follow through with the throw, your shoulders should end about here if you're doing it right. You get more power that way, and better aim." He explains, standing with one foot forward, parallel to the target.

You step back to watch his strategy, noting the way he held the blade and his form when he aimed to throw it. He lets it fly from his fingers as his shoulders fall forward, smirking to himself as it hits the bullseye circle, right in the chest.

"You got it?" He asks, standing up straight again. You nod in response and he's handing you yet another knife to try again.

You go back and forth for hours, not caring that you're keeping anyone else from practicing. You're not the best at it, but it's become muscle memory now, and every time it sticks, most of the time hitting the silhouette somewhere. You tried the moving targets briefly, the gold, pixelated figures running at you quickly. You were immediately overwhelmed, and Rafe ended up having to step in to help. He said after that the minimal skill you had would be good enough to get away, and that is all you would need. You just have to focus on that.

You didn't talk a lot, besides taking a few short breaks to gather the knives and his arrows as Rafe explained the pros and cons of every weapon they had present, showing you briefly how to use some of them. Mostly how to defend yourself against them. It's hard for him to sum up years of training in one day, but he's dead set on the idea that you won't need most of it- just having to focus on keeping the two of you sheltered and fed, he can handle the rest; hopefully.

You sit outside the training center next to Rafe, waiting for your name to be called. It was the youngest female tribute from his district first, so if you had to guess, you would be third and fourth to go, which doesn't buy you a lot of time to decide what to do to best show your skills.

"What are you gonna do?" You ask, whispering in the deathly quiet room.

"Huh?" Rafe hums, leaning closer to hear you better.

You clear your throat, before speaking this time, unsure if you were clear enough. "What are you gonna do? Like which skill?" You clarify.

"Oh, uh..." He mutters, adjusting how he's sitting as he thinks about what to say. "I'm just going to cycle through some different weapons, different distance targets, I think. My mentors want me to show like, a variety of what I can do."

You nod at this, making a mental note of that. Maybe you should do the matching game and then try the knives. Opal told you that you would be scored both individually, and as a team. You hope you won't bring down his score too much, since you know he's aiming high. You planned on going for a mid-level score, not to be seen as a threat but also not as an easy kill. A perfect six would be your ideal score. "What about you?" Rafe interrupts your thought process.

"I'm not sure." You answer honestly.

"You should do your survival stuff. That will improve our team score, if we show them we have strengths at both." Rafe suggests. That's not actually a bad idea. Your individual score will likely be lower, but that's a risk you're willing to take.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

You ended up scoring a six, the judges obviously not seeing you as any kind of threat. This is what you expected, though, and you were correct about your group score as well. Rafe and you together scored a ten. On his own, he scored a ten, so you hadn't affected it in the way you feared. This left you reeling over the idea of other tributes seeing you both as a threat as you stand in yet another extravagant dress, waiting in line to be called out for your interview. The games were tomorrow, and the last thing you wanted was to get in front of a crowd and subtly plead with them to let you live, to send you gifts, and to give you their sympathy.

So far it's been in the same order they called everyone for assessments yesterday, which means you would be next. Rafe stands behind you, arms crossed in a suit that looks more expensive than any you've seen back home in all of your life, but he looks comfortable in it. Your dress is once again covered in rhinestones, and your waist is cinched in so tight you can hardly breathe as it is, so you're not looking forward to going on stage.

"Our next tribute, welcome to the stage from District Five, Miss Y/N Y/L/N!" You hear the familiar voice of Caesar Flickerman calling you out and some guards usher you forward onto the stage, very briefly glancing over your shoulder at Rafe.

You're quick to smile as you turn back around, giving a small wave to the host and then out to the audience as they cheer for you. For a brief moment, you feel as if they don't plan on watching you die as early as tomorrow, you feel as if they're rooting for you. "Hi!" You say as you get closer and Caesar stands up to greet you, shaking your hand and giving you a quick hug before gesturing for you to sit down across from him.

You look around the large theatre, spotting every camera you can. Your family is out there watching, somewhere, and you know they'll see right through this show you have to put on. You wish they wouldn't. You can picture so vividly your living room back home, with your parents and siblings scattered across the couch and the floor watching you with bated breath, they can see you- and on some level, you can see them too.

"Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for being here." Caesar sighs, reaching out and patting your hand where it sits on the armrest next to you.

"Well, I didn't have any other plans for the night, so..." You shrug, making him laugh. Laughter echoes from the audience and you smile, hoping that your plan to win people over is working.

"What? A beautiful girl like you?" He asks after he's done laughing. "You weren't planning on spending some of your free time with your teammate?" As if you got even a minute of free time since you've been here.

"Well, I guess we'll never know." You chuckle, looking back at the boy where he stands in the wing, giving you a small smile.

"Now listen, Y/N, Rafe is..." He has to stop after mentioning his name as cheers erupt again, laughing as he waits for the audience to quiet down. "Your teammate is, as you may have guessed, a popular face in the Capitol right now. Are you feeling lucky about your pairing?"

Rafe crossed his arms as he watches intently, feeling smug about his odds, especially now knowing the Capitol's opinion of him. He knows his dad is back home watching, full of pride that his son has become a fan favourite.

"I am." You answer honestly. "He's very talented."

"And handsome, don't you think?"

"I mean, who am I to argue with the people?" You joke, waving your hand dismissively as you hear the cheers pick up again. "Besides, his looks won't save us. We will save ourselves." You add seriously.

Caesar nods in acknowledgment, showing that to an extent, he agrees with you. "Well, I hope that you are right, dear." He smiles, getting up to signal you've run out of time. You stand as well, taking his hand as he holds it up above your heads. "It was so lovely to meet you, and may the odds stay ever in your favor. Y/N Y/L/N, everyone!"

You smile and thank him quietly, waving to everyone with both hands as you walk across the stage to exit on the other side. You take a few deep breaths as you step into yet another waiting room, watching the screen as Rafe is called out right behind you.

Rafe sits down on the chair across from Caesar after his introduction, which allows a few moments for the audience to quiet down. He smiles proudly as he rests one of his feet on his other knee, bouncing his leg with anxiety. He hopes it's interpreted as excitement. "Rafe." Caesar smiles at him, sitting back down as well. "I'll be honest, I have been so excited to finally meet you."

"It's good to meet you too." Rafe grins, chuckling slightly at the few whistles he gets scattered from the crowd.

"You got a fabulous score, how are you feeling about that?"

"Really good, yeah. Obviously I've been waiting my whole life for this opportunity, so it feels amazing to see it all paying off." Rafe answers, focussing on keeping the confidence in his tone.

"We can tell, can't we?" Caesar laughs, riling up the audience again, making Rafe laugh to himself as he softly shakes his head. "Yeah, yeah. So, with all this planning you've been doing, how do you feel about getting paired up? You probably expected to be going in solo."

"I did, for sure, but I don't think this is a bad thing." Rafe admits.

"Oh, getting along well with your teammate?" Caesar asks, a hint of suggestion in his tone.

"Yeah, we get on really well." Rafe exaggerates your relationship a bit, knowing it will earn you more sponsors, and maybe keep other tributes away from you in the games. "At least I think we do, I'm not fully sure about her thoughts on me, though."

"You scored incredibly well together, despite Y/N having a fairly average score on her own. What are your thoughts and feelings on that?"

Rafe chuckles as he leans forward a bit, pointing out to the audience as he speaks. "Don't underestimate her based on the score. I won't give you any spoilers, but trust me, don't overlook her. She's got as good a shot as any of us. Maybe better."

Caesar makes a surprised expression as he nods. "Well okay! Does she have some sort of secret weapon we should be worried about?" He chuckles, gripping the armrests and looking around as the audience laughs.

Rafe just shrugs in response, smirking slightly, which you can tell the audience just eats up. You're trying to decide if this is good or bad for you, though, as you watch, gnawing at your nails in anticipation as you stare at the screen.

"Okay, alright, don't spoil anything then." Caesar laughs. "It'll make for a better show, and I can get behind that."

After a moment of waiting for the cheers to die down, Caesar speaks up again. "Rafe, if I can ask, I know your father has a lot of influence in your district- how is he feeling about your selection for the games?"

You furrow your brow a little bit as you look at the screen, finally learning something interesting about your teammate. If he's from a prominent family in District One of all places, that would certainly explain his attitude. Rafe, on the other hand, doesn't want to talk about his father at all- but of course they would bring him up.

"Yeah, of course." Rafe replies, shifting in his seat. "He's thrilled, it's a huge honour to be here, and to be the first out of his children to be chosen is really special to me. I just hope I can make him and my sisters proud, he's always encouraged us to volunteer."

"I'm sure that you will." Caesar smiles at him. "I hope I will have the honour of hosting one of your sisters on this stage one day, as well."

Your stomach churns just watching this. How can any father who loves his children want this fate for them? This was your father's worst nightmare. You watch as Rafe nods with a smile, and you can see behind his eyes that he doesn't want that, not at all.

The audience cheers as they both stand up, shaking hands before Rafe leaves the stage, a cocky smirk on his face as he waves and winks at the audience. Before Rafe makes it down to the waiting room, you're grabbed an escorted out, heading for the elevator back to your room.

You can't eat, but you know you should. This will likely be your last meal for a while. You decide on just taking a large bowl of fruit and toast to your room, trying to get it down slowly with all the nerves, while you have a bath. Your parents never let you eat in the bath. It's hard to get out knowing this is likely the last bath you'll ever have.

The morning goes by in a blur, you feel Opal's arms around you as she hugs you goodbye and wishes you luck. You know you'll need all of it. You stare down at the ground in front of you as you're pushed onto a plane, of sorts, along with all the other tributes. Once you're sat down, you look around at everyone else. You remember all of their names as you scan over their faces, but you wish you didn't. You get stuck on one of the girls from District Eleven, Hope, who was only thirteen.

She's shaking, and you can see that from where you're sat down the row from her. She reminds you of Rue, the tribute from last year. Her death was a tragedy, it broke the hearts of everyone outside of the Capitol and the career districts. Hope's curly hair sat in a bun on top of her head, and tears fell down her cheeks as she sniffled. She got paired up with a girl from Twelve- the lengths the Capitol will go to to make a mockery of last years games will never cease to amaze you.

"Hey, you look a little pale." Rafe whispers, leaning close to you. You didn't even notice him sit down on the other side of you.

You shake your head slightly, looking down at your knees. "I'm fine."

"Don't think about it." Rafe instructs you, holding his arm out for the tracker to be injected as a guard approaches with the device.

You wince as you hear it get shot into his arm and he chuckles, shaking his arm off to ease the sting. You raise your shaking arm as they hold their hand out expectantly to you. You don't know what it is they're putting in you, but you've never been fond of needles. This is a million times worse. "It's not that bad," Rafe tells you, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel pressure on your forearm, followed by a sharp, stabbing pain. You bite your tongue to keep from making a sound, dropping your arm onto your lap as they quickly walk away.

"What did they do?" You ask him, trying to keep a steady tone.

"It's a tracker, so they know where we are in the arena." He explains quietly. You were the only two talking, and you notice it's earning you glares from several other tributes. Rafe notices this as well, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, taking this time to size everyone up.

The plane takes off, and before you know it, you're landing at the arena on the outskirts of Capitol property. You wonder if you're close to the ocean, not that you'll get to see it anyways.

You're paraded off of the plane, still trying not to let it show how afraid you are of what's to come. You make the briefest of eye contact with Maisie as she's pulled towards a different hallway, and neither of you have it in you to smile anymore.

"We've gotta get supplies, that's our first move." Rafe says to you as you're led out of earshot of other tributes, into your own hall.

"My mentor said to run." You reply quietly.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. "Your what, one mentor said that? Cool. I have fifteen that are still alive and well enough to show up every year. I think we should get supplies." He tells you firmly, but you know that will get you instantly killed, maybe not him, but you stand no shot. "Just stick with me if you want to live."

You just nod a little bit, glancing at him again briefly before you're directed into a separate room across the hall from him. His pedestal will be next to yours, which is a bit of a relief. Your stylist quickly instructs you to strip, and then she helps you into the uniform you assume you'll all be wearing. It's exactly the same as last year, you notice this quickly, but with a '75' logo embroidered on the chest where the District Twelve tribute had her pin placed. Katniss, you remember her name was. She had volunteered for her sister, and at the time you contemplated heavily on whether or not you would do the same. She was so, so close to winning- to getting to see her sister again, but she and the boy from her district, the final two tributes, ended up committing together rather than giving the Capitol their Victor. It was an admirable stance, but you couldn't imagine what that was like for her family, and his.

You step off the concrete floor once you're dressed, instructed to get into the pod that will lift you up into the arena; a glass elevator. Your stylist says nothing to you as they walk out of the room, the glass door sliding shut in front of you. Your knees get weak as you realize you are totally, completely alone, and likely no more than twenty minutes from dying. You think of your family, your siblings, your dad- and the last words he said to you. You'll see him soon.

Your thoughts are halted when the elevator starts to move, lifting you up as the ceiling falls away and you can see sunlight coming through. You squint and shield your eyes as you try to look up to get a better grasp on your surroundings before you can even see anything. Once trees come into view you're frantically looking around, trying to process as much information as you can, and quickly. It's exactly the same as last year, but from what you can tell, flipped in reverse, and made larger to accommodate twice as many tributes. Or everything on camera last year was flipped. There's a silver cornucopia in the middle with the timer that's immediately counting down and supplies inside and scattered around the field in front of you. Rafe is to your right, and a boy from Seven on your left. He scored a six, the same as you, so he's not the biggest threat to you immediately.

You adjust your stance, getting ready to run once the timer hits zero. In what direction, you don't know yet. Rafe wants you to run to the supplies, but statistically, the most deaths will happen in the next five minutes and you don't want any part of that. The supply bags and weapons spread out on the grass are all the same too, by the looks of it. The closest bag to you got picked up by the girl from Seven last year, and it didn't have much of anything helpful. If you're remembering right, it had a rope and some matches, and that was it. It definitely would be useful, but you know you can do better. There should be a bag four pedestals to your right, with a water bottle, an emergency blanket, a fire starter, a first aid kit, and a knife. Right now, that's the one you have to get to. That's your best bet.

Ten, nine, eight... The timer ticks down to the final seconds as you look over at Rafe, who's already looking at you. You point to the bag as your eyes land on it on the other side of him across the field, and he looks at you confused. He's closer, he has a better shot, but you know he won't take it.

Rafe is confused, following your finger and spotting the bag. Why would you want that one specifically? There are others closer, he doesn't feel like now is a time to be picky.

Four, three, two...

Your ears ring with shock as the clock reaches zero, and you're watching most of the other tributes booking it for the center. No one has seen your bag yet as you jump down, beelining across the field and narrowly brushing past Rafe in your move for the small backpack. He stops to let you pass, almost crashing into you head-on. He doesn't have time to worry about you, so he continues on his path to the middle, but he's lost time. Precious time that he doesn't have to lose right at the beginning of the games.

He gets into the bloodbath that the cornucopia has already turned into, looking back over his shoulder quickly as he grabs at any weapon he can get his hands on. He quickly has to sacrifice the blade he just grabbed when he hears footsteps quickly approaching from behind him, turning quickly and plunging it into the boy's chest. He doesn't think to look at who it was.

Cannon's echo around you, and you're counting how many internally as you get to the bag, reaching down to grab it as you run past, trying not to slow down. You look back over your shoulder, hoping to spot your teammate somewhere, but you can't see him. You're scanning the area, blocking out the blood you see flying and scattered along the silver metal of the cornucopia. You can hardly hear any screams over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You can't help but watch as the girl from Three jumps on who is supposed to be her partner, a girl from Twelve, snapping her neck in a second. Within moments, she just drops to the ground next to her- another cannon following. That makes a strong incentive for working in teams. At least Rafe won't betray you early on.

You freeze up for a moment, stopping to scan your surroundings. You still can't find Rafe, taking in the number of bodies scattered around the cornucopia and a few tributes running into the tree line. At least some people were smart. Something flies past your head, making you jump back a step as you look up ahead of you. Within an instant, you're being tackled back by the body of the boy from your district.

"Y/N, fancy seeing you here." He chuckles darkly while you try and fight him off.

"Don't!" You squeak out, him pressing his forearm down against your throat on the ground.

"I've wanted to do this since the second they called your name." He growls, shoving you down again.

"We can help each other, Jack..." You say weakly, clawing at his arm.

"You don't need me. You've got your career boyfriend- and whatever your secret weapon is." He scoffs. "You don't have a secret weapon, Y/N. He's bluffing and he won't convince us."

You gather all your strength and knee him in the crotch, scrambling to get away as he fumbles for just a moment. "God- you are a bitch!" He shouts, grabbing for your ankle just has you pick up the knife he had thrown at you. You grip it the way Rafe had shown you, quickly shoving it into Jack's leg. You just needed to get away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, backing away quickly. Jack doesn't say another word, cutting his losses and getting up to make an escape for the woods. You hope he ends up okay.

You make your break for it as well, running back towards the woods as you once again scan your surroundings for your partner.

Suddenly you're on the ground, having run straight into the side of one of the pedestals and falling over it. You yelp with the sudden impact of the ground, scrambling to get up and continue when suddenly someone is grabbing your jacket, slamming you into the pedestal again. You scream, trying to shove them off, but they're much stronger than you. "Jael! Wait, wait- Jael!" You make out your own voice yelling the boy's name, which makes him falter. He's the oldest tribute from Eight- he seems shocked you even know his name.

In the moment when he loosened his grip, he jerks forward and then falls over you, a cannon booming making you gasp as you panic to get away. Rafe is quickly running towards you, slinging the bow he just used over his shoulder and yanking the arrow out of the boy's back. "Y/N, let's go!" He shouts, motioning for you to follow him as you continue toward the tree line, both of you keeping an eye on what's happening behind you as you disappear into the woods.

"Let's stay close, but not too close," Rafe suggests as soon as you feel safe enough to slow down, your chest heaving with the exertion of energy and boost of adrenaline. He glances at you briefly, then does a double take. "You okay? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, coughing to ease the stinging in your throat. "I'm fine. You?"

"Good," Rafe answers, slowing his pace to match yours.

"We, uh, I think we should go the other way." You say, looking around to try and mentally place where abouts you are.

