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whumpiary · 8 months

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technically a follow on from this piece. could probably stand alone. this piece has been 80% done in my google docs for three years so if you see any big holes in it uhhh. no you didn't.

if you've ever wanted some vague exposition on cass' powers or choices, then this is for you

content warning: mentions of death, victim blaming, aftermath of violence/assault, referenced dubcon/noncon, brief mind control

The common room at Bergen Estate gets quiet at night. Most of the charges prefer their own rooms as it gets dark. Hiding from the bogeyman.

But Harley liked the large, dark emptiness of the common room.

The curved chairs, the pillars, the rows of books and video games lined up along the shelves. The big oak tables. Bean bags in the corner. Rugs here and there. The whole place had the energy of some sort of bizarre combination between a kid’s playroom and a university library. But Harley wanted a space to think, and this was the easiest one.

Their intuition had been right and wrong in equal amounts tonight. They’d known they would be called to Christopher’s lounge tonight. And they were. And they knew that they would be fine after. And they are. But… if they were so fine why do they feel so God fucking awful?

“Harley can go, right? It’s not like we need them.”

Every time they try to push the memory from their head, it bobs to the surface again like an apple in water.

“I have to say, Harley… I really am so disappointed in you.”

They stare out the large bay window, at the leafless trees silhouetted in the mix of light from the garden and from the moon. The whole thing looks ghostly. Gothic. The dark through the glass makes the whole window reflective; a giant mirror just waiting to show them their face. But it’s dark in here too. It’s a dark room reflected on a dark night. That’s why it’s so obvious when there’s a shuffling flash of light behind them, making their heart skip.

The door opens, someone steps through, and then it closes. Dark again. Harley stiffens, freezes, trying to catch another glimpse of who it is in the reflection of the window but it's back to shadows on shadows on shadows.

They listen as the person shuffles to one of the cushioned seats. Shuffles. Like it hurts to move. They sit so carefully that Harley can barely hear them. Then there's quiet. Stillness. An exhale.

Harley doesn’t move. They know stillness. They know silence. Have known it for longer than they’ve been here.

But then there’s another exhale.

And another.

Any hitch of breath that might be happening in between is more or less silent. Which means, usually… crying.

Harley feels themself cringe. The Bergen Boys don't cry. Those are the rules. Not Christopher's rules but the deeper, unspoken ones between the lot of them. You don’t complain, you don’t ask for help, you don’t cry. Or if you did, it got beaten out of you quicksmart. Everything else was a free for all as far as Harley has ever been able to tell.

So the shadow person has come to the common room in the middle of the night. Assuming, like Harley had, that it would be empty. That it would be safe.

Guilt washes over them all at once, guttural and nauseating and they realise all of a sudden that intentionally or not just by sitting here, listening, they're imposing. Intruding. Doing the wrong thing. And then the fear beneath that, on top of that, around that, that if they wait too long and the shadow person notices them, they may well end up on the wrong side of thrown fists. Again.

Harley shifts on the couch where they sit, exaggerating the whisper scrape of fabric on fabric, and leans back on the left side where they know the leg creaks.

The shadow person's breathing stops immediately and Harley hears them stand.

"Who's there?"

Harley freezes again, regretting making their presence known. Cassius.

"I can see you. On the couch. Get over here." His voice is sharp and violent. Deeper than usual. There's a childish part of Harley, not as far beneath the surface as they’d like, that wishes desperately they’d just stay silent and hidden. Safe.

But, like they were told, they uncurl their legs. Stand. Turn. Start to walk.

Harley can see the moment that the light from the window must catch their face. Cassius' face softens, eyes fluttering closed and body sagging with what was maybe relief.

“Harls,” he says, running a hand over his face as he sits back down. Harley doesn’t miss the wince. “Jesus Christ, man, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” The apology flies out of them like a verbal flinch. “I’ll leave.”

“No, ple-” Cassius stops himself, eyes shuttering closed. Harley watches him take a deep breath, brow furrowing briefly. You don’t cry. You don’t complain. You don’t ask for help. “You can stay. If you want. I don't mind.”

Harley hesitates for a moment, glancing around half-uselessly, before choosing a seat across from the other charge and folding into it.

“What are you doing up so late?” Cassius asks, as though they’ve bumped into each other at a truck stop. At a bar. Fancy seeing you here.

Harley shrugs. “I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep. I kept…” thinking about what you were doing. They bite down on their tongue to keep themselves from saying more. It’s stupid.

They trail off as Cassius looks up at them and the dull light from the window catches the shape of his brow. At the blood smeared along his temple. The bruising already flaring up along his cheek. “Did… did Beauche do that to you?”

Cassius huffs out a half laugh, running his tongue between his teeth and the obviously bruised tissue of his cheek. He drags his hand up, knuckle brushing softly against his brow. “Yep. What a gentleman, huh?”

“But Christopher said he wouldn’t be violent.”

Cassius scoffs, “Yeah and Christopher’s such a shining beacon of truth, huh?”

Cassius sits back in his chair, eyes hard, and Harley holds their breath. With the shadows of the trees outside dancing across his face, the shading of the bruises and the swelling there, Cassius looks half monster.

Then his expression softens, his body relaxes. “Nah, it was my fault." He lets out a sigh, hand running back through his hair. "The guy wanted me to cry.”

“And did you?” Cassius’ glare is immediate. Has Harley slamming their jaw shut so quickly their teeth click together. “Sorry.”

Cassius shrugs a shoulder in acceptance of the apology and leans back in the chair. He closes his eyes and all at once it’s like some mask comes down. He looks exhausted and hurt and… young, actually. Harley always forgets that. He’s younger than them. About a three year gap between them.

“Why are you up?” Harley says, after the silence gets unbearably fragile. “Here, I mean. I thought you’d be…” They struggle for a tactful way to put it. “In the other wing.”

“Nah, he didn’t want me to stay, thank fuck. And Christopher doesn’t like me coming in af-... Um. He doesn’t like me coming in too late,” Cassius says, picking non-existent dirt out from under his finger nails. He clears his throat a little as his face flinches in and out of a frown. “Plus, the sooner I see him, the sooner I have to… you know…”

He gestures loosely at his face and Harley frowns. The sooner he’d have to do what? Get rid of the bruises? Get rid of the pain that keeps making him flinch and close his eyes? None of them talked about it but they’d all seen it. Bruises fading on Cassius just to bloom on his brother in minutes. Always after a visit to Christopher. Always without a word spoken.

Harley can’t help their own contempt, “Isn’t that a good thing for you?”

Cassius looks at them with an expression Harley can’t place, dark eyes flicking between both of Harley’s, as though searching for something. He looks angry. Murderous. Violent. Then he snorts and it’s gone. “Yeah. Sure.”

He drops his head, hands fidgeting between his knees. With the angle and the shadows, Harley can only just make out the shape of his nose, his eyes half hidden behind his hair. It sticks out at awkward angles around his head like a terrible crown. Frizzy waves in some parts, kinked curls in others.

It'll suit him more when he leaves and he grows it longer.

The thought comes unprompted, unbidden and with the utmost certainty. Like the predictions always do. Just a slice of truth falling into the head with the right prompt. An understanding that that's just… how things will be.

It's not the first time Harley's thought something like it. That Cassius will do much better once he leaves. The notion of it is almost horrifying. Cassius has been here longer than they have. It’s hard to imagine Bergen Estate without its golden boy.

Harley chews on their cheek and “If I ask you something, will you answer truthfully?”

Cassius shrugs. Smirks. “Probably not.”

Harley rolls their eyes and looks away, annoyance settling in their gut. They don’t even know why they bother with Cassius. He’s always the exact same. They're about to stand up to leave when Cassius clears his throat and-

“I’ll trade you for it,” he says softly, dark eyes shining with something unnameable in the dim light. “You ask me something, I ask you something. No lies.”

“Promise?”

Cassius just shrugs. Which is probably as good a promise as Harley’s going to get, really. They sigh and trace the patterning of the rug with their eyes before pursing their lips together and looking back up at Cassius with a focussed sincerity.

They swallow. Inhale. Hands grip the arms of the chair. "You hate it here.”

Cass’ eyes skitter to the side and back. "That's… not a question."

"Why don't you leave?"

“Same as you, dumbass. Legally binding contract.”

“No, I mean-” Harley bites down on their cheek and tries to figure out the right words to say what they mean. “You can make him do whatever you want, right? You can make anyone do what you want. So why don’t you just… make him get rid of you."

Cassius exhales in a way that could almost be a laugh. But probably isn’t. “It’s… complicated.”

“Because of Henri?”

He shrugs, looking bored as he meets their gaze. “Sure.”

“No lies.”

Cassius sighs, leaning back slouched in the chair. He shrugs. “Just because I can make someone want to do something, it doesn’t mean they’ll do it.”

“Like… he’d resist you?”

“No.” Cassius pulls a face. “I mean yes, maybe. But no… It’s like…” He makes a sound hallway between a sigh and a groan. He rolls his neck, eyes roaming around the room like he’s trying to figure something out. He leans his chin on his hand, fingers skirting over his lips before looking back to Harley. “Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ, sᴏʟᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ.”

Harley stands instantly. They turn on their foot and move to the door and for the first time in their life everything is certain. Everything is clear. Everything makes so much sense and all they have to do is… Is to…

“Um…”

Cass half smiles. There's something vicious and cruel behind his eyes. “Dᴏ ɪᴛ, Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ. Sᴏʟᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ.”

They step forward, compulsively, and for some bizarre reason they start raising their arms in front of them, as though their body can’t figure out a way to solve the issue even though they want to and as soon as that thought hits them the frantic desire starts to dissipate, filling instead with deep dread and panic.

They turn their head towards him, eyes wide. Frozen. "I…"

Cassius’ gaze is dark and heavy. Hungry and calculating. His jaw sets. “Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ, ɢᴏ ᴋɪʟʟ Cʜʀɪsᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʀ.”

The feeling that floods them is white hot and immediate. Desire and rage running through them like lava. They’re not sure they’ve ever moved so fast, wheeling on a foot, making it to the door, but no sooner are they reaching for the handle then-

“Nah, ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ɪᴛ. Cᴏᴍᴇ sɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ.”

All at once the desire dissipates, and the panic sets in like shame. Like failure. They come back over. They sit back down. Then their thoughts catch up and they look at Cassius with fury. How dare he do that? How dare he go into their head and make them feel that?

Cassius just smiles. Shrugs. “Sorry. Figured I’d show not tell.”

‘’I could’ve killed him.”

Cassius shrugs, unshaded and unconvinced. “Nah. You would’ve got halfway down the hall and changed your mind.”

“But what if I didn’t?”

“Then you would’ve gotten to his room and realised you didn’t know how. You wouldn’t have killed him.”

