#uncharted rafe

[chlooob]

It really has something for everyone

[justsomerandomfanfic]

What Do I Do With The Pieces Of You? - Rafe Adler X Female Reader

Title: What Do I Do With The Pieces Of You?

Rafe Adler X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Anthony Thomas (OC) and Rafe's parents (Mentioned)

WC: 2,951

Warnings: Death, main character death, wife Reader, post-Uncharted 4 canon events, italics, crying, heartbreak, grief/grieving, sad, angst, very small fluff

The phone rang, cutting through the sound of the TV playing in the background. You didn’t recognize the number at first, and you weren’t really one to answer the phone for any old random number, but you did this time.

"Hello?"

"Am I speaking with Mrs. Adler?" The voice on the other end was formal.

“Yes, this is she," You replied, your fingers tightening around the phone.

"My name is Anthony Thomas. I’m calling on behalf of the executor of Mr. Rafe Adler’s estate."

The air in the room seemed to thin, your heart skipping a dreadful beat. Rafe’s estate? That didn’t make sense. Why would someone be calling you about that?

"I- What is this about?" Your words faltered, the sharp edge of panic creeping into your voice.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, heavy and uncomfortable, "I regret to inform you that Mr. Adler passed away several days ago. His remains were recovered from the wreckage in Madagascar."

You froze, the phone slipping slightly in your hand. It felt like the world tilted on its axis, like gravity had momentarily abandoned you.

"What?" You whispered, your voice trembling. "That’s not… That can’t be right. It couldn’t have been him."

"I understand this is a lot to process," Anthony said, his voice softening slightly. "But I would like to meet with you to discuss Mr. Adler’s will and testament, as well as to hand over some of his belongings that were sent back from Madagascar. I’m located at 42nd Street, downtown. I am free for the rest of the afternoon." You couldn’t speak. Your throat was dry, your chest tight. Rafe was gone? That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. "I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Adler. My condolences." Anthony added gently before the line clicked and the call disconnected.

You sat there, frozen, the phone still pressed to your ear, even though the line had long since gone silent. Slowly, your jaw dropped, and your eyes widened in disbelief. The TV droned on in the background, but you couldn’t hear it anymore.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, warm and relentless, as the reality of the words sank in. Rafe was gone. The thought felt foreign, wrong, and impossible. Your chest ached as a sob clawed its way out of your throat, and you pressed a trembling hand to your mouth to stifle it.

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the weight of grief sinking into your bones. Numbness wrapped around you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and cold, as you stared blankly at the wall. How could this be real? How could he be gone?

He couldn’t be. He was Rafe. He was Raphael Adler.

He wasn’t gone.

The next thing you knew, you were sitting in a stiff leather chair, the faint smell of paper and sandalwood filling your senses. You didn’t remember getting dressed, let alone the drive over to Anthony’s office. The older man sat behind a heavy oak desk, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he sorted through a stack of documents with practiced precision.

“And as per the wishes outlined in Mr. Adler’s will,” Anthony's voice finally broke through the haze, “All of his personal belongings, financial assets, and properties are to be transferred to his wife, Mrs. Y/N Adler.” You blinked, but your gaze didn’t leave the spot on the wall you’d been staring at since you arrived. The corner where the paint was slightly chipped. The words barely registered. Anthony paused, glancing at you. Your eyes were puffy and swollen, your cheeks streaked with dried tears. You didn’t speak. You didn’t move. “Mrs. Adler?”

You nodded faintly, though the action felt robotic. “Keep going,” You murmured, your voice hoarse.

He cleared his throat. “That includes the primary residences, all vehicles, and all accounts held in Mr. Adler’s name. Everything now belongs to Mrs. Y/N Adler.”

You remained still, your fingers clasped tightly in your lap. The weight of it all pressed down on you, but it felt distant - like it wasn’t your life being discussed, but someone else’s.

Anthony stood after a moment, moving across the room to retrieve a duffle bag that had been tucked neatly beside a bookshelf. He returned, placing it gently on the desk before you.

“These were among his personal effects recovered from his trip,” He explained.

You rose slowly and reached for the bag. The leather was cold under your fingertips. Anthony’s sympathetic gaze lingered as you cradled it against your chest. “Thank you,” You whispered, barely audible.

He hesitated before speaking again. “There’s one last matter to discuss. Mr. Adler didn’t leave any specific instructions regarding his remains. I wanted to ask if you had any preferences.”

