#and all of that being framed as an act of violence towards her. like asking her to do this knowing she cant possibly do it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

draemgal · 3 months

Text

when you know, you know | azriel

warnings: domestic violence (not by azriel)

not proofread.

azriel sees everything. his shadows whisper in his ear constantly, he is always aware of the who and the what and the where. yet here he sat, wine glass in hand, cursing himself for not knowing of your existence.

the burgundy swirled around the rim, the warmth coating his throat as his eyes focused on you like you were the only woman he had ever seen in his life. the way your curves filled your gown, the way the fae light illuminated your skin as if it were made of delicate stardust, and the way the man’s grip on your wrist was a bit too tight.

he kept watch all night, watching the man drag you around, would parade you around like you were an object, stealing glances at other women while his hands were clad in the small of your back.

music boomed, but he swore he could hear the man curse at you for being too kind to the bartender. for wearing a dress too revealing, for not wearing your hair the way he asked.

azriel leaned back, setting his glass down. his shadows swirled around him, whispering in his ear as he quietly wondered if he should intervene.

“what’s got your eye?” cassian asked, nesta perched on his lap. the light glimmered in his eyes, a bright smile on his lips as he nursed his glass of whiskey.

cassian followed his brother’s stare and his smile dissipated.

tears pricked your eyes as your boyfriend whispered in your ear. to the blind eye, this would look like a sweet and intimate moment between two lovers. hiding in a dark corner, bodies pressed close, words sung into your ear, and his hands framing you in towards the wall.

but azriel knew. he had watched the signs, had been watching it all unfold silently from the table, waiting for his hand to strike you and to confirm that he wasn’t making it up. that he was seeing things correctly.

“do you think they’re just arguing?” nesta asked, her head cocked to the side as she watched.

azriel shook his head and began to stand, but cassian pulled him down. “az, as much as i hate seeing that shit, you can’t intervene just because you suspect something is going on.”

azriel knew this. he was far too powerful to act on a whim, too powerful to act on feelings and risk being wrong.

but his gut—no. something in him told him his concern was based off truth. he placed his hand on his chest, an unfamiliar and unsettling feeling dully bubbling there. he figured it was just the alcohol and adrenaline colliding together.

“i’m not seeing things, cassian.”

“i’m not saying you are. i’m just saying wait a bit and see if it escalates, mother forbid that happens. you’d kill him, azriel. and i’m sure he deserves it, so just wait and pray we’re wrong.”

at that moment, you were whisked out the door. the breeze from you was felt by azriel and he stood up, shrugging cassian’s grip off of him. “fuck what’s in my favor, then.”

tears fell from your eyes as you tried to break free from your boyfriend’s grip.

“i told you, nothing happened!” you pleaded. you had begged not to go out tonight. you knew the second the warmth of alcohol met his lips, the warmth within him would disappear.

your coworker had texted you asking for help with a work related task. the moment your phone lit up in the dim club, your boyfriend instantly seethed with jealousy. no matter what you told him about the situation, that your coworker was a gay man with a husband and two kids and fifteen years older than you, his mind reeled.

whiskey breath blew cloudy from his wet lips in the frigid air of velaris. “why does he have your number then, y/n.”

you scoffed and used your free hand to attempt to pry his fingers off your wrist which was now turning red. “i told you, i work with him.”

your boyfriend turned, his hand raised up at you. flinching, you recoiled and braced the impact.

in front of the two of you, shadows pooled. darkness seeped from the air, dark figures swirling around you. in fear, your boyfriend stumbled back and dropped your wrist.

“no, it can’t be-” he choked out, his eyes wide as he hit the wall.

the shadowsinger had your boyfriend held up by the collar of his shirt, towering his pathetic body and flushed face.

you had heard of him, everyone in velaris had. had heard what he was capable of, what he had accomplished. heard of his army of shadows that told him everything. you had never seen him, not until now.

“it wasn’t what it looked like! tell him, baby, please.” your boyfriend begged, his hand that was about to strike you now shaking.

you smoothed your dress and took a deep breath. “it was exactly what it looked like, shadowsinger.”

fury burned in your boyfriend’s eyes, but it was replaced with pain when the shadowsinger reacted to your words. his fist landed on your boyfriend’s nose, breaking it. blood pooled from his nostrils but you didn’t react.

“go on, show him how powerless he is. take your control back.” the shadowsinger whispered as he looked down at you. his tone was gentle despite the fact his cobalt siphons were pulsing with power, with the fact his knuckles were covered in crimson blood that didn’t belong to him.

you sucked in a deep breath and closed your eyes before opening and staring deep into the man you once thought loved you.

“this has gone on long enough. you will never contact me, or have the right to touch me ever again. you are to go to our apartment and get all of your belongings and be out by morning.”

“baby, come on. i’m-“ the shadowsinger tightened his grip around the mans throat.

“you’re what? sorry?” you chuckled, approaching the men. “sorry doesn’t excuse the fact that you almost…hit me tonight.”

the shadowsinger dropped the bloodied man as your words landed, stumbling away with his hand covering his chest. his eyes stirred with… surprise. the shadowsinger—his expressions often hard to read—showed every bit of emotion on his beautiful, moonlit face.

he looked at you in a way no one has ever looked at you. your palms grew sweaty as you took in his intimidating gaze, but there was no hint of malice, only wonder. he approached you, his steps careful and delicate against the pavement. he reached his arm out towards you cautiously, almost like if he were to move too fast he would destroy something.

“m-may i?” he whispered, gesturing to wrap his arm around your shoulders. you swallowed and nodded, the tears on your cheeks now dried and your nose bitten from the cold. you let him guide you away from your now ex-boyfriend and into the street.

“what is your name?” he asked, looking behind him to ensure your ex wasn’t following. you could tell his senses were in overdrive by the way he was holding you, like you were… his to protect. you boiled it down to that fact that he was just a nice guy. you knew how rhysand’s court treated women, how much they fought for the women in the camps.

“y/n. what is yours?” you looked up at him. he was so tall, his wings adding height to his frame as the tips exceeded the hairs on his head by a few centimeters.

he smiled at you, it light and airy like this wasn’t his first time seeing you. “you’ve never heard of me?” his words laced with amusement, perhaps a bit of cockiness.

“i know who you are, but not your name. although i suppose after tonight i should just call you my hero.”

he chuckled as he walked you towards a park bench, shaking his head. “you saved yourself tonight, i just gave you the safety to do it.”

you hummed, unsure. but you sat down on the bench and sighed, mind reeling from alcohol and the events of tonight.

“why did you help me?”

he was quiet for a bit, standing next to you and looking towards the river that was frozen over. “honestly, i didn’t know. but now i do, and i’m not… sure if you’re ready to hear this information right now. you’ve had a long night.”

your brows furrowed as you studied him. his energy was intoxicating, the way he held himself and was constantly aware of his surroundings. the way his shadows pooled around him, following him and whispering into his ear.

“what are your shadows telling you?”

azriel smirked and turned to face you. “they’re telling me something i already know.”

“and what is that, azriel?” you asked.

“that you’re my mate, y/n.”

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel one shot #azriel fluff

307 notes · View notes

sokkastyles · 8 months

Note

What do you think about the opinion that Zuko was "pro-murder" in TSR?

First of all, I think it's completely amoral to frame Zuko wanting to help Katara track down a murderer as being "pro murder," regardless of what Zuko thought they were going to do to Yon Rah. That's the biggest problem with how people try to make it seem like Aang's side is the only moral one.

As it is, at no point does Zuko advocate for murder. Not in this episode, or anywhere else. Everything he says about it is defending Katara, whatever it is she decides to do. He says it's about justice. Aang says he thinks it's about revenge and Katara says maybe it is, but Zuko neither affirms nor contradicts that. Which tells me that Zuko is pro what Katara wants more than anything. The other things Zuko has to say are defending Katara when Aang tries to get her to not go or tells her to choose forgiveness, two things Katara already told Aang were impossible. Zuko doesn't contribute anything to the conversation that Katara didn't already say, so if Zuko is pro murder, that means Katara is, too.

Except we know that Katara isn't. Katara makes the choice not to kill Yon Rah and Zuko lets her make that choice. If Zuko were leaning more towards murder, he would have encouraged her to do it, or gotten angry when Katara chooses not to, but he doesn't do that. He lets Katara make the choice, and the only times he fights or bends throughout the entire journey are to defend her.

He also is the one who, once they return, drops Katara off on Ember Island to give her space while he goes to get the others, is the one who tells the others what happened, and is the one who tells Aang that he was right that "violence wasn't the answer." Now, people who want to argue that Zuko was pro murder in the episode might say that this is Zuko admitting he was wrong, but the thing is, Zuko isn't proven wrong. There's never a moment where Zuko has to step back and realize that Katara chose something different, because, as I said, he never tries to guide Katara one way or the other. If we were supposed to think Zuko was wrong, then we might see Zuko encouraging Katara to kill Yon Rah while she's holding those ice daggers in the air, deciding what to do. We might see Zuko asking her why she didn't do it. Not only do we not see those things, we also see Katara tell AANG he is wrong and smile at and embrace Zuko.

Which tells me that Zuko telling Aang he was right was not an admission that he was wrong, but more an attempt to mediate the situation. Which is consistently what we see Zuko do in this episode, and in other episodes after joining the gaang, channeling his inner Iroh and acting in a support position to the gaang.

Zuko then asks Aang what he's going to do about Ozai, and this also is not an indication that Zuko is "pro murder" because deposing a dictator is not murder. The only other time Zuko encourages Aang to take Ozai's life is in Sozin's Comet, when he tells Aang he needs to kill Ozai before Ozai kills him. This is also not advocating for murder, it is advocating for Aang to defend himself. Zuko is not saying this because he believes that killing is the answer, he is saying this because he is afraid for Aang. He knows personally that Ozai is not going to back down willingly. Zuko who refused to fight his father and was brutally maimed. Zuko who also faced his father more recently, refused to be goaded into killing him, and was almost killed as a result. Zuko is worried about Aang, and he later tells Katara the same thing.

And overall I find it really suspect that some people want to frame an abused kid who has been a victim of terrible violence as "pro murder" for wanting justice, for wanting to make the world safer, and for being afraid. Some of the things Zuko said to Aang weren't nice, but they were said from the perspective of someone who has been scared all their life and told that they are the problem for being scared and angry and hurt. And Aang dismissing those feelings as just wanting revenge or being unwilling to forgive is not nice, either.

#zuko #katara #the southern raiders

105 notes · View notes

silv3rswirls · 1 year

Text

grin and bear it

Warnings: Mentioned stalking and violence, fear, reader is yandere, Tae is some kind of otherworldly being or something.

Note: I wrote this in like 20 minutes and I'm obsessed with it. I wanna make another part of this but spicier 👁👄👁 maybe? I also have something with similar vibes planned with Namjoon I might post tomorrow, we’ll see

“Why do you run? Do you really think you can outrun me? Darling, you’re no match for me.”

Your door had slammed closed in the face of that eerie, distant voice. All you could hear was your own shaky breath as you tried to shake off the mad dash you had made for your apartment. Your trembling hands rose again to double-check the locks, no real comfort befalling you as you stepped away. You sniffle, wiping the budding tears from your eyes and taking one, then two steps away from the door.

“Baby, you can’t hide from me.”

You froze, eyes glued to the floor as you tried to ignore the voice. The pale light of the moon shone in from your drawn curtains; casting your shadow before you, as well as someone else's.

A tall, black frame loomed over your own.

“What’s wrong? Where’d your bite go, baby? Bear your fangs like the animal you feign to be.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave me alone!” You pleaded, hands coming to cover your eyes as the shadow over you loomed closer.

“Why are you acting so frightened? This is your idea of love, isn’t it?” You tense at the feeling of the man placing his hands on your shoulders. “Look at me” he ordered, a hand moving to clasp around your wrist and pulling a hand away from your face. You open your eyes, wincing at the sight of him.

“How did you get in here,” you ask, stomach-turning. You lived on the third story, the windows were still closed and the door locked.

“Come on, I can feel the guilt weighing on you. You know why I’m here, just admit it.” He listens to the seconds pass in silence, you watch his eye twitch just slightly. He wets his lips and smiles, bearing his fangs. “You’re pathetic, you can’t even say it, should I refresh your memory?” He scoffs, “you loved him so much, didn’t you? So much so, no one else could have him?” He hummed, stepping closer, “that’s why you followed him everywhere you could, stalking the poor boy every second of every day. Don’t even get me started on his new girlfriend, how nasty of you to do what you did. All in the name of love, right?”

Your bottom lip trembled, and your stare grew hard on him. “How do you know that,” you ask.

“I know everything, and so much more.”

It was true; what he claimed you to have done. You weren’t sure why you did it, the rejection just snapped something inside of you. You had never been the most noticeable or desirable, always the kind one to be rejected in the face of something better. And he had found something better in her. Such a rage had bubbled up inside you, you couldn’t help the stalking, the harassing, or the threatening. You just had to make him see how much you loved him.

“You almost killed her, and when she lay there begging for help you just watched and smiled.” He mimicked a kind smile, “bearing your fangs and playing predator.”

“She deserved it” you choked out, stepping back as he took another step toward you.

“Is that shame?” He asked, his dark eyes bearing into you. “guilt is admission.” He tilts his head “and admission serves punishment.”

“You’re one of her friends? Family? Here to make me pay for what I did?”

“I assure you I’m no friend to anyone, but I can promise you punishment.”

A small whimper escapes your throat, and you make a dash to hide in your bedroom, moving to slam the door close only to find it swung back open. He’s still standing in the living room, you can see his frame bathed in shadow and moon. “Not so fun when you’re the one being preyed on?” He quipped, slowly turning, his eyes shining in the dark. For a moment he looks different; a flash of inhumanity takes him. You see twisted horns and pointed claws, the budding spikes of feather protruding his back. He’s no man, you tremble. Is this how they felt when you came before them with wrath? “You were playing predator, but look at you now. So scared when the same is done to you; falling over yourself to try and run. You feigned toughness well, but in the end, you’re just a scared little girl hurting for a happy ending that doesn’t belong to her.”

“You want someone to love you?” You don’t hear any footsteps, suddenly he’s beside you once again. His voice was smooth and thick, “I love you, darling.” His hand is cold against your face as he tilts it to look at him again. “I love you so much, I don’t think I can stand to see anyone else in your life. I think I’ll kill them really.” His voice mocks your own words. His arms wrap around you and force you against his body. He leans to your level, far too close for comfort. You feel his breath on your face, your eyes lost in the endless back of his. He grins, punishment should reflect the action.

“I’ll be around” he whispers, “don’t make me jealous, or you might regret it” He smiles with his teeth again and you close your eyes in fear he’d close in and attack you. “Just grin and bare it, I promise, you’ll come to love me.”

You open your eyes and he’s disappeared.

Taglist: @aris-ink

#bts x reader #bts imagine #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung imagine #yandere taehyung x reader #yandere bts x reader

375 notes · View notes

princess-of-the-corner · 3 months

Note

Basically, here are the three confirmed "High Leaders" of the White Fang and there methods:

Ghira Belladonna: Nonviolent protest, politely asking humans to please stop being racist. Confirmed to have not been very effective at getting results. A better diplomat than activist. Scolded Adam for ACCIDENTALLY killing a human who was trying to kill him after Adam had nonlethally disarmed the rest of their assailants.

Sienna Khan: Respect through fear. Willing to use violence against humans who refuse to accept peace. She also believes in RESTRAINT, as she stops Adam from murdering a human who is downed. Won't lose any sleep over killing someone. Apparently a HORRIBLE judge of character as all three confirmed members of her inner circle were all canonically plotting to kill her in pursuit of their own glory. Prioritizes saving Faunus over hurting humans. Completely willing to hear out a human who respectfully approaches her, even if she is skeptical of his intentions. Understandably does not trust humans. Trusted Adam to train Blake, unaware of his actual intentions towards the girl.

Adam Taurus: Canonically willing to let his subordinates die if it will let him kill humans. Does not care if things get worse for the Faunus as long as it will let him play the hero. While willing to talk the talk, he is ALSO willing to sell out his subordinates to die for a "human cause" if he thinks it will further his own goals. Helps destroy Beacon and tries to destroy Haven in order to live out his rebel leader power fantasy. Groomed a 12-year-old Blake Belladonna to be his trophy wife because he figured every hero needed some arm candy. Regularly gaslit and berated and guilt-tripped Blake whenever she confronted him on his more violent actions. He is especially brutal whenever he fights women, even before jumping off the slippery slope. While he never commits sexual assault on screen, his acts of violence towards women are framed in a VERY specific way. Ordered Blake's parents (one of whom is Menagerie's newest appointed Chieftain and a beloved leader in the eyes of the Faunus) assassinated JUST to spite his ex. His co-conspirators regularly have to reword his orders and fluff them out to make them more palatable to the White Fang. Had no idea his co-conspirators were planning to make him a martyr.

So yeah, Sienna Khan is probably the best leader the White Fang has ever had.

Yeah like!

Much like irl causes re: fighting for the rights of the oppressed, I can see the complicated subject and nuance in what both Ghira and Seinna are doing and the pros and cons of these actions.

Meanwhile Adam is just. Yeah he's not here to fight for anyone's rights he's just using the cause as an excuse to do whatever the fuck he wants.

14 notes · View notes

heinzpilsner · 3 months

Text

Now, when I think about it, maybe I didn't give Zuko enough credit, assuming his central reasoning for tracking Yon Rha was Katara's anger management

Seriously though, the aggressiveness of their behaviour (and a flashback-like framing of Yon Rha story) kinda distract you from the fact that they can have different priorities in mind other than violence.

(Besides, roasting Zuko is fun, what else can I say? I've always been a kind of girl that pulls on her favorite boys' ponytails, lol.)

Maybe it was about getting information in the first place, after all. I mean, Zuko of all people can understand the importance of this - if he got anything from his last encounter with Ozai, it was knowledge.

(About this though. Again, the more I think about it, the more the fact that it was just a lucky result of Ozai's choice, and not a main goal of the encounter, doesn't make sense to me. I mean, imagine: you're going to escape the palace to help the Avatar to kill your father, and you have an uncle to rescue on top of that. Confronting Ozai in this situation only to deliver Zuko's "I've learned a lot, oh my father from whose power I'm supposedly free now" speech is extremely dumb and irresponsible idea. The only reason that would worth the risk was asking Ozai about his mother. Because, if Zuko believed Aang was going to kill Ozai, it could be his last chance to get the information. But I guess the writers decided what parallel Ozai with Azula was more important than common sense.

... I mean, Zuko's speech in itself is good. I actually cried a bit the last time I rewatched the scene with me being russian and all, you know, damn, atla is so relatable. I'd just prefer it was delievered in a different context.)

Anyway, back to the topic.

Zuko spent the whole night in front of Katara's tent, and I suppose it's safe to assume he spent it thinking. Who knows what was going on in his head and to which conclusions he came after his dialogue with Sokka? We can only assume. I assumed the worst, because I mostly read the situation by that the characters say directly (well, also because the results of Zuko's thinking process in the past made me facepalm way to often, lol).

But the more I think about tSR, the more I realise that such a superficial approach to reading the material will not get you far in understanding.

Now, I wonder - was Zuko really all that clueless about Katara's feelings towards him (whatever they may be) at the end of the sleepless night?

If we look at the way he behaved during the trip, and the fact that Katara allowed it, we can see a person who is completely sure in his right to act as the other person's partner. Who is aware of his high value in the eyes of another, and rightfully so.

This, to say the least, would be an alarming behavior for a boy who still believes in a girl's hatred towards him.

In the end, it depends entirely on how you want to read it, I guess.

Clueless And Creepy But Lucky Zuko or Surprisingly Intelligent And Sensitive Zuko, hmm?

Ah, choices, choices~

#atla #zuko #zutara

13 notes · View notes

eliza1911o1 · 1 year

Text

Druckmann stating David is a dark version of Joel is a -10/10 take absolutely not okay because them being parallels implies they share many similarities… David acting as a reflection of Joel’s role (as many of the character’s we meet mirror Ellie+Joel’s position in the story), though, is a 11/10 choice. I believe the showed really emphasized this and yeah, I get it seems nit-picky, but it’s important to note how paralleling the two characters in such a way serves to explain how differently they approach the role of guardian and what could have been if Ellie had met someone else. Additionally, it’s leading us to the conclusion that even a a good person (read: parent) doesn’t always do everything right (*spoilers if you don’t know the game*)

Joel and David are both older male figures who appear to want to care for Ellie. They set these two up for compare and contrast through the role of a “father” figure (an older caring mentor who can be responsible for her). The word “father” is frequently used in ep 8 when addressing Joel as well as when David refers to himself, expressing how both of them are random men who found their way into Ellie’s lonely life. There is also a sense of obsession the two have towards Ellie and keeping her around that is followed be violence, which is utilized as an expression/form of love. Their motives and characters couldn’t be more fundamentally different.

Initially, Joel has no interest in helping Ellie and no expectation of trust. Joel’s conception of a father seems to be the universal expectation of providing, teaching, fundamentally caring for a child’s well-being. The only reason he begins to open up to Ellie is due to circumstance and the ghost of his daughter, who he feels he failed; the association comes with a deep personal trauma by unconditional love. Furthermore, this sense of care is entirely one of a parent, exhibiting care so great that his well-being and even the world doesn’t matter as long as she’s okay

In contrast, David is clearly beyond words off the rails messed up. He does appears to have little to no understandable morals, exhibiting little inhibition to resorting to cannibalism, physical intimidation, sexual violence, and pedophilia. What’s more, from what he insulates, this is not a result of the apocalypse, a breakdown of humanity — instead, this is a part of himself now freed. The apocalypse has not caused this collapse of morals, it has actually justified his propensity for the inhumane. David sees the violence in Ellie, but he’s partially confusing this inclination, which has been fostered by humanity’s collapse, extreme traumas, and general survival. Honestly, I’m not going to even try to understand his mind or why he would think it’s okay to kidnap and potentially try to make Ellie his partner — all that matters for this is how David sees this action as caring for her and views himself in a father role by doing such (he crazy so don’t even try to ask how he came to those conclusions)

On a related tangent (trust me here), ep 8 emphasizes religion quite a bit, most noticeably in the way the community is steeped in some form of Christianity and David is a preacher. Less clearly is this reduction of religion (or a faith in God) to faith in an individual. David, as we learn more about him, seems to have a God-complex, framing his himself as a savior and leader in his community; he utilizes religion to frame his actions as unquestionable. Furthermore, while the usage of “father” is frequent and in places implies reference to, it never directly mentions a relation to God. the opening verse that David reads (Revelation 21:3-4) is also supportive of this, as it states, “God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.” Not only is David attributing himself to a God-like status, but also this position of a “father” as a leader of faith in correlation with Ellie.

We have seen the way Ellie mimics Joel, like in the beginning of ep 8 when she threatens David and James over the deer. She gladly follows his “teachings” and even seeks them, shown in the way she continuously begs Joel to tell her what to following his incapacitation. She’s also only kid and this has been the first time she’s ever been loved in this way, so there’s no reason for Ellie not to feel okay with relying on Joel with almost blind faith.

But Joel is not perfect and he is not prepared to teach a kid how to grow up in the apocalypse. While Joel and David provide similar offers (at least from their first impressions), Joel will never take advantage of Ellie in the cruel way David would have. It actually highlights Joel’s humanity, and so, even when he is torturing and killing men for information on her whereabouts, this feels justified since Joel is a good man and a good father. Joel may cross lines, but it is out of necessity OR maybe he just doesn’t cross too many/the wrong ones, so we’re still able to stand with him.

Nevertheless, this conflict of morals (being a good person in a world where, really, you die if you’re good) has an especially strong impact on Ellie, who is only 14. A major theme of the game and especially so for the show is the concept of violence and idea that, in Ellie’s world, violence has become a show of love. Mazin himself states how Ellie’s tendency for violence has been enhanced through Joel’s presentations of care being through acts of violence, tracing this back to Joel killing the guard in episode 2. David says this plainly to Ellie, how Joel kills a man not defending himself, but defending her. The lines that should not be crossed are blurred; in the apocalypse, do they exist at all?

David, disgustingly enough, leads us the answer: cordyceps love through violence, this is not how humans love. “People need a father” and Ellie is not beyond that. David accepts we’re all animals, but Joel continues to teach Ellie what it means to be more than that through the way he treats her equally, he worries for her, he kills only when necessary (iffy, but at least it’s not out of enjoyment), and simply cares. Ellie has warped violence as a form of love, however, this is not all she knows, which is what makes the end of TLOU pt. II all the more poignant. *SPOILER* albeit stuck in a cycle of violence, Ellie finally decides to end things with her choice not to kill Abby. Though I don’t particularly like pt. II and don’t know if it was perfect enough to justify killing off Joel, I can appreciate the ideas behind it and think the emphasis on forgiveness is a powerful statement

#the last of us #joel and ellie #joel tlou #joel miller #Ellie #tlou spoilers #tlou hbo #tlou show #tlou #tlou meta #tlou game #tlou ep 8

60 notes · View notes

anxiouspineapple99 · 11 months

Text

Of Healing and Breaking Again

Chapter 3 Or The One Where We Are Discovered

Summary: On a mission for Cid The Batch encounters an unexpected ally. Together they uncover a sinister plan being concocted by the Empire that could prove catastrophic for the galaxy. Together they try to save their lost brother, stop the Empire, and come to terms with feelings they never thought would be possible.

