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queer-little-demigod · 1 month

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you belong with me - clarisse la rue

summary she's in love with her best friend.

fic type fluff

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!Poseidon!reader

word count 1.8k

warnings jealous!clarisse, swearing, pining, knives, clarisse threatening people, fluff.

masterlist

dividers from this post of @cafekitsune, check out their account!

At this point, Clarisse had no clue how the hell she fell for you.

You relationship had started when she'd tried to intimidate you on your first day at camp, and instead of backing down under her fierce as death gaze, you had threatened her at literal knifepoint.

"I've stood up to bullies bigger than you," you'd snapped, your soft e/c blazing with fire as the tip of a dagger kissed the underside of her jaw. “So back off, or I’ll make you regret it.”

While that earned you respect amongst everyone in camp, it earned you respect of every Ares cabin member, too.

Especially Clarisse la Rue.

The scariest girl in camp.

It had started off with her debating on whether or not she would be mean to you, making you her enemy, or befriending you.

She was strong, not stupid, so she chose the latter option.

Which brought you both here, today, three years later.

The spring season had started setting in, flowers were blooming, the sun was pleasant, wind wasn't scarce and it was cool. Sitting under the trees in the woods became a natural pastime for year-round campers like the two of you.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the surrounding trees, casting irregularly shaped shadows on the ground, turning them a deep green on the slightly prickly but comfortable grass.

Clarisse leaned her back against the big tree you both were sitting under, polishing her spearhead, with you in front of her, doing the same for your knives.

The daughter of Ares, while she'd never admit it aloud, was absolutely smitten when it came to you. In fact, this feeling had been lingering in her heart for some time, one which attracted her to you in a definitely non-platonic way.

So here she sat, listening to you talking. Your voice was the only thing she was focused on besides polishing her weapon. It stood out amongst the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees, the call of a distant bird, the lapping of the lake's water against the edge just past the clearing.

"So, I told Silena that Charlie's in love with her, not her actual dumb blonde of a sister, Sharon," you said, rubbing the polish on the cloth you had in hand, before continuing to polish your left-hand knife. "You know, for a child of Aphrodite, she is remarkably oblivious towards loving advances. Oh, and you know that girl, Kyra, from the Hephaestus cabin? My gods, she has been looking so fine--"

Clarisse stopped listening right then. She knew you were smitten with this girl from the Hephaestus cabin, and by every one of the ever-merciful gods of Olympus, she hated it. She hated how you talked about Kyra, how your eyes lit up when the muscled girl covered with grease so much it was an accessory would glance at you.

She tuned out and stared at you, not noticing the disdainful look on her face.

"Risse, you look like you just smelled a wild centaur," you laughed, putting the cloth down and sheathing your knives again.

Clarisse rolled her eyes and grumbled, "No, I don't like Kyra's vibe."

"Aww, jealous?"

"You wish,"

You were so oblivious. Not only were you unaware that Kyra was a playgirl, but you didn’t notice that Clarisse was smitten with you to the point where it was embarrassing.

For starters she looked at you like you were the world. With adoration, awe, and wonder. She honestly couldn’t stop thinking about you.

She hated how you didn’t notice how her eyes lit up around you, how she was softer with you compared to others, how she let you paint her nails (mostly) without complaint.

You were just too oblivious.

Naturally, that evening, that same evening, she was at the Ares table, talking with her own siblings, while she watched you help Percy out with the rest of the camp’s social structures—something he hadn’t quite figured out yet, even after having gone on a quest.

But the way her blood boiled, as if a furnace had lit up inside her heart, making fire course through her veins, when Kyra came up to you. She saw how flustered you got, saw the way your cheeks reddened when Kyra brushed a hair from your face.

By the gods and her father’s name she wanted to smack that Hephaestus girl into next week…

Meanwhile, you say with Kyra, enjoying the butterflies in your stomach when she touched you, laughed at your nervous rambling’s. But the butterflies suddenly came into light as a warning. What was the likeliness that this affection would last? What was concrete in this interaction? Was it just a playful banter? Or something serious?

So many questions, not enough answers.

But one thing was for certain: Kyra wasn’t the one for you. It took just one interaction for you to understand that.

To understand that Clarisse was right.

But before you could walk away, your hotheaded best friend, seething with anger, jealousy rolling off her in waves, came up to you both and ‘borrowed’ Kyra for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing?” Clarisse asked as she led a very surprised Kyra into the forest. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, playing with Y/n’s feelings like that?”

“Come on,” Kyra laughed, Nerva wearing off a little as her arrogance took over. “She’s a girl, a smitten little girl, who knows she likes a little bit of muscle,”

“Unfortunately she doesn’t know that there’s a snake under that damned muscle,”

“Jealous, Clarisse? Of course you are,”

“What that supposed to mean, punk?”

“You’re so in love with Y/n, it shows. Everyone in camp can tell,”

“Oh is that right? If you know that so well, then you’d better stay the fuck away from her,”

Kyra’s brows shot up. “Is that so? What if I don’t? What if I take her to this very spot, and kiss her, maybe while you watch from the bushes over there?”

Clarisse felt her fists clench, felt her whole body tense up with an adrenaline that came out only during battle.

“What if I break your legs and punch that stupid face in?” She asked, eyes full of the familiar fire that only her opponents saw. “I don’t think Y/n likes the taste of blood.”

She relished the look of panic on Kyra’s face. The trapped-animal stare, the darting irises, searching for a way out, analysing her moves in that second. The tense muscles, clenched jaw, closed fists. All of it was familiar to the child of war.

But how familiar was it to the child of the forge? Not much, probably.

“Stay the fuck away from Y/n, and you and I won’t have any problems, Kyra,” Clarisse said, her voice soft. That made it more dangerous. It was soft like the gentle rain that preceded the flooding thunderstorm—a warning.

