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yuahoeaiknow · 5 months ago

Text

Blind Side

Pairing: Blind!Fem!Reader x Shieda Kayn Tags|Warnings: nsfw, oral sex, blackmailing, corruption kink, semi-public, dub-con Words: ~5000 Wattpad || AO3 _________________________________________________ Ever since your return from a long year mission, he enjoys taunting you, pulling your hair or giving you a playful push, then laughing as he walks away after making your day unbearable. He looks over his shoulder, a smug smile on his face, and says with mock concern, "What is it, mole-rat? Can't handle a little bullying? How pathetic."

"If you don't stop this, I'm reporting you to Master Zed!"

With every passing day you are getting more irritated by Kayn's behaviour. His constant taunting and snide remarks are getting harder and harder to ignore. He seems to pick on you especially for whatever reason.

"Oh, so you think the Master is some sort of savior, trying to protect you from me? How sweet." He scoffs, his tone filled with mockery. Kayn's laughter is contemptuous, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You can feel the humiliation and anger building inside you.

"Well, yes. Maybe even punishing you, since you don't know what discipline is.", you reply.

"Don't you think the Master wants me to be like this with you? That he encourages me to play the bully as the ultimate test for you?"

He takes a step forward, closing the distance between you, his gaze fixed on you in an intimidating manner. There's a smug certainty in his expression, as if he knows exactly how this interaction is going to end.

"I don't think that Master Zed would test me with bullying. He is not a child like you." You sense his looming presence, and instinctively try to sidestep him, attempting to get past him. But he's too quick, darting to the side and blocking your path, a sly grin on his face.

Just as you think you've managed to slip past him, he sticks out a foot and trips you, sending you sprawling to the ground. His laugh echoes around you, filled with mockery and amusement.

"What? Is this how you're going to act when the shadows attack? Crying for your master not even attempting to be useful?"

"No.", you stand up like nothing happened. "I'm gonna be the shadow and assassinate but we are not allowed to kill members of the Order." you sigh annoyed, dusting of your clothes.

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just above your ear, his laughter still ringing in your ears. "Oh, look at you, so easily taken down," he sneers. "You're a pathetic little thing, aren't you? Nothing but a toy for me to play with. And we all know that you are not going to report me to Master Zed aren't we? We would both be in trouble and neither of us wants that right?"

"Afraid that I'm really gonna do it, Kayn?" you ask with a neutral face but your tone is taunting.

He smirks, taking a few steps back and putting his hands in his pockets. There's an air of superiority about him as he looks down at you. He seems to savor the fact that he has the upper hand, his ego inflated by your vulnerability.

"Don't try to manipulate me, Y/n. I know you won't tell Master anything."

He lets out another mocking laugh before turning away from you. "You are too weak to take action. And deep down, you like the time we spend together." he says, his tone dripping with irony.

You make your way to Zed's chambers, sneaking through the shadow of the halls. When you get there, you expect him sitting cross-legged in the center of a room. Sounds and warmth of flickering candles and the sweet scent of incense fill your senses.

"At last, Y/n, I was starting to get worried about you." Zed's tone is friendly, as if he really was concerned.

"What's happening? Is Kayn bothering you again?" His voice holds more seriousness now. Knowing from the shadows what's going on in his Order.

"Yes, Master. I'm sorry for being late to report on the mission. He is a real menace and it's getting harder and harder not to stab him.", you say with a respectful bow.

Zed chuckles softly, his expression warm and understanding.

"Don't worry about being late," he reassures you. "You're not the only one who has trouble with him."

He rises to his feet and begins pacing around the room, his eyes fixed on your pale ones.

"So, how is he bothering you this time?" he asks, his tone a mixture of curiosity and concern.

You describe Kayn's behavior to Zed, recounting how he shoves you and grabs your hair, how he belittles and mocks you, making focus on training and lessons hard.

Zed stops pacing and turns to face you, his gaze settling on your face. He gently cups your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

"I see," he responds, his tone becoming more serious. "He's trying to get a rise out of you, to make you react and retaliate. Don't let him win. Don't play his game."

The master sighs. "If he doesn't respect you and your abilities, it doesn't mean that I don't."

You feel heat rushing into your cheeks at his gesture and words.

"Thank you, Master."

Zed's tone is firm and final as he instructs you to ignore Kayn's taunts and report back to him immediately if he bothers you.

He stops in front of you and locks eyes with you, wanting to make sure you understand the seriousness of his request.

"Is that clear? Do you understand?" he repeats, his gaze steady and unwavering as his tone.

"I'm not doubting your ways, Master. I was here before Kayn joined. Mistress Shi always said that I'm exeptional at Shadow Magic, that I'm a natural. It would make sense if he would started bullying me from the beginning. But it started when I returned after my 4 year espionage mission."

Zed nods.

"That's right... You've been training with us for a long time now. Your skills and dedication to your training have always been admirable, Y/n."

Zed pauses, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Perhaps Kayn has started this now because he knows he is losing in his attempt to surpass you," he muses. A chuckle rumbles through his chest as he continues, his tone becoming more amused.

"Maybe, in his childish perspective, you are the only one in this place who can rival him," he says with the slightest hint of nostalgia.

Zed tilts his head, thinking for a moment.

"Or, perhaps," he muses, "he is interested in you in another way. You left on a mission as a child and returned as a beautiful young woman. That would also be a plausible explanation for his behavior towards you, since he isn't as engaging with the other girls as he is with you."

She looks at him in disbelief, shaking her head in denial. "No way," she insists. "I think it's purely about rivalry and childish behavior. I outright refuse to believe otherwise."

Zed chuckles, a mixture of amusement and affection in his tone.

"Your naivety is endearing, Y/n," he teases. "But what is the reason behind all this childish taunting? Why would Kayn try to get under your skin so much?"

He studies you intently, his gaze sharp and contemplative.

"Perhaps," he suggests with a raised eyebrow, "he is flirting with the only girl here that he considers worthy enough for himself."

You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you look down at your lap, your slender fingers fidgeting with one another timidly.

Zed's soft tone is like a balm to your embarrassed spirits, his words a gentle reminder of your own worth.

"You are a beautiful girl," he says softly. "You should always use that for an advantage."

His gaze remains fixed on you as his voice goes quiet for a moment, contemplating something unspoken.

"I have to tell you," he eventually says, breaking the silence, "that I am very satisfied with your performance on that mission. Your espionage skills are admirable, almost on par with my own when I was your age."

There's a note of pride in his voice as he praises your skills.

"We are fortunate to have such a loyal and skilled acolyte in our ranks," Zed states firmly, his expression remaining stoic.

Then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, he adds, "You are dismissed."

"Yes, Master Zed, thank you.", you bow and take your leave.

As you turn to leave, Zed strides towards you, his hand reaching out to lightly grasp yours. He guides you back to facing him, silently demanding your attention a moment longer.

"One last thing, Y/n," he says, his tone firmer now. "When Kayn bothers you, do not let him get under your skin. At least don't let it show. Remember what I said about the reason behind his childish taunting, and wield it to your advantage."

He gifts you a rare smile as he squeezes your hand gently. "When he is distracted with you, it's easier to catch him slipping. That's when you should strike!"

You looks at your Master surprised and then realisation hits you.

"Thank you for the advise, Master Zed. I think I know what to do." you smile brightly.

"Don't mention it, little one," he says, his voice carrying a hint of affection. "You are an acolyte of mine, so of course I will help you."

He releases your hand and his eyes focused upon you.

"Now, go and get some rest," he advises, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "You've had a long day, I suppose."

With a final bow, you leave his chambers, his words and the faint scent of incense lingering in the air.

As you head back towards the dorms, you find Kayn leaning against a wall, his presence there seeming almost deliberate.

He cocks his head, and a mocking smile spreads across his face.

"Ah-ha!" he exclaims, a hint of triumph in his tone. "So, you actually ran to Master Zed's chambers to tattle on me, did you?"

His eyebrows raise, his expression dripping with taunt.

Kayn pushes himself away from the wall, sauntering towards you with a smug expression on his face. He laughs mockingly, his steps slow and deliberate as he moves closer to you.

"Are you afraid of me, dear Y/n?", he teases in a tone bordering on condescension.

You meet his gaze coolly, challenging him with a raised eyebrow.

"And what is there to be afraid of, exactly?", you counter-ask, your voice calm and defiant.

"If you are so confident that there is nothing to fear. Then why did you go to Master Zed to tell all my mean tricks?"

Kayn closes the distance between you, leaning forwards in a manner that drips with arrogance. His words are filled with mockery and bravado.

"Are you afraid I might harm you?" he taunts with a smirk, his gaze fixed on yours. "Or perhaps, you're even more afraid that I might break your fragile little heart?"

"Wow. The world doesn't rotate around you Kayn... You want me so bad to talk about you? Why don't you ask nicely?", you roll your blind eyes at him.

His eyes glint with mockery as he gazes at you, amused by your attempted defiance.

"Oh, you think you can turn the tables on me?" he mocks, smirking. "How adorable."

His hand moves swiftly, catching your hair in a playful grip.

"Why don't you answer me, then?" he challenges. "Why did you talk to Master about me?"

You meet his gaze confidently, your face betraying no insecurity despite his proximity and his grip on your hair. "I went to him for some advice," you reply, your voice steady and firm. "And he told me that boys only treat girls like this when they really like them. You do this because you like me and you want my attention."

Kayn's face flushes, his cool composure momentarily broken. He averts his gaze. When he returns his attention to you, he desperately tries to downplay his feelings.

"No, no, no," he protests, his words unconvincing and rushed. "I mean, yes, I do like you, but only as a fellow acolyte, a rival. That's all there is to it!"

His discomfort is evident as he tries to act casual, but the idea of someone discovering his true feelings clearly makes him uneasy.

You respond with skepticism, questioning his sincerity. "Yeah, right," you say dryly.

You then boldly tell him, "If you don't have romantic feelings, then you can stop your bullying. Surely you don't want my attention, right?"

You take a step forward, hoping to escape his presence, but inwardly knowing he will find a way to keep you there.

He grabs your arm, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he responds.

"I never said I didn't like you," he states, his tone smug and self-assured. "That's an entirely different matter."

He leans in towards you, his breath warm against your ear as he lowers his voice to a whispered secret.

"You really had to go to Master to figure out the reason behind my bullying? Isn't it fairly obvious?"

Kayn then adds, "But you couldn't even see through Nakuri with his clear intentions of confessing his love for you and you always rejected him in a passive way - which was very amusing to us but not so much for Nakuri. Poor fellow but he was not worth of you but I am!"

Kayn revels in your discomfort, your squirming under his grasp. Your flushed cheeks and bitten lip only adds fuel to the fire as he takes in your blind, shy glances.

He feels a thrill of power at how his touch affects you, feeding his ego and giving him a sense of control. With a smirk, he considers pushing you further, knowing that a single word could send you into a state of flustered panic.