Pairing: Tech x FemJedi!OC

Word Count: 4.1k (long boiiiii)

Warnings: violence, mentions of vomit, death, some swoony eyes from our Jedi girly —this is an intense one

A/N: this one was a hard one to write but I thoroughly enjoyed it. It may be my favorite chapter/piece of ff I have written thus far! Hope you all enjoy it too! And shout out to my beautiful lovelies of the tag list! You’re amazing! Thank you for reading and for the support!

Catch up on what’s happened so far: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Avery trudged up to the Marauder first thing in the morning, her stomach in knots. The boys were running the normal pre-flight checks. She inhaled and marched up to them, trying to feign confidence balanced with the overwhelming remorse she was feeling.

“Hey boys, I just want to ahhh…apologize to you for the other day.” Avery rubbed the back of her neck and stared at her feet feeling the rush of shame for how she’d acted. “I’ve been…having a rough time. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Hunter stepped toward her, “Don’t worry about it. Go ahead and get comfortable. We’ll be heading out soon.” She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She proceeded to make herself as unobtrusive as possible when Omega bounded up.

“I’m so glad you agreed to come! You can help us with,” she paused, peeking mischievously over her shoulder at Hunter, and dropped her voice to a whisper, “the mission!”

“I heard that, Omega” Hunter interjected, not looking up from the task he was engrossed in.

Omega giggled and grabbed Avery by the hand insisting she wanted to give her “the official tour” of the ship. She proudly showed off the room her brothers had constructed for her, named who slept on which uncomfortable looking rack, pointed out the refresher, introduced Gonky, and presented Lula with a squeeze.

“And this is the cockpit! Tech says he will only teach me to fly when I can recite all of the Marauder’s specs from memory,” Omega grumbled.

Avery giggled at her visible disdain, “Sounds like he’s just looking out for you.”

“More so my ship, but yes. Some of that is concern for Omega’s safety,” Tech quipped over his shoulder.

“We are set, Tech. You ready?” Hunter asked, leaning on the frame of the cockpit door.

“Affirmative. Everything is ready on my end.”

“Great, let’s get this over with. When we reach the mainland we will split up. Tech, you and Avery will get the medical supplies. Wrecker will stock up on munitions. Echo will stay back to ensure we have no trouble with Imps snooping around the ship. Omega and I will look for Cid’s contact and hopefully secure what we came for. Any questions?”

Avery settled into one of the empty seats in the cockpit, attempting to draw as little attention to herself as she could. She woke up with a feeling of dread she couldn’t shake and it was gnawing at her. She tucked her knees up to her chest and shoved her nose to the screen of her datapad.

“You’re much less conversational than the other night,” Tech had turned to face her. His eyes crinkled as a slight smile crossed his lips.

“Yeah, wine does tend to make me chatty. This,” she motioned absently with her hands, “is your space. I tend to be reserved when I’m not in my element, so to speak. And I prefer listening to talking anyway.”

Tech narrowed his eyes, curiously studying every aspect of her before speaking again, “Yes, well that should not be a problem. Do you know where we are going to acquire our supplies?”

Avery nodded, “Yes. I frequent the same seller every visit. He’s reliable, trustworthy, and reasonably priced.”

“Excellent. You will lead the way when we arrive.” Avery nodded in agreement.

She was about to turn her attention back to the pad when Tech launched into an in-depth explanation of the migratory and mating practices of one of the native bird populations. A little unexpected and she wasn’t quite sure yet where the train of thought had originated but it was interesting. She put her datapad back in her satchel and rested her chin on her knees, listening intently.

He’s pretty cute pointing his finger like that while explaining things. She smiled at the thought.

“Ah, apologies, I am probably boring you.” Tech began to turn so his attention was back on the controls when Avery stuck her foot into the arm of his seat stopping him short.

“Wait, Tech. I’m not bored, I’m enjoying listening to you. I enjoy learning about wildlife.”

“Fascinating.” He adjusted his goggles, looked at her foot, and then leaned into Avery as if inspecting her eyebrows scrunched together quizzically. “That has never happened before. However, we are approaching our destination so we will have to continue this conversation at a later time.”

As everyone scattered to perform their respective duties, Avery noted the Empire's presence had exponentially increased since the last time she was here and something deep within was telling her they were there to find her. Avery pulled the hood of her poncho up, concealing her face as best she could hoping no security holocams captured her face yet. She walked so close to Tech she bumped him periodically. He took a mental note of her proximity to him and observed her body language to get an idea of what was going on. He finally broke the silence when he was certain of the cause of her unusual behavior.

“The troopers make you nervous,” Tech uttered, leaning in to Avery.

“A little bit, yes. Could you talk to me? Ask me questions? Anything to distract me until we reach our destination,” her voice quivered.

“Of course. What should I ask?” He countered with unflappable confidence.

“Anything. Literally anything. You could tell me more about the birds from earlier, or ask me personal questions, I really don’t care,” desperation was creeping into her voice.

“Why Nuna?”

“What?”

“Why did you name your loth-cat Nuna? Those are the impossibly stupid swamp turkeys on Naboo. A strange choice in name.”

“Oh,” a chuckle left her lips and her shoulders relaxed some, “Because when I got her I thought she was as stupid as a nuna, however I’m beginning to wonder if I was wrong about that. She had no real awareness of her surroundings and ran into everything; walls, furniture, you name it. She also puffs up like a nuna when she’s mad.” Tech smiled, amused by her reasoning.

“What made you choose medicine as a profession?”

She looked at him, calculating how she would answer without giving too much away not knowing what he had already discovered from his lengthy research on her.

“I like helping people. Fixing people,” she finally answered. “One of my greatest attributes and biggest flaws probably. I saw all of the suffering the war was bringing. To civilians. To the troopers. I wanted to be useful…a source of comfort and kindness in a war that had little of either. Most of my training happened in the field. However, I think I’ve become a pretty good physician as a result.”

He looked down as she glanced up at him, each holding their gaze a little longer than normal. Her eyes were so blue and her lashes were so long. They brushed her cheeks as she blinked. He hadn’t noticed before and now he wasn’t sure he wanted to look away so quickly. This had also never happened before.

“That is very altruistic of you.”

She had let her guard down, but that also meant she’d stopped scanning her surroundings. Unbeknownst to both of them was the small squad of tk-troopers approaching from behind. Impatiently they shoved through the crowd, with one in particular shoulder-checking Avery with the full force of his body weight plus armor.

“What the stang!” She yelled as she was thrown off balance.

The unceremonious shove from the tk-trooper sent her careening into Tech. In a single smooth motion he staved off her fall, his hands grasping her waist and hers clinging to his forearms. He shot a glare at the trooper before turning back to her. A flush had crept across her cheeks as neither had let go of the other quite as quickly as they should.

“Are you unharmed?” Tech furrowed his brow as he squeezed her slightly.

“Yes, thank you Tech. I am fine,” her stomach still turning though she wasn’t sure if it was because of the anxiety of the presence of the troopers or her proximity to Tech.

In that moment, that intimate moment of them holding each other she felt him. Everyone had a force signature, unique to the individual. Even the clones, especially the clones, were distinct individuals in the force. She could get a general idea of someone's signature from being near them. But this, the touch and closeness. She felt so much of him. He was confident in not just his intelligence but his physical capabilities. He needed no one’s approval. He loved his squad, no, his family deeply and would not hesitate to sacrifice himself for their safety. He missed their brother, Crosshair? Yes, that’s the name she was getting. He was warm, compassionate, and had a strong sense of honor. There was a tenderness there that was reserved for only those he chose to allow in and a selfish part of her suddenly yearned to be one that he allowed in.

“You are safe with me,” his voice was gentle and soothing.

“I know,” she said barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat and continued, “We are here.”

They entered the shop and began quickly checking off their lists. She instructed the man at the counter to add anything Tech was purchasing to her bill. He tried to dissuade her but she insisted it was the least she could do for letting her tag along. She paid and they prepped to leave when it hit her. That feeling, the Force was warning her. Danger. They were here. And they wanted her. Tech was uneasy too. She sensed that as well.

He looked at her, “Let’s get back, now.” She nodded firmly. She glanced at a group of troopers talking to some civvies.

“Have you seen this woman?” They asked, projecting a picture of her. Her breath hitched and she looked away pulling her hood further over her head.

Tech had also seen the exchange and immediately opened his comlink, “Hunter we have a problem.” Her stomach dropped, and she hoped that she wasn’t the problem he was referring to.

Hunter’s voice answered back almost immediately, “I know, Tech. We’ve seen them too. Just get back to the ship and we will lay low on the island until some of the Imps clear out.”

“Copy that,” and with that he closed the link. “Remain calm and keep walking. We will be fine,” he soothed again, eyes fixed ahead of them. She was in awe of his unflappable restraint in what was, frankly, a dangerous situation for all of them.

They arrived back at the ship with no other complications, sans not completing CID’s mission much to Omega’s dismay. They quickly loaded the supplies and once on board, Tech wasted no time getting them airborne and back to the island. Avery leaned against the cold durasteel of the Marauder contemplating her next move. She couldn’t stay. They would find her sooner rather than later. She’d have to try to charter a ship off planet.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Omega, “Why is the Empire looking for you?”

She gave a half smile, “Let’s just say ideological differences.”

Omega tilted her head, “Oh. Us too!”

Avery was taken aback, “Wait, what?” Before any further explanation could be given, they were interrupted by a cacophony of swears coming from the cockpit.

Avery joined them but before she could ask what was wrong, she saw it. Smoke billowing from the island. She pushed through to stand next to Tech in the pilot’s seat.

Her eyes wide and her knuckles turning white from the vice she held on the headrest, all she could manage was a weak, “No, no, no.”

“Tech, I need you to land where we have some cover,” Hunter ordered.

“Obviously” Tech said through gritted teeth. Echo leaped into the co-pilot seat ready to jump in at any moment as Tech brought the ship down.

Hunter began formulating his next plan of action, “We need to get to the village and look for survivors. Echo you —“

“No Hunter. I’m going alone. You all stay here,” Avery cut him off, her mouth set in a hard line.

Tech whipped his head around, “That would not be advisable.”

Avery shrugged, “No, probably not. But your safety is my primary concern. This is my fight. I know that you know they’re here for me. There is no reason to put you all in more danger than necessary. Worst case scenario I hold them off long enough for you lot to bail. I don’t want you waiting for me if things go south.”

Omega’s eyes brimmed with tears, “We can’t just leave you!”

Avery knelt to her level, “You can and you will if you need to. My trouble with the Empire should not fall on any of you.”

“We will hold out as long as possible for you,” said Hunter, placing a reassuring hand on Avery’s shoulder.

“Thank you. May the Force be with you. All of you.”

Avery rummaged through her satchel and pulled out her lightsaber. Clipping it to her belt she breathed in and closed her eyes before walking down the boarding ramp.

Quietly she made her way to the village. She reached out with the Force before it came into view. Nothing. It was the same sickening silence as in the Temple and her stomach lurched violently.

She fought back tears and vomit, “Now is not the time to mourn. There will be time for that later.”

Her home had been ransacked. She walked in and softly called for Nuna as she dug into her hiding places to gather her few necessary belongings: her medic bag, her healing crystals, the box with the second lightsaber she was building, her remaining credits, and her few remaining clothes. As she was about to leave, hoping Nuna had made it into the forest, she heard a mew coming from under some rubble.

“Nuna!” She grabbed her and tucked her on her shoulder inside her poncho. She crept through the village center making her way to Cira’s. She was hoping, begging, praying to the Force that her friend was okay. That she could apologize for their last interaction. That the last time she spoke to her dear friend when she was so harsh and bitter wasn’t the last time. She stood in the doorway, eyes welling and looked on silently. She carefully walked inside and covered the body of her fallen friend. Avery’s heart felt like it was in a vice looking into those eyes, still open with the fear she’d felt in her final moments painted like a death mask on her face. She reached out and closed her eyes.

She whispered as she laid her hands on her, one final time, “There is no death. Only the Force. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for speaking to you so unkindly. For keeping so many secrets from you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, too. You deserved better.” She paused, sensing a presence. She walked back out to the village center, her senses tingling.

“We’ve located the Jedi, sir,” came a disembodied voice. She spun around just in time to ignite her lightsaber and start deflecting the blaster bolts.

Hunter was seated in the cockpit when his senses alerted him to someone approaching. He stood and walked to the boarding ramp where he saw a familiar face.

“Where is the Jedi, Hunter?”

“Hello to you too, Cross.”

“This isn’t a social call. Where is the Jedi?” Crosshair rolled the toothpick in his mouth irritably.

“Dunno what you mean, Crosshair. There is no Jedi here.”

“Don’t lie to me again Hunter. Don’t think I forgot what happened on Kaller.”

Hunter stared at his brother with a mix of sadness and frustration. Echo, Tech, and Wrecker all crowded behind him all wearing similar expressions. They missed him. They wanted him home.

“You don’ have to do this, Cross.” Wrecker said sadly.

“Don’t I, Wrecker? You so sure about that?” There was venom and pain in Crosshair’s inflection.

Hunter was about to say something when a voice came in over Crosshair’s open comlink, “Sir! We had the Jedi in our sights but she evaded us! She is making her way back toward your position.”

“Copy that, I am ready for her. Looks like you don’t have to tell me where she is after all. She’ll be walking right into my arms.”

Tech’s eyes widened in panic and his mouth twitched as he instinctively moved his hand to hover over his deece.

“What’s that look for, Tech? You fond of the traitor?” Crosshair sneered chewing on his toothpick.

Tech stood silent. He wouldn’t kill his brother. He couldn’t. He loved him and wanted him back with the squad. But he would stun him. He wasn’t sure why he was so compelled to protect Avery. He barely knew her. These new feelings would have to be investigated later. For now, he just wanted her back safe on his ship.

Avery crouched at the tree line beyond the Marauder listening to the exchange happening between the brothers.

“Nuna, go to Omega! Now!” She placed the little loth-cat on the ground and she stealthily crept from the hiding spot onto the ship.

Once Avery saw she was safely on board, she tucked her poncho in the medic bag along with the rest of her belongings and emerged. As she passed the boys she dropped the medic bag at Echo’s feet. She made eye contact, nodding toward the bag to indicate he was to take it in case of an expedient escape and he nodded in silent agreement.

She returned her attention to Crosshair, “Hello there, Crosshair. I believe I am the Jedi you are looking for.”

Crosshair sniggered, “You have the arrogant bravado all the other Jedi had, I see. However, she’s the prettiest one I’ve seen so far. I see why you like her, Tech. I’m almost sorry this is how it has to play out.”

“Crosshair, I can help you if you let me. I know you don’t want to do this. I can sense it,” Avery said gently. She slowly approached Crosshair, hands extended. “I will not kill you, or any clone for that matter.”

“Touching,” he hissed through clenched teeth. His rifle was still slung over his shoulder and she wasn’t sure if that was because maybe, just maybe, she was getting through to him or if there was a trap laying in wait for her. Just in case it was the latter, she drew her saber and assumed the opening Soresu stance.

Tilting his head and chewing his toothpick Crosshair leaned forward slightly, “Going back on your word already? Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“No, I meant every word I said. I am just not fully convinced you don’t have a firing squad waiting beyond those trees. I said I wouldn’t kill you. I never said conscripted tk-troopers would get the same compassion.”

Crosshair leaned against a tree, arms still crossed, “Listen sweet cheeks, this is all very moving. But I was sent to detain you, not kill you. I’m following my orders, though given the choice I’d shoot you on sight.”

Avery narrowed her eyes inquisitively, “No. That’s not entirely true, is it though. Like I said, I can feel you. You’re practically screaming in there, I can hear you through the Force.”

Crosshair clenched his fists and scowled, “You are a traitor and I wouldn’t think twice about ending you.”

Before she could argue the semantics of what government entity she was actually a traitor of, she froze her Force sense of danger screaming at her nearly as loud as Crosshair’s desperate pleas for help from inside his own head.

“Crosshair who is coming,” it was sharp as it left her lips. Panic was building quickly. She was skilled in dueling. She had to be. But she wasn’t sure she could hold her ground if she was going head to head against a Sith Lord.

A smile curled at the corner of Crosshair’s mouth as he shrugged nonchalantly, “That’s above my pay grade.”

She spun on her heel and faced Hunter, “Whoever is looking for me is here already, you need to go. You boys aren’t trained for what’s coming.” Hunter opened his mouth to argue but Avery barked, “That’s an order, sergeant! So help me, I will pull rank and Force push every single one of you into that ship. Do you understand me?”

“Hello little Jedi,” a sardonic voice cooed.

Avery looked back, slightly relieved to see that it was only an Inquisitor. It wasn’t a Sith Lord, but the Inquisitors were still sadistic, ruthless, and not her first choice in opponents. She immediately transitioned from Form III to Form V. Soresu would be fine against Crosshair and some tk’s since she wouldn’t have needed any offense. Just deflect, disarm, and run. Against an Inquisitor though? He didn’t have a blaster, his weapon of choice was a lightsaber, bled and corrupted crystal still screaming inside the hilt.

“Good work CT-nine-nine-zero-four. You’ve served well. I can handle things from here.”

“Crosshair,” she couldn’t help herself. She was staring death and darkness in the eye and she still had to say something about those kriffing numeric designations that made her blood boil.

“What was that little Jedi?”

“His name is Crosshair. He’s not just a number,” she hissed, as she idly swung her lightsaber around to warm up. “And you will refer to him as such when you’re in my presence.”

A dark laugh escaped the Inquisitor, “Your reputation precedes you. Bleeding heart for the clones through and through.”

And before anyone could blink the Inquisitor closed the space between them, but Avery met that speed with her own, blocking the blow of the red saber coming down on her head with her own teal light humming and buzzing as they collided in contact. She called on the Force and for the first time in a long time she felt it strongly pulsing through her veins. Parry, parry, block. She let the Force guide her as she went on the offensive. Side step, block, parry, block. She realized The Batch were all still cemented to the ground staring in shock.

“Hunter! Go! Get out of here!” Her yell jarred them back to reality. She could see the hesitation in their faces before they ran back up the boarding ramp. Wrecker hauled Omega over his shoulder as she screamed for them not to leave.

The Inquisitor took advantage of the momentary distraction and Force shoved Avery into a tree, knocking the wind from her lungs and the lightsaber from her hands. She rolled as he surged forward, only just missing her with the blade. Catching her breath she dodged attack after attack still unarmed. She managed to call her saber back to her with the Force just in time to activate it and block what would have been a devastating blow. They were nose to nose, only their crossed lightsabers keeping them from touching. She could feel his hot rancid breath on her face.

The Inquisitor jeered, “You’re stronger than you look, little Jedi, but not strong enough.” She felt her knees buckling, the strength in her arms wavering. His eyes mocked her and for a moment she thought that she was finished. She closed her eyes, breathed in, and pushed back with everything she had. She managed to knock him off balance, nearly throwing him to the ground.

She squared up again, face steeled, “I am one with the Force. The Force is with me! I am Doctor Avery Leto, Jedi Consular of The Jedi Order. I am not a little Jedi. I am a healer, a peacekeeper, and wielder of the light side of the Force. And I will be a force to be reckoned with.”

The Inquisitor laughed bitterly, “Your emotions betray you! I see your anger and sadness, your shame! Oh that shame is delightful. And now I end you little Jedi, but alas will it be by my blade? Or should I delight in ripping out your trachea?” And in the next moment Avery felt her throat clamp shut.

He’s made his choice it seems. Too cowardly to fight fair in a proper duel. Can’t say that surprises me.

She only hoped she could think of a plan quickly as she already felt her consciousness slipping.

Tag List Lovlies 💕: @msmeredithrose , @808tsuika

23 notes · View notes

socially-awkward-skeleton · 9 months

Note

“Sweetheart, you’re so responsive to my touch.” + jacob/kit:3

And another smut prompt fill that took me way too long to finish. Apologies I'm so bad at keeping up with prompts despite asking for them.

Anyways....

Here's a bit of smutty goodness between two sickos (affectionate)

18+ smut under the cut. Minors DNI.

includes: a very bratty kit, one old man trying to act like he's not into it when he is, pet names, vaginal fingering, mild bondage

This was a new kind of torture, a new form of punishment. The threats of violence, of being hunted and of being “trained” had little effect on her now. They just spurred her on, made her fight harder, strike faster against her targets. She was a predator who refused to so easily become his prey. The Deputy had become resistant to his methods and if he wanted to break her she was going to make him work for it.

He’d already chased her down, sent a slug through her shoulder – A quick snap of the wolf’s jaws to remind her who was in control – and had her in his possession once more at Saint Francis.

All was as it should be.

Sitting tied up to a chair in his office her eyes scanned the room, checking for exits, for weapons, for points of interest. That tactical mind of hers never slowed down even in a situation where she had little hope of getting free. The soldier was always there waiting just below the surface.

He circled his desk and sat against it, leaning forward. Staring down at her, icy eyes roamed across her physique appreciatively, hunger barely hidden in the dark pit’s of his arctic blues. “Now Deputy, you didn’t really think storming my Chosen’s training grounds would go unpunished, did ya?”

Pale eyes dragged back towards him from a spot in the corner of the room, one auburn brow lifting at his threat. “Thought they were supposed to be your best?” She sighed, “Lackluster.”

Her bite was just as harsh as his, and whatever he gave her she was always willing to give back.

He huffed out a laugh, stalking towards her wagging his pointed finger in her direction. “Well shit, look at the gall on you.”

She rolled her eyes to look up at him through her lashes. “You gonna toss me back into the cages without food again, make me fight for my life? Go ahead. I’ve seen your worst. I’m not scared.” She stretched out the muscles of her shoulders, pressing them against the backrest of the chair, making the material of her tank top squeeze tighter against her breasts, the neck pulling down to better frame her scar carved upon her chest.

Like clockwork, his animal nature took over and despite the control he maintained over himself she managed to break down every barrier. His eyes fell, with perfect aim like the sniper he was, landing exactly where she meant for them to target.

“Is this the new game?” She husked. “Going to keep me tied up in here with you? Bore me to death while you go over reports?”

His eyes narrowed, tongue dragging across his teeth, as she spread her legs a little wider. He knew exactly what she was doing. Trying to tease him. To tempt him. She was smart, and wasn’t above using biology to get what she wanted.

“Or, are you going to actually make my time spent locked up here worth my while?” Her hips rolled forward as she sank back into the seat like a lounging cat.

Pouncing forward, his hand gripped her jaw, sliding down to hold her throat. She gasped, her lips spreading gently as his coarse facial hair started to scratch against her cheek. Her breath hitching in her throat when he maintained a gap of barely an inch of distance.

“Is this what you want, kitten?” He rasped.

She swallowed. Hard. Her throat bobbing against his hand. He couldn’t help but stare at her lips as she dragged her teeth over the pout of her bottom lip. More attempts to use his more base nature against him while also falling prey to it herself.

“Maybe.”

“Goddamn, you are so much trouble. Ya know that?”

“I like to keep you on your toes, soldier.” Her lips curled into a smirk as she teased him.

“I bet you do.”

Standing over her the same way he had that first time she was in his hands, bound to be used as he saw fit just as she was now, they stared into each other’s eyes the same way they had in that little hotel room at the Grand View.

“You gonna be a good girl for me, angel?”

“Suppose that’s up to how good a job you do.”

Jacob growled deep from the back of his throat, and his nimble fingers – well practiced from taking apart and cleaning guns only to put them right back together in record time – deftly undid the button of her jeans. His hand slipped down the front of her panties making her moan at the first touch of his skin against hers, and pretty pale eyes fluttered shut.

“What was that you were sayin’?”

“Please…” she whispered.

He didn't move his fingers, he just cupped her folds in his big hand, rough and calloused skin pressed against her flesh. “Say it again, Deputy.”

“Please, Sir.”

“That’s my good little Kitty.” Moving his hand slowly, he combed his fingers through the bush of coiled red hair at the apex of her thighs. As he glanced over her clit it was clear she was ready for him, her folds dewy with the slick of her arousal. He leaned in a little closer, his lips just grazing against hers. “As much as I’d like to hear every pretty little moan of yours and listen to the way you sing for me, angel, I gotta make sure you learned your lesson.”

Ragged, raspy breaths dripped from her lips. She keened, trying to shift towards him, at least moving her mouth closer for a kiss. Something. Anything.

Cocking his brow, a smug grin taking over his face. “You that desperate for me already?”

“Jacob –” Kit’s eyes became wide, pleading. Her chest heaving as she started to pant. The wait for her had to be excruciating. “- You know I am.”

His fingers slipped further down, the cotton of her moist panties sticking to his skin. He had all the proof he needed that she was telling him the truth.

“What are the odds I could make you cum without touchin’ you at all.”

Cat eyes narrowed at him. “You wouldn’t.”

He couldn’t help but tease her. She was always so much fun to bend because she never entirely broke. She was too strong for that.

“Oh I don’t know, Deputy. You know I like to play with my food some.”

“Don’t you dare do this to me,” she pleaded.

“In case you forgot this isn’t supposed to be fun for you, angel.” Jacob warned.

Her lip curled into a snarl, but he didn’t fear losing her interest, that just meant she was more willing to fight. That was what she was best at, and making her angry only made her more of a fervent participant in their dance.

“You’re the one who shoved your hand down my pants. What the hell else was I supposed to think it was?”

A cold chuckle slipped from him, hot breath fanning against her face. “Ya caught me.”

“Don’t think I’m asking for a lot here,” she said through gritted teeth.

Kit rolled her hips against his hand, looking for any bit of friction she could get even while they were arguing. It wasn’t enough to get her off. He’d never let her get that close, not like this anyway.

“What’s in it for me?”

