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aggroindustrial · 9 days ago

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you shall never have to forgive me again

summary. Shauna had no intention to come back—not to her old neighborhood, not to Van’s clinic, and definitely not to you. But she finds herself haunted by old memories and people she once loved after a glitch leaves her shaken.

Maybe the city hasn't changed. Maybe she did. But maybe, there's still time for a second chance.

pairing. shauna shipman x fem!reader

word count. 7.7k

warnings. cyberpunk au, graphic violence, blood, mentions of drinking, mentions of drugs, body modifications, shauna's a merc so murder, like a thousand loona references i couldn't help it

fic note. this was so fun to write. if you're familiar with my other stuff, you know i tend to go for a gothic style of writing but ive always wanted to write a cyberpunk story and finally got to do it so i'm really happy with how it turned out. i made a glossary with all the terminology used so please check it out to read this the way it's meant to be read ^v^ hope you guys like it as much as i liked writing it. i'm definitely expanding the cyberjackets universe and no one will stop me <3

x: can you please write normal yellowjackets fanfiction?

me: no ❤️

click here to check out the glossary or just click on the underlined words as you read!!

The city never really slept. But up here—at the edge of Icarus, where buildings of chrome and glass kissed the clouds—it didn't even bother to pretend.

Everything shone so beautifully: polished, bulletproof windows of extremely overpriced restaurants, sky-trains slithering across rails in the air like snakes, artificial sunlight. Reflections everywhere, but none of them ever showed anything real.

Shauna moved through the crowd like smoke. A cap pulled low, coat zipped high enough to hide the seam where skin met steel along her collarbone. Her left arm twitched at the same time her targeting overlay pulsed across her vision. The augmentation had a mind of its own sometimes. Tonight, it was hungry.

Her target was some mid-tier corp executive. Nobody special. He was probably caught embezzling money or pissed someone off. It didn't matter. Shauna wasn't paid to ask why.

Just to make it quiet.

He walked exactly ten meters ahead, flanked by two rent-a-cops—the newest and most ridiculous scam on the market yet, according to Shauna—with obviously cheap cyberware and low-tier firmware. She could easily take them without breaking a sweat, if she had to.

Her optics flickered—one of the glitches she kept telling herself wasn't serious. White static, then a face. A flash from the past.

Shauna blinked and stopped walking for a second, causing someone to bump against her with a grunt of annoyance.

The overlay corrected itself. Just an advertisement for some product, a glossy hologram floating in the air.

She exhaled. Later. Think later.

The target dismissed his two companions and turned down a street, narrow and damp, with steam escaping from vents and pipes. The cameras in that zone had blind spots—intentional ones. You paid extra for that sort of “luxury”.

Shauna slipped into the alley behind him. Quiet, soft steps over humid concrete. Her heart should have been racing, but it wasn't. It never did anymore. She missed that kind of rush, sometimes.

The man paused by a dumpster, glancing around to check if anyone was following him. Shauna, two steps ahead, was already hiding in the shadows with practiced ease.

He tapped on a retinal scanner in the wall. Steel slid open, revealing a private entrance to a lounge.

He never made it inside.

One hand on his shoulder—her left, the augmented one—gripping so tightly that she heard the crack of a bone as she yanked him back.

He gasped, a terrified exhale.

“No screaming.” Shauna muttered near his ear as she pressed him against the wall. “It won't change anything.”

Her knife pierced the skin of his back easily. Even with an arsenal waiting back home, Shauna still preferred using her old knife. Way more practical and quieter than any smart gun.

The sound of blood gurgling from his lips reached Shauna's ears and she dug the knife deeper and twisted it slightly, until he went limp against her.

She let go of him. A muffled thud against the ground. A quiet end.

Shauna stood in silence a moment longer than necessary. Something familiar and cold settled in her chest. Not guilt, exactly. Just that old hollow sensation again. The one that never quite left.

Before the blood even had time to cool, she had already vanished into the darkness like she'd never been there at all.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The apartment greeted her like a stranger—silent and cold. Empty.

At least it was one of the nicer places in Devine. Living in Icarus was way too expensive, but at least she could afford something better than a hole in the wall in Eden, the lower city. Anything was better than the pest-ridden, shadow-choked ruins—where decay and rot bloomed under stairwells.

Shauna slid the lock shut behind her and tossed the blood-stained coat over a chair. The quiet hum of power conduits almost seemed to vibrate through the floor. Warm, clinical light illuminated the room, clashing with the bright neon glow from outside.

She set the knife on the sink and washed it in silence. Dried it with a towel she barely used. Shauna didn't spend much time in the apartment. It was too quiet for her liking—the silence allowed the thoughts she tried to ignore to come crawling back.

Her shoulder ached—phantom pain, where the crash had sheared through her bone and skin.

She remembered the smell of gasoline, burning plastic, and charred flesh everywhere. Screams of panic. The gut wrenching anxiety and fear taking over the second the cabin lost pressure.

