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ragingbookdragon · 5 months

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Make Me Sway

1930's TF 141 x Reader

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I have so many AUs planned but @temeyes said run with this one so I shall :) -Thorne

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She wakes with a startle, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling which turns into an unfamiliar room. Fancy, obviously a wealthy owner, the room’s almost as big as her entire apartment. She sits up and blinks, looking down at herself—still dressed in the clothes she was in last night, save her shoes.

“Finally awake?” Her head swivels to the side to see a young man standing with a calm smile on his face. “Hi, I’m—”

She scrambles off the bed, puts it between them and she looks around for an exit to flee from.

“Woah, calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He takes a step closer, and she reacts, grabbing the lamp from the bedside table, yanking it from the wall and flipping it upside down to use as a weapon. He snorts, trying to hide it and puts on a firm look. “Will you—will you please put the lamp down?”

“W-where am I?” she asks, keeping the bed still between them; she waves the lamp at him. “Who are you?”

“My name is Kyle and you’re here at my boss’s mansion.”

“Where is here?”

“Just a few miles out of New York City. Countryside.”

“Oh, Jesus,” she says in shock and when he takes another step, she waves the lamp and moves to the end of the bed. “Back! Get back!”

Kyle throws his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, easy. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

She looks around the lavish room, it’s green, calming, the wood is cherry, and she breathes in the scent of lavender. “Why am I here?”

“I can’t answer that,” he says and takes a cautious step forward. “But I can get my Captain so he can. He told me to watch you until you woke and take you to him when you did.” He looks at her, deep brown eyes firm but kind, trusting. “I can take you to him, but I need you to put the lamp down before you hurt yourself.” She lets him get close, hands him the lamp. “That’s a good girl. Now—”

He starts talking but she lowers her gaze to the gun sitting in his between his pants and shirt, tucked neatly at his hip; it only takes a split second to decide, and she yanks the revolver from him and points it at him as she backs up and now, he looks even more worried.

“Easy,” he says the word lowly, a warning; looks at her shaking hands. “You don’t even know how to shoot a gun, I reckon.”

“I can learn,” she retorts with a wavering confidence. “I’ve learned a lot by doing in the moment.” She thinks of all the things she’s learned in the nursing ward she’s been in for the last two years.

“Why don’t we—”

The gun aims over his shoulder and a blast rings out in the room as the glass picture on the wall shatters.

“Christ!” he shouts, ducking. “Are you fucking mad! You could’ve fucking shot me!”

“No, but I’m sure I still have a few rounds in the chamber,” she replies. “Perhaps you should go get your Captain, hmm?” she waves the gun to the door. “Run along.”

Kyle lifts his hands over his head and backs up slowly to the door. “Crazy, fucking bat—” he hurries out and she lowers the gun, hyperventilating, tucking herself into the corner; a quick look out the window dismays her idea to jump out the window—she’s on the second floor high up.

It’s only a few minutes before a knock sounds on the door and she lifts the gun again as a calm, deep voice comes through. “Can I come in?”

She swallows thickly and backs closer to the corner. “I have a gun!”

“I’m well aware,” the voice replies humored and in steps an older man, early forties, clean kempt and clean shaven, light brown and dusting gray mutton chops; his eyes are soft, a bit crow-footed around the edges, times of worry and weariness evident, but his expression and body language appear non-threatening. “Gave my Sergeant quite a wake-up, didn’t you, love? I’ve always loved a woman not afraid to make her peace,” he notes with a grin, and she can’t help but let out a startled laugh.

She watches as he walks over to the table in the corner and plucks two hardwood chairs up and sets them down in the middle of the room, followed by a small table from the window; he sets them a distance away, a safe distance and sits down in the chair closest to the door.

“Care to sit?”

“Not particularly,” she says and waits for him to speak, but he doesn’t, only smiles when the door opens and in steps the same young man but he’s holding a silver tray with a tea kettle and a few small cups.

“Tea, Captain,” he murmurs and sets it down on the table before leaving.

“Thank you, Kyle,” he says and looks at her. “You look awfully taut, love, come have some tea and we’ll sit a while and discuss what’s going on.”

She looks at it dubiously. “And how do I know you haven’t poisoned it?”

He blinks and pours himself a cup before blowing and taking a sip. “Wouldn’t drink it, would I?” He can tell she wants to argue but doesn’t know what to say and he smiles, nodding to the chair a few feet from him. “You’re confused, scared, and untrusting. Take a seat and I can help clear up some of those for you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me?” it’s a stupid question to ask really, naïve even, but still, she can’t help it.

He laughs. “If I was going to hurt you, I wouldn’t have you up here in my guest bedroom.”

She purses her lips and tips her head side to side; can’t argue with that. Taking a seat, she lets him pour a cup.

“Sugar?”

“Two, please.”

He nods. “Sweet love, aren’t you?” handing her the cup, he holds out his hand. “May I have Sergeant Garrick’s gun back, please?” His tone is kind, but it’s obvious he’s a man who isn’t to be argued with and she hands the gun over. “Thank you, love.”

She holds the cup in her lap, watching the steam waft up to her face. “Where am I?”

“At my mansion just outside of New York.” He takes a sip. “First, I’d like to offer my sincerest apologies for what occurred last night and how you unfortunately were involved.”

It takes a second and her memory flashes.

The guns went off before she realized what was happening, bullets ringing from over the street. One of their faces appears in her vision and then other faces, fingers pointing at her and she felt her heart drop into her stomach as she picks her bag from the ground and ran down the alley.

It’s only a moment before a weight like a train hits her back and she falls to the ground, sliding in dirt and grime behind the dumpster as she scrambles for her bearings. A cocking echoes and she looks over, the barrel of a gun in her face and she pleads with the man, “Please, please, I don’t want to die!”

He curses at her, screaming and then he looks down the alley he came in from and curses again, running off, but not before yanking her bag up and taking off with it.

Two more men run to her, and she slips in the watery mud as she tries to get up and run, but then one of the men’s arms are around her waist.

“Hold it, lass!” She starts screaming, and then his hand is over her mouth. “Stop fucking screaming! You tryna call the fuzz!”

His hand is over her nose, and she thrashes wildly in his grip as oxygen shorts from her lungs.

“Careful, Johnny,” the other warns. “Price’ll be livid if you kill her.”

Her vision blacks out, consciousness bleeding away as his response turns to mush in her ears.

“John and Simon weren’t supposed to do their mission in the neighborhood they were in. It’s my fault you were involved with it.”

She blinks the memory of the night before away and looks at him.

He looks almost ashamed. “Believe me, I’ve already expressed my anger thoroughly with them. They’ll both be in here to apologize at some point. John, especially for how he treated a young lady such as yourself.”

“…I take it you’re not exactly ‘law-abiding’ citizens?”

His eyes find hers and he smiles, holding out his hand. “Jonathan Price.”

She takes his hand and shakes it. “(Y/N) (L/N).” she looks him over. “You’re a mobster, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to call myself a well-distinguished businessman who simply operates outside the rules of engagement.”

“Long way to call yourself a criminal,” she snaps and sips her tea.

“Probably.” He gazes at her. “What happened last night was a fight over territory with a rival gang. You weren’t supposed to get involved.”

“Really? I had no idea?”

She knows he doesn’t take kindly to the sarcasm, but he can’t blame her. “That being said, it’s already through the channels that you’re somehow involved with my group. They’ve put a hit on you.”

Tea goes down the wrong pipe and she coughs, massaging her chest as she manages, “I’m sorry? Can you repeat that?”

“Because John and Simon brought you back, the others have assumed you’re a part of the one-four-one. They’ve officially put a target on your back.” He takes her shock in stride and in return calms, “I don’t intend to let anyone, or anything hurt you before all of this is cleared.”

“I’m going to die?”

He blinks and shakes his head. “No, you’re not, love.” Reaching over with a gentle hand, he places it on her wrist and looks into her eyes as he promises, “I won’t let anyone hurt you as a result of my men’s piss poor planning. You will be safe until it’s over and can return back to normal life.”

She breathes deeply, looks at the hand on her wrist. A stranger’s hand shouldn’t be so peaceful, so gentle, but his words sway her into a peace, and she exhales, her shoulders drooping. “I…but I have my job, my life. I…how am I supposed to live?”

Price frowns and pulls his hand away. “For now, I’ll contact your job and have you put on an extended leave, we’ll call it a family emergency.”

“The hospital would soon rather fire me.”

“Not on my watch they won’t,” he replies with a grin. “I’ll have your apartment cleared of your necessities and brought here, the rent paid for the next few months, depending on how long this takes.”

She looks around the room. “I’m supposed to live here for this time? All day, every day? Like a bird in a cage? A prisoner?”

“Of course not. My mansion is yours to explore freely. I have acres of land that are patrolled regularly so you’ll be safe anywhere. The only rooms that are off limits are my office which connects to my bedroom, and the rooms of my men unless they allow you into them.” He looks at her. “I have an extensive library and gallery, a decent stable with horses, a vast kitchen—the choice is yours to go wherever and do whatever. If there’s something you’d like, simply ask and I’ll see to it that you get it.”

“And what if I want to go into the city and go shopping?” she challenges. “A girl can’t stay cooped up forever in a nest. She’ll go insane.”

Price smiles but it’s evident he’s already thought of her question. “We’ll see what we can arrange.”

She lets out a sigh and sinks back into her chair, all of it suddenly hitting her and she tears up, setting the cup down to wipe her face as tears begin to fall. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry. I don’t usually cry like this.”

He simply hands her his pocket square from his suit and says, “Cry all you’d like, love. It’s my fault you’re in this mess, and I promise to get you out of it smoothly the best I can.” Another few moments of her crying before she sits up straighter and wipes her eyes one last time and he smiles. “Done?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Then perhaps, if you’re up for it, I’d like to introduce you to my men.” When he sees the pause on her face, he adds, “We don’t have to now, if you don’t, but given that they’ll be looking after you, it’d be important to get it over with.”

She nods her head and sighs, “I understand.”

Price smiles and looks to the door. “Boys.”

The door opens and in files three men one after the other, the first, a tall blonde with a black face mask to match the all black suit he’s in, the next, a slightly shorter man with a head of shaved sides in a blue, pinstriped suit, and the third, Kyle, the man she’d met previously in a green and brown plaid suit.

Price gestures to the first, “My second-in-command, Lieutenant Simon Riley, my first Sergeant John MacTavish, and you know Sergeant Kyle Garrick.”

She swallows thickly and looks over them with quickly warming cheeks. “How do you do.” She meets eyes with Kyle and offers him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for…shooting at you.”

The others snicker as Price shoots them a disapproving look and Kyle simply smiles back and shakes his head. “S’alright, sweets. No harm, no foul.”

Price looks over all of them fondly then back to her. “These are men I would gladly lay my life down for. I trust them beyond measure. None of them would ever hurt you.”

She glances at them, and they all show looks of pride but also have a demeanor of respect and determination. “Um, I’m (Y/N).”

The second one, John, grins at her. “Bonnie lass, ain’t ya? Definitely wouldn’t mind taking you on the town.”

Her cheeks get hot, and she looks at her hands, as Price scowls at him. “MacTavish, don’t forget you still owe Miss (L/N) one massive apology.”

John’s own face turns red as he looks at the ground, mouth snapping shut, and this time, Simon and Kyle laugh at him.

Price turns to her and smiles. “They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but a good lot. I’d like to have them rotate turns on keeping you company, if nothing else so you don’t go insane all alone here.”

“Oh, alright,” she agrees. “Will it be every day or every other…?”

He looks back at the men and then back to her. “Perhaps every week? I think a week with each one would give you adequate time to become comfortable with them. Less confusion to figure on who’s day it is when it’s simply someone’s week.”

“That sounds fine,” she nods and clears her throat. “Well, who is going to be with me first?”

Price smiles and pats her knee before standing and walking to the door. “I’ll let you have the honors of such a decision, love. That being said, I have some business to attend. I’ll see you all at dinner.” He looks at the masked one. “Simon, if she doesn’t choose you, I’ll need to see you in my office.”

“Yes sir,” he replies lowly, never taking his eyes off her as Price shuts the door behind him.

She’s left with the three men, an apprehensive look on her face as she stares back at the three men. “So…how’s everyone’s morning going so far?”

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chiefdirector · 5 months

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Realising | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Nyla sighed as she shifted her weight from her right foot to her left. Her back had started to hurt from sitting on the ground so she had opted to read some of the files standing to scratch out. The self storage unit, once in immaculate condition, looked as if the Road Runner had sped through here, leaving destruction and chaos behind. The files that were neatly tucked away in boxes had been spread out across the floor into piles. There were three main piles; one for irrelevant articles, one for people who potentially may have been hired to take over Regina’s dirty work, and the last for recognisable threats to either (Y/N), her loved ones, or members of the LAPD.

“Still no answer, I'll try again soon,” Nyla clicked the phone shut before walking towards (Y/N) who sat, legs crossed, in the middle of the havoc. “Can I ask you something?”

(Y/N) looked up at Harper, gesturing for her to sit. Harper refused, so (Y/N) nodded. “Sure, shoot.”

“Obviously there is a clear threat to the LAPD. Did you not think to report it? Even through an anonymous tip. You took a massive liberty by dealing with this by yourself.” Nyla ran a hand over her head as she shifted her weight once again. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

“I thought the threat was for me. A way to keep me in line, to keep me away, hopeless even. And it was, she followed through on her threats” (Y/N) answered honestly as she looked away from Harper, not enjoying her judgemental gaze. “I kept tabs on Diaz the best I could, and the station. She was watching me, and I was watching her. We were almost in a stalemate.”

“Almost?”

“Almost.” A melancholy look flashed across (Y/N)’s face, eyes sparkling in sadness as she reached for the two polaroid pictures she had swept up into a file when the pair arrived. With some reluctance, she held the pictures out to Nyla. “The first was my brother, Theo. When I went to the police to get a message home, I returned to the safe house where I was staying and found that photo. His death was on the news. I received the second one a couple of months later. March 16th, mine and Tim’s anniversary.”

“Why him?”

“His name was Reggie Lambert. I met Tim at his cafe on that day, he was my old landlord. We went to that coffee shop every year on March 16th. I went there alone to see Tim, even if he wouldn't see me. Reggie wasn’t even working, he suddenly retired a few weeks before… I thought he'd be working there forever. When I got back to where I was staying, that photo was on my bed. He was on the news the next day.”

Nyla nodded slowly, before placing a comforting hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) sniffed and wiped her eyes to stop the tears before they started to fall. “Not your fault.”

“It isn’t yours either.”

“I’m the reason they're dead, Harper. If I had just stayed away…”

“Then she would have killed them to tempt you back.” Harper pulled (Y/N) up from the ground. She went to speak but she cut herself off in thought. Nyla took a moment before continuing. “You said that picture was there when you arrived from the coffee shop, and that Reggie wasn’t working.”

“Yeah…?”

“She wouldn't have had the time to track him down and do all of that as well as get that picture to you. That kind of work takes time.”

“What are you saying?”

“That it isn’t your fault.” Nyla bent down to start gathering up the files. “I think he was long dead. I think he was killed to send a message, not only to you, but to all of us.”

(Y/N) nodded, taking a moment to process what Harper was saying, and the implication behind it all. If it was true, then there must have been a reason other than revenge to send (Y/N) away. There were so many loose ends that they hadn’t even begun to consider. “We need to get back to the station, try to call Grey again.”

“Already on it.” Nyla smiled at (Y/N), trying to be reassuring. “Now, help me get this stuff into the shop.”

- - - - -

On the way back to the station, Harper had finally gotten through to Grey, and demanded that a team be put together on this. She had hung up quickly, not allowing him any time to question her. When the pair walked into the briefing room, each holding a box of files, they were greeted by Tim, Lopez, West, Chen, Grey and Nolan all waiting expectantly.

“Care to tell us why you’ve gathered us all here, Detective Harper?” Grey said, crossing his arms.

“We went to an old storage locker of (Y/N)’s today. Going through all the paperwork she had from her time away. We think we found a pattern.”

(Y/N) walked over to Tim’s side as Nyla talked to the room. He shifted so she could lean some of her weight against him. Gently he lowered one of his arms to rest his hand on her back, silently comforting her.

He looked down at his wife, only half listening to Nyla. (Y/N) would fill him in on any details he missed anyways.

You okay? He silently asked.

I will be.

Good. Tim replied, nodding as his thumb moved back and forth before he turned his attention back to Nyla.

“I don’t think this was an act of revenge. Something didn’t sit right with me from the get-go. And when (Y/N) mentioned the murder of Reggie Lambert. The timelines didn’t line up.”

“What does Reggie have to do with this?” Tim asked, thoughts of the old man rushing through his head. He had been the officer called out when Reggie was reported missing. It broke his heart to lose another part of his life he had before; it broke even more when the case went cold and they found his bruised and beaten body on the side of the highway.

He wanted to put that hurt in the past, leave it dead and buried where it belonged.

“Regina sent me this picture of him one day;” (Y/N) fished the polaroids out of her pocket and passed the second one to Tim. She watched as he pulled away from her and passed the polaroid to Grey. “March 16th to be precise. I went to the coffee shop. When I got back to where I was staying, I found this on my bed.”

“This says ‘Strike Two,’ what was ‘Strike One.’” Grey asked, placing the photograph on the table and turning his attention to (Y/N).

“It was Theo. I had tried to go to the local PD. I gave a message for them to give to you but it never got back here. Someone clearly recognised me and interfered. When I got back to the safehouse, I found this like I did the others. On my bed, my place was broken into. Nothing stolen, nothing damaged. Just a message.”

“That’s why we called you all here. We were going over these files, and the photos. The timelines don’t add up.” Harper gestured to the boxes. “I think there is something bigger at play here.”

“What do you mean?” Chen asked, piping up for the first time.

“I don’t think Regina was ever the threat we thought she was. She’s clever, I’ll give her that. But I think someone else saw her attempt at revenge as a way to get things done and not get any blame.”

“But we don’t know who.” (Y/N) interjected. “And that's what scares the crap out of me.”

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Act two

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath

Tags are open :)

#tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #the rookie #chiefdirector #bottom of the river

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infernalodie · 10 months

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𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐭.𝟐 || 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

"𝘐𝘧 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘒𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘥"

Inspo: Jacob Banks - Devil That I Know Sabrina Claudio - Frozen

Pairing: Abby Anderson x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: Trouble in paradise...

Warning: Fluff with angst at the end.

Part One - Finale

Words: 4829

The love you had felt a day ago had been deeply invested in the soil of your mind. Roots interweaved and twisted until they met one solid structure that stood strong and tall. Supplied with nutrients that were needed; love and care.

That was what love stood for and represented. Something strong, unmoving, and beautiful. Yet, in less than 24 hours, Ellie’s actions had been able to break that tree down to a rotting, hollow trunk. The roots able to retract and give supply to another tree had done so. Leaving the remaining ones to stand still as a flame burnt them to a crisp.

She’d done that. She’d managed to bring a firestorm to what was fine and unique and destroy it. A burnt forest left to take what was once beautiful.

You were broken. Sadly, that was a truth you had admitted when Issac had you locked up once more. Left to craft a makeshift bandage from the wound in your leg and just wait. Wishing there was some way you could alleviate the weight in your chest.

Abby hadn’t said anything to you after you gave her the info she needed. Truthfully, you were too exhausted and hurt to care either. All you cared about was sleep and hopefully being allowed to leave this cell soon.

“We shouldn’t have left her as we did.” Dina’s words shook the auburn-haired girl from her empty stare. Turning her head to the other to find her sitting up from the couch, still feeling the sickness from her pregnancy. “Maybe it was a mistake for me to ever tell you how I felt. If it saved me from feeling the weight I do, I would’ve kept everything to myself.”

Ellie chewed on her bottom lip, shaking her head as she replayed those few moments. A large vent pinning your foot and restricting your movements. And when the foul screech of a Clicker sounded, silencing the trio, raising the anxiety in their bodies. It all just happened so fast. You were trapped. If they tried to do anything, they would’ve been dead as well. Then this would’ve all been for nothing, and Ellie couldn’t have that.

But maybe she was just saying that to herself to justify the purpose of her selfish decision. An argument could be made that she felt something for Dina and everything between you two had been fizzling out like water to sugar. But that would also mean her having to admit she led you on because she had. And maybe this was the easiest way for her to non-verbally tell you that things were different now.

“She’s dead, Dina,” Ellie finally spoke, turning her head half-heartedly toward the ill girl. But ever meeting her guilty eyes. “She knew what she was signing up for when she came along.”

Dina pursed her lips, wiping away the tears that slid down her cheeks. “But you aren’t acknowledging the obvious, Ellie,” she pointed out. “She was your girlfriend and you chose me over her. Do you not feel any guilt over that?”

Licking her lips, Ellie reached over and took Dina’s hand. “All I know is that I chose the girl that I love.”

The city streets were quiet. Way too quiet for Abby. There was the occasional conversation with Manny and Mel, but not enough to ease her cautious awareness that they were out in the open and a perfect target for the Seraphites.

Hearing a quiet grumble behind her, she peeked over her shoulder to see you holding your stomach. “Do you want me to carry your pack?” She inquired, surprising herself with how soft the question was.

But you raised your hand, exhaling heavily. “If we get in a firefight, I need you to shoot. The pack helps keep me planted when I’m firing,” you pointed out, able to spare a faint smile toward the girl. “But a shot of Vodka might be good right now.”

Abby smiled, placing a large hand on your lower back as the both of you moved up the steps of the old warehouse that stored a boat. “When we get to the F.O.B., I’ll be sure to get you that shot.”

It’d been some time since you were locked in that cage. Since you had to piss in a bucket or eat food off the dirty floor. But since then, your intelligence of Ellie and Dina had convinced Issac to task you with Abby for patrols or any deployments. And it wasn’t like you saw any choice in the matter. You couldn’t be banking on some sort of hope that someone would storm the stadium, kill everyone and save you. It was unrealistic. So, you did the thing you were good at. You helped people. You helped Nora and Mel where you could and stayed in that cell with the addition of a dirty mattress until Issac trusted you enough to go out on patrols.

And now, with everyone being called to the front, you were deemed needed for whatever came next. Abby reassured you, seeing this as a way to earn your keep and be considered a part of the WLF. But you knew full well where Manny stood with your presence now added to the group.

In fact, many people were indifferent about your contributions to the force. You were a doctor and started aiding the wounded from attacks then you were going on small skirmishes with fellow WLF soldiers. But they were simply waiting for the moment they could put a bullet in your back.

You held no particular fond spot in anyone’s mind. You were an anomaly. Walking a lonely highway hoping to find a new place to call home.

That’s why you stuck to yourself when moving with the trio. Mel tried to strike up some sort of conversation, but you kept your mouth shut. And you kept your eyes averted whenever Manny wished to show you his distaste for you accompanying them. Abby was really the only person you were willing to spend time with and talk to. She was the only person not looking to tear your head off. She taught you how to properly handle their rifles and taught you what you needed just in case something were to happen out in the field.

She was your only friend.

Moving through the warehouse and moving down a slope leading to a few box carts where you took notice of voices further down the tracks. With the density of bushes and tall grass, the approach was made easy, but the execution of taking the Serphaites down wasn’t. You are stuck near Abby, not trusting yourself on your own. And once she killed the first and Manny killed the second, the Seraphites took notice. Then all hell broke loose.

Gunfire sounded throughout the overgrown enclosure with you seeking refuge inside of a box cart. Taking pot shots and beginning to feel the ache in your shoulder from the recoil of the rifle. Mel, Manny and Abby handled the situation like pros. Taking one down after another until the only sound to be heard was your panting. Adrenaline coursing through your system.

“All clear!” Abby announced, shouldering her rifle. “You good?” Abby inquired, appearing from behind cover and walking toward you.

With a sheepish nod, you hopped out of the box cart and followed behind the group. Climbing up a mound of dirt and onto a broken landing that held a gate ahead of them.

Walking over, Abby pushed against one of the sides and created big enough of a gap the chain would allow. “Through here.” Abby moved out of the way, allowing you to step through first before she followed and the other two did the same.