“The satisfaction of –” Her breath hitched as he slid a finger into her. “- knowing you beat me.”

“That is a very tempting offer,” he purred.

Sliding another finger up inside of her, he curled them both, dragging them in and out, pressing against her sensitive walls.

Her head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut tight, mewling. “God, your fucking fingers…hands are so fuckin’ big.”

Smiling against her cheek, he whispered, “What other nice things you got t’say about me, Deputy?”

“I’m not here to feed your –” another elongated whining squeal dragged from her throat. “Your ego.”

“Aw, but sweetheart, you’re so responsive to my touch. I’m sure I could have you singin’ my praises without much effort at all.” His palm cupped against her clit perfectly, pressing against it as he rocked his wrist back and forth, pushing his fingers up into her right to the knuckle. He took a moment to appreciate the wet sounds that followed his movements. She was absolutely drenched, her inner thighs coated in her arousal, panties soaking, even her jeans had darkened with the mess her cunt was making. “So wet for me, kitten.”

“Only you,” she said through shaking breaths.

He smiled, and finally kissed her like the starving man he was. Her moans caught in his mouth like a snare.

She was his, all his.

Jacob broke their kiss and smiled, dark and mean. “That’s good, Dep. That’s real good.” He had her eating out of the palm of his hand. Domesticated.

With a few more thrusts of his fingers he had her writhing. Her thighs going stiff, a shiver coursing through her, fingers clawing and kneading at nothing but the air and empty space behind her back as she cried out.

“Tell me again why you thought you could take on my Chosen all on your own,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.

She bit down on her lip until it bled, and he was quick to drag his tongue against it to taste her.

He wasn’t afraid to just keep pushing her until she finally gave in and told him what he wanted to know. Moving his fingers inside her tight cunt until she couldn’t hold out any longer, driving her through one orgasm and out the other side into another one.

She whined.

Still fighting.

“Come on, Deputy. You don’t have to make this harder than it needs to be.”

He rubbed at her clit with his thumb, running rough circles against it until she started to clench around his fingers still inserted inside her.

“Because…’cause I'm strong,” she blurted out.

His mouth twitched into a grin. “And? Come on, angel. We haven’t got all day.”

“I - I wanted –”

Her skin had flushed, pretty in pink just for him from her chest up to her cheeks. Breasts heaving with each aching breath caught on her words and in her throat.

“Uh huh?”

Fingers continued to glide back and forth, to stretch her open, to push her to her limit. She was so close.

“Fuck!” Her head lolled forward, her forehead resting against his chin as she fought to catch her breath. “I wanted to show you how strong I am,” Kit whispered.

“That’s it. That’s my good little kitten.”

Tipping her head back, he kissed her once more. Sliding his knife from the holster on his thigh, he cut the ropes that bound her. Her arms were quick to wrap around him, dragging him down into her embrace.

#nsft #far cry 5 #fan fiction #jacob seed #jacob seed x female deputy #oc: kit cross #ship: the wolf and the wildcat

14 notes · View notes

rogue-durin-16 · 2 years

Text

BRAINS OVER BRAWN

Summary: using herself as bait in order to protect Max, Chrissy is dropped at the Creel's residence with Dustin and Eddie as her guardians. Unfortunately, someone tips off Jason after spotting Dustin outside the murder house.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham

Genre: angst w/ happy ending

Tags:

Eddissy: @chaoticlovingdreamer @acvross-the-universe @queenofstarsanddarkness

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, violence, guns, blood

A/N: props to my best friend for giving me ideas to write a believable fight scene between Eddie and Jason, because this one was complicated af. Also say thanks to Grace Van Dien for putting out there which songs would have saved Chrissy from Vecna, we love you queen. Enjoy babes <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I gulped, my legs wobbling once my white Reebok sneakers landed on the sidewalk by the Creel's house. This was crazy. Was I really doing it?

With each step I took towards the entrance, I became more and more dazed; the Brigitte Bardot's cassette that Steve Harrington had struggled so much to find faintly played through Eddie's headphones, though it was currently being muffled by the stammering of my heart.

What was I thinking? I wasn't brave —not braver than Max Mayfield, at least. But Max was a kid.

I felt a finger gently tap on my shoulder, snapping me out of my negative train of thought that threatened to go downhill.

I spun my head to my right, switching the attention from the ominous stained glass to a concerned Eddie, pointing at his ear as to tell me to remove the portable music player.

With a sigh, I did what Eddie requested and took off the headphones, letting them hang from my neck.

"You okay?" Eddie questioned in a whisper.

He wasn't a fan of the plan. Specially, not of the part in which I ventured into the lion's den to act as bait. He didn't particularly like the idea of Dustin being there either, but groups of three were made, and at the end of the day, the Creel's house was the safest.

If you didn't have me on account, of course.

"As okay as I can be right now." I limited myself to reply, tugging on the sleeves of my newly acquired leather bomber in order to stop my fingers from fidgeting.

"Hey," the tall boy reached for my hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. "We're not letting him get to you again, right Henderson?"

We both turned to the freshman, who enthusiastically nodded. "The moment it gets remotely bad," he raised his right hand, showing me the big radio cassette player we had grabbed from Eddie's trailer. "We're calling in Brigitte... Bardot, or whatever her name is."

Dustin's words made the corner of my lip twist up in an endeared smile, which Eddie turned into a relieved breathy laugh the moment he spoke again.

"You can bet they'll hear her all the way from Indianapolis." He joked, bumping my shoulder with his. "We're not taking any chances here."

"Promise?" It was almost inaudible, but Eddie caught it.

"Promise." He assured me, intertwining his fingers with mine, automatically diminishing my anxiety.

Something about Eddie's presence made me feel unbelievably safe —which was actually hilarious if we considered that, just a week earlier, the idea of meeting him alone in the woods made me uneasy at the very least.

My two assigned protectors awaited in silence for me to be ready and give them the cue to enter the abandoned house.

"Screw it," I let go of Eddie's hand and, after doing a couple of little jumps on the spot, I put back on the headphones and grabbed the door knob. "Let's do this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

EDDIE'S P. O. V.

I was trying not to pace, to sit still by Chrissy's side as she stayed crosslegged in that dusty attic, holding her hand like she had asked me to. My knuckles had turned white and my palms sweaty from complying.

Her eyes were rolled back while her petite frame slightly convulsed on the spot, making her ponytail and bangs wave as if there was a breeze of fresh air coming from somewhere. The little notepad rested open over the wooden box before us, her last scribble on display for me.

'Thank you ♡'

Thank you. I still couldn't understand why she had trusted me to keep her body safe in the abandoned house while her mind battled with Vecna, trying to slip away from his grasp.

And even though I didn't understand, I would carry out every wish and need she had, because, fuck, she deserved every good thing in our fucked up world.

Every. Good. Thing.

There was a rage, a frustration, tightening like barbed wire around heart after listening in silence to all the bad thoughts she spilled to trick Vecna into taking her; all those horrible things about herself that she, to some extent, believed to be true.

I was ready to tell her the truth once she woke up; how she was beautiful —inside and out—; how she was the farthest thing from a horrible daughter for not listening to her mother; how she was capable and brave, so brave, and a good person.

I was ready to tell her that she didn't have to fulfill anyone's expectations but hers, that she didn't have to change her body to fit into anything, that Jason was the problem for not listening to her and not the other way around.

But to tell her all those things, first she had to fucking wake up, and she had to fucking wake up soon or else...

"C'mon..." I muttered through gritted teeth in the lowest tone possible, unable to refrain myself from emitting any kind of sound.

Stay with her.

"Fuck." I halfheartedly let go of Chrissy's hand to peek through the boarded up broken window. "C'mon, Dustin." I pulled the flashlight from my back pocket and pointed it to the playground's direction.

On-off. On-off. On-off.

Nothing.

I looked over my shoulder to check Chrissy's state; it hadn't changed, but something inside of me was telling me we needed to rush.

"C'mon, Henderson." I turned back to the window, sharpening my eyes in order to try and see in the dark.

On-off. On-off. On-off.

"What the fuck." I took a step back from the window. Dustin wasn't there, he wasn't in the playground. God, we didn't need more problems.

Staring at Chrissy's vulnerable, entranced state, I debated between trying the communication through light again or going out to check why wasn't Dustin responding.

It was just as I turned to turn on the flashlight again that the front door, three stories down, was slammed open, loud enough for me to hear the hit.

"EDDIE!!!"

My heart missed a beat at the freshman's distressed scream, following by fast, loud steps up the stairs that quickly came to a halt.

Forgetting about my task of remaining silent, my immediate response was to yell back, "DUSTIN?!"

Nothing.

Something was wrong. Something was so wrong.

"Motherfucking..." I muttered, as scared and stressed as I would ever be, running to grab the Brigitte Bardot cassette from my walkman. "Son of a bitch. Fucking... Christ." With shaky hands, I sprinted back to the window, under which the radio cassette player had been set, and threw it in before attempting to make my way downstairs.

I could barely get past Chrissy before my pace died down.

"Holy shit..."

Just when I thought I couldn't be more distraught, I was met with Jason fucking Carver climbing the attic stairs, left arm holding Dustin against his chest while his right hand held a gun up to the kid's head.

Great, just fucking great.

"Fuck me." I instinctively raised my hands in surrender, eyes ping-ponging between Dustin and Jason, whose deranged glare wasted no time in scan the place and therefore finding Chrissy in a matter of seconds.

"You fucking freak!" Jason shouted, taking slow steps forward and therefore making me step back at the same speed. "I knew you had her." I saw his bloodshot eyes stare at what I figured was Chrissy's back, but didn't dare to look at her.

"Dustin, you okay, man?" I chose to ask, as laid-back and possible, my attention focused on the scared freshman forced to walk in front of the jock.

Dustin's quick nod made Jason's focus snap back to us, pressing the barrel against the kid's temple, which made my whole body stop functioning and Dustin's lids be screwed shut.

"He won't be okay if you don't back off."

"Listen—"

"Back off!"

I had no option but comply, trying not to stumble while I mantained the six feet distance between us, only stopping after Jason reached Chrissy.

"Chris?" He crouched, manhandling Dustin with an iron grip to check the cheerleader's state. "What did you do to her?!" He yelled, standing up and turning his head to me so fast that it might as well have given him whiplash.

"Listen, let the kid go, alright?" I nearly begged, seeing Dustin's eyes welling up with tears he refused to spill.

"I'll let him go when you let her go!" The loading of the gun dramatically echoing in the eerily silent attic nearly put me under cardiac arrest.

When my body unknowingly tried to move forward to reach the curly haired boy, Jason yanked him back, a string of curses falling from my lips as he did so.

"Eddie—"

"Henderson, shut up." I ordered with widened eyes. Thank God the blond boy wasn't trigger-happy. "Jason, you don't understand—'

"I do." He growled. "The only reason why I didn't shoot you on sight is because I understand, you satanic freak."

"Dude, I'm catholic." I replied with unnerving levity.

"Eddie! remember your first campaign with us?" Dustin's words were a quick, nervous gibberish. "The Gnolls that attacked the party." Luckily, Jason had decided to try to decipher whatever the kid was saying instead of shutting him up for good. "Gareth's idea. Brains over brawn."

Oh boy, this was gonna suck for me.

"What's he talking about?!" Jason urged me to explain, the loose strand of hair hanging over his forehead trembling. "What does that mean?!"

I shrugged, giving my head a slow shake. "I have no idea, man."

"Cut the bullshit. Here's what's gonna happen." He drew a loud breath, jaw clenching as he tried to put himself together. "You're gonna wake her up." Without blinking, he tilted his head to Dustin. "Or I'm gonna kill him."

God, my heart was jackhammering to the point it made me dizzy. Why did it have to be me handling this situation? Killing off a couple of nightmarish bats would have been much easier than dealing with a delusional, unhinged jock with a gun who also happened to hate my guts.

This was on me for volunteering to be Chrissy's protector. What was I thinking? I wasn't brave.

Fuck it. Bravery or not, I wasn't going to let Jason hurt Dustin or get to Chrissy.

Brains over brawn, Eddie. Time to roll the dice and hope for it to score a high number.

"I'm sure Chrissy would looove to know you murdered a fourteen year old in her name." I commented, risking adding a sarcastic undertone to my words.

"Wake her up, you fucking psycho!"

"Psycho?" I scoffed, looking down at the basketball player. "That's rich from the guy pointing a gun at a kid." I tried to bring in a watered down version of my usual histrionic demeanor, hoping to bewilder Jason enough for him to forget about Dustin. "Maybe I should wake her up. Let her see you like this. She would hate you." I dragged the last two words in a slow tone, trying not to startle the blond senior while simultaneously riling him up.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" He seethed, though there was a tinge of fear showing in his irises. "You don't know Chris!"

"And you do?" I huffed, eyes squinted at him. "You don't even know what she was going through." My reproach was genuine, flashes of Chrissy's tortured, miserable state coming to my mind accompanied by the echoing of her dark confession to Vecna.

"If she was going through anything, she'd tell me!" His grip on Dustin loosened, and so did the need to press the pistol against his head, since he was now motioning at the girl with it. "She trusts me more than anything!"

"That so?" I dared to take a step forward. "Then why was she in my trailer and not in your house?" The guy was now vibrating with rage, and God would I be enjoying it if it was not for the imminent danger threatening all of our lives. "You know what I think?" I taunted in a low voice. "I think you've never listened to her."

"Shut up, Munson."

"You never even cared about what she had to say, did you? And why would you, Jason?" My voice, which was previously a mocking whisper, began to gradually raise. "She was there to sit still and look pretty, wasn't she?"

"SHUT UP!" He finally tossed Dustin to the ground, nearly making him bump into Chrissy, and menacingly cocked the gun at me.

"She's a trophy for you, right? Something to show around." I egged on, trying to convince myself that he would not shoot, when we all knew quite well what he was capable of. "The Head Cheerleader and the Basketball Captain. What a fucking cliche."

"I love her more than anything."

"Really? Because it looks like you just wanted an excuse to come after me with a loaded gun, pretty boy."

"I'm going to kill you, Munson." He declared, knuckles white from the tight grip on the butt of the gun. Fuck, if the bullet didn't stop my heart, the fear would.

"All talk no action. I guess that's why Chris swapped you for the freak, huh."

I knew the nickname would strike that final nerve, so I braced myself and tried not to falter when I heard the bullet being shot.

Though it never came; Dustin had pushed the gun away, forcing Jason to shoot the roof and earning the kid a well packed punch.

Letting out a warcry to hype myself up, I leaped forward, tackling the shorter senior and sending us both to fall on the creaky planks on the attic's floor.

Using the initial shock and the fact the the gun had slipped from Jason's grasp as my only advantages, I propped myself upright on my knees and threw a blow down full force, making it crash into the blond's cheekbone with a strength I didn't know I had, leaving a cut on it from my chunky ring and the jock momentarily stunned.

I clutched my fist with a hiss, feeling my own stinging pain from the hit on my knuckles.

"EDDIE!!"

My head instinctively snapped at Dustin, and I was first met with the cause of the terrified scream; Chrissy beginning to raise from the floor.

"THE CASSETTE!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.. "DUSTIN, THE C—"

Pow!

Jason's knuckles hastily colliding with my jaw marked the end of what I knew to be my strike of luck.

My reflexes were clearly not as good as an athlete's, so in my dazed state, I could do close nothing to dodge a second blow, way more calculated than the previous one.

After trying to shake Jason off me and attempting to unsuccessfully land a couple of hits of my own, I opted to shield myself.

I barely registered the melodic, ironically lighthearted voice of Brigitte Bardot being blasted through my radio cassette player; thankfully, it took Jason so aback that he halted his vicious attack on me.

"STOP THIS!" His hysterical threat came out muffled by the blood thumping in my ears. Through swollen, blurry eyes, I saw how Jason scurried away in Dustin's direction.

No way.

Drawing strength from the adrenaline, I managed to kick the jock in the guts before he could get up. I pushed myself off the wooden floor, making it squeak under my weight before charging at Jason once more with a loud cry.

I knew it was a losing game, and Jason confirmed it the moment he not only deviated my fist to crash on the planks, but also switched our positions; with a crazed glare, he held me in place by taking a fistful of my blood stained shirt to push me against one of the posts supporting the damned attic's structure.

I didn't hear the thump behind Jason.

CHRISSY'S P. O. V.

"Stop running, Chrissy." The devil-like voice was calm; he was taking his time to chase me through the beautiful playground he had recently turned into a goreish nightmare. "It's time."

I stopped running by the swings; my chest heaved and tears blurred my eyes once more. He was right, it was time.

That was my last genuinely happy memory. There was no point in trying to get away anymore, and that broke me.

"Chrissy." I let out a shriek at the closeness of his voice. Frozen in place by the horror I felt, I could only widen my eyes, my legs dangerously shaking while he circled me until we stood face to face. "Stay very still." He ordered, raising his clawed hand until it hovered over my head. "It'll be alright."

It'll be alright.

The words Eddie had scribbled on his notepad moments ago while we waited alone for Phase Two came to my mind, accompanied by his soft half smile as a saving grace.

I didn't know if that would count as a happy memory, but I had to try. Pushing out of my thoughts the fact that Vecna was inches away from me, I shut my eyes and visualized that instant as vividly as I could, tears spilling from my closed lids.

Moi je joue à joue contre joue

Je veux jouer à joue contre vous

Mais vous, le voulez-vous?

"You think a song will save you, Chrissy?" He mocked me, tilting his head to the side. "Nothing will s..."

I had no time to think before the ground split beneath me while everything dissolved into dusty smoke, including Vecna.

I caught a mere glimpse of it before falling into a seemingly never ending darkness that made my stomach sink and knocked the air straight out of my lungs.

And then... Thud!

My feet hit the ground without a warning, cheerleader instincts kicking in and making me react on time so I wouldn't break my ankles.

It took a while for my senses to register anything aside from my hyperventilation, the undusted old wood beneath me and the deafening singing of Brigitte Bardot.

"Chrissy!" Two trembling hands grabbed my forearms and forced me to meet a curl framed face.

"Dustin?" The kid was on the verge of tears, visibly torn between leaving my side or making sure I was alright.

And then every violent sound silenced by the cassette started to come to me; the tussling, the grunts, the hits, Jason's raging screams.

The gun lying at arm's reach on my left.

EDDIE'S P. O. V.

"You think I don't know why you chose Chrissy?!" He yelled, fisting my shirt; had I not being so battered, I would have worried about him tearing the cheap fabric. "You think I don't see how you look at her?! YOU FUCKING FREAK?!" His voice cracked while he shoved my head against the post, triggering a worn out wince from me. Shit, I was so gonna have a serious concussion after this. "YOU'VE" Punch. "ALWAYS." Punch. "WANTED HER!"

Bang!

I didn't even flinch at the shot, but Jason did. His hands instinctively went up to somehow cover his head, but someone else was faster on the attack, shattering a vase against my attacker's temple and successfully freeing me from his iron grip.

Dustin's shoe flashed in front my eyes to kick Jason's semiconscious body off of me before hooking his arms around mines, dragging me away from the jock.

It was only after my perspective of the room had changed that I saw Chrissy struggling to stand up, the gun held firmly by both of her hands.

Like a rabid animal, Jason was soon clambering scarily fast towards me and Dustin, making us both scream as if that would somehow stop him.

"Get off them." Chrissy's stern, tired voice was barely audible over the song, but it was enough to make Jason change his mind about resuming the fight.

"Chris— Chris, it's me, babe." It was scary, how gentle he turned once he realized Chrissy was out of the trance. He wasn't in much of a hurry to rescue her from us now that she was aiming the pistol at him.

"What did you do?" She questioned in a grieving mumble, glassy blue eyes stealing a worried glance at my form.

"Baby, put down the gun." He ordered, getting up from the floor in an attempt to make his way to Chrissy. "I don't know what this freak did to you but we'll make it right."

"Don't get any closer." She warned the basketball team captain, taking a step back in order to rest against one of the wooden posts.

"Babe, I know you're scared—"

Determination and anger twisted Chrissy's face before she tilted the barrel down ever so slightly, shooting right in front of Jason's feet.

"I SAID DON'T GET ANY CLOSER!" Dustin's hold of me loosened, most likely due to feeling more protected now that Jason seemed to be listening to Chrissy. "Dustin? Can you get Eddie to the stairs?"

"I— I can try." The kid was able to sit me up but, despite putting in his best effort, I couldn't even stand up before we stumbled back to the floor. "Fuck."

Chrissy seemed to ponder her options, brows furrowed in concentration.

"Turn around and walk to that corner." She ordered Jason, momentarily cocking the gun at the farthest place from the attic's entrance.

The boy's bewildered eyes landed on us, then the corner, then Chrissy again, switching back and forth between the end of the gun and her cold gaze. "Chris, c'mon." He chuckled, trying not to let the nerves slip. "You're not gonna shoot me."

"I don't want to shoot you." She corrected him, jaw clenched and eyes squinted as if she was battling with her soft self and her own fears to make the following statement. "But I will if you touch Eddie again. So," Jason gulped, now more convinced by his girlfriend's words. "You're going to turn around, and walk to that corner."

Unable to react different due to the shock of the situation, Jason did nothing but obey, walking past us livid with widened eyes and hands up.

"Stay there." Chrissy's stern voice faltered while she put the gun down and rushed to us, her strong demeanor crumbling into pieces once she kneeled in front of me. "God..."

"Bad, huh?" I questioned, trying to lighting the mood but obtaining the opposite.

"It's going to be okay, Eddie." she didn't sound very convincing, but what was remaining intact of my body melted when she took off her scrunchie and carefully put my hair back in a bun. "It's... God, okay. That's a lot of blood."

"Great." I hissed, clenching my fists when Chrissy used her fingertips to move my bangs out of the way.

"Dustin, you have water?" By the way Chrissy's were automatically casted down, I figured the freshman, who kept me sat upright, had responded negatively. "We're... We're gonna get you to a hospital, okay? C'mon."

She moved to my side, draping my left arm over her shoulders and linking her fingers with mines before prompting Dustin to do the same.

With extra support, a little pride and a lot of pain, I was able to start walking.

"Waitwaitwait," I stopped them at the stairs, earning a worried look from both. "Can't go to a hospital, they'll call the police."

"Eddie, I don't know if you noticed but" Dustin motioned dramatically at my upper body with his free hand. "This is bad. Dying beats jail."

"Do I... look like I'm dying?" Chrissy's overenthusiastic 'no!' overlapped with Dustin's deadpanning 'yeah'. "I mean, it does hurt like a bitch."

"Listen, we'll get you to a hospital." Chrissy began, taking a step forward for us to follow her lead. "I'll— I'll stay with you, okay?"

I vehemently denied, feeling instant regret when that simple movement made me prone to lose balance and fall down the old stairs. "What about Vecna?"

"I think the plan worked." Chrissy shrugged, locking her eyes with mine. Now up close, I could appreciate how bloodshot they were. "The song... It wouldn't have worked."

My breath hitched, my left hand tightening around hers as if that would stop her from disappearing again.

It wouldn't have worked.

"It's okay, Eddie. He's gone." I hope. She didn't say it, but both Dustin and I could hear that thought. "Wait here, guys." She asked in a soft whisper once we reached the bottom of the stairs. So different from the harsh tone she had used with Jason minutes ago.

Speaking of which— Chrissy run upstairs, her ruined, soiled skirt shimming gracefully as she did so.

She was down in no time, wiggling Jason's car keys in one hand while the other held the gun limply against her thigh.

"I got ourselves a ride." She stated, sporting a smile way too warm bright for the situation. God, I loved her smile. "I gotta warn you, I'm not the best driver." She commented, throwing my arm over her shoulders once more.

"Well, look at it this way, we're driving to a hospital anyway." Dustin pointed out, making Chrissy laugh, her eyes squinting as she shook her head and casted it down.

Following her movements, my eyes inevitably fell on the stuffed pocket of the jacket Nancy bought her at War Zone, which until that moment had been empty. The two notepads we had used to communicate before baiting Vecna peeked from it.

When she looked back up at me and noticed what had caught my attention, she gifted me a small, timid smile.

"Happy memories." She simply said, only loud enough for me to hear. "I need those."

Happy memories.

My heart made a flip, and I felt like a middle school kid all over again.

134 notes · View notes

hlizr50 · 2 years

Text

Capri Sun Girl - ACOTAR Writing Circle

Words cannot adequately describe how excited I am to be able to bring to you the third and final installment of Capri Sun Girl for the ACOTAR Writing Circle, organized by @azrielshadowssing. It has been the most fun and I really hope we don it again!

This story was originated by the lovely @ofduskanddreams

Read Part 1 here

Part 2 can be found here, and was written by the amazing @headcanonheadcase

To catch up with the other works, and to read all the final parts as they are finally posted, check out the ACOTAR Writing Circle Masterlist.

And now, without further ado, I present to you part 3 of Capri Sun Girl

TW for brief descriptions of captivity and violence

Azriel pulled the lightweight frames from his face and rubbed at his eyes. A glance to his watch reminded him that it was nearly two in the morning, and his relentless leafing through pictures and legal documents had still produced nearly nothing. So little to act upon in the three weeks since he and Gwyn had taken that fateful call, sitting on the couch just across the room. It seemed like a fucking lifetime ago.

She’d spilled everything to him after he’d hung up with Cass. The tears in her eyes had broken his heart, but not nearly as much as her story had. Azriel had held her hands and thumbed away her tears and gathered her into his arms, determined to make her feel comforted and safe.