Shauna didn't pass out like the others. She stayed awake through it all. Awake enough to remember dragging herself through the wreckage. Awake enough to remember hearing her own heartbeat slowing and to see flashes of her own memories.

She thought that was it for her. The end.

The Daedalus Paramedics arrived in time. With them, came choices—paperwork she barely remembered signing to consent for the augments, the changes in her life, pushing the people she loved away out of shame.

“It’ll make you stronger.” One of the cyberdocs said. “You're lucky to be alive.”

She felt anything but lucky. She felt like a ghost in a borrowed shell that could never belong to her.

Shauna sat down on the edge of the bed that barely creaked beneath her and she began running diagnostics on her arm. Her eyes focused on the ridges of the EMP threading running down the length of the dark steel prosthetic, gleaming unnaturally under the room's light.

It still felt unfamiliar.

It moved when she told it to, and responded to her neural impulses, like it should. But it never felt like hers. Nothing did anymore.

Shauna leaned back, her spine brushing against the cool wood of the headboard behind the bed. The diagnostics showed lines of clean, green data across her vision—integrity of joints, synapse responses, impulse lag. Everything was functioning perfectly. Of course it was. That was never the problem.

She blinked the overlay away and stared at the ceiling.

Outside, neon lights buzzed and flickered faintly through the window. Enormous billboards bleeding through the murky fog. A woman's artificial voice whispering through city-wide intercoms, reciting the nightly public announcements—price changes in premium medical care, weather alerts, a child that went missing years ago and probably won't be ever found.

Shauna shut the window off with a neural command.

She stood with a quiet sigh and crossed the apartment, fingers brushing against the edge of the countertop as she moved—an old habit from when she had terrible eyesight and needed to feel her way in the dark, before the cyberdocs replaced her organic eyes with Asclepius optics.

The steel fingers didn't register textures the same way, at least not without the haptics enabled. She kept them off most nights. The illusion of touch wasn’t comfort. Not to a ‘cog’ like her.

On the shelf above the sink sat an unopened bottle of whiskey and a photo frame turned face down, covered with dust.

She ignored the frame and picked up the whiskey, but set it back down after a second.

Instead, she opened the cabinet, took out a small orange bottle and uncapped it to grab two Double-X tabs. She placed them under her tongue. They melted quickly against her gums, leaving behind a bitter taste in her mouth. Just enough to push off sleep. Dreams weren't kind lately—hadn’t been since the crash.

The mirror caught her reflection—those cold, synthetic eyes that, no matter how much effort the cyberdocs put into replicating her organic pair, weren't the same.

The woman in it stared back at her—tired, hollowed, different. Sharp lines where softness used to be. Eyes glowing with an artificial blue glow. Her arm glinted, threading visible like veins.

Shauna clenched her jaw and decided to put her coat back on, pulling the collar high.

As if it could make her disappear, at least for a moment.

Then came a ping—soft, almost like a request. A message alert in the corner of her visual display. Encrypted, from a burner line.

Shauna considered ignoring it.

She didn't.

The message opened in a thin, sterile white font: Contract confirmed. Details incoming. High priority. Discreet.

No name. Just coordinates and a price.

Shauna stared at the message for a long moment before reaching for her knife and sliding it back into its sheath.

She closed the message. It was easier to move and get things done instead of standing still. Easier to disappear into motion than into memories. She didn't need to think. Not now, and maybe not ever.

Most of her days went like that; spend part of the day studying her targets and then head out. After she gets the job done, she comes back for her fill of Double-X, and leaves once more.

Sometimes, on rare nights when she didn't feel like she was dead on the inside, she'd go to Sahara to watch the street races. It reminded her of the old days, when she would go there with her friends.

Shauna moved through the apartment automatically, like someone folding back into armor. She clipped her belt into place, checked her knife again even though she'd already done it twice, and stuffed her cap into coat pocket. Each click and gesture smoothed the chaos in her mind. Not a routine—more of a spell to keep her brain busy.

She brought the coordinates up with a single blink.

Sector 18.6Y. A low-traffic corner in Eclipse, tucked between Devine and Eden. Not as secure as Icarus, but close enough for someone to have a little privacy. Real privacy. The kind that cost blood, sweat and favors.

Her boots squeaked against the pristine floor as she moved past the window and the lights outside caught her gaze again—flashes of acid green, violet, and static blue flickering through thick pollution. One of the billboards was half-glitched again. Someone had tagged it with red paint, shaped like wings, and the word “Purity!” scribbled messily under it. It was the third time in the month.

“Infinite Purity fuckers…” She muttered under her breath with a scoff.

She ignored the bad taste the sight left in her mouth and opened the door, stepping into the corridor and letting the door lock behind her with a soft hiss.

After taking the elevator to the building's garage, her feet took her straight to her beloved bike.

Slick black body with streaks of hot magenta. Built from scratch by her old friend Jackie. Years had passed, but it still worked as if it was brand new.

It would've been wiser to take a train to Sector 18.6Y, but Shauna didn't like slow rides. She'd never been a big fan of them.

