#perhaps step 1 is to simply get moving | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelmillerisapunk · 8 months ago

Text

How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz

Joel Miller x reader

Masterlist

Wordcount

Summary: The enemies to lovers/one bed/forced close proximity/light grumpy x sunshine/patrol partner fic no one asked for.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, grumpy joel, reader is called "the new kid", reader has breasts but no physical description. It's more tension filled fluffy bickering than smut, but I couldn't help adding a little drop of it in.

Notes: I've been so sick this weekend and was strictly supposed to read fic, but this idea came to me anyway, so I queued it up. I hope you like them as much as I loved writing this. Ty @saradika-graphics , what would we all do without you?

Evening, Day 1

As you fasten the straps of your worn-out boots, the reality of your first patrol with Joel Miller, the cornerstone of Jackson's defence, settles in. You've heard stories about his exploits, and you're determined to prove your worth, that you're more than just another mouth to feed.

The morning air is crisp as you meet Joel by the gate. He grunts a greeting, his eyes scanning the perimeter with practiced vigilance. You fall into step beside him, the weight of your rifle a comfort against your shoulder.

"So, where are we headed?" you ask, trying to break the ice.

Joel's response is terse as he nods in front of himself. "Out there."

You nod, swallowing your disappointment and try again. "So, Joel, I've been studying the maps, and I think if we—"

"Save your breath. We'll check the traps, clear any infected, and get back before dark. That's the plan."

You nod, a little deflated but still hopeful. "Got it.” You press your lips together, taking his words to heart.

The rest of the patrol is silent, save for the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional direction from Joel. You're vigilant, alert, and when you spot a tripwire, you quickly signal to him, earning a curt nod of approval. But upon returning to Jackson, you go to sign out in the patrol book, and your brows furrow at the entry Joel has already made.

Patrol Log - Jackson Settlement

Date: Indeterminate, Outbreak

Pair: Joel Miller/The New Kid

Entry Signout: All clear minus the constant chatterbox that seems to think their voice is a homing beacon for every clicker in a ten-mile radius. - J

You didn't even talk that much. You roll your eyes and close the book a little too hard.

Evening, Day 2

You meet Joel at the gate once more, you notice a flicker of surprise in his eyes when you simply nod in greeting, foregoing the usual stream of words. He grunts in response. You're determined to show him you're not just the “constant chatterbox" he'd written about. You've spent the day replaying his words in your head, using them as fuel to prove your mettle.

—

"Up ahead, there's a blind spot by that old truck. Cover me while I check it out."

You nod, taking up position without hesitation.

As he disappears behind the rusted vehicle, your heart pounds in your chest. Every sound is amplified in the stillness of the evening—the distant hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves in the wind, and then a low growl that sends a chill down your spine. An infected emerges from the underbrush, its eyes locked onto Joel's last known location. Without missing a beat, you take aim and fire—a clean shot that drops it instantly.

Joel reappears just as quickly as he vanished, his expression one of mild surprise at your swift action. "Nice shot," he grunts begrudgingly before moving on as if nothing happened. A small victory for you; perhaps he's not entirely immune to your efforts after all.

The adrenaline from the encounter with the infected is still coursing through your veins as you and Joel continue your patrol. His rare compliment echoes in your mind, fueling your determination to prove yourself further.

As you make your way back to Jackson, you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. You've not only held your own but also protected Joel's back when it counted.

Back at the settlement, you hurry to the patrol book before Joel can beat you to it.

Patrol with Grumpy McGrumpface complete. All infected cleared. Check back in a few days. And for the record, this chatterbox saved our asses tonight. Maybe next time, you'll remember to check your blind spots—and your attitude.

You add a little smiley face next to your entry, a playful jab at his perpetual grumpiness.

As you walk away from the book, you glance back to see Joel reading your entry, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It's a small crack in his tough exterior, and it gives you hope that there's more to Joel Miller than he lets on.

Evening, Day 3

The air is tense as you approach the gate, the familiar silhouette of Joel Miller waiting for you. There's a certain expectation hanging between you two, a silent challenge that has been building since your last patrol. You greet him with a nod, the same flicker of surprise in his eyes, quickly replaced by his usual stoic expression.

As you set out, the landscape feels different, almost as if it's holding its breath. You're more attuned to the subtle shifts in the wind, the way the light filters through the trees, and the distant sounds that could signal danger. You move with a newfound confidence, your steps sure and quiet, your senses heightened.

We're going to sweep the old high school today," Joel says, breaking the silence. It's the most he's volunteered about the day's plan, and you take it as a sign of trust, however small.

You acknowledge his words with a simple, "Understood," and follow him towards the dilapidated building that looms in the distance. The structure has seen better days, its windows shattered, the playground overtaken by nature, a haunting reminder of a world that once was.

As you approach, you signal for Joel to hold position while you scout ahead. You move with caution, your eyes scanning for any signs of movement. The silence is broken only by the creaking of a swing, swaying gently in the breeze.

You clear the perimeter, finding no immediate threats, and signal Joel to advance. Together, you methodically clear the classrooms, the gymnasium, and the cafeteria.

As the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows across the desolate high school, you and Joel finish securing the premises. The tension between you has simmered down to a low hum. It's eerie how the remnants of childhood laughter still linger among the abandoned desks and faded educational posters. You can't help but wonder what became of the students and teachers who once filled these halls with life.

"All clear," you report, as you finish sweeping the last room, your voice echoing through the empty halls.

Joel grunts in agreement, his eyes lingering on the swing set outside, its melancholic creaking a stark contrast to the silence that now fills the school. "Let's head back. It's getting dark."

You nod, but as you turn to leave, a sudden storm rolls in, the sky turning an ominous shade of grey. The wind howls through the broken windows, whipping up leaves and debris in a frenzied dance. Within moments, the heavens open up, unleashing a torrential downpour that shows no signs of letting up.

"Damn it," Joel mutters under his breath, his gaze fixed on the rapidly deteriorating weather outside. "We ain't makin it back to Jackson in this."

Your heart sinks at his words. The high school isn't equipped for an overnight stay—at least not comfortably—and sharing close quarters with Joel Miller is an entirely different kind of danger than what you've faced so far today. But there's no other choice; safety comes first. You follow him to the least damaged classroom and start gathering materials to make it through the night: some old mats from the gym for bedding; whatever dry wood helps you start a small fire, and some canned food from what remains of the cafeteria's supplies.

As night falls and darkness envelops your makeshift shelter, you can feel Joel's unease mirroring your own—two predators forced into an uneasy truce by circumstance. You both know that despite your differences and his gruff exterior, survival often requires uncomfortable compromises... like sharing body heat when temperatures plummet during stormy nights like these... like sharing a “bed” when there's only one dry spot left in an abandoned high school turned refuge from infected monsters lurking outside.

—

The storm outside rages on, its fury unabated, as the match from your hand hisses out against the wet concrete floor. The darkness inside seems to thicken and you can feel the cold creeping in, the dampness seeping through the layers of your clothing, chilling you to the bone.

Joel's silhouette is barely visible across the room, his frustration palpable in the heavy silence that follows the failed attempt to reignite the fire. The tension that had momentarily subsided now returns with a vengeance, amplified by the primal need for warmth and the instinctual fear of the unknown dangers lurking in the darkness.

Joel rummages through his bag, the sound of items being shuffled around punctuating the silence. He pulls out a small waterproof match case, flipping it open to reveal just three matches left inside. His fingers, roughened by years of survival and hardship, gingerly pick up the first match. The strike against the side of the box is sharp and swift, but the wind howling through the broken windows extinguishes it before it can catch. A second attempt meets with the same fate, and Joel's jaw clenches in frustration. "Damn it," he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible over the storm. He looks at the final match with a mix of resignation and determination. "You know, if you were more careful, we'd have more to work with," Joel grumbles.

"Oh, so now you're worried about being more careful?" you retort, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. "A little too late for that now ain't it Miller?”

Joel glares at you, his eyes narrowing in the dim light. "I've been careful," he growls. He strikes the last match, shielding it from the wind with his hand. But again it fails, leaving you with no heat.

You can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at seeing Joel struggle. "Yeah, well, maybe you should've thought about that before we ended up in this situation," you say.

Joel shakes his head. "You think this is fun for me?" he asks. "Stuck in this godforsaken place with someone who can't stop talkin?”

You glare at Joel, his silhouette a dark shadow in the dim light. "You think I wanted this?" you snap back, frustration seeping into your words. "I'm here because I have to be, just like you."

Joel grunts in response, his gaze fixed on the remnants of the failed fire. "We don't have time for this," he says gruffly, standing up and brushing off his pants. "We need to conserve body heat."

Reluctantly, you both make your way to the makeshift bed, nothing more than a pile of old gym mats and whatever dry fabric you could scavenge and a small emergency blanket meant for one person. The thought of sharing such close quarters with Joel is unsettling, but survival trumps discomfort every time.

You lie down first, turning your back to him as he settles in behind you. The awkwardness of the situation is not lost on either of you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body despite the layers between you. As minutes pass in silence, save for the howling wind and rain lashing out, Joel shifts slightly behind you. His arm drapes over your side as he tries to find a comfortable position—and then his hand accidentally brushes against your breast. You stiffen instantly; it's an intimate contact that neither of you expected nor wanted under these circumstances.

"Whoa! Watch it!" you exclaim indignantly, trying to wriggle away from his touch while still maintaining contact for warmth's sake—a delicate balance indeed under these cramped conditions.

Joel recoils as if he's been stung by a wasp. The tension in the room spikes, and for a moment, neither of you moves. Joel's breath hitches, and you can feel his body tense up behind you. The accidental touch has set off a chain reaction of awkwardness, and you're both acutely aware of the other's presence. "Sorry," Joel mumbles, his voice rough with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to..." His sentence trails off, lost in the sound of the rain pounding against the roof.

You nod, acknowledging his apology, but the damage is done. The line between survival and intimacy has been blurred, and the close proximity is playing tricks on your mind. You can't ignore the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, or the fact that you're both very much alone in this abandoned high school.

Minutes tick by, and despite your best efforts to keep a respectful distance, the reality of your situation becomes increasingly apparent. The cold is seeping in, and the need for warmth can't be denied. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you find yourself leaning back into Joel, seeking the heat that his body is so eager to provide. He stiffens at the contact, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he cautiously wraps his arm back around you, pulling you closer.

It's been a long time since either of you has felt the touch of another person, the comfort of human contact that goes beyond mere companionship.

Joel's breath is warm against your neck, and you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you. It's a startling realization, but it's met with an unexpected surge of desire that you can't quite suppress. The knowledge that he's affected by your closeness is thrilling, and you can't help but wonder if he can sense the effect he's having on you as well.

The line between necessity and want is blurred, and in the end, it's the human need for connection that wins out. With the storm as your only witness, you turn to face Joel, your eyes meeting in the dim light. There's a silent question hanging between you, one that's answered with a soft, almost hesitant kiss. The kiss is an exploration, a rediscovery of a basic human need that has been long neglected. It's a slow burn, fueled by days of tension and the shared experiences that have brought you closer than either of you could have anticipated. Joel's hands find their way to your face, cradling it gently as he deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the contours of your lips before slipping inside to meet yours in a dance that is both familiar and new.

The cold is forgotten as warmth spreads through your body, ignited by the friction between you. You find yourself pressing against him, seeking more contact, more heat. Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and a soft moan escapes your lips as Joel's fingers deftly undo the buttons of your shirt, revealing skin that is hungry for his touch.

There's an urgency building between you now—a primal need that cannot be ignored or denied any longer. Clothes are shed hastily; each piece removed reveals another patch of warm skin eager for exploration and connection

As the last of your clothes fall away, the cool air of the high school classroom is a stark contrast to the heat that radiates between you and Joel. His hands trace a path down your sides, exploring the curves of your body. The rough pads of his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

Joel's gaze meets yours, and there's a vulnerability in his eyes that you've never seen before. It's as if the walls he's built around himself are crumbling down, brick by brick, revealing the man beneath the hardened survivor. You reach up to cup his face, feeling the stubble scratch against your palms, grounding you in this moment—a moment that feels both surreal and more real than anything you've experienced in a long time.

With a tenderness that surprises you both, Joel lowers his lips to yours once more, kissing you deeply as he positions himself between your legs. The anticipation is palpable; every nerve in your body is attuned to his presence. As he enters you, there's a brief moment of discomfort followed by an overwhelming sense of fullness—a completion that transcends physicality. You move together in rhythm; each thrust is punctuated by gasps and moans that echo off the walls of the abandoned classroom. The world outside has ceased to exist; all that matters is this connection—this desperate need for closeness in a world gone mad.

Joel's pace quickens; his breath comes in ragged gasps against your neck as he drives into you with an urgency born of months—if not years—of pent-up desire and longing. You meet him thrust for thrust, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back as waves of pleasure crash over you both.

The tension builds within you like a storm gathering strength—a tempest that threatens to sweep away everything in its path until there's nothing left but raw sensation and pure ecstasy coursing through every fiber of your being until finally - release washes over you both in a rush of heat and sensation that leaves you gasping for air. The world around you fades away, replaced by the pulsating rhythm of your shared climax. It's a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

As the aftershocks subside, you find yourselves entwined in each other's arms, your head resting on his chest and the steady beat of Joel's heart is a comforting sound against the backdrop of the relentless storm outside. The cold is kept at bay by the warmth generated by your bodies, and for the first time since this ordeal began, you feel truly at peace.

Eventually Joel's breath evens out as he falls into a deep sleep, his body relaxed and sated in a way you've never seen before. You take a moment to study his face—the lines etched by years of hardship softened in slumber, revealing a hint of the man he might have been under different circumstances. With gentle care, you extricate yourself from his embrace and pull on your clothes, intending to keep watch over the sleeping giant beside you.

The hours pass slowly; dawn is still a distant promise when you hear it—the unmistakable sound of movement outside your refuge. Your senses immediately go on high alert; adrenaline courses through your veins as you cautiously approach one of the broken windows, rifle at the ready. The storm has lessened but not enough to obscure the shapes moving in the pre-dawn gloom. Infected? Or something worse?

You glance back at Joel, still lost in sleep, and make a split-second decision. You won't let whatever danger lurks outside reach him while he's vulnerable. Steeling yourself, you slip out into the storm-ravaged landscape. The rain pelts against your skin, a relentless barrage that does little to dampen your resolve. You move with purpose, your eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of movement.

The high school grounds are eerily quiet, save for the occasional clap of thunder echoing in the distance. You keep low, using the remnants of the playground equipment as cover as you make your way towards the source of the disturbance. The last thing you want is to lead any potential threats back to Joel.

As you approach the perimeter of the school, you catch sight of a small group of infected, their grotesque forms illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning. They seem disoriented, their movements erratic as they struggle against the wind and rain. It's clear they're not here for you; they're simply passing through, driven by some primal instinct to seek shelter from the storm.

You take a deep breath, steadying your aim as you prepare to engage. The first shot rings out, echoing through the deserted schoolyard. One of the infected drops to the ground, its body convulsing before falling still. The others turn towards the sound, their milky eyes searching for the source of the threat.

You fire again, and then again, each shot carefully placed to conserve ammunition. The infected fall one by one, their bodies piling up in the mud as you advance, keeping the upper hand through sheer determination and skill. But as the last one drops, you hear a new sound—a low growl that sends a chill down your spine.

You turn just in time to see another infected emerging from the shadows, its jaws snapping hungrily as it charges towards you. You raise your rifle, but the mud beneath your feet gives way, sending you sprawling to the ground. The infected is on you in an instant, its weight pinning you down as it tries to bite through your rain-soaked jacket.

With a surge of adrenaline, you manage to free one arm and reach for the knife strapped to your belt. You drive the blade upwards, aiming for the infected's exposed throat. The creature gurgles in pain, its grip loosening just enough for you to wriggle free and deliver the killing blow.

Panting heavily, you push the infected's lifeless body off of you and take a moment to assess the situation. The immediate threat has been neutralized, but you're acutely aware that more could be drawn by the sound of the struggle. With no time to lose, you make your way back to the school, your heart pounding in your chest.

You slip back inside and secure the door as best you can. You turn around and see Joel is already awake, his eyes scanning the room as he reaches for his weapon. The sight of you, unharmed, brings a look of relief to his face, quickly replaced by a scowl. "Where the hell were you?" he demands, his voice rough with sleep and worry.

"I heard something outside," you explain, keeping your tone even. "I went to check it out."

Joel's expression darkens. "You should've woken me up, you could have gotten killed out there," he grumbles, his concern for your safety masked by his usual gruff demeanor.

"I didn't and you needed the rest," you reply, meeting his gaze. "Besides, I can handle myself.”

Joel's jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he's going to argue. But then he just nods, acknowledging your capability even as his protective instincts chafe at the thought of you facing danger alone. "Next time, wake me," he repeats, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You can't help but smirk at the gruff concern in Joel's voice. There's a part of you that enjoys getting under his skin, challenging the walls he's built around himself. "You know, Joel," you say, your voice light but your eyes serious, "I think you might actually care about what happens to me."

Joel's scowl deepens, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that looks a lot like vulnerability. "Don't get the wrong idea," he grumbles, looking away. "I just can't afford to break in a new partner."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. "Sure, Miller. Keep telling yourself that." You walk over to where he's now sitting and nudge him playfully with your foot. "Admit it. You like having me around.”

Joel rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in a reluctant smile. "You're alright," he concedes, his voice gruff. "But don't let it go to your head.”

You can't resist the urge to tease Joel a little more. "I think you protest too much, Joel Miller," you say with a playful grin. "I mean, first you can't stop complaining about my chatter, and now you're almost starting to sound... affectionate."

Joel's eyes narrow, but the ghost of a smile still lingers on his lips. "Don't push your luckp," he warns, his voice carrying a note of fondness that he's unable to fully conceal.

You lean in closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, for someone who pretends not to care, you sure were... attentive last night," you say with a sly grin, your eyes dancing with mischief.

A flush creeps up Joel's neck, and for a moment, you think you might have pushed him too far. But then he chuckles—a low, rumbling sound that you feel more than hear. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" he says, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

You beam at him, feeling a sense of triumph. "Maybe," you admit, "but you like me anyway.”

—

As the first light breaks through the retreating storm, you and Joel prepare to leave the high school behind. You gather your belongings, exchanging quiet glances with Joel as you both acknowledge the shift in your relationship.

The journey back to Jackson is uneventful, the aftermath of the storm leaving the world outside quiet. You walk side by side, your boots crunching on the wet gravel. Joel seems more at ease, his usual stoic demeanor softened.

Upon your return to the settlement, the familiar sight of the gates brings a sense of relief. The guards nod in recognition as you pass.

You make your way to the patrol book, your fingers brushing against the worn pages as you prepare to document the latest entry. Joel watches you, his expression unreadable, as you pick up the pen and begin to write.

Patrol Log - Jackson Settlement

Date: Indeterminate, Post-Outbreak

Pair: Joel Miller/The New Kid

Entry Signout: Patrol complete. High school secured. Infected cleared. Storm provided unexpected overnight stay. No serious injuries to report.

You pause for a moment, considering your next words carefully. With a small smile, you add a final note

Casualties: Zero. Zilch. Nada. Unless you count the ego of a certain grumpy individual who may or may not have been out-shot by yours truly.

You cap the pen and step back, allowing Joel to read your entry. His eyes scan the page, and you see the ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he reads your postscript. He doesn't say anything, but the look he gives you speaks volumes.

As you turn to leave, Joel's hand catches yours, his grip firm yet gentle.

Hey," Joel says as he pulls you closer. "I, uh... I don't know how to do this," he admits, his gaze dropping to where your hands are joined.

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, offering him a small, encouraging smile. "Do what, Joel?"

He takes a deep breath, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. "This," he repeats, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. "The... talking about feelings stuff."

You can't help but chuckle at his attempt to articulate his feelings, the corners of your mouth curling up into a smile. "Is this the part where you tell me that despite your better judgement, you've grown fond of me?" you tease, squeezing his hand in return.

Joel rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in his expression. "Somethin like that," he admits gruffly, releasing your hand to run a hand through his disheveled hair. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. And maybe... maybe I don't mind the chatter as much as I let on.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the gruff admission meaning more to you than any grand declaration of love ever could "Well then," you say, stepping closer to him, "I guess this means we're stuck with each other."

Joel's response is a low chuckle. "Yeah," he agrees, his hand finding its way to the small of your back in a gesture that feels both new and familiar all at once. "I suppose it does.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fluff

2K notes · View notes

deebris · 9 months ago

Text

The Mysterious Visitor 1

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: On a cold, snowy dawn, a naive young girl knocks on the door of Wayne Manor in search of her brother, whom she hasn't seen in a long time.

Warnings: The reader is 13 years old and is Damian's twin sister; the tone of the story is somewhat sad.

Word count: 2.1k

Note: I felt the need to emphasize that Talia is very attached to the reader and kept her hidden from Bruce. Although it's obvious that the reader is their biological daughter, I still haven't specified her physical characteristics.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

It was late at night when the doorbell of Wayne Manor rang. Much to Alfred’s dismay, he seemed to be the only one awakened by the sound, as he didn't hear anyone else getting up to answer the door. Whoever was waiting outside seemed patient, or perhaps shy, since it took a good two minutes for the bell to ring again. A single chime, just like the first time.

It was snowing now; no one would be crazy enough to show up in the middle of the night in this cold unless it was something important. Because of this, Alfred hurried to slip on his slippers, moving as quickly as he could to the entrance, but still cautiously peering through the peephole to see who the visitor was.

All he could see was the top of the head of someone very short, with a few strands of hair standing up, covered in snowflakes.

“Who is it, Alfred?” The sudden question from behind didn’t scare him, but it did surprise him. Dick had been awakened by the sharp sound of the doorbell the second time it rang and came down quickly to check.

“I don’t know yet, Master Dick,” the butler replied, intrigued, glancing quickly at the boy to see him rubbing sleep from his eyes. Alfred noticed how he stepped forward, obviously cautious about who might be on the other side. “I can handle this, sir,” he stopped him while turning the knob and opening the door without giving him a chance to protest.

Alfred tightened his robe as he felt the cold air rush in, ruffling the white hairs on his head and making the hairs on his arm stand up. He looked in astonishment at the young girl standing before him, clearly suffering from the outside temperature. Her lips were trembling and chapped, with a trace of dried blood coming from one of the cracks. Her rapid breathing also did not go unnoticed, forming a cloud with each exhale.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asked with furrowed brows, feeling pity for her condition. Perhaps she was just a street child seeking shelter; you didn’t seem dangerous in any way.

“I-is this the W-Wayne Manor?” The question came out stuttered, and your eyes had a confused expression. He wasted no more time and extended his arm to pull you inside. It didn’t seem right to leave you out there.

“Come in, come in. Don’t stay out there, it’s not healthy.” He had that concerned, almost paternal tone, and you didn’t refuse his gesture. You grabbed the old man in a hug to keep safe from the cold, grateful he didn’t push you away. In fact, he pulled you closer, placing both hands around you and guiding you to the largest couch in the room.

“It’s just a girl,” he announced to Dick, who had been trying to peek at your figure since the door had opened.

“And who is she?” Dick moved closer, sitting on the couch facing the one where you and Alfred were seated and embraced. You didn’t seem to want to leave Alfred’s side anytime soon, appreciating the warmth he provided, clutching him firmly.

“What is your name, dear?” You heard the old man’s question, but it took you a while to respond. Alfred didn’t mind being ignored, or at least he thought he would be, already averting his eyes from you until your fragile voice was heard.

“Y/n,” you pronounced your name simply, so quietly it could only be understood due to the common silence of the early morning.

“What were you doing out there? Where are your parents, young lady?” Alfred pressed on with more questions, rubbing one of his hands on your back to bring comfort.

Now that he could look at you more attentively, he saw how well-dressed you were. And just by feeling the fabric of your coat, he knew it was an expensive garment. Your knowledge of Wayne Manor also didn’t escape him. It didn’t seem like something important to note in this situation, but you certainly weren’t an abandoned child; you were probably lost and knew them somehow.

His question seemed to upset you, as you turned your face to hide it, avoiding giving an answer. He noticed your reaction and decided to change the subject: “Let’s take off this coat and get a blanket. What do you think?” He moved you away, already pulling the sleeves of the garment off your arms, and you didn’t resist. The coat was damp from the snow and definitely no longer served to keep you warm.

“She’s going to get hypothermia if she stays like this,” Dick said hurriedly as he went to get a blanket, finding a thick enough one on one of the armchairs. Someone must have left it there before going to bed.

“I will light the fireplace,” you heard the old man say as he got up from the couch and picked up some sort of stick, probably a large lighter, to start the fire.

You opened your mouth to try to thank him, but stopped yourself, finally feeling shy upon realizing you were in strangers’ home. You felt a large, soft blanket wrap around you, turning your eyes to see the tall boy crouched in front of you, draping it over your shoulders.

“In a few minutes, you’ll feel better.” His voice sounded genuinely concerned, and you felt guilty for disturbing their night. You regretted disobeying your mother; you were supposed to be home now.

Dick saw your lost look, wondering who you were. Your expression was distant, and he thought you were lost in thought, until he felt your hand grab his wrist, preventing him from getting up. Your touch was gentle, yet cold, and now your eyes were focused on his.

“Does Damian live here?” you asked hopefully.

“Damian?” This caught him off guard. He was confused, processing for a few seconds what he had heard. From his confused tone, you felt your hopes fading, thinking he had no idea who you were talking about, but his next words encouraged you a little more: “How do you know him?”

You hesitated. At first, you weren’t sure if they were trustworthy, and your mother always said to be careful with whom you spoke. Growing up within the League of Assassins made you aware of how evil some people could be, and having grown up under Talia’s extremely protective arm, who treated you like an untouchable jewel, you were limited to conversations with few people, developing an abnormal fear of strangers. But bad people wouldn’t have taken you in as they did, would they?

“We’re siblings. Is he here?” Your confession didn’t carry the same weight for you as it did for the two men in the room. Alfred heard well, and like Dick, widened his eyes. Neither of them remembered Damian ever mentioning he had a sister. If you were truly an al Ghul, where was Talia? That woman might have had the blood of a viper, but she didn’t seem like the type to let her daughter wander alone at night.

“You said… He’s your brother?” Although Dick’s question was directed at you, he looked at Alfred, who returned an intrigued frown.

“Yes.” Your voice sounded simple to him, still not noticing the tension in the room.

“Master Dick,” Alfred said his name as a cue to follow him, walking away from the couch, and the boy quickly stood up. You found it strange and turned your neck to see them going to talk in the corner of the room in whispers, watching them with curiosity.

“I think it would be wise to inform Master Bruce.” The butler sighed, trying to speak as softly as possible, knowing you were watching them. “If she is Ra's al Ghul’s granddaughter, it’s convenient to take her home as soon as possible and avoid any unnecessary conflict with the League of Assassins.”

“You think she ran away from home?” Dick asked, turning to see you, who now was no longer watching them but had your gaze down, playing with your hands.

“I suppose so,” Alfred said punctually, moving away and walking to the stairs, climbing them with his usual formal posture. “I’ll wake him up. Stay here.” He seemed calm, but inside he was worried.

“Right…” Dick murmured to himself while taking slow steps back to the couch. He analyzed your face for a few seconds before sitting hesitantly beside you. You were almost disappearing inside that blanket, wrapped up like a cocoon, and he found it a bit amusing. All he could see was your head and hands.

You didn’t bother to say anything, nor did he. Instead, he clasped his hands together and paid attention to anything else, trying to hold back the urge to ask questions but couldn’t help himself: “So, you’re Talia’s daughter?”

“You know my mother?” You raised your gaze, and your tone was excited by the possibility.

“Not personally.” He picked at his nails before deciding to keep the conversation going, as the silence was becoming too uncomfortable: “My name is Dick, by the way. But you probably know that.”

“The old man is your grandfather?” For the first time, you referred to Alfred as “the old man” out loud, which made him smile amusedly. Dick found it funny how the nickname sounded innocent, imagining how the man would react knowing someone had referred to him like that.

“It's like he was. He's family.”

“Is Dami your family now?” You asked, trembling with the answer. It wasn’t something to be proud of, but you couldn’t help feeling jealous, and you hated it. It was an excruciating feeling, mixing sadness, anger, and other confusing emotions.

Dick frowned at your question. You seemed disappointed with the idea and it didn’t escape his notice how you were completely unaware of Damian’s current life. It’s been more than two years since he came to live here, enough time for Dick to see him as he always saw his other brothers and participate in patrols as an equal.

