#Character: Shu Lyn O'Keefe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

2dboisloyal-devotee · 1 year

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Would you still love me if I was a worm?

Contains: Your question about being a worm and their opinion, short crack-ish? fluff, shu's being a bit of a jerk :( kinda suggestive & use of pet name on Helvetica's part, dissecting mentions in Mozu's part, tiny little few spoilers aha

x GN Reader

Feat. The main guys and Teuta (bcs I just love her as a protag, honestly I love all of them except Helvetica idk I'm just not into him)

Anyway, I will start from the most left character on the pic.

>)~Imagines/headcanons

—Mozu Nile Shepherd

You must already know what you've gotten yourself into when you ask him.

Mozu merely confirms you at first if you meant that literally or as in methaporical sense of inner beauty, so you answer him that it's literal.

Yeah... You expect it would go exactly like this. “Putting love aside... For me, you would still be an intriguing living being—full of life that I'd like to find out and delve into. Despite being in a small-scale size, the intricate details structured within worms aren't to be taken lightly ... ”

There's a hint of a budding smile on his face as he tells you thoroughly about fun facts of worms and his experience of dissecting a poor random earthworm he found not long after his parents' passing as a 'training'.

In a way, he still does show his interest in your form as a worm so that answers your question from before, at least...?

|×××××|

—Helvetica Orsted

Looks at you perplexed, but Helvetica soon replies with a tight-lipped smile. “Aren't you already my sweet little worm, sugarplum?” That's a silent warning.

You won't be safe from relentless teasing and innuendos with this guy—no, screw it, you are pretty much not safe being around him especially if you're his partner.

Asking that question is just a bad move on your part because that treatment will increase tenfold for the rest of the day, he's giving you no mercy as it's his chance to fluster you.

Though, not all bad considering he pampers you with a skincare and spa session from him personally which may or may not lead further down... to distracting advances.

At this point you might forget about the question since you already have your hands full just focusing on his passionate affection of prove...

|♦♦♦♦♦|

—Teuta Bridges

Teuta tilts her head, frowning deep in thought wondering how would the best response be. It's like you can hear the gears in her brain working around the cycle.

“This is not another one of your trick questions, right?” She pouts before considering your reply that you're just curious about her answer to your silly little question, that's all.

Teuta will smile in the end, putting her hand on hip as a show of unshaking will that she's sure of it.

“I would let you out to your right habitat since I love you, so don't worry about it!” she nods for a good measure.

Ah... Good old simpleminded thinking can lead you to satisfying conclusion sometimes, you feel kind of confused on how to react since she's that genuine...

|☆☆☆☆|

—Limbo Scott Fitzgerald

The type of guy who says he still loves you no matter what's your appearance, added with a concerned smile of his.

He would kind of worry but more to curious about the reason you're asking. Like, “Why do you ask?”

Just making sure, you know? Maybe something bothers you so that's why you would ask that kind of question in the first place.

After he's convinced wholly this is just another one of your whims, he turns the question right back at you, already grinning confidently. “Now that you got your answer now, how about me if I were in that position?”

You wouldn't refuse a worm like him when you're already his partner and all, right? It's only fair, as a part of give and take from both sides' reciprocating feelings.

|♣♣♣♣♣|

—Shu Lyn O'Keefe

“..No.”

Doesn't elaborate, doesn't humor you, doesn't even try to keep up the topic. Shu only stares at you with unreadable expression although his brows seem creased slightly.

“What are you planning this time?” he sighs. “You know that kind of question won't get me and you anywhere, right?”

If he could be honest right now, the mere thought of you being a worm is just... He hates the feeling of imagining it. If you were only a worm, you wouldn't be the you right now standing in front of him; the same person; or the person he loves even for that matter. It would be pointless, he wouldn't even reach life this far without you.

He realizes trying to explain it to you would be a drag, so he doesn't give you a much of an opinion. He ends up taking you out for a drive and maybe a walk together. “The fresh air might be what you really need to clear your mind off the clutter junk in there.”

|♠♠♠♠♠|

—Scarecrow

The kind of reactions he shows are varying, it feels like you're watching through someone's five stages of acceptance which for Crow is registering your question. “Eh!? Ah! Um, wait, of course...?”

He's considering to call for Anima's aid for this perfect moment, he doesn't though since he decides it would be inappropriate of him as your boyfriend...