The moment you stepped through, barely able to take account of your surroundings, a distinct whistle sounded. And before you could respond, a hand grabbed the back of your pack and yanked you inside the gas station just as the sound of gunfire appeared. Bullets whizzing past you, the wall behind the front register was slowly becoming riddled with bullets. The trio were quick to return fire and keep the Seraphites off of them for as long as they could.

But you were stuck with that constant tremble in your joints. Much like when you had your first run-in with the cult, you couldn’t pull the trigger. This fieldwork wasn’t where you belonged. You preferred being stuck inside a tent smelling like metal and injured bodies all around you. That was when you were in your zone. But this? This shit isn’t ever going to be where you exceed.

By the time the gunfire stopped, you were already being hoisted to your feet. Faced to look at all the dead bodies of cultists, which were a lot more than you were expecting. They had the upper hand, the same firepower and large able bodies. But you were beginning to discover the pattern with Abby that she was practically invincible and a lot better than most people in this day and age were capable of being.

“We got wounded in the truck. Mind giving us a hand with that, outsider?” The title had stuck rather quickly in the short amount of time of you being “recruited” into the WLF. Everyone didn’t call you by your name or consider you a human being. If anything, you were a dog on a leash, being tugged along by Issac to do as he ordered. Because if you weren’t going to give him any info on Ellie or Dina, then he would make you useful.

Nodding, you followed into the truck after Manny. Moving to the center relinquishing your pack and quickly pulling out some gauze. Glancing up at the injured WLF soldier, he was shot right through the hand. Nothing that could limit his capabilities to work, but it would make him have to put down the rifle for a few weeks at best.

“Hold your hand out for me. This isn’t going to hurt, but bear with me, all right?” The man nodded, straining as you began to wrap the gauze around the wound. “You might think this part is the worst, but I’m going to need you to squeeze this as hard as you can.” Placing the roll of gauze in his hand, you slipped back into the seat behind you and sighed. Holstering your rifle and securing it whilst ejecting the round from the chamber. Out of everything Joel taught you and what you picked up, it was never wrong to make sure a gun was extra safe.

“You froze.” Lifting your gaze, you found Manny staring at you with almost a look of empathy. It was new coming from him. Constant badgering and snide remarks were all you got from the man. “In the train yard and gas station. You froze.”

It took you a moment, letting out a breathy laugh as you nodded sheepishly. “I’m not good with guns.”

“That’s hard to believe considering how you discharged your weapon.” He motioned to the rifle in your grasp. “Who taught you that?”

With pursed lips, you looked down. “Joel. Joel Miller.” That created a riveting silence amongst the “Salt Lake” group that stared at you. Still, the vivid imagery of that night still haunted Abby to this day. And to think that you travelled all the way here with your ex and a friend to kill her and everyone there that killed Joel was hard to grasp. She guessed this was some sort of act of torture. Forcing her to see the pain she indirectly caused with her decision. “But my father taught me how to handle a rifle–the basics, you know? His father taught him since he was a Vet before the world went to shit and whatnot. But Joel taught me to how to shoot, how to clean a gun, and how to kill someone.”

For the rest of the ride, the group was silent and you enjoyed it. Often, you felt like the outcast during most conversations with Abby’s group. The point being; they killed a close friend of yours. So, it wasn’t like you could talk about getting beers or having a barbeque with them. Instead, you would stand there in silence and only talk when someone attempted to converse with you. So, the silence was slowly becoming your best friend each day.

Arriving at the F.O.B., you hopped off the truck and assisted the injured man and Mel off. But it wasn’t long before a man came running over. “Hey, Outsider! Issac wants you in his office, pronto!”

Abby smiled. “No rest for the wicked, huh?” She teased.

You scoffed, nudging her softly. “I’ll see you up there?”

“You can count on it.” You smiled once more at the woman, feeling your guys’ gaze linger on one another a moment too long before you turned. Cheeks warm as you followed the soldier through the front barracks of the base.

From the gate, WLF soldiers were piled up under tents to avoid the sun. Some were working with faulty weaponry and supplying ammo, assisting with teammate’s gear. Others were working on battle plans and zones occupying Serphite forces. And in the center was where the fresh scent of food caught your senses. Men and women seated on dirty benches feasting on one of the few meals they could get in a day. It made you wish you got to stay back at the stadium. At least then you got to eat some fruit and not starve.

Entering the central compound, the dim lighting of fires blossoming from barrels did very little to give you a view of the interior. It wasn’t until you reached the lobby made into a jail of sorts that you could see clearer. The backup generators set up outside gave the fluorescent lights power with them occasionally flickering. But your eyes shifted to the prisoners. Seraphites and outsiders. All of them sitting in their own piss and shit. The sight of it was more enlightening than disgusting because you were in their place a mere few days ago. You were sleeping on concrete in your own filth. The only difference was Abby had specifically requested that you be given a bucket. The point was, seeing it from the outside gave you insight into what you must’ve looked like. And safe to say, you weren’t planning on it ever happening again.

Riding the elevator up to the office, the soldier opened the door for you. But you found no sign of Issac and as if the man was reading your thoughts, he said, “He’ll be up shortly.” And he left without hearing your response. Leaving you in a cleansing silence that you slowly eased back into. Collapsing onto a counter and staring out the window. The sunset hit your face nicely and allowed itself to warm you from the cold inside the office.

It took a few minutes, but Issac soon arrived. But when he entered, he turned around and stopped Manny and Abby. “The both of you wait outside.”

You frowned, sliding off the counter and looking past your leader at a confused Abby who looked like she wanted to protest but was stopped by the door closing on her.

Issac then turned to you. “Y/n,” he sighed, walking to his desk. “I heard you’ve been a great help at the Stadium.”

“Um, yes, sir. I’ve been picking up jobs where I can.” You hated these types of conversations with the man. It wasn’t too long ago that he had you tied to a chair and was extracting information from you. Cutting you up and probably was planning on doing worse. But you hated how intimidating he could be at times. You weren’t the confrontational type and he solidified it with his constant hollow demeanor.

“That’s good. Good.” Lifting up a paper, he waved it with a smile, scoffing to himself. “This job is going to kill me.”

“What can I do, sir?” You asked, taking a step.

He sighed, turning to sit on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “In the next coming days, I’m going to need you to stay here.”

The order nearly made you laugh. But finding his expression unchanging, you felt your own smile slowly drop. “May I ask why, sir?”

“We’re staging an assault against the Seraphite’s island and when we come back, I’m going to need a medic ready to patch our soldiers-”

“Is Abby going, sir?” The question slipped without much thought being put into it. Judging by the look on Issac’s face, he wasn’t exactly expecting it either. But he’d seen and heard about the two of you. How the both of you were nearly joined to the hip since you were released. He wasn’t sure how his most trusted soldier was able to grow attached to an outsider like you.

But he brushed it off. “This isn’t up for debate, Y/n,” he said. “They go, you stay.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded. “Affirm’, sir.”

“Good.” He turned back toward his desk, saying over his shoulder, “Your room is down the hall. Last door on the left.”

Biting your bottom lip, you walked to the door and swung it open. Finding the two soldiers standing talking to one another. But when they found your defeated expression, their conversation halted. Abby is the one to step forward and place a hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Sniffling, you nodded, jutting a thumb over your shoulder. “You should go. He’s waiting.” Slipping past her, you were quick to wipe your cheeks as you followed the directions provided by Issac and entered your quarters for the next few days.

You didn’t know why you were crying. You didn’t want to. If anything, you were glad to be out of harm's way. Protecting and saving people was where you excelled. But you couldn’t take a life. No matter the person, it still meant that you were killing a part of yourself to survive. So, shouldn’t you be feeling relief instead of dread?

With a shaky exhale, you hit yourself in the head. “Stop!” The answer to such a simple question was Abby. It felt so wrong to care for her. After everything she’s done, she was supposed to get a bullet in the head or a knife in the stomach. But you hadn’t done what you were tasked with doing when you came to Seattle. That promise to Ellie had fallen through the moment you smiled at Abby. Then again, did you have to keep a promise with someone who couldn’t even keep theirs?

Storing your gear in the corner of the room by the bed, you made quick work to occupy your attention from the daunting thoughts and eventual conversation with Abby. Going into the fridge and pulled out some bread and eggs. Placing a pan on the stove and turning on the burner with butter soon following.

A knock sounded at the door before it slowly peeked open. Abby’s head slipped through the crack, glancing around before finding you standing in front of the stove, cracking open an egg and letting it hit the pan. Its loud sizzle and pops make you step back and look at Abby. “Do you want some?”

She smiled, shutting the door behind her. “Sure.” Walking across the room, she placed her gear with yours before looking around. Eyes staying transfixed on the single bed in the room.

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” You frowned, looking over your shoulder at the girl who was already unrolling her sleeping bag. It made you laugh.

“Scared you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, Abby?” You asked, chuckling to yourself.

“I’ve been keeping self-control since I met you, Y/n,” Abby muttered. “But I want you to be comfortable and I would take up most of the bed.”

“But what if I don’t want to sleep alone?” You inquired a hint of mischievous intent in your voice.

Your arms crossed over your chest as Abby tilted her head slightly, smirking. This game that the two of you have played has been going on since the moment Abby saved you from imprisonment. Or maybe it started a few days after she found you helping Nora and Mel in the medical bay. Either way, it was a cat-and-mouse game that neither of you wasn’t afraid of indulging in. And, at the deepest part in your core, you knew this wasn’t okay. To sleep with the “enemy”. But she was attractive and had been nothing but caring to you since she met you. And maybe you fell for people so easily before looking at the red flags, but you wanted to enjoy life for a little while longer. At least until she left for the attack against the Seraphites. Because if she didn’t come back, you wanted to have one last night with her.

The steam of the stove grabbed your attention once more. Smirking to yourself, you flipped the egg. You could feel her gaze bore into your figure.

And it only took a few moments before you felt her hulking figure press into your back. Her pelvis is flush with your ass and her hands holding your hips. Her finger dipped further, gently pressing into your pelvis. It made you smile.

With her face pressing into the back of your head, you muttered, “If you’re wanting to fuck, then just say so, Abby Anderson.”

“Is it obvious?” Your only response was to gently shake your head, dreadlocks hitting her face, making her laugh.

With a deep guttural groan, Abby spun you around and lifted you onto the counter. A yelp fell from your lips as your hands fell to her shoulders, legs interlocking around her waist. Abby let out a deep sigh, staring up at you with a small smile.

“So, are you going to make the first move or do I have to?”

The two of you laid side by side with one another. You were still trying to capture your breath and savour the taste of Abby’s nectar on your tongue. Gently pressing kisses into her side. Your legs were tangled amongst one another with a bedsheet lazily draped over the both of you to escape the cool breeze that slipped through the window.

A sweet sheen covered your guys’ bodies that didn’t at all seem to bother either of you. If anything, it made the moment seem to carry on a little longer.

Letting out a gentle laugh, Abby sighed. “I’ve never done it with a girl.”

You smirked, rolling onto your stomach and resting on your forearms. “Did I impress?”

Abby grinned, nodding eagerly. “Oh, yeah. You did more than impress.” A soft laugh fell from your lips as you chewed on your nail, shaking your head.

Although you knew there might be some sort of clarity that hits you, making you regret your decision, you still enjoyed it. There had been something primal and intimate with Abby that you forgot what it felt like after months with Ellie. This felt way too different

“You ever think about running away?” You asked, looking at the taller girl. “

“Where would you want to go?” Abby inquired, staring up at the ceiling.

“Canada sounds nice. I mean, the winter would be shitty, but it’s nothing I’m not used to,” you said.

Abby hummed, eyebrows slightly pinching together in thought. “I think anywhere with you would be nice.”

Your lips rolled, corners pulling upwards as Abby huffed. “Flirting is not my thing, huh?”

A graceful laugh fell from your lips, forehead resting against the other side. “Baby, stick to flexing and being all sexy and flirting won’t ever have to be used.”

Another break of silence took its place with the two of you enjoying one another’s company. Holding one another softly. And it felt true. Like this is where you belonged.

Despite everything that happened leading up to this point, you liked this. It was a simple way of life working with the WLF and you wished this had been what you experienced in Jackson and with Ellie. But there always had to be something relating to Ellie’s pent-up anger and Maria tasking you with patrols. At least now you could do what you had trained yourself to do for years and feel like you might be making a difference.

And Abby made it better.

“I want you to know that I care about you.” Your confession came suddenly and caught Abby off guard. “Like, despite what we both went through. I care about you so fucking much and I know I shouldn’t. But, If I can, I want to be here with you.”

“Then stay.” You looked up at Abby, finding her smiling softly down at you. “I mean, who else is going to wake me up by throwing books at me.”

A laugh fell from your lips as you nodded. “Yeah, I guess I have a role to fulfill, huh?” She smiled, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before leaning back.

But Abby’s smile slowly faltered as she sighed. “I have to go out and find Owen soon. Any WLF soldier that finds him will likely shoot him on sight for what he did.” Despite her saying this, she made no move to start getting ready. She continued to stroke your hip slowly, occasionally reaching around to grab at your ass possessively. In all honesty, she didn’t want to waste any time away from you considering she was going to be putting her life on the line against the Seraphites.

You picked at the fabric of the pillowcase, adjusting your position on your forearms. Pursing your lips, you asked, “You still love him, don’t you?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have done this.” Sitting up with her back against the headboard, you adjusted to lay between her legs with your chin resting on her pelvis. “What I and Owen had is history. Young teenage love that faded out. Right now, I’m focused on you. I want to make sure I have something to come back to.”

“The attack on the Seraphites,” you measured your words, almost cautious of what you might say. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’ll radio you if anything comes up, all right?” She kissed you on the corner of your lips and you nodded. Reach up and grab her ponytail and forcefully tug her back down to meet you fully. Tilting your head and pressing further into the kiss. Only parting with your teeth gently at her bottom lip. Warm breaths intertwined with one another as you looked up at her with those eyes that tempted her to forget Owen for a little longer and spend some more time with you

“Make sure you come back to me.”

It’d been a day or maybe two. It was hard to tell at this point with the workload given to you. What you did know is that there had been little to no communication from Abby. And laying awake in your room, thoughts of the prior night kept you up and wanting more.

In full honestly, it’d been a while since you got laid. Ellie had been rather busy before Joel even passed and most of the time she wasn’t in the mood. So, you had to deal with the pent-up stress and bottled it. Abby helped you release it and always seemed to be ready to give a “helping hand” with your situation.

So, maybe out of desperation, you grabbed your walkie-talkie and held it close. Smiling to yourself as you pressed the button and whispered, “Abby.” There was no response. “Abby, are you there?”

Again there was another long pause, making you realize how late it actually was. Making you sigh, sitting up in your bed with your legs curling into your chest. “I guess you might be sleeping. I’m pretty lonely here. I just wish you were here with me, you know?” You sighed. “I will say that if you don’t make it back to me, I’m going to go to hell and kill you again, all right? Let me know if Owen is alright and when you guys are on your way back.”

Silence filled the void, letting you hope that maybe your words had drifted into your sleepy daze and would be at the back of her mind when she woke. The idea of it made you smile. So, with a sheepish smile and a heat growing across your body, you whispered, “I love you.”

A pause before the radio clicked on with audio.

“Y/n.”

The voice made your body tense up as you stared at the device in horror. A cold chill ran down your spine, shivering as you shakily brought the device close and muttered,

“Ellie?”

159 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Note

sort of a fantasy/ angst scenario i’ve been thinking about… (I love your writing so much - maybe this is something?)

When Steve goes through a misunderstanding and breakup that has him socially exiled, everyone is mad, and feels justified when he disappears - they assume the worst of him and that he just up and left without telling anyone.

Years later - on the tail end of a series of unexplained natural disasters around the world stopping miraculously, he shows up - surrounded by a small group of people with a similar haunted look in their eyes and littered with more scars, maybe a hand that too metallic to be real.

Aka Steve is visited by a group of strangers, claiming he’s some sort of prodigal son of a Prophecy - disappears to end the apocalypse and shows up, years and a full hero's journey later, changed - and the others have the grapple with the fact that they’ve been wrong the entire time.

Or bonus - he never ends up showing up at all - a stranger shows up at their door during a party family gathering, battleworn, letter in hand about a burial taking place at the edge of town at dusk.

This was an INSANELY GOOD request. Like this could easily be a 100k fic, so I hope you're okay with me having very little backstory. I want someone to run with this ASAP. I didn't do the bonus part, but I stuck with a lot of the first part of it. Again, this was so hard to keep short, so I do hope someone makes this AU really deep and really solid. I don't know if you took ideas from a bunch of different fantasy novels or what but man this is gooooood shit. I hope I was able to do at least some of this justice! - Mickala ❤️

-----------------------------------------------------

Steve Harrington did not give up. He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Which is why he was leading his battleworn group back home.

It’s been years since he stepped foot in Hawkins, years of war, disaster, and pain. But walking through the gates of Hawkins was the scariest and bravest thing he’d done in five years.

Dustin limped along next to him, his leg hurt, but not broken. Max was on his other side, left eye blind and left arm broken, but in good spirits overall.

Lucas and Erica fell behind him, both physically fine, but mourning the loss of their parents in the latest earthquake.

Steve had given them an extra day before making the journey back, made sure they had a way to lay their parents to rest despite the chaos surrounding them.

Robin had gone ahead of them to announce his entrance, wanted to make sure that the town was prepared.

When Steve left five years ago, the only people who knew were the people currently with him. They followed him, without question, the moment he said he had to go. They were children when they left, could barely offer anything but their support at first, but over the years grew into the type of soldiers anyone would be lucky to have on their side.

He broke Nancy's heart, he broke his promise to his parents to stay in Hawkins until he turned 21, and the world broke around him.

He made a choice that day, a difficult one, but one he hoped gained him the respect of the people he left behind.

“How are you feeling, Steve?” Dustin asked quietly as they approached the outskirts of town.

“Could be better.”

“Could be worse,” Max added.

That was their answer to everything.

“Steve, wait!”

Robin was running towards them, nearly tripping and falling on her face every few steps. She had incredible aim when it came to shooting and throwing, but ask her to take more than five consecutive steps without tripping or otherwise hurting herself and you would be shit out of luck.

“What is it?”

“You have to wait. It’s bad. It’s real bad.”

She was out of breath, which was odd since she was in surprisingly good shape for someone who couldn’t run.

Steve looked past her, watching as a small group of people on horseback approached.

She turned to see them, then turned back around and let her head fall.

“Shit. Okay. So your parents are dead. Everyone who was ever in power before? Dead. Hopper? Dead.”

Hearing this should have been more upsetting, but Steve was used to losing people. He was used to losing nearly everyone. And to hear that his parents were gone was more a relief than anything else.

He could hear the people talking in the distance, could feel the ground shaking with the efforts of their horses.

There weren’t many, maybe only six or seven, but enough to keep Steve feeling a bit protective of his group.

They were tired. They’d been through enough.

He didn’t want to fight, but he would if he had to.

“Who are they?”

“Soldiers. Everyone that’s left are soldiers or farmers.”

“Steve Harrington! It’s been a while!”

He knew that voice. Not well, and obviously it’s been five years since he’s heard it, but he knew it.

Who was it?

“Interesting that you choose now to show your face again! We survived the worst of everything without you, I’m not sure why you expect us to welcome you with open arms.”

Eddie Munson.

Steve would know those long, curly locks anywhere.

Steve didn’t recognize anyone else with him, but that was probably for the best.

Eddie got up close to his group, but didn’t pull any weapons.

He didn’t want a fight either. Interesting.

Steve lost his hearing in his left ear nearly three years ago, at the same time he lost most of his left arm. He tried not to let it show as a weakness, especially to people who could be a threat, but he was having trouble hearing over the wind blowing.

“I’m sorry for coming somewhat unannounced. We ran out of supplies to write over a month ago, and money to send a messenger even further back.”

That wasn’t entirely true.

They had money. Not much, but enough to get by. Certainly enough for a messenger if needed. Steve just didn’t want them to know that, not if they were desperate for things like he suspected.

He wanted to help, not give away everything he had.

“If I let you in town, you’ll be dead by morning.”

“Why’s that?”

“Everyone blames you for everything. You left and we had a flash flood the next day that took out half our crops. A week later, half the town fell ill with an unknown plague that killed almost everyone who caught it. The earthquakes took what little we had left and that was before the looting from surrounding towns attacked us for months on end. You were nowhere to be found. Our “golden child” couldn’t bother to come help us. Forgive me for being hesitant to want you around now,” Eddie snarled.

Steve could see the way everyone behind him reacted to Eddie’s words, could feel the worry coming from his own group.

They didn’t deserve this.

“All I ask is you allow my soldiers here back to their families. I’ll be on my way by morning and won’t use any resources. Lucas and Erica lost their parents and will be staying with Dustin.”

Eddie looked them all over, frown on his face.

“Dustin? Henderson?”

“That’s me,” Dustin piped up, always braver than people expected him to be.

“Claudia’s son? She thought you died.”

Steve could hear the emotion in his voice, like he’d had to say that too often, like it was true too often.

“I almost did many times, but I’m here.”

“She’ll be pleased to see you,” Eddie said, though his voice sounded different, a bit more emotion behind the words. “And you?” He turned to Max.

“Only her mom is alive as far as we know,” Steve supplied the bare minimum.

They heard a lot of things, but didn’t know how old the news was by the time it reached them.

“Mayfield?” A man from behind Eddie asked. “I recognize the hair. Your mom’s been workin’ at the pub. Serves beer to the soldiers at the end of their shifts.”

“Sounds like her.”

Max wasn’t all that fond of her mom, never had been, but she still wanted to be reunited with her, even if only temporarily.

Steve had been telling the truth about only staying until everyone in his group had found their home. He knew even before coming that he didn’t want to go back to his own.

“Robin wishes to find work here, settle away from her own home. It’s not safe for her there. She’s a fantastic shot and knows many languages, could be useful as a soldier or a teacher,” Steve hadn’t let Robin know ahead of time that he didn’t plan on staying. She was under the impression before now that they would settle here together, maybe find wives and share a farm. “All I ask is that she gets a fresh start and is not associated with my name.”

“Why do you think you’re in any position to ask for favors?”

“I’m not. I realize that asking for any favors is asking too much. I’m just doing what I can to help the people who have helped me for years.”

Steve watched as Eddie considered, clearly taking into consideration the fact that everyone surrounding Steve had someone waiting for them in town, whether they knew it or not.

“You’ll all come with us. Including you, Steve. But you will stay with me for the night so that no harm comes to you. Many people in this town wish you dead.”

“Including you?”

“To be determined.”

Eddie turned on his horse, and the rest of his group followed.

Steve nudged everyone forward, hoping that by putting them first, he could avoid questions from them.

But that was easier said than done.

“You didn’t say you were only planning to stay one night!” Dustin whisper yelled.

“You were going to leave us?” Erica asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“What if something bad happened when you left?” Lucas added.

Robin was busy helping Max along the rocky path, but she kept sending glares at him over her shoulder.

“I knew I wouldn’t be welcome here. You all deserve to be here with your family and friends. I can find a new place.”

“What about us?”

He ignored the question.

They would be fine, and he would be…well, probably not fine, but alive.

They followed Eddie and his group in silence after that.

When they got closer to the main road, Eddie stopped and hopped off his horse.

“The guys will take the rest of you into town. Steve will need to sneak in. This is not up for discussion and if you don’t agree, you can leave.”

Steve gave everyone a look that said if they tried to argue, he would cut their arms off. He wouldn’t, but the look must have been convincing because no one said a thing.

“You all can come to my house tomorrow to say goodbye to Steve. The guys will tell you where it is. Do not come together and do not bring anything with you. Understood?”

Everyone nodded, giving Steve quick nods before they were led away.

“Hop up,” Eddie said from right in front of him.

When did he get that close?

“I’m sorry?”

“It’ll be less suspicious if you look like a guard. She’ll lead you to my home and I’ll walk a bit behind. If you run for it, we’ll find you.”

“I’m not dressed like a guard.”

“Everyone is off duty sometimes. But you’ll wear my cape to cover your clothes. You look like you lost a few fights.”

“I did.”

Eddie grimaced.

“I think we all have.”

Steve didn’t push, didn’t want to test how far Eddie’s patience and kindness would go.

He hopped up onto Eddie’s horse, settling into the saddle quickly.

Eddie didn’t give him much of a chance to get acquainted with the beautiful horse he was on before he touched her neck and she was off. Eddie laughed at Steve’s shocked face.

