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#violennnce
sirthisisa-wendys · 10 months
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I was deeply pained in love with your writing for hand her over with Shuji. I'm almost scared to ask... but could I request Draken for this too? As I continue to binge the others in the series 😵‍💫
(Absolutely no pressure. I love your writing as always and look forward to part 2!!!)
Hand Her Over III (Part 2): Ken Ryuguji/Shuji Hanma x Fem!Reader
wc: 1.6k
tw: violennnce, dark content, NO MINORS NO MINORS
masterlist
Hand Her Over Megapost
Ken Ryuguji
"Don't worry." Draken is sitting at the wheel of his beater car, staring into the nearly empty pastry shop with a blank look. "If you feel like you want to leave, just squeeze my leg and we'll leave."
"You're not worried?" Your question descends into Draken's gut, but he ignores the sinking feeling as he watches his former-closest friend spoon ice cream into his mouth.
"I'm not worried," he lies, staring at the obvious lack of care Manjiro's been getting. "Mikey's a reasonable guy." You grunt, remembering the time Draken drug himself into your old apartment, bleeding and weeping. He'd shut himself up in his room for hours.
Draken is the first to leave the car. He opens your car door and helps you out of the seat with a tender hand. "Ever the gentleman," you tease, following him into the shop. Draken walks ahead of you, opening the doors with a stiff arm and holding your other hand possessively. It'll be the first time in a few years, you remember him remarking sordidly.
"Mikey." The man doesn't stop eating his ice cream.
"Draken." The tension rises so high that you can feel the heat underneath your jacket, but Draken squeezes your hand and slides into the booth opposite his old friend.
"This is--"
"Y/n," you interrupt, sticking your hand out for a shake. "It's nice to meet you." When Mikey leaves you hanging with a dead stare, you drop your hand and scoot in next to Draken.
"You look happy," Mikey breathes, still staring at you but speaking to Draken.
"I am," Draken whispers, lacing an arm around your shoulders and smiling a little. "Are you happy?" Mikey drops his spoon into his unfinished dessert. You swallow hard, feeling something tingle in your spine.
"How did you do it, Kenny?" You never thought Mikey was capable of a meek voice, but here he is, surprising you... and you just met the guy. "You have a family, don't you?" Draken shifts uneasily, glancing over at you before leaning forward to reach out to Mikey.
"Mikey, this isn't you."
"Answer me." You flinch, reaching a hand down to touch Draken's leg, but he ignores your warning.
"I have a family," your husband admits. "You can have one, too. Mikey; it's not--"
"You don't get it," Mikey mumbles, looking down at his melting delicacy. "You get the life we dreamed up for ourselves." Draken swallows hard, retracting his hand. "You..."
"Draken," you breathe, now tugging on his jacket. You notice an employee shutting the door and flipping the sign to 'closed' just as Draken speaks again, still ignoring you.
"Mikey, this isn't the end. Stop acting as if this is all coming to an end. You can have a life--" Mikey lifts his head, a hard look solidifying in his eyes.
"Do you have kids?" Draken blanches. Your nails dig into Draken's leg once more, but when he doesn't listen, you stand up suddenly, shocking the two men out of their confrontation.
"We need to go." Draken's face doesn't clear up; he remains confused by the question as he looks from you to Mikey. Mikey doesn't move. "Draken. Let's go."
"Do you have kids, Kenny?"
"Ken." His mouth opens and closes, unsure if he should answer his friend or listen to his wife. "Let's fucking go." You frown, then march over to the door and push on it. It doesn't budge. "Can someone open this door?" you call out, but all the employees have vanished. You yank and pull and push again, grunting with the effort. "Hey!"
"Draken," you hear over the noise, and you look back to see Mikey standing up, a gun pointed at your husband's head. "Kids. Do you have them?" Mikey is crying, and you can see Draken's shoulder's shaking.
"Please, Mikey."
"But you want them."
"Mikey."
"Have you told her?" You stop with your attempts to get free, turning to watch the menace shake his head at his former best-friend. "Come on, Kenny. We made an agreement."
"No," Draken whimpers. You move to grab a stool from a nearby table, hosting it with intent to harm.
"Hey, dipshit!" you shout at Mikey.
