x-gabrielle-x

[x-gabrielle-x]

Tides Of Survival | 6

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death, (eventual) smut, mentions of prostitution.

Summary: The white swan of the Capitol; gracious, elegant, and innocent. You catch many of the Capitol's attention in your games, whether that was due to your agility, cleverness, or looks in all, even managing to capture the gaze of your young mentor and old friend, Finnick Odair.

Series Masterlist | Pinterest Board

Time seemed to be blurring together.

You weren't sure exactly how long it had been since the Peacekeepers had closed you into this small room, dark and alone, suffocating in your grief.

Your heart hadn't yet settled its racing. If anything, it had only thumped harder against your ribs as if threatening to break free and run. Your desperate hopes for this all to be only a horrible nightmare had left you disappointed, and the reality of it all hit you like a hard brick. Your legs had shaken so bad that you could barely keep upright, having to pull one of the small rickety chairs out to sit down from the loud thumping in your head. The light streaming in through the small window beside you only made you want to mourn what you were to lose harder. You'd miss the ocean, the rays of light reflecting off the shimmering waves and the laughter that echoed off the beach. Now, it would be only a memory. A memory that would soon be lost.

You couldn't even feel the tears streaking down your face anymore. The second the doors had closed behind you; they had come like a tidal wave. Hot and heavy, leaving streaks down the slope of your cheeks and drying, only to be replaced again. You had never felt more pathetic than how you did now, compared to Nathan's bright smile before he was separated from you into the room directly across from your own. You were just glad you were able to keep your emotions at bay long enough to stay away from the prying cameras.

There was a small knock on the door opposite you, and you half expected a Peacekeeper to walk in or hear Electra's high-pitched voice drilling you about what was to come next, but instead a pair of familiar eyes peeked around the door.

You gave no second thought as you quickly stood up and ran into Emma's tight embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around you and supporting your weight. You didn't miss how her hair was almost falling apart, the ribbon slipping off to the side of her head, her eyes red and watered with tears. You knew you were no better. You could barely even hold back the tears that soaked into her beautiful dress. You nearly felt bad for ruining it.

"I only have a few minutes," she said, voice shaking between shallow breaths. You felt her hands tremble against your back.

She stepped back, grasping tightly onto you as though you'd slip away.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," you sniffed, lip threatening to wobble. "I'm not a killer, Em. And my dad, he needs me."

Emma shook her head, brows knitted together tightly. "No. Don't be silly. You can survive without putting up a fight. You're smart, you can hide somewhere, make traps." she inhaled sharply, her gaze solemn. "And your Pa. I'll make sure he's fine. You don't need to worry about anything else other than getting out of there."

You held your arms close. Maybe you could. You could run off into the arena, hide within small caves or trees or ditches. That was to say if there was any of those things within the arena. People in the past had won by hiding away, but the Gamemaker's always wanted a show. They'd force you out if they had to.

"Where is my dad?"

The question seemed to have shocked her, her eyes widening just ever so slightly before they landed at her shiny shoes. She nibbled on her bottom lip until you swore it would bleed.

"The Peacekeepers think he's too unstable... He's not coming to say goodbye, Y/N."

"Unstable?" you shook your head, throat tightening painfully. "That's ridiculous! He'll be fine once he sees me, he- I just need to see him."

Emma's lip wobbled. "I'm so sorry."

You looked away, instead turning to look back out the window just like minutes prior. For the first time, you didn't want Emma to see you so vulnerable, either. You were never one to hide your thoughts from her, your fears and worries, to let her see your tears and seek her comfort. Emma had seen you at your worst, holding you close once you opened up about your mother, about your father becoming weaker and sadder, about Finnick. Now, as she stood beside you it was like a taunting reminder of what the Capitol was taking from you. Or perhaps what you were going to lose.

You hated the way your chest tightened with anger. The very least the Capitol could do for you was give you a proper goodbye. Perhaps the world was against you today.

Emma seemed to hesitate beside you, fingers itching to reach out. You heard the slight crumple of paper, and you glanced over through blurred tears to see her holding out a torn piece of scrunched parchment and a cracked pen.

"If you quickly write something, I can give it to your Pa."

You stared down at the blank parchment, the corner stained in what you could only imagine to be a coffee spill. You tenderly took it from her grasp and placed it on the small wooden bench, scribbling down whatever came to mind first. You felt Emma's gaze linger on your back, silent, but her presence louder than ever. You didn't dwell on it for too long, fingers flexing around the grip on the pen.

Dear Pa,

Emma told me you couldn't come say goodbye. That's ok, because at least you'll have this whilst I'm gone. I'm sorry I can't come home tonight to have dinner, maybe you can invite Emma instead to help you cook. I'm sure she'd enjoy that. I love you so much, please remember to let the others help whilst I'm away. I'll try my hardest to come home for our next dinner together.

(PS: I'll keep Ma's dress safe for you :))

You blinked, a tear dropping onto the parchment and causing for the ink to bleed just slightly. You wracked your brain, thinking if there was anything to add. For the little time you had, you wished you could have better prepared yourself for what you would've liked to say. Emma gently gripped your shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Time was catching up.

She smiled, her hand warm against you, but it wasn't comforting like it usually was. This was goodbye. "He'll appreciate it - more than you know."

You turned, bringing her into one last hug as the door swung open behind you. Emma's grip tightened to the point you could barely heave a breath, but you didn't care. You squeezed her tighter, her lips just barely brushing your ear before she was yanked away by Peacekeepers.

"Finnick will look after you. I know it!"

Her figure disappeared behind the door, and you wandered briefly if she was right.

The car ride to the train station was nothing but awkward.

You were more than aware of the dried tears staining your cheeks, sticky and tight on your skin despite hastily swiping at your face with the end of your dress. Your eyes must've been puffy and red, considering the long stare you received from Electra once she came to retrieve you from your room, as if she saw no reason for you to be crying.

You were ushered into the limo, squeezed in-between the door and Electra with Nathan on her left. It hadn't even been five minutes, and already you felt as though you were suffocating. Electra's ruffled dress scratched against your leg at every small move you made, and you were tempted to swat it away. Not to mention the endless rambling you had to listen to the whole way to the train.

What made it all worse, was the body sat right across from you.

You could feel Finnick's gaze burning into you, practically taking you apart piece by piece. You dared not look at him, instead opting to stare out the window as district four continued to fade away into the distance. It was a weird feeling, knowing that you might not be able to see the crashing waves and hear the sea gulls anymore. Your fingers had found a frayed loose strand of string at the hem of your dress, twirling it around your fingers in a way that you knew your Pa would scold you for. The thought made the corner of your lip twitch, both reliving the funny memory as well as longing for it to come back.

"I must say," Electra hummed, all too happy. "You two will do us absolute wonders, this year! You're both sure to get heaps of sponsors, no doubt."

You swallowed, stomach churning uneasily the longer you stared out the window.

"Not to mention, I requested you two have some of the best stylists from the Capitol! Oh, I'm so excited! Cheer up, little Swan, you'll have all the men and woman on their knees for you by the time you've made your first appearance."

Her touch was like flaming thorns on your skin as she patted your thigh in three quick taps. You held your tongue, willing yourself to keep the brewing insults at bay.

A throat cleared.

"Maybe save the parade talk for later," Finnick said, voice smooth but sharp. "She knows better than most what the Capitols expectations are."

You glanced at Finnick for the first time, heart fluttering in what you couldn't decide was anger or bittersweet grief. He sounded the same, but so different at the same time. There was no denying his voice had become deeper, more guarded, yet it still held the same familiarity that only twisted the knife deeper.

With him this close to you now, you realized just how long ago your friendship had been. He had matured not only in age, but in everything. Sea green eyes that would look at you with so much curiosity and mischief, now instead shadowed in secrets and built-up walls.

And what hurt most was the way he looked at you as if he still knew you. As if nothing had changed, his eyes boring into your own with recognition. You wondered if, maybe deep down, at least a little part of your friend was still left behind.

You looked away first, turning your gaze back to the window once again as your home faded out of sight.

The train had nearly everything you didn't.

You hadn't been raised into a life of luxury. Sure, you had all the necessities needed to grow happily within your district, even having more than most, but standing here now practically bathed in the Capitols wealth was eye opening.

From the moment you stepped into the train, the first thing you noticed was the smell. Pastries and citrus tarts, daring to make your mouth water, sat delicately arranged upon a large mahogany table in the center of the room. Velvet couches lined the walls, each having a pair of navy cushions with golden stitching. A crystal chandelier hung above, casting and reflecting a shimmering light across the room in a sense that reminded you too much of the ocean. You wondered briefly if that was an intentional decision.

Did every Capitol citizen live in such luxury?

Nathan stood close at your side, gaze wandering just as your own had. It was obvious he was new to this, too.

Finnick and Electra walked in behind you, barely just brushing against you as they moved to make themselves comfortable. Whilst Electra went straight to the wine glasses, pouring herself a decent amount of sparkling wine, Finnick sat himself onto one of the couches with a hand brushing through his golden hair. You imagined that they'd both been in here more than enough times for it to not amaze them anymore.

"It's warm," Nathan hummed, barely audible, but you heard it. You nodded in agreement, instinctively going to brush at your arms like you could still feel the chilly wind from home.

Electra glanced over, smile as delicate as her outfit.

"I had heaters installed last year into all the rooms. I've always hated your district for being so cold, didn't you?"

You internally scoffed. District four had to be one of the warmest places you could be, bathed in sunlight and hard work. It was rarely cold, mainly ever when a storm was about to hit or winter was beginning to swoop in. You don't think Electra ever had to lift a finger so as to get anything she wanted, polished and spoilt since before the day she was born.

You merely shrugged your shoulders. "Can't say I noticed."

You didn't mean for it to sound as blunt as it did, but by the way Electra had eyed you for a second too long, lips falling just enough for you to notice, she must've taken slight offence. You didn't care to feel bad for her.

Clearing her throat and standing tall, she walked over to where Finnick was sat and brushed her long fingers upon his shoulder. You noticed the way he shifted, but smiled, nevertheless.

"I'm sure you're both aware of our most prized victor, Finnick Odair! He'll be the one to be mentoring the both of you this year."

She gave a quick 'come here' motion, patting to the seats that sat directly across from Finnick. Your eyes briefly met his, before you carefully lowered yourself onto the plush cushions. Nathan was quick to follow behind you.

You dared to open your mouth, to say that you did in fact know him. Knew him, you corrected. But you held your mouth shut tight. Finnick, the charmer he is, sank back into his seat with a lighthearted smile, the dimples you remembered showing themselves like a taunt.

"We'll see, these two might outshine me by the end of the week," Finnick said through breathy chuckle. You ignored the flutter in your stomach.

He placed his elbows on his knees, leaning in close and expression serious.

"I won't throw everything at you both so soon, but I do want you to be prepared before we arrive in the Capitol tomorrow morning. That means you both need to get your acts together if we want to make them like you."

You folded your arms, subtly glancing to your right. Nathan's brows were furrowed in deep concentration, leg bumping yours due to the closeness. You didn’t think he noticed considering he seemed to ignore it, attention solely set on Finnick’s every word.

He continued. "I need to know both your strengths and weaknesses. The Capitol will eat up whatever performance we give them. We can give them a reason to adore you."

Nathan cleared his throat, propping his foot up onto his knee.

"When are the interviews?"

"The interviews with Caesar won't be until the day before the games. However, the Capitol will be broadcasting every move you make. The tribute parade is tomorrow, so that will be your first official appearance," Finnick said.

He turned to you, and you straightened subconsciously.

"I know you can swim. Fast. Thats good, we can work with that."

Part of you was almost charmed that he'd remembered such a crucial factor about you, that he hadn't completely forgotten about you like you thought he might've.

Key word, almost.

The bitterness of the day was catching up to you, and you all but wished to find whichever room you were staying in and sleep until the sunlight hit your eyes and you were back home. You refrained from showing the frown threatening to appear, instead letting the words slip before you could think to stop them. In all honesty, you didn't have the patience to care.

"I didn't know you knew so much about me."

You saw the change. The flicker behind his eyes and the twitch in his jaw. He didn't look at Nathan or Electra despite the long silence that followed, eyes burning into your own like he was determined to break you down. It nearly amused you as much as it haunted you. His eyes narrowed, slow and careful.

"Look, Honey," he started, tone soft but edged with something deeper. "You can either accept my help or figure it out on your own if you wish it, but for now, I'm all you've got. I'd suggest choosing carefully if you want to survive."

You held his gaze, throat tight, and it was only when Electra hummed an odd tune that you tilted your head to her.

"I hear Nathan is quite strong, some Peacekeepers were rumoring that you can haul in large nets alone!"

Finnick readjusted, exhaling a long breath.

"Can you handle any weapons?" he asked to which Nathan lowly chuckled.

"I was trained through the academy for a few years, didn't think I'd be back in this year, but things change. Spears and strength are my strong points."