Kyra nodded, knowing it was unwise to provoke Clarisse La Rue, especially over a girl everyone in camp knew not to mess with.

But it also meant that Clarisse figured out the depth of her love for you. That it was deeper than the vastest sea, stronger than the biggest tsunami, and more damaging than a hurricane. It was fiercer than fire, more powerful than a blow from her spear, and definitely more dangerous than war.

So she’s decided to flush out her feelings. Get them out before things got worse because she couldn’t possibly find a way to get out of the ‘philia’ situation she had going with you. She wanted ‘eros’, wanted ‘ludus’, and she knew it.

Her catalyst was the mind, she wanted it to be the body., wanted it to be the heart. She wanted you in a way that friends never wanted each other. She wanted you the way Achilles wanted Patroclus, wanted you the way Romeo wanted Juliet, the way Orpheus wanted Eurydice.

She wanted you and only you.

But she could never have that.

So she decided the best way to manage her haywire heart was distance.

But by every one of the gods, big and small, was she wrong.

You found that Kyra didn’t look in your direction ever again, and additionally, found Clarisse avoiding you with nearly psychotic fervour.

Three days. You tolerated it for three days.

Finally you stormed up to Clarisse when she was training. With a swift kick to the back of her knee, you sent her crashing to the ground, disarming her spear from her.

“What did you think you were doing, avoiding me like this?!” You seethed, knife at her throat. “What, was this your idea of punishing me for having Kyra flirt with me?”

Calmly, Clarisse moved you off her like one would brush away a particularly disgruntled cat, and stood up.

“Look, I’m fine, I wasn’t doing anything,” she shrugged, grabbing her spear.

You rolled your eyes. This girl was dumb, stupid, and an absolute useless person when it came to interacting with others.

“I don’t think ignoring me for three straight days can be counted as ‘not doing anything’!” You snapped, annoyed.

Clarisse flinched at your tone.

“Why?!” You asked, following her around as she cleared up the arena. “Why exactly have you been ignoring me, hm?”

She listened patiently to your incessant pestering, going about her business while you looked like you were about to blow a gasket with how mad you were since your hands began to move more animatedly, your frown deepening even more.

“Why the hell did you say that nothing’s wrong when something clearly is?! Are you jealous? Is that it?! Why?!” You asked, expecting her not to reply the way she had been the last ten minutes.

Clarisse had had enough. She was taking the plunge into that deep dark sea, not sure if she was ready to face the monsters in it.

“Because I’m in love with you!” She said, turning around with a terrified look on her face. “I’m in love with you, and I didn’t know what to do about it because you clearly don’t love me back!”

You stood silent for a second too long. But she didn’t run. She stayed there, waiting for your answer.

“You’re in love with me?” You asked, baffled.

No butterflies, nothing fluttered in your stomach, your heart rate merely quickened and your body pulsed in every place with serotonin.

No butterflies meant this wasn’t just a thing, a fling. It wasn’t mindless flirting.

This was ‘ludus’, the love of intimacy, pure love.

“Yes, Y/n, and it kills me every single day, hearing you ramble about Kyra, and you know what I’m thinking when you talk about her like that?” She asked, tears ready to come out of her eyes. “I think that I could treat you like a queen, like you’re above Hera herself. I think that why would you love a playgirl who won’t give a single fuck about your feelings, when I’m here already knowing what you want for breakfast every day of the week! I think that I could be better than her, that I am better than her, in every possible way, but you’re just blind! You don’t see that I look at you like you’re the world because you’re so smitten with a girl who would toss you aside for the next blonde girl she sees!”

You listened to her carefully, taking in her words. In between, neither of you knew when, she had started crying. Small tears rolled down her bronze skin, tracing small pathways in their trail of sadness, of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you replied softly, stepping closer, putting a hand up to wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry that I was blind to how you feel about me, I’m sorry for not noticing it sooner,”

“And Y/n, you’re my best friend, okay? I can’t…I know that we can never be together and…” she stopped short when your hands went up to cup her cheeks.

“Why is that?”

“Philia, Y/n. Friendship love.”

“Who says it can’t progress?”

“You don’t love me back,”

“I do,”

“Friendship love doesn’t count here,”

“Bold of you to assume I’m talking about friendship,”

Clarisse froze.

“I love you too, Clarisse,” you said softly, looking at her in her eyes. “And I’m not talking about ‘philia’. Gods I love you the way Achilles loved Patroclus, the way Romeo loved Juliet, the way Orpheus loved Euridyce,”

“I thought that too,” she whispered, shocked. “How…”

“I know that because these three romances are the ones I’ve read to you,” you replied. “I know you, Clarisse. But I was too blind to see your love went past my mind and extended to my heart, my body, my soul. And I’m sorry for being blind.”

“You belong with me, not her,”

“Do you see me doubting that?”

She giggled softly. Clarisse La Rue, the most feared girl in camp, giggled like a little kid.

“It’s okay, I guess, you little dumbass,” she chuckled. “So…what now?”

“I don’t know, do we kiss?” You asked, confused. “You know I have never kissed a girl before and—“

She silenced you with a finger to your lips.

“Let’s…take it slow? Ease into it?” She asked. “Cause I have never kissed a girl either,”

“Be my girlfriend, though?”

“You thought I’d say no?”