“He’s my brother too,” he tried to sound compassionate, and suddenly the silence returned, as you didn’t want to talk anymore and he didn’t know what to say. A lump formed in your throat and your heart felt heavy with each new beat. “How old are you?” He tried again, this time changing the subject.

“Twelve,” you answered immediately, but then shook your head and corrected yourself: “Thirteen.”

“Twelve?” Dick repeated the first answer to try to confirm, letting out a muffled laugh at your strange confusion.

“It’s thirteen.”

That was impossible. Damian was thirteen.

“I still haven’t gotten used to the new age. My birthday was on Monday.”

Damian’s birthday was on Monday.

Dick swallowed hard. He lost his voice for a few seconds, trying to piece things together in his head. He felt his heart race with nerves, doubting if he had been hearing voices all along.

“Y/n, right?” He said your name, seeing you nod positively. “Are you and Damian by any chance… twins?”

You heard him well, but couldn’t help feeling your heart ache with sorrow. He had no idea who you were, even after you knew Damian saw him as a brother. The realization that Damian hadn’t even mentioned you was painful, and as you felt the tears start to roll down your cheek, you quickly wiped them away.

“Hey, hey. Why are you crying?” He moved closer, brushing your hair back with his fingers. You seemed to be the type to answer yes or no questions with gestures, as you nodded positively to him once again.

“Twins…” Dick whispered to no one, trying to come out of shock.

“Y/n,” he called your name hoping you would pay attention, but you continued trying to dry the unstoppable tears. “Y/n,” he called for the second time, and you finally looked at him again.

Now, analyzing your face after what he had just discovered, he finally noticed how much your features resembled Bruce’s. It was like he had been blind and now could finally see.

“Does the name Bruce Wayne mean anything to you?”

“He’s the owner of this house,” you said nonchalantly, as if that was all that mattered and you needed to know.

His next breath came out shaky, completely incredulous. ‘Damn Talia,’ he cursed mentally. This night would be long and, undoubtedly, very complicated.

2K notes · View notes

bluelockmaniac · 10 months ago

Text

SLEEP WITH, MARRY, KILL

⤷ ⋮ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 ⋮

౨ৎ how to play: 1. there will be three characters (multifandom). simply choose one you'd want to sleep with, one you'd want to marry, and one you'd... well, kill. 2. each character will have a comment based on your decision, read it!

ೀ warning: characters may have some harsh or suggestive replies, so proceed with caution !

౨ৎ characters from the following fandoms: BLUE LOCK, genshin impact, honkai star rail, JJK

1. 彡 who would you sleep with, marry, kill?

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to sleep with him

𝐃𝐑. 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎: "oh? you want to sleep with me? i'm afraid i'd rather watch paint dry."

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀: "haha! not surprised. i'll make it worth your while, y/n."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈: "y/n, i believe it is best to refrain from such... engagements. i must respectfully decline."

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to marry him

𝐃𝐑. 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎: "hm, i can hardly contain my enthusiasm. it seems you've also been infected by the disease named stupidity." (translation: "i'll consider it,")

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀: "what's the hurry? just kidding, this seems like the beginning of our grand adventure, my love."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈: "...what? y/n, marriage is a serious commitment... it requires careful consideration— i apologize, i seem to have forgotten this was a game."

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to kill him

𝐃𝐑. 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎: "you know y/n, sometimes it's better to keep your lips sealed and give the impression that you're stupid, rather than to open your mouth and remove all the doubt they might have had?"

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀: "damn it, y/nnn! so easy to love yet so hard to hate..."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈: "...i won't hold it against you."

2. 彡 who would you sleep with, marry, kill?

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to sleep with him

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄: "eww... but i suppose i could lower my standards for one night..."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄: "oho? fascinating. we can use each other for tonight, just make sure you don't disappoint me, friend."

𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑: "fine, but only because i pity you. it's the closest you'll ever get to perfection, anyway."

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to marry him

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄: "w-what? me, marry you? pathetic..."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄: "love is a gamble, but with you it seems like it's a guaranteed win..."

𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑: "Marry me? That's laughable— and what makes you so special, hm?"

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to kill him

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄: "i'd like to see you try, you insignificant... human."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄: "hmm, y/n, i didn't know you were one to pull risky moves. i'll let fate decide my outcome, let's see if luck is on my side."

𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑: "tch, likewise."

3. 彡 who would you sleep with, marry, kill?

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to sleep with him

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎: "hell yeah, i love sleepovers! i'll bring suguru and shoko— wait whaaat?"

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄: "...my apologies. while i am honoured by your proposal, i must politely decline as it is not my intention to take advantage of your precious body."

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋: "y'wanna fuck? no need t'ask twice, pretty thing."

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to marry him

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎: "haha, of course. after all, the question is: who wouldn't choose to marry me?"

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄: "it would be a privilege to marry you, y/n... but perhaps we should start slow and take it one step at a time."

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋: "say less, darlin'. i'll give ya the best life y'could ask for."

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to kill him

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎: "haha! not if i kill you first! :)"

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄: "ah, i apologize. it's raining again in fontaine."

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋: "mm' pretty, don't know what i did but, y'know what they say? hate sex is the best sex." (a/n: sorry)

4. 彡 who would you sleep with, marry, kill?

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to sleep with him

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘: "oh? guess i've got a different purpose for using my handcuffs now."

𝐒𝐀𝐄: "yuck... whoever is willing to sleep with you is just too lazy to jerk off..." (ouch)

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈: "hmm? how much are ya willing to pay?"

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to marry him

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘: "...let us sit down and discuss this, perhaps over a cup of tea."

𝐒𝐀𝐄: "ugh... i have no interest in someone as lukewarm as you. i have better things to do than waste my time with you."

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈: "pftt, nah."

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to kill him

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘: "careful now, y/n. i won't be able to reduce your prison sentence if you were to commit murder."

𝐒𝐀𝐄: "i don't give a shit. this game is such a waste of my time."

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈: "oh, are you flirting with me?"

5. 彡 who would you sleep with, marry, kill?

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to sleep with him

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇: "well i certainly am looking forward to decorating you with love bites... you'll look like a gorgeous piece of art by the time i'm done with you."

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎: "uhh... like innocently sleeping beside each other or— oh. fuck yes, come here."

𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌: "i'll consider it if it's a one-time thing, but later... this book is quite intriguing."

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to marry him

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇: "seriously? there is no time to waste then. i'll build us the grandest mansion ever known in sumeru!"

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎: "you... what? but i guess the idea of having a family with you does sound exciting..."

𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌: "i apologize, but getting married seems like a hassle. i'd rather live a comfortable life on my own."

⤑ what he'd say if you chose to kill him

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇: "mhmm, such a pretty liar."

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎: "don't say that. shut up and kiss me."

𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌: "well, what can i say? you're as smart as you look."

★ 𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬 𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹 . . .

★彡 feel free to share the characters you chose in the comments ! ⤷ the artists for the fanarts used are credited in image desc ! ⤷ reblogs, comments, and likes appreciated !

1K notes · View notes

nicka-nell · 7 months ago

Text

How they act when they have a crush on you

Pairing: Kita x, Osamu x, Tsukishima x, Akaashi x, Semi x reader

Warning: fluff, mdni

Part 1 | Part 2 (end)

The man, who is always quite serious and shows little emotion on the outside, subtly softens.

Kita maintains his direct manner and is no different towards you than he is towards his friends at first. That’s why nobody noticed that he had feelings for you. It even took him a long time to realize it. But gradually he starts to open up a little and shows you unexpected kindness.

His usually serious look is a little softer towards you from time to time. Nothing that would be noticeable to someone who only sees him occasionally, but his teammates notice this subtle change in his facial features when he talks to you.

Nevertheless, he remains direct, sometimes not realizing whether his words are perhaps a little too direct, but he never means any harm.

“Osamu, Atsumu, before you continue arguing here, take off your street shoes. We’re in the sports hall and you have to wear clean shoes. You should know that by now.” Kita says with a serious expression as he stands next to the entrance door and looks at the twins. They flinch at his voice and quickly slip out of their shoes. Just a few seconds later, your voice echoes through the gym as you gasp and look in Suna’s direction. “Suna, you left your notebook in the classroom,” you say, waving it around in the air as you take another step into the gym. Atsumu and Osamu already look at you with a grimace, shaking their heads as if to tell you not to take another step into the hall, but you don’t see them because Kita stands in front of you and takes the exercise book from you. “Thank you for bringing this over. I’ll give the notebook to Suna. You can’t come in here with street shoes. The floor could get scratched by the dirt underneath them.” Kita’s voice is still serious, but it has a gentle undertone and Atsumu feels like he must have hit his head, because it almost looks like Kita is smiling at you. You sigh as you walk out of the school building and see that the sky is darker. It has started to rain. Somewhat awkwardly, you take off your jacket and hold it over your head, hoping not to get wet. However, the fabric of your jacket is so thin that it won’t work anyway. Yet a large shadow looms over you as the rain stops beating down on your jacket. Confused, you look up and see an umbrella before looking to the side and spotting Kita next to you. He looks up at the sky, down at you before he starts to move. “Rain was forecast for today. You should check your weather app or the news more often. Or... you could always carry one of those umbrellas in your bag. They’re not heavy and it’s better to have an umbrella with you to be on the safe side than to get sick. Don’t you agree?” He lectures you. But he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He’s actually just trying to make you understand that he doesn’t want you to catch a cold. “Come on, don’t stay out in the rain. Your apartment is on my way home. I can drop you off at home.”

Because you don’t realize that Kita has feelings for you, it’s Kita himself who confesses his feelings to you at some point.

Although his confession wasn’t particularly romantic or private.

Suna had asked after training if you had anything to hold against Kita because he behaves differently towards you. Much softer. You didn’t quite understand the question, just like Kita, who turns to Suna and simply says, “That’s because I have feelings for her that are on a different level than those I have for normal friends.”

Osamu differs from his brother. Unlike him, he is a quiet observer at first, and a denier to others. Whenever his friends try to tease him, he says that he has no feelings for a girl. (Acting like little boys who think that girls are disgusting and if you touch them, you get sick.)

But he knows your daily routine. Knows exactly where to find you so he can “accidentally” bump into you. Shares his lunch with you during your break, or goes to the sports hall with you and gossips a bit about his brother.

But when he’s alone with you, he always tries to stay calm, giving you little crumbs of his feelings towards you, hoping you’ll get the signals.

“So, ya didn’t have time to pack yer lunch again today, or do ya like the canteen food here so much?” asks Osamu, who sits down with Suna at the table where you are eating with a few friends. You look up at him, move a little to the side on the bench and make room for him to sit next to you. “The food is... okay,” you say, less convincingly as you look at Osamu’s bento box. At the delicious little nigiri, the egg roll and the chopped vegetables. Almost indifferently, Osamu pushes the bento box in your direction and takes a piece of the egg roll. “I’m not that hungry... if ya wanna, ya can eat with me,” he says, watching you smile sheepishly. ‘Yes,’ he thinks, but then you shake your head. “I can’t snatch your food. You have your training today. You need strength!” you answer him as Suna seizes the opportunity and holds out his chopsticks to grab something from Osamu’s bento box. But Osamu pushes his hand away. “Hands off, that’s my food,” he mumbles quietly so that only Suna can hear him, who raises his eyebrow. You walk with Osamu to the gym, his pace slower as he matches your speed. You are alone, his hands are casually clasped behind his head, his gaze directed forward. “Man, Tsumu drank my shake again today and then he denied it even though the shake was sticking to the corner of his mouth. Idiot.” Osamu curses. His words make you laugh. Osamu always grumbles so much about his brother, but you can tell that they have a strong bond. A typical love-hate relationship that you have with siblings. “Oh, come on, it would be boring without him, wouldn’t it?” you reply, amused. “Boring? It would be nice to have a boring day at home for once. But ya know, it would be even nicer if I just had a different roommate. I bet it would be much more relaxed and cooler to share a room with ya.” he tries to say as calmly as possible, but notices how his heartbeat suddenly speeds up. “Osamu!” you giggle, playfully slapping him on the shoulder before his tension disappears, and he chuckles at you for a split second.

His confession also seems rather calm, even though he is probably extremely nervous inside.

He uses an opportunity where you are both alone, where you are in a good mood and you are having a joking conversation, when he asks you “Would ya rather date my dumb brother or me?”.

Somewhat surprised by the question, you answer just as casually, “You, of course, you dummy”, not realizing that the question wasn’t meant as a joke.

“So, am I to assume we’re dating now?” he grins, watching you stare at him like a fool.

Oh, he is definitely a tease. You could call him Tease-ishima.

But he doesn’t do it in quite such a childish way by throwing paper balls at the back of your head. He makes light-hearted jokes or playful jabs or hides compliments with teasing comments.

Sometimes he tries to tease you to the point where you get into little playful arguments with him where he enjoys the back-and-forth between your exchanges.

However, he also doesn’t realize that he might overstep or hurt you with his comments. If he notices this, he doesn’t try to apologize, but calmly asks why you are still so upset, although inwardly he hopes that you don’t take his remarks too much to heart.

“Oh, are you trying to impress someone with that dress you’re wearing today? Who would have thought that would suit you?” says Tsukishima asked as he arrogantly tilts his head to the side and grins at you. “Imagine, I didn’t put this on to please you, but thank you, I know I look good myself...” you reply sassy and raise an eyebrow. Tsukishima purses his lips, almost as if he’s pouting, and clicks his tongue. “Whatever. I have to go now anyway. Unlike you, I have better things to do with my time than just standing in the school hallway for minutes,” he says, walking past you. A little hurt by Tsukishima’s stupid comment about your new hairstyle, you sit on a half-height stone wall in the schoolyard and wait for your friends to come out of the building so you can go home. “Hey weakling, are you still offended about earlier?” asks Tsukishima, coming out of the front door of the school, his hands in his pockets. He stands next to you indifferently, glancing at you briefly before staring ahead into the distance. “You just don’t realize it when you offend people. Sometimes people don’t need your stupid remarks,” you reply, swinging your legs back and forth. You try not to look at him. “You always take everything too seriously too quickly,” says Tsukishima indifferently, but then he struggles with his words. As if he doesn’t know how to continue. Almost uncomfortably, he takes his hand out of his trouser pocket and scratches the back of his neck. “A shaved head would suit you too. Usually nothing disfigures good-looking people.” But before you can even process what he’s just said, Yamaguchi arrives and Tsukishima raises his hand in farewell with a neutral “See you around then.”

Tsukishima is stubborn. Would he tell you that he’s in love with you? He’d probably wait until you said it.

However, it could also happen that the key words just slip out in a brief argument with you. “Like what? I’m just being myself. Have you ever thought about the fact that there are people who express their affection in such a way?” he hisses before he even notices what he said to you. “Nevermind. It’s not that important,” he adds quickly, but it’s probably too late to back out now.

Akaashi is a silent listener and subtle helper.

He wouldn’t tease you, but he wouldn’t behave particularly differently towards you either. Even more so, he wouldn’t try to impress you. He would just be himself.

He listens to you when you talk and is one of the few who maintains long eye contact and really focuses on the conversation. If he notices that you are having difficulties with something, he tries to help you. Whether it’s when you’re studying for a subject or because you can’t reach the items on the top shelf.

Last week you were complaining to Bokuto that you have an exam this week and that you’re a bit scared. Although you’ve studied a lot and memorized the topic well, you’re still nervous because it’s an important exam. You’re sitting nervously on the bench during the break, going over the material for the exam bit by bit, when a small drinking packet suddenly blocks your view of your exercise book. You look up, a little puzzled, and see Akaashi holding the drinking packet in front of your nose while looking at you with a thin smile. “You shouldn’t look at your notebook now. Otherwise you’ll have a blackout during the exam. Have a drink and try to relax. You’ll be fine,” says Akaashi objectively, who overheard the conversation you had with Bokuto last week. Today at volleyball training, the coach of the boys’ team wants the boys to play a 3-on-3 game and asks you to get the colored coats for the boys to wear over their jerseys so that you can clearly see who is on which team. In the storeroom, you look for the box with the yellow and green overcoats when you see that it is at the top of the shelf. Standing on your tiptoes, you try to reach it in vain. Pouting, you press your hands to your hips before placing one foot on the wobbly shelf, jumping up and touching the box with your fingertips. But you lose your balance as your back crashes against Akaashi’s chest, his arm wraps around your waist to catch you. “Careful. You should have asked for help. You could have hurt yourself,” he says in a neutral tone before reaching for the box and taking it down to hand it over. “Next time, please inform me. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Especially not because of such a small thing that could easily have been avoided,” he adds, making sure the box is firmly in your hands before leaving the room with you.

Although Akaashi often says what he thinks, he is still a rather quiet person. Since his focus is currently on his graduation, he doesn’t think about telling you about his feelings. Quite apart from that, he assumes that you don’t have feelings for him anyway.

However, his feelings came out by accident when Bokuto introduced you as Akaashi’s girlfriend during a training match. It was only a joke, but Akaashi’s ears turned red and, uncharacteristically for him, he was suddenly very embarrassed.

After the training match, you went outside to Akaashi, who wanted to cool off, and asked him directly about his feelings.

Semi may seem stern and distant to many, but that’s only the first impression. He’s actually a really nice guy, at least to his friends. He’s also nice to you.

He’s a real social butterfly who indirectly tries to get close to you by talking to your friends, getting along with them, and going to the same parties you go to.

He recently spent an hour talking to your friend, who he doesn’t even like very much. But you sat next to him for the entire hour, nudged him slightly when he made one or two comments. But it was worth putting up with your friend’s talking because he could be near you for the time.

He often tries to involve you in activities where he can get closer to you.

You’re chatting with your friends about the party that’s taking place at the weekend when you hear Semi’s voice behind you and a short time later, his elbow lightly nudges your arm. “Hi guys, are you planning something cool?” he asks the people he’s made friends with. The girl holding the party nods sheepishly and immediately asks if Semi wants to come as well. He puts on a charming smile before looking at you and shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. “You’re coming too, aren’t you? We could go together,” he says and waits for your answer, which you give him with a sly nod. At the party, he talks to lots of people, but always stays close to you, gets you drinks and asks you if you want to dance with him casually. On the dance floor, he doesn’t even give anyone the chance to dance with you as he swings you from left to right, pulls you towards him and enjoys being close to you. He finds it all the better that you seem to enjoy it. As the winter tournament is coming up soon, the Shiratorizawa volleyball team is currently training a lot. Since you get along well with many of the boys, you are also there to support them by bringing them water or towels when they need them. The coach doesn’t mind your presence as long as you don’t disturb the active training. He doesn’t care what happens during the breaks. The boys currently have a ten-minute break when Semi waves you over. “You said the other day that you think the serve is amazing. Do you want to try it? I’ll help you,” he smiles and hands you the volleyball and gets behind you to show you how to position yourself and how to move your hands. “Am I doing this right?” you ask, turning to Semi, who is standing quite close behind you. “Yes, it looks good. But take your hand a little further up. The ball should be above your hips,” Semi says in a soft tone as his one hand stays on your hip, the other moves to your hand that holds the ball before lifting it slightly. “There, that’s better.” His words echo smoothly in your ears. A physical contact that is actually harmless, but makes his heart beat a little faster. It’s just a shame that ten minutes are over so quickly.

Semi wants to be one hundred percent sure that you feel the same way about him as he does about you. That’s why he wouldn’t immediately overwhelm you with his feelings.

At least that’s what he thought.

Once, when you were struggling with your words after training, just to tell him that your friend had asked if you could give her Semi’s number, he had looked at you in total frustration and clicked his tongue. “Ehh? Do you really think I’m doing all this, the hanging out with your friends, the parties, the closeness to you, because I want something from your friend? Hell, I listened to her talk about the pigment in lipsticks for an hour because you were next to me and I wanted to be close to you. Not her…”

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x #osamu x reader #kita x reader #tsukishima x reader #akaashi x reader #semi x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #osamu miya x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #semi eita x reader

778 notes · View notes

with-my-calamitous-love · 6 months ago

Text

YOU’LL SEE ME IN HINDSIGHT

touya todoroki x reader

you spend one last night with your husband before he goes to battle shouto and endeavour.

angst/smut, mha official ending spoilers

part 1/3

inspired by wildest dreams

2 years of hiding. 2 years of silence. 2 years of putting the outside world on pause. 2 years of bliss.

to fall of the face of the earth with your beloved was possibly the most romantic thing you could have ever experienced. you existed in your own snow globe, dancing in circles round and round shielded from the outside world. but you both knew it wouldn’t be forever.

you had a quiet house on the countryside, surrounded by gorgeous acres of land. for you and touya, it seemed much to large for both of you. but acres of nature’s serene solitude provided the two of you enough time to escape from the world. you, at least, wanted to escape. for touya, it was more like purgatory. this is where he spent his time before death.

the backyard was perhaps your favourite part. you sat on the old wooden steps on the porch, eyeing the lush vegetation that seemed to thrive despite the ever-increasing fleetingness of the moment. soon, no one would pick the peaches from the trees, or harvest the sweet strawberries from the bushes. no one would admire the flowers that grew for miles or the sweet smell of life. no one would ever see the beauty of the land that touya todoroki loved you on.

you hear his creaky footsteps come up behind you, watching you as you watch the world- like you are his world. for a moment, he sees nothing.

“the magnolias.” words finally escape your lips.

“hm? whats that doll?” he asks.

you take a deep breath, prying your eyes away from the garden and finally turning to face your lover. your hand raises to point at the delicate white petals bundled together like a stanza.

“those ones over there. magnolias. they smell the sweetest.”

his blue eyes follow over to where you point as he sits down next to you. he simply nods, looking at the flowers you told him smelled the best.

a thought crosses your mind. you overheard him talking it over with shigaraki. you knew what tomorrow was. yet you were hesitant to let the words leave your mouth. you didn’t even want to dare it.

“…you know you’re going to die, right?”

the words leave your tongue like a curse.

at first, he looks over at you, bewildered by the statement. but touya isn’t dumb- he knows you can pick up on things. and he knows he isn’t dumb enough to wanna lie to you- though admittedly the lie is better. the lie is so much more comforting in this instance.

“…i know, doll.” touya tells the truth.

you don’t say anything, but your silence is perhaps the loudest thing he’s heard all day.

“its too late to give up on it now.” he says it like he’s trying to salvage it. as if theres any way to fix all the pain he hasn’t even caused you yet. he knows your grief is only inevitable.

“…thought so.” you sigh, getting up from the creaky wooden steps and moving back into your home. its a home that you and touya have built together. dirty rugs with tracks stained from his large black boots. your coat and his hanging from the door, his so much darker and larger than yours. the dirty bowls in the sink you have yet to wash, leftover from soba night. the memories, the dreams, the love. the world was about to see dabi, but for two years you got to love touya.

so many memories were suddenly engulfed in fire. dancing barefoot in the kitchen, trying on his coat that reached the floor on your frame, hugging him and feeling the warmth only he could give you. all of it was soon to be ash.

he follows you into the house, watching as you move about. he’s silent, since words always seemed to fail him when it came to you. theres a heavy tension that lingered in the house. soon, this wouldn’t be yours and touya’s home. soon, these walls would be haunted. soon, this would no longer be a home.

“you know theres no way you’re getting out of this alive, right?” you ask as if to confirm your worst fears. funny, since you already knew the answer.

“…as long as i take that old bastard down with me.” touya says, a familiar flicker of revenge ruminating in his brilliant turquoise eyes. perhaps love wasn’t meant to end suffering, after all.

and thats enough to make your voice resonate with that familiar crack of anguish.

“…what about me, touya..?”

he winces. he expected you to yell, to scream at him. to tell him how much of an asshole he is. how much you hate him. somehow, your strangled, quiet cry hurts more.

“you… you’ll be fine. you manage.” he’s lying through his teeth and you both know it.

what else could you say?

you turned away from him, walking upstairs to your bedroom. this was the room you loved the most. so many late nights and sunny, early mornings. god, getting to see him all tuckered out from the previous night, the deepest morning voice you have ever heard. his cheeky remarks, half lidded blue eyes looking into you. the way he pulls you back into bed, asking where the hell you think you’re going. all of that love was packing its bags and moving on.

he follows you again, not knowing what else to say but not wanting the conversation to end either. maybe he just didn’t want you and him to end, despite the fact that neither of you had a choice.

“i was never apart of your plan, was i?” your voice cracks again, asking him to confirm your deepest hurt. you knew it to be true. loving you was never something touya ever intended on doing. yet he stayed.

he only sighs, trying to find the right words. “i’m sorry. i never meant to drag you into this-“

“don’t be.” you quickly cut him off once you realize he’s not denying anything.

touya was a man of promises. he knows that he’s made a vow. a vow to bring endeavour down, to expose him for all the suffering he’s condemned him to. to show his father that he was the worst thing to ever happen to the flame hero. he branded that promise deep into his heart, and he had 0 intentions of letting it up now.

not even for you.

the sound of cooing causes both of you to stare out the window. there, perched on the window sill, are two doves- happily chirping to one another, unbeknownst of the pain just lurking behind the glass.

“you know, doves mate for life.” you say, looking at the smaller one nestling into the snow white feathers of its much larger companion.

“kind of romantic, isn’t it?” touya shrugs, also noting the way the two birds hold onto each other like nothing else matters. even with the ability to fly, to sore the sky and see the stars up close, the two birds loved each other like none of that was even remotely interesting.

“it is romantic.” you agree. “loving each other for the rest of their lives. even if that life is short.”

he quickly catches on.

touya swore he’d love you for the rest of his life. even if that life was too short for him.

touya watches the birds alongside you, their delicate, graceful forms seeming to symbolize something more than just a couple of birds resting on a window sill. they continue to coo quietly to each other, cuddling and nuzzling against each other, completely at ease and content with the love they’d found.

after a moment of silence, touya speaks up, his voice quiet and hesitant.

"you know i don’t want to leave you, right?”

wanting seemed irrelevant, here. it didn’t matter what you or touya wanted. fate was decided, against what either of you want.

“i know.” you say, solemnly. you rest your hands on touya’s side of the dresser, like a wounded soldier hanging his head low. your heart was hurting. by this time tomorrow, he’d be gone. the love of your life would be gone.

for a second, touya is lost in his own world of hate. he hates himself, more than he’s hated anyone in his entire life. he hates himself for letting you love him. he hates himself for having to leave you here, all alone, safe and stranded.

he’s then pulled out of his trance when he sees you in his drawer, holding the ring he’s kept hidden from you for months. a beautiful, silver ring with a sapphire as deep as the blue sea. alongside is his ring, just a simple, silver band. he mentally curses himself for not hiding it well enough.

his heart beats out of his chest, watching you slowly turn to him, holding the ring.

“you remembered i like sapphires.” you say, not a question but a statement. of course he remembered your favourite gemstone. touya remembered every little thing he loves about you.

“yeah… course i did, doll.” he says, as if its obvious he remembered.

he wishes he could actually cry when he sees you slip it onto your left ring finger. god, it fits you perfectly. his eyes remain mesmerized as you flex your fingers, seeing how it looks on you.

you legs carry you over to him, pulling him in close. you rest your hands on his chest and your forehead against his. touya’s scarred hands find their way to your waist, drawing you in as if to shield you from all the heartache thats to come.

“you know we can’t actually get married, right?” you dryly chuckle, your voice barely a whisper. “especially not legally.”

he hums in response. he’s well aware you two could never go down to a courthouse and officially commit to one another. “you think i care ‘bout that?” he manages a smirk. “i still wanna marry you. even if its just between us.”

“so, you’re really gonna turn me into a widow tomorrow hm?” you ask.

his blue eyes flicker down to your ring, his brain still unable to compute that its real. “i guess so.”

you smile, though theres an undeniable hint of sadness in your eyes that touya knows all too well.

“i know you don’t wanna leave me, touya.” you whisper, looking into his eyes, staring into his soul.

he physically feels his heart clench at your words. and at the look in your eyes, he feels a wave of emotion wash over him. he wants to reach out and take you into his arms, to hold you tight and never let go. but he can’t. he has to stay strong, no matter how weak you make his resolve.

“i.. i know i don’t want to leave you, i don’t want to leave you behind. but i have to. i have to do this. i have to take him down.” he says, gritting his teeth at the thought of that bastard.

“i hope you do.” you encourage. “fuck that guy.”

touya almost laughs at this, pressing his forehead against yours. “yeah. fuck that guy.”

