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wish-that-i-was-buckys-girl · 3 years ago

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Hi! How are you!? Hope you're good 😁 Could I request a BuckyxFem!Reader oneshot? ❤️

A mission goes wrong. The reader and Bucky are trapped in a cell surrounded by several HYDRA agents. One of them says the keywords to activate the Winter Soldier just at the moment when Steve and Tony appear to help them, they fight against Bucky trying to make him the same again until a scream takes him out of that personality: the reader is wounded, wanting to protect him from another HYDRA agent getting in the way of the bullet. Bucky becomes him again and takes the reader in his arms to return to the quinjet.

Maybe lots of angst and fluffy ending with them confessing eachothers love at the hq?

Thank you so much!!!!!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

A/N: Hi guys! Wow it’s great to be back and free from college stress. I received this request two months ago, and again I am so sorry it took this long for me to make it, but writing academic papers had absolutely kicked my ass this past semester. This ask obviously takes place where Bucky has not been to Wakanda yet to get his trigger words removed. I hope you guys enjoy! I am a little rusty, and not sure if I should write from the first person perspective or third person perspective for Y/N fanfictions so let me know what you guys prefer. Happy Summer!

Pairings: Bucky x female!Reader

Warnings: Talks of blood, gun violence. Other than that I don’t think there is anything else.

Word Count: 2.5k

You’re My Endgame

The floor was cold. It’s not like you haven’t endured worse, but the concrete you had been resting your head on was less than inviting. Your body was rigid due to the freezing temperatures and the uncomfortable position you curled your body into. The HYDRA facility you had been captured at was in Lithuania, Bucky promised he knew it like the back of his hand. Things had changed since his work and internal torment as the Winter Soldier, something he wasn’t expecting due to lack of funds on their part. Unfortunately, no one could’ve predicted there were spies in SHIELD funneling crazy amounts of money into new buildings and updating new HYDRA facilities and weapons.

You decided to sit up and stretch your limbs. It had felt like weeks you were being held hostage, but in actuality it was only a day at most. The HYDRA agents kept you and Bucky busy with periodic torture. You’ve been kicked, punched, beaten into the ground even but neither of you talked. Bucky was more familiar with these torture treatments than anyone, but he focused all of his attention on you.

He was the first real friend you had made at the Avengers’ campus. He had trauma, you had trauma, one of the best bonding factors you had both concluded. He listened to stories of your abusive childhood, being trained by your father as his own personal assassin, and he would share whatever he was comfortable telling you. You never poked and prodded. You knew you were more open than most when it came to over sharing experiences. Talking helped some people, others not so much.

You stood up and shook out your arms and legs. Once you stopped, you assessed the bruises on each body part, counting how many had accumulated over the canvas that was your skin. 48 in total. A new record.

You looked over at Bucky to see he was lying in a similar position to you, close enough that you were in arms reach but not too close that you were uncomfortable with his touch. You were both exhausted from the continuous torture, touching was not in anyone’s best interest at this point in time.

He groaned softly, beginning to stretch his limbs out as well. Trying to turn a horrible situation into a lighter occasion (as if that were possible), you cracked a joke in Bucky’s direction.

“Good morning sunshine, I see you decided to join me for our delicious gourmet breakfast” you gestured to nothing behind you on the concrete floor.

Bucky cracked a smile “Good thing I didn’t miss it, I’m starving” he joked back. You understood each other’s humor and personality so well.

“How’re you feeling Buck? I know they did a number on you after me” you looked down at him somberly.

He shook his head “Don’t worry about me. Show me your arms and legs. I wanna see how much they hurt you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Buck I’m fine. I can hold my own just the same as you. We are trained for these situations.”

Bucky rolled his eyes back at you. “Did I ask if you were trained? No. In fact I didn’t ask you anything at all. Show me your goddamn body Y/N”

You didn’t want to stress him out anymore, so you just knelt down in front of him and started showing him your arms. He hovered over them, careful not to touch your delicate flesh. His phase was full of confusion, anger, and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He shook his head, not even wanting to see your legs if this is what your arms looked like. He didn’t want to upset himself even more, which would in turn make you upset.

“Lay back down Y/N. You need to rest, even if it is on concrete. We can’t have your pretty self looking like that when we get back to the compound now can we?” Bucky replied, trying to lighten the mood once again. It was worth a shot.

Bucky always told you you were pretty, never really thinking anything of it. Steve or Natasha was his endgame, and you respected that. You were best friends and best friends always complimented each other like that. You definitely didn’t need to make your relationship more complicated, even if you were desperately in love with him. You would keep those feelings locked down in the deepest crevices of your brain, unwilling to share with anyone.

You smiled towards Bucky, getting ready to sit back down when you heard the door to the basement unlock. You both winced at the sound, turning to look at each other with dread in your eyes.

Please dear god no more. We can’t take anymore.

You wanted to keep Bucky safe from HYDRA’s wrath, and he wanted to do the same for you. Given the circumstances however, it was near impossible. Bucky felt helpless that he couldn’t properly protect you against their torture, only adding to his mental torment. He was in pure agony, and hearing that door again made him want to scream out to a higher power he didn’t believe in.

“Rise and shine dirtbags, we have a new surprise for you today” the first HYDRA agent said with a small smirk on his face.

You had no idea what they had in store for you today, always expecting the worst. You definitely were not prepared for what they were planning to do to you today.

“You, girl, have you ever met those they call the Winter Soldier?” the second HYDRA agent asked.

You had no idea what he was talking about, honestly thinking he was talking about Bucky. You knew he had been called the Winter Soldier in the past, but Bucky never shared much of his trauma. You didn’t know to the full extent what he was capable of, he never wanted you to know what he was capable of. In response, you nodded with a confused look on your face.

Bucky, however, knew exactly what he was talking about. His heart felt like it had dropped to his stomach, unable to prepare for what was about to happen. He started shaking his head furiously, begging softly. “Please, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything, just please don’t do this. Not with her.” You could see the pain in his eyes.

A third HYDRA agent strutted into the room, just as smug as the other two. He was holding a red book with a black star on it. You thought it was just a log of what torture they had performed on you, but it was much more sinister based off of Bucky backing up into the far corner of the room with absolute dread in his eyes. That’s when the third HYDRA agent started to speak.

“Longing, rusted, seventeen.” Your confusion only grew as the HYDRA agent spoke these words, but your confusion slowly faded as concern took over. You looked over to Bucky who was squinting his eyes as he hugged his rigid body. He was whispering “No, no god please no, please stop.”

You walked over to him gently, crouching. “Bucky? Bucky what’s wrong..”

The second HYDRA agent took the book from the third, continuing reciting the words “Daybreak, furnace, nine.” Everyone’s smile grew wider except yours and Bucky’s. He was starting to shake from fear and anger, knowing what was about to happen. Bucky screamed at you, something he had never done before in his life. “Y/N, get away from me. Just stay away!”

You were a strong woman, never faltering during a mission, especially in times of crisis, but you felt like curling up into a ball and crying. You were worried, disoriented, and even worse, you couldn't do a damn thing about it. The words kept flowing from the HYDRA agents’ mouths.

“Benign, homecoming, one” the HYDRA agents spouted in unison. Bucky was screaming in pain. You couldn't bear to look at him, tears streaming down your face as you heard his agony. This was far worse than any torture inflicted on you yet.

Then, the final word was spoken.

“Freight Car”

Bucky’s eyes shot wide open. His rigid body remained the same, only beginning to stand instead of hugging himself in the fetal position. That’s when he spoke.

“готов подчиниться”

You understood the meaning, but didn't understand what your best friend had become. That’s when an explosion behind the three HYDRA agents erupted, causing everyone to become disoriented.

Debris had been blown everywhere, dust clouding your vision and settling all around you. You didn’t see Bucky, you didn’t see the HYDRA agents. All you could see was a glow. It came from beyond where the explosion came from. You began squinting, trying to identify what was heading in your direction. That’s when you began to see flashes of the one and only “Hot Rod” red, along with the Star Spangled Man with a Plan. Although you wanted to smile at your rescue, your thoughts were all encompassed by Bucky. You hadn't known what happened to him, only knowing he was in extreme pain, now missing. You yelled out to Tony and Steve.

“Over here!! I’m over here. Do you guys see Bucky??”

That’s when you heard a shift in the rubble, only a few short feet from where you were lying. A metal arm had popped out of the ground, reminiscent of the scene in the Evil Dead.

Thank God. At least I know where he is.

You worked slowly over to where he had appeared out of the ground. You began removing the stones off of his body with vigor. You could finally see his face and somewhat of his body, calling out his name.

“Bucky? Bucky tell me if you’re hurt. Bucky please talk to me. You’re scaring me”

His expression remained blank, awaiting orders from whoever was willing to give them first.

That’s when you heard the faint commands of a fallen HYDRA agent, determined to finish his job.

“Attack”

Bucky’s reaction was immediate. He grabbed your throat with force, causing you to claw at his metal arm with what little energy you had left. Gasping and kicking your feet as he held you in the air, you tried calling out to him. This was your best friend, surely he had to recognize you. That’s when Steve threw his shield directly at Bucky’s legs, causing him to loosen his grip on your neck.

You fell to the ground coughing, your body begging for air as you inhaled so sharply you thought your chest would explode. Your coughing didn’t stop for a few seconds, only being brought back from reality when you heard the clash of vibranium on vibranium. You looked up to see Steve and Bucky fighting, Steve screaming “Buck! Buck it’s us!”

Bucky replied with angry grunts, not understanding anything but his commands. While Steve and Bucky fought, Tony was busy securing the area, taking out other HYDRA agents who had flooded the scene. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew Bucky was your top priority. You called out to him several times, hoping he would realize it was you. Your cries fell on deaf ears, however, as he continued to fight Steve with all of his might.

You quickly glanced at everything going on, that’s when you noticed a HYDRA agent Tony had missed while fending them off. He was holding a loaded pistol, directly in Steve and Bucky’s direction. Before you could truly process what was going on, you heard the gunshot go off. At this point you weren’t too far away from them, sprinting in their direction to protect them from the bullet. You launched yourself in their direction, screaming in pain as your body was pushed to it’s limits already in pain. As you fell to the ground, you barely noticed the bullet had entered your right shoulder. Figuring the pain was from landing on sharp stones, you groaned loudly.

As soon as you screamed, Bucky was ripped from his Winter Soldier persona and back into reality. However, Steve didn't see his realization, landing a punch straight to Bucky’s jaw, sending him staggering back. Both Steve and Bucky turned their attention to you, lying on the ground and bleeding everywhere. Bucky, who couldn’t care less about the fact that he just got punched in the face, moved over to your body with haste.

He looked down at you softly, covered in dirt and blood. His heart wretched in his chest, knowing all of this could’ve been avoided if he just double checked the layouts of the base before invading the building for their mission. “Y/N? Y/N sweetheart talk to me please” he said as he picked your head up gently to lay in his lap. You coughed up a little spittle of blood as you turned to look at him with tenderness in your eyes.

“Bucky? Is, is it you?”

He smiled down at you, with tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Yes sweetheart, it’s me. Just hang in there for me okay? We’re gonna get you to the quinjet. It’s gonna be okay.” You could hear the cracks in his voice as he spoke to you, but couldn't focus on it for too long. Both your vision and your hearing were starting to waver, going in and out as the chaos ensued around you.

The last words you remembered hearing before everything went back was Bucky’s voice.

“Don’t leave me now sweet girl, I need you. Please don’t go, you’re it for me.”

He continued talking, but lost consciousness as he spoke. Everything was dark.

_______________________________________________________________________

You woke up, looking at an absolutely blinding light. You squinted as you opened your eyes, not fully able to open them completely thanks to the mini sun above your head.

You began to move your limbs, realizing that someone was holding your left hand. You looked over to see Bucky, sitting with you in the quinjet infirmary, his head hung low and gentle sobs escaping his mouth.

You spoke up softly, unable to speak at a normal tone.

“Bucky?”

Bucky picked up his head, eyes puffy and red from the crying, not expecting you to be awake so soon after how much blood you had lost.

“Y/N? Oh god, oh sweetheart” he stood up and kissed your forehead, not wanting to move your body by embracing you with a hug.

You smiled up at him as he hovered above your face, taking in your beauty.

He spoke with a quiver in his voice.

“I, I thought I’d lost you. All because I was a fucking idiot who couldn't do my job before the mission, Y/N I am so sorry, I don’t, I never wanted you to see me that way. I’m so stupid, I’m-” you stopped Bucky from continuing his pity party by raising your left hand to his lips, shushing him with one finger.

You gently removed your hand and lifted your head slightly to meet his lips with yours. You both closed your eyes as your lips met, savoring how delicious you both tasted, even post mission. You deepened the kiss slightly, angling your head so you both had more access to each other’s mouths. You held the kiss for what seemed like forever, finally decided to pull away softly.

Staring into his beautiful ocean blue eyes, smiling up at him while holding the back of his head, you spoke softly “You are Bucky Barnes, and you’re my endgame.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan characters

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leahseclipse · 3 years ago

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The Reichenbach Fall: Aftermath - Chapter Two: So, What Did We Miss?

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x GN!Reader (With some Fem mentions)

Warnings: S2 FINALE SHERLOCK SPOILERS, Major character death; death topic, mourning, suicide mentions, depression mentions., terrorist attack brief mention (lemme know if I missed stuff.)

Summary: Now that Sherlock is back, explanations are due.

Word Count: 4.6K

A/N: Here's chapter two! As always- if you prefer AO3, click here :)

The weather had even gotten better, as if it only rained to have a full dramatic effect, there was only wind, which didn’t seem to announce a storm, for now. The sound of the leaves being crushed by my feet as I walked was to be heard, as no other sounds were around, it was very quiet today.

The silence did feel weird, I never liked it.

Not when it caused me to think of…

“Got time to spare for me?”

...him.

“Sherlock.”

“I’m not quite into this, usually- but in movies, the scene usually goes like; they stare, probably cry a bit, and run down in each other’s arms. But...the ‘stare part’ is a bit long, is it normal?” Sherlock asked.

“I would like to remind you that you were dead for two years. Hell, you’re still supposed to be dead, I just talked to a grave for the past hour, doing as if you could hear me from wherever!”

“I don’t think it works like tha- oh, imagination.” Sherlock acknowledged, raising his index. “Forgot, sorry.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing if ‘imagining’ doesn’t exist?”

“Being crazy?” He asked. “Sorry, first thought. Doesn’t mean you...actually are, you’re not crazy. Quite the clever kind actually, a tad smarter than-”

“I didn’t ask to be...praised. We’re kind of in the middle of an argument, and also in a cemetery. Which I realize now, and I doubt the dead people here would like to hear us yelling.”

“Probably.” He agreed, as he frowned.

He’s thinking.

“Can I just ask a small favor? I know that’s quite rare for me to do that, but I’m doing that because it’s you.”

“If that’s asking to keep the secret about you not-being-dead-anymore, I don’t know.”

“This could be this too, but it’s not.” He tilted his head, briefly looking down. “Promise not to kill me in the car? It’s just that, dying in a car, and ‘dying’ again would be quite an unfortunate way to decease, if you…”

“...fine. But I can’t promise I will keep that...promise, once we’re somewhere not outside.”

“That’s...fair, I guess. Thank you for...half respecting-” He stopped in his sentence as I gave him the start of a death stare. “...respecting my favor. Sorry, stutter.”

“That’s better...I guess.” I repeated, hearing a small hum from him as we started to walk out the sinister place.

I didn’t even get myself at this moment. Even though he was there, as I wished, it still hurt. He was here, right in front of me, so wasn’t it fine?

“Why do you have dried blood and bruises on your face though?”

“...John hit me.”

“John did?”

“He...did.”

Well that’s new.

“Guess you said something bad to upset him, I never thought he’d ever punch you, you guys are like kindergarten buddies’.”

Sherlock chuckled. “He had a good reason, though. I faked being dead, let him mourn, miss me. I’m even surprised you haven't done that...yet.” He said, looking at me.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Right. Got it, no...tempting.” He nodded, turning his head back in front of him.

Sherlock’s lucky I have an ounce of good in me. I would have given him more than a punch considering what he did. If he wasn’t the famous, amazing detective, and my...friend-crush, he’d be dead and put in the grave he was supposed to be in all that time.

Speaking of that, I wonder if they just left it empty, or if someone was actually there all the time. I hope it’s empty, though. It would creep me out to find out I’ve been threatening an innocent person- considering they didn’t put some random criminal in there.

At least, the positive point of all this is that he won’t have to pay for another grave, which is...a good deal, for a guy like him.

I hope he has a good explanation for this, it’d be a shame to bury him again.

As I opened the front door of the apartment- Sherlock stepping behind me, I walked towards the blinds, pulling them open to let light in. I turned towards him, looking around the room.

“Yeah, by the way, I cleaned the place.” I pointed out. “Everyday. I know you never wanted anyone to touch it, do anything at all, but I did. I guess that was me hoping you’d come back, and I realize that I...kinda hurt myself by coming back here, hoping you’d be in there, or come through the door any second, but you didn’t, for two years. And even if two years seemed enough to realize that you were really dead- I, and probably others, hoped for a miracle. We didn’t stop at all.”

“I do realize I will never be sorry enough, because no amount of apologies would ever make up for two years, or even a month, or a week.” He listed. “I left you, I acknowledge it. But, even if my next words might anger you more...I did it so you wouldn’t be the ones that’d end up dead. Even if I didn’t die, I did make the person after me believe that, I think. And, don’t hit me for that either- but I’d do it again if a great risk was to put you all in danger. Even you. I know that I haven’t been the nicest, which made you believe you were just a girl working with me, but you’re like everyone I’m always with- a friend, that I also consider family, and you still are, you’ll ever be, if building back our relationship happens to take time.” He admitted.

“I don’t even know what I feel about you...about your death, and you...being here, after a whole lot of time. I mean- we all felt your death deep inside us, it wasn’t just ‘wow, we’ve been real sad , but now we can move on and be better, just as no important person if our life didn’t just die!’, you really couldn’t have...let us know without letting anyone know that we knew?”

“You know I would have if I could have!” Sherlock yelled. “I tried to think this through, and this seemed like the only way to solve this without damage. For you guys, mostly.”

“Oh, so, letting John witness his best friend committing suicide, letting him see his body on the bloodied pavement, his head kinda blown out, literally his friend being dead- was ‘without damage’ to you?”

“It seemed like, at the moment.”

“Well guess what, it wasn’t!” I exclaimed loudly.

“Gosh, try to understand, I don’t know, do as if you were a stranger, I don’t know! If a psychopath threatened to kill you, and your friends, or kill your friends to throw the blame on you, what would you do? Because someone would have known if I ever told it. And they would have killed you, all.”

“I could have done it. You know it wouldn’t have been as bad as it was with you, if it had been me.”

“Please don’t say that.” He plastered a saddened look on his face. “You couldn’t have done it instead. No one else could.”

“I could have, if you had let me. You didn’t deserve this.”

“Neither did you.” Sherlock quietly said.

The both of us glanced at the other, not one word coming out of someone’s mouth. Neither of us knew what to do.

He let out a breath, walking to the window, next to me. “...you’re making it feel like you’re not important.”

“That’s because no one is as important as you.”

“That’s not true. You are.”

“You know it wouldn’t have caused this much chaos with me. We needed you more, you weren’t some stupid detective, you were the most qualified, hell, everyone needed you. Lestrade didn’t need us as much as he needed you.”

“He did need you. you know that. You two were qualified enough to function without me. Don’t act as if you’re not smart, please.” He pleaded. “It was mine to deal with, this was between Moriarty...other people...and me, so not even some kind of FBI agent training for 40 years could have done it, or you, or John.” He explained. “I even had to plan how I’d die, how I’d set it up, how I’d hide, not let my presence slip out- I’m not saying you’re imcompetent, but all of this was mine to handle. I wouldn’t have been able to let anyone carry that. And if I had really died, that would have been fine either, because I would have died protecting the ones that mattered.”

“We would have still felt guilty. There’s always heavy consequences in that kind of event. We all searched what went wrong, if we missed anything leading to that, if we let an important detail slip that caused you to do that, or anything else that could have been blamed upon us. We all thought that was our fault.”

“I know. I thought of that. I do regret it, but I had to...jump off that building. If they wouldn’t have seen me die, they would have killed you all. And the same goes for the actual situation now. If they had seen me dead earlier, they would have killed you too.” Sherlock said. “Look, I wish I could have given up being dead and contacted you in some way, but I had to stay hidden until I could come back without risk, without you getting killed.” He specified. “I would have been the one filled with guilt if I risked your lives.”

“You wouldn’t have deserved to die. You still don’t” I quietly said, resting against the wall. “Do you even know how important you are to us? You’re more than a guy we work with.”

“...and I’m grateful for that. But all I’m asking you is to let me explain what happened; see it as a way to show how much you matter to me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Moriarty wanted me to die. He summoned me to the rooftop, and...after I found an ‘arrangement’, he killed himself first, leaving me to be the only choice to save my friends . So, I had to jump as I was being watched, and if I hadn’t jumped, they would have killed Lestrade, John, Mrs.Hudson...and you.” He insisted on the last word, looking at me. “So this was better, what was supposed to happen, and the two years weren’t planned. I came back because there probably was...a literal terrorist attack.”

My eyes widened. “What? Aren’t you supposed to…”

“It’s being handled, forget it. It was probably a false alarm”

“We were on the road, Sherlock.”

“It’s far from here.”

“Why aren’t we there, though?”

“Day-off. I’m technically still dead.”

“Not really if people saw you. Plus, I doubt it’s a false alarm if it’s bad enough for you to come back.”

“Other people are handling it. Look, are you worried about them? I’ll send a text right in front of you.” He took his phone out, typing a few characters before hitting the ‘send’ button. “Just wait.” He looked to his right, as his phone emited a sound. “There…”we’re still alive.”

“Better, yeah.” I nodded. “...two years was really long, though. I started to believe you had really died, so I guess it worked.” I exclaimed with a shaky voice.

“Glad to know my plan turned out to be successful. Thanks for giving your review.”

“Quite rare of you to be polite. I do suppose you say ‘please’, and ‘thanks’, but I think you forget to say them out loud.”

“Sometimes, yeah. But I do think of them.” He confessed.

“Hm. But...what led Moriarty to do all of this? I’m not quite sure I have all the details.”

“Oh, that. It began a while ago, before you fully worked with me. The criminal network he was headed for was vast, he was practically everywhere, like a ‘cancer’, so we came up with a plan. Mycroft had...fed him information about me, and in turn he gave us hints, as to the extent of his web.” He explained. “And as you know, we let him go, so he’d acknowledge having the upper hand, which led him to destroy my reputation. But...I had to let him believe he had ‘won’, so he could reveal himself, in a way.” He informed, as he moved around the room. “Once we were on that roof, there were at least 13 likely scenarios, which were rigorously worked out and given code names. But, even if I said that he destroyed my reputation, it wasn’t what he truly needed. What he needed...was for me to die.”

“And then, what?”

“He...basically told me that whatever I’d do with him, nothing would prevent the assassins he had hired to kill you, unless…”

“You’d die.”

“And complete his story.” He added. “But the thing I wasn’t able to know was how far Moriarty was prepared to go. I guess that was my fault, on this one. Our first meeting at the swimming pool should have been enough.”

“What did he tell you, back then?”

“He told me about his death wish. And, realized it. He killed himself in front of me when we were on the roof as I told you, and I didn’t have long until the assassins would arrive, most likely. I contacted my brother, and the whole scene started. Each person around was part of the plan, even the pedestrians.”

“You hired...pedestrians?”

“I needed the scene to look real.”

“This street is always empty, this couldn’t have worked?”

“Um...not really. This had to look real, plus they kinda contributed.” He detailed. “Oh and if, them getting killed is part of your concerns, they didn’t. The three of you, and me, were the real targets, they would have only killed anyone trying to fail their mission. And also, if that’s also a concern, the whole street was closed off, like a scene from a play. No accidental arrivals.”

“I didn’t even know all of this was staged. Even the paramedics were?”

“Even them. They’re the ones who faked checking on me so John wouldn’t reach me once I hit the ground.”

“How did he not see, though?” I questionned.