“I might’ve,” they protest, still indignant.

Cass shrugs, smile lazy and tired, “But you didn’t.”

They try, for a few moments, to hold on to the anger. The indignation. It’s so, so easy to hate him when he’s far away. When they can’t see him or only see him at a distance. It’s much much harder three feet away from him, where the moonlight show the bags under his eyes as dark as the bruise blossoming above his temple.

“He takes you away from here sometimes,” they say eventually. “You could… when you were away from here. You could leave. Make him let you leave. That’s not that hard.”

Cassius just looks at them, chin resting on his hand, fingers covering his mouth. He raises his eyebrows at them expectantly, foot bouncing like a motor. He’s probably trying to look annoyed. Sarcastic. But he just looks like a sad little boy.

Understanding clicks in.

“But Henri…” Harley voices for him.

Cassius shrugs a shoulder. A tear manages to make it all the way to his cheekbone before he swipes it away with the side of his fist. The Bergen Boys don’t cry. “Told you. Complicated.”

This isn’t how things are meant to be. Cassius is meant to stay in the other wing, up on his damn pedestal and away in Christopher’s bedroom. He’s not meant to cry in the common room. He’s meant to be the golden boy in his golden room. It’s meant to be easy to hate him. He’s meant to be arrogant and selfish and mean and rude and-

“Your French isn’t better than mine,” they say suddenly. They can’t quite say where the compulsion to say it comes from.

Cassius blinks, “What?”

“In the office before, you said your French was better than mine. It’s not.”

He looks at them for a moment, frowning and annoyed and then suddenly he’s laughing, eyebrows shooting up in exhausted amusement, “You’re weird as fuck, you know that?”

“What? No I’m not,” Harley spits, suddenly self-conscious and antsy.

“Yes you are,” Cassius says. “I did you a fucking favour and a half tonight-“

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“And you know what, you’re welcome by the way.”

“I never asked you to-”

“Oh, save it. Yes you fucking did. You know what I can do. You know what I can feel. You were basically fucking screaming at me.”

And that, they do remember. Closing their eyes. Drowning Christopher’s voice out in their head. The huge loud static of I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this.

The air stills. The atmosphere between them settles like dust in the shadows and darkens again. Guilt creeps over Harley's shoulders and rests with heavy claws. They shouldn’t have said anything.

“My French is more usable than yours,” Cass mutters.

They’re truly unsure if he’s being genuine or just trying to break the ice that’s frosted over. They try for the latter, “Your grammar sucks.”

“Yeah, well we didn’t get much further than ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi’, so I don’t think I did fine,” he gives them a dead-eyed smile that they assume is meant to cast the comment in humour. They don’t really find it very funny.

After a few awkward beats, Cassius gives up the ghost. He clears his throat, “Alright. My turn,”

Harley readjusts in their seat, straightening their spine, tucking their hair behind their ears to listen for the question. They wait one moment. And then two. The whole time the golden boy seems to scrutinise them, looking into their eyes as he sizes them up, makes some sort of assessment.

Cassius’ voice is low and jarringly sad as he finally lands on a question, “Why do you hate me so much?”

If it was possible for Harley to feel every cell in their body crystallise… that was what this feeling was. “I don’t hate you.”

Cassius smiles. Tilts his head. The blood along his temple catches in the light. “No lies.”

Harley frowns and looks away, turning their head to look out the window across the other side of the room. They wonder if he remembers the day they met as well as they do. It was in this room. Just a few feet from where they were sitting now. He’d been sitting on the arm of the couch making some smart mouth comment to someone and they’d thought he looked friendly. And then his eyes had met theirs and prediction hit like an epiphany:

You’re going to kill me one day.

Unprompted, unbidden and with the utmost certainty. A slice of truth falling into their head.

You’re going to kill me one day to save yourself.

They knit their fingers together in their lap, pressing knuckle to knuckle. They press their lips into a thin line. Something with wings — a bird or a bat, they can’t tell — takes flight from one of the trees outside the window. Darkness reflects darkness back.

After it becomes clear they’re not going to answer, Cassius prompts again, “Was it something I did?”

They shrug one shoulder. Like he does. Look down at their hands. The shadows across the room dance and shimmer.

“Is it because of…” out of the corner of their eye, Harley sees him wave a hand at himself. “You know. What I do.” A pause. They see his Adam’s apple bob. “The way I do it.”

Harley frowns, ducks their head lower so they don’t have to look at him, even in periphery. They manage to shake their head this time.

“Is it…” Cassius stops and starts. Stalls. Clears his throat. “Is it something I’m going to do?”

Harley finds themself looking up, despite themself.

They meet his eyes. Time stops for a second.

Cass looks so full of grief for a moment that Harley’s certain the rest of the world must’ve been robbed of it. All shoved into one person to hold for a second. His voice sounds wrecked, “I’m sorry.”

They almost believe him, too. And they hate him all the more for it.

Did he have to be so perfect at this, too? Did he have to be forgivable for this, too? Can’t they just hate him? Can’t they just hate his guts and let him get whadt he’s owed for the things that he’s done, does, is going to do? They want to ask him. They want to tell him. All of it. They want to see his face as he tries to figure out how to respond. They want to know how he feels when he finds out he’s gonna be a murderer.

“It’s okay,” is what tumbles out of their mouth instead.

“Yeah,” Cass laughs and another tear makes it out of him. They hate him for it. He swipes at it with the side of a closed fist. “No it isn’t.”

They hate him as he stands up.

They hate him as he cuts the conversation short.

They hate him as he passes and gives the back of their chair a pat.

“See you around, Harls.”

They watch the window for the flash of light as the door opens, a yellow glow spilling into the room for a moment like blood from a cut. And then the door shuts with a click. And the room is back to its inky darkness. And the golden boy is gone. And Harley isn’t.

And their hatred is an unspooled ball of yarn in the middle of the floor.

#harley #cassius #bergen estate #implied or referenced noncon #victim blaming cw #death mention cw #violent cw #wip to wob #this is your reminder that you can go back and finish an old piece and post it #for free #may your abandoned wips be more of a prodigal son to you #im mixing metaphors like cake batter babeyyy #we are the daughters of the wips you forgot to burn

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thedecoy-if · 1 year

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Have some Chap. 2 Vale in these trying times :P

SPOILERS AHEAD

"That much is obvious." They soak you in, their eyes taking their sweet time as they gaze at you from your face to your shoes. "You and ${s} are very different. I noticed it right away."

You frown, folding your arms to gaze out into the swath of sea that stretches for what looks like eternity. You've had enough comparisons to last you a lifetime.

"Don't look so glum." The uneven curve of their smile widens until it's a full-on smirk. "That's a good thing."

#vale #mae is writing #chapter 2 #the decoy #cog wip #interactive fiction #interactive novel #Forgot to mention it’s spoilery ahh

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mari-lair · 8 months

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Wip of the Phantom Thieves AU prequel

Rated M

Pairing: Terukane.

Warning: OOC for being a decade older. Violence. Teru and Akane are mostly in the 'enemies' stage of their relationship here so they are assholes. Sexual Tension. Sexual Comments. Lust. Questionable consent in 1 scene. Incompleted scenes. No beta reader.

Word count: 9000 (HOLY SHIT I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS THAT LONG)

Title: Catch Me (I Know You Can)

There was something off with this room. He knows some rich assholes consider minimalistic decor fancy, but the cheap glass roof, and colorful paintings didn’t scream money, just a marble floor isn’t enough to mask how barren it all feels. No furniture. No decor.

Like the room has been emptied beforehand.

He narrowed his eyes at the lack of windows

Or maybe it was never occupied in the first place, build like a cage, not a room.

Click.

A door opened.

Akane immediately jumped to the darkest corner of this fancy cage.

The unwelcome visitor glowed in the weak moonlight the glass ceiling offered, so it must be a high-ranking officer with their pristine white uniform. Not that Akane cares, recruits and admirals alike are child’s play to deal with.

Akane picked a spoon roughly the same weight as a key from his pants pocket and approached the officer as quietly as possible, noticing a sheeted sword and the metallic hint of a gun partially hidden by his cape, focusing on a much smaller glint on the opposite side of his belt.

Bingo.

Akane lunged, as quiet as he could in this echo-y marble floor, touching the edge of the key and freezing when his moves were stopped by a firm grip on his arm.

That’s unusual, he tends to be too fast to be caught.

“Phantom Thief, so glad you came.” The cop said, his smile polite but his blue eyes cold, glowing like radiation in the dark “You’re as foolish as the rumors say.”

Foolish?!

Akane bristled, abandoning his jacket to slip out of his hold. The man stared at the empty sleeve in his hands with a frown, but he didn’t panic, throwing his jacket on the ground “And just as slippery.”

Akane didn’t comment, trying to search for a way out. The room was pretty big, but just as he had suspected: there wasn’t a window he could use for a grand escape in sight.

“You’re under arrest for multiple robberies, unauthorized possession of poison-”

“Poison?” He doesn’t have poison, what the fuck is he talking about?

“-and assault of seven officers,” The man said, raising two fingers up and immediately turning on the lights, making everything too fucking bright. It confirmed his suspicions this place only has one exit, but now what? “If you turn yourself I’ll be generous in your sentence.”

“Does that offer ever works?” Akane mocked, walking towards the only door and feeling just a tiny bit wary of the calm way this man followed him, still composed after witnessing Akane's speed.

“You would be surprised,” The man said, grabbing a whip from behind his cape, which is an odd weapon for a police officer, odd enough for Akane to pause, connecting the dots: Golden hair. Glowy eyes. Whip. Now that’s a combo that sounded familiar.

Akane resisted the urge to laugh, realizing he is dealing with the very top of the food chain, the chief of the police, infamous for being a monster in every criminal bar Hanako had dragged him against his will.

Akane doesn’t feel any camaraderie with other criminals, finding way too many rotten people in the ‘business’, but their popular rumors are worth listening to: The sewer is a good emergency exit, no cop will ever dirty themselves for their dear law. The industrial area is so loud you can fire a gun without being noticed if you time it right, so criminals and police officers alike are bolder. And if you fall for one of Chief Minamoto’s traps, it’s wiser to surrender on the spot.

It made his heart speed up, getting some hope for the asshole in the uniform. He would hate to end the night with his hands empty, but if he steal something from this monster, he will be unbeatable.

The chief badge is perfect. He wants it.

What he wants, he takes.

Akane has never been caught before, no doubt his name has plenty of rumors attached to it as well. He isn’t scared of monsters, just because he never ‘raised the bar’ of his crimes, as Hanako so stupidly puts it, doesn’t means he isn’t the best in his field. He can handle a pompous asshole with a whip.