She straddled the bike, slipped on a matching black helmet, and started the engine to leave the garage with a loud roaring sound.

Bright lights and gigantic holograms flickered all around her—ads, disinformation campaigns, news. The sight would've been beautiful, if it didn't sicken her already.

A frustrated groan left her lips when a light turned red, but she stopped anyway. She wasn't in the mood for a ticket or for spending the night at a Clean-Skin-controller checkpoint.

Her fingers drummed against the handlebars of the bike impatiently.

And then, for a second, her visual display flickered again. White noise across her vision. A fragment of someone cut through. A familiar voice, warm and real, years too late.

Shauna flinched at the sound.

She blinked hard. The glitch was gone.

It's just soul burn. Stop thinking about it. Shauna told herself, but the way her throat tightened said otherwise.

The rest of the ride to Eclipse was fast and relatively quiet. No police drones flying overhead, no random checkpoints, or Clean-Skins causing ruckus in the streets. Just the low, pleasant hum of her engine, the soft whir of electric cars, and the shimmer of neon across the visor of her helmet.

Shauna preferred it that way. Lonely, and motion without any friction to stop her.

Street lights flickered unevenly. Second-hand implant dealers lurked around street corners. Every alley breathed heat from hidden generators. People stared too long in that zone, and not exactly because they cared.

She took a sharp turn toward an unmarked street—if it could even be considered a street. The pavement gave way to exposed pipes and potholes deep enough to drown in. The reality overlays didn't reach this far. No beautifying filters. Just the rotting, harsh truth.

The GPS pinged as she neared Sector 18.6Y, a low chime in her right ear. She pulled up behind a broken vending unit covered in graffiti and cut the engine.

Fog curled over the ground like cigarette smoke. The distant sound of someone's drunk laughter echoed down the street, followed by the clatter of metal—perhaps a dumpster lid, or something else.

Shauna pulled her cap out of her pocket and slid off the bike to scan the area, her optics automatically filtering threats and tagging any passersby. It wasn’t paranoia. It was just a habit. Necessary for survival.

A narrow alley to her left. A broken neon Staff of Hermes blinking above an old clinic—“BioCare Options”. It looked like it hadn't been open in years. To her right, a body shop that had definitely seen better days.

The target was staying in the hotel right next to the body shop, according to the coordinates.

Shauna blinked a couple times to perform an enhanced scan of the area. Neon lime filled her vision, followed by a spot of vibrant red.

A message popped up in the corner of her visual display.

Apartment L12, fourth floor.

She took the back stairs instead of the elevator. It was quieter that way, and the chance of being pinged by a camera or spotted by a patrol was lower.

Mold had claimed the walls, rust everywhere, and the lights barely even worked.

Shauna climbed, slowly and quietly. When she reached the door to L12, she paused.

Her optics displayed the contract details.

Male, in his late 40s, spider tattoo under his right eye, stolen Asclepius spine implant. Recover neurochip, or neutralize. Preferably both.

Shauna's fingers curled around the hilt of her knife, ready and focused.

She knocked—once.

Nothing.

Then again, louder this time. Just a shuffling sound from the other side of the door, then silence.

“Delivery.” Her voice came out flat.

Another long pause, until the door creaked, just slightly. Shauna could see a face behind it; green eyes, patchy beard, and the tattoo under his eye.

He looked at Shauna like he already knew what was coming.

“I'm not expecting any packages.” He rasped, and tried to close the door again.

Shauna was faster. She pushed the door and forced it open with her left arm. The man stumbled back, crashing into the small TV, and Shauna stepped inside.

The room was dark, and stank of cheap beer and synthetic weed. Papers scattered all over the place, white powder lines on the coffee table, and a data pad blinking red on the bed.

The man reached behind him, trying to be discreet, but Shauna noticed.

“Don't.” She warned, jaw locked tightly.

He pointed the gun at her, anyway.

Shauna dodged the first bullet, and she heard it crackling with electricity as it flew past her. EMP rounds.

The second bullet managed to graze her steel shoulder, and tore through the leather coat.

Shauna's vision filled with static for a short second but she was on him before he could shoot again. Her knife caught the light, glinting menacingly before it found flesh.

He gasped and warm blood trickled down the blade, staining Shauna's gloved fingers.

Shauna knelt down, staring into the man's eyes as the life dimmed out of them slowly.

Then, her visual display flickered.

Suddenly, it wasn’t a dying man—it was you, bleeding out in her arms. Looking the same way you did years ago. Wearing that faded denim jacket, the one you never took off.

Her eyes widened in shock. She staggered back like the contact had burned her—because it had. Not his touch, but yours.

Your hand pressed against the knife wound in your stomach, trying to stop the bleeding, but failing to do so as more blood spurted out.

Shauna blinked several times—and found out just then that she was still able to produce tears—until the visual glitch disappeared, and the man was there again, instead of you.

Her hands trembled slightly as she stared down at the lifeless body, no longer twitching in agony. She knelt down again and found the port just below his neck.