For the first time, your focus shifted. You looked at Anthony, the hint of a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “He told me once he didn’t want to be stuck in a box. Or to be buried in his family lot.” Anthony blinked, his expression softening as though he wasn’t expecting the wry humor, especially with the heartbreak clear in your voice. “Cremation,” You said quietly, your fingers tightening their grip on the duffle bag until your knuckles turned white. “That’s what he would’ve wanted.”

Anthony nodded solemnly, his gaze steady. “Understood. I’ll make the necessary arrangements.” He hesitated, and you could feel his pause in the air, the weight of it pressing against you. “Would you like to see him one last time before the cremation?” He asked, his voice careful, almost reluctant.

The words hit you like a punch to the stomach. You shook your head almost immediately, a sharp, jerky motion. “No,” You murmured, your voice wavering. “If I saw him…” You swallowed hard, your throat tight, you couldn’t finish.

Anthony didn’t press further. “I understand,” He said softly, his tone filled with genuine sympathy.

You nodded, clutching the duffle bag closer to your chest.

~~~

The trip home was a blur of muted colors and passing trees. Uneventful. The world outside your car moved on as though nothing had happened, as though your world hadn’t just shattered into a million irreparable pieces. Your gaze kept drifting to the duffle bag on the passenger seat, its dark leather stark against the white upholstery. It seemed to hold a gravity of its own, pulling your eyes to it every time you hit a red light.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, the house loomed before you. You stepped inside, and the silence struck you like a physical blow. The kind of silence that felt alive, pressing against your ears. The only sound was the faint hum of the TV in one of the living rooms, still playing the same rerun of the show you’d left on earlier. You hadn’t even remembered to turn it off.

You kicked off your shoes at the door, the thunk of them hitting the floor echoing unnaturally in the emptiness. Your jacket slid from your shoulders and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor. You didn’t care. You’d pick everything up later. The duffle bag felt heavier than it should have as you carried it to the couch, setting it down gently as though it might shatter if you weren’t careful. 

You stood there, staring at it for what felt like an eternity. Your hands hung limply at your sides, your arms too heavy to lift. The house felt like a tomb, every corner filled with echoes of him. His laugh in the kitchen, his footsteps in the hall, his voice calling your name… You would never get to touch him, hold him - feel his warmth, feel his love - hear him, kiss him…

He was gone. And there was nothing you could do.

Your knees buckled, and you sank onto the floor beside the couch. Tears spilled over, streaming silently down your cheeks. Your chest ached, a hollow, gaping wound where your heart used to be.

The duffle bag sat there, unmoving, but its presence was suffocating. It held the last pieces of him, the last remnants of a life that no longer existed. And for the first time, the weight of it all hit you fully. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back. You buried your face in your hands, your sobs muffled and broken, the kind of sound that came from the deepest, rawest parts of you. The house, the bag, the silence - it all felt too much, and yet it was all you had left.

As the tears fell, the edges of the room seemed to blur, the grief pulling you into something softer, something quieter. A memory surfaced, as vivid and ethereal as a dream.

You were lying on the couch, Rafe’s arm draped over your waist, his hand warm against your hip. The room was bathed in golden sunlight filtering through sheer curtains, dust motes dancing lazily in the air. His legs were tangled with yours, the weight of him grounding you in a way that felt like home.

~~~

“You’re too warm,” You’d murmured, though you made no effort to move away.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, vibrating against you as he brushed his nose against your scalp. “And yet, here you are. Not moving an inch.” A lazy smile tugged at your lips as you looked up slightly to look at him. His face was so close, his features softened by the light. The sharpness that so often defined him was gone, replaced by something tender, something vulnerable. His fingers traced idle patterns along your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “Stay,” He’d whispered, his voice barely audible. It wasn’t a command, not really. And even if it was, you wouldn’t ever leave. And you had stayed. Hours passed as the two of you existed in that bubble, untouched by the outside world. He told you stories about his childhood - ones that didn’t involve wealth or power, just small, simple moments. You’d laughed until your sides hurt, teased him until he rolled his eyes, and kissed him until he stopped pretending to be annoyed. “I think,” He said at one point, his voice heavy with sleep, “This might be my favorite place to be. Right here. With you.”