You didn't doubt that. You had occasionally seen Nathan out by the docks handling spears like an extra limb, and whereas those spears were always aimed at fish, it could soon be targeted right into somebody's chest. Nathan was already a big guy; you were sure he'd easily throw anybody and pin them in seconds if he wanted to.

You were a fast swimmer, no question. But you'd never been able to use spears as well as the fishers back home or gut fishes ready for dinner plates. Finnick had once tried to help you with that back before he left for his games, though you both discovered you were terrible for it when you kept stumbling over your own feet and missing every catch. You wished now that you'd have tried a little harder. You could handle knives, well in fact, using them to catch fish with Emma ankle deep along the shoreline, but other than that it was between net tying and swimming with your head above the water.

"We have something to work with, then," Finnick's voice snapped you from your thoughts. "For the both of you. We'll talk more strategy tomorrow, but for now I'll let the two of you settle until arriving. Show the Capitol your worth and that you belong."

You flexed your fingers, eyes once again roaming the room. Deep down, you thought if he felt something when your name was called. It might've been selfish, but you wondered if his breath caught just as yours had when his name was called all those years ago, if he'd watched you walk onto the stage with his chest closing in and thoughts spiraling into chaos.

"I don't want to overload you," he said, voice steady. "Rest before tomorrow. You'll need it."

You didn't argue.

The only thing on your mind right now was to leave this room and bask in the last few hours of silence before your world changed.

Tags: @lunar-stars-world @sundawn1990 @harlemdream @teataryn @fluffyflamingo20 @cheese10001 @heidiland05 @xoxpetals @katnipwintergreen @finnickodairsnumber1fan

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

hey hey!! do you think you’re gonna write a part 6 for your tides of survival fic? i love ur writing!! :3

Hi! Yes, it’s definitely still an ongoing story! I have heaps of plans set and ready. It’s just taking me some time to write lately as I’ve been so busy with work, but I love this story too much to end it!

[x-gabrielle-x]

Tides Of Survival | 5

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death, (eventual) smut, mentions of prostitution.

Summary: The white swan of the Capitol; gracious, elegant, and innocent. You catch many of the Capitol's attention in your games, whether that was due to your agility, cleverness, or looks in all, even managing to capture the gaze of your young mentor and old friend, Finnick Odair.

Series Masterlist | Pinterest Board

The salty wind nipped at your skin and caused goosebumps to erupt over the flesh, the wooden planks beneath your feet creaking and groaning beneath your weight as you stepped up onto the porch. Arms already held to your chest in hopes to keep any body heat close, you let out a breath of relief once you gently kicked the door to your home open with the head of your worn shoe, warmth already enveloping you the second you stepped inside.

It wasn't much, but it was one of the things you loved most living in District Four. The small house was barely holding itself up right at this point, wallpaper peeling, broken light bulbs, furniture that was far too gone to even be used, but it was home. It was yours.

You clicked the door shut behind you carefully, aware of the squeaking hinges that you mentally made a note to fix later on. Shrugging off the jacket that hung loose on your shoulders, you dropped it onto a nearby chair.

"Pa?" You called out, still and waiting to hear his familiar voice.

Silence.

You frowned. He wasn't one to leave the house without telling you, especially now considering his health. At the very least, he would have left a note right at the door for you to read over once you'd returned home.

Taking a cautious step forward, heartbeat quickening at the silence that stretched on, you called out again-louder this time-in hopes maybe he'd just missed your voice.

Then-a sudden clatter from the next room. The kitchen, you'd suspected.

You quickly walked over, head peering into the room and catching sight of who you'd been searching for. Despite the relief that washed over you once seeing him, your heart ached at seeing the state he found himself trapped in.

Like the many times you'd found him before, he was hunched over the dining table with clenched white knuckles, chest heaving and eyes burning into what you thought was a piece of white fabric folded neatly upon the wood. A chair had fallen at his side, how exactly you weren't sure of, but it wasn't the first time you'd come home to tipped furniture.

"Hey, Pa," you said, gentle and soft as you walked to his side and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. At your touch, his gaze flickered up to your own, eyes brimmed with unshed tears and vulnerability. You plastered on a small smile when his nimble fingers reached up to interlock with yours.

"Hey, my baby girl," he murmured, voice distant as he stood up to his full height. He wiped at his eyes, letting out a long shaky sigh as he enveloped you into a hug, his lips pressing against the crown of your head. "How were the docks this morning?"

You let out a steady hum, fingers playing with the edge of your frayed shirt. "Same as always," you said. "Emma helped out today. We managed to get through most of the nets."

"Good, good," your dad hummed with a low chuckle. "My girl will be taking my net weaving streak before we know it."

"I think I already have," you teased, to which he ruffled your hair with a fond grin, but it was gone just as quickly when he averted his gaze back to what laid upon the table.

It was like you visibly saw the emotions in his eyes, sad and uncertain like a painful memory. Again, you'd seen your father in this state many times after your mother had passed. You were young, barely even five at the time. Your dad had done a good job at hiding his pain, plastering on his familiar toothy smile, but as the years went on it had only gotten harder. Work was becoming painful, memories were almost too surreal, and as you got older, you saw the looks of pain he'd send your way.

'You look just like your Ma,' he had said one morning over breakfast. He couldn't look at you for the rest of the day after that.

He reached out, fingers tentatively unfolding the delicate material from the table. A dress you realized, definitely not new, but pretty. It was knee length, a small patch at the edge frayed from age and use. A bow wrapped at the waist, barely held together with ribbon, and a square neckline which added simple elegance. You felt the fabric carefully between your fingers, hesitant, almost feeling as though your hands were too rough to touch something so delicate.

"I kept it hidden in the cupboard for some time," your Pa said carefully, eyeing the dress. "I thought your mum would like you to wear it someday. It was hers."

He said it so fondly, so full of longing. In truth, you barely remembered your mother, only having small photos laying around the house of the three of you. Her voice had been lost from your memory long ago, her scent faded from her clothes, but your father never let her memory go. He'd tell you stories from when they were both young, your mother having loved the water just as you did.

You carefully took the dress from his grasp, holding it close and leaning close to give your dad a quick peck on the cheek.

You smiled gently. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

Just as you turned to walk to your room and get ready, his cold fingers quickly wrapped around your wrist, stopping you abruptly. You saw the fear flicker in his eyes, the tremble in his hand as he held you, and it took everything for you not to replicate it. He pulled you into one last hug that made your heart sting.

You had to be brave. Not for yourself, but for him.

You forced a smile, though it wavered at the edges. "It's ok, Pa. I'll be home later tonight, and we can cook some of the fish I caught from this morning."

"So brave," he hummed, squeezing you one last time before his grip slipped, nudging you toward your bedroom door. You held the dress carefully as you stepped into your room, closing the door behind you with a long shaky breath escaping your lips.

You hoped the odds would be in your favor. One last time.

"Pretty dress you got on there, Y/N," Tommy teased with a wriggle of his brows as you walked over. "Don't tell me you wanted to get all dressed up for us?"

You rolled your eyes, feigning a frown. "You don't like it?" you asked, giving a small twirl. Emma, who stood at Tommy's side, elbowed him in the ribs with a shake of her head.

"You can stop being a douchebag now," she scolded, the gates into the Justice building looming over them.

With a small grunt and gasp, Tommy held where Emma had elbowed him with his mouth agape, betrayed. "And here I thought we were all friends," he frowned, though you didn't miss the quirk in his lips.

As you stopped at Emma's side, your gaze wondered over your surroundings. All too familiar but never welcoming. The cement floor was cracked beneath your feet, darkened and dirtied from over the years, and Capitol flags were hung high over the tall iron gates. It was obvious however they'd had a minor cleanup, but nothing too extreme.

Tommy, clad in a light blue button up and brown shorts, adjusted the cuffs over his wrists. His blonde hair was combed back neatly, and it was almost weird seeing him cleaned up as nice as he was. Emma, however, wore one of the many dresses you'd seen hung up in her wardrobe. A sage dress that flowed neatly over her legs, a matching ribbon tying her dark hair back into a bun, and a familiar smell that clung to her. You recognized it to be her older sister's perfume, whether she had 'stolen' a few sprits, or simply been given.

"Don't worry Tom," you patted his back in fake sympathy, mischief hidden in your gaze. "Emma thinks you dressed up real nice today. Even if we both still think you're shrimpy."

You didn't miss the way Emma's cheeks flushed red, and Tommy's eyes practically rolled into the back of his head with a long dramatic groan.

"When will you two stop calling me that?"

Emma let out a small chuckle, cheeks still warm. "A name like that simply can't just go away. You earned it."

It was a year or so ago, when you, Emma and a few other friends had all decided to go fishing one late afternoon. The storm an hour prior had made it a struggle, barely any fish ending up in the nets. The waves had been restless that day, and despite everybody's efforts, no one seemed to be making any big catches.

It was only when Tommy let out a loud cheer, everybody turning to see just what had caught his attention. He was struggling with his casting net, legs dangling over the edge of the dock as he attempted to haul it back up onto the surface with all the strength he could muster.

Of course, it had everybody intrigued.

Finally, Tommy had managed to pull the net up onto the platform only for his expression to fall. The 'big catch' he had been so excited about stared back up at him, a shrimp that kicked its tiny legs around mockingly. You and Emma hadn't been able to stop laughing for the rest of the night.

"Earned it," Tommy repeated with distaste, a scowl on his face. "I'll remember that for the next time one of you embarrasses yourselves. I won't defend you."

"That's ok. Y/N and I have each other," Emma retorted, linking your arms as the three of you silently agreed it was time to go in.

Despite the small jokes, despite the smiles, you could practically feel the tension within your two friends. Tommy with his jaw locked and fingers flexing at his sides, itching to grasp onto something, and then Emma, the falter in her slow steps and flickering gaze. Despite the circumstances, you were grateful they were here with you. It was really the only sense of normality you had as you walked through the lines of trembling children, Peacekeepers lining the walls with guns in hand.

You thought back to your dad, choosing to dwell on the thought of going back home after this was all over. Maybe later in the night, the three of you could go for a late swim, racing between the rocks and crashing waves. It was one of your most favorite things to do in your free time, even if you had to sneak out past curfew and out of sight from the Peacekeepers on duty.

The further the three of you walked into the building, the more crowded it became. Some children, mainly the younger lot, clung to parents and older siblings, grasping at anything they could in fear of being separated. Fresh tears were shed, their small sniffles and whines filling the haunting silence of the room.

Small debris and pebbles crunched beneath your flat shoes, the air filled with the scent of salt and what you could only think to be the faint smell of paper and ink from the sign in sheets. You could make out the front desks a few rows ahead of you, parchment laid out and awaiting the fresh beads of blood. Your stomach churned in discomfort.

Tommy had soon split off into the boy's line, whilst you stood close at Emma's side. You didn't miss the way her whole body basically shook beside you, but you chose not to say anything. Instead, your grip on her was steady and comforting, grounding.

"I heard Nathan Castwell was going to volunteer this year," Emma mumbled, voice low as if she were fearful for anybody else to hear. "Imagine going into the arena with him. And all over a dare, apparently."

You glanced at her, sensing the discomfort in her tone. You didn't know Nathan personally, but you'd seen and spoke to him on few occasions during school and work. From what you'd gathered, he was very head strong and had a daring nature. It didn't surprise you he'd consider participating, he was a career, after all. You and your father could never afford to put you into the program much like a few others from District Four, not that you'd ever want to. People like Nathan, however, had a knack for adrenaline.

Even Emma had been brought into the Careers program with her sisters, though she hated it. She barely attended after she came home one day, spilling the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. Never again, she had said with watery eyes.

"I have a feeling the game makers aren't going easy this year," you spoke just as softly.

The words hung in the air between you, like a heavy weight placed on your shoulders. You basked in the thought that this was your last reaping, that after today, your name would never be entered into the glass bowl again. For a moment, just a moment, you let yourself imagine that the Capitols grip from you had loosened.

A lie, you told yourself.

Even if it were your last year in the bowl, you knew deep down that nobody could truly escape the games, whether that was to be reaped or not. Instead, you'd be stuck to watch as other children were ripped from their homes, sent to their deaths like their lives meant nothing for mere entertainment.

Just like how they'd taken Finnick from you.

The line for sign in became closer and closer, and you had to swallow down the lump forming in your throat when the capitol official held out an awaiting hand, to which you hesitantly placed your own in.

Flipping your hand palm up, the lady held a stoic expression as she brought the sharp tip of the needle to your finger, a small wince escaping you once the blood began to bead on the pad of your pointer. You pressed it down onto the parchment, watching as it soaked in, before she ushered you aside and called for Emma next.

She gave you a look when a Peacekeeper nudged you away, ordering you to get into your rows. You smiled encouragingly at her, before turning and finding your place.

You found yourself placed between two girls in your year group, shoulder to shoulder. You recognized one, Lily you think. She was shorter than yourself, but she held her head high. If it weren't for the way you saw her shift from foot to foot, you'd think she wasn't nervous at all.