Rafe stops and furrows his brow at you, seemingly frustrated by your resistance. "Why does it matter?"

"The arena, it's the same as last year. Exactly the same. Just, scaled up a bit." You explain. "We should head south, that's where the river is. We'll need water soon."

Rafe laughs slightly, his demeanor changing as he places his hands on his hips and looks at you. "No shit," He says, truly surprised and impressed that you could tell. A lot of the games tend to look like this, and he would never notice a repeat arena down to the rivers if it punched him in the face. Your 'secret weapon' is already paying off. "And you could tell that right away?"

"Yeah, I mean, I guess so. The bags were all the same, everything was laid out the same. I bet there's a river down south." You nod, having a sudden realization. "We should get to that cave- the one the tributes from Twelve holed up in last year. That'll be a good, stable shelter. We can pretty much wait it out." You say, starting to walk in what you believe is the right direction.

"No," Rafe replies, making you stop in your tracks. "Unless you want me to have to kill you in the end."

"Oh, right." You forgot about that part, keeping score. "We're still going to need somewhere to sleep, though."

"Yeah, we'll find it anyways." Rafe nods, carrying on in the direction you started heading. You follow a few steps behind, keeping a bit of distance in the somewhat awkward silence that fell over you two after his comment about having to kill you.

You walk in the thick of the woods for about an hour before you feel like you're reaching the river. You can feel it under your feet, the soil is slightly softer, and the trees a little more green.

Cannons interrupt your thoughts a few times in the hike, totaling up to twenty-three by the time you reach the riverbank. "You were right." Rafe chuckles, mentally disparaging any skepticism he faced during the long, quiet walk.

"Thank god." You giggle, dropping your bag and crouching down to dig through it, hoping for a water bottle. You were right, everything you expected was accounted for.

"Why that bag?" Rafe says, already sitting down on the rocky water's edge to rest for a moment.

"Huh?" You question, unsure you heard over the shuffling of the bag while you zip it up.

"You pointed to it, during the countdown. Why did you want that one?"

"Oh, uh, like I said they all looked the same as last year, and I hoped I remembered what was inside." You say, laying down to reach into the water and fill up the bottle.

"Were you right?"

You nod with a small smile, sitting back up and holding the bottle out to him as you cross your legs.

"That's actually insane." Rafe shakes his head in disbelief as he takes it, downing just about everything in it before handing it back.

You take it and refill it again for yourself. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment."

Rafe wouldn't admit it, but at this moment as he's watching you drink, he's grateful that he got paired up with you. But now, that it's been shown on national television that you know the arena in and out, he wonders what obstacles the gamemakers will desperately throw your way.

"We should keep moving. I feel like a sitting duck out here in the open, I don't like it." Rafe mutters, checking his attitude as he stands up. You're quick to fill up the bottle again, following behind him yet again as the arrows in his quiver rattle together against his back walking over the rocky and unstable terrain, knife gripped tightly in his hand.

You wonder to yourself how he's feeling about leaving behind his predestined alliance of the career pack, but with the factor of most of them being paired up with other districts, it was already too unpredictable. You wouldn't have stuck around either.

The sun started to set as you followed the river upstream. You didn't want to settle without some kind of shelter, and you were committed to finding that cave before you could relax. You could tell that Rafe had the same idea, his steps ahead of you gradually picking up speed with the bow still gripped firmly in his palm.

"It's a beautiful sunset." You speak your mind before thinking, desperately wanting to fill the silence.

Rafe just hums in response, looking up only briefly before training his gaze once again on the ragged rocks at his feet and continuing on. "What's it like in District One?" You ask.

"Fine." He replies coldly. You aren't sure what you expected, but this response was pretty on par. You knew you had almost no chance of survival, so it would at least be nice to get to know the person you spend your final days with, even if he would be the one to kill you in the end.

"I've never been, but I've heard it's... nice." You've only ever heard about it from the perspective of other bitter individuals from Five, jealous of the cushy lifestyle everyone knew they must have lived.

"Yeah." Rafe agrees, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"What are your sister's names?" You ask, deciding to push a little bit. It's not like he can kill you just yet.

Rafe sighs, but answers anyways. "Wheezie and Sarah."

You're shocked that he answered at all, but you could tell in his interview that he has a soft spot for them. "Cute." You nod, smiling to yourself. "Is Wheezie a nickname?"

"Yep, it's short for Louise."

"That's adorable." You grin, shaking your head.

"Hey, look. There." Rafe says, changing the subject and pointing down the rocks, where there's a small opening under a ledge.

"That's it!" You exclaim, deciding to drop the topic of his sisters in favour for finding your shelter for the night. You rush past him, watching your step as you climb down into the small cave.

Rafe quickly draws his bow, slowing down and peaking into the cave and bracing himself for your screams. How could you be so careless in a game like this? He doesn't understand your lightheartedness, your somewhat positive attitude, and your ability to make small talk despite the circumstances. "Hey, careful!"

"It's perfect!" You call back out as you look around, and Rafe steps down carefully, looking around more carefully than you had. He relaxes once he's satisfied that there's nothing down there waiting to kill you.

"Nice, okay." Rafe nods to himself, and you both get to work making a small fire near the entrance, hidden from view.

You take off your jacket and roll it up, using it as a makeshift pillow as you lay next to the fire, staring at the orange flicker of the flames you made.

Rafe is sitting across from you, knees tucked up to his chest as he does just the same. His mind is absolutely reeling- he needs to find something to eat, and soon. That will be the first thing you'll do in the morning, he'll have to employ your help to find something edible. "How are you with making traps?" He asks.

"I can do it." You reply, sitting up and leaning on your elbow so you can see him. "I'll set some up in the morning."

Rafe nods a little bit. He already knew you could, of course, but he's wondering about the logistics of how they work. "So like... hypothetically, would they work the same if you made them bigger?"

"Like... human-sized?" You ask, catching on to what he's suggesting. It's not ethical- but nothing about this game is. For you, this would definitely be preferable to fighting other kids to death over and over again.

Rafe nods, adjusting how he was sitting and crossing his legs.

"Yeah. I can't see why not." You answer. "It would be harder since I've never done it, but I think it could work."

"Then I say we try it."

The next day, you wake up as the sun rises and the light beats down on you from the entrance of the cave. You didn't sleep comfortably, that's for sure, waking up twice throughout the night to the sound of the cannon. That's twenty-seven. You wonder how many teams have already reached their ten-kill quota, you imagine someone in the career pack already has. Both times when you were startled awake, Rafe was standing at the cave entrance, bow drawn as he squinted into the darkness, hoping that whoever was out hunting other tributes wasn't nearby.

You sit up slowly, stretching out your tired limbs as you look over to see Rafe, fast asleep with a blade in his hand. You should let him sleep, and get to work on finding something to eat, and making some traps.

You grab one of the knives Rafe somehow collected from the bag laying next to him as quietly as possible, sneaking outside and taking in your surroundings. The sound of the river flowing and the smell of morning dew was amazing- you wish you could truly enjoy it in different circumstances.

You quickly get to work tracking down something to eat, landing on a few different plants you know to be edible. You're trekking through the woods near your cave when you come across an apple tree- making you pause as you look it over. It looks out of place- and maybe no one got close enough to it in the games last time that you wouldn't have seen it, but that seems unlikely. It must be new; it makes for the perfect place to try and set up a trap for the next hungry tribute who would be unfortunate enough to wander too close to your hideout.

You're digging a hole in the ground with your hands, avoiding the roots of the tree and sticking in some sticks you sharpened when you hear a twig snap behind you. You freeze, hoping that by some miracle, it's just an animal. You slowly turn your head to try and look, picking up the knife from the ground next to you and holding it tight.

"Just me." Rafe's voice relaxes you, and you stand up, brushing off your knees.

"You scared me." You admit as he takes to looking down into the hole you just dug.

"That looks... awful." He chuckles, patting your shoulder. "It won't kill, but it'll slow someone down enough that I can finish the job."

You nod slightly, staring into the dirt as well. You hated the idea that you were crafting something intentionally to bring harm to another person, but realistically you have no choice. "We'll set up more, along the riverbed and closer to the career pack. We can't monitor them all at once, though- can you make more fatal ones next time?" Rafe asks, pointing back towards the river to accentuate his point.

"That depends, how many arrows can you spare?"

The next few days saw the death toll rise to thirty-six. You kept track every night, scratching their numbers and names into the walls of the cave despite being able to remember anyway. You viewed it as a small memorial, Rafe saw it as a timer ticking down to when he'd have to kill you.

Your first trap had worked on one person, their screams of pain from a cut-up leg summoning your teammate back to the apple tree. He insisted you stay behind as he finished what you started. You had to reset several other traps as well, closer to the cornucopia.

Rafe would never admit it, but he was really starting to like you. He didn't want to hurt you- he was worried the traps wouldn't do enough. The passive approach you so preferred wasn't what he expected, and he knew his dad would be disappointed in him. But Ward would never understand.

He sighed as he poked at the fire with a stick, leaning his head back against the rocky wall of the cave, another cold night ahead of you.

You had your head laid on his lap, his thigh replacing the thin material of your coat that you had been using the last few days.

"How old are your sisters?" You ask out of nowhere, prompting him to look down at you. He had thought you fell asleep a while ago.

"Why does it matter?" Rafe replies, and you just shrug a little bit.

"Gives us something to talk about."

"Fifteen and Eleven." He relents.

"Hey, me too." You smile a little to yourself.

"You have sisters?" Rafe asks. He never asked much about you- he didn't really want to know, in the case he had to kill you.

"Yep. And a brother." You nod, sitting up a little bit. "He's older though, he aged out last year."

Rafe finds himself clenching his jaw. He can't hear that- to see you as a little sister. He doesn't want to imagine what it would be like to see his sisters face the same fate. "Lucky guy." He says quietly.

"Why? I thought it was a privilege, and all that." You chuckle.

"Well, yeah, but not for most. For the outlying districts like you."

"At least you get it." You agree. "How does it feel? Now that you're here, I mean."

"Scary." Rafe admits, throwing caution to the wind now with what his father will think. "Not what everyone tells you it'll be like."

"Is that because of me?" You ask after a few moments, and he nods slightly.

"Not in a bad way, though. It's just different. I expected to be on my own, to die alone, or kill my allies if I had to. Now... I don't know that I have to. Or if I even could." He can practically hear his father shouting at their large screen at home, or storming out claiming he was an embarrassment. He was told his whole life to never show weakness, to 'be a man', but now, at the end, that doesn't matter to him.

"I won't take it personally." You giggle softly, voice shaking as you try to make light of it. "My family won't either, I don't think. Maybe my dad, at first, but eventually he'll understand. They'll forgive you." You try and ease his mind, knowing that in the case that Rafe does win without you, he'll have to face your family in the next month or so during the victory tour.

"I wouldn't ever expect him to." Rafe tells you, tossing his stick into the flames now. He feels sick hearing you talk about it like it's inevitable- but if he has anything to do with it, you'll be coming home with him.

"They're good people." You assure him.

"Don't say that." Rafe chuckles, shaking his head. "I would never forgive myself."

"Okay, fine. They're awful. Just... the worst." You smile, looking up at him and resting your chin in your hand.

"That's better. Thank you." Rafe laughs, poking your forehead and gazing out onto the river as the flames illuminate the water.

In the morning, you're awoken to something brushing your leg. You groan and roll over, head landing once more on Rafe's extended arm underneath you. At least he was finally getting some sleep, pretty much unable to close his eyes since you set foot in the arena. You feel the brush again, followed by something moving on your arm, several things, suddenly, and your eyes fly open and look down when you remember where you are. You let out a scream, scrambling to sit up and pushing yourself back against the wall.

Rafe wakes up quickly, scrambling for the bow next to him when he realizes it won't be any help. You're surrounded by and quickly almost covered in a sickening combination of snakes and spiders.

You're still screaming, trying to shove the creatures off of you. "Come on- come on!" Rafe is yelling at you, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the exit. You don't get the chance to grab your back and you regret that as you're jumping into the river in attempt to get the spiders off of your skin and out of your clothes.

You're breathing heavily as you come up for air, and Rafe is quickly there, brushing his hands over your hair to make sure every last spider is gone. He looks back at the entrance of the cave, chest heaving like yours as the bugs and snakes spill out of it. It sends a shiver down his spine- he was never a fan of snakes.

"I guess that's the gamemakers telling us enough was enough." He sighs, gently pulling you towards the shore again a safe distance away. "Are you bit?" He asks once you're a safe distance away.

"I don't think so..." You reply, hiking up the ankles of your pants to look at your calves and over your bare arms as you sit on the shore. "You?"

Rafe shakes his head, doing the same. "It was probably just a warning. We have to move." He quickly lowers his pant leg over the puncture wounds in his leg, hoping you didn't see. If it gets worse, he'll tell you. The bite itself didn't hurt much, so if it's going to be fatal, he's glad he won't have to hurt you.

Rafe helps you up, leading you up towards the tree line. "They probably want to push us in toward the other tributes, I think we should go with it before they throw something worse at us." You, the two of you now left with nothing but what you had on you, along with Rafe's bow and a few spare arrows.

He nods. "It's our best move anyways. How many tributes are left?"

"Twelve including us." You answer quickly. "There's Avril, a boy from six, Maisie, she's from my district, most of the careers I think are still in it but not their teammates," You begin to rattle off the list,

"I don't want to know names." Rafe cuts you off, and you understand why. He's been doing all the dirty work, and part of you knows it's because he's hoping to have time to learn names and feel guilty about it later. Right now, he can't afford to see them as human.

"Right." You agree. "It doesn't really matter, anyways."

"Do you know scores?" He asks, walking alongside you now.

You nod, beginning to list off all the remaining tributes and their scores, from lowest to highest. The lowest being you- and the highest being ten, shared by Rafe and a boy from district two.

After hearing two more cannons that day, and checking all the traps you had set, you're circling back to the river to be near fresh water before you set up camp again. You don't have your water bottle anymore, or anything to set up any kind of shelter with, you do your best. You set up a fire, Rafe insisting that if it draws other tributes to you so be it- he's ready for this to end just as much as you, but you don't want to rush into your death or an ambush. It's safe to say you won't be sleeping tonight.

You didn't sleep, but at least, curled up under a tree, the night sky was beautiful. The stars seemed realistic, and you wondered if somehow they were real. Between the two more cannons that struck overnight, you still wondered if you were somewhere near the ocean, or somewhere closer to home. While you're sitting next to each other in a peaceful silence, both admiring the vastness of the night sky, you hear a ringing sound coming from above.

Rafe quickly stands, reaching for the small silver pack with a parachute before it hits the ground. He's quick to open it as you stand up, looking into the container. You grab the small card, tilting it into the light of your fire to read it.

For our Y/N,

Keep fighting. Please come home to us.

Love You Always, Dad

Tears form in your eyes almost instantly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. "It's just a water bottle and some kind of granola bars... or something." Rafe says, turning the water bottle over in his hand.

He looks up at you, frowning when he sees how upset you look. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." You quickly shake your head, wiping your eyes. "Uhm, it's from my dad."

The fact that your family could spare enough money to send you something in the games at all was amazing to you. You heard horror stories of the astronomical prices of trying to send something from outside of the capitol, without the status and funds of a sponsor.

"Oh." Rafe replies, handing you the tin and bottle now, taking the card from you gently. He reads it over slowly, and over and over again. His family had seemingly endless amounts of money, and they had sent him nothing. He knew his father viewed it as cheating, and that you shouldn't need any kind of help to win. If he loved him, though, that wouldn't matter. He should be willing to do anything he could to keep his son alive. The way your parents did.

"My mom made these." You sniffle, grabbing a small bar from the container in her hand. "They're my favourite, she only makes them on birthdays or special occasions." You explain.

"That's... that's really nice." Rafe says, putting the card back in the tin. He doesn't know how to handle this, or what to say.

You smile sadly as you sit back down against the tree, placing the tin on your lap as Rafe joins you. "Here." You hold the bar out to him.

"They're for you." Rafe shakes his head, pushing it away.

"They're for us." You insist, holding it out to him again. "They wouldn't have sent two if I wasn't meant to share."

"Thank you." Rafe smiles genuinely, for the first time in weeks as he takes it. He's starving, having eaten only small amounts of meat and plants over the last week or so, so he's quick to take a bite. It's sweet, more so than he expected. He never thought he could enjoy sugar this much.

"No wonder they're reserved for celebrations, hey?" You giggle, having intently watched his reaction.

Rafe nods. "Yeah, it's really good. Super sweet." He says, mouth still full. You grin, satisfied as you take a bite of your own.

The night flew by so quickly, you're feeling as though it must have gotten shorter. The sunrise went by fast too. You're guessing the gamemakers and the viewers were getting antsy. To be honest, you were as well.

Renewed with your energy the sugary baking your parents had sent, you set about gathering food and water, while Rafe goes on to check a few of your traps to see if they needed to be reset. He could do it on his own, but he liked watching you do it, working the ropes between your fingers and tying intricate knots, pulling back on the stick used to trigger the arrow. By the afternoon, having taken a mental note of the amount of cannons that had fired. It was a few, at least. You must be getting down to the end. He prayed it wasn't you, but the cries of some kind of mutts in the distance right before the cannons lead him to believe that you were fine- but he should be getting back soon anyways.

You were wandering down to the water, reluctant to leave your camp, but you knew water was a priority. You were just filling up the new bottle when you heard a scream. It sounded like a boy. You quickly look back over your shoulder, noticing it was nearby. Toward the apple tree. You stand slowly, looking around as you attach the water bottle back to your side with a carabiner, reaching instead for the knife Rafe had left with you. God, you hoped it wasn't him. The absence of a cannon gives you hope, though.

You quietly head in that direction, watching your step so your presence isn't detected. When you get closer to the tree, you hear crying. Painful crying, as you're faced with the reality of the trap you set.

You watch from behind a tree as the boy from eight tries to pull his leg up from the ground, screaming out again as the sharp sticks dig into his flesh. You should go get Rafe- you feel guilty, but you can't kill him yourself. You turn quickly, and before you can get a step away you're face to face with one of the other careers- a sword held up against your neck.

"Don't move." Blake says, a smile that can only be described as evil spreading over his lips.