He hadn’t ridden a horse since he lived in Hawkins.

It was freeing.

He arrived at Eddie’s cottage much faster than he thought he would, surprised to see that Eddie lived along the outskirts of town, just past the first few rows of trees in the woods. It was solitary but still had easy access to the main road.

And it was cozy.

Steve could tell Eddie liked his quiet time to himself, just from the entrance to the cottage.

A small shelf held his weapons, though probably not all of them, and a table that looked hand carved held letters and drawings.

Steve made his way further inside, trying not to be nosy, but needing to know more about Eddie before he arrived.

The cottage was small, almost entirely all one large room. No couch, only a single rocking chair in the corner and a small stack of pillows next to a bookcase filled with books. The kitchen area was just enough to get by, only a small table and two chairs to sit at.

He walked into the only bedroom of the house, where the only bed was messily made, and clothing was strewn across the floor.

If he intended to keep Steve here all night, was he expecting him to sleep on the floor?

Steve had slept worse places, he supposed.

“Have you gotten all the information you need from snooping or shall I come back later?”

Steve jumped. He hadn’t been snooping, just looking, but Eddie snuck up on his left side and he hadn’t heard a single hint that he arrived.

When he turned, Eddie did look slightly apologetic, but didn’t say so.

“I managed to snag some fresh bread for us to have with the soup I made last night. It’s not very flavorful, but it’ll do,” Eddie said as he took off his boots and threw them into the corner of the bedroom.

“I won’t eat your food. I told you I wouldn’t use any resources,” Steve reminded him.

“You look like you’re one missed meal away from collapsing. You need food. I have food. You’ll eat.”

Eddie walked out of the bedroom and Steve had no choice but to follow.

They ate in silence. Steve didn’t even feel like he should be sitting at the same table as Eddie, but he didn’t have much choice when Eddie set a bowl of soup down and gestured for him to sit.

Steve didn’t know what to make of him.

—--------------------------------

Steve cleaned up, insisted on doing that much to show his appreciation. Eddie decided not to argue, told him he was going to change and wash his face in the bucket of water he had in the bedroom.

Steve waited for him to be done.

“Are you tired?” Eddie yelled from the room.

“A bit.”

That was an understatement.

Steve hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time for five years. His body was constantly exhausted, and now that he was in an actual house, he could feel his body giving up.

Safety usually did that.

But he couldn’t really know for sure that he was safe, couldn’t know that this wasn’t a trap.

“I have something you can change into for bed. It’s not quite clean, but it’s not dirty either. Come change, I’ll get the fireplace going.”

He’d almost forgotten that the night would be much cooler, that without a fire, he would likely have caught a cold or spent the entire night shivering.

Another reason to be grateful for Eddie.

He didn’t want to be in this position though, owing someone. Especially not someone who could ruin his life or those he loved.

He seemed like a higher ranked soldier, like someone most people listened to and liked, and one order from him could end Steve’s life.

Steve was good at defending himself, but he was tired.

He changed, ignored the way Eddie was staring at him as he did so, not wanting to answer any questions about his arm or the scars littering his body.

He was willing to repay Eddie in some way, but not with answers.

“I’ll take this side,” Eddie mumbled as he started moving the blanket on the side of the bed closest to the door.

“Um.”

“The bed’s big enough, just get in.”

Steve watched as Eddie got on his side, moving around until he was comfortable.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“Steve. Get in the bed before I send you to the stable.”

Steve wouldn’t have really minded that, maybe even preferred that, but he decided to listen to Eddie.

He got in on the other side of the bed, laying on his side facing the wall, taking up as little space as he could.

“Steve, just get comfortable.”

So, he tried. And surprisingly, he found a very comfortable position on his stomach. He used to sleep that way as a child, never having to worry about if someone would sneak up on him in the woods.

He figured the only person who would try to kill him probably already would have tried by now. Maybe he could actually get some sleep.

He sighed into the pillow, drifting off before he heard Eddie turn over and face him.

—-------------------------

Steve woke up slowly, his body warm and not sore for the first time in years.

He’d forgotten what it was like.

And then he started to take inventory of his surroundings.

He was cuddled into Eddie’s side, his face buried against Eddie’s stomach and hand wrapped around his waist. Eddie’s hand was in his hair, not moving, just holding the strands.

Steve was stuck like this.

Surely, Eddie would wake up and push him away and then he would be sent away as planned.

Surely, Eddie didn’t know this happened in their sleep.

He felt Eddie’s legs shift, then his hand.

A groan.

Steve tried to pretend he was shifting away in his sleep. He closed his eyes and started to turn away.

The hand in his hair gripped harder, kept him where he was.

“You ‘wake?” Eddie whispered.

Steve had two options: pretend to be asleep or say he was awake and possibly die.

So he stayed quiet, let his breathing stay slow despite his nerves. He kept his eyes closed in hopes that Eddie wouldn’t think he’d been awake at all.

“Good.” Eddie whispered. The hand in his hair gently carded through his fingers. “Sleep as long as you want. You need it.”

Steve couldn’t cry like this, it would give him away, but the softness of Eddie’s voice, the gentle way he was holding him, it was all too much.

He bit back the tears, and adjusted himself slightly so he could hopefully fall back asleep.

—-------------------------------------------

When he woke up screaming, Eddie was holding him, rocking him back and forth to calm him down.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re okay,” Eddie was saying quietly against the top of his head.

He was shaking, and crying, and had to get away from Eddie. He couldn’t show any more weakness.

He tried pulling away, but Eddie wouldn’t let him go.

“Steve, wait. Calm down first, okay? You’re barely breathing.”

He knew that. But he needed to get out.

“Air.”

“Okay,” Eddie said.

And then Steve was in Eddie’s arms as he got up and walked over to the window.

Steve knew he wasn’t as big as he should be, often only ate what was absolutely required to stay alive. But Eddie lifted him like he was lifting a small bag of food, and put no effort into carrying him across the room.

He adjusted Steve in his arms, until Steve was wrapping his legs around his waist and one of Eddie’s arms supported him. His other arm worked open the window, and he let out a small grunt when it got stuck about halfway.

Steve was too busy crying to worry about anything else that was happening.

Eddie held him next to the window, the cool air slowly filtering through the room and into his lungs, waking him up all the way and helping him focus.

But once he could focus, he realized where he was. He realized what he was doing.

He started to drop his legs down, but Eddie didn’t let him.

“Darling, you need to relax. Take some more deep breaths.”

Darling.

Steve looked at Eddie.

Eddie Munson had called him darling before.

”Steven! Come say goodbye to Wayne!”

Steve made his way downstairs to say goodbye to his family’s personal guard. Once a year, he left for two weeks to visit with his cousins in a town nearly a day’s travel away. The second in command usually covered for him, but this year would be Wayne’s nephew, Eddie’s, first time taking his place.

He was the best of the best, and not just according to Wayne.

And he was only two years older than Steve.

Steve loved Wayne, had considered him to be more of a dad than his own dad most of the time.

He crashed into Wayne, face buried in his chest.

At 16, Steve was too old to act like this, but Wayne didn’t believe that anyone was ever too old to give or get a good hug.

“Alright now, it’s alright. It’s just two weeks, son.”

Steve hadn’t noticed that Eddie was standing to the side, serious face to represent his very serious job.

“I’ll miss you,” Steve said.

“You know I’ll miss ya too. But Eddie will take care of you all just fine.”

Steve looked over at Eddie and then back at Wayne.

“He won’t bring me a cup of mead after my parents go to bed, though.”

Wayne laughed and looked over at Eddie, who was refusing to look at them.

“I’ll be sure to bring you two when I get back.”

And then he was gone.

Steve’s parents left the same day for a trip to visit the farms up north.

Steve was alone in the house except for the help and guards. And Eddie.

He hated being alone.

He woke up from a nightmare that first night, shivering and crying silently.

There was a knock on his door, and he felt like he might still be in the nightmare.

But Eddie peeked around the door and Steve relaxed slightly.

“I brought you mead,” Eddie said as he came into the room holding a mug. He paused when he saw the state Steve was in. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Eddie was next to him in a heartbeat, setting the mug on the table by his bed. His hands were cupping Steve’s face, checking him for injury.

“Just a nightmare,” Steve breathed out, still trying to center himself.

“Darling, you’re barely breathing.”

Steve’s eyes looked up at Eddie’s, searching for something, anything that would tell him why he just called him darling.

“I’m okay,” Steve finally said.

Eddie’s hands were gone, but the concern on his face remained.

“Do you need anything?”

“Could you stay?”

Steve hated asking, he hated being vulnerable with anyone. But he hated being alone more.

“I’ll stay, darling.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” Steve couldn’t help asking.

Eddie hadn’t been unkind before, but he certainly hadn’t made it seem like he wanted to be friendly.

“Because I know you don’t deserve to be treated poorly.”

Steve watched as Eddie contemplated what he was going to say.

“I know about the prophecy. Your parents told me when you left. They sat me and Wayne down, explained how important it was to find you, to keep you here so that our town and the world wouldn’t suffer. I didn’t believe it, but then the flood happened, and everything happened, and we’ve spent years just trying to survive. And the only thing that made sense was that you left and this started.”

“They didn’t tell you the part of the prophecy that I knew, though.”

“I figured it out though. I learned the part they didn’t tell anyone. That if you stayed in Hawkins, Hawkins would be safe, but the rest of the country would burn. But if you left, you had a chance at saving everyone.”

Steve nodded.

“Darling, you’re so good.” Eddie cupped his jaw and smiled sadly at him. “You went out into the world to save it, risked your life to help all of us. It came at a cost, but so does everything.”

Steve was crying again.

“What happened to your arm?”

“I lost it when I lost the hearing in my left ear,” Steve started, but paused when Eddie’s finger started tracing along his left ear. “We were stuck in a town that wasn’t prepared for anything. I could feel an earthquake coming, it’s just the way the ground feels under my feet. I tried to warn everyone, some people listened, but. There was a little girl. She was alone in a shop. I couldn’t leave her there. I misjudged how far off the earthquake was, misjudged how bad it would be. Managed to push her out of a window before the building collapsed. I got stuck under a counter that fell on my head, knocked me out cold, then more beams fell on my arm. By the time Robin and Max got to me, they had to cut it off or leave me there.”

“And the prosthetic?”

“Got it about a year ago. Helped a family escape from a tornado, managed to save most of their possessions even, and one of them was the prototype for this. The man had it built in a week for me. It isn’t perfect, but it does what I need it to do.”

“You can’t hear anything out of your left ear?”

“No.”

“That’s why I scared you earlier.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry that you’ve had to do this, darling.”

Steve shrugged.

“No, you should have never had to do this. I don’t know what changed in your mind to make you leave, and I’m glad you were able to help, but it should’ve never fallen on you.”

“I broke up with Nancy. I just had a moment when we were together, I realized she didn’t even know I liked having mead in bed. We were together for nearly a year, planned to marry, and she didn’t even know I liked drinking mead. It sounds stupid, but it just. It reminded me that on the first night you had to protect me, you brought me mead because you overheard me tell Wayne about it.”

Eddie looked at him with something like awe on his face.

“So you left because you broke up with her?”

“Yes and no. I broke up with her because I needed to for a lot of reasons, but I left because she was the only thing keeping me here. I knew I couldn’t ignore what my future was, and ignoring it would only make it worse for everyone outside of Hawkins.”

“But it was a suicide mission.”

“I had help.”

“The children?!”

Steve smirked and patted his cheek.

“Every single one of those children can outwit and outmatch you any day of the week. I guarantee it.”

“Whatever,” Eddie blushed. “So you’ve been out there for five years, basically alone, saving the country?”

Steve nodded.

“I-” Eddie shook his head. “And the nightmares, those are memories?”

“Mostly. Some of them take it a bit too far and go from memories to worst case scenarios.”

“You have them often?”

“Pretty often. Robin usually wakes me before they get too bad.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what was happening until you were already screaming and crying.”

“It’s okay. Next time.”

“Next time?” Eddie smiled.

“If you’d like. I’m not in a rush to go. I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

“You seemed pretty set on leaving tomorrow.”

“I didn’t exactly feel welcome.”

Eddie kissed his forehead softly, letting his lips linger for a moment before he whispered.

“Do you feel welcome now?”

“I suppose with a cup of mead, I might.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the party #robin buckley #fantasy au #hurt/comfort #sort of enemies to lovers #anon request #ficlet

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okiedoketm · 11 months

Text

Unfortunately, Azula’s first memory is Zuko.

The details are hazy. She is two, maybe three years old. Holding something. He quickly snatches it from her hands. Pushes her forcefully into a bow, head to the floor.

Then Father is there. He grabs the object Zuko took from her. Raises his voice. Smacks Zuko. Leaves. Zuko cries.

It’s a rather dull first memory. Not even about her.

~ ~ ~

Her second memory is much better.

She is almost four, watching Zuko’s lessons. She’s figured out how to firebend for a few weeks now, but hasn’t told anyone. Instead, she is watching. Waiting.

Zuko runs through the same kata he’s been trying for days. The same steps, same motions. Azula can see acutely where he falters. Can see Father’s eyes narrow, his mouth mangle in distaste.

She hops to her feet and strides onto the field, beside Zuko. Father barks her name, but she ignores him.

“Like this, Zuzu,” she says, and performs the motions, but turns her foot where Zuko keeps it planted.

Fire bursts from her hand, a perfect blast.

When the light dissipates, Father is smiling. Father has never smiled before. A thrill rushes through her.

~ ~ ~

Azula is five the first time she realizes just how stupid her brother is.

Unlike Zuko, she has never been struck by Father. It’s actually quite simple. If you make Father happy, he won’t be angry enough to hurt you.

Zuko, for some reason, still hasn’t figured that out. And he’s had two years on Azula to get there first.

They’re at family breakfast. Zuko drops his fork under the table. He crawls under the tablecloth to get it. Father scowls.

“I’ve mastered my intermediate forms, Father,” Azula says, “I begin advanced training today.”

Father turns his gaze to her, a smile forming.

There’s a thud. The table shakes. Father frowns, and puts a bored hand over his glass. Azula does the same - quick and calm enough that it seems she did it on her own.

Zuko scrambles out from under the table, holding his head where he undoubtedly hit himself.

“But I’m still learning the intermediate forms!” He says desperately. Azula fends off a cringe. She just played the biggest card in her hand to make Father happy, and Zuko is wasting it.

“Zuko,” Father says sharply. Zuko flinches. Azula wants to strangle him; he should know that Father hates displays of fear.

“It’s okay, turtleduck,” Mother says softly, but urgently, “Sit down.”

Azula wants to strangle her too. Father hates-

“What did you just call the boy?” Father asks, voice dripping with venom.

Idiots. Azula thinks fiercely. Shut up.

“It’s nothing, Ozai,” Ursa says placatingly. Azula wants to tackle her and melt her lips closed. “Zuko just-”

“Zuko,” Father cuts her off, “Needs to behave himself at the table. Or else he won’t be allowed to eat at all.”

He stares at Ursa with hatred that could melt steel without fire. Ursa, to her credit, doesn’t buckle and blubber like Zuko would. She nods tersely and returns to her breakfast, only shooting a discreet look of urgency to Zuko.

It’s messy, but passable. Azula would have actually responded with words, and with dignity, but Azula would never let herself draw so much ire in the first place.

Zuko finally, finally takes a hint and starts to return to his seat.

“Azula,” Father turns back to her pleasantly, and the slight tension in her shoulders vanishes. Her card is still in play. “Perhaps I will join-”

SCREECH

Azula snaps her head to the noise. Zuko is frozen in place, halfway through scooching his chair on the marble floor like a fucking dog-monkey.

“Father is speaking,” she practically spits at him.

Zuko’s eyes widen.

“Azula!” Ursa exclaims. Azula whips her head to her, too, fresh vitriol ready on her tongue.

“ENOUGH!” Father’s voice booms, echoing off the high ceiling.

The table shakes, more violently than before. Azula primly covers her glass with her hand. There is a searing flame of rage in her chest, hotter and fiercer than any chi she’s ever had. She had been crafting this moment for a week, and Zuko ruined it with his incompetence.

“Take the boy and get out of my sight,” Father orders Ursa.

She stands and gathers a petrified Zuko, scooping him up gently from the chair. Like she has all the time in the world to-

“Now,” Father growls, and Ursa drops the gentleness, practically dragging him from the room.

“Should I leave as well, Father?” Azula asks.

Father sighs.

“No,” he says tiredly, cutting into a sausage and popping it into his mouth. “Someone should remain to enjoy the morning.”

He puts the cutlery down and dabs at his lips with a napkin, despite the fact that Father has never let a stray crumb or droplet of any kind touch his face since the day he was born.

“I was hoping to watch your lesson today, but it seems like I will be too busy teaching the boy manners.”

Father stands, dropping the napkin atop his half-eaten food.

“Perhaps tomorrow, Azula.”

“Of course, Father.”

When the doors close behind him, she is alone in the massive room. After ten seconds, when she is sure he’s gone, she snatches a piece of toast off Zuko’s plate and coats it in searing flame, burning it to a puck. With a shout of pure, unadulterated rage, she throws it at the wall. It shatters into a shower of burnt gluten and embers.

The hall is silent, and her angry heaves of breath are deafening.

Then she remembers herself. Azula is five years old and a princess, not a tantrum-throwing toddler. With a wave of her hand the debris are smothered, and she shoves away from the table. The chair doesn’t so much as squeak.

“Clean that up,” She snaps at a servant. “Bring a fresh plate to my room.”

~ ~ ~

Read the Rest on AO3

#avatar #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla fic #azula #child abuse #child abuse tw #my fic #better (fic)#screaming into the void

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emotionalcadaver · 30 days

Text

Part 12: Bloodied & Broken

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: A man attempts to rob the betting shop.

Word Count: 4,542

Notes: Warnings for depictions of blood, violence, and gunshot wounds.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 1: Dark Oblivion

The smell of loose leaf tea was almost overpowering as Lucy opened up the cupboard and stuck her head in, eyes scanning over the crude labels on each little tin, scrawled in Polly’s familiar handwriting.

Jasmine…mint…chamomile…Irish breakfast…they even had some rooibos in there. But much as she rummaged, she couldn’t find the cinnamon one she’d grown so fond of over the course of the past month. From behind her in the betting shop, she heard a booming knock on the locked door, followed quickly by Polly’s voice hollering that they were closed. It was just her and Esme left in the shop, busy counting the takings for the day.

Straightening from the cupboard, Lucy had to give herself a moment to breath and get the mishmash of herbs out of her nostrils before she half closed the pantry doors, turning to call over her shoulder.

“Polly, do you know where the–” she was cut off by another loud bang against the door.

“We’re closed!” Esme shouted from where she was sitting at the table while Polly stood over her.

“Do you know where the cinnamon tea is?” Lucy tried again. But before Polly could answer, a sudden, violent crack sounded throughout the entire shop as the door was shoved against so hard that the lock broke and it flew open, hinges squealing in complaint.

Lucy’s head snapped around at the sound, turning to face the open double doors leading into the betting shop just in time to see a man hurtle into the room. He was fast, perhaps one of the fastest men she’d ever seen, managing to get into the shop before Polly or Esme could even properly react, shoving a small gun into their faces.

“Give me the money,” he demanded, thrusting an empty cloth bag at Esme.

Polly stared at him with eyes like death, her lips pulled into a thin, tight line. Like a mother looking disapprovingly upon her child who she’d just caught doing something bad.

“Put that thing away before you hurt yourself, boy,” she said calmly. The man’s face hardened, and with one swift movement he cracked Esme across the face with the gun. She yelped, crashing to the floor. The man held the gun level with her head, and tossed the bag onto the table to rest between him and Polly.

“Fill the bag or I’ll shoot her in the fucking head!” he roared. Polly’s jaw tightened, eyes darting between Esme and the takings on the table. Slowly, her hand reached out to pluck up the bag.

The moment Lucy had heard the door get kicked in, she’d slipped her hand into her coat, gripping the revolver tucked away in the holster against her ribs. When the man had rushed in, she’d flattened herself back against one of the walls of the kitchen, keeping herself hidden from view. Taking care to keep quiet, she pulled her revolver from its holster and cocked it.

Continuing to keep her movements as quiet as possible, she peeked out from behind the corner leading into the betting shop. The man was not paying her any attention, his gaze instead darting sporadically between Polly and Esme. Lucy swallowed hard, stepping out a little more from behind the safety of the cover of the wall, gun raising to level with the thief’s head.

But he kept shifting from foot to foot, making it hard for her to keep aim long enough to fire. If she did and he moved at the last second, she ran the risk of hitting Polly instead. If he could just be still for a moment longer…

From over the man’s shoulder, she saw Polly glance up from where her eyes had been lowered to the bag now clutched in her hands. Those dark eyes stared at the thief, boring into him in a look that promised nothing but pain and suffering in his future.

And then her gaze, likely without even her being conscious of it until it was too late, skipped past him, over his shoulder, to fix on Lucy taking aim at him from the doorway.

It was all the thief needed to alert him to someone being behind him.

Again utilizing that near inhuman speed, he turned, spinning in a near ninety-degree angle in the blink of an eye, at the same time taking a massive step back, out of Polly’s grasp should she have tried to seize at him. Lucy moved to duck back behind the corner, but he was already squeezing the trigger of his little gun, firing it off wildly three times.

A sudden blinding, fiery pain exploded behind her left ear. Agony radiated throughout her entire head, blinding her with a sharp, violent shock and a flash of bright white.

She was not granted any time to process what had happened. Following the flash of white, there was nothing but dark oblivion. She did not feel it as her body went crashing limply to the ground, already unconscious before she even hit the floor.

She did even realize that there was a bullet embedded in her skull.

∗ ∗ ∗

Polly stared, mouth half open in silent horror, at where Lucy’s body was crumpled on the floor. Half behind the doors leading to the kitchen, which she had been moving to duck behind for cover when the robber’s bullet had caught her in the back of the head. Polly had heard the sudden, bloody splat of bullet meeting blood and brain. Had seen the blood spray out onto the wall. Heard the heavy thump as Lucy went entirely limp all at once and collapsed to the hardwood floor.

My God, the girl was fucking dead.

She had always expected, the day when this event inevitably came, that she would be quietly relieved. Cheery, even. Obviously she would have to put up a mask of quiet sorrow, for Tommy’s sake. But when no one was looking, perhaps she would smile a little to herself, and open a bottle of sherry to celebrate. Finally that troublesome, meddling girl was no longer around to whisper her poisonous ideas and schemes into Tommy’s head. No longer would she sink her claws deeper into his flesh.

With her gone, he would finally listen to his Aunt Polly again. And her alone.

But today, she did not feel such relief or cheeriness. Instead all she felt was an empty weight of shock and horror pulling down inside her chest.

Perhaps she had not really wanted the girl dead as badly as she’s initally thought.

Or maybe she was just upset to see their best chance of taking this robber down fall dead to the floor.

Tommy was going to have an absolute fit.

Polly pursed her lips. He’d get over it, in time. Find someone else to hold his attention and keep his cock warm. And there were plenty of other men or women who could take on the duties of assistant, spy, or assassin for them. Soon he would forget all about the little red-head.

Forgetting about women they claimed to care for was what men did best, after all, Polly lamented to herself bitterly. For Tommy, with his heart of ice, it would probably be particularly easy.

Seeing an opportunity, with the man turned mostly towards the doors, Polly reached up for one of the pins in her hair.

“Don’t–!” he was back to facing her in an instant, chest heaving and eyes a little wide as though just realizing what he had done. The gun was in her face. “Don’t you fucking move.”

Polly slowly lowered her hand.

The man’s eyes darted towards the back, where they kept the safe, then back to Polly. “Open it.”

Her jaw set, chin lifting. “You can have the takings for today, but you’re not having what’s in that safe.”

His black eyes hardened, like two shards of obsidian shoved into his head.

Polly could only imagine what Tommy was going to do to those black eyes–and the rest of him–once he got his hands on this man. It didn’t matter what he took from the shop. They wouldn’t stop until they had found him. And then he would be fucked six ways to Sunday for what he’d just done.

But her pride kept her from going down without at least a little bit of a fight.