“i… i hate him. i hate him for doing this to you. for turning you into this. for taking you away from me. from what we could have had.” you can’t help the tear that falls from your eye just thinking about it, thinking about what you lost. the husband you could have had, the kids, the future… all of that could only live on in your dreams, now.

touya’s eyes widen in surprise and pain at your words. he honestly hadn't thought about it like that before, hadn't considered how endeavour’s actions had impacted you, too. he knew that his hatred and need for revenge had caused a rift between the two of you, but hearing you say it out loud, seeing the pain in your eyes, it cuts straight to his heart.

he looks at you, his expression torn between anger and guilt.

"i’m sorry. i’m sorry I've put you through all this, doll. i’m sorry i let my anger and hate consume me. its all i know.” he says, closing his eyes. he can’t bare to watch you cry over something as pathetic as him.

“i… i think you’re a murderer. and a villain. touya.” you seethe. and he accepts that hatred from you, because he doesn’t deserve anything more or less.

“and i also think you’re a deeply traumatized person who was stuck as a kid who feels like nothing but a failure after, being in a 3 year coma.” you conclude your true feelings. he doesn’t say anything to that for a moment.

he knew that you saw him for what he was- a killer, a villain, a monster. but hearing you say it out loud, hearing you sum up his entire life, stung.

he tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh slightly as he struggles to keep his emotions in check. he keeps his eyes averted, unable to meet your gaze.

“i know what i am. what I’ve become. i don’t know what else to do.” he says, defeated, like the end of a long battle.

“can you love me? is that an option?” your question is more of a plea than anything else. finally, he looks you in the eye, as if the answer to that question is obvious.

“you’re the only thing i think i’m capable of loving.” he admits, more to himself than to you.

“you’re the only thing thats made my life worth living. and im so fucking grateful. for you. and your love.” the way he says it like a goodbye hurts all too much. but its words you need to hear. making him feel love was an absolute honour.

you pull him close to you, wrapping your arms around his neck desperately. oh, to memorize the feeling of his body against yours as his strong arms circle your waist, pulling you up to match his taller frame.

“you’re the best i’ve ever loved.” you say.

“you’re the only thing i’ve ever loved.” he confirms.

“then spend one last night with me. as your wife. whatever you do in the morning is up to you, i don’t care, but just give this night to us.” he can’t deny the way you beg him- even though you don’t even have to ask. he was already planning on it, visualizing all the ways he was going to physically show you he loves you in the bed tonight. but he needs to make sure, first.

“are you sure you want that, doll? one last night?”

“what i want is forever, touya.” you clarify. “but if i can have just one last night, i think we can make it work.”

and once he’s gotten your consent, the rest of the night is set.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

most think that guys can only fuck or make love- but touya gave you both and everything in between that night.

the way his hands roamed over every inch of your body like he was trying to etch himself onto you. god, the way his cock slid in and out of you at an unreasonably fast pace. he can’t help that he wants you, that he wants to be the only guy to ever throw you onto the mattress and fuck you till your absolutely spent all over him.

“fuck. yeah? ya like that doll?” he groans into your ear, the filthy sounds of skin slapping together filling the room. “gonna fuck you so good. god, your pussy is so fucking good.”

he has you on your back, turquoise eyes drinking in the way your eyes roll to the back of your skull. to say it looked absolutely filthy was an understatement, but to you two and just you two, this was how you showed love. touya was never a man of words- sure, he could tell you that he loves you, that he wants you, and that he doesn’t want to leave you, but you both already know that. so he lets his actions speak for him: spreading your legs to opposite sides of the room, playing with your pussy until your absolutely gushing, and not even daring to stop even when you can barely form a coherent sentence. he loves how he gets you like this. because he fucks you until your sobbing- partly from the mind melting pleasure, and partly from the fact that you know you’ll never find a cock this good ever again.

and touya’s not usually a huge biter or a kissed, but god, does he go crazy over the way you scream when he sinks his teeth in. and he won’t stop at a few nicks- you’re funny. the way he loved you is agonizing. loving you manifests as an all-consuming entity. he’s driven wild by the pleasure, and he wishes he could just have you whole right now.

if theres one thing you learned from loving touya, its that the idea of love being just a feeling, a simple chemical in the brain, was simply incorrect. no. love is not a feeling. love cannot be summed up into a simple 7 letter word. love took over your senses, the sight, the ears, the touch, the smell and especially the taste. you honestly wished touya would just consume you. and not just for lust or for petty desires. you wished to become a part of him. he wanted to taste your flesh against his lips like it was god damn salvation. let his being be apart of yours as his lips bless your skin, begging for another bite. let him feel something that is so wrong yet so right. let him want something that feels too good to be true. because its him. god, the way he loves you as if he’s savouring the rhythm of your heart- only he makes it beat that way. he watches, absolutely mesmerized as your fluids drip down your thighs, watching how he makes you melt. in the end, the two of you are reduced to nothing but empty space. because you were touya’s favourite part of himself.

you scream his name until his throat runs dry, as he continuously chases the feeling of your velvet walls clenching around his cock. god, the way he feels when your nipples slide over his pecs. how you scratch down hid back, how he actively has to keep his quirk in check as not to burn you- not that you’d mind a brand in the shape of his hand. he’s already left his fingerprints all over you, anyway.

“p-please! ah! don’t stop!” you moan for probably the 100th time. not that touya’s complaining, he loves your desperate side. he loves that he’s the one who can coax it out of you.

you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come. from his fingers, to his mouth, to his cock that felt like it was shaped especially for you. your thighs tremble around his waist desperately, begging him to pull yet another orgasm out of you. and touya happily obliges. he loves to fuck you till all you can think of is him.

he can feel himself unraveling, wanting nothing more than to see his cum dripping down your beautiful pussy. he knows that this is the last chance he’ll have to take you like this. and when you arch your back and scream ‘TOUYA!’ at the top of your lungs, he loses it.

the groan he lets out in your ear as he finally releases himself into you is mouthwatering. warm, thick, ropes of his seed stuffing you to the absolute brim. you feel your toes curl and your mind blank, only being able to focus on the sensation of his love melting away every single worry or doubt in your mind. the way the sweat from his and your body forces you two to stick together as he holds you against him, helping you come down from the intense high.

his body collapses down beside you, mustering all his leftover energy to pull you closer to him. he pulls the blanket over you and him, like cementing his rightful place next to you, holding you in his arms.

“could lay here with you forever.” he utters, somewhat hoping you won’t catch what he says.

“i wish you would.” of course you catch on.

he pulls back slightly to look you in the eye. having you here, hair sprawled out, in his arms. you’re covered in the evidence of him like your a crime scene- his favourite crime at that.

his heart clenches at the thought of tomorrow. that at this time in 24 hours, he won’t be with you anymore. and that made him want to scream.

your hands move up to cradle his chin, brushing your thumb over his lower lip. your voice is rasped from your recent activities as you ask your question: “can i ask you something?”

“anything, doll.” he says confidently.

you inhale deeply. “can… can you feel me here?”

you motion to his burnt lower lip, and then to his patches of purple, burnt skin, barely holding itself together. its a question you’ve wondered for years, yet have always feared the answer.

his silence is nerve wracking, before finally answering.

“yeah. i can.”

even then, you’re not convinced.

“even when i kiss you?” your voice is barely above a whisper.

he leans in closer, as if its important to him that you hear this.

“you’re the only person that makes me feel things, doll. yes, i can feel you.”

he inhales again, knowing that he needs to ask you this sooner or later.

“promise me something, babygirl.”

“anything.” you nod.

“promise me… promise me that when i walk out that door tomorrow. promise me you’ll find some other guy. someone that makes you happy and protects you. that..”

that loves you like he does. but touya knows that no one will ever love you like he does.

to say your heart shattered at that was an understatement. how could you ever even think of finding another man, when your heart irrevocably belonged to touya todoroki?

“…is that what you want?” you asked, still shocked.

the question hits him like a punch to the gut. no, he absolutely, unequivocally does not want that. the thought of someone else with you, loving you, holding you, being with you… it makes him sick to his stomach. no, he can’t even bare the thought of someone being tangled with you like this. dreaming of you like he does. loving you with a love so bright it burns- it made him sick.

and when he thinks of that. of you moving on without him.. selfishly, so fucking selfishly, it makes him want to burn the world down. because if it’s nothing but ash, no one will get to have you, even he’s gone. maybe to love him meant burning it all down, anyway.

and for a moment, he's tempted, so very tempted, to say no, to tell you that he wants you to never move on, to tell you to love him and only him, selfish as it may be. but he can't. not when he knows he never even deserved you in the first place.

"…yes."

and you have the audacity to scoff.

he looks on confused, and a little offended. what was so audacious in this moment it had you laughing?

“touya.” you call his attention. his blue eyes never even left your sight as he nods.

“do you honestly think love just ends when you leave?”

it stumps him, for a moment. like his heart stuttering at the thought. he tries to figure out where you’re going with this as he answers.

“no. i don’t.” he affirms.

“exactly.” you say. “it doesn’t. in fact, i don’t think i’ve loved you any more than i do right now. love is felt the strongest when its leaving.”

your words do more to him than he’d like to admit. he gulps.

“so even right now, you love me?”

the answer to that should have been obvious.

“i’m never not loving you.”

he manages a dry chuckle, pressing his forehead to yours. god, he wishes he could have this forever. but he knows a demon like him can’t enter heaven.

so for now, he embraces you fully, rubbing circles onto your back and hushing you to sleep. the cool air blows through the room, so he shields you with his body, wanting you to feel nothing but the warmth and the comfort you deserve. he may not be the guy you deserve, but he sure as hell can protect you like he his.

and for what might be the last time, he savours the way your lips bless his in a kiss. your the only name on his lips, the only one that could ever feel what its like to love him.

he feels his heartbreak as you fall asleep. he hopes you dream of him. dreams are so much happier.

“…i’m never gonna stop loving you.” he whispers.

and with that, touya falls asleep.

524 notes · View notes

sylusjinwoon · 7 months ago

Text

{ 193 }

the haunted one.

academy arc

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ beyond infatuation, how i obsessively adore you | that’s what i do… }

when you began your first year of high school, you didn’t expect to meet someone that absolutely terrified you.

during your walk to campus, there was a huge crowd of students heading towards the same destination. you were in a bit of a haze, still feeling sleepy despite how you much you rested during the weekend, making you feel a bit listless as you yawned and continued your walk.

"HEY, YOU THERE! WHO THE HELL GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO WEAR GLOVES TO-"

you were taken aback upon hearing an older man you assumed to be one of the teachers yelling at another student. when you follow his gaze, your eyes go wide upon seeing the boy settled several feet in front of you. he was at least a head taller than your average teenaged boy, donning a coat over his school uniform with a glove covering one of his hands.

but perhaps more so than that was how you could see a black and purple haze looming over the entirety of his body, dancing around him like shadows born from the night itself. you witness the way his eyes glow a faint, blue hue as the boy meets with the teacher's gaze, quickly realizing how even he seemed to take notice of the shadows dancing around him, causing him to immediately look away as he barked order at the other students.

"stand up straight and smooth out your uniform!"

before the strange boy could even notice you, you purposely take a step back into the crowd, feeling your heart race with anxiety as you prayed that you wouldn't be in the same class as him. for several seconds, you didn't move, simply allowing your peers to put a wall between you and the boy haunted by shadows. the fear and anxiety you felt was out of character for you, yet still, you couldn't stop the feeling of dread from coursing through your veins.

as you heard the first chime of the warning bells, alerting you to how you only had five minutes left until the class period began, you steadily make your way toward the building after ensuring that the shadow boy was nowhere to be seen. entering the building, you made a mental note of your classroom name, heading to the left of the hallway before entering class 1-d. the area was already filled with students, yet thankfully, that strange boy was nowhere to be seen.

visibly relaxing, you take a seat and get out your pencil case and notebook, opening it to a fresh page as you got ready to take notes for the day. you were simply doodling against the margins of the pages when you heard some commotion coming from the classroom settled next to your class. your peers were curious, making a crowd outside of the halls. you remain seated, but was able to catch a glimpse of 4 rowdy boys tumbling straight into the linoleum floors.

everyone seemed to laugh at their fall, yet you knew otherwise-

because they were surrounded by that same, purple and black aura that surrounded the same boy from this morning-

this epiphany made you feel sick with anxiety all over again, and you were wondering if you could truly avoid such a strange boy for the next 3 years of your high school career.

{ ... }

"sung jinwoo is so cute, did you see him during track practice today?"

"hehe, no kidding... i usually go straight home after classes, but seeing such a hot guy is enough to make me linger on the bleachers."

it was obvious that your classmates didn't see the shadows surrounding jinwoo like you did, but who were you to warn them about it? the more attention was given to jinwoo by these girls, the less he would realize how much you had been actively avoiding him.

which was, in your opinion, no easy feat.

the boy seemed to be everywhere, his presence felt looming all across the school as the shadows seemed to lengthen and appear in the most inopportune of times. from surrounding the campus ground gardens to even darting between the lockers, you had a feeling that jinwoo had specifically planted them in these locations-

but for what reason, you couldn’t say for sure.

just as you were ready to head home for the day, you notice how jinwoo and his group of friends were lingering in front of the school's main gate. he seemed to be listening to their conversations with a tranquil smile on his face, the same shadows seeming to dance around him as you had to take a step back and reorient yourself.

clearly, you had to find a different way out of school, mentally groaning to yourself as you retraced your steps and decided to head to the back entrance and make your escape there. this would lengthen your time to get home by an extra 10 minutes or so, but you were willing to make this inconvenience happen if it meant that you could remain out of sight from jinwoo.

with you finally leaving the school, you make your long trek back home, completely and blissfully unaware of the pair of glowing, purple eyes hidden within your own shadow. there was a sudden shift felt within the air as you visibly froze, unable to move when the faint smell of someone's cologne fills the air-

and you found yourself trapped within someone's embrace. you couldn't bring yourself to move even when you felt something soft touching at the top of your hair before moving to the shell of your ear, "you've been avoiding me for half of the semester now, why is that?"

a shaky breath manages to escape from your parted lips when your captor slowly reveals himself to you, pinning your form against the concrete wall as his silvery eyes were seen glowing a blue hue. he lets out a hum of your name before placing his gloved hand on your bottom lip. you feel the way the pad of his thumb traces at them, causing shivers to run down your spine the more he keeps his gaze on you, trapping you with the sheer intensity of it.

"normally, i wouldn't care about such trivial things, but seeing the fear and discomfort in your eyes each time you look at me- it bothers me."

you let out a gasp when you saw one of the shadowy wisps reaching out to you, doing all that you could to move away from it as it seemed to dance around jinwoo's head.

"kekeke, my king, i believe she can see me."

your eyes go wide, hearing the disembodied voice clearly while swallowing thickly. jinwoo hums at the sudden revelation, seeming to know about your sharp senses from the beginning.

"is this why you've been avoiding me? are you scared of me?" the last part of his question comes out in a whisper when he purposely steps even closer to you, trapping you against the front of his chest and the wall. his gaze seems to intensify when the wispy shadow begins to make a beeline for you, aiming for your face. you immediately clench your eyes shut, preparing for the impact-

only to gasp and let out a string of giggles when the shadow begins to gently tickle you, the sensation feeling like a ribbon going all across the skin of your neck as the shadow continues on with its featherlike caresses against you.

"hehehe, s-stop it! it's so... so t-ticklish!"

jinwoo was smirking at your reaction, silently ordering his shadow to move away from you, giving you a moment to breathe and collect yourself. once you were calmer now, you felt jinwoo gently brushing back your hair while telling you, "you have no reason to fear me... i won't ever hurt you."

"in fact," he leans in closer to you, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead while murmuring against your skin, "i would much rather protect you than have you keep me at such a distance."

as if those were the magic words you needed to hear, you felt your fears pertaining to jinwoo disappear, like smoke being blown into the air. unable to find the right words to say to him, you smile back at him, watching as jinwoo returns it before taking your hand in his, determined to walk you home as he acted like your own personal shield.

{ ... }

"how unfair is this? jinwoo's already dating her."

"ugh, i feel like jinwoo could do so much better than her."

"but still, out of everyone here, his eyes has always been on her and no one else... which is a bummer, really."

your classmates were heard talking about you, stating your name, their voices filled with disdain and envy, watching as you and jinwoo were eating lunch together while settled on the grassy terrain of your campus, so caught up in your own little world with him that you didn't even hear nor pay any attention to their scathing words.

however, this doesn't mean that jinwoo hasn't heard them, allowing his gaze to glance away from you momentarily as his glowing, purple eyes look over at the group of girls who were badmouthing you. he allows beru to give them a scare, causing a burst of wind to surround them as the former ant king successfully causes their half eaten lunches to blow away.

"oh my god, what was that?!"

"let's go back inside."

you, remaining blissfully unaware, look back to see your classmates scrambling away from the area, a wistful smile painting your expression, "jinwoo, did you do something to them?"

"i don't know what you're talking about. the wind just happened to get incredibly stronger around that area." jinwoo hums before placing one of his homemade rice balls in your hand. you end up accepting it with a smile, "is that so? what a coincidence that the wind came specifically towards those girls who kept glaring at me."

jinwoo lets out another rich chuckle, absolutely delighted at how you were playing along with him as he presses a kiss against your lips, "what a coincidence indeed."

no one would ever tease or demean you while you were under his protection and care, for jinwoo would do anything and everything in his power to maintain your happiness for forever and a day.

a.n. - yay another jinwoo story! it's so much fun, and so incredibly cute writing for academy arc!woowoo. he is so sassy and determined as a teen 😭 🙌🏻

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #.stories

644 notes · View notes

entitled-fangirl · 7 months ago

Text

Luck. (P2)

Cregan Stark x reader; Robb Stark x reader

Summary: the reader finds herself back with Cregan, and she's beginning to feel something for the past Wolf of the North.

Warnings: unwanted advances, talk of gore, consensual kissing that leads to the start of... some other stuff

Part 1, Part 3

Masterlist

...................................................

Two weeks back with Robb, and it seemed that she was beginning to forget about the interactions with Cregan entirely.

She had hit her head, after all. Maybe her mind had simply messed with her.

Robb had noted that something was amiss with her, but he knew better than to pry. When she was ready, perhaps she'd come to him.

"The History of the Wolf. That's an ancient book, that is." Robb mused with a grin as he entered the library.

She turned her head and snapped the book shut in surprise. "Oh… I… I had no idea."

Robb's smile grows and he walks to her, "Interested in Stark history, are you?"

Her face showed a look as if she'd been caught in a crime. "I… I just wish to know more about you and your house is all."

"That's admirable," Robb said. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, his stubble scraping her as he did so.

"You must shave," she said instinctively with a laugh. "It is like rubbing sand across my face, Robb."

He chuckled. It was the first time in two weeks that she had jested with him like she had before that day in the Godswood. He loved her most like this.

He brought at hand to his face, "Shave? Or perhaps I shall grow it into a great beard!"

She laughed and took his face in her hand, "Only when I am long gone will you have a beard, Stark."

He tilted his head playfully and a tint came to his eyes, "Or perhaps I will just make you watch the hairs grow by the day."

Her hands moved to his chest with a playful shove, "Don't torture me so!"

His smirk grew, "I will torture you how I see fit, my love."

"You shan't catch me then!"

Abandoning the book in her hands, she began to sprint from the library.

Robb watched her go with a playful grin before willing his legs to run as well.

She held her skirt up in one hand, rounding each corridor half—hazardly.

Robb had longer legs, but he had to admit she was a quick little thing.

She made the mistake of turning around once to see where he was, only to find him a few paces behind.

She let out a surprised laugh, and quickly set herself on track again.

Even as they ran passed the staff, the servants paid no heed.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell were much in love, and seeing such things were common.

Finally down one corridor, she looked over her shoulder.

She had managed just a bit of distance from Robb.

She grinned wickedly as she rounded the corner from him.

Into a stone wall it seemed.

She fell onto the ground from the force.

"Gods, my love," a voice commented.

Cregan Stark.

He knelt down and quickly brought a hand to the back of her head. He was holding back a chuckle, "That was quite a hit. Are you alright?"

She nodded quickly, "Fine." Her hand came up to her forehead, "Just fine."

"Let's get you up then," he chuckled. "I can't have the staff whispering of why the Lord and Lady were on the dirt ridden floor of the corridor."

He helped her up, keeping a hand under one arm to guarantee her balance. When she was indeed balanced, he let go, "Running from Brandon, I assume? A game of some sorts?"

She took a few steps back to look down the corridor she had just run down.

Robb was gone.

"Yes," she lied. "I'm to be hiding."

"Well," he smiled. "I can't have him catching you, can I?" He held out his arm for her to take.

With one last look to the place Robb had once stood, she took Cregan's arm.

…

After an hour or two of enjoying the other's company over a light lunch, Cregan gave a light sigh and stood from the chair. "I must attend to the people. I shall come collect you-"

She reached out and grabbed his hand, "May I accompany you?"

"You wish to… accompany me out?" He was a bit shocked from her request.

"Please, my lord. I truly wish to."

That seemed to make something wash over Cregan. He blinked suddenly and nodded, "Get in something warmer. There's quite a heavy chill out there."

…

The two had journeyed out of the Winterfell walls.

Cregan had promised to help a farmer days before, and was now making true to his promise.

A Stark never breaks an oath, after all.

So the two on his horse, as well as some ten men behind them set out to the man's farm.

The man was welcoming and kind, beyond grateful for the help. He was an older man and held a deep regard for the younger Stark man.

As they entered his home, Cregan grimaced, "What exactly do you believe the problem to be?"

The man shrugged, "I wanted to believe wildlings, my lord. But… wildlings do not kill as viciously as these deaths have been. No man is willing to work for me because of it."

Cregan's eyes wandered over to her, who had distracted herself with the man's dog- a long haired shepherd dog who had no idea that one of the most influential woman in the North was the one scratching behind his ears.

"You said the East side of your land?" Cregan asked.

"Yes, my lord."

"Very well." Cregan turned to his men. "Go saddle up. Have your swords at the ready." He turned to the older man, "You'll lead us there."

The man nodded, "On my honor, my lord."

She stood now, her attention lost from the dog to Cregan.

"No," he began as soon as they made eye contact. "You'll stay here. I'll not have you out in that."

"Cregan," she sighed. "I'll be with you. That's as safe as-"

"-My lady," the older man began. "If I may. I found one of my men without a throat in that field. We shan't have that for our lady."

Cregan nodded along with him, "You're to stay, my love."

She nodded, "That's fine."

"If it helps, my older son should come around soon. He'll keep you company," the older man said.

She nodded again with a forced smile, "That sounds lovely. I shall remain."

Cregan gave a soft sigh, "Just for a few hours." He pulled her to him and placed a kiss to the crown of her head.

…

The man's son did come after an hour or two, walking into his home sweaty and tired.

It took him a while to notice the lady's presence.

He immediately began to apologize, "Lady Stark. Forgive me… I did not-"

She laughed lightly, "-There is nothing to forgive. I am the stranger in your home, not the other way around."

He nodded. He then took a moment to see her in front of him. "Believe me or not, I've never seen the lady of Winterfell before. And now that I have, I've not seen a pretty lady in all of the North."

His words took her by surprise. "Oh. Those are quite flattering words."

He smiled and shrugged, "I would not lie to a lady. You're lovely. Lord Stark has been blessed by the gods to have you."

"How did you know it was I if you've never seen me?" She asked with a teasing smile.

"Your cloak, my lady." He pointed to it, "Stark sigil on it."

She looked down to indeed to the pin on it with the wolf of Stark on it. "Ah. I see."

"Tell me, my lady, why you are in our home unaccompanied?"

"My husband and his men are with your father dealing with your… problem. In the east field, I believe?"

The man's eyes lit with recognition, "Is he? I had no idea he'd be here today or I would have welcomed him. And accompanied him as well. I do apologize."

She shrugged, "Cregan does not care for propriety. Do not worry yourself."

"Perhaps I may just… keep you company here then until their return?"

She smiled, "I'd like that."

…

The man, who she had learned was named Johnathan Glover, was lovely at first. Easy to converse with, and not overbearing towards her.

But it quickly shifted.

He had slowly moved his chair closer to her. His hands would wander. His eyes grew sultry.

And soon, she was becoming uncomfortable.

"Something wrong, my lady?" He asked.

"No. Worried for Cregan, is all."

"You seem so tense." He sighed. Johnathan stood up and rounded her chair to stand behind her. His hand moved to her shoulders and she immediately tensed more.

"You need to relax," he whispered in her ear. He began to massage her shoulder, pushing a little too harshly into her shoulder blades.

"He… he will return at any moment," she had tried to reason.

The man smiled, "I know."

A kiss was placed on her neck.

She froze in place for a moment.

This man would die at Cregan's hand.

Robb was a merciful man, but the man's payment would have been just the same under his watch.

"Stop," she commanded.

"This is what I'm speaking of," the man continued with another kiss to her neck, "So tense."

She moved to stand, but he held her down by her shoulders.

The door swung open suddenly and Cregan stood in the doorway.

Bloody and caked in dirt, Cregan Stark stood with a set jaw at the sight before him.

She stood this time, managing to get away from the man's hands and goes to Cregan, "Are you hurt?"

But his eyes didn't move from Johnathan's. His voice was low, "I'm fine." His gloved hands covered in grime grabbed her wrist. "Let's go."

He pulled her from the home with no words uttered to anyone except a whisper to one of his men. The man nodded and moved into the house as the Starks left.

…

"I leave you to slay wolves and yet I had left you in the jaws of one," Cregan huffed as he pulled off his boots.

"It is alright. I am fine, Cregan." She tried to reason.

"No. No, do not give me pity. I left you alone there. I should have known better."

She sighed as she began to pull at her corset strings. "You could not have known that. You were tending to your people, as you should."

Cregan paused at her words, his hands gripping the bottom of his tunic. "I should be tending to you."

She pulled off her corset with a tug, "Then do so."

His eyes darkened as his eyes roamed over her body, "So I shall."

Cregan neared her, carefully and slowly pulling her various garments from her until she was left in nothing but her shift.

He smiled and let his hands grip her waist, "You are a Stark." His thumbs traced lightly, "I can't have others believing otherwise."

She stepped a bit closer, nearing her face with his, "I will always be a Stark."

He leaned in the rest of the way, connecting their lips in a soft kiss.

But he paused for moment, "I'm filthy, my love. Perhaps we should wait-"

But she had pulled him to her, cutting him off with a kiss once more.

The kiss was everything that Cregan wasn't- soft, delicate, careful, and needy.

He let out a soft groan when she pulled the hair at the back of his neck.

Cregan led the two towards the bed, carefully placing her on the furs. Only then did their lips part, and his began to trace down her face. His voice was soft as he spoke, "I'll banish any trace of that man from you."

She hummed as he kissed down her neck, exactly where the man had kissed her only hours before. But unlike then, she was completely relaxed under Cregan's gaze.

She could feel his smile against her neck.

"May I have you tonight, my love?" He asked softly.

She paused her thoughts for a moment.

She was stuck in time with Cregan. Her husband.

Was it wrong to Robb?

He noted her hesitation and pushed himself up to look at her, "Don't fret about it. I won't be upset with you."

Her hesitation continued.

He nodded and one of his hands wandered down her body, "May I pleasure you, at least?"

He wanted to…

She felt herself nod before she could register why.

His smile was bright, "Thank you, my love."

Much like Cregan himself, his kisses became calculated and neat. He did nothing on a whim. The kisses began to trail down her body, over her clothing.

When they reached lower, he grabbed her thighs and pulled her legs up.

A final look into her eyes, "You're sure?"

Another nod from her, "Please, Cregan."

His hand began to pull her thin shift up, "Of course, pretty."

With her shift stretched across her thighs, she couldn't see Cregan once he disappeared behind it. His touch on her thighs left for a moment.

She closed her eyes and waited for the feeling to begin.

But instead she felt a cold chill run down her.

And the sound of the door opening.

Her eyes shot open.

Robb ran in, panting. She paused when he saw her and his jaw dropped a bit.

His beautiful wife in nothing but her shift, legs open on the furs of their bed.

"So, this is where you ran off to, is it?" He grinned.

When she didn't answer from shock, he continued, "I don't know how you managed this so quickly, but you shall hear no complaint from me." He stepped toward her like a predator, "My wife just waiting for me to catch her? So eagerly waiting on me?"

Robb approached the foot of the bed. He grabbed the top of her thighs, "Well, guess what, my love?" He pulled her down the bed and to him. His voice lowered, "I've caught you."

