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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years ago

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Runaway - Chapter Eighteen.

The notes hit 30, so you all know what that means. You get an update, and you get an update, and you get an update, and alright I’ll stop being like Oprah now xD Big thanks, guys! Such a lovely audience I have!

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 1,980

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Isn’t it nice, just to have a minute to breathe around being a mom,” Lily spoke as she and Hannah sat down in the coffee shop the former used to work at, Willow at day care for her usual three hours per day, and Lola with her daddy. They’d just finished a workout at Hannah’s ballet class, Lily mentioning she’d like to give something a little less violent a try where fitness was concerned when they’d found themselves deep in conversation at the clubhouse, Hannah inviting her along to see what she thought.

“I’ll say! She’s started teething and the poor little thing is keeping me up most nights, howling like a banshee because her gums are sore.” Lily made a sympathetic face, remembering the time well with her own daughter.

The night where Hannah had stayed for a few drinks at the clubhouse, they’d really enjoyed their time talking, finding that while they didn’t have too much in common, they found the other to be interesting, warm and friendly. It was always nice too, to make another mom friend.

“So, did you hear how long Jodie was in labour for in the end?” Hannah shook her head, blowing the steam from her latte. “Thirty-three hours! She was exhausted, but she’s so happy that Harvey is finally here.”

“Oh, that’s a cute name!” she exclaimed. “Yeah, I was in there for thirty-one with Lola, and I swear, every last second of it was torture.”

“I was lucky, mine was really quick once it got going,” Lily revealed. “I was three days’ early and Angel was just heading back from a run, so for the first six hours, I was crying on my dad, screaming that I didn’t want to do it any longer and that it hurt too much! He kept me sane, though, reminding me how tough I was, while I was wailing and clinging onto him for dear life!”

“Your dad is Taza, right?”

“Yep, that’s my pop.”

“I hope you don’t find this rude of me, but I have to say, I can’t see the resemblance. You must take after your mom more.”

Lily was quick to gently correct. “Oh no. Dad adopted me by himself. I was an adult when I came into his life. We bonded quickly, and he became like a father to me, so he surprised me with it for Christmas one year, adult adoption papers.”

Hannah held a hand to her chest, her face alight with how beautiful her story was. “Oh my goodness, that’s so sweet! I have something similar with the woman I call mom, my stepmom, Jackie. My birth mom died when I was little, so I don’t remember her. For me, there’s only ever been her. She’s the only mom I ever knew, although she always kept pictures of Lydia, my bio mom around, never looking to replace her.”

Lily felt a small pang of envy at hearing her story, remembering her own mother, the selfish junkie who had been the furthest thing from one, but she smiled brightly nonetheless. “That’s so nice for you, to have her so accepting of you when she and your dad got together.”

The women further chatted about their family dynamics for a little longer, before Lily couldn’t help but broach the elephant in the room. “So, um. You and Manny.”

Hannah began to nod, her shoulders bobbing as she inclined her head. “I was waiting for that.”

“What’s the score there? I mean, I’m guessing you guys are, well I’m not sure. Is it an affair, or... what?” she asked, realising she truly was owed no explanation by a woman who was, at best, a very new friend.

“Yes, I think it’s safe to say that’s what it is. It’s... oh, I don’t know, Lily. It’s like, it’s all I can think about sometimes, yet I don’t want to, if that makes sense? I’m not thinking of the intricacies of it, I’m just...”

She was quick to fill in where Hannah paused. “Enjoying the thrill? I hear you, girl. I’ve heard the gossip about Manny from the hanger on girls around the club. He has a rep for being a grade A fuck.”

“I feel so awkward talking to you about all of this, with you being a married woman. I mean, I know Manny isn’t married, but are you tight with Carmen?” she winced, wondering suddenly, if Lily’s questioning wasn’t borne of the magnanimity it appeared to be.

“Oh, hell no, honey!” she breathed a sigh of relief. “Truth is, I can’t abide Carmen at all. She isn’t well liked. Now, that doesn’t mean I necessarily condone Manny’s cheating on her with you, but I think I get it. The more time I spend with you, the more I get it, at least.” Hannah frowned slightly, Lily continuing.

“You give him way less of a hard time, for one. You’re naturally very easy to get along with, and Carmen, she’s hard work. It’s grating on him, too, her immaturity with the whole Lola issue, putting herself first there and not understanding how it is. I guess I kind of can’t fault that, though, because unless you have a child, you don’t understand how for a parent, they become the centre of your world. Carmen is used to being the centre of Manny’s, and she doesn’t like having to share him.

“It isn’t like he’s expecting anything much of her either. He does all the work with Lola when she’s with him, he only wants her to say hello to her, maybe hold her once in a while, form her own relationship with her, but she refuses to show even a grain of interest. I find that so hard to get my head around. Lola is such a lovely baby.”

Her words were delivered with a simple shrug, draining her coffee and wishing she could have another. She was on a strict diet, though, preparing for her next fight, having to keep sugary, dairy-laden treats to a minimum. “Do you see if going anywhere, if he were to break up with Carmen?”

Hannah made a small groan of discontent, shrinking down in her seat a little. “I don’t know, and I’m scared to think it. Also, it’s the guilt there, too, that I’d be blowing up another would-be marriage down to impulsive actions. No matter how much trouble she’s giving Manny currently, it isn’t right, what we’re doing. I can’t help myself, though. I mean, you know, you’ve seen him.”

Lily smiled, covering her hand with hers. “He’s gorgeous, I’ll give you that. Even Angel said if he had to bang a guy, he’d choose Manny, and my husband is as straight as they come.” Her statement had her in soft fits, which was exactly what Lily wanted, watching some of the tension ease from her with every chuckle, the worry lines upon her forehead smoothing once more.

“Oh, mami! He ain’t that straight!” A sudden boom interrupted, a cute guy in an apron moving to hug Lily.

“Hey baby! Aww, I missed you!” she cried, kissing her dear Carlos on the cheek. “How’ve you been? Oh, Hannah, this is Carlos, my friend, and my husband’s boyfriend.”

Hannah shook his hand, receiving a double cheek kiss, her face a picture of curiosity.” Hello, beautiful. It’s a little joke we have, since I absolutely do not hide the fact that I’m crazy for her man!”

“You should see him when he visits the clubhouse, he can’t contain himself. Last time he turned up there, Bish licked his cheek and I swear, this one nearly came in his pants,” Lily spoke, Hannah in soft fits, Carlos looking dreamy at the memory. A lot of the guys warded him off and wouldn’t entertain being playful around the fact that the cute little gay guy was enamoured with just about every man there, but Angel, Bishop, and Manny were three who always obliged, to hilarious results.

With Carlos finishing his shift and the girls heading down to the yard, he decided to go with and pay everyone a visit, Hannah witnessing the hilarity first hand. She’d barely brought the car to a stop and Carlos was out the back door, sprinting across the ground, bouncing right up into a waiting Angel’s arms.

“My papi!” he gushed, cuddling his head.

“Thanks for bringing me my side piece, baby,” Angel said as Lily and Hannah approached, the latter laughing hard as Carlos rubbed Angel’s chest with a huge, happy grin. “Yo, calm down. You’ll make me hard, and I don’t got the dick room in these jeans.” He added, smacking him on the ass before setting him down, Carlos looking thrilled as usual from the attention.

“Not a lot of guys would have the security to oblige him like that,” Hannah noted, Angel grinning as he welcomed his wife with a kiss.

“Just you wait until you see him with your baby daddy!” She didn’t have to, the three of them heading into the clubhouse just after Carlos to see Manny stretched out on a couch, the former literally climbing on top of him, Manny wrapping him in a full body hug.

“Hello, princess,” he rasped, Carlos beaming.

“I love it when you call me that!” He then looked down at Lola, sleeping in her car seat beside him. “When did you? Is she? You and Carmen?”

“Nope, that’s mama right there,” Manny pointed at Hannah, giving her a wink that sent butterflies right through her. “Happened in the BC time; before Carmen.”

“Oh! Oh, she’s so pretty! I’d ask if I could hold her, but I see she’s napping, so I’ll just hug you instead,” Carlos replied, Manny laughing. He lay there completely at ease with being so heavily – and physically – flirted with, chatting away about the recent Raiders game, Hannah marvelling to herself as she moved to grab Lola when she began to grizzle. Michael would never, ever be that relaxed if a gay man acted like that around him, and she’d seen it with her own eyes.

One of Emilio, Shonda’s husband’s best friends from high school was gay, and whenever Kevin had been around, Michael would always be on edge. He greeted everyone, male or female, with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, sweet and gregarious that he was, but Michael had never been welcoming to such innocent affection.

“Dude! Do you got a boner, or is that your cell against my leg?” Manny suddenly exclaimed, Carlos grinning and shuffling against him, everyone in hysterics.

“I don’t, but I can make it happen for you!” he cried, grinning wide.

Manny just shook his head, taking it in his stride. “Of course, you can, princess. It’s my raw charm, man. Nobody can fight it.” Nope, Michael would have been throwing holy water on him. It was just another thing she found to like about Manny. Speaking of his raw charm...

“So, are you busy tonight?” he asked, just after Hannah had fastened Lola’s seat into her car.

“I’m not. Are you?”

He licked his top lip momentarily, the action making something entirely too pleasant ripple through her. “I am, actually. I was planning on writing the next great American novel.”

She tilted her head back, a smile tugging at her mouth as she wondered where he was going with that. “You were?”

“Yeah, with the tip of tongue right on your clit.”

Her eyebrows rose high, a little burst of laughter like song in his ears. “Then I’ll meet you back at my place?”

“Nah,” he began, reaching to stroke the side of her neck. “Mine is closer. Carmen is away for work, and I need you as soon as possible.”

An hour later, with their baby sleeping soundly, Manny was making a very good start on his literary word count.

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silvfyre-writings · 4 months ago

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i WILL find you (BSD Fanfic)

If there was one thing that Fukuzawa regretted, it was failing to save Ranpo all those years ago. That genius detective that had somehow wormed his way right into his life despite Fukuzawa’s best efforts to get rid of him��not that he’d tried very hard if he was being honest with himself. It was his biggest failure in his career as a bodyguard, and even now, twelve years after that fateful day, he still held the regrets close to his heart. That didn’t mean he’d stopped searching for the boy. He couldn’t, not when he knew that Ranpo was in the clutches of someone that very well could kill him if they so pleased.

And wasn’t that a thought to live with, knowing that if he ever found Ranpo, that he might find the corpse of a young orphan boy that had been misunderstood by the world entirely, including him when they’d first met.

He wished that he’d gotten the chance to show the boy that the world wasn’t as filled with scary monsters as he believed.

But he hadn’t.

And he still might never.

Fukuzawa wanted to hold onto hope that Ranpo was still out there somewhere, alive, but after twelve years one started to lose hope.

That didn’t stop him from trying however.

He raised a hand to rub at his chest, phantom pain coming from the injury that had almost killed him as he called upon his memories of that day. The pain from being stabbed right through with that strange person’s sword had been nothing but excruciating and it was a miracle that he’d even survived in the first place. Considering that they’d tried their best to take him down by shooting him until he couldn’t do anything but collapse into a pool of his own blood. He remembered the way that Ranpo had stared at him with terrified eyes as this new group of people approached him and it was from there that his memories grew hazy, blood loss and death coming for him at a rapid pace.

He still wasn’t sure how he survived.

One minute he was bleeding out on the floor of a warehouse, the next he was waking up in a hospital with a certain child assassin and his childhood friend keeping guard over him. And no Ranpo.

“Where’s the boy?” Fukuzawa croaked, wincing at how dry his throat was.

“I would think you’d be more worried about yourself for a change.” Genichirou scoffed, arms folded across his chest as he stared down at Fukuzawa. “If it weren’t for your assassin friend here, you would have died.”

Fukuzawa’s gaze slid over to the other teenager that he’d become acquainted with during recent events. Not that acquainted was the word he’d use really, considering it was him that’d put the kid behind bars in the first place, but it was thanks to him that he’d managed to find the warehouse where Mitamura had kidnapped Ranpo and taken him so he felt as if he owed the boy something at least, even if he didn’t know what exactly he could offer him. He looked over the boy carefully, taking note of his tidy yet well-worn clothes, the way he held himself proper yet showed no emotion on his face, but mostly he took note of how young he looked.

The world they lived in truly was cruel to the children that were born into it.

“Did you find him?” Fukuzawa pressed, struggling to sit up. He needed to know if Ranpo was safe, if they had any idea who the people were that took him.

Genichirou crossed the room in an instant, a gloved hand preventing Fukuzawa from moving further. “Stay still, you’ll tear your wounds and my doctors didn’t spend hours putting you back together just for you to bleed out now.” And before Fukuzawa could argue against him, Genichirou sighed and withdrew his hand. “Unfortunately, there was no sign of that kid. Whoever took him knew to cover their tracks. I have people searching, but unless a lead can be found, I doubt we’ll find anything.”

Fukuzawa curled his fists into the sheets, ignoring the pain that shot through his body at the motion. “I promised to protect him. He’s just a child.”

“He is strong.” The assassin spoke up from where he sat on the floor. He wasn’t looking at Fukuzawa but it was clear that it was him that he was speaking to. “Wherever he is, he will survive, I am sure of it.”

“What makes you so sure?” Fukuzawa asked.

The assassin shrugs. “He reminds me of me. Does what he has to, to survive.”

The words hit Fukuzawa like a train because the assassin was right in a way. Before they’d even met, Ranpo had been going from job to job, just doing what he could to survive in a world that didn’t understand him or the strange abilities that he held—hell, even Fukuzawa didn’t completely understand Ranpo but he’d tried to. He was just a small thing, without the physical prowess to defend or fight against anyone, but if he had had that skill… would he have turned out like this child sitting before him?

It only took a second for him to decide his next course of action and he fixed his gaze upon the boy. “What is to happen with you?”

The assassin glanced up at Genichirou, eyes flicking towards Fukuzawa before he shrugged. “I’m not sure. Prison probably.”

“I’ll make you an offer.” Fukuzawa said, ignoring the way Genichirou began to pinch the bridge of his nose, no doubt out of frustration for what Fukuzawa was about to suggest. It made him glad in a way, to know that even after a decade apart, his old friend still knew him well.

Brown eyes stare up at him, yet the boy doesn’t say a word.

“Put your skills to better use.” Fukuzawa continued, watching the boy with careful eyes. He had one shot at this and words had never been his forte. But something told him that they weren’t the boys either. “Instead of killing others, use the skills that being an assassin has taught you and help them instead. Save lives instead of ending them. Before I continue, am I correct in assuming that you find life unfulfilling?”

“Perhaps.” The boy said.

“Then from former assassin to current assassin; you may find meaning in your life if you choose to change your path and find what it is you truly seek. The same way that I did.”

Fukuzawa could see the boy thinking over his words, and while it wasn’t the best of reasons, he hoped that it would be enough. Having this boy to help him find Ranpo would increase the chances of them actually finding the kid, and well—

He had a soft spot for troubled teenagers it seemed.

He found himself wanting to help this boy he still didn’t know the name of the same way that he’d found himself wanting to help Ranpo find his place in the world.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the boy narrowed his eyes. “You wish to employ me? To help you find your friend?”

Of course he saw right through me. “I do.” Fukuzawa admitted. “I will admit that that is my main motive, however I do believe that life has more in store for you than mindless killing. Of course if after we find Ranpo, you wish to go your own way again, I will not stop you from doing so.”

“Alright, I will accept your offer.” The assassin said, eyes sliding over towards Genichirou. “However…”

Fukuzawa too, turned his gaze to his old friend.

Genichirou sighed and raised his hands. “I am simply going to pretend I never heard this conversation. I need to go tell the doctors you woke up anyway, so sort your shit out while I’m gone.”

“Thank you, Genichirou.” Fukuzawa said. He knew it was a risk for the man to turn a blind eye to Fukuzawa’s actions; his position as a Hunting Dog that answered directly to the government meant that he should’ve reported Fukuzawa for trying to keep an assassin out of jail, the same way that Fukuzawa himself should’ve been arrested for his own stint as an assassin several years ago. But there must’ve been a small shred of that childhood loyalty within his old friend, and for that, Fukuzawa appreciated him all the more.

It was only once Genichirou left the room that Fukuzawa returned his attention towards the assassin. “Do you have a name?”

“Oda Sakunosuke.” The boy—Oda—said, standing up to lean against the wall. “And I already know yours, Fukuzawa Yukichi. You were well known amongst the assassin circle; your skills were at least.”

I suppose I should be flattered, Fukuzawa thought even though he was uncomfortable with being so… respected by the very people that he’d washed his hands of. But that wasn’t important right now, what was important was figuring out what to do next and the best way of finding Ranpo before it was too late to save him.

An image of the young genius flashed through his mind, wide smile and annoying voice shouting Fukuzawa-san as he’d left the theatre with a police officer that was supposed to have been protecting him.

An image that changed to that of a frightened boy as Fukuzawa himself was stabbed and shot, left for dead on the floor of an abandoned warehouse. He still wasn’t sure how he’d survived—he could only assume that somehow he’d been found by the police, or maybe even Oda himself had had something to do with it. Fukuzawa found himself asking the boy. “Do you know how I survived?”

Oda frowned, arms that tightened around himself the only emotion that he allowed himself to express. “My ability… did something strange. Normally it shows me a few seconds into my own future. But this time… it showed me a few seconds into yours. I do not understand it.”

It made sense then, how back at the secretary’s office, Oda had been able to avoid all his attacks. Who would’ve guessed that one of the best assassin’s had also been an ability user? One that could see into the future no less.

Fukuzawa hummed. “So you saw my future and… got help?”

“Your friend brought me curry, so I told him what I had seen. I don’t think he believed me at first, but he still left. Next thing I knew, he was unlocking my cell and telling me to come with him. And then we came here.”

So it was because of Oda that he’d survived. That and the team of doctors Genichirou had employed to help save his life. It seemed like he owed the two of them more than he could possibly imagine. Fukuzawa gave Oda a gentle smile. “I must thank you then, for saving me.”

Oda shrugged. “You got me curry. And you seem nice enough. Would be a shame to have you die.”

“Fukuzawa-san.” The sound of Oda’s voice drew Fukuzawa back to the present and he blinked to see not the young teenager that he’d just been reminiscing about, but the adult that’d he’d grown up to become. Just the slightest bit shorter than Fukuzawa, the former assassin had certainly matured over the years; he still wore a mostly monotone expression, but his eyes sparkled with emotion now compared to how empty they’d been when he was a teenager. Appearance wise, he hadn’t changed too much, scratchy facial hair really being the only thing that showed he was well and truly an adult now.

Still, Fukuzawa was proud of how Oda had grown, and was glad that after all these years, he’d chosen to remain at the Agency that they’d cultivated together—a detective agency, like he’d thought of doing when during the theatre incident.

He just wished that Ranpo could’ve been at the forefront of it like he’d originally wanted to do.

“Fukuzawa-san, are you alright?” Oda asked again, and Fukuzawa realised that he’d been rubbing his chest again.

“Just remembering past events, Oda.” Fukuzawa said, sitting up in his chair. “Was there something you needed?”

Oda shook his head. “I just wanted to let you know that Dazai and Kunikida have returned from their case. It was successful, and once Kunikida wrangles Dazai into actually writing the report, they’ll bring it to you.”

“Good work.” Fukuzawa said, a hint of a smile on his face. He wasn’t surprised by Oda’s words; he’d become used to Dazai’s late reports—and sometimes, no reports at all—but ever since Kunikida had started at the Agency, the young man had started to hand them in more often than not.

Were there a lot of complaints about it? Absolutely, but so long as the work was being done, Fukuzawa didn’t mind too much.

He stood from his chair after glancing at the clock on his desk. “I’m going to head downstairs and grab something to eat. Would you like me to pick up anything for the rest of you?”

Oda shrugged. “Something light. Kunikida offered to treat us to dinner after work tonight. Curry.”

There was a sparkle in the young man’s eyes, one that had Fukuzawa shaking his head slightly. “Even after all this time, you still love curry.”

“It is a truly delectable dish, Fukuzawa-san.” Oda said, and paused, looking like there was something else that he wanted to say. Fukuzawa waited patiently for him to find his words. “Fukuzawa-san?”

“Yes, Oda?”

“We will find him.” Oda said, meeting Fukuzawa’s gaze.

His gaze softened. “I hope so.”

Together, he and Oda left the office, Oda returning to the main office and Fukuzawa heading towards the elevator that would take him down to the café below where he and the other Agency workers often frequented. When he’d first established the Agency, he’d chosen the building because it was cheap and in an ideal location for them to find clients, but now it was truly proving to be worth every cent; a café on the ground floor, and a lawyer’s office above their own, there wasn’t much more that could be done to improve the building. Well, maybe the addition of an infirmary could be helpful—he’s pretty sure that the hospital is getting sick and tired of having to deal with all the injuries they get in their line of work—but it’s not like they have a doctor to fill the space. Maybe one day they would, or perhaps he could ask Genichirou to loan them one of his own doctors. If his old friend was in a generous mood of course.

There were rumours around of an ability user that could heal any injury, but Fukuzawa hadn’t ever seen such a person to confirm their existence.

Fukuzawa paused as he passed the main office, peering into it to see how everyone was doing after their latest case—a homicide supposedly that’d driven the police into asking for their assistance. Sitting at their desks, Kunikida was busy scribbling away at a rapid pace, flying through his reports like he was going to run out of time to finish them. Which he wouldn’t, because Kunikida was his most diligent employee, a workaholic that needed to be told to slow down frequently by those around him. And sitting next to him at his own desk was Dazai, the genius orphan that he’d picked up a couple of years after joining forces with Oda.

The boy had been trying to drown himself when they’d run into him, only for Oda to jump into the river after him and pull him to safety. From there it hadn’t taken much convincing for Fukuzawa to take the boy in and get him off the streets, a decision that’d been fuelled by his previous failures. At the time, all he’d seen was another genius child, living in a world that did nothing but misunderstand him, the same way as the last genius child he’d run into had been and Fukuzawa had dragged Dazai into his arms, promising to protect him and help him to find the path he was meant to walk.

Sure, Dazai was a little… odd, his dark humour terrifying to those that didn’t yet know him all that well—the amount of clients that became concerned every time Dazai joked about trying to kill himself over the slightest of inconveniences had only just started to slow down ten years after he’d joined their ragtag Agency. But underneath that humour was a good kid, one that was more than capable of the detective work that they did; Dazai knew about Ranpo and how Fukuzawa had failed him, and while at the time, he hadn’t understood why Fukuzawa cared so much about a child he’d known for only a few hours, he’d helped try to find him nonetheless.

Yet even with Dazai’s genius on their side, they still hadn’t managed to locate Ranpo.

And it was… hard.

They’d gone over every inch of Japan, questioning every possible lead—hell, Fukuzawa had even turned to Mori Ougai of all people in hope the underground doctor knew anything, but even that trail went cold. It was as if Ranpo had vanished off the face of the earth and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d met the kid and worked with him, however brief it was, he would’ve assumed that Ranpo simply didn’t exist anymore, that he was just a figment of his imagination or something.

But that frightened face… the one that continued to haunt him even twelve years later, that was real, and Fukuzawa refused to let himself forget that face.

He sighed as he moved on, stepping into the elevator, and pressing the button for the ground floor. He needed to stop thinking about his failures. It wouldn’t do any good to dwell on them, it was just that… it was coming up to the day that he’d failed the boy in the first place. In just a few days it would mark thirteen years since he’d last seen Ranpo, thirteen years since he himself had almost been killed. His body would always ache more around this time of year too, the scars of his wounds never letting him forget what had transpired that day.

Fukuzawa would try his best to push those memories aside for now; cases had started to pile up and there were even more for him to look over that afternoon.

He stepped into the café, opening his mouth to call out a greeting when he paused and tilted his head. Instead of it just being the elderly gentleman that owned and managed the café alongside his wife, there was someone else there too, watching intensely as the owner explained something to him—how to work the machine from the looks of it. A new employee…? Fukuzawa thought as he crossed the room to stop in front of the two. He’d never seen this man before and found him to be rather strange; elongated ears, silver hair that was pulled up into a messy bun with a few strands falling free, and scars on his face. At first glance, the stranger was intimidating, taller than Fukuzawa was and he considered himself to be quite tall, with even less emotion on his face than Oda—which in his opinion was hard to beat.

“You have a new employee, Tanaka-san?” Fukuzawa asked, reaching into his sleeve to withdraw his wallet.

“Yes, this is Bram-san.” Tanaka gestured towards this… Bram person. “My wife and I were looking to take some time to travel before we got too old, and Bram-san was the first to apply for the job.”

Fukuzawa turned towards Bram. “I haven’t seen you around before, are you new to Yokohama?”

Bram glanced towards Tanaka before he nodded once—he wasn’t the most expressive of people, Fukuzawa quickly noted—and spoke. “I am.”

“Are you liking it here?” Fukuzawa asked and then addressed Tanaka. “Just our usual drinks today, Tanaka-san. The others are going out to eat tonight, I’m afraid.”

“No, don’t apologise, Fukuzawa-san, those boys of yours work hard, they deserve to eat out every once in a while.” Tanaka said with a smile and turned towards the coffee machine. “Come along, Bram-san, you’ll see Fukuzawa-san and the others that work in the building a lot, so it’s best you learn their orders now.”

Bram nodded and made to follow the elderly man, pausing for a moment to answer Fukuzawa’s question. “It is nice… in this city.”

Fukuzawa found himself smiling a little. “That’s good to hear. I hope this job goes well for you.”

“As do I.” Bram said and then followed after Tanaka.

Fukuzawa moved away from the counter to sit in one of the booths and watched the two as they worked. He was happy for Tanaka and his wife; they’d been running the café for years before the Agency existed and they deserved to take a break and enjoy their lives. Admittedly he was curious about Bram—such a strange looking man that was most certainly a foreigner. He had to wonder what his story was, what had brought him to Yokohama in the first place, because after the Great War, most of the foreigners that visited tended to avoid the city and the dark secrets that it held.

Before long, Bram approached with drinks in hand and held them out to him. “Here.”

Fukuzawa stood and accepted the drinks. “Thank you. I will see you next time, Bram-san, Tanaka-san.”

Both men said their goodbyes as he left the café behind and headed back upstairs.

He was intrigued.

