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mccnlightw‌:

“now i know and i’ll make sure to remember.” as much as she tried to convince herself she would be able to do something like that if the situation was dire enough, she knew she wouldn’t. it would be easier to die trying to break him out of jail. usually, lizzie could take a fair amount of compliments before she started really blushing and smiling like an idiot – but there was nothing usual about what was happening. “stop that, you’re such a pain in the ass.” and she punched him in the arm for good measure.

they had known each other long enough that she knew to take full advantage of raf’s good mood. “i won’t forget you said that.” she let out a sigh of relief. his compassion meant so much, she didn’t know what she’d do if he didn’t understand. “it’s because you’re so serious that i want to do it right.” although she’d never admit it, raf was a big reason why she stayed sober. she never wanted to see the look of disappointment on his face, it was so much worse than his anger.

as soon as he got up, lizzie rolled her eyes and pushed herself up too, legs a little wobbly as she followed raf into his room. “i believe you. you’ve said it about forty times.” leaning against the door frame, she walked closer to him once he turned away. “there’s nothing for you to prove.” tilting her head so she could see what raf was getting up to this time, the breath was knocked out of her when she laid her eyes on the ring. now was the moment for lizzie to make a joke about how they weren’t dirt poor and he could afford something more elaborate. but she was too dumbfounded and even if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be able to lie like that, not even for the joke. the ring was perfect – she wouldn’t like anything flashy anyways – and she raised her hand, running a finger down the chain between them. she often forgot raf’s biological father had passed away – he never talked about him and his family had always seemed so intact. “what was he like? your dad?” cupping his cheek, she felt suddenly sad that she never met his father, and that she never would.

logically, lizzie knew she had many memories from a time before their friendship, but right now, she couldn’t seem to recall any of them. the night seemed so long. how much time had passed since they left the restaurant? “i’ll wear it. i want to wear it.” his voice was heavy with so much she didn’t understand and maybe her desire to wear the necklace came from wanting to lift all that grief from his shoulders, but there was a certain pride in being given something so important. there were just so many words coming out of raf’s mouth, and she didn’t have the brain power to process even half of them. “okay, okay.” grabbing onto his chin, she pulled him down for a kiss. at least while they kissed he couldn’t speak.

“well i am fucking scared and it is a lot raf, but you’re my best friend. even if, you know, even if you were nothing more, i’d still wanna wear it.” she shrugged, holding his hands in hers, before turning around. memories of the movies clara forced her to watch when they were children came rushing back, and she reached up to pull her hair back right before remembering it barely brushed her shoulders. even though they had been tangled up on the couch just moments before, she still anticipated the brush of his fingers on her neck. “i don’t have anything for you, my sisters get all the sentimental shit.”

“it’ll never come to that, i promise.” he didn’t ever want to put her in that position or himself, and he was sure that it would never come to that. he understood her desire to wait, to make sure everything was the best it could be before taking the plunge. it was a fair fear, to be scared that they could ruin it all with a mistake. “that’s okay. but don’t take too long, i want our wedding photos to be of us whilst we’re still young and hot.” he was half joking when he said that in an attempt to lighten the mood which had become a little solemn. he would wait forever for her, and she knew it as well.

her exaggeration made him roll his eyes, “i’ve said it like four times don’t be ridiculous.” he watched her carefully as she observed what was in front of her. he had thought about it many times in the past, giving it to her, but something in the back of his mind had always stopped him. but one thing had always remained, he was only ever going to give it to her, it didn’t seem right to give it to anyone else. “i didn’t think you’d like anything massive and flashy.” it wasn’t her, nor was it something that he would do and they both knew it. “but if it was big enough i reckon you could give someone a nasty bruise with a good punch.” he added for good measure. maybe when this was all over he would treat her to something like that - something they can laugh about in the distant future.

she had never asked about his dad, at least not properly. he couldn’t remember how she found out that carmine wasn’t his biological father, probably by accident, but she had never made a big deal out of it - and for that raf would be eternally grateful. it was difficult for raf to talk about his father, moreso than isaac or even po, mostly because he had put it away so long ago. “i don’t remember much.” he replied, not really knowing what she meant by her question. “he had tattoos, rode a bike. they argued a lot, probably because he was an idiot. we used to go fishing a lot. i spent a lot of time with him.” it was strange trying to sum up an entire person from fragments of memories. “i don’t really know what else to say.” he swallowed hard and tried to relieve the tension from his shoulders and the pain behind his eyes. it was far too difficult for him to start mourning someone he couldn’t quite remember once again.