Akane threw his cape at his face and run for it the second it got close enough to hide Teru's eye, cursing the easy way he keep his predatory eyes on Akane’s shadow, slashing the air in a perfect arc that caught Akane’s cape mid-air and slammed the ground far too close for comfort, the sound of his whip breaking the air made Akane’s ears ring, forced to jump back.

This demon is fast.

Teru's voice changed from coldly polite to authoritarian, “Get on your knees and put your hands where I can see them or I’ll be forced to use violence.”

“Fuck you-” Akane eyes widened, barely dodging his attack and running farther out of range, waiting for an opportunity to try to steal his keys again-

He yelped when a slash nearly hit his head, the force of it damaging the wall behind him. Holy shit, is the bastard trying to kill him?? Akane sped up, needing a proper plan-

He felt something wrap around his leg, yelping at how it burned his skin and losing equilibrium when Teru pulled. Akane slammed on the ground, hitting his chest on the hard tiles and breathlessly cursing the fucker.

“Watch your tongue, thief.”

This piece of shit-

Akane tried to jump back on his feet, but was smashed on the ground by a slash on his spine. The impact hurts like hell, and the fall didn’t help, making him get familiar with the ground again in the spam of a minute.

Something heavy pressed on his back.

Shit shit shit

“Get off me!” He tried to shake him off, panicking at how little he could move as he feel his arms be restrained “Watch your hands you son of a-”

Click.

Hard metal wrapped around his wrists. Akane froze, having not been caught in one of these in years.

Teru pushed him by his restrained wrists and analyzed him as if he was a chore, Akane tensed up, doing the same: The chief looks weirdly young, can’t be older than thirty, his disgusting cop uniform and the cold apathy in his eyes putting Akane on edge.

Akane usually likes beauty, but it was impossible to care about his ‘long lashes and ocean blue eyes’ when the bastard looked at him like he was a piece of trash.

“What’s your name.” Teru ordered.

Akane spat in his eye, annoyed by the easy way he dodged, acting as if Akane was a badly behaved child. He grabbed his handcuffed wrists and roughly pushed him back on his feet.

“Get off me!” Akane snarled, his cursing cut by a pained hiss when Teru pushed his hair.

“Name.”

Akane just snarled, trying to get off the handcuff. These chains aren’t the cheap ones but he can do it.

Akane waited until he was sure the bastard wasn’t looking to slip the hairpin he hides inside his gloves to the tip of his finger.

“I’ll save the interrogation for later.” Teru commented, keeping a firm hold on his shoulder as he dragged him. His grip was uncomfortably tight, even if Akane didn’t have handcuffs on, he wouldn’t be able to slip out of it.

Tch.

Akane pretended to have given up, not resisting when Teru unlocked the door and pushed him out but still glaring when the chief narrowed his eyes, wary of his ‘docile’ attitude.

Teru grabbed his hand and confiscated his hairpin, startling Akane.

Teru ignored his curse, keeping a firm hold on his shoulder as he confiscated the hairpin on his other glove and pat him down.

Akane snarled, watching all the tricks he hide up his sleeves, shoes and pants be confiscated, feeling almost naked without any of it.

He was visibly more grumpy but he didn’t complainwhen Teru picked up the pace, taking note of an open window ahead. It was the one he had used to get inside this hell hole: two meters up, which isn’t ideal: Still, an escape route is an escape route, if he used Teru’s body as a step ladder he could make it.

He tried to steal his key, able to do so the second Teru glanced at the window Akane has his eyes on, but his victory was short lived, barely getting enough time to twist himself out of Teru’s hold before his scalp burned, the damn cop not gentle when pushing his ponytail.

“Escape attempts will only increase your sentence.” He said in a pleasant tone, smile falling as Akan’s handcuffs clattered on the ground. “You already unlocked?”

He sounded almost impressed. Almost.

“What else would I do with a key?” Akane hissed, changing his approach. If the wary bastard won’t let him out he’ll do it by force.

He grabbed his arm, aware his shoulder throw is a force to be reckoned with, but being tripped the second he touched Teru, losing his balance.

There must be metal on his boots cause his kick hurts.

Akane held his injured leg, cursing when he was restrained again.

“Keep this up and I’ll resort to violence.” He said calmly.

Ha! As if he wasn’t already fucking using violence.

“Eat shit and die.”

“Very well.” Teru's smile gained a sadistic edge to it, punching him straight in the gut.

Akane felt the air leave his lungs, swaying on his feet, his vision got blurry at the edges. The only reason he did not fall was the firm grip on his arm, dragging him.

“...Bastard.” He groaned, trying to dig his feet on the ground to make his life harder but all he achieved was to trip on the stairs.

He was shoved on a cell, his clothes changed into an awful striped prison uniform. Even his tie was confiscated, making his long hair stick to his neck.

…Great.

At least the handcuffs are off, this city’s prison cleaner and more spacious than the one on his old town.

“They really caught you, pal” a very familiar and annoying voice said “Thats rough.”

Great. Just who he wanted to see in this shithole.

“I’m not your pal No.7” Akane glared, his mood dropping even lower “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting, thought you would be lonely in this cold cell.”

“I will call the cops” Akane deadpaned, hoping that demon whipped the smirk off Hanako’s face.

“Awww~” Hanako eyes crinkled, amused “You want me as your cellmate that bad? I missed you too my fellow thief!”

One of these days he will be charged with murder and if the bastard doesn’t disappear right now, he’s afraid the allegations will have basis.

“Police! Help!” He yelled, pretty sure they wouldn’t care, but trying to send Hanako a message by giving him a deadpan stare “I am being harrased.”

“You’re so mean to me~” Hanako whined but he looked happy.

The lonely brat probably just wants attention, doesn't matter if is good or not.

Loud footsteps made Hanako immediately shut up, getting out when the door opened.

Hanako didn’t even grab a key for him. What a waste of space of a ‘partner’.

“Thief!” A young officer with bright blue eyes and way too much enthusiasm said “What’s the problem?”

Akane raised a brow, both by how similar to the chief he looked, and by his question “I am in a cell”

“For your evil deeds,”

He snorted.

Sure. Very evil. “Like stealing?”

“Of course”

“And trapping and hurting a person?” He said, snorted went the young man nodded, taking a moment to notice Akane was showing off his damaged wrists.

The boy opened his mouth but didn’t come up with anything to say, looking stupid.

Must be an amateur

Akane tried to steal his keys, surprised by how quickly the young man grabbed his hand “You’re not escaping this prison, evil villain!” He gave him a determined look “I, Minamoto Kou, will make sure of it.”

Another Minamoto?

Just his luck.

His meal was way better here than in his last city's prison, it actually tasted pretty alright, filled him up too... Who would have thought?

Akane was pretty sure he figured out a way to escape by the end of the day, Kou may be fast but he seems easy to trick, eager to impress.

“Hey Minamoto!” Akane yelled, getting ready to put his plan into action, when the wrong Minamoto opened the door, his high-heeled boots clicking on the concrete floor.

Well, shit.

Akane held on tighter to his prison bars, looking up at Teru with a mocking smirk “Well well, if it isn’t the chief! What brings you to my cell?”

“Phantom Thief.” He greeted back, with the same cold smile. “I have a few questions for you.”

Of course he does. It would be a miracle if they could shut up.

“Were you behind the heist of the central bank last week?”

“Yes?” Akane was so confused he didn’t even try to withhold information “I thought that was the whole reason I am here?”

“Just making sure,” Teru commented, sounding a bit curious…? Maybe? It’s hard to read his mood. “Why?”

“I like kicking your arrogant subordinate back in their places” Akane was honest, staying as close as he could to the bars “The money is a good bonus.”

“I see” Teru gave him that cold smile “I’m glad I’m working with such an honest criminal." He picked up a sheet of paper "Now, I have countless witnessed that claim the phantom thief have smuggled poison.” His eyes narrowed “Would you care to tell me more about It?”

“Wrong thief.” Akane sighed. “Hanako is the one you're after. Bastard stole my title. I think he is butthurt I don’t want to be his partner, but I have no idea what goes on in his head.”

Instead of not believing him, Teru nodded, putting a hand on his chin “So there truly are two phantom thieves… What is your name then?”

“None of your business.” Akane waved him off, walking away.

“Are you an illegal immigrant?”

Akane didn’t reply.

“Very well” Teru grabbed his whip.

click

Akane froze, turning around and lo and behold, Teru entered the cell, that coldly polite smile on his face “Now now, we don’t need to drag this out longer than it have to.” His eyes flashed dangerously “I have better things to do”

Akane felt a shiver down his spine, his muscles still aching where he had slashed him.

Akane spat blood on the ground of his empty cell, narrowing his eyes at the stain in his otherwise clean cell.

Bastard is clearly holding back but his lashes still fucking hurt, those cold eyes making him feel like a bug he would have no qualms in ripping it limbs one by one.

Despite what some people may say, Akane doesn’t like pain, so he gave Teru the fake name of “Shiki Nagisa” to buy himself time. It was incredibly annoying to give the bastard the satisfaction of even a fake full name.

‘You didn’t win anything’ Akane wanted to growl at the cop's pleased face, but he held back to only a glare ‘Good luck finding Nagisa, bitch.’

He tries to steal from Kou again the next time he saw the guard, playing up his injuries and putting effort into distracting him, able to keep the conversation going for long enough for the teen to lower his guard and not realize the keys in his belt were missing.

When Kou got out to get him bandages, Akane was soon to follow, leaving his cell behind.

He spotted Teru talking to a lieutenant near the building entrance, and fought back the urge to punch him. Even with the element of surprise, Akane isn’t sure he is faster than Teru's reflexes, so he settled with stealing more keys and throwing them to every captive he crossed.

“Akane-kun.” Aoi greeted him with big eyes, “Did something happen? You didn’t visit last week at all.”

Akane smiled awkwardly, not sure how to tell her he was in prison. She knows about his late-night robberies but not in detail, not that he is the phantom thief or that he is considered one of the seven most skilled criminals in town.

(...Which he doesn’t particularly like, hating the other thieves he have been lumped with)

“I was on a trip, for my night job”

“How exciting! I hope you had fun,” Aoi hummed, understanding he was talking about his life as a thief when he mentioned a night job “Do you want the usual?”

“I will like a blue lagoon today, Aoi-chan” He smiled “And a raspberry juice too.”

Aoi nodded, going to the kitchen.

The raspberry juice was a bit emptier than his by the time she came, both knowing it was asked for Aoi.

“You don’t usually ask for alcohol, is everything alright?”

“Met an asshole on this trip” Akane sighed “I have a feeling my job will get harder”

Aoi either hate his heists, or is jealous of them. Till this day, even after knowing her for three years, he wasn’t sure.