Fukuzawa’s intrigue in the mysterious Bram continued to grow with every trek that he took downstairs into the café. Even Oda and the others commented on the tall man’s mysterious presence, finding it odd that he’d stumbled across this tiny café that wasn’t really in the centre of anything—really, you did have to go out of your way to come here, unless you worked in the area of course. But none of them questioned it too much, and Bram was quickly proving himself to be a competent barista, able to work on his own just a few weeks after starting, much to Tanaka’s pleasure of course, who didn’t hesitate to praise his new worker for his work ethic.

That day, all of them—he, Oda, Dazai, and Kunikida—ventured down into the café for lunch after they finally finished up a case that they’d been working on all week. The case had left them exhausted—an ability user that’d decided serial killing was to be his newest hobby, with an ability that prevented him from being seen on camera’s which had made evidence all that much harder to collect. But they’d managed to solve it, and the ability user was in the custody of the police. And as a reward for their hard work, Fukuzawa had decided to treat his employees to whatever they wanted from the downstairs café, within reason of course. Naturally, they hadn’t hesitated.

Fukuzawa opened the door to the café, letting everyone move past him before entering himself. The first thing he noticed was that the café was empty—the lunch rush must’ve just ended—and that both Bram and Tanaka were working. The next thing he noticed was the figure squashed into the corner of one of the booths, a hood pulled over their head with only a few strands of white hair visible as they messed about on a handheld game console. He frowned; there was something familiar about that figure, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. Maybe it was because he’d heard about this person from his employees; supposedly they were someone close to Bram, accompanying the man to work and sitting in the corner until Bram finished his shift.

Dazai had mentioned he’d tried to speak to them before, only to be interrupted by Bram who’d apparently been none too kind in telling Dazai to leave them alone.

Which Fukuzawa had found strange to hear as Bram was always polite, even when customers tested his patience.

But he did notice that upon their arrival, Bram glanced towards the figure before his crimson gaze fixated on them, narrowing in what could only be caution and distrust.

Fukuzawa frowned. What could put such an expression on Bram’s face? He’d been under the assumption that their relationship was an amicable one. Had he been wrong about that?

“Ah, Fukuzawa-san, come to celebrate another solved case, have we?” Tanaka called out with a friendly wave.

Before Fukuzawa could answer, there was a clattering noise, and he looked over towards the stranger in the corner, noticing that their console was on the floor and that their hands were shaking.

“Fukuzawa…san?” A quiet, voice said, and Fukuzawa froze.

He knew that voice.

The stranger raised their head and vibrant green eyes met his own, wide in disbelief. Those eyes only grew wider as recognition flicked across the boy’s—only, he was no longer a boy—face and Fukuzawa felt his heart stop within his chest.

“Ranpo?” He breathed the name, unable to believe that this white-haired young man was the same teenager he’d met all those years ago. There was a haunted look to Ranpo’s eyes, and looking closer, they were not as bright as they’d once been. Not to mention how scared he looked, eyes flitting nervously about, like he wasn’t sure where to look, and several times, they landed on Bram.

“That’s who you’ve been searching for, for all these years?” Dazai exclaimed, rushing forward to get a closer look at Ranpo, a look that was a mix of curiosity and infatuation on his face.

Only he didn’t get far.

The moment that Dazai moved, Ranpo flinched, cowering into his seat, and in a second, Dazai was on the ground, giving a shout of indignation as he hit the ground hard, with Bram barring his path, the taller man glaring down at Dazai, baring his fangs—wait.

Fukuzawa blinked.

No wonder Bram seemed so mysterious; he wasn’t a human, but a vampire.

Not that that was important right now; he had to diffuse the current situation before it escalated into a conflict. Kunikida and Oda had drawn their weapons, pointing them at Bram, and Ranpo shoved himself further back, trying to meld with the wall as he pulled his hood over his face. Tanaka wisely chose to stay back.

Fukuzawa raised his arm to block Oda and Kunikida. “Enough.”

“But, President!” Kunikida sputtered. “Bram-san attacked—”

“He’s defending someone he cares about.” Fukuzawa interrupted, making eye contact with Bram, the vampire watching him closely. It was obvious to him that he’d reacted instinctively, moving to protect Ranpo because he’d thought that Dazai was a threat to Ranpo’s well-being. An entirely valid assumption considering that Dazai was sometimes a little… intense in his curiosity. He glanced over his shoulder at Kunikida. “Stand down. You too, Oda.”

Oda is the first to lower his weapon, and Kunikida hesitates for another moment before he too, lowered his weapon. And for once, Dazai didn’t say a word, shuffling backwards until he could climb to his feet. He seemed a little annoyed at being shoved to the ground, grumbling about the rough handling he’d received, but slunk back to stand behind Kunikida and Oda; it looked like he understood that he’d been the problem. For once.

Once the weapons were lowered, Bram relaxed too, and spun around to face Ranpo, resting a knee on the booth’s seat to lean over and speak quietly to the terrified man still sitting there, gentle as he reached out a hand to cup Ranpo’s cheek.

Fukuzawa in turn, addressed his employees. “Go back upstairs. I will send Oda a message when you can come back down.”

“Are you sure?” Oda asked, tilting his head a little.

“I am sure.” Fukuzawa said. “This is something I must do on my own.”

A minute passed before Oda nodded and gestured for the others to follow them. As they left, Fukuzawa turned to Tanaka and bowed apologetically. “I apologise for the disturbance, Tanaka-san. Might I borrow Bram-san for a moment?”

Tanaka sighed and nodded. “You may. I’ll give you some privacy.”

The elderly man ducked out into the back area of the café, and then it was just Fukuzawa, the boy he’d started to lose hope of ever seeing again, and his vampire… bodyguard?

Fukuzawa grabbed a chair from one of the tables and slowly crossed the room towards Bram and Ranpo.

Bram froze, slowly turning his head to glare at him, and Fukuzawa stopped where he was.

He would wait.

“It’s fine, Bram-kun.” Ranpo murmured, peering around the vampire’s side. “This is—this is Fukuzawa-san. The swordsman.”

Bram blinked, understanding dawning on his face. “The one that tried to protect you?”

Ranpo nodded.

And just like that, Bram moved to the side, leaning against the table, arms crossed. He looked relaxed, but it was obvious that he was ready to fight should the need arise. “You may come closer.”

Fukuzawa nodded and moved closer to the booth, stopping a good metre away and sitting on the chair he’d dragged along with him. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, wanting to reach out and touch Ranpo but also recognising what a terrible idea that would be right now. It’d been almost thirteen years and he had no idea what Ranpo had been through in that time.

Considering that Ranpo’s hair was now white instead of black, he has a feeling that it wasn’t good.

It was obvious that Ranpo also didn’t know what to do, shuffling forward to sit at the edge of the booth, yet he remained hunched in on himself, keeping his head low to avoid making eye contact.

It would be up to Fukuzawa to start the conversation.

“I never stopped searching for you.”

Ranpo stiffened and glanced up at him, holding his gaze for only a few seconds before lowering it again.

Fukuzawa tried again. “These past twelve years… I never stopped looking. I acquired the help of that assassin we apprehended and we searched and searched. Those people that were with me? They have also helped me search.”

“The Armed Detective Agency…” Ranpo said, scratching at his wrist with one hand. Bram frowned and reached over to pull his hand away, holding it loosely within his own. Ranpo squeezed the vampire’s hand and finally raised his head—and although he still wasn’t quite looking at Fukuzawa, he was at least looking in his direction. “You never stopped?”

“Not once.” Fukuzawa said, his words form.

And then there were tears welling up in those green eyes, spilling down Ranpo’s cheeks and suddenly Fukuzawa was thrown back to twelve years prior, back to Ranpo’s breakdown in the theatre about how the world was full of monsters. Back then, he hadn’t known what to do. But this time he did.

He was quick to move, coming to kneel in front of the booth as he drew Ranpo into his arms, holding the younger in a firm grip. At first, Ranpo stiffened, unsure of what was happening, but then he let himself fall apart, wrapping his arms around Fukuzawa’s neck and burying his face into the crook of it.

“I thought you’d died!” Ranpo sobbed, his grip tightening. “I thought that you’d been killed trying to protect me!”

“I almost did.” Fukuzawa said. He could still recall how death had been coming for him as he’d lain there, bleeding out on the floor of that warehouse. “I’m sorry that I failed to protect you, Ranpo.”

Ranpo shook his head. “We didn’t know they’d be there. They’d planned to come after me, they said so—that they’d been there for me, for my intellect that wasn’t an ability, but my natural skill.”

Fukuzawa held the young genius even tighter. “I’m still sorry.” He carded his fingers through white hair. “Where did they take you?”

Instead of answering, Ranpo began to tremble in his arms, but before he could ask what was wrong, Bram spoke up.

“We do not know who held us.” The vampire said, watching Ranpo with worry in his gaze. “It does not matter for they are dead anyway.”

“You were taken by them as well, Bram-san?”

Bram nodded. “I was taken well before Ranpo was, but he was my companion for the time he was there. It was a dark time for the both of us.”

Ranpo shuddered within Fukuzawa’s grip, and a quick glance showed that his tearful expression had been replaced with the haunted one he’d seen earlier.

He could only begin to imagine the kind of pain that Ranpo had gone through. He pulled back with the intention on giving Ranpo room to breathe, but the boy latched onto the sleeve of his yukata, holding it tight between his fingers. Fukuzawa didn’t dare move.

“Five years.” Ranpo rasped. “For five years, those people tortured me. They wanted to turn me into a human weapon, and when I failed them, they discarded me.”

Fukuzawa felt his heart start to shatter. He couldn’t understand how people could ever be so cruel to a child. “You survived.”

Ranpo gave a humourless laugh. “I told myself to fight, because I couldn’t let your sacrifice be in vain. I thought that if I thought, they’d see I wasn’t worth the effort and let me go. But—but—”

“But they didn’t.” Fukuzawa finished for him, and Ranpo nodded.

“I tried, Fukuzawa-san, I tried so hard. But I just couldn’t.”

Fukuzawa placed a hand over the top of Ranpo’s, feeling the warmth of life beneath his touch. “I know you did. The assassin—Oda—said that you would do whatever you could to survive. And seeing you here now, before me, I believe it. You did good, Ranpo. Whatever happened in that place, I am sure you did the best you could, and for that, Ranpo, I am proud of you.”

The tears from before returned in full force, and returned pulled the boy back into his arms, rubbing his back soothingly as he cried. Those were the tears of someone who’d been through unmeasurable pain, and he knew that he may never learn what happened for Ranpo to become the person he was—he wasn’t sure he wanted to know to begin with—he knew that he would do his best to make sure that the rest of Ranpo’s life was a good one. For as long as he lived, he would make sure that he and the rest of the Agency protected Ranpo—and Bram since it was clear to him that the vampire had no intention of leaving Ranpo. It was the least he could give the boy, after failing to protect him in the first place.

Tears of his own began to form, and Fukuzawa pressed his face against the top of Ranpo’s head.

No, he hadn’t failed.

It was because of his sacrifice that Ranpo had pushed himself to survive, forcing himself to live on because he’d believed Fukuzawa to have died.

And while they both wished that that night in the warehouse had gone differently, there was no changing the past; they simply had to live with the scars that night had given them, push on, and live.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #fukuzawa yukichi #edogawa ranpo #bram stoker #oda sakunosuke #angst #hurt/comfort #guilty conscience #parallel au #writing #fanfic

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 1 year ago

Text

A Voice Through the Nothingness Part 11

Series Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings apply. Do not keep reading if you feel the subject matter of this work may upset you.

This chapter is a bit late, life has been all over the place. Please remember the importance of feedback, it really helps me.

Contains: This is still a slow burn, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, graphic descriptions of past domestic violence, protective Billy.

4.4 K words

Comment if you want to be tagged or follow #a voice through the nothingness.

“Fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.”- Leigh Bardugo

Hazel rubbed her face as she filled in the incident report, she focused on the details down to every last fact, partly to stop herself from laughing and partly to hold back the growing anxiety that her Ex's parole date was exactly a week away.

Billy's call came just as she signed the document and it took her everything not to spill right there and then, "So, I don't know if you know this, but Mevin the security guard is all over the news, I'm pretty sure your hand in the background."

Hazel bit the inside of her cheek and willed the giggles to stay away, "Yes, there was an incident at one of those foul child beauty pageants. An issue arose over the scoring, some parents got into a fight. A mother was stabbed with a pair of scissors and the worst a kid got was a sprained wrist."

Billy picked up on Hazel's tone, "Oh come on, you can tell me more. The news has video." Billy was trying to distract her, if the worried raw lower lip he caught sight of yesterday was anything to go by, she wasn't doing well.

Hazel barely held back her laughter, "Oh my God, Melvin's going to become a meme because of me. The kid with the sprained wrist was wearing four thousand dollars worth of pageant gear that had to be cut off. The poor kid's crazy mother came at me with a fucking bone saw when I told her. I just got done filing the report."

Billy paused his task at her words, "She came at you with a bone saw over some clothes?"

That was it, Hazel was gone and she could barely speak between cackles, "Yes, I don't even….." Billy loved that sound, he would have loved it more if it wasn't tinged with something less pleasant, "I don't even know how she got it." She sighed, "Can you pick me up today, I don't feel like taking the subway, I'll cover your gas."

Billy could hear something coming through more the more she spoke, "Hell yeah, in fact, can I ask a favour in return?"

"Of course you can." Hazel knew Billy would never ask her to do anything she didn't want to do.

"We've expanded into looking after more families and I need help going through applicants who will be good with kids, I'd really value your input." Billy didn't just value it, he desperately wanted it.

"Sure, if you want, you can bring me to Anvil, I'm happy to do it now." Hazel didn't want to admit to herself that it was because she felt safe there.

Billy smiled, "That would be great, I owe you so much."

Hazel giggled, "It's nothing, the fact that you value my opinion enough to make hiring decisions on it is enough."

At that moment, it hit Billy how much he did value her opinion, "I'll be there when you finish. Thank you for doing this, you have no idea how much help it is."

Hazel smiled, "Hey, I'm happy to help. I'll see you soon."

Now that Billy had time to wait until he saw he her, he found himself missing her, "See you soon Hazel."

****

Billy grinned as Hazel came into view, the site of her with two coffees in her hands in her yellow scrubs filling his chest with joy, "Hi Billy."

"Hello Hazel." He walked around to the passenger side and opened her door before she handed him a coffee and slid inside, "Thanks."

Hazel shook her head, "No worries. I feel bad getting in your nice car in my work clothes."

Billy gave her a look, "This car has seen a lot worse." He pointed to the little animals on her scrubs, "Are those Armadillos?

Hazel shook her head, "No, they're Pangolins."

Billy noticed how tired she looked, "Where do you find Pangolin scrubs?"

Hazel smiled, "I made these scrubs. I found Pangolin fabric at a kid's online fabric store. How did you get here in time? The traffic is terrible."

Billy smiled, "I left early. I hope you don't mind that we'll be sitting in the car for a while."

Hazel shook her head, "No way. I get to spend time talking to you and I get to people watch. What's not to love?"

He could see the tension melting from her. Billy knew he had a knack for making people feel safe but seeing it in action was something different, "Well, when you put it like that then we better get going."

Hazel smiled, "Great, I never rode in such a fancy car." Billy pressed a button and her eyes went wide, "There and seat warmers? Oh boy."

Billy chuckled, "Yeah there are. Now tell me more about your day."

Hazel shrugged, "The ER was pretty busy with the pageant mothers. There were a lot more people involved than we first thought so I stayed there my whole shift. But it was pretty uneventful other than that."

Billy chuckled, "Isn't it bad luck to say shit like that?"

Hazel shook the growing tiredness from her bones, "No, only when you're in the ER. What are you looking for in a bodyguard, is that the right term?" Billy nodded, "What are you looking for in a bodyguard who's working with kids?"

Billy smiled, "That's what I want you to tell me."

Hazel nodded, "Ok, well what are you looking for in a bodyguard full stop? There are traits of people who work with kids who would make shit bodyguards and vise versa so maybe I can find a happy middle."

For someone who hated managing people, she was good at understanding what it took, "Past the fundamental skills like being able to do the job, I'm looking for someone with a lot of knowledge of how to get out of bad situations, someone who cares but not so much that they'll get involved and someone who thinks in their feet."

"Ok, well a lot of that is what you need with kids too so that's not a problem. I'd say you should also look for someone who likes kids but not necessarily someone who has them. While it's not a bad thing, I've seen doctors and nurses lose focus if they let their mind drift to their own little ones." Hazel felt the exhaustion hit her as she spoke.

Billy nodded, "Yeah, I've noticed that with Frank. I was thinking a sixty forty split women and men?"

Hazel rested her head back and sunk into the plush of the seat, "Mmm, I think that's a good idea but it all depends on the people you pick." It was getting so hard for her to keep her eyes open.

"That's why I'm bringing you along, I figure you know what you're talking about. I also thought that you and Curt could develop a pediatric training program. You don't even have to come in, I just want your input on some ideas. I mean, we do have pediatric medics but I've never seen them in action and I know how good you are at your job." Billy cast a glance at Hazel, smiling when he found her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling softly.

In the silence, she roused, "Sure, I'd be happy to help, whatever's good for the kiddos is good for me."

Billy smiled, "You are amazing." He thought about another thing to talk about, something that would lull her back to sleep, "We've bought two properties too, they're both a total shit heep now but with some work, they'll will be really nice. One an apartment block with seven apartments and a security centre on the ground floor. It used to be an office building but it was rezoned and sold to us for nothing. We'll turn half into overnight rooms for our staff and others into safehouses."

Hazel let out an mhhh and Billy kept going, "The other is this house that's basically a shell now, the backyard is huge and it's a total mess. It will take us forever to fix, but we will use it as a holiday house for our high end clients when they stay for business."

Billy came to the main road and had a choice to make, take the short way and get to Anvil in half an hour or the long way and get there in double that. It was an easy choice for him, an hour in a car talking about his plans while Hazel slept was a good way to beat the boredom of traffic.

****

Billy didn't know why he hadn't woken Hazel up yet but he reasoned it was because she looked so peaceful. He reached across the centre console and stroked Hazel's cheek, repeating her name softly until her eyes fluttered open. She sat up and rubbed her face before looking around, horror growing on her expression, "Shit, did I fall asleep? I'm so sorry."

Billy shook his head, "It's alright, you needed it."

Hazel swallowed, "I haven't been sleeping much since the news."

Billy lifted his hand again and brushed a curl behind her ear, Hazel's eyes closing at the gentle touch, "I don't blame you. Are you feeling a bit better now."

Hazel sighed and stretched, "Much. That was the best sleep I've had since Friday."

Billy understood how she went from a double shift on Friday to cooking all of Saturday with much of a break, adrenalin was an amazing thing. "Yeah, you told me on Saturday that you had a bad day at work but that was your day off so I'm guessing you didn't sleep when you got home after your shift?"

Hazel shook her head, "Not a wink."

Billy's mind went through how he could kill the man before the hearing but he knew Hazel wouldn't want that, "Next time you can't sleep I want you to call me and we'll talk until you can." Hazel went to protest and he held up a hand, "Hey, it's the least I can do."

Hazel smiled softly and sniffed back her emotions, "Thank you."

Billy took a breath and pushed open his door, "We better head in now, before my staff think we're talking about something scandalous and start gossiping."

Hazel giggled, "Good idea."

Billy didn't miss the way Hazel glanced at him when he opened her door for her, nor how she stuck so close by him as they headed to his office. Hazel smiled when she saw the marking on the wall, "The fish tank, already?"

Billy smiled, "Yeah, I wasn't going to wait. Your fish guy already came through."

They sat down at Billy's desk and he placed the files in front of them before pointing to the separate piles, "Women and here and men are here, is there anything you want to know before we start?"

Hazel nodded, "Did you create a questionnaire for this job or is this just their files?"

"It's just their files but if you think a questionnaire could help I'll get the shortlisted people to fill it out." A tiny part of Billy wished Hazel had said yes to working for him but he knew she wouldn't find it fulfilling, so he have to settle for having her help him in her free time.

"Ok, how many people are you looking for?" Hazel was already looking over the folders.

"Twenty. We're expanding fast so we'd rather have the numbers up front then be struggling for people." Hazel was deep in thought as she poured over the information and Billy was more focused on her than on the work he had to do.

"I like him, Ryan Batts. I think he'd be a good fit." She placed his file on a pile and moved on to the next one.

"Alright." Billy paused, debating whether he should push it, "Can you help me with the interviews? I promise it won't take away from work or study."

Hazel sighed, "Ok, and before you ask, I've already have to questionnaire we used for the security we hire on the ward. We can work on some extra questions that focus on this job and go from there."

Billy grinned, "I owe you. Whatever you want, name it and it's yours."

Hazel shook her head, "Your company is payment enough." She threw the file in her hand into another pile, "Not him, he'd be shit."

Billy chuckled, "You're cheap to keep."

Hazel gave him a friendly shove, "If you must pay me, you can do it cool in fabric and endless praise."

Billy raised an eyebrow, "Oh really? I can heap on the praise if you like."

Hazel picked up on his tone because she gave it right back, "Hell yeah, who doesn't love he hear what a good job they're doing? I mean, I am an honour student, of course I have a praise kink."

Billy managed to hold himself together for another beat before he broke down in laughter, "I walked right into that, didn't I?"

Hazel nodded, "You ran into it dear."

Billy composed himself and took a breath before passing her a file, "What about her."

Hazel's eye drifted over it, "Yeah, I think she'll be good."

Billy was back to grinning, "We are going to get this way faster than I thought. Good job."

Hazel giggled, "If you keep it coming we'll get it done even faster."

****

The sun had long set by the time Billy brought Hazel home, and like always, she stopped by to chat to the man in the corner before making sure the whatever it was that she placed in her door every day was still there.

Billy watched as Hazel looked around the apartment before relaxing, "Can I ask you what you're looking for when you check your door?" Hazel looked over him as if she was trying to decide if she should give away her secret, "I'm not going to tell a soul, don't worry."

She took a deep breath, "A piece of white string. The cop that was first on the scene really helped me. When I told him I was worried about being stalked, he told me to put things like that in place, the only other person who knows is Lizzy." She paused, "I'm sorry."

Billy closed the distance and placed his hand on her cheek, "Why are you sorry?"

Hazel broke his gaze, "Because you've been through war and I'm a ball of nerves for no reason."

Billy took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, their rims red and damp, "You have nothing to be sorry for, someone you loved tried to kill you, Hazel, you were in a fight for your life. You don't need to apologise for anything, not for being scared or not trusting anyone, and certainly not for protecting yourself."

There was a beat and then the dam broke and Hazel fell into his chest while hers racked with sobs. Billy wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair as she cried and tried to flog back the feelings growing in his chest.

Billy's hand squeezed Hazel's shoulder and he felt the heaving of her ribs slow, "You're ok, everything is going to be ok." She took in a shuddering breath, and then another and another and finally calmed down but she made no move to extricate her from his embrace.

"Thank you." Hazel's voice was muffled in Billy's chest and Billy reached up and stroked her hair as he reigned in his anger. Hazel pulled away and smiled at him, "You wanna stay for some coffee?"

Billy nodded, "Sure. You know, when Anvil expanded, we started to take in clients who have been through similar things to you and Curt started a group for them, they meet at the same place that we do. Curt wouldn't mind it if you stopped by."

Hazel held up a hand, "No, what happened to me is nothing compare to what happens to some people, I would be taking up a seat." Despite the shake in her voice, her hands were steady as she made the coffee.

"Do you want to talk to me about what happened? I know that part of this is coming from you not knowing if you did everything you could and it's my job to know those things. We'll treat it like an after action report, there won't be any judgement and I won't criticise you if you made a mistake. That way, you know for sure that there's nothing you could have done." Billy knew Hazel would have done everything right.

Hazel sighed and handed Billy a cup, "You don't need to be my shoulder to cry on Billy."

Billy shook his head, "I'm your friend, that's what I'm here for."

Hazel rubbed her face and gestured to the couch and her and Billy sat down together, "I promised myself the first time a man yelled at me I would leave and like so many women before me, it happened and I didn't. His name was, is, Jacob Cambell, he worked at the local gym and I met him at a bar. He was a muscle head and didn't have any intellectual pursuits but he was sweet, at least I thought he was."

She took a deep breath, "We dated for two years and I missed a lot of the signs, the tiny ones that you don't know until it's way too late. I thought he never understood my interests because I didn't communicate them well enough, I now know that he didn't listen because he didn't care. I thought he didn't understand why my job was so hard for me because he had never had any exposure to it, I know now it's because my feelings didn't matter."

Billy took Hazel's hand in his, "Four months before he assaulted me, I suspected he was taking steroids but I didn't bring it up because he had always been insecure about his size even though he was huge," she paused for a moment, wondering if she should keep going, "He had certain inabilities that only got worse with the steroid use and it made him very very angry."

Billy was no stranger to men who turned to drugs when they felt weak, it always ended the same, "The day before, he came back from work I wasn't in the mood to talk because I had lost a kid and he yelled, told me to shut up and called me selfish and I should have told him to fuck off there and then but he apologised and started crying and I forgave him."

Billy could see Hazel steeling herself, "The next day, the same time, he came in spitting mad, red in the face, the whole nines. He asked me if I talked to the cops, I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. He didn't listen and I told him to leave and he didn't. There was name calling and I made like I was going to pour him a drink and got my gun. I pointed it at him and told him to leave again, he lunged at me and I was stupid enough not to shoot him in the head."

Billy squeezed her hand, "Can I interrupt?" Hazel nodded, "Even if the best shooters in the world don't aim for the head unless they know they can land the shot. I'd argue that hitting a man who's coming at you in the knee is even harder but you made the right call, had you missed, it would have been worse. So the hit landed, you told me the first time that he didn't feel it?"

Hazel chewed her lip and shook her head, "No. He was too close to shoot him again and he hit me. I hit him back multiple times but he was a lot stronger than me and he managed to get the gun from me. He knocked the wind out of me and I fell down, then he laughed and pulled the magazine out, flicked all the bullets at me and dropped the gun next to me. He hit me again and climbed on top of me and started to strangle me."

Billy was even more satisfied with the ending he knew was coming, "He didn't count the bullets and I did. The gun was within reach, I grabbed it, put it to his stomach and fired. The rest is history."