Shauna connected the extractor, and his neurochip slid out with a small click, still warm.

Job done.

An alert popped up in her vision. Cyberware damaged. Please contact your trusted cyberdoc for a fix.

She stood in the middle of the room in silence, observing the blood pooling under her boots.

Shauna wasn't a stranger to glitches, but this one—it looked at her with almost human emotion. Bled in her arms.

It has never felt that real before.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Back in her apartment, Shauna sat on the floor beneath the dim overhead light, the bottle of whiskey she’d refused to open earlier now half gone. She hadn’t even bothered with a glass.

Next to it, an ashtray full of fresh cigarette butts, and a syringe filled with an electric blue liquid—Loop. Her fingers hovered over it, then pulled away.

A heavy sigh left her lips. She hated how close she’d come to needing it.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Shauna stood in front of the clinic's entrance awkwardly, helmet tucked under her arm.

The neon sign above the door buzzed faintly: VAN'S MODSHOP & REPAIR — Human ‘n Not. Someone had vandalized it, spray-painting over half the words in red, making it barely legible.

Her display blinked the same warning over and over: Cyberware damaged. Please contact your trusted cyberdoc.

She hadn't seen Van since before the crash.

Shauna remained rooted to the ground, a part of her wishing someone would come out and interrupt her thoughts. She could already picture the whole meeting: “Long time no see.” “You disappeared.” “You look different.”

She was about to turn around and leave, when the door opened on its own with a quiet hiss, followed by a gust of sterilized, cool air.

“Come in.” Came a voice from a speaker mounted to the wall, under a surveillance camera.

Shauna exhaled shakily and stepped inside with a small nod.

The place had changed.

It was a lot cleaner and brighter, but mismatched parts and old hardware still decorated the walls.

A wall-mounted screen flickered with old advertisements for outdated cyberware, and there was a potted plant in the corner, next to an empty desk, except for a photo frame—Van and their girlfriend, Taissa.

And then, her eyes found Van.

They were tinkering with an optical implant under a bright surgical lamp. Still wearing that worn blue soccer shirt under their lab coat, like they couldn't decide between looking like a mechanic and a medic.

Shauna stared at Van in silence, until they looked up.

“…I'll be damned.” They said, voice low but with that familiar mocking tone. “Look who finally crawled out of the void. The end of the world must be near.”

She almost smiled. Almost.

“I need a patch job and some work done.” Shauna said, keeping her voice neutral. “EMP bullets grazed my shoulder and it caused some visual glitches.”

Van’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a brief second, and their eyes scanned Shauna up and down, until their gaze landed on her left arm—the sharpness in their eyes softened.

Years ago, Shauna had vanished before any of her friends found out she had to get implants because of her injuries from the crash.

“You should've come sooner.” With a nod, Van gestured to the chair. “That kind of feedback means your left-side synapses are misfiring.”

“Didn't want to be seen.” Shauna muttered, settling into the chair. She wasn't sure if that statement was really the truth—she could've gone to any other cyberdoc, but deliberately chose to go to Van's.

“Didn't want to be seen.” They repeated, grabbing an assortment of tools. “But you came here, anyway.”

Van started the scan, blue light flashing over Shauna’s arm. The humming of old machinery and the AC filled the silence.

“Okay. I have to connect to your neurochip. It might feel like a small zap—” Shauna flinched when Van connected to her port. “Yep. Just like that. Sit still and relax.”

She didn't answer, and stared at the ceiling, instead.

“This is nice work.” Van said after a moment while still working on Shauna's arm. “Scarred really nicely. It's great that your body didn't reject it—that would've been terrible.”

“I guess.” Was all Shauna said, but she could feel the curiosity coming like waves from Van.

Silence took over again, but it didn't last very long.

“You must've seen something serious if it knocked you this hard.” They muttered, glancing up for a second, before turning back to the steel arm. “What did you see?”

Shauna hesitated, her fingers twitching in response.

“Holy shit. You saw her, didn't you?”

It seemed like Van knew her better than she remembered.

“How is she?” The question slipped out before she could stop it. “Have you seen her lately?”

“Whoa, chillax.” They laughed softly at the questions. “I have, actually. She's fine. Missed you like crazy for a long while, but she barely talks about you anymore.”

That left a weird sensation in Shauna's chest. Similar to the usual emptiness she felt in there, but deeper. Sharper. She flexed her hand once—trying to ground herself.

After the diagnostics finished and Van managed to patch the worst of the damage, Shauna stood up and tested her arm. No static or tremors.

Van handed her a small card. “This is top shelf steel, so I recommend not frying your links again, unless you're planning to swap it any time soon.”

She nodded and took the card, holding it between her fingers like it could vanish. “Thanks.” She muttered.

“For the patch, or not bringing the elephant in the room?” They raised an eyebrow.

“…Both.”

Van almost said something else—maybe a question, maybe a memory—but only flashed her a small, sad smile. “You don't have to show up bleeding to be welcome here, you know?”

