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crow-talks-hockey · 2 years

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Killing Strangers - an Avalanche mob/gang AU from multiple POVs (first three are Nate, Cale, and then Gabe's)

The rain was heavy and loud in Nate’s ears, the noise of the road dimmed by the alley. He hissed in a breath and touched lightly at his side, it came away deep red for a moment before the rain washed it away. He was so screwed. Gabe was gonna kill him. Nate staggered underneath a doorway and let his legs give in. He felt lightheaded and the water was blurring his vision. Distantly, he thought he heard the shrill whine of a dog— but that might have been his imagination. He needed to stitch himself up, he couldn’t die here. Not like this.

At least if they found him, he’d get a nice funeral. Maybe one day Cale could find a way to forgive him for leaving too soon. Maybe he’d find someone new. Nate hoped so, the kid deserved that much. The neon world began to fade away. Nate fell into unconsciousness, alone and dreaming of him.

...

“Nate. Nate.”

Cale? Nate’s ears were ringing and he slowly blinked awake. He tried to sit up,but someone pushed him back. Nate’s vision cleared and Cale’s rosy face came into focus. Pain was a distant thing. Confusion struck. He was supposed to be dead. Why wasn’t he dead? What the hell? Once again Nate tried to sit up despite clearly being injured. He struggled against Cale’s hold.

“Nate,” Cale scolded harshly and he rolled his eyes. “Nate, you stubborn bastard, just sit still,” he huffed.

Nate stopped, settling for resting back on his elbows even though it was incredibly uncomfortable. He had no clue where he was. The room was dimly lit, and steel was cold beneath him. He glared at the wall, and Cale smiled a bit. A few quiet moments passed, the only sound was the faint shouting of voices down the hall and the buzz of the ceiling light. Absently, Nate registered one of the voices as Gabe’s. Nate turned to Cale, wincing as his side stung again. “Where are we?” he asked softly.

Cale looked around, making sure they were alone purely out of instinct and not worry. He took a seat beside the metal table Nate was laying on and ran his hand shakily through his messy brown hair. He adjusted his suit jacket and touched at his peach fuzz nervously. “Downtown. A few blocks away from where I found you,” responded Cale.

God, Cale sounded so tired and worried. Nate felt a stab of guilt over giving him a scare like that. He shouldn’t have gone out on his own. He was lucky to be alive. Well, he wouldn’t be if Cale hadn’t followed him. Nate owed him. Nate didn’t suspect just an apology would do either.

“Gabe tracked down the guys we were after. He’s… dealing with them now,” insinuated Cale with a notable look at the door, his voice becoming laced with something dark.

“Did they have the…?” asked Nate, knowing Cale would have an answer.

Cale looked down at the floor, brows furrowed. He didn’t seem disappointed, just pissed. “No,” he replied with a small shake of his head. “They’re getting what’s coming to them, though.”

Nate flung his legs over the table, sitting up tentatively. He held up a hand to signal he was okay when Cale immediately looked up, expression wary. Nate searched Cale’s frustrated features. “Gabe tell you to back off?”

Cale just barely managed a laugh and he shrugged. He moved a bit too mechanically, swaying side to side a bit and he stood. Cale readjusted his watch absentmindedly. The face was fractured, but Nate knew why he still wore it. It was a symbol of why Cale was here in the first place. A reminder. Only Nate knew the full story. “Yeah. Yeah he did. Sent me to come look after you once Pavel finished stitching you up.”

“He’s giving them the right treatment, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I know.” Cale helped Nate to his feet. “But I would have given them hell on a platter. I would have given them even worse than they deserved for you.”

Nate grinned, and it was a cruel, bright thing. He laughed faintly, gripping his wounded side again as it ached. “I know you would have, Cale. I think that’s why he stopped you.”

They turned down the fluorescent-green lit hall, Nate leaning heavily on Cale for support. The shrieking got louder with each step. Halfway to the next set of doors Cale announced out of the blue, “You almost died, Nate. You know that? Pavel barely saved you in time… you—” Nate winced at the way Cale’s voice caught— “you were barely even breathing when I got you to Pavel. I felt you slip away in my arms…”

Cale drew in a sharp breath and Nate’s chest tightened in guilt. Nate looked up to him, brows raised with sympathy. Cale readjusted himself so that Nate didn’t slip from his hold. He sniffed and used his free hand to wipe at the corners of his eyes. Nate looked down again and pursed his lips. “I— I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” agreed Cale quietly, but his voice was not forgiving.

The twenty-four year old pushed through the doors and immediately the screams of men pierced the air. Cale’s expression was firm set, his eyes cold and unloving as he brought Nate in. Gabe was standing in a single beam of light before a chair. Nate could see the blood dripping from his hands. Steel glinted in the light, and the doors slammed shut behind them. Nate gave Gabe a cheeky, short lived smile as his boss’ cruel profile turned to him. “Gabe,” greeted Nate blankly.

“Nate.” Gabe’s jaw ticked, and he dipped his head curtly Nate’s way. Then, he turned back to his work without so much as a word. Nate took a seat and watched the show with the others, satisfaction easing his pain like a tonic.

***

Cale should have known Nate would leave on his own. They’d all been at the meeting Gabe had called, sat in their wide circle to discuss. A group of guys had been infringing on their borders and smuggling supplies out of their warehouses, which Cale knew would only look worse on paper should things go… south. The same guys they’d suspected had also broken into one of their safehouses and stolen various important papers and valuables. They’d become a big problem, so Gabe had rallied all the guys to a discreet location and they’d made plans. Their big guys— men like Valeri, Nate, and Kurtis— would deal with the dirty stuff. Meanwhile someone like Cale would go under the radar, work in secret, just like any other job. Things like this tended to get messy, but Cale didn’t mind so long as they stuck to their assignments.

Nate had not stuck to his assignment. They weren’t even supposed to be going out that night, especially not alone. Nate was usually smart enough to at least bring back up, but lucky for him Cale could tell exactly what the twenty-seven year old was planning. The second Gabe had gone through what he wanted, with Erik offering obvious solutions to the boss’ problems as usual, Cale had seen how tense Nate got. He’d noticed the way his jaw ticked, the way he sat up, and the way his eyes glinted with ambition. Cale was trained to notice things like that.