Billy could see Hazel drifting and he pulled her back, "I have seen grown men with the best training in the world crumble in the same situation where you didn't. There is nothing you could have done to stop what happened to you. You got out alive, that's it, there's nothing else that matters."

Billy could see the relief come over Hazel's face, "Are you sure you're not just saying this to make me feel better?"

Billy shook his head, "Doing that could get you killed if it happens again. There was nothing you could have done."

Hazel rolled her shoulders and resolve came over her face, "If he gets out, I'll deal with it. I survived once, I can do it again."

Billy smiled, "That's just right. Do you need me to stay with you tonight?"

Hazel shook her head, "No, I'm good."

Billy stood up and the hug that followed felt so natural, "Are we still on for dinner at my place on Saturday?"

Hazel smiled, "Of course, I'm excited to see what you cook."

Billy's chest filled with warmth as she buried herself further into his chest, "You have people in your corner Hazel. Come next week, no matter what happens, you will get through this."

Hazel pulled away and smiled, "Thank you Billy. Get home safe."

****

Hazel sighed and sipped her coffee, leaning against the wall while Lizzy looked her over, "You look great, did that fuckstain get stabbed this morning?"

Hazel shook her head, "I told Billy everything last night. He took me home after I helped him with some Anvil stuff and we went over it. After I was done, he told me there was nothing else I could have done and when I asked him if he was bullshitting me to make me feel better, he told me made it clear he wasn't. It doesn't change the fact that I feel like justice has been stolen but I feel," she thought for a moment, "I feel so much more capable now."

Lizzy grinned, "Yeah, girl. You're a fucking badass, I've been telling you that since I met you. I'm not going to be offended that it took Mr Sexy to get it to sink in, I'm just glad you finally see it."

Hazel mirrored her smile, "I know this isn't the end, and I'm still going to be a wreck but I can handle it."A buzzing in her pocket pulled her attention away, "Speaking of, that's Billy now."

Lizzy waved her hand with a smile, "Go ahead, I need to get back to the ward anyway."

'Hey, is everything alright?" Hazel didn't know what she expected but it certainly wasn't what came.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just got out of a meeting with the designer for those apartments I told you about and turns out it's going to cost us a bit more than we thought I wanted to bring something up before I pull the trigger." Billy had a feeling about what Hazel was going to say but he was going to try anyway.

"You have seven right? I think I fell asleep before I heard the rest." Hazel rubbed her face, that time in the car was the best rest she had gotten since she got the news about her Ex.

"Yeah. I'm not going to insult you by asking you to move into one, but for some reason, you need to leave your apartment in the next few months, I'd be happy to rent one to you for the same price you're paying now as long as you help me fix it up."

Billy knew there was no point in lying, she would see through it anyway, "Look, I'm not being selfless, this is going to cost us a lot and if you say yes, you'll be saving us a lot of money. We'll provide everything you need, plus some men to help you out, I just want you there to do what you did for your place."

Hazel's first response was to say yes but she didn't want to be dependent on anyone, "I'm really flattered that you think I'm that good and thank you for thinking of me but I have to say no. I need to get through this without taking a step back, I'll never feel safe again alone if I move somewhere with security all day and all night."

Billy sighed, "I understand, the offer is still there if you change your mind. I'll see you Tomorrow at my place for dinner."

Hazel took a deep breath, "I can't wait."

****

Billy had taken the night and most of the day to mull it over but he had made up his mind after his call with Hazel. He didn't even bother going into Frank's office, settling for calling him on his Anvil office phone, "I need to see the police report."

Frank stuttered, "What police report, what are you talking about?"

Billy bit back his anger, "Hazel's police report, I need to know what she's walking into on Thursday. She told me everything last but I need to see it for myself."

Frank sighed, "I'll email it to you. Will Hazel be alright with this?"

Billy somehow knew she would be, "Hazel is the most open person I know and I'll tell her on Thursday. Please Frank."

Frank huffed, "It's in your inbox. Don't do anything stupid Bill, the woman can handle herself. You'll be able to see that as clear as day when you read it."

"Thanks." Billy hung up the phone and rushed to open his email before taking a deep breath and clicking open the file. He read the report first and his chest swelled with pride, "offensive and defensive bruises, fingerprint marks around neck, mild powder burns on right hand."

When Billy reached the photos, he knew he was finally better because, at that moment, the fury gave way to overwhelming clarity. If Hazel asked him, Jacob Cambell was a dead man, and if she didn't, he would bide his time until Cambell gave Billy a chance to do it anyway because men like that always do.

Part 12

@rainbowgoblinfan

#a voice through the nothingness #billy russo #the punisher #fix it fic #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo smut #ben barnes #the punisher fanfiction #billy russo x ofc #frank castle #karen page #everybody lives/nobody dies #curtis hoyle #daredevil

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canon-ized · 6 months ago

Text

part 3 but in correct order this time ‼️

fun fact I titled it A Son and His Awkward Friend on my doc

Taylor is living in a nightmare.

After his stupid sperm donor for a father stayed for dinner the first night of Hanukkah, his mom- who is WAY TOO NICE by the way, invited to let the guy stay to help with food for the next night. And the next. And then it was all of them. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, he never left! Now that loser is around all the time, doing all the house chores. Taylor confronted his mom about it and she said she ‘hired him.�� Hired him!! To stay in the house! Why would she do that?! This is all so unfair!

And the absolute most horrible thing of them all just happened.

Taylor got a call from his mom- that’s not the bad part, he loves his mom. So much. The bad part is the completely terrible news she broke to him. “Tay, something came up at work, and I won’t be able to go with you to the anime convention today. I want you to take your father with you instead.”

And Taylor’s reaction of course, was completely reasonable. “WHAT?! I’D RATHER GET EATEN BY A SNAKE AND SLOWLY DIGESTED! I can’t take that loser to a con he’ll embarrass me in front of my people!”

“Honey, please calm down…”

“Can’t I just go by myself? Or with one of my friends? I’m an adult, I don’t need someone following me around anymore! Especially not him.” Taylor shook his fist as he stared at one of his Demon Slayer posters on the wall. One of the lesser demons in the background getting its head sliced off looks mildly like Nicky and it’s his favorite thing to glare at when he’s practicing being menacing.

“Taylor, I love you and I respect your independence of course, but you have to remember we are famous and rich. Not everywhere is safe for us. I’d just feel better if you had someone who will be able to protect you if anything happens.”

“Oh and he’s been so great at that in the past, hasn’t he?” Taylor threw a ninja star at the poster but it just hit Inosuke in the forehead. He huffed.

“Come on, it’s been years now. He’s trying his best. Can’t you at least give him one more chance?”

“I gave him plenty of chances already! I don’t owe him my sympathy.” Taylor glanced at a box in the corner of his room under some stacked up manga, where two halves of a certain wooden sword are collecting dust in the dark. He put the part of himself that cared in that box too… He turned away and quickly went back to being annoyed.

“Okay, well I didn’t want to have to pull this card, but I’ll be honest with you, Tay. I do not trust you not to get into trouble, and your father is the person I trust the most to make sure you behave.”

Taylor made an offended noise, sliding off his bed with his legs sticking up in the air. “MOM! Don’t tell me you still have feelings for him! Don’t you remember what happened last time you trusted a man like this!”

“Hey, you cannot compare Willy to your dad! I am paying him to do what I say! That makes it completely different!”

“You’re blinded by your love, Mom. Blinded I say.”

“Will you please just do it, Tay?”

“Mom-“

“Pleaseee, for your momma?”

Taylor got up off the floor only to flop back onto the bed. “…Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhfine.”

“Thank you, sweetie. Oh-! I have to go!”

Taylor made a face. “Awfully convenient timing-“

“Bye, I love you, baby!”

Taylor sighed. “Love you, Mom.”

Nicky’s life has been so nice lately he’s starting to question if it’s real or if he finally went too far with one of those hard imp drugs.

After helping with the food for Hanukkah and staying with Cass and Taylor for the entirety of the holidays, Cass invited to let him stay if he does all the house chores (besides cooking, which she enjoys when she has time). And he’s so grateful for that because it’s been the greatest job ever so far. He’s really been able to learn a lot about how Cass has changed, with her life, habits, and likes. Not to mention all the above about Taylor, who he barely knew anything about before. Even if it’s just as their housekeeper, he’s so happy to have grown closer to them.

And to top it off, the craziest thing just happened.

He’s embarrassed to admit that he nodded off in the living room after sweeping and mopping the floors. He’s been plagued with nightmares for most of his life, and being alone in the tiny guest room of the house with only his worries and two loud voices in his head doesn’t help so much. So telling himself that he’s ‘just gonna sit down for one second’ on this nice, comfy couch blanketed in warm sunlight from the freshly wiped windows is entirely a lie.

Nicky’s not completely sure how much time passed, but eventually he heard muttering. “God…so pathetic…” Then he got poked in the shoulder. “Hey!!”

“Guh-!” he awoke with a start and- Taylor was looking directly at him. Surely this isn’t real. His tail started moving back and forth excitedly. “Hi Taylor, do you- do you need something?”

Taylor’s arms were crossed and he pouted. “Mom said I have to take you with me to the anime con I’m going to today. But this doesn’t mean we’re not still mortal enemies, alright? Just get off your ass before we’re late and we have to stand in a line like losers.”

Nicky sprung to his feet. “What- we’re what…you’re…taking me with you? Out? To someplace?”

“Do I have to repeat myself, old man? Come on, let’s just go, I’m not talking to you anymore.” Taylor turned on his heel and started towards the door. He almost forgot his keys but when he turned around to retrieve them he saw a strange human guy standing where Nicky had been standing. “GAH- Wait,” it took him a second to recognize the magic disguise. “Why the fuck are you wearing that??”

“Uhhhh, so I don’t look like a tiefling?”

“No! No no no! You can’t go looking like my lame dad! Just stay yourself!” Taylor grabbed his keys, acting as if this wasn’t a big deal.

“What?! I can’t do that! What if someone-“

Nicky looked at Taylor’s disappointed face and stopped talking, releasing the spell without another word.

“Heh. That’s what I thought.”

And that’s where they’re at now. Nicky walks beside Taylor to the lightrail.

“Don’t walk next to me.”

Nicky walks behind Taylor to the lightrail. Very awkwardly. What do I even do? I’ve never gone on a real outing with my son before! And he doesn’t even want me here… What kinds of things do I say? I really just want to make sure he has a good time and also a safe time but what does that even look like- don’t you even start Nicholas.

“But I can help if you just let me take over! I had plenty of safe fun with my dad!”

I don’t want- Oh no-

“No, you should let me handle this!” Nick chimes in. “He’ll love me as much as I loved hanging out with my dad!!”

The last time I let you ‘handle’ something I ended up in a dumpster! Neither of you are helping me figure this out!

Nicky is suddenly pulled from his anxiety-ridden thoughts by a guy walking by them. “Sick costume dude!” He holds his hand out for a high five and somehow- probably Nick’s doing- Nicky sticks it perfectly as they pass by each other. After a few seconds of being frozen there his face flushes. I mean technically it’s my skin, but that felt kinda nice…

“Cass would have plenty to say about-“

NICK SHUT IT.

“Heh.”

This happens a few more times as they go, various people complimenting Nicky’s ‘awesome cosplay,’ until Taylor says, “…Okay you can get closer to me.”

Nicky tries not to seem too visibly excited about this for fear he’d take it back and walks next to him for the remainder of the journey to the lightrail. Once onboard they get quite a few stares from the other passengers, but Nicky does his best to be cool for Taylor and stands there holding one of the straps on the roof as if he were posing. Taylor begrudgingly mutters something about wishing he had worn his Tanjiro cosplay and Nicky smiles, his nerves eased a bit.

They arrive at the convention center and he no longer stands out so much. Which is somewhat a relief, Nicky’s conflicted there because on one hand anxiety and the other Taylor seemed to like the attention.

“Y’know you could-“

No. I’m not doing that, Nick.

They walk around a bit, Taylor talks to all his favorite fan artists at their booths, he must be a regular. But at one point something catches Nicky’s eye and he purchases it. “Hey Taylor, look!”

Taylor turns and sees him holding up a little keychain of the Death Note excitedly. “It’s like a little inside joke, y’know, cause of that one time? Do you remember-“

“You mean the time you offered to murder my friend for me?” Taylor raises an eyebrow accusingly.

Nicky goes stiff and his arm drops. “Um…yes…I suppose that is what I’m referring to…”

“Uh huh.” Taylor snatches the keychain from him and pockets it. “Well I’ll remind you even if you’re mom’s butler, I’ll be doing my own revenge murders, thanks.” He starts walking off.

Darn.

“Are you sureeee you don’t wanna do it? It’d make Taylor happy and he might be impressed~”

No, Nick. I am not doing that.

“Suit yourself loser.” Nick laughs and disappears, leaving Nicky defeated.

And, inevitably, Taylor gets himself into trouble. Nicky feels it with that weird sense he has before actually pinpointing it.

And of course, it’s by larping with someone who’s a little too serious.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Taylor.”

“You’re the one who barely comes to cons, Hero.”

“Maybe it’s because I have a job and an actual life.”

“Heh. Jealous you don’t have the level of expertise I do, are you?”

“I learned to shoot a gun when I was five.”

She what- How long has it been since I spoke with Lark and Sparrow-

“Oh, do you want a fight?” Taylor unsheaths his sword cane. There’s a couple of ‘ooo’s from passersby, but none stop, they’ve seen it all before.

“If you mean a fight for honor, to the death, in which you die,” Hero unsheaths a sword of her own, “then absolutely.”

Nicky looks between them. Her sword is brimming with magical energy and I sense genuine murderous intent- what is their deal?!?!

Taylor just grins and gets into a fighting stance. She does the same, Nicky can tell immediately she’s aiming for his sword arm. They charge at each other.

A gunshot. I’m bleeding, I’m bleeding, it hurts so bad, why… My best friend just took my arm.

“No, stop!” Nicky steps in front of Taylor, taking hold of Hero’s blade. Taylor’s sword hits him in the back and he winces, but his focus is getting them out of this situation. “Please, whatever you have against him…don’t.”

“Hey what the hell?!” Taylor steps around to look at him with anger and surprise. “Seriously? You think just cause you’re ‘hERe tO pRoTEcT mE’ you can stop me from having fun with my friend-“

“We’re not friends!” Hero comments.

“Okay my enemy!” Taylor goes back to glaring daggers at Nicky. “But come on! Don’t be lame!”

Nicky looks at Taylor. “…I’m sorry, but, on behalf of your mother it’s a no.” He lets go of Hero’s sword and she puts it away with a scoff.

“Tch! Whatever! I hope you choke on the stupid fucking money she gives you to care about me!” Taylor starts stomping away.

“Taylor-“ That one really hurt… Nicky stands there, ashamed. I’m the worst dad in the world…

Nick reappears. “Nooooow..?”

Nicky considers it this time, and sighs. Okay, fine, now.

“Oh hell yeah this is gonna be so sick!!”

Nicky looks around to make sure the area is clear. And then…

A column of flame shoots up from where he’s standing. People step away, startled. Taylor turns around.

Nicky steps through the fire. He raises his arm, pointing a glowing hot katana at Hero. “Hero Oak Garcia. No one threatens my son without going through me. I, the Prince of Hell, challenge you, to a duel.”

The onlookers start muttering, confused. “Is this a show?” “What anime’s the ‘Prince of Hell’ from?? Sounds made up to me.” Nicky gets a little embarrassed but keeps his eyes on Hero.

She blinks, and laughs. “Oh this’ll be fun.” She redraws her sword, and Nicky can visibly see the magic now, weird purple energy coming from a stone inlaid in the center of the blade. Someone from the crowd shouts, “Ready, and, fight!”

As soon as Nicky’s blade makes contact with Hero’s he can tell he was correct. The magic isn’t just to be showy, and she swings to kill, just like Lark. Nicky has zero clue what her original intentions were with Taylor, but it’s certain that she’s pissed at him for interfering. Regardless, he has no intent to so much as scratch her and falls into a dance of defense with every movement.

That is, until she looks in Taylor’s direction. Nicky looks over quickly, falling for it, and she smacks him across the face with the blunt of her sword, knocking him over. The crowd cheers as she stands over him. “Wow, you really are just Taylor’s lame dad-“

She’s interrupted by her sword getting knocked from her hands. Taylor holds his sword cane to her throat. “Heh. Looks like I win this one, Oak.”

She makes a face at him and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. I’ve got better things to do than play with you. See you around, Swift.” She retrieves her sword and walks off.

Nicky’s ears ring briefly as he’s rubbing his cheek where she struck him, before Taylor’s hand comes into view. “I told you, didn’t I? I do my own revenge murders.”

Nicky smiles and accepts the help getting up. “Do you…wanna go get some ice cream?”

“Only if Mom’s pity money is buying.” Taylor starts running off. “Try to keep up, duel loser!”

Nicky laughs. “Hey!! Don’t forget I can do this!” In a single beat of his wings he shoots across the room, grabbing Taylor and flying right out the door.

“Gah!! Dad stop! Out of all the things you’ve done today this is definitely something people will get suspicious of.”

He called me Dad!! “I. Don’t. Care!!” Nicky holds onto Taylor tightly and does a flip in the air.

Taylor screams but it’s followed by laughter. “Geez, where’d the other guy go?” He admires the view as Nicky looks at him fondly. That’s exactly the way you laughed, when you were a tiny baby, and I used to take you flying…

Needless to say, he does plenty more flips and barrel rolls, just to hear that laugh again and again.

When they arrive at the shop, Taylor orders a strawberry ice cream in a chocolate covered cone, and Nicky gets himself mint chip in a cup, which Taylor makes fun of him for. “It’s just because I’m really afraid of dropping it, okay?” He admits, red in the face as Taylor laughs at him.

They walk out to sit on the curb. “Well cones are better, they’re like cups, but edible and delicious!” Taylor breaks a piece off his. “Here, try it and I know you’ll change your mind.”

“Okay, I guess i-“

His phone rings in his pocket. “Oh, sorry, one second.” He sets his ice cream down and takes it out.

His stomach drops.

It’s Glenn.

Nick immediately starts shouting at him. “Go on! Answer it! What’re you waiting for, dumbass!”

Nicky presses recieve and holds the phone to his ear, but immediately recoils at how loud everything on the other end is. ‘NICK!! I NEED YOU THE FUCK DOWN HERE! WE’RE HAVING ANOTHER WAR AND IT’S GETTING REAL BAD!’ Gunfire. Crashing. Shouting. ‘COME ON OPEN ONE OF YOUR PORTALS OR WHATEVER! QUICK!’

Nicky freezes. “I-“ He looks at Taylor, who looks away from him without comment. Nick keeps shouting, now trying to push his way into control. “Come on, you heard him! He needs me! Let me take this!”

“I…”

“…Nicky what are you doing? HE’S YOUR DAD HE NEEDS YOU RIGHT NOW LET ME-“

No! Nicky rips control of himself away. Mentally at least.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

‘WHAT?! I CAN’T FUCKING HEAR YO-‘

Nicky hangs up, staring at the phone in silence. Taylor looks back at him. Nick’s anger gets so intense within him that it makes him physically shake. “…Are you fucking kidding me right now? I help you out with your son and this is how I’m repaid?! You can’t let me have anything for two fucking seconds!”

It’s not two seconds, it’s a day then a week then a month then it’s years! I’m not doing this anymore! I’m done! I’m done, okay?.. Nicky’s eyes tear up as he stares into his ice cream cup, remembering the last time he had a cone. He dropped it and Glenn laughed at him. He was 4.

“…Fine. Fine, try to do everything yourself. But you need me. You know that. You’re a terrible son and the lamest dad alive. Good fucking luck.”

Nick disappears. Nicky has a bite of his ice cream, trying and failing to ignore Taylor staring at him.

“…Dad issues?”

Nicky looks over, silent. He puts his ice cream down again and looks away again, ashamed.

Taylor smirks and goes back to eating his own. “Yeah, me too.” He puts his free hand over Nicky’s.

Nicky smiles a little and leans against him.

Taylor gets annoyed again. “Don’t push it.”

He stops. “Sorry.”

I WROTE A THING POST-S2 ENDING BYE

(tw: brief self-harm, severed limb mention, death mention)

“Fuck off.”

The words Taylor said to Nicky when it was all over. “You’re a loser. Go away. You’re not a part of this family.”

And those are the words Nicky hears in his head as he’s kneeling in the flaming pit of Hell, watching his mage hand cut off his remaining arm over, and over, and over again before it regrows no problem.

Another voice rings out, of a much younger child wishing to please his father. “Y’know what would fix this, man? Some weed, dawg. That always makes Dad feel better, right?”

It’s accompanied by a third, flat and perfectly consonated. “Have you no sense? That won’t solve anything. Listen to me instead, my Dad says-“

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” Nicky slams the flat of the sword into his own head, hard. Enough to knock him over into the ashes of his discarded limbs, all parts of him, but broken and disconnected. The ringing in his ears drowns all the voices out, letting him think for a bit. Kind of.

He realizes at a certain point, lying with all these shattered pieces of the past he once was, that the ringing is no longer coming from his ears, but instead from his pocket. His phone. He pulls it out and clears his throat before answering, not even bothering to check who it is because 90 percent of the time it’s Glenn butt-dialing him. But instead of the drunken slurring and usual crashing sounds he’s expecting, he hears the voice of someone who knows him all too well.

“Hey…it’s Cass…” is all she says.

Nicky wants to cry and start rambling on about how good it is to hear her voice and how much he misses her but he chokes it down and just responds, “Hi Cass…it’s Nicky.” God she knows that you sound so dumb she’ll think you’re drunk and hang up!

“Can we just talk?”

She didn’t hang up. Nicky sits up, “yeah, we can talk…” He climbs out of the pit of severed arms to sit on the edge, looking down into it. “…what do you wanna talk about..?”

Cassandra sighs, watching through the window of her house as Taylor leaves for Norm’s house, where they’re having tapas to celebrate the win. She promised to join up with him, but… “I just… You never really told me why exactly you left. -I mean I kind of have a general idea. It’s not because you didn’t love me or Taylor, or anything like that. I know that… I guess, ‘for your safety,’ isn’t really a good enough answer for me. I think I have a right to know the full story.”

“Of course, yeah, of course you do… Well I… Uh,” Nicky doesn’t even really know where to begin. “Well… Long story short, I’m a tiefling from Hell- you know that-“ he has a brief flashback from their first meeting, swords flying, “yeah, and, the guys wanted to do the whole Code Purple thing on Hell, and I told them no, and Terry shot my arm off, and it didn’t come back ever-“

“Yeah, severed limbs don’t tend to,” Cassandra flexes the robotic hand she recently got calibrated.

“Yeah…”

“Okay, but that doesn’t answer the question.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m getting there, I didn’t mean to end there- fuck I’m messing this up, I’m sorry-“

“Nicky.”

His voice cracks a little and he hates it, “yeah?..”

“It’s okay. Just slow down. Take some deep breaths.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need me to count?”

“No…”

She knows he’s lying. “Breathe in. One, two, three. Breathe out.”

She hears him exhale on the other side. “Good. Again.” They do this a few more times before she says, “now I’m assuming after that fight with your friends was when you came home.”

“Right…” Nicky remembers standing there in the doorway, Cass coming from the other room holding little Taylor, big grey eyes looking at him, oblivious to what was happening. “Not you, loser.”

“Why didn’t you stay?” Cassandra’s voice pulls him from his thoughts again.

“Why didn’t I stay,” he repeats to himself. Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I? I could’ve chosen to stay and protect them. I could’ve fought for us. I could’ve changed. So why didn’t I..?

…

“Because I didn’t want to be for you and Taylor, what my mom was, to my dad, and me…” Nicky only realizes what this means as he says it. “Cass, I- I was worried that there was a chance that I couldn’t protect you, that I’d die trying. And then I’d be gone and that’d be it- not that I’m scared of dying, I just- I saw firsthand what a death in the family can do, the rift it creates. I experienced it. What it did to me, and what it did to my dad. That is what made me who I am-“

Part of you, Nicholas’ voice says. Never whole, only part.

“Shut up, I’m talking,” Nicky hisses back, then panics, “oh god, Cass, sorry I didn’t mean you-“

“I know. It’s okay.” Nicky remembers with a wince the time he told her about the voices. “Please, continue.”

“…I’d rather that you have a deadbeat husband who was horrible and who left you than a good one who you miss. And I’d rather that you be angry at me than grieve the loss of a love-“

“But I did grieve over you!” She shouts suddenly, and it breaks Nicky’s heart how upset she sounds. “Every single day I did, for a long long time! Because you were my husband, and Taylor’s father, and I loved you more than anything! And every day I hoped you’d come back! And that’s your problem, you have no sense of your own worth! You think you’re worth more to me dead than alive?! Really? Are you fucking serious?!”

“Cass-“ Nicky can’t hold in the tears anymore, he holds the phone away from his head so she won’t hear him sob, only to pull it back to his ear as soon as he hears any sound from the other end.

“Nicky, I trusted you to come back. And you didn’t. But that’s not even what I’m upset at you for anymore, I’ve had plenty of time to be upset at you for that. The reason I yelled- which I’m sorry for- is because I am frustrated that even after all this time you’re still so focused on your hate for yourself and this whole complex you have about ‘always screwing things up,’ that you can’t pay attention to the things around you that would fix that. You know you can talk to me about anything, and in this case some communication about how you were feeling would’ve really been helpful-“

“But I didn’t know.”

“You would’ve figured it out a lot sooner.”

Nicky goes silent, he can’t argue with that.

“Listen, if you’re going to be a part of this family still, you need to start working on how you think about yourself.”

“What- what?” Nicky’s tail slaps the ground behind him repeatedly in surprise. “But Taylor said-“

“Taylor, well, you know how he is.”

“I kind of still don’t…” Nicky admits, defeated.

“Well, he’s not the kind of person to always say exactly what he means. He’s a little ‘delulu,’ as he likes to say.”

“‘Delulu’..?”

“It just means he’s in his own little world, an anime world. And I’m sure you know animes are..?”

“Very dramatic?”

“Yes. That’s Tay for you. Very dramatic. He gets it from me I think.”

“You’re not that dramatic.”

“Well I’m an actor, so, I certainly can be.” Cass laughs a bit, and Nicky’s glad she’s not there to see him melt at the sound. “My point is, he’ll come around, if you make an effort to change.”

“…And what about you?”

“Why do you think I called, dummy? We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t love you anymore.”

