notyourgun

[notyourgun]

adrian​:

eyes quickly glossed over the message before turning up to her and nodding. he understood though, partially, her reaction. he doubted he would have been happy with being pushed either, even if the area only felt like it was getting smaller. 

adrian looked back at the box and pulled out a manilla file. it was thin. not much paperwork inside, but it could have information. ❛ i borrowed it from records. ❜ among his many skills, thieving, despite his view on it, was something he was good at. he managed to take an entire box of files right out of vought tower without being questioned. now if that was just pure skill and luck, or if someone let him, that was to be determined. 

he held out the file for her. ❛ just old files that have already been put on computers, but they should have information on supes and stuff. not sure. i didn’t exactly take the time to look all that hard. wasn’t sure what would go down if i was caught lurking around.❜ he knew what would have happened and it wouldn’t have been pretty, but he was not going to share that information with her.

kimiko had had a hard enough time accepting frenchie, m.m., hughie, butcher, and annie; with their numbers growing, she was feeling a little claustrophobic. the more bodies, the less inconspicuous they were. she was worried down to her bones. but it wasn’t like she had much of a say. everyone always said: trust me, so she was trying.

kimiko clicks her tongue, an amused sort of smile on her lips as adrian says he borrowed the records -- she knows what that means. the lads like to make their crimes seem far less innocuous than they really are. she takes the file from him, looks inside, scanning the black text typed neatly on the page. so official.

her eyebrows raised slightly as she continued to read the file, setting it down only to type adrian another message. “so, are we looking for flaws and weaknesses or are we looking for allies?”

[notyourgun]

annie​:

      it  feels  heavy  on  her  shoulders  ,  the  weight  of  reliance  a  familiar  feeling  but  she  smiles  and  nods  as  she  reads  the  words  displayed  on  the  screen  .  “  of  course  ,  whenever  i  know  anything  ill  keep  you  updated  okay  ?  ”

                        @notyourgun​     |     i can count on you to tell me the truth.

kimiko offers annie a little smile when the other woman reassures her. still, kimiko feels like there’s something off. she reaches out, grabs both of annie’s wrists and gives them a squeeze, imploring her to understand. she erases the message, taps out another one. “to tell me the truth about what you’re feeling, too.”

[notyourgun]

soldier boy​:

@notyourgun​​ | Savior — Rise Against

       “THERE IS NO RECONCILIATION that will put me in my place, and there is no time like the present to drink these draining seconds.”

Kimiko looks at him with intensity in her gaze. Her fingers have gotten lightning quick, tapping out messages with much more speed and ease. She turns her phone around to face him. “You have a responsibility, a choice. Choose wisely.”

[notyourgun]

frenchie​:

         She says that he manages to make most things fun and Frenchie laughs, a happy, amused thing. Maybe that’s one of the things he’s most proud of, being able to make something fun. Even if maybe it shouldn’t be. Or maybe without his presence the fun would not be had at all.            As far as Frenchie’s concerned, Kimiko is the most deserving of the joy to be found here. Her smile lightens some load, some tightness, he often carries in his chest. Maybe that’s why they’re so drawn to each other. Mirrors. Maybe his fun does the same thing for her that her smile does for him. Broken people. Who’s edges fit together.            He’s pretty sure there’s some part of him that got completed the minute they met. Somehow. Clicked right into place. He hadn’t noticed right at first, but there was certainly no denying it now.            Effortlessly, it seems, Frenchie pulls her in to a dance, just a few moves, swaying, an arm up to let her spin. A testament to how much they inhabit each other’s lives. Kimiko’s arms are tight around him, and Frenchie finds himself laughing as he returns the hug with as much gusto, weight shifting from foot to foot with the swell of the music over the noise of the crowd. Frenchie knows he’d do anything for her. Just to see the light in her eyes like he had a moment ago.            That should be here to stay. She’s been through plenty. Too much, really. The least he can do is give her this.          “I promised you a party!” or at the very least a dance. “I keep my promises!” His voice is caught up in the noise, but his hands speak just as well for him. Frenchie holds a hand out for her before he turns back to the counter and orders them another drink. Then they can dance. All night if she wants. until their feet fall off. Until they’re so tired they fall asleep on each other in the back of the cab they call to take them home and the sun starts tickling the horizon in the wee hours of the morning.

