Dont Move.

don’t move.

pairings. jj maybank x fem!reader, but a little rafe cameron x fem!reader tension

about. when rafe finds out john b’s back and raids the chateau, no one’s there to be found… except reader.

warnings. foul language, guns

ricky rocks. idek, maybe i’ll make a part two lmk ig

“can i help you, boys?”

rafe cursed lowly to himself as he turned slowly along with barry, gripping his gun tightly.

“did you not check the house?” rafe grunted lowly towards barry who only frowned hard, looking at you and then to the shotgun you had gripped highly.

you had been hid snug in the coat closet of the chateau, almost terrified out of your wits as you had heard someone ransack the small home; but coming upon realization it was only rafe and his goon, barry. your fear had gone straight out the window as you had quite literally watched the two of them from the window before quickly searching the room you and jj both shared for the shotgun you had stolen from your father’s old and neglected gun cabinet.

you weren’t afraid.

“y/n,” rafe seemed hesitant, eyeing you as if trying to figure out how to get out of this situation, but he knew he couldn’t with the high possibility of you shooting him with any drastic move he’d make. “just thought i’d pay you and your old friend john b a visit.”

of course.

“what?”

“you know, the guy who used to live here? brown hair, had a thing for my sister.”

“rafe, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“i think you know what i’m talking about,” he attempted to take a step closer to you, but only for you to cock the shotgun. it made him back up fast, raising his arms up slowly. “y/n.. you don’t want to shoot me.”

“really?” you quirked a brow, wanting him just to explain why.

“you don’t want my dead body on your conscious.”

“you would know what that’s like, wouldn’t you, rafe?”

he clenched his jaw, directing his line of vision away from you and to the ground, as if he was holding himself back; talking himself down.

“just.. put your gun down, girly,” barry’s eyes switched between you and rafe, attempting to undermine any harm rafe could play out right now if he didn’t say anything.

you weren’t scared, but you knew what rafe was capable of. you knew he probably wasn’t afraid of hurting you and the only thing keeping him from that was barry and your gun.

“you first,” you nodded toward the handgun they both held to their sides. barry almost trying his best to hide his from your line of sight as he shifted it close behind him.

“look, i know you’re lying,” rafe spoke again, practically charging toward you with the wide step he took toward you. “and i won’t hurt you…” the barrel of the gun touched his chest and he didn’t even flinch, “if you just tell me the truth.”

his hand reached out, attempting to touch your face till you flinched away fast, elbowing his arm away fast, “don’t fucking touch me, asshole.”

“what’re you going to do,” he laughs, shifting back on his feet. “you’re just a little girl with a gun.”

“rafe let’s just leave.”

“a girl that knows how to use a gun.”

“then prove it, y/n,” he dips his head toward you with a mocking smile, challenging you, “shoot that big gun of yours, little girl.”

“your daddy’s not here to save you this time rafe, you sure you want to me to do that?”

“rafe, let’s go,” barry grabs onto his broad shoulder, trying to pull him off from his leaning position, his daring position. “rafe.”

“do it.”

“rafe!” barry roughly pulled him away from you, almost sending him to the ground before pushing him aside as if speaking to him privately, “what’re we fucking doing, man, it’s obvious they’re not here.”

“it’s obvious-“

“nah, knock it the fuck off,” barry’s eyes met yours for a split second before looking back to rafe. “let’s get out of here.”

you watched them walk off slowly before rafe turned around while slowly walking backward, “this isn’t over, trader.”

his words were sour and you could feel your blood beginning to pulse through your veins even faster than before. maybe… you were a bit afraid.

“are you okay?” you felt jj’s arm wrap around your waist the moment his feet hit the ground.

“yeah,” you breathed out, leaning into his grasp after you dropped the gun. “there’s no one like rafe cameron.”

navigation.