Still keeping the gun trained on her, he stooped down, and seized Esme, still dazed on the floor, by the hair. Polly winced at the little cry Esme let out as he dragged her towards him, gun cocking against her temple.

“Open it, or I shoot this one too.”

Polly stared at him for a moment, silently hating him for making her feel so helpless. In her head, she imagined all of the things she could do to him. With her hair pins, with her fists…

Keeping her spine straight and head high, she walked slowly to the safe. The robber followed her, snarling at Esme when she tried to struggle as he got a firmer grip on her.

Had it just been her, she might’ve considered telling the robber to go to hell. Or stalling until one of the boys inevitably came home. But she could not risk that, with the man’s gun pressed to Esme’s head. Poor John and the kids had already lost so much; they did not deserve to lose another wife and mother. Especially so soon after having gotten her.

She glanced over her shoulder, the robber still watching her, his arm around Esme, keeping her arms pinned to her sides while he held her tight to his front with the gun still leveled at her temple. Polly’s eyes darted down to the very small bump in Esme’s middle, only just recently starting to show, but unmistakable in its solid roundness.

It took a very specific type of despicable man to attack a pregnant woman, in Polly’s book.

But despite her pride, she could not risk Esme or the baby, and so, teeth gritted in silent fury, she started to turn the lock on the safe.

∗ ∗ ∗

The first thing Lucy was aware of was the pain. Her head felt like it was practically bursting with it, throbbing as she floated in and out of consciousness. Everything felt foggy, except the pain. That was sharp, persistent, and unlike anything she had ever felt before.

She drifted back into darkness for a while, and the next time she wandered back to wakefulness, she was a little more aware. Her cheek was pressed against something cool and hard, her limbs twisted in funny positions that were starting to ache.

Hesitantly, the movement alone taking almost all of her willpower, she cracked open her eyes.

She was lying on the floor of the Shelby’s kitchen, on her side. Half of her face, head, and the back of her neck felt sticky and wet. There was shouting in the distance. The bright lights and sunlight streaming in through the windows hurt her head. She was half tempted to shutter her eyes hard against it. But she didn’t.

There was something important she needed to do, but she couldn’t remember what. She tried to remember how she’d ended up on the floor. But thinking was so hard, and everything just hurt so much. Her eyes moved lazily about the room, searching for clues.

Clutched in her right hand, was her revolver. Her mind latched onto that. Had she been in a gunfight? Was she supposed to be shooting at someone?

Had she been shot? Was that why everything hurt? It was so hard to remember…

“Get on with it!” roared a voice from inside the betting shop. Lucy’s head turned a little without thinking at the sound, and the tiny movement alone was almost enough for her to blackout again.

Something had happened. She could not quite piece together what, but she was clearly injured. A rush of terror seized her. Was she dying?

All she could remember was that there was something wrong going on in the betting shop. Something that she needed to take care of. Taking a deep breath, she pressed her palms flat against the cool hardwood floor. Her limbs were shaking a little.

The first attempt to push herself up onto her hands ended with her almost vomiting, dry heaving a little while black spots danced across her vision. Her forearms shook violently, barely any strength remaining in them as she slowly, slowly, dragged herself on her belly across the floor, using her feet to push herself along towards the doors.

She collapsed on her front, chest heaving and sweat soaking her brow and her back from exertion. She had to stop to rest, eyes tempted to flutter shut. The floor was pleasantly cold against her face. She was wracked with chills, her heart thumping hard in her chest.

Exhaustedly, she raised her eyes to the interior of the shop.

Polly was hunched over the safe, spinning the dial. Behind her, Esme clutched tight in his arms, was a man. He had a small gun, no bigger or more serious that a fucking boyscout’s gun, really, pressed to Esme’s temple. His back to Lucy.

The robber. Yes, she remembered now. He broke in. He threatened Polly and Esme. He…

She couldn’t remember. Vaguely, she could recall taking aim at him, ducking away when he rounded on her…but that was all.

Weakly, she lifted the hand still somehow clutching her revolver. It was shaking terribly, but still, she squinted her eyes, aiming it at the back of the man’s skull.

She had to get him in one shot, or he’d kill Esme.

She grabbed her forearm with her other hand to steady it, what must have been a sudden burst of delayed adrenaline offering her a much needed helping of strength.

Swallowing hard, forcing herself to somehow focus beyond the pain in her skull, she willed her hand to be steady, taking deep breaths. The hand holding her forearm tightened, arm pressing into the floor for stability. On her next breath, she inhaled, and held the oxygen in her lungs.

The lock to the safe clicked, and Polly pushed the door open, stepping aside and turning back to the robber. Lucy’s hands finally steadied.

Now.

She squeezed the trigger. The crack of the shot was ear-shattering, causing her to cringe away at the spike of pain that the sound caused. Her arms went limp, all her energy spent taking aim and keeping them steady long enough to fire. Her revolver dangled limply from her palm.

Esme screamed. Blood sprayed out onto her, Polly, and the safe as the bullet passed cleanly through the back of the man’s head and out one of his eyes. Lucy stared weakly, but with satisfaction, at the little bloody crater left in the back of his head.

All was quiet for a moment, his body held in stiff, shocked stillness, before going limp and falling to the floor, half taking Esme down with him as he’d still had his arm around her.

There was commotion, from both Polly and Esme, the former attempting to help Esme scramble out of the dead man’s grasp.

Lucy did not pay either of them much mind. Instead, movements sluggish and a little uncoordinated, she reached out, to where her neck felt sticky and warm. Her fingertips met slickness, and when she pulled them away to look, they were a deep, dark crimson.

Fingertips trembling, she reached up a little higher, feeling at the space where the pain was the most localized, radiating in furious, rapid bursts just below her left ear.

Her index and middle fingers brushed against a wet mess of blood and ruined flesh, and then, horrifyingly, bone. And something else. Something soft and mushy.

A terrified moan left her lips, retracting her hand quickly at the realization that she’d just been touching her own brain.

Suddenly, she remembered. She remembered the sound of the gunshot. The explosion of pain in the back of her head. The ground rushing up to meet her.

There was scrambling, Esme’s shoes clattering against the floorboards as she raced towards the door. Blood, from when Lucy had shot the robber, was still in her hair and coating her face. Polly was rushing behind her, the front of her blouse and her face flecked with crimson.

“Polly,” Lucy croaked out. She sounded like a scared child, voice tiny and weak. She was not even sure if she could hear her. “Polly, don’t leave me…” she begged.

Polly stopped and stared at her for a moment, expression entirely unreadable. Lucy would never even be sure if she had heard her or not before she turned, and rushed out the door after Esme. A frightened little sob left Lucy’s lips, curling in on herself, revolver still clutched weakly in her right hand. Bleeding, alone, and dying.

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy smiled a little to himself as he watched John and Arthur banter and bicker a few paces ahead of him. Digging into one of his pockets, he flicked a few coins to some kids tottering down the streets. They squealed in excitement, rushing after the metal winking in the light of the setting sun. Tommy turned his smile away from them, eyes fixing on the door to the shop only a little ways up ahead.

Just in time to see Esme, face covered in blood, burst out the door.

“John!” she cried out when she saw them, racing to her husband and flinging her arms around him. He rushed forward to meet her, catching her in his arms and holding her close. Tommy’s smile died instantly, taking a concerned step forward.

“Hey, hey, whoa, what happened?” John asked, pushing Esme back by her shoulders just far enough to evaluate her. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, but Tommy could see that her hands were shaking a little.

There was a bang and a squeal as the door, broken and hanging by only one hinge, swung open again and Polly stepped out, face a little ashen and expression shaken. Trusting that John had Esme, Tommy moved to his aunt.

“What happened?”

“Tommy…” she reached out, to rest a sympathetic hand on his arm. The look in her eyes made his blood run cold.

“What?”

She took a deep breath. “A man broke in with a gun. Tried to steal today’s takings. He’s dead,” she added hastily, hand tightening on his arm when he moved to rush inside. “Lucy killed him.”

He blinked, gaze darting up to the door, expecting to see his little red-head standing there. “Lucy…?”

“Tommy…” her lips pressed together, and he saw something conflicted and consoling enter her dark eyes. “Tommy, I’m sorry.”

He stared at her for a long moment, hoping that somehow, he had misunderstood what she might mean by that, even though there was a tightening in his chest, that sick feeling, like when a grenade was thrown your way and you didn’t know if you would have time to get far enough away from it before it blew, had settled in his stomach.

“Where’s Lucy, Pol?” he asked, voice low. Her hand squeezed around his arm, her voice soft and a little unsteady–something he almost never heard out of Polly–as she spoke in a rough whisper.

“She’s dead. I think she’s dead.”

He stared at her, lips half parted, brow creased. Confused. Because Lucy could not be dead. She couldn’t be. He would have known if his Lucy was gone. With how entwined they were, surely he would have felt it.

And she couldn’t die. Not when he had her soul. He wouldn’t let her.

“Wha–” he staggered, slightly, and Polly caught at him by both arms, holding him uptight while her eyes darted around the street, mindful that there could be people watching. “What…how…?” it was like his mind had shuddered to a terrible, agonizing stop. He could barely even figure out how to form words.

Not his Lucy. Not her. Anyone but her. Not the woman he loved more than anything. He could not live without her.

He doubted he probably would even want to.

He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly realizing that he was starting to tremble. For a moment he thought that he might be sick.

She was just there. Just with him at the Garrison but a measly half hour ago before she decided to go to the house early to get some things ready for the family meeting. He had just seen her, smiling and resting her small hand on his chest, pecking him in quick goodbye before she departed. The smell of her perfume still lingered in the fabric of his coat where she had been leaning in close to him while they sat together and conversed at the table in the snug.

He could still see her smile, green eyes sparkling when she looked at him. Hear her soft, sweet laugh echoing in his head.

Please, no. No, no, no, no, no…

“The robber shot her. In the back of the head, I think. She managed to get him back, but I don’t think–Tommy!”

He heard Polly give a startled cry of his name as he suddenly wrenched himself from her grip and tore past her, barreling into the shop, breaking the other hinge that the door was hanging by with the force that he used to shove it open.

He hurtled past the desks, upturned chairs, and messed papers. He even rushed past the safe, door hanging wide open to leave the stacks of cash kept inside on full display. His shoes almost slipped on the pool of blood collecting beneath the body of the man strewn out in the middle of it all, a small squirrel gun clutched in one lifeless hand and a sizable hole in the back of his head.

Tommy stepped over him without even really looking at him, eyes scouring the shop for a glimpse of familiar red hair.

He rounded the corner, and swore that his heart stopped inside his chest.

She was laying on her side on the floor in the space of the doorway that led from the betting shop into the kitchen. Curled into a tiny ball, fair skin a terrifying shade of white, revolver clutched in her right hand, her eyes closed.

For a moment, he was certain that she was dead. The pool of dark blood around her was massive, soaking her hair, half of her face, and the back of her neck. With a weak, agonized sound, Tommy slid to his knees beside her mangled body, reaching out to cup one her soft cheeks. The palness of her skin made her freckles stand out starkly. His thumb stroked her cheek, lips trembling as he drew in a shaky breath, tears pricking behind his eyes.

“Oh, my girl…” he whispered, feeling the warmth of the first tears slip down his face. Reaching out with the hand not on her cheek, he moved to pull the revolver from her fingers.

In reaction to his first tug on it, a wheezing gasp suddenly sounded from her lungs and she stirred under his hand, fist tightening around the gun. Tommy’s eyes widened, lurching forward to lean over her.

“Lucy?”

Her eyes opened into narrow green slits, blinking slow and lazy, body rousing and twitching a little.

“Tommy?” her voice was almost inaudible, it was so faint, but he heard it all the same. A small sob burst from his lips.

“Hey,” he kept his voice soft and gentle, pushing a strand of blood soaked hair out of her face. “Hey, it’s me. I’m right here.”

She made a tiny sound, eyes closing for a moment. Her fingers loosened on the revolver, allowing him to pull it from her hand. Eyes opening again, he could see nothing but exhaustion and terror in them.

“Hurts,” she wheezed out.

“I know, I know,” he shifted over her, reaching around to the back of her head. “I need to see, okay?”

She closed her eyes again, nodding weakly, wincing at the movement.

Bending over her, he quickly found the source of all the blood: a tiny bullet wound, just under her left ear. The gun the man had been carrying was small, the ammunition tiny and light. That was probably the only reason why she was still alive.

He couldn’t even begin to consider what sort of damage had been done to her brain, if any. He’d seen men who had survived gunshot wounds to the head back in France. Some went on to walk about and function as if nothing had even happened. Others were left in near vegetative states, or lost major capabilities in their speech, movements, or memory.

She was moving and talking to him and clearly knew who he was. That had to be a good sign.

“I need to put pressure on it, love,” he said, already shucking off his coat. “This’ll hurt.”

“‘Mkay,” she mumbled. Balling up his coat, very slowly, as gently as he could, he turned her over slightly, until he could wedge the coat up under the wound, pressing down on it. She whimpered, small hand fisting in the front of his shirt.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he told her, even though he had truly no idea if it was or not. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, throat convulsing as he attempted to swallow down his panic. There would be time to properly freak the fuck out later. Doing so right now would do her no good, other than to probably scare her more than she already was.

“Tommy, I love you,” she whispered, and he battled back another sob.

“I love you too,” he dipped his head to kiss her blood-slicked forehead. “You’re going to be okay.”

She started to cry, big tears dripping down her cheeks. Tommy felt as though he’d been punched in the throat at the sight of them. “I’m scared.”

“I know, I know, sweetheart. It’s going to be alright, eh?” one hand still holding the coat firmly in place against her wound, he used the other to stroke her cheek. “I’m not going to let you die.”

She sniffled, looking back at him with those big, trusting eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, voice still as gentle as he could make it. “Save your strength,” he swiped away a few more tears that had rolled down her face, leaving tracks in the blood. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

“Tommy?” Arthur asked, stepping into the kitchen. “Jesus fuck,” he gasped when he saw Lucy.

“Call an ambulance,” he fought to keep his voice calm and commanding. “Tell them we have a woman here alive with a gunshot wound to the back of the head.”

Arthur didn’t need telling twice, scrambling from the room.

Lucy grabbed at his hand with shaking fingers, squeezing. Her eyes were pleading. “Don’t leave me.”

Tommy shook his head, adjusting his positioning on the floor beside her, still putting pressure on the wound and squeezing her hand back. Nothing, not even a gun to the head, could have pried him away from her.

“Never.”

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #my ocs #my fanfiction #love me where i'm most ruined #laur writes

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chick-with-wifi · 8 months

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Meta: Shaw doesn't need god mode

Shaw is the only main character who has never been in god mode (Root in 2x22 then periodically throughout the series, Reese in 2x22 and 4x22, Finch from 5x10 onwards) and this is because, due to her skills and style of operating, she doesn't need it.

She is extremely observant, so would receive no benefit from the Machine's updates about her surroundings. For example, she reads the room in 5x11 ("That guy has a bum leg, the one by the door still has the safety on, and she hasn't stopped shaking since she raised her gun.") with the same level of detail as the information the Machine gives out ("Sharp right leg. Left knee, ACL. Tactical blade. Glass jaw." 4x22).

This extends to awareness of approaching threats, so she doesn't require the Machine to tell her where to aim. In 2x22 when Reese is in god mode, she shoots an approaching enemy at the same time as him and continues to help throughout the scene. In 3x01 she uses two guns to take down a group of enemies, leaving them a groaning heap on the ground, much like Root does with help from the Machine in 3x10.

She achieves this through a mixture of quick reflexes and precise aiming, as shown through her shooting an enemy after seeing his shadow under the door in 2x16, shooting a perpetrator who is using a victim as a human shield by aiming through his jacket in 3x05 and reacting instantly when a sniper's red dot appears on Root in 3x21.

This ability to rapidly assess her environment and move with exact timing also factors into her signature move of sneaking up on people, demonstrated when she both appears and disappears on Reese in 2x21.

Shaw is excellent at reading people and gleans a lot of information from using this skill, so does not require any additional input from the Machine. In 2x21, she makes deductions easily from Reese's body language ("Can you track him? How? You put a bug on your friend?"). In 3x05, she can tell when Gen is lying ("There is no Agent Cross.") and later knows exactly what to say to persuade Gen to give her the location of the tapes ("I'm a spy too, remember?"). In 4x11, she is able to talk the bomber out of detonating his vest.

She also demonstrates incredible strategic planning, exemplified by her escape from Samaritan in 5x08 ("It's not like I'm gonna spill a glass of water on the nightstand, stomp on your foot, throw an elbow to your chin, and stick you with that sedative.") which parallels Root's escape from the psychiatric facility in 3x03 with the Machine's help ("First the phone on your desk will ring. She'll be letting me know it's time. Then I'll punch you in the carotid artery. It'll hurt, Ronald, but it won't kill you. Then I'll take your car keys.").

Her plans involve reacting in the moment and maximizing the resources available to her, so any further instructions would be a distraction. She does this both in smaller ways, such as taking the enemy's radio in 2x16 to keep updated on their movements and using her gun cartridge as a mirror to look down the hallway in 3x05.

And in larger ways, for example in 2x16 when she needs a place to lay low and get supplies, she kidnaps a drug dealer and uses their base of operations, likely because they won't call the police on her. In 3x05, she repeatedly ignores Finch's instructions to get medical help and instead follows the trail of clues stemming from a packet of drugs to successfully track down the people who took Gen, while stealing supplies from an ambulance and giving herself a blood transfusion in the field.

In conclusion, Shaw works best when given an objective and the freedom to choose for herself how to complete it. The ISA worked like this ("My call. We had the cesium. Seemed like the best way to cover our tracks." 2x16) and she excelled at it, as evidenced by Wilson calling her his "best operator" (2x16) and Hersh saying "Shaw is one of our best. Trained her myself. You're not gonna find her until she wants to be found." (2x16). In this episode Finch also asks her to stop running "because you're much too good at it and we can't keep up."

This makes her a very valuable asset to Team Machine, which is particularly well demonstrated in 4x11 when Shaw's arrival makes their chance of survival skyrocket from single digits to over 20%.

#Poi #Sameen shaw #Person of interest #Poi meta #My meta

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sentinelpri · 1 year

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Memento Mori

May 9th, Day 1: Victory/Defeat @sandsibweek

The moment Temari hears from Gaara that Asuma has been killed in a battle against two Akatsuki members, she rushes to Konohagakure on foot and makes her way to the Nara compound with some half-baked directions from local villagers. She’s exhausted, sweaty, and in desperate need of food and a shower by the time she gets there, but she knows now isn’t the time to relax, so she doesn’t. Instead, she knocks on Shikamaru’s door and tries to keep a straight face when he answers.

“Temari, what are you doing here?” Shikamaru questions like he normally would, but upon taking a closer look at him, Temari can tell he’s defeated.

Shikamaru has bags under his eyes unlike any Temari has seen before. His face is pale and ashy but simultaneously covered in tear streaks. While Shikamaru’s hair is tied up, it’s matted and Temari can just tell it hasn’t been brushed in days. To top it all off, instead of being in his standard uniform, Shikamaru is in nothing but pajama pants.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Temari explains.

“Heard about w-?” Shikamaru starts, but then he stops. A morbid look of realization washes over his face. As he sighs, Temari notices that he reeks of cigarette smoke. “Oh, you mean Asuma. Why do you care?”

It’s an awkward question to answer. Temari cares because she cares about Shikamaru. The ravenette was much closer to his sensei than Temari ever was to hers, she could tell by hearing how Shikamaru talked about Asuma or by how the two would interact when she was in town for work. Asuma’s death must be crushing him, but Temari has never had to comfort Shikamaru like this. Though they’re friends, they’re mostly comrades, only together because of their jobs. Now, Temari is here of her own free will and unsure of how to express that she’s only here because of her love for the man in front of her.

“I… Well, I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Again, why do you care? It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know you’re hurting,” Temari sighs. She’s tempted to yell at him for talking to her so rudely when she came all the way from Suna to comfort him, but he’s grieving right now. Temari has grieved many more times than Shikamaru has, and she knows it turns people into the nastiest versions of themselves. Yelling won’t work, nor will sarcasm or violence or anything else that she would normally use to communicate with Shikamaru. So, she forces herself to calm down, crosses her arms, and finishes her sentence. They don’t meet each other’s eyes. “But don’t pretend we aren’t friends.”

“Look, you have more important things to worry about and I already have plenty of people mother-henning me since Asuma was killed. I don’t need another, so just go home,” Shikamaru hisses and moves to close the front door, but before he can, Temari unsheathes her fan to stick it between the wooden door and its frame.

“I’m not leaving,” Temari insists despite the glare that Shikamaru shoots in her direction. “Even if I didn’t come here for you, Gaara sent me personally to pay respects to your sensei on behalf of Sunagakure. Asuma was a fine Jonin who did a lot of work that benefited both of our villages, so it’s only appropriate.”

“I guess it’s non-negotiable, then. Come on inside,” Shikamaru huffs and opens the door. Temari looks past him and into the house; it’s nice, large with dark wooden floors and rustic decor that her own parents would’ve enjoyed back when they were alive. Taking the open door as an invitation, Temari puts her fan away and walks into the Nara compound. Shikamaru shuts the door behind her. “Since the village is in disarray right now, you should probably stay here. We have an extra room. Hell, my mom’s making ramen right now, you interested? She always has extra for a friend.”

“Oh… Sure, I guess. Why not?” Temari nods, a little unsure.

She hasn’t had a dinner with a family, let alone her own, since before Gaara was born. Even back then, it was rare because of her father’s work. The memories are so blurry now that she’s not even sure they’re real. Part of her is jealous that Shikamaru gets to have this nice compound in the middle of nature with his normal, loving parents, but part of her is happy for him too. It’s good that he has the support during this trying time that she never got to.

Moments later, a man who she assumes to be Shikamaru’s dad (based on the identical hair, eyes, and face shape) walks from the kitchen to the living room, which is connected to the entryway that she and Shikamaru are currently standing in. He’s wearing a coat made of deerskin and gloves, and his face is covered in scars.

“Shikamaru, who’s this?” The tall, lanky Nara asks. “I didn’t know we were having a guest today, I would’ve cleaned up a bit.”

Temari looks around. The house is already fucking spotless.

“Dad, this is Temari, and Temari, this is my dad; Shikaku Nara,” Shikamaru introduces them.

“Shikamaru, is this that sand village girl you’ve been talking about?” Temari hears a woman’s voice, followed by said woman popping out of the kitchen much like Shikaku did moments before. Shikamaru’s mom is on the smaller side with long black hair and eyes that are the same color but a different shape than Shikamaru’s. “I’m so glad you finally brought her home, and to think I was getting scared you’d never bring a girl to meet us!”

Temari blushes, to which Shikamaru sighs.

“And that’s my mom, Yoshino Nara.”

“Dinner will be ready soon, why don’t you two go hang out for a bit while we finish cooking in here?” Yoshino offers.

“Okay, just let us know when dinner’s ready,” Shikamaru says, and then, he’s turning and walking down one of the few hallways connected to the living room.

Temari follows. They pass what looks like Shikamaru’s room with a shogi board set out in the middle. The board’s pieces are scattered about like Shikamaru was playing a game with someone that got interrupted.

“Shikamaru, how about a game of shogi?” Temari offers, knowing that it’s one of Shikamaru’s most enjoyed hobbies aside from watching clouds and spending time with his teammates. “It could help clear your mind.”

“No, I… That set up, it’s from the last game Asuma and I played. He had lunch with my family and I, and after that, we started this game but got called to a mission in the middle of it. I hadn’t had the time to reset it, but now… I can’t bring myself to. It’s one of the only things that I have left of him,” Shikamaru confesses. Temari’s stomach drops. Sure, she had no way of knowing, but now she feels bad for even asking about it… Not that Shikamaru wasn’t already thinking about Asuma, anyway. The two walk into the room, and Temari can’t help but stare down at the dusty shogi board. She thinks about how, just weeks before, Asuma and Shikamaru were casually playing, unaware of the fate that awaited them. When Shikamaru eventually cleans up the board and moves the pieces to their starting positions, Asuma’s dust-set fingerprints will be gone forever. “Proof that he was alive.”

“Shikamaru… It’s collecting dust.”