Hi! It’s me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3

#clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #friends to lovers

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modawg · 16 days

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oh nothing just thinking abt how absolutely diabolical heras plans were to steal percy away like she did

could you imagine being annabeth and thinking your boyfriend just survived a prophecy for telling he would die at 16 that, for 5ish years, you’d been preparing for, just for him to randomly (after turning 16) disappear in the dead of night ??? and literally NOTHING you do does shit?? like the mind fuck of those first couple days before she met jason were probably hell on earth for her and i know for a fact she didn’t sleep a wink

on the flip imagine being a newly claimed demigod who finds out during their little tour that “oh yeah that guy over there he’s the reason your even here lolll” then 3 months later he’s gone and the little silly community you’ve got is thrown into disarray as they search for him ??

or like imagine being grover or rachel they def both woke up and were immediately like “somethings wrong”

like she’s (annabeth) skipping over to percy’s cabin in the morning knocking on the door for like 20 min just for that bitch to be empty and the beds made and the room looks the same as it did yesterday and she’s like “hmm” but also a little pissed that he went to breakfast without her but whatever so she goes to the pavilion and ?? tf where’s percy G O N E and she like pokes around maybe he’s in the bathroom maybe he had to run home but no one’s seen him and the rest of that day is spent making calls

like maybe she even pulled her little dagger trick thinking it’d make him pop up in the lake but no

the scariest thing would be calling sally like imagine her calling or iris messaging to be like “hey can i talk to percy” and sally’s like “?? he’s with you ??”

absolutely foul

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readychilledwine · 1 month

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Hi! I love your writing, it always makes me grin. Could I request a platonic Az fic? One where reader is like 10, super cuddly and touch affection starved and Feyre’s ward (kind of like Evangeline is to Lyssandra), and maybe like the kid or sister of one of the children of the blessed that was sent over the wall but feyre found her and took her in even though Tamlin didn’t like it, so when Mor took Feyre, she had to take reader too, and then during that dinner, she gets scared to meet everyone (especially cass sine he seems intimidating) so she runs behind the nearest person, Az and when he doesn’t get upset, she sticks with him through the dinner, wanting to be next to him, hiding behind his wings, asking for cuddles, and playing with his hands. He doesn’t get upset and reader just decides to follow him like a shadow from then in and make him her fave person, like watching when he train, being sad and quiet when he’s gone (until Nuella and Cereadwin bring her sweets), happy when he’s back, and never leaving his side, and even asking him to carry her etc.

Oath

Warnings - platonic soul mates, mentions of Amarantha and UTM, visions

A/N - I'm not saying I am tucking this away for a rainy day, but I'm not not saying that 👀

Azriel Masterlist

You didn't even have to ask or knock. The door opened, and shadows pulled you in. Guiding you to Azriel in the dark as he opened up his blanket and pulled you up to his bed and into his arms. "Nightmares?" He murmured softly into your hair, holding you close. "It's okay, little one. We all have them." You curled into him, basking in the warmth and protection he offered. His wing rested over you, feeling like a blanket weighing down like a tight hug. "Tell me what you saw?"

You started softly. "A robed figure with swans. But this time, it was like.." You paused, wiping tears from your eyes. "It was like I was a swan. You were on the waterline of the lake, yelling for me."

Azriel went stiff, then pulled you closer to him. "No one is going to take you from me. From us. You are ours to look after."

And you had been since you arrived in the Night Court. You had been ripped from the mortal realm with Feyre by Tamlin. Feyre had taken you in, despite arguments from her sisters, when she found you starving in the streets. You became hers, and she yours. She was closest thing you had ever had to a sister, and her regret the moment you were caught following her Under the Moutain was something she struggled to live with to this day.

Amarantha had taken a liking to you, though. You were a tender human girl she enjoyed using as a personal servant. She kept you at her side, almost always glowing with how much you admired the fae, how you were raised to be complicit to them by the Children of the Blessed. You complimented her constantly, adoring her dresses, her hair, her glowing skin. You had no idea she was so evil. So cruel. That was until Feyre's first trial.

It was Rhysand who pulled you into his room one night, sheltering you from the violence going on. He had whispered to you tales of a city covered in starlight and a family. A family that all found each other, chose each other, loved each other. He had worked you into the bargain with Feyre, ensuring he had you for one week every month, ensuring you were away from Tamlin, who, for unknown reasons, hated you.

When you first came to the Night Court, Rhys spent the week with you, teaching you to read and write more gently than he had Feyre, teaching you the different courts, the different high lords. He had put you in dresses that made his eyes sparkle but grow distant with longing. He had called you his little second chance, and on that second visit, you were sold. You loved Rhysand so fully that you had clinged to him, crying as Tamlin ripped you from his arms.

When Tamlin locked you and Feyre in the manor, it had been the scariest moment of your life. You were still mortal, but the power radiating from her, consuming her as she pulled you into her chest for comfort, was terrifying. She had told you the Night Court would be your home now once she had calmed down, and the decision was made to have dinner with Rhysand's family. Mor had taken you, winnowing you two in and letting you enjoy that drop, that rush of free falling. Everything had been fine until you saw Cassian.

Cassian was loud, he was huge, he had muscles in places you hardly knew could have muscles. You had ended up hiding, much to Cassian's amusement, behind the closest thing you could. Azriel.

And it had begun after that. Azriel became your best friend. You constantly looked for him, snuggled him, loved him. He became your everything and you his. You made him carry you everywhere, take you flying, and made him laugh with you under blanket forts.

On your 9th birthday, he had taken you into town, spoiling you before the war with Hybern begun with pastries, books, new dresses, and a stuffed animal. It was the same day Velaris was attacked. You had been taken from him, locked into a cell with Nesta, who held you close, whispering how it would be okay. You were forced into that same Cauldron as Feyre screamed, held back by Rhysand as the male pleaded for the King to let you go.

Azriel had promised you from that day forward you were his, swearing it to you in an oath that you two sealed with a pinky promise. He promised to protect you. To keep you safe. To make sure anyone who harmed you would regret it. But even Azriel, as powerful as he was, could not save you from the aftermath of the Cauldron.