You try and scream out for help, hoping Rafe was still in earshot but a hand is quickly covering your mouth. "Not yet." He whispers, shaking his head. "We've got a plan, it'll be fun. You wouldn't want to ruin that, right?"

As Rafe gets back to your small camp, he expects to see you there waiting. He scans the trees above him, wondering if you had climbed up for some reason. He calls your name when he doesn't see you, brow furrowed. You definitely should be back by now. As he's heading down to the water to look for you, he hears a cannon, which at this point wouldn't bother him- if it wasn't for the scream that followed after. It was you. No doubt in his mind that it was you. With his bow drawn, he's moving quickly towards where he heard your voice, throwing caution to the wind.

You scream again, crying as the tip of the sword is dug into your shoulder, laying down next to the apple tree. You can't help it- but you don't want their trap to work. You don't want Rafe to come, so you bite your tongue until you taste blood, hoping to keep quiet. "It'll only get worse for you if you don't scream, Y/N/N." Blake scolds you, digging in the blade more. "He has to hear you." He adds through gritted teeth.

You hear a twig snap just outside the small clearing, and Blake is quickly turning to look with the sword still pinning you to the ground. "Rafe it's a trap!" You shout, hoping that it's him.

Rafe steps out then, into full view with his bow drawn as he aims at the boy in front of him. When they first met, he knew they would have been good friends if they met anywhere else. "You won't shoot me." Blake chuckles, and Rafe quickly readjusts his grip.

"I will." Rafe says sternly, pulling the string tighter as Blake moves the sword to hover over your chest. Over your heart.

"If you shoot, the last of my energy will go into killing her. I don't think you want that." He shakes his head, smiling smugly.

"I don't care." Rafe says, making your heart clench. You know that you're friends, at the very least. He does care. He's bluffing- you have to believe that.

"If you didn't care you would have shot me already." Blake calls it, and Rafe tenses up, looking down at you only briefly.

"Then what do you want?" Rafe spits.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted you to watch." Blake shrugs. "Just makes it a little more fun, you know? But don't worry, you'll be next." You know he just wants to prove himself, somehow, not having scored as high as Rafe did. You wonder if his family was somehow similar- that he needed some kind of approval that he thought he might find through sadism.

Rafe looks down at you again, and you just nod, tears streaming down your temples to your ears. He quickly readjusts before letting the arrow fly, planting straight in the shoulder that held the sword as you quickly roll over, slicing across your chest and shoulder in the process. It was well worth it.

Rafe fires another arrow into his chest, not taking any risks and the cannon quickly follows as he rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" He's asking, hands hovering above you as he's kneeled next to you, unsure what to do.

You nod, still biting into your tongue as blood continues to slide down your skin, dampening your now torn up clothes.

"It's not that bad." Rafe says, looking over the cuts as best he can, but you wince when he pulls the fabric away. "You're gonna be fine, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah..." You mumble, letting your head fall back against the brush below you. Rafe is quick to take his coat off, using it to push down on the deepest part of the wound on your shoulder, trying with his other hand to apply pressure to the rest of it. You try and focus on your breathing, rather than the pain, but it's hard when a significant amount of weight is being applied to your shoulder and chest.

"I'm sorry, I have to." Rafe tells you, jaw tense as he lifts his coat to check whether or not the bleeding has slowed. You didn't even realize you were crying.

After a few minutes, he's lessened the pressure a bit, still holding the fabric firmly over your skin. "You could have ran." You mumble, voice hardly above a whisper.

"I wasn't gonna leave you." Rafe shakes his head, gently peeling away his now blood soaked windbreaker.

"You at least shouldn't have saved me. Not much point in that, is there?" You smile softly, trying to sit up and Rafe is quick to help.

"There is. You have to win." He mutters.

"I'm not winning, Rafe." You smile sadly at him. "Infection will kill me if you won't, and if no one else does first."

"No, they'll fix you up. This cut will be gone in a week, the technology they have is-"

"Rafe." You grab his attention again and he looks up to meet your eyes. They seemed to suck in all the light of the sunset above the two of you, reflecting back at him in a way that makes his breath hitch. The thought is cut short, however, when you say something that breaks his heart. "Don't give me hope like that."

"Why? You're gonna go home. I mean it." He promises. "I'll make sure of it."

"I don't think we have enough." You remind him sadly, a small smile still evident on your lips as you reach up to cup his cheek in your palm. "I never expected to go home. I'm okay with that."

Your friend shakes his head softly. "That doesn't matter. You have your family to get home to, I read that note from your dad. They need you, I can see that. For me, these games are all I was raised for. I have nothing left for me after this." He admits, avoiding eye contact with you. "I could never forgive myself if I didn't get you home."

Tears are forming in your eyes again as you look up at him. The world is watching, and in this moment of vulnerability you feel that more than ever- despite the quiet sounds around you being only the rushing water in the nearby river and the birds chirping around you. "You're a good person, Rafe." You smile at him, watching as he gently raises his hand to yours, grabbing it in his own. "I hope you know that."

In this moment, you settle on the idea that you would die for him. You never understood last years tributes, honestly, how they were willing to die for each other instead of getting home to their own loved ones, but now you do. Completely.

Without a second thought, you find yourself leaning closer, Rafe doing the same as he kneels next to you in the dark. Your eyes meet once more, lips only an inch from touching when you hear a howl in the distance, and you snap your head to the direction it came from. "The Mutts... Already?" You say, scrambling to get up and ignoring the pain in your shoulder.

"I- I heard them earlier, they sound far away." Rafe says, trying to calm you.

"You heard them? You didn't tell me?" You ask, frantically grabbing his bow from the ground and handing it to him as he goes to pull the discarded arrows out of Blake's body.

"I didn't think it mattered!" He defends, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

"There were four left last year when they sent them out. I think... yeah I think that's right. There's four of us. We have to run." You say in a panic, pulling on his hand. "Our best bet is making it back to the cornucopia."

"It'll be too open- can't we climb a tree or something?" Rafe says, following after you as you're running through the bush now in the direction of the open field.

"I don't know if that will work, but I know we'll be safe there." You explain like it's obvious. "We have to risk it- and if you can get to the others first, if they have the same idea, we'll be at ten."

You're out of breath already, adrenaline pushing you through as you hear scattered barking getting steadily closer after one more cannon. Part of you wants to stop, turn, and force Rafe to take the win if you couldn't have it, but with any hope left, you have to try and get back to where this started. The traps was an unfortunate choice in how you got your kills, because you couldn't keep track of how many since by the time you got around to checking them, the body's would have been airlifted off if it wasn't a misfire. If you had to guess, though, you were sitting at eight.

Rafe is running similar calculations in his head as he lets you lead him by memory straight to the field, mind short-circuiting as he sees the silver moonlight reflect off the cornucopia.

You sprint across the open field, blood pouring from your undressed wound again with the intense exertion of energy. Rafe doesn't pass you, though, despite you expecting that he would. You have tunnel vision as you make it to the metal structure, practically slamming into it before you can even stop. Rafe is quick to lift you and shove you up, both of you looking over your shoulders as you struggle to hold onto the edge, kicking the sides to hold yourself up.

You finally get up, reaching down to help pull Rafe up. He grabs onto your arm for leverage, mostly pulling himself up and you wince as you feel the tension from his weight in your cuts.

You flop down onto your back on the cold surface as he climbs over you, immediately standing up with bow drawn as he intently scans the surrounding area. He's only got the two arrows left, which makes him nervous if that's all he has to defend the both of you with.

You try to settle your breathing, which only lasts for a moment until the sky lights up with the recap. You miss your cave, where you could contribute to your memorial, especially seeing the face of Maisie flash above you on the sky while the anthem plays.

You close your eyes, just listening to the music now until you hear barking just outside of where Rafe can see, and you're quickly sitting up. He draws the bow tighter, aiming in the direction the howls came from just as someone pushes out into the clearing. Rafe is aimed straight at them, bow string pressed to his cheek. He's getting dizzy, and quickly. His aim can't fail him now, he doesn't have that option.

You watch them, in the dark you think it's the other boy from district one, and in your exhaustion you can't remember his name. You wouldn't dare say it, anyways. He's screaming for help, a call you know you can't answer, and you watch as they stumble on their feet, shoes and hands digging into the ground as they try to get up, just ten or so yards from you by now.

Rafe wants to shoot just then, it would be as simple as letting his finger loose and the arrow would fly towards its target. It would be a merciful end for the boy he's trained with for years now, only a couple years younger than him. The muscle in his jaw is aching from the tension he's put on it when he forces himself to let go. He has to do it, for himself, if he wants to go home.

He misses. The yelp of one of the mutts tells you it landed in a paw or back, and you look up at Rafe who's already drawn his second. "Rafe!" You cry out, pushing yourself up onto your feet and standing behind him now.

He hates to admit that your empathy has rubbed off on him. Watching you every night carving seemingly endless names and numbers into the rocks that lined the space you stepped in. He recalls waking up one morning and seeing your name and his carved in as well, closer to where he laid by the fire, his underlined and yours with a heart at the end. Like a signature on the top of a math test. He had wondered if you always wrote your name like that, and in this moment as he releases the bow again, he knows he has to find out for himself.

It happened so fast, the mutts knocking down the boy and the arrow flying from Rafe's shaky hands into where he should have been right as the cannon sounds. You don't know that it was Rafe's arrow that did him in.

"No..." You mumble, clamouring forward and onto your knees again to look over as the boys body is torn apart by the mutts. "You had to have done it. You had to." You say, trying to get a better view.

In a second, Rafe's arms are around you and he's pulling you back from the edge, sitting now behind you with his arms wrapped tightly over your body. "It's okay.. it's over." He mumbles, kissing the side of your head as the sunlight comes over the trees. He's fighting off the urge to vomit, everything spinning around him now.

You sit with him, gripping onto his arms and crying. Nothing is happening, so you must not have made it to ten. You feel sick- your heart is in your throat and suddenly you're really hot, moving away from him to look over the edge again, this time incase you have to throw up. You freeze, looking over to where the boy's body once was. The second arrow was in the ground. He missed again.

Rafe sees it at the same time as you. He sighs, hanging his legs over the edge. "Shit... Y/N, I'm sorry." He mumbles, gently reaching over to rub your back.

"No, no. It's okay." You insist, sitting up next to him. "I knew this would happen."

"I'll get you home." Rafe says, sliding down the side of the cornucopia before you can stop him. He stumbles the landing, swaying in his walk as he heads towards the arrow lodged into the dirt.

"Wait! Wait, wait, Rafe!" You're sliding down after him, running to his side and grabbing his arm before he can get to the arrow in the ground.

He turns to you quickly, hand on your cheek and he's pressing his lips to your forehead. "Sit with me?" He asks, knees already giving out as he falls to the ground.

You're instantly on the ground beside him, practically holding his head up with your free hand as you search him visually for some kind of injury. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Uh, I guess so." Rafe mutters. "Snake bite. I think."

"You didn't tell me? I could have fixed this, I could have helped..." You ramble on, his eyes dropping shut now. "Hey, eyes open."

"It's okay. Just sit with me..." He says again, smiling weakly. "Wait with me... please?"

You nod, sniffling as you fight back the tears that want to fall. "Yeah, of course. I'll stay."

Before he closes his eyes, the music starts again and your eyes are drawn up to the sky after you notice Rafe is looking first.

Then, begins a similar slideshow of faces you recognize. Ten in total. Rafe's eyes flicker with slight recollection, remembering any kills he made himself and you gasp when you see Jack. Whatever damage you had done when he tackled you on the first day must have killed him. "Rafe.." You mumble, lowering your eyes to meet his. "I think we won."

Your point is accentuated by the voice of the head gamemaker over some unseen speakers. "Introducing the Victors of the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games!"

"We did it." Rafe laughs weakly, squeezing your hand.

You fully ignore the aircraft hovering down in front of you on the grass, turning your head to look down at him. You don't say anything, neither of you do, and you finally feel your lips against his. The kiss is bad, it doesn't really work when both of you are stuck smiling ear to ear, but you don't care one bit. The only thing that matters is that you got this chance at all.

Rafe pulls away from you slowly, using all the strength he has left to lift himself onto his feet as you steady him. "He needs help!" You shout to them, and you're quickly being lead onto the plane.

"They've got really good technology," You mock what he said to you just the day before. "It'll be like it never happened in a week, okay?" You chuckle, feeling waves of happiness, worry, and relief all at once as you quickly wipe away a tear with your free hand, other arm wrapped tightly around Rafe's waist to hold him up.

He laughs, and you lean into him more, your forehead against his shoulder as the aircraft door slides shut behind you.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @ietss, @maybankslover @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @aegons-bitch, @rafegirly, @lovelyxtommy @dee127

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bobbin-buckley · 3 months

Text

A Better Woman

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your date stands you up, you don’t know what to do other than run to your best friend Jenna and unexpected something

Warnings: None! Just a bunch of fluff

Y/N/N: Your nickname

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💝

They stood you up.

Yeah! They stood you up!

You had a date with someone and they didn’t show up at all. They were even the ones that planned the date! What a bastard.

You were crying, upset, you had really liked them but they just didn’t care that they left you alone.

Driving to your best friends apartment, Jenna. You knew she’d be able to comfort you, she was such a sweetheart. You didn’t call Jenna and give her a heads up, you were just so upset and mad.

Arriving at her apartment, hoping out of your car and making your way into the complex apartment, going to Jenna’s floor. You knocked on her door once reaching it, your foot was bouncing up and down worried she might hate you for just randomly showing up.

The door flung open and Jenna saw you, the small girl had saddened eyes when she saw your state. “Come in.” She motioned you inside, walking in and closing the door behind her.

“You want a hug?” You nodded and sniffed, feeling bad for crying in front of her. She smiled a bit and wrapped her arms around your waist as yours was around her neck. The hug was relaxing and quiet, Jenna didn’t say anything..knowing you’d want a bit of silence as you calm down.

When your sniffles and crying stopped, she rubbed your back some more before speaking up, “what happened?”

You sobbed a bit before answering, “th-they stood me up..”

Jenna was furious. “How could someone stand you up? Y-you’re amazing Y/N/N.” She definitely was a bit relieved but also mad.

“How about you stay here huh? It’s late, go lay down on the couch and watch something. I’m gonna go grab something from the store.” You nodded, pulling back from the hug and walking into her living room, laying down on the couch.

“Be back!” She called, you heard the door close..then it was silent.

This had to be the worse Valentines Day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💝

“I’m back!” You opened your eyes. Instead of watching something you took a small nap. Jenna walked into the room with a bunch of bags.

“What’s all this Jen?” You sit up as she placed them on the coffee table. “This, is your Valentine.”

You look at Jenna with a tad blush on your cheeks.

Okay, yes you liked Jenna…no you REALLY liked Jenna. Nah..you loved Jenna.

“Thanks,” you open the bags and see a ton of things.

There was some beauty products, candy of your liking, a pumpkin plushie, a beanie of your favorite color, and a whole bunch of other stuff.

“Awe..Jenna, you didn’t have to.” You blushed even more, smiling bright at her. “But I did, because we’ll..I really like you Y/n, you’re important to me. And hearing how they stood you up made me furious…but I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“Really?” “Of course.” “Same to be honest…”

Jenna froze. “Wait what?” “Yeah, I just…went out with them because I was trying to deny that I liked you, because I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship.”

“Hun, you’ll never turn me away because of that. I really like you, and…would you be my valentine?” She was so cute

“Of course, you cheesy cutie.” Jenna blushed, and smiled. “Very good, can I? Can I kiss you?”

You giggled, “you don’t have to ask silly.” “I know, but..I’ve wanted your consent.” She sat down next to you, cupping your cheek before leaning in.

She kissed you passionately, it was a heart warming kiss. Kissing back with so much passion. You smiled into the kiss, feeling all happy now.

She pulled away before asking, “will you be my girlfriend then?” “Of course,” Jenna smiled her cheeks red.

You looked back over at the stuff she got you, “but I didn’t get you anything.” You sadden. “It’s okay darling, I just need you.” Smiling like a child who got candy, you wrapped your arms around her tight and she hugged you back.

This was an awesome Valentine’s Day

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💝

This was short but I hope you liked it! I’m sorry for taking long on the Tara series, I will post part one soon!

Happy Valentine’s Day! ❤️

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #wlw #lesbian

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yawnderu · 5 months

Note

I am such a sensitive and emotional person, i will tear up and bawl my eyes out over the sweetest words or actions, it’s so embarrassing 😭

like wdym you thought of me when you saw that bouquet of flowers?? hugging me bc you felt like it?? you said you love me? Oh, well, I can’t say it back bc I’m in TEARS.

could I get Simon or Kyle (am I allowed to ask for both idk HELP?) just doing something - anything remotely sweet and it’s just TEARS

OFC LOVE!! HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY BTW!! I HOPE U HAD A REALLY NICE DAY AND I'LL BE WORKING ON UR OTHER REQ ONCE I PUSH OUT SOME OLDER REQS EFJHKEFBHJ<33333

God, they're both such sweethearts. They never had anyone to coddle to this degree, always focused on simply surviving and their duty as soldiers, but the moment they find you? They're naturally so damn thoughtful and romantic, even if they try to make it look casual at first, as if they're not meant for soul-crushing devotion.

"Oh? These are pretty." You compliment the bouquet of flowers he already placed in a vase, wanting to keep them alive for you for as long as possible. You're so busy admiring the pretty flowers and leaning down to smell them that you don't hear him getting up from the couch, only realizing he's right behind you when his arms wrap around your waist, bringing you in for a hug and taking a deep breath to inhale your scent.

"Thought of you." His voice is much more relaxed than when you both first met, feeling completely at peace with you. He plants gentle kisses along the back of your neck, holding you close while his brown eyes look at the big bouquet he bought, every single flower and color perfectly chosen to represent your relationship and his feelings for you.

"I love you so much." He doesn't notice anything is wrong until he feels your body shaking, quickly and carefully turning you around while his warm hands go to your cheeks, making you look up at him. Your tears making him slightly nervous— did he fuck up?

"I love you too." You manage to say before a choked sob leaves your lips, arms wrapping around their waist while your face is buried on his chest. He's so utterly confused, but he still holds you close, one hand running up and down your back soothingly while the other one cradles your head.