You’d turned fully then, resting your forehead against his. His eyes, so often filled with ambition and fire, were soft, “This is my favorite place to be, too. With you.” You whispered, and he’d kissed you, slow and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world.

~~~

The memory dissolved as quickly as it had come, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The warmth of his touch, the softness of his seafoam eyes, the sound of his laugh - it was all gone, leaving only the cold, empty reality of the present.

You opened your eyes, your gaze falling back on the duffle bag. The sunlight that had once bathed the living space now seemed harsh, casting long, jagged shadows. The memory was both a gift and a curse, a reminder of everything you’d had and everything you’d lost. With a trembling hand, you reached out and brushed your fingers over the duffle bag’s surface. It was all you had left of him now. The memories, the love, and this bag filled with the fragments of his life.

Taking a shaky breath, you pushed yourself up off the floor and you sat down, the soft leather sinking under your weight. Your hands hesitated on the zipper, fingers trembling, but eventually, you pulled it open. Inside were notebooks, maps, pictures, and books - everything Rafe had collected on his obsessive hunt for Avery’s treasure. You turned the pages of one notebook, seeing his familiar handwriting scrawled in the margins, the passion and madness alive in every stroke of the pen.

Setting the notebooks aside, your fingers brushed against fabric. You pulled out a few shirts, pants, and then, finally, one of his jackets. Your breath hitched as you clutched it to your chest, tears spilling over once more. His scent - crisp, rich, and woodsy, mixed with a hint of his cologne - lingered faintly on the fabric. Bringing the jacket to your nose, you inhaled deeply, the ache in your chest growing unbearable. Without a second thought, you slipped it on.

As you adjusted the jacket, your gaze fell back to the bag, now nearly empty. You pulled out his keys, and his wallet. The leather was smooth as you opened it, revealing his ID and other cards. Gloomy curiosity piqued, you pulled out something small from one of the side sleeves, revealing an old photo of you and him, creased slightly at the corners from all the time he had probably taken it out to look at it. The sight made you sigh deeply, it was from one of your first dates. The sight of the both of you, together, so happy… You slipped it back inside.

At the very bottom of the duffle, buried under everything else, was an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his unmistakable handwriting. Your breath caught as you carefully picked it up, staring at it before you finally opened it and unfolded the letter inside.

His handwriting filled the page, every word sharp and deliberate, just like him:

Y/N, darling,

I thought I’d write you a letter. Silly, I know. You can tease me about it later. At the time of me writing this, we’re already in Madagascar. I can almost taste it - my treasure. We’re so close I can feel it in my bones. I won’t lie to you. The Drake brothers have been more trouble than I expected, but you know me - I won’t let them stop me. Nothing will.

But that’s not why I’m writing this. I know I don’t say it enough, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry this trip has taken so much longer than I thought it would. I’m sorry for the nights you spent alone, waiting for a call that came too late, or maybe didn’t come at all. You deserve better than that. You’ve always deserved better. I don’t know how you’ve put up with me for so long.

When I get back - when this is done - I’ll stay. For as long as you want. If that means forever, then so be it.

There’s something else. When I was in Italy, I saw this, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. 

I know the look you’re giving this letter right now. That’s exactly why I planned to leave this letter and the gift on your pillow before heading to the office. I thought it might soften you up a little before you start giving me grief for being away so long.

Forgive me?

- R.A.

A sob built in your throat as you shakily set the letter aside. You reached into the duffle bag one last time, fingers brushing against something soft - velvet. Your breath caught as you pulled out a small velvet box and a smaller envelope nestled beside it. The box felt heavy in your hand, though you knew the weight wasn’t from its contents. With painstaking care, you opened it, a fresh wave of tears spilling down your cheeks as you caught sight of what was inside. It was the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. He knew you so well - of course, he’d choose something like this. Something that would take your breath away.

You slipped the ring onto your right ring finger, the fit perfect. The gem in the center sparkled under the dim light, a reflection of his meticulous attention to detail. He knew everything about you - your favorite color, your favorite style. He knew that you would love it.

A shaky sigh escaped your lips as your free hand wiped futilely at your tear-streaked face. For a long moment, you simply stared at the ring, its brilliance catching and refracting the dim light of the room.