Gabe had called their meeting to a close and the guys all paired off, laughing with each other and making plans to go out and have some fun. It was painfully obvious to see Nate break off on his own and Cale had gone straight to Gabe. He’d caught the Swede just as he was about to walk through the doors to his exit. “Landy,” he hissed, voice urgently quiet.

“Cale?” Gabe replied warily, voice instantly dropping that authority he led meetings with as his brows furrowed with genuine concern.

Cale pulled him off to the side behind a tall pillar. “It’s Nate.”

Gabe sighed and rolled his eyes, unsurprised yet still concerned.

“I’m going to trail him. I think he’s headed west to his spot where he last… Well,” Cale looked around, best stay careful, “you know. Will you get some of the guys to come with? He might need them if things get scrappy.”

Gabe redid his maroon suit’s button and adjusted his deep red tie against the stark black dress shirt he wore. Only he wore things like that. It was a symbol of his status. Some stories said his suits had started off white and the blood he’d had to shed to get to the top was stained into what he wore. Gabe embraced the stories though— despite their untruthfulness—, because they worked. No one messed with their group, and Gabe was a huge reason for it. The nicknames they gave him didn’t even begin to scrape the surface of what Gabe was really capable of. Cale had seen what the man could do, the lengths he’d go to get a job done… it was cruelly fascinating. And in some sick, twisted way, Cale couldn’t help but respect him.

Gabe snapped Cale back to the matter at hand with his response, “Oh, Cale. You don’t need backup when you have me.”

The conversation ended there and Gabe was already headed to the weapons room. Cale shook himself out of it and rushed out the exit. He hurried down the steps and searched the street. Which route would you take, Nate? The answer was near instant. Nate’s recognizable figure was standing by the road, waving for a taxi. Cale stayed out of the sidewalk and watched from behind the building’s gate. He hesitated, watching closely as Nate got into the taxi that had pulled up. It started heading west. Cale smiled faintly despite the anxiety in his veins. He was right. Nate was so stupid.

Cale immediately turned down the next alley and took the fastest route he knew. He was going to kill that man. Cale pulled out his phone and typed quickly as he walked. He sent Gabe a single word, knowing that his boss would know exactly where to go. Luckily enough, Cale wasn’t too worried about walking there. The spot Nate was going wasn’t too far from the building they’d met at, and Cale trusted Nate just enough to know he could handle himself just fine. This of course, excused nothing, but it at least managed to calm Cale’s worries a little bit. Well, that and also the fact that he’d placed a tracker on Nate because of the last time he’d run off on his own— per Gabe’s orders.

It’d been a couple months ago, and the stakes weren’t nearly as dire as this. Some guys from one of the other upcoming gangs, one a lot smaller than the one they were dealing with now, were causing trouble and Gabe had wanted a group to go out and deal with them. Simple stuff at first, just talk and a few threats. That usually worked with the reputation their gang held. Gabe still wanted multiple guys, however, just in case things got frisky. It was the smart move, one Cale had suggested. Yet, Nate had gone off on his own.

All Cale remembered was being worried sick for almost three hours as they searched and waited for Nate to come back. When he had, he’d been bloody and battered. Pavel had stitched up stab wounds and cuts, and his body had been wildly bruised. Apparently they’d underestimated the threat, but all Nate seemed willing to say was that they had still gotten it way worse. Cale shook his head to himself, trying to keep a steady pace as he weaved behind buildings and watched Nate’s location. It had slowed, a good sign that Nate was now on foot and no longer speeding ahead in a taxi.

Rain began to pour and Cale slid his phone into his pocket. He stopped, listening attentively. This area was less populated, more bars and underground clubs than busy streets and sidewalks packed with consumers. Cale straightened. He thought he heard… no. Cale’s heart sank in his chest as the echo of a gunshot floated through the air, a cruel melody. Cale was running before he could think anything of it, he pushed through anyone that was in his way as he frantically looked up and down alleys for Nate’s figure. Please don’t let it be him, don’t let it be him, Cale’s mind screamed.

Down the street he saw a group of about five guys, laughing and chatting amongst each other as they walked up the stairs to a bar. Cale saw from a distance that one of them had a tattoo on his neck and rage sparked. It’s them. Cale dialed Gabe and talked as he ran, now going with purpose to the alley he’d seen the men coming out of. “Hey, I found the guys,” Cale began shakily, “they’re downtown at the Ambrosia—”

Cale skidded to a halt at the entrance to the alley and his phone clattered to the concrete. Cale didn’t care. Nate was yards down, slumped underneath a doorway and bleeding. Cale forced his legs to move and he scrambled to Nate’s side. He’d never seen him so hurt… a clear sign that Nate hadn’t known what he was getting into. God, there was so much blood. Cale shook Nate by his shoulders a bit. “Nate.”

Hope fled as fast as a flint struck spark. Cale’s chest felt heavy, his heart sinking like a stone. He searched desperately for Nate’s pulse. It was there, but fading. Cale drew in a sharp breath and collected himself. Act like this is just another job. Just get him to Pavel’s place. He’s the nearest medic we have… Cale heaved Nate as gently as possible to his feet. Nate’s eyes fluttered open for a moment and Cale breathed the barest sigh of relief. He was alive. “Okay, Nate, I need you to walk. Just move your legs a bit, I’m taking you to Frankie,” he instructed gently.

Nate didn’t seem to hear him, he groaned and Cale winced at the thought that he could be hurting Nate even more, but he followed what Cale asked. Cale breathed shakily, looking up into the rainy sky. “Thank you.”

The trip felt so much longer than it really was. Every so often Nate would slip, and Cale would have to rest him against a wall and tear more from his suit to press against Nate’s shot wound. Then he’d heave him back up and stagger forward, keeping in the dark alleys and streets where there was no one to bother them or ask questions. Cale did his best to ignore the way Nate got limper in his hold and started leaning more heavily on Cale. He couldn’t die here, Cale refused to let that happen. He’d drag Nate back from hell if he had to.

