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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 2 months

Note

📖💻🐑

bc omg imagining an awkward friends to lovers situation with him in ant man is SO adorable

Not So Typical Heist - Kurt Goreshter/Reader

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, very clueless reader lmao

Wordcount: 6293

Summary: Folsom State Prison. Once you got out you never looked back, your life of crime over for good. You said that, but then why were you answering a burner email from your former Solitary neighbour when you'd never said two words to the guy? The job must be pretty good to tempt you back into a life of crime, or is it the man himself you want back in your life?

Notes: Back to back Kurt 🥰 WOO sorry this one took so long, it's been a busy week so I was only able to chip away at it a little each shift, but each time I did I was swooning so much. I truly love this man, I love writing him so much, and I hope that this version of awkward ends up being okay and that you enjoy it 😊

To say that your time in Folsom State Prison was a rather… undesirable time in your life would be an understatement. Once you got out you swore you'd go legit, too many smart remarks directed towards the guards eventually scaring you straight when they tossed your sorry ass into solitary to cool you off, and when you saw the sun again that was it, no more hotwiring cars you liked and pickpocketing for you no matter how easy the mark looked. The sun was warm and the sky was blue on the day you walked out of there, and when you hitched a ride a suitable distance away you wished the place and everyone in it good riddance.

So imagine your surprise when, years later and out of nowhere, you get an email from an address you don't recognize with a name you do.

Kurt had been next to you in solitary, the man ending up there almost as often as you with his tendency to slip into the guard room and hack the computer so that a security camera might just glitch at the exact moment someone needed to nab some extra food, or a keycard wouldn't be required to open a gate when he felt like taking a stroll. They'd marked him for it, the tattoo artist in your block staining his skin black as thanks for his hard work, and he wore each one with pride as he was escorted down into the small room next to yours again and again. You remembered him well because of all that, as well as the fact that his hair always perfectly styled despite the shortage of products in prison, but you had no idea what the hell he wanted with you considering you'd never once said a word to the guy.

His English hadn't been as good when he'd been brought in, a Russian speaker from another block his translator as he learned from everyone else, but even when he no longer needed the translator and could speak to everyone freely you still never found the words to say to him, those cold, dark eyes always staring you down whenever you passed in the hallway or ran into each other in the yard. You'd seen that he was friendly, his face usually stoic as he conversed but still was social all the same, and the odd hack job he'd do for those with a problem had made life a little easier for the new guys who weren't as ready to hole up there. You weren't a coward, smooth talking actually one of your strong suits and one of the reasons you'd been locked up in the first place, but the second you opened your mouth to talk to him nothing would come out as soon as he'd stare down at you.

Why in the absolute hell was he messaging you now?

The email was a burner, and the message inside was nonsense, but because you'd been in the same block you knew all the lingo to decipher that he wanted to meet you somewhere to discuss whatever the hell a cuffing might be, you must've missed that one back then. The location was a public park in San Francisco with a large fountain near the entrance, he'd be waiting with more info on Tuesday at noon when it was the least busy. You thought about it, wondering what use he'd have with you when you weren't exactly penpals here, but as you were about to pull up a map of the park on your phone it hit you that he didn't want to meet you for coffee and donuts as a fellow inmate, he wanted to bring you in on a job, that's probably what cuffing meant since he knew you were a pickpocket.

You scoffed, you were done with that life, you weren't about to have some guy you barely knew from years ago just come in and drag you right back again, but still you hesitated when you went to delete it. You pictured him in his orange jumpsuit, the sleeves pushed up and his hands brushing back his hair as passed by, his eyes on you like he was figuring out how to hack you, and you pulled up the map after all to see where this park was exactly, your place almost an hour outside of San Francisco.

You wore something discreet to the meeting, your fingers unfortunately twitching as you watched the odd person walk by, millions of ideas to what the job might end up being playing through your mind as you watched the remaining time tick down on the large clock nearby. When you saw him you were taken back a little, not used to seeing him in anything other than orange as he walked through the gate; he looked the same, a bit older but still exactly the same, and clearly you did too as he noticed you and walked right on over. You remained seated on the ledge of the fountain, your eyes avoiding him as he approached, and when he held out his hand to you you felt almost daring when you took it and shook.

‘So, what's the job?’ you asked as soon as he sat down a little closer than you expected, and he looked at you before glancing down to the polo under his leather jacket.

‘X-Con, specialize in security of all kind,’ he answered in a normally loud tone, and you glanced around before shifting closer so he could lower his voice.

‘Whattaya need me for? You got a bit for me you can't hack?’ You stared down the woman walking by, her coat upturned from the chill of the air as well as your gaze.

He hesitated, those dark eyes making you feel like you were back at Folsom again even as the cloudy sky kept you aware of the fact that you were far from solitary. ‘We're in need of secretary and script writer, someone to talk smooth and win over clients,’ he explained, and while it wasn't pickpocketing or hotwiring you could at least still do that; so they were posing as people who'd need access to this security place, probably so he could hack in and grab some blueprints in their files, gain intel in blind spots, you could do that, you could be a great distraction anyway when you already knew how fast he worked.

‘How much it pay?’

‘We're up to the 50 thousand, plus Dental.’

Damn, heisting had benefits now? ‘I'm in, when do we meet?’

‘I thought we were meeting right now.’

Double damn, this guy worked fast, he always was on top of things back at Folsom. ‘You got the address of the place, then?’ He nodded and stood, your coat collar tugged up high to block out the breeze, and when you started off towards the entrance a couple cops decided now would be a perfect time to take a walk. You moved closer to him, expecting him to give you space, but he just placed his hand on your lower back and casually led you towards the road, the cops looking you over but ultimately not doing anything, you were just two people on a walk, just like them.

It turned out that the place wasn't far from the park, your eyes constantly on the lookout for ways to escape as he brought you to a much smaller building and then even smaller office inside than you expected, this might just be a two-man job at this rate. You waited for him to give you the rundown of how long he needed, five scenarios of who you might be already forming in your mind when he just walked inside, no warning for you at all as you rolled with the punches and walked in right after him. There were two people already inside, the one concentrating so hard on his papers that he didn't even look up, the other just glancing your way before nodding a welcome; nice place, this would be probably the easiest mark of your life.

‘The weather it is much nicer than the morning,’ he told them, the distracted man finally looking up with a start.

‘Ohhhhhh shit- welcome! Yeah he told us you were coming, you in the market for some security? We just got in this new brand of camera, does night vision day vision facial tracking the battery on this thing lasts for like a month if you can't have it plugged in, we can give you a great deal if you need any?’ He said it all so fast you had no time to choose an identity, your mouth falling open as Kurt waved the offer away and steered you towards the display cases.

‘Don't listen, he is always in business mode,’ he said lowly, and you straightened your back and decided on someone just as lively to combat it, keep him talking so Kurt could do his part. You gave him a subtle nod and walked over, extending your hand and flashing him a polite smile.

‘I have been thinking about replacing my own security, I live in the middle of nowhere so there's always punks coming onto my property, what do you have in terms of, say, spotlights to scare them away?’

‘Oh for real, can you look that up for me?’ he asked to his associate before motioning for you to follow him over to the wall behind his desk. ‘We've got a few in our registry for now, but I know these guys tend to be popular right here.’ He gestured towards some pretty sizable spotlights as his associate, Dave, as his nametag read, walked up with a list of prices and specs, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Kurt sit down at another desk and start typing, time to work.

‘My place is surrounded by trees so I need something really bright, do you have anything with maybe a speaker, or a buzzer? I'd love to be able to set it off from my phone.’ You were talking out of your ass, trying to think of what they would use back at Folsom, but they still took you seriously as Kurt kept typing out of sight; he was working fast but usually he'd be done by now, maybe being out for so long had slowed him? You waited until they were done before pretending something else caught your eye, some big and fancy camera with a connection of one helluvan alarm system to go with it, their gazes directed away from him you hummed and asked about it.

They gave you the whole pitch, Kurt still working, and you started to fear that he'd get caught when suddenly the door opened again and another man walked in with two large bags of food. ‘Sorry for the wait, traffic was murder on the way back, nearly had to get out and direct it myself when some idiot ran a light,’ he explained, your skin crawling in fear when you recognized that voice; you'd seen him on TV, his face on books and his voice reading it aloud, he might just be the most recognizable man in all of San Francisco by now.

Scott goddamn Lang was placing the bags on one of the displays without a care, the logo the other two were wearing on his shirt as well as he handed out the food, his jacket tossed onto the glass and his eyes instantly going right past you to where Kurt was still at the computer.

That was it, you were so screwed, heist over, time to go back to jail, Ant-Man of all people just busted the both of you.

You were in the middle of holding out your wrists for the cuffs so maybe he'd kick your ass a little softer if you went easy, but instead of suiting up he just walked him over a container and placed it down next to him. ‘So, how'd it go?’ he asked nonchalantly, Kurt opening up the lid to confirm that his order was correct to your pure and absolute surprise.

‘Very well, we have new secretary now,’ he told him as he picked up his plastic fork in his right hand, his left gesturing to where you were standing with not your targets but his co-workers apparently.

‘Ohhhhh so that's why you're here! My bad, I'll get the paperwork ready, but you might have to learn all this stuff if you're gunna work here anyway, do you have some free time today? Wait, we just got lunch, we'll order you some and then start, that sounds good?’ Again you were stunned as Luis, who was also his co-worker and not your target, you couldn't even believe all this, pulled up a form on his computer and printed it out for you for read and sign, Scott coming over to pull up the restaurant's menu on his phone so you could decide on what you wanted while Dave just grabbed his food and sat down to eat.

Somehow, while you were trying to heist them, they ended up heisting you; guess you had to find a place in town and fast so there'd be no hour-long commute, because you sure as hell weren't about to admit to any of them that you did not wanna be their secretary after all of that.

They ended up helping you find a decent place not only in budget but nearby, and it wasn't until you started moving in that you learned it was only a floor higher than Luis’ apartment, which is where Kurt and Dave stayed as well. It almost felt like prison again being this close and running into him in the halls on your way to the lobby or the laundry room in the basement, and even though you'd been working together for almost a month already you still barely talked. When he wasn't preoccupied with his own work then you were answering the phone or writing scripts, which turned out to be for commercials and whatnot, and when you finally had a moment to breathe he'd be working on the webpage or setting up some code to make incompatible systems work together based on what the customer wanted.

It was a busier job than expected, and it felt weird that first month having all those cameras on you even though they were off and unplugged, but the more you clocked in the more used to it you became. Luis and Scott were easy to talk to, which really helped, even if Luis had a tendency to ramble until you lost the plot. Dave was easygoing and preferred to listen, his answers were always pretty short which made you have to do most of the talking, but he didn't seem to mind or care all that much.

But Kurt, even though years had passed, still never had anything to say to you directly. He would talk to the others just fine, but whenever you'd talk with him there'd end up being some kind of miscommunication that led to you doing an errand together like heading to the bank or post office, or you going with him to pick up lunch. You were spending time together, but talking was still an absolute mystery to you, which is why you were currently sitting with him alone at what you thought was a work get-together to celebrate two months on the job.

The way he'd worded it had sounded like the others had already agreed to it, so when you'd showed up to the restaurant you'd expected them to show as well, but instead you'd just found him there all dressed up and ready to escourt you to your table. You didn't pry, they'd come eventually, but when he started ordering you just figured they'd had to cancel and ordered as well. It was a nice night regardless, he was much easier to talk to outside of work distractions, so when he'd asked if you wanted to get together again next weekend you'd accepted without the promise of the others you'd realized after you got home.

He was quiet all week leading up to it, but this was a new type of quiet, his gaze softer as he glanced up at you and gave you a small smile. He'd been nicer as well, he'd always picked up donuts for everyone before work but now he also grabbed you a coffee, everyone else handling their own on the way there since they left at different times based on the availability of their shared bathroom for the most part. It was exactly how you liked it too, and you had to wonder if he'd asked Luis since he sat closest to you or if he was just that perceptive, but either way he got his information somehow and it was to your benefit.

After a week of coffees you wanted to do something nice to thank him, so you made sure to get up early and race for the bakery before he could. Your phone was out by the time you got to the counter, and the moment you were wished a good morning you swiped to the photo Luis took after you'd signed the papers. ‘If he walks in, tell him it's already been paid for, please,’ you told her, a crisp $50 bill slapped down on the counter, and she looked you over before recognition came to her eyes and she smiled wide.

‘Of course, would you like your change? He usually just gets the same thing,’ she grinned, but you shook your head and glanced back to see if he was walking up.

‘Nope, I don't wanna get the wrong order so offer him something to drink, or more danishes, maybe? Anything he looks at when he walks in, this is my thank you.’ She grinned again, her elbows on the counter as she already started to prepare the box for him as she always did.

‘You got it, should I say it was you?’

‘No thanks, I… I wanna surprise him myself, when he gets into work.’ You found yourself trailing off, like it'd just caught up to you that you wanted to be the one to see his smile when you told him, and you were so distracted by that that you almost missed her signal for you to hide. He was approaching the door, just barely seen through the glass, and you panicked just a moment before ducking into the bathroom nearby and shutting the door just as he opened his.

‘Good morning, dear Mocha,’ he said almost monotonously through the wood, but you could hear that he was happy.

‘Still Moina, will you be having your usual today?’ you heard her ask cheerfully, and it went silent as he thought before her voice cut in again. ‘We're actually having a sale on those, buy one for half price or get two and as well as a free coffee.’

‘Yes, very good, my friend would be liking this,’ he told her softly, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you pressed your ear to the door as he kept speaking, but you couldn't hear unless you opened it which you were not about to do. You didn't leave until you heard the bell ring along with Moina's overly loud goodbye, and you peeked out to see her grinning again at you from the counter.

‘Better hurry before he beats you to work,’ was all she said before pushing a bag with the largest treat she had towards you, a silent encouragement to gift him again thanks to your change, and you grabbed it before racing down the street without being seen.

