captainlakes

[captainlakes]

come back, be here ♡

conrad fisher x fem!reader!

summary: where you and conrad are in a relationship despite you being in london and him on california, all of this while his mother's death anniversary happen.

words: 1.2K

tags: fluff. bit sad/comfort. long distance relationship. standford!conrad!

warnings: long distance relationship, spoilers of s1 final and s2, mention of death, cancer, jeremiah as a bad brother, grief, infidelity, innapropiate language. difficult brothers relationship. english is not my first language! (i'm sorry for any mistake)

note: i just love conrad, im sorry.

━━━━━━━━ 💐 ✈️ ━━━━━━━━

You met Conrad Fisher at the worst possible timing.

Him? In the middle of a transfer to Stanford's med school in, yes, California. You? In the middle of asking for a permission to let you be part of a student exchange in London.

It shouldn't haven't worked out but it did. He was just moving on from a tumultuous relationship with his childhood crush that decided that his dickhead brother was a better option than him. She was probably right though, he never was good at talking or sharing his feelings —like Jeremiah was— and with his mom's passing that just got worse.

So yeah, he was single and heartbroken.

You weren't that far from that either. The idiot of your ex had cheated on you with your best friend, so you were now alone and without a shoulder to cry on. Maybe that was what made Conrad and you bond, the empathy of the heartbreak at the hands of a close person that you both thought cared for you as much as you cared for them.

Whatever it was, it worked.

You became friends after you sat on his table as the other ones of the cafeteria at Brown were not available. You did that usually, asking lonely students to borrow the other side of the table with you, not holding any expectation to form a long time friendship and less a relationship.

But that day with Conrad, somehow the words came to your mouth and the answers came to his, and in an hour you were best friends asking about your plans of the future and your dreams for life…Yes, that deep.

And it only got better. You started spending every minute together at school, even when you have different interests and were studying different majors, you both always found a time to see each other, if it weren't at Brown it would be on their free time until suddenly you both realized that you wanted to do this always, if it was possible.

Being with you was a light in the darkness, he felt right beside you, like you fit with him, like you fit together.

Now, Belly was just a failed love forgotten in the back of his mind, he didn't care anymore if she was happy or miserable or if she liked his brother more than him...No, he couldn’t care when you were the one he called his girlfriend.

You the absolutely amazing woman who he had to watch leave to the other side of the world on that plane, away from after an incredible winter together, just when he was already falling but now? He had to deal with missing you and the fucking eight hours of time difference.

Oh, it was killing him.

It was killing you.

What a cruel way to be in love.

When you agreed to continue your new relationship in this long distance way, you never imagined it would be this hard, even with the daily video calls during your dinner—his breakfast—, the daily messages of good luck, good morning, good night, I love you, this happened today or whatever random thing one of you desired to tell the other.

It was awful not having that physical contact, that physical knowledge that the other was really there.

And it was worse on special days like today.

April 14th.

The date that had been haunting your boyfriend for a good four years already.

The day Susannah Fisher died.

You knew the basics: she had died a few years ago from breast cancer after fighting the disease for a second time. That was it, all you knew. You have seen photos of course, you have heard stories from Jeremiah, the Conklin kids and their mom Laurel about the blonde woman they all classifying as an amazing friend and mother, so you assumed Conrad think the same considering his complicated relationship with his father.

Susannah should have been the only person in the world to really love Conrad unconditionally.

So you knew you needed to be there for him that day.

The whole week you were testing the waters, asking him if he was feeling fine or if he needed something you could help him with, every time he answered he was fine. When you asked him for his plans for that day he told you he would be hanging out with his brother and the Conklins at the beach house at Cousins, as soon as you heard that come out of his mouth you knew it was too good to be true.

There was still a remaining tension between him and Jeremiah, the recent confession that he was planning to marry Belly without even talking with his brother first, not helping the matter. And the idea of them all hanging out as a family when you knew he was trying to avoid them as much as he could, yeah make you realize he was just saying the words you wanted to hear, trying to not make you worry for him.

But it was already in your nature, you were too invested.