Finally after what felt like hours, Cale was finally at Pavel Francouz’s doorstep. The response was immediate, Pavel had helped Cale take Nate in and then he’d gone to work. It’d been awful to watch. Nate had been completely still. It was terrifying. He’d lost so much blood, it was everywhere. After about half an hour Gabe had showed up and Cale had let him in. Behind him followed Val and Kurtis and Mikko, each shoving a beaten man through the hall. Gabe led, his knuckles bruised and his lip cut but other than that there was no sign he’d even been hit. The boss leaned on the doorway, looking into where Pavel had Nate. “Where can we take them?” he asked, catching the medic’s attention.

“Down the hall there’s a room that should do just fine. You calling together a show?” Pavel questioned simply, not looking away from working on Nate’s wounds.

Gabe smirked, drumming his fingers on the doorframe. His gaze landed on Nate and his jaw set into place, his eyes glinting with something dark and cold and brutally unforgiving. He looked away and nodded at his guys, signaling for them to go ahead where Pavel instructed. “Yeah, yeah I am. You good with the visitors?”

“Of course,” said Pavel pleasantly. “Always am.”

“Good man…” Gabe praised and went silent, staring at Nate’s still body. “Will he be alright?” he asked softly, the words barely a whisper.

Cale knew the feeling. Gabe had been the one to take Nate in when Nate had been lost, searching for a job, and angry. He’d taught him how to hold his own in a fight. He’d taken a lonely and vengeful kid and turned him into the monster he needed to be. In some ways, Nate was akin to a son for Gabe. Cale understood his pain. He didn’t want to see the person he loved most in this state either.

“He’ll be okay. He can’t die on us that easy,” Cale replied with a small laugh, though his chest only tightened more.

Pavel stepped away and looked at Gabe. “I did my best. He lost a lot of blood, though. He was gashed pretty deep in his side and the shot went through his shoulder… I—” he paused, wringing his hands together, and repeated, “I did my best.”

Gabe nodded. “I know. Thank you.”

Cale stopped Gabe before he could go. The Swede turned to him, giving him an almost warning look in response to Cale’s pleading eyes. “Cale, think about your priorities before you speak.”

Cale felt a wave of embarrassment and dull, tired-made anger wash over him. He wasn’t a child. In fact, he was a very calculated person. He always thought about what he said. He was frankly offended that Gabe would assume he wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe he wasn’t. “I want to deal with them, Gabe. Let me give them hell for what they did.”

Gabe was unfazed. “You need to watch him. I can deal with them just fine.”

“It’s my boyfriend that’s laying on that table on the verge of death, Gabe,” Cale snapped. “Let me hurt them like they hurt him. Do you honestly think I’d hesitate?” he challenged.

Gabe leaned in, voice steady but commanding, “Cale. Let it be. Nate needs you, and you know it. Now let me handle this, you’ll get your fun in time. Just be patient.”

Cale looked down at his feet, cheeks deep red. He turned away and took a seat next to Nate. “Fine. Now go have your fun. I’ll be here.”

Gabe gave him one last lingering look and Cale took Nate’s barley warm hand in his own. He didn’t even need to look up to know Gabe had gone. Pavel took off his gloves and slung his medical bag over his shoulder.

“Cale, I— I know this must be hard for you. I’m pretty new here, but I just want to say that he should be alright. He just needs to take it slow. Whenever he wakes up, get him water and bring him into where I sent Gabe. There’s food there, and he’ll need the nutrients to regain his strength given how much blood he lost. I’ve dealt with things like this before, so come to me if you need anything, alright?”

Cale nodded and said, “Thanks, Frankie. You’re too good to us. I appreciate it, though. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d lost him. You saved his life.”

Pavel smiled, dipping his head gratefully. “I know.”

Cale laughed and shook his head. The rain began to slow outside, and the night calmed. Cale rested his head in his free palm, other hand still in Nate’s. The twenty-seven year old’s chest was now rising and falling more regularly, labored but getting better. That was a good sign. Cale sighed as he rubbed his thumb over Nate’s bruised, bloody knuckles. It was going to be a long night.

***

It had been a long, long time since Gabe had felt rage quite like this. That white hot, everlasting flame that consumed everything and left nothing behind. The kind that only translated to the language Gabe loved more than words: violence. Untamed, wild, ceaseless violence. Violence that often made him feel more animal or machine than human. There could be no shame, just precision. Just intent.

He’d stormed into that bar alone, and immediately The Ambrosia had gone quiet. It wasn’t a rowdy bar like most of the clubs around here. It was rustic, a place for deals to be discreetly made or bets to be waged. This one one of the only spots downtown someone could go that was quiet. The interior design was based on Greek architecture— a nod to the name “Ambrosia”. All eyes turned to Gabe. At the end of the bar five large men who’d been talking and drinking went silent. Gabe’s gaze landed on the large tattoo on one of their necks and he adjusted his suit calmly. The bartender broke the tense silence, “Careful, Näken.”

Gabe nearly smiled at the name. At least this man had the decency to give him a name in the proper language. Gabe cracked his neck and strode towards the group of men. He looked slightly up at the man with the tattoo who was only an inch or so taller than he was. Gabe tapped his index finger on the bar and instantly the bartender slid a glass of whiskey to him. Without breaking eye contact with the men, Gabe downed the drink and cleared his throat. The room was eerily silent.

From behind Gabe, the bell on the door of The Ambrosia rang loud and clear. He didn’t need to look away to know it was his men. He’d called them just before getting to The Ambrosia, and all he’d needed to do was give himself some time that his reputation served just well. Finally, Gabe spoke, “One of my own is dying because of you.”

Gabe threw his first blow into the gut of the tattooed man with as much composure as he could muster and the man bent double. The rest of his group surged forward, but Gabe held up a hand and surprisingly they stopped, confused. Gabe finished his statement, “One of my own is dying because of you… that doesn’t happen.”