@aliyahsutherland @multifandom-obsessed @herejustforjj @gabiatthedisco @em-mae05 @brie-gr3y @cryinginsanity @rebbyr @thecraziestcrayon @thomaslefteyebrow @imagines-r-s @rejectedfan @cc13723things @smartgirlhuh @fruitiseavey @black-rose-29 @rrosecar @rudypankowisdaddy @i-love-scott-mccall @rottenstyx @ravi0liii @greengarsstuff @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @felixulvr @demigirl-with-problems @sunsetcurve-95 @hizziestial @aliyahsutherland @multifandom-obsessed @herejustforjj @gabiatthedisco @brie-gr3y @cryinginsanity @imagines-r-s @rejectedfan @cc13723things @smartgirlhuh @felixulvr @demigirl-with-problems @sunsetcurve-95

promise me nothing.

pairings. steve harrington x fem!reader

about. steve and you cross paths, only for him to find out some bad news about you.

warnings. foul language, s4 spoilers sorta

ricky rocks. anotha one 😼🙌 also part two or nah?

“long time, no see, harrington,” you nod as you pass him before looking up and unintentionally connecting eyes with five other people at once. “and children…”

you nod again in acknowledgement, getting a good look at them all before making a move to walk away from the car they were all huddled around, but steve grabs your arm, “hey, what’s going on?”

“i don’t know what you mean.”

he rolls his eyes, still holding your bicep firmly. he tips his head toward the swarm of law enforcement in the front of a house before raising a brow, “you’re telling me this is nothing?”

“just about.”

“y/n.”

“what?”

“i think we need to talk.”

you and steve go back; way back since pre-school days, and although neither of you were ever truly close, there was a mutual understanding that you both had each other’s backs.

you both came from similar backgrounds; life set up since day one, given nice cars, lived in nice houses, and grew up in the hawkins country club aspect for loser adults trying to relive high school popularity by flaunting money.

and you were only tied more together by the strange and abnormal encounters and fights for life against the sci-fi creatures that had no faces and were covered from head to toe in slime—that eventually turned into something way bigger than the mind could fathom.

ever since the mall fire during the summer after senior year, you hadn’t seen steve or any of his nerd posse—till now.

you almost thought you were seeing things, but then again, you should have guessed that when anything remotely strange or out of the normal happened in hawkins, they’d always turn up, immediately on the case.

just never this fast.

“i think i’m dying.”

“what?”

you stood in front of steve, nancy, robin, and three of his freshman friends. their presence made you suddenly anxious and you couldn’t help but begin to talk out of your ass as you slightly paced back and forth in your parents living room.

how steve coaxed you into talking to them—you weren’t sure—but it didn’t take long and it seemed you were almost more than willing to allow them into your home by the way you so easily opened your front door and offered snacks and refreshments.

yep, you were definitely dying.

they watched you with sudden concerned and confused looks, not knowing what to say and not expecting you to throw them this type of curve ball.

“brandon,” you mumbled, your hands shaking out in front of you. “jesus, i can’t even think straight…” you place your hand on your forehead, thinking over whether or not you should ever be speaking right then. “he’s dead.”

“who’s brandon?” dustin glances around to everyone but you, afraid to make eye contact almost.

“her boyfriend,” steve whispers, speaking as if you can’t hear them. and you almost couldn’t.

“i can’t even-i don’t even know-“

“hey, hey,” steve stops you in your tracks of speaking, sitting up from the chair he previously sat in. “you don’t have to say anything right now, just breathe. sit down.”

steve liked you, a lot. like, since day one, even as kids, he couldn’t get you out of his mind.

there was just something about you. you had a good head on your shoulders, you knew what you wanted, you didn’t let anything or anyone knock you off your feet, and you didn’t need anyone to save you. he hated that fact—the fact that you didn’t need him and he hated that sometimes it seemed you weren’t anything more than acquaintance.

“sit down,” he pulled you by the arm till you were close enough for him to place a hand on your waist, carefully guiding you to the chair he was previously in, giving you a soft look. “just breathe for a moment, alright?”

everyone glanced to each other at the gesture, almost not believing it. they looked to steve now where he stood in your place, his hand stroking his chin in thought, “i think it’s time we call in your pal eddie.”