1 week after your 10th birthday, weird things started happening to you. You had dreams where you saw things. Similar to Elain. Her visions came out in riddles, though. Yours were different. Odd to Rhys and Amren. Odd to Helion. Your powers were similar to a seer, yet so different.

Helion had described it as you walking through timelines. You could see all outcomes with no direction of how that outcome would come to be, whereas Elain saw one possible future and potential riddles guiding to it. "A burden," he had said to Rhysand quietly. "A burden to know each way someone you loved could die, to know what happens if one pawn doesn't move exactly according to plan, but not be able to tell them how exactly it happened."

You had fallen into yourself more, seeking only Azriel with Feyre's pregnancy and Nesta's spiral. You only told him what you saw in your dreams and occasionally the twins if he would send them to you with treats.

He pulled you close again, shaking you from the past. "What else did you see?"

"Elain," you whispered softly. "Lucien holding Elain tightly while she laid on the ground. She no longer glowed with the light of the fae. It was like the cloaked figure had taken it from her."

The grip on your nightgown grew tight. "What else?" His voice was tense, eyes getting slightly distant, letting you know he was communicating with Rhys that you had seen something.

"Rhys had facial hair." Azriel hummed. Unknown to you that you had just given him an idea of the timeline. It would have had to have been after the birth of babe. Rhys only grew facial hair when he was tired. "Feyre and Nesta weren't there. Just Lucien, Elain, the three of you, and I think me."

"As a swan," he repeated.

"Yes, as a swan. Trapped on his lake."

"Do you know how old you were when this happened?"

You shrugged. "No, but we had a string. It wasn't gold and glittering like Rhys and Feyre's, but red and power seemed to flow through it, not emotions. It felt like I was transferring something to you."

Azriel kissed the top of your head. "You know I need to tell Rhys about this?" You nodded. "And you know he may need you to show him?" You nodded again, but shivered at the thought of Rhysand in your mind. "We should also mention the red string to Amren. She what she can dig up."

"But she's so cranky." Hazel eyes, tired and heavy with sleep, peered down at you. "New Amren is way more mean than old Amren."

"A problem for tomorrow. Go to sleep, y/n. I'll keep your nightmares away."

"I love you, Azzie."

"I love you too, y/n. I won't let you turn into a swan."

You were asleep almost instantly, body back on that lake, and a cloaked figure with a bone like figure stroking your wings.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

#acotar #send asks #send anons #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x platonic!reader

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wonderlandwalker · 4 months

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Living Nightmares | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick wakes up to find you slipping away from him. As he tries to get help, he loses track of you, only to find you in the hands of the careers. The situation seems to get worse before he finally thinks he's at peace, but you're there to remind him to keep going.

Content Warnings/Tags: angst, a whole lot of it, fluff at the end though I'm not a monster, mentions of blood, hypothermia, violence

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I've been obsessing over our boy Finnick so here's a fic full of angst, because apparently that's the only thing my brain can think of. Dividers by @chilumitos

This wasn’t exactly where they had thought they’d be at the moment. It all started during the second day in the arena, they had the allies, they had the supplies, and they thought they had the advantage, but worry took over as they started losing sight of each other in a chase, and they tried to find the others, only to end up in a new part of the arena. It was dark, cold, and they had lost their supplies, and there was no food or water source nearby.

Neither of them was really to blame. It had been a long day, and the surroundings didn't inspire much hope. So, both of them had fallen asleep on some of the leaves that covered the ground. The cold air was still blowing around them.

But at least he wasn't alone, two sets of minds were better than one, at least he still had you.

The rising sun urged him to open his eyes, and he stretched out his arms, which had become stiff from the cold. It was only when he sat up and ran his hand through the hair that had fallen in your face that he noticed how cold you were. He quickly got up from behind you, pulling you into his lap, tilting your head up a little. Your skin was almost as white as snow, and your lips were starting to turn blue. The colour that once held so many fond memories of the ocean and the sky, now being replaced by fear and panic. He shook you lightly, trying to wake up as if you were just sleeping deeply. When you didn't react, he called out for you, his voice laced with concern.

“Y/n? Come on love, wake up.” But the only movement that came from you was your arm falling from where it was, the harsh thud to the ground reinforcing his fears.

“No, no come on. This isn't happening, wake up” Finnick had thought about this happening, how could he not when it was the basis for most of his nightmares? But he always woke up from those to find you resting in his arms, your soft breathing comforting him back to sleep. This time he didn't wake up, and he didn't hear your breathing to soothe him. He checked your pulse for a heartbeat, but all he could feel was his own heart racing in his chest. He looked around him as if there would be someone there to help, but you were alone.

He started CPR to try and quicken up your pulse, to get you to breathe again, and while he knew you probably couldn't hear him, he had to try.

“Do you remember when you came back from your first games, I really thought that had been the scariest moment of my life. When I survived my own, at least I knew you were alright at home. When you came back, I thought it was over, I wanted to see the positive side, but you seemed so weak, and having watched you, I knew how bad of a state you were in. It tore me apart to have to see it and not be able to do anything." His voice cracks a little, his head starting to swim with more thoughts.

"I won’t do this without you. You can't leave me now, not like this." He pushes a little harder on your chest while doing compression. He's sure if he does so anymore, he will crack one of your ribs.

"I imagined us getting married. I imagined proposing to you by the lake, that little spot you showed me, I know how happy you were in the middle of the field of dandelions. Every worry seemed to slip away from you, like a little hideaway from the horrors of the world. That's how you make me feel every time I'm with you. It's like there is no one in the whole world except us. And I know how cliche that sounds, I know you never liked cliches, but it's true, you are my world, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you.”

Right as he was about to pour out more of his heart to you, he heard a noise coming from the distance. The steps were too heavy to be coming from a small animal, but his instincts also told him that whoever it was, they weren't there to help.