She had once told him he isn’t fit for thievery, that he likes to give more than he likes to take, and that he should become a waiter at the cozy coffee she works on.

It is a lovely idea, Akane know they would have fun talking about clients behind their back and working side by side, but he can’t picture this dream like scenario lasting.

He was born to be on the run, filling his pockets with gemstones and wallets and on instinct, his insides burning when he set his sights on something that he cannot have. There is an itch under his skin that didn’t let him stay still or play nice for long, lingering in the danger zone to catch every hint of fear and awe in his chaser’s eyes, the insult thrown his way only fuelling the fire in his veins.

He shouldn’t worry her.

Akane had no trouble finding Teru’s house. It wasn’t as stupidly extravagant as most noble mansions but it was still far too big for someone that reportedly lives alone.

Akane very carefully sneaked to a balcony on the second floor, expecting the chief to already be out and about, leaving his house free to be robbed but finding someone curled up in bed, engulfed by fancy blankets.

What.

It’s already 7 am. The police station opens in half an hour.

…Was his info-gathering flawed? Does Teru actually live with someone? Did he have a secret lover no one is aware of??

Akane was about to open the window, and do proper research, when a yawn made him freeze up, ducking and only occasionally glancing at the very sleepy man stretching: the man was slim, and not very intimidating, but he knew that pale hair and glowy eyes anywhere.

The chief rubbed his eyes like a little kid and dragged himself to one of the three doors in this bedroom. Of course the rich bastard's bedroom has a personal closet and a private bathroom.

Akane waited in pure silence for a bit, relaxing at the sound of the sink being turned on and using it as cover to sneak the window open, testing the floor.

Akane glared when Teru slammed him on the ground, keeping his restrained wrists in an uncomfortably tight hold above his head.

He tried to get free but teru only used more force, his smile tenserp “You never learn, thief.”

“You're a bad teacher"

Teru grabbed his neck and Akane snarled.

Teru narrowed his eyes when Akane threw his handcuff into the horizon but immediately started running after him, jumping high, and hitting the ground with a roll, the sword on his hip scratched the concrete, his long coat not made for this, but Teru kept his eyes on him, not slowing down.

Akane cursed, jumping off the roof and sliding into a balcony, using it to reach the fire escape in the next building and yelping at the feeling of a whip wrapping around his leg.

Shit

His jump lost power, barely able to reach the edge of the fire escape, holding on tight to the rusty metal.

“Too slow.” Teru pulled him back to his side, stepping on his chest the second he his back landed on the rooftop ground, his heavy boots digging in his ribs.

“I hate you,” Akane groaned, trying to kick him, and freezing at the way he grabbed his cravat, pushing it until the back of his neck hurt.

Teru took his cravat off and give it a quick once over, throwing it away.

“Hey!”

Teru ignored him, putting a hand on his hips and making Akane freeze, his eyes widening when Teru took off his belt, his gloved hand on his stomach far too warm.

Akane heart skipped a beat, panicking.

He tried to fight him with more vigor, face growing hot with frustration but the chief just held him tighter, keeping him pressed on the concrete.

Akane shivered at the dark look in those eyes, not remembering anyone who had ever immobilized him so easily.

“That should do,” Teru said.

“What?”

Teru wrapped the belt around his wrists, keeping it extra tight and pulling at it as if it was a leash, forcing their faces near “Now,” His polite smile was overflowing with malice, “be a good boy.”

Akane felt blood rush to his face as he stumbled to his side, the spark he had felt turning into rage. He tried to bite his nose, hating how unimpressed he looked, grabbing his neck before he could even scrap his teeth on his face. “Keep treating me like a fucking dog, and I’ll bite you.”

Teru's nearly choked him, the pressure making Akane cough.

“Don’t make me buy a leash.”

Akane snarled, finally having the bastard off him, and hurrying up to keep up with his pace, barring his teeth. Teru seemed amused by it.

Asshole.

They walked in silence. Akane tried to undo the dead knot of his belt restrain, but it didn’t budge, all attempts rewarded by Teru tightening the knot.

Well... This sucks.

'At least my pants are tight enough to not fall without the belt,' he tried to be optimistic. 'it could be worst'

drip.

Akane blinked.

drip

He frowned, staring at the grey sky. It will rain.

Great. Wonderful even...

Teru pulled at the tie when he slowed down, seemingly ignoring the increasing rain as he headed to a small store “Have you ever hurt a civilian?”

“...No?” Akane blinked, not expecting this line of questioning. Frankly, it was a bit offensive “I am a criminal, not a monster.”

Teru was unimpressed, but his track of only bullying cops must have led to enough credibility to earn the benefit of the doubt.

“Can I trust you to behave inside the store?”

He hissed “I can ‘behave’ just fine when people aren’t a stuck up pieces of sh-”

“If you make civilians feel threatened I’ll punish you.” Teru tugged harshly at his wrists, dragging him far too close for comfort, and narrowing his glowy eyes without a hint of a smile, the rain sliding down his cap forming a small waterfall between them “I want your word.”

Akane felt a sting in his chest, never seeing himself as a danger for civilians, but understanding how someone might get wary about a ‘criminal’ in a bad mood.

“...Fine.” Akane said as if it physically hurt him, hating that he can see Teru’s point. “I promise I’ll behave.”

Just while they are at the store, it will be quick.

Teru nodded sharply, the silent warning heavy in the air, and twisted his hoster, putting his gun in the back, out of view, before stopping in front of a big store.

He forced himself to relax when Teru opened the door, wearing an innocent look and staying quiet. He looked at Teru instead of the customers, even if he could feel their eyes on him.

He was surprised by the way Teru behaved, not teasing him for playing nice, merely buying an umbrella and a bag to guard his wet cape, smile far kinder than the one Akane is used to, tone comforting, far from humble but still grateful when the owner gave him a discount, the warm talk alluding Teru have helped them before.

The energy was so cozy it felt like being hit in the head. Either he is one hell of a good actor, laying deep into the image he was given, or Teru has more than violence in his heart, he just… doesn’t see Akane as a person.

The idea was annoying.

(It hurt, but Akane refused to acknowledge anything about the demon could hurt him.)

Akane tried to pocket a candy to distract himself from this creepy ‘sweet’ side of Teru, but before he could dream of touching it, Teru made a show of raising his hand to scratch his cheek, which tugged at the belt trying Akane’s hands, keeping them far away from his goal.

Tch.

He didn’t glare though, he keep his promises.

When they got out Teru was back to being a dick “I’m impressed you only tried to steal once.” He opened the umbrella “Good job, I’ll give you a treat~”

“Oh, I’ll show you a treat you two-faced pig.” Akane dropped the docile attitude too, yelping when he was tripped, nearly stumbling on his arm.

“Watch where you’re walking” He mocked.

He made a face at the way he had to almost lean on the bastard’s arm to escape the rain, “Watch your step, bitch.”

Akane huffed, but he reluctantly appreciates being protected from the rain, Teru’s fancy jacket was warm and dry from having been under his discarded cloak.

Akane had no idea what to do so he stayed silent, watching the downpour eat up the city, the road infested by puddles. His socks was wet and uncomfortable, clearly more on the edge of the umbrella than Teru, they haven’t even crossed a block and half of his fringe was already dripping wet.

Teru was starring at him when he focused on the asshole again.

“Like what you see?” He mocked,

The chief wordlessly tilted their umbrella, soaking Akane to the bone.

Akane spluttered, trying to take his wet fringe off his eyes and yelping when it only earned him a harsh tug, his belt digging into his wrists, burning his skin.

“Oh I do” Teru smiled maliciously.

Akane glared at him, uncomfortable at the way the demon blushed, liking to make his life harder. So he wasn’t imagining, the bastard really is a sadist.

He smiled pleasantly at his anger, and Akane resisted the urge to spit on his eye again.

After two blocks, the rain slowed down, still strong but not enough to create a river on the streets.

“It’s weaker” Teru commented, keeping his hold on the tie tighter, but his shoulder was not as tense.

“You stole Hyuuga’s necklace haven’t you?”

“Damn right,” He smirked “You couldn’t catch me.”

Teru gave him a side look, mood impossible to decipher “And you returned it”

Akane's smirk fell “So what?”

“Why?”

Akane sighed “He was bawling his eyes out about it, I can’t just take his only connection to his lover or whatever his 'Lady' is”

“How nice of you” He mocked.

“Fuck you too”

When they had to climb a set of stairs, he noticed Teru was making an effort to keep him under the umbrella, focusing more on measuring their steps. It was… admittedly not something he had expected of him, but he still wouldn’t call it ‘kind’: Teru pulls are harsh when Akane slows down, and he doesn’t try to warm him up, letting akane stay soaked, smile still unreadable and eyes cold.

Is a blessing in disguise. The idea of being hugged or borrowing his jacket makes Akane stomach twist, not wanting to cozy up to the sadistic cop with a rotten personality or feel comfortable while being led to prison.

Prison...

He bet the cell will be very cold tonight. Way too cold.

He can’t have that.

Akane tripped Teru when they were near the end of the wet stairs, being pulled down with him but able to sneak out of his belt, and running away and grabbing the umbrella while he was at it by instinct “See you later chief,”

Teru got back on his feet quickly. Always fast to act.

Akane smirked, disappearing into a back alley. It was hard to hold on to drenched posts and plants littering the wall with his hands tied but he managed.

Akane peeked from the balcony, not surprised, but still feeling adrenaline make his heartbeat ring in his ears at the way Teru was chasing after him, with his little cape and cap, rain be damned.

Akane jumped away from his whip with a smirk, umbrella under his arm, making his escape harder, but worth it from how being wet annoyed Teru. There was a sharp edge on a window, so Akane used it to nick his belt and get enough of an edge to undo his restraints, picking up speed and leaving the chief in the dust.

Teru had taken the fire escape, his cap getting lost at some point, rain dripping down his hair, getting in his eyes.

Akane opened the umbrella, more to show off his victory than really get any safety from the rain. He is drenched already, they both are. It’s no wonder Teru isn’t smiling, a cold look in his eyes.

There was something about watching him struggle to catch up, hair darker and flatter, that was hard to look away from. The way he whipped his fringe off his eyes is too pretty for such a bastard, it’s a wonder he turned into a cop instead of a cover model.

“You look like you’re having trouble” Akane yelled to be heard over the rain, throwing a closed umbrella at him, watching him grab it before it hit him in the face “Don’t catch a cold chief!”

And off he went.

“Careful, you wouldn’t want me to involve your sibling-”

Teru kicked hard enough to feel like he broke his spine when he hit the ground, barely able to cough before he stepped on his chest and put a blade on his throat, the tip of the cold metal pressing him on the ground with enough force to damage some of his skim.