And then it was on. Gabe let his muscles do the talking, let his natural instinct take over as he fought. When one man lunged, he ducked and immediately had the advantage again. Next thing he knew, he and Mikko were back to back. Val had already handled one of them and was working on heaving the man, barely conscious, to his feet and out the door. Kurtis was facing off against the tattooed man. Gabe drew his attention back to the matter at hand and together he and Mikko brought down the other two men.

After several thrown punches, Gabe loomed over the last man still conscious, watching curiously as he tried to crawl away. Suddenly, the man turned, picked up a fallen glass of drink, and threw it past Gabe’s head. He turned sharply away, dodging most of the impact. Blood began to seep from a cut in Gabe’s lip where the glass had actually caught, but the sting was nonexistent. He smiled faintly and licked away the blood, teeth bright white against the stark red bubbling on his lip. The man looked up at Gabe, terrified, as the Swede crouched before him. Then, before he could even get out a single syllable of an insult, Gabe drew back his fist and knocked the man out cold.

Gabe stood and shrugged off his suit jacket, throwing it over one of the barstools. He motioned for Mikko to take the men outside and pulled up a bottle of bourbon. He took two ice cubes from the bowl next to him, and calmly poured himself a glass. Gabe downed it, put two coins on the table haphazardly, and exited The Ambrosia. He neatly folded his suit jacket over his arm, embracing the rain and the cold. Then, he readjusted his tie and met the others back in the car. Gabe rode with Mikko and Val, meanwhile Kurtis drove separately with the rest of Nate’s unconscious attackers.

The drive was silent and tense. Any spark of excitement that had come with the fight had long since died. The weight of Nate’s unknown condition was heavy in the air. Even Mikko, who usually brought some fun to dull scenarios, was quiet. Gabe stared out the window and tried to shove his thoughts away, but all he could see was Cale’s bright, cracked screen on the concrete and the blood on the door where Nate had been. They pulled up to Pavel’s and Gabe was quick to get out of the car.

Mikko pulled smelling salts out of his pocket and handed them to Val, who took them and broke them before waving them under the men’s noses. They both jolted awake and together Mikko and Val helped them out of the car. At least they were smart enough not to resist. Maybe they thought that if they cooperated they’d escape their fate. They were wrong.

Kurtis was already there, waiting patiently with the other men they’d fought. Gabe strode towards him, peering closely at the man with the tattoo on his neck. He grit down on his teeth a bit, brows furrowing with an untouchable anger. They’re Bolts, Gabe recognized, finally getting a close look at the ink on the man’s neck. Great. Just great.

Everything else after that passed in a blur. Next thing Gabe knew he was standing in a circle of light, being watched intently by the others. Distantly, Gabe might have remembered a conversation with Cale and Frankie. But the only clear, jarring thing he could recall was Nate laying still on a metal table. Gabe’s grip on his blade tightened and he pressed it faintly into the skin of the tattooed man’s forearms. He let out a high pitched whine through gritted teeth and Gabe closed his eyes, pressing further. Then the man began to scream and beg.

“It was just a job!” he sobbed but Gabe paid him no heed.

Gabe made a deep slash across the man’s cheek. Then he stepped back, leaning on his heels as he laughed. “Just a job,” mocked Gabe, running his hand through his hair at the absurdity. “‘Just a job’ he says. Things like this are never just a job.Nate nearly died because of you. I don’t let things like that slide.”

Suddenly, the man received a rush of confidence— a very poor decision on his part— at Gabe’s threat and he sneered, “It was his fault anyway! You’d really think someone under the Näken’s wise teachings would know better. I’d be disappointed too. He might not even make the night in the state we left him—”

Gabe had the man pulled up by his collar within seconds, blade twisting deep in his side. Gabe relished the silent, open mouthed shriek the man let out and he met eyes with the Bolt, cold blue on deep brown. Gabe leaned in and hissed quietly into the dying man’s ear, “You know… you’re lucky he’s alive. If he wasn’t I assure you, your death would be much slower than this. Consider this a gift.”

The tattooed man’s features contorted with deep pain and Gabe let him go. He slumped against the chair and after several tense moments he went still. Blood began to drip on the floor, Gabe’s hands were wet. He drew in a sharp breath and calmly readjusted his suit. Gently, Gabe pulled the man off the chair and he crumpled in a heap to the floor. Without needing to be told, Kurtis moved forward and took the body away. Distantly, Gabe heard Mikko going to grab the next.

“Wait,” spoke out Gabe and the Fin paused. Gabe undid his tie and threw it across the room and he removed his suit jacket, leaving only his button up and the deep red vest. “Call up the others. Why waste the chance at entertainment?”

Mikko nodded curtly and replied, “Yes, boss.”

Gabe turned to Val. “Go find Frankie and ask him if there’s chairs somewhere. I’m going to check on Nate.”

“Of course, Landy…” Val began and after a few moments asked softly, “Will he be alright? I didn’t see much, but—” the Russian struggled to find the right words— “he looked not good.”

Gabe fell silent. The weight of reality came crashing back. This wasn’t normal, there had never been a hunger for revenge quite like this. Not that revenge wasn’t justified before, it was just that the situation had never been so dire. Nate was dying. That never happened. But here Gabe was, ignoring his closest friend and resorting to the only thing he knew; violence. He shoved away the pang of guilt he felt at that.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh. I— I’m sorry then. I know Nate means lots to you. He does to all of us.”

Gabe nodded, picking up what really mattered from what Val was saying through his thick accent. He hastily turned and strode down the hall. It couldn’t have been more than an hour since he’d last visited, but frankly Gabe didn’t care. Every dull moment was replaced with worry over Nate. He felt a hot wave of embarrassment come over him. He was so stupid. Nate would live, so why was he so anxious? He was supposed to be the collected one, the one that let his fists do the talking or the one that smoothly and deftly executed a complicated deal. He wasn’t supposed to lose it over something as simple as Nate being an idiot and getting himself into trouble again.