And as he’d sat there with this incredibly strong and resilient and glorious woman in his embrace, he’d begun planning. He almost felt insulted that Cass had even felt the need to call him and ask for his help, as if he wasn’t already falling head over heels for Gwyn. But his brother had no idea that his blind date had gone�� well, it had gone infinitely better than he had ever expected. The blue-eyed redhead had seated herself firmly in his heart, and nothing would keep him from protecting her from this.

And Cass had known that if anyone could do it, it was Azriel.

Without being too cliche, Azriel possessed a very particular skill set - one that had allowed him to retire with a generous government stipend for the rest of his life. But idleness had never suited him, so he utilized the intelligence gathering talents that he possessed to offer consults and guidance to police departments and private investigators throughout the country. And now he would use the skills that his superiors had called ‘extraordinary’ to find the bastard that had killed Gwyn’s sister and had made her life a waking nightmare in the years that had followed.

“Az?”

He turned toward his name and found her in the doorway to his room, rubbing her eyes. The movement caused her t-shirt to ride up, exposing a thin sliver of the softest pale skin above the pink and teal stripes of her sleep shorts. He couldn’t help but grin. She was a vision, even then, the oceans in her eyes darkened with sleep.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured, opening his arms to her. “Everything okay?” Her lips pouted adorably as she padded toward him.

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” she muttered, those lips turning down. But that didn’t keep her from placing herself in his lap and tucking her head under his chin. He took a moment to press a kiss to her hair before leaning his chin on her again, his hands stroking idly over her back and exposed thigh.

“I’m sorry, baby. Just been doing some work,” he sighed, glancing over the papers and photos scattered across the desk. Photos of the two of them playing pool that first night, one of them sharing a kiss outside of her apartment building, and multiple pictures staring straight at her apartment window. As soon as those had arrived in her mailbox, Azriel had insisted that she stay with him. Her roommates had shipped out, as well, both staying with their significant others. He had recommended it - this asshat wasn’t above going after Gwyn’s friends to get to her. But if they weren’t easy targets, he would likely keep his focus squarely on the object of his sordid affections. A speckled hand reached out to the picture closest to them and turned it over, hiding the image of the two of them.

“Words can’t describe how grateful I am that you’re so dedicated to finding him, Az.” Gwyn’s soft words vibrated against his chest. “But you need to rest.” His arms tightened around her involuntarily, as if the moment he let her go she would disappear.

“I can’t let him hurt you, Gwyn. I–”

“But you can’t do it all on your own. It’s 2am, and I can tell you’re exhausted.” She’d lifted her head, and his eyes met hers. They were wide with concern, pleading with him. And, Gods, how could he tell her no? “Please, Az. Come to bed. The others will be here in the morning, and they can help.”

She was wrong. He could do it on his own. He’d done it so many times before, had immersed himself so deeply into cases that he’d barely eaten or slept. It had bordered on obsession, and it was the reason that his brothers had convinced him to retire. Azriel couldn’t stand the thought of returning to that dark place, especially now that Gwyn had entered his life. He wouldn’t allow himself to fuck this up, and this was a vital crossroads.

Azriel stood, sweeping her up in his arms bridal style, and carried her back to his bedroom. It might as well be their bedroom now, and the thought sent a shiver of satisfaction down his spine. Wordlessly, he set her down upon the mattress, only taking enough time to remove his t-shirt before climbing into bed with her and pulling the comforter over them.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he offered, pulling her close. The apology was genuine - it felt like a failure, in a way, to not be there for her. Even if it was just that she’d opened her eyes and found herself alone, when she should have been wrapped in his embrace.

“It’s okay,” she answered breathily, snuggling into his chest. Her warm breaths puffed against his bare flesh, thawing the cold determination that had fueled his ceaseless search for answers.

“But it’s not.” Her eyes met his, shining even in the dark. “It’s not okay, Gwyn. I used to become so obsessed, so rabid. I wouldn’t eat or sleep, I would lash out at my family. I never want you to see that side of me. I don’t want that person to exist ever again.” He felt her long, elegant fingers trace over his cheek.

“I know who you are, Az,” she whispered. “And I know you’re worried, and determined. But I feel safest when you’re right here.” His heart swelled at her words, and he captured her lips in a tender kiss.

“Then I will be right here, Gwyn,” he promised. He pondered on that as she tucked her head under his chin. They were words that he meant, with all of his heart. He wanted to be by her side for as long as she would have him. Until she couldn’t stand him anymore. Hopefully that would be forever, and the notion hit him like a brick wall. Had his heart been so claimed by this woman that, after just a few weeks, he was ready to promise the rest of his life?

And was it so surprising, honestly, that the answer was already yes? He’d been thinking of her since that first night, when she’d shoved a red solo cup into his hand and bravely - recklessly - confronted the man who had made her life hell. Azriel might have been in love with her since that moment, and their blind date had only sealed the deal. And as he drifted off he wondered just how soon was too soon to declare his love, and if she would offer her own heart in return.

~~~

Nesta groaned as she fell into the hard metal chair, the bustle of the dining court echoing around them. Gwyn snickered, joining her friend.

“My feet are killing me,” the redhead moaned, tilting her head back as she stretched her legs in front of her. “But it feels so nice to do something so… normal.” Her friend hummed her agreement.

She’d been living with Azriel for nearly two months, ever since she’d found the first photos in her mailbox. There had been nary a peep from him since then, and nobody had been able to track him down. Not even Azriel, though he worked tirelessly, spending far too much time poring over the same documents and photos and keeping long hours. His determination to find her stalker fascinated her, and made her feel all warm and treasured inside. But it also worried her, and nothing had thrilled her more than when she, Nesta, and Cassian had finally convinced him to take a day off and rest.

When she had left with Nesta, a shopping trip in order, the unfairly attractive man had tried to make her promise to text him throughout the day - when they arrived, what she’d bought, what stores they were going to. But Gwyn had laid down the law, ensuring him that he would not be receiving any texts under any circumstances. She’d left him with a kiss and a command to sleep, and her vow that she would see him when they got back.

“Is there anywhere else we need to stop?” Nesta murmured. Her eyes were closed, her body also unused to walking so far and trying on so many outfits. Gwyn peeked at her, chewing on her lower lip before answering.

“I want to get something for Azriel. For everything he’s done. Just as a little thank you, you know?” she replied, still unsure about what she could possibly get him. He wasn’t exactly hurting for anything, and she wasn’t sure just how heartfelt she could go. Would it freak him out that she was pretty sure she loved him? That he’d claimed her heart the morning he’d held her, after learning that Blake had been released? She wasn’t sure, but it seemed that he might feel the same.

“Sure, but can we eat first?”

With a giggle, the redhead agreed.

After the best mall Chinese food money could buy, the two young women were slouched in their chairs, lunch settling in their stomachs while they planned their next stop.

“Hey, I’m going to hit the restroom really quick,” Gwyn chimed. “Watch my bags?” Her sharp-eyed friend nodded, and she made her way down the long hallway while checking her phone.

Gwyn hummed to herself as she washed her hands, looking forward to the end of their shopping trip and returning home. Home. Her heart did backflips in her chest when she thought of it - of Azriel’s penthouse apartment being home. And it had nothing to do with the immaculate design or the incredible view, but everything to do with the man who had become her safety. Her love. She pushed through the door, still lost in thought, eyes focused straight ahead to the opening of the corridor that led to the dining court.

It was a mistake. All of it. The contentment, the lowered defenses, the hope that this could be the beginning of normal.

And she knew it as soon as the rag covered her nose and mouth, sending her plummeting into darkness.

~~~

Azriel awoke to incessant buzzing, so continuous he could no longer ignore it. Who the hell was calling him, when everyone had told him he might as well turn his phone off and sleep all damned day? He reached for the offending device, squinting his eyes against sleep as he looked at the screen.

Nesta.

Why was Nesta calling him, over and over and over again? His stomach lurched and twisted.

Nesta was with Gwyn.

Why was she calling him when Gwyn could be calling him?

“Hello? Nesta?” he answered, the anxiety squeezing his lungs.

“Az.” Her voice sounded all wrong. Shaky. Thick and rough. Wrong. “I’m so sorry, Az. I don’t know what happened! She just went to the bathroom!” Nesta rambled, and his alarm only grew.

“Nesta, I need you to slow down. What happened?” He swallowed the panic rising in his own throat. “Where is Gwyn?”

“She’s gone. She went to the bathroom, and she never came back.”

Azriel launched himself out of bed, doing his best to keep his phone to his ear as he pulled on a pair of track pants and a t-shirt, all the while barking questions at Nesta. His phone gave a short vibration in his palm, and he looked at the notification.

A text.

From Gwyn.

He opened it, heart leaping that she might be okay. Maybe this was all just an honest mistake, and she was on her way to find Nesta now. But when he read it, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Special Delivery

Then another message came through.

A special gift has been left at your door.

Azriel barely registered Nesta’s voice calling through the speaker on his phone, but his attention was singularly focused on his door. He reached into the drawer of the small end table he’d placed inside the entrance to his apartment, pulling out the handgun he kept there. He stared out the peephole, seeing nothing, and swung the door open, pistol cocked and ready.

But the hall was empty.

He looked everywhere before his gaze drifted down, landing on a manila envelope. He tucked the gun inside his waistband and picked it up, holding his breath as he opened it and removed the contents.

Three photos. The most devastating, enraging images he’d ever seen.

Gwyneth Berdara - his Gwyn - on her side on a wood floor. Wrists bound behind her back, coppery hair mussed where the blindfold and gag were tied behind her head. She didn’t appear to be injured, but it was hard to tell. Her eyes were closed, and Azriel prayed she was just asleep or unconscious.

Somewhere, back in the apartment, Nesta was still calling to him. He only managed to shout for her to get Cass and get to the apartment as soon as she could, before he fell to his knees and let himself fall apart.

Cassian, Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta, Mor, and Emerie were all stationed in different areas of the living room and dining room, combing over every photo and document, text message, email. Everything that they’d had on Blake Henderson and everything that had connected him to Gwyn. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the unspoken statistics looming over everyone, Azriel most of all.

It was very, very possible that Gwyn was already dead.

But he couldn’t even fathom it, couldn’t give that thought any room to plant itself in his chest and grow into desperation and fear. If that happened, he would never be able to put himself back together.

“What about the locations we scoped out last month?” Cassian offered. Azriel just shook his head.

“Those were warehouse spaces. Concrete floors. The floors in the picture are hardwood. They look old, but well-maintained.”

“You know,” Nesta began, “the house Gwyn lived in with her sister and her parents had wood floors throughout. It’s out in the country. Isolated. But not far from here.”

Azriel pursed his lips. “And Henderson would know where it is?” he asked, thinking it was a stretch. But it was better than what they currently had, which was nothing.

“It’s where he killed Catrin,” Nesta answered softly. “That’s why Gwyn sold it after her parents passed away. She couldn’t stand the thought of stepping foot there again.” The puzzle pieces started connecting in his mind. His gaze flicked from person to person, friend to friend.

“Do we have that documentation? From the sale of the house?” The shuffling of papers seemed to swallow him, precious seconds and minutes ticking away.

“Here!” Feyre called, reading through the packet with the listing information and buyer offers. She read the names of agents and clients, and Azriel’s hope began to fizzle. “Oh, my God,” she breathed. His eyes widened, begging her for something - anything - that would give him a lead. She spoke the agent’s name before turning the packet of paperwork so he could see. There, scrawled in bold black letters, was a name and an offer - $10,000 over asking price.

Blake Henderson.

Cassian spewed a string of colorful curses as Nesta and Em fell onto the couch, expressions crestfallen.

“Did she not know that she was selling her house to the man that murdered her sister?” Rhys asked the question that had begun banging around in Azriel’s head after this revelation. How could someone so intelligent and no-nonsense like Gwyn have allowed that to happen?

“She had no involvement. Once her parents were gone she didn’t even want to step foot in the house,” Nesta answered. “She basically handed it off to an agent and told her to do whatever she could to get it sold as soon as possible.” Soft hums of acknowledgement sounded from all around him. That made far more sense.

Azriel pushed down the devastation, the bone-rattling guilt that he hadn’t figured out that it was her fucking house that Henderson had been using. But none of that mattered, not when he knew. Not when he had an address.

She had to be alive. She would be. Blake would not be toying with him if she weren’t. And so Azriel grabbed his keys, beckoned to his brothers, and stalked out the door to rescue the woman he loved.

~~~

Gwyn hadn’t stopped trembling since she woke up, her lashes fluttering open just to find more darkness. Coarse fabric covered her eyes and cut through her mouth, her inability to move from the chair she was in only ratcheting her panic to a nearly unbearable plane. She cursed herself and the universe for allowing her to be so helpless. Again.

Crying and screaming had done nothing but exhaust her, and the gag had made any of her pleas indiscernible. Her wrists and ankles were raw where she’d pulled and jerked against the abrasive rope that secured her to her seat. Her shoulders were forced behind her uncomfortably, arching her back. She had no hope of hiding her body from whatever he wanted to do.

It had to be him that had brought her here. Surely there wasn’t another terrifying stalker out there whose sights had landed on her.

Wood creaked, and she jerked her head toward the noise. She thought to demand who was there, before remembering the gag in her mouth, but the haughty, chilling voice that drifted to her made it quite clear that her captor was exactly who she assumed it was.

“Gwyneth Berdara. I’ve waited so long to see you again.” The sentiment skittered down her spine, her entire body freezing as the wood creaked again. A staircase? An old one. Her eyes pricked with burning pressure, and she knew she was a moment away from crying. That was okay. How many times had her therapist told her that crying did not make her weak? “I was disappointed not to see you at my parole hearing. But I’d been such a good boy in prison that they let me go, and then I got the chance to find you myself.”

The scuff of boots against the hard floor circled her, echoing around her along with his taunts. It was silent except for that and the hissing of air as Gwyn desperately tried to control her breathing. When she felt his breath burning the shell of her ear the tears started, her body tremoring at his nearness. He could do anything he wanted, and she had no means to prevent it.

“I must admit, little bird. Finding you myself has definitely been quite–” he ran his nose up the length of her neck, inhaling deeply over where her pulse hammered with terror “--exhilarating.” The whimper that escaped her was nothing short of pitiful and desperate as her fear trailed down her cheeks. Roughened fingertips brushed over her jaw and followed the fabric of the gag to the back of her head. Much to her surprise, those fingers worked at the knot until they could pull the material away from her mouth.

“Please,” Gwyn begged, too panicked to worry about sounding so weak. “Just let me go. I won’t say anything. They’ll be looking for me. Azriel will be looking for me. He used to work for the FBI. You won’t get away with this.”

“You always were a chatty one,” he crooned. “You think your new little boyfriend will be able to find you? Do you think he cares enough to go through the trouble? We’re not in the city, little bird. I didn’t get to take my time with you before, and that is something I intend to correct.”

There was a sickening sound of her t-shirt ripping up the front, those broad, rough hands spreading the thin cotton apart to expose her skin to the damp, chilly air. Her legs exploded in goosebumps. Then the fingers were at the back of her head again, untying the blindfold and pulling it away.

The eyes that met her teal gaze were nearly black. Lustful. Deranged. Blake Henderson hadn’t been an unattractive man, but he had felt entitled to Gwyn and her sister, just because he was a man and they were beautiful. Her bleary eyes bore into him, willing all of her hatred and stubbornness and will to survive into that glare.

But he just grinned, crooked yellowing teeth revealed behind thin lips, and held up a glinting switchblade in his hand. “Such a brave face, little bird,” he snickered as he ran the flat edge of the ice-cold blade down her cheek. He flipped the knife over in his fingers and leaned in close, his lips tracing where the metal had just kissed her flesh. “Don’t hold back, now. We’re going to see how well you sing for me.”

And when the blade dug into her stomach, dragging across her unmarred skin, there was no hope of keeping the scream from erupting from her lips. All that was left was a fleeting, desperate hope, a prayer that Azriel would find her before there was nothing left to find.

~~~

The enormous, blacked-out Escalade practically crawled to a stop at the end of the driveway, each foot feeling like hours in Azriel’s frantic mind. The scene outside the passenger side window was near idyllic: a sprawling three-story farmhouse with a wrap-around porch becoming silhouetted in the golden afternoon sunlight, a white picket fence that had become faded with chipping paint and the dust from passing cars.

A number of laws had been broken to get him here in half an hour - a drive that should have taken at least 45 minutes. On the way, Rhys and Cass had helped him work through his plan, which included parking on the road so the crunching of SUV tires over the gravel driveway would not give away the impending fury that Blake Henderson was about to face.

Assuming he was here.

Azriel shook his head, banishing the threatening mental spiral. He was here. He had to be. The pictures from the listing had matched the floors in the photos of Gwyn, and it was far enough out of the city that Henderson would likely think that he would have plenty of time.

Spoiler alert: he didn’t.

And if he had laid a single finger on his Capri Sun girl, there would be nothing stopping the former FBI agent from putting a bullet through his fucking skull.

The door barely made a sound as he slid out, grunting instructions to his brothers as he checked the safety on his pistol and ran his fingers over the knife on his belt.

“Rhys, I want you in the driver’s seat as soon as I leave. We need to be ready to move as soon as I get her out.”

“Hey!” Cassian interjected, a crazed, feral grin lighting his features. “Why does he get to be the getaway driver?”

Azriel’s head tilted back as he heaved a great sigh, begging the universe for patience. “Because as much as I don’t give a fuck about this car as long as Gwyn is okay, I trust Rhys far more to drive it going 90 down a dirt road.” He fixed a hazel gaze on the more burly of his brothers, who groaned in response.

“Oh, come on. I wrecked your car one time. And that was, like, twelve years ago!” he argued.

“You totaled my brand new Maserati, you buffoon,” Azriel growled. With a pout his brother folded his arms and slumped back into his seat.

“Fine,” he grumbled. But then he dipped his chin, eyes darkening. “Good luck, Az.” Azriel looked toward Rhys, whose violet eyes simmered with cool ire.

“We’ll be here, brother,” he murmured, voice smooth and menacing. “And whatever happens, we’ve got your back.”

With a nod, the black-clad former agent gripped his gun and made his way silently up the drive. He cursed every crunch the gravel made beneath his feet, but it was still unlikely that he would be heard. There were so many rooms in the house, including a basement, which was where he surmised Gwyn would be. The closest entrance would be the front door, but that felt too easy and obvious. So Azriel jogged around the porch, gun at the ready, grateful with each silent gulp of air that he’d kept up on his cardio.

When he reached the back door and turned the handle, the door swung open, and he couldn’t contain the eye roll that followed. What a fucking cocky, amateur piece of shit. To just assume that a country home with a basement would be enough to keep retribution from coming to claim him–

A shriek pierced the air, muffled by a door or two, and Azriel’s heart plummeted into his stomach. All thoughts retreated from his head as his focus narrowed to one solitary truth.

That bastard was hurting her. Hurting his Gwyn.

Blood rushed in his ears, the roar of rage drowning out everything around him. Swiftly, he found the door he knew would lead down a set of wooden stairs, just as the real estate listing had shown him. As he descended into the partially finished basement the din in his brain quieted, giving way to the tearful panting and jagged breaths that belonged to someone in pain. Azriel lifted the gun, preparing for what he might find when Gwyn and her captor came into view. Henderson had his back to him - another rookie mistake - but it was the scene that was partially obscured by the murderer and stalker that boiled his blood.

Gwyn - the girl he’d never stopped thinking about for years - was tied to a chair, a gash painting her stomach with blood. Another cut over her thigh. They weren’t terribly deep, he could tell, but they promised to be painful. And as the light glinted off the silver blade in Henderson’s hand, Azriel didn’t even have to think. In a blink he’d raised his gun and fired.

Gwyn’s captor fell to the ground, his miserable, worthless life draining from the hole in the back of his head.

Azriel was before her in an instant, gun holstered, her wide eyes trained on the body at her feet. He winced inwardly at the blood that had spattered her cheek, mixing with her freckles. He wanted to touch her, to grab her and hold her and never let go. But he couldn’t even tell if she knew he was there, so he lifted his hands and spoke as soothingly as he could.

“Gwyn? Gwyn, look at me.” Her head jerked toward him with a sharp inhale, and the surprise and panic glimmering in the churning seas of her eyes nearly broke his heart. Gingerly - oh so softly - he touched his fingertips to her cheek.

“Az?” she rasped.

“Yes, baby. It’s me. I’m here.” His whispered words were harsh and jagged, his needy hands finally gully gripping her face. “I’m right here, baby,” he breathed, their gazes locking over scant inches.

“Y-y-you… you c-came for me.” Her body was trembling so violently as tears streamed down her cheeks. His thumbs brushed at them as he leaned in, his brow against hers.

“Of course I came for you, Gwyn. I could never let you go. I love you too much.” Azriel pressed his lips lightly to hers before releasing her face and sliding the knife from its sheath, his focus shifting to the ropes at her ankles, then her wrists behind the back of the chair. “Move your arms slowly, baby. Your shoulders are probably extremely stiff.” Rounding to her front he ripped off his jacket first, then pulled his black t-shirt up over his back. Gwyn winced, trying to flex her shoulders as he used the black fabric to rub away the blood on her face. He turned, then, to the wounds on her stomach and thigh, pushing his crumpled shirt against the injuries. “I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he cooed when she hissed against the contact.

When he was satisfied that he’d staunched the worst of the bleeding, he wrapped his leather jacket around her and scooped her up into his arms, tucking her head against his neck. Azriel took a moment to note the body on the floor with a grimace, already planning for the cleanup required. Then he started up the stairs, his long legs skipping every other step in his haste to get her out. He paused at the front door to murmur into her hair.

“Let’s get out of here, baby. Let’s go home.”