He knew he had two options. try and fight off whatever was coming while carrying the love of his life with him. Or keep you hidden, try and fight while distracting them away from you and coming back when the coast was clear. He tried his best to hide you underneath a blanket of leaves, making you disappear into the surroundings, he gave you a light kiss on the forehead, scared to get too close and feel how cold your skin still was. He heard the footsteps come closer.

“Just hold on a little longer darling, I’ll be back before you know it.”

And so he turned around, grabbing his trident a little harder than normal, and came face to face with one of the careers. Finnick's muscles were still sore from the night, but he was ready to run. He had to get away from here before the tribute started to wonder if he had been alone.

He ran towards a clearing, making the tribute follow behind him. He ran to a split in the path, which gave him two options, left or right. He heard rustling coming not far behind him, and his instincts told him to go right, so he did. He ran for a while until he reached a dead end, the line of trees becoming so dense he couldn't get through anymore. The tribute was still on his heels, and Finnick had to think fast again. He saw a body of water nearby and decided that diving in, despite the creatures that might be in it, and the chilling temperature it must be, would be better than certain death. He knew he would be able to outswim the career, it luckily being one of his strengths. He started to run towards it, and when he got to the edge, he jumped like his life depended on it, but it still wasn't his life he was worried about, it was yours.

Once he got to the other side of the water, he looked back, and the tribute was nowhere to be seen, probably having decided that the risk of the wild waters wasn't worth it. Finnick wasn't thinking about the relief of escape, all he was thinking about was how much time you had left.

It was by some sort of miracle he found Peeta, Johanna and the others on a small beach nearby, and he practically ran straight into them at full speed without even announcing himself. Once the others had realized it was Finnick, and he was not a danger to them, they calmed down, but the state of despair he was in did alarm them soon after

Peeta looked up at him, he was completely out of breath from how fast he had run.

“Sit down Finnick, try and catch your breath” He told him, while placing an assuring hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no time to sit down, I need to go back.” He spoke with such certainty it startled the others.

“Go back where?”

“ To the clearing, I don't know where it was, but I remember how to get there.”

“Why do you need to go back?” Johanna asked him, seeming confused.

“Because y/n is still there, and she doesn't have long”

The others didn't need to hear more, and started to pack up the things they had with them to follow him.

When they had made it back, Johanna was in front with Finnick, she wouldn't care to admit it out loud, but she was worried about you as well.

“Where?” She asked him

“Over by the cut-down stumps, next to the maple and the oak tree.” Finnick had memorized the entire area in order not to lose track of you, and with Johanna being from the lumber district, he knew this clue would be the most helpful to her.

“There’s no one here” she said, looking back at him frustrated.

“There has to be, she was right there when I left.”

“She might have been, but unless hypothermia comes with the power to turn invisible, she’s gone.”

“Well, she couldn't have left by herself” His mind was reeling with all the possibilities, each one more horrible than the last.

“Well then who took her, there are no drag marks, it wasn't any kind of mutt.”

“I don't know, maybe-” his eyes fell to the mud next to the fallen leaves, the ground here was in permafrost, it couldn't have come from here. When the tribute started chasing him he had already put distance between where you were and where he was going. They must have gone back after he went into the water to try and see if he had any supplies, and have found you. But your body wasn't here, that was a good thing, that means you must be alive, why else would they have taken you?

“They’re at the swamp”

“How are you so sure?”

“The career, he was alone when he chased me, he has to have set up camp somewhere with the others, it can't be far from here otherwise he wouldn't have carried her.”

“Alright, but we don't even know where that is, the swamp must be massive, they could be anywhere, we can’t just run in without a plan.” Johanna tried to reason, looking over to Finnick, only to realise he was no longer there.

“Where did he go?” Peeta asks her.

“Probably to the swamp, probably without a plan.” She sighed, she was annoyed, but couldn't say she was surprised, she knew he would do anything for you, including laying down his own life.

“How do we find him, we don't even know where the swamp is, y/n and Finnick were the only ones who crossed it.”

“You don't happen to have a map, do you?” Johanna asks, sarcasm heavy as usual.

While the others were trying to figure out where exactly Finnick had run off to, he himself ran into some trouble. He knew it was his fault for going in without a plan or any backup, but he had listened to his heart, not his head. His heart convinced him he had to find you, telling him that if he didn't find you and wake you up, he’d never be able to see your eyes looking back into his. His heart was telling him to go and save you, even though his head was telling him it was probably already too late anyway.

He wasn't paying close attention to his surroundings as he should have been, trying with all his might to find you. They had found him when he was distracted and from that moment on they kept trying to break him. He was tied with his back against a tree, most of his body covered in blood and a little dizzy from the loss of it.

“It’s very easy to figure out what makes you tick Odair” the district one tribute spoke to him. He couldn't see very far ahead of him, and he couldn't see you anywhere.

“What’s that supposed to mean” He was confused and angry. Confused about what they meant, why they hadn't killed him. Angry they kept him from finding you, from holding you.

“Don’t worry, you'll find out soon enough.”

And as if it was planned, right after the career had spoken, a loud, soul-cracking scream echoed around him. Finnick immediately recognized it, how could he ever forget? It couldn't be real, it had to be a trick, jabber-jays, something. But there wasn't a flock of birds around, and nothing would be able to replicate such a crushing sound. He tried closing his eyes, but when he did his imagination ran wild with images and scenarios, and it only made it worse. The only thing he could do to calm down was tell himself it wasn't real, even if he didn't believe it, repeating it like a mantra over and over.

“It isn't real, it isn't real, it isn't real.” It was nothing more than a whisper and most probably only a mumble of incoherent words.

“Oh but that's the best part Odair, it is real, and it's not gonna stop until you give us what we want. to know.”