You watched as the boys and girls filled in, boys to the left and girls to the right. You craned your head, looking down the few rows before spotting a head full of dark hair and the familiar ribbon. She didn't see you, since you were behind a few rows, but Emma had always been good at keeping her composure in front of others she wasn't close to.

The anthem began, loud and booming.

Everybody stayed silent, breaths trembling whilst some stood tall and proud. You glanced around, not caring to listen as Electra Vantell took the stage. Her manicured nails held the microphone, and she took a moment to fluff out the layers of her shimmering dress.

The stage held four Peacekeepers, two on each side of the stairs. Electra stood in the middle as chirpy as ever, then there were the mentors.

You couldn't help it. Your gaze had drifted to him almost instantly. Stood beside who you recognized to be his mentor, Mags, Finnick held his mask well. Charming and cocky, he looked out into the crowd with his familiar Capitol smirk. Skin golden in tan, and eyes just as piercing and sea green as you'd remembered them to be, if not more. It was obvious he'd changed a drastic amount since you were both young, tall and built with sharp features you knew the Capitol citizens fawned over. You wondered how he could hold up a facade for so long, seeing all the cameras practically shoved in his face, and yet he kept his head high and flashed his pearly teeth.

Yes, you'd seen him around the district many times. However, you never stared for too long, fearful he'd feel your burning eyes. But now, you let yourself observe.

"Welcome!"

You let out a breath, suddenly feeling the nerves wash over you like a tidal wave. Electra smacked her lips together with a grin, eyeing the crowd before her.

"Another happy Hunger Games to all! Before we start, as usual, a message from our President."

She clapped her hands together, lips stretching unnaturally wide to reveal teeth too white and polished to be natural. You were sure you'd be able to see your reflection if you were close enough.

The two large screens set above the stage flickered to life, a static hum echoing throughout the building when President Snow's voice boomed over the speakers. You knew this speech all too well, yet you never found yourself actually listening. The Presidents voice rang out throughout the hall, all too powerful and calm.

Electra seemed to glow once the screens shut off, her grin wide and fake. You supposed it was because her favorite part was about to come up, which again sent a wave of unease.

"Let's begin, shall we?" She sauntered over to one of the glass bowls, dipping her long nails inside and swirling her hand tauntingly between the small slips. You nearly felt the tension, the way everybody's breath held in visible anxiety. A moment later, she plucked one singular paper slip out from the bowl and clicked her heels back to the microphone. The air heavy with anticipation, she carefully unfolded the paper.

"Our female tribute for this year's seventieth Hunger Games, Y/N Y/L/N!"

You nearly didn't register your name over the singsong tone, but you knew you'd heard it right. Your ears drummed with your pulse; vision locked on Electra as she glanced around in search for you. You suddenly felt hot, the burning travelling into your ears and cheeks when you felt the eyes of many linger on you sympathetically.

You heard a quiet gasp, faint but there, and you glanced over briefly just in time to see Emma clasp a hand over her mouth, muffling the sob that threatened to spill.

It was almost felt like one of your many dreams, fear building up in your chest that you refused to let them see. Time seemed to stretch weirdly in that moment, everything feeling too slow to be real. Was this real? You really hoped it was just another nightmare. You'd wake up, crawl next to your Pa's bed and let him envelope you in a tight hug, but those wishes vanished when the girl beside you gently nudged you to move.

You did what you'd thought of first.

You plastered on your familiar gentle smile and weaved through the crowd easily. It wasn't until you were at the foot of the stage that Electra had landed eyes on you, not noticing the slight shake in your legs struggling to keep you upright.

"Oh! There she is!" Electra gleamed. "And look how lovely! Your elegance is truly admirable. A swan brought from District Four!"

Her words flew right over your head. Instead, you focused on getting up the stage without doubling over and keeping the tears held at bay. They were watching. You were on screen. You were a target. You wouldn't let them see you look so weak.

A Peacekeeper reached down, offering a hand to help you up the stairs which you gratefully took with a trembling 'thank you'. You saw the guilt flicker in his eyes, the flex of his hand in yours. Maybe you could run, turn and dash out the gates as fast as your legs could take you, but it was only false hope. They'd only catch you again, either dragging you back up the stage by force or shooting you dead right then and there.

Electra Vantell pulled you beside her, smelling too strongly of something sweet.

It was then you started noticing a small commotion at the back of the building, and your heart dropped upon realizing exactly who it was. Your Pa was pushing off hands that tried to stabilize him, throwing his arms out and staring back up at you with nothing but anger.

"Thats my daughter!" He screamed, and you felt your heart race when the stadium went silent.

You carefully glanced over to the many Peacekeepers as your fathers' shouts rang out. You didn't miss the hot tears trickling down his cheeks now as he was hauled away by one of the other dads, his shouts for you almost haunting.

"Nerissa!"

You inhaled sharply, struggling more to hold the tears that threatened to spill over. You refused to look his way any longer.

"Nerissa?" Electra frowned. "Who's that, my darling?"

She held the microphone so close to your lips you might as well have inhaled it. You weren't sure you even had the strength to speak, your throat feeling as though it was caught in a wire trap. You swallowed, thick and slow.

"It's my mother."

Electra frowned, though it didn't hold any sadness. "That's too bad," she hummed, twirling a strand of your hair between her skinny finger before moving away to the boy's bowl.

"For the boys!-"

"I volunteer!"

The voice seemed to have everybody pausing, murmurs breaking out, and then applause. You felt your head spin when you watched a familiar head of brown hair pop out from the crowd, tanned skin and nose littered in little freckles. Nathan laughed upon the many pats on the back he was receiving on the way up, laughter echoing from him and his friends as he easily kicked up the stage. You swore Vantell nearly fell flat on her back when Nathan stood at her side, eyes wide but filled with what you could only suspect was desire.

She let out a light airy laugh. "And our male tributes name for this year?"

Nathan leaned in close, taking the mic from her grasp.

"Nathan Castwell!"

Electra hummed, clapping her hands together along with the rest of the audience, sharp and practiced, though not all joined in. Some hands remained still, lips pressed into thin lines and the air too thick to breathe.

You looked around once more, gaze sweeping over the crowd for your father, Emma, even Tommy, only to become disappointed once you never landed them. The weight of what was to come was pressing on you, suffocating, and none of them were at your side. Your mind felt foggy and jumbled, but one thing played over and over.

You were going to die within the next few weeks.

"Our Tributes for the seventieth hunger games!"

Nathan stood at your right, and you felt his gaze linger for a moment too long before he flashed you a wink, a smirk curving his lips before he held up his hands to the cheers.

Behind him, your eyes met the ones you'd missed so much. You barely got to see the hurt and regret cast in Finnick's gaze before you were escorted to the doors behind you, shielding you from your home and sealing your fate.

Tags: @lunar-stars-world @sundawn1990 @harlemdream @teataryn @fluffyflamingo20 @cheese10001 @heidiland05 @xoxpetals

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

Bounds

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drug and alcohol, ANGST, minor injuries.

Summary: You have put up with Rafe Cameron enough over the many years, and yet he never seems to change. Not even for you.

One thing that you had always known about Rafe Cameron was that he could be absolutely infuriating.

Whether it was his lack of common sense or his knack for trouble, he always somehow had it falling back onto you. You should be used to it by now, considering the many years you’d been his best friend, yet it seemed to only grow more persistent as of recently.

Rafe, being his usual self, would only give a mere shrug when you’d ask him what was happening, worry etched on your face at his bloodied knuckles and split lip. It scared you, but most of all, it angered you.

“What the hell, Rafe?” You gasped when you had walked into his room, seeing his body slouched into his bed and head tilted back against the headboard. Once again, the familiar sight of crimson blood decorated his hands, small cuts littering his face and a particularly large bruise below his left eye. He barely blinked, barely acknowledged your presence when you clicked the door closed behind you. Not even a hum to let you know that he was at the very least listening. Silence stretched between you, long and suffocating. You supposed that was how Rafe had always been, though, never choosing to share his personal problems with you despite how many times you had begged for him to.

You stalked closer, hands hovering over his own to inspect the damage. In all honesty, you couldn’t tell if it was Rafe’s blood or somebody else’s.

“What happened this time?” Your voice didn’t hold the usual care it did, instead it was filled with irritation as you turned to his bathroom, rummaging through cabinets in search for the first aid kit you had put there yourself. You heard a low chuckle, which only infuriated you more when Rafe flexed his bruised knuckles.

“Nothing to worry your little head about, Princess.”

You rose a brow, settling back at his side. “Are you serious?”

With his eyes still closed, Rafe blinked open the eye without the harsh bruise, flickering over your features before he let out a long sigh. Even with a split lip and swollen eye, you wondered how he still managed to look as handsome as he did.

As you dabbed away at the blood with a warm wet towel, Rafe shifted his body with a wince, bruises obviously hidden beneath the layers of clothing he was wearing. It nagged at you to know just exactly what had happened a few hours prior whilst you weren’t there.

“It was nothing serious,” Rafe drawled, pulling his hand away from your grasp as he reached into his nightstand and pulled out a small packet. One you recognized all too much. “So, you don’t need to keep asking me like I’m a child.”

If you didn’t feel angry before, you certainly did now. How could he think so low of you? Did he have no sense to see you were only looking out for him? You had known Rafe for years, grown with him and supported him through times that were obviously hard on him, but now, it was becoming overwhelming. The fights he’d occasionally get into before had started becoming more frequent, almost three times a week, and who had been there to kneel at his side and clean the blood from his body? Rafe was not a child, but he was beyond immature.

“You sure as hell are acting like one.” You said, the warm rag now left abandoned as you stood to your full height. You snatched the small plastic bag from his grip and tossed it onto his nightstand. “You can’t even talk to me properly anymore! This is becoming too much for you, Rafe. And me.”

“I never asked for your help,” Rafe accused, sitting up and biting down the wince that threatened to escape his chapped lips. “I never needed you here. What are you expecting, Y/N? For me to just suddenly be all fine and live the perfect Kook life? You can’t fucking fix me!”

You shook your head, angry tears brimming your waterline. “That’s not what I was doing! I’m being your friend, Rafe. I don’t want to just sit around while you come home every night bloodied and high. Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on? I can help you!”

A humorless chuckle fell from his lips, gaze now locked on yours and filled with something dark. “You really want to be helpful? Huh, Sweetheart?” His voice was low and scrutinizing now, his chest rising and falling with every step he took closer to you. For the first time, Rafe Cameron was not the boy who you’d laughed with every day, the boy who took you to your first party, the boy who had held you and cared for you when times were tough. No, now he was different. Blood shot eyes, form looming over you as if he were sizing you up, cornering you like prey. A hot tear fell down the slope of your cheek, though not from sadness, but pure resentment.

No matter how hard you’d try, you realized there was no getting through with Rafe Cameron. He would never let anybody in. Not Sarah, not Wheezie, not Ward, not his friends, and certainly not you.

Never you.

You were embarrassed. Embarrassed thinking that maybe, just maybe, you could catch a glimpse into what was holding him down. Binding him. But now as you stare back up at him, gaze unwavering, you realize that he never wanted your support. Never wanted you.

Rafe inhaled slowly, dangerously, pent up by whatever was swirling within his mind. “I want you to leave,” he said.

You hated feeling so small compared to him, not only physically, but mentally. The way your heart crumpled at his words was like a hard jab to your chest, and it was then you felt the hot tears spill.

You quickly looked down, furiously swiping away at the tears and mad at yourself for letting him see you so vulnerable. For a moment as you looked back up at him, you saw a flicker of something soft, something so him. But it was gone just as quickly.

“I can’t believe you,” you said, and you were surprised at how soft your voice came out despite the rage firing within your chest.

Pushing past him, you snatched your bag from where it had been left stranded on the floor beside his bed, head held down so he couldn’t see your face reddening with silent sobs. You didn’t see the way his gaze lingered on you when you stomped out his bedroom door, the way his fists shook at his sides and tears of his own trickled down his bloodied jaw.

You hated him. You hated him so bad that you wished you didn’t love him so much.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

OuterBanks Masterlist

Published:

Rafe Cameron -

Bounds

Works In Progress:

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

Tides Of Survival | 4

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death, (eventual) smut, mentions of prostitution.

Summary: The white swan of the Capitol; gracious, elegant, and innocent. You catch many of the Capitol's attention in your games, whether that was due to your agility, cleverness, or looks in all, even managing to capture the gaze of your young mentor and old friend, Finnick Odair.

Series Masterlist | Pinterest Board

A loud bang on the table caused for your head to snap up in alert, fingers stilling mid knot on the net you were currently repairing. Your wide eyes darted up, only to realize the source of the noise when you heard an exaggerated groan.

"Oh my god," Emma whined, glaring down at her reddened hands. "I never want to carry one of these again."