"You have." She finally managed to pant out.

His eyes roamed over her completely, "So pretty," he muttered. "And all mine." He caressed her face, "Who do you belong to?"

"I…" she paused, thrown off by his question.

His voice became a heated growl, "Who do you belong to, love?"

"The… the Wolf of the North." She whispered to him.

He grinned, "Yes, you do."

But she couldn't help but remember the feeling of Cregan's hands on her not only moments ago.

...................................................................

A/N: I think I'm about to start doing some Aemond x reader stuff- comment if you want on that tag list! Or the tag list for this fic since I'm guessing I'll be doing a part 3

Taglist: @rlblackbarbie, @rebeccawinters

#cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #robb stark x you #robb stark x reader #robb stark fanfic #robb stark imagine #drew drools over cregan stark

607 notes · View notes

libingan · 1 month ago

Text

mistletoe mishaps! 🎁🎄

four times phillip failed to kiss you under a mistletoe and the one time he finally succeeded!

the holidays had arrived at base, and despite the usual tension and military duties that came with it, there was an air of cheer that seemed to infect everyone, even the usually stoic members of the shadows. philip graves, however, wasn’t just embracing the christmas spirit for the sake of tradition—he had a mission. a very specific, personal mission. and it involved you.

he’d been trying all day to get you under the mistletoe. in his mind, it was simple: it was christmas, and the mistletoe was a symbol of holiday cheer and romance. and, damn it, he was going to kiss you. that kiss.

but, of course, things were never simple with graves.

the first attempt came during the lunch break. philip had carefully positioned the mistletoe over the hallway near the mess hall, hoping to catch you on your way in. the hall was empty when you passed through, and as soon as you approached, philip made his move. he casually stepped forward to place himself in your path, raising his eyebrow, clearly expecting the moment to unfold perfectly. just as he was about to open his mouth, shadow 4-3 skidded down the hall in a mad dash, slipping on the freshly mopped floor and slamming into philip, sending both of them crashing into the wall. the mistletoe flew to the other end of the hallway with an audible thud.

"seriously?!" philip groaned, rubbing his forehead, while you stood frozen, trying to stifle your laughter.

the second attempt was a little more subtle. philip, now even more determined, noticed you walking towards the base's common room. he quickly positioned the mistletoe above the doorframe, standing just out of sight. you stepped into the room, completely unaware of his plot. but as you walked through the door, shadow 2-1, who had been deep in conversation with shadow 4-2, swung the door open with such force that it knocked philip out of the way. the mistletoe was flung back, hitting philip square in the face. your gaze shifted to him, raising an eyebrow as you stepped further into the room.

he simply sighed, "are you serious right now?"

"bad luck?" you offered with a smile, and he just scowled in response.

the third attempt was perhaps the most ambitious. after two failed attempts, graves thought it through. using shadow 3-4, he positioned the mistletoe in the rafters of a hall, near the lounge where you were taking a break. the plan was simple: the mistletoe would hover over the both of you, and all he needed to do was guide you underneath it. unfortunately, as shadow 3-4 began to lower the mistletoe, a slight shift in the shadows caused the ceiling to creak under his weight. before graves could react, the entire section of the ceiling gave way, and shadow 3-4 came crashing down, landing on top of graves with a loud thud. the mistletoe? scattered on the ground.

"goddammit," graves muttered under his breath, trying to push shadow 3-4 off him as you just stared in disbelief.

philip's face flushed red with frustration. "not again."

he wasn’t giving up yet, though. the next time you two crossed paths, he had the mistletoe tucked into his hand, ready to position it just above you. this time, there was no way he’d mess it up. you were near a supply closet, and as you turned to get something off a high shelf, philip reached up to place the mistletoe. but just as he did, the door of the closet swung open, and shadow 4-2 walked out, startled to find himself in the midst of a near-awkward moment.

"you look like you’re about to steal someone’s kiss," shadow 2-3 remarked, his voice deadpan. philip shot him a dirty look, the mistletoe falling from his hand and to the ground.

“fucking hell,” graves muttered, massaging his temples. at this point, he was ready to give up. frustration was starting to bubble over.

as the day wore on, he found himself by the corner of the base, standing alone, brooding. he was tired. so tired. it felt like the universe was conspiring against him, and all he wanted was to kiss you. just one kiss. was that really too much to ask?

he didn’t know how long he stood there, but he didn’t care. his thoughts were clouded with frustration and a hint of embarrassment. if only he could catch a break.

he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear you approach. you came up behind him, your footsteps soft but deliberate. when he turned around to see you standing there with a grin, he raised an eyebrow. “what’s up with that look?” he asked, the frustration still lingering in his voice.

“nothing,” you said, your grin growing wider. “just something funny.”

he was about to ask you what you meant, but then you pointed above him. his gaze followed your finger, and to his utter disbelief, he saw a mistletoe hanging right above the two of you. it definitely hadn’t been there when he first arrived.

graves blinked, his heart hammering in his chest. this was it—his chance. with a devilish grin, he pulled you close, one hand on your waist and the other gently cupping your face. he didn’t need any more hesitation. he leaned down and kissed you, slow and deep, like he had been waiting all day for this moment.

when he finally pulled away, you were breathless, eyes wide. “finally,” he muttered under his breath, his face still close to yours. “took long enough, didn’t it?”

you smiled up at him, your hands coming up to rest against his chest. “well,” you said, “you did try a lot today.”

he just chuckled, a soft laugh that only made you smile even more. “it was worth the wait,” he said, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. this time, you were ready, and the kiss deepened. it was messy and perfect, just like the rest of your day.

as you pulled away, he just gave you a satisfied smirk. “now, that’s how you do it.”

you raised an eyebrow and gave him a teasing grin. “all you had to do was ask, phil.”

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod #cod mwii #cod x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader

143 notes · View notes

kasagia · 1 month ago

Text

I love you... I am sorry II

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!witch! reader

Summary: You and Aleksander talk, scratching open old wounds from the past, you come to the conclusion that some things are simply a lost cause.

Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist

~•♤♤♤•~ Part 1 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 3 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Do you think I'll tell you what to do by moving soldier figures around on the map without any logic?"

"I know you, Aleksander. Eventually you'll crack and arrange those wooden soldiers the way they need to be on this map to win this battle. Give me two hours, and I'll make you so annoyed that you will do whatever it takes to get rid of me." You respond teasingly, playing with the pawns on the Ravka map in front of his cell door.

A few days had passed since your first meeting after years. During that time, you had managed to discover exactly what changes had taken place in Aleksander.

He was apathetic, not paying attention to those around him. You had been watching from hiding as Alina and Baghra tried to talk to him, but he clearly showed no interest in Ravka's fate. And worst—Grisha. Or at least he pretended not to care. You had to find out why.

Luckily, you and Ulla were able to stir up… a lot more emotion in him than those two hags. Even if it was just irritation, it was still a greater success than Alina or Baghra could achieve. Or at least that's what Baghra told you.

"Since when have you been friends with my mother?" He asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You lazily move the figurine representing Grisha's troop to the pass between Ravka and Fjerda. With your ability to read the Shadow Summoner, you immediately notice the slight twitch at the corners of his eyes. A shitty place then. You move the figurine to a different spot and, seeing no disapproving little reaction from him, you leave it there.

"Since when did you become a pain in the ass?" You reply with a cute little smirk, grinning when you see his annoyed expression.

You pull away from your poor reenactment of battle and lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. You watch him carefully, keeping your poker face on as he analyses you too. Talking to him was like playing chess. You had to know when you could afford to lose your pawns.

"You never really said why you are here." He starts, stepping a little closer to you. Like a vulture slowly circling its prey. You liked him in his analytical hunter mode. He was so absurdly sexy…

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You are not my man or something." You scoff, glancing out of the corner of your eye at his reaction. The clench of his jaw might have gone unnoticed if you didn't know him any better, but the way he clenched his fist and hid it behind his back didn't. You pissed him off. Good.

"I am not." He only agrees coolly, this time being the one to stick the needle in your side. Bloody bastard.

"Alina wants to take me north. You know... to help calm down a situation with Fjerda by using my powers." You tell him, leaning back in your chair. You reach for the pendant around your neck and play with the glass heart, looking at him as intently as he does you.

"Have you become her errand dog?"

"Please... do you truly think so little of me?" You snort in amusement, but your mockery dies when he says nothing in response to your words. Bad move. Of course he thinks so little of you since your stormy breakup. "You don't have to answer. No. I am not going to help your little saint or queen or whatever you wish to call her with the war you wanted to prevent. No matter how dramatic the measures you resorted to, at least Ravka would not now have to deal with the united forces of Shu-Han and Fjerda. And as you could notice in the centuries we spent together, I do not support idiots and ignorants like your dear Alina."

"So you are here to say that you see my point of view, and actually you want to take my side? Perhaps you are even jealous of my 'relationship' with the Sun Summoner?" He mocks you as he approaches the bars.

You stand up furiously from your seat and approach him too, seeing only the red fire of your rage as he dares to throw your jealousy in your face.

"No. I came here to see you writhing in this cage, irritated and eager to take some action, maybe even plotting some king's slaughter. I didn't expect to be left with a boring shell of who you used to be."

"I am terribly sorry if I disappointed your expectations. Do you see now how it feels on the other side of your own treatment?"

You stare at each other for a long moment, both of you seething with anger, resentment, and bitterness built up over years of you ignoring him and running away from him and his distrust and anger towards you.

"We broke up."

"Indeed we did."

"Then why did you come back to it?"

"And why did you come back now?" You shiver at his words and pull away from him. You try desperately to maintain your neutral posture, but it becomes an increasingly difficult task as he hits all the right spots.

"Your girl ruined my peace with the war that shouldn't have happened and wouldn't have if you were in power. I couldn't stay any longer in my hiding place. Even if I wished so. I had to come and clean up your mess."

"Alina is more than you care to think about her. Much more." His words hurt you, but you know they were the best answer to your lie. After all, nothing connected you anymore. It was logical that he would defend his Sun Summoner. His little damn Sankta.

"I don't care what she is. But order your little minions once more to put me to sleep, or do anything against my will, and I promise you, Aleksander, you will remember why it's not worth teasing me."

"I remember the times you loved my teasing." He replies with a small cocky grin. And you don't know what you want to do more, punch him in the face or kiss him for being so frustratingly, irritatingly absurdly handsome.

"Don't recall them if you despise them so much."

"Why? Because you regret what you have done? Because you realise how terrible a mistake you made. Because you want back what you lost ages ago? Because you know that we could have so much more if it weren't for your selfish actions?"

"How dare you, you demon from the woods..." You growl at him furiously and step closer to the bars, tightening your hands on them in an attempt to vent your anger on him.

"I am. You shall never forget this, witch without a coven."

"And who is the reason I don't have one?" Your words ignite a fury so hot and great that he presses his body against the bars as well. You stare furiously into each other's eyes, and you know that if his power were not in bondage, the room would be filled with his shadows right now.

"I never asked you for anything or for sacrificing anything for me. What you did for me then... it didn't matter when you did this only because you felt guilty. Not after what you did TO me."

"But you asked me once to stay with you. No matter what. Remember?" You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, summoning old, distant memories. And even though centuries had passed since those events… It didn't mean it hurt any less with the passage of time.

"How convenient for you to keep only those promises that suit you. Now I'd appreciate it even more if you'd disappear for good. Or rotted in some nameless grave." You slam your hand against the bars, making him shiver in surprise at your sudden outburst.

You feel your power tingling under your skin, begging to be released and unloaded on him, but unfortunately, the last thing your stupid heart wants to do is hurt that big, stubborn idiot. So while your heart is busy calming your wild power, your wounded pride takes over and controls your mouth, providing a perhaps more painful weapon than your magic.

"Fuck off, Aleksander. You can get rid of every little reminder of your past, but you'll never get rid of me. We're too deeply connected with each other, and you damn well know it. You'll see me forever, everywhere, in every fucking breeze, the scent of flowers, and the glow of crystals. And you know how I know that? Because despite all these centuries of you being far away, I still see you in every fucking corner. In every dream, in every place, in every little memory of the past I recall. I feel you with every breath, every blink, every little touch—exactly in the places you used to cherish my skin. You've tainted everything I know and love. We are a scourge to each other and always will be. And until Ravka becomes a relatively safe place to live again, we are both condemned to each other's company."

"There is a very simple solution to all of this." He says and looks at the heart-shaped pendant hanging around your neck. You swallow hard and catch it tightly in your hand, protecting it from his gaze. "Haven't you ever thought about that? To cut yourself off from this for good? From me? You can finally be free. Maybe you'll even find your peace?"

"There is no peace for me. And neither for you." You see that your words have caused some internal stirring in his conscience.

He hesitantly places his hand on yours and takes your chin in his hand—the one on which he has a black scar from the amplifier with which he connected with Alina. You hold your breath as he strokes the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb, staring at you intently, too mesmerised by his sudden closeness and tenderness from him after centuries apart to listen to your better judgement and pull away. You cling to him blindly. You fall into the trap of his dark eyes as you drown in his touch.

"I'm tired of fighting, Y/N. I will find peace. Even if it means losing the lives of thousands of others."

"Even my life?"

"We both know that your death would be my salvation." You smile bitterly and snort as if he's just told a funny joke. But in reality, you're doing everything in your power to keep the tears from falling from your eyes.

"Same here." You mumble, focusing your gaze on the black scar on his hand instead of his eyes, afraid his dark depths will somehow see through your lies.

You hold your breath as he grabs your chin tightly and forces you to look into his eyes. His fingers dig into your skin unpleasantly, but you don't care. You're drowning in his angry, hurtful, resentful gaze, unable to move an inch.

"Ex-lovers quarreling? Should I just go out and wait until Mom and Dad make up?" Ulla's sudden intrusion makes us both recoil from each other as if burned. You clear your throat and glare at the black-haired one madly.

"Don't call me that. I am not old like that hag who gave birth to you."

"You are talking about my mother."

"Mother, you hate, as I would like to point out. Actually, I start to wonder if there is anyone who didn't deserve your wrath, my dark general." You scoff at his remark, knowing full well that his relationship with Baghra has only worsened since you left. With a little unwanted help from you…

"In case you haven't noticed, all those dear to my heart that I came to dislike have a tendency to betray me."

"In case you haven't noticed, they may not be cheating on you, but doing what's best for you, you stubborn, damn, proud fool who can't see beyond the tip of his own dick!"

In your anger at him, you step too close to the bars, giving him the perfect opportunity to grab you by the neck. And he does. You gasp in surprise and instinctively reach for the pendant around your neck, holding the glass heart in his secure grip. Aleksander wraps his other hand around yours, trying to squeeze it hard enough to break the glass heart you try so hard to protect.

You gasp, struggling to take even one short breath, and look him straight in the eye as you mumble the words of the spell with the last of your strength. Aleksander hisses in pain and releases his grip on your necklace, but he still holds you tightly by the neck to the point where you know he'll leave bruises in the shape of his hand and fingers... which doesn't bother you as much as it should...

"Okay, stop! Both of you!" Ulla walks over to the two of you. Aleksander shifts his gaze from you to her for a moment. You feel his hand on your throat tremble as he considers letting you go. "Sasha, let her go. Before you do something entirely stupid that you will regret."

Aleksander hesitates for a few moments, then lets you go. You don't give him the satisfaction of moving away from him. You take a few deep breaths, staring at him with a hateful, cold gaze that he stubbornly avoids by looking at his sister.

"Torment me again, and I promise Ivan will put you to sleep for a thousand years." He mutters his empty threat without even looking at you, which gives you reason enough to decide you'd rather fucking die than give him the last word in this little argument between the two of you.

"If you wanted me to be your sleeping beauty and you to be my prince, all you had to do was ask, Aleksander." You mock him, and he moves to grab you painfully by the throat again. But before you can respond with one of your curses, Ulla steps between the two of you and gives you both a disappointed, irritated look.

"Y/N! That's enough for today."

"I didn't start…"

"Y/N!"

"Fine! Got it. I am on my way." You raise your hands and walk out of the barred room, but not before sticking your tongue out at Aleksander—something that escapes Ulla's watchful eye because her back is turned to you.

And as you leave, you wonder how the hell you're supposed to get this dense, stubborn asshole to cooperate when he clearly still despises your insides as much as he did all those centuries ago.

"Is that what you call taming him?"

You sigh and stop in your tracks on your way to your rooms. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, cursing the name of every saint you know under your breath before turning to the person you hate most in the world with a fake smile.

"Baghra. I wish I had the mood and time to talk to you. Unfortunately, I don't have the former, and I'd rather spend the latter on something else. Have a nice night." You turn on your heel, intending to make a quick escape, but the woman summons her shadows, blocking your path. You sigh, tired of dealing with another Morozova, and face Baghra again.

"Your methods don't work." You almost growl at the pretentious tone in her voice. She expected you to work a miracle, knowing full well what her son was like… and knowing full well why he was as hostile towards you as he was.

"Did you really think he'd just follow me and hang on every word I say? He's not some fucking puppet you can order around. He needs to trust me again. At least when it comes to saving Ravka and Grisha."

"Well, it seems like he won't come to it so soon. I thought you had a little more influence on him. Maybe you actually broke his naive little heart?"

The silence that follows her words is like a slap in the face to your pride. You can barely push back the unbidden tears, and it takes a huge amount of effort to control yourself when Baghra is giving you her infamous mocking smile. The old woman had the irritating ability to scratch open wounds that you thought had long since healed. Besides, she knew perfectly well what, or rather who, your only sweet spot was.

"Then I did exactly what you wanted, right?" You ask; he winces a little when he hears the slight tremor in your voice. Damn witch.

"I told him to stay away from you. But the stupid boy didn't listen; he loved you so much. Witches like you, wielding such power... you're all the same. You have no feelings. Self-absorbed, wanting to live forever. Tell me, Y/N, what did you need your eternity for? Was it worth it to fight for? Has it paid off for you to deceive my stupid son for so many centuries?"

"Without Aleksander by my side? No. But at least I can keep an eye on him. At least I can make sure that he will survive long enough to get his happy ending. And torment you forever. Until the end of time, my dear mother-in-law. Or your death. I personally prefer this one." You give her a contemptuous look and turn away from her, walking into the darkness of her shadows to reach your rooms and escape, just for a while, from feelings of guilt, helplessness, and wrath that the damned Morozovas have aroused in you.

"What do you mean by mother-in-law?" Baghra asks, confounded, but fortunately she doesn't follow you. She's everything but dumb. She won't expose herself to possible harm as a result of you unleashing your wild power.

"Ask your son!" You shout over your shoulder, not stopping for a moment.

You know perfectly well that a minute longer in Baghr's company would make you cry. And you promised yourself that this old witch would never be the reason for your despair again… her son was another matter.

So when you get to your room, you wave your hand over the windows to close the curtain with your magic, turn off all the lights, and let yourself curl up on your bed. You sob quietly, lying on your side, legs drawn up as you grip the necklace tightly in your hand and let yourself have a much-needed crying session. Your head spins as your power slides through you, causing storms outside. And you can only hope that Ulla is keeping Aleksander busy enough that he doesn't see the rain your crying has caused. The last thing you need is to show him how much you still care.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" You shiver as Aleksander wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your bare shoulder. His light stubble pricks your skin, but you don’t care, too fascinated by the rings on your joined hands.

"About 10 times, but who's counting?" You mumble and turn around in his arms. A smile creeps onto your face as you gently cup his cheek in your hand. "Husband. That's weird."

"Weird? Why?" He asks, frowning at you in confusion. Yet his grip on you doesn't loosen at all; if anything, he tightens it, protectively wrapping himself around you, as if his touch alone would be enough of an anchor for your raging thoughts.

"I can't believe that such a handsome and powerful man is mine. Only mine." You whisper and press your lips to his cheek.

You smile, feeling his breathing quicken slightly, and you start to feel his familiar, comforting scent surrounding you. And warmth. Which was pretty important, considering you were in a cold, damp, abandoned cabin in the woods. All alone, out of nowhere. You wouldn't trade that honeymoon for anything.

"I was yours long before we exchanged those rings. And I will be yours long after today. For as long as my heart beats and beyond. You are a part of my soul, connected to me by a force I cannot fathom. And I am grateful for anything or anyone that bound us together, that brought you on my path."

"You can't promise me things like that. You don't know what the future will bring." You mumble, panting as he begins to press kisses into your neck. You sigh and tug on his hair as he bites into you. You decide that the beard is a rather… nice new accessory. Especially when it teases your skin so nicely.

"But I can promise you today. And then tomorrow. And the day after that. And so on and so forth, until all eternity."

“Assuming we have forever.” You moan, intoxicated by both his words and the caresses of his lips and hands as he slowly removes your dress.

"I will fight with everything I have to always have you by my side." He promises fervently, cupping both of your cheeks and placing a hot kiss on your lips that instantly warms your insides. You smile as he pushes you onto the bed.

"Even with your mother?" You tease him and raise a questioning eyebrow at him. You almost break and snort at his hurt expression.

"I'm offended that my mother even crosses your mind in this situation, let alone that you're brave enough to talk about her." He mutters menacingly and reaches for your sides.

Before you can react, he's tickling you, attacking all your weak points. You laugh and squirm beneath him, screaming at him and cursing him to stop, but he just laughs and redoubles his efforts. And as much as you can't breathe anymore and are almost crying from his teasing, you enjoy his wicked, carefree laughter.

“Mercy! Mercy!” You cry out with laughter, and he finally takes pity on you. You laugh some more, recovering as he simply hovers over you and looks at you, drinking in your dishevelled appearance beneath him. “What?” You gasp, breathing deeply and wiping tears from the corners of your eyes.

“Nothing. I love you,” he says and shrugs. Your heart clenches and warms at his words, and another wave of tears nearly fills your eyes as he reaches for your hand with the silver claw ring he placed there just an hour ago.

“I love you too. More than anything.” You mumble, grabbing the glass heart that dangles from his necklace—your wedding gift to him—and pulling him to you, connecting your lips in a needy, heated kiss.

You would give away all the treasures in the world to have back that ring on your finger instead of the heavy pendant on your neck that felt like a muzzle for you. The muzzle of your eternal sin against Aleksander and you both.

"You again?" You allow yourself to roll your eyes when you enter his cell a few days later, which he greets with his mocking smile and cold gaze. He frowns, however, when this time, instead of sitting in the chair like you always did, you walk over to the bars separating him from you.

"Do not worry. I won't bother you much longer. Actually, I came to say goodbye."

You say and hand him a small box through the bars. You wait patiently for him to come over and take it from you, but his wounded pride apparently won't let him do even that. You roll your eyes as he turns his back to you and shifts his gaze to the book in his hands.

"Goodbye? That's not really in your style. Since when do you say goodbye instead of disappearing into obscurity?" He mocks you without even bothering to look at you. You swallow and nod, only now realising just how deep his resentment of you runs. But you don't have the strength to fight him any longer.

"Well, I learnt that from you, but since we're not together anymore, I guess I'm ditching your habits for some new ones."

Over the centuries, you and Aleksander have gotten back together and broken up a million times. You let him come back into your life as if he had never ripped your heart out and taken it with him countless times. Each time he was leaving, he put his plan into action to ensure that Grisha was safe from whatever enemy they currently had. He was choosing the good of his people over yours.

Every grand plan that was supposed to end with the restoration of freedom for Grisha usually ended in failure. And every time, he came back to you. To your arms. To hide there from the world, lick his wounds, and hide his shadows in the safety of your home.

But just as suddenly as he came, he left you. All for Grisha. His whole life was dedicated to ensuring a better fate for his people than he had as a child. And so he ended up in a cell. Alone. Maybe not completely. You knew he had many supporters in the 'underground.' But what good were supporters when he had no one to stand by his side? Supported through thick and thin?

On the other hand… you never joined him in his plans. You always stuck to your own woods and paths… it was pure fate that for a time you both followed the same one.

"Well, I'm actually glad about that. I should have noticed sooner that you're just like everyone else. The greatest liar among liars. A witch without a coven that no one ever trusted or wanted to be near."

You give him a small smile, perfectly keeping your true emotions from surfacing. You drop the box and let your magic transport it to the table he's sitting at. With a quick wave of your hand, you make the box clatter loudly against the wooden table.

Luckily, that catches his attention enough for him to finally look at you.

"You want to talk about liars and cheaters? Go ahead. There's a big war coming. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it. Alina and Nikolai won't let the Fjerda get away with invading their lands and killing Grisha like they used to do and still do. So why do you pretend it doesn't bother you? That it doesn't concern you? Why do you sit here obediently and do nothing when we both know you have the means to escape? Who are you trying to convince that you don't care anymore about your people, us, or yourself?"

This time, you are the one to look away from him. You don't wait for his response and just move away from him. You walk over to the part of his bookcase that wasn't behind bars, running your finger over the titles on them.

"And who is us?" A shiver runs through your body, and you thank yourself for keeping your back to him. You don't know what he would read on your face as you say your next words.

"Ulla. Me. People that really care about you."

"You left me." He points out stubbornly again, as if you didn't know what you had done against him.

But the truth was that you had both hurt each other equally. It was just easier for him to blame you than for you. Or maybe your guilt against him was actually greater than whatever he did behind your back...

"You didn't mourn my leaving much."

"Maybe I mourned too many in my life to add you to this list?"

When you finally find the book you were looking for, you take it and turn to face him. He steps towards the bars, his hand around one and his gaze fixed on you. You can barely hold back a small smile as you see his shadows hovering in the corners of his cell.

"Believe what you want… but not everything was a lie between us, Aleksander. And you've had your fair share of lies for me, before I've even considered doing what you hate me for. Does the fact that you managed to tell me your lies before Baghra reported my secrets to you make any difference? You and I... we are similar. I am a witch without a coven, and you are a Grisha without an order. We are both alone in this world. But I admired the fact that you continued to fight, even when everyone else was against you. You may have been a villain in everyone else's story, but you've always been a hero in mine. In Ulla's. We admired you for what you were, for the strong leader who would do anything for his family and people. And who are you now?"

"I am the man your lies and manipulation created. All of yours. My mother's, Alina's, yours. So don't you dare stay here and say that I am meant to be something more when you stabbed me in my back and left when I needed you the most."

"You hated me then."

"And what gives you the impression that I still don't?" That I didn't need you even when I was furious with you?"

"I..." You're at a loss for words. You have no idea how to answer him, especially when the stormy blackness of his eyes overwhelms you as much as his words.

He couldn't mean them, could he? He couldn't be mad that you left him. He had to play with you… There was no way he'd want you around after you'd supposedly betrayed him.

You snort and shake your head at his words. No. You won't let him enter your mind and manipulate you. Although… You can't say your heart has shifted indifferently at the revelation he's told you. Because what if he really needed you by his side? What if… he loved you more than he hated you?

"It doesn't matter. Say what you want or get out." Well, his words only prove that you are right about this. And they reassure you in the decision you want to make.

"I'm going north with Alina. You can either join us or rot here. And to be honest, I don't care anymore. I was never your enemy, Aleksander. But if you so desperately need one, then all right. Make me your villain. But know that everything I did, I did for you. For us. Even if I hurt you in my desperate attempts to protect you, for which I do not intend to apologize. Everything I did, I did for us, for you. But maybe it really is time to change things between us once and for all."

After your words, you take a few seconds to look at him. Your gaze lazily follows his dark hair, his eyes, the set of his jaw. Without a word, you nod to him and leave, as if saying goodbye for the very last time.

"Protect me from what?" You hear him walk over to the table and open the package in a hurry. Then he freezes when he sees the familiar object you've placed there. "Y/N?! Answer me! Y/N!" He shouts after you, banging on the metal bars, but you don't spare him a second glance. You just walk out of there, hoping your little trick will work.

Because if he won't follow you to war after you give him a necklace with his blood—the same blood you tricked him into taking and enchanting to give you immortality—then you don't know what'll get him out of that stupid cell.

Taglist (I hope that everyone who wanted to be there are there. If not, I am soooooooooo soooo sorry): @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat @barnes70stark

@zeeader @the-desilittle-bird

@thepassionatereader @budugu

@sinistersnakey @diaries-of-a-hopelessromantic

@aryhyuuga

@oh-thats-cute

@meadows5

#the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #romance #the darkling #aleksander morozova #shadow and bone #ex lovers #enemies and lovers #argument #love and hate #tension #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #i want then to kiss already #but we have to wait a little bit #i hope you like it

143 notes · View notes

spngi · 7 months ago

Text

My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Prologue | part 1

Part 2

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings: Grammar mistakes, mentions of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating

My blood boils; Carlos’s words repeat in an infinite loop in my head. My hands tremble with rage, and I press them on the table to try to contain the impulse to simply rip that smile off Carlos’s face.