deep down however he knew whenever he chose to give it to her, she would wear it and she didn’t disappoint. “good. not about you being scared, that’s just funny, i mean about the ring. it’s not fair that it’s just gathering dust, someone should wear it. my mom actually hinted to me several times that i give it to you, so consider her blessing already in the bag.” he thought it was sweet that her natural reaction was to give him something of his own, it brought a sweet sort of smile to his face. “i don’t want anything, don’t need anything. just you. here. and for you to be in a warm coat.”

#CHATS | RAF X LIZZIE.#mccnlightw

theroning

#ALFIE X HECATE.

gcldxnboy‌:

when every last word came out and the last of his breath escaped him, francis merely stood there like a child and refused to meet rafaele’s gaze. it had all suddenly become too much for him. when rafaele asked about having to come back to the capitol to usher in the deaths of the new young and ill-fated, the older man simply nodded. the beeping of the various monitors and the pristine sheets had suddenly become very interesting to francis, so he stared at them, instead. in those beeps, he heard the sound of his own heartbeat, and in those sheets, he saw the road ahead. much like rafaele’s fate (seemingly spotless and cared for), his own, too, was covered in flecks of blood.

he wanted to leave – oh, how he wanted to leave. he longed to have a cigarette perched between his two fingers. he craved the feel of sinking into hugo’s chest and allowing his husband’s fingers to find their way into his hair. for a moment, he closed his eyes and this was all a reality. the nicotine cravings vanished and the feeling of being loved and having love conquer all was overwhelming. that all faded away as he felt a heavy weight fall upon his shoulder.

francis yelped and felt his entire body go stiff. as his eyes opened, he found himself staring into the endless abyss that was rafaele’s gaze. he had wondered what the boy was thinking about ever since he saw him volunteer. often times, when the games were still going on and the mentor was still isolating himself from the world, he found himself looking into the camera and staring at those eyes. now, as those eyes – accompanied by a completely uncharacteristic smile – stared into his own soul, he was cruelly reminded of his purpose.

his body began to shake, but all he could do was nod again. as he stood there, the physical realities of rafaele’s expectations danced with the ones that francis had shoved back into a closet for so many years. his lips carefully wrapped around an apology, but his teeth quickly bit them back and his throat swallowed it whole. there was nothing to be gained from apologies that were embedded with the realities everybody had already come to accept as truth. francis was useless, yes, everybody knew that, but rafaele had still won. and as his fingers splayed and cracked themselves at his side, francis realized that even though he had technically ‘succeeded’ in bringing a boy home, nothing had changed.

except now, he wasn’t alone. except now, francis thought as he pushed back tears and released himself from under rafaele’s pressure, there was hope. except now, he had somebody to protect.

the mentioning of his brother brought francis back to reality. his mouth slammed shut almost as quickly as it had opened. would he mention to rafaele that he had already prepared his funeral expenses? that he had already planned to provide the family of the boy a substantial stipend until they could get back on their feet? that the bouquet of flowers with a name and an address in case they ever needed him was currently rotting away on his bedside table? no, that was futile – there wasn’t any reason to mention any of that now. rafaele was alive.

with a twinge of guilt, francis realized the unfortunate truth of the matter that lied underneath the surface of it all. if he was here, that means the girl – whose name he had already forced himself to forget – was dead. had she ever stood a chance?

“i won’t say you made the right decision, because, uh, i don’t think there’s ever a ‘right’ decision in cases like these. but, uhm–” the rest of his carefully selected speech died on his lips as rafaele asked the question that had already made francis queazy numerous times – what was once more? “eleven,” he said solemnly, “you killed eleven people.”

he wasn’t sure how the sudden proclamation of murder had caused the older man to get over his unnatural fear of his own mentee, but the next thing francis knew, he was placing a shaking hand on rafaele’s own shoulder. the act mirrored what had happened moments ago, albeit with less grace and certainty.