**

it seemed you were in and out of sensibility as you thought over the past 24 hours, not believing it was real. you felt crazy, not being able to keep a stable thought in your head for more than a minute before turning into an emotional mess.

steve knew you weren’t in your right mind, especially after you let eddie into your home without a second thought. he didn’t think you even processed that moment or even realized what you were doing until—

“who are you?”

something you asked twenty minutes after he had been in your home.

“i’m eddie.”

“i think i know you.”

“well i hope so since we’ve been in school together since middle school before you graduated.”

“right,” you narrowed your brows, but didn’t say anything else, not knowing what to even make of him.

you knew eddie, but he was never someone you had ever talked to or had any interactions with. you didn’t care for him; you found him obnoxious and practically repulsing when you were still in school together—but right now, by the way he was looking at you—you didn’t mind him at all.

his expression was soft and full of sympathy, like he understood what was going through your mind and why you seemed so…bipolar in emotions.

“y/n, eddie’s here to talk.”

“why?”

“because what happened to you, is exactly what happened to him.”

you still had narrowed brows as you stared at him, not knowing what to say. there was a small proportion of recognition that struck you when you stared at eddie, not nearly enough for you to trust him, nor enough for you to spill your guts out to him about how your boyfriend was practically castrated right in front of your eyes.

“you’re afraid?”

you slowly nodded your head, eyes wide, not understanding the willingness that has suddenly taken over you, “yes.”

he nods and you feel the need to continue to explain yourself.

“i can’t get that image out of my head. god, i don’t even know if it was…”

“real?”

“yeah.”

he nods again.

“you said you think you’re dying, why?” he sat right across from you on your carpeted floor, now eyeing you carefully with the same cautiousness you had in your own pupils.

“because… the things that were happening to brandon before he was fucking possessed… are happening to me.”

“what do you mean,” he starred at you strangely now, his head slightly tipping, watching you carefully just as the rest of them did.

“the bloodied noses, the nightmares, the headaches, that noise…” you cringed as you spoke, almost shying away from saying more.

“what noise?” robin was leaned forward on her knees, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“a clock.”

it seemed right as you said it, the sound echoed through the room and the lights begun to flicker till there was no light at all and the only breathing body was you.

“you’re fucking kidding me,” your head lifted toward the hallway that opened up to your living room; exactly where the noise was coming from.

this had only happened once before; the first day you had come back from college while you were throwing up in your childhood bathroom. you couldn’t figure it out, you had never been sick before—not like that, but then suddenly your world turned dark and the sound of that damned clock was one of the only things you could hear.

you got to your feet slowly, continuing to stare into the dark as the sound echoed throughout your now empty home. the sound was jarring and something about it made you want to follow it like the last time. you were losing your mind, you had to get out of there.

you turned, only for your body to match right up against an unintelligible one. one much larger than your own.

your eyes went wide immediately, feeling a scream rip through your throat as fear set in fast and your head tipped to see such a haunting face you had never seen before.

“hello, y/n,” it looked like it smiled, examining your frightened state, taking pleasure in it, as you stared back in a paralyzed state. “your time is running thin,” it took a step forward, closer and closer. “you will soon be mine.”

you back peddle, fast, not thinking, not processing, but soon landing on your ass and back into the light where you sat in the same place before but with a pair of hands on your face, with voices yelling and screaming you back to conscious.

you were in shock, your limbs were numb and you could barely keep yourself up in a sitting position. you were breathing hard like you had been holding your breath for the past minute, practically dry heaving, feeling your stomach fold up into itself in terror.

“what happened?” steve’s face was the only thing your could see as his hands clasped your face hard, his nose practically touching yours as he stared at you wide-eyed, dipped in fear.

you stared back, feeling every nerve slowly come back to life within your body—drawing out into a painful process. your body begun to shake, tears flooding into the corners of your eyes as you couldn’t even begin to process the switch between realities.