You just managed to beat him thanks to cutting through an alley and circling back, the other three looking up as you burst in all red-faced and out of breath, and they just didn't say a word as they got back to turning on their computers and getting everything ready for the day. You sat down at your desk and caught your breath, the treat thankfully still preserved as you set it beside your temporary laptop until they got you your own computer next month, and by the time he walked in you were pretty much back to normal again. You gave him a wave as he opened the door, and you were about to give him the extra large cannoli topped with frosted sugar and chocolate drizzle as your big thank you when he gave you yours first, your eyes widening as he placed it in front of you along with your coffee.

‘Bakery was having sale this morning, thought you might enjoy,’ he said almost nervously, and you stuttered before giving him his, no second one telling you that he'd only had you in mind when he'd accepted the fake sale.

‘I… I saw, you like sweets so I wanted to thank you, for all the coffee I mean,’ you told him, the others silent as he set down the box for them to tear through before grabbing his chair and pulling it up to your table. He opened up the bag and held up his treat, waiting for you to do the same, and as the powder and chocolate got all over your fingers he tapped his against yours in a toast before taking a big bite the same time as you. It was totally delicious, they nailed everything about it from the flakiness of the dough to the sweetness of the cream, and you laughed when you both ended up with your faces a mess.

The others started conversing with each other over the danishes and the big sell you were in the middle of finalizing, Kurt sliding his chair a little closer as he wiped off his mouth and offered you a napkin. ‘I am excited for our drinking together, there is place just down the street we like to go to, very good atmosphere, you will like,’ he told you as you took a sip of your coffee, the flavour of it only enhancing the treat even more.

‘I bet I will, clearly you have good taste,’ you joked as you held up your drink, but you paused when he actually blushed a little, something you had never ever seen before in all the years you'd known him. He took another bite and choked a little thanks to an unfortunate inhale, and you offered your drink to him so he could clear his windpipe again. He just looked at it before accepting, and you swallowed as he did when you saw the way his lips curled over the rim of the cup so he wouldn't spill a drop.

‘Thank you, I might be having to switch from my usual,’ he grinned as he handed it back, and when you took it you let your fingers linger over his for just a moment before you quickly pulled it back and nearly spilled. He just smiled before taking another bite, and when you stood to toss out the pastry bag you noticed how the other three quickly pretended they weren’t watching you as they turned back to their screens.

You blazed through your work that day, all four of you piling into the van while Scott took off for his own apartment, and you started to zone out when Kurt sat beside you but didn't say anything after a whole day of stolen glances. You didn't know when it'd happened, but you were realizing that you were starting to get a crush on the guy when Luis hit a bump and your leg bumped into his. You both tensed as you looked down at the contact, but neither of you moved until he pulled into the parking lot out back and Kurt stood to open the door. He jumped out first, his hand outstretched for you to take, and you did just so as you also hopped out and headed to the back door.

‘I'll be ready in about a half an hour, unless you'd rather go later?’ you suggested nervously, Dave hurrying Luis up the stairs first before he could start whatever he was going to say.

‘Am ready now, just need to change shirt to something more comfortable.’ His hand hovered over his chest as he straightened said shirt, and your eyes refused to look away until you reached his floor and he had to split off from you so you could continue to your own.

‘I'll just change my shirt too, then,’ you quickly said as he opened the door, the dawning realization that once you met up again it would be on purpose, this was now a date, wait, was it always a date? You pondered it as you raced upstairs, your keys clanging loudly as you fumbled them from your jacket pocket and tried to unlock your door; you started going over everything as you threw open your closet and tried to find something that was nicer than casual but not too fancy for a bar meet-up, your head swimming with everything that'd happened since you got there. You came up blank, other than the cannoli from this morning you couldn't place any difference in him that would've led to him asking you out a week ago, so you decided to play it safe just in case your feelings were reciprocated.

You nodded at your reflection as you made sure you looked okay, the door locked again as you pulled your jacket back on and headed back down as calmly as you could manage. He left right as you reached his floor, Luis still talking about something as the door shut, and he couldn't help but look you over and make you doubt your memories again.

‘The walk is fast, we can order some food to be going along with the drinks if you're hungry,’ he said as you stepped back outside, the sun already setting thanks to the fall turning to winter, and you pulled your jacket a little tighter as he led the way to the bar. You were glad he knew so many places within walking distance because it gave you a good chance to try and see if he really was acting different towards you, but the only thing he really did the whole way there was keep pace with you despite his long legs making him naturally faster than you as well as getting the door when you finally arrived. It was cozy inside, just a normal bar with a casual atmosphere as something played on the TV by the counter, a few tables pushed against the wall so people could sit together and eat something while they drank. You did like it, and you let him know it as you picked out a table and checked out the small menus.

They didn't offer too much since it was mostly drinks, just the typical bar food like fries and wings and such, but you were indeed hungry amidst the nerves so when the server came over you made sure to grab an order of fries to go along with your favourite drink. To your surprise he ended up ordering a virgin mule, skipping the vodka entirely as he asked for some various sauces to go alone with your fries, and when the server had left you leaned in curiously. ‘I didn't know you didn't drink,’ you said before you realized how it sounded, and you floundered a little as you tried to clarify. ‘I mean, you asked me to a bar, I thought you might’ve-’

‘Quit during aftermath of The Snap, as they call it, when I was realizing the dependency.’ His voice was soft and serious, quiet and painfully honest, and you looked at the table as you played with the corner of the menu.

‘What… what was it like? Those five years, I mean, when everyone was…’ You didn't want to say it, to say it would be confirming your own death during that time, something you had fought so hard to avoid ever since you came back and found yourself without a home in the blink of an eye. ‘I never knew you were one of the ones who didn't…’

‘Get the dust?’ He said it so easily, and you found yourself subconsciously holding your arms like you were afraid you'd disappear again. ‘It was… lonely, not having the others around, I was managing to keep the business floating but I was finding myself being unprofessional at work, drinking at all of the hours to forget they were gone.’ He looked so sad, you couldn't imagine what it'd been like for everyone during those five years, and after spending so much time around the others you could understand how lonely the office would feel without them there.

‘I'm glad you were able to pull through, you're stronger than me, I think,’ you admitted, thinking about how you'd taken the news that you were gone for so long and how everything had changed so easily without you, and you didn't realize you'd said it out loud when you felt his hand over yours.

‘I was always wondering if you were still out there,’ he said softly, his fingers closing over your hand that you didn't realize was shaking, and again you had to know if he was saying it because he remembered you from Folsom or if he had feelings for you. You flipped your hand around so you could hold his, reciprocated feelings or not you didn't want to lose him in that moment, and when the server came back with your fries you made sure to ask for a nonalcoholic drink instead.

You spent hours at the bar, sipping your drinks and eventually getting some wings to go along with the fries when one hour turned to two and the hunger possessed you both, the room filled with not only yours but his laughter as well as you kept talking. You didn't know why it was so hard to talk to him before, he still kept those deadpan remarks but he had a genuine reply for everything you said, every question you asked, and when it was you who asked if he wanted to maybe do this again sometime his reply came so fast it almost winded you.

‘Yes, I would very much be liking to, there is event coming up that you may like, I will grab the information on the phone,’ he quickly said as he did indeed pull out his phone, but before he could show it to you you just placed your hand over his and got him to look at you.

‘Kurt… is this a date?’

He blinked, too stunned for words, and he looked around before giving you the most incredulous look you'd ever seen him make. ‘Were you not wanting it to be?’ he asked self-consciously, and you just as quickly shook your head as you scooted your chair closer to the table, your stomach pressed into the wood.

‘No! I mean, I wasn't sure, like I thought it wouldn't be just us at the dinner, so I thought this was-’ He looked away from you, he was taking it the wrong way, and you held his hand with both of yours to get him to look at you again. ‘Hey, if it is, I'm really happy you asked me out,’ you finally told him, and he muttered something in Russian before holding your hands up to his mouth to kiss them.

‘I've never known how to talk with you, you are such the mystery,’ he confessed with a smirk, your jaw dropping in surprise. ‘I ask you out months ago and you ask for job, I bring you to dinner and you expect others, I invite you along with me every chance I get but you no talk, I give you coffee with my number on the cup every time and you no call, I ask you out for drinks and you think as friends,’ he lists, and you feel your face heat up from the absolute embarrassment of missing signals so bad that you were now his co-worker instead of his partner. ‘Just like in Folsom, I try giving you signal and you just look away when I get close, how much more the obvious can I make it that I'm liking you?’

Your eyes widened as he kissed your hands again, every single moment you were together playing in your head again as you finally saw the signs, even all the way back when he was looking at you the way he was now the first time you saw each other in the halls at Folsom. He was so stoic you'd just assumed this was his face, his normal expression since he never spoke to you, but you knew now that he was just quiet, it was the company that brought out his voice as need be, and since you'd never said a word he hadn't either, and still he'd fallen for you just from that alone. He waited for your answer as he lowered your hands back to the table, and without a word you stood and leaned across the whole thing to press an experimental kiss to his lips when the words still wouldn't come out.

When you parted you saw that he'd closed his eyes, he was a romantic under all that stoicism, and you chuckled when he reached up to place a hand on the back of your neck to bring you in for another, then another, like he really had been waiting for this for years. You tasted the time on his tongue, the five years at Folsom, the two you were out just after him, the five he wondered if you were still alive out there, and the two months he waited to see if you would ever feel the same as he sat across from you, all of it conveyed in how much he thought of you until you had to part again for air.

‘I thought I was good at reading people, you were the only one I could never crack,’ you whispered against his mouth, and he chuckled as he let you sit back down again.

‘I'm glad you accepted my first date, the others they convince me to reaching out when I saw your photo in the paper,’ he told you as he finished off his drink and the last of the fries, and you were confused until he pulled up a picture on his phone and showed it to you; there you were, walking in the background of a photo about some new business opening, your face turned slightly towards the camera to see what the commotion was about. You remembered that day, you'd come into town to run some errands, and your heart pounded at the thought of him happening to see this and needing to find you so bad that he apparently hunted down your email to reach you. You couldn't fault him, he was an ex-con hacker after all, only him able to get away with such a thing and make you smile about it as he put his phone away again.

‘I wish we'd been able to talk at Folsom, this whole time I thought you didn't like me,’ you admitted with a laugh, but he didn't find it as funny as he admitted the same. ‘Well, the cat's outta the bag now, so what do we do?’

‘First,’ he started as he took your hand again so when he stood you had to follow, ‘I will do the asking out of you proper, so the next date can be confirmed.’ He took out his wallet and tossed a few bills onto the table, your coats grabbed as he then led you to the door. ‘Second, we will be needing to make space in your apartment, you are too far from me for my liking.’

‘Oh, so you're gunna move in, just like that?’ you teased as the cold wind nipped at your cheeks, his coat also around your shoulders to keep you warm.

‘Only until we're finding the house nearby, something like Scott's, so as to keep walking to work and my favourite places.’ His mind was completely made up and you could only laugh at his vision, he must've been imagining this for quite a while.

‘Sounds reasonable, any places for sale nearby?’ He unlocked the door to your building and held it open for you so you could hurry in first.

‘Scott's, he is to be moving in with Hope, he give me good price for love.’ He slung his coat over his arm as you ascended the stairs together, your paces still matched.

‘Love…?’

He stopped as he reached his floor, his hand still holding yours as his back rested against the wood, and when his other one cupped your cheek you leaned into it. ‘For long time I've been missing you, I wish to know you even better, the best, I don't want to let you go again,’ he said softly, and you gave his sleeve a little tug as you backed up towards the staircase leading up to your place.

‘The night's still young, you could come home and tell me everything you wanted to say back at Folsom,’ you replied just as gently, and there was no missed signal as his eyes shone with relief and happiness as you both headed upstairs together, no more barriers keeping you apart now that you'd found each other again.

#Ray's Readers #Ray's Requests #david dastmalchian #kurt goreshter #kurt goreshter x reader

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cambion-companion · 2 years

Note

hi lovely, can i request prompt 68 with aemond being the one to say it :p <3

Yes! I did not forget about you, Nonny! I know it's been a while :)

68. A Hoarse Whisper “Kiss Me”

Aemond x reader | library shenanigans

The flickering light of the fireplace was the only illumination in the library as both you and Aemond poured over the hefty volumes that lay open before you.

"Look at this, Y/N!" Aemond said excitedly, pointing to a line of words in black ink you had to squint at to see.

"I can't read High Valyrian, Aemond." You reminded the prince, smiling indulgently at his excitement as he began translating for you.

"The first to fall during Aegon's conquest of Westeros was the Kingdom of Harren the Black consisting of the Iron Islands and the Riverlands. Aegon and his dragons laid waste to Harren's "impregnable" fortress of Harrenhal." Aemond looked up at you, his eye shining in the firelight. "I have always wanted to travel to the Riverlands, see the fortress of Harrenhal for myself."

"I am sure you one day will!" His own ardor for the histories you studied was infectious. "The world is a small place when you ride the largest dragon!"

His laughter mingled with your own as Aemond surveyed your firelit face with fondness. "I'll take you with me, if you so desire."

Those words, spoken with such sudden sincerity, caused the breath to leave you lungs. He took your silence to mean a decline, his face falling slightly. "Of course, I wouldn't force you to."

"I'd like that very much." Your voice, though soft, hinted at the underlying feelings you'd been nurturing for the prince for quite some time now. "Tell me more about Aegon the Conqueror."

You couldn't read the expression flitting across Aemond's features. You read surprise there, as well as a softer, more unfamiliar look in his lilac eye. You continued hastily; in case you had offended him. "I enjoy it when you tell me about the things that interest you."

He remained silent.

"You are the smartest person I know." You were feeling uneasy now, Aemond hadn't blinked once since you'd started rambling. "I learn something new every day studying here with you."

"Kiss me." Aemond's voice was a hoarse whisper.

"I-what?" You had to do a double take, leaning forward to peer closer at his face.

"Kiss me." He repeated, louder this time.