“I know, it was from a while ago,” Shikamaru stares down at the board just as Temari was moments before. There’s longing in his eyes, yearning for the world they lived in where Asuma was still alive. Such a short time ago. “I don’t know why I even told you that.”

Temari doesn’t know what to say, so for a few seconds, she doesn’t say anything. The two of them stare at the shogi board together as the sounds of Shikaku and Yoshino happily chatting and cooking together echo in the house.

“Hey,” Temari finally speaks after what feels like eternity. She places a hand on Shikamaru’s bare shoulder and flinches when she feels just how cold it is. But, when he looks at her, she offers a smile, because she doesn’t know how else to reassure him. “It’ll be okay.”

And in a heartbeat, Shikamaru places a hand on top of hers and lets out the shaky breath he was holding.

“I know.”

Dinner that night is awkward, to say the least. Shikaku is silent for the most part, clearly able to pick up on Shikamaru’s solemn mood. Yoshino, on the other hand, is either oblivious or just really bad at handling grieving people, because she spends the entire meal excitedly asking Temari questions and trying to make smalltalk with Shikamaru when the ravenette’s clearly in a different headspace than the rest of them.

The food is good, and Shikamaru’s parents are nice if not a little weird. Then again, most ninjas are weird. At least they’re better than Temari’s father was, and at least they’re alive. Temari retreats to her guest bedroom partway through the dinner with the excuse of being exhausted from her travels, which is only half-false. Exhaustion is nothing new to her and she could handle it if she really wanted to, but hearing Shikamaru’s parents casually talk about the funeral that’s supposed to happen for Asuma tomorrow had Temari uncomfortable beyond belief.

After catching a shower and gathering her thoughts, Temari listens for noise. It seems like the Naras have finished cleaning up their dinner and gone to bed for the night, so she creeps out of her guest room and goes to knock on Shikamaru’s door. Only, the door is already open and her knock pushes it further back to reveal that no one is in the room.

Where the hell could Shikamaru be at this late at night? There’s no way Lady Tsunade gave him a mission with Asuma’s funeral being tomorrow, so he must’ve gone out on his own… But why?

Temari puts on her shoes and a raincoat before looking out into the front yard through the living room window. Shikamaru is nowhere to be seen, but his shoes are by the door. Next, she looks to the backyard, which is where she finds him; pajamas soaked through by the falling rain, hair down, sat on the grass with a doe laying by his side and her fawn curled up in his lap.

Sighing, the blonde storms out through the back door and goes to Shikamaru, who doesn’t even react to her presence. He has a limp cigarette in his mouth that’s obviously been made unusable by the rain, but regardless of that, he keeps trying to light it back to life with the silver lighter in his hand.

“Shikamaru, why are you out here?” Temari demands. “You idiot, you’re going to get sick!”

“Have you ever thought about dying?”

Shikamaru doesn’t even look at her.

“...What?”

“I said, have you ever thought about dying, Temari?”

“Well, yes. Of course I have; you’d be a fool not to in our line of work,” Temari answers, taken aback by the question. She sits next to Shikamaru on the grass even though it’s wet and uncomfortable. Thunder booms in the background. “We could die any day. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. Even before Asuma died, there have been these times… I’ll be lying on the grass, staring at the clouds or with my team enjoying a meal. We’ll laugh and smile and tell stories together, and I’ll find myself stopping to think ‘if I die, will I lose this forever? Is there an afterlife? If so, is it good and do I still get to enjoy the things and the people that I love so much in this life? If not, what’s the point?’. There are even moments where our hands brush and I get that spark of electricity that jolts through my skin, and I wonder if after death it’s just this empty void where I’ll never get to feel that for you again.”

Hesitantly, Shikamaru reaches out. Temari holds his hand and intertwines their fingers. The ravenette’s skin is wet and clammy. But, just as he described, the electricity is there- just as it always has been.

“No one can answer that. It’s like you’ve said to me, why would you waste brain power on things you can’t figure out? Morality isn’t a problem for you to solve, it’s a part of life,” Temari says. “I’m sorry you’ve been put in this position.”

“Why are you here?”

“What?”

“You said your brother sent you to pay respects to Asuma on behalf of your village, right? You didn’t have to see me to do any of that. You could’ve just stayed in a hotel, talked to the Hokage, gone to the funeral, and gone home, but instead… You rushed to my side. Why?”

Temari debates on how to answer. She wants to lie, to stay guarded like she’s used to doing, but she knows that to get Shikamaru to open up, she has to open up a little too. So, she tells the truth.

“When my mother died, no one supported me. She was my best friend and she died, but I was stuck picking up the pieces for Kankuro and Gaara while my father worried about his duties as Kazekage,” Temari explains. She thinks to back then, to how she suddenly went from having a loving mother and a great relationship with Kankuro to feeling so alone and terrified. Even years after that, she spent most of her days worrying about whether or not Gaara would finally decide to snap and kill her up until he fought Naruto. “Then when my father died, we were all too busy putting the village back together and realigning with Konoha that I didn’t stop to think about it. Even though this is different, you deserve as many people to support you through this as you can possibly get, and… I get it. So, I rushed here. I didn’t even think about it.”

“I can’t get this cigarette to light,” Shikamaru complains, his voice cracking. Temari looks closer to see that he’s crying. There’s tears streaming down his cheeks and snot running from his nostrils. His eyes are puffy, and the sobs that come from between his chapped lips are loud and heart wrenching, but Temari can’t judge him. “No matter how many times I get the end to flicker back, the rain just keeps putting it out! I…”

“Shikamaru, that’s enough,” Temari firmly says and takes both the lighter and the cigarette from Shikamaru. The two deer get up and trot away to the forest at the back of the Nara compound as Temari pulls Shikamaru up off the ground. “Let’s get you inside.”

Temari walks Shikamaru inside, trying her best to ignore the trail of water they leave all over the nice hardwood floors. She hopes it dries well enough overnight for Shikamaru’s parents not to notice. After taking the ravenette to the bathroom, Temari goes to his room to grab him a change of clothes and a towel before joining him in the bathroom.

“I didn’t think you’d be the type of woman to take care of someone like this,” Shikamaru says as he undresses and dries himself off.

“I’m not, but you’re not just ‘someone’ to me,” Temari sighs and leans against the bathroom wall.

“This is embarrassing.”

Admittedly, the last thing Temari wants to do right now is stare at Shikamaru’s body. She’s always been curious about what his lanky form would look like underneath her much fuller one, how his delicate muscles would shift in reaction to her touches, but she’s seen him partially nude on joint missions enough times to be desensitized to it in a context like this. Plus, now that she’s running her emerald eyes over him, she thinks he’s lost weight from the stress. His collarbones are much more prominent than before, his chest appears somewhat sunken in, and she can see his top two ribs when he turns a certain way.

“Honestly, I’ve seen worse, and… You’re not bad looking.”

“Even though I’ve been bawling my eyes out for half an hour?” Shikamaru laughs as he changes into the clothes that Temari brought him, a t-shirt and loose boxers.

“Yeah, your face is only a little puffy. It’s not too bad, though you’d probably look a lot better if you slept. You’re getting bags under your eyes, and that is unsightly.”

“I know, I know, but I haven’t been able to sleep since…”

“Nightmares?”

“Nightmares.”

“Then you can sleep with me tonight,” Temari offers and grabs Shikamaru by the hand despite how his face turns strawberry red.

“But-!”

“I don’t care what it looks like or if it’s embarrassing or whatever. If you’re too prideful to reach out for help, Shikamaru, I’ll shove my way in and help you anyway,” Temari insists as they enter Shikamaru’s bedroom. They close the door and stumble through the dark to Shikamaru’s bed. While Shikamaru lies on the mattress on his back, Temari ditches her shoes, coat, and pants. “You clearly need to get some rest, and if having someone by your side will help, I really don’t care what the implication of sleeping with you is, you hear me?”

“...Yeah, I hear you.”

With that, Temari crawls in bed next to Shikamaru, who quickly turns to lay on his side and wraps his arms around Temari. She’s taken aback by the sudden touch, but she doesn’t complain as he buries his face in her chest and sighs. His whole body seems to relax.

Hesitantly, Temari wraps her arms around Shikamaru in return and asks-

“Are you okay?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No, thanks.”

“I’ll be here,” Temari says, because it’s the only way she’s figured out how to communicate her love to the man in front of her.

But, somehow, it seems like he’s already three steps ahead of her, because he responds-

“I love you, too.”

-and falls asleep.

#SandSibWeek #sand siblings #temari #shikamaru nara #shikatema #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden fanfiction #tw death #tw death mention #fluff and angst #fanfiction #oneshot #oneshots #drabble #drabbles

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massivedrickhead · 10 months

Text

Bechloe Week Day 8: "Why didn't you say anything?" "You needed me to be okay."

Words: 3314

Notes: You can't give me a prompt like that and expect me not to write a bunch of angst. I also can't resist using a zombie au any chance I get, so naturally that setting is involved too.

This was the first one I wrote for Bechloe week this year and it was the one I was most excited about, but I feel like I might have ruined it by getting too in depth witht he universe. I dunno, I feel like I liked it better when it was in my head.

Read on AO3

Chloe opened her eyes with a groan, her hand coming up to gingerly touch the back of her head that had hit the ground moments ago.

“Are you okay?” Beca asked, looking up from where she’d been staring at her hand, flexing it and wincing slightly.

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “Yeah, I think so. Jesus, it just came out of nowhere, did you get it?”

Beca nodded, gesturing to the creature at her feet that gave it’s last dying twitch.

She pulled the blue and yellow bandanna that had been tied around her wrist and began wapping it tightly around her hand.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asked, wincing as she touched her head again. “What happened?”

“My gun backfired,” Beca said, “it hurts like a bitch. Can you stand?”

“I think so,” Chloe said, holding out a hand so Beca could pull her to her feet. There was a spike of pain as soon as she put weight on it, but she bit down hard on her lip and swallowed the yelp that threatened to come out. She figured she must have twisted it when she was knocked off her feet.

“You good?” Beca asked. “Your head’s okay?”

“I’m fine,” Chloe said. “But it’ll be getting dark soon, I think we should find somewhere to hide out for the night.”

Chloe hated the dark at the best of times, but being out of the safety of their home like this was another thing entirely. They were completely out in the open. Completely exposed. It made Chloe shiver just to think about it. She also wasn’t sure how fast she’d be able to walk on this ankle, and she didn’t want to slow them down if they ended up needing to run.

“We’re only a few hours away from home,” Beca said, looking down at her watch. “We should keep moving.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, trusting that Beca knew what she was doing. She’d never lead them astray before, and Chloe knew she wouldn’t this time.

They walked in relative silence for hours. Both on high-alert, guns at the ready, ears straining for any sound that didn’t come from them.

The pain throbbing in Chloe’s ankle meant she didn’t notice Beca constantly checking her watch. She was too focused on putting one foot in front of the other to see the sheen of sweat on Beca’s head, or the way that her pace was beginning to slow.

“You’re limping,” Beca said. She sounded tired, but Chloe knew that she probably was. They were both tired, both hot, both scared.

“I’m fine,” Chloe replied.

Beca checked her watch and sighed. “Would you be able to run if you needed to?” She asked.

“Of course,” Chloe replied.

“Please don’t lie to me,” Beca said.

Chloe looked across at her. “I can run on my ankle,” she said. “It hurts like hell, but I can run on it.”

Beca nodded. “Good.”

“Can you shoot with that hand?” Chloe asked.

Beca looked down at it. Blood had soaked through the bandage, dark lines had begun creeping up her wrist.

“I can try,” she said, trying to wiggle her fingers but finding herself unable to. She let her hand drop to her side, hoping Chloe hadn’t noticed.

She would need her gun anymore soon anyway.

They kept walking until they were finally in sight of the small compound where they lived, and Chloe felt herself relax. She’d be home soon. They’d both be home soon. Aubrey could check out her ankle, and Beca’s hand, and they’d get patched up and everything would be fine.

They were near enough to the fence now that the guard dogs had noticed their approach. They came bounding up to the fence, and Chloe smiled in anticipation of their happy barks and wagging tails. They were always so pleased to see her.

As soon as they caught their scent, the dogs began growling, their hackles raised and teeth bared.

Chloe frowned. “Weird,” she said. “What do you think’s gotten into them?” She asked, turning to look at Beca.

Beca looked worse. Much worse. She was scarily pale, her eyes bloodshot, the veins beneath her skin becoming more prominent.

A cold shiver ran up Chloe’s back, and she swallowed hard.

“Beca?”

“I love you, Chloe,” Beca said, her voice on the verge of slurring. “You know that right?”

“Beca, what happened?”

“P-please say it back,” Beca said. “I n-need to hear it one last time.”

“You’re scaring me,” Chloe said, eyes filling with tears. “Baby, please tell me what’s going on?”

Beca shook her head, and she took a stumbling step backwards, away from Chloe. “Y-you should go ahead,” she said. She sounded so different that if Chloe hadn’t been watching her say the words, she would have thought it was someone else. It was as if each word was a struggle. As if she was having to pull them from somewhere. From something that wanted to take them away. “Go. Run. Don’t look b-back.”

Chloe’s heart was racing now as she grabbed hold of Beca’s hand and pulled the bloody bandana away.

She saw a bite, a perfect crescent of teeth marks, and her whole world ended.

“No,” she said, her voice a little over a whisper. “No!”

“Y-you n-need to leave,” Beca said. “R-run.”

Blood had started to drip from her nose, but her hands were shaking too much to wipe it away.

The dogs were going crazy now. Their barking bordering on frenzied as they climbed over each other, desperate to break free from the fence and kill this creature that threatened them.

“Why… Why didn’t you say anything?” Chloe said, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Beca looked at her, and now the blood was dripping from her ears. Red tears ran down her cheeks.

The blue eyes Chloe had fallen in love with were almost gone. Soon they’d be the same milky white as all the other monsters out there.

“You n-needed me to b-be okay,” Beca said. “And I n-needed to get you home.” Beca’s knees gave way as the infection began taking over her motor functions. It was spreading through her like a fire. It lit up each of her nerve endings causing pain she’d never experienced before, burning through every vein and artery that held her together. Deep within her she felt something different.

A hunger.

A primal, feral, hunger.

“I still need you to be okay,” Chloe sobbed, dropping to her knees beside Beca. “I can’t do this without you, I love you!”

“R-run,” Beca managed to choke out, her mouth beginning to open and close as if she had no choice in it. She was so hungry. “Get. Away. From. Me.” Her voice was more like a growl now. She had never been this hungry. She had never smelt anything so good. God, she wanted to eat this thing in front of her. She wanted to eat it so bad, and it wasn’t making any effort to run away.

“Chloe!” A voice boomed from behind them. “Get away from it!”

Beca’s head snapped towards the sound of the voice.

“Chloe!” The voice said again. It was Aubrey’s voice, Chloe realised, and she turned to see her standing a few feet away, her gun pointed at Beca.

Or the thing that had been Beca.

It let out a growl and lunged for Chloe, its jaw clenching and unclenching, mouth opening and closing as it fought for a bite - a taste - of Chloe.

Before it could sink its teeth into her neck, a shot rang out, and the dead weight of what had once been Chloe’s girlfriend slumped on top of her.

Chloe isn’t sure what happened next, but over the weeks and months that followed, Aubrey filled her in.

Other people had run through the gate to see what had caused the commotion, and they saw one of their own lying on their back with a bullet hole in their head. Pale eyes staring up at a sky they couldn’t see.

The dogs were no longer barking but howling, mournfully so, but they still didn’t drown out the noise coming from Chloe.

Aubrey, with help from Stacie, had half-carried her back through the compound while she desperately fought them to be able to return to Beca’s side.

“She’s dead,” Aubrey had said, struggling to keep her grip on Chloe’s arm. “She’s gone, Chloe. You need to calm down or you’re going to get yourself shot.”

“So shoot me,” Chloe had sobbed, the fight in her finally dying as she sank to her knees. “I don’t want to do this without her.”

Aubrey didn’t respond to that, and she and Stacie managed to get her into the infirmary. She didn’t fight them while they checked her for bites, and when Aubrey lightly prodded her now very swollen ankle she didn’t flinch.

Stacie took the padded cuffs that were attached to the bed and began fastening them around Chloe’s wrists, apologising as she did. Chloe didn’t acknowledge her.

“Do we need to do this?” Aubrey asked, wiping away the tears that she had finally allowed herself to shed.

“You know the rules,” Stacie said. “Twelve hours under surveillance, just in case.”

“Aubrey, Stacie,” Flo had burst into the infirmary, out of breath and in a panic. “They’re going to throw Beca in the pit.”

This got Chloe’s attention.

“No,” she said, tugging at her restraints now. “No, you can’t let them!”

“Are you armed?” Aubrey asked Flo.

“Always,” Flo said, lifting her shirt to reveal the gun tucked in her waistband.

“Watch Chloe,” Aubrey said. “Come on, Stacie.”

The pair ran back out of the infirmary and towards the compound gates where a crowd was still gathering.

“Put her down!” Stacie yelled as they broke through and reached the place where Beca had died.

“Bosses orders,” Bumper said, his hands tucked underneath Beca’s arms as he lifted her up. “Can’t leave it out here it’ll just attract more of them, it goes in the pit.”

“That’s Beca you’re talking about,” Aubrey said. “She’s one of us.”

“Was Beca,” he said. “Was one of us. Now it’s just another dead idiot, stupid enough to get bitt-”

He was cut off by Stacie’s fist connecting with his jaw, and he staggered back, dropping Beca to the ground.

Guns were drawn in seconds.

“She gets a funeral,” Aubrey said. “How many times did she save your sorry ass when we were all out there?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bumper said. “Rules are rules.”

“You didn’t say that when it was Amy,” Stacie said, taking a step closer, her gun raised higher as she stepped protectively in front of Beca.

“Don’t,” he said, arms shaking as he pointed his own gun at her. “That was different. She took herself out before she turned. She did what you’re supposed to do. That… thing you’re protecting was a coward.”

“Not another word,” Stacie said. “Or I swear to god, Bumper I will shoot you where you fucking stand.”

“I think that’s quite enough,” a voice said from behind them. They turned and saw Gail, the leader of their compound, walking towards them.

“Please,” Aubrey said to her, lowering her gun. “She should have a funeral. Chloe needs to be able to say goodbye.”

“No,” Gail said, simply. “I’m sure you’re an excellent shot, Aubrey, but the only real way to make sure these things stay dead is to burn them and do it quickly.”

“But… the pit? She deserves better than the pit.”

Gail shrugged. “I don’t know that it deserves anything. It isn’t Beca anymore, it’s a dead host. A husk. Have a funeral if you need to, but it won’t be with a body.”

“Then let us take her,” Stacie said. “Her family. If she’s going to be taken to the pit, it should be done by people who loved her.”

Bumper scoffed. “Fine by me.”

“As long as it’s done tonight, I don’t care who does it,” Gail said. “And if any of you ever cause a scene like this again, you’ll be out of here, mark my words.” She turned and left, and Bumper followed, barging into Stacie’s shoulder as he stormed past.

The crowd began to follow, until just Aubrey and Stacie were left.

“Are we actually taking her to the pit?” Aubrey asked.

“Fuck no,” Stacie said.

The pit was exactly as horrible as it sounded.

A pit in the ground where bodies of creatures were dumped and burned.

It was a way of lighting big fires that attracted minimal attention and it served as a trap to other creatures. They would consume their own if they needed, and a dead creature would often attract others to come feed on it. This way, when they came to investigate the smell, they would end up in the pit themselves, becoming trapped on the charred and jagged bones beneath them. Once a day the pit was checked, and any that had fallen in would be burned too.

It was a useful place, but it was a place that none of them had ever wanted to end up.

It was hard enough throwing in the anonymous dead creatures that occasionally stumbled across their compound, but when it was one of their own?

Neither of them could imagine throwing Beca’s body down there, watching it land amongst the blackened bones before it eventually joined them.

Stacie picked up the backpack of firewood, matches, and kindling that Bumper had left and she put it on.

“Get her legs,” Stacie said, her hands hooking under Beca’s arms.

“Hands behind her head,” Aubrey said.

“I know how to do it,” Stacie replied, adjusting so her elbows went under Beca’s arms, and her hands interlocked against the back of Beca’s skull. That way, if Aubrey hadn’t hit her in the right spot and she came back, she wouldn’t be able to bite Stacie as easily. “Get her legs,” Stacie said again.

Aubrey did as she was told, and the pair carried her away from the main area of the compound and towards the pit.

Rather than throwing her in however, they kept walking until they were out of sight of the compound, far enough away that no one would stumble upon her bones when they were done.

“Here looks good,” Stacie said, and they gently lay Beca down.

“If Gail finds out, we’re done for,” Aubrey said.

“I know,” Stacie replied.

Using the wood in the backpack, and whatever they could salvage from the pit, they built a small wooden pyre.

They worked in silence until it was done, one of them always watching the other’s back, gun’s at the ready.

When the fire was lit, they took a step back.

“Why… Why did she wait so long?” Aubrey asked Stacie as they watched their old friend disappear behind a wall of fire and smoke. “She always said… We’ve all always said that if we got bit, we wouldn’t wait and turn. There were bullets in her gun. In Chloe’s gun. Why did she wait?”

The decision to shoot had been an instinct for Aubrey. She didn’t know who she was shooting at. She had heard the dogs, had seen Chloe sobbing on the ground, and then had seen the creature lunge for her. She didn’t know it was Beca until after.

“Because Chloe wouldn’t have made it back if Beca had died,” Stacie said, her own jaw clenched as she tried her best not to cry.

“Chloe’s incredibly capable out there. She sprained her ankle, but she would have-”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Stacie said, cutting her off. “They were in love, ‘Bree. Do you think Chloe would have been able to get home after seeing Beca die? Do you think she’d have been able to stand, and walk however many hours they were away without falling apart?”

“I don’t know,” Aubrey said with a sigh, wiping away the tears on her cheeks.

“I’m not saying Chloe isn’t capable,” Stacie said. “I’m not saying she needed Beca to get her home. I’m saying when you lose the person you love… I think she’d have given up. And I think Beca would have done the same if Chloe had been the one to die.”

“I wish this hadn’t happened,” Aubrey said. “I wish she was still here. And I wish… I wish it wasn’t me who shot her.”

“You saved Chloe’s life,” Stacie said. “It wasn’t Beca anymore.”

“Well, Chloe might not thank me for that,” Aubrey said.

“Maybe not,” Stacie countered. “But just because she wants to die, doesn’t mean we have to let her.”

Aubrey’s hand found Stacie’s and she squeezed.

“If I die, you aren’t allowed to give up,” Aubrey said. “You aren’t allowed to follow me.”

Stacie squeezed her hand back. “You can’t boss me around from beyond the grave, Posen.”

They let out a small laugh, which died quickly as the fire before them crackled.

It had begun to die out. Soon there would be nothing left of the thing that had been Beca Mitchell.

“It’s getting dark,” Stacie said. “We should head back, this fire won’t be enough to keep them back, soon.”

“Yeah,” Aubrey said, wiping her eyes. “Goodbye, Beca. I’m… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

They walked back to the compound in silence, the smell of smoke clinging to their clothes.

If they turned back to look, they’d have seen the silhouettes of the creatures begin shambling towards the dying embers of the fire, looking to see if there was anything left for them.

As they reached the gate, the dogs began running up to sniff at them through the chain link fence.

The dogs’ tails wagged happily, and Aubrey and Stacie were allowed entry into the town.

Chloe was as curled on her side as she was able to be when they made it back to the infirmary.

“You did it,” Chloe said, not turning to look at them when they entered the room. “I can smell it on you.”

Aubrey looked around before she spoke. “Not the pit,” she said, quietly. “I promise.”

Chloe sniffed and nodded. “Thank you.”

“I can take over from here Flo,” Aubrey said.

“Actually I’d rather you didn’t,” Chloe said, her voice hollow. “I’m sure in a few days I’ll thank you for saving my life, but right now I can’t even look at you.”

“Chloe, that isn’t fair,” Stacie said.

“No,” Chloe replied. “Nothing about this is fucking fair.”

“What was I supposed to do, Chloe? Let her bite you?”

“Maybe,” Chloe said. “At least we’d have been together then.”