“i, uhm, i want to– i, uh, i want to say that i’m not going anywhere. i know this isn’t much. i know i wasn’t there. i know i’m a bad mentor. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” for a moment, francis’ breath hitched in his throat and he found himself unable to breathe. fuck it, he thought as he shakily reached into his shirt pocket and expertly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. the deathstick was lit and in his mouth in an expertly crafted moment.

“i’m sorry. i needed this. uhm…” he breathed calmly as he exhaled into the air behind him. he knew he was about to play the dangerous game of assuming, but in the moment none of that seemed to matter. he was thinking more clearly than he had been since he made this hospital room his new home-away-from-home, and he couldn’t handle it anymore.

“i’m sorry if i’m overstepping, but your brother, uh… your brother isn’t going to hold any of that over you, rafaele. if that’s not what you’re thinking, then i’m sorry for assuming anything about you. i don’t really have a right to do it, y’know. it’s not like i was there. i don’t have the right to do a lot of things, but i speak from the, uh, heart. you did everything right. you did all that you could. you… you won.”

raf was beginning to think that francis simply possessed the most nervous disposition known to man. that along with the concentration span of a small child when he was stressed. it wasn’t the most convenient character attributes to have when you were a. an adult, b. a mentor, and c. someone who is constantly under high amounts of stress. a part of raf worried that francis was what his future looked like, and he could feel the grim expression on his face just get grimmer and grimmer. “you alright francis? you look like you’re about to have a seizure.” maybe he was, but either way he was in the right place for such a thing.

raf got comfortable in his bed and laughed at francis’ words. there was nothing ‘right’ about the hunger games, nothing right about his actions regardless of the situation he found himself in. raf easily could have gone through the games with an evasion tactic and killed only when absolutely necessary, however he chose otherwise. there was something deeply insidious about the way raf actively hunted down tributes. although he would often spare the young kids knowing that they had no chance and posed little threat, everybody else was fair game. to francis and the world, what sat upon the crisp white bed was a cold blooded young boy who looked like he enjoyed taking lives, but the reality of it was that he quickest way to ended the nightmare he was experiencing.

“right isn’t the best use of word really, is it?” was the response he settled on. what he did was immoral, it was almost evil, but so was the pageant he simply played the game because he was too selfish to watch his brother play it. “it was a big fucking risk, that’s what it was.” and fortunately for him, it paid off.

“hmm eleven.” he didn’t dawdle on the number for too long. he remembered his half assed efforts to wipe blood off his hands after he had finished a kill. by the end of the games his shirt resembled that of a redcap - no doubt it would end up in the hunger games museum. “i stopped counting after five or six, i didn’t see the point.” it wouldn’t make him feel any better, remembering their names and faces wouldn’t bring them back or honour them in any way so he let them slip from his mind. at the sound of francis beginning to splutter out an apology, raf raised his hand to stop him,

“don’t apologise. you assumed i was going to die in there, i didn’t give you a reason to think otherwise.” how did you tell a person ‘don’t worry about me, i have no qualms about snapping someone’s neck if that means my brother doesn’t die and i can go home’. it wasn’t a conversation that was easy to have. as soon as francis took out the cigarette, raf’s eyes lit up. “can i have one?” he reached out for it regardless of whatever his answer was.

it was funny hearing what francis had to say about antonio, it was easy to speak about the boy if you didn’t know him. “i know he won’t, in fact he’ll probably think it’s quite cool that i’ve been on the television. you’ll end up meeting him eventually.” and at that raf laughed. his family tried so hard to keep the young boy a secret, but raf didn’t really think there was much wrong with him, his brain was just wired up differently. “like i said, right isn’t the best word to use. i did what had to be done.”

despite putting the number behind him, it kept on coming back and bouncing around his mind. had his parents seen what he did? had lizzie? how could any of them really look at him and still care about him after what they had seen. “eleven is excessive, i know that even though i haven’t watched many games i know that it’s impressive too. but know i didn’t take any pleasure in killing those kids. except the careers, especially that piece of shit from two.” raf squeezed his eyes shut, and covered them and let out a deep breath. he had a particular disdain for them, “the way they train and volunteer for this shit makes me feel sick. i don’t regret what i did to them. i consider it justice.”