Frenchie makes Kimiko feel like more than just a moving piece in a machine, more than just a gun – loaded and pointed. He’s gentle with her, kind, understanding. He teaches her things, learns from her. Her whole life, people have been cruel – life has been cruel. She’s watched it turn people into monsters, including herself, but not Frenchie.

Frenchie, who has been through so much, still has a heart of gold. Somehow, she’s okay with every bump she’s hit in the road since the path has led her here. She’s never known such love.

Kimiko feels light on her feet, like she and Frenchie are made out of moving lights, just spinning in synchronicity. She could do this all night, she thinks, until she falls over from exhaustion, and she would sleep with a smile. Even if things aren’t going to plan, when it’s just the two of them, Kimiko thinks everything will be alright.

She’s dizzied by the spinning and the music and the lights, but she’s happy, and she thinks they both deserve that. Anything to see him smile, to brighten the glimmer in his eyes. “You do.” She signs back, and she’s appreciative that he does – trust is very important to Kimiko. She follows him, light on her feet and the force of the smile hurting her cheeks. When they’re at the bar again, she leans against him her chin on his shoulder as he orders for them. She takes the drink, sips it – pleased it doesn’t burn or taste like the shit she drank with Annie.

“Wherever you go, I will follow.” It’s not prompted by anything, just a thought that keeps swimming to the surface of her brain, and she’s happy to let him know, happy to remind him that they are now two parts of a whole.

[notyourgun]

don't mind him just taking kimiko's hands to kiss her knuckles one by one.

When Frenchie grabs Kimiko’s hand, she just looks at him, her brow creased with a mix of confusion and distaste for her own actions – done out of necessity or no, being a monster takes its toll. Her fingers curl around his as he brings her hand closer, pressing his lips to her skin. They’re warm – the stubble and soft curl of his exhalation tickle, and her fingers squeeze tighter.

There’s still blood. It’s in the creases of her knuckles, the hardest place to get clean, but she thinks maybe there will always be blood there, her hands permanently stained from all the damage she’s caused.

Kimiko tries to pull her hand away, but he doesn’t let her, not until he’s finished. She just keeps looking at him, his eyes wide and brown and full of tenderness and affection. No one has ever cared about her like this, and she loves him in a way that she can’t explain. And she thinks that’s okay, too, because he hadn’t seemed to be able to explain it either.

A tear slips down her cheek, but she doesn’t feel sad or angry or upset anymore. There’s a little smile on her face as she thrusts herself forward, hugging him tightly. Frenchie’s a master of many trades, and he’s making sure all of the cracks in Kimiko are fortified with gold.

[notyourgun]

ONE / ( ALIAS / NAME )  breezy

TWO / ( BIRTHDAY )  november 5

THREE / ( MBTI ) ?? i *have* taken the thing but i forgot lol

FOUR / ( HEIGHT )  5′4

FIVE / ( HOBBIES )  writing, making gifs/edits, watching things, screaming at people, petting my dog

SIX / ( FAVORITE COLOR ) porple bc i am a loser

SEVEN / ( FAVORITE BOOKS ) listen, i love a lot of books. song of achilles rings out in my heart. anything by stephen graham jones, ya girl is a sucker for horror lit.

EIGHT / ( LAST SONG LISTENED TO )  i think it was... sometimes? on a movie my friend was watching.

NINE / ( LAST FILM/SHOW WATCH ) prehistoric planet

TEN / ( INSPIRATION FOR MUSES  ) kimiko deserves love. she’s such a bad ass character. and i fell in hard to the boys, so, ya know.

ELEVEN / ( STORY BEHIND URL )  bc she ain’t ur gun, bro.

stolen from: @developedniche

tagging: you :)

[notyourgun]

The Boys - Deleted scene: Frenchie and Cherie

[notyourgun]

adrian:

it was an accident and he definitely hadn’t expected her to react in such a manner, which caused him to be caught off guard for a second. brows knitted together and a partial frown hung on his lips. 