“Gabe?” Cale’s voice snapped him from his thoughts abruptly.

Gabe drew in a sharp breath and rubbed at his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed the overwhelming dread and sadness that had made its way into his heart. Gabe’s cheeks flushed red slightly. At least it was Cale and not someone else that was witnessing his boss’ unraveling. Gabe could trust Cale the most out of everyone with something like his shame. That put Gabe at ease, if only a little bit, and he made his way as casually as possible to Nate’s side.

“I just wanted to check on him,” stated Gabe.

Cale could have responded with a sarcastic comment, pointing out how obvious it was that Nate was the reason Gabe ended up here. But he didn’t. Instead he replied the way Cale would. “I’m worried about him too,” reassured Cale.

“How’s he been?” Gabe asked, trying to ignore how much Cale’s kind response made him want to completely break down.

Cale absently gave Nate’s hand a squeeze and he shrugged a bit hopelessly. “He’s been okay… his breathing’s a lot better but it’s shallow. I think he should be alright, but I don’t know how Frankie feels about it. I’m not a medic, I’m just—” Cale laid his forehead onto his and Nate’s hands as if in prayer— “hanging on to any hope I have left.”

“I think we all are,” admitted Gabe. After a few moments Gabe shook his head with the barest laugh and he stated, “How could he be so stupid?”

Cale smiled faintly, but it looked forced.

“He knows better. If you hadn’t been able to follow him, he’d be dead right now… I mean, did you see the guys we brought in?”

Cale’s interest peaked, as if he’d completely forgotten the people responsible for Nate’s predicament in the first place, and he questioned, “No, who were they?”

“Bolts.”

The color drained from the twenty-four year old’s face for a moment. “Shit,” he cursed.

“Yeah… I don’t know. Hopefully this should send the message, but it might escalate. We’ll see how it goes as their guys turn up missing but with Nate out of the field our manpower will be weakened. We’re going to have to call up some guys if they’re going to keep infringing on our borders. We might be going to war.”

Cale looked away. Uncomfortable silence fell and Gabe felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn’t be talking about this, not here, not now. He was only making it all worse.He should know better, Cale was sensitive to things like this. Talk like this. “I’m sorry,” apologized Gabe, “I know it’s not the time. I was just speaking out whatever came to mind, I didn’t mean to seem insensitive.”

“No, you’re alright,” Cale interjected. “I was just thinking.”

Gabe didn’t miss the way Cale stared at his broken watch as he said it. It was a curious thing, that watch. Gabe never understood why he wore something broken— he’d assumed it had some value of course— but he’d never bothered to ask Cale why. All he knew was that Cale never took it off, or at least that was how it seemed. Just as Gabe was working up the nerve to ask, the doors to the building opened and the noise of the others floated down the hall.

Gabe straightened. “That’s the others. I— I’m going to go…” Gabe began as he stood. “And Cale?”

The twenty-four year old came to attention, snapped out of gazing longingly at Nate. “Yeah?” responded Cale.

Gabe’s hand paused on the door handle. “Thank you.”

Cale seemed to be caught off guard by the compliment, but he nodded and replied, “Of course.”

Gabe gave him the barest hint of a smile and closed the door behind him. He said his greetings to his men and led them down the hall, reset into the stern but relatable leader he had to be. Part of him felt bad for leaving Cale, but if he was being honest with himself he wanted to be the one to hurt those that had nearly killed Nate. Was it selfish? Yes. But Gabe couldn’t bring himself to care. Cale would get his time, if he wanted. Right now, Gabe was going to do what he did best: harm and maim and kill. Neither hell nor high water was going to stop him.

#colorado avalanche #nathan mackinnon #cale makar #gabriel landeskog #829 #692 #mens hockey rpf #hrpf #btw the title is actually a song #it's called Killing Strangers by Marilyn Manson and it's really good #you might recognize it if you're a John Wick fan #cos this is inspired by John Wick and also the Six of Crows duology #i highly recommend them both #anyways here's the first three parts i hope you like it lol #this is one of my current and long projects so updates will be many but possibly far in between #also 692 fic is in the works but idk how long it's gonna take me #ps: i can't wait to give georgie weapons in this lmao #one goalie medic and one goalie that gets to just fight someone #they're a duo your honor

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kingkatsuki · 6 months

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— my protector

Tengen needs your help in trying to locate his wives on a mission, and Sanemi is furious.

Get me a man who’s only soft for us, stat😫😭

Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship, reader is a fellow hashira, jealous Sanemi (for literally no reason), possessiveness, rough sex, slight degradation, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding, creampie.

Word Count: 4.2k.

All Sanemi could see was red, fiery red as he roamed the halls of the Butterfly Mansion, ignoring the pain in his right arm from the wound Aoi had just patched up moments earlier.

“Shinobu will kill you if she finds you drawing your sword in here!” Aoi called after him, but Sanemi could care less as his eyes sought out the Sound Pillar.

He had just returned from a three-week-long mission to find out that Uzui had enlisted you for help on one of his missions. Practically offering you up as bait to try and find his wives who had gone missing, like that was even your problem. And Sanemi knew you were always so eager and willing to help, it was something he loved and loathed about you at the same time.

The rage continued building inside him as he pulled open another sliding door aggressively, the wood gliding back from the force as he skimmed another empty room before continuing further through the mansion.

“Listen to me, Shinazugawa.” Aoi huffed, followed after him as one of the only people inside the mansion who weren’t scared of the white-haired man, “I told you Shinobu won’t be pleased to find out you’re breaking all her doors.”

“Fuck her,” Sanemi rolled his eyes, “Where’s Uzui?”

“If you would’ve actually stopped for five minutes to let me explain, instead of being such a jerk,” Aoi crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, “He left with her a few hours ago. Said it couldn’t wait much longer, that his wives may be in danger—”

“How the fuck is that her problem?” Sanemi growled, “So he isn't here?”

“No, but I would advise you don't follow him. Your wounds—” Sanemi ignored Aoi, already halfway down the hall as he marched towards the entrance, determined to find you on his own. It was when he stepped into the courtyard that he saw Uzui coming in by the front gate with a wide smile on his face.