She swallowed thickly and nodded wordlessly, then stepped out into the night.

Van stared at Shauna's retreating figure, watching her bike disappear through the traffic.

Immediately, they dialed a number with a neural command. “Holy shit, Tai. You're not going to believe who just left my clinic.”

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Shauna decided to head back to her apartment instead of taking another job. She sat on the floor of her living room, the half-empty whiskey bottle next to her.

All the lights were off. The glow from the city coming through the window was enough to illuminate the room. Soft pulses of pink and gold painted the walls.

Her coat was long forgotten on the floor, along with the rest of her gear—gloves, cap, and even her knife.

The skin where steel met flesh itched slightly—Van told her it would be a side effect after getting patched up. “Your nerves are firing up again.” They said, “Means the machinery is aware that you're still human.”

The thought was strange, but comforting.

Shauna opened her contact menu with a blink. The neural overlay appeared in front of her, floating in the dark of the room.

There it was. A name she hadn't seen in years. Still in her list.

Still untouched.

She hovered over it. Just a simple flick of her finger and she could send a message, reach out after so long. A small wave of static buzzed behind her eyes.

“Hey. I'm still alive.”

“Sorry for disappearing like that.”

“You probably hate me. I don't blame you.”

“I saw Van. They said you're doing fine.”

Every message she thought about sending sounded wrong. It would be like carving letters into cement—once it hardened, there would be no taking it back.

Her teeth caught her bottom lip and her hand twitched, before curling into a fist.

No. Not yet.

She stood and paced around the room. She couldn't stay still, her mind wouldn't let her. That was the reason why she didn't like being in her apartment—every breath sounded too loud, every second felt heavier than the last.

What would she even say if you met? What if you didn't want to see her? What if you hated her for what she had become?

She glanced down at her steel hand.

Everything was different now.

She sank back to the floor with a sigh, back against the wall, and stared at the window in front of her. Old memories began crashing down over her like waves—faces, voices, sweet moments, your laugh, that one time when you two sneaked out to go watch the drift races in Sahara, the stolen moment when she almost kissed you but chickened out at the last second.

The promise she didn't keep.

Shauna finally allowed herself to miss something—someone.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

That night, Shauna decided to sleep, at least for a couple hours.

A dream—fractured old memories, too vivid.

She saw her old self. Softer, happier, brighter. No steel in sight, just the version of herself that she still mourned sometimes.

You were there, too. Laughing so carelessly like you had no worries at all. Just two girls caught in something that felt like forever.

Then, the dream began glitching—the past and the present mixing, turning your face into static. Her reflection cracked into chrome. Her voice distorted, and laughter became tears.

Shauna jolted awake, gasping for air, heart hammering in her chest.

Sometimes, she forgot she still had one.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

A week had passed since her visit to Van's clinic. The itchy sensation in her arm was gone and things had gone back to normal—mostly.

She couldn't stop thinking about you.

Shauna hadn't planned to go near that part of Devine. Not really—or that's what she kept telling herself.

Her bike hummed as she pulled into a narrow alley behind Starlight's, an old rooftop noodle stall tucked in a corner of a building near the overpass. The place always smelled like oil, ginger, and booze, but that gave it a certain charm.

You used to come here together.

She parked and climbed the iron stairs, her boots clanking against the rusted metal. A few customers loitered by the edge of the rooftop, slurping noodles and watching the skyline. No one gave her a second glance. It helped ease her nerves a little.

The place hadn't changed much. Plastic chairs, flickering heat lamps, and decorative wind chimes made from cans and bottle caps.

Shauna picked the same corner table—the one you liked. Her helmet sat in her lap and her gloved fingers tapped against it softly.

She didn't order anything.

Instead, she watched the crowd—assessing them all first out of habit, and then searched for someone else.

No sign of you.

She was hoping to catch you there. Still, she stayed, willing to wait.

Minutes turned into almost an hour.

Her eyes were glued to the entrance, heart spiking every time someone new came up the stairs. But never you.

Finally, a server approached her table. “Hey. You alright? You've been sitting here a while.” The guy asked with a gentle, tired smile. “Are you not going to order anything?”

Shauna blinked out of her haze, as if surfacing from underwater. “I'm fine. Just waiting for someone.”

He only nodded and left, clearly unconvinced.

Shauna sighed and let her gaze fall down to the table. Someone had scratched a name into the metal—faded and barely legible. Her gloved thumb traced over it, just to feel something real under her touch. She'd activated the haptics with a sole purpose.

Your smile lingered in her mind, along with all the times you'd tease her about how bad the noodles were, even though you always finished the whole bowl and kept coming back at least twice every week.

The rooftop was still the same.

The city was still the same.

She wasn't, and that was the problem.

With a small sigh that let her defeat show, Shauna stood up and left. No last glance.

As she walked down the stairs, her hand brushed against the railing. For a second, she imagined she could still feel the warmth of your touch.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Shauna wasn't ready to head back just yet. Instead, she decided to take a walk around the street market, so the noise would keep her mind occupied.