Bemused, you hesitated a moment before placing a soft kiss to his forehead, half expecting to feel he had come down with fever.

"No." Aemond caught your chin in his fingers before you could pull away. "Not like that."

He tilted his head, bringing his parted lips to press against your own. You made a small, surprised sound at the electric sensation sending pleasant shivers down your body. Aemond moved his mouth in tandem with your own for a few more heated moments before pulling back to measure your expression. You must've looked a sight, causing a soft chuckle to escape the prince. "Like that."

You pressed a finger to where his lips had been seconds before, your eyes flicking up to meet his smoldering gaze.

"Will you let me try once more?" You asked him sweetly.

Aemond smirked at you. "You may try as many times as you wish, my lady."

Trying hard to mask your eagerness, you shifted closer to him, tangling your hands in his long hair, kissing him again.

From now on you were going to insist on studying with him in the secluded section of the library more often.

#aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond drabble #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #prince aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond x reader #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine

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amyispxnk · 11 months

Text

Me, you, and a motorbike.

Summary - Javi takes you for a ride on his motorbike

A/N: I am in desperate need of dividers. Does anyone know how I should go about getting those? Pls help a gal out 🙏 ALSO please tell me if the Spanish is wrongly translated. Lo siento if any mistakes 😞

Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count- 1,041

Warnings: pet names, fluff, riding a motorbike, Javier Peña in a leather jacket on said motorbike should have it's own warning tbh, language, established relationship

DO NOT COPY THIS WORK IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

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"Hermosa.. what the fuck is this?" Javi laughed as he approached you in the driveway.

You were proudly leaning up against a motorbike, letting your fingertips trace random patterns over the cool metal.

"A motorbike, obviously." You said, exaggerating the obviously with a cheeky eye-roll.

"Well yeah, but.. why?" His eyebrow raised when he realised just how nice the bike was, you had clearly spent a good amount of money on it. "You don't know how to ride one of these, do you?"

"No... but you do." You announced proudly, producing a faded photograph from your back-pocket and waving in front of him. It must've been almost 2 decades old, slightly torn at the edges and having that classic 80s look to it. In the picture, Javi was sat on a motorbike and practically beaming at the camera - already showing off the very different personality he had before Colombia with just that smile - wearing a black leather jacket, black t-shirt, and those damn skinny jeans he apparently insisted on wearing his entire life. His face looked young, the signature 'stache adorning his upper lip, messy brown hair going in all directions as he held his helmet to the side - clearly having just been on a ride.

He took the picture from you and shook his head, laughing to himself quietly as he recalled the days when he used to bike.

"Where the fuck did you find this?" Javi asked as he handed it back to you and crossed his arms, studying the motorbike.

"Chucho showed it to me a few weeks ago, and I just knew I had to see you in action." You told him, making him groan; Chucho had a habit of showing anyone he could all of Javi's childhood photos, especially the embarrassing ones. He furrowed his brows as he tried to think of any potentially incriminating ones you could've seen when you pushed a helmet into his hands.

"Let's go!" You chirped, about to put your own helmet on when he stopped you, placing his hands atop yours.

"And how do you know I can still remember how to actually work this thing, Hermosa? You haven't really thought this through have you?" He teased, knowing full-well he remembered. He'd actually rode a couple of times after leaving Texas for the first time, having the occasional chance to and gladly taking the opportunity.

"Well, I kind of wanted to surprise you and just hope for the best?" You shrugged as you tilted your head to the side, frowning when you realised he might actually not remember.

"Okay, get your helmet on." He ordered after a moment, making you let out a little excited noise of delight as you quickly put the helmet on.

"Oh- wait! Wait, one minute!" You said as you rushed back inside the house, grabbing something then hurrying back to him.

You handed him his leather jacket and winked before lowering your helmet again. "To complete the look." You explained as you sat behind him on the bike whilst he shrugged the jacket on.

He started up the bike and turned to face you sideways.

"You ready?" He said in a louder voice, the bike already making a lot of noise.

"Yeah! Let's fucking do this!" You replied, wrapping your arms around his waist as he revved the bike and took off, speeding down the empty roads.

It was exhilarating. You'd only been on a motorbike once before, and you were too young to remember just how good it felt. The cool night air whipped past you, blowing against your skin. The lights from stores all blurred together as you hurtled past, the colours mixing to create a mirage of blues, greens, reds and purples in your peripherals as you tightened your grip on his waist.

"This is amazing, oh my god!" You shouted, letting out a yell as he sped up even more.

"Yeah, it is! Fuck, I forgot how great this is!" He called back, turning onto a mostly empty street and intentionally swerving the vehicle a little, making you laugh loudly.

"Okay, okay! Let's go back- Javi!" You told him, in a fit of giggles as he slowed down slightly.

"What? Can't handle the speed, baby?" He said in a fake macho voice.

"I can handle the speed, you dick. Just- too much excitement for one night, I'm getting old y'know." You responded as you now both rode calmly back to the ranch, head resting sideways on his back.

"You're not that old." He countered.

"Yeah, not as old as you at least."

"Oh shut up." He said, nudging you a little as you laughed even more.

-------

You pulled into the driveway once more and stepped off the bike, taking your helmet off and letting out a breathy laugh, coming down from the adrenaline high by now.

"¡Dios mío, tienes la bicicleta! ¿Se divirtieron ustedes dos? (Oh my, you got the bike! Did you two have fun?)" Chucho's voice sounded from the doorway as you both walked up to the porch.

"¡Fue increíble! Gracias por revelarme esa foto a mí, Chucho, y a los demás. (It was amazing! Thank you for revealing that photo to me, Chucho, and the others.)" You smirked as you stepped past him and into the house.

"¿Qué? ¿Que otros? Oh Dios, no me digas que le mostraste el- (What? What others? Oh God, don't tell me you showed her the-)" Javier groaned as his father only responded with a guilty laugh and a shrug.

Of course he had to show you that photo - the one of him, 16 years old with the most atrocious haircut ever and the face of a baby (not in a cute way), wearing the Santa costume his mom had forced him to wear to entertain his little cousins that Christmas. Chucho had taken so many photos the camera was almost out of space and still used them to tease him to this day.

"Lo siento, hijo, sólo tenía que mostrárselo. (Sorry, son, I just had to show her)" Chucho told Javi as he walked up the stairs, your giggles echoing in his ears as you realised what they were talking about.

"You guys are both so annoying." He murmured, a grin ghosting his lips as he started to get changed to go to sleep.

"Yeah, but you love it." You teased as he got in the bed beside you, pulling you close to him.

"Yeah, you're right." He sighed dramatically before closing his eyes.

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Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and requests are open! 💞

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javier peña #javier peña angst #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javier peña fluff #narcos #javier peña narcos #amyispxnk fics

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ideas-on-paper · 5 months

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Geppetto's dialogue about the Workshop train

I've discovered yet another dialogue that I wasn't aware of in my NG+ run!

If you've been to Krat Central Station a second time and found Geppetto's secret workshop in the train where you woke up (destroy the barrier behind the chair, then go into the room and pick up the letter), he actually has something to say about it:

[Spoilers for Lies of P!]

Now, this dialogue makes a lot of things very interesting.

For starters, it almost sounds like Geppetto knew that the letter was there - note how he says "the letter", not "a letter". (Of course, it might just be the English translation, but it's noteworthy.)

With full knowledge of the story, the contents of the letter are also very intriguing. Simon says that without Pinocchio, he never would've found the Workshop train, and that "unfortunately for Geppetto", he has the ability to read memories.

However, reading someone's mind and predicting the future are two different things - what made Simon so sure P would return to the Workshop train? And was it truly P's(/Carlo's) memory that he read? You can lie to Simon at the Grand Exhibition and after you defeat him at the top of Arche Abbey, so if he can read Pino's mind, why wouldn't he be able to tell Pino is lying in these moments? Though maybe, Simon isn't reading P's memories directly, but through Sophia - when Sophia warns P after the fight against the Walker of Illusions that the hotel is under attack, Simon suddenly chimes in, calling communication through Ergo "an interesting parlor trick". So, has Simon been watching each and every of our steps from the beginning, through Sophia's eyes?

At the very least, Simon has been watching P since Malum District, as we learn from the letter. He says he had a "hunch" which ultimately turned out to be correct, and also says that "they" followed Pino because "they" believed that it would lead them to the relic Geppetto stole. The "relic" is undoubtedly the Arm of God, and I suspect that with "they", he most likely means the Black Rabbit Brotherhood. The Black Rabbit Brotherhood's ledger confirms they were working for the Alchemists, and the "old broker man" who supposedly consumes Ergo might even be Simon himself. So, they knew that Geppetto was in possession of the Arm of God, and going by the letter, they must've stolen it back from him shortly before kidnapping him.

Speaking of which, during my very first Lies of P playthrough, I already had the suspicion that the "kidnapping" of Geppetto was more of an escorted free ride, and the "attack" of the Stalkers was an inside job. They were supposed to make just enough of a ruckus to make it look like a kidnapping, but what they actually did was giving Geppetto a lift to the Isle of Alchemists. I suspected that when Geppetto arrived there, he and Simon would just give each other a clap on the back and say "hey, long time no see" before proceeding with whatever they had planned.

The last page of the Black Rabbit Brotherhood's ledger mentions a "tempting proposal from the Alchemists", so that at least seems to confirm the part about the Stalkers. However, given that Geppetto and Simon kinda hate each other, it might not have been completely voluntary on Geppetto's part. Still, he was probably playing along for the time being, secretly waiting for his "beloved son" to come to his rescue. So, while these old men were scheming against each other, the Stalkers were really just a tool - in the second fight with the Black Rabbit Brotherhood, the Battle Maniac even mentions they're just baits to buy time, so it seems they were aware they got the short end of the deal.

One thing that's for certain is that Simon definitely wanted something from Geppetto - otherwise, he wouldn't have brought him to the Isle. Geppetto's dialogue might actually give us a hint about what that might have been: If it's true that Simon is obsessed with P-Organs, I wonder if this is the reason why he brought Geppetto to the Isle - more specifically, I wonder if it was because he wanted Geppetto to build a new body for Sophia.

Simon probably knew that Sophia's body was on the verge of breaking, so I could imagine he ordered Geppetto to construct a puppet body and a P-Organ for her that he could transfer Sophia's Ergo into. (Sophia's body during the Rise of P ending comes a bit out of nowhere, so this would at least provide a plausible explanation why it's there.)

At the same time, this would suggest Simon sees Sophia as something more than just his tool. He constantly talks about "purifying" and "improving" humans with the Petrification Disease and Ergo, but it would appear that Sophia is so special to him that he wants to save her and preserve her personality as it is. Perhaps Simon really did love Sophia, in his own twisted way. (Interestingly, this makes for a few parallels between Simon and Geppetto, who also wants to revive Carlo at any cost. Meanwhile, it would make Sophia similar to Carlo, being kept alive against her will.)

#lies of p #lore theories #lies of p geppetto #simon manus #sophia monad #black rabbit brotherhood #stalkers #this actually made me feel kind of sorry for the Stalkers :(

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cheemken · 8 months

Note

Ya know I haven’t really talked about Drayton n Kieran yet so here’s some canon hc stuff!

Okay so I believe in the French translation it’s stated that Kieran is 14….which I don’t believe lol with how shy he is in the teal mask and then crying over not getting ogerpon in the teal mask as well it just doesn’t fit right w/ him being 14 it seems in line of someone who’s 10 or 9 really + Drayton says he misses the old shy Kieran who likes to battle for fun so we can assume that Kieran was in the league club even before his desire to get stronger and tbh if a 14 yr old was around ppl like the E4 I doubt they’d be as shy as Kieran was in the teal mask, being around those 4 would give anyone a confidence, boost, so yeah Kieran is probably like 10 or maybe even 9 but def no older then that, anyways enough of my rambling n to the actual hcs lmao

Once Kieran is back in the club after mochi mayhem, he’s often seen curled up against Drayton snoozing on the clubs couch together as all of his intense training messed up Kieran’s sleep the boy is often really tired

Drayton is actually really good at comforting/calming down a crying Kieran weather it be from a legitimate reason like the trauma from terapagos, when he’s tired that he can’t help but cry or just him crying from not getting his way with something, Drayton is the second best at calming Kieran down (the first being carmine of course)

On the topic of terapagos, Kieran often goes to Drayton about his issues with the legendary bc Drayton knows what it’s like to be impacted by a legendary and Kieran doesn’t wanna bother his sister more with his trauma cause like yeah terapagos was gonna kill him, that energy beam was going straight for Kieran, he’d be dead if protagonist didn’t step in, so he talks to drayton about his trauma n drayton helps the best he can

Drayton eventually drops the “Ex-champion” nickname teasing as he sees it really upsets Kieran n they just started being friends again! He doesn’t wanna lose Kieran again!

They fly together across the terrarium on their dragonite’s :) often having fun lil races

Drayton joked about carrying Kieran when we beat him during the champion fight but he actually does give Kieran piggyback rides when he wants! He enjoys carrying Kieran a lot!

Just like with the E3, Drayton can be protective of him, that’s his lil brother your honour……stole him from carmine….~Drayton angst anon💛

Huh but y'know I can picture Kieran being 14, there are teenagers that are still kinda shy around that age, and given his upbringing, it's understandable why he'd act like that too

But anyways hahaha

That's dope tho, them bonding over their trauma regarding a legendary. Drayton never got to really face off Kyurem like Iris, only ever saw him after Iris finally got him from Ghetsis' control, a much tamer Kyurem than the one still being controlled by Plasma. He can't imagine how it must've been for Kieran too, being face to face w Terapagos, almost dying bc of it. Nearly died bros tho real lmfao

That's cute them flying around w their Dragonite🥹 reminds me of this one concept I have of Iris and Lance too hahah and aughgh the piggyback ride thing cndmdn like how Iris would do it for Drayton too your honour they are so soft cnmdnd

#but dray stealing him from carmine tho real😭🤣#unova kids #pokemon hcs #drayton angst anon #an ask and an answer

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hyenahunt · 9 months

Text

Saga: Rivals - 19

Writer: Akira

Season: Winter

Characters: Hokuto, Jun

Proofreading: 310mc (JP) & hyenahunt (ENG)

Translation: kotofucius

Hokuto: It felt like my identity as Hidaka Hokuto was getting erased, and I was slowly being reduced to nothing more than the Hidakas’ son… It scared me.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Sleeping Room

Time: The next day. The first day of Reverse Live has passed, and it is now the morning of the second day.

