When Love Gets In The Way- Fortnite - Drift x Sunstrider - *UNDER HEAVY EDITING*

Tied To A Chair

Drift held his breath as the gun remained pressed to his back. Or maybe he started breathing too loudly?  Either way, he mind couldn't really tell because all it was doing was screaming that if he died, he was never going to go home and he never going to his friends or his family or Sunstrider ever again and damnit, he was shaking.

And he knew that if he died he would go back to spawn Island, but he couldn't shake of the human instinct of when this gun fires, I'm gone forever. I only have one life, and there's no going back.

He slowly turned around (or, for the lack of a better word, shuffled), and the gun pressed itself against his chest. He wondered if the wielder could feel his thundering heartbeat.

The person who was holding the gun was a girl, around his age, wearing an outfit that looked like it belonged it one of those Viking textbooks he had had to read in history class. History class, he thought, and would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so dire, no history class here, Drift. She had blonde hair with it shaved on the sides, with a long braid hanging over her face. A blue tattoo was swirled around her face, the same shade as her eyes. Her mouth was twisted into a scowl, and the way she held the gun indicated that she had all the intention of using it. 

However, the fact that she had clearly been crying certainly took away some of the menace from that picture.

"Please don't hurt me!" he blurted out, "I'm not meant to be here!" 

The girl stared coldly into his eyes, then slowly lowered her gun. 

Under the mask of sadness and hate, something flickered into her expression when she met her eyes. Disgust? Fear? Disappointment? All of those emotions seemed equally likely to be what she was feeling, or even all of them?

"I won't hurt you," the Viking girl said, "but you're coming with me."
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Drift sat uncomfortably on a really, really small chair. And worse yet, the ropes were far  too tight.

His blonde hair was drenched with sweat, making a few damp strands hang over his forehead, and the rope was digging into his palms. He had been sitting there for well over an hour. The Battle Royale had probably ended already, and Huntress had taken all his guns. He had been but in the roof, so that people wouldn't be able to find him unless the planned to break the house down.

How did those badass secret agents from movies get out of situations like this? Usually they had some explosive on them and used it to blow up the villain's base. Unfortunately, Drift didn't happen to be in possession of any explosives at that time, which sabotaged any chance of him getting away with that. 

Or other times, the hero's sidekick would come in and save the hero, and there would be a montage of the hero beating up the baddies. Of course, he doubted anyone would want to save him. And there was certainly not going an epic montage of him beating up the baddies. Please, please, please may violence be left out of this. 

The Viking Girl stormed into the little room he was being kept in, the same way a storm cloud would burst into a bright summers day. About an hour ago, she had gone off somewhere almost immediately went off after she had firmly told him to stay put. As if he actually had the capacity to escape.

"What's your name, weakling?"  Drift felt a little hurt, even though the little snap was barely anything compared to the situation he was in currently. A little bit of manners didn't hurt, now did they?

"Hey, I'm not wea-"

"I don't care. Tell me your name, or I'll let you starve." 

"Drift! Drift. I'm Drift."