You didn’t say a thing to him, you didn’t even ask Jeremiah or anyone if the lie was indeed a lie. You made sure everything was in order in your school and booked a flight directly to Massachusetts, then asked for a cab to take you to Cousins.

When you were there, you entered on the main door, left your suitcase in the living room and walked around the house until you saw him, sitting on the edge of the pool with a portrait in hand and a beer in the other, completely in silence, completely alone.

“Hey” you said softly sitting beside him, taking the beer away from his hand, intertwining your fingers with his while your free hand went to his back, making slow invisible patterns above the fabric of his clothes.

He didn’t look surprised, it was like he was waiting for this, like he expected you to catch his lie the moment he told you. He smiled weakly and gave the top of your head a chaste kiss before mumbling the words “I love you” but right now meant more than just a simple I love you, it meant thank you for being here, thank you for knowing me like this, thank you for loving me like her.

You just smiled, murmured the words back to him as he shifted a little to wrap his arm around you, in a silent pleading to have you closer.

You leaned your head in his shoulder, relocated your hand on his chest as the other tightened on his back, you looked at the picture and said “You look like her” you moved your gaze quickly to him and back to the picture of Susannah, then added “It’s the eyes…You have the same eyes” you remarked.

He looked at you for the first time in this few minutes “Yeah, I got that a lot" another smile appeared on his face.

"It's true" you pulled back a little, to watched him better, you made a pause "She would have been proud of you"

He smiled again and leaned to kiss you, a nice gente kiss that say so much at the same time, he pulled back just for a moment and he kissed you again before finally saying "Let's go inside"

"I'm following you Connie baby" you joked, he laughed and streched his hand to help you stood up.

This was enough for him.

Having you beside him, you being here was all he needed to be happy on a sad day.

[captainlakes]

it's nice to have friend ♡

finnick odair x fem!capitol!reader!

summary: being own by the capitol it isn't that good until finnick gets a hopeful surprise and a heartwarming offer.

words: 1.4K

tags: fluff (kinda?) sad/comfort. strangers to friends.

warnings: 6 years after finnink's win, forced prostitution, vague allusion to unwanted sex, anxiety and infidelity. mention of coriolanus snow, english is not my first language! (i'm sorry for any mistake)

note: omg this is my first one shot ever, please please be nice with me<3

━━━━━━━━ ❤️‍🩹 🌊 ━━━━━━━━━

The capitol never felt like a safe place for Finnick.

President Snow made sure of that.

He was a victor, yes but it didn't felt like it. His fate was written the minute they allowed a fourteen year old to volunteer for the hunger games, won it and then two years after, let that same teenager, who now had faced death and provoked it to some of his fellow tributes, save his loved ones by becoming some sort of sexual symbol.

Mostly a sexual slave.

Not that he would call himself like that in public.

Still, he didn't enjoyed it. He pretended he did, damn it, he lived the last four years pretending to like a life he secretly found completely and utterly disgusting.

Going from room to room, bed to bed, being touched by depraved strangers that didn't give a shit about him, it was exhausting, an awful way to live even when he was praised by his performances, by his looks every single time.

It wasn't enough.

It didn't make him feel better but more dirty, more used.

And then he met you.

The president called him to his office one morning, saying someone was interested in him and would meet him at the end of the day in the address written on a small piece of paper.

Finnick agreed, being the only acceptable answer for a snake like the one ruling the country.

But he was surprised when he meet you later that day.

You weren't a old woman with weird likings or a man waiting for him to get on his knees. No, you were a girl, probably his age or a year older, sitting on a couch relax and unbothered reading some book as the world outside wasn't crazy, as you weren't waiting for him.

But you were. You offered him a warm smile a nice greeting and asked him to sit across you, not beside you but in a single couch in front of you, leaving the book for another time on the coffee table and standing up to bring him a glass of water, not wine, nor a beer just water along with some biscuits you made a few hours ago.

And then you asked how he was doing, if the whole Capitol’s lifestyle hasn't annoyed him yet as you knew he came from District 4 and things worked differently there.

It was a simple question however it took him by surprise, probably it was the first time someone in this city asked for his feelings, his well being.