“Ah, my crow told me you were back!” Uzui made to step towards him to finish the conversation, but Sanemi’s sword was already drawn as he stepped towards the larger man, “Perfect timing, my friend!”

“You fucking left her there?” Sanemi barked, “Why are you back here?”

“I came to get you at the request of your lady love,” Uzui grinned as Sanemi curled his lip in irritation at the pet name, “She made me promise to tell you as soon as you got back from your mission because she wouldn’t be around. And I thought you'd prefer a personal greeting.”

“Why the fuck are you sending her on your missions anyway,” Sanemi continued, ignoring Uzui's grin, “And leaving her there!”

“It hasn’t even been twelve hours,” Uzui shrugged, standing in place even as Sanemi stepped towards him.

“That’s already twelve hours too damn long, you prick.” Sanemi drew his sword as he made to lunge towards his fellow hashira.

“She’s probably safer there than she’d ever be out in the field,” Uzui dodged a blow with the hilt of his sword, the guard barely protecting his hands as he used his body weight to push the Wind Pillar back.

“Probably?” Sanemi roared, “She’s probably got sick fucks like you all over her right now.”

“Oh,” Uzui’s lips curled into a cocky smirk at the admission, standing upright as he pushed some fallen hair away from his eyes, “So that’s it— you’re jealous.”

“I ain’t jealous, you fuckwad.” Sanemi grunted as he attempted another slash towards Uzui, knowing it was serious when the wind user hadn’t even bothered to use his power.

“Sure seems like it,” Uzui scoffed, taking another step back to avoid his attack, “Nothing is stopping you from visiting her, you know. She’s only a few towns across and I'm here to take you right to her.”

“Oh, you’re taking me to her,” Sanemi spat, “Right fucking now.”

“Someone is asking for me?” You raised a brow suspiciously at the implication. Wondering if this meant the demons had realised that you were in fact a slayer intent on taking their head. Your stomach swirled in trepidation as you tried not to show any fear, smiling at the young girl by the door as you bowed your head.

“Yeah, and frankly I’m glad,” She clung to the belt of her kimono, “He looks scary!”

“I definitely don’t want to spend the night with him,” Another girl grimaced, “I don’t think I’d make it out alive.”

You frowned, worried that you wouldn’t have time to access your katana to holster it beneath your kimono. Instead, all you had was the small dagger strapped against your thigh, which you were certain wouldn’t be enough to protect you from the attack of a demon. But at least it was better than nothing, knowing he wouldn’t attack until you were at least secure back inside this room as you bowed your head. Following her down the stairs to the entrance of the establishment, feeling a cool breeze tickle your ankles from the open door and curtain flowing in the wind.

Your heart stilled when you noticed the familiar man standing by the entrance, glaring at anyone who dared look his way as you felt your chest swell with familiarity. You hadn’t expected to see him here this night, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to be asking after you.

“Is this the girl you were asking after, my Lord?”

“Yes,” He grunted as the Madame motioned him to step forward and follow you back to your room.

You had to stop yourself jumping him in the foyer, wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and cling to his broad shoulders.

Feeling the heat practically radiating from his body as you slid open the sliding door to your room, stepping to the side to allow Sanemi to follow before sliding it shut. And in an instant, his rough hands were grabbing hold of the fat at your hips to pull your body against his, your lips meeting in a bruising kiss.

Your hands reached up to thread through his messy hair as the scent of the woods mixed with his natural sweat invaded your senses. He clearly hadn’t bothered to bathe when he returned from his mission, far more concerned with finding you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He spoke against your lips when you finally pulled away for air, still holding onto you as your nails dragged against his scalp, “I had to come home to find out you’re helping Uzui?”

“Tengen needed my help,” You murmured, and Sanemi’s nose scrunched in irritation at the use of the Sound Pillars' first name.

“Tengen,” He mocked the pitch of your voice, “Has three fucking wives that can help him, I only have one.”

“Technically,” You parroted his tone, giving him a cocky smirk as you felt his fingers press into the skin at your hips, “I’m not even your wife.”

“You’re as good as,” Sanemi scoffed as he stole another kiss, “And Uzui would do well to remember it.”

“His wives are missing,” You mumbled sadly.

“So does that mean he’s looking for a fourth?” Sanemi frowned at you as you couldn’t help but smile and shake your head at his jealousy.

“No,” You lowered your voice to a whisper, “He hasn’t heard from them for a few days, the letters have stopped coming— and he thinks something bad may have happened to them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sanemi couldn’t lie that it had hurt to find out from someone else that you wouldn’t be there upon his return, whether it was jealousy or the fear of losing you he was unsure. But either way, it left him with that familiar sense of dread that pooled in the pit of his stomach and threatened to boil over.

“I’m sorry, but there wasn’t much time,” You did wish you’d sent your crow to warn him, but Uzui had promised you that he would let Sanemi know. Especially since you were doing this for the sake of his wives, “He needed my help, so I offered.”

“You’re far too nice.” Sanemi shook his head, using his grip on your hips to pull you into another sultry kiss.

“I thought that’s why you loved me.” You teased.

“No,” Sanemi scoffed, “I love you for your perfect ass,” He spanked your cheek for emphasis, “Everything else is either a bonus or a crux on my life.”

“You pig.” You scrunched your nose as Sanemi couldn’t stop himself from stealing another kiss.

“I’m kidding, sweetheart,” Sanemi’s eyes softened as he reached up to cup your face in a calloused palm. His thumb stroking gentle circles against your cheek as you leaned into his touch, “But you really should stop putting yourself in harm's way.”

“I’m a hashira,” You replied simply, “It’s what we do to protect others.”

“Protecting others doesn’t mean becoming a whore.” He spat, although you knew there was no malice there. The harsh tone covered up the fear and dread he felt in your gut at the prospect of something happening to you.