“Ah…that makes sense…How badly did I freak you out when I showed up at your door that one time?”

“Well I was startled considering you were banging on the window frantically, but if I’m being honest I almost let you in.”

Nicky laughs, “at least I’ve still got some rizz left.”

“It had nothing to do with rizz! I wanted to smack you!”

They continue talking about this or that, nothing all that important. But it’s thanks to Cassandra jamming her foot into the crack, that the slammed door does not stand completely closed.

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babyboiboyega · 3 years ago

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I can explain (Shangqi x f!reader)

Shangqi x f!reader

Prompt: “When everything’s going wrong, the mere thought of you makes it right.” + never wanting to pull away kiss

Content: a little angst, but more fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Babyboiboyega’s Marvel Masterlist

A/N: this is my first ever time writing for Shangqi (or Shang-Chi), and I already have a lot of other ideas for this incredibly loveable character.

I hope you all enjoyed this!

A heavy sigh left Y/N’s mouth as she unceremoniously dropped onto her couch. The feeling of her limbs relaxing into the cushions almost prompted a moan of relief to follow the heavy sigh. It did, however, make her eyes flutter closed as she leaned her head back.

Y/N had been thinking of this moment the entire day. The moment when her week ended and her weekend began; a weekend of not having to deal with rude, angry-at-the-world customers who decide to yell at her because a privately owned publishing warehouse doesn’t print the book that they want. Or the customers who don’t check their emails for their tracking information and then get mad at her, for some absurd reason.

Another sigh leaves her mouth, and this time with the sigh goes her thoughts of work, entering the empty air for the weekend.

But being off on the weekend didn’t exactly mean being absolved of texts and calls from fellow coworkers, ranting about customers, or even management. So when her phone’s ringer went off, signaling a new incoming text, she simply kept her eyes closed. She certainly had enough time to read and reply...but maybe later.

The text had already migrated to the back of her mind in the span of a few seconds...and then her phone went off again. This time, two quick “dings” sounded through her apartment.

Her eyes opened before she slowly sat up, her phone coming into view. Before she could spare another though about her phone and it’s notifications, her hand quickly reached for the remote and pressed the power button.

She managed to flip through a few channels before her phone rang once more, and this time it was accompanied by a few knocks on her door.

Completely disregarding the fact that it was almost 11 at night and she hadn’t been expecting anyone, and being fueled by her now very obvious annoyance, it only took her a few strides to reach her door. In all honesty, she’d had no idea what she was going to say to whoever was on the other side of her door; but whatever had been ready to leave her lips died as soon as she opened the door.

“Shaun?”

She hadn’t been able to control the volume and surprise in her voice, and she saw his grimace in response. She couldn’t find it in herself to care if he didn’t like the volume in her voice; the very next emotions she felt surge through her body was...well, it was a cross between worry and anger.

“Y/N...hey.” He had a sheepish smile on his face; one that showed off his dimple. One that she had to restrain from returning. But then she remembered the last time she had seen that same smile and the last time she had even heard from him. Her eyebrows raised incredulously.

“‘Hey?’ ‘Hey’?? That’s all...that’s all you have to say to me after being gone for...a month? And some weeks?”

She could hear the hurt in her own voice, and it made her want to cringe at herself.

‘He could have been doing more important things than worrying about you’ is all that went through her mind.

Her arms crossed self-consciously in front of her.

“Please, let me explain. It’s… it’s actually crazier than you think.”

The hesitance on her part came from her nagging thoughts that flipped between “he was genuinely busy” and “he’s about to make up some absurd excuse for why he hasn’t spoken to you while also letting you down gently”.

“May I come in?” His eyebrows were raised as he gently asked for her permission. Y/N quickly nodded and stepped to the side before her thoughts could scare her too much.

His eyes stayed on her as he stepped past her, entering her apartment. She took a second to take a deep breath before closing the door behind him.

She briefly wondered how her face looked as she turned to face him. Did she look as hurt and worried as she felt? Could he see her feelings on her face?

“I’m sorry for disappearing for...as long as I did. And I’m sorry for not reaching out at all during that time. But I can explain why.”

His eyes followed her figure as she walked slowly around her kitchen counter. He made no effort to hide the pleading look in his eyes, and he only began talking when Y/N raised her eyebrows from across the counter.

“Okay. Just...bare with me.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed and more questions filled her mind as she watched him take a breath as if he were bracing himself.

Y/N hadn’t known what to expect when he had started talking, but she definitely wasn’t expecting a story filled with martial arts, trained assassins, ancient organizations, soul-sucking demons, and dragons.

Even after he had explained everything, his eyes watching and waiting for her reaction, she still couldn’t find the words to express herself.

Her body was frozen in its same position, and her eyes were wide and staring right at him. As the silence stretched between them, he couldn’t help grimacing slightly once again.

“Also, my name isn’t really Shaun. It’s Shangqi.”

That last piece of information seemed to finally shake Y/N out of her stupor, as she blinked quickly and let out a quick breath.

“I...I don’t know what to say.” In all honesty, all of this was kind of making her head spin, and it was evident in the way her breathing picked in just the slightest.

“W-What exactly do you say to someone who’s just saved the world? ‘Thank you’? ‘I owe you my life’- because, I guess, technically, I do owe you my life. Because of you, I still have my life- or my soul.”

At her rambling, Shangqi’s expression shifted from one of wariness to relief to a little worried. It had only just crossed his mind that he was worried that she wouldn’t believe him, and not worried about how she would receive the information.

She believed every word that had just come from his mouth, simply because she knew that he wouldn’t lie about something like this. She knew that he wouldn’t lie to her… at least she hoped he wouldn’t.

“You don’t have to say anything. I...I just needed you to know why I was gone. The thought of letting you go one more second thinking I just...left you was driving me crazy.”

A humorless laugh forced its way through Y/N’s lips.

“Yeah, thinking I had driven you away was driving me crazy too.”

Before she could even regret her words, her eyes were drawn to Shangqi, whose head was shaking quickly. In a few steps, he had walked around the counter, coming to a stop a few feet from her.

“That was never the case, I swear. You could never drive me away, not even if you tried.”

At the minuscule smile that appeared on her face, he risked taking another step forward.

From where he stood, he could smell faint traces of her favorite perfume that had slowly worn off during her day. Her favorite perfume had quickly become his favorite scent, simply because it reminded him of her.

From where she stood, she could easily see the faint signs of exhaustion on his face. No doubt from the strains of the last month and a half. It made her want to reach out to him.

“Every second, from the moment we left, all I could think about was coming back to you. Even while staring into the face of a-”

“A mega soul-sucking demon?”

The quiet laugh that left his mouth seemed to weigh on her body, but not with pressure. Instead, all she felt was warmth, and it coursed through her veins with the power of 11 suns.

“Yes,” there was laughter in his voice as he responded, “even while staring into the face of a mega soul-sucking demon.”

As he spoke, he had gradually moved forward until taking a deep breath would easily have their chests brushing against each other.

Y/N couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice as she spoke, her eyes flickering between Shangqi’s.

“You...you really thought of me when you were saving the world?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as his hand raised and gently cupped her cheek. Soon after, she felt pressure from his forehead connecting with hers. Without hesitation, her own hands lifted, coming to grasp at his sides, desperate to pull him closer.

His breath fanned across her face as he spoke, and it made her hands tighten.

“When everything’s going wrong, the mere thought of you always makes it right.”

His words were quickly swallowed by Y/N’s lips pressing against his with fervor. The hand that was on her cheek gently titled her head back as he kissed her back with just as much passion, while his other hand wound around her waist. They both pulled at the other, as if they couldn’t get close enough.

The warmth that had been coursing through her veins quickly turned into leg-numbing electricity the longer their lips were connected. Her eyes were closed, and so were his, but they could both see the other’s face behind their lids, surrounded by the stars their presence created.

The only thing that could pull them apart was the need for air, and even then, as their foreheads connected and their lips stayed hovering over each other’s, they breathed the same air.

Shangqi’s words were shaky as he spoke, his thumb rubbing circles into her skin.

“You make everything right.”

**********

Once again, I hope you all enjoyed this! I would take requests for this character, but I still have a ton of requests for LOK....

But maybe sometime in the near future!

In the meantime, I would appreciate it if y’all would interact in any way with this! Comments, criticism, questions, etc would be amazing, as would reblogs, but even just liking this helps!

Stay safe, y’all!

#shangqi #shangqi x reader #shang chi x reader #shang chi #shang-chi imagines #shang-chi fanfic #shang-chi drabble #shang-chi oneshot #shangqi imagine #shangqi oneshot #shangqi drabble

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whirlybirbs · 4 years ago

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( this chapter’s gif by @ransomflanagan from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 5/?

summary: your plan goes to asbolute shit.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 9k, please pray for my fingers

a/n: there’s action, there’s gunshot wounds, there’s canon appropriate violence! this one has a lot of plot, a lot of action, and i truly want to sleep for seven days after writing this. you should listen to the glass cannon’s club playlist while you read, though, for vibez.

( PREVIOUSLY | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

You do have a plan.

Maybe it’s a little vague, a little messy, and a little up-in-the-air, but it’s a plan.

Get in, find Kiwi, avoid a handful of unsavory characters, and access the Alexandria Library.

Getting the hell out The Glass Cannon once you and Bucky were in was going to be a whole different plan entirely — one that was more improv than anything else. Hopefully, running a quick facial recognition program wouldn’t take long. With any luck, it would get a hit on any more recent aliases Innessa Sidrova was using after parsing the motherload of information Kiwi held onto with her life.

Kiwi wasn’t always known as Kiwi. She worked at SHIELD, like you, and back then she was known as Suji Awal. She stuck around longer — and she’d stayed on board during the active collapse to do heaven-sent work. It was an absolute Hail Mary, but while HYDRA had tried to purge all of SHIELD’s cloud data to protect their active agents and decades of progress, Suji had beat the hare in the race. Two steps ahead, she’d managed to pull nearly 97% of all confidential data including mission reports, agent profiles, and even electronic correspondence. While the metaphorical fire burned the documents behind her, she’d managed to salvage one of the only surviving, comprehensive looks at SHIELD before the curtain was pulled back to reveal HYDRA’s infection.

It had been used to try multiple HYDRA agents in the wake of it all in the federal courts. It was significant evidence, but after nearly all was reaped from the crop, Suji had taken the aptly named Alexandria Library and gone underground. Now, Kiwi was just another hacker in the thick of it and the Alexandria files were all but whispers.

It’s all about knowing the right people in the end.

Kiwi was a regular at The Glass Cannon. There was a nine out of ten chance you’d find her there. And if you didn’t find Kiwi, you’d probably find Climber and… Well, going to him wasn’t the most ideal situation, but out of the menagerie of acquaintances you’d gathered up throughout the years, you could trust Climber. He’d send you Kiwi’s way if you finally called in that favor he owed you. Either way, you’d find her and you’d get the files.

You just needed to avoid Alexei Gardzov.

Easy. Ish.

In truth, you barely get anything done Thursday — you’re too preoccupied in your head, running over the so-called plan even now as you fold laundry in the basement of your apartment complex.

You’d dug around in your closet, trying to find some semblance of an outfit. It was difficult. It wasn’t like the barely-there dresses and platform shoes were your thing anymore. Back then, your diet was mostly energy drinks and alcohol — in a way, it’s a relief to find that a good number of your staple outfits no longer fit. It made you feel like you really had put all this behind you.

You have.

Sure, it was the Rabbit you were going to have to be for tonight, but you’re not the Rabbit you were eight years ago. Good thing, too. You’re not too sure you and Bucky would have gotten along otherwise. Right now, your relationship with him was the biggest thing keeping you afloat — for the first time in a long time, you feel like you have some sort of purpose, even if it was a vague one at best.

You knew Innessa Sidrova was a threat — and you knew Bucky had to remedy that threat. You knew he felt responsible for creating her, for planting her in a position of power where she could manipulate and control. In truth, there was still a lot of vagueness surrounding his past. He’d made it clear he hasn’t been himself for a long time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wade through the muck of his trauma to pluck out your answers. It just felt wrong.

If you were to say you hadn’t been tempted to go out on your own and dig, that’d be a lie.

Even now, as you pull out the ink-black top from the dryer and fold it neatly on top of the other pieces of laundry needed for tonight, you can feel it sparking like a lighter in the back of your head.

He was keeping something from you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You nearly jump six feet in the air.

It’s Miss Bonnie — and she’s laughing when her feet touch the cold concrete of the unfinished floor. Her basket of laundry is balanced neatly on her hip, and she walks with a smirk on her face. Her hair is piled neatly on top of her head, and as she bends to plop the basket down, she offers a wink.

“I could hear you thinking from upstairs,” she ruminates, paisley and dyed skirts kissing the ground, “Like a little steam engine.”

You laugh quietly into your task. You duck your head and heft a black bra and jeans from the dryer. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She looks up, eyes moving carefully from the laundry pile to your face. Her eyes glimmer with quiet curiosity. “And a big night planned, huh?”

You snort. “What was the giveaway?”

“It’s always the lacey bras,” she chirps and slides a smirk your way as she waggles a finger at your pile, “And the strappy little bodysuit was a good hint, too.”

You exhale with a laugh, bracing a hand against the dryer. She’s not wrong — you’d really forgone comfort with this outfit lineup. It was temporary, though, and well worth the efforts if it meant helping Bucky tick off a name from his list of amends. You knew how much those meant to him.

“So,” she continues, voice muddled as she continues to load the washer, “I take it this friend of yours is really helping you out of your shell?”

“I guess so. Yeah. It’s — It’s sort of a mutual shell-cracking, I guess.”

“Mm,” a hum, “You sound troubled, though.”

Your mouth opens as your fingers trace the line of the bodysuit. You pause, and you rock back on your heels. Miss Bonnie notices.

She waits patiently, bent at the knees.

“You ever just…” you wave your hand, “Feel like — I don’t know. He’s my friend. My best friend, honestly, and that’s… Really saying a lot. But, there’s stuff under the surface and I know it’s not my business but…”

Out comes a strangled groan.

“What? Like a crazy ex-girlfriend?”

“No, no — I don’t think so,” you mutter, “Wouldn’t surprise me, though.”

“Handsome?” she asks, smiling.

You close your eyes and ignore the smile on your face as you reply. “Yea, handsome.”

“Well, have you tried asking?” she shrugs as she stands, “Not about the crazy ex, but about the stuff you’re worried about? It never hurts.”

“Problem is, I don’t really think it’s too much of my business.”

Miss Bonnie hums at that and presses the start on her washer. She’s quiet for a bit, swaying slightly as she weighs the conversation and you watch — enamored with the older woman’s calm wisdom. She gestures openly with ringed hands.

“I think it’s normal for us to want to know everything about those we care about,” she says, “We want to know how we can protect them, how we can comfort them. But… it comes in due time. All of it does. You’ll find a time when he does open up about the ex, or whatever it is on his mind. You’re friends, after all.”

You’re nodding, chest tight with thanks.

Miss Bonnie’s face is soft.

“You got a picture?” she chirps like a bird looking for a worm, “I wanna see who this little friend is. And if he really is as handsome as you’re suggesting...”

You scoff and lean to dig out your phone.

“Cut it out,” you mumble as she moves closer, “No playing matchmaker.”

“Sure, sure,” she waves, leaning to watch as you scroll through your camera roll.

The only photo you have of Bucky is there from Tuesday night — after he’d housed nearly an entire container of noodles and promptly passed out during the third Lord of the Rings movie. You’d woken up around one in the morning to find that Poke had unceremoniously curled up on top of the supersoldier’s chest. Bucky’s hand was still in the calico’s fur as he dozed, the colors of the TV painting his face all sorts of peaceful. You’d taken the photo, shoving it in his face after gently nudging him awake.

He’s laughed.

You gesture to show Miss Bonnie.

Like ice, she freezes.

You notice a microexpression dart across her face, but it’s gone in an instant. You can’t pin it, but the way she bends to pull the phone closer and zoom in on her face comes off as interest. You blink, label it as shock, and move on.

Her voice sounds different.

“Handsome,” she mumbles plainly, preoccupied with the sight, “I get it now. What’s his name?”

“Bucky,” you say as she hands the phone back, “He’s… He’s a good person.”

Miss Bonnie just nods.

You tuck your phone away and plop your laundry into your basket. Ignoring the sudden quiet that had crept between you both, you haul up the stack and offer her a gentle smile. She’s fiddling with the washer’s timer.

“Thank you, Miss Bonnie.”

“Of course,” she rushes out, smiling gently, “And be safe tonight.”

“I will.”

With your promise, you ascend the stairs.

In that basement, Bonnie McLayne is no more, and instead, Innessa Sidrova remembers that night in Moscow, back in 1975.

She remembers the Winter Soldier.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Bucky calls you three times with no answer.

Normally, he’d just give up — but it was Thursday, and you weren’t answering the buzzer to your apartment either. He tries his best to ignore the strike of panic that sparks in his chest. It could stoke a wildfire, really, but he pushes it down and remembers to breathe. He doesn’t let himself think about what he’d do if something happened to you.

After all, you’re probably fine. Sleeping, maybe. The both of you had a long night ahead.

(Longer than either of you realize, really.)

It’s nearly seven o’clock, and after trying your cell one more time from his perch on your apartment’s stoop, Bucky decides to say fuck it.

A well-adjusted person might frown upon what he was about to do, but Bucky wasn’t exactly well-adjusted, now was he?

He rounds the back alley with long strides and easily finds that, with a little maneuvering, he can hoist himself upwards on top of the nearest dumpster. With a well-timed hop, he can also snag the bottom of the fire escape’s ladder and haul it downwards. The rest is easy, and he’s scaling the fire escape to the third floor with ease before he even knows it.

There’s even a smug little smirk on his face the whole time he does.

Finding your window is a little harder, but Bucky eventually spots Poke’s round little body smushed against the glass — it’s a dead giveaway, and after some prowling, he finds the window to your living room and unceremoniously throws it open.

It’s unlocked, for whatever reason, and he makes a mental note to have a conversation with you about safety and security in the city. After all, you never knew when an ex-assassin supersoldier was going to break in and pet your cat.

Upon opening the window, he pieces together pretty quickly why you’re not answering. Could be the music coming from your bedroom, or even the singing that’s coupled alongside it. From the bathroom across the hall from your room, steam has settled above on the ceiling. The whole apartment smells like fruit and soap and perfume and Bucky’s not really sure how to parse through all the sensory experiences that greet him with he shimmies in through the window, legs first.

All in all, they make him smile.

Bucky shuts the window behind him as he’s quickly greeted by Poke — the calico offers a gratuitous little chirp when Bucky bends to scoop up the cat. Easily, he melts. Poke is purring loudly in his ear as Bucky takes a moment to survey your apartment a little bit closer. Mr. Poke Bowl rubs his face against Bucky’s stubble as the man weaves through the kitchen.

It’s very you.

He isn’t really sure what that means at the end of the day, but all he knows is that he feels at home here. He feels safe. He feels comfortable. He feels like he can be himself. Not James, not Sergeant Barnes, not The Winter Soldier. Not even Steve’s Bucky, but just… his Bucky. Himself. Sarcastic and exhausted and a little cynical.

Bucky lets Poke down on the counter and moves to the fridge.

There’s still beer from the other night in there, tucked in the back, so he makes easy work on popping open a bottle and busying himself with petting a very adamant Poke.

As he sips the Leinenkugel, it’s no small coincidence that his phone buzzes again — for what feels like the hundredth time today — with a message from Janelle.

She was nice — pretty, too. Once upon a time, she would have been his type.

That was before he met you, though.

There’s a little pinprick of mortification at that quiet confession that’s been slipping into his heart more and more in the last few days. You are, after all, his best friend. He’s your best friend. Guilt swims with the feelings that have begun to pluck his heartstrings and he has to admit he’s not too comfortable with the song they play.

His biggest fear is fucking this up.

Fucking you up.

Honestly, his track record isn’t great. The whole defrosted-international-threat bit made it a little difficult to date. Janelle seemed to think the date had gone well enough, though, hence the handful of texts he’d been getting every few hours asking if he’s free.

Like usual, he ignores them.

Exercising his own free will is hard sometimes. Especially when it comes to saying no.

Taking another swig of the beer, Bucky shoves his phone back into his pocket and tucks his fingers back into Poke’s fur. The calico’s tail swings patiently as he sits and watches — and it’s a little weird how human his eyes are for a second there. He mmrrps and lunges for Bucky’s hand when he comes close, bonking his head eagerly against the cool vibranium.

It’s a different sensation.

That’s another big adjustment — learning how things really feel with this new arm. It’s not just handling recoil or gripping knives or throwing punches. It’s the soft tickle of fur, the gentle pressure of a warm rag to clean the joints. Meticulous upkeep wasn’t something HYDRA did often. He doesn’t miss the twinge of pain and molasses-like stickiness that came with a dirty arm. Blood was the worst. Always sat deep in the cracks.

He flexes his fingers. Poke meows again.

He moves to plop down on the couch. Poke follows.

You’re singing, still, to some song that Bucky’s never heard, when you push open your bedroom door and move towards the living room.

You jump six feet in the air and scream when you see him just sitting there, clutching a beer and petting Poke like he fucking lives here rent-free.

Bucky’s reaction is muted, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with your outfit and your jewelry and the pink eye shadow that creeps up your brow-bone. There’s glitter on your eyelids and lip gloss on your mouth and he can smell some sort of candy-sweet perfume coming off you. The plunging neckline of the jet-black top is enough to leave him shifting his gaze back up to your startled expression with a tight jaw.

His face is blank.

Then he offers that stupid fucking smile he does. Y’know, the tight-lipped one where he somehow maintains a dead-eyed look the whole time. If you weren’t trying to calm your racing heartbeat, you might have laughed. You hate the white-hot flare it sparks in your chest.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you hiss, waving your hands.

“We need to have a serious conversation about locking our windows,” he says as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table and wags a finger at you, “Also, what are you wearing?”

“You — You fucking broke in through my window?”

“Yea, well, you were too busy pretending to be Britney Spears to hear me try and buzz up, and my phone calls.”

Sheepishly, you cross your arms. “Nice reference—”

A shrug from Bucky. “Thank you.”

“—Also, what are you wearing?”

He looks down at his usual t-shirt, leather jacket combo. He squints back up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he chirps, “You’re talking to me? Did the department store run out of fabric, Rabbit?”

You self-consciously adjust the plunging neckline of the bodysuit as you frown deeply. “I think I’m gonna skip on the fashion advice from the man who lived in a time where ankles were seen as scandalous.”

“I was born in 1917,” he mumbles as he stands, actively avoiding another pass over your outfit because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad look on you, “Not 1817.”

“Point being, we’re going to a club. And you look like you’re going to the local Home Depot,” you move to snag a set of dangly earrings that are sitting on the coffee table, “We’ve gotta look like we’re there to party, nothing more.”

Bucky sighs. He finishes the beer, places the bottle down and sheds his jacket. “So, what?”

You pry your eyes away from the flash of skin — his arm, flesh and blood, speaks to how strong he is. And, undoubtedly how easy it was for him to fucking scale three stories of the fire escape to bust in.

“So,” you mumble as you thread the earring in, “I have some of Jaimie’s old shirts. There’s probably something you can use… If they fit.”

Bucky exhales softly. “You kept them?”

“Didn’t have the heart to throw them out,” you reply as you gesture for him to follow you into your bedroom.

The back of your top is arguably more crisis-inducing than the front — it’s an open back, and Bucky settles on admiring the decor rather than the curve of your spine. He has to. For his own fucking self-composure.

Your bedroom is nice — and like the rest of your space, it makes him feel comfortable. It’s all warm colors and posters and plants in the corners. Across from your queen-sized bed, there’s a large desk with a triple monitor setup. That’s where the music is coming from. The little knick-knacks on your shelves and desk make him chuckle.

Then, he stops, halfway to the closet, and stares.

You blink over your shoulder as you bend, digging to the back of your closet to pull out the clear bin you’d piled most of Jaimie’s stuff into after the funeral. After you’d cleaned out his apartment on your own.

He’s looking at the poster — the one from Cap’s USO tour. It’s framed nicely, set up on the wall beside your desk. It’s got a gold frame, and Bucky can’t help but wander closer to look at the signature.

It’s Steve’s alright.

“How much did you pay for this?”

You scoff. Your necklaces tinker together. “Don’t even go there.”

“The jerk signed thousands of these,” he mumbles, crossing his arms as he leans closer, “And still, the fame didn’t go to his head.”

You smile softly, leaning back.

“Jealous?” you chirp, raising your brows as you pretend to swoon, “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, I’d just love to meet your dear friend—”

Bucky’s laughing as you swat at his knee, leaning back on the carpet like a damsel in distress.

“Shut up,” he snorts, “It’s a sore subject for me.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious — do you know how many dates I had to set up for the chump? And then, boom. I’m invisible.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter with a smile, unclicking the lid, “Some people just like blondes, Buck. I’m sure there were plenty of eyes on you. Stop being so dramatic.”

“Yea, the best friend, sure,” he mumbles at the poster, “Hell, he was taller than me. You know you don’t need to lie to me—”

“Listen, if I was some Lauren Bacall-looking nurse back then,” you wave your hands, “I’d have gone for you. Alright? Stop lamenting and get over here.”

He goes quiet and ignores the warmth in his cheeks. He squats by your side. “Shut up.”

“We seriously need to work on taking compliments,” you groan, throwing your head back, “I’m being serious, y’know, for once. And I’m not just saying it as your friend. You’re handsome and everyone knows it except you, apparently. My neighbor agrees that’s for sure.”

He squints.

You wave it off and gesture to your outfit. “She saw me doing laundry.”

“That explains nothing,” Bucky deadpans, “Literally nothing.”

“I showed her a picture,” you cry indignantly, moving to shuffle through some of the old t-shirts sitting on top of the bin, “Relax.”

He moves to plop down, crossing his legs beneath him. He decides to let the topic die — again, for his own self-composure more than anything. The compliment, though vehemently denied by the worst part of him, is tucked neatly in the homes of his heart. The idea of meeting you, before now, is a little intoxicating. What would it have been like?

Would you have even spared him a dance?

Bucky rubs his cheek. Poke meows and buts the door open with his head.

You’re wrist-deep in the bin when you speak. “He’s obsessed with you, y’know.”