“Before I jumped?” He asked, as I nodded. “I made sure he stayed behind the building situated in front of the hospital. That way, he couldn’t see that I hadn’t actually fallen on the ground, but on an airbag. From that moment, the airbag needed to be cleared out of the way as John came, and as he needed to see a body, a fake one was thrown out of the window.”

“And...what refrained him from running to the body?”

“A well-timed cyclist. He ran into him, giving me the time I needed to exchange places with the corpse, and the rest was only ‘makeup’, I couldn’t be white as a sheet, there had to be blood because of how hard I fell. And, before you ask, what refrained him from feeling my pulse once he had reached me was simply a squash ball under the armpit.”

“You made it sound so…”

“Emotionless? Easy? You could say that.”

“I’d say it’s that. But the moment must have been...I don’t know, between you hearing John, and him feeling helpless upon seeing you.” I said. “Be glad I wasn’t there, because you know I wouldn’t have stayed, the plan would have failed because of me.”

“I know you would have listened, anyway. Don’t underestimate yourself, you’re smarter than you think you are, actually.”

“Compared to you, not really close.”

“If Sherlock Holmes himself tells you that you are smart, it’s not a joke, especially if I say it more than once.”

“Promise you’re not lying?”

“Always.” He promised.

“If you’re always going to be this nice, I might even give up on killing you.”

“Oh, please. Killing me. That’s so two years ago.” He stated, looking right at me as a small grin drew across his face.

“Careful, that can always stay an option. I said that I might, not that I will.”

“I’ll sleep with one eye from now on, then.”

“Then be it, I guess.” I defied, letting my eyes fall on the ground after a few seconds. “I missed having you around.” I admitted with a small voice.

“I’m sorry I made you sad, that wasn’t my intention. I swore that it’d never hurt anyone else other than me, and yet- look at us now.”

“We’re kind of broken, isn’t it?”

“You could say that.”

“Do you think we’ll ever fix it?” I asked, with teary eyes.

“Most likely. Even if that takes years.” He walked towards me, taking a breath before fixing his gaze on me. “I hope that’s the case, I don’t want to keep hurting you.” He confessed, gently taking my hand.

“And I hate not having you around.” I responded, getting up from my spot as I enlaced my arms around his waist, holding tight.

“I’ll do my best to not disappear again.” He spoke out, putting one arm across my back, while the other went on the back of my head, slowly, as if he wasn’t totally at ease with it. “This shows how much you count, I’d never do that usually.”

“I appreciate it, but don’t ruin the moment.”

“You’re even taking your behavior from mine, what’s next? My job?”

“Who knows? I’ve been doing a lot these last two years.”

“I’m sure you’re capable of becoming better than me in less time, and before you throw back the compliment, don’t. This is me...trying to be nice.” He explained, lightly tapping my head before we broke off.

“Thank you for...explaining. I’m glad you’re back.”

“Thank you for…not killing me?” He thanked me, slightly unsure.

“You’re welcome, Holmes.”

“Have you been doing well...lately? I figured we haven’t talked much about your feelings.”

“Oh, that.”

I wish he could be more precise, but he doesn't even know of the ‘other’ feelings, which are more of the love kind.

“...I don’t even know if there’s much, to be honest.” I admitted, looking at him. “I mainly wished it could have been me. A world without you seemed impossible, a great loss, almost unfixable. There was no one else like you, and I...even thought about dying, myself. I was in a really bad place. I even started to do as you weren’t dead, I’d go to your apartment and unconsciously wait for you to return, everyday.”

It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

“And if you hadn’t come back for another two or three years, I would have believed it, fully- even if a part of me would think it wasn’t possible. Nothing can kill you, you’ve basically survived everything, and I do know you have moments of weakness like everyone, but you’ve always done your best to stay strong, no matter how difficult it was. And me...I’m not like that. I always have a hard time with some cases, and I always stand behind John and you so by the time you look at me, I’m good as new, as if I didn’t start to cry.” I detailed, fidgeting with my hands. “But...when you died, I didn’t cry, I kept all my feelings in a bottle, most of the time. I attempted to keep my head straight, for you, which was after a bit of time. I mostly wish it had been me...instead of you, and I’m aware of what I could have done, to make the pain go away.”

“I really caused a lot of damage, which seems pretty difficult to chug down for now, I lied about a big thing, and I can’t be sorry enough. I know that we can’t make life go back to normal, because nothing will erase this, or make it get forgotten- considered it’s all over the internet now.”

“You’re trending on Twitter?”

“Pretty much...seems like it- the press must have seen me. This will make things quite unpleasant, they’ll probably harass you guys as well, gosh.” He complained, running his hands through his hair.

“What’s ten more journalists? I’m used to it anyway. Besides, we’ve already got a lot of stuff in our hands, and will probably have more. Lestrade is gonna blow your phone again.”

“We do have a lot, including having a talk with him. There’s no way he’s getting away with that, you two are the best I have ever worked with.”

“I was going to say it’s quite rare from you but, I’ll just take the compliment.”

“I mean it, so it’s a good one.” He quietly chuckled. “Is our fight over...or?”

“I’d say so? I mean, there’s gonna be some ‘getting-used-to-you-again’ moments, of course, and some explainings, but I’d say we’re cool, yeah.”

“Then um...is it a good moment to announce that John and Mary are getting engaged? I didn’t want to announce it in the middle of a...death, well- fake death topic.”

“They are? When did they even-”

“Oh, at the visit I paid them. He was most likely about to do it, but then we talked, I said a ‘joke-y’ thing…”

“And he punched you.”

“Right.” He confirmed.

“Let me guess, you don’t have anyone to go to the wedding with?”

“Exactly.”

“And I guess that the person that’d fill the vacant spot to go with you...is me? “

“Correct? I mean, if you’d be okay with it.”

“Well I’ve never been to a wedding so...that’d be a great experience.” I admitted.

“As we say, ‘there’s a first for everything’. Plus, I can call Mary now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You see, she had to stay with John, to talk him out of killing me, and other stuff that bores me, and she asked me to talk to you, and ask if you wanted to be her wedding attendant...and you said yes.”

“Did you ask me just because Mary asked you to? I feel like there’s another reason for that.”

“Is this really necessary?” He complained.

“I’m asking so...yeah. I guess.” I assumed.

“Fine, I wanted to have you with me. The thought of being with a friend of hers for a whole day annoys me, and I don’t want to have to pretend to have a good time, only to disappoint her at the end of the day.” He sighed. “And yes, I do have a small amount of compassion for people, even if they are all infuriating to the root.”

“Work on it, because people tend to think you’re embarrassed, or have no interest in having a conversation with them.” I advised. “But...I’m glad you thought of me. I’ll be attending this event with you with immeasurable pleasure, Holmes.”

“You just saved the day, I appreciate it. Call me by my name, though. I know you use Holmes as a nickname, but you have the ‘close associate privilege’, use it.”

“Did you just invent this?”

“Probably. Probably not, who knows. Invent your own words, it’s not forbidden by the law, plus who is going to stop us? The queen? Pff, let her try to catch me.”

“Hm, fair enough.” I agreed. “Although, I don’t get why you dislike ‘Holmes’, I’ll attempt to use it less to please you then, Sherlock.”

“It's very kind of you, Detective.”

“Pff, you’re a child.”

“A grown child then, I’d even say I’m superior, whether I’m speaking of now or when I used to be like them.”

“They’re children, chill.”

“That is quite a complicated task to ask, I do not accept being inferior to a toddler.”

“Come on, it’s a child, don’t be so harsh.”

“Quite complicated, once again.”

“Is there anything that’s not complicated? Something?”

“You.”

“What do you mean...by ‘you’?”

“You know it, you’re nice to be with, easy to talk to, understand, I’ve never had issues when it comes to being with you.”

“Woah, that’s...surprising?”

“I do agree that I’m not that open with everyone, you’re simply part of the few people that I can talk more deeply with. The others just get their whole behavior analysed along with harsh critics, you guys are lucky...even if I used to do that when I met you.”

“I still remember it. You don’t take criticism from a renowned detective in a good way, usually.”

“It’s not really to be taken in a mean way, mainly to be honest so I don’t hurt any feelings later on.”

“People actually tend to see it in a mean way.” I confessed.

“Do they?” He questioned.

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t aware of it.”

“And you’re most likely going to erase that from your memory because you don’t like it.”

“Correct, again. I prefer to be honest, always.”

“I know you do. But you weren’t harsh enough to push us away, we’re still supporting you, years after. You’re gonna have to try harder than this.”

“Is this a challenge?”

“If you’d like to see it that way, it can be.” I offered.

“Then I accept it, dear Detective.”

Even if I would like to ask him to call him by my name as I don’t get to do that with ‘Holmes’, I do like when he calls me detective.

It does give me a special feeling, and I miss smiling at that.

“You do know it’s nearly impossible?”

“Oh, please. Did I ever step down because it was ‘impossible’? I’m not anyone.”

“I do know. It’s just that it’s not going to be easy, you tried doing it when we met, and I’m still here.”

“It was just a small joke, this one is more real.”

“Is it? You’ve been failing for years, are you going to make it now?”

“One-hundred percent sure.” He informed me.

“Well then, I wish you good luck on this task, Sherlock.” I wished.

“I appreciate the kind gesture, Detective.”

“So do I.” I answered. “Anyway...what now?”

“We can either go see John again, hoping he won’t punch me- or we can stay here and talk about anything, even come back on my fake death, you can play the role of a journalist- whatever, I guess.” He said, seeming either embarrassed, or out of ideas.

“I say we let him lose his temper, we’ll see tomorrow.”

“I’d hope you’d not choose to see him, thank god. That’s why I like working with you, you always make the right choices.”

“I told you I was special.”

“And years later, you’re still right.” He agreed. “Can you take some water though? I talked a lot, you see.”

“I knew it. It was so weird that you didn’t ask for something for me to do.” I complained, walking to the kitchen.

“Don’t be mad, you have to drink too.”

I quickly came out of the kitchen, letting my bust stick out. “Yeah but who’s getting the glasses? Not you.” I pointed out, getting back inside.

“Strangely I do not have anything to say. You beat me this time.”

“Told you I’m the best!” I yelled, grabbing the glasses as I exited the room. “Man, I get to tell everyone I beat you, isn’t that great?”

“It’s a pretty good thing to brag about. You can be proud.” He offered a smile, settling into a seat. “Come on, we still have a lot to catch up on.” He said, as I set down the glasses on the low table, sitting down. “So, what did I miss?”

I don’t even know if I ever said it today, but; it’s good to have you back home, Sherlock.

|Chapter Three|

#lexies sherlock #sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock fic #sherlock bbc #john watson #mycroft holmes #james moriarty

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sherrybaby14 · 5 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas Santa

Summary: You’re at a Christmas party when Santa pays you a bit too much attention.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 2500

Warnings: Smut, Christmas/Santa! Kink, Noncon (But turns to dubcon), Please do not read if this offends you, groping, alcohol.

A/N: Here is the request, but I changed it quite a bit. Hope you still enjoy! Hmm 🤔 I know you did a secret Santa fic with tony, how about one where Steve or Bucky kidnapping a kind hearted virgin Y/N where she is doing a Christmas charity or something to do with outside Santa ringing bells and stuff, I forgot that name. Or they disguise themselves as Santa 🎅.

The office Christmas party was your least favorite event of the year. It was always at the end of the work day and you were obligated to stay late. It seemed to you if they really wanted to make it a party it would be on company time, not personal.

Of course Stark Industry had too many employees to have one giant one. Sure the up-and-ups had a fancy gala with champagne, but for the rest of you it was handles of vodka and boxed cookies for a few hours at the end of a random Friday in December.

“Can you believe that clown is running for re-election?” Your coworker had already hit the vodka a bit too hard if he was brining up politics.

“No.” You didn’t know which politician he was talking about and really didn’t care either.

“Ho, ho, ho!” A new voice filled the room. “Merry Christmas.”

Your coworker opened his mouth to continue talking, but you’d never been more grateful for the interruption and weren’t about to waste it.

“Santa!” You walked toward the person in the red costume.

“The one and only.” The Santa Claus was tall, his belly fake, you scanned the are to see if one of your coworkers was missing, but all looked accounted for. “Have you been a good girl this year?”

You were a bit put off by the tone of his voice. The way he said good girl, it was almost too inquisitive.

“Ray, did you hire a Santa?” Another coworker asked your boss.

“I can’t say I did.” Your boss shrugged. “Who sent you Santa?”

“Why, the reindeer brought me here of course.” The Santa costume looked expensive, much more grand than a department store.

The white beard and wig covered most of the man’s face. All you could see were the eyes. Bright blue, and a bit familiar.

“And I brought presents, for all you good girls and boys.” The Santa looked you in the eye and gave a wink as he set down a sack on the floor. “Santa can’t take the credit for these though. Mr. Stark wanted to make sure his employees enjoyed their parties this year.”

“Tony…Tony Stark?” Your boss about fell over. “He, he hired a Santa to come to our Christmas party?”

There was probably ten, if not more, pay grades between your boss and Tony Stark. Even he wasn’t high enough to get invited to that fancy gala party.

“He heard about the wonderful work you’ve done this year.” Santa reached into his bag and started handing out wrapped presents. “And wanted to share his appreciation. He wishes he could be here himself, but duty calls.”

This Christmas party was getting interesting. Even more so when it became apparent the presents were addressed to people by name. There were thirty-four people in your area.

“Trevor this one is for you.” Your coworker Joan read the tag. “Pete?”

Others started to pass out the gifts as well. You leaned against the wall, curious what was in store for you.

“I believe is for you miss.” Santa held out a small gift.

You were hesitant to take it, but did.

“How did you know my name?” You tried to get a harder look at the Santa, but the beard and wig were too grand to really see anything but those stunning eyes.

“Well Santa knows all the names of his good girls.” He gave a wink. “And you have been a good girl this year. I picked this out special for you.”

Your heart raced as you looked away, feeling a warmth come to your face. You had to know this Santa impersonator, he seemed to know you.

“This is…this hasn’t come out yet.” Your co-worker held up the newest top-of-the-line phone. “Holy shit, this thing is like two grand.”

“Language around Santa please.” The red suited man spoke with a stern voice.

“Right, sorry Santa.” He went back to his new gadget.

You watched the rest of your co-workers shred through the wrapping paper, displaying tech gadget after tech gadget. Many got the same thing, phones, watches, tablets, ear buds. Some even got VR simulators you’d never heard of.

Christmas was going to be spent alone this year. You didn’t expect any gifts and decided to wait until Christmas morning to open yours. Based on the box size it was a phone, but it was still worth having some surprise on that special day.

You walked over to your office and tucked the package in your desk drawer. Maybe this Christmas party wasn’t so terrible after all.

The gifts lightened everyone mood. Nobody was talking politics, the punch flew down people’s mouths, even some started to dance. It felt more like a real party and not an office forced affair.

Santa stayed. He set up a chair and people took turns taking photographs and sitting on his lap. You kept your distance at first, but after he’d been there for an hour or so people lost interest in him. Drunken coworkers started playing games and he fizzled into the background.

You glanced over at him. He raised a white glove and hailed for you. You glanced to both sides to make sure he wasn’t signaling to someone else. Santa nodded and continued to wave. You didn’t want to talk to him, but he had just delivered you a present. Besides, you didn’t want to appear rude.

So you strutted over to the man. He tapped his spread thigh, wanting you to sit down.

“I think I’m a little old for Santa’s lap.” Through the red suit you could see he was muscular. No where close to having a Santa body.

“Nonsense.” He grabbed your wrist and tugged you forward.

His strength shocked you as you tripped falling into him. He twisted your body so you were sitting on his lap, pressed to his chest.

The movement shocked you too much to respond. You looked around to see if anyone was going to come to your rescue, but not a single person at the party noticed.

“That’s a good girl.” Santa let go of your wrist and wrapped his arm around your waist. “Now tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”

“What the hell man.” You tried to stand, but he was strong. Unnaturally so.

“Santa doesn’t appreciate that language.” He waved a finger in front of your face. “If you keep that up I’ll put you on my lap in another position.”

Your mouth dropped and eyes widened at his innuendo. Who the fuck was this guy? Before you could say anything his hand was on your chin.

“Leave those lips parted and Santa will have to slide something in between.” He dropped the Santa accent, you recognized the voice but couldn’t place it. “Did you like your toy?”

“I didn’t open it.” You didn’t understand why you were answering and not slapping the man.

“That’s disappointing.” He shook his head. “I was hoping you would play with it tonight. I’d love to see that look of joy it brings you.”

Something was very wrong. The Santa peered at you with a Devilish glare in his eyes. You pulled away, and to your surprise you fell out of his lap. Landing on the floor with a thud.

“Whoa, ho, ho.” Santa grabbed your elbow and guided you to your feet. “Are you alright miss?”

You glanced around at your office. Nobody seemed to notice anything was off. That made you more uneasy.

“Hey Santa!” A drunken colleague grabbed the man’s hand. “Dance with us.”

The red suited man was whisked away and you decided now was the time to leave. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe it was harmless. But he did make a spanking threat? Was he doing that to everyone? The way his arm was on your hip, it was too tight. Someone would’ve spoken up.

You arrived at your office and shut the door behind you. You reached in the drawer, pulling out the present. It felt more sinister now, not the Christmas surprise you were hopeful for.

There was bit of a shake to your hand as you ripped off the paper, dreading what was inside. When you saw the box cover of the phone all the tension you were holding in left your shoulders. You began to laugh as your head fell forward. Paranoid much?

Maybe you had too much to drink and fell into the Santa’s lap. Maybe he was just being friendly.

“Get it together.” You stood up from your desk and grabbed your purse from the drawer. It was time to head home.

You picked up the new phone ready to slide it into your bag when you noticed the clear wrapping was missing, the box already open. You shook at it until the strong cardboard parted enough you could pry them apart.

It wasn’t a phone. Instead there was a little velvet bag, where the electronic should be. You picked it up and pulled the string open, then dipped your fingers inside to pull out a silicone toy. There was a button you pressed down and the thing let out an almost silent buzz.

You gasped and dropped the item onto your desk, it vibrated around the top mocking you.

“What the fuck?” That was a sex toy. You were certain it was some sort of clit stimulator. Pink and dancing around your desk.

Then the door to your office opened and a red suited stranger walked in, shutting it behind him.

“Is this some kind of sick prank?” You walked around the desk ready to slap the man. “I’m calling security.”

“Do that and I’ll show them all the recordings I have of you masturbating at your desk, during work hours.” Santa pulled off his hat and wig. “You put on quite a show.”

“What? I…I…” Your world started to tumble down.

Sometimes you got bored, it broke up the day. So what, you shut the door for a few minutes, read some erotica, then went back to work. Recordings? You looked around for a camera.

“I told Tony to tighten security.” The bead vanished and your jaw hung open. “I was doing a routine check on random points and oh my, did I get to see the sweetest vision.”

“You’re….you’re…” You lifted a finger to point.

“I love the way your words get confused when you get excited.” He grabbed the top of his Santa suit and yanked it over his head.

Rippling muscles showed as the fake belly vanished. You fell against your desk as he began pulling off his boots.

“I caught you the first time this summer, and like a drug I kept coming back.” He continued to strip. “You’ve been the highlight of my day for months. Sometimes, when you go for two, I joint you. Stroking my cock while I watch your face twist, the way you bite back those moans, hand between your legs. I’ve wanted to come assist so many times.”

A mix of shame, embarrassment, and heat flooded your body. You crossed your legs as a reaction.

“Oh no.” Steve Rogers stepped forward. “Don’t be shy. I finally get an in person view.”

Even if you wanted to keep them shut you were no match for the super soldier who parted you with ease. His hands went to your waist and he yanked off your bottoms, leaving you on the desk in your panties.

“That is gorgeous.” His hand reached out and cupped your sex. “Already getting wet for me.”

“What?” That last line seemed to snap you back to reality. “Is this some sick joke?”

You brought your hands to his chest and tried to push away but he was like a wall.

“This is one hundred percent real.” He began rubbing his palm up and down your sex as he loomed over you, his mouth finding your neck. “I wanted to make an entrance.”

“No.” You shoved harder and tried to bend your neck to block him. “I don’t…are you blackmailing me?”

“Does it matter?” He bit down and dragged his teeth, rubbing you harder through your panties. “You don’t like your toy?”

“No!” You tried to crawl away across your desk. “I don’t like any of this.”

“Come on now.” Steve laughed. “Remember, be a good girl for Santa. Do I need to put the beard back on?”

“NO!” Did you just agree to something? You liked Christmas, but the idea of a full Santa suit was worse than a nude Captain.

He raised himself off of you, a beautiful grin on his flawless face. He grabbed the still vibrating toy and made a fist around it.

“Take those off.” He nodded to your underwear and walked around your desk, spinning you on the top in the process. He pulled down his pants, a monster cock popping forward. “And sit on Santa’s lap. I’ll make sure you enjoy your gift.”

A whimper left your lips. You wanted to, part of your brain screamed at you this was wrong. He was forcing you, what option did you have. But there was a tingle in your core from his hand vanishing.

“Do you need Santa’s help again?” He leered down at you.

You started to nod. He popped the toy in his mouth, the vision made you blink, part of you wishing he would slap you to prove this was real. Then he tugged off your panties and lifted you in the air.

You were straddling him as he lined up with your entrance.

“I promise, this will feel much better than your fingers.” He moved the toy to the side of his mouth as he began pressing you down.

You bit back the moan as he stretched you. It had been so long, and he was by far the largest you had taken. Your hands went to his shoulders as your thighs quaked, being filled by the gorgeous man.

It started to hurt and you winced. He was getting too deep. You didn’t think you could take any more. A glance down told you there was at least an inch more.

“Here’s where this comes in handy.” Steve removed the toy from his mouth and brought it to your clit.

There was no holding back the cry as you fell forward, impaling yourself on him deeper than you would’ve thought possible as your bundle of nerves was stroke with the amazing sensation. You hoped nobody heard you, the Christmas music blaring in the background.

“Oh that’s a good girl.” Steve began toying with the vibrator, moving it away from your body to make you arch your back and rock against him. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Yes.” It came out like a breathy whimper as you rode his massive dick. “So good.”

Your nipples went rock hard and you wanted your shirt off, to feel skin against skin, but you were beyond making any requests. You felt every part of him inside of you, the velvet smoothness, the overstuffed feeling. But his movements with the toy. They were making you break out in a sweat.

“Cum for Santa.” Steve pressed hard against you, making you whine. “Cum for me.”

The command made your body unfold before you were ready. As if the orgasm had been building for hours and appeared out of nowhere at the exact same time. You convulsed and shook, making unintelligible noises as you fell apart around him.

“That’s the best gift, that look on your face in person.” Steve licked his lips as you tried to focus. “Merry Christmas to me.”

#Steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #christmas fanfic #christmas #captain america fanfic

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a-verified-rat · 4 years ago

Text

I don’t know if I should continue this or not.

Basically what I’m thinking is a social worker takes Ponyboy into a boys home instead of giving Darry custody (The let soda stay case he’s almost of age) and while doing so they learn that Johnny was being abused and take him as well. When the gang try to get them back they learn that they’d already been adopted by a soc family. And that’s all i got so far. What do u think? Should I make more?

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13801968/1/Now-Would-Be-A-Good-Time-To-Be-Any-One-But-Me

Chapter 1:

I knew the good times would never last forever. My life has always been one misfortune after the over. Just two weeks ago my parents had been killed in a terrible car crash. I still remember the silence as the cop told us the news. He tried to look solemn but I knew it was just an act. They didn’t care about us greasers or what happened to us, they just came to deliver the news and leave. They didn’t want anything to do with the three sobbing brothers in the run down house.

Their funeral was last week. It took all of my willpower to not scream and jump into the graves, pleading with them to come back, that they were asleep and that it was all a bad dream and my mother would come to wake me up and my dad would take me and my brothers out to play football. But no matter how much my thoughts told me it was fake, I knew that it was real and that they were never going to come back. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at their bodies in the caskets. It overwhelmed me with so much guilt that I couldn’t even say goodbye. I wish I could've but every time I thought of my parents dead bodies, my mothers beautiful blonde hair all bloody and tattered, my dad's playful eyes now lifeless and tull, his usual twinkle no longer there, it made me sick to my stomach and I felt like I could pass out any moment.