"Shh, it's okay, love." He reassures, planting gentle kisses on the top of your head and waiting patiently until you stop crying. His eyes soften when you explain how much what he does means to you, melting on the inside from having such a lovely girlfriend. He doesn't mention the ring buried into this closet, hidden underneath a pile of clothes.

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geminisecrets · 10 months

Text

You First

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! NSFW! Explicit sexual content, coarse language, oral sex, unprotected sex, mild drug and alcohol use, dirty talk idk I think that's it???

Word Count: 4750

Summary: friends with benefits turns complicated when someone's keeping a secret <3

Authors Note: It has been a long time!!! We really are amazed with the writers on here who never lose motivation and always put out the bangers, you guys make it look so easy and that's really cool!! But, alas, we have missed this and are happy to be getting back into the swing of things! We love you guys :')

Y’all are super duper fuckin' rad for telling us what you think about our stuff. ☯️

Requests are open :)

Join our tag list ✨

*disclaimer: apparently the gemini constellation is only seen in Dec/Jan but just pretend you can also see it in July gaslightgaslightgaslightgaskightgaslight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Jake, just tell me!” I laugh as Jake digs his fingers into my side, causing me to squeal louder.

“Some secrets are better kept…secret”, he responds with a grin on his face, finally easing up on me as I push him away. “Trust me.” I sit up straighter on his lumpy, familiar couch, but he doesn’t give me any more personal space. He has a way of doing that. Taking up my space. And I wish I could say it bothered me. “Besides, what if I was the one annoying the fuck out of you until you told me your deepest, darkest secrets?”

“First of all, drama queen, you never said this was a deep or dark secret, second, you know everything about me, I’m sure of it. I’m an open book. A free bird,” I respond enthusiastically, getting up off the couch and spreading my arms out like wings.

“Okay, free bird, you first. Are you going to admit you were faking your orgasm last night?” he asks, slouched into the couch, legs spread and hands folded in his lap. That same miserable grin is back on his face. I feel blood rush to my cheeks, coloring me guilty, immediately.

“Fine,” I shrug, attempting to appear unbothered. “Yes, I did. I was tired and you were taking too long.” His grin widens slightly, but his eyes squint as he reads me. It’s times like these, I wish he didn’t know me as well as he did. I really and truly do wear my heart on my sleeve and my emotions tend to play on my face, like a movie screen. “Your turn,” I shift, crossing my arms over my chest.

Jake stands and closes the gap between us in two long strides. His nose is practically brushing mine, he’s so close before he says, “Nice try,” and walks past me into the kitchen.

“I’ll pry it out of you one way or another”, I say, following him begrudgingly.

Jake and I have known each other for years. He was my first crush in middle school, who turned into my first boyfriend in highschool and after graduation, my biggest heartbreak. We tried the whole dating thing, but it was bad for both of us. Jake is very demanding of time and attention. He’s passionate and jealous and honest. I, on the other hand, have always been more free spirited, tending to go with the flow. We’re completely different. Fire and ice.

I could sit here and tell you all the ins and outs of how he hurt me, how I hurt him, and all of the baggage that comes along with young love, but I’ll spare you the sob story. Just trust me when I tell you that Jake and I don’t do relationships well. Neither of us. I couldn't tell you the last time I had a boyfriend for longer than a month before it crashed and burned. And Jake? Jake’s exact words to me the last time I asked were, “I don't really do girlfriends.”

That hasn’t kept us from ignoring the obvious, though. No, we’re well aware of just how well we do fit together physically. Without saying it in so many words we’d become friends with benefits, fast. When I’m home from school and he’s in town, there aren’t many nights we spend without each other. Jake might be too prideful to admit the same, but I can say, honestly, that he’s by far the best sex I’ve ever had.

“What time is everyone supposed to be here?” I question, as I watch him unload the dishwasher, stacking his coffee cups in the annoyingly particular way he always does.

Jake’s throwing a small party tonight with some of our old mutual friends from home, since most everyone is in town for the fourth of July. The usual suspects will be here, I’m sure of it. We’ll fall back into old habits. Playing stupid drinking games until half of us can’t see straight and have to Uber home with our heads hanging out the window in a desperate attempt to dispel the nausea.

I however, know without a shadow of a doubt, as much as I stand at the mirror and tell myself I won’t, that I will be in Jake’s bed tonight instead of the Uber in question.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. “Come in!” Jake belts out.

“Long time no see!” Jake’s twin brother, Josh, calls from the front door with a lick of sarcasm under his tongue. He shuffles into the kitchen and unpacks what appears to be half of the entire liquor store onto the counter top.

Followed by Josh are Danny and Sam and their usual posse.They all say their hello’s and waste no time making their way into the kitchen to get the drinks flowing.

An hour later, the house is full and the laughs are loud. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed the banter, the blaring music, the escape from reality and the ability this house, this town, has to make us all forget how much distance there really is between the lives we live now and the ones we left behind.

When it’s finally dark enough outside, we gather in the middle of the cul-de-sac and try our best to dodge the sparks flying off the dozens of fireworks Sam and Danny haphazardly detonate. Whoever decided to give control of the explosives to the two drunkest party guests should be criminally charged.

The party quiets down a little bit and migrates to Jake’s backyard. We sit around his dingy homemade fire pit and watch the rest of the fireworks go off all around the neighborhood. The joint being passed around mellows most of us out and we sit there with our heads on the backrest of our camp chairs, tilted to the sky.

“That right there is Gemini,” Sam says, pointing up towards the stars.

“Huh?” I overhear Jake question.

“The Gemini constellation, stupid. The twins?” he scoffs, sounding truly offended, as if this is common knowledge for just anyone.

“You sure you weren't just seeing fireworks?” Jake teases. Sam rolls his eyes into the back of his head and grunts out a rebuttal.

I think in Sam’s past-life he was some kind of hippie astronomer. He knows far too much about the cosmos for someone who decided against post secondary education. However, it’s a helpful tool to gauge just how far-gone Sam is. He always wants to talk about astronomy when he’s had one too many drinks.

The conversation merges into talk of the ‘Good Ol’ Days’ and it’s just a matter of time before–

“Remember when you and Jake tried dating?” Josh yells from the opposite side of the firepit, gesturing to me. There are a few chuckles and eye rolls from the group. Josh loves this story. Loves making me blush and riling his brother up.

I usually ignore it, but it drives Jake insane for some reason. He doesn’t always know how to keep his cool when he is annoyed, especially with his brother. “Is something funny?” he chides.

“Uh oh. Did I poke the bear?” Josh taunts, throwing me a wink.

I am all too familiar with their typical twin banter bullshit, I’ve been around it for years. They like to egg each other on until the other explodes, and if Josh keeps going, he’s going to get exactly what he’s wanting out of Jake.

“Come on, Josh, that topic is so tired, what about your tryst with that one guy…” Danny steps up to save the day and change the conversation as Jake turns to me.

“I’m tired,” he says quietly, yawning widely. Jake has a very small social battery and when he’s done, he’s done.

“Me too,” I breathe, catching his contagious yawn. As we stand to make our way inside, the rest of the party seems to naturally disperse as well. One by one, the party starts to fade out, until there is no one left but Sam.

“I have about $5 in my bank account so uber isn’t an option. Cool if I just crash in the guest room.” Sam says.

“Let me go grab my stuff out of there,” I offer, moving past him to reach for the door handle.

“Oh, shit, sorry I don’t want to put you out if that’s where you were planning on sleeping tonight,” Sam interjects.

“Sam, just go to bed,” Jake orders. I can’t tell if his curt response is due to the fact that I know he’s tired or if he doesn’t want to get into the logistics of exactly where I’d be sleeping instead.

Sam begrudgingly obeys and drags his near lifeless body into the bedroom. I follow him, flicking on the light and collecting my bag off the bed before wishing him goodnight. Before I even have the door completely closed, the light flickers off and we hear a loud thud.

“Jesus, it sounds like he catapulted himself onto the mattress,” Jake huffs out a lazy laugh, wiping away the sleep from his eyes and meanders into the bathroom.

“If I had nine shots of tequila and a rack of beers to myself, I’m sure I'd be doing the same”, I yawn, grabbing my bag and making my way to the living room.

I’ve almost got a little bed completely set up on the couch when Jake snatches the blanket from my hands.

“Come on,” he says, dragging my blanket down the hallway towards his room without muttering another word, let alone giving me half a second to respond. I follow him anyway, stopping in the doorway to watch him shuffle out of his jeans.

“Jake,” I nearly whisper. “If I sleep in here, will you tell me your secret?” I ask as coyly as I can muster at this ungodly hour in the middle of the night. His movements come to a halt when he pulls his shirt over his head, glaring at me.

“I think I’d tell you just about anything to get you to let me sleep,” he groans, but the upward tilt of a smile on his lips reassures you that there’s no real malice behind his words.

I roll my eyes and finally close the door behind me. By the time I take my makeup off and change into a t-shirt, he’s already in bed with the lamp off and the TV on, playing his usual reruns of Shameless. I crawl into bed next to him, and make myself comfortable.

This is…new for us. Sure, I’ve been in bed with Jake before, but not like this. This feels… domestic. Intimate in a way I’m not sure I know how to process. I peer up at Jake, watching him for a few moments as he watches the TV.

“So… this secret…” I coax.

“Hmm,” he barely acknowledges me.

“A deal’s a deal, Kiszka,” I remind him, shifting up on my elbow, my head in my hand, waiting for him to come clean.

“I don’t remember making any deals with you, succubus,” he suppresses a grin as he lazily tosses his arm up and under his pillow, eyes still fixed on the TV.

“I’m in your bed, aren’t I?” I ask, “Now it’s your turn to–”

“I’m pretty sure my exact words were ‘I’d tell you just about anything’. Emphasis on the ‘just about’ part.”

“Are you—”

“You’re gonna have to work a little harder than that,” he breathes out, no longer attempting to hide the smile that’s creeping onto his lips.

I let out a ‘humph’ and fall flat onto my back, arms crossed. I lay there awake for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the ever soothing sounds of Southside Chicago from the TV.

There’s a kind of tension in the room that I don’t think either of us can really place. Sexual tension is not something Jake and I are strangers to. I’ve felt that with him since the day we met. This is not that. This feels tethered to something much deeper.

I think about giving up and calling it a night, but the longer I lay there the harder it is for me to fall asleep. Jake and I don’t do feelings. We’re friends, sure. Friends who have casual sex, but the boundaries we have in place are all unspoken.

I finally work up the courage to break the silence by rustling the sheets as I change positions to lay on my side, facing him. Lazily, he turns his head to look at me. His expression is blank as he waits for me to say something and I become increasingly aware of how close his face is to mine.

“What are you hiding, Jake?” I ask as I intertwine my leg with his under the covers. I feel my breath bounce off of his lips and back on to mine. He scoffs, turning his face back toward the ceiling and pinching the bridge of his nose as if I’m pestering him like a small child.

I maneuver myself even closer to him, my lips latching on to his neck, peppering kisses in a routeless path between his ear lobe and collar bone. I hear him exhale through barely parted lips as he relaxes into my advances.

“Sleepy?” I ask, not-so-subtly propositioning him.

“Not anymore,” he responds, tucking his hair behind his ear and sitting up on his elbows.

I shrug the covers off of myself and maneuver on top of him until I’m straddling his waist. His hands palm my naked thighs as I reach for the hem of his worn t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head.

I let him pull mine off as well and his hands latch on to my breasts almost instantly. Shaking my head, I peel them off of me and place them at his sides, holding them down tightly at the wrist. He gives me a look of confusion and I try and fail to suppress a grin as I lean in to kiss him.

His lips move slowly but persistently against mine and part for me immediately as I lick into his mouth. His tongue slides against my teeth and I take the opportunity to bite down on it gently, causing him to groan into my mouth.

“Jake,” I sigh into his mouth, swiveling my hips against his as I feel him, semi hard between my legs. His hands twitch under my grip.

“Let me touch you,” he breathes, biting down on my lower lip as he pleads.

“No,” I whisper back, kissing him harder as I fall into a rhythm with my hips. Reaching between us, I pull my panties to the side and position myself directly on top of his hard dick, the only thing separating him from my wet core is the thin fabric of his boxer briefs.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, eyes squeezing shut.

“No, no,” I reach my free hand up to take his jaw in my grip, the other hand still holding his arm down at his side. “Eyes on me.” His eyes meet mine again as my mouth falls open. A silent gasp escapes me as I slide my wet core against the material of his covered cock. I release his wrist and jaw in favor of placing both hands on his bare chest. “Oh my God, Jake,” I whimper, closing my eyes and tossing my head back. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t putting on a bit of a show. “You’re so hard,” I sigh.

“Can I please fuck you?” he asks breathlessly beneath me, hands knotted obediently in the sheets at his side.

“Hmmm,” I consider, “how could I let you fuck me when you’re keeping all these big secrets?” He glares at me before reaching up and taking me by the waist, knocking me on my back until he’s hovering over me.

“You like secrets,” he reminds me, lips at my ear, sucking on my earlobe before licking a stripe down my neck.

“Do I?” I question, letting myself fully melt into the feeling of his lips and tongue and hands on me while he’s not seeing just how much I’m enjoying it.

“Mhm…or did you want Sam to know what we’re up to in here?” He asks, right hand tugging at my nipple while the other still holds me around my waist, trapped between me and the mattress. I roll my eyes, causing him to pinch my nipple tighter. The sound I let out is somewhere between a moan and a yelp and I clamp my hand over my mouth instantly. Jake giggles, letting his head drop to my chest, kissing at the skin he’d just pinched. “See, secrets are fun. Necessary, even.”

He continues kissing down my body until he reaches my underwear. Looking up at me through his eyelashes, he takes the elastic between his teeth and pulls them down as far as he can before finishing the job with his hands.

When I’m bare and naked before him, he parts my legs wide enough for him to settle between them. “How do you want it tonight?” He asks. This is new territory for us. We don’t… take it slow. We don’t ask questions and, in fact, this is only maybe the second time we’ve ever hooked up in an actual bed. Closet, car, tent, couch, sure. The bed feels… intimate. Where we’re usually rushed and frantic, simply trying to get each other off, we’re now slowing down, touching softly and intentionally.

“Uhm,” I start, not sure how exactly to answer the question. Feeling out of control, I panic, sitting up and taking his face in my hands. My lips crash against his and he’s caught off guard as I press him back against the mattress.

“Not what I was thinking, but I’m not complaining,” Jake smirks, relaxing into the mess of bed sheets, his eyes still tracking my every move.

I make my way down the expanse of his chest to his cock, freeing him from those damned briefs. I don’t waste time pressing my lips to his tip, gently sucking. I watch as his breath causes his abdomen to flutter, up and down. Admiring the way his hip bones jut out on especially deep or sharp inhales. The second his hands are in my hair, I slide him down the back of my throat.

His hips immediately buck upwards as he thrusts himself deeper into my mouth, and I hear him mutter out words of admiration and praise.

“Oh fuck”, “deeper”, “slower”, he doesn’t stop. He’s always been vocal during sex and I can’t get enough of it.

I pull him out of my mouth the second I sense he’s enjoying it a bit too much; moving back up towards him. His hands are still in my hair, but move down the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. His tongue meets my lips first and then slides under mine like velvet as he slowly repositions me until my back is pressed into the mattress; him hovering over me.

“How bad do you wanna know?” He breathes, eyes meeting mine before his head dips to press wet, sucking kisses to the curve of my neck. I feel myself losing the control I had over this situation, but I can’t seem to make myself care. He lowers himself onto his elbows so that his body is flush with mine. I can feel him, hard, pressed against me.

“Bad,” I mutter, reaching down between us in an attempt to slide him inside of me.

“Ah-ah,” he shifts his hips back, away from me. “Sounds like you’re gonna have to earn it tonight.”

“Earn it?” I ask, trying to focus as his head slowly snakes down my body until I feel his lips press warm kisses on the inside of my thighs.

“Sh”, he silences me. His two fingers dive into my core, and he scissors them, stretching me the way he knows I like. He takes a moment to pull his hair back into a loose bun and he smiles when I make a crack about things getting serious. His tongue finally licks a stripe up my center, pressing hard and flat against my clit, his fingers simultaneously pumping in and out of me.It doesn’t take long for me to get there. I’m close. So close, already.

I feel my legs tense and clench around the sides of his face and my breathing hitches frantically. He uses it to his advantage, pulling me closer by the hips and nearly suffocating himself with me. His palms press against my stomach, holding me firmly in place while I ride out my orgasm.

When he pulls away, he crawls over me and lays his chest against mine. His lips press against the shell of my ear and I feel his breath echo as I stare at the ceiling and try to gather myself.

“I fucking love the sounds you make when you finish”, he whispers as he huffs out a laugh. He uses a free hand to brush the hair off of my neck, tucking it behind my ear.

“Hmmm,” I smile a hum against his shoulder, “probably almost as much as I love hearing you whimper for me.

He scoffs, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “I do not whimper.”

“Wanna bet?” I ask, pressing against his shoulders, pushing him back against the bed.

“Be gentle with me,” he teases. Teases, because he and I both know he prefers me to be far from gentle.

Without another word, I line myself up over top of him and tease him at my entrance. His hips buck up against me immediately, and there's that little gasp. That throaty, breathy puff of air that pours out from between his lips, reminding me that at the end of the day, he really is putty in my hands.

“This gentle enough?” I ask, peeking down through my lashes at him. “Can I make you feel good, now?” I grind my hips downward, my wetness sliding against the length of him as my mouth opens, jaw falling slack, mimicking his. I nod my head slowly, grinning when I finally hear the faintest whisper of a whimper. There it is.

“So impatient,” I grin, only half joking, but he proves my point when, seconds later, he grabs my hips and slams himself into me. My back arches immediately as I let out a loud moan and I hear him gently mock me. He thrusts into me, taking back all that power I had over him, reminding me this time, that I’d do absolutely anything to keep him exactly where he is, inside me, for as long as possible.

Feeling unsteady at this pace, he’s set, I reach behind me to grab his calves for support, hoisting myself up. I let my head fall back as I feel his cock stretch me better at this angle.