With a smirk, he lifts his free hand to gently caress your cheek, his touch both soft and unyielding. He leans closer, his voice dropping to a seductive timbre as he notes your sensitivity.

"You're so sensitive," he murmurs, his gaze fixed on your vulnerable expression. "Perhaps it's not just your blindness that makes you so responsive to my touch."

He revels in your discomfort, his words dripping with a calculated seductive tone, fueling the twisted pleasure he derives from your unease.

"I thought Nakuri was just being friendly towards me," you protest, voice tinged with a mix of confusion and defiance. "Romance is strictly forbidden within the Order!"

You struggle harder, attempting to break free from Kayn's grip, desperate to escape the mounting embarrassment.

Kayn holds tight to her arm, unyielding to your attempt to break free.

"Do you truly believe the rules are without exception?" he muses. "They forbid romance as they fear it diverts our attention from the Order's purpose. Yet, shouldn't the same apply to feelings for someone like you?"

His gaze intense, he leans in, his hand gently caressing your cheek with an air of provocation.

"Do you really think the other acolytes aren't attracted to you?"

Kayn continues, his words sharp and deliberate as you frown. "You have no idea what's going on the boys' acolytes dorm. They talk a lot about you... and sometimes fantasize and then they get hard and with so less privacy they just jerk off in front of everbody... and sometimes even I do it because damn a lot of fantasies from them are just downright dirty."

Your denial is sharp, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. "No, they don't do that!" you insists, your voice filled with disbelief.

Kayn laughs openly, reveling in your shock and denial. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers with a provocative edge, his tone dripping with confidence.

"Oh my, you really don't know anything." he purrs, his tone dripping with mock amusement. "You are truly too innocent, my little Y/n."

He positions himself mere inches away from you, his gaze locking with yours, his expression a mix of mockery and seduction.

"I guess I have to teach you," he continues, his touch on your cheek tender and deliberate, his fingers dancing gently across your skin.

"Don't be afraid," he encourages, his voice soft and coaxing.

Your eyes, though blind, still attempt to focus on him. Mouth slightly agape, caught up in the moment.

He leans closer, his lips nearly brushing against your ear, his breath warm and tantalizing.

"Let's start with a simple kiss," he suggests, his words carrying a hint of challenge and desire.

He chuckles softly, his smile seductive and knowing. His touch gentle, he brushes your hair away, his face drawing closer, their lips practically grazing. You flinch. Your ears are so sensitive due to the fact that you have to rely most on your hearing and not your sight.

Your heart races. "It's forbidden.", you whisper shyly.

You haven't anticipated such a turn of events when leaving Zed's chambers.

Kayn smirks, delighting in the situation.

"Oh, but no one is here," he assures, his tone carrying a mix of mockery and seduction. "It's just us, isn't it?"

With deliberate gentleness, he raises his hand to your chin, guiding your face towards him. His gaze locks with yours as he speaks, his voice hushed and secretive.

"No one will ever know. Except for me..." he affirms, his words carrying a promise.

The tension mounts as he moves closer, the gap between you narrowing. Your heart pounds furiously, your cheeks ablaze with excitement, the adrenaline fueling the intensity of the moment.

"Just a little kiss..."

With your eyes closed, his lips gently graze against yours, the touch tender and delicate.

Your gasp reverberated through the air, the sound so quiet and yet so loud in the silence of the moment. The pulse of your heart quickened, a palpable excitement coursing through your veins.

You didn't feel any shame in the encounter, instead relishing the vivacity it brought you. This instant was a awakening.

He doesn't move aside, his lips are still on you. You have no idea what to do. His tongue slowly enters your mouth, searching for your tongue. This moment is so wrong, yet it feels so good to you. Kayn keeps searching for a reaction from you.

You stem your hands against his chest and feel his strong heartbeat. As you rest your hands on his chest, he seems pleased, his smile widening, his expression clearly enjoying the innocence behind the gesture.

You are clumsy, don't know what to do exactly and forrow your brows in concentration.

He continues to guide your mouth against his, the dance of their tongues growing more intense. Slowly, he begins moving his hands, seeking out your waist. He draws you closer, encircling you in his arms, pulling you against his body.

His voice drops to a seductive whisper, his breath warm against your ear.

"I wonder what Master Zed would say if he could see you now..."

The mention of Zed elicits a soft mewling sound from you, the mention of potential disapproval due to the Order's rules causing you to hesitate.

You make an attempt to push Kayn away, trying to create distance before the situation escalates further.

He picks up on your reaction, observing the way you respond to the topic of your master.

"So, that's how it is," he muses. "You react whenever I bring up Master Zed. Interesting."

He chuckles playfully, his voice is filled with provocation "Oh~ naughty little Y/n. Are you having a crush on Zed?" He asks and squishes your cheeks together in a mocking way.

Kayn grins widely as he continues the taunting line of mockery.

"You can't see it but it's rather clear, there's no use denying it," he quips, grinning at his own pun.

He chuckles at your flushed cheeks and obvious inexperience, clearly finding amusement in the situation.

When he drops the question, his tone playful and teasing, there's no missing the slight discomfort that passes over your expression.

"What if I tell Master Zed, hmm?"

You panic at the possibility of Kayn informing Zed of your crush on him.

"Don't tell him! ... please...", you lower your head in total embarassment.

You were incredibly conflicted in this moment. Your heart hammering wildly within your chest, a consequence of Kayn's presence and actions. You allowed him to kiss you, an act that left you questioning your own feelings towards him. It would be more appropiate than for Master Zed that's for sure.

He keeps smiling, he feels powerful as he sees your uncomfortable face, he enjoys torturing you with these possibilities

"Maybe I could keep this, as a little secret between the two of us. Hmm... But what if I wanted... something in return?"

A smug smirk adorns his face, his gaze filled with mockery. He leans in, bringing his face so close that his breath brushes against your ear, the words he utters carrying a hint of sinister satisfaction.

"And what could I possibly want from you? Any idea dear Y/n?"

You look up to him, trying to catch his eyes despite your blindness and bite your lower lip before speaking.

"..another kiss?"

Oh. You are so naive and innocent...

He smirks and moves away from you, "What? Just a single kiss for this important secret?"

Kayn can't help but chuckle once more, finding immense amusement in your naive and innocent nature. The situation is undeniably entertaining to him, and he takes pleasure in how easy it is to toy with you.

"You need to think bigger. Try again. Maybe I can be persuaded to keep this silent...", He leans towards you again, his smile is more suggestive than ever, "It needs to be worth it."

You frown in confusion. What does he mean?

Kayn's eyes gleam with a sinister delight as he observes your reaction. His voice drips with mockery as he smirks and asks, "Don't tell me you don't know about the birds and bees?"

Your eyes widen in surprise, a look of complete bewilderment on your face.

"Of course I know that!" you protest, voice filled with a mixture of defiance and flustered embarrassment.

He starts to laugh loudly when you mention that you know how babies are made. He takes your chin and brings your face to his once again. He whispers sensually in your ear while looking at you closely.

"If you think you know, try to guess what I would like in return for my silence, then we can close this 'deal' of ours..."

His gaze locks onto your face, patiently waiting for your response, his eyes studying your expression intently.

"You can't be serious," you blurt out, tone laced with disbelief. "I'm not going to have sex with you!" you whisper the word "sex," clearly feeling a sense of embarrassment and discomfort at the very thought.

He bursts in laughter at your reaction, so innocent and honest. When he calms down he speaks, "Oh, Y/n, I am not asking for something like that."

His tone becomes more provocative once again, "I want something from your mouth only I could benefit from..."

Kayn's hand encircles your waist again, his grip firm and assertive as he pulls you closer, bridging the gap that remains between your bodies. The proximity is both unsettling and thrilling.

You frown once again. What is that supposed to mean? Something from your mouth?

"Oh, don't tell me I need to spell it out for the model student Y/n? Or are you pretending?"

He smirks and caresses your soft hair with his free hand. "Let me give you a hint. It involves you taking something in your mouth..."

His hand glides downwards, moving over the sensitive flesh of your throat and then settling between your breasts, causing a shiver to run through your body at the intimate touch. He then takes your hand and places it against the unmistakable bulge in his pants, the heat and hardness radiating through the fabric.

Your face gets super red again and stays silent. Too ashamed to answer him.

He lets out a sharp laugh, the sudden burst of sound catching you off guard. His expression mixes mockery and amusement as he responds with a smirk, his tone teasing and teasingly mocking.

"Oh, Y/n," he chuckles, "I know you're not that dumb." He leans closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate volume.

"I want something in return, and you know just what it is... No need to play innocent..."

His expression deepens as he pushes you down to your knees. The sound of fabric unlacing seems obscenely loud in your ears. He bites his lip, eyes filled with a dark desire. He can't believe this is happening. The sight of you, the usually confident Y/n, on your knees before him, brings a deep and intense reaction. He is almost overcome with desire. His dick reflexively twitches hard, the arousal evident in his face and his words.

He watches as your face turns bright red, he caresses your hair with his hand.

"What a good girl," he says while his hand slides down to your cheek. You can sense his intense gaze at you directly, the passion and desire in his eyes are undeniable. "Now, the real question is... what will you do, Y/n? Care to keep your secret?"

You nod as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip."Then it's time to use that beautiful mouth, my dear..."

He guides his length to your lips, smearing his tear of lust on them and he groans as he memorize the image of you in front of him.

When you feel his rod on your lips, you are surprised at how hot and silky it feels. You feel the pulse in your nether regions, involuntarily becoming wet.

"Open your mouth. Give it a few kisses, don't be shy." You could basically hear his grin.

And you did as he said.

The touch of your soft lips is electrifying. He looks down into your pale eyes. "Good girl. You are so obedient...", he groans, head falling back.His yellow eyes turn dreamy, he seems completely under your spell, "I will teach you everything, Y/n. You will be such a good pet. I can't wait to make you scream my name..."

You moan against his length as you hear his words full of forbidden promise.

He takes control, guiding your head onto his length. He moans loudly, not caring who might hear you two. His grip on your hair tightens.

He wishes his fellow acolytes could see this, so he can bath in their jealous looks.

"You're a natural at this, Y/n.", he hums. He grins, his expression filled with wicked satisfaction as he speaks. "If only the others could see this..." The idea of their reactions is clearly pleasing to him. He pushes in deeper, making you gag. Pale eyes tearing up, face reddening with embarrassment, even as the sensations make your body heat up. You try to push through it, but the intensity makes it difficult.

Kayn looks at you in amusement, enjoying your lack of experience. "My my, aren't you a fast learner?"He can't help but let out a chuckle, the thought of the other boys seeing this scene fueling his arousal. Each gesture and expression on your face only heightens his enjoyment of the moment, the idea of their envious glances adding an extra layer of satisfaction to the fantasy.

"A sight of true perfection..."

You moan around his cock as you hear his praise and maybe you are also getting excited by the idea of the others finding you.

His grin widens as he imagines the scenario he proposed. "Oh, I would love for someone to catch us in the act right now," he muses, his tone filled with a dark and mischievous glee. "The looks on their faces would be priceless. Wouldn't you agree? Fuck, that would be so hot!"