Poke has already taken up a post in Bucky’s lap. Bucky smiles, petting Poke gently with his vibranium hand. The cat seems to like the cool metal. Bucky mumbles softly down to the calico, scritching his cheeks. “I like him, too.”

You pause long enough to try and remember the sight.

Bucky’s eyes find yours, and you’re quick to turn back to the bin.

“Here we go,” you exhale as you pull out the shirt you’d been looking for.

It’s a long-sleeve button-down, one that you can distinctly remember Jaimie wearing to his engagement party’s after-party — a real typical night of Jaimie being Jaimie. It’s black with a barely-there red floral pattern. It’s flashy enough that Bucky won’t look horribly out of place.

The only problem is Jaimie was a little smaller than Bucky.

“Try this on,” you mumble as you dig around trying to find something else in case it doesn’t do the trick.

Bucky catches the silk shirt and gives it a once over. He raises an eyebrow, and deciding against debating this, he simply nudges Poke off his lap and stands.

He moves to your bed, laying the shirt out. On your closet door is a full-length mirror. You want to snap it in half when you accidentally catch a glimpse of Bucky hauling off his black, cotton t-shirt and anxiously fumbling with the buttons on Jaimie’s old shirt. You have to breathe — and remind yourself that that’s Bucky.

Your Bucky. Your best friend Bucky.

When he calls your name, it sounds far away. You’re busy angrily sorting through old clothes.

“I look ridiculous.”

When you turn around, the first thing you notice is that it’s a little tight. Not in a bad way, but the buttons are gapping along his chest, and it’s tight around his arms.

Your eyes widen a little and you swallow. You tilt your head.

Bucky’s frowning.

“Let me see,” you offer gently, standing and moving close, “It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t sound too sure right now,” he mumbles as you enter his personal space.

You’re nimble with undoing the top three buttons — it gives him enough room to move his shoulders, though, and the dip of the shirt along his sternum brings dog tags into view. You reach, momentarily entranced, and read them to yourself.

You smell like vanilla and sugar.

Bucky shifts in his boots.

“Y’know,” you say, moving to the sleeves, “I think this works.”

You roll the sleeves, stopping at his forearm.

When you step aside, Bucky can see himself in the full-length mirror. He looks less than enthused.

It’s not an entirely bad look — he’ll admit that much — but he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s too much chest and skin and… Christ, this shirt is tight. He does, though, look like some of those trendy folks he sees at Izzy’s bar every now and again. Hipsters.

“I look like a douchebag.”

“That’s the point,” you chirp as you close the box and shove it back into your closet, “Now the outfit matches the personality.”

He swats at your head on the way by. You laugh.

You’ve got boots in your hand, and you land on the bed with a bounce. Bucky is busy fixing his hair in the mirror while you zip up the thigh-high boots. When he turns around, you’re about three inches taller. He blinks, yet again entranced by the outfit.

Then, you’re muscling on the jacket.

It’s neon pink — and shaggy and cropped. It falls just above your waist and swallows you whole. But, Bucky’s attention is mostly on the back.

There’s a large, white embroidered Playboy bunny there, with RABBIT written across the shoulders in a chunky, blackletter typeface.

His brows are high on his face when you turn around.

You freeze.

“...What?” you ask, “Something on my face?”

“Playboy bunny, huh?”

You could smack him. “Weren’t you busy being a frozen dinner when Playboy came out?”

“I’ll have you know,” he says tightly as he follows you out of your bedroom and to the living room, “The Russians enjoyed their fair share of editions.”

“The Russians? Sure, what’s that saying? There’s no sex in the USSR?” you chide, “You can just say Bucky Barnesenjoyed his fair share—”

The tips of his ears are red. You notice. It makes you split into a grin that worsens the pink shade that’s crawling up his neck.

He coughs. “Have you ever considered never opening your mouth again, Rabbit?”

You nudge his arm. “Nah. Bothering you is more fun.”

He shrugs on his jacket, sighs, and decides that keeping quiet is just easier.

However, that’s not entirely your plan — and you speak quickly as you pull your purse over your shoulder. You’re rummaging quietly, stacking your wallet and phone inside. You glance up at him.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he mumbles, bending to pat Poke one last time as you move to the door of your bedroom. He watches you flick all the lights off, and before you leave, you double check the calico’s food and water. He’s got enough for a few days. Bucky leans against the door frame, “Care to run me through the plan?”

Nodding, you move to open your front door.

“It’ll be easy,” you explain as you make room for him, “If we play our cards right—”

Bucky’s stopped, though, and is digging in his back pocket as his cell phone rings. You watch him exhale tightly, eyes on the screen the entire time he squeezes by you and starts down the hall. You make careful note of the delicate scowl on his face, only before you catch Miss Bonnie out of the corner of her eye.

Her door is half-cracked across the hall, and she’s watching.

She offers you a smile.

Bucky keeps walking.

You wave, lock your door, and jog to catch up to Bucky.

“Hey,” you call, “Earth to Mr. Claw Machine?”

His head snaps up. “Sorry.”

“Who was that?” you ask carefully, nudging his arm with yours, “Falcon?”

“I wish,” he mutters as he muscles the cellphone back into his pocket, “I wouldn’t feel so bad sending him to voicemail.”

“Yeesh,” you wince, “Lemme guess, was it the owner of the coral lipstick that was all over your face on Tuesday night?”

Again, that temptation to feel jealousy flares up in your heart. But, he’s here, isn’t he? With you. Ignoring her calls. And probably texts judging by the guilty look that’s on his face. You feel a little bad — but at the same time, Bucky’s a grown man. Maybe a grown man who needs to create some more transparent lines of communication with the poor woman, but still.

“Bingo. I mean — it’s not that she wasn’t great an’ all but…”

You raise both hands. “I’m not judging.”

He sighs raggedly as he bounces down the apartment’s stairs. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“What?” you ask with a laugh, “Dating? Yea, it’s pretty fucking terrifying, Buck.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

You hold the door open for him and slide him a pitying look.

“Because I am.”

The walk to The Glass Cannon is spent walking Bucky through the plan — and for the most part, he makes a point of nodding along and listening. His only real anxiety pops up at the mention of Alexei, which is relatable to say the least.

It’s dark, the streets are relatively quiet, and the spring chill has pricked your skin. Your heels click against the pavement, and you stalk along. Shoving your hands in your pockets of the pink, shag jacket, you huff.

You’re starting to feel the anxiety.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re both approaching the blue glow of the storefront.

Computers & Stuff was a family-owned and operated computer shop from the 90s that was taken over by a lesser-known hand of the Russian crime family in New York, the Gardzovs. Alexei’s father is the formal owner of the shop, and his son runs the lucrative activities of the underground club that lay beneath the graphics cards and motherboards.

Bucky, as you both near the entrance, speaks quickly. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whisper.

The bell above the door dings when you pull open the glass door.

The lighting is sterile and if you’re real quiet, you can hear the dull hum of the fluorescents. The store is empty, save for one man behind the register.

You almost duck out the entrance at the sight of him.

Igor has been a bouncer at The Glass Cannon for as long as you’ve been a patron — and he’s also one of Alexei’s dogs. This part of the plan was something you’d considered only briefly, and for a second, you’re thankful you worried over the million and ten ways this would play out for days.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bunny.”

It’s said with malice. Igor’s tattooed hands land on the counter as he leans.

You, however, hold your head high. Bucky watches as something changes in your posture.

“Good to see you, Igor.”

“Is it?” he growls, stalking around the counter and quickly encroaching on your personal space, “Because I’m pretty sure you’re not welcome here, bunny.”

Bucky gets a good look at the man now — clearly an enforcer. He’s got prison tattoos, a shaved head. The long beard is a weak spot. Doesn’t seem to be armed. Blue eyes flick to you and the way you don’t even flinch when the man leans to breathe right in your face.

You just smile.

“I thought you’d say that,” you mumble, moving to swing your bag to the front and dig your wallet out, “But, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Suddenly, there’s a hundred-dollar bill slipping from your well-manicured nails into the vest pocket of the bouncer. There’s a tense pause, then, while the two of you size one another up.

“Fucking your way through college paid off, huh?” he hisses.

You stay quiet.

Bucky, though, moves between you both with a quick shove. Immediately, Igor’s attention goes to Bucky as he sizes him up — he laughs. His nose is nearly touching Bucky’s.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“You should watch your mouth,” Bucky says evenly, “Or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

You’re careful to hide your expression; the feeling the words stir isn’t one that you’re happy about. This sudden protectiveness, though, makes you feel some sort of invincible.

Igor settles back on his heels.

He steps back.

He gestures to the back room with his head.

You keep walking when he calls out: “Careful, bunny, the dogs are going to be looking for you.”

You grit your teeth tightly and push through the fabric curtain.

He barks, taunting you.

Bucky is by your side in an instant, gaze still rooted over his shoulder at the hulking bouncer. He waits until you’ve settled down until you’ve said his name. His eyes fall to you, then to the stairwell before them.

Above it, in curled neon tubing, reads The Glass Cannon.

The windows are blacked out, but from his spot at the top of the stairs, Bucky can feel the rattle of a deep bass vibrate his ribs.

“Come on. We’re on a time crunch now.”

“Alexei?”

You nod as you lead the way down the stairs. “Word travels fast. We need to be quicker. Stick to the crowds. Remember, we just need to find Kiwi — then we bail.”

Bucky nods tensely.

Then, you open the doors.

Immediately, his eyes adjust to the darkness — neon and strobes and the pulse of purple and pink LEDs make his vision swim. It’s warmer down here, and the stairs leading down into the sub-basement is lined with people sipping drinks and chattering over the loud music. It smells like piss and beer and tobacco.

Again, Bucky watches as the person he knows melts away.

The Rabbit in front of him is different.

You reach, as if on reflex, for his hand.

When you turn around and flash him a smile, he has to swallow down a sudden rise of sheepishness.

The sea of people part around you, and Bucky realizes quickly that people recognize you. He can see their painted lips moving, muttering things into curious ears about the pink-clad woman in front of him; there are smiles there and frowns, and shock. You’re slow in your descent, making a show of the arrival — all while Bucky begins to piece together that The Glass Cannon is larger than he originally suspected.

As they near the bottom of the landing, he can see out across the floor.

There’s a square-shaped catwalk around the dance floor, laden with dancers on their designated poles. Tables line the outside of the cavernous room, and the bars along each wall are crowded — even still, these glimpses of his surroundings come in temporary flashes of light. The music coming from the center of the dancefloor is loud. The entirety of the scene is raucous.

He can’t imagine you finding solace here.

He tightens his grip on your hand. You squeeze back.

When both of you reach the bottom of the stairwell, the sea of people swallow you in a current of dancing and drinking and laughing, and you crawl into Bucky’s personal space to shout in his ear.

You’re still holding his hand tightly, pressed to his chest, as you lean upwards to brush your cheek with his.

“Follow me, okay?”

He nods.

You begin the methodical crawl through the dancefloor, working your way to the bar — there, you pause long enough to be served a drink that’s as pink as the glitter on your eyelids. The flecks dance in the lights, and Bucky graciously accepts a shot from the bartender who smiles sweetly like honey at you.

You bat your lashes, thank her, and stand gracefully from the barstool.

You take a pointed swig and scan the floor.

Kiwi would be in one of the private booths, you suspect — she was enough of a high roller here. But, with the crowded club bursting at the seams, it was nearly impossible to get to the other side. You sway a bit on your feet, still tightly gripping Bucky’s hand in your own. You refuse to let go.

For your sake and his.

Bucky is a silent shadow, eyes roaming the club — he watches a dancer dip down low and snag a green bill from a patron. Someone beside him laughs loud, another bumping into his backside as you continue to weave to the outer rim of the room. The music is so loud his heartbeat could be mistaken for an 808, and he feels the thrum in his bones.

If he wasn’t so overwhelmed, if he was drunk, maybe it could be fun.

Finally, out of the haze of bodies, Bucky can breathe.

You’re leaning over again, speaking quickly.

“I don’t see her.”

“I can’t see shit in here,” he calls back, eyes moving along the ridge of the room. He scans the booths set into the walls, set up on platforms, and roped off with velveteen, “Where would she be?”

“Hard to tell,” you mumble, “But I think I might need to go to Plan B.”

Bucky follows your solid stare.

In the booth directly across the floor from you, there’s a man in black — black everything, save from his hair. That’s the brightest blue Bucky has ever seen. He’s swallowed by a harem of men and women who are laughing and drinking and dancing, and he’s entertaining. Ringed fingers wave in the air, face split into a laugh so wide he swears it’s a mile long. He’s got glasses on and they’re tinted blue.

Bucky watches carefully as you move to his booth.

It’s like a prey surveying a trap — you’re careful.

Finally, when you stand before it, you let go of his hand.

“Hi there, Climber.”

The whole booth falls silent. The man stiffens, back turned to you totally. Bucky watches as his hands fall and slowly, the man you’d called Climber turns around.

His expression is stone cold.

His voice, however, is as warm as a hot poker.

“Oh my goodness, is that Rabbit?”

He ascends from the booth, platform boots leaving him to tower over you — he’s no small man, either. Bucky watches as he bends to kiss both of your cheeks and hug you tightly. He, however, doesn’t pull away entirely.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he hisses, “You want to be roadkill?”

“I need to find Kiwi,” you whisper quickly, expression almost begging, “Please.”

He pauses, dimpled chin wavering a bit. Bucky watches him sniff, push his glasses back, and readjust his posture. Climber licks his lips and his eyes dart to Bucky. He’s thinking, Bucky realizes, and after a quick moment of deliberation, he seems to cave.

“Only because I owe you.”

“I know,” you say, raising your hands, “I know.”

In a dash, his demeanor changes once more. He’s flying over to his harem, waving his hands and blowing kisses and promising he’ll be back in a flash. They whine, they moan, but Climber appeases them with another round of jello shots from strobing syringes that a waitress is carrying by.

“Come on then,” he says, “And stop looking like such a prude.”

He begins to weave.

You follow hand returning to its spot in Bucky’s like a lifeline.

You’re sipping your drink, moving through the crowd easily. There’s a slight sway in your step now, and at one point you and Climber even get noticed by a pod of people who recognize your faces. It’s met with laughing and squealing and in the fray, the both of you slip back into the crowd. Bucky is taking it all in, desperately ignoring the tingle of a panic flaring in the back of his head.

Too many people.

Soon, though, Climber is moving towards a side entrance.

It’s a back room.

Suddenly, the dim lights and neon dissolve, and instead, Bucky is flashed in the face with the abrasive sting of fluorescent lights. It no longer reeks of spilled beer, and his boots don’t stick to the ground. No, there’s quiet chatter back here — Climber continues to lead the two of you through a maze of supply crates full of booze and soda.

Then, a right turn. And a left turn.

Someone is taking inventory.

“Kiwi, I know you’re going to hate me for this—”

The woman who turns around is beautiful. She’s in the midst of eyeing an open crate that looks just like the others but fitted with a hollowed center, marking off what looks like an inventory of burner cell phones. Her brown skin is decorated with glitter, her eyes streaked with the same green shade of her tightly shaved head. The green is bright and it reminds Bucky of summer.

Suddenly, her expression sours.

“What the fuck.”

“I know—”

“No,” she snaps, raising her hand and waving to the assistant beside her to take her tablet and make themselves scarce, “You need to get out of here.”

“I need your help,” you say finally, tone heavy.

It’s enough to make Climber sigh. Kiwi watches you, scratches her neck, and swallows.

She meets Climber’s eyes.

Then she breaks.

“Where the fuck have you been, Rabbit?” she asks, worries seeping into her eyes as she pulls you into a rough hug, “We thought you were dead.”

“No,” you shake your head, “But you know I couldn’t be around here anymore.”

“Yea,” Climber snorts, “Not good for your health, huh, love?”

“Alexei still wants your head,” Kiwi chimes in, crossing her arms, “Does he know you’re here?”

“Igor was on the door, so I’m sure he’s heard by now.”

Both of them curse.

Guilt flashes across your face as you screw your eyes shut and nod. “I know. I know, I just… I seriously need your help, Kiwi. It was worth the risk. It’s — HYDRA. I need to tap into the Alexandria Library.”

Immediately, the woman stiffens.

Her eyes flash to Bucky in the corner. He stares back.

“He waits outside.”

“You can trust him—”

“No,” she snaps, “I can’t. And I don’t. And I won’t.”

You give Bucky a pleading look. Between the two of you, a negotiation happens between your eyes. It’s a compromise, and finally, Bucky relents.

“Fine,” Bucky barks, tilting his head and giving you a tight-lipped smile, “Fine. I’ll wait out here.”

“He’s cute,” mumbles Climber as Bucky rounds the corner, long legs carrying him out of the supply room, “Boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Climber,” you mumble, waving your hand, “Just listen—”

“Who is he?” Kiwi asks, eyes still watching the doorway, “And why did you bring him along?”

You sigh, rubbing your brow. “He’s the one who’s trying to find this HYDRA agent. He knew her before.”

“So he’s HYDRA.”

“No,” you snap cooly, “He’s not.”

“So, just handsome, then?” Climber asks, hands waving, “Right. Great. Really making a case for yourself, Rabbit.”

“He’s trying to find a woman named Innessa Sidrova. She was one of the original agents who helped form the American HYDRA cell,” you explain quickly, “I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and… And he’s a good person. He’s my friend. I’m trying to help him, but I can’t do it without you. Both of you.”

Kiwi hums. She sighs. “That explains why you went MIA.”

“Aside from putting Alexei behind bars?” you scoff, “Yea, the GRC played a part in it.”

The three of you are quiet for a moment.

“Fine.”

You look up at Kiwi. Her hands are on her waist.

There’s an immense wash of relief that floods over you at that moment — and from the looks of it, Kiwi can tell. You move to grab her hand, and she grabs back. Both of you smile, and the hug that follows is warm. You’ve missed her. A lot.

“Thank you, Suji.”

Then, footsteps.

That relief is traded in for an anxious backfire of fear in an instant.

It’s slow. Dress shoes on polished cement.

Then:

“Oh, bunny, bunny, bunny. Tsk, tsk.”

Climber and Kiwi’s faces upturn to the doorway and they tell you everything you need to know.

So, you decide at that moment that you won’t be the prey tonight.

You turn around and come face-to-face with a man playing devil.

Alexei Gardzov is a handsome man — a beard and piercing grey eyes. His hair is tightly cropped, and intricate tattoos decorate every inch of his skin. Some of them are new, you realize, and there’s temporary pride that bubbles up at them. They’re from prison.

You almost smile.

Behind him, three goons loom.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come hopping back,” he croons as he enters the room with the swagger of a man who trapped his dinner, “Well worth the wait, I think.”

His cologne hangs like smog in the air. He strolls up to you, and in a flash, he’s got your hair in a vice grip.

He yanks it back, you grit your teeth.

The barrel of a gun digs into your cheek.

“Climber, Kiwi, and Rabbit,” he sing-songs, “All in one room again like it’s NYU’s 2014 hack-a-thon. Isn’t that cute?”

Kiwi speaks. “Alexei—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, gun moving to flash towards Kiwi, “And stay out of my business, Sujina.”

The gun’s muzzle is cold. He’s rough, and you try to ignore the twinge of pain that comes with his unceremonious yank of your hair. Once more, he tsks. His breath is hot on your face. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey.

“I spent seven years behind bars,” he bites, “All because a’ you.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one trafficking girls—”

“SHUT UP!”

The pistol cracks across your cheek and the cement floor hurtles towards you. The gasp that falls from your lips is from shock; your fingers dig into the cold ground as you try to blink away the blurriness. Your ears ring. Blood drips from your cheek between your fingers.

Again, there’s a hand in your hair.

Now, the fight begins.

Climber and Kiwi are stuck, frozen in fear.

You don’t blame them, because Igor and the others have guns already drawn. One of them, one that’s young and you don’t recognize immediately, has a baseball bat in his hands.

Alexei drags you by your hair as you grimace, refusing to scream. Your heels scrape against the ground as you try to get purchase, but he’s quick to throw you back against the far wall.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he smiles, “I won’t kill you. Not right now.”

Then, a kick.

Right to the ribs.

You can’t breathe — you gasp earnestly at the white, hot shot of pain.

“Get up.”

You’re not listening, you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

“I said,” comes a growl as he reaches, hand in your hair again as he drags you up the wall. Your legs buckle, and you try to hold your chin high as you stumble upwards, “Get up.”

Then, there’s a hand around your throat.

Tight. Too tight. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t get his hand off your neck, can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think, can’t stand, can’t see, can’t breathe —

“Boss!”

A new voice.

The pressure is relieved for a second.

A new face has run into the room — he looks frazzled, hair askew and gun out. He’s eyeing the scene before him in a moment’s pause.

“Can’t you see I’m a little bit busy?” Alexei snags as you gasp, clawing at his hand. He swings his head to the figure in the doorway with an annoyed bark, “What is it?”

“The cops, boss,” he stammers, “They’re here.”

“What?”

“They’re here for her, boss.”

A slow turn to where his finger is pointing. His gaze lands on you. Alexei laughs.

“Well,” he says as the goon disappears, “Isn’t that just peachy, bunny?”

The choking starts again.

Then, a metal hand.

Vibranium.

You watch it swing, you watch it grab Alexei’s throat.

Suddenly, you can breathe.

Suddenly, Bucky Barnes enters the fight.

You make friends with the ground again as you duck, just as Alexei is rammed into the wall above your head by his throat. As you cough while Kiwi calls your name — you can hear a fight. But everything’s moving slow, and it’s not until the first gunshot that you’re kicked into action. It’s loud. Your skin pricks alive.

Someone screams.

You stumble to your feet, eyes finding Bucky’s form moving quickly between the three goons — the gunshot had come from the pistol that had somehow found its way into Bucky's flesh and blood hand. One of the men is on the floor, suit pants stained with a bullet wound through the thigh. He’s wailing. Bucky doesn’t notice. Or he doesn’t care. Maybe both.

His face is cold.

Another gunshot is fired off, this time richoting between you and Kiwi and Climber and embedding itself into the cement wall overhead. The three of you scream, ducking reflexively.

That’s when Bucky snaps.

“Now would be a good time to go!”

Kiwi’s hands are on your arm as you quickly break through the doorway through the storage room. Climber is following, checking over his shoulder at the carnage that Bucky begins to reap in the room.

He’s hysterical, trying to jog in his white platform boots. “What the fuck, Rabbit!”

Your voice is hoarse. You’re clutching your ribs. “Not now, Climber!”

“I’m parked in the back,” Kiwi says, ducking through plastic flaps as she helps you through the back of the club, “Come on, we’ll go through the trucking entrance.”

You hear Bucky call your name — he’s jogging to catch up, gun drawn in his hand. Seems like he made good work of the others, sporting nothing more than a split lip. You turn, pausing for a moment to take inventory of his well-being.

And that’s all it takes.

Alexei Gardzov, limping, steps in front of you and Kiwi and Climber at an intersection in the hallway.

There’s a gun in his hand.

The first thing you feel is the impact.

Like a truck slamming into you at full speed. For the fourth time tonight, you have the air robbed from your lungs. It’s instant confusion.

Then comes the pain. Hot. Hotter than the sun. Hot like white flames. It tears through your shoulder and all you can do is gasp; you’re sent into a stutter step — and while the world around you continues to move, you’re busy reconciling with the fact you’ve just been shot.

A bullet flies by your head.

Alexei Gardzov drops.

You’re grasping at your chest, staggering, when Bucky breaks into a sprint — but you’re okay. You’re okay, it’s just your shoulder, it’s just your arm, you’re okay, you can feel your fingers and you can breathe and the pain is nearly unbearable but you’re okay.

Then, a baseball bat.

It clocks Bucky directly in the skull. He’s clotheslined.

It’s Igor.

The gun from Bucky’s hands clatters across the ground to your feet, and you’re too busy trying to get to Bucky to realize — but, you’ve got tunnel vision and adrenaline and at that moment, you think a good sidekick doesn’t need anything else in this life.

Igor goes to swing at you, but you duck. Your stiletto crushes through the top of his shoe. He screams and in a flurry of pain and panic, you manage to snag the bat quick enough to turn and clock him under the chin with a roll of the wrist.

His teeth clack together and he falls backward, unconscious.

“God, I really wish you could have seen that, Buck.”

You spit. Blood paints the ground.

The bat clatters to the cement as you fight through the pain. Kiwi and Climber are by your side in an instant.

“No, no!” she screams, “We do not have time for this—”

“I am not leaving him,” you snap, nearly screaming at the woman, “Come on and help me with him. Now.”

After a sigh of resignation, Kiwi shoves the gun she’d snagged from the ground into the back of her jeans. You’ve got your hands around Bucky’s ankles as Kiwi and Climber take his torso — and the four of you make a break for the back entrance. You can hear the cops outside now, and there’s the chatter of Russian following you into the back parking lot.

“Hurry up!”

“He’s not exactly light as a feather, you know!”

“Shut up, Climber!”

You’ve got Bucky halfway into the back seat of Kiwi’s white Cadillac when another bullet whizzes by your head.

“Fuck.”

Kiwi hops into the driver’s seat as Climber scatters to hop the hood and throws himself into the passenger's seat. You lean, clinging to the door of the backseat as Kiwi peels out of the parking lot. It swings wide open and you curse loudly. You can see Alexei’s men watching from the back entrance, shouting in Russian — so you muster all your strength to pull back and throw the door closed as Kiwi’s car bounces over a speed bump and rams through the parking meter’s gate.

In the rear window, the front of the club is surrounded.

Red and blue lights illuminate the street — but Kiwi is quick.

No one follows.

And when she finally makes it to the Manhattan Bridge, you exhale.

Bucky’s head is in your lap. He still hasn’t come to — there’s blood coming from his nose and you’re worrying. You lace your fingers into his thick, brown hair and chew your lip.

Kiwi’s voice pulls you from him.

“When were you going to mention the vibranium arm, huh?”

You laugh. It’s more of a breath of air than anything. Your head rests back against the seat. Your shoulder is still on fire. You’re hot, but cold. You’re bleeding still. Your ribs aren’t right. You know that.

“I can’t believe he shot you,” Climber mumbles, “He fucking shot you.”

“And your boy toy shot him,” Kiwi says, sparing you a look in the rearview, “So you better pray he’s dead.”

You ignore the commentary.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” she says, accelerating into Manhattan, “Where I can get you those files and you can keep your head down.”

Sounds like a plan.