When you felt steady enough, you turned your attention to the smaller envelope. Slowly, you opened it, your breath hitching when you saw what was inside. His wedding ring.

It glinted dully against the soft paper, the symbol of a promise, your shared love. Your thumb brushed over the smooth gold. Wordlessly, you slipped his ring on, though it hardly fit around your finger. You made a mental note to find a necklace chain, to wear it close to your heart where it belonged.

The exhaustion became too much, the ache in your chest hollowing you out until there was nothing left to give. You just wanted to sleep now. Slowly, you collected all of his things, putting them back in the duffle. Reaching the letter, you took it into your hands, staring back down at his writing before you raised it and pressed a kiss to the page. You carefully folded it, setting it with the others before you slipped onto the couch, curling up and facing the backrest. The soft cushions pressed against you as you tucked your knees close to your chest.

“Oh, Rafe,” You whispered out to the silence, “Oh, my love, why did you have to go?”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing uneven as you felt the weight of your grief pulling you under. Just before sleep claimed you, you could have sworn you felt it - his arms wrapping around you, strong and steady, holding you close like he always had. A fleeting warmth spread through you, and you sighed softly, your body relaxing as if for a brief, impossible moment, he was there.

And then the world went dark, and you fell into a dreamless, empty sleep.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Uncharted Masterlist

[cuddlypillow]

Rafe's just tired after a long day of research...

[logibears]

[jal-doodlez]

Rafe: Bitch.

Nate: Blocked!

Rafe: Wait, I want to say something, unblock me!

Nate: Unblocked.

Rafe: B i t c h !

[undead--ghost]

Down

Pairing: Rafe x Reader

Words: 4,593

A/N: Hey y’all, this is my first fic! I’ve had this idea for agesss and finally decided to write it out! This fic is based off the song ‘Down’ by Marian Hill. Definitely would recommend listening to it while reading! Just in case it isn’t clear, the italics are like flashbacks to earlier into the night. Hope you guys enjoy!

The gunshots echo throughout the ballroom, you pull up the thin strap of your midnight blue dress and look over from your hiding place behind a pillar. A man in a black suit is quickly approaching, you pull up the gun and fire twice, hitting him in the heart. He falls to the ground with a thump that is barely audible over the other gunshots. How it got to this, you’ll never know. You look over to Rafe who is crouched behind a flipped table, his suit jacket has been discarded on the floor next to him and his crisp white shirt is splattered with blood, thankfully not his own. You knew it was a bad idea to come here, all you wanted to do was stay home and relax.

“Rafe, do we really have to go? How important can an egg be?” You ask as he ties his bowtie in the mirror. “Y/N, you know that the Fabergé egg is vital to the Bishop deal. If I don’t get it- I don’t even know what could happen. Besides, I already promised you that I would get it the clean way.” Rafe says, turning to you and holding your hands. You sigh and look up into his eyes, “okay, let’s just make sure it stays clean.” Rafe chuckles “don’t worry,” he squeezes your hands, “but just to put my worries aside I want us to bring these.” Rafe turns around and picks up two handguns from the bed, handing one to you and tucking the other inside his suit jacket. You reach out your hand to take it but hesitate, you really don’t want to be caught with this. Seeing your hesitation, Rafe places the gun in your hand and places your other hand over it, “we won’t get caught.” You sigh and nod your head, placing the gun in your black clutch.

You survey the ballroom, it’s hard to believe that only half an hour ago it was beautiful and full of rich people having fun. The ice sculptures that sat on the tables were broken into pieces, now scattered all over the floor like broken glass, just creating another hazard. The banners that fell from the ceiling were riddled with bullet holes and the marble floor was stained with blood. Bodies lied on the floor, all of them dressed elegantly, it’s hard to tell who is from Anson’s army and who is Rafe’s. You spot a break in the gunfire and make a run for Rafe, he’s only 20 feet away but with this many people shooting at you both one stumble means certain death.

You keep low and run as fast as you can, bullets fly over your head and it takes all your willpower to not just drop to the ground. A pain flares up on your forearm but you keep on running. It feels like time is moving in slow motion but you finally make it. You jump down next to Rafe who steadies you when you stumble slightly. “Y/N! Are you alright?” He asks, looking you over frantically. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” you say, panting heavily. A gunshot fires directly over your heads and you both flinch, Rafe bending over you quickly. Swiftly pulling up over the table Rafe fires at the man, and the sound of his body hitting the ground confirms his death.