“steve, get out of her face, she’s going to throw up!” robin was yanking at his shoulder despite his constant persistence, clinging to your body.

“are you okay?”

everyone stood around you, wide eyes, wide with fear, wide with concern.

“are you okay?”

“what happened?”

**

“i was here, and then i wasn’t, but it’s like nothing changed other than you all being gone,” you stood now, guiding them all through the process of your episode, now that you could finally process what had just happened. “it was that sound, that fucking clock sound, and i turned and it was something, like something you’d see out of a fucking movie, like the weird alien-monster things we’ve seen before. i don’t know—”

“vecna.”

“what?”

“she saw vecna,” dustin looks between everyone who all have seemed to agree with this consolation.

“will someone please translate what he just said?”

“vecna,” steve repeated, glancing up to you from the sudden heavy gloom laid upon him. “he’s the reason everyone’s been dying lately, you see him, you’re in an automatic death sentence… but you already knew that…”

you starred at him in disbelief, your eyes switching between each teen that sat on your couch, as if asking whether that was true or not, but they all avoided eye contact--which spoke louder than words.

“you’re fucking with me,” you scoffed, turning on your heal and beginning to pace. “of fucking course.”

“you don’t seemed so… terrified about this anymore,” max is quick to elbow lucas in the ribs who winces.

you ignore it, suddenly annoyed at the swift depressive mood change, “how do we kill this motherfucker?”

**

“you’re not giving up on me, are you steve?”

“of course not.”

the two of you stood on your back porch after steve had lightly pulled you by the elbow, recommending catching some fresh air.

you don’t believe his words. he seemed tired with almost the look of sadness in his eyes. this observation causes you to frown as you tip your head, slightly coming closer to steve to look at him better, “then why does it look like you’re the one dying and not me?”

he scoffs, “y/n.” he gets taller, straightening his posture from where he was previously leaned on your railing. he turns even more serious and it makes you frown. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“what difference would it have made?”

“we could have caught it earlier.”

“and be in the same position as we are in now?”

he doesn’t say anything, but still stares at you with a look that makes your chest tighten and your skin begin to flare up in heat.

and then, “i’m sorry about brandon.”

he wasn’t. he never liked him.

“i’m sorry you had to go through that,” he takes a step closer to you, his hand now clasping your arm. “we’re going to figure this out, i promise.”

“don’t promise me anything, stevie,” your hand softly caressed his cheek, giving him a thinned lip smile before walking inside, leaving him to himself outside.

navigation.

scars full of lies.

pairings. frank castle x fem!reader

about. frank is hoping to keep his vigilante life a secret, but it’s hard when reader asks questions that brings that wish to risk

warnings. lying? nothing really

ricky rocks. ma man 🤗

scars on the back of his neck.

that's it. that’s what you thought about a lot. especially when night rounded around the corner and you were having a hard time finding sleep. so, instead of counting sheep, you counted his scars by memory.

you wondered how they surfaced on his body and who made the execution to create such deep cuts on his body in hopes to hurt him. frank was a scary man. you understood that. but who was scared enough to hurt him?

or not scared at all?

you thought about frank a lot more than you’d like to admit. you knew he’d tease you and you already had a hard enough time dealing with that—it would be a field day for him if he knew what went on in your head.

“you alright?”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you smiled softly to the concern that erupted through franks voice as he looked up from the book he read. you adjusted your place next to him, sinking deeper into the couch and deeper into his side, cuing him to go ahead continue reading with the nod of your head.

but he didn’t look back down to his book like you had hoped, “what’s going through your mind right now, sweetheart?”

you smiled at the name and your cheeks began to grow warm when his hand reached and clasped the back of your neck softly, as if to pull you in closer.

fuck.

he always got you, if not with his words, then his affectionate actions.

“i don’t know, i just think, frank,” you mumbled, not wanting to finish your thought.

his brows narrowed, struck slightly confused, “yeah, well i hope so.”

