title: all those words hidden in the silence
pairing: kitt azer x (first person reader)
synopsis: you break into the castle for a mission where you may have to assassinate the king but you fancy teasing him a little first… given your history
warnings: swearing, intense-ness
a/n: don’t ask me how or why this idea came to me but it was super fun to write :)) btw the crossed out parts are to represent her ‘forbidden’ thoughts
taglist: @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @whatsamongus @zaraaaabear @lovethornes @emelia07 @sweetreveriee @userxs-blog @anintellectualintellectual @off-to-the-r4ces @hermesenthusiast
“Pretty night for a murder don’t you think,” I grin, swinging my dagger between my fingers nonchalantly.
The king turns around. The look of shock on his face leaves me satisfied but like any addiction, a part of me craves more. I watch as he slowly pales when he meets my eyes. I wasn’t sure he could pale any more, he looks like he hasn’t eaten in days. The king is weak. Perfect.
“Very pretty,” he muses, keeping on the diplomatic mask he’s crafted for himself, “the blood will match your new outfit.”
“Taking notes about what I wear now?” I raise an eyebrow, approaching him slowly. My steps long and swift, almost a glide. I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his neck as he swallows and wonder if he’s nervous.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he sighs with a blank stare, “it’s just a change from seeing you in rags, did that little seamstress friend of our silver saviour sew it for you?”
He hits a nerve and he knows it as the corner of his mouth turn up to form malicious smirk. I want to rip it off of his cruelly beautiful face and tear each part into a million pieces of nothingness. So he can finally be the nothing he made her.
“You murdered Adena,” I growl, not bothering to hide my burning rage. Unlike the king, I’m not a fan of wearing a mask. I don’t play pretend, I don’t mess about, I’m real.
He dares to take a step closer to me, “she was collateral damage.”
“Why don’t I make you collateral damage?” I snarl, gripping tighter to my dagger. My knuckles turn white.
“It’s my talent sweetheart,” he tells me, “I’d be careful if I were you.”
His green eyes blaze with a synthetic fierceness. I laugh, throwing my head back and holding my stomach. He’s taken off guard and stares at me in bewilderment.
“Oh sorry,” I snort, trying to pull myself together, “it’s just hilarious to me that you think you’ll be doing the killing tonight.”
“I wouldn’t get so giggly sweetheart,” he murmurs, getting closer still, looming over me to cast his cowardly shadow, “you know I could if I wanted to.”
“No I don’t actually, you’ve had countless opportunities to do it,” I scoff, “so tell me, brave king, noble king, why haven’t you killed me yet?”
He paralyses for a second and I have the golden opportunity to end him right there. Lunge forwards and impale him with my handmade dagger. Watch the blood leak from his lifeless body. See as the last flicker of light leaves those hypnotising emerald eyes. But I don’t. I don’t do it and I don’t know why.
“You know why,” he whispered, sending a shiver down my spine. It’s like he’s answering both the question in my head and the one I had said aloud.
I quirk my eyebrow upwards and fold my arms, I won’t let him do this to me, he can’t play the vulnerable card before I do, “do I?” I ask.
“Are you going to make me say it?” he murmurs so quietly I can hear my heart thumping my chest, “is that what you want from me?”
So it’s true. He still loves me like I love him. And he won’t kill me because of it. Good. I have an advantage.
“Are you brave enough to say it?” I mumbled, tilting my face upwards to really look at him.
He’s still my Kitt. I can see past his pretence, far past it. I always have been able to. And even with his tired eyes and hollowed cheeks, colder gaze and harsher tone, beneath all of that he’s the boy I used to know. The boy I fell for in too many ways. The boy who was vulnerable with me. The boy who I was vulnerable with.
“I have guards posted on every door,” he diverts the conversation, “how did you get past them?”
I get the answer to my previous question. He is not brave enough to admit it. He’s still a coward then.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” my lips draw into a thin smile.
“You know I could have you killed in an instant,” he muses, “my guards will obey my every wish, it wouldn’t be me to do it.”
He won’t call them. I already know it. But I’ll play his game, as tedious as manipulation is it serves well in the end.
“Too bad you won’t be able to reach them,” I shrug softly.
His face hardens, “what did you do?”
I don’t reply, staring at my nails to prove my disinterest. He tries calling for them, for help, for anyone. I yawn and roll my eyes. They won’t come. They don’t come. I see a flicker of rage in his eyes, a furious spark ignites somewhere inside of him. At least he looks less like a dead man walking when angry, at least now he had passion about something.
“What did you do!” he yells, his booming voice remaining me of his father, making me feel a little queasy.