She nodded weakly against him and he pressed a kiss to her head, before pushing out into the waning evening sunlight and fresh country air, freedom on the breeze.

~~~

Three months later

Azriel’s grin was exasperated as the women argued, loudly and enthusiastically, about which “book boyfriend” was the best. He’d been a bit alarmed to hear about the one who had apparently punched his mate in the face and called her worthless early in their so-called relationship, but had given a satisfied, silent ‘that’s my girl’ when Gwyn balked and practically gave a fully researched presentation on how there were clearly many much better choices. Complete with citations from the text.

Apparently he had more competition than he realized. Maybe the private penthouse library for her had been a bad idea.

“Okay, I’m headed out to the pool.” Nesta’s voice floated to where he sat on the patio, just outside the open sliding door. “You better be out soon, Berdara.” His soon-to-be sister-in-law gave him a grin as she passed, before moving straight to scolding Cassian for even thinking of splashing her. Azriel waited a couple minutes, lips tilting down when his Capri Sun girl didn’t emerge from the bedroom. He didn’t give himself a chance to overthink as he quickly stood and made his way into the room, calling her name softly to warn of his approach.

Gwyn stood before the mirror, and Azriel lost every thought and feeling in his body… except for a near-painful hardening below the waistband of his trunks, the lining of which would likely not be particularly successful in hiding his reaction to seeing her in that fucking swimsuit that she’d kept hidden from him.

Cobalt blue with silly, useless ruffled straps that she wore off the shoulders. Her toned stomach and back on display between the swell of her breasts and the low rise of the scant bikini bottoms. The muscular swell of her thighs started right below a little peek of a perfect, grabbable ass that he wanted to palm. So much tempting, freckle-flecked flesh on display, Azriel had half a mind to throw a robe over her and not allow her to walk out the door, lest anyone else realize just how fucking sexy she truly was.

But his desire cooled as he watched her, seemingly unaware that he was even there. Those sunlit ocean pools were focused on where her hand passed over a stripe of uneven skin, slicing almost all the way across her body just a few inches above her navel. Her lips quirked down, a fingertip tracing the line before moving to its twin on the outer curve of her left thigh.

Scars.

A constant reminder of what she’d endured. As if she needed it. As if the nightmares that pulled her screaming from her sleep - and some of his own - were not enough. Losing her sister so traumatically, and the ensuing years of being terrorized by the man who had done it… his Gwyn had already been through more than enough before he’d ever truly known her.

But now she had physical scars to match the emotional ones. And though nothing about her could ever be less than stunning, he hated them. Hated that she had to bear the marks of his failure to keep her safe, the marks of a system that continually failed to serve the people it was made to protect.

Gwyn had scolded him enough for his guilt, and he did try his best to overcome those feelings. The first time he’d frowned at the sight of her scars - his perceived failure igniting him with self-loathing - her reaction had nearly broken him. He was so thankful that she was the straightforward, no-bullshit woman that she was. That she had initiated the conversation, even in her vulnerable state. He could have torn his heart out when she confessed that she feared his response was one of disgust for her, that looking at her now would be different than what they’d shared before Blake fucking Henderson had carved into her flesh. He’d kissed and caressed the offending marks, reassuring her that his expression had been solely due to his own incompetence - that he had not been able to save her from wearing the bastard’s violence forever. They’d had a good cry about it, and he was grateful that they could speak their truths and their fears to each other so openly.

Suddenly, Gwyn swiped at the bottle on the vanity next to her, taking a big swig before her eyes found his through the reflective glass. She gulped, having been caught, and returned the bottle to the wooden surface with a dull clink.

“You okay, baby?” Azriel stepped up behind her and ran his hands from her shoulders to her elbows, up and down, up and down, as he tilted his head to press a kiss to her temple. All the while his focus never strayed from the reflection of those expressive teal eyes.

“Yeah,” she started, voice hoarse for a moment, laced with emotion. He gave a tiny lift of the corner of his mouth, gentle encouragement for her to continue. “I don’t… have a problem with the scars. I just don’t want that to be the first thing people see. I don’t want them to become my… identity? I don’t know if that makes sense.” Azriel’s chest squeezed at the admission, the corners of his eyes tightening as emotion swelled. The woman in the mirror - in his arms - had been so strong for so long. It was amazing, awe-inspiring. But there was no small part of him that was nearly devastated with gratitude and satisfaction that she knew that she didn’t have to be so tough with him. She let him see her uncertainties, her cracks, and he filled them with love and understanding and encouragement.

He dipped his chin, lips brushing the smattering of freckles on her shoulder. “They are not who you are, Gwyn. Everyone here - everyone that matters - knows that, without a doubt.” One arm circled her, his broad palm falling over the line of paler, recently healed skin and pulling her close. With his other hand he brushed her hair over her left shoulder, so he could kiss below her ear and whisper his convictions straight into her mind and soul. “They are a part of you, and that alone makes them exquisite.” He felt her face flush, a delicious heat against his lips. Her body shivered against him.

“But, more than that, they are not reminders of pain or weakness. Or guilt,” he added, knowing that she hated the way he felt like a failed protector. He’d saved her, after all. “They are simply testaments to your incredible fortitude, your strength in the face of so much shit that you should have never been forced to endure. But you did, and the fact that you are still the most compassionate, thoughtful, generous person on the face of the planet is just even more proof. These marks aren’t your identity. They’re just another way for you to show the world that you take no shit. And I love them for that.”

Gwyn turned to face him, his arm still wound around her, his palm now against her lower back. Her delicate fingertips left a trail of smoldering flames as they crawled up his bare chest and neck before finally landing, her hands cupping his sharp jaw. She lifted herself to her toes, her face turning up to him, and he met her with a searing kiss, a promise and a prayer, pouring everything he said - and everything he couldn’t - into where they joined. A heated melding of lips and tongues, until she pulled away, her lungs heaving beneath his hand.

“I love you, Az,” she murmured, a small smile painting her face. Even though it was small and gentle, it lit parts of him that nobody had ever been able to reach before. That tiny grin was brighter than the scorching summer rays that beat down right outside, where their family and friends were lounging by the pool. Azriel had always loved spending time with his family, quiet and broody as he’d always been, but it had never been truly right. Not until her. Not until a sassy little redhead had pushed a solo cup into his chest and went marching after a sociopath, a warpath that he never could have known would lead him to where he was now. The former FBI agent grinned back.

“I–”

“Gwyneth Berdara, if you don’t get your pasty ass out here right now I’m going to spoil the end of House of Sky and Breath! Emerie will hold your hands behind your back so you can’t cover your ears as I read you the last page!” Nesta’s threat burst in through the open bedroom and patio doors, and Azriel couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped as his Capri Sun girl’s eyes grew wide, lips pursing in adorable fury.

“Don’t you dare, Nesta Archeron!” she screeched back over his shoulder. In a blink, Gwyn swiped the glass bottle from the table and pushed it into his chest, his skin erupting in goosebumps from the chill.

“Hold my beer,” she demanded, lips curling into something mischievous and sexy as fuck. His hand covered hers, the beverage beneath, and he leaned in for another taste of her. It was quick, over too soon, but it was full of lustful promises for later. Then, just like that first night, she stalked away from him like a warrior goddess, intent on righting this wrong. He smiled to himself, something settling within him, knowing that this time he would find her after. Every time. Forever.

Tag list: @headcanonheadcase @ofduskanddreams @damedechance @mystical-blaise @daevastanner @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @imsointobooks @booknerd87 @houseofhurricane @vikingmagic33 @live-the-fangirl-life @secretlovelybeauty @positivewitch @meher-sumedha @flora-shadowshine @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @shisingh @sagureads @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @writing-spaces @onemorenightdreamer @feyretale @almosttenaciousmoon @live-the-fangirl-life @silverflameataraxia @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @kimstclair @mercarimari @romancebooksandshit

#gwynriel supremacy #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #acotar #gwyn x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #fanfiction #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel fanfiction #fanfic #acotar writing circle #acosf #my writing #my fanfiction #gwynriel collab

70 notes · View notes

sourwolf-sterek32 · 2 years

Text

Broken Trust

Summary: Y/N Walsh meets Daryl Dixon while working as an undercover Police Officer. But, when Daryl finds out the truth about you, you’re forced to move back to King County.

While on duty, a bullet puts you and Rick Grimes in hospital and when you wake up, the whole world has changed.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Language, violence

Previous chapter

Chapter 26-

That night, you slept on the couch, Michonne on the other couch while Andrea slept on the bed. Nobody spoke all night and you could have sworn Michonne hated you, until she approached you during the party.

Everyone was gathered outside, enjoying the nice weather and drinking cold drinks that the Governor had put in the freezer for the special occasion. Although, you had no idea what the special occasion was, but the people seemed to be having a good time with barbeques cooking and soft music playing.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" Michonne's voice suddenly asked.

You glanced over your shoulder to find her walking towards you, "of course, what's up?"

She nodded over shoulder indicating for you to follow her. The two of you walked down the street away from the mass gathering of people and once you were out of earshot Michonne stopped walking and turned towards you.

"You're a cop?" She asked, although it sounded more like a statement than a question. you just nodded, unsure of where this conversation was going to go. "Cops are smart. whats your gut telling you about this place?"

"Honestly, my gut is telling me that it's too good to be true. There has to be a catch to all of this and that Governor guy... I don't know, there's just something off about him. You think that too, don't you?"

Michonne nodded before something caught her attention in the building behind you and you frowned when you realised it was the Governor walking past the window upstairs. It was hard to see through the curtains, but there was definitely someone with him inside, someone small. Who the hell was in there with him? Everyone else was at the party.

"You can see the kid in there too right?" You asked quietly as you stared at the two figures through the window.

"Yeah... do you think that he's..." Michonne trailed off, but you knew what she was trying to say.

That the Governor was keeping some kid locked up in his bedroom. You knew something was off about the guy, but you didn't think it would be something like this.

"Maybe. We wait for him to join the party, then we go up there and see what's going on." You suggested and Michonne immediately nodded in agreement. "Until then, blend in. Try and act happy like the others."

It took nearly an hour before the Governor was distracted with the party and began to make a speech at how far they had come and how grateful he was for the community. Which was when you and Michonne slipped away.

Silently the two of you snuck into the house and it didn't take long before you reached his bedroom as you pulled your handgun from your holster and walked inside. Your police training kicked in as you swept the room, doing a full internal patrol before you nodded to Michonne that the place was clear.

You holstered your gun and began to look around the room, trying to find any sign of a child being inside before something caught Michonne's attention. She walked over to some glass cabinet and pulled out a white katana. You watched as she instantly slung it over her shoulder like second nature and you knew that it was her weapon. It suited her.

"Hey." Michonne whispered, snapping your attention away from the katana on her back as she pointed towards a photo frame on the coffee table.

You walked over to her and glanced down at the photo and you sighed with relief. It was a family portrait of the Governor and his wife and daughter.

He had a daughter.

He wasn't some pedophile who kept kids locked up in his room, like many people you had arrested back in the day. He had his own daughter, that's who you and Michonne had seen earlier.

"Well, now I actually feel bad for assuming the worst. The dude has a kid. Shit, maybe this place isn't as bad as what we thought?" You asked out loud, but before Michonne had a chance to say anything the sound of something banging filled the air. "What the hell is that?"

Your hand immediately reached for your gun as you looked in the direction it came from, spotting a wooden door which you assumed lead towards a bathroom, but now you weren't too sure.

You walked over to the door, pulling your gun back out and holding it by your side before you reached for the doorhandle, but it wouldn't budge. Who the hell locks their bathroom?

You were about to try kick the door open before you heard voices outside that were getting closer. Your head quickly snapped back towards Michonne who stared at you with wide eyes before nodding over her shoulder and the two of you ran into the kitchen.

She managed to get behind a wall to the left, but you couldn't reach it before the door to the room opened. You quickly dropped down behind the island bench in the kitchen as you sat there with you back to the bench and your hand gripping tightly around your gun.

"Trust me, I love a party. But, we are using a lot of resources. For instance the generators." A familiar voice stated and you were pretty sure the voice belonged to that Milton guy who you had seen around the place.

"I thought you love a party." The Governor responded as you closed your eyes hoping they wouldn't come into the kitchen.

"Come on, Milty. Lighten up, for Christ's sake. Let your hair down, man. Have some fun for once." Merle's voice spoke up and you silently cursed.

Of course, Merle was here. He always hung around the wrong crowds back in the day, seemed like the end of the world didn't change much.

"So, this Y/N chick. Can we trust her? I'm starting to trust Andrea, but not Michonne and I'm not sure about the cop chick." The Governor suddenly said catching your attention real quick.

"She was dating my brother back in the day, Y/N is cool. You won't have to worry 'bout her." Merle reassured before their footsteps started to get closer. "Milton, grab those beers from the fridge."

Shit, he was coming into the kitchen.

"Psst." Michonne whispered.

You quickly looked over at her to find her poking her head around the corner as she held up her hand silently telling you not to move. She stared at the three men who were further in the room and not a second later she quickly waved you over to her and you blindly trusted her and crawled across the kitchen floor.

You only just met the other woman, but right now she was the only person you trusted inside this community. Andrea and Merle seemed to be attached to the Governor's hip, but Michonne could tell something was wrong.

"Back door." She whispered.

You nodded and followed her out some door before you ended up on a fire escape and climbed out.

You jumped the remaining couple of metres from the fire escape ladder and landed on the ground as you looked around the area and frowned. You had never seen this section of the community before. You glanced around taking in the abandon area. It was quiet out here, too quiet. Why wasn't anyone on this side of town?

"You ever been around here?" You asked quietly, holstering your gun.

Michonne shook her head as the two of you slowly walked around the area before you heard some walkers and found them locked inside a wire cage. They had walkers locked in a cage.

"Yep, that's totally normal." You muttered to yourself.

Michonne pulled out her katana and before you had a chance to process what she was doing, she broke the lock on the cage and opened the door.

You quickly pulled your baton from the side of your belt and flicked it out while backing away slowly beside Michonne. You held your baton up and she held her sword up as she glanced over at you with a questioning.

"You're crazy, but in a good way."

You could have sworn you saw the woman smile before the two of you took out the walkers. Michonne with her sword slicing their heads while you smashed their brains in with your baton.

"You're not too bad yourself." Michonne responded, glancing over at you as the two of you stood amongst all the dead corpses on the ground. "I'm leaving. Andrea wants to stay, I can't make her leave. But, I'm leaving. You could come with me if you want?"

You thought about it for a while, but you couldn't just leave. There was something fishy going on her. Your inner cop was telling you to figure it out and you could never leave a case unsolved. Plus, if something really was up with this Governor guy, you couldn't just leave Merle and Andrea with him.

Michonne left a few hours before dark. Andrea wasn't happy about it and they had a full on yelling contest by the front gate before Michonne walked off and Merle closed the gate behind her. Andrea soon disappeared after that, no doubt with the Governor somewhere leaving you and Merle standing by the gate.

"How much do you know about this Governor, do you trust him?" You asked quietly, glancing around to make sure nobody else was nearby before you looked back to Merle who seemed shocked with the question.

"He saved my life. Yeah, I trust him. Why? You don't?"

"Something just doesn't feel right." You answered honestly causing Merle to chuckle.

"You're thinkin' too much into it. C'mon, the party is really about to start when the sun goes down. Got a whole fighting ring set up, you'll like it."

You just nodded, knowing there was no point trying to get Merle to see your point of view. The last thing you needed was him telling the Governor that you were suspicious of something.

You waited until nightfall, while everyone was setting up around the fighting ring, which wasn't really a fighting ring at all. It was a ring made up of walkers on chains and two fighting inside. It was ridiculous and they had music playing way to loudly. It was like they wanted the walkers outside to bust through the walls and get in the community.

You watched for a few minutes while Merle fought with another man inside the ring before you slipped away from the group and made your way back to the Governor's room. You and Michonne never ended up finding out what that banging noise was and you really wanted to know why the Governor would lock his bathroom.

He was hiding something, that was clear as day, but you just couldn't figure out what.

It didn't take long before you were back inside his room and as you suspected the bathroom was still locked. For a moment, you thought about trying to pick the lock, but that would just take too much time and you couldn't risk someone walking in on you.

Without further thought you kicked the door in, it took a few tries, but on the third the door swung open and you walked in, but immediately stopped.

It wasn't a bathroom. It was another room and there were fish tanks along the left wall with walker heads inside, the walkers still alive;

What the actual fuck?!

You knew this guy was strange, but this was just crazy. Who does that? Who keeps walkers heads in a locked room in your house?

Suddenly the banging started again. You quickly turned around and realised that it was coming from a small latched door on the other side of the room.

Great, more locked doors.

You walked across the room and knelt down beside the small door. Hesitantly, you turned the latch and opened it, but the second you realised what was inside your jaw dropped. There was a little kid, There was a little kid inside.

"Oh my God." You gasped as the kid started to walk towards you.

There was a bag over her head and her arms were tied behind her back. Who the fuck would do this to a child?

"It's okay. I'm a Police Officer, I'm here to help you."

The little girl walked out the small room as you knelt down in front of her and gently grabbed her shoulders.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." You reassured, gently reached for the bag over her head and pulled it off.

The second the bag was off, you jumped to your feet and took a few steps back because the kid was a fucking walkers.

The Governor had been keeping his walker daughter locked up in a small room beside another room that had walker heads in fish tanks. You had to get the hell out of this place.

"I'm sorry this happened to you." You whispered, pulling out your baton and slamming it into the side of the little girls head, killing the walker instantly.

"NO!" An all familiar voice shouted.

You quickly spun around to find the Governor standing in the door way with his gun aimed at you as he stared at his daughter on the ground.

Oh, shit.

Not a second later, the Governor charged at you. You quickly tried to pull out your gun, but you didn't get the chance before he grabbed you and pinned you up against the wall and slammed the butt of his gun against the side of your face. Then everything turned black.

You awoke with a gasp, cold water splashing against your face causing your eyes to snap open to find the Governor standing in front of you with a steel bucket in his hands.

Your head hurt something awful and you could feel dry blood plastered to the side of your face from where he had hit you with gun, but other than that you were okay. For now.

You glanced around the room, quickly realising that you were tied up. Your hands were tied above your head to some metal pipe along the roof, your feet barely touching the ground.

The room you were in was only small, surrounded by tin walls and cement floor with a singular light bulb dangling from the middle of the room. There was nothing in the room that you could see other than the wooden table and chair in front of you.

"You killed my daughter."

"Your daughter was already dead, you sick fuck." You responded and as soon as the words left your mouth, you immediately regretted it. Not a second later, the Governor's fist collided with your face.

You didn't get a chance to recover before he punched you again, somehow hitting the same spot and you could instantly taste copper in your mouth. You spat the blood onto the ground by his feet, ignoring the sting coming from what you assumed was a now split lip.

"This is only the beginning, Deputy. You're about to learn about pain and I'm not going to stop until you're begging for me to kill you, and then I will keep going." The Governor threatened while he picked up an object from the table behind him and it only took you a few seconds before you realised what it was.

Knuckle dusters.

This was going to be fun.

"Just hurry up and get it over with." You responded, trying to make your voice sound as bored as possible.

It seemed to work because the next thing you knew the Governor slipped on the knuckle dusters and slammed it against the side of your face.

Sudden pain bursting from the point of contact before he punched you again, and again.

"Does Merle know about this?" You winced, lifting your head.

"No, I've sent him after Michonne. He's not here and he's not going to save you. Nobody is going to save you." He answered and your blood turned cold.

He sent Merle after Michonne? What was he going to do to her?

You didn't get much time to dwell over it before the punching started up again, this time to your rib cage. You couldn't stop yourself from screaming as he landed a solid punch to your ribs followed by a very distinct cracking sound, sharp pain soaring through your ribs.

You bit your lip, stopping yourself from screaming any further. That's what he wanted. He wanted to hear your screams, he wanted to see you suffering and you weren't going to give that to him. You weren't going to give him that satisfaction.

So, you closed your eyes and bit your lips until you drew blood and pictured your brother in your head. His annoying yet oddly calming voice telling you to not give, no matter what.

Before-

"I can't do it!" You shouted in frustration from where you had fallen onto the bitumen road for the hundredth time, your skateboard lying on the ground a few metres away as you brushed your hands over your scraped knees.

"Get up." Your big brother instructed, walking over to you.

He held his hand out, but you refused to take it.

You were done with this stupid skateboard. You weren't even sure why you had wanted to learn to ride to begin with. It was pointless and impossible. If you wanted to scrape your knees up, you'd stick racing Shane and Rick on your bicycle.

"I thought you wanted to learn how to ride a skateboard and falling is part of learning." Rick's voice called out.

You glanced over your shoulder to find him walking down the driveway of his house across the road, his own skateboard tucked under his arm and you rolled your eyes.

Great, now there were two stupid teenagers annoying you.

"Rick's right and the Y/N I know, she never gives up." Shane added, lowering his hand and walking over to your skateboard, picking it up and placing it on the ground beside you. "You just have to keep trying, you remember how many times Rick fell on his ass when he first started learning. Did he ever give up?"

"No." You muttered, staring at your pink camouflage painted skateboard beside you.

"That's because we don't give up. You never give up, especially since you wanted to be known as the first girl in third grade to ride a skateboard. Now, ready to give it another try?" Shane asked, holding his hand back out towards you and you nodded, taking his hand as he helped you to his feet.

"Shane, help her get her balance. Then all you have to do is copy me." Rick instructed, placing his own skateboard onto the ground beside you.

He stepped on top of it and you copied him, stepping onto yours while Shane held your shoulders, keeping you steady.

"Just do what Rick does." Shane said.

You nodded watching your brothers best friend as he lowered one of his feet to the ground and began to push off as he rode down the street slowly.

You watched Rick for a few seconds before you took a deep breath and copied his movements and before you even knew it, you were riding along side him while Shane cheered from the side of the road behind you.

"See what happens when you don't give up?" Rick asked, glancing over at you and you nodded, unable to stop the giant smile spreading across your face before glancing over your shoulder to find your brother jumping in joy behind you.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

Next Chapter

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #twd #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #Norman Reedus #Shane Walsh #Rick Grimes

91 notes · View notes

purplefangirl42 · 2 years

Text

Who We Were (Part 2)

Series Summary: Silco has returned to take over Vander’s position as leader of the Undercity, only to find himself facing a new challenge. The woman that had once been devoted to him wants nothing to do with him. Can he convince her or have things changed too much in his absence?

Pairings: Post Act 1 Silco/OC (Olillia), Implied past Sevika/OC, Young Silco/OC

Parts: Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Warnings/Tags: Arguing, Slight Violence

A/N: I stated before that if you wish to read this as a reader insert, you were welcome to. If you are choosing to do that, there is a small physical description of Lil in this chapter, so be aware of that :) Thank you to @deny-the-issue for being a lovely editor!

Silco watched Olillia walk out of the room and disappear down the hallway. He scowled at the empty place she had been standing as if that would change the fact that she had walked away from him before he could say what he wanted to. The way she always had. Some things never changed.

He looked around the large room he was standing in. It had been used for meetings of the Sons of Zaun years ago, but it obviously had not seen much use in recent years. It could make a nice spacious office for him to work out of once they cleared away the boxes and dust.

Thudding footsteps behind him grabbed Silco’s attention, prompting him to turn back towards the open door. Sevika stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She looked significantly more stable than she had before, despite her arm still being trapped in a sling.

“Should you be up and about?” he asked.

“I hurt my arm, not my legs. I can’t sit around and do nothing.”

“You can until we figure out what to do about your arm. Is there any news on the doctor?”

"Ran said that the explosion went all the way down into the lab, and he was hit. He was pretty badly burned and is currently unconscious."

Silco let out a frustrated sigh and looked up at the high ceiling as if there were answers written there. He had wanted change, but too many things were changing at once. His base of operations had changed, several people under his employ had either been killed or seriously injured, his former friend had been disposed of, and he now had a young child in his care. Yet, the one change he had been expecting had not happened.

Olillia was not at his side. He had thought she would welcome him back with open arms after what Sevika had told him about her loyalty to him, even after his rumored death. Her dismissal of him confused him. When she stayed behind, it looked like success was on the horizon. However, she had made it clear immediately that she had no intention of staying. Even after the child had pleaded for her to stay, Olillia still left.

“Get some rest,” he said to Sevika. “I will speak with Smeech about your arm and what can be done tomorrow. Surely, we can find something functional until the doctor is well enough to assist.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I have many things to attend to, including Olillia.”

“I’d say Lil made it clear she has no interest in being here. Maybe you should leave her be.”

“You were the one that told me that she would happily welcome me back. That she missed me. I would say that her behavior says otherwise.”

Silco could hear the slight whining tone in his voice, but he was disappointed in how things had transpired.

"Believe me," Sevika said. "She's missed you since the night you disappeared. Your death is something she has never gotten over. Had she known that I was working with you, she would have come running. She would have flung herself at you without hesitation."

“Then explain why she left,” Silco said, gesturing at the empty hallway behind Sevika.

“Because she’s angry. At both of us. Count yourself lucky that she didn’t punch you the second you walked through the door. Give her some time.”

Silco turned away from her with an angry huff. He waved his hand at her dismissively, wanting to be alone. He heard the door frame creak and the sound of her footsteps fading as she walked down the hall. Silco walked over to a box on the edge of the room and sat down on the edge, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and hold his head in his hands.

Olillia’s angry expression was imprinted on his mind. The way she had wilted when he said that the past didn’t matter made him wince. He hadn’t meant it in the way she took it. He simply hadn’t been interested in discussing the events of the night he had last seen her at that moment. While he was unsure what he wanted from her exactly, he had looked forward to seeing her smile again. It had been so long since he’d seen it.

Silco walked into the Last Drop, exhaustion weighing down on his body. He wanted to have a drink and go to bed. As he made his way over to the bar, he noticed Vander and Benzo leaning on the counter talking. When he approached, they both nodded in greeting. Vander slid him a glass filled with water.

“What is this?”

“Water. You may have heard of it. You need to drink some,” Vander said.

