Ship: aomine daiki & momoi satsuki Fandom: kuroko no basuke Major Tags: death Other Tags: violence, i don't actually know anything about bank robbery Word Count: ~800
***
Satsuki can almost fit in with them, can almost blend into the crowd if she tries hard enough. It must be a strange experience for her, Daiki thinks. Satsuki has never not stood out; less like a sore thumb or a weed that needs to be plucked, more like an uncommonly beautiful flower that’s blossomed in spite of all circumstance.
And, of course, the wig helps. When Daiki helps Satsuki get ready in the morning, he tucks a bubblegum-pink strand of hair behind her ear, out of sight. With the black wig, the colored contacts, and the unflattering clothes she could be almost anyone. She could be no one at all. Except for with Daiki; he could spot her a mile away.
“You’re always so gentle, Dai-chan,” Satsuki says, as Daiki zips up her dress, “I’m not going to break, you know.”
“Shut up.”
“It’s creepy, coming from you,” she teases, laying her hair in place and grabbing her briefcase, “How do I look?”
Daiki rolls his eyes, “Does it matter?”
“Of course it does!” Satsuki whines, adjusting her belt. She does look good, maybe a bit too good, but if natural beauty is her only weakness, then she’s still miles ahead of any other partner Daiki’s ever had. Besides, she’s one of only two people he’d actually trust with his life.
It’s been months since they started planning this particular robbery, the crown jewel of their heists, and hopefully their last before they retreated into hiding. Until then, it was painstaking research, endless reconnaissance missions, and detail-gathering trips.
Satsuki had no problem hacking into the employee personnel files, memorizing their schedules, their bad habits and tics. When she walks in, freshly-printed ID badge hung around her slender neck, she looks just nervous enough to pass easily as a new hire, and a man wearing a wide tie and a wider smile steers her toward her new office.
Alone, Daiki can rob a bank maybe once every three to four months. His hauls are small -- never more than a few hundred thousand yen. To get to the real goods -- that is, the diamonds and priceless jewelry held in the deepest parts of the building -- requires a more delicate touch.
Which means that with Satsuki on his side, the possibilities are endless.
He waits for their arranged time, then slips around the back of the building. The door is unlocked, as promised. He’s cased the building blueprint over and over in his head: a left, two rights, punch in the door code, take the second door on the right, turn left again, meet there.
Satsuki is supposed to meet him alone, having acquired the keycard and lock combo for the largest safe. When he rounds the corner, though, he finds her struggling with the bank teller from earlier, his mouth gagged with tape, hands tied sloppily with a telephone wire.
“What the hell?” Daiki growls, round-house kicking the man under his jaw, mostly on instinct. The man goes goes limp instantly, unconscious.
“It’s a fingerprint safe, only this guy has access,” Satsuki hisses. Her wig is falling off and the fake glasses she’s wearing are askew in away that’s almost comical, “I couldn’t just take his finger and run.”
That’s debatable, Daiki thinks, but he doesn’t say so, just curses under his breath and grabbing the slumped-over man, dragging him by the collar towards their destination, “The cameras are out?”
“Yes. Only on this floor, though.”
“And no one followed you?”
“N-No.”
“You do realize what this means, right?”
Daiki expects Satsuki to hesitate, but to his surprise she does nothing of the sort, “I do. I’ll do it.”
He lets the thought sit, just in case she changes her mind. But that moment never comes. Daiki rubs at his wrists, where the tight leather of his gloves is already chafing, “Well, let’s get to work.”
Their work is systematic once they get inside the safe. Daiki package the jewels carefully, and they grab some cash as well for the road, Satsuki carefully picking out the ink packets with practiced fingers.
When it’s time to go, Satsuki surprises him again, reaching under Daiki’s jacket. Her fingers are warm, even through the material of his shirt. When Satsuki finds what she’s looking for, she smiles wanly, pulling out the revolver from its holster. Then, the silencer.
“I can still do it,” Daiki says, resting a hand on her arm.
“No,” Satsuki shrugs him off, eyes lingering on the form of the still-unconscious bank teller, “I need to do it. I want to.”
There’s silence as she screws on the suppressor, which leaves Daiki compelled to say, “It’ll all be worth it. For us to get the hell out of here.”
FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, T
Fandom: kuroko no basuke
Major Tags: death
Other Tags: violence, i don't actually know anything about bank robbery
Word Count: ~800
***
Satsuki can almost fit in with them, can almost blend into the crowd if she tries hard enough. It must be a strange experience for her, Daiki thinks. Satsuki has never not stood out; less like a sore thumb or a weed that needs to be plucked, more like an uncommonly beautiful flower that’s blossomed in spite of all circumstance.
And, of course, the wig helps. When Daiki helps Satsuki get ready in the morning, he tucks a bubblegum-pink strand of hair behind her ear, out of sight. With the black wig, the colored contacts, and the unflattering clothes she could be almost anyone. She could be no one at all. Except for with Daiki; he could spot her a mile away.
“You’re always so gentle, Dai-chan,” Satsuki says, as Daiki zips up her dress, “I’m not going to break, you know.”
“Shut up.”
“It’s creepy, coming from you,” she teases, laying her hair in place and grabbing her briefcase, “How do I look?”
Daiki rolls his eyes, “Does it matter?”
“Of course it does!” Satsuki whines, adjusting her belt. She does look good, maybe a bit too good, but if natural beauty is her only weakness, then she’s still miles ahead of any other partner Daiki’s ever had. Besides, she’s one of only two people he’d actually trust with his life.
It’s been months since they started planning this particular robbery, the crown jewel of their heists, and hopefully their last before they retreated into hiding. Until then, it was painstaking research, endless reconnaissance missions, and detail-gathering trips.
Satsuki had no problem hacking into the employee personnel files, memorizing their schedules, their bad habits and tics. When she walks in, freshly-printed ID badge hung around her slender neck, she looks just nervous enough to pass easily as a new hire, and a man wearing a wide tie and a wider smile steers her toward her new office.
Alone, Daiki can rob a bank maybe once every three to four months. His hauls are small -- never more than a few hundred thousand yen. To get to the real goods -- that is, the diamonds and priceless jewelry held in the deepest parts of the building -- requires a more delicate touch.
Which means that with Satsuki on his side, the possibilities are endless.
He waits for their arranged time, then slips around the back of the building. The door is unlocked, as promised. He’s cased the building blueprint over and over in his head: a left, two rights, punch in the door code, take the second door on the right, turn left again, meet there.
Satsuki is supposed to meet him alone, having acquired the keycard and lock combo for the largest safe. When he rounds the corner, though, he finds her struggling with the bank teller from earlier, his mouth gagged with tape, hands tied sloppily with a telephone wire.
“What the hell?” Daiki growls, round-house kicking the man under his jaw, mostly on instinct. The man goes goes limp instantly, unconscious.
“It’s a fingerprint safe, only this guy has access,” Satsuki hisses. Her wig is falling off and the fake glasses she’s wearing are askew in away that’s almost comical, “I couldn’t just take his finger and run.”
That’s debatable, Daiki thinks, but he doesn’t say so, just curses under his breath and grabbing the slumped-over man, dragging him by the collar towards their destination, “The cameras are out?”
“Yes. Only on this floor, though.”
“And no one followed you?”
“N-No.”
“You do realize what this means, right?”
Daiki expects Satsuki to hesitate, but to his surprise she does nothing of the sort, “I do. I’ll do it.”
He lets the thought sit, just in case she changes her mind. But that moment never comes. Daiki rubs at his wrists, where the tight leather of his gloves is already chafing, “Well, let’s get to work.”
Their work is systematic once they get inside the safe. Daiki package the jewels carefully, and they grab some cash as well for the road, Satsuki carefully picking out the ink packets with practiced fingers.
When it’s time to go, Satsuki surprises him again, reaching under Daiki’s jacket. Her fingers are warm, even through the material of his shirt. When Satsuki finds what she’s looking for, she smiles wanly, pulling out the revolver from its holster. Then, the silencer.
“I can still do it,” Daiki says, resting a hand on her arm.
“No,” Satsuki shrugs him off, eyes lingering on the form of the still-unconscious bank teller, “I need to do it. I want to.”
There’s silence as she screws on the suppressor, which leaves Daiki compelled to say, “It’ll all be worth it. For us to get the hell out of here.”
“I know,” Satsuki smiles, and then she takes aim.