“You wouldn’t do that “ my words come out slowly, trying to maintain the little patience I have left. “You can’t do this.”

“Or what? Are you going to threaten me now too, dear?” Carlos asks, his relaxed figure at the table and his tone full of irony.

I stand up from the table, and the chair scrapes loudly as it moves away. I look through the glass door at the inevitable: that woman in my house, lying on one of the loungers, wearing a bikini, as if she already belonged to this house.

I feel even more irritated, or perhaps sad. I feel invaded by all of this. I turn back to Carlos; I have the urge to throw all the objects in that room at him, to hurt him the same way he’s hurting me.

“She must be low enough to accept the role of mistress” I insult her in the end.

“She knows it won’t be for long” he replies.

“Well, I can agree with you… she won’t stay for long” I approach Carlos and lean in until I’m at eye level with him. “Pay attention to what I’m going to say, Carlos. I will always be your wife, I will be by your side whether you want it or not… this girl might be getting a bit of your attention now, but she will never be anything more than a fling because, at the end of the day, the only one who has the privilege of wearing this ring is still me.”

Carlos’s brown eyes watch me as I speak. He doesn’t bother to respond but seems irritated nonetheless.

“She will never be welcome in this house, Carlos… so spare her the humiliation and get her out of here as soon as possible!” I add, and before stepping away, I kiss the corner of his lips.

I don’t wait to see his reaction to the gesture; I quickly leave to distance myself from that situation before I lose control and throw that cheap model out of our house. I lock myself in one of the farthest rooms of the house and fight the strong urge to go back and throw the crystal candelabrum at Carlos’s head.

I sit on the floor at the foot of the guest bed, a pillow in hand to muffle my screams and the occasional sobs of crying. I couldn’t take it anymore; I couldn’t understand why Carlos was doing this to me.

Before the accident happened a few months ago, we were talking about starting a family, about filling this house with children. But after that day, everything changed.

I still have nightmares about how it all happened, how my car flipped several times on the road, the pain I felt, and the terror I experienced seeing all the armed men approaching me. Carlos managed to find me quickly enough so that no further harm was done; he stayed by my side throughout my recovery and tripled the security. But when I got better and asked him for revenge on those who escaped, he changed.

My fear had turned into anger, and I needed to know that those animals would never come back to hurt me, I needed to know that I had killed them with my own hands. But he never agreed with that; it led to many discussions and arguments. He never wanted to give in, even with his father’s words supporting me, Charles’s, Lando’s, and some other allied family heads. He promised he would do the job himself, that he would never leave any of them alive, but he didn’t understand that wasn’t what I needed. And when I went against his will, when I got what I wanted, everything began to fall apart.

The door opens in front of me, bringing me back to reality. I see Lando enter the room; it’s not the first time he has found me here. This room had become a hiding place for me, so I could hide during crises or just cry without being heard.

Lando walks into the room. I point to the dresser near him, and he smiles slightly. He opens the last drawer, already knowing where I hide my things. He pulls out a bottle of bourbon and a glass.

“I’m giving you a break today. Drink with me” I try to smile at him “and grab one of those cigars too, I need my complete pity party.”

“How are you?” he asks in the end, sitting next to me and spreading the items on the floor.

“Terrible” I pour the drinks. “Is she still out by the pool?”

“Yes. If it’s any consolation, Charles and I asked the staff not to take any orders from her.” Norris says, and the gesture makes me a bit happy to know that I can still count on him.

“Thank you, Lando, you’re a good friend. And Charles too, is he upset about what I did yesterday?”

“He understands, Y/N.” Lando offers me the lighter so I can light the cigar.

“You know what annoys me?” I ask him between puffs. “If the situation were reversed, the man who dared to step into this house would already be dead. Carlos wouldn’t think twice about doing it. And I could never live with myself knowing I did that, even though now I can think of a thousand ways to do it to her.”

“You’re a good person, Y/N. You know that, and Mr. Sainz knows it too… he’s just trying to challenge you or whatever his game is.”

“I don’t know if I still have the strength to play, Lando” I murmur to him, the alcohol in my mouth calming me.

“You know I’ll be here by your side, whether you want to continue or if you want to give up… you’re my friend, Y/N, I will always support you”

“Thank you, I hope I can repay all your support someday” I smile at him and pass the cigar to him.

“Does Mr. Sainz know you stole these from his collection?” Norris asks and takes a drag on the cigar.

“He can go fuck himself” I murmur and take a sip of the drink.

One more chapter! I hope you guys are enjoying it!

Leave your comments and opinions ❤️

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #cs55 x reader #carlos sainz au #carlos sainz #cs55 #mafia!f1 #mafia au #mob!carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader

195 notes · View notes

tulip-room · 7 months ago

Text

Crush Next Door - s. kiyoomi

syn. your childhood friend that you lost contact with moves next door to you

Ch. 1 || Playground

Warnings. None

Words. 1.2k

prev >> series masterlist >> next

-‘๑’- Fall, 16 yrs ago (elementary school)

“Just one game?” A small child's voice calls to another child. It was a sunny day, birds were chirping and leaves were bristling in the wind. Most days as a child are remembered as nice, when you still have an optimistic view on the world.

Currently two children are in a bit of a standoff, one wanting to stay where he is out of the sun and in the cooling shade. The other wants him to play with her, she doesn’t have a good reason for picking him out of everyone else on the playground. Perhaps it was because he was sitting by himself and she thought he could use a friend.

Whatever the reason may be there they were. “I don’t want to. I want to sit right where I am.” The boy huffed as he crossed his arms and kept distance between the two of them.

“But I want to be your friend,” the girl responded as she took a step closer to him. “We can play in the sandbox! There’s a shaded area so you won’t be in the sun.” She tried to bargain with the boy.

“Will you be quiet if I do?”

“Come on,” she holds her hand out and waits for the boy with the dark curls to take her hand. He lets out a sigh —it’s quite a funny emotion to see on a child his age, and takes her hand. The two walk to the sandbox and sure enough there’s a small patch of sand that remains untouched by the sun. As much as he hates the feeling of sand getting stuck in his clothes he climbs in with her.

“What’s your name?” The girl asks beginning to make a hole in the sand.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he answers simply as he helps her make a hill in the middle of the hole she was digging.

“I’m L/N Y/N,” she gives him a kind smile as he helps her. Sakusa can’t quite place the feeling but his heart seems to beat a little faster at her smile. He gives her a small smile back, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

The two stay like that until their teacher calls them back inside. Playing in the sand and talking about meaningless things like why is the sky blue, how do leaves change color in fall, do you think if I jumped off that I could land on my feet? The endearing things children usually ramble about.

-‘๑’- Summer, present time

You see the moving truck in the driveway of the house next to you and smile. It had been so long since someone had lived there, you were happy the house was finally getting used. You rush around your kitchen gathering flour and other ingredients to makes cookies.

You wanted to make a housewarming gift for the neighbor. You hoped they liked sweets otherwise it would be an awkward walk back to your house with a container of cookies. While the cookies were in the oven you changed out of your flour stained clothes into something a little more presentable.

When the timer finally went off to let you know the cookies were done you grabbed a Tupperware from your cabinet and placed a cloth inside to put the cookies on. You put an oven mitt on and carefully set the warm sheet tray on top of the stove. You let them sit for ten minutes as you gathered bottles of water and a can of soda.

If they didn’t like the cookies they would at least take the drinks, you hoped. Once the cookies were safely sealed inside of the container you start making your way over to the house next door. The moving truck had left so you hoped it was a good time to visit and that you weren’t interrupting anything. You take a deep breath before knocking on the door.

What you weren’t expecting when the door opened was to see a familiar set of curls. A wide smile breaks across your face as your eyes light up. “Kiyoomi,” you say simply. It seems he’s just as shocked as you were. It doesn’t take him very long before he’s pulling you into a hug.

The hug is a little awkward with the Tupperware still in your arms but you take it in stride. You pull away and look up at him in awe. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” he says with a smile of his own etched into his face. “I didn’t know you lived down here.”

“Yeah, have for a few years. What are you doing here?”

“I play for the MSBY Black Jackals.”

“Oh! You still play volleyball?” He nods and notices the Tupperware in your hands.

“Here,” he holds his hands out and takes the Tupperware from you. “You’re still baking I see. I’ll finally get to have your sweet treats again,” he says with a smile.

“Yeah, I opened up my own bakery. You’ll have to come by some time, my treat.”

“It’s a date. You should come to one of my games, I can save you seats.” He sounds a little nervous as he asks, like he’s expecting a rejection.

“I would love to. It’s been forever since I’ve seen you play.” Your feet shuffle around, you were elated to see him but it was also a bit nerve racking. You hadn’t spoken in years, losing touch after you had to move.

“I have to get back to unpacking but why don’t you come over Friday? We can have dinner and watch a movie.”

“I would like that,” you say softly and plays with her necklace. He catches the glint of metal moving on the necklace and he teases her lightly.

“Still wearing that?” He motions his head towards her necklace. You pull it out from under your shirt and show off the ring hanging from it, it’s slightly rusted from age but still in decent condition.

“Of course, where’s yours?”

“I don’t want to lose it so I put it on a keyring and attached it to my volleyball bag.” You let out a small laugh as you think of the circumstances.

“It seems I was right about them.”

“You were.”

“Do you need help unpacking?” You ask and gesture towards the boxes piled high behind him.

“No, I already have someone helping. You get back home, I’ll see you Friday.” He turns to set the Tupperware of cookies down before he pulls her into another hug. “It was good seeing you Y/N.”

You wrap your arms around him and take a deep breath. You almost forgot how nice his hugs were. “It was good to see you too, Kiyoomi. I figure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other since you’re so close again.”

He gives you a gentle squeeze before you pull away from the hug. “I would like that.” You give him one last smile and a wave as you begin walking back over to your house. He doesn’t close his door until he sees you’re safely back inside.

“And who was that Omi Omi?” His face drops as he heard the voice of Atsumu. He sighs and picks the Tupperware up to take it to his kitchen.

“A friend.” He doesn’t offer more context than that, he doesn’t need to.

“Aww, I didn’t know you had friends outside of the team Omi Omi!” Atsumu teases him as he breaks down a box and throws it in the recycling can.

“Just keep unpacking Atsumu.” He rolls his eyes as he goes back to unpacking the box of kitchen supplies.

I hope you guys liked the first chapter <3 more chapters coming soon! This series is really just an excuse to write soft Sakusa lol

taglist: @hiraethwa @loveelylacey

masterlist

rules

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #tulip writes #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #tulip types #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #msby sakusa #hq x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyu fluff

169 notes · View notes

aggieharkness · 17 days ago

Text

Have I earned it, mother? Chp. 6

Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader

Summary: the clock ticks for everyone, without care for wealth, titles or power. Avis knew this but so did you, and amongst the fire that blazed inside the studio, someone was bound to get burnt.

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, torture/abuse, injuries/wounds, KKK, guns and use of guns, swearing, character death.

Authors note: First of all, I'm very sorry about what's going on in the US. I hope that the Trump administration doesn't destroy all the lovely people who live over there and don't deserve it. I wish I could help. Secondly, here you have the newest chapter. I looooooooved writing it, and had so much fun, but I must apologise for what I have done with the characters. Still, I hope that you like it and as always, be gentle but tell me If I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking in something. I am here for you, my dear people, I listen. I also accept ideas that you might have or things that you might want to see Avis and reader do. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.

Shoutout to @bravewithacapitalb for being my beta reader for part of the story. I love you.

Chp. 1 Chp. 2 Chp. 3 Chp.4 Chp.5

Word count: 24K

Her lips tasted of blood

It was so cold. And dark. You were unsure what was going on or where you were, your body slumped on a chair, freezing under the cold air that moved from wall to wall, all across the room. With great effort, you opened your eyes, but they felt so heavy that it was hard work to simply blink, finding your surroundings blurry, the air damp against your skin, but upon better inspection, your eyes focusing on your lap and legs, you saw that there was blood staining your dress, trails of the crimson liquid dripping from scratches on your knees and wounds on your shins. It was so hard to try and catch a glimpse of the room, to move your arms, tied to the back of the chair with thick ropes, hoping you would be able to stand and observe, but you were trapped. There were no windows, and if they were they were covered up, but there was an oil lamp in a corner of the room, it’s flame dim and barely giving out any light but it helped, nonetheless. The fuzzy feeling that had taken your mind hostage seemed to be vanishing, only a thin fog floating around your thoughts, the event of the previous night broken in pieces as you tried to puzzle it all together, images of Avis sliding before your eyes, of her beautiful brown eyes, of her perfect ginger curls, but they were cut off by figures dressed in black. Who they were you did not know, but they sure as hell weren’t friendly.

As your body rose from its slumber you realised that you were completely alone, the only sound echoing in the empty room being that of your breaths, puffs of it steaming and floating in white rivulets before your eyes. There was a metallic taste in your mouth, your throat dry as if you had just spent weeks in the desert, the feeling of the rough muscle against your palate making you cringe and shiver, but you still ran it over your lips hoping to get some sort of moisture over the scratches and split lower lip. There had been a man as you had stepped out of the car, he had asked you for directions, you thought, or perhaps he had asked for the time, you could not quite remember, but his voice had sounded so familiar, so dangerous that you had not answered. Or maybe you hadn’t had the chance. All you could remember clearly was the feeling of someone watching you as you left Avis’s place. Something dripped down your neck, the sudden feeling making you jump, but it wasn’t the ghostly touch of a finger, it was far too warm, maybe even hot, scorching your skin as it left a sticky trail. You were bleeding, you thought after a moment, your brain still slow in its functions as if there was still something affecting it, the faint smell of chloroform lingering against your nose and mouth with its sweet remnants that told you, you had been drugged, though that much was to be expected. You were not one to simply let yourself be taken by strangers.

As you tried to move your body to the right a sharp pain coursed through your entire arm, making you whimper miserably under the shadows of the room, the sound echoing against the walls mockingly, reminding you that it was only you and your scattered memories. Trying to move it again to assess the damage done you felt the pain radiating from your shoulder all the way to your fingertips, realising after a moment that it could have been dislocated in the struggle. Yes, you had fought against that man, you remembered now. He had grabbed your arm, and you had pushed him, but his grip had been too strong and after scratching his cheek he had slapped you, splitting your lip. You could not recall the words he had spoken to you, but you were pretty sure that Avis’s name had come out of that disgusting mouth of his at some point, the stench of alcohol and cheap cigars hitting you suddenly. There was a pounding feeling on the left side of your head, like a bad headache that was about to start leaving a dull pressure behind your eyes that you could not get rid of, noticing the same warm stickiness that was running down your neck, on your hair. He must have hit you, but why or how was a blank space in the records of your mind?

You could feel every inch of your body battered and bruised, probably black and blue if you could get just a little bit more of light but it was impossible to move. Maybe the chair was too heavy, or bolted to the floor, or perhaps your body just didn’t have the strength to try and stand, your feet bare over the freezing, rough tiles. From your throat a cough erupted, like a bomb going off inside your head, chest convulsing for a few moments, lungs practically begging for air against your bruised ribs. Every cell in your body hurt, like fire spreading through your limbs bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. This attack left you drained, gasping for air and forcing your eyes to close as the light-headedness overtook you again, slamming you to the ground, if you had been able to stand. You just felt so weak, so useless, but in the back of your mind you could only think about how thankful you were that it was you in this room and not Avis. You would have destroyed the entire country to find her if she had been in your exact same predicament, and as much as you wanted to get out of there, to be free and never see that man again, you did not want her to get involved, to put herself in harms ways. If they had done this to you, you could not imagine what they would be willing to do to her.

There was a sound reverberating in the distance, a noise getting closer and closer with each passing second. Your heart hammered against your ribs, each beat hitting on a bruise or a scratch, bringing out silent whimpers, but you didn’t dare make a sound, impending dread building rapidly all over your body, your head moving from side to side to try and locate the door. They were footsteps, the soles of either brand new shoes or refurbished ones stomping over the dirty dark tiles, outside of this room, in a corridor probably, you thought, hands turning into fists as if that could protect you. Foolish move. Behind your back metal screeched sharply, like nails raking over a blackboard continuously until the heavy door banged against the wall. There was silence then, you could not even hear the person breathing, but you did smell a strong male perfume, perhaps an aftershave of sandalwood, a pungent smell of cheap cigars overtaking your senses as it floated in your direction. It was him.

Lurking in the shadows, watching like a hunter, like an animal that was about to feast on the carcass of some poor creature, his eyes raked over your battered body. They were hard, triumphant under the light of the dying flame. He had no desire to move, not yet, he thrived in the way your head moved slowly from side to side trying to see him, on the way your frame trembled in fear and terror, eyes wide and frantic. He had the upper hand now, he thought, drinking in the way your blood dripped down your legs and bare arms, crimson tears splashing over the ground in an ever-growing puddle, a punishment for you. And her. Overstepping, and crossing lines that had been clearly established long ago always brought consequences, no matter how much money or fame one had; a well-placed bullet could end it all in an instant. But he wasn’t that sort of guy, he preferred to see their downfall, to watch them crawl like the useless creatures they were, always under the soles of his shoes, dependent and ever so weak. He loved to push women to the ground and to remind them where they stood in the pyramid of life, next to the cockroaches and the cripples of society. He felt so powerful having you right there, terrified of only his shadow, basking in all the things he could do with you to achieve his purpose, his goal in this life.

One step towards you and your entire body froze on the spot. Another step and you could almost feel his depraved smile against your skin. Another step and the heat of his body was barely a foot from yours, the tension in every muscle crossing the line of torture, reopening wounds, and making thin trails of blood run over your porcelain skin. He was stalking you, preparing himself for the kill, you thought, your breaths so hurried that you feared you might hyperventilate and then his hand landed on your injured shoulder and your world stopped turning as pain radiated all the way down to your fingers and stomach, breaths hitched in your lungs. If you had been in the right state of mind, you would have felt his calloused hand, the crack on his skin and dry palm, but you could not focus, your mind hazy and foggy under the daggers that were piercing every inch of your flesh. He had you right where he wanted you. Weak, pathetic, and probably willing to talk now. He had left that part of the job to another fool who that had failed miserably, so he had to do away with him and come down to finish the job himself. He hated having to get his hands dirty but how delicious it was to watch all those poor people give in to his bloodied hands before the last shot was delivered, their lifeless bodies dripping onto the ground like puppets that had served their purpose and could now be discarded. Better than a glass of champagne after a good dinner. His hot breath caressed your ear in fake gentleness, deep, dangerous words slipping from his lips.

-Will you tell me what I want?

Someone had asked you that, you could remember a young voice shaking as he asked that, but you didn’t know what he meant. You knew nothing, nothing. He must have thought that your silence meant no, and without caring about how painful it might be he pulled your head back, hairs ripping from your scalp, another miserable whimper escaping from your parted and broken lips. The angle didn’t let you see his face fully, and the dim light only made the shadows that danced over his face deeper, darkening his heartless eyes, those sky-blue eyes that hid a merciless soul, that showed the truth of this man as if they were a cover to protect the real him. The murderer, the kidnapper, the one who pulled the trigger at the end of the day. Tears stung your puffy red eyes, gathering at the corners as you held his gaze. There, on his cheek, were the scratches you had inflicted on him the previous night, deep, but no longer bleeding, a sign that he had been almost knocked of his feet by you, a mistake he would not allow to happen again. He would rip your head of your shoulders with his bare hands if he let you overstep like that again, although he was pretty sure it would not happen. You were pretty tied up at the moment.

-Don’t make me play the bad guy. Just tell me what I want, and you’ll be out of here in no time.

-I… I don’t know… - you could not deliver the words, your throat dry, raw from the chloroform and the lack of hydration, your head bent so far back that you feared your muscles might snap from around your shoulders.

-Yes, you do. Do you think us so stupid, so blind that we wouldn’t know what you and that whore have been up to? Avis has not been as careful as she thought, flaunting her affair with you around the entirety of Hollywood.

-We are not…

-Don’t lie to me Y/N! – he yanked your head so hard and so fast that your heart skipped a beat as the chair moved under your body, your feet leaving the feeling of the cold ground behind as he tilted you back, keeping your entire body from slamming onto the floor by holding onto your hair. The tears could not be stopped, falling slowly down your cheeks, making the salty crystal liquid red as they ran over the gash on your cheek, over the splatters of dried blood that were sprinkled over your flesh. – I have seen it with my own eyes. You and she are two depraved creatures that should be put down to protect our children from such disgusting behaviours and to preserve the values of our nation. But you are more valuable to me alive. For now. So, tell me, what would you be willing to do to make sure I don’t put a bullet between her eyebrows?

-Don’t hurt her. Please. I’ll do anything, anything at all.

-See? It’s not so difficult to cooperate with me. – the chair was pushed back on all four legs, making your body bounce painfully, his hand releasing your hair with a relieved sigh escaping your lungs. His footsteps were hard as he came around you, pulling a chair from the furthest corner, the metal scratching the ground so loudly that you had to turn your head away from the sound, the dull ache that had been in your head developing into a proper headache that pulsated deep inside your skull. He placed the piece of furniture before you and sat, arms resting over his knees, legs spread, and face hidden by the dark. The flame had died, leaving you completely at the mercy of his predatory eyes, glowing amongst the shadows. – Start talking.

-What… what do you want to know?

Across Hollywood, the screeching of wheels over the asphalt rumbled as Avis’s driver sped through the streets. A fucking cross burning in her front yard. She was beyond livid, furious at the audacity of this cunts to invade her home and threaten her and her daughter like that. She had been in such hysterics all throughout the night that Claire had to give her some Valium to calm her fury enough so she could sleep. But the effects were long gone, and the rage was once more coursing through her veins. The car turned right, meeting a mob of angry people with signs that said that the production of Meg had to be stopped, that it was immoral what they were doing, and that they had to boycott it and the studio. Fucking bunch of imbeciles, Avis thought, eye narrow as she stared coldly at all those jerks through the car window, their screams and insults sliding off her back as if they were nothing. She would not be cowered down by strangers. They didn’t mean shit to her, words could not harm her, burning crosses, though, that was a whole different matter. The car moved slowly among the people until it managed to cross the gates, the voices vanishing in the distance as soon as they were through and stationed in the parking lot. The image of the flames was engraved in her mind, keeping her still in the back seat of her car for a moment too long.

It was a warning, a wake-up call for her and everyone involved in that film, she knew this, and to a certain extent, she did not care what happened to her. She had taken this risk, she was responsible for it, but if something happened to Claire, she would destroy entire families and bloodlines if she had the chance. She might have not been a good mother, but she was trying now, and the bond that she had formed with her girl meant everything. She was not willing to put her in any kind of danger. The driver held the door open, waiting for her to step out under the warm sun of Los Angeles, looking discreetly at the zoned-out eyes of his boss. Gently the old man cleared his throat which earned him a glare from Avis as she was woken up from her musings, but he was not intimidated, he had been present for the entire conversation she had had with her daughter about her safety and whether she should stay somewhere else until the entire situation cleared up; he knew what had occurred. Avis grabbed her purse with a furious grip, knuckles white at the strength with which she holding the accessory, and got out of the car, her entire frame held high as her steps stomped hard against the concrete ground. She would have to call on a meeting and inform Dick and Ellen about it, maybe Henry and a couple more people, but she was not willing to get the rest of the cast involved in such matters unless it was strictly necessary.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed that the spot where you usually parked your car was empty, that feeling that you should have stayed with her that night returning along with a sense of dread that made her stomach turn. No, she would not have wanted you to see the gift those bastards had left her. The halls were filled with chatter, but it wasn’t the usual nonsensical conversations she heard every day; words were full of fear, of worry, fragments about Molotov cocktails and fires reaching her ears. It surprised her how fast this news had travelled, she had expected to not hear a thing about it until later in the day, which made her wonder if this had not been an attack aimed only at her and Claire. She was beginning to believe this was bigger than she had anticipated. Standing in the lift she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the image of the flames burning, scorching right before her, replaying in her mind on a loop. These people were beyond dangerous, they would go to extremes to achieve their purpose, and she wasn’t sure if she could face this. She was angry, furious, burning with rage, but would that be enough? Was the film worth losing everything else? The doubts she had had when it had still been Peg seemed like child’s play compared to all this, to the now that she was involved in. The doors chimed as the lift doors opened, her heels stepping over the carpeted hallway as she made her way to her office, rehearsing what she was going to say to Miss Stinton without giving too much away, but the words never made it out. Those big doors were open, Ellen sitting on the couch with her hands clasped neatly on her lap, Dick and Henry pacing up and down the room.

-Avis! – the blond woman was the first one to acknowledge her, turning her body nervously to face her friend, the writhing intensifying over her blue skirt. There was a veil of worry over her eyes, like a scared child who needed the comfort of her parents, who needed her friends to assure her that things would be alright, and no one would get hurt. An impossible mission, Avis thought. This might only be the beginning.

-What’s going on? Why are you all here?

-Things have escalated.

-Escalated? Dick? – the gravity of the situation implied by his words sent a shiver down Avis’s spine, her feet carrying her towards her desk so she could leave her purse over the dark wood, hands working on her ginger curls to unpin her hat. She was being deliberately slow, her back to them, doubting if she would not collapse under the pressure of it all. Because something told her that he wasn’t talking about the mob outside. She had expected problems, setbacks, and boycotts, but never had she considered the true extent of what these people might do.

-Camille and Archie have been targeted. A burning cross was left in Camille’s front yard, and they threw what we think was some sort of Molotov cocktail through Archie’s window. The whole place could have burnt down but thankfully it didn’t. These people are moving, Avis, and they are not being subtle about it

-Supposing it is who we think it is.

-Don’t give me that bullshit again, Henry. You know as much as everyone in this room that there’s only one group that gets something out of terrorising us. They’ve been against Meg since day one, boycotting our films, and being extremely vocal about how immoral it is. We all know how dangerous they are. You can’t tell me you haven’t heard stories about them and about how ugly things get if they don’t get their way.

-I’m not saying that it’s not them, Mr. Samuels, but do we have enough proof to say that it was them and not some random anti-black group? No one else in the production of Meg has come forth about something similar happening to them.

-Yes, we do. – Avis felt ice instead of blood pumping from her heart, leaving her body cold against the edge of the desk. This wasn’t just about who was in the film, it was about the studio as well. Turning to face her colleagues was a herculean task at most, legs unresponsive as she held onto the desk to the best of her abilities, dread glazing her eyes as they moved between the three people standing before her. – I was going to call you for a meeting to tell you, but I had someone break into my property last night and leave a burning cross in my front yard.

-What?!

-Claire woke me up saying that the house was on fire, so I grabbed her and went to the front door to get out and that’s when we saw it. There was no message, no threatening letter, nothing, just the cross.

-This is what I mean, Henry! It’s the fucking KKK! No one else would dare leave a fucking cross on fire at the Amberg residence!

-Calm down Dick. – Ellen’s demure and calm personality was always trying to reduce the tension of every encounter, every fight, but it was proving to be rather difficult as her own shoulders tensed in worry, her eyes not leaving Avis’s frame. This was big, it wasn’t just a prank or a game of some random revolutionary group, this was a full threat to everyone. It had moved from being dangerous for her and Claire to being a constant guillotine hovering over everyone’s head in this studio.

-How can I? We might be next; our families might already be on the list!

-Dick, stop! – Avi’s raised hand seemed to serve as a brake for Dick’s rant, forcing him to stop in his tracks and face her. She needed to get the facts straight before moving into step two of this plan she was making up on the spot. – Hold your horses there for a moment and tell me, are Camille and Archie alright?

-Yes. They were a bit shaken but nothing else happened. They called the authorities to have both items removed.

-Alright. You and Ellen haven’t been threatened, have you? No phone calls or strange letters in the mail? Odd visitors or strangers near your homes?

-Nothing of the sort, no. For now anyway.

-Okay. Then the question we all need to be asking ourselves is what are going to do about Meg?

-We can’t cancel it, Mrs. Amberg!

-This are people’s lives, Henry, it’s not a game!

-So, we just give them what they want? Lose all the money we’ve invested and have this reputation for being cowards for years to come?!

-I’m not risking my daughter’s life for a film!

-This is not about the film Mrs. Amberg! It’s about dignity, it’s about fighting back and not letting them walk all over us!