The lights flickered with that familiar low, humming static, unique to the streets of Devine.

Her eyes glanced at a storefront she recognized immediately, even though it had been repainted. The neon sign above the glass read “Matthews' Cabinet of Curiosities” in a heliotrope glow. Warm, golden lights glowed inside.

The store belonged to Lottie's parents years ago, but she was sure it was hers now, since most of the ugly decorations were gone.

And then, she noticed you.

You stood behind the counter, chatting with a customer. A matching violet sweater, pushed up to your elbows, and your hair was slightly longer than Shauna remembered.

You smiled.

Not at her. Not for her. But it hit Shauna all the same.

She stood there frozen, while people bumped against her. No helmet, no armor to cover up with. Just herself—steel, skin, and everything in between. One foot set in the past, and the other stuck in place.

Her pulse spiked instantly.

Fuck, this was a mistake.

She should've left. She should've never gone there. But she stayed rooted to the ground. She watched you laugh at something the customer said, and then you handed him a paper bag with a small bow on top.

It wasn't how she'd pictured it. There was no dramatic score playing in the background, no Shakespearean meeting.

It was just… life. Peaceful, ongoing.

You had moved on without her.

Her heart stopped when you walked toward the window to fix something on a display, and your gaze lifted.

Did you see her? Did you recognize her?

She turned around before she could find out the answer. Her boots echoed on the wet concrete as she walked away fast—too fast that she was starting to feel dizzy.

Shauna didn't stop until she was streets away from the street market.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

She received a message from Van hours later.

“You’re not exactly invisible, steel girl. Maybe don’t stand outside a glass window like a stalker. She said you looked like a shark lurking.”

The embarrassment that hit Shauna when she read the text wasn't something she was prepared for.

Okay. So you did see her.

No big deal, right?

No. She had to play it cool. Nervousness wasn't a good look on her.

“Cool. Always wanted to be a shark.” She hit send, and immediately regretted it.

Wait—was that too cold? Too sarcastic? What if Van shows you the message? What if you think she hates you?

“She asked if you were okay. Said you looked lost.”

“Just text her, dude. It’s been years, Shauna. You nearly died. What else are you waiting for?”

She sighed and headed out to the fire escape, sitting down with her back against the wall, knees bent.

The skyline buzzed in the distance, a ripple of lights and electric smog, but she wasn't really looking at that.

Instead, she stared at the contact menu, flickering in her vision. Your name still sat there, glowing faintly. Still untouched.

The neural interface ticked in the corner of her eye, like it was mocking her.

CALL?

SEND MESSAGE?

She sighed again, jaw clenched tightly.

Her steel hand clicked softly as she flexed her fingers. She could take a bullet to the chest—a normal one, not EMP ones, clearly—and keep walking, but this? This was the kind of shit that made her bones tremble.

The cursor blinked in the message field as she bit her lip.

“Hey”

She deleted it immediately.

“Didn't expect to see you. Since when do you work at Lottie's?”

Too weird. Too much. Deleted again.

She groaned and dragged both of her hands down her face. Why was it so hard to just write a normal message? Much harder than any contract she'd ever taken.

Shauna thought about your eyes when they met hers, even if it was just for a second. You didn't look angry or disgusted, just surprised. Maybe a bit sad?

A soft gust of wind rattled the metal stairs beneath her. In the distance, a siren wailed. The city kept moving on, but she couldn't.

Her eyes drifted back to the CALL icon.

“Do it.” She whispered to herself. “You've survived worse. A text isn't going to kill you.”

But she didn't move.

What if you didn't pick up?

What if you did?

Her stomach twisted, and she rubbed her eyes. A small and bitter laugh left her lips at how pathetic she was.

Shauna stared at Van’s messages from earlier, the words stinging like a snake's bite.

Fuck it.

She clicked on the CALL icon.

The line rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

What the fuck am I doing?

Shauna's heart thudded loudly in her ears and panic took over her. She was about to hang up when your voice slipped through the static like one of those memory glitches.

“Hello?” Soft, a little unsure. But still unmistakably you.

She breathed shakily. Every line she'd practiced vanished from her mind. “…Hey.” Her voice sounded rough, like it struggled to come out of her throat.

There was a small pause. Shauna was sure that it had been a mistake, until you spoke again.

“Van said you might call.” You weren't mocking her. If anything, your voice sounded relieved. It comforted Shauna a little.

“Yeah.” She muttered, chuckling awkwardly. “Figured I'd get it over with before I chickened out.”

A small laugh came from the other end. “You almost did.” It wasn't a question. You still knew her, even after years of not talking.

Shauna let out a small breath through her nose. “Guess I'm predictable.” Her head leaned against the wall.

“Guess you're still stubborn.” You replied gently. There was no malice in your words—she could even hear the smile in your voice.

The silence that followed, surprisingly, wasn't awkward. Of course, it wasn't quite easy, either. It felt… delicate. Like a thin thread stretched between two points, barely hanging on.