Better than the one you had, anyways.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky x you #BOY OH BOY THE FORMATTING I WANNA SCREAM

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dollslayer · 4 years ago

Text

Botanical Interest - In Bloom

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x florist!Reader

Summary: Steve comes home to you angry after a rough day at work. He made a promise to keep his work life separate but can he keep it?

W/C: 4,103

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hi there! A part three for our soft mob Steve and his lovely florist. Thank you so much to everyone that has shown interest in my work so far, if you like it please reblog and comment!! You can also check out my other stuff if you haven't yet. Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_____________

When Steve Rogers had asked you to be his girlfriend you knew there was a weight attached to it. A long talk over a stack of waffles and a couple of beers left Steve with a ‘yes’ and some ground rules.

After the incident in the alleyway you both agreed that he left his work at the door whenever you spent time together. Steve’s profession has made you uneasy since you met him and you two couldn’t avoid it forever.

A month later and you’ve managed to avoid conflict for the most part. Nothing as bold as that day in the alley, just small moments where he’d have to take a phone call, once when he had to cancel your plans for a ‘work incident’. But still he really was trying to keep his work and personal life separate and you appreciated it.

It had bothered you that he had to do those things but it’s not as though your work hadn’t impacted your time together either. Being a florist meant a lot of late nights when you worked events. Wedding season in full swing, every weekend was a busy one for you.

That’s why Monday’s have become almost sacred to you, your one day off a week. You and Steve always spent time together, sometimes you’d go out or stay home and just relax.

This Monday Steve had promised to come over and make you dinner. He’d only ever tried to cook for you once and it had ended with a lasagna burnt so badly you had to open every window in the apartment just to get the charred smell out. You couldn’t wait for him to redeem himself and take him to bed after you both came out of your food comas.

You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard your phone buzz. You had asked Steve if he wanted you to pick up any groceries since you had the day off. Expecting a list you were met with mild disappointment.

Running a little late, doll. 6:30 and not a minute later, I promise. Don’t worry about groceries. I'll get it all taken care of, just enjoy your day off.

You were kinda miffed but at least he gave you a heads up and he was going to get the groceries. You picked your sponge back up and scrubbed away at the counter.

________

Expecting to be let down, you were pleasantly surprised when 6:30 rolled around and your doorbell sounded. You buzzed him up and waited patiently for him at your door.

Steve appeared as he rounded the corner and he looked exhausted, irritated maybe. He carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and his suit jacket was long gone. His tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to where you could see well toned forearms. You bit your lip thinking of those arms holding you in place in bed.

Maybe we should just ditch the dinner and skip straight to dessert.

He approached you and you leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hi, honey. How are you?” You greeted him as you shut the door behind you.

He set the groceries down onto the counter with some force and you winced. Okay so he did have a rough day. Do I ask him about it? I don’t wanna talk about his work but I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about his day.

He sighed and turned to face you, took his tie off completely and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it” he responded as he took a beer out of your fridge.

You were off-put by the abruptness of his answer. Maybe he was just short with you because he didn’t want to talk about work.

You stepped closer and tried to approach him again.

“I-“

“I said don’t worry about it.” Steve snapped, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, visibly annoyed. “I gotta take this”. He slammed the door to your bathroom shut behind him and left you stunned in the middle of your kitchen.

What just happened? You had never seen him so upset aside from when you caught him mid-punch a month ago with Mr. Andersen.

Realistically you knew it wasn’t you he was mad at but you’d never done well with people when they were mad at you. You were engaged years ago to a man that was abusive towards you. Things had started off well like they always do but he became manipulative and he was quick to anger. You were constantly questioned and criticized. He kept you from seeing your friends, even some of your family. It took your friends coming through for you to get you out of the situation safely. Through lots of therapy and flinging yourself headfirst into your business you’ve come a long way but sometimes you had difficult moments.

It couldn’t be helped as your heart began to quicken and you felt heat come to your face from the embarrassment of being snapped at. Unsure what to do you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down at your small dining table facing away from the bathroom.

You were trying to get yourself to not shut down in response to his change in mood but it was hard. He’s upset and clearly irritated with me already, he probably just wants to go home. Maybe you should just reschedule. Don’t cry, if you cry you’re gonna make it a whole Thing. Don’t cry. He’s not mad at you specifically and it’s not your fault.

In the torrent of your thoughts you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Steve hadn’t spared you a glance or a word as he started unloading the groceries. Angrily placing a jar of pasta sauce onto your counter with a thud and muttering under his breath. You watched him timidly and took another sip of your wine.

He turned to you and took another swig of his beer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” He challenged.

Not wanting him to be upset with you, you devolved into old ways of over-explaining so you could justify your actions. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the rational part was telling you it’s not your fault he’s angry and you don’t owe an explanation but you were too far gone.

“I, I just, you didn’t do anything you just, um, you just looked upset. I don’t want to make it worse, I’m sorry. I was just looking at you, I didn’t mean to-”

You were cut off in the midst of your nervous rambling by the shrill ring of Steve’s phone. A frustrated growl escaped his mouth.

“I have to take this,” he muttered as he strode back to the bathroom. “I told you not to call me until you had it fixed” you heard him before the closing of the door muffled his anger.

He left you there to stew in your nervousness and self loathing. Five minutes had gone by and the rational part of your brain was slowly taking over. The rational part of your brain was angry. It’s okay for him to have a bad day and not want to talk about it but the way he’s spoken to you and responded to you isn’t warranted. You needed to confront him calmly and if he was still angry you needed to ask him to leave. You can talk to him another time but not while he’s angry. It won’t do anyone any good. Just like you’ve talked about in therapy.

You rehearsed the lines in your head and finished your glass. You heard the door open again and almost threw everything you had been going over in your head out the window. Just breathe. It’s fine, he calmed down so quickly after that time in the alley, he’ll understand.

_____

Steve was angry. With Clint for getting the dates of Pierce’s arrival wrong, with Sam for failing to get the recon they needed to get the drop on him. Even angrier with Bucky for taking all of this out on him when it wasn’t even his fault. But most of all he was angry with himself for letting his work get in the way of your time together. He promised you undivided attention and you deserved it.

He knew how important your day off was to you and after the day he’d been having he couldn’t wait to just come back to you. He just wanted to make some decent spaghetti and melt the worries of his day off with your embrace. He craved the physical comfort he got from you after a long day. The feeling of endlessly sinking into your arms while you held him in bed allowed him to be the vulnerable one for once. He never felt comfortable enough with any of the other women he’d dated to even entertain the idea of being the little spoon.

He always suspected that who he was at work was almost the only reason any of the other women had even gone out with him. Who he was at work was almost a front for the art-loving, touch-starved, hopeless-romantic that he was when he let himself relax. They’d all just wanted this big burly man who was always in charge, a walking wall of muscle and testosterone that they had seen and heard of him to be when he was on the job. But when he was on his own time he just wanted to feel comfort more than anything.

He just wanted to melt into you.

That’s why he was eager to get to you today but the constant calls were cutting him to his last nerve. Bucky was out with Natasha and her parents so he specifically asked not to be called. Being the boss, Bucky was not to be bothered. Being second in command, Steve was.

When he hung up with Clint he exited the bathroom and walked straight past you without a word, knowing you didn’t want to hear about work and talking about it would just make him angrier. He started unloading the grocery bag with maybe a bit more vigor than was necessary.

Remembering he had opened a beer that was probably warm by now he turned to you and grabbed it off the table you were sat at. At this moment he looked up and you had this look on your face he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to know what was up so he asked but you just ended up stammering out a response that didn’t make much sense.

He was trying to listen to you, he really was but he just couldn’t work around this building anger, couldn’t let it go. So of course his phone rings again. And of course he takes it. Excusing himself and locking the bathroom door behind him again he was already forming how to lay into his men on the other line without raising his voice and alarming you too much.

“I told you not to call me unless you had it fixed” he seethed into the receiver. Steve pounded his fist against the porcelain of your sink in aggravation. “I’m not fucking coming down there tonight. I shouldn’t have to be taking fucking phone calls to solve this kinda shit when I’m with my girl. Lose their tail, re-track them, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning. Don’t call me again unless someone fucking gets shot”, Steve hung up abruptly and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to you so he just waited a minute to collect himself. He took another deep breath and readied himself to go back to you.

_________

You were sitting quietly at the table, silently digging your nails into your palm as you tensed your fist. Steve had exited the bathroom and taken a seat across from you. You decided to see if he’d speak first and waited.

A beat of silence and you sighed deeply, readying yourself to talk to him like you’d planned.

“Steve, I understand you’re having a bad day and it’s probably work related. That being said, just because you’re mad at someone else doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me” You blew out a shaky breath, wanting to finish before you lost your nerve and before he interjected. You didn’t dare make eye contact. Only stared at his hands on the table in front of you.

“If- if you’re mad don’t take it out on me, and if you feel like you can’t control that anger I don’t want you around me while you feel that way. If you want to talk through it or just work past it then I’m here. But if you’re going to snap at me again and just be mad then you need to leave. It’s not fair to me.”

I’m pretty sure Dr. Danforth would be fucking proud of me right now. Straight to the point but respectful, just like we talked about. And even if Steve’s mad, you’re in control. You’re doing great.

You braved a peek at his face at this point and he looked stunned himself. He’s probably never been spoken to like that in his life, being the second in command and all. You watched his brows bunch together in what you hoped was thought and not frustration for you and waited for him to speak.

________

Oh. Steve was a little struck by what you’d said. Have I been that bad? She’s shaking like a leaf, of course I must have been that bad. He’d had no idea that he even snapped at you, that’s how wrapped up in his own business and his head he was. He never meant to take it out on you, didn’t even realize he had. Sometimes it was like he was so deep into his work life he couldn’t take himself out of it. But he wanted to try, for you.

He remained silent while he pulled the chair across from you out and took a seat. He looked up to meet your gaze only to find you staring at your hands. You were digging your nails into your palms so he brought one large warm hand to cover yours and brought the other up to your face gently to get you to look at him. You flinched away from him and he felt another strike of surprise, but also maybe a hint of shame. Is she afraid of me? Normally Steve likes when people are afraid of him, makes his job easier, but he’d never want that from you.

“Sweetheart”, Steve’s voice was just above a whisper when you finally looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry, that’s really it I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I didn’t even realize I did.” He apologized.

____________

You could feel your tears subsiding and finally brought yourself to look at him. He looked just as exhausted before, just a little bit more sad. You imagined it was probably easy for him to get swept up in who he was at work so it must be hard to separate himself from it since it requires so much from him. You don’t want him to feel bad for being upset, you just want him to be more aware of himself and to not take things out on you.

“Steve, I know we said you wouldn’t talk about work when we’re together but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you have a bad day. Maybe you can keep it vague but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say anything or be yourself, unless of course you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to talk about anything either. When you snapped at me I just sorta shut down” You explained.

Steve seemed to be processing your words and forming a response when he took your hand in his to stop your nails from ripping into your palms like they often do. He nodded and took a breath.

“You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, thank you. Just for the record, I never feel like I can’t be myself with you, it’s opposite, really. When I’m with you I get to drop all that bullshit at the door. Girls in the past have just wanted me because I was scary but seeing the way you flinched just now, I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me.” Steve confessed.

Maybe it’s time to tell him about the engagement, let him know where you’re coming from. You blew out a shaky breath and looked away from him again.

“I, um, I’m not scared of you. Years ago I was engaged to a man and things were really bad, he was really bad. I’m not ready to talk about all of it but that’s why I shut down on you when you snapped. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and I’m still working on it, but I’m not afraid of you. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it’s… kind of a sore subject” you admitted.

Steve’s nostrils flared and his grip on your hand tightened a little but you could tell he was trying everything he could to school his features and reply to you.

“I… didn’t know that I’m sorry.” he said as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “If you ever wanna talk about it more, I’m here. And if you don’t, I understand.”

You stood from your chair and came around behind him to throw your arms around his neck. You kissed his cheek and rested your head against his.

“Thank you for listening and apologizing. I forgive you. And if you wanna talk about your day then I’m here.” You assured him.

Steve turned his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you reciprocated. Steve stood to his full height without breaking the kiss and brought his hands up to frame your face. The warmth was comforting again to you. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and he elicited the softest of sighs before returning your passion.

He broke the kiss while his hands explored your curves. “I want to make it up to you, will you let me do that, sweetheart?” he asked.

You could only look up at him with eyes blown wide with lust and affection. You nodded and he kissed you swiftly before leading you to your bedroom. You were holding his hand when he let go and softly urged you backwards onto the bed. You obliged and soon he was on top of you laying feather-light kisses to the column of your neck.

Your hands mussed his hair and smoothed out the tension in his shoulders as you held onto him. He kissed his way lower and lifted up the hem of our shirt and kissed his way back up to your breasts. You sat up slightly and took off your top and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before throwing it to the side. Steve took turns taking your nipples between his teeth and teasing them, licking and kissing them. He knew it always made you squirm and would build the anticipation before you could even touch him.

“Steve, please.” You whined.

Wordlessly he kissed and bit his way lower and undid your shorts. You arched your back to help him remove them along with your panties. Steve wasted no time and administered the smallest of licks to your clit. You gasped slightly at the feeling when you felt two fingers prodding your entrance before going in. Your body was getting accustomed to the initial wave of pleasure brought on by Steve’s movement and slowly you ground your hips against his hand and cried out softly.

Normally Steve would never let that fly, he was always so controlling and dominant in bed but tonight was different. Tonight was soft and he was making it up to you, showing his love in a physical way. So he let you push him deeper and raise your hips just so to reach the perfect angle. You felt yourself tighten around him and this is the point he usually slows down just to drag things out but your loud cries only fueled him as he doubled his efforts. With a final cry you came around his fingers, white heat blinding your vision momentarily.

You caught your breath and looked down at Steve. His beard was absolutely drenched and he sucked his fingers clean. You could almost cum again just from the sight of it. He wiped his mouth on a tissue before returning to you to give you a kiss. You tasted yourself on him but you didn’t care, you just wanted his mouth on yours. You felt his erection pressing against your thighs and it had you squirming all over again. You reached to undo his belt when he stopped you.

“This night is supposed to be about you, doll. I’ll be fine” He protested.

You shook your head at him. “I want you, all of you. Please, Steve”, you begged.

He nodded and undid his belt. You helped undress and when he was finally naked you felt the rush of heat to your core all over again, an itch you couldn’t scratch. You laid back further on the bed and soon he was above you, face inches from yours and one arm at the side of your head.

His cock nudged against your core and entered slowly to stretch you out. You moaned deeply and when he was all the way in he kissed you passionately and began moving. It didn’t take much for him to pick up the pace as he started to fuck you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of you.

“You’re so, so, good sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He praised.

His words made you keen as you let the feeling of him making love to you take you over completely. His lips grazed yours in between grunts and he moved one hand to your clit while the other cradled the back of your head. You held onto his shoulders tightly and sobbed out pleas for him to keep going. His thrusts picked up speed and so did his hand. You were so close to the edge and you could feel he was too.

“I love you” he panted out before his hips lunged forward into you one last time before he came inside of you.

The shock of his confession and his work on your clit triggered your second orgasm. It was powerful and had you clawing his back and gasping in pleasure. He’d never said that before. Did he mean it? You looked to him for the answer but his lips caught yours as he gave a few last lazy thrusts. He finally collapsed to your side and was heaving to catch his breath.

You both laid there basking in the afterglow of the makeup sex for a few minutes. You turned on your side to look at him. He was so perfect like this, so at ease.

“Did you.. Mean it? What you said?” You questioned nervously. You really wanted him to mean it.

He turned slowly to look at you and he was blushing. “Yeah, I did. I know it’s kind of soon and you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t help it. I love you” he confided.

“I love you too, I’m not just saying it cause I feel like I have to, I love you Steve Rogers. All of you.” you assured him.

The softest of kisses was laid on your lips. This moment with him was perfect.

“I can’t believe you love me. I’m so sorry about earlier. I feel so comforted when I’m with you, the last thing I want is to lose you. I promise I will do everything I can to never be like your ex. Ever. If I’m being a dick I want you to tell me,” He apologized again.

You were about to respond when his stomach let out the loudest groan. You both laughed as you sat up.

“I did promise you dinner. Unburned this time!” Steve pledged as he helped you gather up your clothes.

“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to, Rogers.”

#steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #Mob!Au #mafia!au #soft!Mob!Steve Rogers #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #botanical interest

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afeb · 4 years ago

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Bucky Barnes - Salvation

long and kinda slow-burn :)

“Stay safe you,” Matt said as I walked out of the small bookshop.

“Always try.” I smiled back as I skipped down the steps.

I scanned over the books I’d bought on my short walk home, turning the first few pages and already sinking into the stories within. The streets were quiet, sun setting as I hurried home to avoid dark.

I finally stepped foot inside my apartment and immediately went around and turned on all the lamps. I detested the dark, an old habit I found hard to break, as I swiftly checked from room to room. I did this to make sure no one was inside, but in the back of my mind I only looked for one man. Books placed on the side, I was about to sit down when a heavy knock sounded from the door.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered as I walked over. I swung open the door.

Fuck.

Slamming it shut quickly my heart raced and face paled. I could throw up, or faint, and I considered doing both. How did he know where I lived? What was he planning on doing? I bargained that I’d never go to police, and I didn’t for that matter, so why is he here?

“Y/N?” The Winter Solider said through the door.

“I-I haven’t told anyone.” I said.

“That isn’t why I’m here.” His voice was softer than I remembered, he sounded...normal.

“P-Please just go.” I begged, hand still tightly holding the doorknob.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “I won’t even come into the apartment, I just need to say something.”

I peeped through the spy hole, making sure he was alone. He usually was, however, on one occasion he brought back up. That was the worst of times.

“Step away from the door.” I ordered, to which he readily complied and took two large steps back. I opened the door a crack, waiting for him to pounce. But he remained firmly planted in his spot.

Warily, I creaked the door open. He was dressed in black jeans, a navy top and a black leather jacket. His hair was cut short, his beard was growing out and he no longer donned the muzzle he used to in public. Gloves covered his hand. He looked completely normal.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, and I am no longer the Winter Solider,” he said. “Apologising to you is my way of making amends with my past.”

I furrowed my brows. “What?”

He gulped. “I...I did awful things to you, and I’m sorry.”

“Is this...is this a joke?” I asked, peeping my head out a little and looking down the hallway.

He shook his head. “I’m trying to be a better person, and apologising to you is part of that. I could also, do things for you?”

My eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“No!” He said. “No, I meant like...jobs or, I dunno...anything.”

“I’m so confused.” I whined as I rubbed my eyes. “Are you going to kill me?”

He shook his head. “No.”

His eyes looked pleadingly at me. He was alone, he looked normal and I could feel the truth drip off his words. After a long pause, I sighed deeply.

“Do you want to come in?” I stepped aside.

“If that’s okay.” He stiffly smiled and walked past me.

I shut the door and watched him. He looked around the small space, standing in the hallway. I had photos lining the walls, all of friends and family, and he took care to look at some of them.

“You can take off your coat and gloves.” He nodded and shrugged of his jacket, however, chose to leave the gloves on.

“Nice place.” He complimented.

“Thanks,” I had no clue how to act around him. He followed behind me as I led him into the kitchen, turning to face him as he lingered in the doorway. “I was going to cook some dinner.”

He nodded. “Anything special?”

I shook my head. “You could...join, we could talk.”

“That would be...nice.” He smiled.

I cooked in near silence. James took a seat at the small table by the window and watched me as I mulled around the kitchen. Chicken in, salad made, I turned to face him.

“It’ll be about half an hour.” I said as I sat opposite him.

“You’re being very kind.” He said.

“So, what is this?” I gestured between us.

He leant back. “The US Government has pardoned me, and part of that agreement is that I have to go to therapy. My Doc came up with a plan to help me...move on from my past. I have to go around and make amends with the people I hurt, or helped, and that means you.”

I nodded. “How many have you done?” I asked.

“A few,” he said. “I was...I was putting off doing you.”

I frowned. “Why?”

His eyes cast over to me as he took a shaky breath. “I...hurt you. In life changing ways, even if you forgave me, I could never forgive myself.”

I pursed my lips for a moment and didn’t speak. His eyes looked down at his lap, a sad expression coming over his face.

“I hated you,” I whispered. “I always thought in my head that if I ever got the chance, I’d kill you. But then I spent a while researching you, your past. What they did to you, how they treated you, what they made you do. And I realised, it wasn’t really you who hurt me, it was them.”

He gazed at me through his lashes. “Y/N...”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” I smiled, reaching over and taking his hand. “Water under the bridge.”

His hands flexed, squeezing mine. “Water under the bridge.” He repeated.

The gloves were soft against my hands as I peered down at them. “Can I see?”

His face grew uneasy as he shifted in his seat. “Um...yeah, sure.”

He peeled the gloves of slowly, almost waiting to me to stop him. The metal had changed. Instead of the bright silver I was used to, it instead was sleek black with gold details. He rolled his sleeve up as high as it would go, the infamous star now gone. It suited him better, I thought, complimented him more.

“It looks nice,” I smiled. “Better than the old one.”

“Thank you.”

“Could I?” He gave me a nod as I ran my ran over the cool metal.

It was really a work of art. Oddly, this one didn’t scare me. The other had felt my skin, brought me to the edge of death so many times, but this one? This one had only gently squeezed me hands.

We both jumped as the oven beeped, giggling a little as I stood and plated up our meal. We ate quietly, James complimenting my cooking one too many times. The evening drew on and soon James was shrugging on his jacket and lingering by the door.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Dinner was amazing.”

I laughed. “I’ll have to cook it again.”

His eyes glistened with happiness at the chance of us seeing each other again. “I’d like that.”

I opened the door for him. “It was nice seeing you, the real you.”

He nodded. “I meant it you know, need a boiler fixing, walls painted, I’ll do it.”

He quickly scribbled his number in a small notebook and ripped out the page and handed it to me. “I’ll keep that in mind,”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” He danced around me for a moment before enveloping me in a short, tight hug.

Weeks passed and I didn’t contact him. I thought I’d be a painful reminder of his past and thus didn’t want to keep contact with him. That was, until my sink burst and my landlord claimed it wasn’t his responsibility. I’d tried hard to fix it myself, and the local plumbers charged ridiculous rates, so I found myself texting James.

To James B -

Hi! Sorry I haven’t contacted you before, been very busy! Could I pick up the favour you owe me? My sink has burst and I’m in desperate need of a plumber. - Y/N

I didn’t expect a reply, but he text back before I’d even put my phone back on the table.

From James B -

Hey! No worries. Heading over now.

I scrambled to tidy the apartment, dreading to confess I in fact lived like a pig most days. After a frantic half an hour, a knock sounded from the door.

“You’re a life saver,” I sighed as I opened the door.

James offered a lopsided smile, shrugging his shoulders. “No worries,”

“It burst two days ago, I had a go myself but I think I made it worse.” James set his bag of tools on the counter and opened the cupboard under the sink.

“Oh yeah, I see what’s wrong,” he silently set to work, laying on his back and doing god-knows-what.

After a while I went into the living room and read my book, curling my legs underneath me and settling down. James banged about the kitchen and a swear word or two later, he popped his head around the door.

“Done.”

“So soon?” I quickly stood and bounced into the kitchen. I turned the tap and stepped back, expecting water to drown my feet, but instead it simply swirled down the drain. “It lives!”

James chuckled at my remark. “A few bolts came loose and disconnected, easy stuff really,”

“Thank you James.”

“Bucky,” he quickly said. “Call me Bucky.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” I smiled. “Want to stay for lunch?”

“Yeah,”

We chatted mindlessly as we made sandwiches, Bucky telling me about his childhood. When he was the Winter Soldier I only heard gruff orders, but he had a voice that sounded smooth and sweet. His eyes lit up when he spoke of his siblings and parents, of a life that felt like thousands of years ago.

“You got a boyfriend?” Bucky asked, fiddling with the label on his beer.

I cocked a brow. “No, you?”

“No.” Bucky said. “I’ve tried these dating websites but...feel out of my depth.”

I nodded in understanding. “I abandoned those long ago,”

“I’m glad you text me.” He said. “I’ve spent the last few weeks wondering if you would.”

“Truthfully, I thought you wouldn’t want to speak to me.” I confessed.

“Why would you think that?” He frowned.

“I’m a reminder of your past,” I explained. “I can understand that even looking at me must be hard for you.”

Bucky paused for a moment and scanned over my face. “I see you as my salvation, not my damnation.”

I smiled. “I don’t think I said it before,” I shuffled a little closer. “But I forgive you, Bucky.”

His breath hitched, arm dropping to rest behind my head. “Say it again.” He whispered.

“I forgive you.”

Our bodies were close, Bucky resting his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and waited for him to make a move, but they fluttered back open when I felt the moment slipping.

“I don’t want to push it,” he confessed.

“You aren’t.” I promised.

“I did bad things to you,” his hand stroked over my cheek.

“Then do something good.”

His lips pressed to mine. They were soft, softer than I’d thought, and he went slow and easy. I sighed into the kiss and pressed my body flush against his, my hands planting on his chest. His hand on the back of the couch slid off and looped behind me back, pressing me further into his as the other hand slid into my hair and held me close.

“Please,” he mumbled against me.

“Yes.”

Bucky eased me back into the sofa, lips still pressed tightly to mine as he eased between my splayed thighs. My hands moved up to fist his short hair, causing a quiet groan to escape his lips. Bucky’s hands held onto my hips as he gently, almost teasingly, ground his crotch to mine.

“Lemme make it better,” he whispered, trailing kisses down my cheek and neck.

“You can do anything,” I breathlessly promised, rolling my body up.

His hand slid down my stomach and into the back of my loose trousers, cupping my clothed pussy and flexing his fingers. I gasped and threw my head back, Bucky surfacing to peer down at me with hooded eyes.

“There?” I nodded at his question.

His fingers eased my underwear to the side and felt over the slickness he’d created. The cool metal of his hand ran over my burning cheeks and I thanked god for the relief of coldness in this moment. My eyes widened as his finger tips circled my swollen bud.

“So wet,” he murmured, gazing into my eyes.

“For you.” I whimpered back, cupping his cheeks.

“Me?” I nodded. “Good girl,”

I moaned again at his words, his fingers picking up their pace. My back arched as he eased two fingers into me, stretching me out. He groaned a little, muttering something about my tightness, before pressing his lips to mine.