The state didn’t care that they had just died. They saw an opportunity to tear me away from my brothers, what was left of our family and they took it. Me and my brothers were sitting at the table eating our breakfast in silence. Well they were eating, I was just pushing my bacon and eggs around my plate with my fork. Sodapop had just dropped out of school and taken a job at the DX with his best friend Steve to help Darry with the bills that were piling up. Darry didn’t take it too well. He yelled at Soda about how he was throwing his life away.

“Darry, let’s face it I’m too dumb to get anywhere in life. Ponyboy’s the only one of us who even has a chance of making it out of here.” Were his exact words. It was true, but it made me feel uneasy. I didn’t like the pressure of having to work extra hard just to make it out of Tulsa and leave everyone. Don’t get me wrong, i’d love to get out of this town, but that would mean leaving my brothers and the gang. I loved them too much too just let them go like that.

Anyways, we were silently eating our breakfast when a powerful knock on the front door echoed throughout the house. We all shared a confused look at each other. Everyone in town knew that they could just walk in, no one ever knocked. Our parents made it well known that anyone could come in if they needed a place to stay or some food.

“You better have eaten some of that food by the time I get back, Little Buddy.” He warned, pointing an accusing finger at me, before standing up and heading straight for the door. Me and Soda stayed seated at the table, trying to hear who was at the door. It didn’t take long before an elderly looking woman walked into the kitchen with two tuff looking dudes next to her.

“Hello there. Ponyboy and Sodapop, correct?” Her voice was shrill and I knew by the wide smile on her face that something was up. I just nodded not knowing what to say. I looked at Darry. He was standing in the doorway with an expression on his face that looked like a mix of angry and anxious. It looked like he was desperately trying his hardest to not punch them and throw them out of the house. He caught my eyes for a second and my breath caught in my throat when he gave me an apologetic look. If Darry is sorry for anything, it couldn’t be good. I turned back to the woman and the men, hoping that was going to happen wasn’t going to. But I knew nothing would ever go my way.

“My name is Bree Johnson and i’m your social worker.” She said with a sickenly sweet tone that made me want to barf.

“Social worker?” Soda asked, just as confused as me. He looked at Darry and back at the woman again, before standing up as well, like he was expecting a fight.

Bree’s eyes narrowed a little before returning to their normal size. “That’s right. Since your legal guardians have passed away, it is illegal for you to be here without someone of age. So I am here to place you in a proper home”

Soda’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped. I could have laughed at his expression if I wasn’t feeling the exact same way.

“WHAT!?” He yelled so loud that I was sure the people down the street could hear it.

Bree winced at the loud voice and rubbed her ears before returning to her composed posture once again. “Well, since you're of age,” She explained, looking at Soda with pointed eyes. “You are welcome to stay, but Ponyboy here is just too young to go without a responsible adult in his life.”

I felt like I could cry. I just lost my parents and now this woman, this monster, had the audacity to waltz in here not even a week later and take me away from what I had left of my family.

“But I am of age. I’m twenty, I'm a legal adult.” Darry pleaded, practically begging for them to let me stay. While I was surprised that he actually wanted to keep me, a little part of me felt extremely guilty. We had talked about it before, that Darry would give up his chance of going to university to take care of us, but part of me didn’t feel like I was worth giving up so much.

“Barely.” Ms Johnson said sharply, narrowing her eyes at my oldest brother. “You’ve only been a legal adult for a few months Mr Curtis. And you have a full time job am I right?” Darry swallowed before silently nodding. “Then who is ment to care for Ponyboy while you��re away? And I heard that Sodapop has dropped out of school?” She asked, now turning to Soda with questioning eyes.

He looked down at the ground before mumbling, “To help with the bills.”

Ms Johnson let out a short but loud laugh before turning back to Darry. “This is what I mean. Your brother had to drop out of school to help you pay bills. How are you going to make sure that you’ll be able to provide for everything that Ponyboy needs?”

Neither of my brothers had a good enough argument, so they just looked at our said social worker with pleading eyes, silently begging for her to let me stay. She just scoffed before turning to me.

“Go pack your bags, I’ll be picking you up tomorrow.”

A stray tear fell down my cheek but I ignored it and stared wide eyed at this cruel woman. She didn’t react to my expression and just stood there with an emotionless look in her eyes.

I glared at her, more tears falling from my eyes, but I didn’t bother to wipe them away. “NO!” I yelled slamming my hands down on the table and pushing myself up from the chair with such a force that it knocked it over.

Bree’s smile faded and she looked at me with piercing eyes. “No?” The smile came back, except much more sinister. She placed her hand over her chest in mock shock and laughed again. “I am sorry young man, but you do not have a say in the matter.”

“THE HELL I DO!” I yelled at her, throwing my hands up in the air. My brothers didn’t call me out on my cursing, seemingly agreeing with me. “You don’t care about Johnny down the street who gets beaten to death by his parents every day or the many other kids who get abused or neglected by their parents.”

Her smile faded again and she leaned in closer to me, like she was trying to hear me better. “Johnny’s parents do what to him everyday?” She questioned. I slapped my hands over my mouth almost immediately, knowing I had screwed up big time.

We all wanted to report Johnny’s parents to the authorities multiple times, but we knew that if we did then he would be taken to a boys home, but I guess it was too late now.

Before another word was spoken, the door slammed open and someone ran in. Bree pushed past Darry and into the living room where the mystery person was, her henchmen following her. Me and my brothers followed them just in time to see a bloody and bruised Johnny Cade starting with a gaping mouth and wide eyes at the woman like I had been not too long before.

“Let me guess,” Bree said in a taunting tone. “Your Johnny?”

Johnny closed his mouth and turned to us with questioning eyes before looking back at the woman and nodding.

“Well,” She said. “I guess that me and the police would like to have a chat with your parents.”

Johnny just raised an eyebrow, still not understanding what was happening.

“I expect you to be here tomorrow morning as well Johnny, cause it seems that you're going to be joining Mr Curtis.” And without another word, she and her minions fled from the house, leaving us all staring at the door. A few moments of silence passed before Johnny turned back to us.

“What was that about?” He asked. “Where are we going?”

And with that, the dam broke. The tears flowed freely and I collapsed to the ground, clutching my chest. In just a matter of minutes, my entire life had been stripped away from me. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay here, with my brothers and my gang. I wanted my parents back. My eyes were too blurry by the tears and my thoughts were ringing so loudly in my head that I didn’t even realise when Soda had gathered me up in his arms and rocked me back and forth on the floor as we both sobbed our hearts out, nor did I notice as Darry explained the situation to Johnny and he too broke down crying in Darry’s arms.

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #darrel curtis #sodapop curtis #johnny cade #dallas winston #two bit mathews #steve randle

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wickedmilo · 4 years ago

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YOU CAN STAY MILO | MILO & HARSH

PLACE: A quiet White Crest street TIMING: 4:00 AM SUMMARY: Upon discovering Milo has only been a vampire for a month, Harsh decides to help him adjust to his new situation WRITING PARTNER: @notsoharsh CONTENT WARNINGS: Heavy talk of addiction, rehab, and drug abuse

Milo’s lack of self control, and inability to say no had always been something he was painfully aware of. It didn’t bother him, for the most part. If he shifted his perspective, or found the perfect high, then he could almost, almost convince himself he had a hand on the wheel, regardless of how true that actually was. It was easy to do, because he was only ever hurting himself. He was the one at risk, he was the one using the substances, venturing to questionable areas of town. Now though, his instability was putting other people in danger. If he gave in, he wasn’t the one getting hurt. It was a sense of responsibility he had never been forced to face before, and that left him terrified.

Creeping on the outskirts of town, venturing into the forest for his more sinister appetites, he was struggling to find a balance. He needed to avoid people, he didn’t trust himself not to. But he was also very aware of his shaking hands, the cold sweat leaving a sheen on his skin that ironically made him look like the living dead. He was barely scraping by on the hits he had been able to talk out of strangers. The withdrawal was only made worse by the thought of the stash he had waiting for him in his friend’s apartment. He would return for it if he wasn’t so sure a chance encounter could end in bloodshed. He shouldn’t be in town, he knew he shouldn’t be in town. But a quick meeting with a dealer and he could hide again, melt into the shadows. How had his life deteriorated so quickly? It was pitiful. Cuffing his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie, he continued to drag his feet down the quiet high street. His head bowed as he made an effort to go unnoticed, he was entirely unaware of being watched.

Harsh had started to get used to this whole ‘patrolling’ thing. It was rough at first, finding ways to steer clear of actual slayer and hunter routes, but it made the lies easier whenever there was a hint of truth buried underneath. Still, he tried to avoid killing other vampires when he could help it. A few needed to be dusted here and there to keep up appearances, but better they run into him than a slayer who actually wanted them gone. Hands in his pockets, he strolled casually, keeping to the shadows. Soft footsteps caught his ears… but no heartbeat. Interesting. He moved carefully, keeping his own steps nearly silent. There. Definitely a vampire, but not one he recognized. Harsh watched, eyes narrowed. There was something off. The guy looked young. Might be easier to stake him and go, but… something stopped Harsh going for the stake in his pocket. Something about the guy’s face--he looked rough.

It wasn’t smart, but Harsh had never been one to plan ahead. He moved quick and quiet, before stepping out of the shadows, not far from the stranger. “Hey man,” he called, voice even, casual, holding up an unlit cigarette. “You got a light? Must’ve left mine at home.” Closer, he could see the vampire’s face better. Yeah, definitely rough. Harsh had seen that look before, too many times. Damn it. Way too late to walk away now. He kept his own expression friendly, smile fixed into place. “It’s nice out, isn’t it? I thought we would never be done with all that snow. Are you from around here?”

Milo found with his heightened senses that it was far easier to maintain an awareness of his surroundings than it had been before his death. It should be a useful ability, he had certainly used it a few times to avoid crossing paths with humans. But his ability to get lost in his own head, especially when he was struggling, seemed to be entirely unparalleled. He knew he should be smarter, more focused, but it wasn’t quite that simple. Which was why, when a man emerged suddenly from the shadows, he had the rather undignified response of stumbling backwards, a yelp of surprise escaping him. Something wasn’t right, he registered that almost immediately. But tired, and aching, he had far more important things to worry about than why a stranger was potentially weird.

“Shit- what are you doing?” He demanded. If he needed to breathe, he would have been catching his breath at this point. “Who does that?” It was an instinct to place a hand over his heart as he recovered from the shock, but it only took a few seconds before the lack of a heartbeat made him uncomfortable. He hurried to shake off the sensation. “You- you want a light?” He echoed, distracting himself by fumbling in his pockets. “Fine, whatever- just don’t fucking creep up on me again.” Holding out the lighter, he realised he was shaking, and hurried to force his balled fists back into his pockets. “It’s nice out?” He glanced up at the sky, wrinkling his nose as he struggled to understand the question. “I mean- it’s night? What do you want me to say?” Turning his attention back to his company, he shrugged, playing off his response as casual, despite still feeling shaken, and now just a little suspicious. “Uh… born and raised? Why do you care?”

Oh a jumpy one. Yeah, this kid was definitely new to the vampire thing. He seemed like he might be scared of his own shadow. If Harsh could feel bad for people, he probably would have. Maybe he did. It was sort of hard to tell. Without much hesitation, he grabbed the lighter. Smoking was more of a pain now that he had to make himself go through the motions of breathing manually, but he had learned how to make it work after a hundred years of practice. He blew out a steady stream of smoke and laughed softly. “You could’ve fooled me. You seem new… scared. I wouldn’t recommend that. This place’ll eat you up and spit you back out if you let it know you’re afraid.”

He dug through his pockets, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offering it to the stranger. “Here, might help with your nerves. And you should try to look like you’re still breathing, helps you blend in.” Maybe he was playing too much of his hand, but there wasn’t much point in pretending. This kid seemed shaky. If he went around like that, he was going to get himself staked in no time at all. And that was… kind of sad. Harsh kept his expression even, though there was a knowing lilt to his voice. “I’m like you, man. Just listen for a second, really listen.” It wasn’t the kind of thing new vampires usually thought about, sitting still, actually listening for breath, for a heart beat, but if any of them would slow down for a minute, they could make things so much easier for themselves. “I’m Harsh, by the way. Real name, I swear, trust me, I’ve heard all the smart comments. What’s yours?”

“What?” Milo demanded, struggling to keep up with the vague nature of the conversation. He was almost ready to turn and leave when the stranger mentioned being chewed up and spit back out again. “Yeah, no shit. I think this place has already done that so you’re wasting your time.” He muttered. The town looked different to him now, it felt different. He had grown up in a place that would eventually be the death of him. It was a sick, and twisted thing to realise. Distracted by the packet of cigarettes, he was halfway through sliding one out of the carton when he realised what the man had said. Freezing instantaneously, his entire body grew tense. But then the comment responsible for terrifying him was followed up by another comment, by a comment he had been desperate to hear for what felt like an eternity. He had been alone for a month. He hadn’t been able to ask anybody questions, or lean on anybody for support. The one friend he could always rely on had tried to kill him, and he was just… lost. He tried to dampen the spark of hope that had managed to ignite within his chest, but it proved to be impossible. He followed his instruction, cautious, and careful, his eyes widening suddenly when he realised he didn’t hear a heartbeat.

He wasn’t sure what to say in response, his voice stolen by an overwhelming rush of emotion. He didn’t want to assume his struggle was over, was his struggle ever going to be over? But for the first time since waking up, he didn’t feel as though he was on his own. Here was somebody who potentially understood, who knew what he was going through. “You’re- you’re not going to hurt me, are you?” His voice was small, and uncertain. In contrast to the sarcastic edge usually lacing his tone. “I don’t even know how this happened, okay? I woke up like this, you’re the first person I’ve met who’s- who’s the same way.” Abandoning the cigarettes, he shifted uncomfortably on the spot, ready to run if he needed to, despite knowing he would never be able to best this person. They were obviously stronger than him, more capable in every conceivable way. “Your name is Harsh?” He echoed. “I- I’m Milo… Or I was- I mean, I think I still am.”

Harsh bit back a laugh. Was he going to hurt him? It was a fair question. He hadn’t quite made up his mind. It would be good for the whole slayer reputation he was trying to build. But… if this guy was new, he probably hadn’t made much of a name for himself yet. And that wouldn’t exactly make for a good story, staking some poor, newly turned kid. Honestly, that seemed… pretty lame. Friendly smile still in place, he shook his head. “Wasn’t planning on it. If you want to pick a fight, I’ll punch back, but nope. I just thought you looked… lonely.” He frowned a little as Milo went on. The guy had just been turned and abandoned? Well, that was a whole world of suck right there. “You were turned. A vampire, someone else like us, they must have drained you and forced you to drink some of their blood.” He paused there. Probably not the nicest thing to just tell Milo he was dead. But he might have already known.

“Good to meet you, Milo. You can still be if you want, or you can change things up. Some people do that. Once they turn… they want to be someone else. It can be sort of a fresh start, if you want it to be.” Harsh had never considered changing his name, though… other things, the rest of him… that hadn’t quite stayed the same. It had been so long, he wasn’t quite sure who he had been when he was human, but he was pretty sure that person was a far cry from whoever he was now. “So… you don’t know who turned you? Or anyone else like us? Seriously? That’s rough, man. How long has it been for you? Have you had any blood recently?”

Milo frowned, unable to decide whether Harsh was laughing at him, or at the situation. Feeling his shoulders drop when he was assured he wasn’t in any danger, maybe it was stupid to believe a stranger so easily. But he was scared of pushing the man away, of being left alone again. Even if he wasn’t entirely comfortable. “Something tells me I wouldn’t stand a chance.” He admitted, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. His sharp tongue had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion. He knew he could take a punch, but he had never been able to successfully throw one. His smile faded as quickly as it had appeared at the mention of looking lonely. The observation was a little too accurate for his liking, it forced him to acknowledge the painful, empty feeling inside his chest. “Yeah…” He muttered, scuffing his shoes against the asphalt. He had never been the type of person to ask for help, or admit he needed it. Then again, he had never felt quite so lost. “I guess I kind of am. S’not like I can go home, y’know?”

Keeping his head down as Harsh began to explain what he was, he chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. Had he really been made to drink someone’s blood? He couldn’t remember doing so, surely even high he would have questioned that. He had vague recollections of losing consciousness, feeling weak, and dizzy as he tried to push away the person responsible for attacking him. Would he have had any power to refuse? “So it- it wasn’t an accident?” He asked finally, looking back up to watch the expression on his company’s face. “Somebody did this on purpose? And then just… left me?” It was something that had been eating away at him, not knowing what had taken place. The sequence of events that had ended with him waking up in an abandoned building, missing 30 hours of his time. Was he an accident, or had somebody had planned the entire ordeal? He still wasn’t sure which was worse. He had been repressing the thoughts, struggling to focus on the present. But now his mind was racing. He was desperate for answers.

“No- no.” He hurried to assure Harsh. “I want to be Milo- I don’t want to be anybody else.” The idea of losing his identity, his sense of self, alongside his life… his Humanity. That was as terrifying as anything he had faced over the course of the past month. He couldn’t do that, he would go insane. Averting his gaze, once again, when he was asked another question, he realised how strange it felt to be saying the words out loud. Drinking blood, dying, being turned… these were things only ever talked about in the context of fantasy. And now they had become a part of his life, a part of a serious discussion. For the first time, he was talking about it. “No, I don’t know. I was in a club, someone offered me something…” His voice was slow as he sifted through his memories, trying to pull the important information from the haze of the high. “We shot up… whatever it was. And then they attacked me, but I don’t know who they were, I don’t even think I would recognise them.” Letting out a huff of breath, a decidedly Human habit he had yet to shake, he pushed his hair back away from his face. It was damp with sweat. How was he supposed to explain to Harsh that it wasn’t just blood he was craving? “A month… maybe just over. But I- no, not today.” He was too embarrassed to admit he had been trying, and failing to hunt animals in the woods. His diet consisted entirely of animals he was, by some miracle, able to catch.

“Aw, c’mon, I’m not as tough as I look. But you’re stronger than you think. One of the perks of the whole blood craving thing.” This kid was going to have to learn to fight whether he liked it or not. Slayers weren’t going to wait for him to figure out how to punch. Harsh had seen that for himself. He nodded. That much he could understand. When he had turned, he had never wanted to go home, he had a new one… until he didn’t. And it was only then that it really sunk in, how he could never put things back the way they were before. “Yeah that’s… one of the major downsides. People don’t really get it if they aren’t like us, they don’t understand. It sucks, losing that. I was never… all that welcome at home, but they were still a safety net… until they weren’t. I know it’s hard, man.”

Grimacing, Harsh shook his head. “I really doubt it. Most vampires don’t just accidentally let someone drink some of their own blood. They usually stick around for the turn though. It’s this whole… sire thing. You feel sort of connected to people you turn or the one who turned you. Usually that means something to people.” Not that he was really one to talk. On occasion, during his two hundred year rampage, he had turned someone for the hell of it. But even then, at his worst, he had usually stuck around to see if they ate someone five minutes after they woke up. He couldn’t find it in him to be proud of that. It was the bare minimum. And Milo didn’t even have that much. Poor guy. Harsh let his mind drift for a moment, back to those confused, scared faces, his brood… he couldn’t make it up to any of them now. But maybe he could make up for a little of it here.

He held up a calming hand. “Easy man, it’s okay. You can stay Milo if you want to. There’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to be a different person just cause you work a little differently now.” Harsh took a small, cautious step forward, hands still up, palms open, like he was approaching a frightened animal almost. Another little step. “So they might have drugged you first? Shit. That’s on them, not you, Milo.” He took another slight step forward, putting a hand lightly on Milo’s shoulder. “You want some? I work at the hospital, I swipe blood bags now and then. I’ve got some extra, if you need it. I know how hard it can be when you first start hunting. But you want to drink regularly. If you don’t… trust me, it’s not pretty.”

Milo frowned. He didn’t want to be strong, his physical wellbeing had never been much of a concern. If this strength came with so many catches, he would much rather revert to his old self. His weak self. “There are perks?” He asked, skepticism clear in his tone. Even if he wanted to hide it, he wasn’t sure he would be able to. Everything had become so twisted. Even now that he had somebody to explain things to him, somebody to answer his questions, the sense of hopelessness he had grown so used to stubbornly refused to dissipate. “Hm,” He stifled a bitter laugh, scuffing at the asphalt with his battered Converse. “My parents have never been the understanding type.” How many arguments had he suffered through? How many times had he stormed out of the front door, or climbed out of his bedroom window, with the promise of never talking to them again? He had been in the process of cutting them off the night he was attacked. Dying had only made it easier to ignore the never ending phone calls. The texts from his mom demanding to know where he was. “They’ve been threatening me with rehab for years… hardly a safety net.”

His frown deepening when Harsh confirmed his suspicion, he felt a surge of anger course through his veins. Somebody had done this to him intentionally. So he wasn’t a mistake, he wasn’t the result of a spontaneous accident. Sure, whoever was responsible had been high, but they would have known the consequences of their actions. They would have understood. Clearly they didn’t give a shit about him, so much for a ‘sire’ connection. “Yeah, well… apparently not.” He muttered, blinking away the tears stinging suddenly at his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, he couldn’t afford to look so pathetic. Brushing at them with the sleeve of his hoodie, he looked back up at the man so intent on helping him. Swallowing his emotion, he allowed himself to be comforted by the assurance. You can stay Milo if you want to. There’s nothing wrong with that. He was terrified of losing himself. It felt like all he had left was his identity.

Tensing when Harsh took a step towards him, he had to fight every instinct telling him to run. Attempting to brush off his discomfort, he offered his company a hesitant shrug. Harsh wasn’t a threat, he was safe. Probably safer than he had been since first waking up. “I mean, s’not exactly like I said no.” He admitted. Maybe if he had, he would still be alive, his heart would still be beating inside his chest. His eyes widening at the unexpected offer of blood, it didn’t take long for him to realise he was being forced to choose, forced to prioritise his cravings. Did he meet his dealer, and then follow Harsh? Was it rude to ask him to wait? Then again, his mouth felt dry, he almost hurt with longing as he imagined the blood bags from the hospital. The hand on his shoulder didn’t ground him, but it allowed him to focus on his answer. “Yes.” He said, a little too quickly. “I mean- I was meeting someone- I need to-” If he stood up his dealer he would be written off, forced to find another. Given his new instability, the last thing he wanted was to be left in suspense, to not know where his next hit might be coming from. “Would you- would you maybe come with me? Make sure I don’t do anything stupid… it’ll take two minutes, I swear.”

“Oh yeah, tons of them. Some take a little longer to work out, and I know the downsides are… pretty big, but trust me. It’s not all bad.” Though that might have been two hundred years of bias talking. Harsh could barely remember the things he missed about being human. Going out in the sun had been nice… probably. But he had spent far more time out of it than in it. “I’ll show you a couple tricks, if you want.” There were some things that would come in time, learning how to manage the strength, the new power. Maybe it wasn’t exactly a light at the end of a tunnel. Because the tunnel was all there was now. There wasn’t much choice except to learn to love it. He grimaced, nodding faintly. “That’s… shit, man. Rehab shouldn’t be a threat, no one gets to choose that except for you, and only if you even want it.” Though Harsh had dabbled with various substances over the years, he had never messed with anything that could get him hooked. Blood was already a life long addiction, he didn’t need another one.

Harsh kept his hand gentle on Milo’s shoulder. Empathy wasn’t a thing he could do. The sucking void where his soul should be saw to that. At least, not automatically. But he could try to think back to what his first few months were like. The adjustment hadn’t been that bad, but… he hadn’t done it alone. He cocked an eyebrow. So Milo already had another appointment. Well, he looked… rough. Maybe there was something else he was after, the whole ‘rehab’ thing probably didn’t come out of nowhere. Harsh nodded, smile still easy. “Sure, lead the way. Is this, uh… something that might get a little hairy?” It was that part of town after all. Harsh didn’t come here much if he could help it, but he had heard plenty of rumors. “I’ve got your back, Milo, just need to know what I’ve gotta do to cover it.”