“One lover consuming another like that, it isn’t as romantic as you think,” Flo said. Chloe looked at her. They all remembered the story of her parents, and how she’d ended up coming to the compound alone. “Beca did what she did to save you, right? She could have saved herself some pain, and ended it before she turned, but she wanted to get you home safe. It would be a cruel way to repay her by throwing your life away like that.”

Chloe swallowed and tears spilled down her cheeks again. “I miss her,” she said, her voice wobbling. “I’m sorry, ‘Bree.”

“I know,” Aubrey said. “I’m sorry too.”

“I don’t know how to do this without her,” she said. “I don’t think I want to do this without her.”

“She wouldn’t want you to give up,” Stacie said. “So you have to try. You have to let us help you try.”

Chloe nodded, and tried to wipe her eyes, but the cuffs wouldn’t stretch that far.

“How many hours until I can get out of these?”

Aubrey checked her watch. “About eight.”

“Will you be here when they come off?” Chloe asked. Aubrey nodded and took a seat at her bedside. “Good. I’m really going to need a hug.”

40 notes · View notes

choasuqeen · 29 days

Text

may the odds (chrumblr whumblr day 4)

Trixi was up first, blinking. She looked around quickly, shaking Nia. “We’re back. In the box.”

The other girl woke with a start, grabbing Trixi and pulling herself up. “No. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

She watched Nia walk around quickly, looking for something, anything, different. It was the same 6 foot box, the same blood on the floor, the same stupid light. She knew it was fruitless, Nia did too, but she tried anyway. Just to do something. Just to not feel helpless. Because if she was helpless then she couldn’t protect Nia and if she got hurt then she failed her job. If she couldn’t protect them then what happened to their parents would- she glared at her head. Shut up.

Nia turned back to her, panic in her eyes, and Trixi steeled herself.

“What do we do?”

“First, we rest. I know you’re hurting.”

“It’s not as bad as-”

“Shut up. Sit.” She got a glare for her troubles, but Nia came and tucked herself under her arm. “We’re going to be ok. Take a breath.” She breathed with her, kissing the top of her head softly. “I’m here, and we’ll get out. Can you see where Maddox is?”

“No its- being weird again.”

She sighs. “How so?”

“It keeps moving too fast. Like he's jumping from one side of the world to the other. Why’d you choose him anyway?”

“He’s the only name I could remember.” She rolls her eyes. Nia goes quiet, and she does too, closing her eyes against the memories. She could protect them, they’d be ok.

A few minutes later she shoots them open again. Matt’s in front of her, walking through a door that disappears as soon as he’s through it. She curses, waking Nia. “How did you get here?”

He stops short. “Trixi? Where have you been? Nia’s with you, right?”

“I am.” Nia’s voice is soft, and he can hear her tapping. He never thought it would be a good thing to hear it again.

“We’re stuck.”

“How?”

Venatrix takes a deep breath, and sighs. “I don’t know. We’re in a concrete box. It’s small, with no windows or doors. I don’t remember how I got here, I just showed up. I’m pretty sure it’s the same for Nia.”

Nia nods, then says softly “Yeah, and your legs were cut up. She doesn’t know how that happened either.”

He was silent for a long moment, and then asked quietly “Cut up?”

Trixi looks at Nia, and she nods, hugging her. “Her calves were…cut across. The right one was almost gone. I stitched them up, with a medkit we were-” she pauses, thinking of the right word. “- given. They look like they’re healing much faster than normal though. How long have you been looking for us?”

“You’ve been gone for about three hours, Venatrix for two. Are you two ok?” His nose twitches as he sits down to their level, voice softer now.

“I think we are.” She looks at Trixi, who nods again. “As ok as we can be. We had to run earlier, there were spikes chasing us, but now we’re st- here again.”

He nods. “How long has it felt?”

Nia takes a stuttered breath, and it was Trixi’s turn. “For me, about two days. Nia, about three.”

He nods again, and they all go silent again.

“How did you get here?” Trixi repeats

“I walked through a door, while looking for you.”

NIa looked up, blinking. “The rooms bigger”

“What?” All three of them were up, looking at the, yes, now larger room, three chairs sitting around it.

“Go sit please!” The voice was back.

Matt looks confused, and Nia speaks quickly ”Rooms bigger, there's three chairs in a line to one wall.”

“No.” Trixi’s voice came, steely and angry.

“Oh? Why not?”

“We don’t need to. Let. Us. Out.”

“Sit!”

“No.”

“Now.” The voice sounded angry too now.

“No.”

Nia shrieked beside her, holding her arm. Blood was dripping from it, adding to the pile on the floor.

“Now.”

Trixi clenched her jaw, but let Nia lead her to a chair. Matt sat in another, and Nia went to sit in the last, eyes wide.

A THWIP and there were restraints around them. Nia screamed, Trixi cursed, Matt grunted.

“Right then! One of you will fight, the other two can stay.”

“Fight what?” Matt's voice was steady.

Both girls looked at each other, matching the others' panic. They were stuck. Helpless. And they knew what Matt would do.

“Whatever comes out that door!” In front of them, now, was a small wooden door. “Who wants to go?”

“I will.” And there it was. The other shoe. Trixi took a breath, and repeated, “I will.”

Nia’s eyes were wide, looking from one to the other.

“No, Venatrix.”

“Why not.” There was fire in her voice.

“You’ve suffered enough.”

“I can take it. I can fight, and you know it.”

“That doesn’t mean you should. You’re at a disadvantage.”

“So are you.”

He took a breath. “I won’t let you. It’s your job to protect Nia, it’s mine to make sure you can. You can’t protect her if you get much more hurt than this.”

“So you’re expecting to get hurt, and you still won’t let me?”

“Yes.”

“No. It’s my job to protect Nia, so let me.”

“You can, by staying safe.”

“You think this,” She looked around, “is safe?”

“Trixi.” It was soft, but even that single word got both their attention. “Let him.”

“No.” She swallowed hard, but shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Please?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well! Looks like we’ll have to do something else then.” She was back again. All three looked up instinctively, knowing there was nothing there.

“You two- '' The bonds unlatched on Venatrix and Matt’s chairs, “-fight each other. Whoever wins can pick who fights next.”

“Fine,” Trixi bit out. Matt just nodded. They both stood, walking to opposite edges of the room. Nia pulled her knees up, trying to breathe. She couldn’t shift and she hated it.

“Nia?” She looked up at Matt’s voice.

“Don’t watch.”

She looked at Trixi, who nodded, and she put her head down, tapping.

Venatrix circled, slowly. She knew Matt could hear her, but she hoped Nia’s tapping would help with that some. Her legs burned already, but she ignored that too. She had no knives, but she didn’t think he knew that.

She had circled long enough. She rushed at him, kicking once, twice. He dodged, swerving left. Coming behind her, he grabbed her arm and twisted.

“Give up Venatrix, before you get yourself hurt.”

“No.” She twisted into it, hooking her leg around his and pulling, gritting back her scream. Slipping out, she punched at his stomach.

“You don’t even have your knives.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He punched at her, and she dodged, falling to the floor.

She scrambled to get back up before he could get to her, circling again.

He ran, stepping twice before kicking her in the side. She hit the wall, grunting.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t care.” Running at him, she slipt, falling. Behind them, Nia yelped.

Her head was forced back, another band across the front of it, holding her in place.

“NIA” Venatrix rolled to the side, running toward her.

“Stop.”

They all froze, waiting.

“Go closer, and I hurt her again. Keep fighting. She can watch.”

“Let her go.”

“Keep fighting.”

“Let. Her. Go.”

“Do you think she wants to be cut on her arms or her legs?”

A step. “LET HER GO.”

Nia screams as a second cut shows up below the first one.

“NIA”

“What is happening?”

“She’s-” she chews on the words, before spitting out, “She’s making Nia watch. Us fight. And I can’t go near her. Or she’ll- she’ll cut her. Let her go YOU STUPID-”

Matt runs to Trixi, pulling her back by her hair. “Give it up, now.”

“No.” Grabbing his hand, she pulls them both forward, twisting so he hits the wall.

Nia gasps behind them, calling out.

Her legs burn, she can feel every nerve screaming at her. She wants to scream herself.

She shoved off him, pulling back. He follows, rushing her, and she rolls to the side, panting.

“Venatrix.”

“No.”

She kicks twice, again, and he stumbles.

“MATT”

“Vena-”

“No.”

He needs to find a way out of this without hurting her. Nia would never forgive him, he’d never forgive himself, if she got seriously hurt fighting him. She punches, and he grabs her arm. Pulling her with him, he presses her against the wall.

Nia’s trying not to close her eyes, she doesn’t want to see this, but she’s stuck and she’s scared and they’re fighting and they’re fighting.

“Give it up.”

“NO.”

He twists her arm, and she growls, shifting to fox, and back again, before circling. Matt can hear her footsteps, going in front, behind, and- he runs. Venatrix dodges, and Matt grabs Nia’s head, holding her.

“Give it up.”

“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

He leans forward, tapping play along. Slinging a hand around her neck, he repeats, “Give it up.”

Venatrix takes a breath. “No.”

He squeezes, just enough to tell Nia what he’s doing, and she starts coughing. “Give it up. Please.”

Trixi takes half a step forward, and Nia shakes her head, eyes wide. “Please don’t.”

“Remember what she did earlier.” His voice is different. It’s threatening, and he hates it.

Nia’s tapping gets faster as Venatrix reaches for knives that aren’t there, hesitating. “Let her go.”

“Sit down, and I will.” Nia looks up at her, pleading, and she goes, slowly, to her chair. And sits.

He pulls away immediately, sighing. The restraints are back on her, he can hear Nia’s tapping and Venatrix’s short, angered breaths. But they’re safe, and that's all that matters.

#chrumblr whumblr #chrumblr rp shenanigans #i dont think theres any tw here?#uh yeah fun #heheheheh

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fratboykate · 1 year

Note

And that time Yelena took 2 to the chest for Kate... does Kate kiss those scars? Does she run her hand across them in bed when she feels nervous?

Again...not EXACTLY this, but I think sort of answers your question :) Here's 1.8k of fluff.

---

Yelena is stretched out on a chaise lounge, sporting a bikini top and board shorts. Her toned arm is draped over her face, shielding her eyes from the sun's glare. Marrying a celebrity undeniably came with many downsides, but having a luxurious 60-foot lap infinity pool in her backyard, overlooking the sprawling expanse of Los Angeles from the hills, wasn't one of them. Yelena just capped an intense hour of training with a hundred laps in the pool. Now, she basks in the sun, not only to dry off but also because her body is fucking sore, rendering her temporarily immobile.

Unexpectedly, she feels the lounger sink slightly under the weight of another person. Before long, Kate's lips start a reverent trail up Yelena's body. A smile tugs at Yelena's lips, but she remains still, not uttering a word or moving a muscle. Kate's kisses explore every inch of exposed skin, pausing to give special attention to the two prominent scars on Yelena's chest. Among the other smaller scars, remnants of injuries sustained during basic training or deployments, the larger and darker ones beneath her right clavicle and left sternum stand out.

Kate does her best to block out that fateful day. She knows there's footage of the incident floating around the internet, but she’s never had the desire to watch it. Experiencing it firsthand was traumatic enough. She doesn't need to relive it. The only thing Kate vividly remembers from that exact moment is talking to a fan then seeing Yelena rush to move in front of her and shove her out of the way immediately before a series of deafening bangs shook the meet-and-greet room. Yelena went down, and chaos ensued. Kate remembers more about the aftermath than the actual shooting — the warmth of Yelena's blood, its viscous texture, and the distinct smell. Kate doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to forget the scent of Yelena’s blood as it poured out of her and onto Kate’s hands and thighs. She’ll also never forget how it felt as it dried on her skin or the feeling of desperately scrubbing her fingers in a hospital bathroom, attempting to cleanse herself of the stains. Those memories are forever etched in the brunette’s mind, so Kate kisses those scars with added reverence, hoping to keep the haunting images at bay.

"How am I supposed to memorize any of my lines when I look out the window and all I see is my hot wife lying here half-naked and alone?" Kate playfully remarks.

"Sounds very inconvenient." Yelena retorts, her voice tinged with amusement.

Kate continues her ascent, planting kisses along Yelena's body until she reaches her neck. She lingers there, placing a series of long kisses on and around Yelena's pulse point. Finally, Yelena moves the arm that rested beside her on the lounger, using it to wrap around Kate's waist and pulling her in close, effectively trapping her. Yelena keeps her other arm atop her eyes.

"I was trying to sleep.” Yelena complains.

"How rude of me.” Kate teases, nuzzling into Yelena's nape. With her left hand, she toys with the baby hairs at the back of Yelena's neck while her right hand delicately draws lazy figures over Yelena's torso. Once again, her fingers linger around the two scars, tracing circles with veneration. "Do they still hurt?" Yelena shakes her head slightly in lieu of verbalizing an answer. "I had a dream about it the other night. There was so much blood, it just kept coming, and you were lying there. I kept screaming your name, but your eyes were sort of...blank. Empty. Nothing behind them...I guess that sounds more like a nightmare."

Yelena's hand tightens its grip on Kate's waist, silently offering support and reassurance. Her touch is meant to be tangible proof that she is indeed here and that the dream was nothing more than a cruel trick her mind played on her.

"When was this?”

"A few weeks ago. When I was doing press in London. Maybe it was just the jetlag messing with my head."

"Sounds like it." Yelena mutters as she lazily caresses Kate’s hip.

"It scared me. It felt so real. I kept trying to feel your heartbeat, trying to make sure you were alive, but I didn’t feel it. I couldn’t.”

Yelena’s hand moves up from where it sat on the younger woman’s hip to clutch Kate's hand. Yelena briefly brings Kate’s hand to her lips for a tender kiss before placing the open palm over her chest, where her heart beats steadily. Kate can feel the rhythmic thumping against her hand.

"Still beating...that's real.” Yelena assures her.

Kate raises her head and seals their lips together. Yelena slightly shifts her forearm off her face, cracking one eye open to meet Kate's gaze, the vibrant blue orbs locked onto her own.

"You can never leave me. It's not allowed. I’d die.”

"So dramatic, Kate Bishop." Yelena ripostes with a faint smile.

"I mean it. You're like…vital to me. I need you."

"Seems like it's a good thing I'm not planning on going anywhere then." Yelena cups Kate's cheeks in her palms. "I'm here…it was just a dream."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Yelena lifts her head and leans in, kissing Kate's lips tenderly and reassuringly.

"But..." Yelena interjects, swiftly wrapping her arms around Kate's waist and lifting them both, effortlessly throwing Kate over her shoulder as she stands. Kate shrieks in surprise.

"Yel, what the fuck?!"

"...there have to be repercussions for not letting me sleep!" Yelena hollers mischievously as she charges forward and dives into the pool, still carrying Kate on her shoulder.

The fully clothed Kate gasps as they hit the water.

"Oh, that was uncalled for.” Kate grumbles, spraying water at her wife in retaliation.

"I was this close to a great nap.” Yelena retorts, splashing her back.

"Why does that mean I have to go swimming?!"

"My heart told me it's what you deserved, and I always listen to it.” Yelena offers with a grin.

Kate swims closer to Yelena, wrapping her legs and arms around her waist and neck, effectively clinging to her.

"Do you?" Kate asks.

"Always.” Yelena utters with certainty.

"Is it saying anything about afternoon sex?" Kate teases, her voice dripping with lust.

Yelena pretends to listen attentively to an invisible voice.

"Not that I can hear, no.”

"That's a shame... cuz I was gonna put out." Kate playfully laments.

"Were you?" Yelena raises an eyebrow.

"OH YEAH. It's kind of the whole reason I walked out here. The abs are distracting, but it's because they're verrrryyyyy sexy. Make my mind wander.”

"Is that so? Interesting."

"Uhum..."

"Where does it wander to exactly?" Yelena asks, her tone suggestive.

"You. Me. That lounger. No clothes."

"You do know there’s cameras everywhere, and the guys out front can see them, right?" Yelena reminds her.

"Free show! They can call it an employment perk." Kate suggests cheekily.

"I'm not having my guys watch me have sex with you." Yelena argues, shaking her head.

"LAME... I think that might make you a bad boss. They're probably bored. It would make their day infinitely more interesting." Kate argues in jest.

Yelena bursts into laughter.

"I'm still going to pass." Yelena insists.

“There are no cameras in our bedroom.”

"Correct.”

"Although... I wouldn't be opposed to that." Kate adds roguishly.

Yelena hangs her head back, amused by Kate's audacity.

"We're not making a sex tape.” Yelena states firmly through her chuckles.

"Once again...lame! I could use some...content when I go away on Wednesday. Something to keep me busy while I'm all alone at night.” Kate pouts, trying to convince Yelena.

Yelena leans in and presses her lips against Kate's before responding.

"I'm sticking by my answer."

Kate sighs, feigning disappointment.

"So unfair. Three whole months, sleeping by myself. Without you. What's a girl to do every night?"

"It won't be three months. I'm coming in June for a few weeks and then again in July AND August.”

"But you won't always be there! A little video might make me miss you less. That's all I'm saying.”

"No cameras while we're naked. That’s me speaking as both your wife and highly trusted security expert.” Yelena tells her categorically but lovingly.

“BOOOOOOOOO!”

Kate grouses in response and Yelena's laughter fills the air.

"Do I at least get to see you naked? Without the cameras?" Kate asks with a pout, leaning in for a kiss.

“Now?”

“When else, babe? Yes, I’m trying to get laid right now.”

Yelena shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

“Don’t you have a dinner to get ready for?”

Kate groans in realization.

“UGH. I totally forgot I have that thing with Eli. I would so much rather be here with you. I can cancel.”

Yelena gently caresses Kate's cheek.

“It’s work, Kate. Don’t cancel.”

“It’s not like I HAVE to meet him before we start shooting. I can meet him when we get to set.”

“You’ve said it helps you when you get to know your costars beforehand. Go to the dinner.”

Kate sighs, a mix of disappointment and desire evident on her face.

“I hate that you’re so good to me. Be less rational, please. I’m horny.”

Yelena cackles and walks to the pool stairs with Kate still clinging to her. Yelena effortlessly carries Kate’s extra weight around and makes her way to the lounger. She wraps her beach towel around both of them, creating a cozy cocoon, and starts heading in the direction of the house.

“Babyyyyyy...Come onnnnn…” Kate pleads. “I have time. I don’t even have to do my makeup. It’s just dinner. I’ll be a really good girl. Yeah?”

"Where do you think I'm taking you now?" Yelena's teasing smile widens as she responds.

"Ugh, you're the best wife ever.” Kate exclaims, holding onto Yelena tightly while they climb the stairs to the third floor.

Yelena's hands find their way to Kate's ass, giving her extra leverage as they make their way up. Suddenly, a thought crosses Kate's mind.

“Bed's gonna get wet.”

"I wasn't planning on using the bed." Yelena confidently tells her.

"I don't know what that means, but I'm FULLY invested already.” Kate responds, excitement evident in her voice.

Yelena chuckles and closes the door behind them as they enter the bedroom, ready to enjoy their intimate time together.

---

Three days later, Kate boarded a plane bound for Prague to begin filming the movie that would later garner her a second Academy Award nomination. Little did she know that this very film would also be the catalyst for the downfall of their marriage.

#kate x yelena #yelena x kate #kate bishop #yelena belova #bishlova #bishova #anonymous #answers #kybgau #kybgaup

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wardogxicarus · 1 year

Text

Fury Fed | Goodbye, Dragonfly

Tension sat deep in her shoulders as tremors periodically rippled through them. Shaky gasps rattled in her chest and throat while her eyes stung hard. No tears fell, though- she had none left to release. Yet still her crying and grief continued on. How could a single moment unravel her life? How could it rip away everything she was trying to build to escape and make a better life for herself?

Her love had been waning slowly for years. A feeling that was eroded away bit by bit every time she was scolded for “boyish” interests and ignoring her “familial duties”. That wasn’t a life she desired. She wanted to reach out to the stars and cling to the atmosphere. She wanted to chase that dream with a loving partner that supported her efforts. She wanted to pursue her interests in university and use it as her platform to launch.

And in a moment it was all gone. Her partner locked out, her enrollment pulled, her account eliminated, her means of normal escape torn away. All she was left with was the clothes on her back and the third story room she was locked away in like some dark fairy tale maiden. No agency, no power, no control. No future.

Denial passed by almost instantly, bargaining failed, depression was gripping her hard.

Gloria gasped for air again and lifted her head from her arms and stared hollowly out the window and into the night. It looked so peaceful out there, but she knew it was a farse. There was no peace in this town. She was about to cast her gaze back down when a new vision flashed across her eyes. A splash of iridescence in the light of a lamp.

The dragonfly landed in the sill, a single pane of glass separating her from the creature. It made her freeze in awe. The wings were beautiful and colorful, its body calm and unbothered by the dangerous of the outside world. It cleaned itself before turning its head as if to regard her. And then it flew.

Gloria was still, reddened eyes wide. Something so small and fragile appearing was free and confident. If an insect could find that, why couldn’t she?

Depression immediately waned, washed away by a tidal wave of fury. No, she was not going to live her life in a cage! In an instant, she was on her feet and opening the window. The drop was long, but she could climb down most of it if she was careful. So she did. Bare footed and clad in just a hoodie and shorts, the 19-year-old carefully scaled the walls. She was a mere story away when her footing gave way, though. Before she knew it, she struck the ground and felt a searing pain shoot through her shoulder. The hand of her good arm flew up to cover her mouth and stifle a scream and she lay on the mulch breathing heavily.

Minutes passed before the hurt became tolerable enough to move. Battered, mulch tangled in her locks, and scraped up, she carefully rose and took off. No one had noticed her absence yet, and hopefully they wouldn’t until it was too late.

Her feet carried her for who knew how far, but she ended up in a scarcely populated park. Years of free running to burn youthful energy made her skilled in traversing all sorts of environments, but that was with shoes on. The flesh of her feet were red and starting to bleed, the pain making it hard to take another stride, but still she pressed. She had to keep going to get away and make a plan.

Her gaze was cast backwards to see if she was being tailed. In doing so she rounded a bend on the pathway and collided with something firm, covered in fabric, and warm. The sudden change in stimulus made her yelp and stagger back.

“Hey!”

@monster-or-man

#| au | fury fed #| guest muse | shale #| tw | DA mention #| long post |#| tw | injury

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penguuthegentoo · 1 year

Text

The ball session had given me so many feels

These are all snippets from the ball and everyone tackling love in one way or another

A short lil story under the cut if y’all are interested 😌

It was not often that Bahari found her confidence shaken. That was just who she was-- the one who is unfaltering, nothing could put her down. But... his words for a moment made her feel a feeling she hadn't felt in many, many years. Insecurity.

"If I'm honest, this was not something I ever thought would be in the cards for me. But, sometimes when you know," he looked to her with a smile, "you know."

And for a moment, she was painfully aware of her position; his arm wrapped aroud hers, standing hip to hip. Those countless nights at the Jewel flash through her mind--his personal dinner date at his table, in perfect view of the rest of the establishment. Her eyes looked towards the crowd of nobles and aristocrats and in her mind something clicked.

His words should have made her estatic but instead they just made her cold.

"All you ever are and ever will be is a trophy to be looked at, but never heard." Her mother's words echoed vitrole in her head.

She suddenly wondered if that's all this really was? For who better to parade upon your arm or invite to your personal table than a famed muscian and adventurer? One of the ones who saved the Queen? What better way to appease yourself to the masses than with one of their own? She felt the doubt creep into her mind like a growing mold.

She registred Queen Oslyn opening up about her prediciment: she was to be wed whether she wanted to or not.

"I can't just marry for love, not when I have the city to consider."

Bahari's grip tightened on Praxys' arm and she felt him respond in kind. She looked to him for a moment--a look of acknowledgment and worry--and ever so slightly the doubt receded. He knew of her past--the key points of it anyway. If all she was, was a trophy... then he wouldn't express such concern and solidarity to her?

Would he?

- - -

The night continued on and she tried to not to let her doubt consume her more. She brushed her hair aside and let the mask settle into place.

Questions of automony, friendship, vultures and suddenly--

"--My position just wouldn't allow it. Especially not at events like this, where everyone’s looking at who everyone's with." The unspoken 'There are eyes on us' gripped Bahari by the throat.