As Kayn continues to guide you with one hand, his other hand drifts up to your head, his fingers tracing through your hair in a gentle, almost loving gesture. The combination of his touch and his words creates a heady sense of intimacy despite the circumstance.

"I bet Master Zed would be furious, and you would get punished, do you want to find out what would happen if the others caught us?" He whispers teasingly, "Ngh..I would really like it if Master Zed found us right now."He thrusts almost gently into your mouth.

"Imagine his reaction when he'd see you, my dear. You are so beautiful with my dick in your mouth!" He grunts and caresses your face again with his free hand.

"And so naughty...", he slaps your cheek lightly and moans and the sensation.

"Fuck. You're so good.", he pants.

This turns him on even more. He looks at the ceiling and moans softly, the thought of being caught was really making him lose his mind.

He smiles and continues to use that rhythm. His eyes are closed and he seems to be enjoying every moment. He is close to the end. Suddenly he realizes that you may not know what to do next.

Kayn opens his yellow eyes and speaks in a more assertive tone. "I'm close, my dear Y/n, there is only one way to end this now..."

He looks at you in anticipation, all his passion is focused on that one moment.

He moans and closes his eyes again. You can feel him getting closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly there is a sound of footsteps from the hallway, someone seems to be walking a few rooms away from them

You immediately panic a bit and try to get up.

He grabs your head and arm tightly and prevents you from getting up, "Don't you dare!", he hisses with a wolfish smile and lets out a soft chuckle. You notice that he is not concerned at all. Reckless.

You whine lowly with him in your mouth...

He looks at the door, he is expecting whoever is coming to arrive at any moment.

"You will have to keep quiet now, sweetcheeks. Don't make any noise and do what you are told!", Kayn whispers into your ear while keeping an eye on the door.

He holds your chin and hair and thrusts into your mouth with speed. His moans are breathy and he looks at the door, waiting for the moment when the unexpected guest would reach them.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps reaches the door. Kayn smiles as he looks at you and bites his lip in anticipation. His dark brows furrow and his breathing gets faster.

And without a warning he finishes on your tongue.

You try to escape his hold but fail. His grip is too tight. You are trying to swallow everything but some is running down the corner of your lips, down your chin.

A sense of pride and satisfaction radiates from him, his gaze filled with a smug certainty. He smiles widely, the corners of his lips curled upward, his expression a mix of bliss and arrogance. It's clear that he feels a sense of accomplishment at having you in this position, and he takes pleasure in flaunting it.

The sound of footsteps, originating from just outside the door, gradually fade into silence as they move away. They seem to have left, either unaware of the moment that happened in the room or uninterested in interrupting. Their presence vanishing into the maze of the temple. The hallway falls into a momentary silence, the only sounds being the heavy breathing of the two of you and fabric rustling.

"You may get up now, dear Y/n. And be sure to wipe that dribble from the corner of your lips. Would be embarrassing to be caught with my cum on your face, or maybe you're into that.", he chuckles.

Despite the intensity of your conflicted emotions, you somehow manage to stand up and compose yourself, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. This asshole! Without a word and look you just turn around and leave.

He bursts into laughter, clearly entertained by your ashamed and flustered state. For the for first time in your life you'd disappointed Master Zed... letting Kayn get under your skin and letting him have advantage over you. You didn't know what to do! How pathetic you are, idiot!

"Oh, leaving already without saying 'Thank you!'? How rude!" he mocks, his tone dripping with false innocence. "You should show me some gratitude for keeping your little secret!"

#fanfiction #league of legends #x reader #kayn x reader #league of legends x reader

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nightlyrequiem · 1 year ago

Text

The Other Side of Paradise

5) To Budding Friendships. (And More.)

Cross posted from AO3

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10, Ch.11

You try to make the best of your life working at a small bakery in a city with rising cartel violence. One slower day, a man starts harassing your coworker. Despite the obvious threat, you stand up to him anyway. Unbeknownst to you, Valeria just so happened to be there to witness it.

A/N- All chapters containing smut will be labeled mature. The fic is fully written with the whole thing on AO3 but chapters on Tumblr will be posted one a day.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Dual POV, Happy Ending, Plot with Porn, Graphic Violence, Inappropriate Use of a Knife, Masturbation, WLW

You stare up at the two disemboweled corpses crucified against a building. They're both wearing cheap looking cowboy hats. Memento Mori is spray painted above them. You turn away from the gruesome sight, at risk of puking. You stand on the sidewalk for a few more minutes. Trying to process what you saw before you head into work. El Sin Nombre made a habit of displaying bodies, but all the other ones were kept on street corners wrapped under sheets. You force yourself to move on. There's nothing you can do for them now.

You enter the bakery and greet your coworker. Your thoughts are caught up on the vile display and you mess up four orders. Your coworker can tell something is wrong, but he doesn't bother asking. People are buzzing with conversation. You weren't the only one who saw it. They're smart enough to talk quietly but a few words are still loud enough to reach your ears. You slip off to the back, so you don't have to listen. You live in a cartel run town and you've lived long enough to see your fair share of gore but for whatever reason this is what's really sticking with you.

You should be working, or at least trying to but all you can do is stare at the soapy sink. You really wish you kept Valeria's number. You could really use someone to talk to. You should really keep your thoughts to yourself but you're sure you can talk to Valeria. She told you she liked how honest you were after all. You force yourself to start washing the dishes. The warm water burns a hidden cut you didn't notice. You gasp in surprise when someone puts a hand on your shoulder. You whip your head to the side and see Mateo. His thick brows are furrowed.

He says your name and looks at you.

"You've been washing the same plate for five minutes." You stare at him blankly. Have you? You're really out of it today. The corpses must be throwing you off.

"I'm sorry." You say haltingly. For once the look Mateo is giving you isn't one of thinly veiled irritation. He looks a little concerned.

"Do you need to take this shift off? Are you feeling sick?" You do in fact, feel a little sick. You don't really want to go home yet though.

"I'm fine," You're always fine. "I just had a bit of trouble getting to sleep last night, the AC is broken again." Mateo looks at you like he doesn't believe you but chooses not to press you on the matter.

"Okay...well...if you do just let me know." He says awkwardly, like he's not used to showing basic kindness. He walks off and leaves you to your work.

Valeria doesn't come to visit you during your shift, and you feel a little disappointed. You go home and keep your eyes averted when you have to pass by that building. You get back to your apartment and go inside. The chill from the AC makes gooseflesh rise on your bare arms. Your apartment is relatively small and empty. Maybe you should get a pet or something. Even a fish would make things look less lonely. You set down the treat basket and head off into the bathroom to wash the day away.

You exit the bathroom freshly clean and check your phone. You rarely get important notifications, but you still always check after being away for more than ten minutes. Just in case. To your surprise you have a few texts from an unsaved number. You know who it is without checking.

"It's Valeria. I was wondering if you were busy tonight?" You are not busy tonight. You're never busy after your shifts. You Sit on the couch and curl your feet up under you.

"No, I'm not busy." You set your phone down and wait for a response. You turn on the tv and watch impatiently. Dulce Obsesión is playing but you aren't really paying attention. The only thing that catches your attention is that one of the main characters looks a little like Valeria.

Twenty minutes later your phone dings and you check it immediately.

"Good. I want to take you out for drinks." She wants to go drinking with you. Aren't you special. You have work tomorrow and you're quite tired, but you won't turn down an opportunity. You try to wait a bit before replying immediately lest you come off as desperate. You are desperate though and decide that mindset is too juvenile at your big age.

"Sure, what bar were you thinking?"

Valeria replies quickly, easing your worries.

"Greenrose." Greenrose? You pick through your memories to see if you know the place. You aren't too familiar with bars. You gave up years ago because you felt lonely sitting in a crowded place where no one wanted to approach you. You don't have very much time to try and work out where it is before Valeria sends you another text.

"I'll pick you up, what's your address?" This almost feels like a date. You send her your address and rush back into the bathroom. You fix yourself up a little bit. You need to buy some new concealer though; you're running dangerously low.

You put on a cute outfit and wait on the couch. Despite the AC you still find yourself sweating and feeling a little too warm. Finally, a knock on your door ushers you to your feet. You wait a few seconds before opening the door. Valeria's eyes dart over you and her lips lift in a friendly smile.

"You look nice, let's go." She says. Turning and walking down the narrow stairs. you follow behind her. Valeria leads you to a clean looking car. She even opens the door for you. You feel a little excited. Your unpleasant feelings over the distressing sight from earlier are long forgotten.

You usually aren't out this late. There's no reason to be and it's generally not very safe. You feel safe with Valeria though.

"You have a nice car." You say. Admiring the clean interior. It looks new but smells used. There's a rosary tied to the rearview mirror. Valeria shoots you a smile before pulling away from the curb.

"Thank you." She sounds proud. You'd be proud too if you could afford a car like this. It looks like a high-end SUV. "It's pretty expensive but it's definingly worth the investment."

"Wow, what do you do for work?" You ask. Genuinely curious. Valeria pauses.

"Something in the pharmaceutical field." She replies vaguely. You tilt your head at her.

"You own a business?"

"Something like that, although I'm more of a... distributer."

You arrive at an admittedly nice-looking bar. The surrounding area looks a little sketchy though.

"I haven't been over here before." You say nervously. Valeria turns off the ignition and looks at you. Her eyes glinting in the low-level light.

"We'll be fine. I come here often." She says calmly. getting out. You do the same and shut the door. Following her into the bar. She confidently weaves her way through the small crowd. There aren't that many people inside but most of them match the area. There's a corner of boisterous men playing cards. A flock of women surrounding them. A few stragglers sit alone drinking. You try not to judge them too harshly. That was you at one point.

You look back to Valeria as she takes a seat at an empty booth. You sit down across from her. You aren't drinking alone this time.

"What do you want?" Valeria asks. "My treat." And she's buying you a drink? You're struggling to tell if this platonic or if she has ulterior motives. You hope it's the latter.

"Vodka lime." You say. Your go-to affordable drink. Valeria nods and gets up.

"I'll be right back."

While she's gone you take the chance to look around again. The men in the corner are still in the middle of their game, the loners are still alone. That makes you think of Valeria. You wonder why she picked you of all people to spend tonight with. Not that you're complaining. Having drinks with a pretty woman is more ideal than wasting your time watching telenovels.

Valeria comes back and sets down a tray of five shots and your Vodka lime. she wastes no time in downing one of them.

"Today was long, it feels nice to just unwind with good company." She says lowly. Locking her fingers together and resting her chin on them. "I haven't had the time to just be."

"Tonight's a good night to simply exist and relax." You remark. Taking a sip of your drink.

'I agree, I'm glad I could find the time to take a break." She hums. "It's nice to spend some time around another woman." She pauses. "Around you. outside the bakery I mean."

You smile and take another sip. You should slow down a little bit. It would be a shame if you got yourself too drunk and embarrassed yourself.