“no, i mean, i think about you, frank, a lot,” you were hesitant with your words, not sure if you should speak them aloud, because the thing was, you felt it shouldn’t be that way.

you met frank on the subway station after he saved you from tripping onto the tracks before never really seeing him again until a month later at a coffeehouse—accidentally spilling coffee on him before recognition kicked in and the two of you sat down together.

it felt like talking to your father—scolding you for being so clumsy with both encounters you two had and telling you, you should really study your surroundings more. and then the cell phone thing—

“can i get you number, you know, just to thank you some other time, more properly.”

he had froze from putting his coat on, a hesitant look immediately overcoming his face causing you to cringe, wondering what had gone wrong despite everything going so smoothly for you two being strangers.

“oh, i mean you don’t have to, i just—“

“no, i just don’t really have a phone, at the moment,” he finally had his brown coat slung over himself, giving you a sympathetic smile. “i recently moved into the area, lost my cell in the process and really haven’t found time to replace it.”

what a lie, was what you thought.

“i’m not really a good with a phone in the first place,” he shrugged before pulling out a pen he had in his pocket, sitting back down. “this is my p.o. box, write me a letter sometime.”

he winked, before getting up and walking away.

but it seemed since day one, frank was never one to track, someone who didn’t want to be held down.

he didn’t get a phone until five months after you sent your first letter, but he still couldn’t keep track of the thing for the life of him.

“you want to tell me what it is you think about?” his finger tips teased the side of your face before tucking some strands of your hair behind your ear.

“i feel like… i barely know you,” you pause, feeling uneasy about your words, “i mean, i worry because i don’t know who you were before we met.”

“same person as i am now,” he smiles.

“yes, but,” you sigh, taking a step back in your head, attempting to recuperate. he studied your face with a sudden hard frown, studying the emotions that were crossing your face. you suddenly set your hand on the back of his neck, your finger tips finding one of the many scars easily and tracing it back and forth. “this. i want to know about this.”

his lips twitched upward, “my scars?”

he seemed confused as to what was so fascinating about them, making you feel dumb by the way you couldn’t help but nod eagerly.

“okay…” his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he thought while his eyes strayed from yours. “i had a bit of rough childhood, i’d come home almost everyday to my mom screaming at me, for no reason.”

he shook his head, a look of distress coming across his face as he spoke, almost reliving that moment, “one day, i had came home a little bit later than usual for whatever reason—maybe i saw a dog, i don’t know—but it just wasn’t her day,” he tsked, his head slightly shaking, “threw a glass vase my way, shattered and sliced my neck all up. one of many, many marks,” he slid his sleeve up, brining light to the small scars that tore up his arms. “she had a short temper.”

a lie. frank was full of lies, but it was better if you didn’t know the truth. and it was good that you ate it up, because he couldn’t imagine how you’d react to the real reason half his body was full of scars and hidden wounds.

“frank, i’m so sorry,” your arms wrapped around his neck as you had practically thrown yourself to his body, a feeling of remorse overcoming you as you held him as close as you could. “you didn’t deserve that.”

even if it was true, he probably did. he deserved every little mark of pain on his body, even more so for lying to you about it.

navigation

who’s the swim pro now?

pairings. steve harrington x fem!reader

about. will lovers lake rekindle yours and steve’s past friendship?

warnings. foul language, uh, STRANGER THINGS S4 SPOILERS OMG I FORGOT SORRY

ricky rocks. stranger things rebirth ☝️

five people in one canoe—this was not a smart idea. you realized this now as you were practically tipping into the waters of lovers lake, watching dustin, lucas, and max grow smaller and smaller from the shore line as eddie and robin paddle you all further and further into the blue.

how you ended up in this position—you weren’t exactly sure but it all started with chasing down a news story for the hawkins high school paper, something you honestly should have stayed out of.

you sat in the middle of the boat, watching the waves slowly splash against the side, implementing cold weather to consume you. this wasn’t the way you imagined to spend your spring break, but you also never imagined to come in contact with steve harrington ever again.