You couldn't help but laugh, circling the table to retrieve the crate she'd dropped onto the bench. It overflowed with tangled ropes, scattered dull fishing knives, and half-woven nets. Digging your hand in, you pulled out one of the longer weathered nets and set it down on the table before you.

"Unfortunately, I think you'll have to," you teased, feigning a pout.

Emma groaned, shooting you a hard glare despite her lips quirking into a small grin. "Look at my hands! And that's only after carrying a few."

Chuckling, you began to work on the torn net laid out before you, hands moving effortlessly as if it were second nature. "Poor thing. Maybe if you ask the Peacekeepers nicely, they'll let you off earlier."

Emma scoffed, her gaze flicking over to the few Peacekeepers stood on duty. "You're ridiculous," she muttered, leaning back against the wooden bench on propped arms.

"But you love me," you replied with a grin, tone light and teasing.

The shoreline buzzed with activity around you. Nets being hauled in, boats sitting at the docks ready to sail, fishers working diligently on small hooks and spearing fish with eased practice. You and Emma, however, were stood a little further off to the side weaving and mending torn nets. The sun had just barely come up, casting a golden hue over the beach, and yet the air was already warm against your skin. Wet sand clung to your feet as you worked, despite how many times you'd attempted to brush it off.

Emma leaned into her work beside you, brows pinched in concentration. Whilst you were the one actually mending the nets, Emma had offered to attach any missing or broken weights onto each corner. Her dark hair was thrown up into a bun, although a few stray strands flew into her face with the breeze the ocean swept in. She was quick to brush them away.

On most days, she was placed on the opposite end of the docks along with her younger sisters, sorting fishing supplies between boxes and sending them off to get used. Today however, you had needed the extra hands due to your father.

His days of work seemed to catch up to him. He was growing weaker with each passing day, his energy running low. The wrinkles on his face had deepened and his once steady hands now trembled when grasping ropes and tools. You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, worn and tired, and it made you ache to watch him. You'd insisted he have the day off, ensuring you'd take over to which he begrudgingly agreed.

Pushing aside your newest net, you drummed your raw fingers against the work bench in a poor attempt to get some feeling back into them. You glanced down at the crate by your feet, reaching down and pulling out a particularly tangled net with a grunt. It was covered in dried seaweed and sand embedded into the rope. You had to hold back the scowl on your face when the smell of rot and fish hit your senses.

"Help me drag this to the water?" You directed, lifting the heavy bundle in your grasp up to Emma's view.

She quirked a brow, eyes darting along the grimy net in your hands with skepticism. "I hope you're not planning on catching any fish with that," she stuck her tongue out as if gagging. "It's not even worth saving, at this point."

You rolled your eyes at her antics. "It will catch fish once I'm done repairing it. It just needs a clean."

You held out the other end of the net, and reluctantly Emma reached out to grab it with pointed fingers. They two of you hauled it into the ocean, now knee deep within the cool water. You knelt, beginning to scrub away at the dirt that clung to the material.

"How can you even touch that?" Emma scowled, nose screwed up into a grimace but was quick to shriek when you tossed a dried piece of seaweed at her, laughing despite herself.

'It's all-natural talent," you quipped, though she didn't seem pleased. She folded her arms over her chest, glaring down at you with a quirked brow as you continued your work, the water splashing around your waist almost rhythmically.

"Maybe you really are a fish, Y/L/N. I'm beginning to think you might be the fish kings' kid," she joked. "Dumped you here so that you could find your way back home."

You laughed lightly. "Maybe, or he sent me here to watch over the girl who can barely touch the water."

"Believe it or not, Y/N, I'm not usually placed on this job."

You stood back to your feet, drying your wet hands against your shirt. Emma nudged you with a playful glare.

"Not everybody loves the water as much as you. I'm more of a land person," she said, helping to haul the now cleaner net back to shore, its weight dragging behind you. Teasingly, you flicked the excess water from your hand in her direction with a laugh, a displeased smirk on her lips.

Emma huffed by the time you two had gotten back to the work benches, dropping her end of the net with a dramatic grunt. "Please, next time you need help, I'll do anything but that."

"If you complain any louder, the Peacekeepers might hear." You smirked when she narrowed her eyes, mischief sparkling in her gaze.

"Oh please," she waved you off. "I might just leave you to do the rest yourself. Admit it, you love my presence here."

"Maybe," you drawled, though before she could say anything else, you were pushing a new net in her direction.

You worked together in a comfortable silence, the easy rhythm of your work almost soothing, though that peace was quickly stripped away as the piercing clang of the bell sounded.

It was time.

Emma stilled beside you, and your stomach twisted uneasily. Glancing up, you managed to catch sight of parents and children already gathering at the Justice Building. Mothers and fathers stood with their children's hands gripped tightly in their own, some tears even being shed out of fear. The air felt as though it had grown heavy with dread.

Even though it was your final year being entered into the bowl, you would never truly be escaping the games. Every year after this, you'd still have to stand in the square and watch as children are ripped away from their homes and fight for their lives. The thought twisted in your stomach.

Your gaze flickered over the many families, and you couldn't help but to let your mind wonder to him. You'd heard that Finnick was to be the new mentor for this year, stepping into Mags' role due to her growing age. You wondered how he must've felt having to take on the responsibility of these children's lives. Scared? Angered?

It had been five years since Finnick had left for the arena, but the memory of his return home haunted you more than you cared to admit. You remembered the moment he had stepped off the train, the way it almost stung him to touch you, to look at you. His face was pale and shadowed in guilt, eyes going anywhere but onto you. It pained you more than you'd have expected.

At first, you couldn't even think of him without hot tears stinging your eyes. You'd tried to move on from the boy who used to race you in the water, who taught you how to tie ropes, who made you cry with laughter, but the distance he placed between the two of you was something you couldn't forget, no matter how hard you wanted to.

It was never his fault, you knew that. The Capitol was the one to take him and break him apart, leaving him to pick up the pieces. He had every right to pull away if that's what he thought was best, though it didn't make it hurt any less. Over the years, your sadness had morphed into anger. Angry at him for shutting you out the way he did, angry at the Capitol for inflicting all of this. You hated feeling the way you did; it was unfair and selfish.

You missed the boy who used to be your closest friend. You missed hearing his witty comments and teasing jokes, but that boy was long gone, turned into a man who wanted nothing to do with you. In the end, you'd stopped trying. He was nothing more than a memory now, one you couldn't afford to dwell on.

"Are you worried?"

Emma's voice snapped you from your thoughts. Her gaze was trained on the growing pool of children flooding into the building, a look of unease plastered over her features.

You hesitated, averting your eyes from the crowd. "No," you lied. "It's our last year. We'll be fine."

You didn't expect her to believe you. Emma had grown to know you well over the past few years, though you were grateful she didn't pry.

"Well," she hummed. "We should probably get changed out of these disgusting clothes.” She lifted the hem of her shirt up, cringing at the sight of dirt and salt water. It did little to ease the tension of the oncoming reaping.

You nodded, mind swarming with multiple thoughts at once. Your dad, Finnick, the games. You couldn't wait for it to be over and go back to your room, curled up beneath your warm sheets and finding a dreamless sleep.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

Tides Of Survival | 3

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death, (eventual) smut, mentions of prostitution.

Summary: The white swan of the Capitol; gracious, elegant, and innocent. You catch many of the Capitol's attention in your games, whether that was due to your agility, cleverness, or looks in all, even managing to capture the gaze of your young mentor and old friend, Finnick Odair.

Series Masterlist | Pinterest Board

"The female tribute for the sixty-fifth Hunger Games... Gwenn Livestone!"

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as soon as the name was spoken. It wasn't you; you were safe for another year. A pang of sympathy struck when you saw a younger girl crumble to the floor in sobs. Blonde and small, she couldn't have been any older than twelve. Her body shook violently in trembles, and her desperate cries filled the hall in echoes. Nobody spoke, only watched as the girl at her side, possibly a friend or classmate, attempted to get her back onto her shaky feet.

Two Peacekeepers strode over within seconds, grasping the young girl from under her arms and practically dragging her up the stairs of the stage. Her wails grew louder, and her face was streaked with hot tears. You watched as the two Peacekeepers roughly threw her to the floor in a heap, her crying out at the impact against her knees.

You noticed Electra Vantell, the escort for this year's tributes, visibly cringe at the noise. There was no sadness you could detect on her painted face, only the wide grin that practically split her face in half. She went to awkwardly cover her ears, waving her hand dismissively at the girl, Gwenn.

"Oh, hush now. You don't need to make your cries any louder," she spoke, and you watched as Gwenn tried desperately to hold in her tears.

Electra dressed head to toe in a twinkling blue as if to match with the sea. Her hair was styled as if to mimic the District Four waves, and you could faintly see the small details of what looked to be fish on her dress. You wondered how it could ever be comfortable to wear, your skin feeling itchy just by looking at it.

Clearing her throat into the microphone, voice chirpy as ever, she spoke.

"And for the boys..."

As if it were instinct, you turned your head to the left in search of a pair of green eyes and a mop of blonde hair. Through the crowd of boys, you managed to spot Finnick hidden within them a few rows back, however he wasn't looking at you. His gaze was set forward, stoic and hard, his shoulders tense with nerves. Usually, you could read Finnick easily, but now as you looked at him, you wondered what was going through his head. His jaw was clenched and hair dishevelled, and you found yourself unable to look away. Even as your stomach was churning at the small possibility, Finnick seemed to be holding his emotions much better than you.

Electra's voice broke your thoughts, and you watched with your heart hammering as she reached into the round fishbowl, digging her hand in and swirling the slips of paper around as if taunting. Finally grasping a small slip between her thin fingers, she eagerly unfolded it before reading over the name.

"Finnick Odair!"

The bile rose into your throat, heart plummeting like it had been ripped from you.

Finnick Odair was now a tribute.

You hoped, prayed, that it was nothing more than a horrible nightmare. A nightmare that you'd be able to laugh about with him when you woke up, but reality set in when you turned back to where you originally saw Finnick. He stepped out of the crowd and began walking his way toward the stage, no falter or hesitation in his steps.

This was very, very real.

He sauntered past, all eyes trained on him and even some small gasps emitting from the crowd. Finnick was a well-loved boy within the district. You could barely hold yourself up right when for only a brief moment, his gaze flickered to yours. Still, you couldn't place his expression, and it bothered you beyond belief. He shouldn’t ever have to be hiding his emotions from you.

You even felt the stares of many others on you - all filled with pity. It was no secret that the two of you were close. His gaze averted away from you quickly as he stepped up the short steps and stood tall beside a trembling Gwenn.

Despite the pain in your chest, despite the loss you felt, despite your fear, you didn’t feel any tears. You couldn't, wouldn’t cry now. You could only keep your eyes locked on him, looking over him and all his features as though it may just be the last time.

Perhaps it was.

You didn't listen to any more of Electra's ridiculous comments. You didn't even notice the hall slowly begin to empty out. It wasn't until you watched Finnick and Gwenn being escorted into a smaller room behind them that you were already moving on your feet, practically stumbling due to your knees nearly giving out.

You ran to the Peacekeepers stood in front of the door they'd just entered, the wood and paint chipped away with age. Your heart was pounding with fear, the thought that they'd leave without getting a goodbye was terrifying.

The Peacekeepers only stood in silence as you swallowed thickly, fingers itching to pull at your dress uncomfortably with every passing second.

"I need to see Finnick Odair. Please." Your voice cracked at the end, and this time you could feel the hot tears gathering at your waterline, threatening to spill. With only a curt nod, the first Peacekeeper swung open the door.

"Three minutes," he said behind the mask, but you were already running in before he could finish. You heard the door click quietly behind you, and looking over to your right in the small room, there he sat.

Finnick was already facing you, and instead of the stoic expression he held only minutes before, his face was streaked with tears. He was sat on a poorly made wooden chair, knuckles white as he clenched them into fists.

"Finn." Your voice broke, and your tears began to fall freely.

Upon hearing your voice, his head snapped up just in time to see you throwing yourself into his arms, sobbing. He held you tighter than ever, your tears soaking into the fabric of his sea-blue shirt. You felt his body shake in your hold as you grasped at him tighter, feeling his warmth and inhaling his scent.

"Please, Finn." Your voice was muffled with sobs, and you weren't even sure he could fully understand what you were saying. Not with him sniffling into your shoulder, holding back his own cries. "Please come back home.”

You pulled away only slightly to get a good look at his face. Despite his eyes being slightly red from crying, they were still their vibrant green.

He bit his lip, hard, looking at you as his gaze flickered over your face as if trying to remember every curve, every freckle, every dimple. He lightly shook his head, mind searching for words.

"I will," he assured. You could hear the unease in his tone despite him trying to appear confident. "I will," he repeated as if trying to make himself believe it. He even attempted to flash a small smile, though it barely masked his fear.