“Touch my family and I’ll kill you” He has never seen such a cold expression on his face, his tone making it clear this isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.

Akane narrowed his eyes, feeling scared, but unwilling to show it “Ha!" The laugh made the blade dig deeper "Bet Kou would adore to learn his dear bro killed someone-”

A sharp pain made Akane scream, surprised to have Teru slash his chest, soaking his shirt with blood.

He only got his wound treated at his cell, when Teru realized he wasn't being serious.

He didn't let Kou guard him Akane again tough.

Akane clenched his fists as he cleaned his bleeding shoulder, sure it would be harder to escape now.

Akane usually only went out into the night after careful planning, once every two week, or every month depending on how busy his life have become, but there was a buzz under his skin, a desire to see Teru again, attracted to those glowing eyes like a moth to a flame, wanting to scream at him, prove to himself that he is worthy of the chief's attention.

It’s no good, no good at all.

He is no fool, he knows the chief is a real threat, but he still wants his eyes on him, he wants to be the one to trip him, to tear that condescending smile apart with his teeth.

So he went out again.

Akane smirked, the chimney proving to be a good shortcut. He stopped right before he hit the ground and stepped out of the coal’s way.

He grabbed a bag of expensive clothes and jumped out the window, using the electricity post as a boost and support to reach the top of fancy wall, feet in between two spikes.

“Too late chief!” He laughed darkly, looking back with malice and feeling this euphoric adrenaline crash at the sight of a baffled commander whose name he doesn’t even know.

What.

No!

He want to leave Teru in the dirt, outrun him- It wasn’t worth trying something new on these guys, he could have escaped even by walking through the front door.

Akane glared, slipping into the house he jumped over instead of running back to his home.

Where was that stupid cop?

After picking from three more houses, with no sight of Teru, Akane huffed, frustrated by his absence.

He grabbed the haul successfully though so he should be happy. Usually this would be a big win, but he only felt a vague disappointment. Dropping the gems in his bed and freezing at the realization he had been looking forward to mocking Teru.

Oh, would you look at that! the missing chief!

Akane silently moved through the shadows, smirking at the way he analyzed writing on the walls, Sumire’s doing, that one is a dangerous girl. Till this day he has no idea if she causes destruction on accident or on purpose.

“My, if it isn't th-” Akane started his monologue, surprised by the gun pointed his way, the barrel dead set on his face.

Akane froze, too tense to notice his finger wasn’t on the trigger.

Teru's unreadable look didn’t disappear, but his shoulder slumped “Thief.” He lowered his gun, still far more tense than usual.

“On edge aren’t we?” He mocked, feeling a drop of sweat on the back of his neck. “Did a filthy criminal outsmart you?”

Teru's face closed up “Do you have any ties with the masked murderer?”

“I don’t associate with murderers” Akane deadpaned “and masks aren’t uncommon for criminals-”

“A skull mask.”

Oh.

Akane face closed up, he know the guy. Hates his guts, sure No.6 used to work with a cop, a while bback. A true disgrace for a criminal.

“Why would I tell you?”

“I won’t try to run after you if you do”

“Oh?” He smiled “You’ll let a filthy thief get away?”

“A murderer is my priority over stolen jewelry” Teru deadpaned “Do you have any information or not?”

Murderer…? Sumire is not a murderer.

He froze.

There is blood on his cape. He cannot tell if it’s Teru’s or someone’s else, but from the bloodstain angle, he is inclined to say it’s someone else.

Ha.

“Shouldn’t you lock yourself up then?” Akane mocked.

Teru smiled politely “No info then.”

Akane dodged his whip, still not on the same level as the bastard, but knowing him well enough to hold his own in a chase.

When they saw each other again, he had the urge to make him bleed.

Everything about the chief always felt too cold, too calculated. He wonders if he is even human underneath it all, if he will drop the politely amused smile if Akane choked something out of him.

He didn’t care about an image anymore, he grabbed Teru's jacket and kicked him as hard as he could, dragged Teru to the ground with him.

He probably sprained his ankle, it hurt, but Teru was down as well, immediately focusing on grabbing his arm so Akane didn’t run, “Why would you think this would work?” Teru hissed, a hint of annoyance in his voice “Stop always struggling!”

“Sorry for not liking jail, asshole.” Akane sassed, spotting a hint of red under his fringe.

Hah

He does bleed.

When Teru dragged him by the collar, Akane felt a shiver down his spine, wary of his smirk, panicking when it looked like he was going to kiss him-

“Watch your tongue” Teru used his authoritarian voice, shaking his bones. It made him tense up for all the wrong reasons “If you tell me how you got to the museum, I’ll give you a blanket for the night.”

The disappointment when the kiss didn’t happen was such a shock Akane didn’t have a witty comeback.

Akane glared as Teru disappeared.

That’s not good.

Akane paced his cell, understanding the man is beautiful but this is ridiculous.

Akane hates cops, disgusted by their superior attitude and their incompetence, the way they stretch the definition of what’s ‘legal’ the second it becomes convenient, putting a price on lives as easily as the criminals they condemn.

The highlight of his heists is always outsmarting them, the rush of pulling the rug from under their feet, to kick them off their high horse with only his shadow in their memories, watch what rumor they come up with to protect their pride.

And Teru is everything he hates the most, the arrogance, the clear sense of superiority, and sadistic tendencies. He would never get excited by his pretty face.

‘Behave’ That mocking smile came to mind, as infuriating as it was attractive, dark gloves holding on tight to his hair. ‘Or you’ll be punished'

Akane shook his head at the mental image, disgusted with himself. If he was that needy he should just get a one-night stand.

Akane isn’t very fond of those, he may not be as romantic as he used to be in his childhood, but he still believes being intimate is better with someone you trust.

(Even if the thrill of bringing a stranger to his bed and dangling his identity in plain sight is hard to beat, a road that can get addicting.)

Akane huffed, rubbing his wrists, unable to get any fluttering feelings when he pictured the asshole, at most begrudging respect for his skills, so at least it wasn't something as stupid as a crush.

Akane laughed, distracted by how close they are “And here I thought I was being subtle.”

“Oh thief,” He leaned even closer, his amusement cruel, the condescending smirk begging to be ripped to shreds “You’re as subtle as a dog near a slab of meat-”

Akane closed the distance, stealing a kiss to shut him up.

Teru’s lips are far softer than he expected.

The chief’s hold grew slack when he forced his mouth to open, eyes wide in a way Akane haven’t seen before.

(It set of a spark in his stomach, adoring how big his eyes looked when knocked out of his high horse.)

He will be lashed for this regardless of what he does now, so Akane didn’t hold back, sneaking out of his restraints to grab his silky hair and deepen the kiss, intrigued to feel something sharp, a pair of small fangs on an otherwise flawless set of teeth. He could feel Teru’s mouth turn into a snarl, unsurprised Teru wrapped his fist on his collar the second the shock passed, pushing Akane off and slamming him into the wall.

Akane's brain bounced at the impact, not sure if he felt dizzy because of the blow or because he actually kissed the bastard. He inwardly laughed in the the face of his anger, not giving Teru the time to get his cool back before he dragged him down again for another kiss, trying to take the lead and succeeding, shivering at the way Teru tasted, getting on his tiptoes when Teru was able to straighten his back, lifting Akane to his level by lifting him up and scraped his back on the concrete wall, the pain only serving to blur his vision, making it all feel more surreal.

Akane got his tongue bitten for his audacity but he couldn’t stop, having never seen those icy eyes so wide before, his discomfort tasted like victory.

He wrapped a hand around his neck when he felt the pressure on his back lessen, not wanting to lose this equal height, and tilted Teru’s head, getting more demanding. Teru did not like that, slamming him back on the wall and sinking his fangs where he could hurt him, but kissing back regardless. The hand on the collar of his shirt choked him at some point. It hurt.

He was out of breath by the time Teru threw him away, straight to the ground. The persistent ache on his bitten tongue even after getting air back, and blood on his gums, reassuring Akane this is real.

Teru stared at him with hatred, his shoulders tense, hands turned into fists as he breathed a bit faster than usual. He wasn’t amused anymore, his wet lips with a brand new bruise on it.

Akane felt heat coil in his stomach at the sight, addicted to his unease, for once being the one to look down on him.

Akane resisted the urge to kiss him again, using Teru’s wariness as an opportunity to jump away, feeling invincible to taste freedom while his mouth is still bleeding.

(He could have run, but he stayed near, watching him, mesmerized)

Teru spat on the ground, and cleaned his lips with the back of his glove, positively furious “Have you grown desperate enough to use cheap seduction tricks?”

“Have you sunk low enough to enjoy them? ” He licked his bruised lip, “You’re pathetic,” His smirk widened into something cruel, high on the way his eyes glowed with hatred, forgetting it all to focus on Akane and Akane only “Just throw your badge away chief, go use your mouth for something useful, I’m sure you’ll have fun sucking dic-”

Teru jumped his way with a murderous glint in his eyes, fast as lightning.

Akane tried to run away, heart skipping a beat for all the wrong reasons, but he was grabbed by the neck before he could jump to the next building, coughing harshly at the tight grip but still high on the way he had ripped that condescending smile off his face, his anger uncontrolled for once.

“W-What?” Akane wheezed out, well aware he can’t escape his iron grip but still feeling victorious “Can’t handle the truth? Thirsty bitc-”

He expected the punch, frankly, he had expected sooner, but the explosion of pain in his gut was far stronger than usual, packing enough power to make him lose his conscience.

Akane woke up to see a dirty concrete floor, his vision blurry… Body moving without his consent. He vaguely registered that Teru was dragging him by his hair because of a sting on his scalp.

Hah…

He really angered the asshole this time.

Akane felt a hint of satisfaction before blacking out for good. A few days in jail is worth it.

Akane startled awake, cursing at the feeling of water dripping all over him.

He shivered, trying to clean his face and nearly falling, realizing he was sitting on a slippery surface, his hands handcuffed behind his back and wrists aching from the awkward pose, completely unprotected from the rain.

Akane froze, slowly processing that he was trapped on the rooftop of what seemed to be an abandoned house located who knows where, his stomach still hurt from Teru’s punch, and the creeping night made the surroundings dim.

That son of a bitch.

Akane rested his back on the cold chimney he was handcuffed too and groaned at the way it was too short to offer much back support, its cone tip digging his spine. The rain didn’t take long to completely soak through his clothes as he tried to get out of his restrains and not slip down the wet shins. There is a window near this chimney, so at least he will get immediate cover once he is out-

Akane paused his struggles, taking a better look at the dirty window and noticing a shine on the windowsill, the key to his handcuffs innocently resting on it, out of reach but only by a meter.

Ha!