“woah, woah, slow down guys,” nancy reached out causing both eddie and robin to stop paddling the boat, all of you now looking to her where she held the compass and it’s now derange state; shaking in the palm of her hand.

you watched the needle spin so fast it looked as if it would break off, making you narrow your brows. you watched until you looked to meet nancy’s eyes; she was smiling.

“what’s going on guys, why’d you stop?” your ears perked up to the sound of dustin’s voice through the forgotten walkie that sat in the back.

robin quickly grabbed it, “uh, dustin your compass has gone wonky to wonky with a capitol ‘ahh’.”

you all looked back to it before watching steve begin to unlace his shoes.

“wait, steve, what’re you doing?”

“somebody’s gotta go down there and check this out,” he explained. “unless one of you four can top being a hawkins high swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years, then… it’s gotta be me. no complaints, all right?”

you watched him, your expression still tight with practically confused thoughts. steve now stood, beginning to take off his shirt.

“co-captain of the swim team, my ass. sit down harrington, and watch a pro go to work.”

he stared down to you hesitantly, eyeing you up and down, taken aback at this sudden proposition. he almost didn’t believe the challenging stare you had, but he shrugged, deciding why not and knowing you wouldn’t take no for an answer, “okay, y/l/n, show us what you got.”

you took his place in stance, now unzipping your jacket to reveal a plain tank top that barely laid over your stomach before running your thumbs around the waistband of your jeans.

“woah, don’t tell me you’re just gonna-”

“relax,” you gave eddie a pointed look before pulling down your pants, revealing the pair of boxers you wore for shorts. “ever heard of layering?”

he seemed to shy away at this after a clear exhale of relief came from the group, glad to know you weren’t about to reveal your bare ass.

“see you on the other side,” you looked between all four of them before tipping your head and turning, diving precisely into the cold waters of lovers lake.

it knocked the breath out of you almost immediately and you began to regret wanting to show up steve with volunteering yourself. it had been quite a long time since you had put your swimming skills to test due to quitting the swim team after freshman year.

but it was now or never to freshen up.

you kicked, praying your lungs wouldn’t collapse once you began to see the bottom of the lake floor and came to realization you’d now have to search with the factor that you couldn’t see a foot in front of you… and without a flash light.

stupid.

you mentally punched yourself but continued surfing the sandy floor, your skin now beginning to become accustomed to the cold water with each kick.

and it wasn’t long until you saw it.

it was almost beautiful if you weren’t scared. the glowing mash of colors of red and yellow and orange erupted into the dark blue, lighting up your vision.

you felt consumed.

**

“can’t believe you let her show you up like that,” eddie pulled a cigarette from his pocket, beginning to light it. “not typical of you steve harrington.”

“gross,” robin pulled it from his grasp before tossing it into the water. “bad habit, better stop now.”

he sighed, not even trying to stop it.

“yeah, well, it’s y/n.”

“you’ve known her?” nancy quirked a brow, the sound of his sentence sounding like your nature was nothing new to him and he was very familiar with it. she found this strange, she thought you and steve had only met that day, but it begun to make sense why the atmosphere always seemed so tense and awkward between you two.

“yeah, for awhile,” steve shrugged, like there was nothing to it, like there wasn’t as much history as there actually was. “used to be neighbors before she moved. she was my best friend for the longest time, always came over.”

the sound of waves slapping against the boat was the only thing that filled the air now.

steve thought about how close the two of you were. you were both inseparable and could never take a moment apart. you were the reason he learned poker and knew how to play it so well.

you taught him a lot of things—something he was slightly shameful about. every time he looked back on those memories, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for never reviving the relationship.

and then he thought about the day you moved out due to your parents divorce and how you both thought nothing of it, that it wouldn’t effect your relationship at all, until it did.

you hadn’t seen steve for a long time after that and when you finally did—not a word was said between the two of you and he barely even waved ‘hi’.

it didn’t get any better after that.