Shauna stared at the skyline, but her mind was occupied with images of you.

“You look good.” She said before she could stop herself and instantly regretted it when the silence stretched again.

“So do you.” You said, and Shauna swore her heart stopped beating. “You look… strong. Just a little out of place standing right outside the window of the shop like a stray.”

“I didn't mean to—”

“I know.” You cut her off gently. “I just wasn't expecting to see you. It kinda caught me off guard. That's all.”

Shauna blinked, and nodded even though you couldn't see her. “Yeah. I didn't expect to see you, either.”

There was a small clinking sound from your end—like a mug being set down. She could picture you perfectly: behind the counter, hair a little messy, and sipping one of those herbal teas Lottie loves making.

“I almost came out to say hi.” You admitted softly, and it made Shauna's breath hitch.

“…Why didn't you?”

A pause.

“I blinked, and you were gone.”

The words felt like a slap across her face. She didn't want you to think that she stopped caring—she never did.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Shauna sighed. “But I was scared.”

It was the closest thing to a confession she’d allowed herself in years.

Suddenly, she thought about the past—all the moments you shared together, the unspoken tension that neither of you acknowledged directly, but knew it was there. All the times when you two almost crossed the line between friendship and something she never had the courage to admit out loud.

“You don't have to be.” Your voice was gentle, tender. Always so full of love. “I missed you.”

She hadn't prepared herself to hear anything like that. It felt like she'd been hit with lightning.

Shauna's throat tightened. She'd spent so, so long pretending that nothing really mattered anymore. That disappearing from everyone's lives was the noble thing to do. That she wasn't haunted by the sound of your laugh, the ghost of your smile, the shape of your silhouette hiding in every shadow.

But you missed her.

Just like that.

There was a long pause again. But this time, it felt different. A lot warmer. Like neither of you wanted to hang up just yet.

Shauna sighed, her steel hand curling around her knee. “Hey…” She started, then stopped. Her throat felt too dry for her liking.

You waited patiently. Like always.

“When you're done with your shift,” She continued, carefully, like she was walking on eggshells. “Do you wanna… go somewhere? Like a walk?”

Your lack of response almost made Shauna hang up the call. But then, you spoke again.

“Yeah.” You said, softly. “I'd really like that.”

Shauna closed her eyes. It felt like letting out a breath she'd been holding for years. “Okay.” She mumbled, and didn't stop the small smile that grew on her lips. “Cool. I'll… see you later, then.”

A quiet chuckle from the other end—it made Shauna's heart skip a beat. “Bye, Shauna.”

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Shauna showed up ten minutes early.

She had circled the block twice on her bike, trying to calm her nerves. It didn't really help much.

After finding a nice parking spot, she stood near the alleyway next to the shop like she wasn't really waiting. Just… hanging around. Doing her best to look cool. Definitely not working.

The familiar scent of fried oil and cinnamon buns hung in the air from one of the nearby vendors. Somewhere behind her, a drone buzzed overhead, probably patrolling the area.

And then—your voice.

“Hey.”

Shauna jumped slightly at the sound, her heart skipping a beat. Her stomach twisted nervously when you smiled—this time, for her.

“Hi.” Her voice came out softer than she expected. It even surprised herself.

You gestured down the street with a small nod. “Wanna walk, then?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Shauna cleared her throat and tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket—she made sure to pick her best-looking one, but they all looked the same, anyway.

You both fell into step easily enough, like Shauna hadn't spent years running away from everything. The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable, but Shauna's shoulders were rigid despite trying her best to seem relaxed.

“I didn't think you'd say yes.” Shauna admitted softly, glancing at you for a short second, before looking away shyly.

You gazed at her curiously. “Why not?”

“I don't know.” She replied, not even knowing the answer herself. “I thought you wouldn't want to see me and or block my number.”

A small laugh left your lips and you stared at Shauna fondly. “That's not how I remember us.”

Shauna looked down at the ground, the corner of her lips twitching into something similar to a smile. “Me neither.”

Some of the shops were already closing down, making the streets feel a little quieter. Neon signs still flickered like stars trying to burn through the heavy pollution. She tried hard not to overthink the way your arms brushed every now and then.

“I still go to the drift races sometimes.” You said with a shrug. “Not as good as they used to be, though.”

Shauna’s chest tightened. She thought about all the times she’d gone back to Sahara herself, just to stand on the edge and remember.

She decided not to mention that.

“You do?” She asked instead. “Thought you forgot about that place.”

“I remember a lot of things.”

The comment felt like a punch in the gut, but Shauna nodded slowly.

Another pause.

“I thought about you.” You said, sighing, as you kicked a pebble absentmindedly. “A lot. Even after you left. Especially then.”

She stopped walking.

It wasn't dramatic, far from it. Just a quiet halt, like she had bumped into some invisible wall. Her eyes fixed on the empty street ahead, afraid to meet your gaze. Then, barely above a whisper:

“I thought about you every day. Even if I tried to force myself not to.” The words slipped out before she could stop herself, and her breath caught—her own mouth had betrayed her, but did it even matter anymore?