"You will," you confirmed with a wobbling lip. You glanced down at your hand, taking a step away from him and pulling off the small bracelet from your wrist. Finnick watched with furrowed brows as you took his hand into your own, placing the bracelet onto his wrist.

He examined it carefully. Seashells of varying colors and a small worn string. He knew this bracelet well.

He shook his head. "I can't take this, Y/N."

He tried to take it off, but you quickly stopped him.

"I want you to have it as your token." You attempted a weak smile. "It was important to my Ma; I want you to have it."

He stared down at it, glancing back up at you and pulling you into one last crushing hug. You accepted just as fast, your grip tighter when you heard the door swing open again behind you.

"Times up."

Before you were pulled away from him, he whispered one last thing into your ear.

“I’ll win, I promise.”

You felt your grip slip when the Peacekeeper took you by the arm, and the last you saw of Finnick was his piercing eyes locked on your own.

You didn't know whether you were relieved that Finnick quickly became a Capitol favorite or unsettled by the fact he was adored so much.

The first few days after Finnick had arrived in the Capitol, it was no secret that he quickly became a favorite. His charm, confidence, cunningness and striking looks had them obsessed. He showed none of the fear he held when you last saw him. He refused to let them see. Instead, as his carriage strode through the streets, he held his bright, dashing smile that caused for loud cheers and praise. His hand was up in the air as he waved into the crowd, though you knew Finnick all too well. You could see the hesitation in each wave through the small television in your home, the unease in his eyes behind every smile, the way his fingers gripped at the edge of the carriage like a source of stability.

They loved him, but for all the wrong reasons.

He was layered in beautiful fabrics, a combination of bright blues and greens as if to mimic seaweed and the shimmering ocean. A knotted rope dangled from around his neck like a necklace and his torso was left bare. Jewels and pearls were weaved delicately into the fabric at his waist that glimmered within the bright lights. Beside him, Gwenn was dressed mostly similarly, though her hair was curled into loose waves and adorned in seashells. The clothes she was dressed in did little to cover her body, and you couldn't imagine how she must've felt with all the prying eyes. She looked so tiny and out of place compared to Finnick who stood beside her looking tall and proud, shrinking into herself and hands desperately trying to cover anything they could.

Throughout the rest of the week, Finnick and the rest of the tributes hadn't been shown much. You figured it was because they'd be training within the Capitol, preparing for what the games were to bring. It made you physically ill, and every few hours you were running to the bathroom to empty the contents within your stomach at the thought. Your poor father had tried everything in his best efforts even whilst at work. He couldn't afford to take any days off, so he'd ask friends from your school to come and check in on you every so often. Later in the evening when he was home, he'd sit beside you and offer any bits of food he could get you to eat.

“You need to eat, baby,” he pressed his lips to your forehead as he held up a fork to put into your hand. You took it, but only poked and prodded at the food set on the plate before you.

“Finnick is strong and smart,” he said, hand brushing through your hair. “He’ll be fine.”

Even during the night, your father would slowly peek through the crack in your door only to find you curled up into a ball and crying into the sheets on your bed. All he could do was sit beside you and hold you close, murmuring apologies into your ear which only made you feel worse. Why was he apologising for things that were beyond his control? He shouldn’t have to apologise; it wasn’t him bringing you, or Finnick, this pain.

The day the interviews were being broadcast you were already at the edge of your seat. It had been a while since you'd seen Finnick’s face, heard his voice. The moment Caesar announced for the District Four male tribute to enter the stage, you nearly jumped off your seat when Finnick walked into view. Clad in fishing nets and seaweed-like fabrics, he strode in as if he'd owned the stage. Again, his expression held no signs of fear or anger, only the act that he'd seemed to have perfected for the audience over the weeks. Caesar's booming laughter filled the room at every one of Finnick's jokes and comments to the crowd. The Capitol's Sweetheart, Caesar had named him.

"Finnick," Caeser cackled, wiping away a fake tear. "Your District must love you! You do plan to win these games, don't you?"

Finnick, charming as ever, flashed a grin into the crowd. "Of course. I'd be leaving too many good things behind if I didn't. Plus, I made a promise.”

When the morning of the games arrived, you found that you didn't sleep at all throughout the night. Plagued with nightmares and what you hoped would never happen. You were a wreck. Your head was throbbing from days without proper food and water, and you were exhausted. The moment the games had begun to be live-streamed, you refused to move from your seat, gaze glued to the screen. A part of you wanted to watch, to ensure that Finnick was ok and well protected, though the other part of you wanted nothing more than to look away from the bloodshed and gore. You had to keep a bucket at your side, face pale and flushed.

The fear within you was haunting. You weren't sure how you'd cope if somebody were to drive a giant blade through Finnick's abdomen or watch as he struggled to survive without food.

The moment the gong had gone off; you watched as he launched himself off his plate and dashed toward the cornucopia. Within seconds there was death and bloodshed. You'd realized early on that Finnick had managed to join an alliance, retrieving a spear from within a crate and fending off anybody who came at him. Your heart was pounding so hard you swore it was about to burst out of your chest. Finnick was fighting off a girl, the one from District Six, you'd realized, and you swallowed thickly as his spear drove into her chest. Her body fell limp to the floor in blood, and you noticed the way he hovered over her, eyes trained on the crimson that spilled from her and pooled at his feet. Finnick was good at hiding his emotions, but you knew him better. You wanted more than anything to assure him, to help him forget his fears and worries, the regret in his gaze was almost haunting. Without a word, he drew the spear out from her corpse and made his way over to his formed alliance.

The arena was surrounded by water, small islands and tall trees. You began to have more hope that perhaps he really could win, even more so when he began to receive sponsor gifts; medicines, food, and a golden trident that was beautifully crafted and detailed. Finnick, though littered with cuts and small injuries, was easily making it through the days in the arena.

On multiple occasions, you’d been terrified that he wasn’t going to make it. Betrayed alliances, wounds beyond what his medicine could heal. You were relieved every time he managed to overcome what the gamemakers threw at him. Even now, as he stood over the corpse of the boy from District Two with his trident, the announcement confirmed what you'd been waiting desperately to hear.

Finnick Odair, winner of the sixty-fifth hunger games.

He was battered and covered in blood, no doubt exhausted and pained from all the injuries he'd gathered, but you couldn't have been happier. He was going to come home. You felt a pang of regret and selfishness. You wondered what Finnick would have said if he knew you were so relieved... ashamed? Disgusted? You weren’t sure.

After days of waiting, Finnick had finished his last interview with Caesar and stepped off the train into District Four. The moment he stepped off, he didn’t even get a chance to glance up before you were almost knocking him over, crushing him into a hug.

He was here. He was real. He was alive!

You swore you'd never been so happy to see anybody more than this. But as you glanced at him, your smile faded. His gaze shifted into an expression that, for once, you didn't know. His eyes were saddened and his face worn with tiredness. His arms didn't wrap around you like yours did, only stayed limp at his sides. He held his chin high, even as your grip slipped from around his neck, and you looked at him quizzically.

"Finn," your voice broke from happiness, confusion and rejection. Your eyes searched his own, looking for any hint of what he could be thinking. You were quiet for a moment, searching for words. "You’re home.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, his gaze flickering over the platform as if unsure where to look first. You supposed it must have been a lot for him to process.

This time, your voice was quieter. “I missed you.”

Finally, he looked at you, and for a moment you swore you saw his eyes soften. "I did too," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze flicked past you as if he couldn't bear to look at you anymore.

He was already stepping off the platform before you could say anything else. Confusion and hurt struck you like lightning as you watched his figure retreat into the crowd.

Maybe he really did die in that arena.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

this isnt a request not that this matters all that much but i just wanted to say i truly love your writing so much, it gives so much life and lightheartedness to these characters but also depth and personality ive never been the best with my words but your writing is truly amazing

Awww this is too sweet! Honestly made my day. I’m always so bothered by how I’ve layed out my chapters or constantly overthinking if I make it seem rushed, so it’s constant changing and editing. Comments like these really make it easier to get motivation. I’m so glad you like it, best compliment I’ve received. Thank you x

[x-gabrielle-x]

Tides Of Survival | 2

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death, (eventual) smut, mentions of prostitution.

Summary: The white swan of the Capitol; gracious, elegant, and innocent. You catch many of the Capitol's attention in your games, whether that was due to your agility, cleverness, or looks in all, even managing to capture the gaze of your young mentor and old friend, Finnick Odair.

Series Masterlist | Pinterest Board

One thing that Finnick Odair had learnt the last few years of knowing you, was that you were a fast swimmer. It was no surprise that most swimmers in District Four were fast, but you certainly had a way with the water.

Finnick watched from a distance as you kicked your legs softly, floating on your back and feeling the water move between your fingers with every stroke. You swam with an elegance that allowed for the current to carry you easily, reminding him of a bird resting atop the water. He marvelled at how graceful you were even when swimming within the crashing waves. Whilst most fought against the current, you glided effortlessly as if the ocean itself was bent to your will.

The sun was already setting in the distance, casting a yellow and orange hue over the rippling water. It was cold to the touch, but you didn’t seem to mind all too much considering just how long you’d been swimming. Even when you glanced up at him, quirking an eyebrow in question, he couldn't resist the small smile that crept onto his lips.

"Are you going to come in or sit there and be boring, Odair?" Your tone was teasing, though it carried its playful and airy nature.

Finnick brushed the sand off from his legs and instinctively glanced over his shoulder, a habit born from years of caution. You were on the more hidden side of District Four, having found this spot a few years back at the beginning of your friendship. You called it yours, away from the bustling of fishers and roaming peacekeepers. It allowed for the both of you to forget the problems of Panem, even if just for a few hours.

He grinned when you swam closer, lying in the water with your elbows propped up and eyes looking back at him expectantly. Strands of your wet hair clung to your face, cheeks red from the excessive swimming.

"I'll come in," he finally said, walking closer so that his feet now met the ocean splashing against him. He sunk deeper into the wet sand with every step.

You rolled your eyes, though they held a mischief behind them when your lips curled into their usual smile. “About time.”

He waved you off. “Waiting for me to save you from drowning?” He teased, but he laughed when you splashed water up at him, the water soaking his shirt which he quickly stripped off and tossed onto the dry sand.

“You forget I’m a better swimmer than you, Odair,” you were quick to retort, dipping your head underwater and coming back up to wipe away at the lingering droplets cascading down the curve of your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, seagull.” He waited for your reaction, easing his body into the water despite the cold that spiked at him. With that same mischievous glint in his eye, he watched your brow twitch, scoffing at the comment and kicking him gently from under the water. A playful gesture.

“A seagull?” You accused. “I would rather fish legs from last week,” you said.

He laughed again at the memory. He had practically begged for you to go with him to fish that day, and begrudgingly you accepted. The sun was warm on both your skin and Finnick stood tall within the water, trident in hand and still. You, however, were lazily playing with the sand, sitting where the tide lapped at your abdomen. Teasingly as always, he had decided to spear into a fish and wave its flopping body around in your face. You pushed and prodded at him, even standing to run away, but your legs had failed you and you went tumbling into the water with a splash that left you both soaking. Fish legs, he had called you in-between belly laughs.

"Maybe I should start calling you floppy fish," you returned with a stifled laugh.

He flopped onto his stomach beside you. “Fine, I’ll take it back,” he said with a chuckle. “But only if you race me to the rock.”

You glanced over, seeing the giant rock you'd both swim out to on occasion. It was a little further out than most, but it was a challenge you couldn’t pass.

You turned back to him, squinting your eyes and resting your finger on your chin in fake thought, humming to yourself lowly. "Don't know, I do tend to beat you every time."

"Well just maybe you could spare me a win, this time," he suggested. He watched as you continued to ponder, shaking your head.

“Can’t do that, Finn. I need to keep up my legacy.”

He wasn’t able to reply with his cocky remarks before you were already delving into the water, slicing through the ocean like a knife. Kicking off the ground, he was quick to follow after you.

By the time he reached the rock, you were already sitting upon it huffing for breath, a wide smile of victory set on your face. Droplets of water trickled down your skin as Finnick pulled himself to sit beside you, grunting when he felt the rough rock scratch against the palms of his hands. You bickered back and forth, and he listened as your laughter slowly died down and left the both of you in a comfortable silence. It allowed for his mind to drift into what was to come tomorrow, unease settling over him as he looked out over the horizon.

“You're acting more quiet today,” your voice was softer now, nearly distant. “What’s wrong?”

You must have noticed the deep frown on his face, and he was quick to relax his features. Swallowing thickly, he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He hated feeling powerless against the Capitol, hated knowing that neither of you were ever truly free. The games were only proof of that.

He inhaled a breath. “The reaping's tomorrow,” he says, tone matching your own. His voice broke slightly. “I just don’t know what I’d do if it were you.”

You were silent for a moment, words hanging heavily, and for a moment he didn’t think you were going to respond, but then he felt you shift closer into his side. Your hand brushed against his arm reassuringly, like a reminder that you were there with him. He was never alone. Your gaze was soft, almost sad.