“Oh my God, Jake,” I whine, “I c– I can’t–”

Before I can blink, I’m falling swiftly to the mattress below me. I squeal as he grabs my legs behind the knees and folds them up against my chest. He takes his cock in his hand and circles it around my clit, my body pulsing every time I feel the soft head of his cock pass over that ever sensitive bundle of nerves.

“So pretty,” he breathes out, “all of this for me?” He asks, more of a statement than a question, dipping himself into the pool of wetness at my entrance, causing my breath to hitch as he stretches me slowly. I look up to see him grinning and staring at my face, eager for praise and compliment. So I give him just that.

“All for you,” I respond, completely breathlessly. “You’re so good, so so good, best fuck I’ve ever had,” I gasp as he finally pushes himself all the way inside of me, right to the hilt.

I can feel his cock throbbing inside of me, even with the quick snap of his hips. My head starts to bang against the headboard and I would laugh if I wasn’t fully and completely on another planet.

Thankfully he notices without me even saying a word and drags me further down the bed with just one arm around me.

“Sorry, baby,” he grunts, “lemme make you feel better,” his thumb reaches down to press circles against my clit, and I swear to God I see stars.

“Gonna cum again, for me?” He asks, once again, knowing the answer to his own question as he knows my body better than I know it myself. “Wait for me.”

He leans down, breathing heavily against my chest as his sweat slicked forehead rubs against the beads of sweat on my neck. It’s messy and it’s hot and it’s fast as he presses wet kisses to my skin. Somehow, he maintains the perfect pace and I feel him begin to twitch as he lets out a moan, muttering sweet praises into my ear. “Yes, baby. Good girl. So good for me.”

He continues to fuck into me for a moment longer until he feels me cumming again, pushing himself deeper into me, harder, exactly how I like it. He waits a few beats as we catch our breath, enjoying the closeness. He pulls out of me and we both collapse on the bed next to each other until the silence in the room is stiff enough to choke me.

“Can I ask you something?” I question, taking his silence as permission. “Why do you let Josh get under your skin so much?” he turns his head toward me, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, a hesitant smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I was– inside you, thirty seconds ago and you’re asking about my brother?” A loud laugh bubbles out of me at his blunt response, but I continue,

“Sorry, timing is weird, I know, but I was thinking, like…” I swallow, directing my attention to the chipping nail polish on my pointer finger, feeling suddenly small under the weight of his stare. “I feel like every time he brings us up, you get weird.”

Jake’s eyes practically roll into the back of his head like some kind of unofficial response.

“Okay fine maybe it’s not Josh, but the subject?” I push further, daring to meet his eyes again.

“Damn, you aren’t gonna give this up, are ya?” He huffs.

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk about that, then at least give me my fair share of the deal.” I lift up on my elbow to peer down at him. “I’d say I more than earned this secret.” I smile.

He looks up at me and for a moment, I can tell he's looking at more than my face. His eyes drift to the hollow of my collar bones, the hairs falling out of the disaster of a ponytail it was in, the space between my ear and neck that he’d breathed quiet promises into just minutes ago.

“What if the two are connected?” He asks, finally. When I give him a look of confusion, he continues, “the way we used to be and– and the secret?”

“I’m listening,” I feel my heart begin to beat just a touch faster, my cheeks warming ever so slightly. He leans up to mirror my position, his eyes meeting mine at a direct level.

“I guess I was just hoping it wasn’t really a secret at all,” he says, eyes searching mine, practically begging me to understand what he’s not saying. The air is heavy and thick between us. He swallows hard as I begin to realize what he’s alluring to.

“Forget it, I–” he begins, breaking our eye contact, ready to make up some lame excuse about being tired and choosing to talk about it in the morning.

“I love you too, Jake,” I blurt out before I can chicken out.

And I will never– ever forget his face when he looked back up at me in that moment.

Because I was finally able to answer, in one sentence, the question he’d been asking for years and years. “Do you love me, like I love you?” Yes, resoundingly and conclusively, yes.

Masterlist

Taglist:

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#greta van fleet fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #gvf smut #gvf imagine #josh gvf #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fan fiction #gretavanfleet #greta van fleet #greta van smut

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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

Text

She’s my Religion- Part 3: Everyone Wants to Have Their Taste (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- You and Astarion don’t see eye to eye about him ascending. Cazador kidnaps you to lure Astarion to the palace. Astarion realizes that more powerful vampires may not be capable of love.

CW: Violence, non-descriptive mentions of gore, mentions of SA, threats of SA, mentions of suicidal ideation

I feel so gross cause I made myself sob while editing this.

*picture belongs to @clowndroids

It had quite literally only been two hours since Pale Petras had kidnapped you. You were having a drink with Karlach after your fight with Astarion.

Astarion finally broke you and you gave your opinion on the Rite of Profane Ascension- he was not thrilled with your opinion to say the least.

“Astarion! I don’t even want to marry a fucking Master Vampire!” You had screamed after he had gotten pissed at you for saying you didn’t think he should ascend, “not only that- I will lose you entirely. You will no longer be anything, but fucking Mephistopheles’ vessel to what he pleases with! I can’t be with you if… if you ascend- I can’t sit back and let you torture me for eternity or watch you fade away.”

“Well-I guess we’re done then.”

You had watched him walk off miserably- your heart shattered into a million pieces. Karlach consoled you at the bar.

You should have tried to be calmer, maybe it wouldn’t have resulted in a break up.

You had begun to not feel well so you went back to your shared room with Astarion.

Astarion was out hunting so that he could be at his best for the fight with Cazador tomorrow- that gives you plenty of time to move your stuff into another room.

You are sniffling as another uncomfortable wave of nausea and exhaustion overwhelms you and then you collapse. You hear footsteps walking towards you- hoping it might be someone friendly. You thought how incredibly inconvenient timing it would be if the Cult of the Absolute was coming to kidnap you.

Except it wasn’t an Absolute Cultist or a friendly face- it had been Pale fucking Petras.

You woke up in what you assume is the Kennels- Cazador leering down at you like he’d caught you doing something you weren’t supposed to do.

Oh and you had. You had given yourself to Astarion- let yourself be “ruined.”

Every lash of the flail against your bare skin feels even more numb and painful than the last- you are barely conscious by the time Cazador decides he’s done and you are “purified”.

“What a shame- I would have liked your skin to remain porcelain and perfect before we have to consummate our marriage,” Cazador feigns sadness, “but I do suppose you have time to heal- a few hours, give or take. Dalyria- please help my beautiful, crimson colored bride clean up a little bit, leave the majority of the blood- it smells delectable.”

Cazador begins to leave and then turns around to say one last thing, “And do get her into her wedding dress. I have a homecoming to prepare for my prodigal son and I’m sure he’d love to wish us eternal happiness, my Love.”

The smile he gave you made your entire body shake with fear. He kidnapped you to force Astarion’s hand. You hope that Astarion stays out all night like he occasionally does when he hunts pissed off.

You would much rather he be prepared to fight and feel confident than rush head first into a battle because you are in danger. Or worse- maybe he wouldn’t care at all. He did break up with you.

You know the consequences if Astarion doesn’t show up quickly- Cazador is going to marry you, violate you, and then turn you into his spawn. Cazador told you that, by the time he is done completing the ritual, you should be ready to be his obedient consort.

Astarion would die knowing you were damned to an eternity of suffering at Cazador’s hands- whether he got there in time or not was inconsequential to Cazador- either would make Astarion crumble (despite telling him that he had quite literally dumped you not even an hour or two earlier).

You asked him how stupid he is considering he revealed his whole plan to you before you had even been there 30 minutes (he knows about the tadpole)- he bashed your head into the wall two times. Hard.

“Better?” He had said, roughly grabbing your hair and making you look up at him.

You listen for his footsteps and hold back the painful, strained sobs that rattle your broken rib cage. Your head is throbbing and your body is aching- every piece of skin cut up in some way or another besides your face. That needed to be “protected” according to Cazador.

You don’t remember when Dalyria gently helped you up off the ground and provided you with awkward, but soothing words. You cried as she began getting you ready for your impending doom. She washed your hair with care and despite what Cazador said, she made sure the majority of your blood was cleaned up and the wounds were safe from infection.

“He’ll get here in time,” Dalyria whispers, “Astarion won’t let this happen to you- he adores you far too much.”

“Doubtful,” You sniff, “and anyway, I don’t want him to make any rash decisions.”

“Right now, Tav?” Dalyria looks at you with sorrow, putting makeup on your cheeks “rash decisions is what is going to save you.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion is nervous while heading back to Elfsong Tavern- he had a bear for his meal and he is eager to see you. While he was out hunting, he realized that you had a lot of very valid points. In what world could he ask you to become his thrall when Astarion knows how Spawns suffer at the hands of their master’s. The other point that stuck with him was when you said you would lose him. Astarion can acknowledge those points- he is sure he can even reassure you. Cazador never let anyone touch you nor did he ever lay a finger on you- not all Vampire Lords are evil and abusive. Astarion will be wonderful to you.

Except, when he gets to your shared room to talk- you are gone and the only evidence of you being there is a blood stain on the floor and your supplies scattered every which way.

Astarion is frozen and he runs to Karlach and Shadowheart’s room- hoping you are maybe there and just had a minor cut that needed healing. Karlach informs him you had gone back to your shared room when you stopped feeling well.

Once all the pieces were put together- everyone was sprinting out the door towards the Crimson Palace. It had been two whole hours since anyone last saw you. Astarion can’t imagine that Cazador would actually hurt you- he’s too possessive of you.

Astarion feels sick to his stomach, enraged, and terrified all at the same time.

Astarion isn’t sure he believes in any of the Gods, but he is begging to any that will listen to him that you are okay- unharmed.

************************************

Cazador holding you up by your hair, tears streaming down your face in a blood stained revealing white wedding dress is an image that will forever be burnt into Astarion’s brain. Cazador has mutilated your skin.

Astarion and your other companions had ran in right as Cazador was cutting into you again- yelling at Dalyria that she did this to you, if she had just listened and not cleaned up the blood like he had said- he wouldn’t have needed more for the dress.

When Cazador notices Astarion, he gives him a chilling grin.

“I told you that he would come for you, Pet,” Cazador cooed, a broken sob escapes your lips, “it was so cute, boy. ‘Just use me for your ritual, I’ll take his place, don’t hurt him-“

You whimper as Cazador licks the blood running from one of the cuts on your collar bones- nipping at the skin painfully. Astarion is going to rip the bastard apart, limb by limb.

“My favorite though,” Cazador maliciously states, “is when she told me how you left her and that you wouldn’t come for her. I’ve never been so thrilled to see someone so heartbroken over the life and love of a pathetic creature such as yourself. I’m not worried though,” Cazador places kisses along your neck and Astarion watches as another wave of sobs racks your body, “I’ll pleasure myself with her body until she starts screaming my name instead of yours.”

Astarion is seething as another pained scream leaves your mouth as Cazador gives you one last deep cut on your right side- dropping your weak, shaking body to the ground. The smell of your blood and fear is overwhelming.

Astarion barely remembers the battle- he remembers Wyll pulling him out of the ritual and then killing every creature that dared try to keep him from you.

Cazador is still looming over you- occasionally digging his staff into your side and Astarion gets angrier with every wheezing cry he hears. You are trying so hard to fight back- clawing, kicking, and punching. You are throwing cantrips as Cazador continues to throw you around.

Cazador goes to hit you again, but his swing is interrupted by Astarion stabbing his dagger straight through the Vampire Lord’s wrist- the staff landing with a clatter.

Astarion is all daggers and nails- his rage towards Cazador coming out in a frightening display of bloodlust. Cazador is barely visible under all the blood Astarion as drawn, but the man still teleports to his coffin.

Astarion charges towards the coffin- he’s not done yet. Astarion wants the man to suffer for everything he’s done to him, to the countless lives he forced Astarion to ruin, and you- your freedom and guaranteed safety. He’ll be killing Bridril Von next.

Astarion pushes the lid off of Cazador’s coffin.

“No, no. No healing sleep for you,” he pulls the Vampire Lord out of his coffin, “Wake up!”

Astarion flings the man with so much force he slides across the floor. Cazador gets onto his knees and looks at Astarion with pure loathing and disgust.

“Get your hands off me, worm.”

“Ha! I’m not the one in the dirt,” Astarion says with a sneer.

Astarion picks up the knife nearby and looks at Cazador, “one last thrust and I’ll be free of you. I’ll never have to fear you again.”

Astarion cocks his head to the side, “but, if I finish the ritual you started, I’ll never have to fear anyone, ever.”

“You think me a fool? That I would allow anyone to usurp me, speak the words and ascend in my place?”

Cazador cackles before continuing, “The runes I carved into your flesh bind you and all seven thousand souls to the ritual. Complete it, and all those bearing the scares will be sacrificed- you included.”

Astarion’s face contorts as Cazador smiles, “ you are simply a means to an end. I made you to be consumed.”

“I am so much more than what you made me,” Astarion retorts.

His whole body is shaking with anticipation- Astarion will finally end this man’s life. Astarion will have pow-

The pull of the Ascension is disrupted by Shadowheart screaming for Halsin to come and help- you’ve lost a lot of blood and she thinks you may be poisoned to some extent as well. You aren’t talking and you are motionless on the ground. You are looking at him though, tears rolling down your face.

Your affection for him warms his body as he enters your mind through the tadpole. You are barley conscious enough to notice the invasion of privacy.

Without the pull of the ascension, Astarion is unsure of his next move. He needs to know what to do, he doesn’t know and he needs your help.

Astarion’s body is then filled quickly with an intense suffocating grief. He is watching memories of the two of you together run through your mind as if you are having your own silent funeral for him. Astarion hasn’t seen himself in 200 years, but seeing him from your point of view- a loving, grieving point of view- takes all the wind out of his sails. Astarion is beautiful, but your affections towards him make him even more so. Together reading books, making love, joking, playing games- it’s all there in a nice warm little box that is slowly turning blue.

There is a finality in your head that eats him alive. There is acceptance and happiness for him- Gods all you have ever wanted was for him to be happy- but you are screaming and crying on the inside for your lost love. Aching and all alone- wishing Cazador would have just killed you and hoping there is a possibility they won’t be able to save you in time so you don’t have to watch him become Mephistopheles’ puppet- now or in the future.

Astarion feels tears stream down his face as your eyes begin to close. Your breathes are getting more shallow and he feels you give up- unable to continue with this life all alone. You’ve lost everyone now.

Goodbye, my Star. I should have told you I love you.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #karlach #bg3 #astarion acunin #astarion x female reader #astarion x f! reader

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fatallyfalling · 5 months

Text

Bitter Water 0.05 ~ ♆

“ Fuck you, Odair ”

warnings: typical Hunger Games violence/trauma/themes, language, blood, injury, insinuation of forced prostitution, enemies to lovers, slow burn, death, nightmares, reader throws up whoops, alcohol/tipsy! reader, Finnick is still an ass, etc

{{ word count }} 2.8 k

{{ prompt }} Readjusting to life outside the arena is a challenge. You’re barely able to cope with the blood staining your hands and the new terrors that arise before you’re whisked away back home.

{{ a/n }} happy holidays ! we’re finally going to be getting somewhere in reader and Finnick’s relationship this time around !! there will still be a lot more build up from here don’t fear <3

Finnick had to adjust his grip to keep your buckling knees from bringing both of you to the linoleum tile below. You had gone all but limp in the boy’s arms as choked sobs escaped your lips. You broke down right there in his arms, eventually taking the two of you to your knees regardless of the boy’s strength nor his futile attempts to keep you either standing or to guide you back to your cot. Wires connected sticky monitors to a wailing device and tangled themselves around your arms and chest. A small trickle of blood dribbled down your forearm from where your IV tube had been ripped out in your scuffle away from the medics.

Finnick’s brows knit together in a tight crease as your fingertips pressed hard into his honey-tanned skin. A muscle in the boy’s jaw fluttered as your sobs and burning touch tugged that thread in his chest hard. Your claim from the train ride had been ripped from your grasp without so much as a goodbye, all in the name of survival.

“I’d rather choose death than a life with blood on my hands.”

He didn’t really know why you were gripping him so tight, as if he’d disappear should your grip be released, considering you’d almost taken him out with a medical tool upon his entrance to the small medical bay. The device had cracked the small window next to the doorway, and broken glass now speckled the floor beneath the shattered pane. Your broken, hiccuped cries continued on, ragged breaths barely bringing air into your lungs, while Finnick shot warning glares back towards the doctors who tried to enter the room. The medical professionals slowly backed out upon meeting the deadly daggers within the Darling’s sea-green gaze. You were in hysterics, to say the least. The reality of your survival and the invisible crimson caked into your skin slammed into every fiber of your being and brought bile rising into your already constricted throat. But nothing heaved itself from your empty stomach. Finnick sat cautiously still, the linoleum tile cold beneath his knees, as his gaze turned away from the open door back to your crumpled form. He didn’t say anything nor make any moves to comfort or touch you, only providing space to allow you to get everything out. To be frank, Finnick didn’t know how to react besides sitting still. You hadn’t expressed kindness to him since meeting one another, nor had he you, but the thought of your fear and the pain tearing apart your chest being intensified by the poking and prodding of medics and nurses tugged that thread again painfully as if the tension was pulled so tight on a guitar sting that one more twist would cause it to snap and fly back in a heated slice across his heart.

So the Darling stayed.

He sat with you till exhaustion ebbed into your shoulders, and your tears slowly dried. He sat still as a rock until reality came back into focus, and your fingernails left small, purple crescent moons on his tanned forearms as you released your grip. Your breaths were shaky, and your voice was shot as your bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks flushed with color dragged up to meet calm sea-green oceans. “I-I’m.. sorry…” You struggle to gasp out before your chin dips, and a trembling arm comes up to cough viciously into your elbow. Finnick simply shook his head, rubbing sweaty palms on his tear-stained trousers before combing a hand through the bronze waves thrown atop his head.