“I don’t want water. I need something stronger before I go upstairs and pass out.”

“Don’t you want to meet our latest recruit?” Benzo asked.

Silco shrugged before chugging half the glass of water that Vander had forced on him. They got recruits every day. He didn't feel the need to meet each one personally.

“Oi, new girl!” Benzo yelled to someone across the room.

Silco winced at his friend's shout, shooting a glare in his direction before raising his gaze to look for whoever Benzo was yelling for. A woman with brown skin and shoulder-length purple hair turned at his call and headed towards them.

"What's up, guys?" she asked once she reached them.

Silco raked his eyes up and down her form before settling on her face. Her brown eyes flitted from Benzo to Vander before landing on him. Her lips widened into a bright smile.

“Who’s this?” she asked.

“This is the third member of our glorious trio,” Benzo said, slapping Silco on the back.

Silco nearly fell forward onto the counter from the force of the blow.

“You must be Silco,” she said, leaning forward to extend her hand to him. “I’m Olillia. But most people call me Lil.”

“You can call her Oli too!” another voice from a table near the bar shouted.

The woman who had introduced herself as Lil rolled her eyes and turned around to respond to the voice, pulling her offered hand with her before he could shake it.

“I don’t even want you to call me that. I don’t call you Ika, do I?"

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Keep calling me Oli and see what happens.”

Lil turned back to face him, and her smile returned. She offered her hand a second time.

“Sorry about that. It’s nice to meet you, Silco.”

Silco took her hand and shook it, nodding in response. He released her hand and shifted his focus back to the water glass. He heard Vander say something else to her before she walked away again. As she walked away, Silco’s gaze lifted and watched as she joined another recent recruit named Sevika. He guessed that had been who she was talking to before.

“So, what’s her story?” he asked.

"She took the waitress job I was looking to fill," Vander said. "Sevika brought her around when she heard I was looking for someone."

Silco raised an eyebrow. So she'd be around quite regularly, not just passing through. He looked over in her direction again, letting his gaze linger on her face. She wasn't bad on the eyes. It would be a nice change to have her around.

“It will be nice to have something other than your ugly mugs to look at on a daily basis,” he said to his friends.

Lil ran her hand through her loose hair as she walked toward her apartment. She had removed the braid at the edge, letting it all hang loose. Having spent the night at Mai’s and then using the entire day to scour the undercity for anyone looking to hire her, she hadn’t bothered to redo it. Right at that moment, all she wanted to do was lay on her own bed and do absolutely nothing.

Lil stuck her key in the lock and turned it, opening the door. As she walked over the threshold, she pulled her jacket off and flung it in the general direction of the kitchen chair. She shut the door and leaned back against it, closing her eyes and letting out a heavy sigh.

“You know, it’s rude to leave people waiting.”

Lil’s eyes snapped open, and she grabbed the knife off her belt, pointing it in the direction of the voice. Silco sat on her couch, one leg crossed over the other. His good eyebrow was raised in response to the blade pointed in his direction. Lil lowered the knife slightly and gave him an annoyed look.

“It’s also rude to break into people’s homes,” she said. “How did you get in here?”

Silco pointed to the window at the edge of the room.

"You still haven't gotten your window fixed. You should do something about that. Someone could break in."

He smirked as he said the last thing, seemingly amused with his own joke. Lil sighed again and returned the knife to her belt.

“What do you want, Silco?”

“To talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Lil said, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “You’re alive. You didn’t tell me. Now you’re back, leaving destruction in your wake. I’d rather stay out of your path.”

“You make it sound as if I owe you an explanation,” he said. “Like some jilted lover.”

Lil let out a huff and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I never was that, though, so I don't see it that way. I just want you out of my apartment. I've been job searching all day, and I don't have the energy to deal with you."

“I am not a stray cat for you to shoo,” he said. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

“Now who sounds like a jilted lover?” Lil asked. “I don’t know what you want from me, Silco. I have no interest in your ambitions, and I have no interest in you."

Silco raised his eyebrow again before standing from his place on her couch. He took a step forward, encroaching on her personal space.

“I very much doubt that.”

Lil took a step back to put distance between them again. He had always enjoyed invading the space of others in an attempt to overwhelm them. She had no interest in playing his game.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked. “You have five minutes.”

“Why were you job hunting? Giving up on being a waitress?”

“One generally does that when their boss gets killed. Kinda hard to work for a dead man.”

“Technically, you work for the Last Drop, not Vander,” Silco said. “Last I checked, it was still standing, and he never bothered to take me off the registration, so it belongs to me now. And I don't remember firing you."

Lil took a page out of his book and took a step forward to her original place, leaning forward to invade his personal space.

“Well, consider this my resignation then, boss. I quit.”

Silco’s mouth turned down in a scowl as she moved to step away from him again. He reached out and grabbed her right forearm to stop her movement. A few seconds passed before Lil grabbed her extendable staff from its position on her thigh with her left hand and smacked his hand to force him to release her arm. Then, quickly passing the staff to her other hand, Lil pressed it against his chest and pushed him into the nearby wall. Silco’s good eye was wide as he stared down at her, shocked by her sudden movement.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again,” Lil said through gritted teeth.

She held him against the wall for another few seconds before lowering the staff and stepping away from him. She crossed the room and flung the door open, gesturing to the hall outside.

“Get the hell out of my apartment and leave me alone.”

Silco remained leaning against the wall where she had left him. His shocked expression morphed into one of determination.

“No.”

Lil stared at him blankly.

“No?”

“I haven’t used up my five minutes.”

Lil rolled her eyes and walked to the chair to grab her jacket again. She pulled it back over her shoulders and started walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you,” Lil said, pausing at the doorway with her hand resting on the handle.

Silco let out a huff, and Lil could see him raise his hands in exasperation out of the corner of her eye.

"This is your apartment, and you're leaving?"

“Looks like it,” she said, moving to leave, pulling the door closed behind her.

The door movement was halted suddenly. Lil looked up and saw Silco’s hand holding it open. She hadn’t heard him coming toward her. Slowly turning, Lil found herself nearly running into him. She raised her eyebrows to question his motives.

"Stay. Let me say what I need to, and then I'll leave."

Lil sighed and stepped away from him, moving back into the apartment. Silco used his hand’s position on the door to push it shut. At the sound of the latch clicking, Lil felt a small amount of fear spiking inside her. Before, she had the upper hand and an escape route. Now, she was trapped.

“Go ahead, talk. I don’t know what you think you can say to me that will make any difference, but get it out.”

“There’s no need to be mouthy. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you for the stunt you pulled just now,” Silco said, glaring at her.

“You want me to listen to you, yet you were going to kill me for defending myself?”

Silco’s glare softened, and Lil could swear she saw a hint of sadness hidden in his expression. Lil turned her head away, not wanting to look at his face.

“I have no intention of hurting you, Lil. I just want to talk to you. Surely you can indulge me for a short time?”

“Quit talking about talking and just do it,” she snapped.

“I have many plans for the future, and I would like you to be a part of them.”

Lil's gaze turned back towards him for a moment. He was staring intently at her face as if searching for answers.

“What for? Have a lot of need for waitresses in your future plans?”

“You were once a revolutionary, same as me. Seeing as how you just managed to pin me against a wall, I imagine you have skills that would be useful.”

Useful. That’s all she was to him.

“For some reason, I doubt you’re a revolutionary anymore, Silco. I don’t know what shady business you’re involved in, but I want no part of it.”

“I intend to transform the Last Drop to suit my needs. If you are that attached to your position as a waitress, I’m sure we can find a spot for you.”

“Why me?”

“You’ll be a familiar face. Make the transition easier. Sevika believes you to be trustworthy.”

Sevika believes.

Lil began pacing in front of him, avoiding his gaze as he watched her. She hadn’t had any luck in her job search earlier that day, and she still needed to pay her rent.

“The child also seems fond of you. I believe it would be beneficial for her to have you around.”

Lil stopped her pacing and looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“What game are you playing at, Silco?” she asked. “Powder is not a pawn for you to use.”

“I know a lost soul when I see one. She was left alone, and I simply want to help her.”

“Never took you for the fatherly type.”

“I could say something similar about you. You obviously care for the child, and she for you.”

"I'm not her mother and have no desire to be."

Silco tilted his head to the side, his good eye scanning her face. A tiny smirk formed on his lips as he stared at her.

“That is often the role taken by the woman that is with a child’s father. Are you certain you don’t want it?”

Lil returned his stare, pursing her lips in annoyance. He was mocking her, mocking her long-held feelings for him.

“If your goal here is to bring me into your fold as your plaything, you are going to be disappointed, Silco.”

She watched as Silco’s smirk dissolved into a frown. Not wanting to play his game anymore, Lil pushed past him and pulled the front door open again.

“Please leave.”

“Will you at least consider my offer?” he asked.

“I will think about it.”

Silco turned and crossed the room to the door again, stopping at the threshold. He pinned her with his gaze again, his eyes roaming over her face.

“You know where to find me.”

Without another word, he left the apartment. Lil closed the door behind him and turned the deadbolt. Like the first time she entered, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes. Sevika's words from the day before echoed in her mind.

Was she going to throw away the chance to have him back?

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this part! Please reblog, like, and comment! I would really like to hear your thoughts! If you would like to be added to the taglist, go here.

Tags: @photogirl894 @findinghiddentruths

#arcane #silco #silco league of legends #silco arcane #young silco #silco x oc #young silco x oc #original characters #OC: Olillia

35 notes · View notes

jennithejester · 2 years

Text

The Shadow of Zaun - Act I - Chapter 2: Unsteady

Chapter Word Count: 6,936

Rating: Explicit (eventual SMUT, darlings)

Warnings: Violence

Summary: Born of two different worlds and raised by the Lanes, you rise from the ashes and runoff of Piltover to become the Shadow of Zaun. Fanfic will have two acts, with an “intermission” chapter, that will span before and after the bridge incident between the brothers of Zaun. The whole cast of characters within the show will eventually make an appearance. Eventual SMUT, thus the rating now, kids.

Relationships: Silco x F!Reader

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41675289/chapters/106498593

Hold. Hold on. Hold onto me.

Cause I’m a little unsteady.

Little unsteady.

“Unsteady” - X Ambassadors

—————————-

Living in the Lanes, one becomes accustomed to the lack of light when you’re deep within its trenches. While escaping across the rooftops, you had a better view of the sky and the sun that shone within it, but now as you take the odd path down to The Last Drop, there is little to distinguish the light of day from the ambiance of the neon lights that glowed within the trenches. It had been dusk before you had followed Silco deeper into Zaun’s depths, taking back streets and alleyways to ensure no one could follow you. It had to be well into evening by now, you’d thought. A part of you wondered if Silco had taken this path to also ensure that you were disoriented by the time you reached the front doors of The Last Drop. If that was indeed the case, it would have been a pointless effort on his part since this wasn’t the first time you’d been to the bar that had become known for being the heart of the Lanes.

Not that Silco would have known that, since any of the past times you were here, you’d been in full disguise.

Upon entering the establishment, someone within the small crowd within whistled loudly – an act that seemed to be a signal, causing the bar’s bystanders to halt whatever they’d been doing and all eyes within the room turned to you and Silco as you both walked in.

“So I see yer still in one piece,” came a voice from behind the bar across the room as a large, burly man cleaned out a glass before setting it on the counter in front of him and leveling a disapproving glare at the both of you.

“I can tell you were terribly concerned for my well-being since you’re still there, behind the bar, slinging drinks, Vander,” Silco deadpanned. “By all means, don’t let my narrow escape from death drag you away from your ever important duties.”

“Told you this was gonna be trouble,” he said with a shake of his head. “Could’ve got the others killed bringing them out there in broad daylight like that—and before you ask, yes – the others already made it back fine, hours ago. Sevika said she’d spotted a whole pack of Enforcers chasin’ ya. Was she worth almost getting yerself killed, Sil?”

Silco cast a fleeting, sideways glance quickly to you and shrugged, “Not sure yet. We will have to have her prove herself first.”

Vander threw the towel he had in his hands over one shoulder and came around the other side of the bar and stalked slowly towards you both as he lite up his pipe, “Prove herself? Hmph. I think the one thing she provedtoday is that she tried to get you and everyone else of our group that came along – killed. She burned down one of our warehouses and supplies, to boot. I’d say—” the large man came right up in front of you as he blew smoke out his nostrils into your face before continuing, “she set you up. I’d say…she’s workin’ with them.”

Your eyes and lungs burned from the smoke from the pipe, but you stifled down a cough and kept your hands from wiping at your eyes as you stepped closer to the large man that towered over you, his frame blocking you now from the view of the rest within the room as you finally spoke, “Tell me, which one do you prefer – left or right?”

You watched Vander’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion at the line of questioning, “What do’ya mean, left or right? What kinda question is—”

“Left,” you begin as you press your dagger that you had silently drawn into the left side of his scrotum through his pants and then on the opposite side, “or right? It’s a fairly simple question, don’t you think?”

Vander’s eyes widened in alarm and you felt Silco bristle near you both as he cautiously stepped towards you and growled your name, “This isn’t the way. Put that thing away.”

You then raise your voice to be loud enough to all in the room, “Friends, there are seven different ways to mortally wound a person with a mere slice of a blade. I know them all quite intimately, but you lot already knew that about me, didn’t you?” Your blade dug slightly deeper into the meat of Vander as he hissed a bit in pain, but remained glued to the spot and Silco took another step closer. “Tell me, would someone who knew these things bother to set fire to your little warehouse just to get your attention to then kill you? Never mind that I had that dust bin cleared of all your favorite people and supplies before I set it ablaze, but that’s neither here nor there.”

You then moved even closer to Vander as you heard Silco quietly gasp. You stepped up onto the big man’s shoes to get closer to his face to speak, “I could have killed you right here in front of everyone to make an example of you, but I didn’t. I could have let your brother die back on those bloody rooftops or in the street, but I didn’t. In fact, I’m in quite a right bit of pain after trying to ensure the coast was clear for us both and ended up getting snagged by one of Piltover’s finest and could have just given up on my efforts to talk with you…but I didn’t.”

You hear your name once again cross Silco’s lips, a plea, as he pulled a piece of crumpled paper cautiously from his pocket in his shirt, “Please. You can let him go. You were right, earlier. They were after you. Look.”

The change in line of conversation caught you off-guard as you stepped down off the big man’s feet to ask, “What?”

No sooner than the question escaped your lips, Vander swiftly batted away your blade, grabbed you by the throat with his large hand, and slammed you several inches up off your feet against a nearby wall, “Just who the hell do you think you are comin’ in here, into our home and threatening me like that?!”

“Vander!” Silco barked at him as he pulled the larger man by the forearm that remained latched around your throat. “Let her go! She was right! If she wanted you dead, you already would be!”

You clawed at his arm and hand around your throat briefly as his hand squeezed a bit tighter for a second before dropping you to the floor. “Bah, not worth the effort,” he mumbled as he shook his head at you and began to walk back to the bar.

Collapsing to your knees, you try to catch your breath but seemed to not be able to as you made a few strangled noises. Your lungs burned and constricted within your chest and tears burned your face from your eyes in the effort as you strained to gain any oxygen into your lungs. With shaky hands, you fumbled in the many pockets that adorned your clothing before losing your balance and falling onto your back on the floor. You could hear voices of others in the room now asking what was going on and hear Vander’s footsteps come back towards you. It was the hands of another, though, that began rifling through your pockets, that you felt as you lie there gasping.

“Where is it?” you heard Silco’s voice under his breath as he continued his search before he seemed to quickly find what he was after.

“I didn’t squeeze that hard, Sil, what’s wrong with her?” Vander asked as his shadow loomed over you both.

“Quiet, Vander!” Silco ordered as he pulled you into his lap with your back against his chest.

Panic was beginning to set into you as you continued to try to pull in air but to no avail. Your entire body shook against him as the adrenaline flooded your frame in fear. It had been a very long time since an attack had struck your lungs this hard. The smoke of the fire from earlier combined with your terrible smoking habit and Vander’s pipe smoke must have sent you over the edge.

“C’mon, easy now,” Silco said in soothing tones in your ear as you felt something cold and metal press to your lips. “I’ve got it here. It’s this that you needed, right? You used it earlier on the roof. C’mon, sweetheart, you have to help me help you.”

Your grip on consciousness was waning, but you mustered up enough energy to grab onto the device and hit the button on its side, the spray striking the back of your throat as you pulled in slightly with a gasp and waited for it to take effect. You felt all eyes in the room watching anxiously as you grated in one small, ragged wheeze after the other. Shaking the hand that held the device, you then took another long pull of the medication within and finally were able to grab a full breath of air. You lie there in Silco’s arms, your back against him still, as you attempted to regain control of your senses and normalize your breathing. Slowly, the fear of the situation began to morph in your head into anger as you began to get up with the intent of storming out of the room in the back of your mind.

As you stood too quickly, you swayed as the room spun a bit from the oxygen that you’d been robbed of for a few minutes. It was Vander who steadied you on your feet a bit with a rather sheepish look upon his face as Silco went to stand.

“Eh, erm, sorry about that,” he began as he scratched a bit on the back of his neck. “Just tryin’ to scare ya a bit. Didn’t mean to cause…to really hurt—” Vander stammered a bit as the crowd within the room seemed to start to return to their own meanderings, now bored of whatever was going on between the three of you with the drama seemingly abated.

“It’s fine,” you snapped a bit at him as you snatched your arm out of his aiding grasp, agitated with everything today that had gone wrong. The entire series of events were exactly what you were trying to avoid happening. Perhaps your plan of getting their attention with the fire was a bit…dramatic, you thought, but it was to get them on more neutral territory verses being here in their den, no less.

“You don’t look fine,” Vander stated, concerned now in truly taking in your appearance as well as what you’d thought looked like guilt from your reaction to his hand being wrapped around your throat.

Weak, your mind screamed at you, you look weak in front of them!

“I’m not,” you said to your internal voice and then realized how it could be interpreted by either of the men that stood before you. “No, I mean, I am, I mean—I’ll be fine,” you clarified until your body betrayed you physically and you swayed again, still seemingly a bit dizzy from the attack.

This time it was Silco’s arms that held you upright as he swiftly ducked under and wrapped one of yours over his shoulders to steady you.

“You are not fine,” he warned under his breath to you.

You sighed loudly. The nebulizer, that had been crafted for you years ago by the madman that lived in the underbelly of the Lanes, had upheld you for many a year without issue. You looked down at the small device within your hand and shook your head. You were going to have to take a trip to talk with that old man soon to see if he had anything stronger with how your lungs seemed to just be worsening the last few years. Of course everything would flare up today of all days.

“We’ll talk more on your little display you put on at the warehouse later,” Silco began as he then turned his attention to Vander. “She needs a bit of cleaning up and rest. We continue this tomorrow, yes?”

“‘S’fine with me as long as she doesn’t try to pull anything or set the bar on fire. Any ideas on who set them chasin’ ya?” Vander followed as Silco began to walk you to the back of the establishment, your arm still slung over his shoulder practically holding you up.

“I’ll help with that,” you wheezed a bit and leaned harder into Silco as you felt the excursion of the day hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Give me a chance to…recover…and it’s the least I could do since they were apparently after me.”

Weak, your mind screamed at you, once again as you outwardly winced at the thought. Neither men were the wiser, thinking your wincing was one of pain and the nodded in agreement to one another that now was not the time. Once Silco helped you to the back of the bar, he then turned to take you down a hallway to the right which seemed to be being used as living quarters as well as storage for the establishment.

“Hold up,” he said as he removed your arm from around his shoulders and leaned you against the wall while he fumbled in his pockets before pulling out a key. Silco opened the door to reveal a small room that held what could only be described as a makeshift bed, end table, and several books and plans strewn throughout. The only other items were a small table and chair that seemed to have been hobbled together by parts of old furniture over to the side in the altogether cramped room.

“Cozy,” you said sarcastically as your eyebrow tilted, your voice still not sounding like your own from what had happened earlier. Silco merely rolled his eyes, placed your arm over him again, and led you over to sit upon the bed before closing the door and lit a lamp at the bedside. You hissed a bit as you folded to sit, the injuries on your torso stinging at the pull of movement.

“Lie back,” he ordered as he opened a small cabinet and began to rummage around for something. He returned over to your side with a box of what looked to be medicinal supplies as he drug the small chair from the table over so he could sit next to you.

“We barely know each other. At least buy a girl a few rounds before you try to bed her, darling,” you deadpanned as he gifted you with yet another roll of his eyes.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Not if I can help it—ouch!” you sucked air between your teeth and squirmed a bit as he lifted your shirt up to examine your injuries. “Fuck, be careful!”

“Than fucking hold still so this is easier,” he began as you realized he’d stopped with your shirt a bit short of the edge of your injuries to afford you some level of modesty. It was your turn to roll your eyes at him.

“You do realize that the cuts go higher than that onto my chest, right? I may have flashed you earlier but I’m certain that you saw the full extent of it, given how your eyes lingered there long enough.”

While his expression held fast at one of annoyance, the tips of his ears turned a bit red from that, revealing a bit of embarrassment at being caught ogling. You smirked with a certain satisfaction as he sighed, resigned, and lifted your shirt further up to your collarbone to fully expose the scraped and cut skin. You looked up at the ceiling, trying to avoid seeing whatever look he had upon his face as he looked you over.

Silco let out a long sigh, “You have bits of plaster and wood in a few of these cuts I’m going to have to pull out. What were you thinking scaling that wall like that?”

It was your turn to sigh, “I was thinking I’d done it a million times before and would be a good vantage point to ensure that your ass and mine weren’t being followed.”

“And how well did that work out for you in the past?”

You glared daggers at him and he smirked.

“That well, eh?” A bit of chipped front teeth showed as his grin widened and you continued to glare at him.

“Just get this over with. The sooner you patch me up, the sooner I can start to figure out who did this and then take care of the problem,” you began and Silco stilled beside you.

“Take care of the problem, hmm? And for you, what exactly does that imply?”

“What do you think?” You ask bluntly as his lips form a thin line.

Silco pinched the bridge of his nose as your name escaped his lips lowly, “I’m not sure how you think we operate things here, but under no circumstances are you to go around killing people as you see fit. Do you understand?”

“I’m not sure I do. Someone tried to have us killed, Silco. I don’t think—“

“Precisely,” he cut you off. “You don’t think. You don’t think what killing someone within our ranks, even if they were the ones to give us away, would be a smart thing to do? What sort of message would that send? And if the Enforcers that worked with this individual found out you assassinated them, well then it would be open war on the Lanes, surly soon after. But I’m sure you’d already considered that, hadn’t you?”

You opened your mouth to speak and then thought better of it as your lips formed a grim line. Silco shook his head at you and started removing bits of wood splinters and plaster from the deep scraps across your midsection. Every pull of the pieces he removed stung as you dug your fists into the blanket beneath you. After a particularly large piece he pulled out, you let out a bit of a noise of pain and he stopped, his palm coming to rest on an area on your abdomen that was unscathed.

“That was the last bit. I’d saved the worst for last,” he stated as if to reassure and comfort you as the thumb on his hand upon you moved from side to side. When he noticed you remained silent, staring up at the ceiling away from him, he said your name again to draw your attention and you slowly turned your gaze to him. “I’ll need to clean these cuts now and you’ll need a few stitches, alright?”

You looked at him for a very long moment in silence, contemplating something, before saying, “Why are you being this nice to me?”

Silco gave you an incredulous look of surprise, “I’m fairly certain I was just causing you pain so I’m not sure if I’d use the term ‘nice’—“

“Silco—“

“Honestly, once I pour the antiseptic on your wounds, you’ll think—“

“Silco,” you raised your voice a bit more to stop him and he finally paused before you began to ramble. “Look. I—I know I bungled this whole affair something proper and I appreciate your tending to my wounds here, but I’m sure that in light of my nearly getting us both killed as well as some of the others of your group today and my display in the bar earlier, that I’ve blown any chance of—“

“You’ve not,” he interrupted as you both stared at each other a few moments before he got up to grab the bottle of antiseptic.

“Silco, don’t be blind here. I—“

“You’re reckless and dangerous,” he began as he avoided eye contact and began to clean your wounds with antiseptic as you hissed through your teeth. “You’ve worked alone for possibly your entire life, from what intelligence we’d gathered on you, which also makes you a liability when working with others.”

Silco then made a bit of a show prepping the needle on thread for the stitches he was about to start in on as if to warn you of what was to come. Only then did he look you straight in the eyes as if to ask if you were ready. When you nodded, he then turned his attention to the stitching as you sucked in air in pain and gripped the sheets tightly, balling it into your fists, as you tried to hold as still as possible through the pain.

“I’m helping you because I believe you may be one of the few people I’ve met that truly believes in Zaun’s freedom and its people.”

You snorted, “You barely know me.”

Silco stopped his sewing you up and huffed in offense, “Is that so? Do you really believe that I was so completely unaware of your watching us for these last few months? Do you think we weren’t watching you?”

You glared at him, “Really. Watching me? Humph, I find that hard to believe.”

“Allow me to let you in on a little secret, sweetheart,” he began as you rolled your eyes at the pet name he continued to use towards you. “I allowed you to trash our warehouse. Thought you would be clever and get us out in the open like that, really?”

“That’s a pretty story, Silco. If you were so onto things, then why did we both get chased across the Lanes earlier, hmm?”

“Because my focus was on you, not on our own group, which seems to have a traitor,” he seethed. “Don’t think for one second that just because I warned you not to kill anyone doesn’t mean there won’t be punishment dealt for whoever this this betrayal today.”

Well, at least there’s that, you thought to yourself as Silco began to stitch up the remainder of your wounds. As he neared the gash that was wider than the others, he accidentally went a bit too deep with the needle and you grabbed his forearm to stop him and breathed in sharply, the air you pulled in rattling a bit in your chest as your eyes pressed closed in sharp pain. You lie there rasping a bit allowing the ebb of pain to die down before you felt his other hand cover yours on his forearm.

“Are you alright?” Silco asked quietly and you opened your eyes to his apologetic ones staring back at you.

“Yes, just stung a bit.”

He shook his head, “No. No, I mean your breathing. Is—is that sump lung or something? You work the mines too long?”

You slowly removed your hand from his forearm, “No, just something I’ve dealt with my whole life that’s just getting worse as I get older, I’m afraid. Nothing that a stronger medicine cannot help. I was warned I’d have to get the dose increased eventually…among other things.”

“Other things?” He inquired.

“Yes—I mean, no, none of your—look let’s go back to why the hell you haven’t tossed me out on my ass and why you’re playing nurse-maid here,” you begin, dodging any more conversation on that particular topic and getting to the more important at hand. “Say I believe you watched me for a bit. Did your homework on me. What part of what you observed makes you think I’m worth anything to your little cause here?”

“You talk like you want me to toss you out.”

“Why don’t you?”

Silco sighed and ran his hand down his face in exasperation, “Because you’re a danger to us if you’re not a part of us.”

Your eyes widened, not expecting that answer, “Oh.”