“It won’t be,” you attempted to reassure, but even your tone was uncertain. Nobody truly knew the odds of the games. “Plus, if I were to be reaped, my Pa would have something pretty big to say.”

He let a small chuckle slip at your poor attempt at a joke. Glancing over at you, the light eliminating your features, he took a second to admire you; hair cascading down your back in elegant waves despite it being wet, your brows pinched into a small frown, he found himself wishing it were always like this, just the two of you.

“Someday we’ll get out of here, Finn.” He nearly didn’t hear you say it, but he said nothing. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe it could be true.

As the sun continued to lower, the sky darkened into night and specks of small glimmering stars began to appear. Your small jokes and occasional comments began to cease, instead basking in the comfort of each other. You sat up fully from your slumped position, patting his shoulder twice and standing to your feet.

“My Pa will be wanting me home soon,” was all you said with an apologetic smile, reaching out a hand for him to grab and helping him to his feet.

He nodded, a smile stretching wide onto his face when he saw just how tired you were.

“Same time tomorrow, then?” Finnick squeezed your hand before letting go. You nodded with a gentle smile before slipping into the water and making your way back to shore.

Even as you got a head start, Finnick couldn’t help but wonder. Swimming within the calm ocean, he realised your grace and poise weren’t meant for bloodshed and chaos.

A swan, he thought with a smile. It suited you perfectly.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

Tides Of Survival | 1

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death, (eventual) smut, mentions of forced prostitution.

Summary: The white swan of the Capitol; gracious, elegant, and innocent. You catch many of the Capitol's attention in your games, whether that was due to your agility, cleverness, or looks in all, even managing to capture the gaze of your young mentor and old friend, Finnick Odair.

Series Masterlist | Pinterest Board

Although most days in District Four were hot, today was definitely one of the most. The sun blared down on your back and sweat lined your forehead, creased with dedication and concentration. You swore that if it were to get any hotter than this, your skin might as well be melting off.

The breeze did little to cool you down, the wind hitting your face as your fingers worked at the knots in your aching hands. You could conclude now that you were miserable at knot tying.

Frowning, your smaller hands lifting the mess of a rope up to your father's gaze, you called him.

"I still can't do it, Pa" you whined, gaze trained on him as his fingers worked effortlessly at his now half-finished net.

He glanced down, brown eyes flicking between you and the disaster held tightly in your smaller grip. He smiled, though his fingers remained at his work.

"You'll get it, Princess. You've only been practicing for a few hours," he tried, but you were determined.

"All the kids at school can make them now, I don't want to be left out." Twisting the rope between your hands, you undid the poor knot before aimlessly placing it down on the wooden work bench, fingers raw from the rough material.

He hummed, picking up a weight that laid off to his right and tying it to his work. "Sometimes it's just harder for others to learn. Thats why we practice, so that we become better."

You huffed when he turned away, though you weren’t able to avert your gaze from his hands. They worked effortlessly with the small rope, weaving and pulling into patterns. Though District Four was full of different kinds and styles of nets and knots, your fathers were some of their proudest works.

"How about this," he started, eyeing you at his side as you sat atop the table boredly, legs kicking back and forth. "When we get home, I have some old rope in my bedroom. We can practice together when I'm off work. Does that sound good?" He asked, and like a switch your smile was gleaming back up at him.

He laughed, a solemn look flashing over his features when he went to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "You smile just like your ma, Princess." He pressed a quick kiss to your head.

Whilst he continued his work, you allowed for your gaze to wonder. The docks of District Four were crowded with workers; some actively catching a variety of fish and others weaving and knotting nets at the benches like your father. The air lingered the smell of salt and seaweed with every crash of the waves against the shore. The heat blaring down at you made you ache for the feeling of the cool water surrounding your body, and you watched on as sunlight danced across the water like ribbons of gold, as if taunting you to give in.

"How much longer?" You asked. The sun had yet to set, and you knew that would mean a few hours at the least.

Your father let out a breath, and you didn't miss the way his hands trembled and flexed with exhaustion. "Still got a few hours, Hun. I need to go and grab something off Matt, so stay put here, alright?"

Once you nodded, he was already walking a few tables down and disappearing into the crowd of people. Now alone, your gaze caught onto the rope beside you, fingers etching out to grab the rough material when a voice piped up from behind you.

"Maybe I can help you."

You turned, startles to see a young boy stood behind you. You recognized him as one of the boys from the year above you, though you didn't remember his name. His sun-bleached blonde hair was pushed around from the salty ocean breeze, and his green eyes sparkled with mischief. He stood with a certain confidence that you admired, his gaze trained on the untied knot at your side.

You hummed in question, and seeing your confusion he picked up the rope you had previously discarded, twirling it in his palm as if he was dissecting it.

"I've already tried," you told him, though you were quite embarrassed admitting it. A District Four girl couldn't even tie her own net.

He raised a brow. "Can you tie shoelaces?"

Taken aback, you frowned at him, slightly offended. "Yes, I can tie shoes. I'm not that bad."

"Can you tie any knots?"

"Only a few my Pa taught me."

His lips quirked into a grin. "Great! Then you won't have a problem."

He handed you the rope before fishing around in a nearby crate of ropes. Finding what he was looking for, he turned to you and set the rope out flat.

"All you need to do it watch carefully, and if you're stuck ill help you."

You didn't answer, only watching as he slowly began to explain to you between weaving and pulling. He kept it at a slow pace so that you were able to follow along easily, and though you messed up a few times, he was quick to correct you. Your movements were hesitant and slow as you tied your knot, and you noticed Finnick pause at your side.

"You know," he began. "You make fumbling around look kind of fancy."

You wrinkled your nose into a scowl. "Thats not a compliment."

He laughed, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. "I promise it is," he said.

A pause.

"What's your name?" He had asked, watching you closely. He noticed that you barely were watching him work now, instead getting the hang of the knots yourself.

You glanced at him, smiling brightly. "Y/N."

He nodded. "I'm Finnick."

After some time, you couldn't help but to smile down at the finished net in your hands. It was only small and still poorly done, but it was better. Better than any progress you'd made so far. You held it up to Finnick, gleaming brightly.

"See? You did it!" Finnick smiled, though he let out a small laugh when you eyed the net wearily with a grimace. "Not bad for somebody who can't tie shoelaces."

You shot him a look, though the corner of your lip tilted into a smile. "I told you I could tie laces?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Just better now."

You lifted the net so that it was eye level with the both of you. Some of the knots were better than others, and half the net hung lower than the other, but nevertheless it was yours.

"Should we test it?" Finnick questioned, and you eagerly nodded and jumped off the bench.

The planks creaked beneath your feet as you ran to the end of the deck, Finnick hot on your trail. The net was practically tangled around your arms, and you shrugged it off with excitement, gazing down at the water below. You noticed some of the Peacekeepers leant up against the wooden railing, and though their helmets concealed their expressions, you knew they were watching. They always were.

"Let's hope your throwing is better than your net making," Finnick joked, but you ignored him, finally getting the newly made net untangled and throwing it as far out into the water as you could.

"Imagine how good I'll be in a few weeks," you thought, but Finnick was quick to nudge you.

"Not ever as good as me, though."

You opened your mouth to retort but were cut off by a gasp when a splash in the water caught your attention. Finnick helped to pull your net back up onto the doc, the both of you noticing it had come back empty.

"I definitely saw something," you murmured, though there was no upset in your tone. You were eying the net carefully, gaze practically burning.

Finnick shrugged. "Next time, we can make the-"

"Wait!" You suddenly squealed, digging around into the wet net. It was then that Finnick realized the subtle movements from under one corner of the net. You dug around, hand finally clasping around the fish.

"I got one!" The words caught in your throat with excitement, and you watched entranced by the scales of the fish that shimmered like treasure. Perhaps it was treasure to you.

The moment was short lived when the fish in its mighty attempt flapped its fins, slipping from your grasp and falling back into the water. Finnick was prepared to assure you that you could always try again, but when you turned to him, bright smile on your face, he swore he'd never seen anybody happier. Your smile was contagious to him.

"I caught a fish in my own net!" You jumped up and down, and you noticed your father back at the work bench from the distance. You turned to Finnick, E/C eyes sparkling with pride. "Next time we will catch more fish together." It was a promise.

"Thank you, Finnick," you gleamed, before running back to your father with the soaking net, telling him about the exciting news and practically shoving your new net in his face.

Your words echoed in his mind. Next time, he thought, the smile lingering on his face at the promise of many.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

Tides Of Survival Masterlist

Pairings: Finnick Odair x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death, (eventual) smut, mentions of forced prostitution.

Summary: The white swan of the Capitol; gracious, elegant, and innocent. You catch many of the Capitol's attention in your games, whether that was due to your agility, cleverness, or looks in all, even managing to capture the gaze of your young mentor and old friend, Finnick Odair.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

Bruce: Has anybody seen Reader today? She hasn't answered any of my texts since last night.

Tim: She told me she had an important errand to run last time I saw her.

Cass: Wasn't that, like, yesterday during lunch?

Tim: ...Yeah

Bruce: So... she's missing?

*Batfam, panicking and preparing to go on a search*

Damian, watching the chaos unfold: She's hiding in the Batmobile eating ice-cream.

Batfam: ...

Bruce: On my leather seats?

Damian: ...

Damian: Don't tell her I told you.

[x-gabrielle-x]

Dick, very obviously trying to convince the Batfam that he is drowning to see who’d save him first: Help! I’m drowning!

Jason, picking up a rock and throwing it straight at Dick.

Dick: …

Jason: …

Dick: …

Dick: What the hell? I could’ve drowned!

[x-gabrielle-x]

Withered Cards | IV

Pairings: Jason Todd x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death.

Summary: Despite the many different problems you overcome with Jason Todd, you always eventually make it back to each other. Even after his death, how could you still love a man who changed so much? Even when you made a turn for the worst.

Series Masterlist

Your body still ached from the hits that Joker had blown at you only a week ago, the scab forming over your split lip leaving a metallic tang on your tongue. The bruises still had yet to heal, the purple blemishes littering your skin and serving as a fresh reminder of just how cruel and nasty the Joker really was. It had been a week. A week since your failed mission, and a week since you had last seen Robin.

You had found yourself mostly staying hidden away in your tiny room back in the warehouse, finding that it was much greater comfort than having to be around the tantalizing grin Joker always sent in your direction, like a lion baring its teeth to its prey. So of course, when you had heard a loud bang on your door with the Joker bidding you farewell, claiming he had 'unfinished business to attend', you were more than relieved to finally stretch your limbs and let your guard down; just a little.

Though even without the Joker there for the few days you had, your heart would leap into your throat whenever you thought to hear something similar to his maniacal laughter. You were constantly on edge even without him there, and Harley seemed to be mourning his absence just as much as you were enjoying it.

Sitting on a random rooftop with the glimmering city lights below did little to ease your running thoughts. The familiar chill of the freezing air pricked at your skin to which you folded your arms against your chest for a sense of warmth. Gotham had seemed to be a lot quieter tonight, a very rare occasion. Crime was low, and the usual distant sirens were quiet. You could even hear the occasional laughter and cheers from the bar just down the street.

You wished to bask longer in the silence, in your own company, but it was quickly gone when you heard the soft thuds of boots on the floor behind you.

You didn't need to look over to know that he was staring directly at you, observant and intrigued. In any other situation, you would have found yourself reaching for your knife and defending yourself against the charging enemy, fists flying and weapons drawn for blood, but this was different. Very different. There was no harshness to his steps, no attacks thrown at you, only silence.

The silence dragged uncomfortably long, and you kicked your legs back and forth over the edge of the building as you let out a long breath.

"I didn't think the Robin would be paying me a visit tonight," you kept your gaze trained below. "If I had known, I might have put on my better shoes!"

The pounding in your chest grew with each word you spoke, but if he had come to fight you, he would have done it by now.

He ignored your comment and instead came up beside you. It was then you finally turned your gaze up at him, noticing his yellow, red and green costume. The dominoe mask shadowed his face, though you could see little due to the dimmed lights of the city. He was staring right back at you, a little too much for your personal comfort.

He slumped onto the edge of the rooftop with a huff, maintaining the safe distance between you both. You had to resist from smiling a little to yourself at the silliness of it all. Robin, your enemy, the one who had made you fail your mission and make the Joker’s anger flare was currently sat five feet away as if nothing had happened.

He was playing a dangerous game, yet you were curious to see the reason of his arrival. If he wasn't here to start something, why was he here at all?

The tension was thick with something you couldn't place, but the feeling was oddly unsettling. Not because you were fearful, but because you were oddly excited for this coincidental meeting.

"Tough week?" he questioned in a tease, pointing to your split lip and the yellowish bruise poking out from under your mask. You merely scoffed at the boy before subconsciously licking the cut on your bottom lip.