He answered with a bit of confusion lingering on his body, gazing at you curious, even more when you said something about always wanting to visit his district and then asking him how it was it back there.

This wasn't normal, if it were he would be over you by now instead of talking.

But that was exactly what was happening, you were having a conversation. It wasn't deep or life changing but it was fresh. For once in his life he didn't have to do what he hated the most, what he was forced to do all weeks, all months, all years.

A part of him though, was still in denial as you explained the grades method of The University and how it related with the positive or negative outcome of their given tributes, he still thought you were just polite waiting for the right moment to ask him to sleep with you.

But you didn't. It was all a long chat with him as you knew him, as if you were friends until you looked at the clock and told him that it was late, that he should go home.

It wasn't late, it was barely past seven and you were asking him to leave already, without having any kind of physical contact so he had to ask “Look, I'm not trying to be ungrateful but…I thought this night was going to be different.”

The comment made you stop, you were walking from the luxurious living room to the kitchen to clean the evidence of his presence in your house when you heard him, a little smile tugged in the corner of your mouth as you realized he need the explanation “The other day at the party,” you answered, referring to a few days ago when one of those big and reckless Capitol’s parties took place at one of your friend's parents house and where he assisted too “You seemed quite stressed” you said, softly.

You usually didn't focus on the victors, the party itself was distracting enough for you to be eyes glued with the winner of the games but when you saw him that night something struck with you. He was alone, a drink in hand and the other passing through his hair, frustrated, you followed him with your eyes for a minute, saw him curse and asked for another drink as he took his jacket off and breath deep, his eyes traveling to the woman that was with him just a second ago, some government man’s wife.

Whatever she told him, it unsettled him.

“I wasn't—” A big smile appeared on his face, a charming smile that screamed denial, pretending, hiding. You were fast enough to cut him off, whatever he was trying to make you believe, you needed to reassure him that it wasn't necessary, not here, not with you.

“When I'm stressed, I…I try to hang out with friends, talk a little” you explained, leaving the glass you have on your hand on the counter of the kitchen and turning back to see him. “It's usually better if you have someone”

He seemed off, shocked by all of this situation. He tried to say something but the words died on his throat, his mouth opened but he didn't say a thing and had to close it again. For a minute, he studied you as if he had to find the catch, the hidden message to decode you, to understand where this unexpected kindness to his person came from.

It was so rare nowadays for him, almost nonexistent that he didn't believe a nice person still existed in the capital of Panem.

“You don't know me” His voice cracked and his look reflected surprise, confusion, curiosity all at the same time, unsure to how he should be addressing this, how he should be managing this situation.

“I do know you” you took a step closer. “We just have a two hour conversation Finnick, I bet I know more of you than the president himself” you joked, trying to break the sudden tension in the room.

It worked for a second.

“You know what I mean” he replied quickly.

“I just thought it would be nice for you to have a friend” she shrugged, looked away then back at him. “You’re twenty and you barely talk with someone of your age”

He scoffed, shook his head, giving you a bitter smile “It's not that simple” he assured “I'm not here to make friends, I'm here to…” He trailed off and then you knew he wasn't having a great time, he was holding something back, something painful.

“You don't have to come back, if you don't want to” she said, stopping the visual contact they were holding, her gaze returning to the tray of food on the coffee table and reaching for it to take it back to the kitchen.

He strangely found himself not liking that idea. He didn't remember the last time someone didn't called him handsome, hot or sexy in an amount of two hours straight; the last time he felt really comfortable, really at ease with anyone at the Capitol.

He didn't think too much when he rushed to grab your hand, in a soft, delicate, gentle touch. A warm feeling invading you at the contact.

“I want to come back” His gaze was softer, more genuine than it had been all evening “I want…I want to be your friend”

You smiled in answer, you nodded and squeezed his hand, lightly with just enough pressure for him to feel it “Good” your voice was almost a whisper “I want to be your friend too, Finnick”

He smiled, dimples showing on his cheeks and he thought, with his hand still on yours, with your gaze holding his, maybe you were right.

Maybe it would be nice to have a friend.

Maybe it was good you were offering to become that person for him.