Rafe looks back to you, drawing all his attention onto your arm. “God, you’ve been hit.” He says, pulling his arm closer to his face. You hiss in pain and he loosens his grip and looks up at you sympathetically, “sorry. The bullet just missed, you’ve got a graze but it’s not bleeding too bad.” “It’s fine, let’s just hurry this up.” Rafe nodded and at the same time you both stood up from behind the table, shooting off several rounds, the men from Anson’s side were quickly hitting the floor.

You held onto Rafe’s forearm as you both walked through the grand front doors of the Alexandrov Manor. The ball was in full swing, classical music played throughout, elegant bodies swayed on the dance floor and others stood to the side watching and making idle chit-chat. This ball was a big one, you and Rafe had flown in all the way from your home in Seattle to Moscow, Russia. The Alexandrov Manor was beautiful and you couldn’t help but stare in wonder at everything. It was a traditionally styled mansion with a classy feel. You’re pulled from your thoughts as Rafe leans down to whisper in your ear, “this is Nastasya and Dimitre Alexandrov, they’re good friends of mine but didn’t get rich by playing fair.” You look up to Rafe and raise your eyebrow, “who in this crowd has?” Rafe chuckles and places one hand over yours. You look at the couple coming over, they’re both middle-aged but Dimitre shows it more. He wears a black suit with a red tie that matches Nastasya’s dress. Nastasya wears an elegant red dress that has a slit up to her mid-thigh but is still modest enough. “Hello Rafe, how are you?” Dimitre asks, with a thick Russian accent, as he stops in front of you both, Nastasya next to him smiling brightly. “Dimitre, Nastasya! I’m doing well, how about you both?” Rafe asks. “We are both good, thank you. Who is this beautiful woman next to you though?” Nastasya questions, also with a thick accent. “My apologies, this is my fiancé, Y/N!” Rafe says, proudly. You smile and reach out to shake their hands. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman!” Dimitre says charmingly. A light blush spreads across your cheeks and you thank him. “So anything in particular you have your eye on tonight?” Dimitre asks, turning back to Rafe. “Actually, I’m planning on buying the Fabergé egg,” Rafe states, his eyes drifting towards it. As it’s the biggest piece going tonight it sat in the middle of the stage, a single spotlight shining on it. It sat inside a glass case, the gold egg was covered in rubies and speckled with emeralds and about the size of your fist. However, it was going for ₽1.8 billion, most of the value was in the history of the egg with 50 made and only 42 found, this was the 43rd one to be discovered. “Ah yes, a wonderful piece, very expensive,” Dimitre says, nodding his head knowingly. “That shouldn’t be a problem,” Rafe chuckles a slight edge to his voice now. “Well,” starts Nastasya, sensing the tension, “we must be off, many guests to greet!” “It was great meeting you both.” You say as they walk away.

You turn back to Rafe, “I’m going to get a drink, do you want one?” “No thanks, I’m good for tonight.” He says, smiling down at you.“Alright, be back in a second,” you say, reaching up to give him a kiss on the cheek. You turn back to the crowd and make your way to the bar, careful not to bump into anyone. You reach the bar and ask for a glass of champagne. Once you receive it you thank the bartender and start to make your way back to Rafe. As you get closer you notice a short, blond, man having a conversation with Rafe, but by the way Rafe’s shoulders are squared you can tell it’s not a good one. Just as you get to Rafe’s side the man storms off, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Who was that?” You ask, taking a sip from your glass. “Mark Anson, he came up to me to ‘make connections’, apparently he’s interested in the egg as well and got upset when I told him that I would be the one walking away with it,” Rafe says as he wraps his arm around your waist. You hummed as you took another sip, watching the man from afar as he attempts to talk to another businessman.

The fight continues and is going nowhere, it seems like just as man people are killed more come in and replace them. You turn to Rafe, “I have a plan, but it’s gonna sound crazy.” Rafe doesn’t take his eyes off of the enemies, firing off shots every couple of seconds “okay, what is it?” You sigh, you know he’s not going to like it, especially if it’s you that’s in danger. “There’s a room upstairs with tonnes of weapons, and one of them is a China Lake. If you cover me I can run and get it and get most of them down from the top of the stairs.” You say.