#CHATS | RAF X FRANCIS | HG VERSE.#66TH GAMES | HG VERSE.#gcldxnboy

tobeephemeral‌:

@undisclcsed

it often occurred to lura how fortunate her life was. she lived a fairytale that didn’t just end with the wedding. her story kept going and it was beautiful. alfie was the one that didn’t feel real sometimes. how after all this time they were together. happily together which was rare for most relationships these days. he was beautiful in every way. of course he had his flaws. they just didn’t matter because the two of them just worked. every now and then she had to ground herself. remember that happiness like this was real. it does exist and she deserved every bit of it. there was no catch. it’s just the way life went sometimes. it was a life that lu could never dream up in her head. mary was a shock to everything. lu never saw herself as a parent. it didn’t hit her until her baby girl was born. that was the moment it just felt right.

lu was working on a photo album in the middle of their living room when alfie came home. she had a few surprises for him. one was that mary had gone to spend a few days with her grandmother. another was a special drawing that mary made for him. lu had her add in something very specific. it was a baby sticker over luras belly. baby number two wasn’t a surprise. alfie didn’t officially know yet so the drawing would be the reveal. “welcome home! there’s a little present from mary on the counter.”

by the time lunchtime had arrived, alfie had decided he was done for the day. so, with the rest of the day free he decided to spend it buying gifts for his wife and child. the man didn’t know why he felt compelled to spend his day doing that, but he did it anyway because who didn’t like receiving gifts? when he walked into his home and saw lura sat in their living room, he smiled, put the things he was holding, except the one, down and immediately went to settle himself down next to her. “it’s so good to be home.” he kissed her on the lips before handing her the bouquet of flowers in his hand. “i missed you,”

it was only then that he noticed that their home was significantly quieter and tidier than usual. normally when mary passed out and had a nap during the day it was somewhere in full view, either in the middle of the hallway, on stairs, or the sofa. “where is my baby girl? is she asleep?”

#CHATS | ALFIE X LURA.#tobeephemeral

gcldxnboy‌:

the rise and fall of francis’ chest was warranting of an immediate search and seizure – search him for any spare bit of breath left and seize him from the abundant stress that was manifesting itself in the form of a craving for nicotine. a fresh sweat stain peaked out from the navy blue of his button down as he raised an arm to rub his eyes. inhaling deeply, the man let his hand splay out across his face and stared wildly at rafaele from betwixt his fingers.

“look, uh, rafaele,” he began as the newly crowned finally sat down and quickly transitioned his accusatory tone into that of honest curiosity. francis thought he detected a little bit of fear tugging at rafaele’s vocal cords, but he quickly realized that that wasn’t the case. it wasn’t fear, it was a will to survive. fear wasn’t the common denominator between he and district six’s newest victor. the will to survive, albeit how dismal francis’ own was in comparison to rafaele’s impressive gusto, was present even within the confines of this white, cushiony prison-cell.

after a slight pause – wherein the older man began to walk hastily from one end of rafaele’s bed to the other – he began to speak almost as quickly as he walked. “the ground. they’d, uh, toss you to the ground. that’s if you’re lucky, though. they might toss you back into bed. they might strap you down, give you a sedative to calm you down, slap you a bit for good measure, uh, and then–” here, the man tippy tumbled. his words caught over one another, resulting in his tongue paralyzing itself with the fear of what its words threatened to convey.

memories flooded into his mind. after screaming until his voice broke and he could taste blood in the back of his throat, francis watched as a capitolite doctor injected some clear fluid with a slightly yellow tinge into one of the i.v.’s. he watched helplessly as his own arms – struggling under the pressure of the iron clasps that held him to the bed – deflated and seemed to sink into the mattress. he watched as his vision blurred. he watched as a man with skin the color of freshly picked grapes slapped him hard across the face. he watched as caesar flickerman introduced him. he watched as barely anybody applauded. he watched himself on the screen. he watched the drool fall from his lower lip and land atop his tie. he watched as they laughed. he watched, he watched, and he watched.

and now, back in the present, he watched rafaele stare at him expectantly.