“O-Other hand,” I said against his lips.

“What?” He pulled back, stopping his movements.

“Can you u-use your other hand?” I pouted my lips.

“Are you sure?” He furrowed his brows.

I nodded. Bucky removed his hand from my underwear, offering his glistening fingers to my lips. I hastily took them in my mouth, small hand wrapping around his wrist as I sucked. He momentarily closed his eyes, losing himself for a second before easing his metal hand between our bodies.

“Really?” He questioned again, playing with the waistband of my trousers.

I bucked my hips. “Please,”

I couldn’t help the loud moan that left my mouth as his metal fingers resumed his flesh fingers task. They rubbed tightly into my clit, causing my eyes to pinch shut and my jaw to slacken and drop.

“Such a good girl for me,” he cooed against my cheek.

I whimpered again. “I-I’m-“

“Gonna cum baby?” He asked, fingers increasing their speed.

I nodded and cried. “Yes!”

“Like feeling my metal hand, huh?” He teased with a smirk.

“I do! Yes!” My nails bit into the skin of his forearm, the other hand running over the smooth metal of his shoulder. “Oh Bucky!”

“Cum,” he shortly ordered. “Please baby, please cum.”

My head threw back and I saw stars. My back arched as Bucky wrapped and arm under me and held me close. He moaned softly into my neck, grounding his crotch against my thigh. My arms loops around his neck as I shuddered against him.

“S-Stop,” I begged, gently coaxing his hand from my underwear.

“Sorry baby.” He sighed into my neck.

We stayed tangled in each other for a moment before I reached a teasing hand down between us. Bucky quickly stopped me, sheepishly grinning down at me.

“I already...just then...” he blushed.

“Really?” I giggled.

“You have no idea how good you looked.” He whispered, pecking my lips.

I smiled warmly, stroking over his cheek. “Would you like to grab a coffee with me?”

He laughed loudly. “I’ll do more than that.”

#bucky #barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian #stan #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan smut #marvel #marvel smut

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memxntomxri · 3 years ago

Text

𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚕𝚎

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮 | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - bisexual!hinata shouyou x gn!reader, hinata shouyou x miya atsumu

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 - angst, break up

𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤 - hinata shouyou is trustworthy - with everything except for your heart

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 - 2.4k words

𝘵𝘸 - slightly descriptive nsfw?, cheating (i'm sorry to be doing my children hinata and atsumu dirty this way but this got stuck in my head 😭), major angst, break-up, no happy ending, lots and lots of crying, lots and lots of reader's internal thoughts, atsumu is an asshole

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 - this is the result of brainrot i had stuck in my head after reading chapter 18 of SabbyWrites' A Study in Depravity. HAIKYUU BOYS ARE NOT CHEATERS - I REPEAT, HAIKYUU BOYS ARE NOT CHEATERS. BISEXUAL PEOPLE ARE ALSO NOT CHEATERS. i just couldn't resist writing this lmao

also, i'm doing my best to make this a gender-neutral reader, but it might lean more towards AFAB/non-binary readers since i'm both ashelkgjkdlkjf male-identifying readers i'm sorry

thanks @meiansmistress, lou (LouEve_094 on ao3), lena, and emmy (Noisy_Emmy on ao3) for betaing! your feedback helped me a lot

𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙙𝙣𝙞 - there are some descriptive scenes of smut in here 👀 shoo, shoo

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

You know this.

It's the reason you met, after all.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The summer you moved to Miyagi, following your father's dream of teaching in a little town similar to the one he lived in as a child, you were unhappy. Who could blame you, after all? You had a comfortable life back in Osaka, and unlike your father, you were a city dweller at heart. It was also the middle of your first year of high school—who wanted to transfer schools, let alone across prefectures, in the middle of a school year?

It was hot in Miyagi, and when the moving truck broke down on the side of the road, the entire family piled out and sat on the curb. Just your father (who you were still mad at), your mother, and you. That was what it had always been. Sure, you had friends, but somehow the friendships never got too deep. You were willing to bet that within a month, there would be no texts other than the occasional New Year's greeting or "happy birthday" from your so-called friends back in Osaka.

And don't even get you started on romantic relationships. It wasn't that you weren't attractive, or that you weren't easy to get along with—it was just that there was never anybody. Yes, you had liked people before, but nothing had ever come of it.

Your mother piped up, saving you from your dark thoughts about the state of your relationships with other people. "Y/n, love, can you go back down the hill again? I think we saw a konbini a bit that way, please buy some cool drinks." she says, depositing coins in your outstretched hand. Oh well, something to do, you supposed.

You strolled casually down the road, sweating buckets. When you pushed open the doors of the konbini—Sakanoshita Store, you noted, it definitely didn’t look like a konbini—opened, you basked in the cold air of the air conditioner for a bit. As you stood there, looking a bit dumb with your arms outstretched, you felt a weight barrel into you from behind.

With a bang, you fell forward, the weight landing on your back. "Ow!" you cried, rubbing your right wrist, which had unceremoniously made contact with the ground, pain shooting up the limb. You twisted around to glare at whatever had so unceremoniously bowled you over. You were met with the sight of wide, brown eyes and flushed cheeks. "Sorry!" the boy squeaked, getting off of you quickly. "So sorry!" You frowned and got up.

"Watch where you’re going, okay?" You were a few centimeters taller than him, you noted.

He started blabbering, talking about how he needed to get the first-aid kit because a "Stingyshima" had "accidentally" ran into "Bakageyama" and this "Bakageyama" now had a bleeding knee and that he was the fastest runner in their volleyball club (he was strangely emphatic about this point). By the time he was finished rambling, you were chuckling slightly. It was obvious that he hadn't meant anything by running into you, and it was actually kind of endearing how earnestly he was trying to explain himself.

You held up a hand, stopping him from continuing to ramble. "Y-you aren't mad, right?" he asked anxiously. You smiled and shook your head slightly. "It seems your team trusts you to help take care of your friend, so why don't you grab the first-aid kit and go help him?" You suggested gently.

He nodded quickly and darted behind the counter, grabbing a white box. As he jogged away, he seemed to remember something and turned around to holler at you. "My name's Hinata Shouyou! I'm a first year!" he introduced himself in a bright voice.

Just inside the konbini, a small smile slipped across your face.

Hinata Shouyou, huh. He seemed nice.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason you fell in love with him.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The first day of school, you meet Hinata Shouyou again. And again. And again. He somehow seems to pop up everywhere you go—not that you're complaining, he's entertaining and nice—and soon, you think you can count yourself as his friend.

You go to his game against Aoba Johsai, then Shiratorizawa, then you're hugging him as he jumps up and down, celebrating their win. That’s the first time your heart jumps when you look at him, haloed by the lights of the gym.

Slowly, you feel yourself falling in love with him. Not just falling for him, no, because Hinata Shouyou will not let anyone do anything in halves, especially not falling in love. Shouyou, to you, (because by then you were on first-name basis) is someone you can rely on, someone that is always there, like the sun, trustworthy.

And because he is always there, it's also easy to confess to him in your second year. You know him well enough by now to know that even if he doesn't feel the same, nothing would change about your friendship except for the addition of unspoken words. And you think that he might love you back, if the lingering glances and brighter smiles are any indication.

Your guess is right, and by New Year's break, the two of you are a happy couple.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's why you let him go, if only for a little bit.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

When Shouyou left for Brazil, you took a break from each other. To be honest, it was your idea.

It wasn't that you didn't think that you couldn't trust him ten thousand kilometers away—it was that you knew you would hold him back. He was going to Brazil to chase his dream, and having a tether to his hometown would only slow him down. It hurt, having to say goodbye at the airport, but somehow the two of you got through it.

You still talked—a little more than "just friends" should—but you were careful not to let him think that you were together.

Shouyou was meant for greater things, and back then, as an insecure, just-barely-adult going into medical school, you weren't sure if you fit into the picture.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason why you let him back in.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

When Shouyou returns from Brazil, the first person he visits is you. You, all the way out in Osaka, pushing yourself to your limits as you study for med school. When you open your door and see him standing there, smiling as bright as ever, you fall into his arms—both literally and metaphorically. It turns out, even two years later, you trust him to catch you.

It was all too natural for you and Shouyou to get back together, and by a stroke of luck, he joins the MSBY Black Jackals, right there in Osaka. You move in together, his slightly larger salary allowing the two of you to rent a bigger apartment.

Yes, it's hard work being in a relationship again, but you like having Shouyou to return to every night after your shift is over. You wake up early every morning to make the two of you breakfast and lunch, and Shouyou always has dinner waiting for you when you step back in the door, often also staying up so that you can talk.

You're content.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason why you think nothing of his closeness with his teammates.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Shouyou has always been a people-magnet. Even back in high school, everyone loved him. Shouyou is bisexual. You know this. He’s always had more than enough love to give back, too, and his bisexuality had never impacted your relationship. Why should it, when you’re every bit as queer as him? Your relationship was strong, and you believed in it. That's why, at every team dinner that he takes you to, when someone else inevitably takes the seats next to him instead of you and you're relegated to a corner, you don't worry about it. Shouyou loves you, and it doesn't matter where you sit for a couple of hours.

Yes, Miya Atsumu is a bit aggressive whenever Shouyou compliments him, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at you triumphantly, but you chalk it to them being good friends and Miya-san wanting to get to know you better by having a little friendly competition, and that's okay.

Yes, Shouyou starts going out with his team more and more, but they're his team. He's supposed to be close with them.

Yes, you start to feel a little neglected, but it wasn't as if you were the most attentive back when you were still struggling through med school.

And anyways, Shouyou always makes time for the two of you on Saturdays, your designated date nights. You have trust in your relationship, in its rock-tight foundation built upon years of knowing each other.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's why you believe his words.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

One Friday, after an especially busy shift at the hospital that got cut short for you when a coworker unexpectedly came in to fill in for you, you decide to head home early and get some rest, maybe cuddle with Shouyou while watching those romcoms you both enjoy.

You had told him that you'd be home late that night, and you hoped that you could surprise him with some dinner. So, you swung by his favorite yakitori place and ordered dinner, driving home as fast as you safely could.

As you open the door to your apartment, you hear the distinctive sounds of sex, skin slapping on skin, grunts and moans, high keens. You frown. Maybe Shouyou was watching porn? He sometimes liked to get himself ready (the two of you enjoyed the occasional pegging) before you got home. You drop the food on the kitchen table and put your jacket on the hook.

"Love, I'm home!" you call out softly. No response.

Frowning deeper now, you move towards the bedroom door. Just as you're about to open it, you hear something that stops you cold.

"A-ah, Atsumu!" It's distinctively Shouyou's voice, and suddenly, you can't move anymore.

Shouyou, who told you you could make it through med school.

Shouyou, who made you yakisoba and miso soup whenever you were stuck studying.

Shouyou, who whispered sweet nothings in your ear every morning as the two of you made breakfast.

Shouyou, who is currently in bed with Miya fucking Atsumu.

You want to get up, you want to slam open the door, you want to demand answers, but somehow, you can't get your legs to budge from the spot in the ground they've rooted themselves to.

Then,

"Who do you love, Sho?" Atsumu growls.

Your heart skips a beat.

No.

You pray to all the gods you know that what's about to pass Shouyou's lips will miraculously stay trapped in his throat, but it seems like the gods don't feel kind today.

"Y-you, Atsumu, you!" you hear Shouyou cry.

Your heart shatters into a million little kaleidoscopic pieces. Tears start running down your face, hot, involuntary, painful, because they represent the six years of a beautiful relationship down the drain, because nothing will ever be the same, because Shouyou is cheating on you.

Finally, your legs decide to move again. It seems like someone else is controlling your body as you walk towards the door, opening it with a shaking hand.

Shouyou is pinned down by Miya-san on the bed, legs thrown over his shoulder, as he slams into him.

The door bangs against the wall.

Shouyou looks up, and when he sees you, his face floods with guilt.

You don't say anything. You just stand there, tears flooding down your face, betrayal evident in your expression.

"Y-y/n!" he says. "I-I- I swear, this isn't-" he begins.

You cut him off. "I don't want to hear it, Shouyou." you spit.

Miya-san chuckles. "Who are we kidding, this is exactly what they think it is. What, did you think that you would be enough to satisfy Sho? You, with your infinitely busy schedule? You, who has no clue about volleyball?" he says, cutting into you.

"Atsumu, stop!" Shouyou says, frantic. He can tell that he's going to lose you, but he's not going to go down without a fight. "Babe, I love you, please-" he says, getting out of Miya-san's embrace and moving towards you. You sidestep him, holding a duffel bag with a change of clothes.

You stand there, looking at the scene, chuckling darkly inside your head. Just a scorned lover, a man, and his side-piece. You take a deep breath.

"You know, Shouyou, if you fell in love with someone else, you should've just told me. I trust you to be honest. I'm leaving—because even though you might love me, you're in love with Miya-san." you said.

Shouyou looks stricken with guilt, but you know it's from lying, not because he loves you anymore. Your laugh is broken and rough on the ears. "You think I didn't hear you? Oh, Shouyou, I heard more than enough. Have a nice life, and I hope that you remember how you broke me. I hope it fucking haunts you to the day of your death," you hurl at him.

Because even though at that moment you're screaming at him, you know that you still love him, that you’ll always will love him, and that you will carry this scar for the rest of your life. And even though you love him enough to leave now, to let him be with the person he loves—you still have enough love for yourself to hope that he bears some of the weight of this horrible, messy end too.

And with that, you walk out the door.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

But you're wrong.

Hinata Shouyou might love Miya Atsumu, but he still loves you more.

Years later, looking back, he comprehends that he didn't just break you. As he stares at his empty apartment, devoid of a lover—because what you said was true, he still carries the guilt, the memory of your tear-stained face, the recollections of your golden time together that ruined any relationship he might have had before it started, the echo of your absolute trust in him,

—Hinata Shouyou realizes he ruined himself too.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #hinata x reader #hinata shouyou x reader #atsuhina #canon universe #angst #haikyu angst #cheating #no happy ending

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lonely-lost-soul · 4 years ago

Text

Under The Floorboards (Pt. VIII)

(Technoblade x Reader) First Part: Pt. 1 Latest: Pt.VX

(Feel free to play this while listening to this chapter! Full credit to @Alexx-Kun on Wattpad for suggesting this gorgeous song)

https://youtu.be/kCV4JUqGr64

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 1: Forgiveness

Step one you needed to find a venue, you had assigned Ranboo as your honorary maid of honor. The young boy was just as thrilled as he was confused, did you not have any other friends? You were Technoblade’s perfect match if that was the case. Ranboo had no problem voicing that to you and you pouted at him, you argued that everyone who lived with Techno was antisocial. He reluctantly agreed and you smiled proudly, he rolled his eyes and shoved your shoulder with his hand. You laughed, glad you were sitting down, or else you would’ve for sure fallen. Technoblade and you had decided to split the jobs for the wedding between the both of you. You were in charge of the invitations and flowers, basically anything to do with decorating and interacting with other humans. Technoblade meanwhile was in charge of the venue and the official rings, it’s not that you didn’t trust him with more duties it was more that he didn’t trust himself. That and he also believed that you both could just get married in the woods. You at least wanted a small wedding with a few people you cared about, you rubbed your pointer finger and thumb together with a frown.

“You alright?”

“Just thinking about the invitations. Who will come...stuff like that.” Ranboo glanced over at the minuscule stack of letters by the table, it was clearly small, but Ranboo hand wrote them for you in swirl print. They better show up, Ranboo would be pissed if they didn’t, he put a lot of work into those invites.

“They’ll come.” He nodded his head picking them up with his claws, one was for Tommy, another was for Ghostbur, and Ranboo also suggested an invite for Captain Puffy he figured the both of you would get along considering you both had a habit for adopting misfits. You also needed a female friend. “We can deliver them and search for flowers, then tomorrow we can search for a dress for you that sounds okay right?”

“For someone with such a bad memory, you’re surprisingly good at planning,” You watched the boy preen at your compliment.

“Thank you, I also figured we can use the stasis chamber so you only have to walk one way with your ankle.”

“Smart boy.”

“Why thank you,” Ranboo smiled proudly over at you reaching out his hand for you to take. You grabbed it and he pulled you to his feet, he kept his hand interlocked with yours, it was minuscule in comparison to the half enderman’s. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Slowly but surely the two of you made your way over to the nether portal and into the once-great country. Ranboo placed his hand on your lower back and helped guide you through the rubble of the city. He knew much better than you did where everyone resided, even if you didn’t meet them face to face you’d make a chest and drop it off. Ironically the first person you ran into was the woman Ranboo insisted you meet, Captain Puffy. She’s gorgeous, was your first thought, she was some form of a sheep hybrid dressed like a pirate, two of your favorite things, sorry Technoblade you might’ve met your new wife. You talked with her well into the afternoon, she was just so easy to talk to,

“Can I just say I feel like I’ve known you forever,” She gushed, taking your hands within her own and squeezing fondly. “I’m so happy Ranboo has found someone to watch out for him,” Ranboo flushed in response but didn’t argue against Puffy’s words which warmed your heart.

“I’m happy too. I just want to help these kids in whatever way I can,” You smiled a little forlornly thinking once again of the obnoxious blonde. “They just don’t deserve all the shit they have to deal with, they’re kids you know? They should be living their lives.”

“Yeah keep talking like I’m not here,” Ranboo mused over your shoulder which caused you to laugh with a shake of your head, “no need to stop please continue.” Puffy smiled at the both of you,

“She’s right though Ranboo. You should be out causing mischief or getting into trouble, not fighting in a never-ending war.”

“Oof getting into trouble? No thank you, I just wanna tend to my pets and go on adventures with my friends.”

“You’ll get to do that I promise. Once my ankles healed we’ll go woodland mansion hunting, I’ve been to a few in my time. They’re a lot of fun.”

“Really?”

“Yeah of course!” You beamed and Ranboo smiled right back at you, he brought his journal out of his bag and quickly scribbled something down in it. In the end, Puffy ended up accepting the invitation with a blinding smile,

“You’re going to be a gorgeous bride. Could I bring my girlfriend Niki? You’ll love her!”

“I don’t see why not. I can’t wait to meet her!” You assumed Technoblade wouldn’t mind one more person, especially because he’s never mentioned Niki which was a good thing in your eyes. Usually, if Technoblade talked about you, it was because he wasn’t a fan. You all said your goodbyes, you felt warm inside you couldn’t believe you were about to have TWO friends who are girls.

“Soooooo?”

“I love her.”

“Told you so,” Ranboo smirked. He was proud of himself for forcing someone else to socialize so he didn’t have to. Ranboo was relieved that list of people to invite wasn’t long; considering Technoblade had more enemies than friends. The only thing that rubbed him the wrong way was he didn’t even know that you had invited Tommy in the first place.

So if Tommy did show up, your wedding might be a bloodbath.

You and Ranboo stood outside of Tommy’s house, he glanced down at you and watched your hands clench the envelope. He brought his hands over yours and rubbed them gently, you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Deep breath and relax okay? He’s Tommy so I won’t say he won’t flip out at you, but I can say you’re a wonderful friend, you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe Mr. Panic Room is telling me to relax.” You let out a nervous laugh, he made an offended face.

“Ya know what, never helping you again. You can walk home.”

“Ranboo it was a joke!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you stuck your tongue out and headed up to Tommy’s door and knocked. You already knew Tommy might not even be home, the boy was a wanderer by nature. Yet, much to your surprise, the door opened with a loud BANG, and in the doorway stood Tommy looking better than you’ve seen him in all the time he spent with you and Technoblade.

“Hi, Tommy.”

“(Y/N)?” He blinked looking surprised before he steeled his face, “What’re you doing here wench!” Tommy pointed an accusatory finger at you and you raised an eyebrow,

Wench?

That wasn’t going to fly.

“Try again.”

Tommy sputtered as you narrowed his eyes accusingly, his eyes trailed down to the netherite sword at your side. His entire demeanor changed when he spotted it at your side,

“(Y/N)! My friend! Good to see you! How’ve you been? Good? Good!” The boy rambled wrapping an arm around your shoulder with a big smile, there’s the Tommy you remembered. “I’m sure you’re doing good fo’ sho’! Now what do, I owe this pleasure women!”

“I wanted to invite you to Technoblade and I’s wedding,” Your voice was soft and hesitant, holding out the invitation out to him. The teenager blinked a few times before taking it from your hands, he flipped it over confusion was etched deep on his brow.

“You’re getting married? To Technoblade? He’s going to have a wife and I’m not?”

You blinked a few times trying to process what Tommy said, was he more mad at the fact that Technoblade was getting married in the first place? “Well yeah, considering I’m his fiance and all…”

“That motherfucker! He gets to have a wife! I want a wife! (Y/N) acquire me a wife!”

You let out howling laughter at his response, tossing your arms around the boy, he went silent and a confused look came across his face. His ears turned red as he looked over at Ranboo with a face that screamed help me, Ranboo simply looked away holding up a prominent middle finger at the boy. “Okay, okay! Enough hugs,” Tommy ranted shoving you away from him with a huff, “I don’t know what’s so funny about me needing a wife.”

“You’ll find a wife eventually,” You couldn’t help but smile as he frowned down at you. “So? Can you make it?” Voice quiet as you looked up at him, the nervousness from before creeping back into your body, he chewed on his bottom lip while looking at you. Tommy wasn’t about to be soft while Ranboo was standing less than a foot away so he did the next best thing which was whacking you on top of the head.

“I-well-...” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck looking nervous for the first time in his life, “I can’t.” He saw your face fall and he grabbed your shoulders tightly, “Not because I don’t want to! I… I guess you’re not TERRIBLE.” He admitted begrudgingly, “Tubbo and I...we have some unfinished business we need to deal with before things get any worse for people.”

“I don’t know what you mean Tommy.” You suddenly grew very concerned, “You don’t have to hold the entire world on your shoulders.”

“Yeah, I do,” Tommy responded with enough seriousness to shake you to your core, you didn’t know about his past with the discs fully, but you knew enough to know this situation was about that. “Just know I’m happy for you, seriously I am,” He gave you a sad smile.

“Stay safe Tommy. Please don’t be stupid.”

“I’m never stupid you BITCH!”

“Call me a bitch again you BRAT!”

“MAKE ME!”

You frowned, hitting him in the side so he would double over, while he gripped his stomach you pulled him into a headlock and began digging your knuckles into his skull. “Apologize!”

“NEVER!”

Ranboo looked sheepish as he stared at the scene, his shoulders slumping forward. “(Y/N) we have a schedule-” Reluctantly you released Tommy and he stumbled back, he huffed dusting off his shirt. You smiled slightly over at the boy,

“See you soon raccoon boy,” you gave him a proud salute.

“Hasta La Vista Miss Blade,” Tommy responded, saluting you right back.

You turned away from the boy and headed back over to Ranboo’s side, “You ready?” You nodded in response with a little smile on your lips. “Good. Next, up is Ghostbur right? We need to find him.”

“If we can locate Friend we can locate him.”

It took a while, but eventually, you and Ranboo found Ghostbur and Friend wandering around a forest nearby the crater. Immediately spotting you a bright smile spread across the ghost’s face, “(Y/N)!” He shouted, throwing his hand in the air with a wave, “How’re you doing darling!”

“I’m good Ghostbur! Have you met Ranboo?”

“Briefly. Nice to see you again!”

“Ugh, ditto,” Ranboo responded with a shy smile shuffling a little behind you.

You smiled and pulled an envelope out from your bag, you held it out to him.

“You and Friend good sir, are invited to Technoblade and I’s wedding.” He gasped loudly, eyes lighting up with pure and utter joy,

“Technoblade getting married! Oh my god, that’s phenomenal! You’re going to make the most beautiful bride,” he praised excitedly as your face turned red at the compliments, “Gosh, you two are so lovely together, I wouldn’t miss this for the world! Do you have a dress? You have to show me!”

You rubbed the back of your head, rocking on your heels, “Well...about that.”

“Do not tell me you don’t have a DRESS?” He practically yelled crossing his arms, “I’m disappointed in you!”

“It’s in two days Ghostbur! I had no time! I’ll make do with something. I’m sure I have an old dress somewhere-”

“UNACCEPTABLE!” He grabbed at your hands, “I’m getting you a dress. I’ll meet you at Technoblade’s tomorrow, just hold on!” Ghostbur ran his hand through Friend’s wool with a smile, “You’re going to be one of the most gorgeous brides, only second to Sally.”

“Well I’m honored, I’ll see you then.” You smiled adoringly at the little ghost as he floated off his sheep buddy by his side.

“Do you think he’s getting you a dress?”

“I have no idea,” You responded with a shrug, “It’s sweet he’s willing to put in the effort though.”

“Or creepy.”

“It’s sweet you jerk,” You nudged him with your arm Ranboo smiled,

“I’m just glad it’s off our to-do list for tomorrow.”