Milo so desperately wanted to believe what he was hearing. Maybe it wasn’t all bad, maybe he would come to realise that over time. It was very clear Harsh had, which gave him a genuine sense of hope. He had been intentionally dismissing the idea of the future, of time passing and him staying the way that he was. But suddenly the future felt a little less scary, if only for a second. “You- you will?” He asked, surprised by the offer. Harsh was so ready to help him, it was a kindness he was no longer used to. After fending for himself, he had grown to assume nobody was going to notice him, nobody was going to make sure he was okay, or teach him how to deal with the complications of his new life. “Why are you helping me?” The question escaped him before he could contemplate how rude, or dismissive it might sound. “No- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” He trailed off, pushing his hair away from his face where it was clinging to his damp skin. “I just mean… you don’t have to, you know? Nobody else has… but you are.” A grim smile tugging at his lips, it was comforting to hear somebody talk about rehab in the same way he talked about rehab. His parents refused to understand he didn’t want it, he didn’t need it. They continually tried to force it upon him. It only served to strengthen his trust in the man beside him. “They never fucking listen to me.” He admitted. “It’s a choice, it’s not like I have to. Rehab is for addicts...”

He knew a lot could be said about the fact that he was insisting they visit his dealer before they left. And a lot could be said about the fact he was so panicked by potentially having no reliable source for his substances. But he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. Those were his mother’s words echoing inside his head. Her tone disapproving, almost, almost smug. Sometimes he wondered whether she actually enjoyed looking for loopholes in his logic. Maybe she did it just to spite him. His shoulders dropping with relief when Harsh agreed to follow him, he shook his head with a tired laugh. “No… no, not like that.” He admitted, beginning to walk in the direction he first had been. His hands were still balled in his pockets, nails digging into his palms as he considered the two hungers promised to be sated tonight. “I just- I don’t trust myself.” If he could blush, he knew his face would be glowing red. It was an embarrassing thing to admit. “I guess I’m also scared you might be some kind of hallucination, like if I turn away for a second you’ll just… be gone.” He felt a thousand times more vulnerable after being so honest, but he was smart enough to know it would be counterproductive to lie to somebody who might understand, who might be able to make him feel less ridiculous. “You are real, right? I’m not- I’m not going insane?” Jeez, how far had he fallen to need to ask that question?

So this was gonna be a thing now. Great. Harsh had gone and volunteered himself to be a babysitter for who knew how fucking long. But that was… fine. This was the kinda shit that would’ve gotten him points for his stupid deal. A deal that was long gone now. But… hell, maybe he could get a new one. Maybe teaching Milo how not to get himself dusted would earn him some brownie points somewhere. And it wouldn’t hurt to have someone to talk to who wasn’t a fucking hunter. He gave Milo a little shrug. “If it was me, I’d want help. Like I said, I’ve been doing this for a while. I know how bad things can go if no one shows a new kid the ropes.” He nodded a little. So, this guy was definitely more than just a blood junkie. But hell, Harsh wasn’t in any spot to judge. Everyone had their vices. It didn’t sound like it was Milo’s fault that he got another one added on top of that. “Right? People get so judgey about that kind of stuff. I gamble a little too much a few times and people start handing me fliers for therapy and counseling. It’s such a drag. It’s my business, y’know? I know what I can handle.”

This was probably one of the worse choices he had made in a while, following some new vamp he just met to probably go meet someone who was all kinds of shady. But whatever. Not like Harsh had anything better to do with his time. It was either this or pretend to patrol for another couple hours. “Ah, gotcha,” he said, nodding. “I’ll keep an eye on things. I’ll leave it to you, but if you start getting too antsy, I can bail you out.” Better to learn by doing. Harsh was going to help, he’d already agreed and he was a lot of things, but he kept his word. Mostly. When he felt like it. He cocked an eyebrow at the question. “Well, if I was a hallucination, I don’t think that saying I’m not one would help. But if I am one, I’m a pretty self aware hallucination. I can pinch you if you want.” He clapped Milo on the shoulder. Maybe the weight of his hand would at least be sort of reassuring. “Look, lets go talk to this guy, and if he can see me too, you’ll know you’re not imaging things, right?”

Milo couldn’t argue with that. He had caught a glimpse of how bad things could become, had already taken one life in his struggle to understand what was happening. If he hadn’t been told by a passerby that he was a vampire now, he had no way of knowing how many other people could have gotten hurt. And that had been the bare minimum. Left to fend for himself, he had been longing for so many things. But scared, and confused, and Hell, lonely, somebody to help him had been at the very top of his list. A strange sense of relief washing over him, he could very nearly cry at Harsh’s words. Finally somebody who understood. What were the chances it would be another vampire? A person willing to walk him through this terrifying, disorientating change? “Exactly!” He agreed, maybe with a little too much enthusiasm. He couldn’t help himself. He felt so justified, so validated in his habits. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel judged, or alienated, or patronised. He was just Milo to this man, and that meant more than he could possibly put into words.

Nodding quietly in thanks when his new friend promised to keep an eye on things, it wasn’t long before they began to near the meeting point his dealer had arranged. Offering Harsh a genuine smile when he tried to assure him he wasn’t a hallucination, the hand on his arm really did help to ground him, to remind him that this wasn’t some crazy, fucked up dream. “I’m pretty sure hallucinations can be self-aware, you know- if you hallucinate them that way.” He replied, if only to make conversation, and brush off how paranoid his previous concern had managed to make him sound. He wanted to apologise, to explain how much of a mess he was, but he had a feeling that might already be painfully clear. “Okay.” He said, figuring the suggestion was a pretty good way to make sure Harsh was definitely real. “Okay, that sounds good.”

Rounding a corner to appear on a near empty street, he recognised the figure waiting at the end of the road almost immediately. His dealer of two years, Jay, was leaning casually against a lamppost, and he made a point of holding his breath before he could get near enough to catch his scent. No doubt his company would pick up on that, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. He hurried up to the familiar face, watching Jay as he cautiously eyed Harsh from where he was standing. It had been long enough for Jay to know he could be trusted as a customer, which was probably the only reason he didn’t look annoyed by the unexpected presence of a witness. “He’s cool.” He murmured quietly, overwhelmed with an emotion he couldn’t quite place at the realisation that Harsh wasn’t a figment of his imagination. Slipping his cash into Jay’s hand, it wasn’t long until he was given a small baggie in return. Shoving it into his pocket, he shot him a smile in lieu of thanks before turning on his heel to make his way back over to where Harsh was waiting for him. Not for the first time he found himself grateful that buying drugs had never been considered a social event. You got in, and you got out. Why wasn’t everything that simple? Listening to Jay’s footsteps as they faded into the distance, he suddenly realised he didn’t know what was supposed to happen next. Once again, he was being thrown into the unknown. Or maybe he was choosing to jump… Hopefully, this time, somebody would be waiting to catch him.

Harsh had been around the block a few times. Though he had kept his addictions to blood and shifty poker games, he knew how they could get their hooks in, even long after death. And it sure as shit wasn’t going to help Milo if some asshole he just met started lecturing him on his habits. Not that Harsh was really the lecture type. He never had been. If Milo wanted to work that shit out, that was on him. But the vampire thing… that was more pressing. Newly turned vamps were always a concern. The more attention they drew, the harder things got for everyone else. Unless he turned them, Harsh tended to keep his distance. Too late for that here. But hell… it didn’t hurt to have someone around to talk to who kept the same hours and wouldn’t be grossed out by blood bags in the fridge.

So that was definitely Milo’s dealer. Harsh hung back, expression casual, though he made sure to get a good look at the guy. Just in case. Milo was still new at this, and there was a good chance people who he ran into on a bad day could end up face down in a ditch somewhere. Or, if the guy caught on, well… he might have to end up there anyway. Better to wait to make a call there, see how things went. Maybe Harsh would never have to think about this guy again. Ha, as if things were ever that easy here. He clapped Milo on the shoulder as he made his way back over. “Everything good?”

A stupid thought crossed Harsh’s mind. Just a really, absolute shit idea. But it didn’t go away. He gave Milo a long glance. The guy looked rough, like maybe he had been sleeping on a lot of couches lately. Probably assuming too much, but… fuck it. “So, you got a place to go, man? Y’know, it’s funny running into you, I’ve been looking for a roommate for ages. Not saying that to pressure you or anything. But… if you need a place to crash, I’ve got a new place and a couple extra blood bags in the fridge. Just saying.”

Milo exhaled the breath he had been holding, doing nothing to hide his sense of relief. It was so much easier when he was with Harsh, he realised. Not just because he felt as though somebody was finally here to support him. But because Harsh smelled differently to other people. There was no heartbeat, no urge to drain him of blood. It was like a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He nodded quietly in response to the question, grateful for the concern. “Yeah, I think so… thank you.” It wasn’t lost on him that this man had absolutely no obligation to help. And yet he had followed him to meet his dealer, had made an active effort to ensure his safety. Why? He wasn’t gaining anything in return. As if to make the whole thing even more perplexing, he was hit by an unexpected question. One that embarrassingly had tears blurring his vision. He hurried to blink them away, hoping his company wouldn’t notice.

“I- no.” He admitted, staring in disbelief. “No… I don’t have anywhere.” Was he really being offered a place to stay? A safe place where he could live, and learn, and ask any questions he might have about his new condition? After so long of being alone, of struggling to find food, this couldn’t be happening. It didn’t make any sense. Even humans weren’t liable to help people like him, people with bad attitudes, and questionable habits. Surely vampires were no different. “I- only if-” He broke off, so overwhelmed that he found himself unable to form a coherent sentence. “Only if you have space- I don’t want you to feel like you have to…” He swallowed, lowering his gaze to the floor. “If you mean it, like really mean it… then that would be… I’d like that.”

“No problem, man.” It was easy to offer Milo a smile. So far, he didn’t seem like an asshole, just like some confused kid. Harsh wasn’t the best when it came to guessing ages, but he seemed young. That plus scared and nowhere to go was a rough combination. So his guess was pretty dead on. It was probably an offer he should’ve thought about more, letting some random guy he literally found on the street come back to his new slightly less shitty apartment. But hell, he had made worse calls, some of them pretty recently. He slung an arm around Milo’s shoulders. “I mean it. I’ve got room, and… y’know, people like us, we’ve gotta stick together. The world isn’t going to hand you a bunch of blood on a silver platter. I’ve been doing this for a while, got a couple tricks I can teach you.”

He turned the both of them, the stake in his pocket long forgotten. Harsh’s fake patrols could go on hold tonight. Not like anyone was watching to make sure he stuck to his whole slayer routine. Hell, maybe he could get Milo in on that too, might make things easier for the both of them. Lightly pulling Milo along, he started back toward his… their apartment. “C’mon, kid, let’s go home.”

#c:harsh #milo and harsh #drug mention tw #addiction tw #drug manipulation tw #medical blood tw #drug abuse tw #this takes place way back when milo was newly turned

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naughtydaaikon · 4 years ago

Text

Wonderstruck

Title: Wonderstruck

Also on Ao3!

Fandom: Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun

Rating: T (warnings for some spicy kisses)

Word Count: 9,282 words (funny story, this was supposed to be like 3,000 words HAH.)

Summary:

Hanako had never specified the time for when she would die. He didn’t seem to know either, other than the fact that it would definitely be this year. What if this is it? She thinks, icy horror stabbing at her heart like the honed blade of a butcher’s knife. What if this was the moment of her death?

Alone…

In an unfamiliar place…

Without Hanako-kun.

Was she going to die without even being able to say goodbye to him? Without even being able to see him one last time? The villagers squabble amongst themselves around her, but their voices seem far away, the sound of her own heart pounding more loudly than a large hand against a drum drowning them out.

----

Nene has some important realizations in the midst of a precarious situation, and Hanako is amazingly stubborn about all of them. (Post Chapter 67 fic).

Notes: So, I’ve taken the plunge and written by own chapter 67 fic. I just couldn’t help myself. This entire arc I’ve been dying for some Hananene development. Okay. Let me be honest, I’ve been dying for a Hananene kiss in an unfamiliar place -- just like Nene described in her idealised love event. So, here I am! I hope that you all enjoy the fic. Please leave a comment on ao3, or here -- or in my inbox if you enjoy the fic! I love talking with other Hananene fans~

----

“It’s one of those famed love events you always get to hear about! At an unfamiliar location! Then, a gentle kiss!”

----

Yashiro Nene had always been a dreamer.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to weave all kinds of intricate fantasies, whimsical daydreams in which she was the star of some fantastical romantic plot. The role that she chose for herself was often the same — always the beautiful heroine of her own dashing love story to be whisked off of her feet by some stunning prince who adored both her and her chubby, thick ankles. Heroines in stories always found themselves at the center of a magical adventure, whether that adventure was being spirited away by some powerful evil or experiencing the painfully sweet throes of first love. So, Nene couldn’t be blamed if she often craved a little bit of that for herself, too, right?

Then, she wonders as she is surrounded by the unnerving masks of indifferent villagers while standing near the ledge of a very tall cliff. Why does it feel like I’m being punished for wanting those things?!

Nene had always been a little too idealistic, easy to mess with, and impulsive. Those were the characteristics that had first drawn her to Hanako-kun’s bathroom in the first place. She had wanted a wish granted — had craved love — at any price. Nene had wanted that affection even if it meant offering a part of herself to an apparition that she hardly knew. She hadn’t thought of the consequences of those actions, not until she was already covered in wet scales and breathing through slitted gills. Still, she likes to think that she hadn’t done anything quite so foolish since that point again!

Well.

Then again, there was the time that she had nearly gone off to become a fish apparition for the chance at her own harem… and the time that she had gotten tricked by Natushiko-senpai because he was hot… and the time that Nanamine-san and Tsukasa-kun had nearly sent her off to nowhere because Nanamine-san was just a little too beautiful and the cakes she had been given were just a little too good… and…

Okay, but I didn’t do anything like that just now!

She holds her hands up as the villagers advance all around her. They argue amongst themselves as Nene struggles to figure out just what was happening. Today had to have been the longest she had ever experienced. It was right up there with the time that she had gotten stuck in Shijima-san’s picture world and that really hadn’t been all that long ago. She had simply wanted to spend time with her friends at night during study camp! She would be able to make some good memories with Aoi. Maybe she had even hoped that someone special (who definitely didn’t have Hanako-kun’s face in her fantasies, no sir!) would ask her out and pull her away from her friends for a little alone time. It was possible that she’d even get her first kiss if she were proactive enough! Though, most importantly, she would be able to distract herself from dwelling her shortened life span for just one night of peace and fun.

Clearly, that was not going to be the case. Then again, since coming to Kamome Academy, was anything ever just simple?

Instead, Aoi had been kidnapped and was now behaving...strangely. She’d pushed them into the pit that had led them to this strange feudal hamlet that seemed to have been cut out of the fabric of time. It was a place that went against everything that Nene understood about boundaries. Shijima-san’s boundary was like this too. It was almost normal until something sticks out like a sore thumb, something that reverberates within one’s soul that this wasn’t quite right. Like a moon and stars that are far too visible to have been from Kamome’s rooftops in the brightly lit city of Tokyo, or in this case, a small town that was more at home out of the history books that she sometimes perused for friends.

No water that nipped at her heels, soaking her legs and bringing forth scales — no crooked and misshaped atelier that didn’t belong — just a small village filled with people who wore masks of kindness, so twisted by their own fear that they forced young girls to smash their bodies onto the jagged rocks at the bottom of a cliff in what was a vicious mockery of marriage.

So much for a fun night with friends!

A night that was supposed to be filled with fun and games with her classmates had quickly dissolved into a nightmare that she wasn’t sure that she could escape. Nothing was ever just normal at Kamome. Even taking classes, the most normal and boring part of being a high school student could quickly shift into something sinister amongst the sturdy halls of the school. She’s been sick with worry for Aoi from the moment that they had ended in this awful place.

It’s not fair! That thought plays on a loop track within her mind just as the mask clad villagers seem to finally realize that she wasn’t actually Sumire-chan. “I’ve been saying all along that I’m not Sumire-chan!” Nene screeches, hands balling into fists in a rage. Why is this happening? It had all happened so fast, and now, it only seemed to be spiraling even further out of control. Her belly aches, legs still weak from when she had been punched. This isn’t a wedding at all!

No, Nene knew weddings — they were beautiful events where two people would be joined in love forever. This… her eyes drift back to the cliff. She can hear the waves of the ocean crashing against the cliff-side and shivers. The wind shrieks, howling as it buffets her body. One wrong step and she might go tumbling over into the frigid waters below. The bride of death.

This wasn’t love.

She isn’t sure what this is, but Nene knows that without a shred of a doubt. Sumire-chan…. seemed so happy when she was talking about getting married to Number 6! She couldn’t have known…

Nene suppresses a shiver, swallowing thickly as her legs wobbled. “What’s with all of this?” Then, they had meant to throw Sumire-chan from this ledge? They had meant to kill Sumire-chan like this? They had manipulated her feelings to lead Sumire-chan to her own death? She thinks of Nene’s sweet, forlorn smile back in the bath. She had thought that she seemed lonely back then, a melancholy permeating her features that Nene hadn’t been able to understand. Tomorrow is a very important day, after all.

Had she known?

Had she known that the only groom that would embrace her beyond the large arched torii on this cliff was the frigid ocean waters as it swept her into the abyssal dark?

Her face grows indescribably hot, teeth clenching. “You call this a wedding?” Her pulse quickens, fury ballooning inside of her at the injustice of it all. “Don’t tell me you were going to kill--” she’s silenced with the threat of a sharpened bamboo staff being brandished towards her. “Kyaaaaa!” Nene had been met with many dangerous situations while in boundaries, but never anything that ever felt quite this real. The edge of the shaft looks as though it’d make quick work of her if she even so much as tried to struggle any further. One jab of that and…

She doesn’t want to think about it.

Unease rolls like corrosive sludge in her chest. She hadn’t wanted to think about her own mortality during her study trip. It’d been plaguing her from the moment that she had learned of her fate while in the painted world even though she’d been showing a brave face off to Hanako and Kou. She’d only wanted one day to be a normal teenager, having a fun night with friends, cooking, and playing games without acknowledging the swinging pendulum that inched ever closer over her head.

What if this was it?

Hanako had never specified the time for when she would die. He didn’t seem to know either, other than the fact that it would definitely be this year. What if this is it? She thinks, icy horror stabbing at her heart like a honed blade of a butcher’s knife. What if this was the moment of her death?

Alone…

In an unfamiliar place…

Without Hanako-kun.

She thinks of Hanako’s kind smile last night as he patted her head sweetly, bidding her goodnight. He’d probably stayed up all night to keep watch. She should’ve insisted that he sleep, but he had taken precautions to keep her safe, once more. He never worried about himself, after all. He viewed himself as nothing more than an afterthought. He was so gentle and she hadn’t even trusted him enough to tell him about Sumire-chan.

I said I’d protect him, she thinks, blinking back tears, throat burning as a sob builds there. But I just let him take care of me again. I didn’t tell him about Sumire-chan and now I might never see him again!

No, she thinks, raw panic spiking as one of these villagers grab her wrist with a frigid hand. “No! Wait!” She’s pulled back against the person, but they were just too strong. “Stop! Let go!”

The voices of the villagers grow louder, echoing around her into a crescendo of sound that encircles her like a ring of fire. It’s deafening. Her knees feel as though they’re going to give out, palms growing slick with sweaty terror.

“Well done catching her.”

“Drop her off just like that!”

“Congratulations, Kannagi-sama!”

“Congratulations!”

When had congratulations ever sounded like a eulogy?

No, no — no! She can’t do anything like this. She can’t run, and even if she did manage to break away from this man, she’s sure that she wouldn’t be able to fight off the crowd. She’s trapped, nothing but a weak high school girl with no special powers besides her own impending death. She’s going to die. They’re going to trap her or make her walk off of that cliff, and Hanako was nowhere to be found.

Nothing familiar was anywhere to be found.

If she’s going to die, then she at least wants to see Hanako. At least once. There was still so much that she hadn’t told him or thanked him for. She hadn’t thanked him for agreeing to grant her impossible wish back in the painted world. She hadn’t even managed to thank him for protecting her from the moment that they had fallen into this den of spiders. She hadn’t even told him how she felt about it. Not properly, at least. She’d only whispered that secret to a boy who she had thought was nothing more than a copy in what was just a happy dream. No, she didn’t just like Hanako. This emotion was far greater than that. She can feel it filling up her heart, no -- her entire being like helium.

Nene knows what this is.

She knows it by the way that she can use at least 50 different colorful adjectives to describe the exact hue of his eyes -- from the way that his smile sends her into near cardiac arrest. She’d grown so used to the unnatural coolness that emanated from his body that she had come to crave it. She felt safe in his arms. It felt right to be with Hanako. As though that was where she’d always belonged. It was almost funny, she was a girl who was always a little too silly -- a little too clumsy and a little too overly romantic to fit in fully with her peers, and yet the affection that she always craved -- that sense of this is where I’m meant to be -- came from the cold embrace of a ghost.

And the last thing I said to him was good night.

He… didn’t know that she loved him.

I love him, and the realization is so simple, so natural, that she wonders why she didn’t realize it sooner — and she’d never even get to tell him. It’s not fair! She’d realized that she truly loved a boy and he’d never even get to know? She’d die without even being able to tell him? That was the only thing that she’d ever wanted for as long as she could remember, and knowing that it was all about to be taken from her was just too much to bear. She was already going to die and couldn’t even do the one thing that she’d always wanted? Maybe it was a selfish desire, but it’s choking her, clogging her throat as she screams.

“No! Hanako-kun!”

The wind howls, cloth fluttering all around her as she is suddenly pulled against the sturdy, cool chest of the person who’s captured her. The mask falls away from his face, revealing hooded eyes as golden as the incandescently lit full moon in the sky and the too-wide, almost feral smile that she never failed to make her heart feel as though she’s just finished running a marathon. Time seems to slow to a snail’s crawl as his hand entwined with hers, just as cool and comforting as it always was.

“I’m heeeeeeere!~” He drawls, voice airy and cheerful, as though they weren’t caught at the mercy of a violent mob. Her throat tightens, tears of pure relief prickling at the corners of her eyes. Was she… dreaming? Perhaps this was some kind of elaborate hallucination just as she was pushed over the edge?

No —

He feels just as solid and cool as he normally did. A body that emanated no warmth, and yet Hanako himself was nothing but the balm of summer in the way that he made her feel. That was the same. It was really him!

Hanako-kun was here?

Perhaps it’s because he’s dressed in the same manner of the villagers and maybe it’s because the wind is still buffeting the two of them, but Nene is caught up within the magic of the moment. Hanako looks like something out of a storybook or a manga -- a powerful knight protecting a princess. She blinked back tears. He was here! He was okay! “Hanako-kun…?” She whispers, and this feeling that swells in her chest is more intense than the punch to the gut that she had received earlier. It feels as though she’s breathless, eyes still blurry with tears as she looks up at him. Had his smile always been this soft? His eyes, always so bright and filled with kindness — and perhaps… relief?

He wraps his arms around her tightly then — so tight that it feels as though he doesn’t want to ever release her. There’s a slight tremble in his voice as he murmurs, “Sorry I’m late.” His cheek nuzzles against her throat, and she can almost feel the slight brush of his lips. It’s ticklish, but also so inviting that she almost melts into his arms. Hanako-kun was here. Relief rushes through her. Hanako-kun was here. Everything would be okay, now. She wouldn’t die with him around. Hanako-kun always kept his promises, after all.

She closes her eyes, sagging against him. She isn’t going to die.

I’m not going to die… She repeats that thought to herself even as her knees buckle as her tension evaporates.

Maybe she’d even get to tell him —

“Sorry, but,” he flings the mask into the face of one of the more vocal villagers. The man cried out in pain as it collided with his skull, knocking him off of his feet from the force of the blow. “--The wedding is canceled!” The arms around her loosen, as one of his hands sliding down around her waist as he uses his other hand to rip the formal clothing off of himself, revealing his normal gakuran attire. Then, he squeezes her tightly, arm pressing her against his side. His cheek brushes against hers, much like a needy feline demanding affection. “I can’t just let some nobody out there take my assistant as a bride, right?”

He speaks with such conviction, brandishing his knife towards the crowd. He’s still smiling, but the arm around her waist holds her securely. Nene relaxes against him. If Hanako was here now, nothing could possibly go wrong. He squeezes her in a reassuring way and there’s something possessive about the action, as though he’s the one claiming ownership of her.