"It's doubled edged sword, being seen positively or not. If I wasn't the attention whore I am, I'd much rather be seen with indifference." She passes it off as joke. Those eyes on her from every angle have never felt so perverse. She reveled in being seen, but not like this. On the stage she was in control of how and why people percieved her. She was in control of how they hear her. But here? Not for the first time that night she felt like an accessory.

Mentions of a performance for the queen have her bounding away from her partner before he can even open his mouth to respond.

- - -

Bahari felt her self dancing between pure affection and cold insecurity.

Their performance, as usual, was amazing. Up until her footing faltered and she found herself flying from the stage and out into the crowd. Familiar arms caught her with ease and whispered worried questions in her ear.

"Are you alright? You're not hurt?"

"Physically I'm peachy... it's my ego that's shattered." She can't keep the embarrassment and frustration from her voice at such a rookie mistake. "I've made an utter fool of myself." She feels all of those eyes. She wasn't perfect and they know-- he knows--

"Don't be ridiculous. You all are amazing-- you're amazing."

She looks to him with wide eyes before shooting a glance back to Dove, watching her try to clean up her mess as best she could. Her friend pivoted the focus to her, a show of 'this was all a part of the performance'. Bahari feels grateful to her. She looked to him again for a brief moment, trying to understand her waring emotions--then decides that she doesn't have the time for that and puts a pin in it. She instead leant up, kissed his cheek and said, "toss me."

And he does.

And, as if nothing had happened, the concert resumes and she felt her grip on the room return to her.

All eyes are on her, because she has crafted it that way. Not as a trophy, but as a spectacle of her creation.

- - -

With the impromptu concert compelete she feels she can finally steal away for a moment. She sent her partner a look at that says, 'Talk to me?'

He easily deciphered the look and followed after her. Eyes stick to her back the whole way until she found some secluded balcony. The air is crisp and she inhaled deeply, letting it soothe her frazzled nerves. Praxys wore a look that whispered curiosity and affection as he met her out in the evening air.

Before he can open her mouth she's already asking her question.

"Earlier you said to the Queen, 'you know when you know'," about us "did you mean that?" She wrung her paws together, allowing herself to be vulnerable, "do you... do you know?"

She almost didn't ask. She wasn't ready for her fears to be confirmed--that all it ever was, was an image to keep. That all she ever was, was a trophy to show off.

Bahari had told him that she was all in. That she was here for it all, good and bad. But... if it was a mere game to him then... she promised herself she wouldn't let herself be someone's toy ever again.

His response surprised her. From his jacket, he pulled a small hand harp. He spoke of how he had been reminded of how near and dear music was to him--because of her. How he had wanted to have her play on his enchanted harp so that he could always listen to her music even when she wasn't near. But that he feared the conotations of such a request, fearing she'd think he'd only want her for her music, and not for her.

Bahari was uncharacteristically speechless as she gazed at the instrument. Without much thought, she reached out for it and plucked gently at the strings, the tune intimately familiar to her but unknown to the world.

When she finished she placed the harp in his hands and said in a shaky whisper, "now that you have your song, I hope you don't forget the one who played it."

He tucked the harp into his coat with surprising speed before he took her hands softly, but firmly, into his. "The harp is a mere echo of what I have in front of me right now." The dull hum of the party competes with the thumping of Bahari's heart. "My wish is that we can enjoy this evening together, until the sun's risen and much longer--if you’ll have me." Maybe it wasn't just her heart she was hearing.

She felt the doubt melt away, leaving her head and heart fuzzy and warm. She allowed herself a smile as she squeezed his hands.

She wasn't a trophy. Not to him or to anyone else. She was just... Bahari. And that thought filled her with relief.

Out of view of prying eyes, she grabbed his frilly neck tie and pulled him down for a kiss.

"As if I could ever say no to such a request."

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allfandoms-writings · 1 year

Text

― 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

summary: years after Kisaki’s death, Akito is already living her life the way she planned it to be. the head of her father’s organization, married to a successful man, still holds the utmost power. albeit, there’s a certain phantom that comes back into her life.

warnings: flashbacks, infidelity, yakuza themes, slight manga spoilers, angst, not beta read

word count: 9.8K

Part Two

“Papa, I want a boyfriend.”

Haruya turns to his daughter with a near-incredulous look. Bewilderment in his eyes and a half smile forming on his thin lips. Never in his years of giving Akito life, did he expects this question out of her. She was always on top of her studies, cares for her Korean friend like a doting sister, busy with her volleyball club activities, and hanging out at his businesses.

When has his little princess discovered a crush on a boy? She goes to an all-girls school.

Akito takes a step forward into her father’s meeting room where two other men sit at the long table. Holding a sweet smile and her hands behind her back, she leans forward a bit with the silk ribbons of her sash around her waist falling forward. Despite the youthful and lithe appearance, there’s a darker feeling coming from the teenager that unsettles the men at the meeting table.

“Can I have a boyfriend, Papa?” Akito asks sweetly her smile unyielding. “I passed this semester’s exams and helped Yurichiko’s sales go up by three percent.”

Haruya’s eyes glance at the men before turning his attention back to her. “Akito, we can talk about your request after this meeting. You know the rules, sweetheart.” He tells her in a professional tone, clearing his throat and shooting her a warning gaze.

She frowns but quickly smiles again, “Fine~” she stands up back straight and walks out of the meeting room.

The moment the doors close behind her, her smile disappears into a scowl, and storms down the long hallway. Maids attempted to ask what was wrong, only to be yelled at and to know their place. The women are silenced and the fellow butlers turn away from the angered girl.

Akito usually keeps a level head and tries to keep her temper tantrums to a bare minimum with each passing year. Although she greatly dislikes it when her father, her dear loving father, pushes her wants aside because of a couple of men. It annoys her to no end.

So badly, she wants to throw items and push antiques off of furniture and kick in the rice paper doors. She wants to hurt the men around her and even break a few skulls. But she refrains to keep her father happy. She refrains just so she can get what she wants.

Disappearing into her large bedroom, she shouts to not allow anyone in before slamming the door behind her. Breathing heavy breaths with her hands shaking from wanting to hit something, she attempts to compose herself and takes deep breaths. Losing the tension in her shoulders and relaxing her hands, she then walks over to her large window and climbs onto the windowsill. Grabbing one of the many plushes her father has gotten her, she hugs it close to her and looks out the window into the night.

Taking another deep breath, she relaxes more with a frown on her lips. Below her window is the eight-foot wall that acts as a barrier between the Kira estate and the rest of Tokyo. Ever since she was a little girl, she always envied the clear view of the other side of the wall and saw groups of friends being able to meet so freely. Or even secret lovers using her family’s estate as a meeting spot for its low traffic chances. This time around, the other side of her family’s wall now acts as a meetup spot for various delinquents.

One of them being for Kisaki Tetta and Hanma Shuji.

She sighs dreamily seeing the tall boy lean against a tree with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Hugging the large plush cat tighter into her, she buries half of her face into the soft fabric. She knows she's blushing at the mere sight of the boy, the way her heart rams inside her chest, and the constant need to be near him. She’s only met him a few times, but those few times had struck a string in her chest.

Akito wants Hanma despite knowing he’s absolutely no good for her. She wants him. She wants to be adored by him. She wants to engulf herself in his embrace and take in every scent he gives off; cologne or blood or sweat, she doesn’t care. She wants him, and she wants him badly.

She silently questions herself why couldn’t she fall in love with someone like Draken who is the definition of a trophy husband, or even Chifuyu who holds that duality of a man, or even Mikey who holds absolute power? But none of them ever made her heart jump as hard as Hanma, even when they barely ever spoke to each other.

It makes her wonder if this was the feeling that her mother felt when she met her father. Knowing that the man was no good for her, she still got what she wanted, and fell even more in love with him. In times like this, Akito misses her mother and wishes she could ask her for advice on what to do about a crush that feels so constricting. It makes her heartache and feels lonely inside the large house that mostly consists of men.

There’s a knock at her bedroom door, followed by the voice of her father.

“Can I come in, Sweetheart? I apologize for my negligence during my meeting. You know Papa has business to take care of.”

She stays silent, leaning up to draw the sheer curtains to hide what or who she is staring at. “Yes, come in.” She finally responds and props herself up against the wall.

Her father enters her bedroom, a bit in shock at how she’s sitting in the dark and only allowing the moonlight to give her room light. He crosses her room to join her on the windowsill that once his wife used to sit with her at. He frows seeing Akito stare out the window hugging the giant plushie. He knows she is upset with him.

“May I sit?” He asks, she looks up at him before nodding and looking back out the window. He sits next to her, turning and bringing his leg on the windowsill. “Are you okay, my little Oyabun?” He asks in a gentle voice, countering the colder one from earlier.

“I want a boyfriend, Papa.” She bluntly mumbles into her plush, disregarding her flushed cheeks.

He half smiles, “What brought on that question?” He asks with a light laugh and now leaning closer to her with a twinkle in his eyes. “Is it a boy idol? Or a boy you saw at the arcade?" He hums in a teasing manner.

“No,” she shakes her head, slowly turning to look at her father with a smile. “Just a boy I met while out with Yun-Yun.”

Her father’s eyes widen at his daughter’s claim. His chest tightens as well his father senses start to take place, settling in with protectiveness. How on earth did his little Akito able to meet a boy when he’s sure he always has some of his men keeping an eye on her while she’s out with her friends? As overbearing as Haruya sounds, he doesn’t want his only child to be hurt by some low-life boy.

“Who is this boy?” He asks with an eyebrow-raising.

She shrugs, “Dunno. I like him enough to want to know who he is.” She responds and looks out the window again through the sheer curtains.

Her father crosses his arms and holds his head up with his eyes closed. “No boyfriends, Akito.” He states firmly.

“But Papa, don’t you want me to learn heartbreak as a teenager than suffering as an adult?” She coins, turning back to look at her father with innocent eyes. He peeks an eye open at her with a skeptical gaze, “I’ve read articles that it’s more difficult to handle heartbreak as a functioning adult than a carefree teenager.”

He sighs, knowing that she puts up a fair argument. He doesn’t want to see his little girl cry over a boy, but he also doesn’t want to see the future head of his organization crumble. Akito needs to be strong mentally and have her own resolutions to run his organization when she’s old enough. He’s just not too sure if she’ll be able to get over the heartbreak.

He doesn’t want her to go through the same anguish he did when her mother died. But he hates to admit it, Akito does remind him a lot of her mother. Her word choice especially.

“I promise I won’t let him hinder my studies or hurt me!” She pleads, her amber eyes glowing in the moonlight with a glint of unyielding determination. “I’ll hurt him before he could hurt me!”

He stares at her firmly before crumbling. He sighs and relaxes his shoulders with his hands falling to his knees. She’s definitely Senjumaru’s daughter with that twisted determined gaze. He should give his daughter the benefit of the doubt and discover the world. He knows his wife wouldn’t want him to be controlling every aspect of her life.

“Okay, you twisted my arm, my little Oyabun.” Akito smiles at her father’s resolve. “But under two conditions.”

“Yes, Papa?” She replies with her smile genuine with excitement.

“I need to meet this boy and I have to approve of him. If you decide to get married to this boy, I need to know if he’ll be a good fit within our family.” He tells her firmly, holding up two fingers and leaning slightly closer to her with a slight frown. “If he hurts you in any way, I’ll personally take care of him.”

She giddily jumps into her father’s arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and giggling. “Thank you, Papa!”

And a boyfriend she got nine months later. Convincing Mikey to allow Kisaki to unite Vahalla and Toman was a piece of cake to Akito, albeit she discovered Kisaki’s infatuation with her. But after months of sneaking into Toman’s meetings and doing what she could to get closer to Hanma, she was able to weasel herself into his life. Amusing and piquing his interest enough, after a while, his attention was not just on Kisaki, but on her.

Shocking both Kenjaku and Toman, Akito and Hanma were like proud peacocks displaying their newfound relationship. Both get into trouble together, fight together, running from the cops, and even claim a love hotel as their new hideout from the world. They knew their love scared their gang members, terrifying the random people on the street for their strong auras.

Who’d want to mess with Kabuchiko’s Grim Reaper and The Yakuza’s Princess? It’s a royal and her executioner, it only guarantees death .

Hanma met Akito’s terrifying over-protective father, and much to their surprise, Haruya approved of him for his daughter. Keeping her Yakuza lifestyle from him as much as she could, Hanma would assure her that her family doesn’t scare him one bit. She never knew what he meant by that since she was also fearful of her own family. But Hanma is Hanma— he’ll find the most obscure things amusing.

For a year, Akito felt she was at the top of the world. Her gang grew in numbers and strength, guaranteed passes in her final exams, got acceptance letters to various colleges around the country, and had the boy she wanted by her side. Everything looked to have fallen into place for her and she was eating it up to the fullest.

But then in a snap, Akito’s world seemed to have crumbled when Kisaki Tetta died.

Quietly approaching the scene, Akito’s eyes fall on the fresh corpse on the road with blood pooling around the boy. From the sidelines, she couldn’t help but morbidly laugh at Kisaki’s mangled limbs. Now getting closer, she couldn’t help but look down in disgust at the scene. Every one of his limbs was broken beyond repair and the amount of blood coming from his head alone was already locked in his death. Not even her family’s doctors can save him.

Sounds of footsteps approach the scene, making her turn away from the grotesque scene. Her heart falls out of her chest hearing his gasp and his glowing amber eyes widen, losing their shine and dulling over in an instant. He doesn’t notice her as his attention is solely on Kisaki’s mangled corpse on the road. He doesn’t even ask what happened.

A sob comes from Hanma the longer he stares and ignores the falling snow and chilly breeze. She wants to gently approach him, but she doesn’t know how to. Taking a half step closer to him, she freezes seeing a smile stretch across his lips and a chuckle.

“What a grand way to die…”

“Shuji,” she calls out though her voice is small and even wavering. She doesn’t know why she feels scared or even nervous. “Shuji, are you..?”

His eyes shift to the side to look at her with a broken gaze and tears rolling down his cheeks. “Akito… what’re you doin’ here?” He asks with his voice trying to sound cold but cracks.

She’s cautious as she steps closer to him, her hands lifting to reach out to him but they don’t go any farther. Her eyebrows knit upwards and her lips part, feeling her heart shatter at the wholly broken look of her lover. Hanma Shuji isn’t the type to show too much emotion or even cry. Hearing his silent sobs and that broken smile on his lips has her shaking. she’s seen that look before, she knows she has.

“Y-you shouldn’t be here.” He turns to face her and his hands move to his pockets. Sounds of distant sirens fill the quiet and thick air around them. “Daddy’s gonna be pissed finding his daughter fucking around with a bunch of delinquents.”

“Come, Shuji…” is all she was able to spit out, her voice wavering. Her hand reached for him, “we gotta go. The cops are coming.”

“Kisaki’s dead. everything is hitting the fan,” he dryly laughs between his shaking breaths. “I'm gonna be a wanted man, Akito.”

She shakes her head, “Come with me, Shuji! please, I’ll protect you! we’ll be okay!” Her voice is shaking and broken yet pleading, taking another step closer to him. “We gotta go, Shu. Please, don’t go home alone.”

He looks back at Kisaki’s body and back at Akito’s fear-written eyes. She’s begging him to go with her, but he doesn’t want to leave Kisaki’s corpse alone. The sounds of sirens start to come closer and people start to surround the scene. She’s right and he’s right; neither of them should be there.

Akito takes Hanma back to their hideout at a love hotel, checking in for the night and tipping the workers more than she should keep their silence. Once in their room, he breaks down and allows himself to fully cry and mourn his best friend’s death. She holds him close to her, rubbing his back and listening to his cries. She feels guilty for Kisaki’s death, knowing she had the chance to prevent it but chose not to.

That night was heavier than every other night they spent in that love hotel. Their shower and bath together weren’t as intimate as they usually are. He leans against her and allows her to wash his hair, his hands are barely even touching her and his eyes are hollow. Getting him dressed in clean clothes, she orders them food but he barely touches his food.

That night going to sleep in each other’s arms was the last time she’d feel his warmth. That morning came and she woke up alone in bed. No note, no message on her phone, or even any trace he was there.

But like any loyal dog would, Akito waited for Hanma to come back to her. Every day after her club activities, she’ll return to the love hotel in hopes that Hanma will come back. He told her that he loves her and he’ll always fall back on her. She promised him loyalty and to always be there for him whenever he needs her.

Though the days of waiting turned into weeks, and then months , Akito waits for him outside the hotel, perking up at any tall male in hopes he’d be her lover. Though he never showed up. Yet, Akito still stayed persistent and firm on her promise. Even if Yeong-Ja and Kariya told her that Hanma fell off the radar, or that even members of Toman would try to take her home and tell her that Hanma was gone.

Each night, she stayed up until two, whispering goodnights to herself and wishing he was there with her. Everything she did was for him.

She didn’t want to let go. Hanma belongs to Akito.

“Akito, what’re you doing here in the rain?”

She looks up from her arms, and a hollow smile forms on her lips hoping the deep voice was Hanma. But her blurry vision from crying clears to see the second division captain of Toman standing before her. a scowl forms at her lips, turning away from him like a feral cat, and glares.

“Get lost, Mitsuya.” She growls lowly in a warning. “It’s none of your business to know why I’m outside.”

“It’s freezing outside!” He says almost flatly, walking under the overhead of the entrance of the love hotel. “Are you still waiting for him?”

She remains silent and keeps her eyes on the ground. Hoping that as long she doesn’t give him attention, he’ll leave. She is wishing to every deity that Hanma would come back and sweep her away from the boys in Toman as he would before.

He sighs. “He’s not coming back, Akito. It’s been three months since he disappeared.”

“He will come back.” She stubbornly grumbles, her arms hugging her legs tighter to her chest. “Shuji belongs to me. He has to come back.”

He blinks his eyes at her with concern and sympathy. He moves closer to her and crouches down before her. He offers her his jacket again but she turns away from him. Dressed in clothing that is not suitable for the rainy weather is already a bad move for Akito, but to see her hair drenched with her long bangs sticking to the side of her face makes her look more deranged.

“He promised he wouldn’t leave me!”

Tears start to roll down her cheeks and her voice cracks. “Everyone is leaving me!” She cries with a shaking lower lip and her nails digging into her pale flesh. “Yun-Yun is going back home to Seoul, Kariya is moving with the twins, Mikey left Tokyo after Emma’s death, Draken doesn’t talk to anyone anymore, and papa has been getting more and more upset with me! everyone is leaving me behind! I’m going to be all alone again! Shuji is supposed to be here by my side! he promised me he wouldn’t leave me!”

By the end of her tangent, she’s sobbing and choking on her breaths. That once strong, ruthless, and eccentric girl that Mitsuya knew Akito as was completely gone. It breaks his chest to hear the hurt and fear in her voice. Her shoulders shake and her hands feebly move to wipe the tears in her eyes away. It’s sad to see how realistic and delusional she is; being aware that Hanma is gone but is clinging to the promise he couldn’t keep.

When Mitsuya was younger, he remembers hearing on the news that a former model and her daughter were kidnapped and months later found, but the mother risked her life to protect her daughter. First meeting Akito, he thought she looked familiar with her natural beauty and yet it didn’t click in his head that she was that little girl that was on the news years ago. Not until at a Toman meeting, Draken started yelling at her then she fell on her knees and begged and cried for him to stop yelling and she’d be a good girl. That’s when he put the pieces together and overheard Yeong-Ja and Mikey talking about her manic episode.

To Akito, the friendships she has made with people are everything to her. Having such a significant change in her life is something she couldn’t handle. She already had her tantrum after Yeong-Ja told her she was leaving after they graduate and Kariya told her she was moving away with her brothers. The poor girl couldn’t handle it and began to shut everyone out.

“You’re not alone, Akito.” Mitsuya’s smooth voice had her looking up at him with her hands momentarily pausing from wiping away her tears. He smiles at her warmly and then drapes his jacket over her. “I’m here with you right now, aren’t I? We’re friends and I care about you.”

She stares at him with fearful and teary eyes in a distrusting manner, though she wants to believe everything he’s saying. When has Mitsuya ever turned his back on someone? She flinches as his fingers brush her cheeks to wipe away her tears. His touch is warm and tender, reminding her of the touch of her mother whom she thought she had forgotten. It scares her.

“I can’t say much for Hanma but I’m not going anywhere, Akito. But if you want to vent or anything, I’m here for you.” He reassures her and fixes the sides of his jacket to cover her up more. “I’m going to be going to Bunka Fashion College, so I’ll still be around and you can come visit me whenever you want.”

“Y-you won’t leave me?” Her voice is meek and her eyes hold a hopeful look in them, almost childlike.

He shakes his head. “Not in the literal sense. I’ll be busy but I’ll always answer the phone if you call or message me.”

Just then, he’s getting knocked back with her hands fisting the collar of his sweater, and tears rolling down her cheeks. “Swear it! Swear you won’t leave me! Swear that you’ll stay by my side! No matter what, Mitsuya Takashi!” She’s wailing and begging him with a shake of his sweater.

He stares up at her in shock. He doesn’t know if he did the right thing or not but with those tears in her eyes, he’d just about to say anything to get her to stop crying. He can’t help but be reminded of when Luna and Mana would cry for their mother and he wouldn’t know what else to tell them to get them to stop.

“Swear you’ll stay by my side forever! Don’t leave me behind! Please, I’ll do whatever to keep you by my side, no matter what! Swear you won’t abandon me like Shuji!”

“Akito, you overthink too much.” He chuckles with a smile, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him. She tenses up before quickly clinging onto him and crying into his shoulder. “I swear to not leave you, Akito. no matter what, I’ll be by your side.”

And as he promised, Mitsuya never left Akito’s side. Everyone called him crazy for it but he didn’t care as long she wasn’t lashing out and waiting outside that love hotel anymore. Or even starting trouble with the cops in an attempt to get Hanma’s attention that wasn’t there.

Most of the guys in Toman thought it was strange how anytime Kenjaku would be overhearing their meetings, Mitsuya would gravitate to Akito. At first, none of them thought much about it until Hakkai would try to intimidate Akito, but his trouble with talking to girls added to the killer look in her eyes terrified him. To no one’s surprise, Hakkai getting particularly overprotective of Mitsuya was normal, but when it came to Akito, he didn’t want her anywhere near him.

She always knew when she was being glared at during meetings, though she had a solid idea who was the number one glare. Unlike what the other members of Toman believed, she rather felt flattered to be hated and feared by Hakkai. After all, she comes from a scary background and scary girl in general.

But it didn’t sway her reputation in her school and home life. Mitsuya would invite Akito to his club room when they’d create plans and he’d be running a bit late. Without waiting for Peh to come to guide her in, Akito strides into the school with a friendly smile and hands held behind her back. Every student that stays after school for various activities believes she’s some kind of celebrity by her beauty and private school uniform alone.

The vice president of Home Ec, Yasuda, was even off-put by Akito’s confidence to stride on in. Assuming that she was a competitor from another school trying to spy on their projects, she tried to scare her off. though, Akito’s sweet voice and respectful attitude charmed and even flustered Yasuda. What shocked Yasuda was how Mitsuya greeted Akito with a hug and held up the current dress he was working on. Was her president dating someone that looks like a celebrity and lives in a completely different world from them? Did Akito even know Mitsuya is a famous delinquent at their school?

Time start to fly by the pair rather quickly, and each time they saw each other, the closer they were becoming. The more tame Akito seemed to be getting with each passing meeting they had. before anyone saw it, they started a romantic relationship and Akito’s obsession with looking for Hanma came to an end. She has someone else now to love and go crazy for, and Mitsuya is her best bet to help her heal and mature.

Shortly after graduation, Yeong-Ja left for Korea, and Kariya moved away with her brothers to start their own business. Thus leading Akito to disband Kenjaku so she can focus on her college studies. Shortly after Kenjaku’s disbandment was Toman following, Mikey came to the decision that everyone deserves to live their lives the way they want to before he left. So Toman respected their leader’s decision and began their own lives.

Draken started up his own motor shop, Chifuyu opened his own pet shop with Baji, and Mitsuya headed into Bunka as he planned. as for everyone else, they headed off their own ways, some even joining other gangs. Kenjaku and Toman were officially disbanded for they no longer need to keep running around in the streets and stirring up trouble.