“And yet here you are, at the whorehouse requesting me by name.” You smiled back, relishing in the pink hue that dusted his pale cheeks.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” His tone sobered, resting his forehead against your own as he stared down into your eyes, “What a pitiful existence it would be.”

“You won’t lose me, Sanemi.” You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull his body against you, feeling his semi-hard cock press against your hip. The time without you made even more conspicuous when he's now surrounded by the comforting scent of you again.

“Did anyone touch you?” He immediately pulled back, concern evident in his features as he looked you over.

“No, I’ve been fine,” You shook your head, “They’ve mainly had me sitting down for tea with travellers passing through.”

“Good,” He pressed a kiss against your forehead in relief as he exhaled softly, “You have no idea how much I missed you, sweet girl.”

He peppered kisses along the curve of your jaw as you tilted your head back to give him more room. Your hands smoothed along his collarbones before dipping lower to trace patterns against the marred skin that scarred his chest, pressing your fingers into the ridges as you felt the tacky sweat clinging to his skin.

“I missed you too,” You whimpered gently as his teeth found your pulse point, biting down on the sensitive skin as his tongue lashed against it.

Sanemi bullied his muscular thigh between your parted legs to keep you steady against the wall as he shamelessly fiddled with the belt of your kimono. Letting the fabric fall open as he drank in the sight of your bare skin beneath, his firm hands immediately paw at your bare sides. Noticing the small dagger that you had holstered against one of your thighs as he ran his fingers over the handle of it in satisfaction.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, “Not planning to use that on me are you?”

He teased, pushing it back into the holster as he moved his hands back up the curve of your hips towards your chest. Truth be told, he was relieved that you had some form of protection in here. Especially when there was the chance that a demon was responsible for the spate of missing persons in the area.

“It depends if you’re nice to me or not,” You mused.

“I’m always nice.” The words coming from Sanemi’s lips alone were enough to have a melodic laugh rumbling in your chest, as for most, Sanemi and nice were complete contradictions.

“Liar,” Throwing your head back in a pretty laugh that had Sanemi’s heart rattling against his rib cage.

“I mean, I’m always nice to you, aren’t I?” Sanemi’s thumbs stroked the underside of your breasts as he delighted in the way your body responded to him, curving your back towards him as your bare cunt pressed against the flat of his thigh.

“We shouldn’t,” You murmured, “Not here—”

“Let me have this, sweetheart,” He hummed, leaning down to capture one of your pebbled nipples between his lips as he sucked hard, “I am a paying customer, after all.”

In fact, he was going to get that money from Uzui for his pure subordination.

“Why pay for something you can get for free at home?” You teased as he afforded your other breast the same attention, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as you let out another airy moan.

“My girl wasn’t there when I arrived home, and I had heard the girls here were beautiful,” He played along, “Apparently there’s one with the best fuckin’ pussy.”

“Oh yeah?” You gasped as you felt his fingers press against the indents of your thighs, dangerously close to your labia as you bucked against his leg. Giving your clit some slight relief as Sanemi continued forward, his thumb brushing through the wet slick that coated your folds as it drooled out of your neglected hole.

“Yeah,” He repeated, pulling away from your breast with a pop as he found your clit. Pressing sloppy circles against it with the calloused pad of his thumb as he watched you shamelessly grind yourself into his touch, “Apparently she’s already fucked into the shape of another guy though.”

“Must be a lucky guy,” Your eyes rolled back, knocking your head against the wall when you felt two of his thick digits slip inside your tight hole with ease. Scissoring them to loosen you up as he pulled back to watch you inquisitively through half-lidded eyes.

“The fuckin’ luckiest.” Sanemi grinned as he felt your walls throb around his fingers. He deliberately curled them towards the spongy spot inside you that he knew would have you seeing stars as he began to focus each roll of his wrist against it.

His name continued to spill from your lips as he kept his movements poised and focused, his rough thumb kneading circles against your clit as he worked you towards your release. No one knew your body better than he did, and he knew after being pent up for so long how little effort it would take to have you dangling on the edge of your release.

“Fuck, Sanemi.” You moaned, already feeling yourself dangerously close to falling, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Then cum.” He spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and his blase tone immediately had your cunt clenching around him as you swan dived directly into your bliss. The pleasure surged through your body hard and fast as you came undone, his darkened eyes focused on your movements a he kept his fingers pressed against that same velvety spot. Following the wave of your hips as you rode out your release, unrelenting against the sensitive area as he already had you hurtling towards a second.

It was too much, and not enough at the same time. Your pliant walls throbbed around his slick digits as you wished for something more, something bigger.

“‘Nemi, fuck me please.” You whined pitifully.

“Such a filthy mouth on such a pretty girl,” He teased, but he pulled his fingers away from your sopping heat, lifting them up to the light to spread them as you noticed the silvery webs of your release clinging to them as he pushed them between your lips to taste yourself.

You tried to speak, but the pads of his fingers against your tongue muffled the words as you cleaned them off. His lips curled into a satisfied smile as he pulled them out of your mouth, dragging your glossy bottom lip down in the process as both hands immediately reached for his belt.

“When we get home I am fucking you like you deserve.” Sanemi spoke coolly, “Not some quick fuck in a whorehouse.”

“I deserve everything you give me, 'Nemi.” You smile up at him lazily before watching him tug his pants down, revealing his fat cock to your prying gaze.

You immediately reached for it, and he let you. Hissing when your smaller palm wrapped around the girth of him, giving him a teasing jerk that had his nostrils flaring and his jaw locking. Your thumb swipes over the swollen tip to gather the pearl of pre before smoothing it down his length, delighting in the choked grunt that rumbled at the back of his throat.

“Is that so?” He continued, “So bending you over the moment I get you home will be deserved,” His voice darkened, his own palm joining yours against his length as he tightened your grip on his cock, holding your hand steady as he fucked himself into your fist, “You tease.”

“Fuck,” Your cunt throbbed around nothing at his suggestion, as you instinctively spread your legs further apart, “Please, 'Nemi.”