Or -- perhaps, that was wishful thinking on her part. She so badly wants to be claimed by him. Her cheeks grow warm and she can’t help herself from throwing her arms around his shoulders and clinging to him just as tightly as he had done to her earlier.

He’d saved her again.

“You’re here, Hanako-kun!” She pulls back, and cups his cheeks, squeezing and stretching them out to make sure that he was really real. “It’s really you!” He laughs outright, then, eyes still focused on the people that were surrounding them. His voice sounds so merry that it’s enough to soothe some of her fear.

“Yashiro, at least wait until we’re alone before you feel me up,” he teases, smile hardening as some of the villagers close in, finally regaining their bearings after Hanako’s sudden appearance. “We still have an audience of nosy pests here, after all.” He nuzzles her cheek again and she has to struggle to suppress the embarrassing whine that wells up in her throat. “You naughty daikon, you!” Nene flushes indignantly. He was really going to tease her right now? And was now really the time for daikon jokes!? “I’m not feeling you up!” If her voice was any higher at this moment, she’s sure that only dogs and small animals could hear it.

Though, she can’t deny that there’s a part of her that wants very much to kiss him at this very moment. He just looks so heroic -- almost majestic as he bravely faces off against their enemies. It was at times like this that Hanako seems just as dashing as a prince out of her favorite novels. It didn’t matter that he was shorter than her, or that his cheeks lacked the angled sharpness of the men that she typically preferred.

He was just Hanako -- the boy who was entirely dedicated to keeping her safe. The boy she loved. Her heart hammers. At least it was getting easier to say now.

“Retrieve the Kannagi!” One of the villagers shouts loudly. It’s chaos as the angry group attempts to rush them. Weapons are drawn, pointed at them -- all manner of spears, swords, and sharpened bamboo as they jab the weapons towards the pair. “She must not escape!” Hanako frowns, leaping backward as the crowd continues to approach. They were determined to have their sacrifice one way or another, it seemed.

They’re trying to push us to the edge of the cliff! Nene realizes, horrified as they draw ever closer to the edge.

“Yashiro?” Hanako asks, hand gripping even more tightly around her waist as her feet hit the edge of the cliff. “Are you scared?”

She swallows anxiously, wondering just what kind of question that was. “O-Of course I am!” She tries hard not to look behind her. The rocks at the bottom of the cliff looked so sharp… “B-But, you’re not going to let anything happen to me?” She pauses. “Right?”

The grin that he gives her is more blinding than the sun itself. “Of course not!” He says, voice filled with confidence. “So, there’s no reason for you to be afraid, alright?” He nods as though confirming that simple fact to himself as well. His other arm joins the one tucked around her waist, eyes darting towards the cliff. He looks back at her, his smile growing wide and cat-like as his eyes take on a hooded appearance.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Nene’s brows furl. Why was he asking her all of these questions all of a sudden? This was beginning to feel all too familiar, even if she couldn’t put her finger on why.

“Y...Yes?”

“Good.”

The knife in his hand dissipates as though it hadn’t even existed. Why was he putting that away? Wasn’t he going to fight the villagers--

Oh no.

Nononononono.

He wasn’t —

“H-Hanako-kun--” she says worriedly, “Hey, wait a second — AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Nene screams wildly as he suddenly scoops her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style before he turns away from the villagers and takes and leaps off of the cliff. It feels as though her heart has leaped into her throat, as though her stomach had just dropped right out of her body. Hanako laughs merrily as the wind pushes against them like an assault. “Look out belooooow!” He calls out. If Nene weren’t currently screaming at the top of her lungs and clinging to him with all of her might, she would’ve wrung his neck.

Her vision spots, a sort of fog entering her head. It’s as though she’d been thrust into static, white noise crackling in her ears.

Well, she thinks as the last traces of her consciousness begin to fade away. I’ll have time to strangle him later...

Among other things.

-----

Nene awakes sometime later, groaning as she rolls onto her back. Something soft is cushioning her and she’s wrapped up as though bundled in a blanket. Her clothes are still wet, leaving her shivering as she grabs the edges of the blanket, holding it tighter. She can hear what sounds like dripping water, as though a glass of water has been spilled. There’s a rhythmic beat to the drip, one that is almost calming enough to lull her back to sleep. Her vision blurs as she opens her eyes, sitting up as she rubs the tiredness from her eyes. Wherever she was, it was dark. Only a small amount of light seemed to slither through openings that were in the ceiling or roof of this place. There’s some kind of stone surrounding her, as well.

Was this… some kind of a cave?

She looks down, discovering that what she wasn’t actually a blanket, but heavy layers of clothing. They resemble the clothing that the villagers had worn. No, not the villagers… Hanako-kun had been wearing this as well when he had rescued her, hadn’t he?

“You’re awake? Good,” she jolts at the sound of Hanako’s voice. He’s sitting beside her, knees drawn up to his chest. He gives her a small smile, cheek resting against his knees. His hands brush over her bangs. “You know, Yashiro -- it’s probably not normal to pass out like that all of the time. Those fainting spells can’t be good for your heart. Were you just that excited to be in my arms? For shame!”

In his arms?

She’s puzzled before memories of leaping into the icy water below assault her. She must’ve turned into a fish! She was still drenched and her eyes narrow as she glared at the boy beside her. Jerk! It wasn’t the fainting spells that weren’t good for her heart, it was him! “A little warning would’ve been nice!” She barks back, sitting up fully now. She jabs an accusing finger towards him. “Why are you always throwing me from high places! That’s what’s not good for my heart!” she hits his arm, causing him to wince and rub at the abused skin. She chooses to ignore his innuendo-laden comment. Honestly! Did she have to be in love with such a perverted person?

Her heart flinches.

Right.

She’d realized that earlier, hadn’t she?

That knowledge makes her grow strangely rigid. She covers a hand over her heart. It was pounding so loudly now that she worries if he can also hear it. Throughout that entire ordeal, she’d been afraid of dying and never seeing Hanako-kun again. She can still feel all of those emotions, taking up space inside of her, threatening to explode. Nene isn’t sure that she’d be able to put the lid on them again.

Or if she even wanted to.

She’d made a promise to herself earlier, hadn’t she?

It hangs over her head like a guillotine. Nene’s face grows redder, palms clammier as she sits rigidly. She had made that promise — and now she would need to make good on it. She casts a cautionary glance towards Hanako, who had already slid closer to her. “Hmm? I did give you a warning, didn’t I?” He wraps one of his arms around her, snaking it around her waist as his chin moves to rest on her shoulder. She’d long since grown accustomed to this kind of invasion of space from him. Though, with her earlier revelation in mind, it’s as though she can feel his embrace that much more.

Even with their bond, Hanako’s body rarely had a solidness to it that seemed real unless he was touching her. He was like the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in a window. If she reaches out to touch him, he’d slip right through the gaps between her fingers fading into nothingness.

But now? It’s as though every nerve within her body is heavily aware of him. As though she’s realized something, so vital, so crucial that she’s stunned that it’s taken her this long to realize that he’s always been right there. Solid. Firm.

Real.

She only needs to reach out —

“You didn’t,” it’s an olympic feat to keep her words from jumbling together. It feels like her heart has been replaced by a drum, being struck with violent force. Did he hear it? He had to hear it! It was more like thunder than a heartbeat at this point!

“You just asked if I trusted you and then flung the both of us off of a cliff, mister!” She jabs an accusing finger against his chest, making him yelp and flinch back. Good, she had space. Space to think. Space was good. In fact, she scoots her butt a few inches in a different direction, putting even more distance between them. “Speaking of which, where even are we?” She’s sure that her voice is getting squeaky again. Kind of like she’s just breathed in a tank full of helium gas.

Not good.

He casts a glance towards their left, amber eyes narrowing towards that direction and she sees the shining of sunlight in the distance. “I found a cave along the bank at the bottom of the cliff,” he explains, following her like a needy cat would. Nanamine-san really had been onto something with that comparison. Hanako captures her in his arms again, rubbing his cheek along the exposed clavicle of her throat and she’s sure that at this point, her heartbeat best resembles the rolling thunder of a storm.

“I think we should stay here until it gets darker. Those people might have given up the chase by that point.”

It was a solid enough plan. The last thing Nene wanted was a fight, but the idea of staying alone with Hanako for that long was doing odd things to her insides. She feels all twisted up, like she’s a rag being rung dry as she sits behind him. Then again, she’d already spent an entire night alone with Hanako on the previous night. All alone in a darkened room, with nothing but the slight, dim lamp of a lantern to illuminate both of them. Come to think of it, that had been pretty intimate, hadn’t it!?

She hadn’t even considered —

“Aren’t you Gon’s lover?”

SKDFSLKDFS;KDFSKFIJS;LEDFSLFSF’S!

“At that point, we can search for Number 6’s Yorishiro,” Hanako continues, oblivious to her internal meltdown. “I’ll make sure that we escape as soon as possible. If I’m not careful you might just nearly end up as someone’s bride again,” his eyes sharpen as he glances at her out of the corner of his eyes, his smile dropping. He pinches her cheek as though to admonish her and Nene winces, releasing a whine of pure mortification.

“It’s not like I wanted to get married! Everything just happened so fast — and where were you all that time, huh?” She turns in his arms, her annoyance enough to make her momentarily forget all about her dilemma.

He had been beside her when she had first fallen asleep, only to be gone by morning. She couldn’t imagine that he had left her side after insisting that he’d stay awake in order to keep watch throughout the night. Hanako had been on edge ever since first arriving at this strange place, after all — not that she could blame him. Nothing had gone right since they had arrived. Even Hanako, who was normally as powerful and brave as a dashing knight had been subdued by Sumire-chan earlier.

Nene can’t remember ever seeing Hanako so quickly bested, not even when he’d been beaten by Yako-san back in her boundary. Even then, that had been temporary. He’d been able to hold his own until she had finally found Yako-san’s yorishiro.

To her relief — disappointment — she doesn’t know anymore — Hanako releases her, dropping his hands down to his side. He leans his head back against the wall of the cave, staring up at a small slither of light that peaks through an opening in the ceiling of the cave. “Our retainer friend found it prudent to incapacitate me while you took her place,” he’s dropped the teasing tone, voice going flat as his hands ball into fists, filled with tension. He uses one hand to pull the bill of his hat down, obscuring his eyes. “For a moment, I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.”

Large doe eyes widen, “You mean… Sumire-chan knew what was going to happen?”

Hanako makes a soft sound of affirmation.

No — she’d seemed so genuine when speaking of her love for number 6. She’d wanted to marry him. She didn’t think that kind of emotion could be easily faked. Wait -- hadn’t the villagers said something about that? It was difficult to remember most of what was being said during all of the shouting and confusion, but one thing had stuck out. “To run from your duty… What a failure of a Kannagi you are.

Duty.

If it was the duty of a Kannagi to literally wed death, then it made sense that a mortal would need to die to be with her betrothed. The villagers had all escorted her to the torii gate, speaking of marriage and showering her in congratulations, but had all grown panicked and angry when she had tried to run. Come to think of it, one of them had mentioned they hadn’t want to use the strange drug that they had poisoned her with. It all aligned in her mind neatly like pieces of a large puzzle being arranged.

“She… tricked me?” Nene asks faintly.

“She tricked us both,” he reaches for her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “Remember what I said? She’s a retainer. Nothing but a puppet on strings--

“No!” Those words swell in her chest and then burst out of her before she can even stop them. “I — I know Sumire-chan isn’t like that!”

Sure, it wouldn’t have been the first time that Nene had saw the good within someone who didn’t deserve it. She’s oftentimes naive, easy to trick, and impulsive, ignoring red flags that were waving right in front of her face. Hanako had told her that she was a sucker for hot guys and apparitions and with all of her past experiences, she knows that he’s right about that.

Still.

She’d seen Sumire’s memories while in that dream-like state. At least, that’s what she thinks those feelings were. Glimpses of a life that had been cut far too short. Of feelings that had been manifested, and yet never fully requited. At least not in the way that Sumire-chan would have wanted. They had to have been her memories, right? It was like whenever she removed the seal of a yorishiro. Nene’s face scrunches up, lips pursed tightly and nose wrinkled as she thinks. Number 6 hadn’t shown a slither of remorse as he watched Sumire march steadily towards death. She tries to imagine what she would feel like in a similar situation -- if the person that she loved -- if Hanako had watched her die without even batting an eyelash.

Pain as sharp as a stab wound to the chest all but knocks the wind out of her.

She can’t even imagine it. No — she doesn’t want to imagine it.

Those feelings… they couldn’t be just an illusion? She knows…. She just knows that Sumire-chan was no mere puppet.

Hanako’s fingers cup underneath her chin, lifting her eyes towards his. “There’s no need to defend her,” he admonishes, lips pressing downward in apparent displeasure. His eyes harden. “You were nearly killed because of her. You understand that, right?” His voice has gone flat, like he got when there were all kinds of dark emotions swirling inside of him. She didn’t always understand it, but this was the side of Hanako that always unnerved her. He’s normally so playful, so kind to her that she often forgot that it existed at least until it appeared once more. He holds so many secrets, keeping his emotions bottled up inside of him, displaying them to no one but his own demons.

It’s only at times like this that Nene truly feels her age. She’s nothing but a silly, 15-year-old teenaged girl. She’s Yashiro Nene — dreamy, reckless, and totally gullible and he’s the honorable Hanako-san of the Toilet. He’d lived a life that was drenched in blood, sin and now walked a solemn path of duty and atonement in death. It’s always a little hard to wrap her head around.

It was… frustrating.

“That’s true,” she mumbles, sighing in a pleased way when he moves his hand up from her chin, cupping her cheek. It’s cool, lacking body heat as usual, but she appreciated the gesture, regardless. “But — I just… don’t think that she’s just a puppet, Hanako. She feels like she’s...real,” and if Number 6 had made her into his yorishiro — a real, breathing person with thoughts and feelings — then she must’ve been important to him? Had he changed his mind? If they had tried to make her take her place, then perhaps they were trying to save Sumire-chan from her fate?

Could she blame her for that?

If she could only be with Hanako-kun at the expense of another person, then…

She isn’t sure what choice she would’ve made. She didn’t think that she could actually hurt someone knowingly, but also couldn’t be upset with Sumire-chan for her betrayal. There’s an ache in her heart that hasn’t subsided since she’d been drugged. A lonely longing that nearly swallows her heart entirely.

Sumire-chan’s feelings...

She averts her eyes from Hanako’s oche ones, pulling the decorative haori snuggly around her shoulders and staring down at her knees.

“She must’ve had her reasons,” Nene says confidently. That had to be it. She’s absolutely sure of it.

“Yashiro.”

Hanako sounds disappointed, tone morose as he says her name like a parent scolding a child. “The only reason that she feels real is because she is a manifestation of Number 6’s memories,” he explains, though she can tell that there isn’t much patience within him at the moment. “She is a reflection of who he thought she was, but in the end, her will isn’t her own,” ochre eyes harden as his hand falls from her cheek and back to his side. She falls quiet, choosing to listen to him speak.

“He is looking for a kannagi,” he says softly. “To take her place. That’s why he took your friend Aoi in the first place. She’s not actually real. He wants to change that, as ridiculous as that even is,” when Hanako got like this, his words could become as corrosive as acid.

“Why is it ridiculous?”

“Huh?” Her question clearly catches him off guard as his eyes are drawn back to hers.

“Why is it ridiculous that he’s trying to find a way to keep the person that he loves by his side?” She asks quietly. She touches her heart; it’s throbbing with an emotion that wasn’t her own, and yet was so familiar. It’s a borrowed emotion, but it’s also her own. She understands Sumire-chan. She can even understand Number 6. “I think he’s being selfish like Yako-san was… and like how I used to be when I first sought you out for a wish, but I don’t think wanting to be with the person you love is ridiculous.”

Her near-death experience was still too close. She’d been desperate to see Hanako, too. Just to see him one last time. Had that been a selfish wish?

She’d even made a promise.

Hanako’s brow furls, “Yashiro… what they’re doing is putting people in danger,” he says, this time taking her shoulders in his hands. He squeezes them, as though pleading with her to understand. “It put you in danger.”

— And there it was.

Nene blinks, and the answer seems so obvious that she’s surprised that she hadn’t noticed it sooner. “You were afraid that I’d die.”

He nods, sighing as his head drops down, forehead brushing against her shoulder. “I.. thought that I wouldn’t make it to you in time. She had used her spiritual powers on me in the morning so there was nothing that I could do to stop those people when they came to get you. If I’d been any later…”

If he’d been any later…

That possibility remains unspoken, even as her chest grows tighter, something itchy forming in her throat. Words are lodged there and when she parts her lips, it’s hard to force her voice through them. “I would have died.”

“You would have died,” he repeats, nodding against her. His forehead is just as cool as the rest of his body. “We still don’t know when your lifespan will run out.”

That was true.

Then, he lifts his head, smiling in that gentle way that never failed to make her belly throb with yearning. It’s such a kind, sad smile. It was less Hanako and more like Amane, the boy that she had seen in Tsuchigomori-sensei’s memories, though that wasn’t exactly right, either. Hanako was a role that he plays, and he hadn’t been Amane in many years. Or perhaps this smile was the real him? The person beneath the role. The person that Amane had become.

He’d said before that the dead had no future — that nothing new could happen for those who had died, but… Nene’s not so sure that she believes that. He’d grown — changed, hadn’t he?

“Besides,” he tells her, giving her a playful but light flick on the forehead. “I told you that I’m going to grant your wish for you. You don’t doubt my abilities do you?” He pouts, donning the Hanako-san mask again effortlessly. A flirty gesture of a playful joke from him has always been an effective distractor for her, after all. She’s not sure why, but it makes her kind of angry. He’s rarely truly honest with her, not about his feelings at least.

Perhaps that is what spurs her on.

She’s not sure where her confidence comes from. It surges in her chest, making her grab the collar of his gakuran as she tugs him forward and all presses her lips against his.

He releases a startled gasp, even when their teeth clink together. It kind of hurts, honestly.

I messed up! She thinks, absolutely panicked. Her lips were throbbing from where she had all but headbutted (lipbutted?) him, and she goes rigid against him. Their lips were still mashed together, but neither of them moves an inch. Nene can’t help but think that this was nothing like the books or even her own fantasies. Hanako’s lips were cold, and he was stiller than a block of eyes, his entire body taut with tension. He seems shell shocked, but she can’t exactly blame him.

She’d moved before her brain had even had a chance to catch up with her body, after all. Nene was a lot of things and a quitter wasn’t one of them. I promised, she thinks to herself, steeling her resolve, even if she wants to pull from the badly aimed first kiss and run for the hills. She promised that she would tell him how she felt about him, and she couldn’t continue to have cold feet.

After all, he’d been just as scared as she had been before… right?

He hadn’t wanted to lose her, either.

And if a first kiss ended this pathetically, she thinks that she’d actually drop dead from humiliation. So, she pushes through it, softening her lips so that the kiss became less of an aggressive assault and more of a chaste peck. Come to think of it, his lips were rather soft, weren’t they? They feel nice, inspiring a warm, pleasant feeling in her chest. She pushes closer, lips pressing more firmly against his own and Hanako makes a sound that sounds remarkably like a dying, yowling cat.

It’s only then that she pulls back, face burning hot from her own boldness. “I’d never doubt you,” she says firmly. “I was just afraid before, back at the wedding. It was really scary but -- and for a second I thought I wouldn’t be able to see you again. That was scarier than when I thought I was doing to die,” she admits in a rush of words. Her heart thrums loudly, and suddenly it feels like the cave has grown excessively hot. She chances a glance at Hanako and nearly gasps herself at what she sees.

He’d been red back when she’d kissed his cheek before, too. Though now, it was though his skin had been dyed with the color, splotches of color burning across his face. He gapes at her, as though she had grown a second head. It’s like his body has turned to stone. It feels like an eternity before he finally speaks. “Yashiro,” his voice is barely a whisper, trembling the entire time. “What are you doing?”

The answer seems so obvious to her that she almost laughs. Well, she would’ve laughed if she didn’t feel nearly just as faint. She’s sure that her face looks just as comical as his own. Though, his reaction brings her some relief. He’s just as out of his element as she is. “What do you think it means when a girl kisses someone, Hanako-kun?” She wants to sound sophisticated and sure, but her voice is chipmunk high. She’s sure she sounds just like Black Canyon-chan right now. She still can’t quite believe herself, either. She’d kissed him! She kissed Hanako!

“I --,” he swallows like thick sludge is lodged in his throat. “You shouldn’t--.” he pauses as though trying to collect his thoughts. He tugs at the collar of his gakuran, fidgeting as though ants had crawled into his clothing. “You shouldn’t do things like that. I’ll get the wrong idea.”

Wrong idea? That statement throws her mind for a loop. How would he get the wrong idea from a kiss? She thinks that it’s pretty self-explanatory! Kisses usually only meant one thing, after all. He can’t be this dense, right? She had even told him that she liked him back in the painted world. She’s sure that he knows that, right?

“W-What’s the wrong idea?” She demands, small hands balling themselves into frustrated fists. “I told you before, right? I like you!” The words are out before she can stop them, but she’s far too annoyed to even care about that right now. Her first kiss and he has the nerve to look like his favorite hamster had just died.

His two index fingers press together as he fidgets, “I know,” he mumbles, then glances back at her, almost shy. “I just -- it’s probably not a good idea, you know.” She can tell what he must be thinking. He’s dead and she’s...not. Even if her wish is eventually granted, she will eventually need to leave the school and move on from Kamome academy. Her life would go on, and his wouldn’t.

It isn’t much of a future.

Nene had already thought about all of that. If it wasn’t her shortened lifespan, she’d often spend her nights agonizing over her feelings for the ghost boy. It was love, but a doomed one. A relationship with a supernatural had a time limit, even in the best of cases.

“There’s so much that you deserve,” he continues, and her breath hitches when he leans forward, lips brushing against her cheek. He hadn’t done anything like that since the incident with the confession tree. Her belly works itself into knots, especially when he wraps an arm around her waist. “I can’t give you any of that. I’m dead, Yashiro. I can only promise to fulfill your wish so that you can live to your 90s and go marry some lame fantasy prince.” He moves his free hand to ruffle her hair, smiling in that frustratingly self-sacrificial way. As though that was that. Like the discussion was over.

It feels strange to hear him echoing her previous desires. True, before meeting Hanako, all she could dream about was being swept off of her feet by a tall, stunning prince-like boy. All of those wishes feel hollow now, like emptiness gnawing at her heart.

She still wants love.

It’s just --

“I don’t want any of that unless it’s with you, Hanako-kun.” His eyes grow as wide as saucers, the light filtering from the top of the cave makes the gold within them sparkle like moonstones. He opens his mouth and she knows that he’s going to try to keep fighting her on this. He had so many reasons why this wouldn’t work.

I’m dead, Yashiro.

I can’t take you on dates, Yashiro.

I can’t grow old with you.

I’m bound to Kamome.

You deserve better than me.

Unfortunately for him -- she doesn’t want to hear any of them.

Nene surges forward, kissing Hanako again. This time, she sits up onto her knees, invading his space and taking his face into her hands. If she can’t convince him with her words, then perhaps she can convince through action? Nene tilts her head and parts her lips. There, that feels a bit better than just kissing with her mouth squeezed closed. Hanako’s lips are slightly moist. They shiver as she carefully another kiss to the corner of his lips, and then the other.

This didn’t feel as awkward as last time, but Hanako is still far too rigid for her liking. “We can go on dates in the boundaries,” she says as she pulls away. She loops her arms around his shoulders and moves to kneel in between his parted legs. Sometime in between her kissing him again, he’d sprawled back slightly, legs splaying and arms reaching out as though he wants to grab onto something, though he isn’t quite sure what.

She brushes her lips against his lips again, softer this time as she opens her mouth experimentally. That feels… kind of nice, actually. There are no fireworks, but she begins to feel a slight, almost ticklish feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Even if you can’t grow old with me. I’m sure that we’ll figure something out. I just… I just want to be with you, Hanako-kun,” she draws back and makes direct eye contact this time.

She needs him to understand that.