-I must agree with Henry, Avis. They don’t care about the film; they just don’t want a black woman to play the lead. This was never about whether the script was immoral or not, it was bout you green-lighting it and casting Camille. They can’t stand it when women “step out of line”.

-This might only be the beginning, Dick. Is it really worth it? Are we ready to face the consequences?

-You’ve seen it, Avis. Do you think it’s worth fighting for?

She supposed it all came down to that. The story was good, the scenes that were already in post-production were amazing, and it had the potential to be nominated for a fucking Oscar if it carried on like that. It was an amazing film. But it wasn’t just about the art; she knew they were right, it was never about breaking the Hays code or making an indecent film, it was because she was in charge, and she was doing exactly what Ace would have refused to do. She had been pushed aside over and over since birth all because she didn’t have a penis in between her legs, but that didn’t make her less good at her fucking job. She had power now, she could break rules and set new limits, and she could do whatever she wanted in her studio. Was she going to back down now? Was she really going to let these white men take it all from her, from Camille, and from every other woman who was willing to break out of the mold? No fucking way. This would be her life’s work, this might be the only chance to do something that could change lives, that could set a course for a new way of making films. She was too fucking tired of being in the shadows of men and she would not stand for it anymore. They wanted to leave burning crosses in her front yard? Let them. She would have the firefighters on speed dial. No more sitting down to let them do what they desired. There was defiance in her stance, her feet firmly on the floor as she stepped away from the desk and towards Ellen and Dick, palms pressed against the back of the couch, eyes glued to the man in question.

-Are Camille and Archie willing to continue?

-Yes. They said they were used to this sort of thing, Archie even mentioned a time when he saw his uncle being pulled from his bed and hanged from a tree in front of his house. They are scared, frightened even, but they are not surprised about it, and they are willing to carry on.

-These picketings and riots will continue every day until production is finished as well, it’s simply a fact, we all know it, Mrs. Amberg. So as a producer…

-Keep “producer” in quotes. – Henry was walking behind Avis on a loop, his shoes almost leaving a circular mark over the carpet as he moved his hands in front of his chest, emphasising his words even more. Dick’s jab barely made the younger man flinch as he carried on with his speech.

-So as a producer, I must ask, how are we going to make sure that we can continue?

-I can offer them bungalows until the film is done, but if they refuse to leave their homes, which let’s be honest, I wouldn’t do either unless I want to come back to a mount of ashes, I will pay for extra security at everyone’s place.

-This will cost the studio more money than what the budget can afford, Mrs. Amberg.

-Then I will pay for it from my own pocket. We all want this film, don’t we? And our leading cast is willing to carry on? Then we are not backing down. We are making a statement. I will not be bullied.

Fire burnt in her eyes, determination and strength seeping from every pore in her body. Henry was taken aback by how harsh and real her words sounded, but Ellen and Dick simply smiled as they shared a knowing look. There was the fisty Avis they had been looking for, the fiery woman they all knew and needed to fight this. She was a storm, a force of nature that could not be stopped, would not be stopped, and it was no matter what life threw her way, she would get up and carry on. There was rage inside her, an anger at the audacity of these people, but it wasn’t for herself anymore; these kids were good people, they were doing their jobs, things that they loved and meant something to them, they did not deserve to live lives like this. They shouldn’t have to know what the fear of being pulled out of one’s bed and shot should feel like, they shouldn’t have to worry about setting foot out in the streets only to be arrested for having done nothing, to get entire police stations chasing them because some white person called about a “dangerous figure” in their pristine rich neighbourhood. No human should have to know the fear of death as soon as they take their first breath. If the KKK were so ready to pull stunts like this using groups like the American Colonization Society to cover their asses, she was ready to fight back as well. Meg was her baby, and she wasn’t going to let anyone destroy all the hard work she had put into this. She was going to make history you had told her; she was doing what no one else had the balls to do; she wasn’t going to disappoint you. With hands as fists over the leather of the couch she locked eyes with Dick.

-Go down to the set and tell them of our decision. If we want to stay within budget, we can’t afford slip-ups. We must stay on schedule.

Without so much as a nod, he left the room, beaming with pride, followed closely by Henry, the voice of the younger man reaching Avis’s ears as he retorted to Dick about not letting him call himself a producer. They were like children, bickering over the stupidest things. Ellen was the only person left, watching the way Avis rubbed her fingertips and pulled at the hem of her jacket while her eyes still lingered by the doors, a nervous habit the blond knew far too well. There was something else rummaging in that mind of hers, Ellen could see it in her deep doe eyes that flickered from side to side, on the way the ginger bit her lower lip, curiosity peeking through the craziness of the situation. Avis didn’t even get the chance to tell her friend to stay, she had already stood and closed the doors in less than five seconds, making her way back to the couch to sit in front of her, the redhead playing with the stitches that held the leather together. She wasn’t sure why she wanted her to be there, she just knew that she would be the only that could understand these feelings. There was something wrong that no one was seeing, and it unnerved her beyond belif. Something was practically screaming at her from the back of her mind that you should have stayed with her last night, clawing at her heart, the hair on the back of her neck standing every time she left the sensation washing over her. It was as if there was imminent danger in her future and she could not see which way it was coming from.

-Is Claire okay?

-Yeah. She was obviously scared at first but once the fire was out and the police left a couple of boys by the gates she calmed down.

-And you?

-You want an honest answer?

-You know I do, Avis.

-I’m shitting bricks. I hardly slept last night. – it was far too early in the morning for this, but she needed a drink. Maybe the alcohol would make all these feelings diminish their intensity, perhaps even numb her enough that she would be able to carry on with this shit of a day. Ever since you had left, your tender smile still lingering in her mind like the remnants of a sweet wine, everything had gone wrong, and she felt that deep down, she should have known something like this was coming. With tired steps Avis made her way to the table in the furthest corner, eyeing each bottle with practiced care but leaving the shakers on the side as she could not be bothered with the hassle of making a martini. She poured herself a glass of scotch instead, the amber liquid falling gently inside the glass, letting the initial burn bathe her throat before settling in her stomach with a deep sigh, finally building up the courage to face Ellen. - I just can’t wrap my head around how people can do this sort of thing. I thought things would change after the war, but everything’s the same. We are still being persecuted and objectified; black people are still being murdered on the streets, and we think that it’s normal. It isn’t! It shouldn’t be, Ellen.

-Believe me, I understand better than anyone what you mean.

-Are we doing the right thing? They’ve come for Camille, Archie and me, but we can handle it, what if they targeted someone like Jack? Or Ernie?

-Don’t get ahead of yourself. You are already working on it, and I’m sure that as soon as these people see that their little stunt hasn’t worked, they will stop.

-I hope you are right. Ace would drop dead on the spot if he knew about what’s going on. – she could almost see his disapproving glares and disgusted smirks, making her feel so small, so insignificant. But she also knew that as macho as he always acted, he wouldn’t have the strength to put up with all of this, he wouldn’t fight for what was right, he would simply shut it all down and bow down to all those bastards trying to intimidate him. She was far from that sort of woman, even if the doubts took hold of her every chance they got, after all, people’s lives were at stake here, not just a film and a budget.

-But he isn’t here, dear, you are. This is your studio.

-Which means I’m responsible for everyone under this roof and I’ll be dammed if I let some man-child throw a hissy fit on my doorstep. Next time I’ll shove those crosses up their asses, mark my words, Ellen.

-Oh, I can totally see you doing that. – she patted the seat next to her, the leather cold under her palm, but her smile warm and inviting. Avis didn’t protest, simply made her way to the appointed spot and let herself fall as gracefully as possible with the glass still in her hand, taking a sip once she was settled. Ellen’s expression had changed slightly, observing her friend with a raised eyebrow and a coy smile on her lips, the fear and worry that had previously overtaken her eyes, now pushed to the back. She had been caught, Avis thought. Of course, her best friend would find out about her affair, but maybe she could play it safe and keep you to herself for a bit longer, although it would be a hard task. Thinking about you brought a light blush to her cheeks, calming her racing thoughts and pressured feelings somewhat. - So… why aren’t you telling me to go back to work? What little secret are you hiding from me?

-I’m not hiding anything.

-Really? So, if I ask why Y/N came to work the other day wearing your black shawl, you are going to tell me that it was because she was cold and you simply lent it to her the night before?

-It’s not like that, Ellen. – here she was, with a screaming mob outside and fire dangling above her head and the only thing that she cared about was making sure you were not defamed in front of her. You had never been a one-night stand or some means for her to achieve an orgasm. You were everything to her; the moon, the sun, the stars, the air that she breathed, and the land she walked upon. Avis’s eyes were stern when she lifted them from the amber liquid in her glass to stare at Ellen’s endless blue ones. - She’s not like the boys from the gas station.

-But you like her.

-I do, but most importantly, she likes me back. We have… something special. She makes me feel like I matter, as if I’m human and therefore deserving of love and recognition. When I’m with her I’m a million dollars all in brand-new twenties.

-Oh, my Lord. Avis Amberg, you are in love! – that wasn’t news to her, but hearing it from someone else made her heart skip a beat, a giddy smile painting her lips. It was strange to have another person voice it so plainly, it made it so real, but the again, it was. She was madly and utterly in love with you.

-I know it’s wrong, to a certain extent, since I’m married, but everything’s just so perfect when I’m with her.

-Oh, this is wonderful! - what? Avis’s eyes were wide in surprise, the left corner of her mouth lifting in a lopsided smile as she stared dumbfounded at Ellen. It wasn’t that Ellen didn’t know about all the conquests that she carried under her belt, but somehow, she had expected her to defend the values of her marriage to Ace a bit more, but she hadn’t even tried. And that simple fact and the genuine smile that she was giving her lifted a weight of her shoulders that she hadn’t known was crushing her. – She’s a lovely girl, and she clearly is doing you a world of good. Oh, Avis, I would love to ask her to come up here to gossip about it all, but she hasn’t arrived yet.

-Y/N is not here yet?

-No. I thought it was odd, since she’s always so punctual, in her chair at seven sharp, and she always informs me if she has an appointment or if she’s feeling ill, but I had too much on my mind this morning to think about it for too long. – all the joy and warmth of this little moment was wiped out in under a second, her words cutting sharply and making that nagging and disconcerting feeling of dread rise to the surface like foam exploding from a champagne bottle. She noticed the change in her friend’s demeanour, the way her eyes unfocused for a moment, lost in a world of their own as her stance became sharp, tense under the touch of Ellen’s slender fingers on her arm. - Avis?

-She accompanied me home last night, but she didn’t stay. I heard her car drive off.

-I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she forgot to tell me about an appointment, or something came up.

-No. I had this feeling last night, I still have it now, that she should have stayed. It wasn’t because I would miss her, it was just this visceral need to keep her safe with me, as if I could protect her. – she placed the glass on the coffee table, the scotch nearly spilling over the rim and onto her pale hand. - Something’s wrong. It’s like there’s this danger right in front of me that I can’t see, and it’s somehow related to her.

-Calm down, Avis. I’m sure that all this is brought on by the circumstances and she’s in fact fine.

-You don’t understand Ellen. I felt it in my bones, in my soul that she needed to stay, that something would go wrong if she left, and I still let her walk away. What if she’s had an accident or has gone missing?

-Missing? I wouldn’t quite say that being late for work qualifies a person as missing. You are letting your thoughts get the better of you. Y/N might be at home, and you are just worrying over nothing.

-But what if she isn’t? After last night can you blame me for wondering if she’s alright?

-I suppose not. Maybe you can send someone down to her address, check it out.

-Yes, I think that would work.

She rushed to her feet, hands shaking. If something had happened to you, she would blame herself for all eternity, the image of your car smoking, crashed against a lamppost or falling down a bridge, exploding into a million pieces passing through her mind, making her heart race against her ribs. The palms of her hands were sweaty as she pulled the doors open once more, eyes landing on Miss Stinton instantly, her feet stumbling slightly as she made her way to the woman’s desk. Ellen had stood from her spot on the couch, but didn’t follow, she merely rounded the piece of furniture and headed for the window, waiting for Avis to finish her conversation with her secretary. She could not say that your tardiness wasn’t strange, but she wouldn’t go the extent of saying that you were missing, not really, but her friend seemed so sure, so worried and scared that she was doubting her own reassurances. Everything about this day was beginning to look like a macabre play and they were all performing it against their will. Someone was bound to get hurt sooner rather than later. The shrill sound of the phone ringing inside the office interrupted her train of thought, and after glancing towards Avis who was writing something down on a piece of paper while talking hurriedly, Miss Stinton nodding her head solemnly, Ellen walked quickly to pick it up. There was silence for a moment on the other side of the line.

-Mrs. Amberg’s office, how may I help you?

-Did Avis like the present we left in her garden last night? – her blood ran cold. A man’s voice spoke to her, words distorted as if a cloth was covering the bottom part of the handset, a mocking tone lacing them, deep and rumbling. They raked at her spine, freezing her on the spot without a clue what to do, what to say, but he knew she was still there, her breathing sharp and hurried against the black phone. It was them, that was the only thing clear in her mind, but them calling was most definitely a bad sign that there was something else going on. Maybe they had overlooked a detail, and it had led to this, Ellen could not be sure.

-Would… would you hold for a moment, please? – she did not wait for a response, even though she wasn’t certain she would get one. With eyes wides, she turned her body around, almost as if the world was suddenly happening around her in slow motion, knuckles white as she held hard onto the receiver. - Avis! – the woman was talking still with Miss Stinton, dismissing her call with the wave of her hand before returning her attention to something displayed on her secretary’s desk. God dammit Avis, this was far more important! Fear and anger were beginning to spread like wildfire through her limbs, overtaking the numbness and shock. - AVIS!

-What?!

-This is for you.

She would have huffed and retorted at her friend if the sight of her pale face had not made all sorts of alarms go off in her head. The way she was holding the phone, as if her life depended on it, the fear dressing her features, made her hands tremble, her heart racing against her ribs so hard that she thought she might bruise them. There had been a slight waver to her friend’s words as she had spoken them that had brought goosebumps up all over her skin in worry. She was usually so well spoken, perfect dictation and tone lacing everything she said; this was wrong. Avis’s steps were slow, unsure at first, but Ellen’s stance did not falter, if only it got worse as she began to shake, forcing her movements to become faster, clumsier as well over the carpet. On the other side of the receiver, the man puffed his chest, his patience running thin. He had half a mind to hang up, but he could not lose the opportunity to threaten and bargain with the woman he so wanted to crush into dust. The longer this went on for, the higher the chance of them getting caught, and he could not afford such a thing to happen. He needed the girl alive until he got what he wanted, and he wasn’t planning on keeping her around past this evening. Avis’s perfectly manicured hand stretched out, palm upright to receive the phone, the plastic making contact with her skin as Ellen handed it to her, the blond rushing to cover her mouth as the other woman removed her earring before pressing the handset against her ear.

-Hello?

-You don’t seem to be a fan of fire, are you Avis? – the insolence of this man! To call her and mock her like this, filled her entire being with fury, eyes narrow and hard, locked onto Ellen’s figure but without actually seeing her. How fucking dare he! She could almost feel the way he was smiling as he addressed her, as if he held the upper hand during this conversation. He knew perfectly well that this little stunt had caused an uproar, and that she had not appreciated it in the slightest, but to call her at the office when the cable girls had every strict orders to not let any unsolicited numbers through meant this wasn’t a simple inquiry about her health, per se. Even through the cloth he was clearly using to disguise himself, Avis could hear the sounds of cars in the distance, random honks breaking the otherwise silent air around this man. She bit back with all the rage she could muster, making her words sharp, as if they could draw out blood.

-Who’s this?!

-Oh, please, do I need an introduction? I thought that my little present had been enough, but maybe I was wrong.

-Who are you?! What do you want?!

-Now, now, there’s no rush. No need to become so emotional, my dear woman. Did you like the cross? It was made out of the best wood.

-You think that a thing like that can scare me?! Well, you are wrong. I have put up with worse shit than that.

-I suspected as much. You can be so stubborn Avis. That’s why I have taken the liberty of doing something special for you. – her head was cold, ice in her veins at the sound of his words. They were dangerous, spoken in such a low deep voice that a shiver of terror ran down her back. This was it; she could feel it in her bones, the dread she had been holding onto all night spreading to every cell, from the top of her head to the tip of her fingers and toes, horror overtaking the rage that had glazed her eyes. She could see the danger she had been running away from standing before her in a dark cloak that hid its features, a sharp dagger in its hand waiting to rip her to shreds. He had caught up with her at last. Ellen’s heart dropped to her stomach the instant she saw the shift in Avis’s entire demeanour, needing to place a hand over the desk to keep herself upright as all colour drained from her friend’s face. And then those cursed words slipped out of his lips and the world crumbled around Avis. - You did not say how pretty she looks when unconscious.

-WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

-So temperamental. I simply made sure to have an incentive so you would cooperate. What are you willing to do to make sure I don’t hurt this pretty young thing you seem so taken with, Avis? Would you kill? Would you die?

-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HER! – she was panicking, she could not describe it any other way. Her heart was two seconds away from bursting in anger and fear, making her breaths so hurried that even though air was going through them she felt as if there was no oxygen reaching her brain. They had taken you! They couldn’t be sure she would do what they desired after threatening part of the cast and her own daughter, so they had kidnapped you. Every fibre of her being was screaming in agony at the thought of you being locked somewhere, in the dark, rats scurrying through the corners of the room while you cried and begged for help, beaten and bruised. Her heart almost bled through her clothes as she imagined your broken voice calling her name.

-I won’t if you comply with my requests.

-You think you can call me and make demands?! Who the hell do you think you are?!

-Careful, Avis, are you sure you are in a position to anger me and deny me my every wish? My finger can slip so easily and pull the trigger of my gun. – her breath hitched in her lungs, the grip on the phone so strong that she felt as if the plastic could shatter in between her fingers. She had to calm down, she couldn’t let her temper cloud her mind and risk your safety, as much as she hated being threatened and bullied. His words had left no room for hope of your release unless she complied, knowing that if he didn’t get what he wanted, he would kill you without mercy and dump your body somewhere for bears or wild dogs to eat. After a moment of resolution, she spoke again, voice quieter, levelled.

-What are your requests?!

-I knew you would understand. I want you to cancel the production of Meg for good, and to take all the rolls of film, every single scene you have, to the forest close to Hollywood station. And don’t even think of pulling any sort of tricks on me and leave some other film instead, because I will know, Avis, and I won’t hesitate to send you the girl’s head all wrapped up in tissue paper.

-If you lay a hand on her, I swear I will find you and destroy you.

-How will you achieve that when you don’t even know who I am? – he was right, she had no idea how to find him, who he was, or where he was calling from. He could be all across the country for all she knew, having used puppets to frighten them and kidnap you with the dark of the night as their cover. His words left a bitter taste on her tongue, but she could find no retort to his statement. In the background the whistle of a train echoed loudly, the sound of its wheels screeching over the tracks for a few seconds before it vanished into the distance, overpowering the silence that had otherwise been in the background throughout the entire conversation. Wherever this man was he had means of escape, she thought, but it all slipped to the back of her mind as he carried on talking. - Don’t play the hero Avis, it doesn’t suit you. Back to business. I also want you to write a binding contract handing the direction of the studio to an unknown party. Leave the name of the new owner blank but sign the document.

-I refuse to do that. One thing it’s the film and another very different is to hand out the entire company to a stranger.

-Does the studio mean more to you than Y/N? Is that what you are saying? Maybe I misinterpreted your actions, and you don’t care enough about her to save her. Makes killing her a much easier task for me.

-NO! DON’T!

-Then leave the document along with the rolls where I said before twelve, and she’ll find her merry way back to you before the day is over.

-Let me talk with her first.

-Why do people always ask for the same thing? It’s as if you don’t trust me.

-Of course, I don’t you fucking psychopath!

-Now, Avis, don’t insult me. I have half a mind to chop one or two of Y/N’s fingers to show you how a lady should behave.

-Please, don’t hurt her, just… - if only she could hear your voice, make sure you were alive, she would push through, no matter what she had to do. Just a chance to talk with you so she could make a choice between what was right and what was easy. This agony that had taken her heart hostage was suffocating, forming a lump in her throat as she fought to keep her voice as steady as possible, slow so he wouldn’t think she was begging more than she already was. - just let me talk with her.

-I suppose I can grant you that. Alright. – there was a ruffling sound on the line, followed by the scratching of something metallic over rough ground, probably cement Avis thought, before it all stopped and the voice of the man reached her ears, the cloth gone from the handset. It sounded familiar, deep, with a gentle tilt around certain letters. She was sure she had heard it before, but it was too far away for her to pinpoint exactly who it belonged to; maybe she was wrong altogether and she was simply trying to find someone to blame all this for that wasn’t herself. - Here, say hello to your mistress.

-Avis? – if she had been shot straight through the heart it would have hurt less. You sounded so weak, so scared and she could do nothing to ease your pain and fears. Tears were pooling on the corner of her eyes, blurring her vision and making Ellen’s shaky form hardly a shape, just blobs of blue tones. The blond was barely holding on as it was, hand on her chest as if that could help her galloping heart slow down.

-Y/N! Oh, God, are you okay? Can you tell me where you are? I shouldn’t have let you leave last night. It’s all my fault.

-Avis, listen to me. Don’t give him shit. You finish that film and show it to the world, and you make sure that everyone knows what these jerks did to try and stop it, what it took. I don’t care if I never make it out of this room; I will die for your chance to fuck them over, and I’ll do it proudly. Just don’t give in. Ever.

-You bitch! – flesh collided with flesh, resonating against the walls of the prison he was keeping you in. The slap had left a sting on your cheek, making your wounds bleed again, dripping hot crimson blood over what once was porcelain skin, now black and blue. She could not get it out of her mind, the sound of your pain, the angry voice of this man, echoing in Avis’s head. It felt as if she had been the one hit, shot over and over without giving her the chance to protect herself, her heart being ripped out of her chest, killing her as a whimper made its way out of your mouth, miserable in the silence that should have accompanied you, but he was moving, maybe circling you, his footsteps hard against the ground. Calling out your name was an involuntary reflex that slipped from her red lips.

-Y/N!

-Don’t look for me, Avis! Don’t let them win! I LOVE YOU!

-Y/N! Y/N!

The line went dead. It didn’t matter how many times she slammed the plunger not a sound came through, your voice the last thing remaining in her ears. It was agony to know that she had put you in harm’s way unknowingly, that your life depended on one single choice that happened to be the most important and most difficult she could make in her life. She did not know whether she wanted to cry or scream, this pain that was clawing at her heart was so raw and profound that it was snatching the air out of her lungs. She had had you in her hands and she had let you slip through her fingers. This was her fault, everything her own stupid fault! If Ellen had not held onto Avis’s upper arms the woman would have collapsed onto the floor, the strength the blond possessed managing to sit her on the couch, the receiver dangling from the desk, forgotten as bitter, sorrowful tears finally broke through Avis’s eyelashes and began to fall. They burnt the same scorching fire she had felt coming from the cross. But the clock was ticking, seconds were passing, minutes following close by and your life hung by a deadline that she had to meet if she wanted you safe. But your words bounce against her skull, making the mental pain so physical that her limbs ached in anguish. “Don’t look for me”. Through her blurry vision, she locked eyes with Ellen, grief lacing her every word.

-Go find Dick. Now.

Your head was pounding as your eyes blinked open, the semi-unconscious state you were still in making the pain so distant around your body. It was as if you were floating outside of it, but it was short-lived. The world around you swayed from side to side, in circles that made you dizzy, as the confusion of what had happened twirled like rivulets around your many thoughts, snippets of the conversation floating senselessly in your mind as your eyes tried to refocus on the room. It was still the same, dark and gloomy, drops of condensation falling in a steady rhythm from some corner or other, the musty damp smell assaulting your nose along with the metallic stench you were bathed in. Nothing had changed except for the flame that was now burning bright in the oil lantern, allowing you to see the figure of the man sitting opposite your place in the middle of the room, the shadows still hiding his face from you. You did not need to see him to know that he was angry. The simple action of turning your head to observe the floor left you close to unconsciousness again, a sharp pain coming from your temple down to your neck rendering you useless, weak before his predatory eyes. Why had he hit you? You could feel the leftover sting on your manhandled skin, but could not make sense of the why, of anything that was going on in your head, frustrating and disconcerting you as you found yourself as lost as when you had first woken up in here. If only you could calm yourself enough so the pieces of your abused mind could fall into place.

Without warning the man stood, his body towering over yours, the previously bloodied clothes long gone, replaced by a pristine brown suit, but there was one thing wrong. His left shoe was stained in your blood. Of course, you had told Avis not to listen to him and he had got angry, hitting you on the side of your head with his foot after he had slammed the phone against the ground. Little pieces of beige plastic were still scattered on the floor you saw, in between puddles of your own blood, the stains dark against the dirty grey concrete. Everything was falling into place. The conversation, what had happened in front of your building last night, the punches and pushes as he asked you question after question and you didn’t give him the answer he was so looking for. He was running out of time and was becoming increasingly furious at your lack of cooperation, his steps getting closer to you with each passing second. To say that you weren’t scared would have been a lie, the terror spreading all over your body, inch by inch, but you were also determined to succeed in your endeavour. Avis had to finish the film and show the world that the KKK held no power over them, no matter how many threats and blood was spilt, the people had to fight for freedom. If you had to die to achieve it, so be it. At least you had got the chance to tell her that you loved her.

And that simple action made his blood boil; it was clear in his hard cold eyes. They shone so bright amongst the shadows, lies dressed in sky blue to lure you in before he could deliver the final blow. Sweat ran down your arms, beads forming on your forehead that fell in slow motion over your cheeks, from the tip of your nose and fell over the scrapes on your legs, stinging, but you didn’t make a sound. Not this time. His fingers ghosted over your injured shoulder, the heat emanating from him contrasting with how cold you felt, his hand moving up to your neck, but he never actually touched you. Perhaps he didn’t wish to stain his expensive shirt, you thought bitterly. He kept circling you, watching your staggering breaths, a quiet hissing sound breaking from inside you with each puff of air, drinking in the way your body shook even if he wasn’t touching you, harming you in any way, not that he didn’t desire to crush that pretty skull of yours under his shoe. The need to win was overly intoxicating to him, like a drug that was speeding through his system, pumping adrenaline up to his brain. He needed to win, he would ensure he took the studio from her, and the instant that happened, no black person would set foot inside his domains. He would handle Ace when the time came. He was giving you his back, shoulder square, as he observed the flame before he turned around and grabbed your face roughly, a yelp mixing with a painful whimper as the pads of his fingers dug deep over your wounds. The pain blurred your vision as tears gathered behind closed eyelids.

-You think you are so clever, playing this game that you can’t win. Why did you even bother to give her false hope? I will get what I want even if I end up with two dead bodies in my hands.

-All that ego and self-assuredness might come back to bite you in the ass… sir.

His hand released your face, relief washing through every cell in your body, but it was short-lived. Square on the chest his foot made contact with your flesh, the hard sole leaving a bloody imprint on the fabric of your dress. There was no air in your lungs, only agony that spread like wildfire all along your ribs and sternum preventing you from breathing, miserably gasping in failed attempts to get this torture to end. In slow motion, your body tilted back, and it wasn’t until your arms collided against the cold, hard ground, crushing them under the weight of your body and the back of the chair that you realised he had not only hit you, but pushed you as well. From your raw throat, a scream tore through the abused cords, saliva mixing with blood in your mouth as the sound echoed against the bare walls. You had never in your entire life felt something like this, the way your bones seemed to be made out of glass, breaking and shattering all around you, your skin ripping and falling off your body, muscles melting in the scorching white fire that enfolded you, organs failing at doing the most mundane of tasks. The blow could not kill you but if he decided to end your misery now you would have considered it an ounce of mercy that this heartless son of a bitch was willing to give you. But alas he thrived in making you feel like a piece of dirt in his eyes, and he had no intention of destroying you. Not yet anyway. He squatted and bent until his face was inches from yours, a maddening smile on his thin lips as your eyes battled against the spasms that tormented your body, focusing after a moment, finally able to see his features under the flickering light of the flame.