"Speaking of the bakery, I was a little disappointed to not see you today." You reply. Leaning back in your seat.

"Oh, well, my apologies I hate to disappoint," she says with faux seriousness. "I hope this little night out makes up for my transgression."

You forget to take it slow. You finish your Vodka lime and three shots. Valeria goes from a clear outline to slightly blurry. Sometime during the night, you moved from across her to beside her. Your shoulders and thighs brushing against hers. The topics of your conversations shift from work to hobbies to memories.

"I was dating this guy," Valeria murmurs. Your heads close together. "It was a long time ago, just after we graduated and-" She takes a sip from the whiskey she ordered a few minutes ago. "-And we were making out, and he threw up in my mouth." You gape at her then erupt into a flurry of quiet laughter.

"Was he at least a good kisser?"

Valeria snorts in amusement and shakes her head. You grin like a fool, having the most fun you've had in a while. Valeria leans in close enough for her breath to ghost over your face.

"No, he wasn't a very good kisser." She murmurs. The proximity is enough to cause your heart to go into a frenzy. You don't pull away though.

"No?" You reply quietly. "What about you? Are you a good kisser?" Valeria stares you in the eyes intently.

"I'm not sure, perhaps some feedback would help." She whispers.

Valeria begins to lean in when the phone in her back pocket starts to buzz. She pulls away, looking absolutely murderous. She pulls out the little flip phone and sighs. She gets up and runs a hand through her hair.

"I have to take this, it's work related." She walks off towards the exit and steps outside, leaving you by yourself. You wish she would've ignored it but what do you know? You don't run a pharmaceutical business. Or distribution. Or whatever else it was that she does for a living that you can't recall.

#valeria garza x reader #valeria garza #cod mw2

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willshipanything-blog · 3 years ago

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Rules of the Game- Chapter 1

My first fanfic, so be nice (but I will gratefully accept constructive criticism) <3

Full Chapter Index here.

If you want to read and comment on AO3, it's here (I'm darkbelle on there).

More detailed tags and warnings over there. For now: dead dove, kidnapping, violence, non-con, you get the picture.

Chapter 1: Misdirection

“You’re not leaving, are you, Y/N?”.

Ms. Rutherford, the librarian at Galesburg Community Library, looked up suspiciously, abandoning her book stamping duties to ask you this. She had always been very particular about the volunteers sticking to their scheduled hours. It was almost sinful you were leaving earlier than expected.

You turned from exiting the front entrance to face the help desk, piled high with books waiting to be stamped for return and shelved with their neighbors. You thought you might have sneaked out without a fuss. You suppressed a smirk as she pushed her glasses up her nose slightly. She was a walking stereotype of your typical librarian, old and stern, but you had to admit her book recommendations were superlative. Recently you’d been on a Brontë binge and you and Ms. Rutherford had had several (admittedly) heated discussions over the better sister; she was Camp Emily, you Team Charlotte.

“My ride let me down at lunch, so I need to set off home earlier today,” you replied “but I’ll be back right on time tomorrow!”

“What else can you expect from young men these days? Really, to let a young lady walk alone at night, and with that deviant on the loose, no less!”

You stifled a laugh and instead exhaled through your nose in amusement. “Ms. Rutherford, first of all, it's 4pm, and honestly, it’s no big deal, it’s not the first time I’ve had to walk home by myself, I’m a big girl! See you bright and early tomorrow!” You turned quickly to avoid a tirade of criticisms about the current generation of young men, which you were very well aware of. As you pushed open the double oak doors of the library, you couldn’t help ponder that Jonathon, your boyfriend of just over a year now, had pissed you off when he had told you last minute he had plans with friends to drink beer and watch football. How original.

These thoughts disappeared as you stepped outside. You weren’t going to let it bother you. Glass half full, Y/N, you thought to yourself: at least the weather was nice. Although lugging your bookbag in this heat wasn’t ideal, you weren’t going to complain about the weather being so pleasant this late into fall.

Hopping down the stone steps of the library, you thought about another thing that Ms. Rutherford had said- that deviant. It still made you uneasy thinking about the recent spate of missing young boys, especially when you had known one of them. Only distantly, but it still made your stomach turn to think about. It was hard to try and forget though, between the near empty streets at night and the endless rows of MISSING posters that desperate families kept pasting to every fence, streetlight and store window in Galesburg.

At least at this time of day, most kids had gone straight home from school. Even with leaving the library early, you were able to avoid them. It seemed that all they could talk about these days was ‘the grabber’, as they’d so unashamedly nicknamed him. This moniker spread quickly throughout their friendship circles; it even started to be used by the police, newspapers and TV stations. The speculation about who ‘the grabber’ was gonna get next, the whispered dares to say his name three times in the mirror, as if he were some bogeyman, set your teeth on edge. He was real, not an urban legend to tell ghost stories about. Most kids seemed to forget that they were the ones at risk. Had it gotten colder or was it just these thoughts making you shiver?

You started to drift away from these ruminations, thinking instead about the large takeout pizza you were gonna order and have with a cold beer once you got home. Extra mushrooms too, which Jonathon hated, to ensure he wouldn’t eat your leftovers. That’ll teach him. Whilst practically drooling over this thought, you heard a sudden rush of steps behind you. Too late to turn around, an arm collided into your own.

A kid (barely a teenager judging by his size) had flown right into you. Knocking you slightly off balance, he turned but didn’t stop, holding out both hands in a ‘whoops, my bad’ sort of gesture. You noticed tape on the palms that he held up. Must have wrapped them up himself, probably he’d been fighting and had to bandage his knuckles. He did look like a scrappy little thing.

“Hey, sorry guapa!” he called, turning forward once more and racing on ahead once it was clear you weren’t hurt. You smiled and shook your head, shouting after him down the street.

“Be careful, kid!” He was already gone, turning the corner about 30 yards ahead of you.

As you turned right at the same corner half a minute later, a strange scene presented itself, making you stop in your tracks. Crouched on the sidewalk a few feet in front of you was a man with ashy brown-gray hair down to his shoulders, muttering to himself as he tried to collect what looked like a litany of spilled groceries. Looking past him, parked on the curb a little way back was a matte black van with faint green text etched on the side. Even further up the road, you could just make out the young boy still in a rush to get someplace. The crouched figure looked less than enthused and didn’t see that another person was standing just a few feet away from him.

You regained your senses. “Oh! Here, lemme help you,” you volunteered, beginning to grab a couple of oranges that had rolled near to where you were standing.

“No, it’s fine, I got it,” a gravelly voice answered, clearly annoyed at the situation. And why wouldn’t he be? You saw the spilled milk and broken eggs over the sidewalk, things that would have to be replaced.

“Are you sure? Sorry that kid knocked you over, but I don’t think everything’s ruined,” you said hopefully as you held up the oranges to inspect them.

“The kid didn’t knock–” the surly voice ceased speaking as he looked up at you.

A moment of silence followed as the man stood up slowly. You were taken aback by his appearance, his face covered in what seemed to be greasepaint, the top half of his visage hidden by a pair of dark, clunky sunglasses. He must have easily been six feet tall, wearing all black save for a blood-red turtleneck under his silk shirt. Your stomach shifted, suddenly feeling somewhat uneasy around this stranger standing mere feet from you.

His voice was different when he next spoke; a friendly, almost childish intonation. “Uh, what I meant to say was, I’m sure that boy didn’t mean to bump me like that. I’m normally such a klutz without anyone helping me along!” he smiled goofily, a row of slightly crooked white teeth now visible.

Your silence and continued look of worry was evident, and he spoke again apologetically:

“Oh, uh, sorry for all this,” - here he held both hands up, ringed fingers outstretched, pointing towards his face in an exaggerated gesture - “but my costume isn’t complete. Would you mind passing me my hat, dear?”

Here he gestured theatrically with an arm, guiding your line of sight to a black top hat sat amongst the broken eggs. Feeling only a little reassured by his friendly tone, you stooped to retrieve it. You passed it to him, both of you stretching an arm to cover the distance between you, and as he grabbed the rim he flipped it expertly and it landed on his head. He gave a bow, the vaudevillian look complete, and you huffed out a half-laugh, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in.

After explaining that he was a part time magician, hence the ridiculous outfit, and the van emblazoned with the line ABRACADABRA- ENTERTAINMENT AND SUPPLIES, you both started to pick up what was salvageable from the spilled mess on the sidewalk. He insisted you needn’t help, but you insisted even more that it was no bother. He put the rescued groceries into the back of his van and promptly slammed the door closed.

“Well, thank you again, you’ve been such a good girl helping me out here.”

You were about to reply for the twentieth time with ‘no problem’, but sensed a strange look come over the man’s face, a vacant, contemplative gaze that you couldn’t place. Before you could speak he interjected, cognizant again.

“Say, you’re not my usual audience, but would you like to see a magic trick, dove?”

Once more, you were taken aback, this time by the strange nickname the man had used, but you’d concluded he was what your mother might have called ‘an eccentric’. You had also unabashedly concluded that this man was charming and (under the facepaint and glasses) really quite handsome, despite the fact he was old enough to be your father. You played ball, nodding at his request.

He chuckled almost imperceptibly under his breath and took a couple of paces towards you. With an elaborate wave of his hand, he reached towards the right side of your face, grazing your cheek as he tucked some hair behind your ear. You hoped you weren’t blushing too much at this spectacle. A shiny quarter was retrieved, and you couldn’t help but smile widely.

The misdirection of this trick became apparent when you noticed too late the man’s other arm come swinging towards your face at full force, his fist making contact with your jaw with a thundering crack.

Your body hit the hard sidewalk below you. White hot pain seared through your face. Too shocked to even scream. You felt yourself sitting up, holding yourself on unsteady, wobbling arms. Your vision spun furiously and you recognized the click of a car door opening somewhere in your mind. Whilst you willed yourself to get up and escape the situation, an arm grabbed your chest from behind and in an instant an acrid taste entered your mouth, preemptively choking out any screams you might have attempted. The same spray misted your eyes and it stung like hell. If your body was slow to react to the first hit, it was molasses now. You felt a tight pressure under both of your arms. It was him. He was dragging you to his van. This wasn’t going to end well unless your body at least attempted to move.

You felt yourself hauled like a sack of flour onto the hard floor of the van. Last chance, both your feet still touched the outside ground, and your mind begged you to do something. Too late. You felt the man’s bulky frame straddling you as he climbed into the van himself, dragging you underneath him further into the vehicle. Your bare arms and legs were stippled with splinters as you were tugged roughly along the wooden flooring, but this pain hardly registered to you compared with the excruciating burning your face felt and the sting from the man’s initial blow. A thud of doors told you he’d now trapped you inside.

Only now did your sluggish body begin to react. You flailed your arms wildly, though your legs were now firmly trapped under the man’s weight, and your voice was a raspy whisper, clearly from whatever spray had hit you full in the face. As you fumbled blindly with your hands balled into fists, you felt your left hand hit something solid and heard a vicious growl. You’d managed to hit the figure mounted on top of you. A small victory for only a moment; hands suddenly gripped both of your wrists, and bundled them underneath him with your fettered legs.