Hokuto: ………

Zzz, zzz… ♪

Jun: Hidaka-saaan?

Sorry to disturb you while you're resting! Couldja please wake up~? Your phone’s pinging like crazy, y'know~?

Hokuto: Nn… Snz… ♪

Jun: …He’s not waking up. Mmgh~ What should I do?

It's not like he's Ohii-san, so I can’t just smack his head, can I?

Jun: Hidaka-san? Hidaka-saaan, I'm seriously sorry to disturb you but couldja please wake up already? Between the two of us, I’m not the one cut out for the whole “waking a sleeping beauty thing”, y'know?

Hokuto: Nghhh… Don’t call me Hidaka.

Jun: Huh? Wait, but we’re not close enough to be on a first name basis, are we? If that's what you prefer, though, then I guess I'll do just that~?

To be fair… with Hidaka-sensei in my unit, it might get confusing who I'm talking to whenever I say “Hidaka-san”~ ♪

Umm, in that case… Hokuto-san! Wake up, Hokuto-san!

Hokuto: Mm…? Ahh… *yawn* ♪

What’s the big deal…? It’s still early…

Jun: Oh, you finally woke up! Apologies for disturbing you, Hokuto-san!

Seems like some early birds already started rehearsing, so we should probably grab some breakfast and get ready, too~

Hokuto: …Did you say “Hokuto-san”? What are you being all buddy-buddy with me for? We’re enemies.

Jun: Wha? You're the one who told me not to call you Hidaka, y'know?

Hokuto: Mnn? My bad, I think… I might’ve been half-asleep…

Sorry for confusing you. I was getting called Hidaka, Hidaka, Hidaka in both my dreams and in reality…

It felt like my identity as Hidaka Hokuto was getting erased, and I was slowly being reduced to nothing more than the Hidakas’ son… It scared me.

…Wait, woah!? What are you doing next to my bed, Sazanami? Planning to attack me in my sleep? That’s low of you, Lilith!

Jun: Haha. You really are half-asleep~ …But I totally get it. My heart's been pounding so hard I could hardly get any sleep, too.

After all, this is the very stage I’ve always dreamed of.

Hokuto: Mm? Where are we? Ah… That’s right, I felt like I hadn't practiced enough, so I stayed the night.

The nap room was only just set up, so I couldn't remember where I was for a moment.

Sazanami, did you stay the night here too?

Jun: Yeah, sorta… Ibara booked a hotel room for us, but it’s such a pain to go from there to the school and back.

Plus, it looks like your school's got both a cafeteria and showers, so it’s easier for me to stay here since it's just for a few nights.

On top of that, it feels like I've been getting kinda cocky, with how smooth a ride I’ve had since becoming an SS finalist — so I wanted to recall my origins, y’see…

And unlike Ohii-san, I’ve got no hobby of indulging myself. I feel more at home sleeping all crowded together in a small room like this~

Back when I wasn’t a Special Student, I took naps in Reimei’s common room pretty often.

Jun: I was being worked to the bone as staff, y'know. It seriously felt like I'd been tossed into a slave ship.

I don't think how I felt back then is something I should forget so easily.

Getting too used to an easy life will just dull your body and mind, y’know? …And if that happened, I feel like I’d never win against Sagami Jin.

I’m nowhere accomplished enough to be getting full of myself; not yet… But it sucks that it’s so easy to get the wrong idea of myself, y’know~? Like, I’ve somehow become Lilith’s center.

Hokuto: Ahh… I saw your fight against Ba-barrier last night. They did have you in the center.

The pressure must've been overwhelming, performing with my father and Tomoe-senpai behind you like that… I feel sorry for you.

Jun: Haha… It sure was~ See, I’m not the center of either Eve or Eden.

In fact, my role's moreso to make the others look good in those units.

So yeah, it was pretty nerve-wracking. It'd be no laughing matter if all my anxieties wore me down and I just passed out before even fighting Sagami Jin…

Well, at least I had proper practice and all, so in the end I somehow pulled through.

How did it look to you, Hokuto-san? Did my performance rise to the occasion~?

Hokuto: Yeah. To tell you the truth, you’ve improved a lot since I last saw you in SS. I also get excited when I see that my opponents are strong.

…Though your teamwork seemed a bit flawed, since it’s your debut stage and all.

Jun: Ahaha, I guess you’d notice something like that, Hokuto-san~

Actually, we didn't really manage to practice getting in-sync with Hidaka-sensei all that much, since he's been so busy with work.

And there's a huge change in the overall atmosphere depending on whether he's there or not —

He completely stole away the gaze of the entire audience; and it’s probably thanks to the bigwigs’ intervention stepping in, but our production ended up grander than we'd originally planned…

Our demographic is totally different from Eve’s, too, plus I’m not used to this whole DreamFest thing.

I got kinda disoriented and ended up making a bunch of mistakes. Just me, and nobody else, y'know? It’s so frustrating…

Ohii-san and Sensei both performed perfectly, but I was the one dragging Lilith down.

Hokuto: I see. My father is to blame. I’m sorry about him, Sazanami.

Jun: Nah, it's nothing… Honestly, I wondered at first if Sensei wouldn't be used to singing in a unit since he mostly performs solo —

But he carried himself perfectly. You'd never guess he had less practice than the rest of us~

Even though we're a team, I found myself overwhelmed by his presence throughout the whole performance.

It's not that I think he was taking it easy, but even that seemed more like a trial run than anything for him, so it’s scary to imagine what he’ll come out with next.

Hokuto: Hmph. Or maybe that was his limit. My father's getting on in his years; you shouldn’t overestimate him.

Jun: Haha. Hokuto-san, it seems more like you're underestimating him, y'know? I'm not too sure what’s going on here, though — Are you two on bad terms?

Back during SS, you said you kinda understood me, right?

But unlike my old man, your dad's a super idol. One look and even a little kid would stop crying just to watch him.

So it’s been nagging at me all this time. I just don’t get why you’d sympathize with me.

Oh, but I guess getting into the same line of work as our parents means that people just can’t seem to stop the comparisons… Annoying as it is.

The agency promoted me that way too, at first.

'Course, not that my old man’s fame as a loser was any good plug~

Hokuto: Hmm. I don’t think it’s right to belittle yourself like that.

And just from his achievements alone, wasn’t your father worthy of the Super Idol title too?

Jun: I wonder… Well, maybe that’s why he was a good match as Sagami Jin’s rival.

But in the end, he’s still a nobody who couldn’t make a mark on history, yeah?

Project Saga's the revival stage of legendary idols, yet he's so insignificant that he didn't even get invited to it.

Hokuto: …? I don’t think that's the case, though?

I’m pretty sure his name was on the list of legendary idols — At least, in the proposal I received before Project-Saga became official —

Jun: Nah, there's no need to try and comfort me. My old man’s obsessed with his past, y'know — He would’ve said yes in a heartbeat if he'd gotten an invitation.

So if he's never shown up as a Mentor, then the offer never came…

Must be nice being you, Hokuto-san~ You’ve got an impressive dad you can brag about.

Hokuto: ……

[ ☆ ]

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← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

#ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation #hyenahunttl #s: saga #hokuto hidaka #jun sazanami

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lullabyes22-blog · 2 years

Text

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Ch: 11 - Handshake

Summary: Zaun is free—and must grow into its unfamiliar new dimensions. So must Silco and Jinx. A what-if that diverges midway through the events of episode 8. Found family and fluff, politics and power, smut and slice-of-life, villainy and vengeance.

AO3 - Forward, But Never Forget/XOXO

FFnet - Forward, But Never Forget (XOXO)

Playlist on Youtube

Chapters: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48

CH 11: Vi and Silco share a dinner and strike a bargain.

A red band unfailingly unites us

~ "Blut" – Till Lindemann (Translation)

The flare-gun blasts skyward.

Its tracer explodes into a shimmering sphere, a dying sun in the night. It douses the acre-wide impound in a blood-red glow. Shaped like the spokes of a wheel: six warehouses funneling into a concave central hub that must've once been a wrecking pit. Steel girders bisect the inky backdrop of the sky. Strobelights fitted on telescopic tripods chase multicolored pinwheels on the walls and floors.

The place is a hotbed of debauchery.

The impound is packed with party-goers. Tatted-up bikers showboat on glammed-up crotch rockets. A crew of girls sweep across the concrete in wide arcs, tires screeching and rubber burning. One performs a stoppie, riding on her front tire with both rear-ends high in the air, flashing gold thong and silver chrome. In brightly-lit marquees with pure oxygen filters, well-heeled chem-barons schmooze between sips of martinis. On buffet tables, trays are garnished with multicolored hors-d'oeuvre, platters of shrimp suzette and crawfish étouffée crowded against elaborately-designed fruit platters glistening with syrup.

Music throbs so hard that the vibrations judder through the air. Dancers with bedazzled bodies in deluxe costumes undulate on ramps. Two androgynous performers strut in the halogen lights with scissoring steps timed to the beat. Chem-punks splice through the crowd on hoverboards, wearing too much make-up and jewelry and laughing too loudly. From the distance come the intermittent riot of gangs scarring the concrete in juiced-up musclecars in breakneck races. The air reeks of ganja, spilled liquor, gasoline, barbecued meat.

And blood.

Vi swallows. Her throat makes a dry click; she badly wants a drink.

Except the suds are probably poisoned.

She sits shackled like a Stillwater prisoner: leg irons and wrist manacles, each one hooked to a rung on her seat. She supposes she ought to be grateful she's not in sweltering heat or blistering cold.

The temperature inside Silco's marquee tent is perfectly controlled, and scented with something that may as well be Eau de Chingching. The interior is black as an oil-spill and just as sleek. Low mood lighting; luxury furnishings. The space is halved by a sleek screen: one portion reserved for private quarters, the other for a glossy minibar and a banquette as well-appointed as any five-star restaurant. The tent's flaps are peeled back to take in the chaos unfolding across the impound.

An Undercity gala on steroids.

The biggest commotion is at the fighting-pit. It is roughly twenty meters in size; sunken like a skateboard rink and splattered as a charnel pit. At least six dozen spectators range around the sawhorses that block it off. Neon discs are strung at the rims: cotton-candy pinks and toxic-sludge greens. The flashing lights distort the spectator's faces into carnival grotesqueries. A pack of deranged clowns waving fistfuls of coins.

In the center of the pit, two brindle-coated rotties—Ziggy and Stardust—toe the scratch against a black cane-corso mastiff the size of a bear. Its eyes are sunk like embers inside its wrinkle-pitted face. The points of its canines extrude in a vicious leer.

Silco's goons, clumped outside the marquee, place bets.

"Ugly bastard," Lock grunts.

"The Bilgewater ambassador's moneymaker," Ran says, crouched on a rusted turbine. "Cthulhu."

"Gesundheit."

"No." Ran enunciates slowly. "Kuh-thoo-loo. That's his name."

Dustin drums his kneecaps with the hilts of two bone-handled blades: dum-dum-dap. "How much is Bilgewater wagerin'?"

"Three year's supply of rainbow trout," says Lock. "And their best kegs of rum."

Dustin whistles, his head swaying back and forth as if on a gyre. Ran tips a feline smile. "Sucks to be Bilgewater."

Lock cracks his knuckles "Ziggy and Stardust ain't just game. They're dead game."

"Seventy Hexes on them ending the fight in twenty minutes," Ran says.

"Ninety if they draw first blood."

"Pfff. You expect to see blood for a cog."

"Best of three, then?"

"Doubt there'll be a rematch."

"Let's set a fixed time. Say, twelve minutes? And see which rottie draws blood first?"

"Deal."

They spit in their palms, sumpside-style. Lock's huge fist envelopes Ran's metal-silvered paw. A Spit Swear, the lite version of the Blood Bargain.

The kind of oath you don't break without breaking your neck.

Behind the marquee's screen, Silco's baritone scrapes the silence: "Razor the dogs."

The three goons lose their nonchalant attitudes, a Pavlovian snap of spines straightening. Lock gives a four-fingered hand signal to a girl perched at the guard-post. She stands ready with a flare gun, her hips shot to one side, taking puffs from a cheroot so thick it'd take a year to finish. At Lock's signal, she nods. Her gun-hand goes up. The flare upspirals to burst like a volcano.

The game begins.

The dogs are chivvied toward the scratch line. Ziggy and Stardust move in tandem: a liquid flow of muscle. Cthulu cuts forward like a ballistic missile. The dogs' noses touch. Stardust licks Ziggy's snout; Cthulu's jowls ripple. The dogs' handlers withdraw their blades—Zaun's girl a butterfly knife from her boot, Bilgewater's man a short, wickedly-curved cutlass from his belt. The slit a shallow gash into the dogs' flanks.

Fingers wetted with the blood, they smear it across their own dog's nose, then the challenger's. Cthulu snuffles and lets off a frenzied bark, red droplets spraying. Ziggy and Stardust go still as statues, their teeth daggering, a wicked red luminosity entering their eyes. The blood mainlines like adrenaline into their systems.

"Fuck," Lock says with admiration. "They're practically gagging for it."

The handlers yank the dogs to their corners, hands white-knuckling against their scruffs. The dogs' bodies give off an inexorable ferocity. Ringed around the fighting-pit, the rogue's gallery hurls cheers and insults. They seem no different from the dogs: the bloodsport whets their appetites into mania.

The flare gun ignites a third time.