"Maybe. It would have been a hell of a lot better if you had left me that vial, though," you looked at him, catching the smile that had appeared on his face triumphantly before he quickly disguised it with a bored look.

"What did the Batsy say when you handed it in," you continued. "It better have been good, considering the Joker wasn't too pleased when I returned without the one thing he had asked of me." You gestured to your eye again, his gaze lingering there for a few moments too long.

He tensed at the mention of Batman, lips twitching into a frown.

"Nothing you need to know," he mumbled out, irritation laced in his voice. You quirked a brow.

"I think I do," you laughed, though it was obviously fake. "Considering you're the reason I got my ass beat."

He ignored you, instead shifting himself so that his leg was now propped up on the edge of the roof. He tilted his head in question.

"What are you doing here, anyway? Another Joker deed or dwelling in your failure," he taunted.

"Having a breather," you were quick to reply in defense, and you noticed the way his eyes widened in surprise. He let out a soft laugh, something that surprised you considering you didn't hear laughter too often where you were, or perhaps too much from the Joker.

"Something that we have in common," he mused, and for the first time you felt a strange sense of welcoming with Robin. With anybody, for that matter.

The both of you remained at a safe distance, but his presence alone was one that confused you. Tonight, even with him a mere five feet away, you weren't worried about having to fight him, worried about hiding away, or worried about who you were raised with. It was nearly as if in this moment, you had somebody who didn't pose you as a threat. Or at least, not much of a threat.

Robin's movements were relaxed and composed, abandoned of any tension he may have held before regarding your presence.

“I’m guessing you don’t do this often,” Robin concluded. “If not at all.”

You frowned at him, slightly offended by his comment. “How would you know?”

The corner of his lip tipped into a smile, and he shrugged, flexing his shoulders in a way that caused for his suit to stretch.

“I’m here nearly every night, and I can positively say, I haven’t seen you out here once.”

“And I bet you wish you could see me, little birdy,” you fake pouted, watching him closely.

He breathed out a laugh, his eyes squinting under the dominoe mask that concealed his identity.

"Believe me, if it didn't end in you nearly breaking my nose last time, I might have considered it."

You just stared at him, your mind trying to figure him out. In all honesty, you don't remember the last proper conversation that you had with somebody. much less around your age.

"How old are you?" the question had slipped out before you could stop it.

Robin glanced back at you; a brow raised. "Not much older than you, I'd guess," he looked you up and down. "How old are you?"

"Thats not an answer," you deadpanned, ignoring him. "For all you know, I could be a sixty-five-year-old woman with insane plastic surgery."

"But you're not," he clarified. "No old woman would be able to jump off rooftops and work for criminals like him."

You cringed at the mention of the Joker.

Robin let out a low hum, and the city lights from below flickered across the right side of his face in what seemed to be like a dance.

You opened your mouth. "You're not-"

"Stop." He cut you off.

You paused. "Excuse me?"

He held up a hand, his gaze going past you. It was only then you heard the quiet grunts and rummaging from a nearby alley. You were already on your feet and moving toward the sound, steps cautious. Robin was right on your heel, and by the time you were both on the ground hidden by the shadows in the alley, you could see a hunched figure leaning against the brick wall, digging through what seemed to be a purse.

You turned to Robin, a mocking smile gracing your lips. You gestured an arm out.

"Well? After you, Wonder Boy," you said.

He frowned. "Is that some way you're going to get me distracted and then knock me out when my backs turned?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, do I look like a hero who fights purse thieves?"

He looked you up and down. "Honestly, no."

"You didn't have to answer, bird brain. Just go!"

The man who had been distracted for long enough suddenly snapped his head toward you both, snarling.

"What the hell?"

The man stood abruptly, stepping closer, though Robin was quick to move from the outstretched hand of the man. With a swift kick, the man was doubling over with a grunt and spilling the contents of the purse onto the floor.

The man growled in annoyance, lunging for Robin again, but he was quick to duck down away from the mans clenched fist before it could make contact. You, however, watched on with amusement.

"You could have been a bit more original rather than a purse thief," Robin called out to the man.

The grunts exchanged between the two continued, and you cringed at the few hits Robin had received. You had to admit, he put up a strong fight.

"Little rat!" The man yelled, holding his head where a punch managed to land before he stumbled out of the alley, disregarding the purse he previously held.

Robin huffed, brushing a dark stray of hair away from his face. He looked over, meeting your gaze as you clapped mockingly, stepping out from the shadows and closer to him.

He stooped down, picking up what looked to be an ID.

"Do you know a Lora Johnston?" He said, flipping the card in his hand.

"Can't you search that up on a special little gadget or something?"

He mumbled out something that you failed to hear.

There was a pause.

"I think you could improve on your movement," you said, and his eyes snapped to yours. Something changed in his features that you couldn't place.

"Teach me, then."

Your mouth ran dry. "What?"

"If you teach me, then ill teach you some stuff." He was quick to add, but you shook your head quickly.

"I don't need your help."

You went to turn, but you let out a yelp when you were suddenly tugged back and landed onto the hard floor.

"You let your guard down too easily," Robin teased. You only glared up at him with annoyance.

You stood back up to your feet and wacked him on the shoulder, pushing past him and walking toward the alley entrance to leave, but he quickly called out to you.

You ignored him, but he called out again.

"What do I call you?"

You stopped and turned to him, eyes wide.

There was a long pause. "Nothing," you said. "I can't give you a name."

"Well," he thought, a suggestive smile gracing his lips that you knew you'd see again. "I guess I'll just have to decide myself."

You turned again, waving a hand this time. "Until next time, birdy!"

He let out a chuckle. "Until next time, Princess!"

You remain silent the rest of the walk, your interaction with Robin nothing like how you would have imagined it. He confused you more than you'd like to admit, but oddly enough, tonight was a change, and you liked it.

You couldn't remember the last time you had spoken to somebody so casually, the sense of normality something you craved more of. Though the two of you barely knew each other, much less trust, you had hoped it wouldn't be your last interaction.

@annabellelee @stormz369

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

More like Angels

Pairings: Hades!Jason Todd x Angel!Reader.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, mentions of torture (tongue cutting, nudity, etc), forbidden love, possession, minor injuries.

Summary: Jason Todd, one of the most powerful Greek gods, takes a specific liking to a certain Angel.

Jason knew that he was obsessed the moment you had stepped into the underworld, but who was to tell him that his obsession was wrong?

You must have been the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, your soft hair falling over your shoulders in waves and your wings strong and beautiful, dragging along the polished floor behind you with grace. You were adorned in gold jewels from Hera, and a white gown that hugged your curves perfectly and left little to his imagination.

Although your gaze was downcast, stood behind Hera, or otherwise his sister, Cassandra, he could see the innocent curiosity in your eyes as you glanced around his palace. It must have been very different compared to your home in Olympus. When you finally noticed his gaze, you were quick to avert them back to your feet, a deep blush coating your cheeks.

Jason knew then that he had to have you.

Somehow, he had managed to convince Hera to stay longer than intended, meaning that you would be staying, too. Jason would find any pathetic excuse to get you alone, sending the other angels off for tasks but insisting that you stay at his side. For what reason? He never said.

He would make flirtatious comments whenever he could, loving the reaction he pulled from you every time. Your flustered expression would always play in his mind, and it only made him do it more when you had no intention of stopping him. A god and an angel were never meant to be, and Jason knew this very well.

When you had asked him a question about his home, referring to him as Hades, he was quick to correct you almost instantly. It was Jason to you. Only you. Of course, you had been hesitant to refer to him as his proper name, but after consistent reminding from Jason, you had slowly begun to ease into the routine, secretly loving the way his name practically rolled off your tongue.

He found any excuse to touch you, whether it be simply grazing the tips of his fingers along the feathers of your wings, claiming how soft they were, or simply reaching over to feel your flesh against his own. You let him, loving the feeling yourself. No god had ever been this intimate with any angel before, yet Jason planned to change that.

It was no surprise to Jason when he heard the rumors - he would pass his servants within the corridors to which he would hear the quiet murmurs of whispers and burning eyes. Maybe he should have felt embarrassed, afraid even, but he couldn't help the pride blooming within him.

You, however, were much different. You could feel the lingering gazes of people whenever you stepped out of your room, deciding then that it was best to just stay in your room alone until you were personally requested by the gods. You hated the watchful eyes, hated the whispers and false rumors that continued to spread, and it made you fearful of what could happen if the gods were to find out your close relationship to the god of the underworld.

You had to admit that you loved Jason's presence. He was charming, daring, kind (to you, at least), and behind all of his anger, gentle. You refused to admit it to yourself, but you held a strong attraction for the young god.

Jason would always have a close eye on you, watching as you flowed with grace so easily around his home. It was like you had lived here this whole time. He swore that you would purposefully tease him, wearing clothes that were snug on your hips and breasts, talking to him with that sweet voice of yours... and he hated how much it affected him.

Of course, you weren't aware of this until later he had you pinned against your bedroom wall, lips trailing down your neck in pants and open-mouthed kisses, leaving purple marks in his wake. Anything to prove that you were officially his.

It had taken you by surprise, but you didn't hold back from kissing Jason back when his lips finally landed on yours, rough and wanting. His hands were eagerly grasping at the plush of your ass, causing for your mouth to open in a gasp which he quickly used to his advantage, slipping his tongue in.

Jason swore that you were a gift sent to him from heaven, and in a certain sense you were.

"You do this to me on purpose," he rasped against you.

"Do what?" You breathed, your lips chasing after his when he pulled back slightly, eyeing you with what you placed as lust.

So stupid, so naive.

His fingers were brushing against your skin, trailing down from the strap of your dress and over to your wings that fluttered at his touch. You let out a shaky breath when he slipped the strap of your dress off from your shoulders, letting the top of your dress drop down the curve of your breasts. Jason was instantly taking you in, admiring your bare body before him. You felt uneasy under his burning gaze, but before your arms could move up to cover your body or your wings could move to wrap around you, he was pulling you in for another deep kiss.

The both of you stumbled over to the bed, his hands pushing you back as your body landed upon your soft sheets that he ensured the maids laid out for you.

He wasted no time in brushing his nose against the nape of your neck, his lips brushing against the warm flesh. Your scent was arousing to him, like honey and rain. You were so oblivious to him, so oblivious to how much he craved you.

He took a moment, admiring your body laid out before him, your eyes staring back up at him with the same passion he held. The dress still hung loosely on your hips, and he was quick to rip it from your body. Jason's mouth practically drooled once he saw your bare cunt between your thighs.

"Beautiful, my love," he whispered, barely audible, but you heard it.

He knelt down, hands parting your thighs and breath hitting your slit. Any attempt at closing your legs was a fail when Jason kept his hands strong in place.

"Jason?" You questioned, voice like honey to his ears. "I-I don't know if we should do this."

He glanced up, meeting your eye and seeing the evident uncertainty held within them.

"Afraid somebody will catch us?" He teased, though you didn't return his smile. "Let them," he finished, before delving into your pussy.

You couldn't help the moan that slipped your mouth when his tongue flattened out against you, lapping at your juices. His nose nudged at your clit causing for you to gasp, and a single digit slipped into your cunt with ease. Jason pumped his fingers, craving the sounds of your moans and whimpers as you writhed, body shifting and fingers tugging roughly at his hair.

He couldn't have loved it more.

His lips attached to your clit, sucking and tugging at it gently that caused your back to arch, your mouth open in a silent moan. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but Jason tapped your thigh impatiently.

"Eyes on me, angel," he spoke into your pussy, the vibrations causing for another wave of pleasure.

"Jay-" you whimpered, and Jason felt the blood rush down into his pants.

Just as your climax was right at its peak, Jason pulled back with a mischievous smirk, crawling back to hover above you. The tears threatened to spill from your dark lashes, the coil in your stomach beginning to fade. You couldn't help but to buck your hips slightly.

Shrugging off his shirt, he tossed it randomly onto the floor and dove back to your lips, only this time, it was gentle. His hand combed through your hair, feeling it between his fingers. You would have thought it was all innocent and sweet if it weren't for the very prominent budge pressing against your upper thigh.

"Give me your hand," Jason demanded, and you listened. Your hand came up before his face and he grabbed it firmly within his own, brining it down to his pants.

He chuckled at the wide-eyed look you gave him. "Don't worry, Angel. You want to make me feel good, don't you?"

You nodded your head, and he took that as his sign to finally bring your hand down to his clothed bulge, watching you intently as your fingers travelled along his cock. He couldn't hold back the deep moan when you pressed down on him.

Jason wasn't a patient man. He was quick to strip himself of his pants and watch you admire his body. Big, muscled, and beyond anything you had seen before. You wondered what the others would say if they saw you right now - you would be kicked out of your home in Olympus, even possibly killed for your sins! Yet, you paid no mind as you let your hands wander Jason's body, craving to feel it against yours. Your cunt pulsed with need, and Jason knew this.

"Please, Jay," you begged, kissing his cheek and then his lips.