None of those superficial things mattered to her anymore. It would all feel empty without at least trying to pursue her feelings for him. “And you -- you keep saying that I deserve better. But what about you, Hanako-kun?” He tenses at her words, and she knows that she’s nailed the true crux of the problem. Her eyes soften, and she presses her forehead against his. “Don’t keep saying that I deserve better than you. When I want you — and you — don’t you deserve some happiness, too?”

His eyes squeeze shut, pained. His voice sounds raw, as though he’d cry at any second, “I don’t -- Yashiro. There’s so much you don’t know--” “And I’m telling you that I don’t care!” She yells, cutting him off. It hurts to hear him speaking that way about himself. She knows that he’s killed -- his own brother, no less. But, she’s seen enough of his past self to know that he wouldn’t have taken such drastic action without there being some sort of reason. She didn’t know what that reason was, or if there was any excuse for murder. He’d promised to tell her everything when he was ready to and she was more than prepared to wait for him.

There’s so much that she doesn’t understand about Hanako.

— But she can’t bring herself to judge him for any of it.

His expression is one of slack-jawed shock like he can’t quite believe that she exists. She kisses him again, harder this time. She wants him to understand. No — she needs him to understand. Luckily, it’s this kiss where Hanako seems to finally regain some of his brain’s function. Or at least, his body has finally caught up to what was happening. He releases a soft, almost strangled sigh as his hands wrap around her. It’s a tight, almost desperate sort of hug. It’s like he’s never hugged anyone before in his life like he’s starved for her.

He clutches at her back, fingers digging into the fabric of her kimono as he finally returns the kiss. His lips part, mouth opening as he draws her bottom lip into his mouth. Nene whimpers, a thrill of pure heat blossoming in her chest. One of Hanako’s sharper teeth caught on her lips. It drags along the swell of the tender flesh, and while it stings, it also inspires a feeling inside of that that is so sharp that she can’t help but shudder.

What -- is this?

“Yashiro,” Hanako murmurs against her mouth. “Do you really mean all of that?” His question is a probing one. He sounds nervous, excited, and terrified all at once. He changes the angle of the kiss, inclining his head as his tongue swipes along the underside of her lip. If her insides had been jumbled up before, it was as though one thousand tiny butterflies had all been jammed inside of her belly now. She can’t stop the soft whine from escaping from her. He’d -- he’d just spoken, hadn’t he?

“Y-Yes,” she admits, hands moving from their position up to his hair. She’s not sure why, but it feels right to do that. His hair is soft to the touch, like satin on her fingertips. Nene swipes his hat off of his head in her enthusiasm, and she’s not sure where it falls off to, nor does she care. “I want to be with you, Hanako-kun,” she repeats, feeling as though she is in a haze. Her brain feels like it’s filled with cotton candy or clouds as soft as the ones that had been in Shijima-san’s picture world.

She’d wanted to kiss him then, too.

He groans, this time ducking his head away from her mouth. She wants to protest from the lack of contact. Why had he stopped kissing her? Kissing had just started to feel very nice and she beginning to see what all of the fuss was about —

He kisses the underside of her jaw and she whines. She wants to cover her mouth. She’s sure that sounded pretty embarrassing, but Hanako doesn’t seem perturbed by the sound at all. If anything, it spurs him on, his lips dragging down from along her jaw as he peppers kisses wherever he can find exposed skin along her throat. The collar of the kimono was high, and he couldn’t get as much access as she would’ve liked.

Oh.

What is she thinking?!

“Yashiro — Yashiro,” he whispers her name against her skin. His lips part, open-mouthed as he draws the skin of her neck into his mouth. She trembles, goosebumps breaking out along her flesh from the feeling. Now that feels like fireworks.

She finds herself on her back, Hanako sprawled out on top of her and she’s not quite sure how they ended up in this position. Her heart feels so full -- like it might burst at any moment. Hanako runs his fingers through her hair, combing his fingers through her scalp and it feels so nice that she can’t help but close her eyes and moan. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, but she grabs both of his cheeks, tugging him down to kiss him silent once more.

“Don’t apologize.” Why would he be sorry for this? For making her feel like this.

For being as close to death as she was, she’d never felt more alive.

“I just — ,” he struggles with his words. “I want this — I want to be with you, too,” his eyes burn, and as he draws away. No, she thinks breathlessly. I want more. Kiss me more — “I feel like I’m dooming you. If — if we’re together… then can I really grant your wish?” His hands tremble as he moves a hand down to cradle her cheek. “What if I want to keep you all to myself? I just...feel so selfish.”

More. More. More —

She kisses each of his cheeks and then finds herself fumbling with the buttons of his gakuran, if only to gain access to his throat. He sounds so stunned, head falling against her shoulder as he presses his body against her. Did he feel the same way that she did right now? He had been covered in so many bruises in the past when he was alive. She wonders if anyone had ever touched him with the intent of causing joy — and not pain.

A tornado storms inside of her, feelings too intense for her to even put a name to overwhelming her. She can feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Their situation wasn’t exactly a fair one. Two doors were set before her. Death or life. Both options would take her away from him. Though, when he holds her this way — and says such sweet, honest things, Nene thinks that she’d be alright with dying. At least if it was like this.

Was this -- how Sumire-chan felt?

“Then have me,” Nene whispers. “Let’s be together.”

He chokes on what sounds like a sob, eyes glittering with unshed tears as he smiles down at her. He chuckles.

“So many wishes. How can I keep up with granting all of them?” He uses his fingers to wipe at the tears that had begun to fall freely down her cheeks. He brings one of her hands to his lips, brushing them against the back of her palm. “You’re so needy, Yashiro.”

“It’s a boyfriend’s job to grant his girlfriend’s needy wishes,” she returns his smile. Then, she kisses him again, opening her mouth he can suckle on the tip of her tongue. She shudders -- yes, this is where she is meant to be.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” she affirms, quieting him again.

She isn’t sure how long they were meant to last -- but Nene does know this.

She’d brave it all for him.

----

The end.

----

#hananene #hanako #yashiro nene #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #nene yashiro #yugi amane #my fanfiction #please leave a comment if you liked this fic!#also feel free to send me a message #i always want to talk about Hananene!

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get-your-fics · 5 years ago

Text

Suburbia - Part Four

Man in Black

Summary: You have the seemingly perfect life, with the perfect house and the perfect husband. But the illusion threatens to be unraveled when you start to have strange but familiar nightmares.

Pairing: Albert Wesker x reader

Series warnings: Smut, dub-con/non-con, breeding kink, sex pollen, blood, violence

PART THREE

“You've been a very bad girl while I was away.”

His heavy boot made a solid thud as he took a step towards you. “Don’t move!” you shouted, pressing yourself against the edge of the desk behind you as much as you could. “Don’t come any closer!”

“Or what? What are you going to do?” he chuckled, but didn’t move. “You wouldn’t want to do anything rash now, dear. You’ll over exert yourself-”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you cut him off through gritted teeth. “What the fuck is going on?” He didn’t say anything, merely stared at you. You felt like your blood was boiling in your veins. “Answer me!” You slammed your fist down on the desk, your voice bouncing off of the white walls. “I deserve answers!”

“Didn’t you find all your precious answers in those files?” He gestured to the manila folders scattered across the desk. It looked like a hurricane had blown through it. “I have to say, I’m surprised you caught on. But, you always were too smart for your own good.”

“Where are we?” you asked.

“We’re in an underground testing facility. Umbrella ran simulations here in order to sell the T-virus to government agencies worldwide,” he said. “Right now, we’re in a simulation of a suburban neighborhood. I thought it would be effective to replace your memory with artificial memories we concocted and place you here, that it would make you more compliant with the project.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, the memory erasure had some unforeseen side effects. Hence the nightmares.”

“So you were just going to treat me like a pet?” you spat. “You thought it was okay to keep me locked up in this cage and breed me like a dog? That you could turn me into your little trophy housewife, have me cook and clean for you with the wool pulled over my eyes and get away with it?”

“Cage?” He laughed as if you had meant what you had said to be amusing. “Look around you, (Y/N).” He spun around in a circle, his arms spread wide. “This is hardly a cage. I was going to let you live obliviously in domestic bliss. I was offering you another chance at a good life, the kind of life that’s been extinct since the world ended.”

“You’re the one who ripped that chance away from me, from everyone, in the first place!” You pointed your finger accusingly at him.

“You act like I’m some kind of monster.” He pressed his gloved hand to his chest in mock offense. “Tell me, was I ever mean to you? Did I ever hurt you? Didn’t I always keep you fed and happy and content? Was I ever anything but the nice, dutiful, caring husband to you?”

You shook your head. “None of that matters. I was living a lie.”

“You can choose to see it that way, if you wish,” he said. “I was doing you a favor, (Y/N). Things for you could’ve been much worse.” He gestured to the computer, the paused video still displayed on its screen. “Well, you’ve seen the footage.”

You glanced at the video over your shoulder before looking back at him. “Was any of it real?” Your mind conjured up memories of coffee dates, of fancy restaurant dinners, of him getting down on one knee and popping the question, of him kissing you on your wedding day as you stared at him. But they were all fake, artificial memories implanted into your brain. They were hazy and lackluster, but all the emotion was still there. And even with all this new information, that didn’t make it just disappear. “Was it all pretend?”

“You mean do I love you?” You stared down at your bare feet. The fact that part of you still hoped this man loved you revolted you to the core. “I have respect for you, (Y/N). Love is trivial in comparison. You are the future - the superior evolution of mankind. You are the only one worthy of carrying my child.” His words made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “With our combined genetics, we could improve upon the human race. Think of the things we could accomplish if we worked together.”

“I will never work with you.” You shook your head. “You just want to create monsters. You destroyed humanity out of greed. You kill people.”

He quirked a brow. “And you don’t?”

“I kill people because I have to,” you argued.

“You kill because it’s in your blood,” he said. “You see the weak and you eradicate them, making way for the exceptional species.”

“You’re sick,” you sneered. “You’re so obsessed with your perverted, demented version of saving the world, you don’t realize you’re ruining it. You don’t care about me or anyone else. You only care about yourself.”

He tutted disapprovingly. “Such harsh words, little bird.”

In an instant, you smacked his cheek with a resounding slap. His face fell to the side, his sunglasses sliding off his nose and breaking on impact with the tile. You could already see a red handprint spreading across his cheek. “Don’t call me that,” you hissed.

He looked back at you, and you gasped. His eyes - they were a bright, violent red. Every other time you had seen them, they were a clear, sky blue. But now, his pupils were black slits in the middle of each eyeball like a snake’s.

“You don’t want to do this, (Y/N),” he threatened. A golden tendril of hair had escaped his perfectly coiffed hairdo and now hung loose down his forehead. “We can forget this ever happened. We can go on living a perfect, normal life, and you can pretend like you’re none the wiser.”

“I would never agree to live in this house with you, Wesker.” You gripped the edge of the desk. You couldn’t trust him. The second you were no longer of use to him, he would throw you away like a worn-out toy.

“Then I will be forced to take you in. We’ll wipe your memory again and start fresh. And this time we’ll make sure to flesh out the details.” His lips curled into a sinister smirk. “Or maybe it’ll be back to the holding cell. Now why don’t you make it as easy as possible for yourself and come willingly?”

You readied yourself. “I’m not going down without a fight.”

He rose to his full height and cracked his knuckles. “Suit yourself.”

You threw a punch at him. He dodged your fist and latched onto your arm. He used your momentum against you and flipped you over his shoulder onto the metal table behind him. You slid off of it and landed on the ground, the wind knocked out of you.

He walked around the table and strode towards you effortlessly. Once he was within reach, you kicked at his kneecaps. He stumbled back, giving you enough time to leap to your feet. You swung at him again. He moved out of the way, but you learned from your mistake and brought your other hand up to connect with his jaw. He recovered quickly and pushed his heavy boot into your stomach.

You were knocked backwards, sending several test tubes crashing to the floor. You picked up a shard of a flask and stabbed it into his neck as he came towards you. He barely batted an eye. He plucked it out as if he was brushing off dust, unfazed by the blood dribbling out of the puncture wound in his neck.

He charged at you again, this time armed with the broken piece of glass. You ducked just in time as he thrust it at you, narrowly avoiding his hit. You retaliated with a blow to his side. He jabbed the glass into your hand as you did so. You let out a blood curdling scream as it sunk through your flesh. You gripped it and ripped it out with a yelp, discarding the fragmented pieces to the floor. You watched as the wound ceased leaking blood and closed itself up all on its own.

Wesker swiped at your ankles, and you dropped to the ground. You cried out as bits of glass scratched at and protruded from your skin. They crunched under his boots as he stopped in front of you. He buried a hand in your hair and dragged you off the floor. He hauled you off of the ground, your toes barely brushing the tile. You wrapped your hands around his in an attempt to lessen the pressure on your scalp and flailed your legs to kick at him desperately.

“Maybe we should have some fun first.” He pressed you back against the wall and slipped his hand under your nightgown. “One last go around for old times sake.”

His hand crept closer towards your clothed core, and you brought your leg up to knee him in the crotch. He let go of you with a grunt. You landed on your feet and regained your balance enough to kick him in the chest. He flew backwards, ending up on the other side of the room. You came at him with fists flying and teeth bared. You landed a few successful punches before he grabbed both your arms and pushed you back.

He wrapped his fingers around your throat and lifted you up. He slammed your back against the wall and tightened his hold on you. He stared at you with pure rage and fury in his glowing, red eyes. He squeezed until gray dots started to form over your vision, and you felt your lungs start to deflate as the oxygen left them.

“Just... do it...” you choked out.

His unwavering stare faltered, and his expression softened. His eyes faded to a warm amber, and the hard, straight line of his mouth twisted into a frown. He loosened his grip on you and slowly set you back down on the ground.

You spat out blood and looked up at him. “You do love me.” You flashed him a lopsided smirk.

He blinked, and his eyes turned red again. “Don’t be foolish,” he scoffed. “You’re more valuable to us alive.”

But something in the way he had looked at you told you otherwise. “Well, the only way you’ll take me in is if you kill me.”

You broke from his grip and roundhouse kicked him in the face. He staggered back, and you approached him again, fists raised. You threw a punch, but he caught your arm, twisting it. “Have you given up yet?” He threw you to the ground. His expression was stone cold and stoic. “We can do this forever, and you’ll never get anywhere.”

You slowly started to push yourself up again, but he stepped his boot-clad foot in the middle of your back, keeping you down. You knew you were both equally matched and could go at this for hours to no avail. But you also knew that he had a weakness you didn’t.

You spotted a green test tube that had rolled under the desk. You reached for it, stretching your arm as much as you possibly could. Your fingertips just barely brushed the glass. Wesker got out a syringe and uncapped it. He bent down so he was at your level as you got the tube within your grasp. Just as he was about to sedate you, you reached behind yourself and injected it into his neck before he could do anything.

He let out an angered growl and backed away from you. The syringe slipped from his grip and clattered to the ground. He grappled for the metal table to steady himself, pressing a hand against where you had injected him. He panted and fell to his knees, his skin turning sallow and pale as his T-virus levels fluctuated.

You rolled onto your back and noticed a handgun duct taped to the bottom of the desk. You tore it off and rose from the ground. You cocked the gun and aimed it at him.

He looked up at you and cracked a grin. “You won’t make it out of here alive. Even if you do, there’s nowhere to go.”

“It’s worth a shot,” you replied, and then you pulled the trigger.

The blast echoed as the gun went off. He looked down as blood seeped out of the bullet hole right where his heart was. He clutched his chest, blood running through the gaps in his fingers, and slumped back against the wall. His ragged breaths grew soft and shallow with each passing second. His arm dropped to his side, and his head lolled as he went silent.

You lowered the gun and stood still. Your heart pounding against your rib cage and your blood rushing in your veins were the only sounds in the now quiet room. You hesitantly padded across the tile towards him. You stopped right in front of him and poked at him with your toe. His body remained limp. His eyes were once again amber, blank and void with nothing behind them as he stared off into space. And this time he wouldn’t be getting up.

You felt something wet hit your cheek and swiped at it. You couldn’t stop the onslaught of tears from coming, and before you knew it, you were full on sobbing. You fell to your knees in front of him and lowered your head, clawing at your chest as if your heart wanted to burst out. You blamed it on the fake memories, that you were designed to react this way, but you knew deep down part of you had wanted to continue to live with him in ignorant bliss.

You wiped away your tears with the back of your hand. Your face was red and splotchy, your eyes bloodshot and swollen from crying. Your nightgown was tattered and practically hung off of your body in shreds. Every bone and muscle in your body ached. You imagined you resembled the way you had appeared in the video, tortured and battle-worn.

Suddenly, there was a sharp prick in your neck. You furrowed your brows as a buzzing filled your ears and something foreign pumped through your veins. The world spun around you, and everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. You teetered forward and collapsed on top of Wesker’s cold, dead corpse. The position you were in allowed you to see behind you, and the last thing you saw were men wearing thick, plated armor and gas masks moving towards you with their guns raised before everything went black.

You slowly came to. You were lying on an examination table in a room with beige walls that smelled like bleach. You were wearing a hospital gown and hooked up to some sort of machine with a screen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you heard a voice whisper to you. You looked up to see a face hovering above you, and when you focused in on it, you recognized it as your husband’s. “You passed out once you got on the table. Don’t worry, the doc says it’s perfectly normal,” he placated you.

You looked down at your body and noticed something off: there was, barely perceivable but visible none the less, the start of a growing bump along your abdomen. You must be about two or three months along. No, in fact, you knew you were - you could remember the day you had told him about the two little lines that had shown up on the test and how he had smiled at you with all the love in the world.

“Congratulations, little bird. It’s a girl.” He placed a protective hand over your stomach. A wide grin spread across his face, bordering on wolfish. “The first of many.”

EPILOGUE

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #albert wesker fanfic #albert wesker fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #dark!fic

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simsadventures · 5 years ago

Text

After All: Chapter 13: Is This Real?

Summary: Hannah is back and her intentions are scarier than ever before.

Warnings: angst (I cried writing it, I’m weak), swearing, no reader and Bucky in this one

Word Count: 2250

A/N: Go easy on me after you’ve read it, that’s all I have to say (haha *hides behind a couch, peeking nervously*). Anyway, wanna know what you all though about it, feedback is everything. And I would like to know what you guys hope for- happy ending or not? Love you all!!

Series Mastelist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

Bucky’s mind was all over the place. There were many things he didn’t understand just yet. Firstly, how did Hannah get on the aircraft, or where were the rest of the agents that were supposed to be there with him. He just hoped she didn’t hurt them to get to him. He felt like he had enough of lives on his shirt and didn’t need to feel any more guilty, especially for somebody he knew and worked for. His mind also wandered towards you. If you were safe if Hannah didn’t manage to get to you first.

His heart skipped a beat just thinking about Hannah hurting you again, and this time maybe physically. He shook his head and tried to calm his anxious mind, knowing that you were in the safest place you could- with the rest of the team in almost a fortress. ¨

Hannah was just standing there, watching him intently. He didn’t understand what she was doing there. Sure, he was the reason she had to leave the compound and SHIELD, but she was transferred to the CIA, which was like the second-best option. And the very best option for her after what she’s done. Bucky thought she should be glad that Tony didn’t make sure nobody would ever employ her. So Bucky really dint get why she was now in the quinjet, obviously looking for trouble.

Bucky looked past her, trying to see if anyone of his team was there and if they were ok. What he didn’t see coming, was the three agents suddenly coming into the light and standing behind Hannah, their arms crossed over their chests, sinister looks on their faces. Bucky wasn’t scared of them, far from it, he just didn’t understand what the hell was going on.

He looked at all of them quizzically, waiting for someone to speak up and tell him what the actual fuck.

“Are you confused, sweet little Bucky?” Hannah asked sweetly and took a step forward, to which Bucky reacted by also taking a step forward. He would rather die than show her any weakness. Bucky started to realise that she was a sick bitch and that she is truly insane.

“What is going on?” Bucky all but growled at her, to which she only smiled again. He was getting sick of her, and they were standing there for less than a minute.

“Can’t an old friend come and say hi?” She smirked and took another step towards him, standing almost too close for comfort. Bucky inwardly shuddered at her closeness, cursing himself for ever letting her close, and for kissing her. He would vomit if he could.

“Cut the crap, Hannah. How about I open the door and you all willingly get out of this thing, before I send you flying.”

She chuckled at his reaction, cocking her head and smirking. “Oh, baby, when I’m done with you, you’ll be kissing my feet!” She hissed the last part and lurched at him. At the same time, the three agents of SHIELD, or whatever they were now anyway, ran towards him as well.

Bucky did quick math in his mind, the next few minutes eloping in front of his eyes like a movie. He knew how it would go down. While Hannah would keep him occupied in the front, the three guys would try to corner him and somehow catch his hands to stop him from resisting. But Bucky knew that no matter how strong a tape they would use, he would be able to rip it and continue to fight for his life.

He smirked as well, letting Hannah get one good punch, making her feel as if she had the upper hand. As he predicted, two of the guys tried to go around him to stand behind, but Bucky wouldn’t let them. While he kicked Hannah with all he had (girl or no girl, she was an enemy, and he didn’t give a fuck about her gender), and stood so that he was facing the two guys.

Punches were flying, Bucky could feel bones shattering under his blows, making the guys groan in pain, but the adrenalin didn’t let them stop. He saw Hannah lurching back at him, hitting him in the ribs, and trying to have a go at his face. But Bucky could see right through her, and he blocked her punches with his metal hand while giving a few good measured hits to her stomach.

The three of them were groaning, and Bucky suddenly realised that there used to be four. He quickly turned around and saw Micheal just standing there, watching. When he saw that Bucky turned his attention to him, he smirked and as if playfully made a sign to Bucky to come and get him.

Because Bucky was in the mode of fight, he didn’t hesitate and made a run towards him. Micheal didn’t budge. Bucky didn’t care, he wanted to have this over with, and so he raised his left hand to punch him, but at the same time, Michael raised his own hand, clenching something in it.

Before Bucky knew what was happening, the thing in the agent’s hand flashed and Bucky could suddenly feel his left metal hand twitching and growing numb to the point Bucky had no control over it.

It suddenly felt as if it weighed 100 pounds, and it fell to his side. Bucky looked at it shocked and tried to fight Michael with just one hand, but suddenly, the other three behind him came to life and jumped at him, bringing Bucky down with them.

He groaned and tried to fight them, but each of them grabbed one of his own limbs, probably knowing that his metal arm had quite some time before it came back to him. While the three men were kneeling on Bucky body, Hannah took his head into her hands to keep him in place and set on his chest.

“It’s a special little thing, isn’t it? One of the scientists we work for made this specifically for you, you should be honoured, baby!” She was now mocking him, he was sure of that. She didn’t let him even form a sentence, as she went on. “It destabilised the electric board in your arm and made it completely unworkable. Isn’t it great? You’re suddenly a very normal guy.”

Bucky scoffed, and despite the guy sitting on his right arm, he shook him off and punched Hannah square into her jaw. It took her off balance for a little bit, but shook the pain away, hissing at the guy holding Bucky to fucking do his job.

Bucky didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but he started to feel really uneasy. They obviously came prepared, totally surpassing his expectations of the battle (he really didn’t think he’d be laying on his back with four people on top of him).

“You’re making me work for my money, for real, Bucky. When I got you as my mission, I thought it’d be walk in a park, considering my looks and charm, but you’re a tough cookie.” Bucky rolled his eyes at her remark with beauty and charm, knowing as much as she did that she obviously dint have any of it when she had to lie her ass off in front of him for him to open at least a little to her.

She saw what he did and smacked him hard across his face. “This is no time to be funny, asshole. I was so fucking happy when you finally started spending a little more time with me because I lied to you about that slut.” Bucky’s whole body convulsed, fighting against her words. He didn’t want her to even think about you.

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that.” He hissed at her.

She just smirked and made a long awww sound. “You’ve actually fallen for her, haven’t you? That’s so sweet, disgusting and sad, but sweet, sure. I thought I’d be done with you before you realised what was happening, but your little bitch just has to be everywhere, doesn’t she? I really thought I lost the chance to get you on our side, but, fortunately, I got one more chance. So, here we are. I hope you’re ready.” She smiled and fished for something in her back pocket.