Rafe crouches back down behind the table, and looks you in the eye, “no, absolutely not. It’s too dangerous, you won’t have any cover at all.” You roll your eyes and let out a frustrated huff. “It’s the only thing that will get us out of here in time.” “No! It’s too dangerous!” Rafe says, his voice rising with every word. You shake your head, a fight like this will bring the police immediately it’s only a matter of minutes before they show up and both you and Rafe can’t afford to get caught. “I know what you’re thinking- we can make it out in time and if we don’t I’ve got the money!” Rafe says sternly, grasping your wrist tightly. “Rafe, it’s not about the money, it’s about our- your reputation, you said it earlier this Bishop deal is important we can’t risk it!” You shout now, your frustration trumping your fear of being overheard. “No, I won’t have it- Y/N!” Rafe yells as you slip out of his grasp, making a run up the grand staircase. He turns back to the men and fires off rounds as they aim at you.

You run, your bare feet hitting the marble stairs loudly. Once again you keep your head low to minimise the risk of getting shot. You run in a zigzag pattern to throw off the people shooting at you and you can hear Rafe behind you firing shots. There are a couple of Anson’s men at the top of the stairs but you shoot quickly and they drop like flies.

You sprint down the hall, once you find the door you fling it open and race into the room, slamming the door behind you. You face the door and rest your forehead against it as you allow yourself a few precious moments to catch your breath. You turn around and survey the room, guns of all types line the walls and a mahogany desk sits in the middle of the room with a leather chair behind it. ‘This must be Dimitre’s office’ you think to yourself as you scan the walls for your weapon of choice. You spot the grenade launcher directly behind the desk, sitting just above your head. You step behind the desk and place your handgun on it. You reach up, standing on the tip of your toes to grasp the gun. You seize it by the handle and swiftly pull it off the shelf, it catches you by surprise with how heavy it is but you pull it up to your chest, ready to fight.

Just as you turn around you feel an arm go around your neck and squeeze tightly. You gasp and drop the gun to the floor, clawing at the arm. A deep chuckle emerges from the person behind you and you can tell that it’s useless. You struggle to take in breaths as the grip becomes increasingly tighter and tighter until your vision starts to go black at the edges. You squirm in the arms of your capture but the grip is too tight. Remembering something you once heard, you pull your elbow forward and with all your might swing it back into the person’s stomach. The person behind you let’s go out on shock and you quickly take advantage of the situation, spinning around and swinging at their face, hitting them right in the jaw, they stumble and grab their face.

You get a quick look at the person and see that it’s a man, he’s at least a head taller than you and about twice as wide. He straightens back up and swings at you but you expertly dodge the attack, instead grabbing his arm and kneeing him in the stomach, as he doubles over you swing your fist up once again hitting him in the jaw where a bruise is already forming. He grunts in frustration and grabs you by the shoulders and shoves your back into the desk, you gasp at the pain shooting up your back and he brings his hand back and slaps you across the face. You drop down to the floor as he attempts to hit you again, a loud rip sounds throughout the room as your dress catches on the corner of the desk and tears, leaving a gaping hole in the back of it. You jump back up to your feet and swing your leg, hitting him in the back of the knees. The man falls to the ground and you stomp your foot hard in the middle of his back, holding him in place. You use this opportunity to grab your handgun off the desk, quickly firing a single shot into the back of his head.

Not wanting to waste any more time you grab the China Lake and start to make your way back to the staircase.

“And for our final piece of the night, the 43rd Fabergé egg is going up for auction starting at ₽1.8 billion.” The auctioneer states as the audience start to buzz. This is it, the piece everyone had been waiting for, many of the people here had flown in just to see this egg be auctioned.  Rafe lifted his paddle in the air immediately. “We have our first bid at ₽1.8 billion, does anybody want to offer ₽1.9 billion?” The auctioneer asked, a couple people raised their paddles and thus started the auction.

It went on for a while and eventually people started dropping out as the price got too high, soon enough the price was at ₽3.4 billion and only Rafe and Anson remained. You tightened your grip on Rafe’s arm as both men started to get more agitated. Anson kept looking over at Rafe with a dark glare and you felt shivers up your spine every time he did. “₽5 billion, let’s get this over and done with,” Rafe says, lifting his paddle with a bored expression, but you could tell from his tone that he was getting annoyed. Gasps rose throughout the audience and you looked over to see that Anson had slumped his shoulders in defeat. “That concludes the aucti-“

“Let this be a warning Adler, you will not be leaving this place with that egg,” Anson yelled the audience’s eyes fell to Rafe as you both stood up straighter. “Anson, don’t be stupid, I've already won it.” Rafe states. Anson goes to yell again but is startled by the security guards grabbing his arms, leading him out of the building. “Let go of me!” He cries, struggling pathetically in their grasp, “do you know who I am?” His voice fades out as he is taken further away from the ballroom.