The handlers drop their charges and clamber out of the fighting-pit. The dogs fly at each other as if catapulted. The impact is brutal. Ziggy and Stardust pounce in tandem, with terrifying synchronicity. Cthulhu bulldozes straight at them. They flatten as one, letting his massive shape sail overtop. Their heads twist and rip into Cthulhu's flanks on either side. Teeth leave oozing half-moons in the fur. Cthulhu snarls, angling himself away, mere inches from the pair's gnashing teeth. Next he is bulling forward, using his superior bulk to back Ziggy and Stardust into a corner, batting at them with his ferocious forepaws, his fanged head arrowing towards the nearest dog's throat.

The pair feint gamely. But it is a calculated carnage. Wherever Cthulu's skull darts and comes away, a shiny pink divot is left behind on Ziggy or Stardust's pelts. Next, it fills with blood and splatters the concrete. The music is ripped apart by shrill yowls. Likewise, the crowd's din spikes into a foghorn. Dismay; delight.

"That's it, Cthu! Atta boy!"

"Get at him, Ziggy! C'mon!"

"Rip their fuckin' heads off!"

"Yeah, Star! Bite him!"

The bloodbath sears itself into Vi's retinas. She feels sick deep in her guts. She's seen a lot of shit. Poverty, prostitution, prison brawls. But this blows everything out of the water.

A lean shadow falls over Vi's chair.

"Not fond of hounds?"

From behind the screen, Silco slithers out. Sevika lumbers after him. They'd been conversing in low tones inside his quarters. Vi couldn't hear what they were saying. Now she realizes they were watching her. Silco's eyes glitter darkly, drinking in her distress. Behind him, Sevika's expression is stony as a Marwian idol, but with a tiny sneer on her lips.

Vi sets her jaw.

She's out of her depth. Alone and unarmed. But she isn't scared. It will be a cold day in hell if she's scared of anything after Stillwater.

Even a monster whose motivations defy logic.

She says, "Rabid types aren't my thing."

Silco eyes her speculatively. "They have their uses."

"As entertainment? Or meat shields?"

"Whichever comes first."

Vi hooks her chin toward Sevika. "That why you've got her on a leash? Or—wait." She glances pityingly at Silco. "Is she your seeing-eye mutt?"

Sevika's eyes snap hotly to Vi's. She seems to be debating a riposte, the physical type. But something in Silco's sideways glance—an idle warning—defuses her temper.

Leaning in, she mutters in Silco's ear. His lips twist at the edges. The shark-eye gleams, merciless.

"Half and half," he says.

"Half now. Half later."

"Settled."

He offers his hand: a sharp-jointed a talon. Sevika clasps it in her own.

Vi notes the grip. It doesn't resemble the friendly handshake between Ran and Lock. This is loaded with sinisterness. For the first time, she wonders about their history. Side by side, their affiliation makes no sense except for the obvious: money and power. Beyond that, they are two very different animals: scavenger and predator. Sevika with her rough-and-tumble attitude, all brutish gimcrack and straight-shooting snark; Silco an unsettlingly scaly enigma of well-soaped wit and scalpel-edged schemes.

Yet she senses a mutual respect, if not a fealty. What the hell is their endgame?

Vi snaps, "You two done being skeevy?"

They don't even glance at Vi. The consensus of scorn needs no speech.

Silco slides into the banquette seat. Sevika sets a large serving platter with a silver lid in front of him. By this time, it's probably lost most of its heat. Still, when the platter is unveiled, a delicious aroma suffuses the air. Vi fights the raw squelch of hunger. She braces herself to stare at over-the-top exotica and rich delicacies.

But the contents are surprisingly simple. A bowl of creamed soup sprinkled with tiny herbs. A large green salad. A butter-seared clutch of crawfish with twinkling heaps of potatoes, peas and carrots.

Sevika doles out the crawfish and a big spoonful of vegetables into a plate. Her expression is deadpan. Yet her body-language isn't that of a servile hostess. Freaky as hell though it seems, Vi is reminded of Caitlyn. The way she boils Vi a cup of tea after a hard day's work. Sometimes Vi teases her for getting all sweetly domestic. Playing wifey again?

Caitlyn always arches an eyebrow: Only because you can't brew tea to save your life.

Bittersweetness nearly escapes the tight clench of Vi's heart. She inhales sharply. She needs to stay alert.

Stay alive.

Sevika untwists a bottle of whiskey from the minibar. Vi can't see the label, but she's sure it's something pricey. The other woman pours a stiff belt into two glasses, and cocks her head at Vi. "You still like a splash of cherry soda in yours?"

Vi grimaces. "I wouldn't touch anything here with a ten-foot pole."

"Suit yourself." Sevika's tone modulates. "Sir?"

Silco makes a dry moue. "Sugaring up good whiskey?"

"I've got simple tastes."

"To the manner born, as they say."

"You didn't grow up sipping top-shelf hooch, either."

A wry little smile plays on Silco's lips. "Look forward, not backward."

"But never forget."

They clink glasses. Sevika downs hers like a shot; Silco sips his own with a savoring slowness.

Vi's throat itches. She almost regrets refusing a glass.

Almost.

Sevika crosses to the tent's entrance. Stops, and cuts her eyes from Vi to Silco. It is almost a question. Silco makes a three-fingered hand signal. Sevika nods. The flap falls closed on her retreating shape. The dogfight's furor muffles. A chill descends from Vi's skull down to her toes. She is alone.

Just her and the monster.

Silco's face is inscrutable as he surveys his meal. He might be inspecting a raw carcass on a slab. Then he does something unexpected. Something Vander used to do. He sits back and balances the plate on his knees. Ignoring the silverware, he begins rapidly transferring the food to his mouth with his fingers.

At Vi's stare, he offers an upticked eyebrow, "Excuse me. My stomach thinks my throat's cut."

My stomach thinks my throat's cut.

That was Vander's favorite saying. It meant: I'm starving. Powder always found it hilarious. Everytime she heard it, she'd wrap her hands around her throat, pretending to stanch a gaping hole with high-pitched sound effects. Gak! Blurgle! Pteh! The memory goes through Vi on a reflux of grief.

Her own stomach, meanwhile, switches places with her brain.

Urrrggh, it gurgles.

Silco stops, a roast potato halfway to his mouth. He tricks out a sly smile. "You're no better."

"Shut up."

"Are you hungry?"

Vi refuses to answer. Point of fact? Fuck yes. She'd been keyed up since yesterday night, and barely kept down her breakfast this morning. Now, between the after-effects of a fistfight, psychological anguish and adrenaline, she's redlining into collapse. Her body demands fuel to keep carrying on. But pragmatism wrestles with pride. How can she break bread with a man who killed one half of her family, and destroyed the other?

Silco says, "Shall I uncuff you?"

Vi blinks.

Silco pops another roast potato in his mouth. "Shall I uncuff you to eat? You've no reason to misbehave. The odds are stacked against you. The guards. The weapons. The crowd."

"Suppose I take my chances?"

"Too many witnesses."

"Good for corroborating my story later."

"I own every single eye in this impound."

Vi's jaw clamps. Rationally, he's right. She has no recourse if she attacks him. His goons are outside the tent. His blackguards are patrolling the grounds. The Undercity is his chessboard. And yet she's ready to reject rationality. She wants to attack him. Wants him to give her the smallest excuse. If he does, she'll have no choice but to react.

She'll trounce him, and to hell with the fallout.

Silco says, "I'll untie one wrist."

Vi snaps back to the moment.

"Just one. Take your time and eat. But if you make one stupid move…" His lips peel back from his crooked white teeth. "My crew are eager for entertainment. I've no problem if they make a show of you. Have you on a leash—or have you in the dog-pit." Softly, "Like a proper bitch."

The awfulness of his message spreads through the tent like Fissure-gas. Vi's lungs tighten; her pulse hitches. Silco tilts his head, measuring the steel in her spine. She matches his stare with as much steadiness as she can muster.

"You'll behave," he says. "Won't you?"

Jaw set, Vi nods.

"Good," he says softly. "Good girl."

Rising, he approaches her slowly. "Right hand or left?"

Vi exhales. "Right."

"Right it is."

Taking the key from his waistcoat, Silco leans in, fitting it to the manacle. There is a click. The metal unclamps from Vi's bruised wrist. Her right hand drops free. Her breath saws with relief. Raising her hand at eye-level, she flexes her fingers, rotating the wrist at the joint, then repeating the exercise with her elbow and shoulder.

Her cramped muscles twinge. Blood-flow resumes.

"Better?" Silco asks.

Vi pins him with baleful eyes. Silco's own are raptorially set, a casual venom in his half-smile.

"Well then," he murmurs. "Tuck in."

A strained silence hangs during the meal. Neither she nor Silco speak, or if they do, it is only through sharpened scowls cutting the space between them. But the soup, cream-of-shrimp with basil, is delicious, the salad as sweetly verdant as anything from Piltover's gardens, and the crawfish, when Vi cracks it open with her thumb in a veil of steam, tastes as if it's leapt straight out of the freshwaters.

Vi gorges without apology. She'll need her fortitude for whatever Silco is planning.

Once in a while, she hazards a glance at him. He's switched to the flatware. Yet his manner of eating is no less carnivorous. He holds each forkful at a bite's distance, then darts forward, snapping off each mouthful and grinding it down between sharp teeth. His proximity makes Vi's skin prickle.

Up close, she can only see everything that is unnatural in him beneath its much-scarred humanity. She doesn't believe in auras, or mojos, or other Fissure superstitions. But he has a vibe, eerie and amorphous and devouring, like the darkness at the bottom of the river. How can Powder stand to be near him?

Powder.

A red mass of tension pulses in Vi's chest. She flashes back to her sister's silhouette at the pool. Her far-out smile. Her pale body enfolded in the towel under Silco's hands. Her glowing innocence somehow revivifying his expression, as if he'd stolen her energy and taken it for himself.

Rage sucks all the flavor from her meal. Vi drops her spoon with a clatter.

Idly, Silco asks, "Full already?"

"Lost my appetite."

"Something off about the entrée?"

"Just your face."

His throat thrums out a sound that is nearly a laugh, but not quite. "You're quite the charmer yourself."

Shoveling the last forkful into his mouth, he swallows with the eerie sinuosity of a snake devouring a sump-vole. Then he pulls a black cambric napkin from his vest, smooths it out into an edge, and primly dabs his mouth. Its borders are fringed with a multicolored embroidery that reminds Vi of the funky cross-stitches Powder used to decorate her clothes with.

Neither of them could do needlework like grand Piltie ladies. But making do with hand-me-downs, year after year, meant learning how to sew. Vi was adept at basic hemming and mending. But Powder had a real flair with the needle. Vi remembers how her sister would fix up old sweaters and shirts and socks, making them extra-poppy with pink lazy daisies and red fishbones and yellow spiraling stars. Vi can almost see her at the corner of her mind's eye, sitting crosslegged, upper-lip caught between her teeth with concentration: Onesies, knit, twosies, knot…

Vi flinches, clubbed by nostalgia. She cuts her gaze away. Except it is too late. Silco intercepts her stare, and unexpectedly their eyes are locked. An unwanted understanding flows between them.

Vi says, "Did Powder make that?"

"Her name is Jinx."

"Did she?"

A muscle jerks in Silco's jaw. He nods.

"Can—can I see?"

His features stay hard and sharkish, all oily black eye and cut-steel face. Yet his good eye loses some of its chill. Matter-of-factly, he extends the handkerchief. Doesn't hand it over, but holds on, pinched tight between a thumb and forefinger. Vi traces the needlework carefully. The stitches aren't sophisticated. But they are tiny and astonishingly delicate: a rainbow crosshatching of XOXOs. A far cry from the clumsy squiggles of Powder's childhood.

Just like her bombs.

Gooseflesh breaks over Vi's skin. She drops her hand. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why haven't you killed me yet? Especially if I'm such a threat?"

Folding up the handkerchief, Silco tucks it away like a stolen prize.

"I told you before," he says. "Your usefulness outweighs my reasons."

"Usefulness."

That makes no sense. He's no longer a terrorist in Piltover's shadow. He's First Chancellor of his own nation. He's allied with bigger fish than Vi on the threat assessment scale. Probably found easier ways to intimidate others into doing his dirty-work, because a little easier is all it takes for men like Silco.

Why would someone so dangerous and well-connected need Vi for anything?

Silco says, as if reading her mind, "Zaun is independent. But it isn't invulnerable. The wheels are half-on, half-off. Under Topside, it's what we were accustomed to. On our own, we deserve better." His idle gesture encompasses the tent, the feast, the furor. "I can stage a damn good spectacle. I can lure foreign investment. People always respond favorably to good showmanship."

"A little razzle-dazzle works magic," Vi mutters, a hat-tip to another of Vander's favorite sayings.

Silco eyes her strangely. His face is etched with darkness, as if troubled thoughts are massing. "Razzle-dazzle works on the surface. It's the foundation that must stay strong. I can deal with the chem-barons. I’ve spent half my life stopping blowhards from pushing their territories to ruin with shortsighted double-games. Most of them live for the moment, anyway. It's why they die at a moment's notice. But Zaun—as a nation—must live."

"Under your boot?”

He shakes his head. "With or without me. There are certain fortunes I wish to guide and certain favors I plan to extract to make it so. Otherwise any fool in the future could undo the hard work of the past." He meets Vi's stare. "For that, I need eyes and ears inside Piltover."

"My eyes and ears?"

"Among other parts."

Her eyes narrow. "I thought you said Piltover set us both up."

"They did."

"I also thought you don't trust me."

"I don't."

"Then what the hell are you—?"

Silco cuts her off. "I'll explain. Drink?"

Vi glowers. "I'm not letting you liquor me up."

"I meant water."

Rising, he goes to the minibar. Vi watches him fill two paper cups from a cooler. The liquid is acid green. Transparent and cloudless, but green.