—-

You were ecstatic. You knew Bucky was coming back in a few hours, and just the image of him there with you made your heart grow a little warmer. You didn’t even need to do anything with him (not that you didn’t want to and that it wasn’t one of the main things you’ve been thinking about while he was fighting the evil), but you would do with him just laying next to you. You missed the warmth his body emitted, especially when he was asleep. He was like your own personal furnace, and the nights without him were cold and lonely.

Though you knew you should be getting used to it, if your relationship should grow, because, after all, he was a soldier and there were still wars, he needed to be a part of. And he’d be gone for more than few days at a time, and just the image made your heart clench involuntarily.

While Bucky was gone, you tried to get as much work done as you could, knowing that when he came back, and if he came in the same mood he was leaving, you would want a few free days that the two of you could spend together.

When you asked Tony if it was ok, you expected some kind of fight, or at least a lot of muttering and him just being a child in general. But when you raised the question, Tony just nodded understandingly and told you that he understood and that you were a part of the team and didn’t need to ask for free days. You were glad that you didn’t need to fight him, and even happier he saw you as part of them. Not that you could fight, or anything like that, but it was nice to be seen and appreciated.

It was only two hours until you could hold Bucky again, and you thought about what to wear to make a pleasant surprise for him. You took a long bath, scented candles all around the bathtub, relaxing you even more thoroughly. You took your time putting on some make-up to look at least presentable, and also put on your newest lingerie, knowing Bucky would appreciate them once things started to be a little more heated up. Just the image made a shiver run down your spine. You couldn’t wait.

—-

Bucky’s eyes almost fell from their sockets the second he realised what Hannah, or whoever was her boss, planned for him. He was rolling on the ground, trying to shake those people off of him, or at least causing enough fuzz that he wouldn’t hear the damn words. But it was to no avail. Hannah laid the paper with the ten words on top of his chest and continued to hold his head. She smirked at him, the devil peaking from behind her irises.

(A/N: I looked up the translated version of those words because I don’t know a word in Russian and wouldn’t want to screw it up, imagine them in Russian, or don’t... I don’t know)

Longing

Bucky trashed harder, trying to compose himself and to survive this hell she was putting him through.

Rusted

Furnace

Bucky was screaming now, for his ears to hear anything else than those damn words. He almost forgot what it felt like when his own consciousness was slipping away, being replaced by something so cold, menacing. He wanted to run away, to you, at best, and just let you play with his hair and tell him that he’d be ok, just like you did when he had the nightmare. But fate had obviously different plans.

Daybreak

Seventeen

Benign

The Winter Soldier was now licking into his brain, the robot mode almost on. He tried to fight it as much as he could, if for nothing else, then at least for you. Because he was very much aware, he wouldn’t know you, and if you saw him like that, you’d never want him close to you. He’d lose in an instant, and Bucky was sure he couldn’t live without you.

Nine

He saw your face in front of him, smiling up at him, looking at him with the adoration in your eyes that was there lately. He smiled, absent-mindedly, remembering how your skin felt under his fingertips, how your laugh warmed him up inside. He prayed to whoever was listening to stop this, that he’s been through enough and that he doesn’t have it in him to go through all of that again. Knowing that there is something better waiting for him, for the first time in his life.

Homecoming

One

He could feel the Winter Soldier taking over, but not before Bucky gave your image one last goodbye, knowing that it’s probably the last time he ever saw you. He fell in love with you, and he didn’t even have the time to tell you.

Freight Car

With the last word being said, Bucky’s body went rigid and stopped resisting. Hannah smirked and looked at the person beneath her. The dead was done, and she couldn’t wait for what was to come.

/ Next Chapter >

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#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfiction #soldier mode #the white wolf #avengers #avengers fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #multiple chapters #after all #angst #cliffhanger #tears

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ardent-musings · 4 years ago

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The Girl Who Vanished (Part 1)

Chapter 6: Ammunition

Fred was confusing. After their talk in the hospital wing, Fred and Ana didn't come to an agreement. Neither of them had apologized for anything they had done. There was shouting, and pouting, and pounding adrenaline racing through them both as they aired out their grievances. And yet, there was no reconciliation. All of this left Ana confused, because she was no longer feeling angry at the boys. Sure, they were a pain to her and endlessly annoying, but perhaps she could have a bit of fun. If they were going to prank her and the Slytherin house, she might as well beat them at their own game.

And it didn't take long for the twins to prank the group. A week or so from their "fight" the twins had bribed a house elf to serve Ana and her friends some tea during dinner. That would have been a nice gesture had it not been for the nose-biting teacups that snapped at them.

"I've seen these before," Lucian jumped to sit next to Ana on the benches. "It's a Zonko product. The twins got me good last year with one of these." He picked up the tea cup which began snapping furiously at him, trying so hard to nip at the boy.

"Well, then it's game on," Ana smirked. She took a glance over at the Gryffindor table where the twins waved at her in mock innocence. They looked so smug and Ana wanted nothing then to wipe those dumb grins off their faces.

"What are you talking about, Ana?" Calista was dabbing a napkin on Alex's cheek; the teacup had bit her hard enough to break the skin. Alex was holding perfectly still, allowing the girl to mend her small wound which Ana found adorable.

While Ana's attention was on the girls, Lucian began taking notice at the way Aeron was watching the group. Every meal, Aeron would sit close enough to the group to overhear everything, but far enough to seem uninvolved. He was shoveling food into his mouth, but would constantly peer over periodically. When the boy looked up from his food and caught Lucian's suspicious expression, he smirked and returned to his meal.

"Look, the twins keep messing with people because no one fights back," Ana explained excitedly, taking a stab at her strawberry and plopping it in her mouth. "Maybe instead of being sitting ducks we could do a bit of pranking ourselves."

All of them stared at her in disbelief.

"Ana, what happened to just ignoring them," Alex reminded her with a chuckle, "Have you eaten anything weird lately?"

Lucian rolled his eyes at his sister's accusation, "There's a reason no one pranks them. They'll go even harder on you. Besides, you're not one to retaliate. What do you- so you want to prank them back?"

Ana studied her friends, both the girls staring at her in confusion. Lucian was analyzing her, anticipating her next out-of-character statement. All their expressions made her a little uncomfortable, but she couldn't ignore just how exhilarated she felt. Her heart was beating hard and she didn't know if this was nerves or excitement, but the idea of beating the twins at their own game felt like something she couldn't pass up.

"Seriously? None of you have thought about pranking them back? Maybe sprinkle a little Alihotsy leaves into their tea?" Ana was buzzing with ideas.

"That's a childish move."

The four of them turned to Aeron, finally deciding to join in on their conversation after eavesdropping the whole meal. He finally put down his fork and shuffled closer to the group, sitting beside Alex and Calista. He folded his boney fingers together and leaned forward, bringing his long thin face mere inches away from Ana's.

"You seriously think you can prank the key tricksters at school with a simple little plant? Just gonna give them a few giggle leaves and be on your way?" He condescended. "If you want to beat them, really prank the pants off of them, Malfoy. You have to up the ante."

"What are you talking about?" Ana asked, shifting nervously in her seat.

"I mean hit them where it hurts, blondie," rebellion glowing in his hawk-like eyes. "You wanna be a punching bag for them all your life? Or do you want to actually do something about it?"

Ana's excitement was starting fizzling away, the way Aeron was talking about a simple prank was a bit much, even for how badly she wanted to do one. She moved further back, trying to put some space between her and the boy. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, this was not what she was expecting.

"Calm down, Scarface," Calista giggled, waiting for a reaction from the rest of them, but they only exchange confused looks. "Really? No one? Godric, do none of you watch movies?" Alex returned her joke with a pitiful smile.

Aeron's eyes scanned over to Calista, glaring at her with a sneer. The boy never talked to her much, oftentimes he would just stare at her harshly and she would ignore him. But quickly, he returned his attention back to Ana, the small smile slipping off his face and settling on a grimace instead. The way he was looking at her made her stomach turn, the acid gurgling at the base of her gut. Aeron was doing too much.

"Aeron, I don't want to do anything extreme. Just something silly, like," Ana picked up the snapping teacup, "-like this. Nothing that could hurt them."

"You mean like setting a couple of snakes to attack them?" He jeered.

Ana's eyes bulged, as did everyone else's. Now her stomach was accompanied with a shiver that ran down her spine. Ana turned her gaze towards Lucian, nervously chewing on her lower lip and shaking her leg.

Lucian was able to pick up on Ana's change in demeanor.

"Wright, were you spying on us?" Lucian accused as he leaned past Ana, trying to put some space between her and the gangly boy. His two years on Aeron gave him a bit of an advantage, being taller and a bit stronger from playing Quidditch. But Ana had never seen Lucian look so angry before. His nostrils were flared and his blue eyes were hooded as he scowled. "Because if you were, I may have to bring out my beater's bat."

The young boy sat further back, but his smirk never ceased, "Is that a threat, Bole?"

"Keep talking and you'll find out."

Lucian stood up abruptly so he was towering over the seated boy. Aeron peered up at Lucian and laughed weakly at the intimidation. When they thought he couldn't make them any more uneasy, he stood up and let out a croaked chuckle. Both of them took a moment to stare each other down, all the girls laser focused on the two boys.

"This was a fun little time. I come over trying to help blondie and I get shut down," he recounted. Aeron glances down at Ana with furrowed brows and a sinister smile. "But go ahead! Do it your way, then."

Before leaving the Great Hall, he reached down and took the sandwich off of Calista's plate and began eating it with a smile, the crumbs falling from his mouth. He was giving them the most pleased smile until Alex reached up and ripped the sandwich out of his hand and threw the scraps back in his face. Without missing a beat, he charged out of the hall, leaving all of them confused and a bit spooked. Alex sat back down and wiped her hands clean of the sandwich goop. Calista smiled back at her softly and Lucian sat back down next to Ana.

Silence enveloped all of them. All of that was unnecessary and way out of line, even for Ana who wanted to get back at the twins. But the way Aeron was encouraging her to go about it made her wish she never said anything. The fact that he listening in on their conversation during dinner and spied on them that day with the snakes made her feel gross.

"So," Alex drawled, trying to bring the group back to the present, "what kind of prank were you thinking of, Malfoy?"

All three of them turned back to her with a smile and Ana couldn't help but start blabbing about things she could do to get back at them. She wasn't going to let Aeron ruin this for her. It was going to be good, clean, mutual pranking. Nothing more.

"Professor Snape!" Ana called out to the potions master after their last class of the day. The double potions was a lot to have just finished, so there shouldn't be any real reason for her to talk to him. And she didn't typically talk to the head of the house out of class time, but she knew she had to speak with him to get what she wanted.

Snape looked dreadful today, more so than he usually did. His hair was always as greasy and gnarly looking as ever, but goodness the man desperately needed some sleep she figured. Maybe the change in seasons was getting to him. She often dreaded when the weather turned cold.

He turned to her with his nose pointed high, effectively letting her see right up his nostrils. Snape always had a flair for the dramatics; he whooshed his cape around his body and tucked himself into it, like a bat would before hibernating.

"What could you possibly need, Malfoy?" His nasally voice snarled. "Was my lesson today not adequate enough for you?"

"No professor, lessons were fine," she explained.

"Than what is the purpose of you requiring more of my time?"

Ana took a second. If she told him that she wanted to brew potions beyond what he taught, he would surely know she was up to something. He was a good teacher, and tolerated her to a fair degree, but he was no Professor Sprout.

"I was wondering if you had any potions books you'd recommend, Professor. "I've already finished Magical Drafts and Potions," that was a lie, "so I was hoping maybe you could give me a few suggestions."

The man looked at her with squinted eyes and a scrunched up brow. He always looked angry or confused so this wasn't surprising. But what was surprising was when the sneer that painted his mouth slowly twisted up into what she cold guess was Snape's impression of a smile. Slowly, he began to turn away from her and started floating towards the back of the classroom as if his feet weren't touching the ground. When Ana didn't follow he turned back and motioned for her to join him with a quick wave.

"You have a passion for potion making?" he grumbled.

Ana nodded. "I do, sir. My mother makes quite a few potions back home. It always fascinated me."

"I know all about that, given the fact that I have to brew a particular potion for you every morning," he reminded her. He glided past his desk and began fumbling with the various books he had stacked high on his shelves. The room was dark, it too being situated under the Black Lake. No wonder Snape was so pale, he never saw the sun. "Nevertheless, you do just so happen to be the most competent first year to be taking my class. Your mother used to be very good at potions."

"Oh, my mother is still great at making po-"

"And your mother was very good at potions," he interrupted, pausing a moment, "when she was a student at Hogwarts. I'm not surprised to find you also possess the knowledge and temperament needed for such a meticulous skill."

He grabbed one of the books from his shelf with a pinch and twisted back to Ana who had taken a seat at one of the chairs by his desk. The book was old and practically torn at the spine; whoever read this book, and she assumed Snape read it quite a bit, they really wore it to shreds. Snape shifted towards her, holding the book inches from her.

"This book was written by no other than one of the most accomplished wizards in the potions world: Phineas Bourne," he admired the book as he showed her the front of it. Moste Potente Potions was written on the front of it. "How good is your Latin Ms. Malfoy? Care to translate?"

Ana knew talking to him would be difficult, but she could handle his little challenge. She took a glance at the book, she didn't know Latin but the title didn't pose much of an issue. "I'm going to guess the book is Most Potent Potions, sir?"

"Correct, Ms. Malfoy," he sat at his desk, waving the book in front of him. "This particular book has a copy in the library's restricted section. Its contents are so far darker than anything being taught here. Let alone for a first year."

"It's a book on the Dark Arts?" Ana questioned, staring at the book wondering why he was showing it to her if it wasn't suitable for someone her age.

Snape stood back up turning back to his shelf. He picked up another book; it was in far better condition than the other one, its black and purple embossed cover still glossy.

"That book was on dark potions, Ms. Malfoy," he corrected. "This one is on the Dark Arts."

Secrets of the Darkest Art by Owle Bullock. He held it with such a grip as if holding it to loosely would unravel the words inside. Maybe that's why it was in such good condition, if it was truly filled with vile, dark magic, no one with a right mind would want to go snooping around in it. Unless they were desperate. Snape held both books in front of him, the potions and the dark arts book.

"A day may come when you might need one of these books, Ms. Malfoy," he hissed. "I can only assume with your lineage you will face certain obstacles in your life."

"My lineage?"

He once again sharply turned on his heal to move back beyond his desk, looking at his shelf. She wondered if he would burn a hole in his floor from pacing so much. He should just sit down or maybe stand in one place for a second. All she wanted was a simple book recommendation, not whatever one man play he was performing now. Snape was always a more private and mysterious man, but she was beginning to wonder if he was actually like that or just liked the attention being strange got him.

"Your lineage is one that everyone knows, it is legendary and comes with a heavy amount of both criticism and admiration," his tone was flat. "Surely, you understand that some people may have a feeling about you simply given your family name."

He looked at her with such force, it was almost laughable how intense he was making this meeting turn out to be. But she understood what he meant. The Gryffindors treated her differently as soon as they heard her last name. Even the Great Hall erupted in murmurs when Professor McGonagall announced her. Malfoy was a name full of tradition and superiority, as did the rest of her family: Lestrange and Black. She already entered the school with a reputation. How she was supposed to fully understand that reputation, she wasn't entirely sure.

"I know that my name means something to other people," Ana answered.

"What does it mean to you?"

She never really thought what the name Malfoy meant to her. It was something she was born with. And with it came a family that she was born into. It was all a given, so there was no real reason to think too deeply about it. His question had her stumped.

"I'm not entirely sure Professor." She admitted. He turned back from his shelf to look at her with a glare. Not mean, but direct. He was choosing his words carefully.

"I implore you begin thinking about it, Ms. Malfoy. Because while you take your time trying to figure it out, everyone around you will already have made up their mind."

He turned with a controlled twirl, handing her Charms of Defence and Deterrence by Catullus Spangle. Ana was confused. She asked for a book on potions and yet, he gave her one about charms.

"Professor, are you sure this is the right book? This one is about defensive charms," Ana brought to his attention.

The teacher looked at her with an empty expression, "I am well aware of the contents of the book, Ms. Malfoy. Believe or not, I have read everything in my library."

He sat back down at his desk, his stare never leaving the young girl and she found his drawl to be wasting so much of their time. She figured their double potions could have easily fit into one session had he not talked so slowly.

"I am giving you this book because our current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is lacking in both know-how and experience," he accused.

He wasn't entirely wrong. The defense teacher was a recent Hogwarts graduate who was given the position by Dumbledore. He wasn't a horrible teacher but Professor Brookes just sat them down for an hour of silent reading until he assigned work and excused them. It wasn't the most practical class.

"When you are done with this book, we can see you to one on potions." And with that, she knew that their conversation was over.

Ana stood up, taking the book and giving the man an appreciative smile. Godric did she want to get out of there. Being under the lake and listening to him murmur on and on was the perfect way to get someone to fall asleep. She made her way out of the cramped office and hurriedly made it back to the common room. Ana turned the book, taking in the bright cobalt cover. Maybe it was a good idea to get a bit more of an understanding of defensive magic, she knew her DADA teacher wasn't going to be of much help. She figured she'd read a bit of the charms book and then head to the library later on to find one that would actually help her prank the twins.

#fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x oc #bibiana malfoy #the girl who vanished #tgwv #tgwv 1-6 #enemies to friends to lovers

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headoverjojo · 5 years ago

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Can you write a scenario or some headcanons of what Risotto would think and how act if he found out that a ... "appreciated one" or even an esteemed disciple expresses that he would like to take revenge like him? I would like it to also include a flashback of when his cousin was killed and he decided to take revenge, "condemning" himself and awakening his stand, if you do not mind...

Hi there, dear! Of course :3 sooo, for this one I didn’t use my usual “you/reader insert” ‘cause it sounded too strange when I read it again, so I went if a generic “he”, as you had specified it was a male disciple, I hope it’s ok! And ooof I might have gone apeshit with the flashback sorry-

This said, I hope you’ll enjoy it! :3

Risotto Nero’s reactions to his pupil who wants to take revenge on someone, just like him when he was young

(Under the cut for length!)

Being part of the infamous Squadra Esecuzioni wasn’t easy. Even if G/N’s0 Capo, Risotto, hadn’t sent him on mission yet, he knew it was a matter of time. Seeing his pupil’s potential, Risotto offered to train him himself; even the other senior members have been shocked by his offer. He usually left this kind of duty to Prosciutto or Gelato… he hadn’t told it to anyone, but what really convinced him to take G/N as his pupil was the light in his eyes. That sinister and gloomy sparkle in his eyes… he knew it. Oh, he knew it too well.

His eyes too, before turning red, have had that same sparkle. The sparkle of hate, the sparkle of desire of revenge.

However, he never told him what he had understood. His only concern was to be sure he would have been ready to accomplish his future tasks as assassin and, especially, to come back alive. And maybe… maybe, he would have found a goal other than a bloody revenge. That was what he hoped, at least.

However, deep in his heart, he knew this couldn’t happen, no matter how much he tried to push him towards new goals. G/N wouldn’t have found peace until his revenge was finally accomplished. And Risotto already knew what G/N wanted to talk about, when he entered his office with a serious and gloomy look on his face.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes and lifting them to watch him. With an almost imperceptible nod, he gave him the permission to sit in front of his desk. He stared at G/N, calm and serious, as usual. He didn’t flinch, when his red eyes fixed on him. His stare made men bigger and more powerful than him shrink in fear, but not him.

For G/N, he wasn’t the enemy, the lethal assassin… he was his capo and, especially, his mentor. The only person on this cursed planet he trusted wholeheartedly and, he knew, could perfectly understand the burning agony in his heart.

“What’s the matter, G/N?” he went straight to the point, and G/N’s jaw tightened. It was time… He had thought so much about what and how confide him his desire… but now his mind was blank, aside few, important words.

“I’ve worked to enter the Squadra Esecuzioni for a precise reason. I want… I have to kill a person. Or my family would never rest in peace.” Risotto sighed again, closing his eyes for a moment. Oh, he had already heard this story…

“Tell me what happened.” his jaw clenched, when he heard his pupil’s story, how his big sister was shot down during a robbery, and how, when the thefts had been finally jailed, the judge found that the evidences weren’t enough to keep them in prison. Judges, lawyers… same old story.

“So? Do you want to use our team’s resources to find these men and to kill them?” he hummed, when G/N nodded, determined and serious. It was like being in front of a mirror…

“I’ll tell you what I’ve decided tomorrow. Leave, now. Go to sleep.” G/N knew he couldn’t get anything more from him, but, at least, he had said what he had to. He got up and, when he finally closed the door behind him, Risotto let the steely façade he was keeping on fall down. He tiredly rubbed his eyes again, and he took off his black hat, finally freeing his white locks, that he immediately started to torment. The ghost of a smile graced his lips, when he remembered that his cousin always scolded him when he found him fidgeting with his hair. You’ll become bald if you go on like this, he always said, laughing. His cousin… the smile died out, when the memory of him hit him like a punch in the guts.

His parents were always too busy to care about him. Work came first, and Risotto learned to care about himself since he was a child. His grandparents were too sophisticated, too noble to like him. He was a constant disappointment in their eyes. They wanted a grandson who wanted to become a bank director, a manager, or even a politician. And what they got was a grandson who, instead, wanted to work as farmer. A grandson who loved the earth and who was incredibly good at make every kind of plant grow healthy and strong. He wanted a farm, to have a full and satisfying life in his beloved Sicily, in the countryside he loved so much… and his cousin was the first to fully support his dreams and inclinations. He always took his little cousin with him when he had to go to the fields and he was the one who taught him all the techniques and the little secrets to be a good farmer. His cousin, always with a smile on his face, with a laugh so loud it always scared the nearby birds, was his hero. A giant, gentle hero. He wanted to be like him, he wanted it with his whole heart.

And then his cousin was took from him.

He had seen everything. He was waiting for him at his uncle’s house entrance, at the end of another day in the fields. His cousin was carrying a big bag full of peaches and apricots…

While he was crossing the road, a car suddenly turned the corner. The driver, as the police found about later, was drunk. His cousin didn’t even have the time to turn his head to see the car.

He was hit so hard that his back snapped. There was blood everywhere, too much blood… on the car, that drifted away without almost witnessing what had just happened, on the road, on his cousin, on Risotto’s still small hands, that were trying to keep his cousin together, to bring him back, on the fruit…

He still couldn’t eat peaches or apricots. Every time he took one on his hand, he always saw his cousin’s blood on it.

And then in his mind there was just place for revenge. No more farms, no more plants and a quiet life… just revenge. He wanted to murder the bastard that took away his hero from him. He wanted to find him and to make him suffer like he had made him and his uncle and aunt suffer. He didn’t care if he would have gone to hell… he would have gone with a smile on his face, knowing he had accomplished his mission.

That was his end. From then on, he fell more and more in disgrace, until he finally disappear, when he was just eighteen years old. His parents and grandparents never missed him; they never fully considered him part of the family, anyway. The rest was history.

However… he sighed, rubbing his face, as to chase away those memories. His revenge had been his only goal for so many years that, when he finally avenged his cousin, he found himself empty. He had killed the monster, the man that had so abruptly murdered his cousin… but now? What had he to do? What was the meaning of his life, now?

Finding it again had been even more painful than the agonizing waiting to get his revenge. At least, when he still had his revenge to wait for him, he had something that drove him forward, but then… he had nothing. No family, no dreams… no cousin. Avenging him hadn’t given Risotto the peace and the satisfaction he had sought so much. Killing the monster hadn’t brought his cousin back.

He didn’t want G/N to go through the same, grievous path he had to. Maybe… maybe he could help him. He could let him have his revenge and then help him to start to live again, to accept and embrace his pain and, instead of drawing just hate and grief from it, to draw the strength he needed to face even the darkest days. To put aside the painful part of them and to embrace the light the memories of his sister could bring to him. And, oh, he would have needed all the light he could gather, in order not to lose himself in the dark sea he was swimming in with your comrades.

Morning came faster than what he thought and, with the first sunbeams, G/N too came to his office again. And now Risotto had finally an answer for him.

“This will be a mission out of the ordinary. I will help you personally to get your revenge, Y/N… but you have to promise me something.” G/N nodded, serious, trying hard not to let spill even a drop of what you were feeling. He was so near to your revenge… it almost seemed unreal.