Crow eventually—after having to take a deep breath—answers you, “I would.. take care of you and make you a good home in my room with the proper environment and food but yeah because I love you and I think that's what I think is best if you about to become—I mean, if you were a.. worm...”

Poor guy feels like he has run a lap or something as he soon tries to catch his breath.

He will be all the more clingy and whiny the rest of the day like a koala to a tree since he worries if you would turn yourself into a worm any moment.

Taglist; @weirdfallencreature

#bustafellows x reader #bustafellows fanfiction #bustafellows mozu #narawritechances #bustafellows otome

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flower-seeks-the-moon · 1 year

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the sun in his arms

fandom: bustafellows

relationships: shu lyn o'keefe/teuta bridges

characters: teuta bridges, shu lyn o'keefe, the fixers (mentioned)

words: 1997

For the Bustafellows zine IN BETWEEN THE LINES.

6:30 AM

Soft pop music fills the room, gradually growing louder; Teuta’s phone vibrates on top of the bedside. Her best friend’s dulcet tones greet her as she blinks blearily into awareness.

She reaches out to grab her phone and turn the alarm off.

Teuta is successful midway, fingers just barely grazing the edge of the table, before a problem presents itself in the form of a grey-haired hitman. It hits her then, that this isn’t her room. This isn’t the Monday morning of her once-single past.

Her sheets don’t have that faint whiff of detergent and men’s shower gel on them. Until recently.

They also don’t usually have a six-foot-one hitman dozed off under them, at least until a few months ago.

Read below the cut, or on AO3.

Mornings with Shu, as they are wont to be, are each an exercise in the art of being sneaky for Teuta.

This, mind you, given this man’s line of work, is a lot trickier than it has any right to be.

He’s never much of a hugger when he’s awake, though his arms come up to enfold her soon after she tucks her face against his chest. Even now, a couple of months after the surgery and his call with her parents - her heart still clenches, remembering the way the sunlight played across the soft smile on his face - Shu still takes each and every hug she gives him like an unexpected but welcome gift.

It took her a while to notice.

That momentary, barely a second’s pause before he curls an arm around her waist, his other hand cradling the back of her head. He has a way of making her feel so small in his arms, so secure, and she wonders if he feels the same with every occasion that she reaches for him.

Teuta gives him a lot of hugs. Maybe one day, that second’s pause would whittle down into nothing. They have plenty of time to find out.

This is for when Shu’s awake and alert.

When he’s asleep, really asleep, Shu’s limbs seem to have a mind of their own.

6:30 AM

Soft pop music fills the room, gradually growing louder; Teuta’s phone vibrates on top of the bedside. Her best friend’s dulcet tones greet her as she blinks blearily into awareness.

She reaches out to grab her phone and turn the alarm off.

Her sheets don’t have that faint whiff of detergent and men’s shower gel on them. Until recently.

They also don’t usually have a six-foot-one hitman dozed off under them, at least until a few months ago.

The back of her neck prickles as she finally registers the heavy arm, currently curled across her stomach. Fingers, rough with callouses, brush against the soft skin of her belly and send her heart thumping against her ribcage.

Her camisole has hiked up just enough in slumber for the man’s frankly large hand to slip under the fabric. The heat of his palm is like a furnace against her slightly lower body temperature, tempting her to settle back under the blanket with him and ignore the upcoming interview with that professor from New Sieg Academia-

Realization is like a shot of Harry & Keith’s strongest-grade black coffee, injected straight into her veins. Teuta would sit up if it weren’t for the man sprawled out behind her.

“Shu?”

There’s no response, not that she expected one. The deep and even breathing told her enough, and it’s not like this has never happened before.

With a sigh, she rests her palm flat on the mattress and heaves her body upwards. This tugs her almost out of the slumbering man’s arms, and she thinks she may make it, just enough to extricate herself from him.

Teuta runs through a mental checklist of her schedule for the day.

6:30 am. Wake up and shower, get dressed. 7 am. Breakfast with whoever is up and awake, usually Mozu and Crow, sometimes Helvetica. 8:30 am. Dr. Goswami of New Sieg Academia’s international studies department, interview on campus.

Shu tightens his grip on her, hand curving around her waist, and pulls her back with the effortless strength that she’s come to contend with on mornings like this. Her back bumps against his chest, forcing a soft oomph out of her as the hitman nuzzles into her shoulder.

His breath tickles the back of her ear, abruptly reminding her of a similar situation the night before.