"Throw it and he gets shot." Mikey finally says, glancing at you.
"Put the stool down, baby," Draken mutters, glued to his seat. "Put the stool down." You follow your husband's instructions, and Mikey motions the gun at you.
"Come have a seat, y/n. You can't escape." The blood rushes in your ears but you obey, taking your place next to Draken once more. "Has Draken ever told you why you can't have children?" Mikey lowers his gun, placing it on the table. You turn your head to Draken, but he's staring down at his hands and his lip quivers.
"He's sterile. I offered long ago to help him with this little problem. He agreed; we made a pact." Mikey looks over at you, smirking. "And I've come to collect."
"What fucking pact?" Your tone is harsh, and it makes Draken flinch. "Ken, what the hell--" When Mikey reaches a hand out to grab your wrist, you yank back, sneering. "Don't touch me--"
"We made an agreement," Mikey shouts as you get out of the booth again. "And Draken swore."
"I don't care what he swore, it's not happening!" Mikey moves so quickly that you almost miss it. But when you feel his clammy hands on your skin, your instincts take over. You claw at him with your hands, aiming for his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Your feet stomp down on his toes, and while he's in agony, you grab another stool and beat it over his back with enough force to knock him cold.
"Give me the gun." You hold your hand out for the weapon, but Draken seems to have snapped out of his shame and takes the gun himself. You don't say a word as he stands over Mikey, his face red and tear-streaked and angry.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Shuji Hanma
Knock, knock, knock.
"Go away." Shuji sighs at the usual response and places the tray of warm food on the floor.
"I brought you some lunch." You don't reply, and after a while, Shuji leaves, trekking back downstairs to clean the kitchen. As he wipes down the stove, he muses on all of the days he's spent trying to make sense of his actions.
He should've just killed Mikey.
He should have never led him upstairs and allowed him to touch you. He should've--
The sound of something crashing jolts Shuji out of his wiping, and he dashes up the stairs. When he encounters the mess of soup, sandwich, and tea, he's not sure what to do. But he moves to clean up the mess anyway, trying his best to block out the sound of your labored breathing as you stand in the doorway.
"I hate you," you hiss, not daring to move another inch.
"I know," Shuji replies softly, picking up the pieces of the broken bowl and plate. "I'm sorry."
"You should've killed me." Shuji's fingers tremble as he tries to focus on the mess, but he can't. Not when you're standing there, begging for relief. "You should've let him kill me!"
"I would never," Shuji retorts, forgetting himself as he turns to look at you in fear. "I would never ever allow him to do such a thing."
"But you'd let him rape me." Shuji swallows hard, trying to figure out what to say. "Violate me."
"I thought it would save your life. Our lives. You didn't see the gun--"
"But you did." He flinches. "You've disarmed people before. What was so different about him?"
"You don't understand--"
"He came inside of me, not you!"
"I got you a Plan B," Shuji replies, gaping at your angry stance. "I did what I could to make it right! I'm paying for it every day!"
You slam the door in his face. Shuji drops his head in shame, trying to hold back his tears as he continues to pick up the broken pieces of his life.
Shuji leaves the house once he's cleaned as much as he could. With quick steps, he hurries out of the front yard, taking the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and placing one in his mouth. He's still walking as he attempts to light it, the cigarette bobbing shakily between his lips, but he can't seem to get it started at all.
Shuji ventures into the convenience store and purchases a beer with the change he has in his pocket, then quickly leaves without buying another lighter - his mistake. But as the sun begins to set and his destination looms in the distance, Shuji feels the ache in his bones. He's too old for this. But there's nothing else he can think of to do.
"Hey," he murmurs, placing the beer on top of the tombstone and staring at the slab for a while. "It's been a while." Shuji takes a seat at the foot of the grave and pulls out his lighter one last time. "Remember Mikey?" he wonders, striking the lighter a few times without success. "I got back into things. And it didn't go well." Shuji tries the lighter again and again and again. "Fucked up. Big time. You'd probably laugh at me." Again, again, again. "And I need your help." Just as a tear tracks down Shuji's face, an orange flame erupts from the plastic thing. Shuji huffs a sordid laugh and lights his cigarette, inhaling deeply. "Thanks, Kisaki... I guess I'll start at the beginning, then."
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