-Remember that your life is not the only one at stake here, Y/N. You failed to tell me how to end her, so now I’m obligated to go and ensure that Avis does what told, making me lose precious time. I do not like being played with and I do not wish for things to get any messier, it takes so much work to clean up after, so be a good girl and stay put and quiet. – it could not be. He had been around you and Avis for years, his glances and discriminatory words floating around the studio as if he was addressing the state of the stock market, and neither of you hadn’t suspected a thing, but of course, it had to be him, no one else gained something from making so much noise about this entire situation. It had made no sense, but laying here now, your body broken and bleeding in despair, mind foggy and dizzy as the pain still rippled through your veins, you realised that everything that had led up to this moment, that first instant that had sparked it all, had been staring at you from the very beginning. You should have seen it coming, you thought, his breath stinking of alcohol and those dammed cigars that you despised so much, but he had played his cards too well, hiding in plain sight. No one would have thought it could have reached this point. Coming to stand to his full height he observed you manically, eyes almost twitching as he assessed you, thinking about what he could do with you before his shoe collided with your head again and the world turned black. Perhaps next time he knocked you unconscious you would not wake up, he thought gleefully, a trickle of your blood falling from your nose onto the concrete. – Well, no one is going to hear you now for sure.

On the wall the clock ticked, marking each passing second as a companion to Avis’s steps over the carpet, a constant rhythm that grated on her nerves as the anguish that had overtaken her senses clouded her mind. The skin around her nails was bitten, broken and in some areas bleeding slowly around the bright red of her nails, stains of her lipstick marking the spots where her mouth had made contact with her fingers, anxiety bringing forth a habit she had tried to quit since little. Every thought was a turmoil of emotions and actions that left her confused, unsteady on her feet, pacing up and down her office while Dick and Henry argued over this and that, background noise to her. She could not get your voice out of her mind, the way the pain laced every word, the way she could hear the rawness of your throat and the whizzing of your breathing against the receiver. It was like a dagger was slicing through her chest with every passing second, digging deeper and deeper, staining her clothes in sticky hot blood, dripping from her hands in agony as the conversation replied in her mind with no chance of escape. She had never meant for any of this to happen, to put you in harm’s way like this when the only thing her heart desired was to simply be with you. She should have known that Meg would bring consequences of this calibre, she should have been prepared, and yet she was caught completely off guard by it all, cursing her own existence as the sound of your pleading but determined words banged against her skull. The touch of a gentle pair of hands on top of her shoulders forced her to halt her train of thought, turning her head slightly to the right to see Ellen’s kind eyes staring back at hers.

-Why don’t you sit down? You are going to wear a hole in the carpet with all this pacing.

She was right. The constant motion all over her office was not doing anything at calming her nerves, she wasn’t even paying attention to what Dick was saying, ideas and questions that flew over her head and never received an answer. She could not afford to let her mind get lost in her grief, she had to push it all aside and find a way. She could not lose you; it would kill her. The blond’s tender touch and warm smile made it easy for Avis to turn her body away from the doors, walking in between the coffee table and the couch until Ellen pushed her slowly against the leather, letting her body fall over the cushions. It was a beautiful contrast to the battlefield inside this room the way that her friend’s voice never rose in volume, never berated her or asked things of her that Avis knew she could not give, it was as if two polar opposites were residing inside this office and she was caught in between them, the compassion that exuded from Ellen’s body with each movement she made, settling herself beside the ginger on the couch and the tumultuous and loud atmosphere that surrounded the two men, like a fire that was sure to consume her if she got too close. Her brown eyes watched them all, but her ears could not pick up words or sentences, only the rage that poured out of Dick and the nonchalant air that came from Henry’s uncaring eyes. He didn’t understand, he didn’t know Y/N like they did, like she did; to him, she was just a name with no face that he would not cry about at the end of the day. And that single thought fuelled the fire that had stood dormant in her chest, exactly what she had needed to spring into action, the previous hazy world around her now moving at the speed of light, eyes locked furiously on the two males that still ranted before her.

-We can’t just let that man get what he wants! This film is far too important, you’ve said it a thousand times, Dick!

-That was before a woman’s life was on the line! We can’t just simply say no to his demands and let him kill her! For God’s sake Henry, think a little!

-I am thinking, you are the one who’s letting his emotions fill your argument! If we give him the film and the studio what guarantees us that that girl won’t be killed anyway?!

-Nothing, but that doesn’t mean that we have to abandon her! We can’t just give up! What do we do, Henry, don’t put up a fight and try to make a deal? Or reach an agreement so a woman won’t fucking die?!

-We listen to her! The girl told us not to give into his demands, isn’t that right Mrs. Amberg? – everyone’s eyes were on her, waiting, breaths held. The girl is really what he addressed you as? It’s that what he thought of you, that you were just some random girl the studio had hired? You had a name, you were not just a number on a long list of paychecks that had to be delivered at the end of the month, and she refused to let him forget it. With a deep sigh, Avis finally spoke for what seemed like the first time in hours.

-Y/N said to make the film, to show it to the world.

-See?

-But we won’t.

-What?! – she closed her eyes at the sound of his raised voice, grimacing at the sound for a moment. She understood that this was his big opportunity, that this film would put him out there as a producer and cancel it meant going back to the position he had all his life, but she couldn’t quite comprehend why he was so adamant about continuing when everyone else seemed to understand that the best thing was to halt it all, maybe even to end it here and now, that this wasn’t just a threat and a menacing phone call. A woman had a gun to her head for all she knew. His unwillingness to see that this was the right choice unnerved and angered Avis, but she tried her best to keep her voice steady and neutral.

-I don’t care about how much this fucking movie might change the world or help the minorities. That was the main argument before, but not now. I am not willing to lose her for something that will end up picking up dust on a shelf once theatres either stop showing it or refuse to do it in the first place.

-You can’t be serious! We’ll lose all the money we’ve invested, all the money that we’ve given to those magazines to cover up for your indiscretions. Everything down the drain when this girl told us to carry on! This is insane!

-No! What’s insane is how willing you are to throw her under the bus! This is a person we are talking about, a fucking human being that means the entire fucking universe to me! I don’t care how many rolls of film get burnt, or if the entire building collapses as long as we get her out of wherever that psychopath has her!

-And the studio? Do we hand that to him on a silver platter as well? What would Mr. Amberg say if he woke up and saw that his life’s work was in the hands of some stranger?!

-BUT HE’S NOT HERE! THIS IS MY STUDIO AND I HAVE THE LAST WORD! – the glass of scotch she had left on the table shook under the force with which she slammed her fist over the wood, creaking slightly where her hand was resting. She was fucking exhausted of everyone bringing up her husband any chance they got. She was in charge now, not him, and she couldn’t give less of a fuck about what he would do or not do! She was not going to let anyone get killed for a fucking film, no matter how important it may be! She was Avis fucking Amberg, not some random clerk from a shop, and she would be dammed fi she was going to let anyone tell her what to do and then hit her with the “What would Ace say” card when things didn’t go their way. This was her choice to make, and only hers, and she had already made up her mind about the whole situation he instant that man had phoned. If henry didn’t like it, he could quit and cry about it in his own fucking house like the child he seemed to be. Inside the room silence filled every crack and crevice, the only sound that could be heard being Avis’s angry hurried breaths and the ticking of the clock, a constant reminder that the longer this argument took the closer you were to Death. Dick could not even bring himself to speak, shock clear in his face at Avis’s sudden outburst while Henry’s words rang in his head like a broken record. This was such a mess.

-So that’s it? You were so willing to carry on and now… puff… we bend over the desk and let them fuck us?! And here I thought that you would change things Avis. What a fool I was.

-Why can’t you understand, Henry, that this is no longer about the studio or the film? This is a personal vendetta against all of us, against me, and Y/N doesn’t deserve to die because of it.

-Except that she clearly stated she would take one for the team and protect you, the studio, and Meg. You told us she said to not look for her, that she would die proudly if it meant inching closer to destroying these people. Do you really want to risk everyone and everything for her!?

-Henry. – Ellen’s voice held none of the warmth she had used with Avis, quite the opposite. Her tone was a warning one, as if she was giving him the chance to retract himself and leave it all be before he said something he would regret, but he could not stop now that he had began to pour all his frustrations out. He might get fired for this, he thought, but he had to protect his interests, his own future and that of the studio, even if it meant standing up to Avis and Dick.

-No, Ellen. Her life is not the only one hanging on by a thread! Archie and Camille could have been easily murdered. Hell, you and your daughter could have been shot in the middle of the night while in bed, Avis! If we give up now, if we give in, the world will still be the same, with its injustices, its reign of terror and fear, with no chance of fixing that which we have broken in the first place. Nothing will have changed, and the girl might still die.

-Enough, Henry! I wouldn’t do it; I can’t do it. I’m sorry, but this is personal now.

-God, Avis, you are being unreasonable! If this is all just a vendetta against you and not just a persecution for breaking the Hays Code, who even would gain something by doing all this, huh, tell me?! Who would want to kidnap her and make such demands?!

-Someone from the studio.

Dick’s words echoed in the room for a few seconds, ringing curiously inside her head before a commotion in the hallway made it fall to the back of everyone’s mind. Miss Stinton voice reached their ears, distressed, struggling hard to keep someone away from the office, but it was a lost battle, and with a huff and the sound of her back colliding with the edge of the desk, Lon’s figure crossed the threshold as if he owned the place, briefcase in hand and that look of superiority bathing his features. God, not him, Avis thought. She could not deal with him right now. He would start talking all his bullshit, making them lose precious time, trying to convince her of doing things his way as if that was the only logical option, and she really didn’t want to lose her temper and tell him anything about what was going on with Y/N. She could almost see him using that information to berate her and act like the entitled son of a bitch he was. Her hand still laid on the table in a fist, but her eyes didn’t land on it, they observed the liquid amber that was still left in the glass, a rim of the spilled drink surrounding it, probably staining the wood already. In frustration she picked it up and took a sip, her body partially turned away from him since Henry was standing before her big desk, opposite the doors.

-Don’t get up.

-I won’t. – her eyes rolled of their own accord, his voice already grating on her nerves as his feet firmly planted over the edge of the carpet, standing before them as he tried to make himself seem taller, bigger. Did he think he stood a chance of cowering Avis down by using that macho act? Dick had to give it to him if he truly thought he could. He supposed that being delusional could be an acquired skill after so many years of being a cunt.

-In light of recent events I’ve come to inform you that production on Meg must be halted.

-Didn’t I fire you weeks ago? - The fucking cheek he had to use that condescending tone in her own office!

-You don’t have that power. I work for Mr. Amberg.

-That is out of line. – Dick stepped in like a spring, getting closer to the man in hopes of stopping him from heading the way he knew he was heading. The air was thick with tension, hot air swaying in between them as Avis’s frame became straighter on her spot, the grip on her glass so hard that Ellen was nearly counting the seconds it would take to shatter.

-Refusing to shut this picture down is out of line. Mrs. Amberg leaves me no option but to take legal action.

That was it! She had put up with him for years, smiling politely at his comments, swallowing her pride each time he jabbed at her lack of a job or power, laughing at her with his smirks and stabbing words about Ace’s affairs. She had been a lady and had taken it all for the sake of the studio, of her husband’s reputation. He was a cruel, perverted man, that much became clear when he had tried to get his way with you at the New Year’s Eve party, but after Ace’s heart attack he had become so full of himself, as if the world owed him and he could get whatever he wanted with just one word. He had tried his best to wear her down enough that she would quit, and she had considered it once or twice, but for him to come here when she was already furious enough about everything that was going on and tell her that he was taking this to a fucking judge! She couldn’t do whatever she fucking desired in her own fucking studio?! The glass in her hand was slammed onto the table once more, the scotch dripping off the rim as she stood in fury, Ellen’s hands stretching to grab her, but to no avail; she was too far away.

-This is my studio.

-I recognise that this is emotional for you. With all that’s been happening, you are not thinking clearly.

-Oh. – he was trying to play a game of fake sympathy, she noticed, the term emotional tilting slightly as he said it, almost mockingly. Two could play at that. Lulling her head gently to the side she smiled sweetly at him, lacing her every word with a fake kindness and sugary tone, dripping thickly like honey over his entire body, purposely tripping him. - A woman makes a decision and suddenly she’s irrational.

-No, no, That’s not… I didn’t mean to…

-Yes, you did! You waltz in here whenever you desire to remind me that you are there, always watching. – every step was meticulously planned, slow in execution, but it made him visibly shake as the gap between them became less and less. Yes, Lon, fear me, she thought, you will all know who I am, soon enough. -By the time you get your ducks in a row for our little date in court, my picture will be in the can. – anger glazed his eyes, fingers twitching around his briefcase, but he didn’t raise a hand to her, no matter how much he desired to. Avis’s triumphant smile was almost too much for him, the way she thrived in her victory, but he could not let his temper get the best of him; no, she had made her choice, and he would abide by her wishes. No one in the room moved, no one dared speak as the tension built higher, close to a breaking point. Her big brown eyes raked over his face wishing she could photograph and frame his expression, taking notice of an injury on his cheek, as if he had been scratched, the wounds fresh and reddened over his pale skin but she didn’t care much for it. It was the sudden change in his features that disturbed her, the way his eyes turned darker, manic almost, as if he had got exactly what he wanted from her, opening a door for him that she could not see. The dread that had accompanied her all morning spiked as his semblance obscured, almost as if she could smell danger in the air, but before it all sank in, he was gone in a wind whirl of brown, the flaps of his jacket ruffling as he walked down the hallway. - See you in court, Lon!

Henry’s smile could have lit up the entire building, no, the whole city, as she watched Lon leave before turning her body around. Ellen and Dick stared at the door for a few moments, shocked, the latter with his arms crossed over his chest in offense, before their eyes moved and settled on Avis’s form. She hoped this little stunt would keep him off her back for some time. There were too many things she had to worry about, and she couldn’t deal with him knocking on her door every five minutes to demand things from her.

-So, we are doing it? – oh, well, fuck. She sighed deeply, a hand travelling to her forehead to rub the skin as this pressure began to build behind her eyes, a headache developing. Her words had been clear as day, there was no room for mistakes or misunderstandings, no wonder the man had seemed so happy. She hated to burst his bubble, but it was obvious that she had misstepped, and needed to retreat back to what the conversation had been before Lon had so unexpectedly barged in.

-No, Henry, we are not doing it, I already told you this. The film is going to be cancelled.

-Then why the hell did you say that to Mr. Silver?!

-To get him off my case! You’ve seen him, you know how he behaves when he’s in here. I was not going to miss the chance to shut him up and get him off my back before he found out about the kidnapping as well. We can’t afford to lose more time than what we’ve already lost with this stupid argument!

-It’s not stupid! The studio has invested too much in Meg to just destroy it!

-And I have invested too much in what I have with Y/N to betray her and let her die! What would you do if the love of your life had a gun to her head, Henry? Would you let the executioner pull the trigger without putting up a fight? Wouldn’t you do anything to save them even if it hurt to give in?

-I… I… - he didn’t know what to answer to that. Avis’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, making them look so big but so broken that something inside him seemed to crack. His mind had been so clouded by the ambition, the need to prove that the film could become his first great work, that he was worth the title of producer, that it had blinded him. They were right, a roll of film wasn’t worth the murder of innocent people, though he had to admit that hearing Avis declare herself before them all without caring about the open doors was not something he had imagined would ever happen. No one like Avis would ever do something of this sort unless her heart was involved somehow. The back of his knees hit the armrest of the couch, his body sitting on it gently as with his hands he rubbed his face before threading his fingers through his hair in defeat. Giving his back to the room he did not see how Ellen had stood and taken Avis by her hands, steading the woman, nor the way Dick rubbed her back and whispered to her in an attempt to calm her racing heart, one single tear rolling down her cheek. – I don’t know what I would do.

-You would try to find out who did it, - her voice was stern, hard in the delivery of each word, as if she was throwing them at Henry, but upon noticing his defeated stance her voice became gentler, though it didn’t lose that anger that seemed to be part of her at this point. She was just so tired. - but we don’t have that kind of time now, so you simply give them what they want.

-And even if we had time we wouldn’t even know where to start. Who is he? How does he know so much? Why is he doing all this?

-I already told you. -Dick moved away from both women, pouring himself a drink before heading back to the couch, glass resting on top of the leather after taking a sip. - It’s someone from the studio; there’s no other possibility.

-If that is so…

-Let me explain myself first, Ellen. – the woman nodded her head to let him continue, dropping the other woman’s hands to sit herself down after she had pointed at the couch with her head and her friend had shaken hers politely. After so many years Avis had realised that she could think better when she was in motion, her feet moving from side to side as she listened intently to what Dick had to say. Henry had perked up as well, looking over his shoulder. – It has to be someone who knows what’s going on with Ace, otherwise, they would not risk asking Avis to hand out the studio just like that. True that this doesn’t mean that they work here, but during the phone call that man said that he would know if we gave him the wrong film. He must have some way of watching it and some way of checking that we don’t have Meg anymore. Someone inside this building has access to the necessary equipment and to the vaults where the rolls as stored, but it can’t be some boy from the canteen or some script reader. The only logical answer that I can find is that the person who has Y/N and left those crosses is someone close to us who will gain everything he’s ever wanted by getting you, Avis, to cancel Meg and give him the company.

-That doesn’t leave that many people. Most of the crew working on the film don’t possess enough wit and power to even consider pulling such a stunt, so that leaves, us and Ace’s boys. We can’t consider some of our business partners because they haven’t called to inquire about any of this yet, so they might not know, besides, what would they do with a studio when they are lawyers and finance people?

With her eyes cast down towards the floor, she could not help feeling that Dick was right, that the answer was right in front of them, as if something was preventing her from figuring it all out, a piece of the puzzle missing from her sight and yet so close. The pads of her fingertips patted her lower lip, her left hand on her hip as she paced over the carpet with slow steps letting his words sink into her brain. If Dick was right and it was someone they knew, they might have given this man information willingly, from deep secrets about the studio to loopholes that they were using to make films at lesser costs, not to mention all the personal things they might have shared. And in all that she was not counting what Ace might have said to this unknown man. But the clock was still ticking, and they had to gather the film, and inform everyone that the picture was cancelled all while she still had to write a contract that some solicitor was willing to sign, twelve o’clock getting closer and closer faster than she wanted. The carpet was of a light beige tone, and it complemented the dark wood of the room beautifully, but that harmonious balance of colours was disturbed by a stain in the shape of a shoe. She grunted in disgust, crouching to get a better look at it, noticing that although it was dark there was a certain reddish tone to it. Her heart hammered against her ribs as with trembling hands the finger that had been around her hip touched the substance, wet on her skin.

It was recent. Coming to stand all the chatter that had filled the office dropped into a silence so deep that she could have heard a pin drop, curious looks falling on her body. Under the light of day that was coming from the window her fingers shone with a deep ruby tone, and upon sniffing the thick liquid her nose picked up the strong metallic essence that she knew so well. There was a blood stain on her carpet. In shock she took a couple of steps back, the emotion written all over her face as she kept her hand at a distance from her body. Dick and Henry took notice of the way Avis was holding herself and rushed to ask what was wrong, but she could not find the words to say it, simply pointing with crimson fingers at the stain. Oh, God, she had someone’s blood on her skin! Her frame shook, rushing to take a handkerchief out of her pocket and wipe her fingers as clean as she could. Her mind was working overtime now, thinking of who could have stepped in here with stained shoes, noting that neither Dick nor Henry’s were dirty in the slightest, but the footprint was clearly that of a man and the only other person that had set foot in this room all morning had been…

There was a spark in her synapsis, as if two loose cables had finally met. Of course, she knew what was behind all this, he had never been quiet about how much he hated her and how much he had wanted her out of his way, but to think he would reach this point to get what he wanted? She had suspected he was part of the KKK ever since he had voiced his disagreement at Ace hiring black people at the studio, the threats and disappearances that would happen soon after her husband dismissed his “worries”. It had been happening for years, and no one had taken notice because it hadn’t affected them, but he was escalating things now, and he wasn’t being subtle or quiet about it. In her head she replayed the entire conversation she had just had with him, analysing every detail, from the way he had carried himself to the delivery of each word, looking for anything that could confirm it was him and that she was not in the wrong here. His entire behaviour had turned so dark and dangerous after she had told him she was going to carry on with the film, a reaction she had not expected in the slightest when she was used to temper tantrums like him bursting out of the room or threats that he would speak to Ace. That entire act he had put on just now was that of a completely different person. Her body was shaking, remembering the way his tongue had tilted slightly when he had said the word “emotional”, the exact same way the voice on the phone had tilted his, and as the realisation sank in, she felt her knees grow weak and her legs give up on her, her body falling on top of the couch cushions.

She had been so sure she had heard that voice somewhere before, that she knew the man it belonged to, but to become aware that the person she had heard when the cloth had been removed from the receiver was him felt like a bucket of freezing water had been poured over her head. Everything and everyone were absolutely blurry around her, like the world was speeding while she remained still, frozen in time with her eyes glued to the redness she had not been able to wipe from her fingers. He had played her, and she had fallen straight into his trap. She had been an absolute fool to think that he had been treating her this way out of spite because Ace hadn’t left him in charge, when it was obvious he had been working slowly on this whole thing for years, gaining more power with each conversation he had with her husband until he had found the perfect opportunity to strike. With her out of the way, Meg cancelled and him as head of the studio, he only had one obstacle left that he could conveniently get rid of with one simple chat with Ace’s doctor. He had been meticulous, organizing and planning every step down to a t, but at the same time he had been messy, perhaps he had begun to get nervous and that had caused him to slip up, the simple detail of a stain on her carpet exactly where he had stood moments ago, shattering his perfectly crafted cover up.

There was no doubt in her mind. The cross was but a warning that something worse was coming, and as Dick and Henry pointed at the floor and told Ellen in serious voices that it was blood, the blond woman nearly fainting on the spot, Avis felt the weight of the words crushing her. He had your blood on his shoes, she had your blood on her fingers, wet and sticky over her skin. It was cold to the touch, yes, but it was recent, just like the scratches on his cheeks, meaning she might still have the chance and time to find you before the appointed time and in extent to not have to give in to this man’s demands. Without thinking about it twice she jumped off the couch, the sound making both men turn their heads away from the floor to look at the fury that burnt Avis’s whole body.

-I know who’s doing all this. – their expectant eyes bore holes into her body, but she didn’t care. Her hands had turned into fists, knuckles white while her face became red with rage, every word she said next spat with as much venom as she could muster from deep within her. – It’s been Lon fucking Silver all along.

-What? Are you sure, Avis? That’s a very serious actuation.

-I have never been so sure of anything in my life, Dick. That son of a bitch has my girlfriend somewhere in this city and I’m going to find her! I don’t care what it takes, but that man won’t see the light of day if I have a say in it. – she was going to fight this until her last breath, for you, for herself, for everyone in the studio and for her right to do whatever she desired in her own fucking house! She was even fighting for Ace at this point, regardless of the life they had had together, she wasn’t going to lose everything he had fought so hard to create to a man that had threatened their daughter. With her hand digging hard into the younger man’s arm she locked eyes with him. - Henry, I need you to find me a list of properties under Lon’s name, can you do that?

-I know a guy who owes me. Give me fifteen minutes and I can give you the homes of his parents and cousins as well.

-Get to it, then. – her steps were determined, hard against the floor, and she did not stop walking until she was standing behind her dark wooden desk, Henry dialling an unknown number. The sun shone from the window opposite the door, bright beams breaking through the glass and bathing her in the hot light, but she did not feel it. The rage and fury that was coursing through her veins and that consumed her every cell could match the fire of every star in the universe, her palms firmly pressed against the table as her eyes lifted forward to look at Ellen and Dick, their expressions serious. - Avis Amberg has just entered the playing field.

A droplet of water fell from the ceiling, its crystal surface reflecting the light of the flame as it flew slowly through the air. Another one followed soon after, it’s gentle surface tense as it fell. And another, all freezing to the touch, sliding easily down to the floor. The tapping rhythm danced around your ears, a comforting sound although, as your mind began to wake up, the feeling wasn’t so, slimy water running over your cheek, making it past your lips without touching them, but only barely. It didn’t feel as if you had been unconscious for too long this time, maybe your body was getting used to it, but soon it would reach a point from which you would not return. The light of the flame flickered in senseless shapes through your still-closed eyelids, casting shadows that you didn’t want to face. He might be hiding among them. But everything was quiet around you, there was no sign that he was still in the room or somewhere in the vicinity, only your ragged breathing and the tapping of the water droplets breaking the deafening silence. You could not decide if you preferred it this way. Trying to move brought on a wave of agony that sliced through every muscle and bone in your body, forcing you to stop what little you had done to catch your breath as tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. You felt weak, useless, and knowing that he had gone to talk with Avis, left a void of despair and worry that threatened to consume you, and you just didn’t have the strength to fight the dark. But as you turned your head, hissing at the way your shoulder and neck throbbed you saw it. Sunshine was coming through the ajar door.

Against your bruised ribs your heart raced, battling against your sternum for release as your eyes locked onto a ray of hope. He must have accidentally left it like that when he left. You didn’t know how long it would take him to get to the studio and back, but if you could get on your feet, you might have the chance to at least make out into the street or wherever you were. It might be your one and only chance, no matter the pain. The chair you were tied to proved to be a most inconvenient obstacle, but the knots that held the ropes in place around your wrists were too strong for you to try and release your hands from, so you would have to make do. Turning your body onto your right side would be the best option, you thought, even though that was the side where your dislocated shoulder was; a small price to pay for freedom. The first attempt left you panting and still on your back, cursing at the heaviness that had gathered in your limbs, but you weren’t going to give up. With your feet flat against the ground, or as flat as you could get them, and using your palms and elbows for leverage, you pushed against the concrete, your core contracting hard as you made use of your abs to give yourself the last needed thrust, meeting cold dirty floor against your cheek, your arm squashed under your bodyweight. Yes! But the victory was only in your mind for a second or two before a hot white fire spread from the tips of your fingers to the top of your head, making tears run down your cheeks in anguish and pain. The feeling left you completely drained, a scream wanting to escape from your chapped and bloodied lips, but you couldn’t draw any attention to yourself; you still weren’t sure he wasn’t around somewhere, and had to be very careful, which also meant quiet.

After a few moments of catching your breath, a dull pressure building underneath your lungs, the pain began to subside enough for your eyes to focus on the door. It was right there, maybe three or four feet from you, if you could only get up, the worst part would be over. You hadn’t noticed the way you were rolling in puddles of your own blood, the movements careless as they made wounds that had stopped bleeding hours ago begin to seep crimson hot liquid over your ruined dress and purple skin. The taste of metal was beginning to overwhelm your tongue as you swallowed what little saliva you were producing, reducing the soreness and dryness of your throat a little. Laying on your side you realised you wouldn’t be able to stand this way, your arm unable to be used as leverage, but your mind was working overtime against an invisible clock and the idea of laying on your front and trying to kneel didn’t seem so stupid after thinking about it for a moment. You wouldn’t be losing anything by trying. Slowly you pressed the side of your chest onto the ground, releasing your arm from under your body, and practically let the weight of the chair finish turning you around. This step had been the easiest of them all, but you could not stay like this for too long. As much as you needed the rest, the metal would end up crushing you, so after sending a prayer up to the heavens, your feet lay flat on the ground. The posture was weird, to say the least, but you weren’t being photographed by the New York Times, the only thing that mattered was getting your legs to cooperate and push your body into a sitting position, from then on standing would be child’s play.

But the chair pushed you back onto the concrete again and again, and the frustration and anger were beginning to rush through your body like lava, burning everything in its path. You had come so far, you finally had the life you had always wanted with the woman you had always dreamt of; you weren’t willing to let it all end like this, with a quick “I love you” screamed through a telephone without knowing if she was alright, if your death would even mean something to the world. It would not end this way! Adrenaline coursed through your veins and in a burst of anger, tears running down your bloodied cheeks, your legs pushed your entire body weight until they burnt, the pressure and pain in your stomach as you lifted yourself nearly making you vomit but alas you were sitting on the fucking chair facing the door through grunts and hurried pants. Your entire frame was shaking but you knew that if you stopped to breathe and calm yourself you were risking not being able to leave. The way your knees buckled as you stood, the chair forcing you to bend so you would be able to walk, nearly sent you back to the floor, but you would not allow it, and with each trembling step, the door came closer and closer until finally your eyes were able to make out a corridor bathed in warm sunlight through the crack. You could do it, if your foot slipped in between the door and the frame you might be able to push it open, but it was heavier than you thought, and the minutes passed as your legs bled and shook, your heart beating faster than ever.