That isn't disturbing in itself. Vi has known it be worse colors. The Undercity's tapwater is a cesspit of contaminants. Loaded with turbidity, chloride, mold and bacteria. The water-supply infrastructure is ancient, and interminably crippled from lack of funds. Worse, as the population expanded, neighborhoods developed in a haphazard tangle, each unplanned sector massing beyond the ambit of civic services. That meant slipshod cross-connections, with sewage lines regularly spilling over into supply lines. There was always news of waterborne diseases; kids dying or posh Pilties getting poisoned.

In Vi's teens, water-mafia wannabes began cropping up everywhere. They set up illegal hydrants across the Undercity, tapping into the mains to steal water, then selling it to citizens for jacked-up prices. Shortly before his death, Vander was working with the communities to stop their water being siphoned. Vi often heard him growling that the scale of theft went all the way to Topside.

Silco sips from his cup. Vi expects him to grimace. Instead he holds the water contemplatively in his mouth, then swallows. "Still too sweet."

"What?"

He proffers a cup. "Try it. It's certified safe."

"Certified by who? Your poisoner?"

"Try it."

She stares at the green liquid, parched but wary. It doesn't smell weird. In fact, it doesn't smell like anything. Screwing up her courage, she takes a small sip. It tastes clean. There's a faint aftertaste of mint, like leftover mouthwash.

Silco eyes her closely. "Well?"

"It's …not bad?"

Silco nods, silent for a couple of beats. Then: "It's been fully treated for contaminants. But the offshoot is the color." He takes another sip, lips skinning back from his teeth. "And the taste. Still, it won't sicken anyone. Presently, this treatment is limited to the water plant at Entresol. In time, it will supply Zaun in its entirety. No more clogged filters. No more rations. No piling up a fortnight's soiled laundry before doing the wash. No families bathing two days a week with the same bathwater, just to tally every bloody drop wasted."

Vi notices that his accent has changed again, like when he'd smoked brightleaf at the warehouse, like when he'd complained of an empty stomach. The cultured cadences—closer to Topside than the Fissures—lose their enunciation to a familiar grittiness of bitten-off consonants and blunted vowels.

It's disconcertingly close to Vander's style of speech. With exceptions, the younger generations in the Undercity have a uniform accent. Standard, as it's called. But the older generations are a mixed bag. Each one has a distinct dialect to go with their particular neighborhood, so no single word is pronounced the same: wader, watta, vota.

Vander's neighborhood was the Pump Station. She wonders if Silco grew up there too.

Shaking it off, Vi takes another sip. Minty-clean. But it doesn't mean Silco's intentions are the same. His spiel about purification plants may seem convincing. But she reminds herself that he is likely accustomed to operating on multiple levels of deception. She can't trust him. She knows that. Yet she hates that she almost wants to believe him anyway.

Silco's stare is inexorable, the shark-eye seeing right through her.

"It must be difficult for you," he says.

"Difficult?"

"Living half-in, half-out."

Vi looks away. "I'm not getting into this with you."

"Ah. So there's something to get into?" He circles a fingertip around the rim of his cup. "Is this really what you want? To play lapdog as Topside’s Peacekeeper? To waste your talents working the beat?"

"I have my reasons. They're the only ones that matter."

"Reasons change. Especially once your eyes are wide open."

"Are yours? Hard to tell."

"You can deflect, but you can't lie. It's why you can't keep away from the Undercity. Why you're back again."

Vi bristles. "I'm back for my sister."

"You're saying life in Piltover is peaches and cream? You're lucky, certainly. It's not the usual way for an ex-con from Stillwater to smarm it up with the Kirramans, despite not having a cog to her name. Getting an apartment with a closet bigger than most rooms in the Sumps. Getting three square meals and permission to go wherever she pleases. But in exchange, they expect you to sing for your supper, don't they? To be eager to please, in exchange for getting rescued? You were brave to overcome your ordeal, but you're blessed now, aren't you?"

Vi refuses to answer. But her shoulders flex into a yoke of tension. He's needling her. She knows it.

That doesn't mean he's off the mark.

Silco drains his cup half at a go. Setting it aside, he thumbs the greenness off his lips. "Take it from someone who's been there and back, girl. Piltover will never accept you as one of them. You'll stay there. Never live. Stay. Like a dog stays in a kennel until the master bids it to heel. You'll never be allowed to hold your head high. Always be a target for their mean-spirited prejudices and ignorance. Even the well-meaning Pilties—like your Kirraman girl—have no idea what you've endured. The hardness it builds on the inside. It's like they live in one dimension. Meanwhile you live in three. Surviving as an orphan on the Day of Ash. Surviving as a casualty of Topside's negligence. Surviving as a Fissure-born emigre, only to find the part of you that's formed in violence will always respond to nothing but violence."

Vi swallows her drink. It burns going down, but that's not the water.

She knows what he's talking about. She wishes she didn't—but she does. Her eyes drop to Silco's hands. They are freakish appendages: long and bony, with a terrain of heavy metacarpals. Well-kept, but the demarcations of old scars are plain. Burn scars. Fisticuff scars. Knife scars. The same type as Vander's.

The same type as hers.

Against her will, she imagines a younger Silco, with an unfucked-up face, dead-drunk and pitching himself into a bar-brawl, his knuckles splitting open against someone's tooth, blood on his hands, on his clothes, on the floor. So much blood, night after night, just to scrape by and survive. He's been there. Vander's been there. Vi's been there. Even Powder has.

Caitlyn—sweet Caityln—has never been there.

Silco holds her eyes over the rim of his cup. "I wasn't lying when I said Piltover set you up. You were the gasoline to start a political fire. Deny it all you like. In your gut, you know the truth." He empties the rest of the cup in one swallow. "In losing Zaun, they've lost precious resources. Our factories. Our mills. Our mines. We're negotiating a treaty. But the course of peace ne'er ran smooth. They'll find loopholes to keep us beholden to them. Same as always."

He uses the royal plural; we, us, ours. As if he and Zaun are two halves of a single machine grinding inexorably into infinity.

As if Vi is part of the machine too.

She scowls. "I'm not playing your errand girl."

"You wouldn't be."

"Or your attack dog."

"I've no shortage of those." His good eye narrows. "I need a nexus."

"Nexus?"

"A link between Piltover and Zaun. Someone to serve as a bridge, in the absence of the old one. A bridge that works both ways, rather than solely in their favor."

"People walk all over a bridge."

His scarred upper-lip curls. "No one could possibly walk over you, pet."

"Don't fucking call me that."

"It suits you."

Vi isn't sure if his expression is a stifled smirk or a low-key leer. It makes her want to smack him. Is that the reaction he's trying to provoke? Or is it a mind-game at a deeper level, something to get under her skin? Make her emotionally volatile?

Vi grits her teeth.

Whatever he's doing, it's working.

"I meant what I said,” Silco goes on. “Razzle-dazzle only works if the magic is real. Zaun’s is limited, especially compared to the mightiest empires. That’s why we need security as much as investment. As much as sharp minds in politics, military, corporations, and the media. A shield protects against outside threats. A sword does maximum damage. Zaun needs its own. Something big enough to scare everyone else off."

Vi glowers. "You've already got the damn Hex-gem."

Silco tilts his head. "Sitting pretty on it won't protect Zaun."

"What?"

"It's like a bomb. It must be placed in the right spot."

"I'm not following you."

"It means—"

"I mean I'm not taking your job."

Silco falls silent. Then: "Let me ask you a question. What notion has been relentlessly drilled into the head of every sumpsnipe since birth? About their place, and Piltover's?"

Vi shifts in her seat. "I don't know. That we're one city, I guess."

"Close. That we are one city. But every time Piltover is in need, they take from us. A famine in Ionia cripples produce. So we must forfeit our sleep and wages to make up for declining productivity. A flood capsizes shipping vessels full of Shuriman timber. So we must build our houses with cheap mortar while they construct sturdy homes. A housing crisis sends rent skyrocketing. Yet the Wardens charge us ten times the price per cubic foot in our shantytowns than in the finest streets on Mainspring Crescent.” He locks his unsettling eyes with hers. “They get the Kindred's share. We make do with scraps."

Déjà vu dopplers. Past conversations with Vander, overlapping the present. Vi doesn't flinch. But it's an effort to hold still under Silco's scrutiny.

"Zaun is free now," Silco says, his voice vibrating with a barely restrained fervor. "But to stay free, we must seize our future. So we are longer exploited. Not by Piltover nor any other enemy."

"And where do I fit into this?"

"We'll discuss it. If you choose to join me."

Vi shakes her head. "Already said I won’t."

"Because Piltover is your new home?"

"Because of what you are."

Silco's insinuating demeanor sobers. "Better the monster than the meat.” Lounging back in his seat, he drums his fingers on the table's edge. "Still… I regret that it turned out this way. We weren't meant to fight one another. We were supposed to stand as one against Topside. Just like Vander and I."

A livewire twists in Vi's gut. "That didn't stop you from killing Vander."

Silco tips his chin, a cold glitter in his mismatched eyes. "You have this notion—I don't know where it came from—that my feud with Vander sprang up overnight. Perhaps it's more comforting to imagine it did. But ask the other fellow, get the other side of the story. Our dispute took its time within a squared circle of debts and decades. What we owed, we both paid." His jaw tenses, then relaxes. "I couldn't work with Vander, though I respected him. Hopefully I can work with you."

Vi stares warily.

"You're like him. Fierce. Independent. Smart."

Vi snorts, faux-modest. "You need to quit."

"But like him, you turn a virtue into a vice. You don't understand when to do business, and when to stay out of it."

The knot in Vi's gut becomes a dagger. "Business? You mean drugs and murder and blackmail?"

"Exactly."

She shakes her head. "You really are a piece of work."

"I do what I must for the best interests of Zaun. It's a messy dilemma. But the longer you remain a Peacekeeper, the more you'll be mired in the same. Piltover preaches pacifism in the limelight. But they break just as many laws in the dark to further their ends." His tongue plays over the point of an eyetooth. "The difference is that Piltover has the luxury of choice. Zaun doesn't. The things I've done were necessary for our freedom."

Vi seethes in disgust, "Shimmering up the Lanes was necessary?"

"Everything is permissible when there's no other way."

"You're full of shit."

"And you're abysmally naïve." He smiles without mirth. "That's the charm of youth. Like falling off a cliff. By the time you see the end, it's too late." A beat. "Rather like love."

"What the hell are you yapping about?"

His smile fades. "Jinx."

The word passes through Vi on a shock of paralysis.

"Do you want to see her?"

Hatred burns Vi's lungs and hope strangles her heart.

Silco stares at her with surface calm. But his mouth twists at the corners. "There are three tasks I need you to do. They are necessary to establish Zaun as a sovereign power. Complete each one, and I'll grant you access to Jinx. Unrestricted. No tricks up the sleeve. No strings attached."

His offer catches like a hook in Vi's ribcage. She struggles against its pull.

"You're lying," she states flatly. "I'm a threat. You told me yourself. Why would you let me near her?"

Silco's eyes hold hers in a moment of deepening silence. Then he glances away. His unscarred profile holds both bitterness and irony. As if she is a truth he dares not turn his back on.

Quietly, he says, "You are a threat. I do not take kindly to those. But you're also her sister. You're Vander's girl. That earns you the barest grace. If you expect more, then prove yourself. Show your loyalty to Jinx. Zaun may no longer be your home. But it is hers. With each task you complete, you'll leave it safer for her future."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then it becomes a matter of payment and cost."

"Just math, huh?"

"Survival is a simple equation." His darkening stare is a prelude to a kill. "So is fatherhood."

Fatherhood.

The word sounds rancid on his lips. She remembers his eyes boring into Powder at the skyscraper balcony. Remembers the way he'd set his hands on her as if he was going to swallow her up.

She doesn’t care what Sevika says. Something about him and Jinx together is inherently rancid. Fathers don't touch their daughters that way. Don't corrupt them into trigger-happy terrorists. Don't stow them away in towers like prisoners.

It isn't natural. It isn't right.

But nothing about Silco is natural or right.

(I'll get you away from him, Powder.)

(I promise.)

Forcibly, Vi swallows. Her voice comes hoarse but steady.

"All right."

"Hm?"

"I'll do your fucking jobs. But I want to see my sister first."

He shakes his head. "You've already seen her. Killed a blackguard in the bargain too."

Fury scalds Vi. "I told you. I never—"

"You did." His tone is a clash of contradictions, cold civility yielding against a warm lure of truth. "I saw him at the morgue. He had a crushed trachea. Perhaps he wasn't dead when you left him. But certain injuries, a man succumbs to afterward."

"I—"

A vein throbs in Vi's temple. She feels physically sick. Silco is lying; he has to be. She knows the blackguard was alive. He was breathing when she'd left the alleyway. But—

But she also knows bodies are unpredictable.

Fuck.

Is Silco telling the truth? Had she killed the guard by accident? Or had Silco conspired to make it happen? Either way, Vi could argue it was a hazard of the trade. As Vander used to say: Queensberry Rules. Once the gloves are on, the bets are off. Everything within the ring is sanctioned. She knows this. The blackguard would've known too.

And yet—

"I know you think this is self-serving theater," Silco says. "But fact is fact."

Vi's eyes flick to his.

"Fortunately, facts can be distorted. Between us, we'll make the issue go away."

Vi's eyes burn, her mouth spasming. "Quid pro quo, huh?"

"You play the bone-breaker. I play the undertaker." He lets off a strange chuckle: worn-out and vacant. "I did the same for Vander."

Vi's mind feels pulped; she's not sure how many more blows it can withstand. Instinctively, she makes a real fist with her freed hand, and slams it knuckles-down on the table—a sharp thud.

"Tell me what you want."

She nearly shivers at the expression that crosses Silco's face. It isn't triumph. His features remain impassive. But something flares to cold sharp life within the interior of his skull. His eyes exude an alien glow. "Three tasks. Once you've completed the first, I'll give the second. Once you've accomplished that, you'll get the third."

"Then I'll see my sister?"

"You have my word."

"Then shake on it."