Sanemi curled a palm beneath your thigh to hoist it up against his hip, spreading you open for him as you guided the leaky tip of his cock between you. Stroking it against your drenched folds as you coated him with your essence, moaning when the swollen tip nudged your puffy clit. Feeling yourself growing more impatient as Sanemi pulled his hips back to tease you, pushing your hand away from his cock as he wrapped himself in a fist. Pressing the head against your tight entrance as he felt your hole tremble against him, trying desperately to coax him in as he indulged himself with your reaction.

“‘Nemi, don’t be an asshole,” You pouted as you tried to can’t your hips forward, feeling the tip breach your entrance before he was quick to move his hips back. More than content with teasing you, despite being in such an open, compromising place.

“If I were an asshole I’d leave you unsatisfied like this to search for the demon myself,” He goaded, pressing his hips forward once more.

“Sanemi,” You whined in irritation, “Don’t tease me, please, it’s been too long.”

He didn’t give you a moment to think before he was bullying his cock inside your tight cunt. Your inner walls stretched to accommodate his girth as he moulded you to the shape of him once more, reminding you of exactly who you belonged to. The sensation stole the air from your lungs as you could do little but cling to his broad shoulders as he afforded you a moment to adjust to his size, dragging himself from your velvety walls before canting his hips forward again. Setting a languid motion as he slowly rolled his hips against you.

“Sanemi,” You sighed in satisfaction as you felt whole once more. Too many lonely nights were spent dreaming of this as you felt him finally bottom out, the coarse hairs at the base tickling your clit as you bit down on your bottom lip.

“We’re in a whorehouse,” He mused, still sluggishly rolling his hips into you, “It only seems right that I treat you like one.”

Your cunt clenched around his cock hard at the notion, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Sanemi who grinned in satisfaction. His fingers tighten their grip around your thigh as he takes this as his answer.

Sanemi is brutal as he fucks into you, not sparing you a moment's peace as he uses you for his own gratification. The sound of skin against skin echos the small room as his balls slap against the curve of your ass with each forward cant of his hips. The ferocity of his thrusts has your breasts bouncing and your thighs crying out for some relief as you struggle to stand upright, thankful that Sanemi’s strong body has you pinned against the wall as he fucks into you.

“Oh my god,” You cry out, nails digging into his skin as he maintains his pace. His other hand squeezes at the fat of your ass as he angles his hips, the curve of his cock drags against the spot inside you that he knows will have you seeing stars as the blunt tip kneads your cervix.

“Look at me.” Sanemi growls, his warm breath fanning your face as he keeps a consistent pace.

Your eyes meet his and you’re certain you’ll cum under the intensity of his gaze alone, your cunt clenches in retaliation as he continues to thrust into your sopping hole. Each sultry moan he pulls from deep in your chest has him rolling his hips with more vigour, eager to have you repeat them as he works you towards your climax.

It’s pitiful really, how easily he has you submitting to him as you already feel the telltale signs of your climax ebbing in your pelvis. The pressure builds up as it nears breaking point as Sanemi pushes into you with more ferocity, using your body for his own means as he works himself to his own release.

“I’m going to leave you pumped full of my seed,” He growls against your cheek, his chest heaving as he feels his balls begin to tighten, “Leave it drooling down your thighs when I’m finished with you. So that everyone knows who you belong to—”

You knew this was a direct attack on Uzui, and the fact that he’d handpicked you for his assistance on this mission. Even though there was nothing in it beyond securing the safety of his wives, it had Sanemi oozing with jealousy and he was intent on reminding the Sound Pillar that you were not his plaything.

“Do you also need a reminder of who you belong to, sweetheart?” Sanemi spoke lowly as he fucked into your pliant walls, slipping a hand between your connected bodies to press sloppy circles to your clit.

“No, ‘Nemi—” That familiar sensation throbbed between your thighs as you teetered on the cusp of your climax.

“No? Then who do you belong to?”

“You, ‘Nemi. You—” You choked out, leaving messy red lines against his chest now as he pressed harder against your clit.

“Louder.”

“You, ‘Nemi! It’s always been you!” You cry out, certain that the rest of the floor could hear you as you began to gush around his cock. Your hips bucked wildly as he pinned you in place, keeping his thumb firm against your clit as he watched you ride out your climax. Indulging in the debauched noises that escaped from between your pretty, bruised lips.

“Good girl,” He snarled before moving his hand from your clit to resume a damn near savage pace. Rutting hips against your own messily, working himself towards his own end as he felt the way your walls continued clenching around him in the aftershocks of your climax, “Such a good girl for me.”

He arched his back so he could look down at where your bodies were connected, watching the way his thick cock disappeared inside your velvety walls. And the creamy ring of slick that you’d left around the base of him, the silvery lines matting into his pubes as he felt his balls begin to seize. Certain he wouldn’t be able to last much longer before giving a few more sloppy thrusts and emptying his balls into your warm, wet cunt.

Sanemi stayed buried inside you, feeling the last spurts of his orgasm surge through him as he coated your walls in thick, white spunk. Cherishing the final few flutters of your walls around him as you both came down from your highs, peppering kisses against your face as you placed a palm against his chest to feel his racing heart, the dull thump of it soothing you as you felt your thick lashes begin to flutter.

“Don’t fall asleep, sweetheart.” Sanemi rasped, starting to pull himself out of your spent cunt as you whined in objection. Trying to tighten your thigh around him to keep his hips in position as he grinned down at you; pressing an apologetic kiss to the side of your lips before looking down to see the mess of your combined release stringing against his length as the silvery lines split apart, “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta.”

You knew he had to go, Uzui was probably still waiting for him on a rooftop somewhere. Hopeful that you’d have some news to share with Sanemi about the whereabouts of his wives, but you felt the regret begin to pool in the pit of your stomach as reality settled back in.

“If you want to leave with me, I’ll take you right now,” He said as though it was the most simple thing in the world, “But if you want to stay in I’ll be watching.”

You didn’t have to tell him your answer, he already knew. Placing a final, lingering kiss on your lips as he held you in his arms, “Nothing will ever happen to you as long as I’m around.”

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