“You’re a thief and assassin,” he started after a few moments of consideration as he shook his head before saying your name in a gentle tone. “But…you also care for those in the Lanes. I’ve watched how you spend your payment for most of your jobs and you’ve done next to nothing but give it all back. The only thing I don’t think I have figured out about you is the ‘why’, honestly. Why do you do…any of it?”

When you merely sighed and looked away from him, your gaze returning to the ceiling, Silco said your name again to prompt you.

“That’s a story for another day,” you stated tiredly and leveled him with a look to let him know not to press you further. “Now finish stitching me up so I can put some clothes back on and stop lying here half-naked in your bed.”

Silco’s eyes widened and this time the red tinge from embarrassment crept not only to his ears, but also his cheeks before he nodded and quickly got back to sewing up the last gash across your torso. You grinned a bit before settling into watching him finish things up this time, mostly as a distraction the pain from the larger laceration provided for while being sewn back up. Silco’s brow was furrowed in concentration with trying to be as gentle in finishing patching you back together. His hair kept falling into his eyes as he worked and after the fifth time he tried pushing it behind his ear and having it fall back into his face, he swore under his breath and pulled his hair up into a top-knot before continuing. Your grin widened at the look of it as he felt your eyes on him.

“Stop that,’ he commanded without looking up from his work.

“Stop what?”

“That shit-eating grin you’re giving me,” Silco stated with a flick of a glance up at you before back down to the needle. “I’m trying not to hurt you and you’re distracting me.”

“I’m distracting, eh?”

Silco breathed your name out his nose and stopped and glared at you.

“Fine. You’re no fun,” you began as you returned your gaze up to the ceiling.

A few more moments of a long silence with nothing but the light noises of Silco stitching you up filled the space between you. Once he finished the stitches, Silco gently wiped one more layer of antiseptic across your torso as you attempted to keep your mouth shut and not scream at the sting of pain.

“Now—and don’t take this the wrong way—but I’m going to need you to stand and remove your shirt so I can place a wrap around my handiwork to protect them while they heal,” Silco said as he got up off the bed and leaned over to help you up.

You hissed once again as you got awkwardly to your feet, trying to not move or fold in too much on your mid-section. Facing away from him, you began to remove your stained shirt over your head, again moving gingerly so as to not pull at the wounds as you cursed a bit under your breath in pain.

“You were right,” you said grimly towards the door as you heard him shuffling a bit behind you.

“About what, precisely?”

“I shouldn’t have climbed up there. I can already tell I’m going to regret this for a while,” you stated with a frown as you looked over your wounds, feeling a bit odd and exposed being topless at this point. Suddenly the room felt smaller and you were very much aware of his presence as he came up behind you. You swallowed hard as your voice came out huskier than you intended, “You did a good job though on the stitching. Thank you.”

Silco merely hummed behind you in acknowledgement, “Lift your arms, if you would.”

You lifted your arms slowly and waited in anticipation as you felt him grow even closer to your back from behind. Silco seemed to pause a bit, whether from trying to figure out how to wrap the gauze around you from behind or if he was getting a good look in, you wouldn’t know since you couldn’t see his face from here. Just as you were about to turn a bit to speak, you felt his warm hand at your waist and you jumped.

A dark chuckle emerged from the man behind you before you heard his voice, low and almost purring in your ear, innocently, “I don’t bite, sweetheart. I’m just trying to keep you steady as I start to wrap this around you.”

“I don’t believe that for one second.”

“Which part?”

“The part that you don’t bite.”

Again, Silco chuckled to himself and then merely hummed as he once again placed his hand at your waist and you stiffened awaiting what was to come next. True to his word, he gently began to wrap around your wounds, starting over your shoulder so he could properly cover the gash that rose up between your breasts on your sternum. He then proceeded to wrap around your chest before deeming that he’d covered you enough to come around to your front to finish the dressing. Mortified and a bit flushed at his gentle touch, as his fingers glided over your skin, you shut your eyes while he completed the wrap.

“You can open your eyes now,” you heard his voice from across the room a few minutes later as he rummaged through clothes he had in a hamper in the corner of the room. Silco returned with a clean shirt and held it out to you. “Might be a bit big on you, but its clean and we can launder your other one if you’d like while you’re here.”

“It was already getting late when we got here. I should really get going. I can come back tomorrow so we can, well, discuss things a bit with your, erm, brother,” you say as you throw the shirt over your head and wobble a bit on your feet and quickly correct it, still a bit off balance from everything you’d been through, as you hope he didn’t notice. “Thank you for patching me up. And for the shirt, honestly.”

“Stay.”

“What?” You ask him as you paused in place. “Why?”

Silco says your name and then touches your forearm to steady you a bit as you look down at his hand as he speaks, “I practically had to carry you back here, you’re still not okay from earlier, which had nothing to do with your cutting up your front. Besides, Vander is an early riser and we have a few bits of business to take care of tomorrow afternoon so if you’re here already, its just easier to get things over with.”

“To get things over with,” you repeat with a bit of finality and he shakes his head at you.

“You know what I mean,” Silco says as he squeezes a bit on your arm.

You worry your lip a bit considering things before your exhaustion weighs out any thoughts of trudging back through the Lanes to your flat. You once again return your gaze to his hand on your arm before he seems to remember himself and slowly released you from his grasp. “All right.”

“All right, then,” he begins as he goes back over to a small closet in the back of the room and pulls out a blanket and a pillow that’s seen better days. “As you need to heal, you can take the bed. I’m fine with the floor—“

“Silco, you don’t need to—isn’t there a spare room somewhere or…” you trail off as you turn toward the door, planning to scan the hallway for an unused room, or closet, or anything. Silco’s hand finds your forearm again and turns you to him. You swallow hard, feeling that the room was suddenly smaller again with his being in your personal space like this.

“No, I’m afraid not and even if they were, I’m certain Vander and some of the others wouldn’t want you wandering around unsupervised,” Silco said as he pulled to lead you over to the bed, but you stayed in place.

“So I’m to be babysat, that’s it?”

“Do you always have to try to argue with me on everything?” Silco began as he ran his hand through his hair, pulling it back down around his face and shoulders. You blamed your current state of health for the odd feeling of your heart flipping a bit when you saw him pull his hair back down as it framed his face quite nicely. Silco then leaned forward, his arm going past you, as he shut the door you’d partially opened back behind you, pinning you against the it. He was mere inches you’re your face as he spoke, “You said it yourself that after the stunt you pulled today that you’d thought you’d lost our trust here. I’m not babysitting you, I’m protecting you from what some of them might do until you’ve had a chance to prove yourself. I’d also like to keep an eye on you, in light of things, to make sure you heal properly, thus my sharing my room with you. Wouldn’t want all my handiwork to go to waste, now would we?”

You knew full well the feeling you had right now had absolutely nothing to do with your present physical state as you could almost feel the heat of him with how near Silco was to you. “N-no, I suppose not,” you said a bit breathlessly.

“It’s settled then. Come now, let’s get you settled so you don’t tear those stitches, shall we?” Silco lingered a bit in front of your face as if considering something. Whatever it was, he seemed to abandon as he then slid the hand that was propped on the door behind you to your shoulder to guide you back to the bed. He pulled back the sheets before you sat down and before you even attempted to bend to take off your shoes, Silco knelt before you and began undoing your laces.

You flopped back on the bed, unceremoniously, as you waited for him to finish with your shoes that he merely tossed to the other side of the room. To your surprise, Silco then came over and put his arms under your shoulders and knees from the position you were in and slid you around into a better position on the bed before bringing the blanket up over you.

“What was that for?” You asked, giving him a look.

“Would you rather I have you try to sit up, move around, and then lie back down?” He deadpanned, “I’m trying to not undo my stitches, remember?”

“Sure you just can’t keep your hands off me?” You asked and then internally cringed. Where the fuck did that come from? Why are you flirting with him, you idiot? You know the rules.

“Shut up,” Silco said sternly as the corner of his mouth upturned and gave him away a bit. He then proceeded to plop the pillow on the floor right beneath where you lie in the bed and leaned over to snuff out the lamp light. “Try to get some rest,” his voice came from right in front of you as your eyes adjusted to the dark and you heard him lay down on the floor.

“Right,” you said into the dark as you stared up at the ceiling, knowing sleep wasn’t going to come anytime soon with how much your abdomen stung and the knowledge he was right there on the floor beside you. You could hear Silco as well, fidgeting here and there, likely trying and failing to get comfortable on the hard wood flooring. As you moved a bit to attempt to also get comfortable, your stitches pulled a bit and you hissed and laid your hand over your torso where the pain emanated from.

A sigh escaped Silco’s lips below you and he spoke in quiet tones in the dark, “Please lie still so I don’t have to redo those stitches again.”

“Your not the one whose entire front-half feels like its on fire right now,” you said also in a whisper.

“Oh fuck,” he said and he sat upright. “You’re right. Wait here.”

Silco then got up quickly and left the room leaving you there alone to continue to stare up at the ceiling after you shot a confused look at the door in his wake. Carefully, you propped up a bit on your elbows in the bed so as to not pull on his damned precious stitching and looked around in the dark. Your eyes had adjusted enough to see a book of matches on the table near the bed as you grabbed them and attempted to reignite the lamp near you, still being careful with your movements. The lamp cast a warm glow over the room, once again as you sat back a bit and surveyed the small space.

You didn’t really know what you were looking for as you lay back onto your elbows once again. Maybe you were just curious about him and looking for any hints of who the man Silco was about the room, but found it to be surprisingly vacant of anything personal that you could really tell at least from your present vantage point atop the bed. Your eyes narrowed upon catching something off to the side and you did make a mental note, however, to examine the documents that seemed to have plans scrawled upon them on the far end of the table in the morning. Further looking around you’d realized you’d missed a door on the opposite wall that was presumably his washroom based on what little you could see into it at this angle.

After scouring more of the room, you flopped back flat onto the pillow to wait Silco’s presumed return. Turning your head to the side, you stretched your arm out across the other side of the bed and realized in a bit of guilt and horror that it was, honestly, big enough for the two of you to sleep in without being on top of one another. The guilt that you hadn’t offered it before in your haze of pain and the horror knowing that you’d already caught yourself a few times today being drawn to this man.

He was very easy on the eyes.

“No more of that,” you said to yourself as the door opened and Silco returned with a few items in his hands.

“No more of what?” He asked, catching a bit of what you’d said. “Who were you talking to?”

“Nothing. Just talking to myself. Never mind.”

Silco came over and placed a bottle of whiskey on the end table next to you as well as two mismatched glasses and poured you each roughly two fingers of the brown liquid. “You talk to yourself a lot? Here.” He said and handed you two small white pills and then one of the glasses.

“You’d be surprised how years of being alone will make you talk to just about anything, including yourself,” you began in answer to his question. “What’s this?”

“Painkillers.”

“So poison it is.”

Silco sighs out your name in exasperation as you grin at him. He was so easy to toy with, you thought.

“I’m just kidding,” you said before you swallowed the pills and knocked back the entire contents of the glass in one go.

“I see you excel at following simple orders,” he said dryly as he eyed the lamp was on when he’d previously left the room in the dark.

“Didn’t know how long you were going to be gone and got bored,” you shrugged a bit and felt the painkillers start to creep in…or perhaps just the whiskey hitting you as you felt warmth spread throughout your body. “Oh, and before I nod off, you can sleep up here too, you know. There’s plenty of room and you’d get better sleep than trying to make wood comfy.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why? I don’t bite,” you pander his own words back at him as he gives you a serious look for several moments before a small grin crosses his lips and he shakes his head.

Silco mutters something under his breath as he takes the pillow and flops it over on the opposite side of the bed next to you. He takes the other glass and completely downs its contents with a bit of a cough. Then, due to the tight space of the room, he steps over you onto the bed so he can settle next to you in it with the other blanket in tow. Moving carefully, you snuff out the lamp and then turn your attention to Silco who was lying on his side as far away from you as he could get on the bed, his back against the wall that it set against. You stared at each other for a few moments as your eyes adjusted to the dark in silence. Sleep started settling in as you definitely felt the effects of the painkillers moments later.

“I don’t buy that one bit, you know,” Silco said quietly, breaking the silence after a long while.

“What’s that?” You slurred, the medication and alcohol providing a lovely effect on your speech.

“That you don’t bite,” you heard as your mind began to wander into sleep. The last thing you swore you felt as slumber took you was his hand brushing your hair out of your face and his voice saying in low tones, “Goodnight.”

#silco #silco smut #silco my beloved #silco simp #young!silco #silco x reader #silco x you #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic #silco fanfic #silco arcane #arcane silco #Shadow of Zaun #zaunite #nation of zaun

10 notes · View notes

pastelgutzz07 · 10 months

Text

Chapter 1: Sun and Moon

Content warnings: violence, dark themes

Summary:

Two girls get paired togheter on a school trip due to their similar names, now they have to deal with eachoter's clashing personalities; when one tries to overcome the other, their plan fails for the best.

On a warm sunny day, inside a bus jam-packed with sweaty teenagers, two of them were unusually outfitted. One whose face is obscured as they look out the window, their surprisingly high shoes forcing them to touch knees and chest as they hunched over, presenting a fully black attire, including the elf earphones they made a point to show, even if that meant pushing the hood behind their ears; directly next to this emotional individual is one that similarly were dressed head to toe, but as if the character slider was turned the other direction.

Kicking the ground impatiently with their immensely priced sport shoes, carefully keeping their thighs apart as to not damage the white leggings they sported aswell, this small person made a point out of tying their hair again because a single strand had fallen out after a violent bump in the road. If you looked closely, you could spot the tip of the white skirt they wore inside the great, big pink parka that accompanied them every single moment they had a choice on, the hood of which framed their freckled face, brown eyes shining like a forest mid sunrise, and if you watch her flushed lips, you can see they're moving.

And they moved again

And again, now accompanied by the slight downward motion of their eyebrows and the lift of their right hand, continuing the same movement patter as they took off one of the other person's earphones:

- Phoebe!! - They almost shouted, their bus partner jumping in surprise and turning towards them with an anger stamped face, almost as apparent as their dark makeup.

- What do you want?! - When impacted with this reaction, the other person unconsciously moved themselves back, a defensive tone rising.

- Chill! You don't have to be mean about everything, is it that bad that I want to make conversation with my trip partner?

- Neither of us wants to be togheter, stop acting like you do. -Their face turned back to ambivalence as they rolled eyes.

- I'm.. not the happiest with this. But I could be! If we both gave eachother the chance it could maybe work out, and hey, it's just for a daaaaay!!

- Uuuuugh - They exclaimed, looking up at the ceiling - You want to get in my good side? Then. stop. speaking.

- Rude - The shorter one crossed their arms, almost being swallowed by their outfit, and looked the other way.

In truth, the only things conjoining these teenagers were the color of their hair, one a vibrant ginger, the other dyed red, and the first letters of their names: Phoebe and Percy, well, Persephone. If you asked them they wouldn't admit it, but secretly they yearned for eachoter's names, one with the background of a goddess who tamed the underworld and the other with an overall cuteness to it, a not-so-common but still acceptable sounding name; these girls lived wildly different lives but still were bound to cross eachoter in the hallways, avoid eachoter in the cafeteria, and now be partners in their senior trip.

It wasn't supposed to be a very long trip but also wasn't a ten minute ride, the place they were going to was this weird sort of limbo where it wasn't outside of the state but still managed to be pretty hard to come across, a three star hotel in the middle of the woods where they'd have te same experience as a whole summer camp for themselves, lakes, sport stations, hot springs, all that jazz. Not the most fancy trip in the world, not the most rich people, a healthy middle class indulgence for these students who worked on so hard throughout the whole year.

As you could guess, it wasn't the quietest of places, there was music pumping in the back, footsteps of people walking around to talk to their friends, the insufferable plastic crunches of opening bagged goods, all of it togheter with her friends being in a separate bus was driving Percy bonkers. Yes, she showed up late (you could thank her parents for that) but really, did it matter? Even before the bus seats were announced, her teammates were already giggling and planning about this trip at her not with her, she felt like an after thought, a consolation price, a diversity photoshoot, always behind never next to and it didn't matter how fast she could run.

She looked at her signal-less phone, had they answered the group chat yet? Or were they too busy having fun without her? Did they even see her texts? She refreshed the screen

And again

Then she opened another tab, checked their socials, maybe they posted something there? Still no signal. She was stranded in this island of nobodies right next to a punk who didn't even want to talk to her! Will the whole vacation be like this? "You have to be next to eachoter in all group activities" said the teacher in that dreaded day, she was doomed, it was her senior trip and she was friendless.

The worst sound though, was the rampant beats of her partner's bass boosted earphones, if Percy focused on it she could hear the screams of a thousand souls or whatever, it's like what? Metal? She hated it, how could anyone subject themselves to that? Full volume screaming over some mismatched guitars, no harmony or melody whatsoever.. if only she could drown everything out with her own headphone, you know, the one she left at home. Everytime this preppy teen looked to her right she would be overwhelmed by the other's ebony, heavy energy, almost as if she was seated next to a black hole; when the stars aligned and they locked eyes, ground meeting the night sky, she could feel the gravity loaded Mariana's Trench between them as if it invited on of them to fall.

Phoebe was, as always, trying her best not to care, she didn't care about the sun outside burning her eyes as she looked out or the sun inside burning her ears with every futile attempt at conversation. She knew for a fact that this prep didn't care either, no one ever did, all of them should stop acting like everything in their sad little lives is soooo important because it wasn't! The last time she was forced to interact with this fiery pit was still engraved in her mind, how Percy would go on for hours about imbecile things when it could've just been a five minute conversation, it was just a stupid banner for the track team.

You see, Phoebe had gotten in trouble about her latest unauthorized art project "Too much blood" they said, "Children are going to see this" they berated. She didn't care, it was a monument of her passion and any consequences would be welcome, except the one she got: "Expressing her artistic potential in less harmful manners by painting the banners for the up and coming track finals." Princess over there didn't seem to remember that, though. As the leader of the track team you'd think otherwise, but it seemed like she was more interested in having a piece that impressed her teammates than the artist doing it, like she was alone in the room, talking to a wall.

Hate is a strong word the dark pit used openly, she had a strong hated towards a lot of things, the worst of them being ignorance- NOT BEING IGNORED! That'd be stupid, you think she gives a shit if people notice her or not? No. - she hated how people could so easily pick and choose what to learn, what to seek, what to present, staying in their rainbow bubbles all their lives. Not her, she was open to everything and it's not her fault that most things in this world were abhorrent, she learned and internalized everything there was to be, while people like Barbie over there would just spit out anything they didn't like, and they didn't like her.

She would pull out her journal right know if she didn't know for a fact that there were preying eyes behind those enormous eyelashes, her art was secret and personal, not something that should be seen by someone like Percy, but wihout anything to do boredom crawled her back, every second dripped like rain as the cenery changed every so often, the trees starting to peak up pace as they reached their destination.

A sudden, but awaited, stop shook the bus and those standing people, some almost falling to the ground, and everyone began to take their bags and get ready to exit, so did the girls. The tiny one was almost gone behind her number of bags as she caught up to her friends, talking about the trip and complaining about the lack of signal, following it up by topics the taller one couldn't stand as she followed unwillingly, head straight to the ground like a shadow behind these colorful few, the teachers monitored every student to keep the pairs togheter and once again separate Percy from her teammates so they could join their own lounges; two for the girls, two for the boys.

Bags clashed against eachoter in a single pile, some were against their owners beds as they already put away the contents, otherwise most of them agreed they'd get it over with later, now was a time for fun! The teens were directed to the hotel's employees who guided them through an arduous and long tour within the bounds of their territory, eyes shining with the new possibilities of semi-unlimented and unsupervised glee. Phoebe seemed less than thrilled with the various accommodations, instead continuously looking into the woods as her partner just as frequently shouted at her to hurry up.

Soon the moon rose, silver hitting the leaves that glittered with it's light, everyone gathered around to eat in their own cliques, just as if they were back in school, but, you know, with significantly better food, after that they came back to the lounge to meet their belated responsibilities, showering, brushing their teeth, getting ready for bed. It was a cold night, the cabin creaked as did the woodlings outside of it, with some time all fell asleep, except one.

The heavy door remained untouched, instead one of the glass windows slid open, a quiet but steady sound following it before being interrupted by a thud; Percy heard all of it while staring the other way, locking her eyes to the wall as she kept herself covered by a mountain of blankets, holding herself in fear. Did someone get in or out? She slowly turned around, wind coming from the open space between the frame and the window, probably opened after the recoil of the first forced closing, right in front of her were elven earphones in the same place the big boots of a certain someone should be.

As the room got colder, her heart pumped faster and faster. Of course that freak decided to sneak out, she's probably with some other kids sacrificing goats or something.. she had never seen Phoebe without her earphones, why would she forget it now? No one took her that's for sure, how would someone sneak in and out with a girl that size? She can probably fight too, a kick from those shoes would hurt like a bitch, she did take the shoes...

The girl's body felt heavier as she got up, still unsure what to do, no one knew this place that well, okay maybe she had come here before or something and knew her way around, she's fine, why is Percy worrying so much about this? Because she'd probably be paired with a teacher if her partner went missing. What would someone even do at this time?! Couldn't she wait until morning?

She carefully took a step up, still in her pajamas, and looked out the window, was she really the only one in this room filled with people that woke up because of this? As the breeze hit her face, reddening her cheeks, she thought to herself: "Is it really worth it? She must be far by now, would I even be able to find her? No, I'm a good person! I'm going to look for my partner, find her and bring her back, I'm sure she'll appreciate it. Whatever she's doing right now can't be that important." She lift one of her legs to the height of the window and jumped out, careful to not make much noise.

The night immediately caught up to this fragile being who chose to come out of safety, somber clawing its way up from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head, every aimless step she took felt like moving blocks of steel as she looked around for any trace of the lost person, hopelessly trying to spot a trace the red hair in a infinity of black. A loud thud echoed nearby, "fuck!" a recognizable voice silently exclaimed, giving this deer a headlight to look towards, if squinting she could spot a figure between nearby threes, equally frightened eyes meeting.

By the time Phoebe blinked, Percy was already in front of her:

- What are you doing here?! Couldn't you wait some hours?! Couldn't you wait for me? - The sun loudly whispered, looking up so both could meet eyes to eye. Her counterpart's shoulders relaxed, once again keeping the monotone tone.

- Did I awake the sleeping princess?

- Could you not tease me for a second? I bet you didn't even think about what they'd do with me if they caught you right now.

- Oh, so it is about you! I didn't realize me choosing to go out alone would bother anyone, I forgot I was tied by the hip with Prom Queen over here. I apologize. - Her arms crossed - You're here because I want you to, if I didn't you wouldn't even notice I was gone until noon.

- What?!

- Did you bring my earphones? - The cogs turned in Percy's head, "this motherfucker-"

- Couldn't you just ask like a normal person?

- Would you come if I did?- The silence was deafening, a face pouting in shame and the other slightly smirking in acknowlegment- Look, I know a nice spot around here. - her voice sounded rough, as if forcing the words out as she was stared at, deciding to admit defeat. - I'm sorry, Im sorry. Would you like to come too? Since you're here already.

- Why would you want me to go anywhere with you? - She fixed her hair, still standing her ground.

- I.. -She looked away - I need someone else. I mean, I don't need someone. I have something to do, and it would be easier with you there.

- What are you going to do? - She stepped back. - Is it drugs? Because if it is drugs I want nothing to do with it! I've never done it but I've heard that- The taller one hushed these words away, warning her to lower her tone.

- It's not drugs, Persephone. I'm.. meeting someone?

- Why did that sound like a question?

-... Because I don't know if they're going to actually show up. - She rolled her eyes, looked to the side and then back - I've got a date, okay?.. He's from here and I'm kinda scared to go on my own.

- Uhm.. - That made a bit of sense, goth people like to meet in strange places, right? Who would even live out here? The guides told them it was covered florests from here on out, could anyone really live there? - What is this place like?

- There's a tunnel not far from here, used to be pretty popular but I guess they planted more trees around it.. I know it sounds sketchy and you don't know me, but I really need this, really. I'll owe you for the rest of my life - Phoebe held the small hands of this suspecting stranger. There was truth behind those words, it was apparent, but the overall danger of this situation didn't open any space for ease.

- I'll go with you.. if we're back before daylight AND you empty your pockets. - With this demand, the moon rose her hands in surrender, then showed the emptiness of her pockets, from her hoodie down to her pants. Percy let out a sigh of relief authough still worried, she looked back to the shack, mind running. - Lead the way.

As the taller one started to walk forward, the shorter checked the pockets of her own, she was still found in her parka, taking out a pen; she waited for the other to be far enough to not see the newfound writing on a sizeable leaf she had found, neither the ring of hers on the ground next to it, just in case anybody would look for them. She then caught up, they walked for less time then what it felt lilke with less steps than it should take, both of them rushing in impatience for something other than trees to look at, filling the space with some small talk.

"So, what is he like?" "Have you ever been in a place like this before?" "What are your friends like?" "Are you enjoying the trip?"

Then the ground started getting browner, a pathway appeared leaving both of them more calm, their steps firmer, Percy was still terrified, Phoebe didn't look like it. When they finally reached the tunnel, the former froze, feet sunk on the ground, rooted:

- You're not coming? - Phoebe showed some emotion in her voice, something along the lines of worry.

- Do I have a choice?

- What? Want me to hold your hand? - She said with impetulence, but then caught herself - You already came all the way here, right? Come on, worst case scenario we get a cool hang out spot for ourselves. - She held out her hand, Percy silently took it after a short silence, then reached for her phone. - Don't!

An insufferable noise reached both of their ears, loud, screaming static coming from the device as it vibrated, falling from it's owners hands as she gasped:

- WHAT THE HELL?! - The spurt little thing shouted in surprise, watching it shake on the ground, but her words were cut by an involuntary movement. When she realized, she was already in the ground, her partner had slammed both of them backwards as to reach the tunnel, she tried to pull away to no ends as the other reached for a backpack not mentioned beforehand.

Phoebe tried to pull this girl's arm while obtaining the knife she was waiting to use, but the sight of it gave the sun enough adrenaline to kick her away, sending them both rolling in opposite directions, he, it, was already here, it was either one of them or both, now or never, she was going to forge her dreams no matter what. Her hand reached the other's ponytail, but was forced to let go by another kick, this time to the cutting hand, leaving her disarmed but the victim wounded.

