#mugging tw

It’s time to tell Silco the whole truth of your history. Who knows if it might scare him off for good…

Everybody Lives AU | Pre-Act I | Silco x Reader | Female!Reader | Slow Burn | Fluff | Mild Angst || SFW | TW: Mentions of Bullying, Mugging, Offscreen Death | WC: 2.27k

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

taglist: @sherwood-forests @deny-the-issue @let-the-monster-out @ariaud @joscelyn02 @crunchlite @sheacrowley

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This might be the last time you ever get to enjoy Silco’s company, and yet you’re staring at the ground. But maybe it’s better that way; if you look into his seafoam teal eyes, you’re liable to drown. They contain the same passion and intensity as the ocean itself, a force of nature that is at times beautifully tranquil, but can never be tamed or controlled. 

You wonder if you’ve studied his face enough by now to be able to depict him accurately in a painting. The soulfulness of his eyes alone would take hours to capture, not to mention mixing countless different paints to get that precise color that’s not quite a true blue or green, but something in between. The complexity of the color matched only by the hidden depths of the man himself. 

Will your memories be enough of a reference? If he refuses to pose for a portrait?

You should meet his eyes when you talk to him. It’s the least he deserves. But your neck won’t obey you and your head won’t turn either.

(You don’t deserve to look at him.) 

Well, no use in putting this off any longer. Clearing your throat hurts, but you finally begin.

VIV’S APARTMENT

Viv had enjoyed every moment with Khalil, wine drunk and sugared up. She may have flirted more than she already was, slipped her hand in his when he took her home in a gesture she didn't spend too long picking a part until she fell into a dessert wine slumber. It felt good to see him again. Each time was like a warm embrace from the past, one of the few parts of her youth that wasn't sharp edges and biting words. Khalil was good, kind- she kicked herself for letting time get between them. But Viv was learning more and more as of late that she was shit at keeping in touch and easily fell into the woes of her life and the distractions that followed. And in all the wonderful distractions Khalil had been offering her, she'd yet to tell him the news of Ivan. The first time she could chalk it up to the alcohol. The second, the night was too full of laughter to bring up something terrible, and even now, pressing her shoulder fondly against his, Viv couldn't bring herself to form the words. It almost felt cruel both to tell him and both to have not told him sooner. Pushing her shoulder against his to get his attention, Viv lifted her eyes up at him, a far-off smile on her lips, "So..." She started, "in all our catching up, I've been unsure of how to tell you something." Viv pulled her eyes away, her fingers tangling together in her laps, picking at old nail polish chipped due to how rough she was on her hands. She didn't talk about Ivan, most people didn't have the knowledge of him to ask, and whenever anyone in her family did speak of him, Vivienne found a way to cut the conversation short before their blame could slip into their tone. But Khalil was different, and she wondered when or if he and Ivan had fallen out of touch. Exhaling, she blinked away unshed tears and found the courage to look at him as she spoke with her voice low and controlled. "In September -" She paused, "I should have told you sooner." She continued, her knuckles stretched thin and white, "We were going to dinner, walking a few blocks Ivan and I." She explained finding it more difficult than she imagined to retell a story ten months gone. Her chin quivered, and Viv swatted at her, preemptively slid the side of her palm under her eyes, her fingers catching tears before they fell over her cheeks. "Some man tried to take our things. Money, watch- jewelry." Viv said, her fingers intuitively wrapping around her bare neck to feel for a necklace she hadn't worn in almost a year. Sniffling, Viv shook her head. He should be spared the details, "Ivan was hurt." She managed to get it out, hoping he could fill in the blanks she couldn't speak aloud. Viv pressed her palms together, shuddering, "He didn't make it, and after, I couldn't stand being there anymore. It's why I left." Finally, she admitted, her tone heavy with all her unspoken shame, "I couldn't face any part of it anymore. I handled it all so poorly." She was still handling it poorly, more so not handling it at all. "I should have told you so much sooner, Khalil. I wasn't sure how. I knew I needed to. You deserved to know...I'm sorry." She ended her palm open for his hand if he needed the comfort, or perhaps it was for herself, looking for something substantial to anchor her in the now.

@aikidoheroine​

"Chiaki, are you okay!" Tenko immediately rushed over to the gamer, wrapping her into a hug. "Of course you can stay with me, but what happened to you?"

@insatiablelilith​ asked: “  i’m gonna fucking kill them.  ” (for Selina)

❈ --- She decided to go for a jog that late afternoon. Something she’d done ever since she had been in London and Emerson was always encouraging her to keep at it since she so obviously enjoyed the little bit of time to herself. It helped her clear her thoughts and focus. But on this particular evening as she was jogging back to Emerson’s home, a couple of guys decided to jump her. Selina put up a good fight, was able to evade most of their blows and land some of her own, but they got some good hits in there as well. They left a few bruises along her body and a busted lip. Her head throbbed and she realized that her phone had been snatched along with her earbuds. So wincing and limping back to the home, she wasn’t shocked to see Emerson go into a fit of rage when she explained to him what happened once inside.

“They’re not worth it, babe.” She hissed as she moved toward the bathroom to try and clean herself up. “I’ve dealt with worse idiots and endured way worse beatings. This is nothing...” 