Jason watched you, silent, but then he tapped the side of your hip with his finger.

"Get on your hands and knees."

You did, your ass on display for his view and wings laying neatly over your body. You looked back at Jason as he took you in, his hand squeezing at the plush of your ass. Without another word, he was lining up behind you, cock pressed against you as he unintentionally bucked his hips, causing for the both of you to moan.

"It will hurt," he said, voice gruff yet full of determination. The tip of his cock pocked at your entrance, and you knew he wasn't lying. He was big.

He began to slip in, and you cried at the painful stretch. You were thankful that he had prepared you moments before. A tear slipped down the curve of your cheek the more Jason pushed in, and he hushed your cries when he bottomed out.

His hand laid against your back, following the arch and then caressing your soft wings. For a moment, you both sat still, adjusting to the new feeling of him inside you.

Jason hovered over your back, pressing his lips behind your ear before he began to move. It was small, short thrusts at first, but it soon turned quick and hard. The pain soon turned to pleasure, and your face laid pushed into the sheets as moans spilled out from your mouth.

"Fuck, you know you could get in so much trouble for this, right?" Jason grunted, landing a slap against your ass. You yelped, but he quickly eased the pain by rubbing his palm over the raw skin.

You tried to retort, but a particular hard thrust cut you off with a whine.

"I can't let anybody else have you... You're mine, Angel."

You knew he was right. With the many hickies littering your skin, the bruises that you were sure would show up by the morning between your thighs, you were Jason Todd's.

You breathed out, looking back at him once more with your teary eyes, although full of love. "I'm yours."

For the rest of the night, the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping on skin, broken moans, and heavy pants. When the time came that you had both grown sweaty and exhausted, Jason had laid beside you with an arm pulling you in close, your body being enveloped by him in warmth.

Jason hadn't seen you as much the past two days.

Though your behavior was normal between the two of you, everybody had just seemed to drag you away from him. First, it would be some of his servants and then the other angels, then eventually his sister was requesting your presence more often too.

It was also strange to him when Cass had insisted on speaking to him - tone blunt and firm.

So here he was, sitting upon his throne as she was stood before him, as well as his two brothers.

"What makes you think that they can enter my home?" Jason demanded, his gaze drawn to his sister in anger, but she remained stoic.

"Jason," his brother, Dick, spoke up. "We know about the girl."

Jason felt his heart rate quicken, though he didn't show it. He remained calm in his posture and only raised a brow.

Hera, or Cassandra, shook her head. "It was already a mistake coming to stay here, Jason, but it was an even bigger mistake to take her innocence."

Jason scoffed. "I haven't seen her for days. Your accusations are wrong," he spoke, but he felt his stomach drop when the three eyed him carefully, the large doors behind them swinging open to reveal your broken form.

You had two people on either side of you, dragging you into the throne room as you wept in their arms. When they tossed you onto the floor before him, he had the chance to properly take you in.

Your clothes were torn and dirty, practically already falling off your body and revealing yourself to cruel eyes. You had multiple cuts and bruises across your body, your wings a messy wreck, and just by looking at you Jason could tell that you were weak and vulnerable. It angered him.

"You dare do this in my home?" He growled, eyes burning with fury as he stood from his throne. "Release her!"

Dick shook his head. "We can't do that, Jay."

"Don't ever fucking call me that!" Jason attempted to walk to you, but his path was blocked. More people began to crowd the room, and the only thing Jason could hear was the horrified whispers and your loud sobs.

"She has broken one of the many laws, Jason. She's a traitor." Hera spoke, pointing to your frame. "She must be punished. If it weren't for your own selfish desires, nobody would be in this current situation."

The murmurs of the onlookers made his fury burn. How dare these people look at you - belittle you - in front of him?

"She should have her tongue cut out," A voice spoke from the crowd. "Hell, even rip her wings from her body!"

The last thing Jason heard was a loud cry and then crimson red blood seeping onto the floor. Gasps and screams filled his palace, and Jason turned to his siblings, the bloodied man below him nothing more than dead flesh.

"You leave my realm at once before I do the same to all of you," Jason began. "If you ever come back, I will rip your limbs from your body myself and feed you to Cerberus."

Jason swore he had never been so angry in his life.

His three siblings looked at him. Was it disappointment? Anger? He didn't care. Not now.

"She's not welcome back. If she does, I'll kill her myself," Cass spoke, before eyeing your form and walking out the door. His two brothers following behind.

Jason rushed to your side, and you didn't hesitate to throw your arms around him despite your pain, crying into his shoulder and his shirt soaking your warm tears.

It was then that Jason decided he would never let you out of his sight. You were his, and he would kill anybody who tried to take you from him.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

Withered Cards | III

Pairings: Jason Todd x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death.

Summary: Despite the many different problems you overcome with Jason Todd, you always eventually make it back to each other. Even after his death, how could you still love a man who changed so much? Even when you made a turn for the worst.

Series Masterlist

"Mistakes are not something you can afford to make, Jason," Bruce commented, though his gaze was trained on the screen before him. "I told you this was an intel mission. You should have waited for my queue."

Jason adjusted his position on the chair he was currently sat on, his gaze burning into Bruce's back the longer he continued to stare at the projective computer before him. The tape that he had collected from the mission played on repeat, and truthfully, it was becoming painful for Jason having to rewatch it over and over.

Yes, he had been given strict orders to merely stay hidden within the shadows and report back to Batman with the intel he was instructed to gather, but Jason wanted to do more than be a sidekick to gather information.

“How was that a mistake?” He retorted, pointing to the screen. “If I hadn’t gone, you would have never known what was happening down there.”

Finally, Bruce turned in his chair, his voice just as deep as always. Like a parent scolding his child - which was true to an extent.

"You're telling me that you found out what that whole ordeal was about?" He questioned, gesturing a hand to the screen. "Because it sure doesn't look like you do."

It angered Jason more than he would have liked to admit that Bruce was mostly right. The most Jason knew was that the Joker was up to something, but when was he not? The best possible answer he got was that he has an alliance of some sort. You seemed to be around his age, possibly younger, and yet you were one of the most skilled fighters he's fought. You were experienced, and no doubt deadly.

His nose ached from the harsh punch that you had thrown, the wet rag that was now soaked with crimson blood was discarded beside him.

When Bruce noticed his silence, he continued to ignore him from then on. His fingers dancing along the computer and leaving an uncomfortable silence that Jason wished to break.

Alfred walked in with a tray of coffee; something Bruce had waved him off to go and grab whilst he worked. Whilst the silence lingered, Alfred's gaze flickered up to the screen of the masked girl.

"I do not recognize this criminal," Alfred spoke as he settled the tray down. "Have we seen this girl before?"

Bruce shook his head, a frown etched on his features. "No, but there have been witnesses. Apparently, she's only shown up around Gotham the past two months."

Alfred hummed. “And what does this criminal do, exactly?”

Bruce pushed his body away from the desk with a long sigh, his brows still pinched into a deep frown as his hand dragged down his face. “Jason’s body cam just managed to pick up a little of their conversation before she ran off. The Joker is in on this, too. She knows him, and well.”

Jason's curiosity was piqued. What was the Joker's intentions, now? Surely it was another scheme to lure Batman into a trap.

“Perhaps another laughing gas?” Alfred suggested as he glanced over at Jason, gesturing toward the tea as he offered to pour some, but Jason shook his head.

"Not a laughing gas," Jason concluded, digging into the suit that he still wore. He pulled out the familiar vial that he had managed to snatch from the masked girl, holding it up for everybody's view. "I'm thinking maybe a drug, or maybe some sort of crazy mutation serum!" He looked between the two, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Bruce remained silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving the vial in his son's hand. Jason was expecting praise, a congratulations, maybe even a pat on the back and allowed more freedom whilst on patrol. But Bruce's face remained stoic.

"Jason," he started, tone very far from what he had expected. Was it anger? Disappointment? Shock?

He was quick to saunter over and take the vial from his hand, analyzing it carefully as he twisted it in his grasp.

With a shake of his head, his frown deepened. If that were even possible. He placed the vial carefully onto the desk beside the computer.

"You're too reckless," he began. "Not only did you go against my orders, but now you are involved with a crime much deeper than what you can handle. You've put yourself in danger. And not only yourself," he pointed to the screen again. "But you got her in danger, too."

Jason felt his anger boil, ready to spill over any second. Could Bruce not see his success for once? Could he not give him the approval he desperately wished for? It was risky, but he had got the job done.

"I did what I had to," he defended, the anger evident in his voice as he took a step closer.

Bruce quickly snapped back. "And what you did was wrong."

A pause.

"Next time something like this happens, you follow my order... otherwise the title of Robin goes to somebody else."

In the heat of his rage, Jason stormed past both Bruce and Alfred and made his way out of the Batcave, cape flowing behind him with every long stride. Before the door had slammed shut, he just managed to hear a little of Alfred's voice.

"They're both just children, Master Wayne," he tried. "Much like you once were."

"I can't have him making more mistakes."

A harsh slap landed against your cheek, your head snapping to the side from the force. The burning sensation left behind caused for your eyes to sting with tears, your vision blurred.

His maniacal laughter was all you could hear despite the ringing in your ears, and you didn't fail to notice the very evident annoyance behind each deep inhale of laughter.

"I can't believe it!" Joker paced. "You really let that little rodent slip past your fingers, just like that? My, my, I might have placed just a little too much faith in you."

He crouched down before you, masking a frown as his thumb came up to swipe the blood from your lip. Your tongue darted out to swipe at the cut he had left, the metallic taste lingering in your mouth.

"I must say I am very disappointed," Joker hummed, but oddly enough his hand came to rest on your shoulder, like an odd way of comforting. "But that's why there's always room to learn from mistakes!"

The vial that you were sent to retrieve merely a few hours ago was no longer tucked away safely in your pocket.

You had only realized once you were in front of Joker's latest warehouse that he used as a current hideout, your hands searching every pocket, each shoe, in search for the vial. Robin had managed to slip it out without you noticing, and it enraged you.

He was fast, skilled, and very obviously sly. Although it was a tough fight, it brought some adrenaline and excitement into your night. Something you had craved for a while.

Joker clicked his tongue in thought, now sat on a torn couch across from you with his leg propped up on his knee.

"You'll make it up to me, right, my little clown?" his tone was almost mocking. "Perhaps next time you might run into the little birdy again, oh, that would spice things up!"

You inhaled a shaky breath. "I'll get it back," you said, but he waved you off.

"Nah, I'll just get the doc to make me a new one. Although, we can't afford any more mistakes now, can we, Y/N?"

He looked at you expectingly, dread washing over you the longer his gaze pierced your own.

"No, we can't."

"That's my girl!" He clapped his hands. "Harley! Come get the poor girl cleaned up, will ya? She looks like she's been through hell!" He let out a loud cackle at what he considered a joke, slapping his knee.

Harley's head popped from around the corner of the cracked wall, pigtails swinging with every movement she made. With one look at you, she was rushing over.

"Puddin, what happened?" She practically squealed, ushering you to stand up, though the small smile never left her lips. "Oh dear, let's get you all nice and cleaned up!"

The bathroom that she had practically dragged you into smelt of urine and had broken tiles scattered across the floor. Mold was growing along the ceiling and puddles of water crowded at the base of the sink. You had to hold back the look of disgust when Harley took a small rag and wet it under some water.

It wasn't long until Harley was finally finished with dabbing your split lip with the cold water and tending to the few cuts you had littered over your flesh. It was a poorly done job, but the moment you had got to step into your own small room - a storage space that barely managed to fit the worn mattress you used to sleep on, you were instantly flopping down.

It was quiet and dark, but nothing that you weren't already used to. You enjoyed having some time away from the two clowns, after all.

Looking over, you reached for the same small bear that you've kept over the years, only now it wasn't as soft as it used to be, and the familiar smell of your old home was gone from the fur. Instead, it was now covered in dirt and grime. A button had been sewn on poorly as an eye after the last had fallen off, and its right arm was barely hanging on by a thread. Still, you carefully held it against your body as you laid on your side, alone and tense.

Your mind refused to settle, thoughts swarming with the Robin boy who had managed to make your night go from alright to horrific in only a few hours.

He had outplayed you - tricked you - and still somehow, he had managed to get your mind swimming. Your fight was oddly thrilling, and it confused you with his cocky comments. Batman was nowhere to be seen, meaning that Robin had let you go. Why?

Your knuckles had tightened their hold on the bear, a reminder of your life before any of this had happened. You didn't dwell on it, knowing that there was no way back. But the sadness lingered once you buried your face into the soft fur, allowing for the sleep to catch up to you. As usual it was never a peaceful one, but instead filled with nightmares and an all too familiar wide grin.

@annabellelee @stormz369

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[x-gabrielle-x]

DC Masterlist

Published:

Jason Todd -

Withered Cards (Series)

More like Angels

Dick Grayson -

Sweet Like Candy

Work In Progress:

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.