… And now is not a particularly good time to think of last night. Maybe when she’s in less danger of running late for her own plans today. The way Shu is currently gripping her, there is a very real risk of this happening.

Adam’s Novalis continues blaring from her phone as Teuta broods over what to do next.

“Shu.”

“Mn.”

“I have an interview today.”

The man has the audacity to continue as he is. She feels his thumb rub against her side, slow and almost deliberate, and recites her schedule to herself. He couldn’t possibly stay asleep with Adam Krylov’s voice floating in their ears, the news anchor belting out the lyrics in a way that should be impossible to ignore.

Except this is Shu, and he has a way of stone-cold shutting out anything he doesn’t care to acknowledge.

Giving another attempt at subtlety, Teuta places her hand on where he’s holding her, intertwining her fingers with his. She pauses as she hears a low grumble against her neck, waiting until it passes and no disgruntled hitman is muttering at her. Slowly, surely, she pries off the arm resting on her.

Success.

This is truly one of her luckier mornings, she’s had to wrestle with a sleeping man’s embrace more than once. Sometimes, she comes out the loser. Shu’s lucky that it’s never on a day where she’s trying not to run late, or he’d be buying her tubs of ice cream. Tubs of her favorite brand and some enchiladas at Vale la Pena, because he’d cave to the look on her face anyway.

Teuta’s feet touch the bare floor as she finally silences her alarm.

All in all, that took her five minutes.

“Your friend’s music is not a good wake-up call.”

Peering at her with one eye open, Shu lounges on the bed. The sunlight filtering through the automatic curtains lands on fluffy grey hair, made even more disheveled from sleep, making it glow almost golden.

She purposely avoids looking any lower - don’t want to be late! - where the blanket has slid off. He doesn’t wear a shirt to sleep on most nights, she’s come to learn after they’ve started sleeping over in each other’s rooms.

“It’s not for you,” she snipes back, turning around and stretching her arms above her head.

“Like hell it isn’t, that wasn’t your alarm before.”

Teuta can feel his eyes on her as she shimmies out of her top, folding it to be left on the corner of the bed. If she were a more fiction type of writer, she’d call the heavy gaze provocative. Taunting her to come back to him. Paired with his current state of shirtlessness, it’s annoyingly effective.

Except Shu isn’t that kind of guy, and he just has that effect on her anyway without trying.

She mulls over this for a second, then makes her way towards his shower. Because of course, every bedroom in Scarecrow’s mansion has to have an ensuite bathroom.

This is her life now. Mornings spent wrangling her way out of a grown man’s arms as he holds on to her like a kid cuddling a particularly beloved teddy bear. Breakfasts with a group of men with dubious backgrounds remind her of the laughter she once shared with her parents and Zora over her mother’s burnt toast.

Showers that may make a mess of her schedule. But just a tiny bit. She makes an allowance anyway because the meeting is actually at 9.

There’s a grin on her face that she couldn’t fight off. She wouldn’t even if she could.

In the doorway, she looks over her shoulder and meets his eye. He gazes back at her steadily, as if he doesn’t know that she knows he was staring at her bare legs.

“Aren’t you coming, Shu?”

“Huh.” The hitman’s lips curve up in a lazy grin to mirror hers. “I’m not about to turn down more time with you if that’s what you’re asking.”

Mornings with Teuta, as Shu has come to learn, begin with the living embodiment of the sun in his arms.

… That’s what he would say, except her body runs a little cooler than his. Despite it, she insists on keeping the AC inside the room on, and he’s sometimes startled awake by a cold foot bumping into his under the blanket.

He’s always feared the coldness in people; his mother’s and Teuta’s, different as they are.

He doesn’t say this to her, as he could practically picture the look on her face, the furrow in her brow coupled with the glossy sheen in her eyes, and Shu is unprepared for what he’d do if he sees this yet again.

What measures he’d take just to kiss- no, wipe that look off from a face that should never wear it. A lingering kiss on the forehead for luck, a hug that gets tighter each night, and small hands that seem to console him more than he comforts her. If it ends up in them being a tangle of limbs in the mornings, then so what?

Besides, it thaws that ice in his chest, to be roused into the world of the living again by a squirming Teuta. It does interesting things to him. He sees that slender neck so close to his lips and wonders if he should one day sink his teeth into it - not too hard, just the way she likes it - and make her realize she’s not as sneaky as she imagines.