“You’re one petty fucking bastard.” He hissed, remembering Teru’s anger and smirking.

The chief was always so cold, so high and mighty and unbearable, it felt strange to realize he is endearing.

He hid it well, rigid when Akane forced him into a dance, always ready to use violence, but he got tense by his flirting after being kissed, making a conscious effort to not let his eyes linger on his lips, clearly affected by his stupid taunts-

That’s so cute.

He was aware he should run, but the urge to make him angry, see if he could make him cry, made him greedy. The feeling was addicting, not resisting when Teru grabbed his hand, counting on it.

“You can kiss me back, is only fair~”

Teru laughed, so disgusted Akane may have misunderstood his intentions “Fair.” He grabbed his chin, fingers digging into his jaw “Is to put you in your place.”

Akane shivered, wanting to kiss him, pour gasoline until his eyes burned with hatred again but the merciless kiss he had hoped expected never happened, pushed down the fire escape stairs.

“I wish he’d fuck me” Akane admitted after swallowing another glass of alcohol, blinking slowly when Hanako choked on his wine, but unfortunately didn’t die from it.

“What?” Hanako was looking at him like he was insane.

“He is pretty.” Akane shrugged, not understanding why Hanako looked sick, or why his body was shaking so much.

Or wobbling? Yeah wobbling. Everything was kind of wobbly now the he think about it...

Wait no, Akane’s vision is the wobbly one.

Hum…

… Maybe he is a bit drunk.

Or tipsy? It’s been a long while since he drank more than a polite glass of wine.

Was this even wine? What the hell is he drinking?

His head hurt when he tried to read the label of his bottle so he just re filled his cup. It tasted good. So whatever.

“He nearly cut your arm off.” Hanako pointed out.

“Pretty and strong” Akane agreed, smirking at his discomfort but feeling a hint of annoyance at the thought of Teru's stupid face as he watched Akane scream “Mean too… Hate his guts. Need to get off his stuuupid high horse.” Akane frowned at his glass, imagining his bitten lip and blushing at the memory of his undivided attention as he glared at Akane, wanting more of it, “I want him to look at me. Break his back for once, bastard is so cold...”

He would lose a limb if he try to kiss him again, definitively die if he squeezes his ass, but it would be so worth it, just to see the rage in his eyes again.

‘He has been more violent with me lately… Bet he can’t get me out of his head’ Akane licked his bruised lips with self-satisfaction.

Hanako seemed traumatized.

Heh… That’s funny.

“Pussy.” Akane mocked, stumbling out of his seat and raising his glass up high “Hey! Who here wanna fuck the police chief?!”

He expected a solid three people to agree, aware that much beauty can blind some folks even after said pretty man ruin their lives, but a solid one third of the bar raised their glasses, starting a roll of yelling both of agreement and of judgment.

“Make him pay!” someone in the back snarled.

“Yeah!” Akane cheered, taking a swing of his drink. Something about the number was too high for comfort, it made him annoyed, he wasn’t sure why, but he really didn’t like it.

Half these people wouldn’t be able to escape prison, so they must have never gotten their face smushed on the ground within seconds by Teru, or felt their lips split open by his fangs.

What do they know? Bet they don't even know the bastard have fangs.

Akane frowned, feeling an annoying itch in his stomach. Surely they would have bragged about it if they had kissed Teru.

…Right?

Fuck it, he raised his glass again “Who here has kissed the guy?!”

The bar got silent.

Akane laughed, this time louder, far more genuine.

“...You didn’t” Hanako paled.

Akane smirked, giggly with victory. Now that’s more like it. “And I’ll do it again!”

“Thief, what the fuck-”

“How are you still alive??”

Akane woke up with a hangover and four different wallets on his bed, two more on the floor, which had likely fallen when he moved in his sleep.

He has no idea who he stole from, but he really hopes one of his targets was Hanako.

Akane got up, groaning at his aching head and drinking a generous amount of water before looking through his haul, smirking when he found a flashy wallet with 320 bucks in it, and another with no identity card and way too much paper money, the picture of the newbie reporter, Yashiro, making it obvious Hanako was the owner.

Nice.

Akane blinked at a picture of the youngest Minamoto hidden between two bills, amused to realize the fool also seemed to be interested in a Minamoto.

He feels sorry for the kid, Hanako's way of flirting make people's life hell. Akane would know.

Akane agreed to be his informant.

Why? He doesn’t fucking know.

He seriously considered not showing up to their meeting spot, but the mental image of Teru's disappointed look and a condescending “Shouldn’t have expected anything else from a thief” made him fume.

Akane kept his hair in a tight bun and wore a pair of reading glasses, which is a low-effort disguise but it worked since people rarely see the phantom thief in the night anyway, seemingly only knowing him from his cape and his ponytail. On his way he could hear a commotion, reluctantly checking it out when he realized it came from a jewelry store he planned to rob when he had the time.

He couldn’t get too close, police were blocking the way, but he could see a broken window and hear a girl, around twelve, maybe less, screaming for her mom.

Teru was speaking to her in a tone that was very gentle, too soft for Akane to discern words. He looked uncomfortable.

The girl stopped screaming but she still cried and shook her head, visibly shaken.

The chief orders were noticeably less loud and authoritarian when he asked his subordinate to get her a blanket, measuring his volume near the civilian.

Akane just stared, noticing Teru never touched her, keeping a certain professional distance, but he let her hold on to the edge of his long coat for support, seemingly genuinely trying to calm the girl down despite his discomfort, talking in a quiet tone.

When the officer he requested a blanket shook his head, Teru seemed a bit troubled, unclasping his cape, offering it to the girl with a gentle smile, and letting her wrap herself in it.

Akane felt frustrated by it all, ceirtain now that Teru isn't a demon, he just just doesn't consider Akane human enough for kindness.

( but also felt weird at the sight, something more sticky and troublesome. )

He has been vaguely aware Teru, in all his arrogant and cruel ways, is not as simple to pin down as the other cops he dealt with: He carried a sword and a gun, but rarely used them. He refused bribes, only locking up those he was confident were guilty for their crimes but Akane know nobles well enough to know there must be something shady going on with the Minamotos. Teru failed in many areas, treating people like garbage the second they were deemed a criminal, but he made an effort into keeping his men in check, putting work. He doesn't seem to trust anyone. But he help citizen.

Is odd, even if he reluctantly understands Teru lowered the town crime rate considerably, he does not like his approach, he can’t help but tense up at his presence. Hating his arrogance, his stubborn attitude, and his pristine little murderer uniform.

And yet…

When Teru smiled at the girl, the stranger, there was so much kindness put in the spotlight, the dangerous glow of his eyes soft and comforting.

For the first time, he perfectly understood why so many civilians called him a prince, a hero.

‘I’ll protect you, everything will be alright’ His actions seemed to say, keeping his energy light when asking her to describe the “bad guy” that invaded the place.

(It felt wrong, like a fake advertisement, and yet…

Akane couldn’t help but remember the umbrella store.

He couldn't look away.)

Akane held his face, his gentle touch making Teru narrow his eyes. Hard to read.

‘I want you’ He thought, but he couldn’t have that, so he settled for gently brushing his fringe behind his ear and using his shock to steal his hat, hiding it behind his back and flashing him a smug smirk “See ya chief!” He gave him a mock salute, only exchanging his small tophat for the chief’s cap when he reached the next house roof, smirking at the immediate sound of footsteps after him.

“Thief!” Teru hissed, his voice commanding, reaching his very soul. “Return it. Now.”

He looks good without a hat.

“Came get it!” Akane egged him on, jumping on top of a lamp post and using the momentum to dive straight into a four-story mansion balcony, disappearing inside the room and walking out too quickly for the arguing couple in front of the fancy bathroom to notice he was ever in their house.

From there he just had to climb one store up and hop around, determined to run away, keep the cap as a souvenir. He run until his legs ached, crossing many restricted areas and civilian houses any law-abiding citizen would have trouble walking around willy nilly.

He lost Teru after a few blocks, disappearing into the night and slipping inside his bedroom window.

“My win” Akane laughed in his empty room, touching the dumb white cap in his head with pride, the sight of him with it in the mirror made him feel weird. He hates cops and their pretentious uniforms, but he couldn't deny he felt something at the idea this isn’t just a cop’s hat, but a part of Teru’s uniform.

It made him feel closer to the chief.

“How pathetic” He mocked his reflection.

#i'm going to post one wip at a time. all at the same time would be too much #ao3 phantom thieves au #this was supposed to be around four big chapters (like the red house fic!) so a lot of big things are missing rip #ngl i added a scene while i was editing the wip cause i forgot how fun it is to write thief akane #there is tiny tiny microscopic hints of other ships but they aren't worth mentioning i feel #terukane

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scarebats · 1 year

Text

writing an icemav fic that is dedicated to a guy i saw at boston pizza 2 years ago that looked absolutely amazing in booty shorts🫡

#icemav #i embarrassed myself when he asked for my order #(i got distracted and was watching the olympics)#i forgot to mention that he was my waiter #iceman x maverick #top gun 1986 #top gun #should i be working on my wips for wip wednesday? yes #am i? no #honckity

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bagea · 4 months

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my oc that i neverrrr talk aboutt, irl photos under cut

#art #digital art #bages art tag #oc #ughhh i really gotta make more art and even a tag about my series and stuff #wip title is called “fruit punch”#its basically like if patlabor (the series) was mixed with an eldritch god story #ANYWAYS #depending on if you know me off of site. as in orange cat site you might remember this character #GOD ive had this oc for so long rotating in my mind like a rotrissary chicken #she still doesnt have a name btw #for now ive been calling her “???” or “doll” (refrencing her lore and backstory hauhagahjhhhjfgkuhjmvhhvhjhjv) *EXPLODES #I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT THIS ISNT ONE OF THOSE OBJECT HEAD OCS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DO NOT COmpare #me to those type ocs i made this one way before i even knew of those!!!!!!#oc series stuff

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cherubify · 10 days

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ur smile for the camera fic is literally copied off of someone else’s. they did the exact same story before you did i think it was like a week ago. i’m not sending this just to hate on you for no reason but i think it’s wrong to steal off of someone else’s work like that.

hi anonie! firstly, thanks for trying to 'call me out' on this albeit politely. while i detest baseless accusations– especially wifout any proof/links– i immensely appreciate your respectfulness.

secondly, SFTC's main concept was from a person who, by the way, requested it anonymously! they could've sent other writers a similar request, or wanted MY take on the same idea.

lastly, i would sincerely love for you to elaborate on the extent of how my work plagiarises another. in fact, if you could kindly link me the fic you're referencing in your accusation, it would be of great help! thank you, anonie!