“True that means you can sleep in,” You teased as his multicolored eyes lit up,

“Hell yeah.”

~~~

Day 2: Ghostbur’s Gift

You woke up to sleepy kisses and tender touches, one of the loveliest ways to wake up if you might add.

“Morning big guy,” You cooed fondly as he made a soft purr-like sound in his throat. You turned over to face him and he immediately pressed a kiss to your lips. The voices couldn’t help but point out how cute you looked in the morning.

“Helloooo...How’s your ankle?” He asked his thumb brushing against your cheek, closing your eyes you let out a soft,

“Much better.”

“Good, I heard from Ranboo Ghostbur’s supposedly stopping by today. Any particular reason?”

“He says he has a dress I can wear for tomorrow.”

“How does he have a dress exactly?”

“No idea, but I’m going with it.”

“If you’re sure. Just don’t look bad.” You frowned and bonked him on the side of his head, “it was a joke!”

“It better be a joke or I’m leaving your ass. I look good in everything so fuck off.” You hissed as Technoblade groaned,

“Heard you loud and clear Princess. Scouts honor, you’re the most beautiful girl to me you know that.”

“I do. Just don’t joke around like that, makes me feel bad okay?”

He frowned a little and moved to hover over you, his hair framed his face and fell past his shoulders. It tickled your cheeks and you ran your hands through it meeting anything but his eyes suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Technoblade kissed the tip of your nose,

“Hey, Princess look at me.”

Turning your head towards his voice, the two of you locked eyes, a sense of calm washed over you, the only thing in his eyes was pure, unadulterated love.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world to me. No matter what I’m always going to think that you are, you could grow a third eye and I’d still want to marry you tomorrow. I’m sorry I made you feel bad, it was a joke but I won’t make it again. I swear.” You felt your eyes water as you tossed your arms around his neck, the sudden movement caused him to fall forward crushing you beneath him.

“I love you too bubba. Thank you for listening to me.”

“That’s part of my job idiot.”

You smiled against his neck and held him tighter, Technoblade reciprocated the hug and decided the both of you could stay in bed just a little while longer. The two of you shared soft kisses, every once in a while Technoblade would reinforce how precious you were to him, eventually, it all got to be too much and you shoved your hands in his face.

“Enough is enough! I’m embarrassed now.” Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression and pressed a fond kiss to your lips, obviously you kissed him back, your fingers threading through his hair.

“Princess…” He let out a pleased sound in the back of his throat, “you’re making it hard to get out of bed. I still have some stuff set up for tomorrow and you gotta look out for Wilbur.”

“Or hear me out. You can stay in bed with me all day, and keep giving me kisses,” You pressed your lips to his own before whispering in his ear, “Anywhere you’d like.” You nipped teasingly at his earlobe and suddenly felt the heat radiating off his face. As you expected his face was a deep red color and you felt his head fall against your shoulder,

“You’re going to kill me.” You only laughed in response, finally pulling away from him you swung your feet over the side of the bed, “you can’t just say that and walk away.” He whined loudly with a little pout on his lips, “Especially since I won’t see you until the wedding.”

“Suck it up buttercup,” You stuck your tongue out at the man “I’ll just be at Ranboo’s if something goes wrong I’ll be within reach.” He reached his hand up and threaded his fingers through your hair, you sighed pleasantly at the physical touch, “I love you.”

“Love you too, see you tomorrow.” You gave him one last fleeting kiss before standing up leaving the warmth of the covers and your half-naked fiance behind much to your dismay. You tossed one of Technoblade’s old shirts over your head, it came down past your knees and Technoblade let out a happy sigh from behind you. You let out a little laugh, looking at him over your shoulder his eyes were half-lidded as he stared at your now bare legs. “Hold on don’t change just yet I wanna stare a little bit longer.”

“Perv.” You snickered ignoring his wishes and sliding on a pair of pants, afterward, you tied a corset around your waist. He responded with a ‘heh?’ of disagreement before he groaned loudly and flopped over in the bed, “see you soon Bubbas.” You leaned over and pecked his forehead before sliding down the ladder and out of the house. Ironically your timing was perfect as you greeted Ranboo right outside Technoblades cabin, “Good morning!”

“Morning, you and Techno sleep okay?” You nodded with a bright smile, “Good Wilbur should be stopping by any minute now by the way. He sent me a note earlier this morning that said he’d be around this time.”

“Works for me, wanna wait by your house?”

“You just wanna pet my bunny,” You smirked and laughed,

“Can you blame me?”

“I suppose not. Whatever makes you happy.” Ranboo sighed but there wasn’t any real defeat in his tone, “Let’s go.” Ranboo and you walked a little ways away to his humble little shack so you could play with Ranbun. You were set up in Ranbun’s pen holding him in your arms and cooing softly at him, Ranboo joined you after a few moments of jealous staring. The two of you spent the next hour playing with his bunny and feeding him lots of treats, he was one happy bunny. Ranboo was the first person to see Ghostbur coming through the trees, a large box in hand, had he actually managed to get you a dress?

“(Y/N)! Ranboo!” Ghostbur shouted excitedly floating over to the both of you, “I managed to find the dress I promised you! So long as it fits of course.” Your jaw fell open as you stumbled out of Ranbun’s pen,

“How the hell did you manage to find me a wedding dress?”

“Oh! It was Sally’s.” A fond smile spread across the ghost’s face, both you and Ranboo looked at one another brows furrowed. Ranboo put a hand to the side of his face and whispered loudly to you,

“I thought Sally was a fish.”

You whispered back in the exact same manner,

“Me too, but at this point, I’m too afraid to ask for clarification.”

Ranboo nodded seriously and stood back up to his full height, you stepped forward and took the box from the hands of the ghost he stared at it longingly like he was afraid to let it go. You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment before speaking up,

“Are you sure?” Your voice was barely above a whisper but it was still as tender as ever, the ghost of Wilbur snapped his eyes up to meet yours. He seemed to be reading the expression in your eyes before smiling almost fondly, handing the box over to you officially. He pulled out a small patch of blue and fumbled it around in his hands, like a nervous tic,

“I’m positive love. I trust you to take good care of it and Sally would want you to have it, she was wonderful like that. Just please take good care of it.”

“I’ll protect it with my life. I promise you.”

“I know you will, you’re going to be a beautiful bride, my dear.” He somehow took your hands and pressed a faint kiss to them, “Go on then try it on.” Your eyes sparkled in delight and he turned to Ranboo,

“Well go on, we’ll still be here to judge you immensely.”

“Oh fuck off.” You laughed heading into his shack to change, you managed to find an area not completely out in the open. The only nerve-wracking thing was you didn’t have a mirror so you had to pray you looked alright and that Raboo and Ghostbur wouldn’t lie to you. You opened the box and pulled the dress out, Sally really knew how to pick a damn good dress; the dress was stunning, you definitely wouldn’t do it justice. The dress fell past your feet and pooled a little ways behind you, it was more of an off-white creme color, and was made of soft lace. It was sleeveless so the winter wind gave you a chill, you hoped Technoblade picked a place that wasn’t freezing cold. You took a breath to hype yourself up and stepped out of the shack, the dress trailing behind you, you had left the veil in the box figuring you didn’t need it right now. The first person to spot you was Ghostbur, who gasped loudly bringing his hands up to his face after spotting you. You shrunk in on yourself a little bit and your cheeks turned a light pink in response, “That’s a good expression I hope.” You meekly laughed as Ranboo turned around and let out a shaky break of surprise. He reached forward with his claws to touch the soft fabric,

“It’s perfect! Fits like a glove.” Wilbur hummed happily floating around you, “I was right by the way, you look beautiful. Techno’s going to pass out.”

“Shut up I can’t look that good.”

“You do though!” Ranboo shouted excitedly, “It suits you perfectly not that I had any doubts or anything.” He jumped a little on the balls of his feet, he pulled out his memory book quickly scribbling something down inside it, as he did so he muttered “I’m the best honorary maid of honor ever.”

“You definitely are.” You praised the halfling who only seemed to grow more excited at the praise, Ghostbur cleared his throat, was he looking for a compliment too? “Ghostbur you’re a lifesaver, if it wasn’t for you I’d be walking down the aisle in Netherite. Thank you.” Ghostbur seemed to preen a little as he smiled proudly,

“I know. I’m pretty great aren’t I? I basically saved the day.”

“You certainly are.”

“Oh! Just return the dress the next time I see you after the wedding okay?”

“I will have no fear, it’s in safe hands.” The ghost nodded, “I can’t wait to see it in action tomorrow.”

“Me too,” you sighed lovingly, doing a little twirl in the dress you could only imagine the look that would appear on Technoblade’s face when he saw you.

You hoped the voices would approve because Technoblade was absolutely going to short circuit and go feral, you could hardly wait.

Day 3: The Wedding Day

The night before the wedding Technoblade couldn’t sleep his body was buzzing with nerves, which was a foreign feeling to him. He was worried about you not sleeping by his side, this was the first time since you’ve officially gotten together that you weren’t there. He didn’t realize how much he missed your presence and warmth, he pulled the pillow you usually used close to his chest. He felt like a love-struck teenager cuddling the pillow of his missing girlfriend because that’s basically what he was, except instead of a girlfriend it was his fiance. The voices didn’t help his longing either; they were roaring in his head asking where you were and when you would come back.

Where’s (Y/N)? I miss her! Can Ranboo protect her if something goes wrong? What if Dream gets ahold of her in the meantime and you’re up here sleeping? I wanna squeeze her thighs again right now. E. That’s disgusting, stop, don’t sexualize her like that. B U T T. Can I get a big pog for butts? Thighs for the thigh god.

His entire face went a deep scarlet, “What does that even mean guys.” Technoblade let out a loud groan of embarrassment, some of the voices laughed, some others rumbled with anger. “I just want her by my side is all, I miss her. I miss her touch...I don’t know when I became such a sap. I hate that I care about her this much, but god without her I’d be lost.”

SIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMPSIMP

“You shits.”

The morning rolled around and Technoblade woke up as soon as the sun shone through the windows. He fell asleep around three in the morning, tired as shit, bees buzzing around in his stomach.

Today’s the day! Gotta get ready as soon as possible, you’re gonna look so handsome! I bet (Y/N)’s gonna be equally as beautiful! Don’t fuck it up. Celebratory murder spree pog? She’ll think you’re so hot covered in blood. No! E. Normalcy is key!

He shook his head to get rid of the nagging voices rattling around in his head, he knew what he had to do, and listening to the voices wasn’t one of them. Phil was going to come soon and Technoblade had to look presentable so they could head to the venue and Phil could set up some last-minute decorations. Techno would say he felt bad making Phil do most of the work, but he honestly didn’t, especially since he was so inept at romance in the first place. Never one to wear a suit Technoblade decided his best outfit would be his arctic retirement one, a suit would be too constricting. After all, what if it was attacked and he needed to jump into action, Phil had told him that he was absolutely not allowed to bring weapons which he was not happy about at all. Although the man did reassure him that he would be armed and have an extra weapon just in case something was to occur, he guessed that was FINE. With a soft huff, the man stood up from his bed and pulled out his outfit, the soft blue made him yearn for the days before they found Tommy living under the house. In a way wearing this symbolized a time in their relationship before he was forced into bloodshed once again, plus he knew you loved the fuzzier outfit.

Putting on everything, he brought the fur cape around his shoulders, his crown glittering on his head in the light. He looked regal, he would say he looked like a king but he hated all forms of government so he just looked like his usual badass self. In his closet sat his wedding gift to you, it was a gold tiara that matched his crown in his own way finally solidifying the both of you as a blood god duo.

Turning away from the tiara he grabbed a hairbrush to tame his wild hair, he wanted to do something different with it. It spilled around his back and down to his waist, he managed to tame the frizz with some product that he ‘borrowed’ from you. In the end, he had two small braids framing his face, he grabbed both of them and pinned them together on the back of his head. A half-up half-down look almost made him look like a Viking, he liked it. Technoblade placed gold earrings along with his ears and added some gold accents on his wrists and fingers, none overshading his engagement ring.

His ears twitched hearing the door open downstairs, Phil was here, it was time.

“Hellooo!” Technoblade called from upstairs and Phil responded with a cheerful,

“Hey mate!”

As Technoblade descended the ladder, Phil smiled fondly at his old friend, he immediately adjusted the cape on his shoulders. Technoblade huffed a small laugh, “Was that really necessary?”

“Obviously. I’m the married one, I know what I’m doing.” He shot back snickering, “You ready to go?”

“As I’ll ever be I suppose.”

“I’m proud of you man,” Phil responded with a fatherly smile “You’re never going to forget today. It’ll be the best of your life.”

“Ehhhh I don’t know about that. Spawning those Withers and blowing up a country really gave me a rush.”

“Oh fuck off,” Phil howled with laughter while shoving the snickering piglin. “This’ll be an entirely new feeling, I would know.” His wings puffed out happily remembering his marriage fondly,

“Didn’t you marry a fridge?”

“You’re literally the worst.”

Technoblade smirked just happy he steered the conversation away from any of that mushy crap. He was going to get enough of that as it is in a few hours, oh look at that the bees are back. Phil gave him a pat on the back and the two of them left the house side by side. The spot Technoblade picked out for the wedding was one both of you would like, a snowy taiga, it was warm enough that you wouldn’t freeze to death but still had the beautiful powdery snow that Tecnhoblade loved. Phil had done an amazing job of setting everything up, on the arch, there were beautiful blue flowers interspersed with white roses (both of which you picked out prior), they stood out beautifully against the wooden trellises. There was a carved stone pathway leading the way up to the arch and a few wooden benches decorated with light blue silk so whomever (Y/N) invited could sit down. He knew most of them would only be there for her, he was okay with that, all he needed was Phil and Ranboo and he was content. Next to each booth was a stone pillar, on top of them sat a bouquet of white and blue roses.

“You really outdid yourself, thank you.” Technoblade whistled,

“You know I’d do anything for you mate. Glad I could provide, I do have one last little decoration though.” Phil mused reaching into his bag he pulled out a small gold bell similar to the one he had inside his house. He placed the bell above the arch so it would chime softly when the wind blew against its side. Technoblade smiled fondly at the sight and wrapped his arm around Phil’s shoulder.

“I love it. (Y/N)’s gonna love it too.”

“Thanks, man.” Phil said softly bumping against the blade, “Do you know who’s going to show up by the way?”

“Absolutely no idea.”

“Guess we’re gonna find out, look.” Technoblade stepped away from Phil and looked in the direction of his friend, cresting over the hill seemed to be two girls, Technoblade was immediately confused because he didn’t realize you had friends who were women. Phil let out a small laugh, “Oh it’s Niki and Puffy, Ranboo must’ve introduced (Y/N) to them.” Technoblade only nodded his lips twitching into a frown, new people...gross.

“Hi, Phil! Technoblade!” Puffy chirped brightly, her hand intertwined with Niki’s tightly, “Congratulations to you Mr.” She lightly tapped Technoblade in the chest he blinked in surprise,

“Thank you?”

“I may have just met (Y/N), but just know if you do ANYTHING to hurt her at all I will slaughter you.”

“Darling please…” Niki sheepishly smiled, “you realize you’re threatening Technoblade right? Not the best idea.”

“It’s alright. I admire your gumption,” Technoblade gave the both of them a thumbs up in response, “I’m glad (Y/N) has someone else like that looking out for her. But, just so you know. The same to you.” He eyed the both of them with a sharp look in his eyes, Puffy let out a nervous laugh and Niki narrowed her eyes warily.

“That’s fair.”

“Anyway!” Phil cleared his throat, “let's not ruin this before it even starts.” He led the two girls over to their seats with a small smile, “(Y/N) will be super happy to see you both by the way. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, (Y/N) and I are soulmates after all.” Puffy swooned happily as Niki giggled fondly at her antics, “Technoblade better watch out. Niki and I will steal her heart.”

“I’ll be sure to warn him,” He snickered, glancing over at his friend who was sniffing at the flowers in the pots. “If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask, Wilbur should be here soon then (Y/N) and Ranboo will come and it’ll start.”

“Sounds good,” Niki hummed playing with the sleeves of her blue dress “I’m super excited to meet her.”

While Puffy reassured her that she would, Phil noticed his son floating over to the area. “Hello, Phil!” The ghost’s eyes lit up seeing all of them, “Oh wow everything is so beautiful!”

“Thanks, Ghostbur.” Technoblade hummed walking over to Phil and the ghost,

“I’m proud of you too Mr. Engaged!” He snickered as Technoblade’s nose scrunched up in distaste, “Who knew the big, scary Technoblade would settle down with a wife, maybe start a family eventually.”

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear any of the cringy nonsense that just came out of your mouth; so I can enjoy today in peace.”

"Boo! I’m just happy for you!” Ghostbur huffed in annoyance, “I was telling (Y/N) yesterday that marrying Sally was the best day of my life! I’m so making fun of you when you get all mushy.”

“IF I get all mushy, which I won’t.”

“Sure you won’t man,” Technoblade glared at his friends in frustration if this teasing was going to continue. He was kidnapping (Y/N) himself and getting married to her elsewhere.

“I do love all the blue though!” The ghost of Wilbur swooned happily at all the flowers, “This just makes the entire day even better!-”

However he didn’t get to continue as Ranboo cleared his throat rather loudly, the enderboy looked dapper as always, a rose was pinned on his lapel, obviously from (Y/N).

"Ready Techno?” Phil looked over at him, the pigman’s frustration and confidence fell from his face all at once. Even Ghostbur was shocked at the way Technoblade tensed up and fumbled with the soft fluff on his cape, “Techno?”

It’s time. Holy fuck! She’s going to be stunning, he’s going to be a husband! HE’S GOING TO BE A HUSBAND? Oh fuck.

“Techno mate you alright?”

"Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Let's do this.” Technoblade took a deep breath walking over to the altar with Phil, Phil was obviously officiating the wedding. He didn’t want anyone else doing it, Ranboo smiled at the two of them as he walked down the aisle throwing little flower petals everywhere before standing on (Y/N)’s side of the altar. He gave him a happy little nod, Technoblade nodded back at him in a sign that he was happy to see him. Music began to flow through the air, Technoblade just knew Wilbur had managed to bring a jukebox, but he didn’t mind it was fitting.

He turned towards the rich sound and for once in his life the voices...stopped.

Technoblade could hear the music perfectly, he heard the chiming of the bell every time the wind blew, everything seemed clear and for all the sounds that were playing around him without the rancorous voices, it all seemed deadly quiet.

The true reason the voices stopped though was because he saw you.

Elegant. Magnificent. Royalty.

The words spun around in his head, because god you looked angelic as you walked towards him. He wished your face wasn’t obscured by a veil, he wanted to see you, to cup your cheeks and pull you into a desperate kiss. He wasn’t worthy to marry you, he was barely worthy to breathe the same air as someone so pure. Technoblade bit down on his tongue rather harshly, for once in his life he wished the voices would speak up so he wouldn’t feel so small in his head.

“Hi.”

Your silvery voice snapped him out of his thoughts, he drew in a shaky breath and looked at you.

“Hi,” His voice cracked a little and he flushed all the way up to the tips of his ears. He reached out to squeeze your hands tightly, he felt you squeeze back and he knew that everything was okay. Fuck, he was tearing up a little and he hasn’t even seen your face yet, fuck...Ghostbur was right. He was a mushy gross mess, you giggled a little at his flustered expression.

“You look handsome,” You whispered softly tilting your head to the side.

“You’re Aphrodite herself.”

“Take it back. Take it back right now.” The teasing tone your voice took made him relax considerably, you were still you. His lovely almost wife who’d he got to spend the rest of his life with, it was perfect, you were perfect.

“You know I do, even if it kills me to retract the statement.” His hand reached forward and gently pushed the veil back over your head.

Fuck.

It took all his strength not to kiss you senseless. Phil cleared his throat and smiled at the small crowd of people who came to the wedding, Puffy seemed to already be emotional, Niki rubbing her back with gentle circles. The both of you barely paid any attention to the introductions and the little details too engrossed in one another to truly listen to anyone that wasn’t each other. They both snapped to attention when Phil spoke their names with a tender smile and their wedding rings were in his hands.

“Your wedding rings are the outward and visible sign of the inward and invisible bond which already unites you two hearts in love. Groom, place the ring on Bride’s finger and repeat after me….I give you this ring…”

“I give you this ring.” Technoblade swallowed thickly listening carefully to Phil’s words as you smiled adoringly, the pink spreading across your cheeks was adorable. He shakily slid the diamond ring on your finger,

“Wear it with love and joy.”

“As this ring has no end, My love is also forever.”

“Good job man.” He winked teasingly at Technoblade breaking character to complement his friend, “Bride, place the ring on Groom’s finger and repeat after me….I give you this ring.”

“I give you this ring.”

“Wear it with love and joy.”

“As this ring has no end, my love is also forever.”

“As this ring has no end, my love is also forever.” You breathed softly staring into Technoblade’s eyes and right into his soul. No doubts, only love. Phil continued on,

“May the wedding rings you exchanged today to remind you always that you are surrounded by enduring love and so now by the power vested in me by...me, it is my honor and delight to declare you husband and wife. You may seal this declaration with a kiss.” You didn’t need to be told twice as you threw your arms around Technoblade’s shoulders smothering him with a kiss. He let out a breathy laugh against them, before kissing you back just as passionately. Technoblade’s hands rested on your lower back and he held you like you were a perfect porcelain doll. “I am pleased to present the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs… ugh Blade! We’ll go with that.” The man laughed as you pulled away from Technoblade to join in his laughter, you pulled Phil into a hug and motioned for Ranboo to join in, both did so, although Ranboo’s was slightly reluctant.

“Thank you both for everything. My sweet Borealis boys.” You cooed, Phil only laughed and Ranboo’s entire face flushed deeply at the nickname.

“We love you obviously,” Phil hummed “You don’t need to thank us. Right Ranboo?”

“Do I really have to say it?”

“Yes.” Technoblade spoke gruffly, “If you don’t she might cry.”

“Yeah, Ranboo don’t make me cry on my wedding day.”

“Oh, Christ...Fine! I love you too…thank you for giving me a home. Caring for me...all of that. You don’t know how much that means to me.” Ranboo looked up at you and you immediately wrapped him in another tight hug, he let out a little whimper and buried his face in your hair.

“You’ll always be welcome here Ranboo. We’ll always be your home so long as you’ll have us.”

“Shit,” He laughed a little wetly pulling away from you, “I’ll have to write that down.”

“You mean you’ll forget it? Rude.” It was Technoblade who chimed in this time and Ranboo flushed in embarrassment once again. He hunched in on himself before sputtering,

“No, no, no not what I meant! What I mean is like-”

“Ranboo you’re fine mate.” Phil snickered, reaching up to ruffle his hair, “loosen up a little.”

“(Y/N)!” You turned towards the shouting of your new friends and your face lit up,

“Puffy!” The two girls threw their arms around you in a warm hug, even though you didn’t know Niki yet you’re never one to turn down a hug.

Your final conclusion of the night: Niki was absolutely lovely and she and Puffy were relationship goals.

~~~

Candles were littered around the room as you and Technoblade swayed gently to soft music in your bedroom. The both of you were finally alone, and officially married, the first thing Technoblade wanted to do was have the first dance with you. It surprised you that a dance was that important to him, but you came to the conclusion that he just wanted to hold you as close as possible. “I have a gift for you,” Technoblade spoke up rather suddenly and you frowned,

“We said no gifts.”

“When have I EVER listened to authority Princess?”

“Touche,” You snapped your fingers in his direction and he snickered. He pulled away from you and you flopped down on the bed, you watched him walk over to the closet and pull out a medium-sized velvet box. “Bubs what the hell…” You murdered as he placed it into your arms, “please tell me you didn’t go too crazy.”

“I didn’t. I made it by hand,” Technoblade urged you to open it. You did so pulling off the top, jaw-dropping onto the floor. He knew that reaction was positive and pride swelled in his heart, he knew his girl well. He watched as you lifted the golden tiara out of the box, it was littered with gems that matched his crown, your thumb brushed against them in awe.

“You made this?”

“Just for you Princess. Thought you needed something to fit your name.”

“I’m so in love with you.”

“Good thing you're my wife then,” he felt his stomach swoop happily and by the way you gently caressed the crown, he knew you felt the same about him. “Put it on Princess I wanna see how it looks on you.” Your face turned red as you did as he asked, his eyes grew half-lidded and he kneeled down in front of you, “Stunning.” He kissed the inside of your wrist, his voice turning gruff, “beautiful.” A kiss was placed on your forearm, “gorgeous,” On your shoulder, “My princess. My good girl.” Technoblade pressed a hot kiss to your neck, you leaned back your breath hitching in your throat.

“Techno…” You whined softly, “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most,” He purred, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

~~~

The dogs' rapid barking stirred you from your rest, Technoblade grumbled beside you as you sat up in bed letting the covers fall from your shoulders. The air nipped at your bare skin and you frowned, you couldn’t help but wonder what bothered the dogs so suddenly, “Go back to bed.” Technoblade demanded his hand caressing the small of your back, you leaned back against the warm touch but you couldn’t shake away your worry.

“I’ll be back in two seconds.” You leaned down to kiss the top of his head, he only hummed in response. Big guy knew you could handle yourself just fine, n’ that’s why you loved him. You slipped on a robe and your slippers before making your way to the dogs, stepping inside you heard quite a few of them whining, they just seemed genuinely bothered. “What’s going on huh guys?” You cooed scratching them behind their ears, sensing your comforting presence they seemed to calm down considerably, “What’s got my fearsome guard puppies so spooked.”

“That’d probably be me.”

You jumped halfway in the air, whipping around you came face to face with the hollow white mask that Dream commonly wore.

“Fucking shit Dream what the hell?” You pressed your hand to your heart, your dogs growling lowly all around you. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“My bad.” He smirked in a way that showed he wasn’t at all sorry, “I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get an invitation to the wedding.”

“Would you have even shown up?” You raised an eyebrow as he stepped closer to you, Nightmare was at his hip making your bad vibe senses light up like a wildfire. He hummed thoughtfully rubbing his chin,

“Probably not. But, I decided I’d drop by and give you my congratulations.” He was close enough that you could smell him, he smelled like burning wood and dirt; like a little pissbaby worm.

“Well thank you,” You wrapped the robe tighter around your body like it suddenly dropped ten degrees. “You can go now-” You started before you were pressed up against the wall, his fearsome blade Nightmare at your throat. The dogs began to bark and howl at the man’s heels but they couldn’t do much without a direct command, but you hoped it would be enough to draw Technoblade out of the house.

“Clearly Technoblade cares about you much more than I had originally calculated. It’s kind of pathetic if I’m being honest. Someone like you who's so small, so pathetic, could bring Technoblade, the fearsome blood god himself, down like that. Make him soft. We can’t exactly have that now, can we? We need him...How do I say this...a bit feral, unhinged.”

“You realize you kill me, you can count on him hunting you down and slaughtering you right? I can’t say for sure the ‘favor’ is completely off the table but he’ll half-ass it that’s for sure.” You snarled right back in Dreams face, tempted to spit in it.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you, babe.” His voice dripped like honey, its sickly sweet tone made your stomach churn. “But we’re going to get really comfortable with one another, for the time being, you’re under my custody.”

“What the fuck does that mean you freak-” He hit you on the back of the head with Nightmare, successfully knocking you out. That caused one of the dogs to absolutely lose it, jumping up and tearing off a piece of Dreams bright green hoodie. He snarled at the dog and jolted when he heard Technoblade call for (Y/N), it was close. He quickly messaged his accomplice and was teleported out of the situation, via his own stasis chamber, appearing back in his home base. He smiled wickedly under his mask, as Enderman noises could be heard behind him. He adjusted the girl in his grip, the next few days were going to be a lot of fun.

: )

~~~

Leave your comments below and I hope you enjoyed! Memes and fanart is also always welcome your girl is thirsty for any scrap of content.

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