No matter how hard she pouts, it only urges him on. After all, how can this little sun afford to be stingy in shining its light on the lonesome moon?

This morning, he joins her for a shower that runs ten minutes longer than it should.

Shu’s poorly-veiled amusement cracks a little at the scowl his girlfriend throws over her shoulder at him, a stick of concealer in her hand.

“You,” she begins, and he feigns innocence that she doesn’t buy, not for a damn minute.

The hitman echoes after her, dully, though the look in his eye is anything but.

“Me.”

“You need to hold back a little on- on-”

Here, Teuta’s fierce pout fizzles out, twin spots of crimson blooming on her cheeks and reaching the tips of her ears. Shu stares at her and wonders if she’d truly be mad if he made her miss that interview. Surely Dr. Goswami’s thoughts about the multicultural influences on New Sieg cinema aren’t as important as she’s making them out to be.

Nah, he better not. As a supportive, caring boyfriend, Shu helps her. “On what?”

“You know what!”

“… ‘Fraid I don’t, actually. Words, Teuta, you’re a journalist.”

“H-how do I cover up everything?”

He cranes his neck, leaning back on the edge of the bed as she fusses in front of the vanity he never uses. Despite her fretting, Teuta manages to hide the evidence on her skin; her shoulders and neck clear as if he hadn’t just been making her gasp in the shower. Shu wishes the day is over because he misses them already.

“Hell if I know how you work your magic.”

Teuta manages to conceal everything despite Shu’s general uselessness and down her breakfast at a speed that garners disbelieving looks from the jerk. And she still has time to finish the coffee Mozu brewed especially for her.

“Something smells really nice,” Crow pipes up over bacon and eggs. He’s sniffing the air a bit too appreciatively as he sits beside Shu, making the hitman lean away with a longsuffering groan.

Helvetica flicks a look over his soy latte. She’s not sure if she likes it. “I see that Shu uses Clairol Strawberry Ginger now.”

She finishes gulping down her coffee and flashes him a sweet smile.

“I gotta go now.” A quick peck for Shu and the journalist is gone, though not without hearing Crow’s shrill yell as he realizes just who he’s been smelling so eagerly.

“S-s-strawberry scented Shu? What? Eh?”

“Shut up, Crow.”

#bustafellows #shu lyn o’keefe #teuta bridges #fanfiction #luna's fics

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hollow-jack · 2 years

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this is why i’m not allowed to have fun discord pfps. bc then i say shit and the mental image just goes

#this isn't even in character i'm so sorry little guy #bustafellows #shu lyn o'keefe #meme #art #eat the glass.

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evaludate · 1 year

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[Video Description: A 19 second clip of a Bustafellows CG that shows four characters in a black car, with the wheels and background animated to give the impression that the vehicle is in motion. The characters shown, from left to right, include Limbo Fitzgerald, a man with a slight tan, blue eyes, and short shaggy brown hair. He wears a suit over a red collared shirt and sits in the passenger seat. Teuta Bridges, a young woman with pale skin who has long ginger hair with full fringe and a braided crown, and green eyes. She sits in the back. Shu Lyn O'Keefe, a man with pale skin, grey hair that covers half of his face, and light brown eyes. He wears a suit over a white collared shirt with a loose tie, and black gloves. He is driving the vehicle and smoking a cigarette. Helvetica Orsted, a young man with pale skin and asymmetrical light brown hair with hot pink tips. He has light brown eyes and wears thin-framed glasses and a high-collared coat. He sits in the back next to Teuta. End Video Description]

[Audio Description: A muffled clip of the intro to Kate Bush's Running Up That Hill plays under the sounds of a car driving.]

[Originally posted to Twitter on 12/05/2021]

Evaludate Episode 75: “Chekov's and Other Guns (Shu Lyn O'Keefe of Bustafellows, Part 2)”

Summary:

Today on Evaludate, Madelyn says Schrodinger when she means Chekov, Anime Hannibal assigns us a Bustafellows kin, and the game continues to view the police through incredibly rosy glasses.