“It’s fine,”

The small room fell silent, aside from the bustling commotion outside the bay and your gasping breaths as air still struggled to fill your lungs. “I should go get a nurse. You’re bleeding again.” Finnick huffs after a beat before moving to stand. You don’t say anything as your arms curl around yourself in a tight hug. A thick swallow goes down the boy’s throat as he forces himself away from the room and into the bright, sterile hallway. That thread tugged his shoulders back as if trying to push him backward into that room towards the corner you’d curled into, but he willed himself to move forward. You were just a scared victor. You had gripped the first familiar thing to you after being trapped in a cruel Game for a month. Your actions were instinct-driven and nothing more. You’d only met for two days. There was no point or reason for his chest to be this tight or his skin to hunger after your touch. His jaw sets as he rubs the crescent indents on his skin, searching for a nurse down the hall.

That thread snaps tight in his chest again with each brush of his thumbs over the purple marks.

You’re kept in the medical bay of the Capital’s Tribute Center for a fortnight. The lengthy stay was mostly for observation purposes following a psyche evaluation alongside the closing ceremonies of the 67th Games and another sugarcoated interview full of bright lights and flashing cameras with Caesar Flickerman. You’d thrown up at least once before or after every public appearance. You despised the spotlight, gargling a minted mouthwash between your teeth to coat your tongue and rid the sour taste of bile from your lips. Hyacinth returned to plaster you in garish flourishes and flounces along with an opaque concealer to cover the deep-set smudges of purple beneath your eyes from lack of sleep. The Capital had been gracious enough to mend your wounds well, but makeup was still needed to cover bruises in various stages of healing. You did your best to plaster on that faux, practiced smile before performing once again for the entertainment of millions of Panem citizens.

Your stomach painfully churned upon your realization that the performance would never end. You’d always be forced to perform from this moment forward.

You’d only seen your mentor, Mags, consistently after your breakdown, besides various medical personnel needing to check on you. Finnick was only seen in passing. The two of you hadn’t spoken since your outburst, nor had the two of you stood in the same room long enough to converse with one another, let alone stand beside one another. Only fleeting glances were shared across crowds, and the bronze-haired boy was constantly moving, constantly changing. Each night, he would appear strapped to the hip of a new Capital elitist in progressively more revealing tunics and netting that unfortunately left less and less to the imagination. Your nose crinkled at the aura he put out, cocky and self-absorbed while flashing showboating smirks and suggestive comments back to back. At least the rumors concerning the two of you harboring some kind of “star-crossed lovers” spectacle had died out upon your announced victory and the Darling’s consistent appearances with new presumed partners, earning him the term playboy in the gossip strips of Capital newspapers. You tried to avoid the victor and his attitude at all costs, forcing yourself to forget the moment shared in a forgotten hospital room corner and move on.

Mags was sweet as ever, doting on you like a worried mother hen and doing her best to ensure your comfort, considering your unstable circumstances. She visited you daily, sometimes more than once. The two of you would share a meal or cup of tea, conversing in your own signals and whispered words, discussing anything and everything to help you get through the day. On the hard days, the two of you would sit in a calm silence, simply absorbing the pleasant company of one another.

Tonight, you would finally board the train back to District 4. Back home. You didn't sleep at all the night before. Whether it was nerves, excitement, or the haunting phantoms behind your eyes whenever they closed? You're not sure. It could be all three, honestly. Thatcher was busy lecturing your procession as bright flashes blinded your vision, and loud hollers of the Capital upper-class bludgeoned your ears. However, all you wanted was to be out of the spotlight and locked inside your personal quarters for the next two days before finally seeing your lovely younger brothers again. A gloved hand grips your shoulder and urges you to keep moving. The stark-white uniforms of peacekeepers cloud your peripherals, sending your skin crawling. The grip feels like a brand on your skin.

Moments after the train car doors shut, the industrial machinery surges to life, and the train sets into motion. An ascending chug roars as the metal car picks up speed. “Come, come! Just like our last journey, there is much to be discussed!” Your escort queries while ushering everyone towards a too-familiar dark wood dining table. Your group was small, but Thatcher, Hyacinth, Mags, Yourself, and surprisingly, Finnick gathered at the long table, taking seats behind cursive name cards and crystal wine glasses. You couldn’t help your sweeping gaze across the silk tablecloth toward the 65th victor. The boy was lounged across his armchair, weight pressing into his left elbow on the armrest as his free arm dangled the wine glass, dark wine slowly swirling inside the goblet. His position appeared comfortable but exuded pride. You forced your gaze down to your glass of wine after sea-green oceans caught wind of your unintentional staring. A cheshire smirk pressed dimples into his tanned cheeks, but no words were exchanged between you two.

“Now, we have two days before arriving back on the sunshine sands of District 4. For our dear victor,”

Your name sounds foreign in such a cheerful tone.

“Your family has already been transferred to your lovely new home in Victor’s Village! Our Darling, Finnick here, will be just across from your new home with Mags beside him. Your fellow victors will be around you in the rest of the village for support and companionship!” You wince at the escort’s last words. You didn’t want their feigned “companionship” You just wanted to go home. A dark chuckle resonated across the table, and even Thatcher goes quiet for once.

“Yes of course, we have weekly parties to discuss our methods from the arena, and sit in circles and sing koombaya.”

Your nose scrunches in discomfort at the bronze-haired victor’s blatant sarcasm. Mags shifts uncomfortably in her seat at the end of the table between the two of you while shooting the boy a pointed look. A beat passes before Thatcher clears their throat and tries to continue their speech. “Uhm, yes… I suppose. Ahem. When we arrive at the station, cameras will be ready, so I expect nothing more than big smiles! We are happy to be home and to see our beloved District again. No more, no less. There will be a meeting with the Mayor, then a procession through the District to Victor’s Village, and then another meeting to discuss the terms of the next six months before beginning your Victory tour through all of the districts, ending with a grand celebration in the Capital city with our Honored President Snow.” Thatcher continues. Their voice regains its usual lilt and confidence, almost as if they’re convincing themself of the festivities ahead. They gives another speech on rules and expectations, Hyacinth flutters on about her ideas of possible designs for the tour, among other details, and you feel like you’re about to be sick.

You quickly down about two and a half glasses of wine before you’re buzzed and floaty enough to settle in your seat. You’d drowned out the conversation long before, finding the dozens of tiny rainbow light fractals sparkling in your crystal goblet far more intriguing. The dark wine was dry and bitter-tasting. Through slow-blinking eyes, you finish what’s left in your goblet and excuse yourself from the nonsensical conversation. Amidst your hazy stumble from the table, you didn’t bother or care to notice the sea-green eyes fixating on your retreating form.

You just wanted to lay down, possibly throw up; you couldn’t decide which quite yet. You’d never bothered with alcohol before. Seeing what the fermented liquid had done to your father made the idea unpleasant. But after experiencing the hazy warmth the drink brought to your core and the ease of a clouded mind, you began to see why he had taken up the habit. The Capital didn’t seem to care if minors drank anyway. You told yourself over and over you wouldn’t let this get bad. You refused to be like him. You just needed to get home and see the sweet faces of your brothers.

Your personal quarters were the same as before, sleek and industrial with shades of grey and royal blue velvet followed by dark wooden accents. Your clothes were comfortable linen, the same ones you’d worn off the train before the Games, but this time, your top was an inky black, and your lightweight pants a cool, forest-toned green. Face planting into the plush bedding, you curled in on your side. Your hair had been left in its natural texture since the games, only maneuvered when Hyacinth needed you to appear publicly in her newest design. Your knees hugged close to your chest, and your arms curled in close, making for a tightly coiled fetal position. The back of your skull felt fuzzy as if a hand was leaving ghostly pinpricks up along the nape of your neck to the crown of your head. The feeling was peculiar yet welcome, adding to the fuzziness behind your eyes and the warmth wrapping around your torso.

Your sleep was light and thankfully, dreamless.

Sleep held you hostage for several hours before jolting you awake in a cold sweat, as the fervent need to expel your stomach sent you scrambled to the black porcelain latrine and heaved bile and wine. You were lucky you’d made it to the small washroom at all, with how quickly the intoxicated need took hold of your consciousness.

“Well now, haven’t we been here before?”

You could hear the smirk on Finnick’s face before you’d even finished wiping your mouth on a strip of bath tissue.

“Get out.”

Your tone was cold, glare laced with irritation, as you shifted to clean yourself up and shakily stood after gripping the onyx rim of the washroom sink. You weren’t in the mood for idle chatter nor the taunts that glinted in the sea-green irises behind you. “If you’re just here to gloat or say, “I told you so,” you can shove it. I’ve had enough false charm and teasing, Peacock.”

“Peacock? Is that a new pet name, hm? What was it you told Caesar? Oh, yes - that you would never fall for a stuck-up Peacock like me in mm…say, a thousand years? Maybe Mr. Flickerman was on to something."

"Fuck you, Odair."

Venom spits from your lips as you finally turn, only to be caught off guard by meeting that insufferable smirk mere inches from your face. The two of you were on a fairly level height, but the slight slouch in the boy's stance hinted that he was taller. Your palms connect with honey-tanned skin as you shove the vain Darling back to get around him. "Get out of my room." You quip, blood simmering in your veins as you thrust a pointed finger toward the open door. The swagger in the boy's walk almost had your eye twitching as the various reasons you'd disliked the boy before became crystal clear in the front of your mind. Whatever regret for your previous outburst, or feelings that had flickered between you two in the medical bay were gone, replaced by whatever Golden Boy persona had infected Finnick and twisted calm concern in his eyes to an unreadable cruelty. You hated the boy standing in your doorway.

"Get. Out."

Finnick simply shook his head, before sauntering out of the room, not bothering to mention you’d slept through breakfast. Again.

As the industrial door slid shut behind the boy, that thread snapped tight in his chest again. Swallowing thickly, Finnick shoved his hands deep into his pockets and tried to shrug off the tightness in his chest. The words had tumbled from his lips quicker and harsher than intended and he felt like kicking himself in the ass for his actions. The phantom touch of your hands pressing into his chest made the pink crescents on his forearms sting, and he had to reach up and pick an invisible piece of lint from his tunic for any sense of relief. Maybe he should let you hate him, keep up the act, and remain at arm's length instead of nursing that tight string in his chest linking back to you. You were frightened, traumatized beyond belief, and you just wanted to go home.

Mags was sure to chew him out for a good hour on his behavior well into the late afternoon.

@emerald-09 @reader-bookling123 @finnickodaddy @thehairington86 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @whens-naptime @violettbae @the-lonely-abyss @secretsicanthideanymore @nexxus13 @takanparadiae @yourdailymemedelivery @wowzabowza69

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sixosix · 1 year

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nishinoya yuu loves his teammates.

he adores shouyou, yamaguchi, and kageyama. (tsukishima is only slowly growing on him.) point is, he loves his junior teammates dearly, and would gladly win and lose every tournament if it means just being with them.

but right now? it almost doesn’t feel that way.

you shift nervously, hoping hinata wouldn’t turn around and see the almost poisonous glare nishinoya is drilling on the back of his head. you can see the smoke coming from his ears.

“um.” you feel sweat trickle down the side of your face on hinata’s behalf. “hinata-kun…”

“huh?” says hinata, so painfully oblivious. he tilts his head, asking, “is that a no? it’s okay if you don’t know how to, i can teach you!”

someone gasps from the sidelines.

an unreadable look passes over nishinoya’s face. you almost laugh at how much he’s resembling a disgruntled kitten.

“i know how to, hinata-kun, it’s just that—”

“shouyou,” says nishinoya sternly, a shadow cast across his face, “please stop flirting with the love of my life.”

hinata’s face drains of color so fast you almost reach out in case he faints right then and there. “nishinoya-senpai!” he cries, horrified, “is it against the—the bro… bro… conduct…? contract?”

“the bro code,” yamaguchi helpfully supplies.

“the bro code!” hinata continues. “is it against the bro code to teach someone’s significant other volleyball?”

“it is very intimate,” tanaka agrees, nodding. “i wouldn’t cross that line even on those damn city boys!”

“since when was there a bro code?” sugawara wonders.

“what’s a bro code?” kageyama looks lost, and a little miffed he’s missing out on what seems to be another rule about volleyball he doesn’t know.

“because!” nishinoya yells, catching the attention of just about everyone in the court. “because i don’t want any of you wooing y/n-chan! only i get to look cool in front of y/n, okay? not even you, shouyou.”

hinata nods, taking his mistake seriously.

“yuu,” you laugh, exasperated and hopelessly fond, “there’s no need for all that. only you look the coolest in my eyes.”

nishinoya freezes, jaw hanging wide open. it is impossible, realistically, but everyone watches in awe as an arrow in the shape of a heart strikes him right on his chest.

“y-y/n…” he sobs, sprinting over to you until you’re tackled. but you’re too used to his antics so you just hold him up awkwardly, unfazed. “i love you! would you really let me teach you volleyball?”

this seems extremely important for nishinoya, so you play along and pretend to consider it. “hmm, i don’t know,” you muse, and nishinoya holds his breath. “are you a good teacher?”

“he is!” tanaka agrees immediately, the number one wingman.

“nishinoya-senpai is the best teacher!” and hinata means it, too. “you’re so lucky, y/n-san!”

“i’m touched to have this honor, then,” you laugh.

“i love you guys! i’m treating you ice cream tomorrow!” nishinoya continues sobbing and preening from the praise. he turns to you, pointing with a finger. “i’m not going to make you regret choosing me!”

you find it sweet that nishinoya is more than happy to let you in on his favorite sport. he seems overjoyed of the thought of you and volleyball combined. “of course, yuu. i’m looking forward to it.”

this is so stupid HAHAHA i swear it’s like i forgot how to write anymore. i didnt even want to do my fancy format bc i cant think of a title for this

is this a good time to post? no. am i gonna do it anyway so i can slowly make my way back to the algorithm before posting longer fics even though this’ll flop? absolutely yes.

#606:HQ #606:KRSN #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #nishinoya yuu x reader #nishinoya yuu x you #yuu nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya fanfiction

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0sincerelyella · 7 months

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Request: Hey can I request one where Joe burrow cheat on the reader and after some time he wants to be back with her

Drunk and Stupid - Joe Burrow

Summary: joe gets drunk, and stupid. losing his only and every thing

notes: this is going to be very cheesy and cliche but i love angst so let’s go

the ending is so trash i’m so sorry

an idiot. only an idiot would get black out drunk after a game when he has a wife to go home too. only an idiot would follow a girl, not his wife, up the stairs of this strangers house and into a bedroom

he couldn’t even walk up the stairs

he was dizzy

he was disoriented, sick, confused

she looked just like his wife

but she wasn’t his wife.

if was only a kiss, a kiss interrupted by shrimp he had hours ago. but he still kissed her

and her, wasn’t his, her.

the next day, he woke up in a haze. his head hurt, and his heart hurt even worse. his head rested in the lap of his wife, a cold rag in her hand dabbing against his forehead. “good morning” she said, her eyes had bags under them, dark circles, and they were swollen. her nose was red. he knew that look all too well

she was crying

he leaned up to kiss her lips but y/n turned her head. “no, i’m sorry” she sat his head on the pillow gently and stood to walk into the kitchen.

joe sat up, adjusting his eyes to the sight around him. the closet was open, and only joes stuff was left. junk was thrown all over the floor, glass shattered, wedding pictures torn. her suitcase was missing, her shoes, her clothes, all her belongings were just gone

he stood up, his head spinning in circles. he made his way to the kitchen where y/n stood, her head rested on the counter, she was sobbing uncontrollably. “y/n? honey what’s wrong” his hand landed on her should, she slapped it away.

“don’t touch me joe” she said, standing up and wiping her tears. “don’t touch me again” she stepped back, only then did joe notice the suitcases stacked by the door.

then he remembered last night. the night of his stupid, idiotic, drunken decisions. “y/n,” he reached out to grab her like if he didn’t she’d slip away. “no, joe. i’m not doing this” she stepped back

she was slipping away.

“you said in our vows that it was me and you against the world” she was crying more, and pushing him away more. “i guess it’s you, and her now isn’t it joe”

“i don’t even know her name” y/n shook her head. “that makes it worse”

she grabbed the wedding picture off the counter, pointing to it. “4 years of marriage, and you threw it all out the window for a girl at a party you don’t even know”

she slammed the picture down

“just yesterday morning you talked about us starting a family” joe was stunned

his head hurt too much to even think and his heart hurt to much to beg

“goodbye joe” she said, looking into his eyes, seeing her reflection in the color. in that face she married, and loved so much.

she walked out the door and out of her future forever.

—

y/n stepped out of her small cincinnati apartment, taking the elevator down to the first floor. the sun was bright and beautiful. she’d moved into this new apartment three years ago, nine months of living with her parents after her divorce.

she opened up her car door, and drove to her destination. she had taken these three years to focus on herself, sorta.

but she was very happy and health in her own skin compared to the moment she had gotten her heart crushed.

y/n parked her car, stepping out of it and walking towards the practice field. she took a deep breath, she figured it would only be her old friends, tee higgins, andrei iosivas, tyler boyd and jam’arr, considering it was a wide receiver camp for kids. but she was still scared.

as she walked onto the field, she was met with her sister, and her sisters son. “hi!” she grabbed her nephew into a tight hug. “hi auntie-“

“y/n?” y/n stood at the voice she knew all too well.

“joe” she said, taking a hitched breath. he smiled at her “how have you been? what are you doing here?”

y/n turned her head towards a small, three year old boy running towards her. “momma!” the boy called, hugging her leg. “hi jay jay” she said with a smile, “whose this?” joe asked, his face wore a surprised look

“my son, jeremy” she stated, picking the boy up in one swift motion. joe smiled again, this smile was sad. “where’s his dad?” joe asked, causing the boy to look at him with sad eyes

sad, blue eyes

“i don’t got one” he said, looking back at his mom

something in joes mind clicked then

“how old is he?”

y/n knew he knew at this point. she couldn’t hide it anymore. “i’m this many” he held up three fingers

“he’s mine isn’t he?”

y/n tried her hardest to hold back the tears as she nodded.

joe dropped everything in that moment to hug them.

he’s wanted nothing more than her back for the past three years, nothing more than his girl. and now he knows they have a child together

he can’t stay away for her sake now.