         ❛ dude, sorry. ❜ he responded once he had read the message that she had typed onto her phone. eyes looked back up to her, the partial frown still on his face. ❛ it’s just getting so damn crowded in here. didn’t mean to. ❜ 

adrian continued to finish what he had been doing, which was carrying a box over to an empty desk. there was a thud as he sat the box down and opened it, rummaging through it. it was just papers, but they were papers he managed to steal for information. they were the important kind of papers. ❛ okay, forgetting you flipping me off, you wanna help go through this? ❜ he turned around to face kimiko.

accident or no, kimiko doesn’t like to be jolted without warning. she knows that she was perhaps a little too mean to him in response, but maybe that was her defense mechanism? it had kept her safe so far. and she didn’t quite trust adrian yet to be in her inner circle.

he apologizes and turns back to his work, and she fumbles with her phone, typing out a new message before he even asks her to help. she looks up at him, nods her head, then turns the phone around to face him.

“it’s okay. not your fault. i’ll be next mean less time.” maybe. she looks at the box, at the papers inside, erases the message and taps out a new one. “what’s this? what are we looking for?”

[notyourgun]

[notyourgun]

[notyourgun]

#   𝚂𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴   .  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄   𝐈𝐒   𝐍𝐎   𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄   .   there   is   no   death   .  𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎   𝚒𝚜   𝚊   𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖   .   it   ’   s   𝐀   𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇   .   made  again   and   again  and   again   and   𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧   𝐚𝐧𝐝   𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧   and   again   and   𝚘𝚗   𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘   𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢   .    

[notyourgun]

[notyourgun]

stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper ‘i love you’, bird singin’ in the sycamore trees, dream a little dream of me....

[notyourgun]

                      independent soldier boy from amazon’s the boys , by alex !

[notyourgun]

where should your muse be kissed?

knuckles 

it feels as though you have fought every day of your life. sometimes, you cannot even tell how much of the blood on your hands is your own... and how much comes from those who've tried to hurt those you defend. you deserve the gentleness of a kiss to your bruised knuckles and broken skin, a reminder that you are not only made of violence.

stolen from: @developedniche​ tagging: you :)

[notyourgun]

[notyourgun]

a-train:

“What?” 

He’s the last one willing to read the silent stares of an ‘enemy’, the man hardly a hero and rather more a hindrance for someone of her crew. A crew of which he currently sees none of - no scrawny kid, no bright-blonde Starlight. Just her. Just their muscle. 

Now…why would she be without them? There’s no lying to himself that he isn’t curious, an ache nudging him to stick around and dig for information. Afterall, whatever happened to the cat? 

He stands rigid for a moment, glasses slid off his nose and withdrawn into a hand so he can get the full eye on her. She’d broken his leg once - put him out the game for a little longer than he would have liked. 

Really, he should be angry. Really, he’s more distracted than anything else. 

“Your little gang get tired o’your shit?” What shit? He’s hoping the benign insult will hit a nerve like she’d once smacked his leg; no shame in a little pettiness. However, the last thing he needs is another broken leg to see him on his way - especially with the thought of Blue Hawk’s exploits hanging heavy on his head. 

Before awaiting a response, he shakes his head - a disapproving look to match the scowl seated on his lips. 

“Urgh - whatever.”

Her scowl doesn’t decrease in intensity the further he probes. Instead, it morphs into something more akin to a snarl, and her fists ball up so tightly that Kimiko can feel her nails biting little half-moons into her palms. She wants to hit him, but that’ll turn out very poorly for her. And how would poor Frenchie feel upon finding out she’d gone and gotten herself killed the first time she snuck out?

Tired of her shit? What was that supposed to mean?

If she could growl, she would have. Instead, Kimiko pulls her phone out of her back pocket with movements only hastened by her growing irritation. She taps out a message: “Not like Vought. We don’t kick our own out, no matter what happens.”

Maybe that, too, will hit a nerve?

She snatches the phone back, deletes the previous words, her breathing quickened, and types out again, “Are you following me?” Maybe she’s being paranoid, but it’d be good to know if Vought were onto them in any way, shape, or form.