As you felt another blow on the side of your face, followed by another, and another, you cursed yourself. Why didn’t you fight back sooner? Or run after that first blow? Why did you talk to a stranger at all? These questions and more exploded in your mind, but began to fade as you sank into unconsciousness.

Al thought it such a shame about that rude young boy. Running past without even offering to help him. Shame too; looked like he had some fight in him. He was going to chalk it up as a bad job, maybe even try another street elsewhere, then she came. This was unexpected. He had closed his van and was going to thank her for her help, when he had called her that- a good girl, he’d said. The idea struck him in seconds. Why not? If the game didn’t work out as planned, who would know? No one who would live to tell the tale. She’s older than the other boys by quite a margin, but he’s still bigger and stronger than her, maybe it could still serve his purposes for the game. And she was a woman- even if naughty boy didn’t work, there were other things that could be done before dispatching her in a shallow grave with the others. Al thought meditatively for a long time on the drive home, the sun just beginning to set on the warm Denver evening.

#the black phone #black phone #the grabber x reader #the grabber #albert shaw x reader #dead dove do not eat #minors dni

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url-is-under-construction · 3 years ago

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𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝, 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝟏.𝟎𝟔 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Standard The 100 Warnings! It's a violent and heavy show and that will be represented in here x

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: The ground was toxic. That's what they'd told you all your life. Now you find yourself falling from the sky, and learning to survive on the ground with 99 other delinquents and 1 fake guard wasn't going to be easy.

𝐀/𝐍: Thank you everyone here and on AO3 for the support in this! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and let me know if you'd like to join the little tag list I've got going <3

Also, requests for the 100 are absolutely open, it's probably my favorite thing to write for so don't be shy!

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @hftff-lol @nikki1dxx @darkcrystal-wolf

Everyone around you is sleeping soundly, and you wished that you could join them. Your eyes would droop on their own accord and you'd have to pinch the skin of your wrist to keep yourself awake as Clarke worked methodically on your shoulder, rewrapping the bandages Bellamy had done a pretty dodgy job with.

In his defense though, he was only working with what was given to him by Clarke, and he was by no means the camps designated doctor. It was the thought that counts, you remind yourself as you wince.

"Sorry." Clarke mumbles, looking up at you.

"It's fine."

The canvas tent beside you swings upward and you wince again, this time from the glare of the torch Bellamy held in his hand as he looked at you and Clarke, eyes wide. Something was wrong.

"You're up?" He asks. Clarke stands up, brushing her hands off on her pants as she steps outside and you follow her, pulling your jacket over your shoulders. Not only was it freezing outside, but you knew Bellamy would only be eaten by guilt if he had to keep looking at your bandages.

"Yeah." Clarke says. "Knowing that hundreds of people might be dying on the Ark makes it pretty hard to sleep."

"Raven's flares will work." He says, convinced.

"Yeah well the radio would've worked better." You say, crossing your arms against your chest as his eyes jump to yours. He glares for a second before retreating and addressing the both of you again.

"Have you seen Octavia?"

"No." Clarke shrugs. "It's Octavia, she's probably chasing butterflies or-"

"No, I've checked the camp. She's not here."

"Okay." You say, nodding, realizing that this was important to him. "We'll help you find her."

"Y/n!" Clarke says, pulling you back as you try to enter the tent to grab your knife. "You aren't going anywhere with your arm."

"Stop me." You say, pulling your arm out of hers. "Octavia's my friend, and if she's out there alone I'm going to get her. She would do the same for me."

Clarke sighs for a second, looking like she wants to argue before she gives up. "Let's check again. Me and Y/n will make sure she's not in the tents, you go to the dropship."

"Thank you." Bellamy says as you all start making your way to where you needed to search.

"I'm not doing this for you." Clarke says to him as she pulls you to the side to check the first tent.

He keeps walking towards the drop ship, disappearing into the darkness as worry settles deep in the pit of your stomach. Something was definitely wrong.

You emerge from the last of the tents, shaking your head as you approach Bellamy and Clarke who stood in front of a small army of delinquents. Bellamy had alerted everyone of the situation and given anyone who volunteered to help weapons, something that made you uneasy after Wells' murder.

You stick an extra knife in your boot, in case you lost the first one, and make your way to stand by Jasper as you all waited for Bellamy's order to leave.

"Hey guys, look!" Your head flicks to the sky as someone shouts and points, and your mouth forms an 'O' at the impressive sight before you.

Hundreds of flashing white lights hurled towards to Earth from above, looking like a beautiful meteor shower as the crowd 'ooh'ed and 'ahh'ed at it. You knew better though.

"They didn't see the flares." You say, your heart dropping as you realized what you were actually seeing; a funeral.

"A meteor shower tells you that?" Bellamy asks and you shake your head.

"Those aren't meteors." You feel your voice choke up a little. "They're bodies, being returned to the Earth from the sky."

The spirits of the camp instantly drop and you can feel the negative energy radiating from everyone as you all mourn for a moment. Three hundred people just died, and now you were watching their bodies from the other side while knowing perfectly well that it didn't have to be this way.

They could've come to the Earth, alive. They should've.

You watch Bellamy hang his head in shame and Raven charges forward.

"This is all because of you!"

"I helped you find the radio!"

"After you jacked it from my pod and trashed it!" She yells as Finn and Clarke rush forward to pull her back.

"Raven he knows." You say, stepping forward to place yourself between her and Bellamy, holding your hands on her shoulders as she seethed at him over your shoulder. "Now he has to live with it."

He ignores what you say.

"All I care about is that my sister is out there. Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah." You say, releasing your hold on Raven and stepping back to face him.

You follow Bellamy as the party of kids moves out, weapons and torches ready.

"Look! Over here!"

You and Bellamy exchange a look at the sound of someone shouting before rushing in the direction of it.

"What is it?" You ask as the two of you approach. Roma, one of Bellamy's girls was hot on your heels, and had been the entire night as you'd searched. It was increasingly annoying you, but you had given up on trying to shake her off.

Where you went, Bellamy went, and where Bellamy went, she went. You couldn't get rid of either of them.

"Right there, do you see it?" Mbege says, pointing at something. "It's Octavia's."

You nod. "That's hers."

"Rope." Bellamy says, holding his hand out as someone hands him a coil. He gets to work rigging it up using a small tree trunk and you take his torch for him, swapping it for your flashlight.

"Careful." You say against your better judgement as he heads down the hill. It would be tragic if someone were to get the idea that you cared for him, he'd never let your forget it.

"It's hers!" Bellamy confirms as he inspects it and your stomach drops.

Everyone at the top of the hill stays standing where they are and you roll your eyes, thrusting your torch to Roma before grabbing a hold of the rope and using it to help you down despite the ache in your arm.

You approach Bellamy as he crouches at a rock, observing small red splatters of what you can only assume is blood.

Finn and Jasper follow behind you as you all gather around, exchanging looks of uncertainty with one another.

"Someone else was here." You murmur.

Finn nods in agreement. "Prints are deeper going that way, he was probably carrying her."

You watch Bellamy's jaw clench at that as more and more people join behind you.

"If they took her she's alive Bell." You say, trying to offer him some comfort.

He looks down at you, his eyes a shade darker with worry and he stands, offering you his hand to get up.

You take it as he turns to the group behind you.

"Let's move."

Finn leads, tracking the prints carefully and you walk for another half an hour or so, a tense silence settled over everyone. You were all assuming the worst, that's for sure, Bellamy more so than anyone you noticed as you turned to sneak a glance at him occasionally.

Roma also seems to notice, slipping her hand into his as you walked. You had once again tried to shake the pair of them off you, even though some part of you did want Bellamy to stay, but it hadn't worked, he'd found you every time.

A small drizzle of rain pours onto your face and and small twigs and branches reach out like arms to poke and prod you as you walk past. You keep your eyes glued to the ground to keep yourself from tripping over anything and nearly run into Finn's back as he freezes.

You pull your head up, ready to chew him out for stopping in front of you, but you freeze as well at the sight in front of you.

Gory looking skeletons are hung up threateningly in the clearing, their faces and expressions blank yet twisted with so much pain and horror as your breath escapes your chest. There are at least thirty, stretching as far as your eye can see.

"I don't speak grounder, but I'm pretty sure this means keep out." You say, twisting your head to look at Bellamy.

He nods. "Go back if you want. My sister, my responsibility."

He heads into the clearing of skeletons and you hesitate before following him. If it were you out here, Octavia would be prepared to do the same, and so would Bellamy; you'd offer him your full support, which wasn't something he got from you often.

Finn follows after you, and so does Jasper and a small percentage of kids from the group. The rest return back to camp, not that you can blame them. The sight was grizzly, horrific even, and definitely not something you'd take a stroll through for fun.

You walk through, finding yourself subconsciously sticking close to Bellamy and keeping your eyes peeled, faced upwards at the trees. You had no idea what was waiting for you in here, and you weren't going to let yourself or your friends end up like the bodies that had been strung up as warnings.

You all walk for sometime before Finn approaches, shaking his head.

"We lost the trail."

"Keep looking." Bellamy says, his eyes urgent.

"Bell wandering aimlessly won't find Octavia." You pipe up from beside them, feeling the muscles in your legs start to ache and the soles of your feet cramp. You wanted to find Octavia just as much as he did, but if Finn had nothing then there wasn't any foreseeable hope. "We need to backtrack."

"I'm not going back!" Bellamy exclaims to you, frightening you a little. It took you by surprise, and you knew he only wanted to find his sister, but it still caused you to take a small step back.

"Hey, where's John?"

You all turn around at the sound of Roma's anxious voice. She was right, he had been here a second ago, and now he had vanished. There was no sign of him as far as the eye could see, only a never ending stretch of green.

"Spread out!" You call out to everyone. "He couldn't have gotten that far."

Suddenly you hear a loud thud on the forest ground behind you, and your head whips around in the direction. You gasp and stumble backwards as John's limp body lays at your feet, twisted and tangled painfully. His throat is slit and crimson blood pours out and stains the soft flesh of his neck, tainting it.

"They use the trees." You breathe out once the initial shock wears off. Everyone's eyes dart upwards, fear prevalent in them as it radiates off everyone in waves. "We shouldn't have crossed the boundary."

"Now can we go back?" Roma asks and you turn your head to look at her.

"No one was forcing you to stay here."

She scowls at you but her attention is quickly diverted as you notice it; grounders, standing meters and meters away in all directions. They were caging you in from afar, giving you nowhere to run and you'd all be picked off like lambs for the slaughter.

"We should run." Finn says. There's a silent mutual agreement between everyone as you all exchange glances before taking off into the woods, the grounders wasting no time in following.

You can hear a distant scream as you pump your legs and try your hardest to keep your breathing steady but you pay it no mind. This wasn't the time to be a hero, it was time to save yourself.