“We apologise for that upset. That concludes the auction, if you have bought anything please come to the stage immediately to collect it.” The auctioneer says, once again gaining the attention of the audience. The music comes back on and people start to make their way to the exit. Rafe turns to you with bright eyes and you giggle as he embraces you tightly. He lets go and you lean up and kiss his cheek lightly, “congratulations, babe.” “We did Y/N! I can’t believe we actually got the damned thing!” Rafe says, still holding you in his arms. “I never doubted you, Rafe,” you say sweetly, you both pull apart and he leads you up to the stage to claim the artefact.

You walk back from the stage, the egg safely inside a black briefcase clutched in Rafe’s left hand and yours in his right. You talk softly among yourself, glad that the stressful night is over. “Adler.” Came a cold voice from behind you. You and Rafe turn around to see Anson standing there with two men behind him like bodyguards. “Anson, here I was thinking that you had been evicted from the premise, yet here you are.” Rafe chuckles sarcastically. Your eyes shift nervously between the two men and you lean closer to your fiancé, “Rafe, don’t.” “I want that egg, and you’re going to give it to me.” Anson declares, stepping forward menacingly. “Now, let’s not play dirty. I got this fair and square.” Rafe says smugly, holding the briefcase up tauntingly. “Rafe!” You whisper aggressively, “lay off.” “Yes, Adler. You better listen to your little girlfriend.” Anson says as he pulls a handgun out from his pocket and aims it at Rafe. “Really? You’re going to threaten me? I would need more than a gun in my face to give this away.” Rafe says, now with a blank expression. “What about now?” Anson says as he changes the aim to you.

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you felt Rafe’s grip tighten on your hand to the point where it was painful. “You keep that gun on me, Anson. Y/N has nothing to do with this,” Rafe says calmly. You’ve always wondered how he could be so calm in situations like this. While you try your best to act confident, you know that your fear eventually finds its way onto your face. Your heart beats fast as you try to evaluate the situation at hand.

“Interesting. Seems like there is something that you would give up the egg for?” Anson says, his aim steady towards your heart. Rafe doesn’t hesitate to take action as he pulls out the gun from inside his jacket pocket and fires two shots, killing the two men behind Anson. Anson takes a moment to react, you see him pull the trigger and immediately leapt out of the way. You gather your bearings as you hide behind a pillar. Looking over to Rafe you see him yelling into his phone before firing back to Anson and his army. Fumbling with the latch of your clutch you pull out the handgun and start to fire into the crowd.

You stand at the top of the staircase with the China Lake in your hands, you’ve yet to be noticed but it won’t be long. Once you make the first shot all the attention will be on you. Now isn’t the time to play it safe. Your palms feel sweaty and you have to fight the temptation to wipe them on your dress. Your heart beats fast and your breathing has become increasingly faster. Luckily for you, most of Anson’s men are on the same side and the ones that are scattered are scarce. The grenade launcher only has 3 rounds so you have to make them count. You take aim carefully at the thick of the battle, your finger rests on the trigger. You mentally count to three and then pull the trigger. The force of the weapon pushes you back and you stumble slightly.  

The reaction is instant, the blast sets off chaos. The men below are now aiming their guns up but not at you, the dust all around has yet to settle so you take this opportunity to fire again. You run halfway down the stairs. The men below are starting to gather their bearings and proceed to aim at you. You duck behind the railing as a hail of bullets come at you. Taking a chance to look over you find that there are only about 10 more guys directly below you. You know that this shot is dangerous, the blast will certainly knock you off your feet, but it’s your only hope. You steady your ground and look over to Rafe once more. His eyes are trained on you and he nods slightly, knowing your plan. You take a deep breath and fire. The impact is instantaneous, you fly back from the railing and hit the wall, the breath gets knocked out of you and you struggle to breathe. Rafe instantly runs up the stairs and shields you with his body. You lift your head up to look at him and give him a weak smile. The edges of your vision are spotted black and your head feels light. Something trickles down the back of your neck and you reach behind and pull your hand back to your face to see it covered in blood.

“You’ll be fine, Y/N,” Rafe says, carefully sliding one arm under your legs and the other under your back. “I know,” you attempt to say confidently, although you can barely hear it over the ringing in your ears. Rafe chuckles weakly and takes up a light jog down the staircase.