#💌:inaask:#edit: forgot to mention i had this req literally late last mth n almost immediately received it aftr service charge was posted #it took me 2-3 weeks to write it cuz i was preoccupied wif aftr dark + other wips + depression so it came out slower lolz #i truly am curious on the other fic tho #would love to see the resemblance besides the overall concept of a rental vid shop reader fic lol

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 9 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

Dreamwalker (Eddie’s Story) Summary: Steddie Canon compliant/fix-it fic paired with a corresponding story in Steve’s POV, each chapter happens in tandem with the other. Eddie wakes up alone in the Upside Down, not knowing how he survived, and unable to reach anyone topside in Hawkins. Wounded and alone, he finds shelter at the Harrington’s house (the place is a damn fortress after all), and while hiding out there discovers that he has gained the ability to walk into other people’s dreams.

((Content warnings in tags))

(un-beta’d snippet of Chapter 2; Eddie made it to the Harrington’s house in one piece last chapter, and hasn’t tried to step outside of it ever since. It’s safe, he has room and food and endless supplies (make-shift or otherwise), and he’s still pretty injured and needs to rest. But idle hands and all that, plus adjusting to living in the Upside Down isn’t exactly a walk in the park.)

It takes over a week before Eddie leaves Steve’s house.

To be fair, he sleeps a lot of it. (Still healing, and all that; blood loss is no fucking joke.) He doesn’t dream of Steve, or with Steve, in that time. In fact, he’s not dreaming much at all, thank Jesus, because when he does… it always ends with the bats.

Gnawing, swarming, rows and rows of teeth digging into his sides, going for vital organs. A tail around his neck, more pulling at each limb, like he’s being drawn and quartered. Screaming as teeth sunk into him over and over again. Being disemboweled alive – sounds metal as fuck. Actually sucks balls.

He wakes up far too many times to a double tap of paralyzing fear. First shot – being eaten alive in his dreams, not knowing if it’s real or if it’ll stop. Second shot – not knowing if he’d screamed when he woke up, and what might have heard him if he did. It’s enough to make anyone curl up in the fetal position and shake.

But then Eddie focuses on trying to contact Steve. After a few days of rest, his head no longer swimming, and his wounds in the gross, early stages of healing and scarring, Eddie realizes he needs out. No one was going to come looking for him here, at Harrington Manor (now Casa de Munson), so if he wants the rescue party to locate him he’d have to send up some flares. Discreetly.

He tries the lights. He tries the doors. He tries the TV (à la Poltergeist), and the stereo system in Steve’s room. The walkie-talkie radio that is obviously Henderson’s handiwork. He even tries Harrington’s fucking hair dryer. God knows he’d noticed that thing on the fritz. He lets his hand pass through the drifting bits of tickling light whenever Steve actually deigns to be home and turn something on, but half the lights are too high for him to reach (damn rich people’s homes and their fucking vaulted ceilings) and the rest don’t seem to have any kind of impact on the guy.

Eddie calls Steve many unflattering names this particular morning, specifically after the hair dryer incident. He messed with it until the damn thing blew a fuse, and it yielded results he never in a million years would have predicted. It seems Steve did in fact notice this, and then? Then Eddie could hear Steve, loud and clear. Just like they had with Henderson when they were stuck over spring break, as if he was trapped in the walls. Steve yells right back at him, or to God or whoever, some choice words very similar to Eddie's own a moment ago. And it was so dramatic and so… good to hear a voice again in the pulsating nothingness of the Upside Down that Eddie laughs until he cries.

Sometimes in the mornings (when he can’t bother to pull himself out of bed) he could hear Steve and Buckley talking in the kitchen, but he hasn’t heard Steve’s parents and most of the time Steve doesn’t talk at all when he’s home. It gets to the point where Eddie starts to worry he might have to make the trip to Henderson or Sinclair's house. If any of those little brats has the intelligence to count on in a dire situation like this, it’s Sinclair’s 11-year-old sister. (Heaven help him.)

The biggest problem with that plan is… there are things out there. The bats swarm daily; when they pass over the house it sounds like a tornado is about to take off the roof. There’s creatures that stalk about between the trees, taller than a normal man, and scavenging creatures of all sizes. Dog-sized, rat-sized, more he can’t even make out. The vines creep and move, try to wiggle under the doors of the house sometimes but can’t make it past the weather seals. And there’s something huge, vaguely Jabba The Hut shaped, that slithers about and Eddie is fucking terrified it might move faster than it looks.

There’s more, too, he knows this. He hears the cries and shrieks in the night of the creatures hunting each other. If that’s not a terrifying enough scenario for you, imagine how Eddie felt the moment he realized they eat each other and are still a hive mind. They are starving. No wonder they are so hostile and ravenous for human flesh. It’s food that doesn’t hurt to eat.

It’s about this time that Eddie starts to take notes. A day or two before he makes his first venture outside the house. His mind is a maddening buzz of information and fears and observations and questions. He can’t think, he can’t put anything in order, it makes him want to knock himself out just for a moment of peace. But the risk of nightmares starts to deter that. So he finally does the one thing he swore he would never do; he takes the long suffering advice of his old middle school guidance counselor. The one he was too full of anger to hear properly, at the time.

He writes it all down.

It starts as stream of consciousness, dumping all the chatter and words in his head onto paper just to put it somewhere. To save his dwindling sanity. And soon his brain, trained and honed like a broadsword blade by his DM campaigns, begins to group information on instinct. Ideas. Categories. Plans.

Ten hours and a hell of a cramp in his hand later, he actually has a plan. He might have… started to lose it a little by then, too, because the layout sounds a bit like the intro monologue to one of his campaigns:

Eddie the Banished has been left behind; not out of hate or convenience, but out of circumstance. He doesn’t blame his party for doing so. They are at war with a fearful, deadly foe. They thought he’d been vanquished. Defeated.

Alas, he endured.

He survived.

Eddie the Banished was now in hiding, behind enemy lines.

He found himself in quite an advantageous position — and if this were a D&D campaign, he knew just what he would do. He’d do reconnaissance. He’d make maps and creature dossiers, stash weapons and provisions, he'd be the best ‘presumed dead’ spy a campaign had ever asked for. He could do so much good, getting everything ready.

So what was stopping him doing the same, here?

Easy:

Fear.

The very real reality that he could be eaten by a monster.

The fact he’s a storyteller, not a fighter.

The pros and cons list literally began to write itself, filling pages in Steve’s (very worryingly unused) high school notebooks that Eddie had commandeered. But the pros are a lot longer than the cons.

In summary:

Pros = prepare everyone for what comes next. (If his brief glimpse of downtown was anything to go by. They still had a boss battle to fight.)

Cons = he’s a coward at heart, who knows how to keep himself alive first and foremost.

… It takes him rereading his own notes until the wee hours of the morning to realize… that may be a skill, and not a flaw. The ability to keep himself alive. At least here, it was. In the Upside Down. And wasn’t that the coolest adaptive mindset ever, enough that it propelled him into preparatory action. All the way to the following morning, where he stood just inside the interior door of the Harrington’s garage, working up the nerve to step outside.

—

tbc

—

Series Snippets:

- Dreamwalker (Eddie’s Story) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

- Subconscious (Steve’s Story) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

#this part of the chapter was an experiment in formatting #who am I kidding this whole duology is an experiment in how much I can push traditional fanfic formatting #I am a mad scientist - fear me #Eddie curses a lot #using profanity as adverbs and adjectives #wip wednesday #dreamwalker subconscious series #this is just a snippet #cw descriptions of violence and gore #cw character death mentioned #cw injuries and healing of them #Eddie has a complicated view of himself. And possibly ADHD #snippets no one asked for #katyswriting #GOD DAMN IT I FORGOT THE IMPORTANT TAG #Steddie

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galaxywhump · 1 year

Text

Difficult Conversations, Part Two

Trope: Survivor’s Guilt

Fandom: Original Work

[Masterlist]

[gray for requested, blue for completed]

Timeline: set after Difficult Conversations, Part One.

contents: rescue and recovery from slavery whump and forced relationship, medical setting (medbay on a space ship), trauma, discussion of death and broken whumpees, referenced noncon kissing, downplaying trauma, swearing.

~~~

Hey. Sorry I haven't called you. Let's talk in person when I'm back, okay? It's just a few more days.

Alright.

Wren stares at the single word, the response that came not even a minute after he sent his message, and exhales slowly. Doubts are tearing him apart, he should call, that’s the right thing to do, but he can’t imagine himself doing that just yet.

Not over a call.

He runs his fingers over the strap of the communicator circling his wrist, just to remind himself that it’s there. Johnson gave it to him and let him keep it, and he didn’t expect just how comforting having it would be.

Something he couldn’t get his hands on for two years. A link to civilization.

Before he can turn the communicator off, the sound of a new message makes him flinch.

I’m glad you’re okay.

He blinks in disbelief, but can’t help but smile a little bit. It’s the last thing he expected to read, given who sent it, but it’s enough to make him tear up. He wipes his tears away with a laugh, then types a message of his own.

I’m glad too.

He’s not okay, no matter how much he pretends otherwise and wishes he was, but he knows that now… he’s capable of being okay, eventually. Daniel is dead. He’s free. Earth’s waiting.

He turns the communicator off, closes his eyes with another exhale, and smiles.

~~~

There are people here, on the I.S.S. Brittany, and the thought still makes him lightheaded. It’s a fairly small crew, but it doesn’t seem like it after two years spent with two other people at most, with his hope of seeing anyone other than his tormentors ever again diminishing every day; he tries not to think about being surrounded by even more people when he’s back on Earth for now.

In the medbay it’s just him and Vitkus, and Johnson, occasionally checking up on him. He was instructed to continue sleeping in the medpod to ensure that the wound that had almost killed him twice doesn’t scar, but eventually Vitkus decides that it shouldn’t reopen.

“You can leave the medbay if you’re ready,” she says. “See the ship, meet the others.” She sees the panic in his eyes, and gives him a sympathetic smile. “I know it might seem scary, but you can always come back here if you feel overwhelmed.”

He nods, but he’s far from confident. “I want to try. I have to try. There will be… other people, and I can’t hide from them forever.”

“Just try to take it slow.”

He does. Walking out of the medbay feels like a feat in and of itself, and he can’t stop himself from laughing. He never thought he would consider leaving a room an achievement, and yet here he is.

The ship’s layout is similar to the ones he’s used to, so it doesn’t take long for him to find his way around - and he’s grateful for his knowledge of where cryopods should be located. He avoids so much as looking in the direction of the room. Thinking about what’s in there, how only a single metal wall stands between him and Daniel’s lifeless body, is harder to avoid, as is the brief irrational and terrifying instinct to enter the room and try to see through the frosted glass, facing his captor and the weight of what he’s done.