"Let's go!" You can hear your camp mates yell as you all run, concern rising in you as you see the grounders in your peripheral vision, gaining on you. They were built for running in this kind of terrain, you were built to live on a metal ship in space.

"Just keep running!" You hear Bellamy yell out to Finn ahead, and you wonder what they had been talking about.

"I can't run much longer!" Someone calls out and Bellamy slows, stopping completely before turning around.

"I'm sick of running anyways."

"Bellamy what are you doing?" You ask, coming to a stop in front of him and Finn.

"They know where she is." He says as everyone else stops, huddling together. If you weren't vulnerable before, you certainly were now.

"Diggs! Where are you?" You hear Roma call out and you watch as she runs in his direction. You all run off after her, trying to stop her.

She disappears from your line of sight and you hear her shrill scream, penetrating through the layers of the forest. You all run harder, turning a corner just in time to see her take off running again and a body; Diggs' body to be exact. He had been impaled on some spikes set off by a booby trap by the looks of the trip wire on the ground, and blood poured from his mouth.

"They're leading us here." Jasper says from behind. "It's the only direction we can run in."

"Right." Finn says, turning to survey the area. "Where'd they go?"

"After Roma." Bellamy says in realization and you all run off in the direction she'd gone in.

You hear her scream once again before there's a silence and you slow down as you see her shoulder peak from behind a tree trunk.

"There she is." Monroe whispers. "Roma!"

You hesitantly follow Bellamy as he jogs towards her, Finn hot on your heels.

Your stomach drops as he you turn and see her, struck in the chest by a spear that kept her impaled against the tree trunk.

"She only came because of me." Bellamy whispers.

"They can kill us whenever they want." You say, the realization dawning on you. They had been toying with you the entire time.

"Then they should." Jasper says, making you panic as you anticipate his next move. "Get it over with! Come on!"

Finn rushes to him, shoving him to make him shut up as the sound no doubt alerts the grounders of your whereabouts. Not that they didn't already know.

"We know you're out there!"

"They're coming!" Monroe shouts in horror as you back up, feeling your back collide with Bellamy's chest as you see the grounder she's referring to. He's tall and burly, and he's also barreling towards you with his weapons raised, not stopping for anyone or anything.

You all circle anxiously, your eyes frantically searching as you notice more and more grounders caging you in. You feel a hand grasp yours and you cling to it like a lifeline. Unless a miracle were to happen it would probably be the last one you would ever hold.

"Bellamy." You whisper in fear, very uncharacteristic of you as Bellamy strengthens his hold on your hand and pulls you behind him, shielding you from the grounders who continued to close in. It probably wouldn't do much in the long run, if anything it would only make it worse for you. Having to watch Bellamy die before your own inevitable death sounded like a cruel, sadistic joke.

Suddenly a horn blows in the distance, one that makes them all stop in their tracks and take off running in the other direction. Your mouth drops in disbelief.

"They're leaving." Bellamy breathes out.

"The horn, what does it mean?" Jasper asks and Finn answers him, already reaching into his pack to pull out a tent.

"Acid fog."

"We need to run." Monroe says and you shake your head, your eyes meeting Finn's as he shakes out the canvas.

"There's no time."

All of you rush to get under the safety and shelter of the tent, covering you all like a blanket. You're squashed uncomfortably between Bellamy and Monroe, putting a painful strain on your shoulder. You shift closer to Bellamy to relieve it, and he welcomes it, putting an arm around your shoulders protectively as he pulls you closer beneath him. The action makes your breathing quicken and your heart flutter, but you blame it on your nerves.

"How long are we supposed to wait?" Monroe asks, blissfully unaware of the interaction beside her. "Will this even work?"

"We'll find out." Finn answers her latter question.

Bellamy shakes his head beside you, and you feel his curls tickle your cheek gently. "No we won't."

There's no time for you to protest as he lifts to cover of the tent, poking his head out into the shockingly fresh air. No yellow, acid fog looming ahead of you, waiting to claim it's next victim by burning it alive.

"There's no fog." He says as the rest of you join him. He stands, reaching down to help haul you to your feet.

"False alarm?" Finn asks.

You scan the treeline, keeping your eyes trained on it carefully as you search for any kind of movement. You notice some, a single grounder making his way through the woods, parallel to you.

"They're coming back." Bellamy says, noticing too.

"He's alone though." You speak as everyone else picks up on it.

"Now can we run?"

"He doesn't see us. I'm going after him."

Your head whips to Bellamy as your mouth drops slightly in shock.

"Right now? And then what? Kill him?"

"No." He shakes his head. "Catch him, make him tell me where Octavia is, and then kill him."

Bellamy stands to walk off, slowly stalking behind the grounder who darts from tree to tree, unaware of his audience. You all reluctantly follow, your nerves getting the best of you as you fight to put one foot in front of the other and the forest swallows you.

The cave the grounder led you to was damp and cold. It was dark too, with only small slithers of light creeping in. The putrid smell of it burned your nostrils but you kept walking, sandwiched between Bellamy and Finn, with Jasper and Monroe bring up your rear as you all held your breath's in anticipation, wondering what you would see when you turned the corner. It certainly wasn't Octavia crouched over the knocked out body of the grounder.

Heavy metal chains adorned her wrist as she frantically used a key to unlock the padlock holding them in place. You breathed out a sigh of relief as the girl you had come to think of as a sister was okay. Her head snaps up at the sound of footsteps and her face lights up at the sight of you all.

"Bellamy?"

"Octavia!" He rushes forward to her, unlocking the padlock with the key and pulling her into a bone crushing hug. "It's okay, you're okay."

You walk forward, stopping with Finn above the grounder. He had an open head wound, blood oozed from it and you assumed that's how Octavia had knocked him out.

Octavia pulls away from her brother, noticing you and Jasper and stumbles towards you. You wrap your arms around her, stroking her matted hair as she laughs into your shoulder, relieved to have been found. She pulls away from you. "We need to leave, now, before he wakes up."

"He's not gonna wake up." Bellamy says harshly, walking to the wall of the cave to grab a weapon.

"Bellamy stop! He didn't hurt me, let's just go."

He shakes his head. "They started this. Finn, move."

You look down at where Finn is crouched above the grounder, turning something over in his hands. You join him, your eyes widening when you see what it is.

"The foghorn." You mutter, taking it from his hands.

Suddenly the grounder wakes up, jumping in to action as he pulls a dagger from somewhere and drives it into Finn. He turns his body, using his feet to take out Bellamy who still holds his spear tightly.

You scramble backwards towards Finn, your hands shaking as you reach for the dagger, contemplating whether or not to leave it there.

"Stop it, that's my brother!" You hear Octavia yell out and your head snaps around. Your breath is sucked from your lungs as you see the grounder holding the spear just centimeters from Bellamy's throat, and the sight of his face writhing and squirming in pain and desperation is enough to send you into gear. You push yourself onto your feet and run towards to the grounder.

It's not surprise that he knocks you back easily, and you groan loudly in pain as your shoulder collides with the stone wall and tears open your sensitive wound again. You would probably need stitches this time, but none of that matters as you turn to look at the sight in front of you. All you had needed to do was give Bellamy an opening to roll out away from the spearhead, which he had.

Before he can do anything though the grounder collapses, and you see Jasper standing behind him with a metal rod in his hand as he breathes heavily.

"Bellamy!" You collapse to your knees beside him as he sits up, his eyes instantly scanning you for injuries, before they drift to the unconscious Finn behind you.

"We need to get back to camp."

"Clarke! Where's Clarke!"

Jasper's voice rings out through the camp as you all rush in through the gates, swinging them shut as soon as you're all inside.

"I'm here! What's wrong?" She asks, approaching you before she sees it; Finn is held in Bellamy's arms, the dagger still protruding out of his side violently. Blood falls from the wound and there are bundles of fabric clumped around it in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "Oh my god."

She quickly feels for his pulse. "He's alive. Get him in the dropship now."

Bellamy hands Finn over to two other boys who carry him into the dropship, Clarke wasting no time in following as the rest of you anxiously wait outside. You can feel the blood leak from your shoulder, and it's painful, but if it needed stitches you'd have to wait for Clarke to finish with Finn, and there was no point in putting any extra worry on her.

You follow them into the dropship, settling down uncomfortably onto the floor as you rest your head against the wall and close your eyes. You aren't sure how long you sit there for until you feel a presence beside you. You don't need to crack open your eyes to tell who it is as he sits next you, mimicking your position.

"What're you doing here Lucky?" Bellamy asks softly, and without thinking you rest your head against his shoulder, savoring the warmth his body gave you. A storm had started to rage outside and you were shivering despite your layers.

"Waiting for Clarke." You whisper, not bothering to open your eyes as you continue to doze off. "Wake me when she's finished with Finn."

"Okay." He says, stretching his legs out in front of him to get comfortable. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Well hello there. I've been expecting you.

I hope you liked it, please let me know if you'd like to be on my tag list (it makes me feel important) and please check out my pinned post on requests if you're interested in one!

I love writing for you guys and especially the 100.

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #the 100 x reader #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake series #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake fic #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellamy blake angst #bellamy blake smut #slow burn #enemies to lovers

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whiskeykneat · 6 years ago

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One More Saturday Night [1]

Notes: trying something a little different since the ao3 link doesn't seem to be working for some people. I made a cut but if it doesn't work this is tagged #long post. // Summary: For everyone else, it's just one more Saturday night in 1964, but for Gale Hawthorne and Peeta Mellark, they’ve both received letters that will change the course of their lives forever. // Rating: this chapter is T, but some parts will be N*FW

I. Fortunate Son (1964)

CHAPTER ONE

It's eight o'clock on a sultry July night in Twelvetrees, West Virginia. Down at the carhop, Katniss Everdeen has just switched shifts with Joanna Mason, and as she leans against the freezer, stretching her sore calves, she's unaware that the boy who's just rolled up in the parking lot with his brothers, the one who carries fifty pound sacks of flour to the back door and gets tongue tied in her presence, would give her the world if he could.

While Joanna slicks red lipstick on her sultry mouth and clips on her garters under the flickering yellow light of the washroom, Peeta Mellark sits in the parking lot of the carhop and turns the words he'll say to Katniss Everdeen over and over again in his mouth, the official decision letter from the draft board burning a hole in his pocket.

He ain't needed here. Got some brothers. That son of yours has always been useless. Let the army straighten him out, Mr Mellark. His mother's words feel like they've been seared into his soul, deeper than the burns from his many years of tending the ovens in their family bakery.

[[MORE]]

"Peet! Cat got your tongue?" Delly giggles, elbowing Peeta in the side. Delly is like a sister to him, they grew up side by side in the garden between the shoe shop and the bakery, fast friends since the day she found him hiding from his mother under the rose bushes.

Unlike Peeta, Delly has always known what she'll do when she grows up, and that's marrying the boy with the easy, charming smile who sits even now with one arm slung over her shoulders -- Peeta's second eldest brother, Wheatley. Their lives are laid out before them like the instructions for a gingerbread house, all it takes it for the pieces to be iced together, like a fairy story, falling into place.