You had come so far; you could not let some fucking door win. It screeched, the sound leaving a ringing in your ears, your knees and feet pushing it until at last you were able to get your left shoulder to help, delivering one final jab that allowed the hallway to come into view. The sudden burst of light inside the room forced your eyes to close for an instant, blinking slowly to adjust to it all. The walls were old, bare, except for the peeling wallpaper that left wooden beams exposed to the thick air that floated around you. The ceiling had cracks, plaster covered in black mold, and spots that marked heavy water damage, but the thing that your eyes searched for was right at the other end. A white door with a worn brass knob. Relief washed over you as through the glass you saw green trees, the pine scent almost reaching your nostrils, a weak but genuine smile creeping up on the corners of your lips. Taking one step, your bare feet felt the scratchiness of the old worn carpet, fragments of plaster and wood under your toes, but it didn’t matter. Another step and the door to a bathroom appeared to your right, tiles damaged and shattered in the darkness of the windowless room. And just as you were about to take a third step, the door less than six feet from you, the figure of a man covered the glass on the door, his brown suit visible through the cracks on the transparent glazing. Eyes watched in terror as the knob turned, and with a squeak, followed by a loud screech, you came face to face with him. For a split-second worry had covered his features, as if he had been deep in thought, but upon seeing you standing there, clearly trying to escape, it all became rage and fury, his hands slamming the door behind him as he removed his jacket. Your legs hardly responded as you tried to back away from him, but even if they had he was taller and gaining on you faster than you had anticipated, hands ready to grab you by the throat, his eyes manically wide while yours were filled with horror. The sound of your terrified “NO!” echoed throughout the forest.

But your love never heard it. Your pleas and tears never reached Avis, no matter how loud they were, she remained deaf to the noise that echoed miles away. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t feel it. Her heart jumped in her chest, a strange tingling spreading all throughout her body that told her they were running out of time, almost as if she could sense your pain and agony through her own blood, feel the danger you were in. The clock on the wall kept ticking with each passing second, and she was still no closer to finding you than before she had figured out who was doing all this, the dread beginning to cloud her judgment. She had half a mind to take her car and drive all along the train tracks until she found something, however little it may be that could take her to you.

-Why is it taking so long?! Henry!

-Avis, please, let the boy do his job.

The way her hands were holding onto the edge of the desk should have made the wood shatter, fingers purple and white, her eyes remaining glued to the younger man as he wrote on a notepad while talking to some guy called Jonathan. It had been a little bit over fifteen minutes, and the appointed time to meet Lon was barely an hour away. She needed to figure out where you were, and she needed to do it now! Ellen tried to sooth her, but her hands rubbing circles on the other woman’s hand served no purpose other than to make Avis even more anxious, wishing she would stop. Dick on the other hand knew better than to try and be comforting, he simply waited on the side, nursing his glass of gin, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention. Every nod from Henry, every twitch of his upper lip as his hands travelled over the paper before him, told a different story that Dick was reading. Henry was a resourceful man, he could not deny it, but he wondered how it had come to be so, why so many people owed him favours, and why he was always so ready for the payback that would soon follow.

-Make sure that no one finds out about this. See you around, John– placing the receiver back in place, Henry stood from the chair with a triumphant smile on his face, dangling the pad in his hand as if he was holding onto a fucking Oscar. Avis tried to grab it, but he pulled it back, the woman about to bark at him only to see Dick making his way towards the boy and taking it, eyes reading the addresses provided. The young man didn’t bother asking for it back, even if she was murdering him with her eyes. –Lon has three houses here in Hollywood, one near his office, another near the studio, that apparently, he’s been furnishing lately, and another that he’s renting to some couple from Missouri that’s close to Santa Monica Boulevard.

-None of those places have train stations or train tracks near them! I know what I heard, and I know I’m not wrong. It’s him! He must be using someone else’s place.

-If you let me finish, – she gave him a hard glare but let him continue, nevertheless. This was still an opportunity for him, she knew that she would owe him in the future, and she wouldn’t be able to say no to whatever he demanded, but if it saved your life, she would do it, as frustrating as it would be. She hated debts, and Henry could be a snake when he wanted to, a fact he was both aware and proud of. - John told me that Lon’s parents bought a property, about fifteen years ago, perhaps a mile south of Hollywood Station. It was supposed to be a retirements home, but they never remodelled it, so it’s been sitting there half-demolished since they signed the deed.

-Where exactly? -she could recall Ace having a map of the city somewhere around his desk. He had shown it to her several times when they had discussed possible placements for their house before they had decided to buy and then renovate, or when arguing about which hotels to consider when housing foreign actors or producers. Her hands pulled drawer after drawer open, rummaging through contracts and scripts that she should have thrown away weeks ago, pens and pencil stabbing her fingers as she crumpled the papers underneath them. There were rubber bands and staplers, along with clips and other nonsense, scattered in between ink bottles that she threw onto the desk carelessly in her attempt to find the goddam thing. But it was Ellen, after Avis had squatted to open a drawer, removing about three folders and causing the documents to nearly spill onto the floor, who saw the colourful corner of a leaflet and quickly pulled on it. It read “Map of Hollywood City” in big bold white letters, and she hurriedly laid it on top of everything else while exclaiming that she had found it. At the sound Avis’s hand slammed the drawer closed and pulled herself to her full height, helping the blond unfold the huge map. All four of them hovered over the desk, but it was Henry’s hands the only ones who moved over the laminated paper.

-The train Station is right here. – he pointed at a mark close to the lower left corner. -If we travel down east for a mile or so, we get to “Ruben’s Road”. So, if we head south for maybe half a mile, about six hundred feet from the train tracks, we should find a house. Exactly in this spot. – his thin fingers hovered over the drawing of a house, alone on the edge of the woods with cursive blue writing underneath that read “Silver Cottage”. It had to be there; her eyes could not find a single other mark, all throughout the forest’s edge, that was close enough to the tracks that might make the train sound as loudly as she had heard it through the phone, and that could suggest another possible area he could have taken you to. Lifting her gaze, she smiled at Henry, but only briefly before her entire demeanour became cold, determine to get to the end of the line with this matter, her deep brown eyes filled with anticipation and resolve as they fell onto the other man’s frame. His face was concentrated on the plan ahead.

-Gather the boys, Dick, and meet me at the cottage. – she could count on him to have her back. He knew his way around guns, he had fought in the First World War; she trusted him with her life, and yours for that matter. It was a surprise though to see Henry following him out of the office so willingly, so ready to fight, but then again if everything went according to plan the film wouldn’t be cancelled and he wouldn’t lose his position as a producer. This was business for him still, but she couldn’t find it in her racing heart to care. Just as they were rounding the corner Avis raised her voice, making sure they heard her before turning all her attention back to the map. - And make sure they don’t go empty-handed!

-Wait a moment, Avis. Shouldn’t we call the police about this?

-Do you think that someone like Lon wouldn’t have friends in the Police Department, Ellen? – if she took 10th street from her house and swerved around Victoria park to go down Marie Avenues, she could get down to the station in less than five minutes, her fingers tracing the journey over the paper. - If we call, we might risk telling them about what we know, and for our plan to get to him in the first place. It would be the perfect opportunity for him to kill Y/N, and we might spend hours waiting to hear good news when in fact they’ve done nothing but cover up for him. – her eyes lifted from the desk to look at the blond, her hands trying to fold the map the best she could. - I understand that this might be too much for you, but I’m not going to sit and wait.

-But this is dangerous. We’ve never done something like this before.

-Which is why I’m giving you the choice of coming with me or staying. You don’t have to get involved more than you already are, but you are my friend, and I know that you care about Y/N, as well. I don’t want to do this alone.

Avis’s palm lay outstretched before Ellen. Rage seeped from every pore of the ginger’s body, to be fair she hadn’t felt anything else all morning, and that was fuelling most of the adrenaline that was to be blamed for what was going on, but she was also terrified, absolutely terror-stricken and she feared that the moment she got to the house, she would be left petrified in her seat, unable to do anything but hear your screams. She needed Ellen to hold her together until the very end. To say that the blond wasn’t conflicted would be an understatement, but she knew Avis, and the woman never asked for help; too proud, too hurt to do so most of the time, but knowing that even without wording it that way, she was simply asking her to be there, meant the world to Ellen. Avis had been there for her when her husband had passed, they had shared countless conversations, and evenings at each other’s place. They had cried and laughed and got absolutely smashed once or twice without a care in the world. They were sisters even if they didn’t share the same blood, and that was far more important to her than what Lon might do. She couldn’t abandon her friend now that she needed her. Her hands were sweaty, but she took Avis’s in hers, squeezing hard, a small tender smile ghosting her thin lips.

A weight had been lifted of the ginger’s shoulders, the way her entire frame breathed in relief at the feeling of Ellen’s palm on hers, speaking more than a thousand words could ever do. Now that they were on the same line, Avis grabbed her purse and walked out of the office with quick steps, pulling on Ellen’s hand. The blond was smart though and held onto the map, just in case, before letting herself be dragged along. Miss Stinton protested about meetings and what not, but neither of them listened as they rushed to the lift, the doors conveniently opening just as Avis pressed the button, wishing the contraption would move faster to the ground floor. Ace didn’t keep guns at the studio, he used to say that he liked to keep that sort of thing at home, where he might actually need them, and she had hated that so viscerally that she had thought about getting rid of them more than once and more than twice just to spite him. Now, as doors of the lift chimed open, she was glad she hadn’t, letting go of Ellen’s hand to take the keys to her Cadillac out of her purse, the blond pushing the doors open for the other woman to step through. She knew exactly which of the several models Ace kept at the mansion she was going to choose to face Lon, and she just happened to be handy with it.

She might not look like it, but when she had been little her father had taught her how to shoot, and she had been fucking brilliant, she just didn’t get into the habit of using them as she grew older. The car was intact, waiting patiently for her at the parking lot, and as both ladies settled on their respective seats, Avis saw Jack rushing to one of the other buildings through the rearview mirror, his countenance serious. Dick would have them all ready by the time she was out of the house. Turning the engine on and pulling out of the parking lot she stepped on the gas, the mob that was still gathered outside by the gates having to rush to the sides so as not to get run over, though she didn’t think it would be much of a loss. Ellen, the poor woman held onto the door, sliding over the leather whenever Avis made a turn or took a corner, wondering if she had made the right choice, but it was too late to back down now, the only thing she could see in her friends being fire. Swerving on her street, the car nearly landing on two of its wheels at the corner, Avis practically burst through the gates of her house, the old Mr. Breaton pushing them open as fast as his legs would allow all while Ellen screamed at her to be more careful or she would get them both killed. Bit overdramatic, it wasn’t as if she was driving down the freeway at 80 mph or something like that. Pulling on the hand break hard once the car was stationed before her front door, Avis worked quickly on getting out, looking for her keys, telling Ellen to wait for her and that she would only be a minute.

Like magic Gertie opened the doors, just at the right moment as well, the woman having heard the commotion and fearing that something like the nightly incident might be occurring again, but it was only her employer. Her perfectly coiffed hair was in slight disarray, a curl falling gently on the side of her head, bouncing with each rushed step she took towards her husband’s office, the wooden doors slamming against the walls. The sound didn’t bother her, but it did make Gertie jump on the spot, as her employer quickly pulled a small key from the first drawer on the left of Ace’s oak desk and hurriedly used it on a trunk under the windowsill. It was a beautiful work of art, in the words of her deceased father, and right now she could understand why. Her husband was not one to hunt, but he did like to have the necessary equipment, and the newest member of his collection was a gorgeous Ithaca shotgun, model 37 to be exact, that had never been shot since its purchase. Picking it up and feeling the heaviness of the weapon, she thought that getting rid of Lon might be a perfect way to christen, the comb and forearm, made out of a beautiful dark wood, smooth under the touch of her fingertips.

There was no ammunition inside it, a safety precaution she had demanded Ace follow, but the box of bullets was right there, in the right bottom corner. Grabbing it she was making her way out the doors when her eyes caught a glimpse of the revolver. What they were going to do was dangerous, and Ellen wasn’t one to have weapons in her purse, so she picked it up just to be safe. Gertie had asked once what was happening and after not receiving an answer retreated to the kitchen, but the sight of Avis with a shotgun wasn’t a usual occurrence in that house, filling her up with worry. Rushing back to the front doors and slamming them close with her foot, to the best extent she could, she sat back inside her Cadillac, the engine still running, and handed everything to Ellen as she shifted into first gear and once again sped down her road towards 10th street just as she had planned back at the studio. The blond’s eyes could have popped out of her skull from how side they were looking at the weapons.

-Oh my God, Avis! You are not planning on going in there with two guns, are you?!

-Of course not! I need both hands for the shotgun, the revolver is for you.

-What?! I don’t know how to use it!

-I know, and I most certainly hope you don’t have to, but I can’t let you go without protection. We don’t know if it’s going to be just Lon or if there’s going to be twenty men in there, I need to know that you’ll be somehow safe. Just trust me, Ellen.

What other option did she have?! This was all insane, but when didn’t things turn crazy where the KKK was involved? The journey to the Station was just as crazy as the one to her house, but now Ellen had no way of holding onto the door so she wouldn’t slide from side to side, the boxes of ammunition slipping from her fingers every few seconds. The grip Avis had on the steering wheel left her knuckles white, painfully digging into the stiches. She knew she was right; she was sure that’s where that slimy son of a bitch had you, but she could not help the doubts that assaulted her mind. If she was wrong, the real culprit would still be roaming free without any of them being even an inch closer to finding out who he was, and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you once he found out she hadn’t answered any of his demands. She had no way of confirming any of it except for a gut feeling, a hunch. She hoped it was enough. At this time in the morning, the roads weren’t as empty as she had hoped for, and a couple of times cars honked as she manoeuvred and cut them off, but she couldn’t give two fucks. Approaching the station, the paths made out of cobblestones caused the car to rise and fall with each little bump, though they only had to suffer it for a minute or two, until they could head East near the gates. Avis was more careful in this part of the journey, knowing that the suspension of her car didn’t do well on roads like this one, a fact Ellen was most appreciative of, wondering just how dishevelled she looked.

It was a secondary road the one that appeared to head East, a dirty path that lifted a cloud of dust as the car drove over it. Henry had said for a mile and then she had to turn south. She felt a pressure on her chest, her breaths fast now that she was lifting her foot off the accelerator, controlling the vehicle as it moved over the rocks and stones that graced the ground under her car. Every beat of her heart felt as if rocks were falling over her shoulders, weighing her down, worry and fear overtaking part of the fury she was feeling, but she would carry on, there was no other option but for you to make it out alive. The car began to slow down as Avis’s thoughts took over, knowing that she should have put up a bigger fight last night, that she should have convinced you to stay no matter what you had said but honesty and respect were the bases of your relationship, and she hadn’t wanted to pressure you. It would have been easier if she had behaved like a bitch and had held onto you, not caring what you said or what you desired, just followed her instinct. If you died, she would never stop blaming herself. Ever. Turning South for half a mile, both ladies held their breaths as the trees began to separate more and more from each other, bringing forth a clearing where a broken-down fence circled the area where the house should be. This was it; they thought. Avis hadn’t reached the end of the road when she was turning the engine off and pulling on the hand brake, Ellen glancing her way with a questioning look.

-We’ll have to walk; I don’t want him to know we are here.

-Shouldn’t we wait for Dick and the others?

-We might not have that kind of time. We’ll check out the premises and if there’s no sign of people, or at least no sign of them being too many, we’ll go in.

-Are you sure, Avis? They might be armed as well.

-We only get one life, one chance at doing what matters, and I’m not letting her die. You can stay in the car if you’d rather wait for Dick. I would understand.

-No. I’m not letting you do this on your own. You are my friend, maybe even a sister, I’m not ditching you now.

Words hurt the same way a dagger slicing through one’s flesh could, but when said in all honestly, love and compromise enfolding them like a blanket, they could act as balm for a broken heart, soothing doubts and worries that were clearly overtaking Avis’s mind. No matter the outcome, she wouldn’t face it alone. Her hand squeezed Ellen’s softly, a kind smile painting her lips as a thank you, maybe as a farewell should they not make it, the other woman returning it just as tenderly. Determined to bring this all to an end, Avis opened her door and stepped out into the forest, her heels crushing twigs and seeds as she rounded the hood to open Ellen’s, picking up the shotgun and the bullets to let her slip out of her seat. She was not heading down the path without a loaded gun, and neither was her friend, but the blond didn’t seem to think it was necessary and she had to shoot out a hand to hold her still, handing her the revolver ammunition. Loading a shotgun was relatively easy, at least with this model. Avis only had to push the ammunition into the receiver until she heard a click before pushing the next bullet in and so on until the barrel was full, ready for her to pump the gun. Ellen didn’t think it was that simple, struggling for a few moments to open the loading gate of the revolver, but soon enough she figured out how the weapon worked, or at least the basics, and just as Avis had finished pushing the last bullet inside her weapon, Ellen was done cocking hers.

Their movements over the grass were meticulous, delivered in a perfect dance of careful steps and quiet whispers, Avis ahead. The edge of the forest got closer and closer, not a sound in the warm air around them, not even birds flying over their heads. That was already a bad sign. Coming up to the last line of trees Avis got the first glimpse at the house, perhaps about sixty feet away, and in her most humble opinion it was a miracle it was still standing. The roof had caved in by the falling of a branch, most of the windows were shattered, and the beams and insulation were out for the elements to affect them. In truth, it was the perfect spot to bring someone to; not a soul would dare set foot in that hazard of a house. The garden, overgrown with weeds, showed no signs of anyone having come to visit in years, except for the car that was now parked on the side, a black Lincoln that she knew for a fact belonged to Lon. They crossed the ruined fenced, plants crushed under their shoes until the set foot on an overworn stone path that led to the front door, the glass glazing shattered, missing some pieces that were probably lost through the yellow weeds. Each breath Avis took was held in her lungs for longer than was necessary, her heart beating so hard and fast that she could hear her blood pumping in her ears, hands slightly clammy around the comb and the forearm of her shotgun, muzzle pointing down at the ground. Her entire world could change in less than a second the instant she walked through that door, but she didn’t know if she could do it. She couldn’t hear a sound, that might mean you were…

Ellen’s hand did it for her. With surprised eyes Avis stared as her friend pushed it open, not a squeak or scratch coming from the old wood, a small win for them as their presence remained unknown. The ginger’s heel was the first thing to come into contact with the inside of the house, the musky odour of a closed-up home and ever-growing mold overwhelming her senses, but she pushed through. Each step was quiet, almost tippytoeing over the dirty carpet, taking in the state of the property as her ears perked up, capturing a faint noise, like a whimper. Upon hearing this she stood still, holding up her hand for Ellen to halt her movements as well, hardy breathing in hopes of hearing it again. Yes, there was a whimper coming from some room ahead, and she knew it was you who was making it. She could recognise your voice even if her head was underwater. She stopped being careful right then, her steps hard against the creaking wood as she came to terms with the fact that there was no one else in that house except for you and maybe Lon. Ellen tried to warn her with hushed words but to no avail; Avis was seeing red. Close to the end of the hallway was the entrance to a bathroom and a bit further down a metal door that was completely shut, but even through the thick material she could hear the voice of a man saying that he was going to gut you open, your whines and pleas quietly sounding in the background. Over her dead fucking body! Pointing the muzzle towards the lock, Avis pumped it hard and without warning pulled the trigger. It was as if a bomb had gone off, a scream escaping Ellen at the sudden noise, but it had served its purpose, and the door was now slightly open. Pushing it with her foot Avis came face to face with your battered body on the floor, a chair lying in a corner, and Lon standing over you with a cane raised in the air, his small beady eyes watching her with a terrified veil falling over them.

-Ding Dong, motherfucker. – she pumped her shotgun to make her point clear to him.

-What…? How…?

-Shut up! Drop the cane and take one step away from Y/N or I swear to everything in this fucking universe that I’ll blow your head off. – squatting slowly to the ground, he left the weapon on the concrete, raising his arms high in the air before doing what told, his back barely two feet away from the damp wall. His eyes never left her form, terror making him shake on his spot. – You thought you could play me? You don’t know who you are messing with.

-Please, Avis…

-Do I need to repeat myself?! SHUT UP! I don’t care about your excuses; I don’t care for anything you might have to say. You dug your grave, Lon; I think I’ll put you in it.

-Avis, Dick is here.

-Don’t move an inch, Lon. I’m feeling trigger-happy. – Avis turned her head to the doorway, purposely refusing to look at you in fear that your state might make her buckle in her resolution to end him, that it might make her weak for a moment and he would take the opportunity to fight her for the gun. Ellen’s eyes weren’t on her though, and that made her heart clench in grief at the thought of how you might look, but she remained strong and addressed the blond. – Go get him and take Y/N out to the car. – the woman, as petite as she was, run fast even in high heels. As Avis’s eyes returned to Lon, she saw the splatters of blood that stained his shirt, the way his hands were bathed in the crimson liquid, dripping down his arms and staining his cuffs. She was finding it increasingly difficult to not kill him right there and then. – You thought you were so smart that I wouldn’t find out? You messed with my family, I would have figured out it was you in the end, no matter how long it would have taken.

-You don’t understand.

-I don’t understand?! You kidnapped an innocent woman, beat her close to death, lied to my face, and you still think you are in a position to tell me I don’t understand?! Who do you think you are?!

He remained silent, trembling against the wall. He had been caught; he couldn’t get out of this one. What had happened? He had never failed before, he had never made a mistake and yet here he was, with a gun to his head for the first time since joining the group. He was supposed to be the one threatening and intimidating people, not her, he was supposed to be the superior being, how had she outsmarted him?! Dick and Ellen rushed down the corridor and quickly made their way inside the room past Avis, picking you up as gently as they could. Your entire world had shrunk to the size of your broken body, nothing that was going on around you being registered by your abused mind anymore, the only thing you could feel and think about was the agony you were in. Caring hands lifted you off the cold floor and for an instant you wondered if your time had come, angels taking you to the heavens. You wanted to see their kind faces, you didn’t want to die with the sight of Lon engraved in your head, but upon cracking them open, the action exhausting, you saw two people you knew very well, and then in the background was her. Avis was alright, she wasn’t hurt in any way, her face perfect still with her rosy cheeks and plump red lips, those big deep brown eyes turning to look at you, filled with rage that wasn’t yours to worry about. A lopsided smile broke from your lips at the sight of your love, every horrible thing that he had done to you vanishing into the ether as you let the love that filled her eyes wrap around you. Everything would be alright now, was your last thought before the world turned black. Ellen and Dick did their job and took you out of the house and into Avis’s Cadillac, checking your pulse. Avis did not move from her spot though.

-How does it feel to be cornered Lon? Do you like the way fear can overtake one’s mind this quickly?

-How?

-You made a mistake, as simple as that. You thought you were being so careful, so meticulous. I must admit you almost had me there, but like always, I’m one step ahead.

-This is not over. I might not have succeeded this time, but I sure as Hell will the next one.

-You think you are going to have a next one? Not a chance. You tried to destroy my and my husband’s entire work; you terrified my daughter and nearly killed my girlfriend. How can you still think you will have a next time?

-Because we always win. – he jumped towards her, his hands raised to grab her weapon, but she was quick, and the trigger just felt so soft under her finger. The sound of the bullet ejecting from the gun echoed inside the room as well as the outside of the house, heads lifting in worry at it, but Avis was completely uninjured. Lon, though, he was holding onto his shattered leg, screaming in agony as blood and shards of bone fell over the dirty ground, his body colliding heavily against the concrete.

-Not today, you son of a bitch. I have worked too fucking hard for everything that I have, and I won’t let you or anyone take it from me. So better get used to the idea of Meg, because I will invest every ounce of my time and money to make it the best film in the fucking world. And Archie and Camille will be on contract until my very last day as head of the studio. Because it’s mine, not yours. Mine.

-Ace… won’t let you…

-Ace will fire you, if not kill you himself, the moment he finds out about your little stunt. You don’t know who you’ve messed with, but I will make sure you don’t forget. I’ve got friends too Lon, and they are not happy about this at all.

-You can’t… Ahhhh…

-I can’t what, Lon? Kill you? Speak up!

-He won’t… believe you. He’s never cared.

-That might be so, but he will believe Dick. And his daughter. You see? I’m always one step ahead. Any last words? – she was growing tired of this whole conversation, as thriving and delicious as it was to have him under her thumb like this. She pumped the shotgun again, the last bullet she had inside the weapon, drinking in the way his eyes filled with terror, mumbling quickly, pleading to her.

-Wait, wait! Please!

-Being this emotional is not letting you think clearly, Lon. There is no room for mercy in me, there never was and there never will be.

-Please, don’t! I could… help you… I could do something…

-Don’t beg, it doesn’t suit you. I don’t want anything that you might have to offer; that boat sailed the moment you kidnapped Y/N. You are lucky I’ve let you live this long. You don’t know how much I wanted to put a bullet through your eyebrows the instant I set foot in here, but I didn’t want Y/N to suffer anymore. But now that it’s only us I can do what I desire the most. I hope you get what you deserve in Hell. - In a cloud of smoke, the last bullet pierced through the air, until it lodged itself in the middle of his chest, blood pouring over his white shirt by the pint, thin trickles running down his nose and from the corners of his mouth. He spat and gurgled, trying to cover up his wound with his hands, but it was futile. She held her head high and took in the way the light seemed to be dimming in his eyes. – Remember this, Lon. I’m Avis fucking Amberg and I just beat you at your own game.

It was over, at last. Adrenaline rushed through her entire body at the speed of light, the exhilaration that came with a job well done, mixing with the unexpected wave of guilt and terror at what she had done. Her steps as she walked down the hallway were unsteady, clumsy over the debris that had accumulated over the years, and for a moment, she had to stop and hold herself up by placing a hand on the crumbling wall. She felt sick to her stomach, her entire frame shaking as the noises he had been making turned into silence, a wave of cold air coming through the broken windows. She had never, in her entire life considered herself to be a violent woman. Yes, she was temperamental, but she had never raised a hand to a single soul, not even to Claire when she had been little and misbehaved, and to have the image of a dead man, a man she had killed, engraved in her mind was like a punch to her gut. She had never wanted this, she wasn’t like this, but the most primeval part of herself, the part that needed to ensure the safety of her family, had taken over not thinking about the consequences, just that she needed to find you and protect you. Part of her mind was telling her that she should have handled it differently, she was an orator, not a gangster, but the other half, the louder one, was telling her she had done the right thing, that she had to kill him. She couldn’t risk letting him go, even if he was injured, thinking that the matter was closed only for everything to happen again in a few months’ time. With him gone no one would hurt them anymore, all the threats would be empty words, and the studio would carry on as if nothing had happened. It had to be done, she kept thinking to herself, you would never be safe otherwise and that simple fact lessened the burden of her actions. Actions that she swore to the Heavens and herself she would never repeat again. With one last glance towards the metal door, she carried on walking down the hallway and out into the warm midday sun. Ellen ran to meet her, wrapping her arms around her body in a strong hug. She hadn’t realised how much she needed that until she felt her breath shaking as a lump formed in her throat, preventing her from speaking, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. The blond held her for a minute or so, feeling Avis’s trembling limbs trying to wrap themselves around her small waist in search of comfort. Hearing the shots all the way from in between the trees, had had her losing her mind, Dick holding her in place and telling her that you needed her more than Avis did to prevent her from running back to the house. But she had anyway, and just at the right time to see her walking out of there without a scratch on her body.

The relief was monumental. But there was a more pressing matter to attend to, and the blond was quick in dragging Avis back to her car, Dick’s and Ernie’s parked right behind it. He really had brought the cavalry, Avis thought. The world had crumbled when she had first heard your voice through the phone, now it had combusted and turned into ashes as she laid eyes on your poor battered body. There was not an inch that wasn’t purple or injured in some way, your once beautiful dress now drenched in red. She felt faint, and her knees didn’t support her weight at the sight of you, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. You looked so small, so vulnerable, and it clawed at her heart so deeply that tears began to fall down her cheeks, the shotgun lying over the grass beside the car, forgotten. Nothing in her entire life had ever hurt like this. These feelings were crushing her, deafening, muting and blinding her in a never-ending wave of sorrow and anguish that was taking hold of her. She had caused this, you were lying here shattered to pieces because of her, and it was that thought the one that she couldn’t get over. With her hand pushing your hair gently off your face, she touched your still-soft flesh, but it was colder under her fingertips. God, she could not bear to lose you. Dick’s voice came from behind her, reaching her ears in slow motion as she cried over your unconscious frame, tears falling and losing themselves among your locks of hair.

-She’s still alive, but she needs a hospital, Avis.

#avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #patti lupone x reader #patti lupone #lilia calderu #lilia x reader #we thank miss lupone simply for existing #hollywood 2020

72 notes · View notes