Content Warnings:

Gun violence: (18:00 - 18:44, 24:54 - 26:16, 30:00 - 30:50, 33:06 - 34:03)

Discussion of school shooting: (24:54 - 26:16)

Discussion of child abuse: (24:54 - 28:54)

#Episode Archive #Episode 75 #Series: Bustafellows #Character: Shu Lyn O'Keefe

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evaludate · 1 year

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[Image Description:Two figures are shown against the background of a brightly lit amusement park at sunset. On the left is Teuta Bridges, a young, short white woman with ginger hair and green eyes. She has full fringe and the tips of her hair are bright red. She wears a red jacket over a long-sleeved beige sweater. She is holding a replica rifle and looking down the sight with one eye, while closing the other. Behind her is Shu Lyn O'Keefe, a tall man with pale skin, grey eyes, and shaggy grey hair that covers one of his eyes. He wears a black leather jacket and black gloves. He leans over Teuta's shoulder to speak into her ear, and rests his hand under hers to position her rifle. The image has a copyright message from Nippon Cultural Broadcasting Extend Inc. At the bottom of the image is a caption that reads: "Yeah, that one with the spoiler cg in their banner." END ID]

[Originally posted to Twitter on 12/22/2021]

Evaludate Episode 76: “Why Does Teuta Call You Baby Girl? (Shu Lyn O'Keefe of Bustafellows, Part 3)”

Summary:

Today on Evaludate: Air and Madelyn are forced to reconsider the answer to a previous audience question, realize this time around the game IS about grief, and enjoy the Interesting localization choices.

Content Warnings:

Gun violence: (30:22 - 30:48 , 49:38 - 50:29)

Discussion of misgendering: (31:34 - 33:25)

Discussion of transmisogyny: (34:49 - 35:19)

Discussion of Suicide: (47:19 - 47:42)

#Episode Archive #Episode 76 #Series: Bustafellows #Character: Shu Lyn O'Keefe

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flower-seeks-the-moon · 2 years

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the sun's coming out (but i'm feeling colder)

fandom: bustafellows

relationships: shu lyn o'keefe & yang lyn o'keefe, shu lyn o'keefe & teuta bridges

characters: shu lyn o'keefe, teuta bridges, yang lyn o'keefe (mentioned)

words: 2310

ao3 link

first posted on ao3. a character study of shu on his route during the sunny island excursion. a speculative glimpse into his thoughts during the carnival, teuta, and himself, interspersed with the broken pieces of a sibling relationship.

He’s not sure what he expects, coming out to Sunny Island when he could spend his spare time catching up on lost sleep. There’s no need for him to patronize a place full of lights and noise, where he can’t relax the hard-earned instincts beaten into him over the years.

A promise is a promise, though; he doesn’t try to wiggle out of the coupon he gives Teuta. She deserves this much from him, though he doesn’t know where they currently stand after their last conversation. Or why she would even want something from him.

He has nothing to offer that the others couldn’t give her.

Shu still remembers that sudden shout.

“That’s just wrong!”

Hell of a woman, that one. To look him in the eye, aware of his profession, and exclaim that accepting his death as one of the many nameless killers in New Sieg would be wrong.

He hasn’t weighed life in the context of rights and wrongs, he doesn’t have that privilege.

Revenge isn’t a morally correct call to make.

He’s far past caring.

He has to be.

“Oh, it looks more beautiful than I expected. When you called it a pop-up amusement park, I expected something cheaper.”

“Lemme guess. You’re regretting that you didn’t bring a girl with you, huh.”

“That’s a-mazing , Scarecrow. You’re absolutely correct.”

But the warm festive lights, the unceasing sounds of chatter, and the idiots he’s been lumped with beckon to him and don’t make him feel like he’s not wanted.

“Hey, time out. There’s a girl right here. And you’re looking at her!”

He is looking at her, but he doesn’t know if the other idiots are.

_____

A heart-to-heart in a noisy amusement park isn’t what he had in mind, but Teuta has a talent for subverting his vague expectations. He also doesn’t expect shooting with a fake gun to be one of the more meaningful social interactions he’s had in his life, but here he is.

Must be some shitty marksmanship lessons she had though if his instructions were all it took for her to get results.

Shu stares at the fake gun in her arms. Feels a momentary shiver go down his spine.

He knows it’s fake, but it reminds him of what he does, what the Fixers do. Thinking of this odd girl’s life before she meets them? She’s unprepared, fancy-ass power that she has or not. Maybe he could impart something useful here that the others couldn’t.

The look she gives him with those big green eyes of hers makes him reconsider the benefits. Up this close, they dominate her face and it strikes him, just how expressive they are. Too expressive, even.

Shu doesn’t want to dwell on what lingers in them as she looks up at him.