“they might take away those that you love. they might arrange for your family and loved ones to be involved in an, uh, accident.” gulping, the man finally made eye-contact with rafaele as he put his entire heart and soul into the message – albeit a rather discombobulated one – he was attempting to convey. “fuck, uh, they might even arrange your death. you’re a target, rafaele. you’re not me. you’re not a weak little boy from a poverty stricken district that got lucky – that shouldn’t have made it out alive. you killed eleven kids. you’re a prize to be won, to be fought over, to be contained. you’re like an exotic animal to them.” drawing in a deep breath, he continued to pace around the room. occasionally, during this little episode of his, he found his fingers absent-mindedly tracing over the rails of the bed, the furniture, the i.v., and even the walls.

“they love you, but they’ll never let you go. none of us can ever just ‘go.’ you, uh, want the honest truth? uhm, you want me to be, uh, honest? ok. here goes: accept that in the near future, you may wish that you had died in the arena.”

sure, he might have been projecting at this point – neigh, he was certainly projecting at this point, but all of these random memories, concerns, and advices came from a place of good. nobody had ever told any of this to francis. no, the morphlings had been too busy lounging about in their own feces and reverie to do any good to him. he wasn’t about to let the same thing happen to rafaele.

“but it’ll be, uh, okay – well, no, it won’t be okay. it will never be okay. ‘okay’ just flew out of the god-damned, uh, window. no – it’ll be fine enough if you just let them do what they want. just let them get it over with and be done with you as fast as possible.”

he listened silently as francis spoke and nodded where appropriate. winning the hunger games and living a life of peace and luxury had always seemed too good to be true. maybe that was because of the state of district six’s victors, or because the ones that weren’t addicts looked homeless despite having more wealth than perhaps the entire district combined - with francis falling into the latter category. everything felt smaller, tighter; the air thinner but still heavy. maybe he should have just died.

“thank you for your honesty.” raf couldn’t risk anything happening to his family, nor would he want to. it was in his nature to be secretive and to blend in, but with victory now on his head - there was no such thing available to him now. “and i’ll have to come back every year to join you as a mentor won’t i?” he knew the answer would be yes, but he still asked it nonetheless. it would have been silly to assume anything, especially after what he had seen and everything he had just witnessed.

working as a mentor didn’t seem far too arduous, and if it meant coming to the capitol and being at least eighty percent sure you weren’t going to die, it could be okay. raf slapped his hand down onto francis’ shoulder with a bizarre amount of strength given his current circumstance and offered him a smile. “you were a terrible mentor, hopefully you’ll make a better one now that i will be here with you.” the only way francis could have been worse was if he was high all the time like the others, but he had the decency to not do that. “as for whatever comes for me i will just have to bear it. i don’t have any other choice.”

the only positive that could come out of this would be that he was going home. whether home would look the same was something he was yet to consider. “you probably know already but the boy i volunteered for was my brother. we have different surnames so it wasn’t immediately obvious but i um-” he wasn’t sure why he started speaking, it seemed all very pointless now considering all that had happened. “he’s sick, he wouldn’t have understood why he had to leave and why i couldn’t go with him, or what was happening when he got here. in that arena he wouldn’t have lasted more than a day, and when he died it would have been horrible.”

maybe it was selfish to volunteer in his place. raf wouldn’t have been able to live with himself, so instead he offered up himself as sacrifice. it was both the most selfish and selfless thing he could have done in that moment - but he had made it out alive and that was all that mattered. “he couldn’t have done what i did.” nor would he have been expected to either. raf closed his eyes trying to think back to the arena, but already his mind had placed it in a box and sealed it away, filing it to the deepest part of his subconscious. “how many people did i... er... kill?”

#CHATS | RAF X FRANCIS | HG VERSE.#66TH GAMES | HG VERSE.

sokkable

not to be controversial but

mid season two zuko hair is his best

thesneezyunicorn

I want proof

sokkable

book one: does not pull off this very traditional cut at all. he looks like an onion with a horse’s tail glued onto his head. (1/10)

book two: wholesome cut, so cute. just look at him, he just wants to support his uncle and be happy. (10/10)

book three: angst overload. too much edginess, look at him. wow he even has hair in front of his eyes. so rebellious (4/10)

mythicamagic

YOU FOOL, YOU ABSOLUTE fOoooL!