“You’re lying” He spit out, barely able to say the next words without falling apart completely “I saw her die.” A single tear makes its way down his face as he tries to keep his composure, cracking now wouldn't do him or you any good.

“Are you willing to take that risk? She’s pretty feisty, I'll give you that, but if you don't crack soon and tell us where your friends are, she's not gonna make it.

He tried ignoring it, trying to listen to his head instead of his heart, but once again the attempt was futile. All he could hear was the screaming, even when he was sure it had actually stopped, the sound still lived in his head. It was hard to say which was worse, the deafening screams, or the silences in between.

He tried to think with his head, tried to think what you would say to him. It would probably be something along the lines of ‘don’t do anything stupid when I'm not there.’

It was far too late for that.

When the career returned, he had a smile on his face that seemed way too happy for the situation they were in.

“She’s strong, that girl of yours, that much is true. The question is for how much longer, everyone has a point of no return, and I have a feeling she’ll cross it soon, But you can make it stop, tell us where your friends are, and it’ll stop.” The tribute had bent down so he was face to face with him, and by the look in his eyes, he now knew for sure this wasn't a bluff.

Finnick didn't know where they were, they wouldn't have stayed at the beach where he found them or at the clearing where the two of you had slept for the night. And maybe it was for the best he didn't know, because right now if he was honest with himself, he would have told them anything he knew if they wanted it. He would do anything to get to hold you again, to feel the warmth of your body against his, to feel your lips pressed against his own. But the careers weren't stupid, he had no reason to believe they would actually let you go, and even if they did, he knew a part of you would never forgive him for what he would have done.

“This is a waste of time.” He screamed, silently hoping you were close enough and conscious enough to hear his voice, hoping it would be enough to tell you not to give up. He pulled at the ropes tying his hands together with all the strength he had left, knowing it would likely not achieve anything, but hoping for it nonetheless.

But it didn't make a difference, your screams didn't stop, and his heartache didn't stop. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, up until a point where Finnick couldn't tell how much time had passed. It was difficult to keep track of time when you kept blacking out, but it was peaceful in the most morbid way. He didn't sleep, he lost consciousness, so he didn't dream. When he blacked out he had a moment of peace, a moment where he didn't hear your screams echoing around in his head. But he would always wake up and have to face reality again.

He couldn't hear his heartbeat anymore, he couldn't hear his breathing or his thoughts, all he could hear was the screaming and the cries, even though he wasn't sure if they were there or if his mind kept playing tricks on him. He had always feared this, but he didn't think that his worst nightmares would actually come true.

He looked down and saw a puddle of his blood staining the ground and the leaves he was sitting on. The last thing he heard before he blacked out again was shouting coming from the distance.

When he wakes up he can't see much, his eyes heavy and his body tired. But he can feel his cheeks getting wet, it’s a heavy liquid and he guesses it's his blood until he opens his eyes far enough to see you kneeling in front of him, your hands cupping his cheeks to lift his face while you're silently crying, the tears creating a clear path down the grime on your face.

“y/n?” His voice barely reaches a whisper, but you look up into his eyes immediately.

“Finnick, oh god, please wake up we have to get out of here.” Your voice sounds strained, and Finnick isn't sure if it's because of all the screams that must have taken a toll on you, or if the sounds have damaged his ears, he hopes for your sake it's the latter.

“No we don’t” He says with a sense of peace that doesn't match up with the predicament you're in.

“What do you mean?” You ask him, while trying to remove some of the blood stains from his skin, but failing miserably.

“We’re in heaven, aren't we, that's why you're here, I was hoping I would see you.” A sob from your throat almost interrupts his whispering, and he looks up to you again.

“Why are you covered in so much blood” He reaches out to touch your face ever so gently, as if he's scared you're only a figment of his imagination, and you could disappear anytime.

“It’s nothing, I’m alright, I’m more worried about you, you look like you could open your very own blood bank with how much you’re losing.” Your voice is shaky, and it matches the tremble of your hands.

“No need to worry about that, You're here to bring me to heaven, we’ll be together again, it’ll all be perfect.”

“Finnick listen to me! I’m not here to take you to heaven, I’m real and I'm right here in front of you and I need you to stay awake!”

Only he’s not responding to you anymore, his eyes closed again.

“Goddamnit”

You tried to lift him off the ground, but almost fell over once you got him upright. You weren't in your strongest state, and Finnick not being in any conscious state wasn't helping, his whole body weight leaning on you. You put your arm around his shoulder and put the other around his middle, trying to keep him standing so you could move. But with your hands busy trying to keep Finnick upright, you had no way to defend yourself. All the commotion must have alerted other tributes, but you didn't know how many there were to begin with, or who even started the disturbance that allowed you to break free. You thanked whoever was listening that the two of you made it out of the swamp without running into further trouble, and entered an opening of trees that finally allowed bright sunlight to touch upon your skin. You can hear footsteps close by, and prepare for the worst.

“We need to get the two of you back to the others” A familiar voice enters your ears, and you didn't know you could ever be so grateful to find Beetee.

You make your way to a lake not far away. When you get there, you refuse to leave Finnick’s side when Beetee had insisted you needed tending to as well. It was like an unspoken rule. Whenever one of you was hurt, the other didn't leave their side until you were sure they were going to be okay. But you weren't sure, and you weren't leaving him. So you lay down next to him, and the others knew it was useless to try and separate you.

After some time had passed, Finnick started to softly grunt and woke you up with him. Your face contorted in a mix of anger and pain. You leapt up into his arms. It hurt him a little with how tight you were holding him, but he didn't dare let go. Still a little afraid it wasn't real. But he could feel your breathing against his neck, hear you crying in his ear, and hear your heart beating in your chest, in sync with his, you were here, and you were okay.