The letter crinkles in Peeta's shirt pocket when he pats it, and as if he knows what's on Peeta's mind, Wheatley nudges him unsubtly. "You gonna tell her?" Peeta has never been close to his older brothers, and this spirit of bonhomie at the eleventh hour feels like they've already picked out a plot at the VA cemetery for him.

Peeta shrugs, feeling a blush heat his cheeks as Katniss skates on by.

"My, I wish I could pull off those dungarees!" Delly chirps, pointing at Katniss.

"I think she looks..." Like a stone cold fox. "...Outta sight." And Katniss does. She's got her dark hair pinned up like old posters of Rosie the Riveter, with a plain scrubbed face and not a hint of makeup. Yet something about her is still so inexpressibly arresting that Peeta can't help but stare at her, lost in thought, as she skates between the cars, taking orders left and right.

She's a devil on skates: her form needs work, but she can serve five cars in under fifteen minutes, with nary a drop of root beer float spilled in a single lap. She never smiles, but Peeta knows any boy in town would love to take her to Lookout Point for some necking. The sexual revolution may not have made it this deep into the mountains yet, but when there's nothing else to do, people make their own fun.

Still, the line is drawn between the Seam and Town, Katniss is the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and Peeta may not want to admit it to himself, but that's the real reason any town boy would take her out, to see if she'd go all the way, or if she'd keep her legs locked up tight.

As she passes by the finned Buick Electra, she looks up and meets Peeta's eye, and though she never breaks the flow, he sees her look back again, and he could swear she almost smiles.

•••

I don't know how you do it, Joanna had said earlier, with a tone in her voice that might have been a slap or a smile. You might just make something of yourself and get out of this town, kiddo. What she doesn't say is written on every silver scar that marks her flesh, but Katniss lets Joanna keep her secrets, and that's why they're friends.

When Joanna slams out the back door, Katniss hears a Caddy roar in the alley like a tiger, and there's the scream of her friend's high laughter before the only sound left in the waiting night is crickets and the catchy song trickling from the kitchen radio: Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do...

For a moment, Katniss is lost in the past, and she stares out the back door as the moths flutter at the neon lights, feeling every year of her eighteen summers and twenty more besides, as though she's faded to a pale reflection of herself before she's ever gotten her or Prim out of this place.

"You look like you're run off your feet, girl. Sit down and take a breather. Them Town kids can wait." Chaff plucks the order pad from Katniss's fingers and starts putting up the tickets as he steers her to a chair beside the fan. "'Sides, Mitch would kill me if you fainted on my watch." Chaff passes Katniss an ice cold bottle of pop, and she feels herself sag in relief.

Chaff once flew planes with Abernathy, back in the war with Germany, but beyond that she hardly knows him at all, for Chaff never talks about the city he left to come to their little town that sleeps as the rest of the modern world passes them by.

The bottle of pop sweats in her hands, and it makes her think of the way her pa would bring home one as a treat when she was little, to be shared sip by tiny sip with her baby sister, each fizzy bubble held in their mouths for as long as they could, to make the sweetness last.

"Shit, Miss Undersee was supposed to be here an hour ago." Chaff smacks a hand on the counter, but Katniss can tell he doesn't half care. "If she's late one more time, I'll fire her ass. I don't care who her daddy is."

Before Katniss can make up an excuse for Madge (the secret of how sick Madge's mama is lies on her tongue like a wedge of pitch, sticking her gums together), Chaff passes her a twist of greasy fries and a milkshake (strawberry, like the wild berries she used to sell door to door with her best friend Gale, before he went down the mine). She can't believe how ravenous she is, anyone would think she hadn't eaten since breakfast, and that's as close to the truth as she's willing to admit to herself.

Ever since the mine explosion that killed her father, back in '55, Katniss has had to shift for herself and her sister, keeping their small family afloat. The mine owner sent their mama to a sanitarium in Richmond to recuperate. When she returned, she seemed half the person she used to be, and had to return again and again to be put back together for something called hysteria.

But that's all water under the bridge now, and Katniss is no longer that frightened eleven year old girl, forced to survive on the kindness of strangers. Abernathy took pity on her and hired her as soon as she turned fifteen to work for him at the carhop, and she'll spend her life trying to repay a debt that can never be quantified.

Mr Abernathy passed out hours ago, he's almost as fond of white lightning as Katniss is of making extra tips, anything to get out of this town before it's too late. She's got a scholarship to the university, the same place Abernathy went to, even though she's no more likely to study physics than she is to sprout wings and fly away from the dust of this coal town.

At midnight, when the neon lights shut down, and all the moths in town flock to the lustrous glow the stars make over the quarry pond, she and Chaff will use all of their combined strength to roll Abernathy over and make sure he doesn't drown in his own vomit. That's part of her debt, and she'll be deep in it until she shuffles off this mortal coil.

So when Madge bursts through the door, not a single strand of blonde hair out of place, Katniss is too full of sugar and grease to protest when Madge insists she'll take the next orders out.

"Been pilin' up." Chaff nods to the tickets. "That little Cartwright gal came by and dropped 'em off while Katniss took a breather. By the sounds of it, they're gittin' liquored up out there." But he doesn't make a move to stop Madge from going out the door.

Madge blows a strand of golden hair off her forehead and adjusts her headband, her pale fingers flying over the laces in an intricate pattern as she re-ties her skates. They're pristine white, the kind that Katniss's little sister Primrose would give her eye teeth for, but nothing in the Seam stays white for long, not with the coal dust that gets onto everything, coating it like funerary ash.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says to Katniss, biting her lip and looking away from her friend. Chaff makes a sound of deep disgust in his throat, and passes Madge the tray. Once she's skated from sight, he turns back to the fryer, and turns up the radio.

Come gather 'round friends and I'll tell you a tale / Of when the red iron pits ran a-plenty / But the cardboard-filled windows and old men on the benches / Tell you now that the whole town is empty (North Country Blues, Bob Dylan)

•••

Madge has skated eleven blocks to get here, refusing to take her daddy's car like some spoiled little debutante, although she might have a year ago, before she went to university, before everything began to fall apart. There's a run in her stockings that will have to be repaired soon, and a burning in her lungs that reminds her she's alive. Now that she's been to university and back, this town feels smaller than ever, but it's a good feeling, as if nothing bad could ever happen here, cocooned from the world outside.

When the lights turn down low, and the town sleeps, she'll lie in her bed and listen to the hum of the locusts in the sycamore tree, where the initials M+G are still scarred across the trunk, as if life followed a pattern, laid out like a children's jumping rhyme.

•••

It is quite propitious, as far as plans go, Miss Undersee. Seneca dabbed at his lips with his napkin. His mustache was damp with moisture, and she felt her stomach curdle at the way it gleamed wetly under the lights. She just hoped he got this whole breakup over with soon, because she was sure that one more minute of having to endure his rubbery lips and his mechanical groping on her knee would make her commit an entirely unladylike act.

As Madge fantasized about flipping Seneca the bird, he laid a clammy hand over hers and took a deep breath. With my money and your breeding, I think a marriage would suit the pair of us, don't you agree?

But my degree... I haven't finished it yet. Madge's smile froze in place, suddenly entirely too aware of the predatory gazes of the waitstaff, as though the entire moment had been orchestrated. She felt blindsided, and furious all at once. But good manners won out, and she smiled again, with a cheer she did not feel.

Seneca laughed, a touch of condescension creeping into his voice. I'm not marrying you for your mind, Margareta. Your father said you might be stubborn.

Madge reeled back in shock, stunned. Suddenly it all seemed too much: the soft candlelight felt as garish as the cheap lights of a carnival fanfare, the white wine in her glass tasted like rotgut mash. She tried to tug her hand back from Seneca's, but he held it fast. You talked to my daddy already? Her voice seemed to be coming from far away.

Why, of course I did, darling. Seneca squeezed her arm tight, a warning. Now, if you want to finish your university degree by mail, that's fine with me, but you won't need any of that when you're Mrs Seneca Crane, wife to the next senator of West Virginia. He continued his monologue, the room fading to a single pinprick of light until all Madge could see was that flashy diamond, all she could hear was the sound of champagne corks and applause, and all she could feel was the tightness closing in on her, as if Seneca's ring was around her neck instead of her finger.

#long post #gadge #gale/madge #gale x madge #everlark #historical au #hunger games #hunger games fic #underthorne #gale hawthorne #madge undersee #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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spicycreativity · 4 years ago

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Soft-Shoe Shuffle - Ch 3

Chapter: 3/12 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Any formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: N/A; ask to tag Excerpt: "Oh, you know." Janus waved a hand like he'd thought about this a thousand times before and was merely playing the conversation out as light entertainment. "Does a person have a 'true' identity?" "As opposed to a false identity?" Patton laughed weakly. Janus smiled at him without showing his teeth. Talk about being out of one's depth. It wasn't endearing. "Actually? Yes." "Oh," Patton said, recoiling in surprise. "Really?"

When you are born, you're afraid of the darkness And then you're afraid of the light But I'm not afraid when I dance with my shadow This time I'm gonna get it right

Janus woke up to the feeling of rough, low pile carpet against his face. He lay still for a moment, waiting for the buzzing in his head to die down so he could work out exactly what had happened.

That was easier said than done. He couldn’t stop shaking, nor could he feel his lips or fingertips, and a persistent brain fog made it difficult to concentrate.

Ah.

He’d fainted.

He opened his eyes to find Logan crouched next to him, one hand extended as though he’d hesitated in the process of reaching out to touch him.

“Janus?” Logan said, slowly and clearly. “Are you alright?”

“No, I’m dying.”

“Good to hear, I suppose.” Logan sat back on his heels. “Is telling the truth ordinarily so taxing on you?”

Janus wasn’t sure he wanted to answer that. “How did you know I was telling the truth?” he demanded, a little offended that Logan hadn’t even suspected that Janus might be manipulating him. He was the gatekeeper, the chessmaster; people were supposed to accuse him of lying.

“You hesitated,” Logan said.

“I hesitated,” Janus repeated, considering the implication of this. It made him want to hide his face. Perhaps he could implement a masquerade mask into his daily wear, something gold with Swarovski crystals.

“You don’t normally hesitate when you speak,” Logan said. “One might call you ‘glib.’”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Why would they call me ‘glib’ when my name is Janus?”

“I believe spending time with Patton has begun to influence you."

A stab of panic did not squeeze Janus’ heart. “Don’t tell him I fainted.”

“I hadn’t planned on it. By the way, if you feel like you can sit up, you should drink something. I suspect you're dehydrated. The fainting spell was the biggest indicator, but your lips are also chapped. I was going to check your pulse, but I wasn’t sure if you would be comfortable with that.”

When he had processed what Logan had said, Janus nodded and sat up slowly, leaning on his second set of arms. Logan handed him a plastic cup with a bendy straw sticking out of it. Janus accepted it and examined the deep blue liquid. “What is it?”