^^^ THIS is true Zuko book three hair. It has just the right amount of floofyness to dance in the breeze and it’s BEAUTIFUL 11/10 don’t come at me with your Beach episode Zuko.

Book three redemption Zuko hair is best hair.

pancakemd

i love how in atla fandom ten years after the show was completed still one of the biggest discourse is about the most superior Zuko’s hairstyle

virgomoon-deactivated20240514

stop normalizing camila cabello

nokiabae

*arrives at poetry reading* hi…where do the muses sit?

#JASPER MUSE INSPO.

mccnlightw‌:

“okay, would you rather me shoot you or go back to jail? i need to know.” her mood was too upbeat, the only thing she could do was make light of the whole situation. she scrunched up her nose at his little kiss. “yeah, yeah, whatever. color yourself lucky then.” she always had a knack for attracting freaks and criminals, but she couldn’t really blame them. “a match made in hell, aren’t we? more like no one else can stand us.” they were two halves of the same coin, no one else got them like they got each other.

“mm that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said.” and they said romance was dead. “but isn’t that the point of the honeymoon? it’s about time we travel the country together, or are you too rich to sleep in the first shitty motel we find?” she teased. “we could get a matching tattoo in every state. that is romance.” no matter how old she got, lizzie craved adventure. it was still hard to imagine herself staying in the same place all her life. but there was something nagging her, and she just couldn’t let it go. “i –” the thought of willingly putting herself back into a vulnerable position made her body temperature drop, but she had already decided raf deserved to know what was going through her head. “i just need time, okay? all those na meetings i went to, the thing was a fucking cult, but they never shut up about how our addiction can hurt other people.” the word addiction still tasted like poison in her mouth, she hated having to say it out loud. “i need to be sure i won’t fuck this up.”

dangling off the couch, eyes wide, she couldn’t help but to laugh. she was perfectly happy with dragging raf down with her. but as soon as he pulled her back up and kissed her, all those evil plans got flushed away. she didn’t think she could forget how kissing him felt, but, clearly, she had – it didn’t feel like a means to an end, like it usually in did. if raf wanted to sit there and kiss for hours on end, she’d gladly oblige. her hands ran down his chest and his stomach, before taking their rightful place on the nape of his neck, fingers tangled in his hair. there was a sense of urgency, but she also felt so peaceful, so safe. she was so distracted that she couldn’t help the frown on her face when he pulled away, rolling her eyes as he spoke. “will this involve you getting off the couch and if so can it wait? but you already gave me your house keys, i don’t think i have enough energy to freak out anymore.” if not freaking out meant he would get back to kissing her faster, then at least she’d try her best.

“i’d rather neither but i guess i’ll take the bullet, bullet is definitely better than jail from my experience at least.” however raf was yet to experience a bad gunshot wound, he hoped he would never but there were only so many times a person could get fortunate. he wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not, but it was true - after everything for him to fall back in with lizzie who had had his heart from when they were children, it felt like everything was just coming together. “i am lucky. you’re beautiful lizzie.” he brushed his thumbs over her cheeks before kissing both of them. on the outside looking in, and even on the inside looking in they were demons but perfectly suited. “a match made in los angeles, california - so yeah a match made in hell.”

he was pretty much out of romance after his spontaneous wedding proposal, and when she started speaking he tried to hide his growing smile. it sounded like a nightmare - tattoos included - the the joy that filled her face as she spoke about adventured made his heart feel so full. “i’ll follow you wherever you want to go.” and it was the truth, a truth that had never gone away. lizzie’s addiction was always been in the back of his mind. she seldom spoke about it, and when she did, she never referred to it by name. he felt guilty in his part of it and how he was able to get away from his casual use unscathed whereas lizzie spiralled. “that’s okay.” after she finished speaking he planted a single kiss on her lips. “i am serious though, i’m not joking about this. but whenever you’re ready.”