“Stop giving me the stink eye,” the hitman mutters down at her. For his or her sake, whichever, they need to get this over with.

“I-I’m not.”

He lets Teach’s instruction come to the surface, and drags it back up despite the memory that anchors it. “When you hold a gun, only look at your prey. Let the prey enter your sights, and all that’s left after that is timing how to fire.”

It’s easy to figure out the moment she begins to hesitate.

He can empathize, though shooting for him is a matter of steeling his nerves and his gut. Reminding himself of why he kills. The weight of a life taken, in exchange for stopping killing that lacks love and hatred.

Each and every time he’s won against the part of him that flinches before a hit, he has the song that he’s grown up humming.

“You can count down from three, but it’s easy to lose your sense of time, so Teach told me to hum a familiar melody instead.”

What would Teach think, that the boy she raised would someday be guiding a girl to sing Yellow Rose of Texas for firing a carnival gun? She’s not here to see it, not here to raise an incredulous brow at the lass between his arms.

“Whoa! I did it!”

The blonde in front of him cheers as her shot successfully lands, and he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him then. Hah, he really was better than those prissy instructors of her police academy.

But really, it’s because of this bright young thing.

He’s successfully taught her something that he knows, and for once, his specialty doesn’t end up with blood spilled. This moment could stand to last longer, him basking in the surreal feeling of having done something nice with these hands of his.

… What the hell, he’s having fun.

Shu even lets himself go along and fire a few times for Teuta. He’s not showing off, he’s just showing her how a professional does it.

_____

The knot in his chest loosens as he watches Teuta toss back her favorite Corona. There’s a smile that she’s probably unaware of on her lips, a visible satisfaction that somehow seeps into Shu, along with the heat from a carnival packed with more people than he should be comfortable with.

He doesn’t dislike it, for now.

Shu takes a long draught of beer, leaning back against the bench they found.

“The shooting range was fun,” Teuta begins, and he turns towards her to listen. “My brother was good at shooting. He’d hit all the targets with a revolver. It was cool.”

Her immediate pause afterward, the realization in her eyes, and the subtle way her enthusiasm begins to dim make him move.

“So what else?”

Teuta blinks those green eyes at him, and he relaxes as he watches the self-consciousness recede from her gaze. “What else?”

“There’s more to this pop-up than just the shooting range, right?” He nudges her with his shoulder. “Where else did you go? With your brother, I mean.”

The girl lights up like someone who’s been overlooked for a long time, launching into chatter that he doesn’t mind listening to. Even if it could take a while.

She looks like she needs it.

Her face is soft with reminiscence, relaxing into a look he’s worn himself many times. Does she not get this chance a lot?

They’re like two peas in a pod in this regard.

He feels the smile on his face mirror hers. Remembering his mentor is a tired old rodeo that he’s done alone, one that he doesn’t mind. But it’s even more fun to talk to someone on the same level.

So he allows himself to be pulled into the easy conversation.

With Teuta, the memories of Teach are softer, dull, and hazy around the edges. When he touches them, he isn’t cut anew, but holding a fuzzy blanket worn soft from years of love. Viewing them is like staring at the dreamy watercolor paintings that cost too much and Scarecrow is all too happy to overspend to decorate his mansion, with no pain in the worlds they portray.

_____

They just had to lose sight of the others, huh.

He goes through all this effort to give Teuta a good time on Sunny Island, and she’s left with Shu and his bumbling attempts to let her enjoy herself.

Not a half-bad job, until they remember what they argued about.

He can’t allow the frown to stay on her face, not when they almost had a good thing going earlier.

Maybe a ride on the Ferris wheel would be a good start, and place, to talk. Wait, she had a miserable time here in her past reminiscence, what was he doing?

Well, they’re here now.

He takes a look at the pout on her lips after she gracefully slams her head on the ceiling, and can’t help but crack a bit. He laughs, a little. It’s not on him that Teuta makes it so easy to smile, she does this to everyone.

All he has is the honesty to offer her his thoughts and the hope that they won’t leave her sad.

“Sorry for making you mad.” Shu gives her another gentle pat, rustling her hair and watching her frown waver.

“But I seriously don’t understand why you’re mad. I’m not just teasing you or anything.”

Her answer is equal parts frustrating and amusing to him.

I don’t really know, myself . Hmm.

“If a friend you lived with just out of the blue said ‘Hey, just so you know, I could wind up dead,’ wouldn’t that make you mad, too?”