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pherelesytsia · 2 years

Text

Who did this to you? 3

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend's house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing

Word Count: 2.5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Shadows reared and shifted, invaded the corners of the house and found their way into the hearts of the people whose peals of delight once resounded throughout the deserted hallways and richly decorated rooms. Mercilessly, the rain pounded against the windows. The storm raged fiercely over the land, causing rivers to leap, destroyed leaves and uprooted trees.

Lightning, curved and slanted like the stitches of an unskilled seamstress, coloured the sky, but thunder was missing, did not chant the song of horror and ruthlessness.

Silence had descended upon the house, and the murmur of the gramophone broke the awful stillness. No one dared to speak, cloaked in silence and realisation, but the walls full of memories talked and screamed, laughed and giggled at the sight.

The vision cleared and confusion welled in the eyes, staring wide awake at each other, hoping to find the soothing answer yet realisation hit like a wave of destruction. The boldness of the alcohol was gone with the wind. Hearts were beating at a rapid pace. Foolishly, the men and women, dressed in rich garments, blamed each other, but no words fell, yet the eyes told the unspoken tale and fell on the man in the dark suit.

Wounds, long healed, ached and pained. The walls of solid stone crumbled. Thomas took one step, swallowed noticeably as he tried to process what John had said. He had heard the words loud and clear, but they made no sense, sounded ridiculous and foolish. The eyes of a sunny sky turned to a torrent, grey and misty. He tried to focus, felt dizzy, sickened by his thoughts. The words bearing the dreadful message echoed in his mind, but they made no sense. His chest was burning. Thomas applied pressure to the aching wound, but soon the man realised that no blood was oozing from his chest, felt no wetness under his touch nor a hole in his flesh. The murmur of weak voices grew, and he listened to the words calling the scariest nightmares to life.

"Where is Y/N?" John screamed, unsure if everybody had heard him.

Questions escaped the throats, coalesced, but John's voice cut through the tumult like a sharpened double-edged blade, silenced the voices dripping with fear and the dooming thunder echoing across the hills, meadows, and fields. Thomas advanced. He focused his gaze over his shoulder on Arthur standing close to the sofa and then looked at Polly and then at John breathing heavily, panting, trying to fill his lungs with air. His legs grew weak, stumbled, nearly fell like a wounded soldier on the field of desolation.

Guilt dripped from his lips and Thomas swallowed again, but the foul taste, rotten flesh, dark as cinders in the depths of an undisturbed lake in the midst of a dark forest shunned by animals, forbid him to form a clear thought.

The slow rhythmical ticking of the wooden clock grew louder, but it felt as if not a single second had passed, felt as if the earth had stopped moving, but the branches crooked as the teeth of a beast swayed back and forth in the crispy wind knocked like an unwanted visitor on the windows.

A stabbing sensation forced Thomas to halt, and he realised what he had done. It is my fault, Thomas thought to himself. The siblings waited for instructions, deaf to the words John spoke, told them to go outside and search the streets for the missing woman, knowing they wasted precious time. John faced his brother. His voice turned hoarse, but the man he yelled at was speechless, didn't know what to say nor what to do.

Thomas gulped. A veil flew through the air and greyed the house. Thomas closed his eyes. The veil settled on his body and enveloped him like the stormy sea crossing the borders of the sandy shore. Walls of defence crumbled. The ocean was calling him by his name. Thomas could not breathe. The water was rising. In fear, Thomas tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t, couldn't escape the terrible thoughts he tried to flee like a child. The velvet curtains dropped and the worst scenarios played out in his mind, a theatre, a play written by a man with a twisted mind, unpoetic and bloodcurdling. The ocean swallowed him, dragged the Shelby into the deepest of depths, but Thomas did not fight, did not struggle and let it happen.

Suddenly he opened his eyes and saw his wife dressed in white. The waves destroyed her tightly fitted curls. The gentle smile, loving and caring painted her kind face. The sight pained his soul. Desperately Thomas called her by her name but saltiness filled his mouth. Fearing to lose her again Thomas reached out with his right hand, wishing to pull his wife, his love into an embrace and let her know how sorry he was, that it was his fault, that he was supposed to protect her, but she fizzled out. Crimson coloured the water. Lights twinkled. Thomas called her by her name, but the waves carried his love away. The water cleared and he wished to close his eyes. He saw her, beaten and dead at the end of a dark alley surrounded by rats and rubbish, locked in a house in a remote area, in a nasty room guarded by starving men craving the closeness of a woman. His eyes shot open, escaped the prison of his mind

"John who was at the door? How do you know?" Thomas thundered.

"I don't know, a woman knocked on the door and wanted to know if we are missing someone and when I realised that Y/N is missing I went back but the woman was gone. I couldn't find her. She drove away" John babbled.

Thomas advanced, paced, left his brothers behind and turned on his heels as a cold chill travelled down his spine.

"Arthur, send everyone out, and after drive to the stables. Polly, you remain here in case my wife arrives. John, search the factories and the others the streets." Thomas ordered.

His voice broke, and they asked no questions, ran off, not daring to question Thomas in his anger, to let him know he should remain calm and think where Y/N might be, but the women remained silent and did as they were asked. With quickening steps, Arthur went away, walked in great haste towards the telephone to chase the men out of bed to find the missing woman.

Cursing, Thomas ran his fingers through his tamed hair, and he realised how wet his palms were. He knew hundreds of people who wanted to take revenge on him. Thomas hoped the door would open and she would stand in the glow of the lights, yet he did not know what to do, if he should apologise or tend her wounds.