“hey uh, it’s been awhile, should we-“

you surfaced through the water fast, practically knocking eddie into the water with you due to him already being leaned over the side. you were gasping for air, your chest heaving up and down as you grabbed onto the side of the boat, looking for some version of stability.

“jesus, since when can you hold your breath that long.”

“you’re not the only life guard here, steve-o,” he chokes out a breathy laugh, almost in relief, his hand grabbing onto your forearm to keep ahold of you.

“what’d you see?”

“are you alright?”

“yeah, i’m fine, pull me up,” you attempted to haul yourself up as they all pulled you onto the boat. “it’s there and it’s a portal right through.”

“did you go through?”

“no,” you shook your head, “but-“

you’re suddenly pulled into the water, your body once again consumed by the cold water and you’re blind. you can’t see and you can barely catch your breath as a strong force pulls you back to the bottom, and finally right through the gate.

and you don’t remember any of it, not one bit, you don’t think you were even conscious; until steve’s hands are clasping your face and lightly shaking you back to consciousness. he’s cold and he’s wet, but in your splitting vision, you can see him slightly smile in relief that you were alive.

“thank god,” he sighed, leaning back a little before leaning back down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. “y/n, you scared the shit out of me,” he pulls back away, shaking his head, almost as if saying you were unbelievable. “no more trying to prove your pro-swimming skills.”

you laughed, painfully, suddenly becoming aware of the aching sensation that resonated from your throat, “god, harrington,” you begun to sit up, your hand clasping the cut that was etched into your skin. “when are you going to just accept that i’m better a swimmer than you.”

he laughs tentatively, now helping you to your feet, “maybe when this monster-alien bull crap is over,” his hand is wrapped around your waist, steadying you on your feet, while his other one held your hand, “god, i thought i lost you.”

“i’m fine, steve,” you looked at him with sympathy, your head slightly leaning closer to him. “i’m good, i’m alive.”

“yeah, i’d find that a lot more reassuring if your throat didn’t look like it was slit.”

“what even happened?”

“story for another time,” robin clapped the both of your shoulders suddenly, “and if we want to live long enough to tell it, we gotta get going. kiss later.”

the two of you now looked to each other, both burning up in slight embarrassment and now becoming very aware of how close the two of you were.

you awkwardly cough, slightly shifting back and slowly following robin with a backward step, “guess this calls for a rain check, what do you say harrington?”

“i say you’re fucking crazy.”

navigation.

promise.

pairings. finnick odair x fem!reader

about. finnick has been saving you ever since you’ve known him, but he can’t help you this time.

warnings. murder, does not follow original plot, foul language?

ricky rocks. this is kind of an L fic because it's short, but i missed writing for bae.

“you were always the best. killing your brother like that on screen with no hesitation… indeed a performance, one of the best ever seen,” snow sat across from you, his voice calm and precise full of awe. “beautiful.”

he looked off, as if reminiscing about you on screen with blood coating your face and soaking your clothes from days on days of barbarism.

you clenched your jaw, pressing the tip of your tongue into the inside of your cheek as he spoke. your eyes meet the gravel ground of the greenhouse, thinking back to the hot nights and days that were filled with fear and no thoughts but to survive and kill.

your brother kept you safe for as long as he could, that was a mistake. you wish he would have ditched you to fend for yourself, but he stuck by your side like a leech, ultimately leading to his death.

him or you, and he wanted it to be you.

“i always thought you were so brilliant, even at such a young age,” you were twelve, he was seventeen. you were too young, you had life left to live, therefore you did not deserve to die. “and you grew up… wonderfully.”

“stop,” you shook your head, shook the memories and red images from your mind, “stop talking.”

he did. he leaned back, watching you think. watching you struggle within your own head to come back to reality, to find yourself again. he found it amusing, watching your skin crawl from where you sat.

“he’d be so proud of you: rafe,” he smiled at the visible sudden stiffness in your body. “everything you’ve came to be.”