“It’s Gatorade. Blue Cherry."

Janus took a tentative sip, then drained half the glass in one long swallow. He wasn’t embarrassed nor in any rush to leave, he just-- He was exhausted, that was all. He picked up his hat with his free hand and put it back on, pleased to see that his hands were steady. "It's been a hectic few days," he said, half to Logan and half to himself.

"You forgot to eat," Logan surmised. "I would have expected Patton to remind you."

Janus couldn't suppress an irritated twitch. "He might have mentioned it in passing…"

"Ah." Logan smiled: a cautious, tight-lipped thing. "That's why you didn't want me to tell him."

"Yes, well." Janus finished the Gatorade and took a moment to self-assess. He felt less dizzy now. What else? "Logan?"

The bruises stood out against Logan's skin, blue-purple and sickly. Janus suddenly couldn't tear his eyes away from them. They even mimicked the shape of his crook.

"I'll talk to the others," Logan said. "I… I'm new to the idea of talking about, or even acknowledging feelings, but… You're right."

"Do tell."

The look Logan gave him was pointed indeed. "Refusing to acknowledge a weakness does not negate that weakness. It only makes things harder in the long run.”

"I'll keep that in mind, should I ever suspect I'm developing a weakness." Janus vanished the glass, since Logan had given no indication he wanted it back, and got to his feet. His head gave a little pulse of protest, but he forced himself to stay still until the room stopped spinning.

"I am curious," Logan said. "Did you actually have a question for me, or was that just a lie so I would let you in?"

"Why," said Janus, "is a raven like a writing desk?"

Logan's reply was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Logan? It's Patton. Again."

Janus held his index finger up to his lips.

Logan nodded.

Janus tipped his hat and sank out. He appeared in the living room and chanced a glance into the hallway. From this angle, he could only just see Logan as he opened his bedroom door to Patton. Janus quickly ducked back around the corner. He was a little too far away to make out words, but could hear the sound of conversation, then the sound of the door closing, then silence.

Janus smiled and sank down on the couch, knowing full well he would fall asleep if he allowed himself to close his eyes.

He knew he shouldn't. Even now, a small part of his brain screamed at him that he was in danger, that he was making a mistake with this show of vulnerability.

But exhaustion smothered him like a blanket, dampened the noise, pressed him down, down, down.

Janus closed his eyes.

Gentle noises emanated from the kitchen, the sound of quiet conversation.

Janus realized that he was now horizontal on the couch. Someone had draped a throw blanket over him. How… revolting . He wasn't a child; he didn't need--

He sat up and ripped the blanket off, cheeks blazing with heat. What was he doing ?

The idea that Patton and Logan had seen him sleeping was mortifying. Obviously Patton had been the one to cover him up, but the glass of Gatorade (complete with bendy straw) on the coffee table was obviously from Logan.

Janus took in a few slow, deep breaths. Then he picked up the glass and took a few equally slow, measured sips. There was no need to work himself up (even if his hammering pulse said otherwise). He was still in control. He was just a little shaky, which made sense, as the only things to enter his system in the past few hours had been coffee and Gatorade.

"Ah, Janus." Logan sounded far happier than he had when Janus had last spoken to him. Janus turned to look at him as Logan came around the side of the couch and perched on the very edge of an armchair.

"Logan." Janus inclined his head. Where was his hat? He spied it on the edge of the coffee table and put it on with a great show of nonchalance. "I take it you and Patton made up?"

"We had a conversation that greatly eased the tension between us, yes. He told me what happened between you and Roman."

Janus did not make a face, nor did he twitch irritably. "It was nothing, really. I'm sure he'll be over it soon."

"That's very optimistic of you, if a little unrealistic." Logan stood up. "Anyway. I came out to tell you that lunch is ready. I told Patton I was craving chicken soup. Coincidentally, chicken broth is high in sodium, fatty acids, and vitamins which contribute to cardiovascular health and recovery after instances of illness."

Janus couldn't help the smile that crossed his face, though he was quick to suppress it. Logan had lied for him.

If Janus swayed a little when he stood up, Logan was kind enough not to mention it.

It was warm in the dining room. Janus fussed with his gloves, trailing behind Logan. Just the idea of facing Patton made his heart flutter. How delightful. Remus may have been on to something after all.

But the moment couldn't be delayed forever, and soon Janus found himself seated at Patton's right elbow, trying not to be grumpy that he had set the table for five. It was an uncomfortable reminder of Virgil and Roman's animosity toward him, nothing more.

"Morning, Janus! Are you feline more alert after your cat-nap?" Patton asked.

Janus was spared having to come up with a response by Logan's interjection, "It's afternoon."

"Aw, it's barely a hair after 12:00!"

Patton laughed at his own joke and Janus realized with a heart-stopping stab of definitely-not-fear that he was out of his depth. As arbitrary as the line between 'good' and 'evil' was, the line had been drawn nonetheless and Patton had been the one to draw it. The curtain was still there, the tangible reminder that Janus had been seen and judged and sorted.

Now he stood in the light, in the space he had claimed for himself, and he had no idea who to be.

It was pure instinct to play along, to say whatever he thought Patton and Logan wanted to hear in order to draw them closer to serving his own ends. But what were they, now? What version of himself would Patton and Logan like best? Who was he, really?

His breath came fast and frantic, and he forced himself to swallow a few spoonfuls of soup in case it was his blood sugar making him so panicky.

"Janus?" Patton waved a hand in front of Janus' eyes. "You in there?"

Logan said nothing, but the furrow of his brow spoke volumes as he leaned in to get a better look at Janus.

"I'm," Janus said, "purrfectly fine." The next thing that slipped past his tongue would have been a mistake, except that Janus didn't make mistakes. "I was just thinking about the concept of self."

Patton didn't say anything, but he frowned thoughtfully. Probably trying to come up with a good philosophical cat pun.

Logan said, "Self?"

"Oh, you know." Janus waved a hand like he'd thought about this a thousand times before and was merely playing the conversation out as light entertainment. "Does a person have a 'true' identity?"

"As opposed to a false identity?" Patton laughed weakly.

Janus smiled at him without showing his teeth. Talk about being out of one's depth. It wasn't endearing. "Actually? Yes."

"Oh," Patton said, recoiling in surprise. "Really?"

"Per American philosopher Daniel Dennett," Logan said, and stopped with an abortive exhale. Janus tilted his head at him and Logan continued as though he had never hesitated, "there is no self. The entire concept of 'self' is a fiction invented by humans to help them make sense of their world."

Janus tensed his jaw. That was not what he had been getting at when he had broached the subject (had he been getting at anything?), but it seemed rude to derail Logan now, especially when he was in such an emotionally fragile state.

Well, if it meant not undoing all his hard work, Janus supposed he could approach the matter with (metaphorical) kid gloves.

"How can there be a false self if there is no self?" Patton asked, glancing between Logan and Janus with a frown.

"Dennett isn't the sole authority on the matter," Janus said, forcing himself to speak plainly.

Patton cocked his head like a confused puppy. For an unrelated reason, Janus' mouth went dry. "Then who is?" Patton asked.

"Often in philosophy, there are no objectively correct answers," Logan said.

Patton's look of befuddlement was a sight to behold. Janus wanted to reach over and ruffle his hair. It wasn't Patton's fault, after all, he had never had cause to engage with anything more morally complex than 'murder is wrong.'

Well, until recently.

"What about in terms of the static and the dynamic?" Janus said. Interrupted. It had been during a lull, yes, but compared to his usual push-pull approach, this was more akin to a sledgehammer.

His face heated up and he quickly slipped on a mask to cover what was no doubt an obvious blush. Pain pulsed behind his eyebrow, a relic of the headache he'd mostly left behind.

"What do you mean?" Logan asked.

"Better answer quick, before you sta-tick us off," Patton added.

Janus glanced down at his gloves, pretending to inspect the fingertips. "Is there a permanent state of the self?" He hastily added, "Assuming that the self does exist," to assure Logan that he had been listening earlier.

"If you asked David Hume--"

Janus pretended to look around in confusion. "That's funny, I don't remember asking for David Hume's opinion."

"Be nice," Patton chided.

Janus squinted at Patton, who developed a sudden fascination with the tablecloth until Janus looked away again.

"So, Logan," Janus prompted. "What do you think?"

"I think that there is not an objective correct answer. Were it necessary to have a working definition, then I suppose I would agree with Dennett's assertion that the self is an invention."

"I suppose that's why you brought it up first."

"On the contrary, it's because 'Dennett' comes alphabetically before 'Hume.'"

Janus couldn't help the laughter that exploded from his chest, couldn't even play it off. The joke was unexpected, nothing more. "And you, Patton?"

"Oh, um." Patton pushed his glasses up. "I don't really know if I'm qualified to talk about philosophy."

"Even if we promise not to judge you?" Janus purred, taking care to look Patton in the eye.

"Okay, um." Patton fidgeted with his spoon. "I guess the self is like a river?"

"Go on, Patton," Logan encouraged.

"It's always water, but sometimes it changes directions or does different things. The same river that floods a town can also provide drinking water."

Janus raised an eyebrow. "How insightful."

"Interesting," Logan said. "So in your interpretation, the self is both static and dynamic."

"I guess?" Patton said. "I'm still kind of confused."

"If you'd like, I could recommend you some reading on the topic. A surprising amount of Thomas' schooling included references to philosophy and critical thought."

"Oh, um. I don't know about reading, but maybe you could explain it to me sometime?" Patton glanced over at Janus like he'd just remembered he was there. "And you too, Janus, if… that sounds like a good use of your time."

"I'd have to check my schedule, but I'm sure I could reschedule my plans for world domination."

"I wasn't trying--" Patton put up his hands. "Was that mean? You just seem so busy all the time."

Janus only shrugged, wondering where this regard for his free time had been when Patton had made him play cards until 4:00 in the morning.

"Patton." Logan summoned his flashcards. "I believe Janus was ribbing you. 'Rib, verb, to poke fun at.'"

Janus nodded.

"Which reminds me," Logan said. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

"Oh!" Patton raised his hand. "Because they both have inky quills."

For a moment, Janus and Logan just stared at him.

"Get it?" Patton said.

"That's clever," Janus said, still staring at Patton.

"Also because they both produce flat notes," Patton said, unperturbed. "And Poe wrote on both, but I don't know what the Teletubbies have to do with anything." He laughed at his own joke.

After the wave of pun-induced exasperation passed, Janus was left only with a deep, warm fondness glowing gently in his chest.

In the three seconds before he realized what the feeling was, he quite enjoyed it. Then realization struck, and terror and shame with it, and he looked at his wrist despite the fact that he never wore a watch.

"I do still have work to do today," he said apropos of seemingly nothing. He didn't glance at Patton in a tacit request for permission before standing up.

"Oh," Patton said, the smile fading from his face. "Um, okay. See you later."

Janus nodded and strode off.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moceit #spicywrites #spicywrites soft-shoe shuffle #song featured: taste of india - aerosmith

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