You struggle to keep your eyes open and they slowly drift shut but with every jostle they snap open. Suddenly, you remember, “Rafe! The egg!” Rafe looks down at you with a blank expression, stopping in his tracks, “I can't reach it, it’s too late.” “No! It’s not! We have to get it.” You declare, squirming in his arms. Rafe grips you tighter and looks at you with a stern expression, “you’re hurt, we’re getting you out of here.” A bullet flies over your heads and Rafe ducks his head down and starts to run again. He brings you to the corner of the room to readjust his grip. “Rafe,” you say, placing your hand on his cheek, “we have to get the egg. Leave me here, I’ll be fine.” Your head was starting to clear up and your vision was back to normal. “I’m no-“ Rafe starts. “Rafe! Please, you- we need this.” Rafe sighs, “stay here, I promise I’ll be right back.”

He places you on the ground gently and you crouch behind the grand piano, resting your back against it and letting your head fall against to cool wood. You look up at Rafe to find him gazing at you with a worried look, “I’ll be fine. Trust me.” That’s all he needs to hear as he takes off firing off rounds as he dodges the rain of bullets coming his way.

You turn around so you’re facing the fight and see that only a few of Anson’s men remain. Anson is nowhere to be seen, he probably ran the second things got messy. Tonight shouldn’t have been like this, it just started as a quiet Friday night. This fight feels like it’s been going on forever, the constant danger is starting to take its toll on you as you feel your eyes start to get heavy. You know that it won’t stop until the police get here.

The faint sound of police sirens brings you back to reality. Your eyes widen and you start to panic. You and Rafe need to get out of here now, if you two get caught here- you don’t even want to think of the consequences.

“Rafe, come on,” you mutter to yourself, scanning the crowd for him.

You spot him with the black briefcase in his hand, making a run back to you. All attention is on him, you pull up from your hiding spot and fire at the crowd. Your hands shake making it harder for you to hit all your targets.

The police sirens are getting louder and they’ll be here any second. You can’t wait much longer, running towards Rafe to meet him in the middle. He sees you running and picks up his pace. You reach each other and without a moment’s hesitation Rafe grabs your hand and pulls you along.

You run as fast as you can, your feet sting as they pick up bits of broken glass and rubble. Your head starts to feel light again but you still power on. Bullets fly all around you and you keep your head low. Rafe, being bigger than you, practically drags you behind him. You both run out the front doors and you take a deep breath of fresh air, but the battle isn’t over more men stand outside fighting, some Rafe’s and some Anson’s. Rafe doesn’t pay attention to them as he drags you towards the driveway. In the distance, you can see the red and blue of the police cars steadily approaching. The limo is in your sight and the back door is already open for you and Rafe to dive into. Time seems to run in slow motion as you bolt for your getaway vehicle, it feels like it takes hours to reach the limo, but finally, you do. Rafe launches himself in, not letting go of your hand and you leap in after him, slamming the door close. “Go, go, go!” Rafe yells to the driver.

The limo immediately takes off and you speed out of the grounds. The police are just pulling in as you fly past them, but they pay no attention to you.

You take a deep breath and lean into the seat. Next to you Rafe lets out a breath and drops the suitcase onto the floor carefully. You look down at your dress, its torn in many places and is splattered with blood, some of it yours but most of it from others. The bottom of it is covered in mud and dirt and is holding on by a thread You’ve got small cuts scattered all over your arms and bigger wounds as well. You haven’t looked yet but you know that your makeup will be a mess. Your once elegant undo now falls into your face and is caked in blood. Rafe doesn’t look much better. His shirt is covered in mud and dirt and is torn in several places. He’s got cuts speckled across his face and forearms. Yet somehow his hair stays perfect. Rafe turns to you with a weak grin, “we did it?” You smile at him and pull his face closer to yours, “we did it.” He leans in and kisses you carefully on the lips. Once you pull apart you smile, looking up into his eyes, “I love you.” “I love you too, Y/N,” Rafe says as he settles his arm around your shoulders.

You pull your feet up onto the seat and rest your head on Rafe’s shoulder as you snuggle into him. You can’t believe that the night is over, you take a moment to think of all that happened. You feel your eyes getting heavy and you don’t bother to fight the urge to sleep. The soft sound of the car engine and Rafe’s gentle breathing lulls you into a deep sleep.

[discoshhtick]

Finally put this asshole to the place he truly belongs

[chlooob]

🤺