Eyes settled on him as the stiff wind invaded the house like the enemy. Polly standing in the middle of the chaos clasped her hands in front of her body, breathed a short prayer and walked towards the man threatening to break under the burden. Her heart broke, was convinced she had never seen Thomas like this before, so lost, too close to the breaking point, uncertain of what to do. Polly braced herself, prepared for curses and anger and walked slowly towards Thomas, saw the fear and urgency in the tall man's eyes. In a reassuring gesture, she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Thomas." Polly started.

Gazes met.

"I'm sure we'll find Y/N/N,” Polly assured and Thomas wished his heart would bear the same hope.

"I should have looked after her. I was the one who was supposed to pick her up, but I forgot. I forgot my wife.” he said.

He laughed bitterly.

“Y/N is my wife, and I have to protect her." Thomas continued in shame.

Delicate lips did not touch. Tears almost crossed the borders. His eyes turned into the ocean, caressed by the rays of the sun, glittering like hundreds of thousands of diamonds. He wanted to be strong, be a man, had never felt like this in a lifetime and he was in danger of losing control of himself and Polly noticed it immediately.

"Thomas, will we find her. Yes, you are her husband, but we should have noticed, we are her family.", "We behaved horribly to her, like a fucking stranger." Thomas hissed, addressing each of them and himself.

"Thomas, if the woman asked John if somebody was missing, it means that Y/N must surely be somewhere in town. We will find her.", "And what if she doesn't want to be found? Let's face it, we haven't been good to her and I can't count the number of times I've heard her crying." Arthur interjected dryly, wouldn't be surprised if Y/N disappeared without a trace to escape the clutches of the family.

A sound broke the silence like a gunshot. Eyes widened. The spark of hope in his heart grew in size. Thomas ran towards the telephone and picked it up, hoping it was someone who had seen his wife.

"I see you have finally noticed that someone is missing. It has taken you almost four hours to realise that your wife is missing Mr Shelby," the words wounded his pride.

He didn't laugh, didn't shout, couldn't swear nor speak, knew his voice would break. Relieved Thomas realised the woman could not be far, probably saw the men searching the streets for his wife. The sting in his heart was painless, realised by the voice that the woman was not interested in money or gold.

"You don't have to worry about Y/N/N, she's fine, I'm taking care of her, that’s what friends are for.", "Where is Y/N?" Thomas inquired boldly.

"If you knew your wife you would know where she is and no, she is not with her great parents who sold her to your fantastic family.” the woman paused. “And before you ask yes, she is hurt but it is nothing compared to the wounds you and your family left on her soul. She is fucking lying," the woman sneered.

He nearly dared to lose his temper. Thomas wanted to scream, to spit and shout, to start a sentence, to let the woman know that he loved Y/N from the depths of his heart but was incapable to show it, that he would never hurt her but he realised he had been the most horrible husband under the rising sun.

I do not deserve Y/N, Thomas thought to himself.

He stayed in silence, sensed the woman had much to say. Balling his hands into fists, he leaned forward and steadied himself with his right hand resting against the wall, feeling the burden increasing on his shoulders.

"Probably Y/N would have died this night. Her arms were blue and purple. They beat her up. She looked terrible, and her plea was that she didn't want to see anyone, not even her husband who had vowed to her, who had sworn before God that he would protect her with his fucking life but you weren't there to guard her, you weren't there to protect her from these bastards.” she hissed like a snake.

Thomas gulped and closed his eyes.

"She cried and Y/N/N didn't shed a tear when she found out that her parents had chosen you as her husband," she breathed.

The world turned dark and remote.

"Y/N wouldn't tell me what happened, but I saw the wounds. I touched her beaten flesh, but she wouldn't expose herself, refused to take her dress off and you and I cannot imagine what happened. Those filthy, dirty bastards dragged her into an alley. They kicked her, ridiculed her, and punched her. There was a lot of blood. I saw it in her eyes, the pain, the fear of being touched.", "Then tell me where she is and I will pick up my wife. I must," he begged.

The woman laughed, could not believe what he was uttering.

"Mr Shelby, you should have been there. You should have protected her." the woman spoke.

The silence was awful.

"Why should I do that, Mr Shelby? Call me a fool. I knocked on your door to tell you that your wife needs you. My intentions were pure and not to fear you or play with your mind. I wanted to help you. And you sickened me when I looked through the window. I wanted to take you to Y/N but the moment I saw you were feasting, fucking celebrating, that you were well and did not notice that one of your family members was missing, I lost the desire to help you, Mr Shelby." the woman spoke.

Thomas did not answer.

"Wait, I have to correct myself. You did not notice that your wife is not by your side, that she is not holding your hand." she stopped, unable to continue.

His lips quivered.

"Y/N is in good hands, Mr Shelby. She feared to face you, expecting you to laugh because she couldn't defend herself, or that you would tell her it was her fault. Those were her words.", "Thank you, thank you for taking care of Y/N/N. May I speak to her?" Thomas breathed, hoping the woman would permit him to talk to his wife.

Thomas Shelby did not pray often, but he wanted to join his hands in a prayerful gesture before his heart and pray to the higher powers. He pressed his lips into a fine line, listening to the silence on the other side, unaware of the questioning stares of his siblings and focussed, praying Y/N would take the speaker.

"One moment, I will check on Y/N and if she is awake, I will inform her that her husband wants to speak with her but I will not force Y/N/N to do anything.", "If she doesn't want to, I understand," Thomas replied.

The clacking of shoes filled his mind. Nervously, his fingers tapped against the wall, trying to busy himself. He uttered a low prayer. A scream made him jump. Thomas shouted and screamed. He hissed. Nails dug deep into the skin. The wood shattered. Crimson dripped. His throat turned raw. He asked questions, screamed from the depths of his soul, needed to know what had happened. Agitation ceased and suddenly silence ruled with an iron fist. A lone tear rolled down his cheek. Wounded, shot clean into the heart, the man collapsed, abandoning the listener.

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