You turned toward her, blinking slowly. “Then why didn't you call?”

Your voice lacked accusation or anger. Instead, it was soft, understanding. Everything that Shauna felt she didn't deserve.

Her jaw tensed. She looked at the buildings, the sky, the pavement under her feet—anywhere but your face.

“Because I'm not who I used to be anymore.”

You took a step closer. “You're still you.”

And in that moment—just for a second—Shauna let herself believe it.

But then, her eyes caught the way her steel hand glinted under the street lights.

“You know that's not true.” Her eyebrows furrowed and she shook her head, a wave of feelings crashing over her. “How can you even say that? I'm just a scrap of metal at this point.

“Don't say that.” The way you stared at her made her heart ache, with something in your gaze that hurt worse than any wound—love.

Still there. Still for her.

“You don't know what I've done all these years.” Shauna muttered, glancing away.

You didn't ask. You didn't press.

You just stepped closer, slow and careful, like you were trying not to scare her off. “I don't need to know. I still know who you are.”

A dry, humorless laugh that sounded more like a scoff left her lips. “Yeah? Who's that?”

“You're the girl who let me borrow your literature books back in school because I couldn't afford mine.” A small smile tugged at your lips. “The one who helped me climb the scaffolding at Sahara to get a better view of the races even though it was banned. You always pretended not to care, but you remembered every single song I liked and made mixtapes for me. Labeled them with dumb, sweet names.”

Shauna's eyes stung. She shook her head again, but didn't step away. “That was a long time ago. Now everything's different.”

“That doesn't mean it wasn't real.”

She didn't say anything right away. The neon light caught in her eyes—not the same deep comforting brown from before, but still beautiful. “I'm scared.” She finally admitted. “Of getting close. Of ruining things again.”

You didn't look away. “Then we go slow.”

Shauna blinked, and her breath caught when she felt your hand brushing against hers—the steel one. “You'd want to?” She looked up.

“I've wanted to for years.” For a moment, you seemed to hesitate, but you continued. “I know you did, too.”

Something in Shauna's chest softened. A part of her had prepared for rejection—or even pity—but not this. Not this type of warmth.

She looked at you then—really looked. And in the middle of the half-lit quiet street, she nodded with a shaky sigh. “Yeah.”

Just one word. But it felt like finally stepping off the ledge and finding solid ground under her feet.

You smiled—sweet and real. “Wanna keep walking now?”

Shauna only nodded.

So you did. Together, like nothing had ever broken between you two.

Tentatively, your hand reached for hers again slowly, fingers slipping between hers. “Is this okay?” You asked softly, while your thumb brushed over the artificial ridges of her knuckles.

She nodded again. She didn't trust herself to speak without breaking down.

As the two of you kept waking, your steps fell into sync, like they always used to years ago.

The city pulsed around you—distant sirens, flickering signs, the low humming sound from generators, a world still moving.

But for once, Shauna didn't feel like she was chasing the ghost of something she'd lost.

She glanced at your joined hands—warm skin against cold metal. For the first time in years, the contrast didn't feel like a reminder of everything she'd become.

It was just simple contact. The one thing she had craved for so long.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“So…” Your fingers tugged lightly at the fabric of her jacket as the two of you stood outside of your apartment.

Shauna had offered you a ride when you told her you had to get back home. You refused at first, because you still remembered how fast her bike was.

But one look at her kicked puppy face and you gave in.

“I didn't know you lived in Red Sun.” She tried her best not to freak out at the way you caressed her jacket. “I thought you still lived with your parents.”

You shook your head. “I moved out a while ago. Decided I liked it better here.”

She stared at you in silence for a moment. Her tongue had to wet her lips because of how nervous she felt.

“It was really nice seeing you again, Shauna.” You mumbled with a tiny smile. “I mean it. I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Yeah. I enjoyed it, too.” Shauna replied with a low, raspy voice. Her eyes dropped down to glance at your lips and her face flushed instantly. “You should, uh… get inside already. It's getting cold.”

You chuckled softly and nodded. “Yeah.” Your hands let go of her jacket and she almost let out a sad sigh. “Let's go out again sometime?”

She blinked, surprised at the request.

“Yeah. Sure.” Shauna answered before you could take back your words. “We can grab dinner tomorrow, if you want.”

The smile on your lips became wider and you nodded. “Sounds perfect. I'll see you tomorrow, then.”

She was about to turn around to leave, when you leaned in to kiss her cheek.

Shauna didn't move, breathe, or think. She couldn't. When you pulled away, she met your eyes—filled with adoration and a hint of mischief—before you disappeared behind the door of your apartment.

Her hand lifted to touch the spot where you kissed her, and she smiled.

Not one of those lame half-smirks she always wore.

No, a real grin. Wide and warm. The first one in years.

#shauna shipman #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #cyberpunk au

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