Well, for one thing. Shu doesn’t have many friends, and this kind of talk just doesn’t have a place in the relationships he has with the rest of the Fixers.

For another… Maybe part of him doesn’t want to know what looks they would wear, should he go in the fashion he expects himself to go.

… He shouldn’t be smiling this easily. “Dunno. Should it make me mad?”

“You’d get mad if your family said ‘I’m probably gonna die, but it’s no biggie,’ wouldn’t you?”

Right from the mouths of babes. His chest feels tight, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s the tightness that comes from the laugh that threatens to bubble out of your throat.

“We’re family?”

He wants to hear her say it herself.

Her eyes are so, so green as she peeks up at him through her fringe, that Shu has to shut his own. There’s no way for him to avoid the longing that creeps up and catches him unaware, otherwise. Him, a hitman, of all people.

He can’t keep staring back or he might do something stupid. Maybe he already has.

“We’re family… ish.”

That does have a nice ring to it. This realization catches him off-guard when he thinks of how he didn’t notice until now.

This… Family-ish feeling. It extends to the other guys who are currently having a grand old time without them.

And all it took was the entrance of this sunny young woman into a mansion full of hot messes.

What could he even do with this information?

How many breakfasts prepared by Mozu’s hand, dollars in Crow’s respect jar, audacious stunts from Limbo, and petty jabs exchanged with Helvetica would it have taken for him to acknowledge this?

“We’re not family just because we live together,” Teuta continues, unaware of how her words are tenderly picking him apart and making him whole at the same time. “But I think we’re family-ish. You’re all important to me.”

This girl. He looks down at her, and the pout on her face, and doesn’t fight the fondness that comes, overwhelming and freeing. He can’t, even if he wants to.

“Being a family can be a catch-22, you know? Familial bonds can’t be broken unilaterally.” Dark hair and even darker eyes, a thin wisp of a smile, flash in his mind.

Oh. He really is a fucking idiot, isn’t he?

He pushes on. “So us being family-ish is also a catch-22, isn’t it?”

She shouldn’t be sad for someone like him. But Shu doesn’t want to stop it.

What he wants shouldn’t matter, though.

____

The reminder of why comes soon enough. He shouldn’t have mentioned Yang. The name is a portent of what could come after things that, all of a sudden, are too important to lose.

Damn.

This scent in the air that he could have caught if the gentle atmosphere hadn’t lulled him into complacency.

His sibling.

The sound of their voice, slick with the satisfaction he’s learned to loathe, rips a gasp from him.

It hits him like the slash of a knife to the artery, like a shot to the head, like waking up after he’s sobbed himself dry, Teach’s body gone cold in his arms. The killing intent that follows narrows his world down into two people, and everything surrounding them slows down, cold clarity in his head and cold everything in his chest. Teuta really shouldn’t see him like this, but he’s drawn the knife out before he could think, and he’s ready.

Ready for what?

It’s only Teuta’s uncertain voice and the tremble in it that pulls him from the brink. Barely.

He can’t risk her.

But hearing Yang’s voice after their time together plunges Shu back into the icy river that he’s familiar with, and he needs this ice more than he needs her warmth.

He needs the ice, if he wants to be the one to put an end to this stupid, painful, wild goose chase that Yang has led him on for years. He needs it, if he wants to look his only sibling in the eye and put a bullet or more in them for killing their mother.

He needs to be cold, if he wants to lay Teach’s memory to rest.

Because he’s the only clown in this carnival, chasing after a sibling even as he looks forward to and dreads the loss of one more person in his family.

The truth is, he’s not sure if he can live with himself after he finishes the job.

Not sure if he wants to.

“Shu, is that…”

Don’t talk to him with that voice, Teuta.

Don’t give him the fleeting yet powerful urge to be a man he isn’t, hasn’t ever been, a man who comforts shivering girls who just had guns pressed to their backs. He’s not Crow, who could probably make you laugh even after something so scary. Neither is he Mozu, who would know what to give you when you’re afraid.

He’s not sure if he can justify it when there are still so many targets to hunt, Yang last of all.

Shu can’t look at her as she reaches with a shaking hand for him, can’t take it in his as he clutches a knife.

He feigns deafness to her words and walks away from the first warmth he’s known in a long time.

#bustafellows #shu lyn o’keefe #teuta bridges #yang lyn o'keefe #luna's fics

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