“don’t say his name,” you shoved yourself up, hauling towards his seat. “you do not get to say his name.”

he shifts and you swear you see a look of uncomfortableness strike his eyes, looking you up and down, observing the anger that radiated off your skin. you wanted to kill him; you wanted him to feel pain.

“he is dead because of you. you don’t get to say his name when you don’t know what he went through. what i went through,” you were leaned over him, clenching your fists, clenching around a blade.

you wanted to kill him. you were going to kill him.

you pulled the silver knife from your sleeve, pushing it to his throat, “i want you to feel it.”

he smiled beneath the pain, his fine white teeth staining with red as blood seeped up from his throat, looking up to you, daring, not believing that you’d do it, “oh, y/n, if you couldn’t do it then, you can’t do it now.”

“watch me.”

**

he knew.

you didn’t know how but it seemed the moment you walked out of that greenhouse, his eyes were on you and he was tracking you down as you tried your best to get away from the scene, unnoticed—which didn’t work out.

“what’d he say to you?”

“does it matter?”

his body was practically shoved against yours as you tried your best to keep walking, hopefully toward an exit. but he was making it difficult, he always did, but you couldn’t blame him; you were a walking hazard when mad, especially now after the rebellion had fully absorbed panem.

everything was off and the sudden break from routine and fear of the capitol eyes watching you; it was weird and you couldn’t help but be weary of something bad happening.

“no,” he mumbled, grabbing onto your forearm to slow you and pull you away from other onlooking eyes, “but i would like to know what led to you having blood on your hand.”

you clenched your jaw hard as he now had your hand pulled up, showing the crimson colored liquid staining your hand. an aching feeling overcoming every part of your body as the look on finnick’s face begun to get to you, “don’t.”

“don’t what?” his voice was low, his eyes beginning to haunt you with a look asking you something that he wasn’t going to speak aloud; what have you done?

he couldn’t protect you from this. what you had just done, was not something to come back from. he couldn’t understand why. all you had to do was wait. just wait and the whole situation would have taken care of itself.

“he was going to die anyways,” you pulled your wrist from his grip, continuing to walk away, hoping he wouldn’t follow.

“it wasn’t your job to do it,” but of course, he strides after you. “it was planned, y/n, coin is not going to-”

“let me have this, finnick,” you turned fast to face him with anger still built up and ready to spill, “the only thing that they’re going to be mad about is the fact that they didn’t get a show like they’re always fucking given. including coin.”

“she’ll have your head.”

“she’ll stay away from me. coin is just as bad as snow, and you know it.”

he stayed silent, his eyes wandering from your face as he thought. you were right. the bombing at the capitol gates single handedly showed that coin was as power hungry as snow and it didn’t matter if it costed lives.

“i can’t save you from this.”

“i don’t need you to save me, finnick.”

lie. you both knew it.

since the day you met finnick he had been saving your ass, even if you didn’t need it.

many times from snow trying to profit off your body, many times in the eyes of aggressive capitol people and lurking faces, many times within the arena, and during the rebellion.

he kept watchful eyes on you ever since your youthful face replaced his prideful accomplishment of youngest winning victor of the hunger games.

“look, even if snow’s life ended the same, his killing was meant for a crowd,” his voice was a whisper as he pushed you slowly inside and against a wall. “it was going to be coin’s big introduction with katniss doing what she does best. you took that away, if she is anything like snow, you know that won’t go unpunished.”

“what’re you trying to say?”

“you need to leave.”

“then let go.”

he internally winced, wishing he could do more for you other than amp up your fight or flight reflexes. he didn’t want to leave you hanging, leave you to their jaws.

“finn,” you yanked at his sleeve lightly, “you need to let me go.”

his body hovered over you, seeming so out of it—drunk. his aroma was throwing you off, you just had to get away, because if you didn’t now, you probably wouldn’t anytime soon.

“promise me something then.”

you exhaled, blinking up through your lashes, “what?”

“live long enough to let me save you at least one more time?”

“no promises.”

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what’s good cowboys and girls , decided to start one of these so send in an emoji and whatever info you want me to associate it with

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