“joe, i want us to be a family i do” her eyes filled with tears just as the did almost four years ago

“i don’t think i can ever look at you the same again”

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angelbaby-fics · 7 months

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Halloween Decorations

Word Count: 800

A/N: This is just a little something I wrote because I’m so excited for Halloween!! Oh, the things I would do with decorations if I had Avenger money…… hehehe 🎃

“Alright, here’s what we’re working with.” Bucky said as he lowered a big plastic tub onto the ground in front of you and Steve. The three of you were standing in the grass of your expansive front yard, and Bucky had just returned from the garage with the bin of his and his husband’s Halloween decorations they’d each amassed over the years. Except, as he lifted off the lid, you all realized at the same time that it wasn’t all that much.

Two, maybe three strings of orange lights were tangled together in an incomprehensible mass. There was a white cloth ghost on a string, a few half-used orange candles, and a single plastic bone underneath the lights, and that was about it. Maybe it was enough for two adults in an apartment, but now that they had a little and a great big house, Steve and Bucky knew they needed to step up their game.

You tried to hide your disappointment at the lack of decorations, not wanting to seem ungrateful, but it was hard to act excited over this pitiful pile. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust, and you were sure the lights had more busted bulbs than working ones. It didn’t matter, your daddies were just as unimpressed as you were. Of course they had high hopes for their first Halloween with their little angel and they were already failing at it.

“Well this just won’t do, will it?” Steve broke the tense silence with a smile.

“Not at all, honey.” Bucky replied to his husband before turning to you. “What do you think, cupcake? Wanna go to the store and help us pick some new decorations?”

Your eyes lit up and you nodded eagerly. Your daddies spoiled you every time you went shopping as a family, and you knew this trip would be no exception. Your mind began to race with thoughts of the incredible display you’d be able to put on this year - with your daddies’ help of course!

When you reached the store, Steve pushed you along in the cart, talking to you and pointing out everything you passed by. Bucky kept up alongside the two of you, grabbing anything that even slightly made your face perk up and tossing it into the basket of the cart. You stocked up on strings of lights in all sorts of spooky shapes and colors for the outside of the house, as well as lights on stakes to line the sidewalk leading to your driveway. You couldn’t decide between all the options of silly-faced scarecrows, so Bucky went ahead and loaded all of them into the cart, barely able to make room amongst a parade of toy spiders, ghosts, and creepy crawlies. A whole colony of fake bats sat up in the front of the cart with you, and you pet their little plastic heads as Steve steered you between the endless aisles.

And then you saw it.

As you turned the corner into the next aisle, a massive figure loomed over you, dark and menacing. The sleeves of its long black cloak threatened to stroke your hair as you passed by, and your eyes widened in fear as its horrifying face smiled down at you with an evil grin. Your face twisted up as you began to cry, the sobs escalating with each panicked breath. Steve couldn’t push you away from the figure fast enough it seemed, the creature's villainous eyes following you as he hurried you along, but Bucky was trailing behind and hadn’t noticed your fear. Completely oblivious, he strolled right up to the animatronic and hit the activation button. You were still within earshot when it spoke.

“Trick or treat! Hehehe…” Its deep voice echoed through the store.

And your crying stops.

You looked back up at the animatronic. How actually evil could it be with such a sweet little giggle? Bucky hit the button again.

“Happy Halloween, you creepy little cutie!” It said, followed by another laugh.

You clapped with joy. It called you a cutie, just like your daddies did!

“Again! Again!” You cheered, no longer afraid, but rather enamored with the figure.

“How about we take him home, and then you can listen to him whenever you want?” Bucky offered, picking up one of the heavy boxes with ease.

“Would you like that, angel?” Steve asked, making sure you weren’t still scared.

“Yes pwease! I love him!!” You squealed as Bucky put the box in the cart.

That joy stayed with you as the three of you checked out, and you even asked specially to have the animatronic’s box strapped into the backseat next to you. You couldn’t wait to go home and help your daddies decorate, already sure you were going to have the most spectacularly spooky house on the entire block.

#little!reader #stucky x little!reader #agere fic #bucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #daddy!bucky #daddy!stucky #cg!stucky x little!reader #cg!stucky #chloe's fic

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cb97breathing · 11 months

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SHATTERED

Pairing: Afab! Reader x Minho

Theme: Angst

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: Please do not repost or translate my work! Let me know if you wish to be on the tagged list.

Not one call, not one text, nothing and today of all days. A day that was important to you. This wasn't the first time that Minho had done this, and of course with his job he was extremely busy. You tried your best not to let it get to you and be understanding. The life of an idol wasn’t easy. But neither was the life of a normal person dating an idol. But he knew how important today was for you and it was getting very late. The other boys made sure to send you messages. Hell Chan even called you. But from the man who claims he loves you more than anything? You got nothing and it hurt you.

So here you were at the studio, wanting to at least get to see him and hear his voice. Maybe once he saw you he’d realize what today was and apologize. But when you walked into the dance studio he ignored your existence.

“Hey!” Hyunjin rushed over to you with a big smile as you entered. “I didn’t think you’d be coming here!” You smiled as he pulled you into a hug. The rest of the boys greeted you happy and asked you if you liked everything they all sent you to celebrate today and of course you did. You looked over at Minho sadly and the boys watched as you slowly approached him.

“Baby?” You called out softly as you watched him dance. He stopped and looked over to you and his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. There was no sign of recognition on him, only annoyance at your presence. You felt your heart drop and you did your best to smile.

“I just wanted to see you and maybe talk for a little.” You said quietly as you went to grab his hand. He yanked his hand away and glared at you making you stare at him with wide eyes.

“I’m busy. You know not to bother me when I have to practice. Especially with the comeback hitting in a few days.” He hissed. Your heart shattered at how aggressive he’s being.

“Minho I—“

“I said I’m busy! God how annoying can you be right now!” He screamed at you. You stared at him in shock. Your body trembled as you felt tears swell in your eyes. The boys were staring at him in anger and shock as well. You bit your lip to stop it from trembling and looked down.

“I’m sorry I bothered you. I-I’ll go.” You whispered. You turned and rushed out the door ignoring all the protests and calls from the boys as you slammed the door shut. You rushed out of the building trying to keep yourself composed, not wanting to cause a scene at his place of work. But when you finally got out, it started to pour. You choked on a sob and buried your face in your hands. How could the man who loved you treat you in such a way? Today of all days. You had to get away from the building and fast before he came out after you.

“You fucking pabo!” Jisung screamed at him. Minho looked at him with a raised brow. Jisung never screamed at him. Never. “Do you realize what today is!?! It’s her fucking thirtieth birthday! You knew how important today was for her and this is how you treat her!?! Are you fucking insane?!”

Minho’s angered demeanor quickly changed into one of fear and regret. No, that wasn't today. How could he have forgotten that? He pulled out his phone and his face drained of all color when he saw the date. He saw all the texts and calls from you and he felt himself growing more and more nauseous by the second. He moved to rush after her but Chan stopped him.

“Oh no. You are giving her space right now. You’re only going to make things worse. Stay.” He said sternly. Minho shook his head and bolted past all of them rushing to find you but you were already gone. He kicked the hall and cried out in frustration before sinking to the floor.

He knew he screwed up and screwed up badly. You were always insecure about yourself. Your weight, your looks but you were always mostly insecure about your age. Even though you were older than him, it never once bothered him but today was the biggest day for you and he just ruined it all.

He tried calling you over and over only to be sent straight to voicemail. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Chan.

“I need to go.” He begged. “Please let me go after her. I can’t lose her Chan. I can’t.” Chan squeezed his shoulder and nodded before helping him up.

“You better get down on your knees and beg Minho. She’s been struggling with you not being around as it is.” Minho nodded and rushed out of the building. But when he got to the apartment you both lived in together the lights were off and there was no sign of you. Your part of the closet had been emptied.

“No.” He choked out. “No no no!” He cried as he continued to search for you. But when he got to the kitchen what he saw shattered his heart. On the kitchen table was a ring, but not just any ring. It was the promise ring he gave you on your birthday the year before. The one he promised would eventually be replaced by an engagement ring.

He picked it up as tears flew down his cheeks. He quickly took out his phone and dialed Chan. His lips trembling as he struggled to keep in the sobs. Chan immediately answered but when he heard Minho crying he knew immediately what had happened.

“Hyung she’s gone. She’s gone.”

Tears flew down your cheeks as you sat in the taxi, taking you far away from your home, far away from him. You may have acted a little dramatically, but at this point you didn't care. You were hurt, you were heartbroken and you were sick of being brushed to the side. Even though most of the time you knew it wasn't his fault, there was no excuse this time. This was all him and if he wanted your forgiveness he was going to have to earn it. Right now you needed space, you needed to get away. You needed time to think without him being there. Because you knew the second he looked at you with his soft pleading eyes any strength you'd have would be gone and you'd be in his arms.

You ended up at your friends apartment and they gladly took you in, they helped you bring all your things in and set your stuff up in the spare room and held you while you cried your heart out. You didn't dare look at your phone, you knew all it would be is calls and texts from the boys and from him. For the next week you never really left the bedroom, you cried yourself to sleep almost every night and you barely ate. You friend was worried and had reached out to Chan to let him know you were there and what was happening. What she didn't expect was for Chan to tell Minho.

"She doesn't want to see you." You heard your friend his as you began to wake up.

"Please." You heart stopped at the sound of his voice. "I need to see her, please." He begged. You slowly rose up from your bed and opened the bedroom door. You looked out to see your friend blocking the entrance as Minho stood in the door way. When his eyes locked with you your heart shattered all over again, he looked just as broken and unwell as you. His hair was a mess, his tan skin pale, he looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep at all.

"Kitten." He choked out. You let out a shaky breath as tears flew down your cheeks. "Kitten please I am so sorry. There are no words to express how sorry I am. I will do everything in my power to make it right, but please come home." He begged. "Come back to me please."

"No." You said quietly and you could see his his heart shatter in front of you. "Leave Minho. Don't ever come here again." You went back to go into the bedroom but before you could you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around you and pull you close. You struggled in his grip as tears flew down your cheeks. "Let go." You choked out. "Let me go."

"Never. I can't lose you jagiya." He choked out as he buried his face in your neck. "I love you. I love you more than anything. I know what I did is wrong, but please give me a chance to show you I will never hurt you again. Please." He begged. "You're the sun to my moon, without you I am nothing. Come home."

"I need time Min." You whimpered. "Please just give me that. Give me more time." Minho nodded and turned you around to face him.

"Okay." He whispered as his eyes looked into yours. "When you're ready, I'll come back." He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a slow and deep kiss. You did your best not to give in and thankfully he pulled away before you could. "I love you Kitten." He whispered and with that he left.

You stood there for a while staring at the spot where he was stood, you gripped couch beside you as you tried to keep yourself from collapsing. You wanted to go home, you wanted to so badly. You wanted to be in bed, with him, laying in his arms as he held you tight. But you knew that he had to prove to you that he wouldn't hurt you again. Until then, you had to be strong and stay away from him and when you were ready you'd decide whether it was best to come home.

if you're able to support me and my writing, you can buy me a coffee here :)

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returnsandreturns · 3 months

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idk how to go about sending you a screencap etc but i donated! Could i get some childhood friends mattfoggy or cooking gone wrong? Thank you for taking your time to do this!

IT BECAME A MATT ADOPTED BY THE NELSONS FIC AND I GOT SOME FEELINGS.

(also, if you would like a matt/foggy thing of your very own, donate any amount to the palestine children's relief fund and i'll write you an undisclosed amount of words)

Foggy’s the first person to visit Matt at the hospital after his accident—Matt’s dad didn’t want to let anybody in yet until things were more stable but Foggy talked his way into it. He’s really good at that.

“Hey, Matty,” he says, squeezing Matt’s shoulder. “. . .bad week, huh?”

Matt’s silent for a moment before he bursts out laughing, catching his breath before he grins up at Foggy and says, “Kind of, buddy.”

“I’m going to try to avoid all the concerned questions and stuff because you’re probably already tired of that,” Foggy says. “Although I bet that you’re liking getting attention from all the pretty nurses.”

“Are they pretty?” Matt asks, raising his eyebrows. “I can’t see them.”

“In that case, they’re all super hot,” Foggy says, then makes a soft interested noise. “Hey, do your other senses actually get all heightened when you’re blinded? Like can you smell colors now?”

Matt falters for a second then laughs and says, “Uhm, no, nothing like that.”

“Damn,” Foggy says, ruffling Matt’s hair, fingers lingering there for a few moments. “You really can’t win.”

~~~

The night that Matt’s dad dies, Foggy’s mom picks him up and brings him back to their apartment.

Foggy apparently knows everything because he just pulls Matt into a hug and holds on, which is what makes Matt really cry, the insane tension in every inch of his body releasing as he sobs into Foggy’s hoodie. Foggy doesn’t even shush him or tell him everything’s going to be alright. He just pets Matt’s hair and stays and it’s exactly what he needs.

He sleeps in Foggy’s bed that night because neither of them wants to let go of each other.

A few days later, they fit another twin bed into Foggy’s room. His parents jump through hoops to become foster parents just so they can take him in and he won’t be in the system. And Matt, confused and scared and grateful, stays.

“Permanent sleepover,” Foggy says, flopping down on Matt’s bed, when they’ve mixed up the room to fit in all of Matt’s things. “You’re gonna get tired of me real quick, buddy.”

“I doubt it,” Matt says, sitting next to him. “How long have we known each other?”

“We reached for the same juicebox in kindergarten,” Foggy says, dreamily, “and it’s been true love ever since.”

Matt turns his head when he laughs, hoping that Foggy won’t see him blush.

“If I haven’t gotten tired of you by now, I think it’ll be fine,” he says.

“I mean, you’re sort of my brother now,” Foggy says, sitting up, “so our dynamic might dramatically change.”

“. . .do you think so?” Matt asks, feeling weird about it.

“Nah,” Foggy says. “Our friendship is rock solid.”

“If you don’t put your dirty socks in the laundry hamper, I’m going to smother you to death with them,” Matt says, darkly, throwing one of the worst offenders at Foggy’s head.

“I can’t help that you’ve got a sensitive nose,” Foggy says.

“It doesn’t take a sensitive nose, Franklin!” Foggy’s mom says, passing by the door.

“Yeah, Franklin,” Matt echoes, smirking.

“You’ve been here a month,” Foggy says. “I can’t believe you’re already the favorite child.”

“I’m not,” Matt says, rolling his eyes.

“MA, WHO’S YOUR FAVORITE KID?” Foggy yells.

“MATT!” Foggy’s mom yells back.

“Told ya,” Foggy says, sounding happy.

~~~

The Nelsons throw Matt a thirteenth birthday party that he has to sneak away from midway through, not surprised when Foggy peeks his head into the bathroom to see him sitting in the bathtub.

“Hey, bud,” Foggy says, softly. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, wiping his eyes with his sleeves and trying to smile.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Foggy says, locking the bathroom door and climbing into the tub with him, pressed against his side.

“. . .I miss my dad,” Matt admits.

“Oh,” Foggy says, wrapping an arm around him. “First birthday without him.”

Matt nods.

Foggy hugs him close for a second before he presses a firm kiss to his temple and climbs out of the tub, saying, “Stay right there. I’m bringing back cake.”

Matt presses fingers to the place where Foggy kissed him and tries not to think too hard about it. Lately, he's been desperately trying not to make it weird that he's feeling new things when Foggy casually touches him.

~~~

They're fourteen when they're left home alone for a night and proceed to get drunk for the first time off three bottles of beer shared between them.

"Tell me about the kiss," Foggy insists.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Matt says, a little more smug than he means to be for someone that kissed a girl for five seconds during a game of spin the bottle. "It was just a kiss."

"Act it out," Foggy says, thrusting a throw pillow at him. "On this pillow."

"No," Matt says, giggling.

"You're useless to me, Murdock," Foggy says.

"C'mere," Matt says, leaning in, because his head is swimmy and they're all alone and Foggy will probably think that it's funny. He finds Foggy's face with both of his hands and kisses him softly on the mouth.

"Oh," Foggy says, softly.

". . .yeah," Matt says, sitting back slowly. "It was just. . ."

"A kiss," Foggy says.

"A kiss," Matt echoes, nodding.

~~~

The summer after their freshman year, they're bickering over something and it leads to stupid playfighting, a broken lamp and Matt flat on his bed with Foggy on top of him.

"Sorry," Foggy says, not moving.

Matt listens to his heartbeat for five seconds, trying to make a decision, but Foggy kisses him first this time. It's different than the first time. They're older and they've both kissed other people and it makes Matt moan, a noise that startles both of them.

They're quiet for a long moment.

". . .my, uhm. . .my parents want to officially adopt you," Foggy says, strained.

"Oh," Matt says.

#mattfoggy #my fic #daredevil #i don't know where they go from here lol

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bloodyquillink-blog · 6 months

Note

hi i’m not sure if your taking requests, but if you are can you do a logan walker x reader where the reader and logan were engaged before logan got taken by rorke, and when he gets saved he’s a completely different person and is closed off and even more quiet, but when one of rorkes members send a message to the ghosts team saying they want to take the reader now aswell, logan gets super protective and opens up to her about eveything that happened? if not totally ok!! thank you so much!!

A/N: I am and thank you for being my first tumblr request! I hope I’ve done you justice with this.

Warnings: Big angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of injuries and torture methods (if I missed anything please let me know)

Word Count: 4.4K

To Be Changed, Logan Walker x Reader

Your marriage was so happy and perfect, even though the world wasn’t. Despite the fear of your whole wedding being destroyed before you and Logan even put on the rings and said your vows, that didn’t stop either of you. If you were going to die, you might as well die tied to one another, surrounded by the people you treasure most. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. The wedding went without a hitch, ignoring the occasional pitches of anxiety that bubbled in everyone's stomachs. There was a beautiful mountain that overlooked a nearby beach, it felt like the clouds parted just for you two that day. The sun shone down on the white you and Logan wore. The red rose in his breast pocket, the artificial one you gave him when you went on your first date, was accentuated by the surrounding colors of blue water and green grass.

Logan was usually fairly quiet, but that day when he said his vows, he spoke more than you did. He managed to avoid stuttering, though you could feel his hands shaking. You were so proud of him and each word from his lips warmed your heart. That alone let you know that this was the right decision, the only one.