He has to consciously take a deep breath as Daniel’s final moments flash through his mind. His hands hurt from how hard he’s clenching his fists to get rid of the memory of closing his fingers around the gun. He can see the raw panic in Daniel’s eyes when he realized what was coming. The gunshots ring in his ears.

Vitkus lifts her head and frowns with worry when he enters the medbay and leans against the wall.

“Cryo room,” he explains, not letting any emotion show. “But I didn’t walk in.”

Vitkus nods. “It’s locked, you need a code to open the door.”

He sighs with relief. “That’s… good.”

His next trip is more successful; he chooses a different route this time.

Then he starts running into people. It’s startling, it makes him nervous, but he can see it’s mutual, no matter how casual the other rangers try to act. They exchange formalities. Bakradze. Vue. Pereira. Kumar. They address him by his rank, then seem to relax when he asks them to address him by his first name. That’s something, at least.

Still, he can see wariness in their eyes. Uncertainty. He can't blame them; now, on top of being a former victim of the slave trade, he has killed his captor too. They witnessed it. They saw him being thrown into that shuttle, they were there when the hatch opened. They saw him shivering, eyes wide, as crimson soaked his shirt.

It didn't help with his feeling of not belonging.

He doesn't hide, though. He does his best to spend time with the crew, joining them for meals, usually sitting next to Johnson. There's always a moment of silence when he arrives, but thankfully it always passes. Conversations resume, and Wren chimes in from time to time, and it almost feels… normal, reminding him of when he’d visit the canteen on his own ship, with his own crew.

Spending time around people is intimidating, but comforting; but when he finds himself getting overwhelmed, which never takes long, he leaves, just as doctor Vitkus suggested. Rather than go to the medbay, though, he sneaks out to the place he finds more comforting - the observation deck.

He watches the stars pass by, the galaxies change, and the visual reminder of getting farther and farther away from SV-240 and closer to Earth helps more than anything else could.

~~~

He's not alone in the bed.

"Gh-" He crawls out of it, frees himself from Daniel's arms, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest; he scrambles to his feet and stumbles backwards.

The bed is empty.

His breathing is ragged as he stares at the bed, which is nothing like Daniel's, it's sleek, more oval in shape.

And yet Daniel has found his way into it to hold Wren close.

Before he knows it tears are streaming down his face, and he doesn't have it in him to stop them. A sob escapes him, and he covers his mouth to be quiet.

He can't even fucking sleep.

Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.

He shakes his head with another sob.

I love you too.

He should get back to sleep; otherwise he'll be half-dead for the next day cycle, and he doesn't want that, he doesn't want to look completely miserable.

But he can't get back into this bed either.

He leaves the room - his room, only his - and walks to the bathroom on shaking legs, careful not to make a sound. The bathroom was safe… most of the time. It's where he'd lock himself when he needed a moment, when he had to stand in front of the mirror and remind himself that he couldn't break, that there was hope.

He was right, but he still finds himself gripping the edges of the sink here, staring in the mirror.

When he first did it, he noted with a small spark of happiness that he was already looking better, healthier. That's not gone, but there's a familiarity to his reflection now - dark circles under his eyes, tear tracks on his face, a haunted expression.

"I'm safe," he whispers to himself, his grip on the sink getting tighter. "I'm free. Daniel is a fucking corpse. I'm safe."

His words barely mean anything when nearly everyone else is asleep and he feels like he's dreaming, or floating in the void. He closes his eyes and stays still for a moment, taking deep breaths, then reluctantly leaves the bathroom. His nerves pick up when he enters his room again and sees the bed.

A normal bed. He wanted to be able to sleep in a normal bed, alone, that was why he was eager to leave the medbay, but Daniel had made sure that wouldn't be possible.

Daniel embraces him and presses a kiss to the back of his neck.

Wren recoils.

He lies still, staring at the wall with empty eyes, feeling Daniel's hand steadily moving up and down his side.

He starts shaking.

He can't. He can't do this. Not yet.

He exhales, gathers the sheets off the bed, and takes them to the corner of the room; he sits down, wraps the blanket around himself, and rests his head on the pillow pressed to the wall. It's uncomfortable, and he knows his spine will pay the price, but it's his only hope of getting some hopefully uninterrupted sleep. Daniel can't get him here. He’s uncomfortable, but he’s safe, and he’s finally alone.

~~~

“People know that you’re alive.”

The world flashes for a moment, blinding Wren, and he has to blink away the shock. He nods numbly, his hands starting to shake. Why is his body reacting like that? Of course people had to find out. He’s going to be back among them soon, after all.

“We waited as long as we could,” Johnson continues in a soothing voice, looking at him with worry in their eyes. “But now the League is pretty sure they have information for most, if not all, of the trade, and… we’re going to reach Earth in about thirty-six hours. I wish you had more time, I know this must be overwhelming for you, but this information had to be made public before your return.”

“No, no, I understand,” Wren says quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

Johnson nods, not responding, their worry increasing as they watch Wren shivering, taking deep breaths, trying to calm down. Thankfully it’s just the two of them in the briefing room, so there’s nobody else to witness his reaction; Johnson had made sure of that.

“Hey, Wren,” they say, and once he looks at them, they give him a small smile. “I just want you to know… The slavers are currently being tracked down and arrested, and there are operations underway to find and rescue the victims of the trade, and it’s all thanks to you. You saved so many lives, Wren. You’re a hero.”

He flinches, eyes wide.

“I-I was just saving myself, though,” he explains, glancing away. “I had to expose the trade, but… it didn’t feel heroic.” He continues before Johnson can try to protest. “And… how are the victims?”

The heavy pause before he gets his answer only makes him more certain that there is something unpleasant at play, and that Johnson probably regrets bringing it up in the first place.

“A lot of them have been rescued already, and the people who’d bought them were arrested,” they start explaining slowly, carefully. "What they went through had a deep impact on them, but they're receiving the help they need. They're safe."

"Not all, though." There is no answer, and he sighs. "You can tell me, Lieutenant. I-I need to know."

“I understand, but you know what the answer is going to be, and I don’t think you’re ready to hear more about it.”

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Wren lifts his chin, looking Johnson right in the eye. They exhale with a pained expression.

“Some of them, yes.”

“And others?”

“The trade had existed for years, completely in secret, so there are people who were there for years, too, and that… left a mark on them.”

“They’re broken,” Wren whispers.

“They’re alive. They can be helped. And, Wren… Even those who didn’t survive… Their loved ones have finally gotten closure, the people responsible have been arrested. Please don’t beat yourself up over this. It’s not your fault, and if it hadn’t been for your signal, it could’ve taken so much longer for the trade to even be discovered.”

It makes sense, but Wren’s mind doesn’t care for sense, not when he’s filled with doubts, when his thoughts are screaming that he should’ve been faster, he should’ve contacted the League sooner, he should’ve- should’ve-

There must have been another way, months earlier, to escape, he was just too stupid to figure it out, and because of that more people suffered. He swallows.

“I have to go,” he mumbles, standing up.

“Wren.” They try to stop him, but he shakes his head and leaves in a hurry, his heartbeat nearly painful, his thoughts fixated on all those people, dead, broken, ones he couldn’t save. And it wasn’t like his purpose had been to save them, it just happened, but now that he knows, guilt rises in his throat like bile.

Dead. He had been terrified of dying on SV-240, dying before getting a chance to break free, and that’s exactly what had happened to some of those people before his message could save them.

Broken. He remembers being an empty shell. Staring at the wall, crying soundlessly. “Happy anniversary.” Somehow he came back every time, back to being determined, but some never did, and he can’t help but think that maybe some never will.

He picks up the pace until he reaches his room, where tears threaten to overflow when he sees the bed, the damn bed that he can’t even sleep in, the clinging remains of his captivity. He curses under his breath and walks to the corner, where he leans against the wall and fixes his eyes on the ceiling, forcing himself to breathe.

Dead. Broken. And he’s here, alive against all odds, hanging on to himself, and… why? Why him? Why did he of all people succeed?

Everyone knows now.

He feels weak; he slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor. The thought that is so clear in his mind constricts his lungs and heart.

Everyone knows. Everyone - including the surviving victims of the trade, including their loved ones, and they can see that he’s alive, that he managed to gain the upper hand in the end, and they can question it the same way he is questioning it right now - why is he alive when the others aren’t? Why is he still himself when others had themselves being beaten and brainwashed out of them ages ago?

And now he’s crying because of a bed, and he knows that once he’s back on Earth, it will only get worse. There are people there, everyone knows what he’s been through, he’s going to be surrounded by people who are going to take one look at him and know.

“Wren?”

The door slides open, and he turns his face away to hide his tears from Johnson, as if they couldn’t see the state he’s in.

“If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know, okay? Or do you just want to be left alone?”

He wants to nod at first, but then he realizes that he wouldn’t be alone, having the nagging thoughts as companions, feeling like they’re going to crush him, hearing accusations and hissed insults in his head.

“It’s alright. You can stay,” he says, keeping his voice low to hide its shaking. There are footsteps, then Johnson sits down next to him. The only sound is Wren’s sniffling as he tries in vain to stop crying.

“I’m going to spend some time on Earth once we’re there.” Johnson glances at Wren before looking straight ahead again, not wanting to stare while he’s in this state. “So if you need to talk to someone, you can contact me. I… I’ll do my best to help.”

“Thanks,” Wren whispers. “Really. It’s just… It was just me and him on that planet and I’d… forgotten about the other people, about the trade. And that whole time they were in captivity too, suffering and dying and- and it took me so long to do anything and I feel like I should’ve done… more. And sooner.”

“You were a captive, though, just like them. You did what you could, when you could. It was so dangerous, but you did it, and now? You’re free, and so are many other people.”

“But so many didn’t make it.”

“It’s not your fault, and nobody’s going to think it is. Focus on the lives you’ve saved, and most importantly… on yourself. You went through something horrible too, and you need help as much as all the others.”

Wren frowns. He’s… feeling fine, though. Daniel is dead, he’s free, he’s still himself, more or less, and that’s more than some of the others can say.

But there is still a phantom in the bed. There are still memories, pain and torture and kisses and I love you’s. There is still tension in his body that he can’t imagine going away anytime soon. There is a part of him that remains on SV-240, in Daniel’s house, and there is so much he doesn’t want to tell anyone about, and as long as he keeps it a secret, nothing will help.

He nods as new tears gather in his eyes from the overwhelming words and emotions and realizations of the day, from the weight of being the one to expose the trade and feeling weaker than ever before, even though he’s no longer being starved, hurt, restrained.

Johnson sits with him in silence until he forces himself to pull himself together, because no matter how long he cries, it never brings him even a sliver of relief.

~~~

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