he wanted to flick her in the forehead, but he resisted the urge. instead he bit down on her neck before pulling away and walking into his bedroom. “i just need you to know that i’m serious.” he shouted out but luckily for him, lizzie had followed his straight into his room - or their room as it now was. he looked at her again, his face feeling hot, a wave of self consciousness came over him before he turned his back to her. he pulled out a small box from his bedside table and inside was simple ring on an equally simple gold chain. he let it hang between the two of them and didn’t say anything for a little while before clearing his throat. “i just want you to have it or even see it, you don’t have to wear it. it was the ring my dad got my mom. they were dirt poor but he loved her.” he spoke quietly, his voice tight with emotion and hoarse with grief. “i don’t have much that was his and i didn’t think i’d ever love someone enough to give it to them, but i love you that much and i want you to have it - when you’re ready.”

he waited for a response from her, not sure whether it was going to be bad or good. still though he stayed where he was, but pulled the necklace closer to him and toyed with the ring the same way he had a million times over the years. “don’t be scared by this. it’s a lot i know. but you know me. if i don’t get it all out at once, i don’t know when i will.”

#CHATS | RAF X LIZZIE.#mccnlightw

gcldxnboy‌:

a cruel thought danced its way atop francis’ shoulder, and upon doing a jig that would make even the deepest cesspools in hell bubble over, it whispered a cruel idea into francis’ head: ‘don’t let him touch you. leave.’

it wasn’t like he had any say in the matter, of course. rafaele’s steel grip – a feat that francis would later find remarkable given the amount of trauma the boy had been through – clung to him, and there was no escape for the mentor. but, suppose francis did. suppose that he could have swiftly dodged the hand that reached through and shattered the awkwardness francis had imposed upon the situation. there was no time to be awkward now. there was only time for quick actions and quick movements.

so, releasing his paranoia into the wind, the man allowed himself to become a pillar for the young boy– no, young man.

with furrowed brows and a dry spot on his tongue that refused to go away, francis leaned into rafaele and offered as much of his person that he could. it didn’t look like rafaele needed it, but that didn’t stop a very sweaty and very anxious francis. kissing his teeth, francis’ eyes darted towards the door. he could envision the capitol guards that would strike rafaele to the floor the moment he so much as set foot outside the room. no, he couldn’t let that happen – if not for rafaele’s sake, then for his own. he didn’t know if he had the strength for it all.

unaware that his hand had begun to rub rafaele’s back in small, shaking circles, the man clucked his tongue and let out a brief little titter. “uhm, n-no,” he began as a bead of sweat pooled at the center of his forehead and made its way down to the bridge of his nose, “well, i mean yes, yes i was.” he didn’t mention that he sort of wished he had, but if he made so much as any eye contact with his tribute – no, victor – then he was certain the younger man would sniff out any and all weakness that wasn’t already painstakingly apparent.

“you can’t leave right now, rafaele. there are guards outside. they’ll toss you to the uh…” trailing off, francis felt a lump emerge in his throat and struggle to vanquish it. eyes darted from rafaele’s shoulder to the door. unconsciously, his grip on rafaele tightened. “please, can you sit back on the bed? it’s okay – well, no, it isn’t. but it’ll be better if you sit down. please.”

the young man was sure he was seconds away from his stomach seizing and throwing up what little acid was in it, but he refused to show it in his face. it was at that random moment he was acutely aware that he was probably being watched. he took note of francis’ skittish and frankly abnormal behaviour through suspicious narrowed eyes.

he was aware that he had won, come to terms with it and the perceived repercussions, but he gauged from the anxiety and literal sweat coming from francis’ body that he was in for a storm. but he didn’t have time to think about that, not when francis had just outed himself as a dreadful and potentially frequent liar. “i was about to say you’re a terrible liar.” and for now, he left it at that, but irritation crept up on rafaele quickly and had already nestled inside of him.

he raised his eyebrow at francis’ unfinished sentence and his eyes immediately flickered to the door in response. he couldn’t help but smile even though there was nothing funny about his current situation. “toss me to the what? i was under the impression that at the moment i’m precious cargo.” and he was, but in his state, he didn’t have the energy nor the inclination to cause trouble. so he removed his weight from francis and got himself settled into the bed - or at least, as settled as he could get.

“okay.” another silence filled the space between them which had grown heavier in the time he had woken up. “what’s going to happen to me now?” the solemn question rested heavy on his chest, “and don’t lie to me. never lie to me.”

#CHATS | RAF X FRANCIS | HG VERSE.#66TH GAMES | HG VERSE.