“Demanding me isn’t going to make me tell you,” I say fiercely, “I’m not one of your subject Kitty.”
He flinches at the nickname. It’s like a reflex he has no control over. The mask cracks slightly. Whoops.
He glares at me, regaining his pathetic royal composure, the facade that is everything but him, “where’s my brother?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Yes you do,” he insists.
“No I don’t,” I exclaimed.
“TELL ME!” he screams, madly clawing at my arms, pinning me to the wall behind us.
My back hits it with an awkward thump. Pain rolls across my body and I bite my lip. He has me at the wrists, forcing me to drop my beloved dagger. Our faces are so close they nearly touch. I wonder if he can see the scar on my left eyebrow, the one he gave me. I don’t tear my gaze from his and for what feels like hours he stare at each other panting like exhausted dogs. His hands slowly drop my wrists and trail gently down my face. I’ve missed his touch. They reach my neck and in a sudden jerky movement he clasps his hands around it. I gasp, he smiles something blazing in his eyes. He’s hungry to witness my pain. Shame he’ll have to starve tonight.
“Go on,” I murmur, “strangle me, do it, I dare you.”
He breathes heavily, looking into my eyes like he used to after all those times we’d kissed. A mix of emotions rise into my chest, a bittersweet mixture of all I want to forgot. Part of me thinks it might be worth dying, if it’s at his hands.
“You can’t,” I whisper, “can you?”
“What do you want?” he asks hoarsely, dropping his arms and taking a step back. Disappointment hits my stomach. I didn’t want him to let go.
“Oh honey,” I say, strutting past him, “there’s a long list.”
“Tell me what you want,” he walks infront of me, stopping my tracks, “and I will let you walk out of here alive.”
“You won’t kill me either away,” I say, “what good is that promise?”
“Don’t be so sure,” Kitt says, “I might not do it myself but there are others who will. So what do you want?”
“At this current moment,” I ask, taking a step closer to him so I can feel him breathe.
He nods, “name it.”
“I want your blood,” I whisper, pushing him down harshly onto a chair, “on my dagger, your cold lifeless body in my arms,” I say, your lips on my lips I don’t.
A ghost of a smile haunts his empty features, as he grabs my chin, “you’re a pretty liar, but not a good enough one.”
“Do you want to test me?” I ask, straddling him so I’m sat on his lap. For the plan to work I need to be a distraction, that’s all this is, I reassure myself. I ignore the fact that I want to be in this position.
“Tell me this makes you feel nothing,” he says in a low voice, running his soft hands up my thighs and then up to the small of my back where he holds me like I’m weightless, like I’m a dancer.
I gasp sharply. All my oxygen stolen by a thief with emerald eyes. The same theif who stole my heart.
“Look me in the eye and tell me this makes you feel nothing,” he repeats again.
I can’t do it. And he knows it. This makes me feel more than I’ve felt in a long time. I open my mouth to reply but two rough unfamiliar sets of hands grab my arms. I look behind to see two guards on me.
Kitt grins, something cruel in his smirk make my heart ache, “two can play at the manipulation game sweetheart,” he says.
Sweetheart. My toes curl at the thought of being his sweetheart. I want to kick myself and then sob in a heap. I’d let my guard down again. I’d been vulnerable again. I’d let myself take it all as one big joke again. He wasn’t my Kitt anymore and I was naive to think he could be. I’d failed the mission, I’d failed to kill him, I’d failed to manipulate him, I’d failed to play it smart.
He just stands there, over me, crown looking too heavy for his head. I hate that look he’s giving me. I attempt to lunge at him but the guards’ grip is too strong and I’m held back. He’s still smirking at me. I spit in his face.
“Aren’t you beautiful when you’re angry,” he taunts, unbothered by my undignified behaviour.
I’d been so cocky before. How stupid did I look now?
“Fuck you Kitt,” I shout, a rawness in my voice that I didn’t recognise.
He chuckles, “not so sarcastic now are we?”
“I’m going to kill you,” I look at him, a dead seriousness set in my expression.
“That’s what you came here to do though and as it happens I’m not dead,” he shrugs at me. I wish his eyes weren’t so pretty to stare at.
“They’ll end you Kitt,” I tell him, “they’re planning to end you.”
Am I threatening him or am I warning him? I can’t tell anymore. My mind is too conflicted to decide.
“And I will destroy every last one until there’s just you and I,” he murmurs, before standing up and issuing his kingly orders, “take her to a holding cell boys.”
a/n: thanks for reading 🤍🤍 I promise more of my req fic will be posted soon
powerless masterlist