Listen, I’m bad at filling requests because I get sidetracked with self-indulgent things, like this fill for the @badthingshappenbingo ‘reopening an old wound’ square. Thanks to @shameless-whumper for inspiring me, this features my OC Sam, and the scary knife lady from earlier. It’s all safe for work, but I guess it gets a bit suggestive at times? It’s Sam and there’s a knife, so what were you expecting? Enjoy!
Encore
Sam wasn’t sure how it had come to this, standing against a wall, with their hands defensively raised in front of them, and a gun pointed straight at their head.
'H-hey, we can still figure this out.’ They tried to speak as calmly as they could, but given the situation, they decided they could be forgiven if their voice wavered slightly. 'Whatever you want, I’m sure we can sort it out without the gun’
The figure holding the weapon just smirked in response. 'It’s not about what I want.’ Their finger was now firmly on the trigger, ready to press down.
So this was it, Sam thought. They were going to die alone, in a dirty alleyway, without even knowing who their true killer was. They weren’t about to beg; it wouldn’t help them anyway. Instead, they just closed their eyes and tried to prepare themself for the end.
Their breath caught as they heard the gunshot. This was really it. Except… wait, why weren’t they dead yet? Slowly, their eyes opened and they came face to face with the bloodied body of their attacker and… 'You again?’, they asked, incredulous.
'Nice to see you too, pretty boy.’ Standing right in front of Sam was the very same woman who had kidnapped them some months ago, and had come close to killing them, if it hadn’t been for the intervention of their team. They were suddenly thankful for the wall behind their back, because without it they might not have been able to stay upright.
Finding their voice, they finally spoke. 'Not a boy, but I’ll take the compliment.’ Before they could ask any further questions, however, or try to figure out what to do next, they felt a needle in their arm, and it wasn’t long before their world went dark.
When they came to again, their ankles were tied to a chair with rope, and their hands were zip tied behind their back. Their kidnapper was standing in front of them, tucking a strand of short, dark hair behind her ear and smiling.
'Were you so desperate to finish the job yourself that you couldn’t let someone else have the honour of killing me?’, Sam asked with a glare.
The woman just laughed in response, and walked behind them to place a hand in their curls. 'A bullet to the brain would have been too boring for you.’ She continued threading her fingers through their hair, much too gently. 'You’re welcome, by the way.’ Her fingers stilled, and their head was suddenly yanked back, making them gasp in surprise.
'Let’s see now if you still have that reminder of our time together.’ With that, their captor settled herself on their lap, and carelessly ripped open the front of their shirt. Sam noticed now that there was a knife in her hand, with a small, but sharp blade and a wooden handle engraved with the initials ’M.C’. But they didn’t need to look at the letters to know her name. It was right there, on their chest, the cuts having healed leaving the thin, silvery outline of a name: Maia.
'What, no kissing this time?’, they teased, trying to hide their unease at the situation.
Maia smiled as she traced the tip of the knife over the silvery lettering. 'No, I think we’ll just stick to good old pain. Don’t say I never do anything for you.’ Great, so she remembered what they said during their last encounter. They hoped she would have just interpreted it as facetiousness, but clearly she had seen the deeper meaning behind their snarky comments.
Without warning, the blade bit into their skin, cutting over the existing lines of the ’M’. Before they could stop it, a low groan had escaped them. The familiar burning of the knife was definitely preferable to the unpredictable intimacy of kissing, but they still shifted uncomfortably under Maia’s weight on their knees.
'I thought I’d go over them one more time, really make sure that they stay,’ she informed them matter-of-factly, continuing her work. She held the knife with the grace of an artist, leaving smooth lines of crimson in her wake. Sam didn’t dare open their mouth to reply, lest the whimpers of pain building in their throat escaped.
Despite it all, they found themself sinking into the stinging feeling enveloping their chest. Their eyes fluttered shut of their own volition, as they tried to track the knife’s progress in their head.
All too soon, or maybe not soon enough, it was over, and Maia was wiping their own blood from her knife on their cheek. She leaned closer to them, and Sam was afraid for a moment that she had changed her mind, and decided to kiss them again, but instead she just whispered a name into their ear. 'That’s the man who wants you dead. I got a tip.’
They swallowed, finding it difficult to speak, though they weren’t sure if it was the fear of her knife so close to their neck, or something else. 'Thank you,’ they managed to get out.
The blade trailed down their cheek and came to rest just over their carotid artery. Instinctively, they held their breath. 'I could still kill you, you know,’ she whispered. 'It would be so easy.’ Suddenly, she made a slashing motion with her hand, and laughed when they flinched, fully expecting to feel the slickness of their own blood.
And yet, even knowing that she could cut their throat at any moment, Sam still felt a warmth gathering in their chest, and not just from the cuts there that were still annoyingly dripping red. Whatever it was, they decided that now was not the time to give it too much thought.
'Stop being such a tease,’ they managed to smile. 'If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.’ They had to admit, it wouldn’t be the worst way to die.
In reply, Maia just stood up, cutting their wrists free of their ties. 'Nah, you’re too interesting to kill,’ was her reply. 'There’s fun to be had with you yet…’
Sam took a moment to compose themself, before leaning over to untie their ankles, and when they looked up again, she was gone, as silently as she had appeared.