Soon later, Mitsuya starts up his brand and Akito helps him reach his lifelong dream to become a fashion designer. Then shortly after, her father started to let her take more control of his organization, making her more powerful than she was before. She couldn’t help but feel happy that everything she had planned was falling into place. But the cherry on top of everything was when she jokingly asked Mitsuya to marry her, and he agreed before revealing a shiny ring.

****

“Lady Mitsuya!”

The woman stops her movements to the elevator, turning with her long trench coat swaying past her. Short black hair moves with her effortlessly and shines in the LED lights of the building, her red tassel earrings flutter in movement. Her sharp amber eyes shift to the young girl who approaches her and hesitates once she meets her gaze.

The young girl lowers her head with her stomach feeling uneasy being under her boss’s gaze. Though that woman looks fairly harmless, she has witnessed her freakouts and scary incidents. Her hands move in front of her rather than behind her, her fingers begin to play with the work badge that displays a picture of her and her name.

“Yes, Assistant Meiko?” The woman answers smoothly with her maroon-painted lips curling into a smile.

“Your husband wanted me to give you a message that he moved dinner with his sisters to Thursday.” The young girl says, trying not to sound scared but her timid stance is a dead giveaway. “He wants you to enjoy your day off instead of having you worry about the dinner.”

The woman’s expression falls to boredom and almost annoyance, but she closes her eyes and hums. “Ah~ Takashi is too kind. I don’t deserve his love.” She muses to herself before looking back at her assistant. “Thank you for the message. You’re dismissed after filing the documents for the upcoming fashion event.”

She turns on her heel, reaching for the elevator button. With the sound of her assistant walking off, she sighs and frowns. Cursing to herself as she walks into the elevator for allowing some college intern to be her assistant. She is a firm believer that women can be strong and be toughened up with some tough love, but with the newer generations start to make her doubt that. They’re becoming too soft and fearful of their bosses.

Kenjaku was never like that. All the girls respected her and freely spoke their minds when she allowed them to.

But as Takashi had said before, Akito just holds that intimidating aura naturally. It makes her believe that maybe he shouldn’t have given her the job of being the vice president of Twin Dragons. She wasn’t even a twin or a dragon. It should’ve been a brand with a name synonymous with the owners of the title; Takashi and Draken. She’s just the girl who made his brand go big from her father’s connections.

But she couldn’t help but cave when he mentioned the cute thought of being a husband and wife team. Even her father encouraged the thought and tried to convince her to try out modeling like her late mother. But then he quickly turned on the idea. The last thing either Takashi or Haruya would want is for Akito to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

Walking out of the tall building, Akito runs a hand through her short asymmetrical hair. Taking in a deep breath of the night’s air, she tried her best to relieve herself of the day’s stress and irritations. Now beginning to plan to start looking into newer candidates to be her assistant, someone she can count on and who isn’t scared to speak their mind. Unfortunately, Meiko isn’t cut for that role. She’s too timid and clumsy, and often takes double glances at Takashi when he wants to eat lunch with her. Akito can’t have an assistant that checks out her husband too much.

It wasn’t often Akito gets off of work not too late and possibly just in time for dinner. Looking forward to Takashi’s cooking and hearing all about his day off and time for himself. Something about the domestic side of their relationship makes her warm and fuzzy, his loyalty that lingers since the day he swore to her makes her heart swell. She smiles to herself and reaches into her coat’s pocket to pull out her phone to message him she’ll be home shortly.

In the midst of typing out her message, smoke wafts past her as someone walks by, and immediately, she recognizes the scent. Her eyes widen and her finger automatically locks her phone before she whips around to find where the cigarette smoke is coming from. No one smokes cheap cigarettes on this side of the city. Let alone have a distinctive scent that she thought she had long forgotten.

A tall hooded person with their hands in the pockets of the jacket strides down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of her. Her breathing hitches as her head tells her that it was on coincidence and to hurry home. But her body moves on its own, taking steps towards the person and her hand reaching for their shoulder. Her heartbeat is loud in her ears and silently wishes it was him.

The man turns to look down at her with a scowl. She jumps in her skin at his stubble, curly black hair, and sunken eyes. Glancing at the front of his hoodie, there’s a logo for a nightclub in the opposite direction of where the man was heading. But it relieves her pounding heart that it wasn’t him .

“Can I help you, missy?” The man lets out in a gruff voice with the cigarette hanging from his lips.

She quickly retracts her hand from his shoulder and clears her throat. “My apologies for the startlement. May I get a cigarette from you?” She asks defiantly, trying to play off her own disappointment and not to make this situation even weirder.

He scoffs and pulls out the pack of cigarettes, shaking the box slightly, and holds it to her. “You look awfully fancy to be bumming a cigarette off of a stranger.”

“Left my pack at home and I need one right now.” She says and takes a cigarette from his pack. Turning on her heel and placing the stick between her lips, she starts to walk off. “Thank you. Have a goodnight, sir.”

She doesn’t give the man a second glance as she walks away quickly. Internally cringing how awkward that interaction was. Akito doesn’t even smoke, let alone do any drugs in general. Her father never allowed it nor did she desire it. Yet, here she is walking away with an unlit cigarette between her lips while thinking of the boy that always smokes this particular brand of cigarettes.

She shouldn’t even be thinking about him. He isn’t in her life anymore and he left her behind, breaking his promise to her. She’s happier with the man she’s married to anyways. Takashi held his word while Hanma left her after his best friend died. Takashi didn’t leave her after Draken was thrown in jail for a few years.

She pulls up the collar of her trench coat feeling the chilly autumn air breeze past her. Grumbling to herself, she tries to force herself to shove the thought of Hanma back into the depths of her mind. She’s married to someone better, more mature, more successful, more loving, and more caring. Everything Hanma wasn’t to her. She loves Takashi, she knows she does. She wouldn’t have asked him to marry her if he wasn’t and invited him to live with her on her family’s estate.

Turning down an alleyway as a shortcut to home, Akito hardly misses the silhouette in the alley until she smells that familiar smoke scent again. Sniffing the air while trying not to look strange, she stops in her tracks and takes the cigarette from between her lips. Like before, she can feel a pair of piercing amber eyes burning into her soul.

Just then there’s a sound of movement from behind her that puts her on edge. She doesn’t know whether to move or continue walking. It has to be a weird coincidence again. There’s no way he’s back; it has to be one of those weird hallucinations she used to get as a child. He’s gone. He’s gone. Hanma Shuji is gone.

“Move, Lady.”

A man shoves past her and his voice makes her lose her breath and freeze in her spot. He takes his hand out of his pocket to take his cigarette from his lips, and when a motion light turns on, that is when she sees that uncanny tattoo.

‘ Punishment ’

She watches him walk away from her, feeling that void form in her chest all over again. That pain she felt when he left her alone in bed and the on-coming days returned. Tears pool in her eyes as she remembers screaming out into the void for him to come back to her. And here he is right in front of her walking away, probably not even recognizing it is her.

Her feet start to move on their own as a shaky breath leaves her chest. That heartache she thought she got over is returning and coming back in full swing. She can’t let him get away this time, not when he’s within her reach. Hanma belongs to Akito, he promised that and swore to her.

“Shuji!” She calls out in a cry, making the man momentarily stop in his tracks. She’s now running for him, almost tripping in her heels against the asphalt below them. As she reaches him, he turns and his eyes widen in shock, the cigarette falling from his fingers and onto the ground. “Shuji!”

“ Akito… ”

In an instant, she’s wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him tight to her with inky tears rolling down her cheeks. He smells like he hasn’t showered in days but she doesn’t care because, underneath that filth, she can smell his natural musk. He feels skinnier than before, but she knows it's still him. She forces herself to look up at him through her teary eyes, and her heart swells and cries loudly in her chest. His hair reaches down to his shoulders, still somehow keeping that blond in his hair, and even seems to have overgrown bangs that cover one of his eyes. Oh, his eyes! Now rimmed with dark circles and still dull from when the last time she’s seen him. It breaks her heart even more.

Hanma is too stunned to move or even react. Who he thought was just some random pretty lady walking down an alleyway is actually Akito. She looks so much different from the last time he’s seen her. Her long and silky hair is now cut into an asymmetrical bob. Her clothing is more feminine than the androgynous clothing she used to wear, even sporting more makeup by the black streaks that go down her cheeks and red painted lips.

He smirks, “Miss me, Princess?”

She opens her mouth to say his name but a sob bubbles out and she cries into his dark hoodie. She wants to hit him, kick him until he’s bloody, and maybe even break his legs to prevent him from leaving her again. But all she could do is cry and wail out his name, holding onto him while terrified that if she were to let go, he’ll be gone again.

Making sure he won’t leave her again, she drags him along with her to a hotel. At first, he tries to pull away from her but in his movement, he finally got a whiff of himself. Reluctantly following her in her death grip to the hotel; needing a shower and maybe not bumming in someone’s shed again. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt comfort when he became a fugitive. The new question that arises is why is Akito eerily calm after crying her eyes out, or how she hasn’t said another word to him.

To no surprise, the hotel she picks is some fancy high-end Love Hotel. The staff at first tried to kick them out due to Hanma’s dirty appearance, but they immediately were silenced by the small stack of cash Akito pulls out of her coat’s pocket. They take her offering and allow her to check out a room for them, promising their utmost service to her. Something that Hanma keeps note of is that Akito still has her Yakuza tendencies, regardless of the situation.

Once they get into their hotel room which is bigger than the hotel room they used to get when they were teenagers, Akito orders him to strip and get into the shower. He doesn’t complain, rather starts stripping in front of her without a second thought. The moment he goes into the shower with the glass door shutting behind him, she leaves the room with a huff. Standing outside the door were two suited men with their hands crossed in front of them. She acknowledges their existence before ordering them to make sure Hanma doesn’t leave as she steps out. The men nod their heads and step in front of the door.

She swiftly leaves the hotel and pulls out her phone, opening the unsent message to Mitsuya. She thinks for a moment before erasing the message and retyping that she won’t be home until late and she was called for an impromptu meeting with some businessmen. When she reaches a clothing shop, she gets a message from Mitsuya wishing her to be safe on her way home.

Quickly shopping for some nice clothes, she pays for what she finds and immediately leaves. Before heading back to the hotel, she stops by a convenience store to buy a few more items. The thought of walking out of that hotel with a grungy Hanma disgusts her to the core. Sure, as a teenager, he smelt of sweat, blood, and the faint scent of shoyu ramen, but it didn’t compare to the dirty musk that came off of him. It makes her skin crawl and she hugged him like that and cried on him. She needed new clothes too, and possibly a shower.

By the time she got back to the hotel room, she walks in to see Hanma in only a towel and shoving the hotel food in his mouth. She blinks at him a few times in muted shock that he already helped himself to the resources. He knows it's on her card so, of course, he’ll just help himself to anything because he’s broke. She doesn’t know why, but it annoys her.

Without another thought, she throws the bag of clothes at him as well as the bag from the convenience store. He drops his chopsticks to catch the clothing bag, his eyes widen at her and she crosses her arms under her chest.

“I bought you new clothes to wear instead of those rags,” Akito says in a near-cold voice, looking down at him and trying her hardest to not let her eyes travel more down his body. “After you’re done eating, get dressed. We’re going to have a long talk, Shuji.”

“Okay.” He responds with bits of rice from his curry falling from his mouth as he chews.

He doesn’t know what else she wants to talk about if she looks that upset. But who is he to complain if she’s letting him get away with ordering more than half the hotel’s dinner menu?

She goes to shower, leaving him alone to his own decisions.

He continues to eat his feast, haphazardly wiping his greasy fingers from the french fries grease on a napkin. Picking up the clothing bag, he opens up the paper bag, pushing past the tissue paper and looking inside. His eyes widen as he pulls up a freshly pressed white dress shirt, he fishes for the tag to see its name brand and his heart drops reading the price. He sets the shirt aside to find black pinstriped slacks, a couple of vests in either solid black or pinstriped, more white shirts, a couple of stripped ties, and a pair of black leather gloves.

Digging into the bottom of the bag, he finds the receipt and sucks in a sharp breath. Akito currently hates his guts— At least he thinks so. Why is she buying him overly expensive clothes? Is this a sign of her pity for him being a fugitive? Or was this a joke she was playing on him? He can never understand completely what the hell goes on inside her skull, even when they were together.

Akito is and will always be crazy to Hanma, and he loved her for it. She has just as many— if not more screws loose than he and Kisaki combined. But this little spoiling was a bit outrageous and for what reason?

The woman in question comes out of the shower in nothing but the silk bathrobe the hotel offers. Her makeup was cleaned up and her hair was untouched from the water as if she didn’t even shower. Hanma looks up from the clothes she’s bought him with a slightly amused yet dumbfounded gaze at her. She walks up to him and stands on the other side of the table with her arms crossed under her chest and leaning on one leg. Her gaze is more judgment than displeasure, her lips formed into a slight frown, and a singular eyebrow lifts.

“I thought I told you to get dressed.” She inquires with disdain, her amber eyes flicking between the bag of clothes and him.

“I’m still eating.” He retorts quickly with a smirk, Sin then reaches for another french fry and places it in his mouth. Grinning as he chews and watches her face contort with more annoyance. “Why are ya spending so much money on me, Princess ?” His voice is teasing.

“I can’t be seen with a man who dresses like he lives in a dumpster. Be grateful I bought you some nice clothes.” She sneers and narrows her eyes at him, ignoring her heartbeat racing in her chest.

There’s a tense silence falling between them. Akito stares at him with furrowed brows as he continues to stare up at her, purposely eating extremely slowly with a shit-eating grin curling his lips. Her impatience grows and his knack for riling her up amuses him even further. Neither of them even realizes the intense stare they have at each other as if it was a magnet keeping them together.

There are a few more beats of silence before she’s kicking the table to knock over the food with a loud growl. The standing lamp gets knocked over and falls to the floor, dimming the room with light barely peaking through the blinds and the light behind the TV stand. Hanma’s heart drops watching his dinner and empty plates go flying and slamming against the wall, he glares up at him with a scowl.

“What the fuck, Akito!” He shouts in anger, but she doesn’t falter and stomps up to him.

Her foot slams against his bare chest and she leans closer, putting her weight on him. “Why are you fucking here, Shuji?!” She shouts in retaliation, watching him slightly wince at her tone. “You’re supposed to be fucking gone for good! You left me! Why did you show up in this part of the city? You’re supposed to be gone!”

“In my defense, I didn’t recognize you—” He counters but it earns him her foot stomping in his chest.

“Liar! You knew! You fucking knew I was here! You had enough space to walk by me, and you still bumped into me! Kisaki had to do something with you leaving me!” She shouts with anger and bares her teeth, sucking in a breath. He stares up at her with his eyebrows furrowing and a frown forming on his lips. “You always liked him more than me! You wanted to get away from me under his last dying wish! Kisaki’s death was the fucking catalyst for that!”

“Don’t bring up fucking Kisaki! He had nothing to do with me leaving you!” He growls back at her, his hand moving to her ankle and gripping it. Her hand quickly shoots for his wrist, preventing him from moving her off of him. “I care about you more than anyone else, Akito! Yes, Kisaki’s death was part of my disappearance but has it ever crossed your mind that I fucking left to protect you?”

She gasps in slight shock, her eyes widening. His amber eyes don’t move away from hers, almost being able to read her like a book. Before he could try to push her off of him, she’s grabbing him by his jaw and yanks him closer to her.

“Liar!”

He remains eerily calm despite his own anger rising inside. “It’s an unwavering truth. Even now.”

“You’re full of fucking shit! You’ve never cared for anyone but Kisaki!” She growls back, her gaze remaining hard on him but the way his expression relaxes almost makes her grip weaken.

“For someone so smart, you’re really retarded.” He chuckles dryly and gazes up at her. “I left because I didn’t want you to become an accomplice of Kisaki for Izana and Draken’s little girlfriend's death. Your dear old dad would have me killed if he still saw me sticking around and hiding with you, Akito. I care about you more than I have for Kisaki, believe it or not. Kisaki told me from the get-go that I was nothing but a tool to him despite he soon turned into my closest friend.”

“You still chose him over me, Shuji.” She seethes through her teeth, her grip on his jaw moves, and falls to her side. “You still fucking left me.”

“Like I had a choice! Either I get arrested and thrown in the slammer or, I fucking deal with the wrath of fucking Haruya for fucking around with his daughter! I chose the latter!”

She shakes her head with a scoff. “You could’ve left me a note.”

“You’d still try to find me, you crazy bitch.” He retorts with a smirk. Something shiny catches his eye and looks down at the hand that is holding his wrist at her ankle. Wrapped around her ring finger is a silver band with a sapphire and diamonds on the side. “Oh? Does the mister know about me? I’m sure he doesn’t know you’re telling him you’re at work and not interrogating your ex-boyfriend half-naked.”

She glances down at where he looks, her heart wavers for a moment and she sucks in a breath. “He doesn’t like associating with my business. Therefore, he won’t know.” She states coldly.

Akito loves Takashi, she does. Unfortunately for Takashi, Akito loves revenge and her possessions even more. Hanma is one of those things that she loves and holds dear to her. Though, love is a strong word and hate wouldn’t fit that either.

“He sounds pathetic.” Hanma spits back.

“He’s more successful than you’ll ever be.” She growls, “He loves me and never left me.”

“I didn’t leave you.” His eyes flicker back up to meet her icy ones. “I’m not gonna deal with your tantrum. I gave you my answer as to why I left. I didn’t want to, but I had to.”

She removes her foot from his chest and straddles his lap, her hand coming back up to his neck with a pocket knife held to his neck. He stares at her in disbelief, though he doesn’t move to feel the tip of the knife touching his neck. “Did you ever love me, Shuji?”

“What are ya gonna do? Stab me to death?” He muses with his lips curling. “You’ll only be doing me a favor.”

She shakes her head and leans closer to him, “Answer my fucking question.”

He smirks with a huff leaving his nostrils. “I didn’t ever stop.” Her eyes widen at his bluntness, she wants to take it as a lie but his eyes say it all, and his lack of fight. “I love you, Akito. I always have and always will. I will beat the shit out of the sorry excuse of a husband if I have to prove that to you.”

“You wouldn’t.” She shakes her and retracts her knife.

She climbs off of him and folds back the knife. Turning around, she takes a few steps away from him with her heart crying inside her chest. Her hand gripping the knife in her hand tightly, leaving her contemplating whether to kill him or let him go. She didn’t like either option. She didn’t like the thought of Hanma hunting down her husband, she knows he will if she says so. Tears formulate in her eyes with her brain working on overdrive.

Hanma sighs and gets up from the couch, leaning down to grab the clothes from the bag to start putting them on. By now, Akito probably tossed out his old comfy clothes, but it was probably for the better. At least with these new ones, he would get kicked out of establishments for being homeless. Clearly, him being there is hurting her and driving her insane. He’s only going to ruin the life she has now.

Tugging on the slacks and putting on the dress shirt, he glances at her. Her hands are buried deep in her black hair and she’s slightly hunched over. By her shoulder movements alone, he can tell she’s trying to ease her breathing. Mitsuya Takashi really did tame Kira Akito from the sadistic demoness she used to be.

“There’s no use in carrying on this conversation. Your mood is only getting worse and me being here is only making it worse.” Hanma speaks up as he starts to loop the belt through the loops of the slacks. Akito turns and gasps, looking at him with her eyebrows knitted together and lips parted. “I should just go. Thanks for the meal, Akito.”

Her body moves on impulse. Her hands grab his shoulders, her body slams into his hard enough to push him back onto the couch, and her lips press against his. He doesn’t react nor move, his eyes blankly staring at her kissing him. She’s straddling his lap again with her ample chest pressing against his. Her tears fall onto his cheek, and her hands start to shake as they move to his jaw.

“Don’t leave me again, please .” She whispers against his lips, futile and begging for him. She pulls away to look down at him with knitted brows, anguish and yearning swirling in her sadden amber eyes, and her lips quivering into a frown.

He stares at her, his eyes glancing down at the robe loosening over her chest before looking back up at her. “You never changed, Akito. Always so prepared to use your body as a weapon against me,” He utters with his fingers gingerly touching her cheek to brush away her tears. He smiles softly with only love in his eyes. “I won’t leave this time around, just because you asked~♡”

He kisses her feverishly, his hand combing through her hair and his other arm pulling her closer. She doesn’t fight back against his advances, instead, she recuperates them. Every thought of her marriage vanishes from her mind and is now replaced with the warmth and sparks she feels when she’s with Hanma. Her chest swells and her mind grows hazy as if he was the most addictive drug she could have.

She wants to hate him for leaving her for years without a word and magically showing back up. But she loves him for his loyalty and for returning to her after being gone for so long. She wants him gone but at the same time, she wants him so badly. Forgiveness isn’t a word she would describe what is formulating between them. If anything, it was just how much they missed each other and silenced the elephant in the room.

Her moans start to fill the room as his lips trail down her neck, biting and licking the skin he hasn’t touched in years. His hands now moved up her thighs, slithering under the silk robe before retracting back. She whines and jerks her hips against his, her hands starting to strip him from the shirt. He takes it as an invitation, tugging the robe off of her and tossing it on the floor behind her.

Lip locking again, he grabs the backs of her thighs before standing up with her. He breaks the kiss the moment he drops her back onto the plush bed. She stares up at him defenseless, her arms on either side of her and in nothing but her lacey violet panties. He grins and kneels down between her legs, his hands pulling apart her thighs and placing kisses on them.

“I miss this body of yours for too long. Now I can stop using my hand and play with the real you .”

Walking into her home, she gently puts down her heels in the genkan before stepping more into her shared home. She feels dirty even if she showered, ashamed to be in her own home. Shucking off her trench coat, she drapes it over the chair in the open living room and makes her way to the hallway. Her heart feels empty in her chest and her tears dried on her cheeks.

She makes her way down the hall, finding her husband’s office light off and empty. Feeling more guilt consume her walking down the long hall, almost dreading climbing into her bed where her husband is sleeping. So unaware of the sin she just did, dreaming of her as his strong wife that does her best to cook but burns dinner. The sadistic girl he tamed to be a powerful oyabun and business partner.

Walking into the bedroom silently, the moment her eyes lay on the bed to spot Takashi laying on the right side of the bed triggers her tears again. Keeping her cries to a minimum, she strips out of her clothes from the day and changes her underwear. Changing into a clean pair and slipping on the black with gold accents satin set that Takashi made for her twenty-second birthday. Tears fall onto the floor as she hangs her head, trying to calm herself before crawling into bed next to him.

“Akito..? What’s wrong?”

She jumps in her skin at the sound of Takashi’s voice. She turns to see him sitting up in bed and reaching for the light on his nightstand. The light partially lights up the room but it reveals the tears that roll down her cheeks. Seeing him half asleep with concern written on his features triggered more tears and her thoughts running rampant.

“Takashi…” Her voice is breathy and she quickly crawls onto the bed. She’s in his lap in an instant, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and face hiding in his neck. “I’m sorry… Please don’t leave me…”

His arms wrap around her, one hand caressing the back of her head and he places a soft and gentle kiss on her head. “I won’t leave, I promise.” He softly assures her, his fingers gently gliding against her arm soothingly. “We’re going to be okay. I love you, Akito.”

She cries more into him, sobbing and shaking in his hold. He doesn’t know what has her crying but assumes something happened at her meeting. He knows how much she tries to bottle in everything and put on a strong face. Though, it relieves him that she allows herself to be vulnerable with him.

After a while, she starts to calm down and he lays down with her. Kissing her face and reassuring her he wasn’t going anywhere and that he loves her. Just in the hopes it’ll ease her fears and let her know he’ll be there when she’s ready to talk about what had happened. She clings to him throughout the night and eventually falls asleep to the sound of his humming and gentle fingers tracing three words onto her back.

She doesn’t know if she’ll ever tell him the truth, right now, she’s filled with guilt. She wants to hurt herself over it, but she knows Takashi will be more upset. But at the very least, Akito has Hanma back in her grasp and fast asleep at the love hotel.

#hanma shuji #hanma shuji headcanons #hanma x y/n #hanma shuji x reader #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya takashi x reader #mitsuya x reader #Tokyo Revengers #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyo rev x reader #manjiro sano #ken ryuguji #draken #tokrev baji #angst #yakuza

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