With: @evandonahue

Liv hadn’t seen Evan since the mugging incident, so she figured the spring break event was the perfect chance to bring him something to thank him properly for helping her out. She was now post hip surgery and was getting around on crutches for the next couple of weeks, but she still wanted to get out of the house and have fun. Approaching him by one of the food trucks, Liv smiled at him. “Hi, Evan! I have a little something for you,” she said, handing him the bag of chocolate chip cookies that she made. “These are to thank you for all your help when I got mugged. I still don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there.” 

“Put your weapon down.”

Fandom: Original work

Characters: Kieran (OC), Cole (OC)

Tw: Knives, blood

Summary: With food becoming scarce, people tend to get jumpy around winter. Kieran can’t blame them, but he sure wishes Cole was better at hostage negations. The knife pressed to his throat sort of stings.

“Put your weapon down.” Kieran hissed out, shoulders tensing against his unseen attacker. The figure behind him didn’t reply, shaking hand keeping the knife pressed to Kieran’s throat.

“Cole.” Kieran looked to Cole, who was standing only a few yards away, bandana hiding his expression. ‘Talk.’ Kieran mouthed silently.

“H-hey. Let him go.” Cole took a step forward. His voice was thin and shaky, completely drained of his usual cool, slightly intimidating confidence.

The knife pressed into Kieran’s skin, penciling a line of red, splitting the top layer of skin. Kieran grit his teeth, stifling a whimper.

“Not any closer! G-get back! Get back or I’ll... or I’ll slit his throat!”

Kieran thought that the voice sounded young, and now that he thought about it, he was sure that the figure was at least half a foot smaller than him.

“T-take off your pack!” The figure spat, words sharp and strained, as if he was trying to keep from losing his nerve.

Cole raised up a hand, palm out. “Hey... Let’s just... we can talk about this, okay kid?”

“Don’t call me kid!” The figure shifted again, taking a step backward. Kieran was dragged back with him, letting out a sharp gasp as the knife pressed harder into his skin.

“Y-yeah, yeah, okay. Just... Just let him go. Nobody needs to get hurt.” Cole stuttered, and Kieran absentmindedly thought that Cole was more panicked than him, the one with a knife pressed to their throat.

“Get away!” The figure screeched, for lack of a better word.

A single bead of sweat glistened on Cole’s forehead.

Kieran’s hands shook at his sides, curled into fists. He could feel his pulse against the knife, each beat of his heart pressing skin dangerously taunt against steel.

“Put your weapon down, we can talk about this.” Kieran said, breaths shallow, voice barely a whisper.

He is proud to note that his voice doesn’t shake as he speaks.

“Put your... put your pack down!” The figure didn’t acknowledge Kieran.

Cole pulled at his backpack straps slowly, deliberately sliding them off of his shoulders. Kieran’s eye widened, staring at Cole silently, trying with all his might to get Cole to stop.

Cole placed the backpack on the ground, crouching slowly, before raising up.

“K-kick it over!”

Cole pulled back his foot, before nudging the pack over to Kieran’s feet.

The figure let go abruptly, knife pulling away from Kieran’s skin before he could even blink. Kieran stumbled forward, off balance form the sudden release.

The figure (Kieran could see now that it was a boy, maybe 14 years old), grabbed the pack, skittering away. He tripped over his own feet, darting past Kieran.

“Cole!” Kieran yelled, hand catching on the kid’s pant leg.

Cole sprung forward, taking advantage of Kieran’s handhold. He pushed the kid to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dirt as he pinned the squirming figure.

“Let me go!”

Cole reached to grab the knife.

The kid plunged it into the closest thing he could find, Kieran’s leg.

Kieran howled in pain, head thrown back as his scream devolved into a sobbing whimper. It BURNED.

Cole snatched the backpack from the Kid’s other hand, before twisting to look at Kieran. Using this as an opportunity, the kid wormed out of Cole’s grasp, darting away.

“Kieran!”

IT BURNED.

Kieran grit his teeth, eye squeezed shut as his body jerked with repressed screams.

Cole’s hands reached out to flutter about the knife handle, torn between touching the handle or letting it be. He finally ripped off his bandana, pressing the yellow fabric around the handle, soaking up the blood and stabilizing the blade.

Kieran keened in pain, back arching as fire shoots up his leg, vision going white. He panted, fingers digging into the dirt.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Cole felt sick, hands slick with blood, pulsing between his fingers as he holds the knife steady.

He pulled away, vision tunneling as he rips open his backpack, pulling out the first and kit. You were supposed to keep the knife in, right? Until you got to the hospital... but there was no hospital, no ambulance, no doctors...

Gripping the handle again, Cole closed his eyes, before ripping the blade out with one swift motion.

Tossing the knife away with an overwhelming wave of revulsion, he pressed two, three, five pads of gauze to the stab wound.

Blood gushed freely now, spurting out in time with Kieran’ racing pulse. Cole pressed down, digging in his pack for a shirt.

His fingers closed around a bright blue T shirt, and Cole ripped sit out of the pack. Ignoring Kieran’s raw, pained scream, Cole wrapped the shirt around Keiran’s upper leg, just above the knee.

Knotting the makeshift tourniquet, Cole gritted his teeth, trying to steady his hand.

Kieran’s cries died down to low pants, and Cole ripped off the blood saturated gauze.

Cole’s hands shook as the needle pierced Kieran’s blood-slick skin.

By the time the last suture was tied off, Cole slumped back, panting. Kieran whimpered slightly.

“He was so young.” Kieran whispered, before going quiet, breath hitching.

Cole nodded silently, staring up at the cloudy sky.