"Hm?"

"Shake on it. Like a real fucking Trencher. With both of us standing up and facing each other."

A smile etches itself across Silco's lips. "You expect to be untied?"

"If we're going to do this? Yeah."

Silco doesn't say anything for a moment. His unnerving eyes rove across Vi's face. He might be considering her odds of attacking him. He might be considering her chances of warding off his goons and escaping into the crowd. He might be measuring how completely he can take her word, the same way she can take his.

After a moment, he nods.

Dipping a hand into his waistcoat, he tosses her the key. "Go on."

Vi wastes no time. She undoes her left hand's shackles. Next the chains locking her ankles. The manacles fall with a heavy clank. Rising, she limbers up, trying not to wince at the stiffness. Torques the hips, rolls her shoulders, bobbing briefly on the tips of her toes. Silco remains at a distance. His eyes roam over her physique. He isn't scoping her out. He is scrutinizing her as impassively if she is a rottweiler in his dog-fight.

A pawn in his chessgame.

Vi sticks her hand out. Rising, he takes it in his own. His grip is chilly, like handling a dead twist of muscle. They don't break off. Just stand with clasped palms for a tense moment. Outside, a wild cheer goes up. The thunder of a hundred lungs emptying themselves in a chorus of triumph. Vi hears the music speakers blast a throb of drumbeats and shrieking guitar riffs. She recognizes the song.

Blut.

The anthem of the Undercity. The victory call for Ziggy and Stardust. The dotted line with Vi's signature in blood.

"Well," Silco says. "Now that—"

Vi's fist barrels into his solar plexus

It is a lightning-fast right-hook. Vi summons into it all the hatred from the depths of her being. It clocks Silco straight between the ribs. He makes a sound like a dry-gulch. The impact of her knuckles judders through his chest with the flat smack of beef-cut slapped onto the chopping block.

He staggers, and Vi follows with her own momentum, pivoting to slam the heel of her palm into his throat, knocking him backwards against the table. Glasses topple and a plate crashes to the floor.

Vi holds Silco down. He thrashes, driving his knee toward her underbelly. Vi blocks it with a retaliatory stomp to his instep. thighs pinning his own. She'd expected to manhandle a jangling skeleton. But the narrow musculature beneath her is whipcord-wiry and vicious. She can barely keep him stationary beneath the clamp of her arms and legs.

Maybe he wasn't lying about being a miner. Vi had sparred with a few in Stillwater. Most had a strength that didn't announce itself—right until it crashtackled you.

She doesn’t give Silco the chance. Her knuckles jam deeper under his throat. Their eyes lock from inches apart.

"You shitbag," Vi breathes. "Tell me why I shouldn't crack your skull open."

Silco's lips are curled back over a jagged row of teeth. The glow in his eyes is feral. A blackness pouring into his expression.

Then he smiles.

"You forgot Vander's rule."

"What—?"

"Never drop your high guard."

Suddenly there is a butterfly knife in his right hand. He whips it wide-angled across Vi's face. The blade rakes along the fine hairs on her cheekbone, a cold vibration sharpening into hot pressure as blood spills. Vi gasps, loosening her grip. Silco jerks free and swings again, the knife a flashing arc. Vi rocks back on her heels, dodging, and reflexively snaps off an uppercut. It connects with air.

There is nobody on the table.

In the next blink, a flashbang shoots from the butt of the knife and erupts inches from Vi's face.

The shockwave is like getting blowtorched. Stars spiral before Vi's eyes. High-pitched noises ignite in her ears. Yowling, she jerks back. Her hands stay fisted despite the unbearable urge to claw at her face. Wheeling, she tries to keep Silco—a blood-red shadow—in her sightline. The second blow isn't a flashbang, but the silver tray caroming off her shoulder. She grunts, torquing to evade. Silco closes in and hits her twice more, sideways and then full-on, the tray slamming off her skull.

Vi's knees buckle, and in slow-motion, she is sliding to the floor. The rugs are so soft against her colliding cheek. Like cotton batting or Caitlyn's breasts.

She lays sprawled for a moment. Dazed. Her heart pumps with rapid unevenness. Blood seeps from the slash on her face.

Three Silco's loom over her, before coalescing into one.

He is breathing rapidly. His left hand massages his bruised ribs, then goes to his throat. Fingertips caress the blotched skin. He swallows with a rough click, muttering a paragraph of fluent billingsgate that is punctuated by a single word: Bitch.

"Worth it," Vi slurs.

She starts to get up. Matter-of-factly, Silco plants his boot on her bruised shoulder and pushes her back down. He stands over her, regarding her through flat eyes. The fingers of his right hand play over the knife handle—a cresting arc of metal like a shark's fin. Vi stares at the bright blood on the blade. She thinks of how it's a weapon signifying neither skill nor strength. It only requires a black core of ruthlessness and a willingness to cross the hardest line.

It's what puts her at a disadvantage against this monster.

Pursing his lips, Silco lets off a brisk whistle. The tent's flap lifts. Sevika walks in, followed by Ran and Lock. They turn the corner and stop short. The aftermath of the altercation crackles like electricity through the air. Sevika's dark eyes go from Vi to Silco. There is no shock in her appraisal.

Slipping a hand into her pocket, she flips Silco a gold Hex. He catches it neatly.

"Called it," Sevika says.

Silco nods. "Expect your half later."

A paralyzing chill spreads through Vi. She realizes Silco had anticipated her attack. Planned it. Provoked it.

And once again, she'd walked into his trap.

"You fucker," she hisses.

Silco tilts his head to one side. "I did warn you not to misbehave."

He jerks his chin. Ran and Lock swarm to enclose Vi. They drag her to her feet, wrenching her arms behind her back. A fresh pair of cuffs are slapped on her wrists. Vi's head throbs from the impact of the silver tray. But the pump of emotion speeding her pulse isn't fear. It's a pent-up fury she can only liken to Murderus Interruptus.

Shit—she'd been so close. She'd nearly bashed his skull in. Whatever it took to end this madness.

To save the Undercity, and Powder's life.

With a napkin, Silco wipes the blood off his butterfly knife. He returns it to the hidden sheath at his belt, with the same uncommon care he'd shown Powder's handkerchief. Crossing over to Vi, he mops the blood off her face. Vi tries to wrench away. Ran grabs a fistful of hair at the back of her skull and keeps her immobile.

Taking her jaw in one hand, Silco regards her eyes. "Pupils seem about right."

"Get out of my face!"

"I can hardly have you concussed."

"Bad optics, huh?"

"In more ways than one."

His tone is all mildness, and for a moment, Vi loses her bearings. Ten seconds ago, his face was a rictus of bloodthirst. Now it's a study of aloof reproach, as if she's a mutt who's tracked mud on his carpet. An ordinary person would be disquieted by the split. Vi takes it for what it is: proof of a lifelong intimacy with violence. She's known inmates in Stillwater who were the same. Crazies who were so adept at compartmentalizing that their different selves were like two faces of a coin. Tails; retreat. Heads; destroy.

If they deemed something necessary, they acted with no remorse and even less warning.

"Let's go," Silco says.

Vi tenses. "What? Where?"

The dog-pit. He’d threatened they’d have her in the dog-pit.

Fuck. Fuck—

Silco’s savoring stare meets her stricken one. "Don’t look so concerned. You’re being escorted to the chopper. We'll deliver you back to Topside."

"You rotten piece of shit! We're not finished here!"

"On the contrary," Silco agrees, "we've scarcely started."

Vi's body turns into a cold block of lead. Around her, the goons crack knowing smiles. Sevika's stare is sharply glossed. Ran hums to herself, a two-note chuckle. Lock bobs his head in time to no beat.

None of it bodes well.

Especially not the curve of Silco's smile.

"Deal's done." His shark-eye glints in private relish. "Welcome to the family."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic #arcane silco #arcane sevika #arcane vi #arcane jinx #arcane mel #silco #jinx #vi #mel medarda #silco x sevika #silco x mel #sevilco #melco #fanfic #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo

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caelusarchetype · 1 year

Text

ᴄᴀᴛᴇɴᴀ sɪᴅ ✦

So heya, hey guys. It's so nice to find new members in this hell of a trainwreck.

〔☕〕

So far, there are only five of us here, including me. Translators are way in demand these days, nobody just wanna seek us out, y'know?

Got my bases covered— look we don't reall actually care about what languages you speak, kay? Just as long as you're fluent in three or more, you're in.

Like me, been drifting in Eihsta, Khanesis and Lovrum all my life. Never had a place called home except the caravan ride. But that's a good thing though. Got used to the culture, norms, local festivals and all that. So General got me first place first prize in this private squad he's been making.

Yeah, the General.

—〔🪃〕—

We're not too keen on names here, so we call the king the General.

Born in Impetros, mommy fetched home to Nievos Argia and had a maid from Ctheis. But let's be honest here, almost all maids are from Ctheis. There we go three languages all in all. Then he got drafted for the war, had to learn while spying in Lovrum— here we are.

Tried to get matched with the system too, found a 100% bride candidate... But his candidate got killed in the war so... He's been brooding about it since.

Now, we got a paycheck supported by the invisible demand for translators that everyone's been somehow ignoring.

〔🪺〕

Room 102 by the bathroom is the Sanguine second daughter. She's a prime example of a rich kid who didn't have anything to do in life. She's more or less fluent in all of the languages here in Philtatos, though her birthright's in Hahruko.

Don't know much about her life story, all I know is that she's the library girl that didn't get the title. She's more talkative than I thought she would be. Well, then again, she did like learning languages— must've been connected to her personality.

Those two goons upstairs are the ones that purposefully distanced themselves from people.

〔🗝️〕

One of them's loaded, from Koshka. It was hard trying to convince him to join us. Guy's the embodiment of can-write-can't-talk. He can basically translate any written material from the Fliamae and Afflecia continents, and of course Koshka, but can't turn alphabet into sounds.

Doesn't talk to people either. Orally. Always has a sketchbook with him at all times.

And he's got a kid with him. Yeah, in the room. So he'll really hate it if you guys barged in.

Yeah. Yeah. You're right. Probably.

Well, he's taking care of the kid because the mother ran off to protect her career, and the father also chose his career, so he's basically been guilt tripped into it. I know for sure that the Koshkan guy hate kids.

Right, there's also a white cat in the room? Don't worry it doesn't bite.

〔🐗〕

Then there's this bitch up the stairs who stares at the same picture for hours. Months and years of stalking led her to guess what—knowing every language in the Cyrillian Empire. Been chasing some sort of royal official, a prince or a princess maybe, got arrested, and is serving her sentence here since General is more or less desperate for someone with her skillset.

Can any of you speak from that continent?

...ah, yeah? At least you can speak English then.

Now that I've finished my job of basically giving intros, why don't you go decorate your new rooms and then bother them, especially the stalker one upstairs?

Gonna have to cook dinner soon.

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babeydollx · 2 years

Note

I'm so sorry you're sick!! 😔 I hope you get better soon!! ❤️❤️

5, 7, & 10 with Drew Starkey pls (I'm thinking best friends/roommates that are secretly in love with each other out on a walk or something and coming across a type of fair. But you can do whatever you want with it. I know it's going to be amazing either way!!

Token of Love {Drew Starkey}

Warnings: none

Pairings: Drew Starkey x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and your best friend Drew were out for an evening walk when you come across a fair and you ask him to go not knowing that this would be the start of your love story.

Prompts: "Here, take my jacket." and "I'll carry you if you're that tired." and "I refuse to leave this stupid booth until I win you the stuffed animal you want."

Word Count: 1.3k

a/n: I absolutely loved this request!

Quarantine Masterlist | Drew Starkey Masterlist | OBX Cast Masterlist | Navigation

You and Drew walked down the street heading home. The sun was setting and it was going to be dark soon. You and Drew had lived together for a year now and this is one thing you both loved to do together, take evening walks everyday.

Sometimes it would be dark by the time you got home. Usually you would be nervous to walk home in the dark, especially by yourself but, when Drew would walk with you, you weren't scared at all because you knew that he would always protect you.

It was getting darker now so you held his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiled at you and kept walking with you. He knew how nervous you would get walking when it was getting dark so he did all he could to make you feel safe, one of those things being holding your hand.

As the two of you were walking, you were shivering a little since you were getting cold. Drew noticed and stopped walking. He let go of your hand and then pulled off his jacket.

"Here, take my jacket." He said as he helped you put his jacket on you. You smiled. It was warm and you could smell his scent on it.

"Thank you." You said with a smile as you held his hand again. The two of you then continued your walk. As you continued your walk, you noticed some colorful lights off in the distance. As you got closer to the lights you saw that it was a fair. You squealed and gently tugged on Drew's arm jumping a little.

"I- what is it?" He asked with a laugh.

"Look! Look! It's a fair!" You said still jumping a little as you pointed at the fair across the road. "Can we go please?!" You asked and gave him your best puppy dog eyes. Of course he caved immediately.

"Alright, we can go to the fair for a bit." He said with a smile. You squealed again and ran towards the fair, pulling him along with you. Drew paid for both of you and your tickets and then the two of you went into the fair.

The two of you went on rides, played games, and got some snacks too. Time passed by and the two of you had been there for an hour already. As the two of you were getting ready to leave you saw a game that you must've missed. It was baseball toss.

When you looked at the prizes, you saw a stuffed animal that you just had to have. It was a big kawaii pink dinosaur plushie. You gasped when you saw it and pointed it out to Drew.

"Look at how cute it is! I need it in my life!" You said with a giggle. "Can we stay a little longer so I can try to win it?" You asked bringing out the puppy dog eyes.

"You know I can't say no when you make that face." He said with a chuckle. You giggled and paid the person behind the baseball toss stand, you tried your best to throw the ball at the cans, trying to knock three down so you could get the stuffed animal.

But, you did not succeed, you didn't even knock down one. You pouted when you saw and looked at Drew. He saw that you really did want this plushie so, he decided to try to win it for you.

"Here, let me have a try at it." He said.