Percy yelped at the pain and managed to get up but not before this monster had, she felt her whole body absorb the shock of being shoved against a wall and her nose crack when being punched in the face, forcing her to look at the side. They weren't alone. Despite her size, she wasn't going down that easily, fuck it, she wasn't going down at all! It's her senior year and she isn't going to get killed by the school freak! She punched the other's ribs and used the space opened by the recoil to hit the other's boots, leaving her to fall.

The static got louder, a cracking sound could be hear within it all, it was not coming from the phone anymore. It would cut every so often just to come back louder until it echoed in the tunnel, a figure appeared amongst the shadows, it curved itself to fit inside but was unmoving, watching the conflict patiently, it's presence was palpable but not visible; or maybe the kids just weren't paying enough attention.

You could feel the pent up anger of these emotionally stunted teenagers finally be released as they bruised eachoter away from the knife, a conflict of stamina, their vision blurred more and more; maybe it was the concussions, or maybe the haze was really getting deeper. Phoebe finally got the upper hand, a grasp on the knife and on the insufferable chick's neck, still she didn't have the opportunity to slam it down.

First there was light, then a noise so loud it made their heads shake from the inside as a tremendous impact threw them into the air. Everything was crumbling, the tunnel was coming down.

It all went blank

Then black

Time passed and it didn't, they didn't notice it.

Had they died? Stuck in an immense hazel void, the sight of closing your eyes in a well lit room, both separately felt like they were stuck in a blind sleep paralysis, hearing and feeling being carried by mangled, hushed and hurried voices, incapable of waking up.

Until they did.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #writing #writblr #ocs #fanmade #fanfic

0 notes

saintobio · 3 years

Text

sincerely not. (2)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, violence (not to reader), explicit smut

notes. this chapter came out longer than i expected help anyways enjoy! rbs appreciated

series masterlist -> episode three

For the past thirty minutes, Gojou had been staring blankly at the small hourglass on top of his grand office desk. He swiveled on his seat while his mind flew, pondering on what would have happened if he had chosen not to proceed with the wedding. Things would have been better if he didn’t have the stupid ring around his finger. What if he just ran away that day? It shouldn’t even be a question. Clearly, he wouldn’t be half as piqued at coming home if he didn’t have an irritating wife waiting for him.

Whenever he was in the office, he would forget that he was actually a married man back home. Drowned by the surge of weekly reports in operational functions, work became his temporary distraction to the new life that he had outside of their company’s skyscraper building. As much as he despised the idea of being wedded to you, he was glad to see that you weren’t immediately acting on your role as a pretentious wife. He thought that you would prepare him breakfast or pay him a visit in the office or swarm his phone with texts and calls, but your complete absence this morning was a breath of fresh air.

He knew you were probably sleeping somewhere around the penthouse, but it seemed that you really listened when he asked you to stay away when no one was around. Good to know, Gojou thought silently. He would have had more reasons to be aggravated had you started nagging at him like a real housewife.

Nevertheless, he was not expecting that his father would show up in his office straight after the meeting with the Board of Directors later past noon. There could only be very few reasons on why his Chairman of a father would even care to personally enter his office; it was either Satoru messed up an important project or he did something else that highly infuriated the old man. Regardless of what he had done, this wasn’t anything new.

Seeing his father slam the door on his secretary’s face didn’t even shock him. It was the austere look on the man’s entire visage that made the young heir rise up from his seat to stand tall and confident as the son of a Chairman and CEO should be.

“Dad.” Satoru tried to meet him halfway, taking small steps on the carpeted floor until he was greeted with a sudden hard blow that sent his face whipping to the side. The smack resulted into a busted lower lip, wiped briefly by his thumb before he looked back at his father in spite.

His father, whose electric eyes sent daggers straight to his soul, did not hesitate to curse at his own son. “You son of a bitch! Do you want to explain why your wife went back to their mansion last night?”

Satoru wasn’t even aware until now. When he asked you to sleep on the couch last night, he didn’t think that you would be running back to your family’s mansion like a crybaby. He woke up today and left for work thinking that you were just somewhere around the penthouse. “I didn’t know that she returned—”

“Kenji called me last night asking why Y/N came home on the night of her damn wedding!” his father revealed, narrowing his stare towards his son behind his thin-framed glasses. The man had to refrain himself from swinging a hand on his son again, but vicious was the fire in his eyes. “Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you’ve already won her heart!”

Satoru clenched his fists, but stayed silent from where he stood. He was completely powerless in front of his father, knowing that every wrong move would cost him a lot in return. “I’ll pick her up and apologize.”

Suck it in, Satoru. It’s all you can ever do.

“You better fix your shit,” the old man snarled while he fumbled with his cufflinks. “You don’t realize how valuable their family’s shares will be for this company, you ungrateful bastard! I did everything I can just to secure this marriage for you. If we lose them, consider yourself dead to me.”

His father’s words had always stung, but this one certainly took the cake. And the worst part was, Satoru couldn’t even talk back as much as he wanted to. Submission was his only option when it all boiled down to just him and his father.

Seething inwardly, he did as told. “I’ll... do what we’ve agreed on.”

A scoff then left the old man’s lips. “Sure you will. Even if you’re my only heir, I can easily let Yuuta take over instead of you. He’s not incompetent like you are.”

Not this again. Satoru was the only son, therefore, the sole heir to their conglomerate, but his asshole of a father had always made him fight for his position against his stepbrother. He was manipulated to do things out of his will just to please the man’s cruel intentions. He was a tool used to benefit the company’s insatiable greed. As an ambitious man himself, Satoru’s last resort to guarantee his role as the future CEO was not by any other means except to marry you.

So even if he was disgusted at the thought of being tied down to a girl like you, he had to stomach being a husband to a wife he didn’t love.

“Remember this, Satoru. There is no family when it comes to business.”

It was a staring contest between the father and son, the latter steaming with rage inside of him. Satoru believed that all of this wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t get in the way. If you were with someone else, marrying you would never even be his option. This was your fault. Unlike him, you got married without receiving consequences in return and Gojou was dead set in giving you hell for it.

“Take a week off from work,” the strict instruction came out of his father’s mouth, “You should spend time with her and win her heart. I’ve booked a flight for your honeymoon. Why not step it up by giving her a child?”

A child. Satoru wanted to bitterly laugh. This was not even part of the deal.

Just as his father made a quick pivot to leave, a woman stood by the door carrying piles of folders on her frail arms. This woman was the only one who managed to soften the grim expression on Satoru’s face that would have lasted for the entire day.

“Sir,” she spoke to the old man with respect, her sleek brown hair falling on her shoulders gracefully, “Mr. Nakamura’s waiting in your office.”

The Chairman raised a dismissive hand and walked out of Satoru’s office with little care, leaving his son and the receptionist staring at each other intently as though the world just stopped spinning from its axis whenever they were a few meters away from each other.

It was her who first broke the gaze, but it was him who called for her name. “Sera.”

Satoru felt like his heart would leap out of his chest at the mere sight of the woman that caused his bliss. He wanted to hug her, kiss her, tell her just how much he loved her, but there was little action to be done in a building floor full of prying ears to expose a forbidden love.

“Sera!” One of the executives impatiently demanded for her presence from a distance. “Where’s my coffee?!”

Satoru hated this. He hated how the woman that he loved was in here being treated like a servant while you were out there living comfortably without any shame in your bone.

You didn’t deserve the life that you were living. Sera did.

“Coming, Miss!” Before she could bolt out of Satoru’s office, she mouthed the words ‘talk to you soon’ and left her boyfriend alone with a hollow heart and a tortured soul.

You weren’t a pushover, but neither were you confrontational.

You figured that the best way to deal with Satoru’s animosity was indeed to stay away from him. He was right. There was no way you could remain under the same roof with a man who loathed your existence and treated you like dirt. Because you were gravely hurt from the words that he uttered that night, you chose to go back to the only place where comfort was willingly given to you.

It was too late to realize that you probably shouldn’t have left the penthouse without a say, but since Satoru slammed the door on your face thinking that you were going to sleep on the couch, your instinct led you to go back to your family’s mansion at midnight with much surprise from your maids’ faces.

Regretfully, you weren’t thinking much by coming back to your old home because your father was extensively worried the next day when he greeted you with a fusillade of questions. “Why are you here?” was one of the first things he asked. “Did something happen? Is Satoru not treating you right?”

“Dad, it’s... We’re fine,” your immediate response was to cover for your husband, “I kinda just freaked out about the whole arranged wedding thing so I went back here out of panic. He didn’t even want me to leave, but I insisted. Just for tonight.”

There was relief in your father’s face when he easily bought your lies, sitting at the edge of your bed before patting your shoulder upon losing his interrogative stare. You had to try hard enough to conceal your face with a reassuring smile while he gave you a piece of advice. “I know it’s hard to adjust from this whole arrangement at first, but you’re gonna have to get used to being a wife.”

It wouldn’t be much of a problem if only your husband accepted you the way you initially thought. “I know,” you said, leaning your back on the bed’s headboard. “Why did you really get me to marry him, Dad?”

“Didn’t you always come home talking about him with your nannies back then?” he recalled, amused at the memory. “I’m not your mom so you didn’t talk about boys with me, but I heard enough to know how much you like him.”

The memory alone tugged at your heart with aching gravity. What was once a happy crush had tragically become a spiteful marriage—it wasn’t really anything to happily reminisce about. “That was before, Dad. I don’t like him that way anymore.”

How could you freely like Satoru if he was candidly brutal about how much he detested you?

While your father teasingly shrugged, he also took a moment to brush your arm with a comforting a hand. “I’ve known Satoru since he was a kid. It’s better to see you married to a man I trust, not someone who will just use you for what you have. That’s what your mom wanted for you when she was still here with us, too.”

You didn’t know how to break it to your father that he trusted the wrong person. That Satoru despised every inch of you for allowing the marriage to happen. You didn’t want to erase the smile on your father’s face with pure disappointment at the fact that the man he treated like a son just mercilessly trampled on his daughter’s heart. If anything, your dad was probably just holding onto a promise that he made with your mom even if he couldn’t outwardly admit it to you.

As infants, Satoru was only three months older from being born and you were told that your mothers would take you two to places together, pairing you since the day you were welcomed into this world. It would have been cute to think about how your mothers played matchmakers back then, but looking at it now, it never really worked.

The only reason why the marriage sounded perfect to the ears of the executives was because he was an heir and you were an heiress to your respective business empires. It was typical for one affluent family to marry their child off to another wealthy family because such elitism was common to people who were born with inherited wealth.

“Dad, if I liked someone else, would you still push me to marry Satoru?” you asked as the thought bubbled inside your head.

Your father was quick to respond. “If you can prove how much the other man likes you, then I wouldn’t insist on the marriage with Shinzo’s son.”

Truly, you never wished so hard to have found someone else before you married your now husband. It would have been best for the both of you to just continue life without each other—no fake love, no heartbreaks. Even if you had the tiniest feelings still hidden for Satoru, forcing this marriage was something you would have spared him and yourself for the best.

You didn’t know how you would be going back to the penthouse with your reluctance to be around Gojou again, but when the man appeared in your mansion to greet your father the first thing, it was needless to say that you had become a deer caught in the headlights. He came into the mansion carrying the same courteous stance that he had on the wedding reception, hiding the antagonism that he usually uncovered when the two of you were alone.

Your husband was two-faced, but you didn’t have the energy to be angry because you could understand why he would react that way. Although, you wished that he could be nicer at the very least because it wasn’t like the marriage was your decision alone.

“Satoru,” your father welcomed your husband as he entered the grand foyer. “How’s everything?”

“All good, sir.”

“Please, just call me Dad from now on.”

There was no reason for your heart to do somersaults as if the man didn’t torment you with his words last night. But there was something about his sudden presence that brought you a rush of inexplicable contentment inside. You didn’t think that he would come to visit you at all, so seeing him in your home painted a huge question mark on your face.

“I’m just here to pick her up,” stated Satoru, standing near the staircase to watch you descend the steps in silence. He was dressed in a long sleeve polo tucked in his grey slacks, looking like he had just gotten out of work as the Vice President of the Gojou Group. He approached you straight away and even made the bold move of leaning in to peck your lips. “Hey. I’m sorry about last night.”

He was acting and he wanted you to play along. With your dad watching on the side, you knew you had to be careful with your actions. “Hi,” you timidly greeted, intertwining your fingers when he held your hand. “It’s okay. I was being stubborn.”

“Are you two gonna spend the day out?” your father, clearly pleased with the interaction, sounded like he was actually encouraging you two to spend time together.

You had no idea what to say so it was Satoru who answered. “I’m taking her shopping.” He glanced at you with a small smile before he added, “We’ll be flying to Iceland in two days.”

An impressed look bathed your dad’s eyes. You, on the other hand, were dumbfounded at the information. “For your honeymoon? Wonderful place to pick.”

“It is. Can’t wait to take her there,” your husband claimed, squeezing your hand before he wrapped an arm around your waist. The sudden affection was causing whirlwinds of emotions inside of you and you just didn’t know how to deal with it. Was he actually trying? Did he realize how mean he was to you?

There was no way to know. For now, you dreaded the moment where you two would be out of anyone’s earshot because Satoru could be putting on a front. The mere thought of it devastated you.

You were right.

Once you were at the backseat of the Range Rover, your husband never once looked at you again. You noticed that his personal driver, Ijichi, could feel the tension between the married couple as he played soft, jazz music to cut the uncomfortable silence that filled the vehicle.

You and Satoru sat far away from each other, almost on the edge of your seats on either side of the SUV. All you could do was to look at the window and appreciate the busy city because your husband would not talk to you and you couldn’t help but think of whether the Iceland trip was true or if he was just desperate to play the caring husband role in front of your dad.

Just as you were about to ask, you tilted your head to the side to see him already looking at you with a deadpan face. However, on the broad spectrum between happiness and anger, his countenance was leaning more towards the latter.

“Was it fun trying to provoke me or something?” he accused through gritted teeth, eyebrows creasing in vexation.

Confusion had instantly spread to your face because you weren’t sure where he was going with this. “I’m sorry?”

As the car pulled up from the traffic light, you could swear that his bright azure eyes would turn a shade darker whenever he looked at you—a very clear sign of just how much he wanted to wreck you into broken pieces.

“Cut your bullshit,” he snapped, frown forming his lips. “Didn’t you run away last night to get some sympathy? You wanted to get me in trouble as revenge. I didn’t take you for an attention seeker.”

You took umbrage from his remarks. It was difficult to understand where Satoru’s deep-seated anger was coming from because he was even going as far as accusing you of things you didn’t even do. “You’re the one who told me to stay away.”

“You always get what you want, do you?” he continued without even acknowledging your response. “Is this how you win someone’s love? You can’t even find anyone that’ll love you without asking your father to arrange your marriage. You’re pathetic—”

“You’re so hurtful!” you cut him off as his words inflicted burning ache in your chest. The pain was cutting through your flesh and piercing through your spirit to ensure your agony. You knew that you haven’t found a significant other who truly loved you for who you were, but Satoru’s way of saying it to your face was more torturous than simply rubbing salt to the wound. “M-My dad doesn’t even know you hate me and I don’t plan on telling him.”

Your voice cracked as you spoke with bile forming on your throat and tears pooling your eyes. Despite the weakness that you had showed, Satoru had no scintilla of empathy for you. He showed no consideration for your feelings and how utterly cruel he was being.

In his defense, you were the one to be blamed for everything. “You expect me to thank you?”

“No,” you replied, holding your tears back in. “I only expect you to be nicer. I get that you hate being with me, but...”

His face hardened before he scoffed. “You don’t understand what it’s like for me.”

“Then, help me understand. Help me understand without us fighting every second.” Your tone was resolute with your willingness to acknowledge the difficulties that he had been facing after being married to you. If you had your own sacrifices, he must have had more for him to act this way. Marriages didn’t always work for everyone, but it didn’t mean that you could simply not care for him. In fact, you did care for him to a significant extent because the vows that you had told him came straight from your heart. You meant it when you said that you would cherish him, be there for him, and be patient with him. All he had to do was to let you do your job.

Unfortunately, you didn’t even receive an answer.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with you and your husband going to the mall and shopping just as he told your dad. Although the tension was still high, he dragged you to different stores like it was hard labor by telling you to pick the outfit you wanted for the so-called honeymoon trip. There was no ounce of excitement in him, but he was insisting for you to just comply and get it over with, sounding like he was being forced to do all of this with you rather than it being on his own accord.

Considering your set up, this was indeed just obligatory for him. You shouldn’t forget that this marriage was arranged and never would have happened without the mutual agreement of your families. Neither of you could escape the wedding ordeal as much as you liked. It was a dead-end.

Was it unreasonable to keep whining about it? Maybe, but it was only Satoru who ever strongly detested it.

“We don’t have to do this,” you insisted, keeping up with his fast pace as he walked along the chain of boutiques that housed different luxury brands from the likes of Coco Chanel to Ermenegildo Zegna.

“Just be quick and choose whatever you want,” he impatiently commanded as you entered a luxury boutique known for its remarkable swimwear pieces. While the surprise on your face was clear, you happened to have seen one of your father’s business partners inside the boutique as you got in. You immediately saw the stretch of panic that washed over Satoru’s face before he grabbed your hand and interlaced it with his.

“Oh! If it isn’t the newlyweds,” Mrs. Suzuki merrily acknowledged, approaching you closer with an assistant following her behind. “Satoru’s taking you shopping?”

Your husband forced a grin and caressed your hand with his thumb. “Yes, Auntie. Just making sure she has everything she needs before we fly off for our honeymoon.”

The woman’s eyes gleamed with delight before she turned to you and lightly cupped your cheeks. “Well that gorgeous face should look happy, then,” she pointed out, to which you responded quickly with a smile. “Go and pick the sexiest bikini for your husband.”

You hoped that the small chuckle you let out sounded genuine. “I will, Mrs. Suzuki.”

Because of her presence, the tension between you and Satoru had greatly lessened and you might as well thank her for it. Had she not appeared, your husband never would have bothered having an arm draped and secured around your waist nor having his lips pressed on your temple all for show.

You hated it, only because you shouldn’t be having butterflies when he was acting affectionate. The caring gestures that he showed may not be as real as you believed, but you wished that everything could just stay this way—where he treated you like a real wife and you were comfortable around him like he was a real husband.

“I don’t wanna wear that,” you shyly mumbled when Satoru pointed towards a very revealing snake-skin bikini.

“Wear it for me?” You shouldn’t feel heat permeating through your cheeks when he would give you those pleading eyes. You shouldn’t get too carried away to forget what the man was like under all his façade.

Through yours and Satoru’s teasing, the salesperson was almost cooing at the sight of your sweetness as a couple. She even guided you into one of the dressing rooms while claiming that your husband was extremely handsome and that you were lucky. Handsome? You would agree. Lucky? You weren’t sure. It was hard to tell as you couldn’t weigh just how much of a wife you could act around him.

You simply couldn’t wait for the day until acting was no longer an option.

There were a few things that you noticed about Satoru during that quick shopping spree. First was that he was a holder of the most prestigious credit card in the world after he paid for your items with his black card despite your insistence to pay with your own. Second, he had more bodyguards following him around than you did, but it wasn’t surprising as he was once named one of the top ten richest bachelors under 30 by Forbes Japan. You could only imagine how much he was risking his life by simply going out.

Lastly, while you were busy being assisted by the staff at one of the boutiques you went to, you saw him coming out of Tiffany & Co. with a small packaging on his hand that he later made Ijichi carry around. Out of all the stores you visited, that was the only place where he made a personal purchase and you wondered what he could have gotten. Was it for himself?

Perhaps for you? As if he would.

Somehow, returning to the penthouse didn’t feel as uninviting than the last. The both of you did your own night routine in silence—which you realized was better than arguing—and he thankfully never brought up anything about earlier’s events.

There seemed to be a lot going on inside his head and you sympathized for how pressured he already was at work. Dealing with you was another, so your mind was slowly processing the fact that you should be more understanding and patient towards him. You should see things in his point-of-view and put yourself in shoes, knowing that being married out of your will and having responsibilities sitting squarely on your shoulders would cause a man like him to be frequently hotheaded.

Because you had known Satoru before, you were aware that he wasn’t this inimical towards other people. You could see it now and you felt bad. Certainly, if things weren’t so forced, he would never treat you with ill-intent.

Patience is a virtue, you sighed in your head as you picked a pajama set from the closet, soon entering the spacious bathroom after Satoru took a quick shower before bed.

To end this long day, you indulged yourself with a warm bath and had beads of water cascading from the ceiling shower down to your entire naked body. Your strained muscles had relaxed as soon as the water came in contact with your skin, releasing the exhaustion that you’ve had for the past two days along with the steam that rose from the heated water.

It was crazy to think that two days ago, you were still a single woman, and now you were married to a man that you once have grown fond of. If you were back to your teenage self, you would consider yourself in cloud nine.

“Sleep in bed with me tonight.”

You heard the sound of the door swinging open as Satoru casually walked in amidst your soaping session. The shriek that escaped your lips as you scrambled behind the transparent glass made him roll his eyes, facing the mirror with a razor on his hand. “H-Hey, I’m still showering!” And very clearly naked as you complained.

Perhaps Satoru’s lack of interest towards you was an advantage in these instances because he genuinely didn’t give a damn at even sending a quick glance to your body. “Then shower,” he muffled a response as he started scraping his jaw with an electric razor. “You’re not even interesting to look at.”

Swallowed by your own insecurities, you showered in haste and sheathed your body with a robe before you left the bathroom to get dressed. You should get used to Satoru’s insulting words, but it surely left a sting behind.

You had chosen to keep your lips sealed by the time you two climbed in bed and he was unaware to the fast beating of your heart that came along with it. The pacing of your heartbeat was upping at an unusual speed because it just hit you that this was the first time you were sharing a bed together.

He didn’t particularly seem to take it as a big deal like you did. As husband and wife, sleeping in one bed was one of the most domestic parts of marriage, but if Satoru’s back was faced against you, you couldn’t really be excited about this night. He was creating an invisible barrier that limited what you were to him. By experience alone, having him as a husband was the most difficult challenge that you might soon give up on.

However, sad as it might be, you weren’t really one to give up on something as valuable as marriage. “Good night, Satoru.”

You heard him yawn as he settled under the duvet, but you’ve fallen asleep receiving not even the bare minimum in return.

FLASHBACK — Gojou’s Office

Satoru wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he would stay past office hours until everyone had left the floor just so he could be alone with her. He wasn’t ashamed of how desperate he was at having her on top of his desk as he shoved his hardened member inside her core, hips snapping against hers to fulfill himself of the ecstasy that he needed after a stressful day.

He wasn’t ashamed of her. Never was she ashamed of her, of Sera, his secret girlfriend whose existence had carved a special place in the depths of his heart.

Regardless of her social class, he never truly loved anyone the way he loved her. A woman working as the top floor’s receptionist may not be an ideal wife for the elitists that nested in this company, but he didn’t care for Sera’s lack of riches. What he cared about was the woman that made him fall in love with her smile, her wit, her admirable traits, and just about everything that she was.

“S-Satoru!” she sweetly moaned for his name with her legs spread open to see the man thrusting his shaft into her. Such a sight was enough for him to go crazy over, wanting nothing but to do this all night until they have sated themselves with the reciprocity of love and lust combined.

No other woman could top Sera in his eyes. Her mesmerizing beauty, her slender figure, her angelic face—he was a man willing to give up everything for her. Or so he believed.

“Fuck,” he cussed under his breath, simultaneous to how he gently squeezed one of her mounds. Each thrust had him going deeper and deeper into her hole, penetrating her walls until she was crying of overwhelming pleasure. “I love you, Sera.”

“I—I love you,” she whimpered through their exchange of sloppy kisses. Some of his files had fallen on the tessellated carpet, but neither of the lovers cared about anything else except to reach for their growing orgasm.

Satoru held her hips closer to his crotch and watched how his rubber-coated shaft would go in and out of her entrance, silently cussing at how warm she felt around him. All he could think of was how much he wanted Sera to stay by his side even if the world was against them. That she could remain as his even when things couldn’t turn out the way they wanted.

Sera started mewling at how rough her boyfriend was becoming as he increased his speed, jostling her body above his desk until his movements became uneven and spurts of his seed had showered through the rubber that he was wearing. His face was buried on the crook of her neck as the couple panted of heavy breaths after their lovemaking.

Satoru couldn’t think of having something like this with anyone else but her.

And yet, he was left with no choice.

“I’m getting married next week,” his voice was an octave deeper on her ear and the clenching of his heart was shared between them, except hers was twice more painful after hearing the sudden information. “I’m sorry.”

When he pulled away, he anticipated that there would be tears in her eyes that he would soon wipe. She blinked them away as she gazed at his face with glistening brown eyes that mirrored the pain inside of her. “Do you like her?”

There was no hesitance at shaking his head. “No, I just have no choice.”

He didn’t have to explain himself. Or at least, Sera didn’t want him to. All she did was to pull him for a comforting hug and have her arms around his shoulders tight enough that they could feel the vibration of each other’s heartbeats. “You should do it. It’s what they want.”

“Sera—”

“Don’t worry about me.” She pulled away only to cup his cheeks. “Do what’s best until you’re all settled.”

Between keeping her and letting her go, Satoru decided that it was best not to change anything between them. “I’ll figure something out,” he promised, “I’ll make sure that we’ll still be together in the end. No matter what happens, I’m not giving you up that easily.”

This was love, he believed. Something that you didn’t have with someone else which was why you had to ruin it for him. You were the root of his unwanted marriage.

On one hand, the contented smile on Sera’s face was what gave him felicity because nothing in this world was more important to him than her. He dreamed of their future, of him coming home to her as his wife, of her being the rightful mother of his future children. Why should two lovers be separated because of their social classes?

Satoru was her prince and she was the fairytale that distracted him from reality.

jjk general taglist: @kity @deeznutss @suhkusa @wonyoschubs @the-golden-jhope @6mattsun9 @hokageyamz @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @crashica @aizawap @juniorhooter @atsumusoup @gxtitobxby @strawberries-en-cream @dora-the-grownup @softy-woo @tsumume @kac-chowsballs @anime-nymph @kageyamakock @onlyonew @underratedmage @katsulovee @crapimahuman @alicia-1725 @fatal-impact @centvry

sincerely not taglist: @itsnotsoni @pluviophilefangirl @daphnxy @lcveaesop @toji-bee @sparklingblacktea @omisemi @captainchrisstan @your-consulting-fangirl @buttercups145 @xllance @jonsncws @and-you-found-me @tobiotetsu @jeonjungkookismyfuture @d-efend @honouredsatoru @my-reality-is-in-my-head @blueowl51 @misslovingpearl

#gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #arranged marriage au

3K notes · View notes