Before you cut the cake, he whispered to you, “I can’t find the words to describe how much stronger you make me feel.” You looked at him, confused and curious, before he continued. “I barely speak to my own family and brothers, maybe because I don’t need to… but you changed that. Now, I’m just droning on and on about whatever’s happening at the moment. Because of you. Hell, my mom barely heard me talk this much.” He wrapped his arms around you, cupping your hands that held the knife for the cake. “I bet she’s watching us now. She’d love you so much.” And with that, you both cut the first slice.

A quote floated through your mind, “To be loved is to be changed.” and by God, did you change Logan.

That’s what made today so painful.

That’s why you sat on the floor in front of the front door to you and Logan’s home. That’s why David held you, holding the back of your head so you didn’t see him silently crying while you sobbed. You held Logan’s mask and dogtags close to your heart. Eventually, Keegan and Merrick had come out of the car they drove here. Keegan knelt down to rub your back, attempting to comfort you as best as he could. Merrick told you more than he, as a Captain, should tell any civilian. He’d made an exception for you. Seeing as he had a job to protect his best friend's children in the most dangerous job they could all have now, you joked that Logan and David were his adopted kids.

He never denied it. Because of that, you might as well have been his adopted kid, now in-law too. And as that in-law, it was his job to tell you that Logan was, for better or worse, not dead. You looked up at him with tears still falling. He explained what happened from the beginning. A man, a horrible man, named Rorke who was a former Ghost that the Federation destroyed and turned into something repulsive. David added that it was Rorke who had dragged Logan away on that beach. That fucking beach. He explained how it was his own fault for not doing more, for not saving him despite his injuries that, even now, two weeks after, he was still healing from.

You almost slapped him. You wanted to slap Merrick too. You were heartbroken and afraid and every negative emotion you could possibly feel nearly boiled over. You sat on the couch, the men around you as they tried to help you breathe. When you calmed down enough to speak coherently, you asked a simple question:

“Will we ever see him again? Alive?”

Merrick answered, as hopeful as he could be.

“We’ll do everything we can to make sure we will.”

That’s all you could really ask for. David moved and carefully dug into his front pocket before he pulled out his hand and offered something small and shiny. It was Logan’s ring. Both of your rings were made of titanium for its durability, Logan was worried about scratching or otherwise damaging it, so he chose titanium. Strong and durable. You had told him it reminded you of his personality, how he just kept going under all circumstances. You would’ve started crying again if this alone hadn’t already exhausted you. As much as you wanted to hold all of Logan’s things to try to feel like he was with you, you handed his mask and dog tags to Hesh. You knew where the mask came from. Who originally wore it.

“I think they’d want you to hold these.” you said, quiet as ever. David knew you weren’t just talking about Logan, but their father, Elias the “Scarecrow”, as well. He grabbed the mask and tags, putting the tags on and clutching the mask like a lifeline. As everyone stood up and walked to the door, you hugged David and whispered to him, your voice still shaking.

“It’s not your fault. I know he doesn’t blame you. I don’t either.”

“Thank you,” He paused, “I’ll do everything in my power to bring him back to you.”

You hugged Merrick and Keegan before they walked back to the car.

“Be safe!” You called out. A useless but well-intentioned farewell to the soldiers. They waved back before pulling out of the driveway, leaving you alone.

That night, you took Logan’s ring and put the chain of your favorite necklace, one he had given you before your marriage, through the ring and laid it around your neck. You cried, holding his cold pillow and wearing an old hoodie you’d stolen from his closet while he was gone. Your body ached with every sob.

Three months later, you began cleaning the house before the depression that kept you in your room most of the time got too bad. It helped a little, going through every nook and cranny. You even went into the attic. Any time either of you traversed into the usually dark storage, it would end with you holding the giant vacuum, claiming you saw a spider the size of your head while Logan chuckled. After a bit, he’d go up with a flashlight only to find some critter that got stuck up there because of a hole. Once he’d patched up the hole and cleaned out as much as he could, it all felt more comfortable.

As you looked through old boxes, you found pictures. The oldest going back to when you both first met. It was a charity for veterans in your old town where Logan, David and Elias were stationed. There were games you and your friends played, competing. At one point, Elias jokingly joined in which pulled David and, naturally, Logan. As the night went on, you and Logan got closer. He barely spoke but his chuckles at your comments were enough for you.

“I was so close to winning! You gotta give me credit for that!” You argued, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. You turned to see Logan looking at you, his brow raised and smirking.

“How? You’re 25 points behind me.” He remarked.

“I would’ve won if… if I had been playing with someone other than you!”

“Like who?”

“One of my friends, probably Ash!”

“You have 10 points.” Each time the tiny basketballs went in the hoop, it was 5 points.

“Yes and I would be 10 points ahead of them which means I would win!” He practically wheezed at that as you giggled. You looked over to see David and Elias staring at the both of you, wide smiles plastered on their faces.

You kept looking through the box. Finding photos from the day you met Keegan and Merrick, then the day you visited Mrs. Walker’s grave for the first time. You stared at that picture of Logan and David sitting together in front of the stone. It was so peaceful.

You held the photo to your chest and thought of Logan. You whispered to yourself, “Please, please protect him. Keep all of them safe. I just want them to be happy… Elias and Diane, please watch over all of them.”.

Another three months later, you hadn’t heard from David, Keegan, Merrick or any other military personnel. It had been a total of eleven months since you last saw your husband. You were Logan’s emergency contact and many people aside from the Ghosts knew you, so if something happened then someone would contact you. This should be comforting. No one calling you means no one’s dead, right? Nothing bad. So why were you so anxious? You couldn’t reach anyone so maybe something did happen and-

Your phone rang. It was David. You answered immediately.

“David? What happened? Where have you been?”

“Come outside, I have to show you something.”

It’d been a long time since you ran that fast. David sat in his truck, as you ran over to the passenger side, he leaned to open the door from his seat. As soon as your door closed and you buckled in, he began driving.

“David, what’s going on?”

He inhaled through his nose, you noticed how hard he was gripping the wheel and that he was going a bit fast. He was a careful driver normally. If he was amongst civilians, he was calm and never dared going above the speed limit in case there was a child or a dog or pedestrian walking when and where they shouldn’t be. This drive, however, was different. Something happened.

“We got him.” He looked at you, your eyes wide as they slowly filled with tears. “He’s back.”

“W-when did he get back?” You stuttered.

“Almost two weeks ago-” You opened your mouth to speak but David put his hand up. You waited. “Knowing Rorke and his history, we kept Logan on base to heal some and do some mental evaluations.”

“David…”

“I need to warn you right now, he’s not gonna be the same man you knew before all this shit happened. He’s gonna have a lot of recovering to do.”

David went on to explain Rorke and what the Federation did to him. You were quiet.

“Did he do all of that to Logan?”

“We aren’t sure. We just know that whatever it was wasn’t good. He’s clear to come home today if both of you are ready, but I just needed to tell you.” Good thing the house was clean.

“Thank you, David. I know this has probably been harder on you than anyone.” David tried to laugh.

“I mean it’s my job-” You put your hand on his shoulder.

“You know what I mean. Thank you. Seriously.” He exhaled slowly, he seemed to relax a little.

“You’re welcome.”

“You can come by whenever you like if Logan comes back. Maybe just give me a warning, ok?”

“I will. I promise.”

David parked the truck after you checked in at the front gate. Your heart beat rapidly despite the slow walk through the base. You recognized some of the men and gave a half-hearted wave when they greeted you. You could already tell. They knew why you were here.

You walked into the base hospital. David took you down numerous hallways you knew there was a chance you’d see one day but never expected, never wanted to walk down. But this was for Logan. David opened the door to the room you stood in front of.

You couldn’t tell if your heart was breaking or if you were having a heart attack or what…

There he was, sitting against the bed he must’ve been in since returning, looking at you.

Logan was in a hospital gown, his arms and legs below the knee exposed. The skin was covered in jagged scars and stitches that were still such a dark and aggressive red. Along with that were numerous bruises, a painful variety of purples, yellows, and green in some spots. His right arm in a cast and sling. On his other hand, his ring and finger are wrapped, probably broken or dislocated. You notice how his left shoulder and upper arm seem to be wrapped with gauze. You don’t want to imagine what injuries he must have that you can’t see.

His face. His handsome face. He looks so tired. Logan turned towards you and tried to limp over, using the bed for stability. You rushed forward instinctually. Once he was close enough, he slowly wrapped his unbroken arm around your back. You looked at him. He had dark circles under his eyes, faded bruising on his left cheekbone, two intersected scars ran across his face. One started between his eyebrows to his cheek. The second from the middle of his chin, across his lips until it passed the other scar on that same cheek. His skin was cool and pale, unlike the warm complexion he had prior to the kidnapping.

You ended up staying for about two hours before you got a list of medications from doctors, some extra gauze wraps and a pamphlet detailing how to handle a deep second degree burn at home. That was why his shoulder and arm were wrapped. You said goodbye to David, Keegan and Merrick soon after.

The first few weeks, Logan mostly stayed in bed. Every day you checked his injuries, the stitches and the burn, to make sure there was no infection and they were healing properly. By the fourth week or so, the burn had healed, leaving behind a large patch of discolored skin. At nearly the sixth week, his cast was removed. His arm and fingers had healed well and correctly. David had told you that when Logan was taken, his arm was broken. When he was found, his arm had healed incorrectly as a result of improper care, assuming any care was given, so the doctors had to re-break it before putting it in the cast.

After the seventh week, Logan was able to walk around without limping. However, he mostly just stayed in your room. Sometimes, you’d spend the day in the living room in hopes it would coax him out. It didn’t work. You cooked his favorite meals but he would usually bring the food back to the room. When it was time for bed, you essentially snuck around the room to avoid scaring him in case he was sleeping. You were pretty sure he wasn’t sleeping, at least not as much as he should’ve been. It remained this way for a few more weeks.

A month and a half into Logan being back home and he’d uttered a scarce amount of words. “Okay”, “alright”, “yes”, “no” and whatever else kept his sentences short. He barely talked to you anymore. Of course, you kept David updated as often as possible. You felt like he just wasn’t there. Now, he was more of a ghost than ever.

Two months in and he started going to the base again. For what? You don’t know. You had asked where he was going, dressed in his “soldier getup” as you called it.

“I’m going to work. Can’t be late. I’ll be back later.” He’d stated hastily before heading out. This continued on for another two weeks until you decided to talk to him before he left.

“Logan, honey, can we talk?”

“Um… sure, but I have to leave before 9.” He was trying to rush again.

“I wanted to ask about that actually…” He looked at you, mostly expressionless. “You were just gone for almost, what, six months? Why are they having you back at work when you might as well have just finished actually healing?”

“I… There’s still work to be done.” he stuttered. You cocked your head. You turned to him from your position on the couch.

“What work?” you asked slowly and quietly. You knew he wasn’t lying. You didn’t want him to think you thought he was lying. You wanted to keep the conversation calm so he wasn’t overwhelmed.

“It’s a lot. I don’t think- right now isn’t the right time.” he began to turn.

“We can talk later if that’s better, but I just want to know. I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry, I just need to do some things.” His voice carried no emotion. He was almost at the door when you stood suddenly.

“Logan, I just want to understand!” Logan stopped in his tracks. You stared at his back. “I want to just talk, please… I know your job is important and I don’t want to get in the way with complaining…” Your voice cracked. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Logan was here, in the same house as you. You stared at him but you felt lonelier than ever. “You’re so far away, Logan… and… and I know there was so much that happened and we didn’t know if we’d ever see each other again, but we’re together now!” You walked closer to him. He heard your steps but he stayed still. “We don’t have to act like nothing happened. We couldn’t if we wanted to, I know that… but please talk to me again. I married you because I love you. I married you and everything that came with you. I said those vows and ‘in sickness and in health’ because even when you’re hurting, I’ll be there. I’m here right now! But I need you to let me be there. I need you to stop hiding yourself away from me. I want to know you again, Logan.” Your breathing had picked up as tears welled up in your eyes.

Time just stopped. You turned and sat back on the couch facing away from him. You quietly wept into your hands as everything just seemed to spill over. You had reached your boiling point. You didn’t hear the footsteps coming to you until you opened your eyes and noticed the giant boots that faced your much smaller feet. A large pair of hands slowly removed your hands from your face, one tilted your head up.

You saw Logan’s beautiful eyes, a sort of hazel that seemed gold in the light. He slowly knelt down in front of you and hugged you. Not like the barely there hug he mustered at the hospital when he couldn’t even walk on his own. He pulled you tight against him and you immediately curled around him as you sobbed. He let you. Logan pulled back after a moment and held your face. He wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“I love you too… more than anything.” He stared into your reddening, tear-filled eyes for a moment before sighing as he sat next to you. You held his hand, his thumb stroked your knuckles as he thought about his next words. “A couple days ago,” he started, “something happened. I can’t tell you what yet but it was cause for concern. Especially with Ghost team.” He paused and looked at you, directly into you. “I want to tell you everything, but it’s going to be a lot to process and it’ll probably be scary. I don’t want you to deal with this, with all the problems coming to us because of Rorke but you’re right to want to know what’s happening and you deserve to know.” You looked at the time, 8:55 A.M. You stood, Logan followed, still holding your hand. He pressed your hand against his chest and over his heart.

“I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you too. I’ll talk to Merrick today and I’ll try to get home as early as I can. We can talk about everything while we make dinner.”

“Together?”

“Together. I’ll call you if anything comes up and if you need me to, I can get groceries, ok?” You nodded. This is all you asked for. You hugged Logan tightly as he wrapped himself around you. You walked him to the door where he kissed you goodbye, on the lips. It felt like it had been forever since you’d done that. You stopped him before he moved. He almost retorted when you pulled off the necklace you still had on. He stared at the ring hanging from it. You took the ring off and put it back on his hand. He stared at it for a moment and smiled. A tired little smile that took so much weight off of you. Logan grabbed the necklace and took the time to put it back around your neck before he kissed you again.

“Thank you.” He whispered, still smiling. You smiled back as he walked to the car, waving when he began to drive. It had only been 10 minutes at most but those 10 minutes were so freeing. The rest of the morning you spent outside, reading and occasionally texting your friends when they checked in. The sun warmed your skin and the air was so fresh. You went back inside around 3 P.M when Logan called you:

Logan: “I can come back home around 6 tonight.”

You: “Sounds good, any ideas for dinner?”

Logan: “I could really go for lasagna.”

You: “Can you stop at the store on your way back? I have a list!”

Logan: “Yeah, just send it to me.”

With that, you texted everything you needed before moving to clean up the kitchen and free up space.

Later that night, Logan returned with everything you asked for plus a tub of ice cream. Your favorite flavor. You got to cooking, boiling the sheets and preparing the sauce while the oven preheated. You cooked together, like old times. It had been so long. Music quietly played as you both took turns tasting everything. A little extra salt and paprika here, with some pepper too. You laid down the floppy lasagna sheets while Logan poured the sauce over top then you both spread your favorite cheeses before adding more sheets and so on. While the lasagna was in the oven, you sat on the couch together. Logan held you in his arms as you stroked the hair on the back of his neck. After savoring the peace of the moment, Logan started talking.

When he was kidnapped, Rorke had put him through the same trials he himself had experienced. Being force fed poisoned food was the start until Rorke seemed to grow bored and eventually forced him to eat the plants the poison had been extracted from. Logan told you everything. All the grim details. At some points, you actually felt nauseous just hearing the horrors. When he was almost done talking about what he was forced to endure, you just held him and continued to encourage him to talk. He held you tight as he explained. The beatings he was put through. The way his arm healed wrong and he could hardly use it without feeling pain.

Then he looked at you. You felt so fragile with the way he looked at you with his tired eyes. He spoke again.

“Rorke knows about you.”

You never met this man in your life, never saw pictures. But he was like a boogeyman. He could appear from under your bed at any moment.

“His soldiers… left us a message… Threatening to take me again. They said this time they’d take you too.”

That’s why he was going back to base. To work with his brother and everyone to make sure nothing happened. You didn’t live far from the base but they were thinking about bringing you on post to be cautious. That’s why Logan went back to work so soon. To protect you. That’s why he was telling you all of this now, to further protect you.

You were scared. Hearing about something like this happening was one thing, but knowing the man who stole your husband and almost broke him from the inside out was completely different. Especially when you knew that he wanted you too. Oh god. Logan held you and told you that the two of you could always move on base where you’d be protected and closer to him. You’d be amongst him and the other soldiers and Riley, Hesh’s dog. They wouldn’t let anything happen. And so you agreed. That night you just focused on being together, holding one another and eating your delicious lasagna as you reminisced together.

Over the course of the next week, you brought as many of your necessities over to base where you and Logan continued living together. You met some friends of his and their partners, gaining your own group of friends not long after moving. Some had even assisted in bringing more of your things over when Logan had to work.

Later down the line, the Ghost team flew out. You weren’t told anything about what the mission entailed, but when Logan came to you, mask on, and put his ring in your hand before kissing you goodbye, you had an idea.

“I will make sure no one, not a single person touches you. Not a single damn person. I will keep it that way. I promise.” He whispered, voice more stern than ever.

Your friends on base were all a wonderful support system during the next week they were gone for. You weren’t able to reach out again but you believed in them. You took care of Riley, who’d grown to love you.

When the week was done, they came back and Logan had made a beeline for you. You were reading, his ring back on your necklace when the door opened and your husband walked in, covered in dirt and other unidentifiable muck and alive. You rushed to jump into his arms and kiss him, ignoring the weird taste of said dirt in your mouth. You gave his ring back, ignoring the dirt that was on his hands too. While you held him, he whispered in your ear, “It’s all over now. We can go home.”.

So you did. David, Keegan and Merrick were kind enough to assist with moving your things back over and checking your house for anything that wasn’t meant to be there, anything that indicated a break in. Shit, they’d even checked the vents too. When that was all done, you made lasagna for them and spent the evening laughing together and savoring the peace that had finally come over the world again. Later, you and Logan laid in bed together, happy as ever and whispered sweet words to each other. Both of you could finally get some rest.

The end, thank you for reading! I will also post this on my ao3 @ RiversSong82

#cod ghosts #cod ghosts fanfiction #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #logan walker #cod logan walker #logan walker x reader #logan walker x m!reader #logan walker x f!reader #logan walker x gn!reader #quill writes

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