"Really? You would win it for me?" You asked, a smile spreading across your face.

"Of course, I want you to be happy and if that pink dinosaur makes you happy then I am going to make sure that you get it." He said. You stepped aside and let him take a shot at it. He paid the man to play and then took a shot at it.

He had knocked over two cans but, not three. In order to get the stuffed dino he had to knock over three cans. You frowned a little. He was so close. Drew paid the man again and then tried to knock three cans over once again. He got the same results as last time. You sighed and then gently pulled on his arm. He looked down at you.

"Come on, let's just go home." You said.

"I refuse to leave this stupid booth until I win you the stuffed animal you want." He said. You tried to protest but he stopped you. "Please, just let me try a few more times to win this for you." He said. You nodded and stepped aside one again to let him play.

He tried a few more times and just when you were feeling hopeless, on his last try he knocked over all three cans. You squealed and jumped up and down clapping. The man behind the stand took down the big pink dino plushie and handed it to Drew. He then handed the stuffed animal to you with a smile. You giggled and got on your tippy toes before kissing his cheek.

"Thank you so much for winning this for me." You said with a smile.

"You're welcome. I guess you could consider it a token of my love." He said. You nodded and then stopped for a moment and looked at him.

"Token of your love? What do you mean?" You asked. You were hoping it meant that Drew liked you. You have had the biggest crush on him for years. You always wanted to tell him but, never had the courage to.

"Well, the truth is that I love you, Y/N." He said. You stood there in shock. Drew was in love with you? You felt butterflies in your stomach and you could feel your cheeks heating up after he told you that he loved you.

"You do?" You asked in shock.

"Yeah, I have been in love with you for quite some time now. I just never had the courage to tell you because I was scared that you didn't feel the same way and I was even more scared that it would mess up our friendship or that you might move out." He confessed.

"But it's okay if you don't feel the sam-" Before he could finish, you cut him off by kissing him. After a moment or two you pulled back and looked up at him smiling.

"I love you too, Drew. God, I am so in love with you, you have no idea." You said with a breathless giggle.

"Really?" He asked with a smile. You nodded. His smile grew and he kissed you again. He pulled back and looked down at you, cupping your face. "Well, if I were to ask you to be my girlfriend, what would you say?" He asked.

"Are you serious? Of course I want to be your girlfriend!" You said with a big grin and kissed him again. When you pulled back you rested your forehead against his. "I love you Drew." You said.

"I love you too Y/N." He said with a smile.

"Mm.. can we go home now? I'm pretty tired." You said with a soft giggle. He smiled and nodded.

"Sure, we can go home now." He said.

"Can we take the bus or something? I honestly think I am too tired to walk the rest of the way home." You said with a quiet chuckle.

"I'll carry you if you're that tired." He said with a smile. Before you could protest he scooped you up bridal style. You held onto the plushie that was laying on your stomach and he left the fair carrying you home.

You looked at the pink dinosaur plushie and smiled. Who knew that a stuffed animal would be the beginning of a beautiful love story.

a/n: I hope y'all liked this story!

@wannabestarkeysgirl

#obx #fluff #obx cast #drew starkey #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x fem!reader #drew starkey x f!reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x oc #drewstarkey #drew #starkey #drew starkey imagine #fluffy

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digital-corruption · 2 years

Text

Unrecognisable Part 25

Running to the Park and Ride stop to catch the bus before it left, we were completely out of breath. Jake got on first and handled purchasing our tickets. While he took care of it, I got on and surveyed the bus quickly. It was only half full, but of the passengers that were there they were all staring at us like we had three heads. I couldn’t understand why. It was as if they'd never seen two people wearing hoodies before. Then I remembered I had been crying only a short time earlier, and subconsciously wiped my face as I walked down the aisle to the back of the bus where there was an empty row for us to sit in. I sat down next to the window, putting our bag down at my feet. Jake followed after validating our tickets and I noticed him glaring at a couple of the passengers for staring as he went past them. He plopped down next to me and continued to give them a stink eye until they went back to minding their own business.

I pulled out my phone and cleaned up my tear-stained face as best as I could with my sleeves. Jake put his arm around me and leant his head against mine. Seeing us both on my phone made me smile, even if Jake still had his hood and mask covering most of his face. I really wanted to take a photo, but I wasn't sure if I should. Jake must've sensed my uncertainty as he reached with his free hand and pushed the camera button for me. He turned into me just in time so the camera didn't catch his eyes. Sure you couldn't see his face at all in the photo, but it was the first photo of the two of us. I loved it so much I made it my wallpaper.

Putting my phone away, I nestled against Jake and watched as the outskirts of Colville passed us by while he kept track of our progress on his phone. It was only the second time I had been to Germany and the last time I didn’t pay attention because I was so focused on everything happening in Duskwood. Suddenly Jake felt a lot heavier against my head. It took me a second to realise that Jake had nodded off. I raised my hand and gently rubbed his head, before pulling his phone out of his hand to prevent it from falling. He still had the map open and I could see we still had another 20 minutes before our stop, so I let him sleep.

With his phone in my hand, I grew curious. The urge to poke around was just too great to ignore, so I did. His phone was very streamlined to the bare minimum apps, which surprised me. He didn't even have any games, so that explained why he used my phone earlier to play Candy Crush. Out of curiosity, I opened his photo gallery, but to my surprise there were only a few photos in it, all of me sleeping. The last one he had taken that very morning in the barn while I was asleep on his chest. I couldn’t help but smile. Normally I found photos of me sleeping embarrassing, but I was so peaceful sleeping in his arms.

I swapped to his notes and only found one, written in German, containing a single line. I found it so strange that I had to know what it said. Without hesitation I copied it and swapped to the browser to translate it to English.

'Never let her see you at your worst.'

I stared at the words for a few minutes, saying it over and over again in my head. Just what was he so frightened of? Considering everything we had been through the past few days, what did he still have hiding in his closet? What was his worst? I glanced at him sleeping. He looked so calm that it was easy to forget how he could change at a flick of a switch. I liked to think I was bringing some stability to his life, but did I really have any effect on him or was it just a facade?

Swapping back at the map, I realised there was only one more stop before ours. I gently shook Jake’s shoulder and he jumped, making my heart skip several beats.

"Sorry, our stop is coming up," I laughed.

"Fuck! Why did you let me sleep!?" he snapped.

"Because you needed it?" I frowned. "It was only a few minutes."

"I could’ve done without it," he rolled his eyes and snatched his phone out of my hands.

"Clearly your body thought otherwise," I pointed out.

"What were you doing with my phone?" He sneered as he checked the open apps.

"Making sure we didn’t miss our stop," I replied. "I mean sure, I looked at your gallery."

"You saw the photos!?" he queried.

"Um, yes, they were cute," I smiled. "Though you can take photos of me when I am awake too."

Jake said nothing and reached for the button to signal for the next bus stop. Then he put his phone away and picked up his backpack, resting it on his lap while he waited for the bus to stop.

"Are you mad?" I asked.

"I am mad you let me sleep," he answered, but it felt like only half of an answer.

"Are you embarrassed because I saw the photos?" I pushed.

He ignored me and instead stood up as the bus stopped. I got up, grabbed our bag and followed him out the back door of the bus. He walked off in the direction of the shopping district. I had to rush to catch up to him.

"What the hell, Jake!?" I exclaimed.

He stopped and turned back to me, checking to make sure if anyone was in earshot before responding, "What do you want me to say? I like it when you’re helpless, vulnerable, unguarded, and weak."

At a loss of words, I searched his eyes for an understanding, "I think what you mean to say is you like it when I feel safe with you."

Jake smirked, "You really have no idea."

"Jake, I don't understand what you mean," I shook my head.

"We need to hurry to get those documents printed," he tried changing the subject.

Jake continued down the path to the shopping district, but realised I wasn't following and turned back.

"If it wasn't clear already, I trust you, Jake," I declared. "I am yours - mind, body and soul."

"One day I will break you," he warned. "It’s only a matter of time."

"Then break me," I laughed. "I broke when I lost you. So unless you plan on leaving me again, you really can't do worse."

He tilted his head and grinned, "You’re just as fucked up as I am."

"I think they call it love," I mused.

"Hmm, well, we'll continue this discussion later," he held out his hand to me. "Come on."

I took his hand eagerly and walked into the shopping district at his side. It was fairly busy so we had to weave through to get to our destination, a small print and copy shop at the opposite end. Still we managed to blend reasonably well into the crowd. All seemed to be going ok until we reached the shop. To our surprise, it was far more crowded than expected. Still we approached the counter and explained to the staff what we needed done.

"Please join the queue," the clerk behind the desk said to me in a thick German accent.

"Ok, but this is urgent. Like we need it done now urgent," I stressed.

"You have to wait for your turn," he waved me away.

Jake cut in and expressed our urgency in German. The clerk still didn't budge.

"It’s a matter of life or death! Our job is way more important than theirs! And what, are your printers from the 80s?" I complained. "Why is it taking so long?'

Jake continued in German and tried to convince the clerk to push our job to the front of the queue. Meanwhile the other customers waiting for their turn were glaring at us. I could tell they weren't impressed by my suggestion that their print jobs were inferior to ours.

"Oh please, we have a critical deadline! You all can wait!" I snapped.

"MC," Jake put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a look to settle down.

"Where's your manager!?" I exclaimed.

"He is the manager," Jake clarified.

"Oh, well he sucks," I pouted.

"And he understands English," he reminded me.

"Yeah, change my opinion then!" I sassed.

"Give me a moment, ok?" Jake rubbed his head, then went back to speaking in German to the clerk.

I sighed and went back to staring down the other customers.

"Their primary printer is not responding. They're waiting for a technician to come, but it could be another hour. I will be right back, I am going to try to fix it myself," Jake explained. "Hopefully its just the network settings."

I nodded and watched as Jake went behind the counter. I could see him going back and forth between the computer and the large format printer several times. I'd be lying if I said watching him work so intensely wasn't hot. I caught myself staring at him as he checked the printer over for anything out of place. He noticed me watching and winked. I blushed and looked away. There was no way I was getting all turned on so easily.

I tried to distract myself with the product displays as best as I could. Who knew you could print your face on almost anything? I was reminded of the time I heard Dan had his face printed on bottle cooler sleeves and gifted them to everyone for their birthdays for the next year. Every time the group got together and they weren't using the cooler sleeves, he threw a tantrum. The memory made me giggle.

Out of nowhere, the staff all started cheering as the printer came to life. I saw Jake was very uncomfortable by the appreciation he was receiving and I had to smile. He shoved a USB stick into their computer, clicked on a few things and the printer started running again. Judging by the reaction of the manager seeing the printouts, I knew exactly what was printing. Still, the manager collected the documents and put them into a folder for us. Jake took the folder from him and thanked him, then walked back over to me.

"He didn't want any money?" I questioned.

"Nah, the service job was going to cost way more than the printing," he ushered me out of the store. "We need to hurry though or we're going to miss the next bus."

Jake handed the folder to me as we walked away from the shop. It felt so heavy in my hands, like I was carrying the weight of the world. The notion that I had been entrusted to carry his most vulnerable memories wasn't lost on me. I held it so tightly against my body to guard it with my life as we walked briskly back to the bus stop.

As soon as the stop was in sight and we saw the bus was already there, we ran again. Jake got to the door first and shoved his hand in as the door started closing. The driver was shocked and said something to him. Jake responded angrily in German and then motioned for me to get on. Using the same tickets from earlier, we filed onto the bus. This bus was more crowded this time with standing room only. The bus started moving before I could grab onto a rail and I nearly fell into another passenger, but Jake wrapped his arm around my waist and righted me. He took the opportunity though to hold me close against him. I glanced back at him and smiled, but his expression was sour.

"What’s wrong?" I questioned.

"I don't want to send you in there," he sighed. "Even with your new documents, they might realise who you are."

"But we agreed, Richy doesn't get early release," I turned around in his embrace.

"Listen, if the worst should happen, I will get you out," he promised. "They'll put you in a transport."

"And?" I asked, already anticipating what he'd say next.

"And I will find the transport and get you out," he responded vaguely. "You should probably brace for impact though."

"Right, of course," I chuckled. "We haven't really discussed this. I mean are you going to wait for me outside?"

"No, no, I'm not. I will disappear as soon as you walk through the entrance. I expect you'll attract attention so stay with your friends. I am sure they will want to talk with you and discuss whatever it is you discuss," he explained. "I will go to you as soon as I find an opportunity. Just try to act normal."

"You will always find me," I smirked.

"Yes I will," he chuckled. "I am glad you understand that."

I sighed, "Ok this is really happening."

"Having second thoughts?" he asked.

"No, I can do this. I go in, bust the door down if I have to, kick ass and take names," I tried psyching myself up.

"Please don't kick their asses," Jake humoured. "I mean it's not fair if I'm left out."

"Wait, left out of being a kicker or kickee?" I joked.

"Ha! As if you could take me!" he teased. "Though it would be cute to see you try."

I stuck my tongue out at him, then noticed the scenery around us had changed. Leaning over to look out the window, I could see we were approaching the prison. Jake pushed the signal for the next stop while I started practising controlled breathing exercises to calm my nerves. The bus soon stopped and we filed out of the back of the bus with several passengers, who were there to visit other prisoners. I turned to Jake with unease filling my stomach.

"Jake?" I said nervously.

"You'll be fine," he assured me and rubbed my arms.

I looked into his soft, warm eyes and could feel my muscles relaxing, "I love you."

He smiled, "I love you too. Now who is the one waiting to say it until the stressful moments?"

I laughed, which eased my nerves even more, then hugged him tight, "Please no disappearing on me."

He hugged me back even tighter, "I will be with you again before the night is over. But you best get in there, it is already ten minutes past 2."

I nodded and let go of him reluctantly to walk off to the prison entrance. The first time I glanced back, he was still standing there watching me, but by the time I had passed through the gate, he was gone. I was now on my own.

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake #unrecognisable fanfic

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