“I want you to learn to live, first.” he frowned, perplexed. Learn to live…? Seeing the confusion in G/N’s eyes, Risotto went on.

“I was in the same situation as you’re in now. And let me tell something… when I finally got my revenge, it wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would have been. I was left without any goal and will to live. Finding it again had been… hard. That’s why I want you to find a reason to live now, before you get your revenge. When you have found a real reason to live, then I’ll aid you. You’ll get your closure. It’s a promise.” he looked down, at Risotto’s words. So, it wasn’t now… but soon. Well… if he wanted him to find a reason to live other than his revenge, he’ll have done it. For him, his mentor, for his sister. But especially for himself.

Risotto’s lips slightly bent when G/N nodded. It was good… he could start to heal for real, then.

And he would have been here, to assist and help him. He would have been the figure he too would have wanted to have near when he was wandering in the darkness.

He wouldn’t have left him alone.

#jjba #vento aureo #la squadra di esecuzione #risotto nero #male member #risotto's pupil #risotto's past #tw: death #tw: mention of blood #scenario #sfw #anon ask

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zenlesszonezero · 9 days ago

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Join Zenless Zone Zero with Tsukishiro Yanagi, the deputy leader of Hollow Special Operations Section 6! Beneath her ordinary office lady exterior lies a meticulous, emotionally intelligent big sister to the team.

#zzzero #zenless zone zero #yanagi #gaming #anime game

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megalony · 5 years ago

Text

The club

This is a new murderer! Ben Hardy imagine that was requested by the lovely @bluutac I hope you like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Enjoy.

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"Why do you do it?" (Y/n) questioned gently as she took Ben's hand in her own so she could inspect the damage.

She felt his other hand ever so gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before he ran his fingertips over her cheek and beside her eye. His head was tipped at an angle as he seemed to be admiring her as if she were the only person in the world worth looking at.

Ben was good at that. He was amazing at making (Y/n) feel like she was the most important person in the world and that she had his full attention no matter what she was doing or what she had said. It was one of the reasons she had first fallen in love with him. Even when she knew all of the bad things that he had done, he still seemed like a completely different person when he was with her. He seemed like the most compassionate, kind, caring person in the world.

But that was one side to him. The other side, his alter ego as (Y/n) thought of it, was the worser face that made more of an appearance than his good side. The alter ego was the one that liked to hurt people, the one that relished in the fear he imposed on people and the harm he could cause them.

"Which bit are you referring to, love?" Ben spoke gently but his eyes were darker than the blackest void. He had the kind of grin on his features that she could like and admire, not the grin that went with the look in his eyes.

When Ben talked about his work or he started to play dangerous games with people, he had a grin that made her think she was in love with the Devil himself. Ben could grin in such a broken and crooked way that it looked like someone had tried to bend a straight line which ended up with sharp corners all the way through. When he flashed his teeth (Y/n) lost her breath because he looked like he could eat people up and spit them back out without a care in the world.

"All of it."

(Y/n) noticed how Ben didn't even flinch or pull away when she started to clean the blood from his bruised, split knuckles that were simply caked in dried blood at this point.

When she cleaned the blood, she drifted her eyes up to his as he seemed to be debating his answer although his eyes were focused on watching her patching him up. The antiseptic wipe didn't make any impact on him like it should have as if he didn't have a pain threshold at all.

"I box because I'm good at it, and I have the club because it's a front. Wouldn't you play a game you knew you were going to win?"

Ben was a good boxer- he was better than good and he could win almost any fight he was in. Why would he play a game if he knew he was going to lose? He knew he had a good advantage with his frame, build and his skills that he picked up from boxing for years. He loved fighting because it allowed him to let out his frustrations and he liked seeing people bow down to him and hurting people was just something he seemed to be rather good at.

As for owning the boxing club, he rather liked owning a business and taking care of the finances and being the boss. It was a good front as well for the rather dark, backstreet stuff he got up to behind closed doors. He could have people working for him who knew what he did and who could be there to help when he was threatening or punishing those who went against him. And no one thought anything of it because they just worked in a boxing club.

"What about the punishments?" (Y/n) started to wrap a bandage around his knuckles but she knew he would take them off tomorrow when he went back to the club. Ben didn't seem to go one day without either boxing, training for boxing or punishing someone so he never let his knuckles heal or any cuts he had seemed to stay open and didn't heal for weeks.

(Y/n) had never seen him give punishments, nor had she ever been down to the boxing club. She only knew what Ben wanted to tell her about his work and his rules and he was always straight up with her, he never lied.

But that meant (Y/n) didn't get a sugarcoated version of events, she got told that people died in the club if they went against Ben or if they did something unforgivable. She got told about how many people got hurt there either from sparring with Ben or from him beating them up for a punishment. But simply hearing about punishments made shivers run down her spine.

Ben liked control and he loved to hurt people. If someone broke a rule, such as talking to the police about him and what he did or if they dared leave the business or steal from him then they got what they deserved for doing that. Most of Ben's punishments were simply him beating people up because it was the most effective thing and he was very good at it. But sometimes he would threaten a worker's family to show them who was really in control.

(Y/n) had been lucky enough never to have had a real punishment, Ben simply took to threatening her to keep her in line. He was admittedly easier on (Y/n) because he did love her. But he had pinned her to the wall once and he had immediately said he was sorry when he saw how badly he had shaken her up when he did that.

"Keeps people in line. I can't afford someone running to the police or trying to steal shit from me. When they get punished they stay in line."

People seemed to think that Ben would let them get away with little grievances. They thought they could try and get away with little things but if they did then they would move on to bigger steps out of the lines he had drawn around them. Ben punished anyone who went against him or did something wrong and they didn't step out of line once after that and if they did he simply made the punishments worse.

"Why don't you come down to the club tomorrow? See how things work?"

(Y/n)'s eyes widened as she stopped what she was doing for a moment to try and process what he had said. He had always told her he didn't want her near the club because at first, he knew it would frighten her away. Then he thought it would be better to keep her out of everything because his business was dodgy and half of it was illegal.

But now, maybe it would be better for her to see what he did and see how things operated at work. (Y/n) was his girlfriend and he loved her, he didn't hide anything away from her and this would stop her from wondering about what he did and worrying about his work. Maybe it might make her worry more, but at least she would know everything.

"A-are you sure?" Ben never asked her to go and the one time she asked him if she could go down he said no because she didn't know at that time that the boxing club was where he got very nasty and people could get killed.

"I don't think it'll frighten you away, do you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) allowed her eyes to scan around the vast room she walked into behind Ben who seemed like he could walk through these rooms blindfolded. The club was much bigger than she thought it would be. There was an office back down the corridor they walked into, two main rooms with boxing rings in the centre and punch bags set up around and sparring mats here and there. Then there was another room further out the way next to the office that Ben said she shouldn't go in.

She gathered it was the room he had talked to her about on a few occasions. The room where the punishments and the bad deals went on in.

But right now he had taken her into the main room with the boxing ring set up in the centre. There were a few people she knew hovering around who worked for Ben. A few of them were in the same casual clothes they normally were which were usually just button-up shirts and black trousers but some of them were in boxing shorts and were at the punch bags set up around the room.

"Want me to show you how we play it here?" Ben questioned, bringing (Y/n) out of her trance as he turned around to face her. There was a smile on his lips that made her insides melt but not in a lovely, sweet and endearing kind of way. He was smiling like he knew something sinister was about to happen and he was going to let it.

Saying nothing, (Y/n) simply managed to nod along as she knew he meant how they boxed here. She remembered Ben telling her something about them not having rounds when they boxed. They didn't have three or more rounds to determine the winner, whoever was knocked down and couldn't get up or whoever was knocked out was the loser. Ben didn't seem to accept people giving up when he boxed. If they tried to pull out of the game he simply dragged them to their feet and continued until they physically couldn't get up again.

That was the way he had learnt and it was the way he was going to continue to play.

Ben kissed (Y/n)'s forehead as he gently held her arms and walked her backwards until she sat down on the chairs near the back wall. He moved his hand to rest at the nape of her neck when she wrapped her arms around him for a moment. (Y/n) thought about saying good luck but she knew Ben wouldn't need it. He didn't cheat, he was simply good enough at boxing that everyone knew he would be the one who came out on top.

(Y/n) thought that Ben would disappear to get changed, she had seen the photos of him when he had been in boxing games and she had seen him training at home. He wore navy blue shorts when he boxed, but today he didn't seem to want to bother getting changed. It wasn't a proper match, it was just him hurting someone to show (Y/n) how everything worked around here.

The blond walked over to the ring and slipped between the ropes before he unbuttoned the plain white shirt he was wearing and threw it out of the ring. When he took off his shoes and socks, it left him in his plain black trousers and belt which he felt was fine to box in. They weren't jeans so he could move and be flexible in them.

"Luke. Get in the ring." Ben spoke in such a commanding yet smooth voice that it seemed like he could put anyone under a trance.

Luke wasn't someone (Y/n) had met before but he seemed to be a rather obedient worker because he didn't put up a fuss. He did look worried but he just climbed up into the ring, already wearing shorts as he had been sparring. Ben knew Luke was a rather good boxer which was the reason he picked him to box with today, he didn't want someone who would just flop and give in, Ben wanted a proper fight.

Someone (Y/n) knew as Joe handed Ben and Luke a roll of white tape each that they started to wrap around their hands and fingers but they didn't put boxing gloves on like (Y/n) thought they would. Ben preferred his fists rather than layers of thick cotton and material bundled over them. Bare knuckles were more effective.

(Y/n) didn't know how they did things here, she didn't know if someone would be the referee and say when to start or if they would step in at times and tell one of them to stop or back off and let the other person get up. But when Ben suddenly threw a rather powerful punch to the side of Luke's face, she knew a referee was not needed. No one was going to step in and tell them to stop and they would know who had won, the winner would be the one who was still standing or still conscious.

Ben's punch made Luke stumble but he recovered almost instantly and threw a punch to Ben's ribs on the left side. When he went to throw another punch, this time to Ben's face, the blond held his arms up in defence to block the attack.

A rush of adrenaline surged through (Y/n) as she watched Luke manage to back Ben into one of the corners. If she didn't know Ben, she would have thought that he wasn't very good at this. But she did know him, very well in fact, so she knew that he was allowing himself to be put in this position so he could backfire in moments. Luke did seem to be rather good, he was a match for Ben which is what he wanted. Ben never wanted to fight someone who he knew he could beat easily, he liked a fight and a struggle unless he was punishing someone. Then he liked to have the upper hand with no backlash.

Just when Luke was about to go for a punch to the head, Ben caught (Y/n)'s eye and in one split second, she saw the devil grinning at her. His eyes were black but they caught the light allowing a small sparkle to ignite in them as he bared his teeth like an animal.

He uppercut Luke's jaw so harshly that (Y/n) knew it must have broken or in the very least, become fractured. His head snapped back to the point it almost disconnected from the rest of his body as a stream of blood pooled in his mouth and started to dribble down his chin. He had been shocked and he knew that this was the beginning of him losing the fight. He had seen Ben fight too many times to think that he would have the upper hand on the boss.

No one ever let Ben win, they were instructed not to and they all wanted to put Ben down. Just for once, they wanted to fight with him and win so he knew how it felt to be put down because he was the boss, he was in control at all times. But in the ring, he gave them a chance to beat him and they would have no punishment if they won.

But no one ever did.

Ben gave Luke no time to recover from his bash to the jaw before he punched him towards the bottom of his ribcage to stun him. The air was knocked out of his lungs and the moment another punch landed to the side of his temple, he fell to his knees.

Ben lowered his arms and caught back his breath as he seemed to be impatient in waiting for Luke to get up. He waited until Luke managed to push himself onto unsteady feet before he bashed his fist into his nose. Sucessfully causing a flurry of blood to pour from his nostrils as he stumbled back against the ropes of the ring.

There seemed to be little energy left in Luke but he tried to muster up what strength he had left and pummel his fist into Ben's lip and chin causing his lower lip to split open. He sent another slightly weakened punch into Ben's cheekbone before he doubled forwards when Ben's fist cracked one or two ribs. The noise vibrated through (Y/n)'s ears causing her to wince at the sound.

As Luke seemed to lose his strength and get ready to lose, Ben seemed to gain energy like he was draining it from Luke. (Y/n) had to dip her head down once or twice when Ben hit a little too hard and repeatedly. He didn't stop when Luke was on his knees and he only stopped when Luke's eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body dropped like a rag doll. Ben bent his knees and hovered over the brunette who worked for him, checking if he was unconscious or not. He noticed he was awake but he clearly couldn't get back up, the fight was over.

"Nice try." There was a hint of a condescending tone to his voice as he smiled, beginning to unwind the tape from his knuckles when Luke whispered something to Ben that clearly annoyed him or rattled his cage.

(Y/n) was too far away to hear what Luke had said but her stomach churned as she wondered if it had something to do with her when both men's eyes drifted to look at her for a moment.

"You've taken a beating, do you really want another?" Ben leaned his head to the side as he narrowed his eyes with a smile. He was willing to let what Luke said about (Y/n) wash over his head because Luke was bruised and bloodied. He had lost and he had clearly wanted to win, Ben would let him hobble away now and clear the slate but if he continued Ben would unleash a punishment on him and Luke was already battered. He wouldn't be able to put up a fight and Ben wouldn't let that stop him.

"Do you say that to the bitch too?" His voice was hoarse and his words were slurred from the blood and spit dribbling from his lips but Ben heard them coherently enough.

Luke was angry, that much was clear. He didn't like Ben being the boss because Ben was in control and Luke didn't seem to work well in that kind of environment. He didn't want to fight Ben when he knew he couldn't win but he still tried his best and Ben decided to gloat about his win. Luke felt he may as well say what he had always bottled inside his head.

"Tsk, tsk. Shouldn't have said that." Ben tutted as he shook his head before he took Luke's jaw tightly in his hand and tugged on his chin so he was looking up at him properly. But Luke didn't respond, he simply spat the blood from his lips at Ben with a gleam in his eyes as if he was asking to die.

Letting go of his jaw, Ben wiped the blood from his cheek as he stood up, looking the picture of calm which everyone knew was a lie. The four other guys in the room had stopped whatever they had been doing because they heard the words and they knew something bad was about to happen. Ben leaned down and held up the bottom rope of the ring before he swiftly sent a kick into Luke's side and then another to kick him out of the ring.

Luke landed on the floor with a groan as his broken ribs felt like they were breaking for a second time as he landed the few small feet down to the floor. Ben climbed through the ropes and stood hovering over Luke like death coming to claim his soul. He didn't feel like using his fists again, not for a punishment. So Ben slammed the heel of his foot into Luke's nose and crushed it upwards allowing more blood to pour from the already broken cartilage.

A low groan left Luke's chapped and bloodied lips as he clasped his hands to his shattered nose before he seemed to become motionless when another kick was sent to his temple that made him see stars and knocked him out for a few seconds. Bending down at Luke's side, Ben picked up his right hand and examined it for a moment before he suddenly bent all four of Luke's fingers back as if trying to get them to touch the back of his hand.

Luke soon came back around with a start as he tried not to cry out but couldn't stop the whine slipping past his teeth at the pain. When Ben violently forced his hand backwards to fracture his wrist precisely, Luke's eyes saw white spots again as he choked on what Ben guessed was a cry.

"Up." Ben stated calmly when he threw Luke's limp arm back on his chest but Luke didn't have the will or the energy to get up.

Ben had no patience left so he grabbed the discarded white tape from his knuckles and wrapped it around Luke's throat, using it as leverage to pull him to his feet. Luke grabbed onto Ben's hands to try and ease the pressure as he choked and struggled for breath, doing his best to hold himself up when Ben pulled the tape away and let it drop back to the floor.

"If you can walk to the door without falling on your ass, I won't shoot you whilst your down. Got it?" Ben whispered the words menacingly into Luke's ear before he gave him a shove in the direction of the door that led onto the corridor where they all headed out the back way of the club.

Luke stumbled and for a moment, Ben's eyes lit up as he thought he was going to fall, but he managed to keep his balance just as his top half doubled over. Ben's eyes dampened as he held his hand out to Joe who silently placed a gun into his hand. Ben clicked off the safety on the gun and aimed it at various points on Luke's body but the three times Luke stumbled and tripped, he didn't fall, much to Ben's disappointment.

Luke disappeared around the corner of the wall and although Ben sighed in irritation, he still looked pleased as he handed the gun back to Joe before making his way over to (Y/n).

(Y/n) tried to stay calm because she knew this was what Ben was like when he was at work or generally when he wasn't in her presence. But it was a lot to take in. To see how he so naturally hurt people who worked for him, to see how he loved imposing that fear and pain onto them was both worrying and unnerving. She always knew this side of Ben was not the side he showed when he was with her and it wasn't the side she had fallen in love with, but it was still Ben. This side of Ben was part of him, it was almost all of him and if she loved Ben, she had to love this side of him too.

"What do you think?"

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #imagine #borhap #joe mazzello #murderer! ben

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sebseyesandbuckysthighs · 5 years ago

Text

Three Soldiers and a Baby | Part Fourteen

summary: Three handsome bachelors find their day to day operations disrupted when an unexpected new roommate (who comes complete with a diaper and a pacifier) shows up at their doorstep. How will they deal with this new and baffling responsibility without losing their minds or killing each other in the process?

pairings: Bucky x Reader featuring Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

warnings: none

a/n: Here it is, darlings! My beloved little series has finally come to an end! There’s still the epilogue, which I will post this Thursday because ain’t nobody wanna wait a week for the conclusion amirite?! Thank you all so much for reading along and leaving me some love and feedback on the series. You have no idea how much I appreciate each and every one of your comments, they always make my day. Love y’all!

*warning to mobile users, the “keep reading” tab may not work so apologies in advance*

| previously |

After talking to Tony and practically ripping Nick Fury a new one, the three men were in a car and speeding off to the airport. Tony said he would do what he could, but stopping a commercial airline from taking off wasn’t exactly something that could be done without raising alarm amongst the passengers. Bucky was sure that he was ready to shoot the former S.H.I.E.L.D. Director between the eyes for spying on his relationship with you, and worse, for practically scaring you to death and taking away his baby. When Fury mentioned national security and just trying to protect the Avengers or some other bullshit, not even Steve was willing to listen anymore. He assured them that the girl was always perfectly safe and it was just her paranoia that had caused her to make up all this drama. Bucky punched the computer monitor and effectively cut off the video call.

Now they were on a race against time, trying desperately to catch up to you before this whole misunderstanding went any further. They raced through the terminals, practically flying through the crowds of people who were diving out of the way of what they assumed to be Avengers business. They knew where they were headed, but they just couldn’t make it there in time. It was too late. When they reached the right gate they were just in time to see it taxiing down the runway and off into the air. Dejected and broken hearted, the adrenaline slowly died down as they all stood there motionless. Watching you fly away and out of their lives.

It was late in the evening by the time they got back. On the ride home, it was Sam who tried his best to keep their spirits up. “Hey man, look at it this way. We know where they’re going and what the situation was all about now. We could get them back!”

Steve saw the reason in Sam’s words and tried his best to share the enthusiasm, but he was still feeling pretty beaten down. Losing Ellie was one thing, but seeing the way it was tearing apart his best friend was just making it so much harder.

Bucky could hear the words and thought that maybe some of them made sense, but nothing could lift the darkness he felt consuming him as they entered the elevator up to their apartment. He figured he had failed to protect you, to make you feel safe. Maybe it would be right to leave you alone as much as it hurt him to admit so. He decided he would give you some time, but still let you know that the situation had been handled. Perhaps then you would see reason on your own and come back to him. For now, he just wanted to crawl into bed and not get up until the pain in his chest wasn't knife sharp.

As the elevator doors opened, the three men walked out with their heads hanging, but raised them the second they saw who was standing by their front door. You and Ellie were sitting on the floor, waiting for them to come home. Standing up slowly, you shifted Ellie from one hip to the other while she gripped onto her favorite Bucky Bear and slept peacefully in your arms.

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” You had been crying, but now you were determined to show them how wrong you had been. “I couldn’t make the same mistake again. Taking her away from you, from all of you, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life. With everything happening and so much changing over the past year I’ve felt like I’ve been losing my mind and I just panicked.” You were babbling on at this point and Bucky had heard every word, but all he cared about in this moment was marching forward and wrapping you and your baby in his arms again. This time he really wasn’t going to let go.

“Okay Barnes, you can let her go now. It’s my turn!” Sam whined as Bucky swung Ellie up in his arms and laughed along with her. After Bucky let you go in that cab, you were sure you would never see him again once you got on that plane. Then you looked down at Ellie and saw the way she looked back at him, clutching her Bucky Bear almost as if she could pick up on something being wrong. She didn’t smile or laugh like she usually did and you knew it was because she missed her father. Even a baby as young as her, she was capable of feeling the sadness of being torn apart from her family. You would have never forgiven yourself if you got on that plane, but by the time you realized all this you were already at the airport. If only you had known that while you were struggling to keep it together, trying to hail down another cab, the man you had walked away from again was already on his way to you.

During that ride back to the apartment, Ellie began to fuss and cry, enough that the only thing you could think of to calm her down were the videos you played for her all the time. They were of you and Bucky while you were together. It tore you apart not to be with him, but you were gonna make damn sure that your baby would know who her father was. The videos were random and nonsensical, some were of Bucky serenading you, others were just of the two of you being together, laughing and talking. So throughout your pregnancy and those early months with Ellie, you would play them for her hoping that one day she would be able to recognize her daddy’s voice in the real world. You knew you would always regret that Bucky wasn’t there for her birth, that’s why you knew you couldn’t do this to him again. Whatever fears you had faced during the last few months were nothing compared to the feeling of tearing your daughter away from her father. You knew she would always be safe with him and that you could trust him to protect you. You just hoped it wasn't too late.

When you finally reached his apartment again, finding that there was no answer at the door, that didn’t stop you from taking a seat right there and waiting for him to return. You were determined to make this right and show the man you loved that you wanted to be with him. To be a family. It was once you were inside the apartment, and after each of them had had a turn holding Ellie, that they told you about Nick Fury's misguided plans. There was no sinister plot with faceless villains out to get you. Just a warning from a very paranoid man. You were furious. A little spitfire like yourself, you were ready to find the man and make him sorry for ever putting you through all that hell.

“None of that shit matters now.” Bucky begrudgingly handed Ellie to Sam to hold and came over to you, giving you a turn of lifting you up in his arms. “You’re both here and I’m never letting you go again. I love you and Ellie so much. I want us to be a family.”

You had been laughing while he swung you around, but stopped as soon as he said those words. After so much time feeling emotionally ravaged, here stood Bucky Barnes revealing his feelings for you and your daughter. What else could you do, but admit your love for him as well. Of course, you’d fallen in love with the man back when you were together, but with him being an Avenger, you just didn’t know what could possibly come out of it. You knew he had a job to do and it was scary and risky. It had made sense at the time to you that you thought the future for your love would be bleak, but Bucky was ready to prove to you otherwise.

“I can retire.” Bucky said as if it was the easiest choice in the world. “The world has enough superheroes now. What’s one less?”

“Bucky, I can’t ask you to do that.” You tried reasoning with him. Even looking over to Steve and Sam, but they both just smiled.

“You’re not asking me, babe. I’m saying it.” Bucky cradled your face in his hands, pulling your lips to his and finally kissing you with all the passion he could find. You felt your knees give way and Bucky wrapped his arm behind your back to keep you from falling. He pulled you up, breaking away for air and resting his forehead against yours. Your heaving breaths mingled together and you finally felt that bliss you had once known come back into your heart. “The most important thing in my life is making sure that little girl is safe and taken care of. And you. I need you both in my life more than anything. Please. Please stay.”

You smiled as more irritating, yet happy, tears scrolled down your cheeks. Relishing in the feel of Bucky’s soft lips kissing the trails away. “Of course, we’ll stay.”

a/n: And there we have it! The last part! Hopefully you enjoyed it, loves. I really loved working on this series and I can’t wait for you to read the epilogue in just a couple of days! Again, thank you thank you thank you so so much for reading along. I have a little something something planned for the future so stay tuned. 😉

Feedback is always appreciated, leave it here!

part thirteen << part fourteen >> epilogue (tbp Sept 5th)

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tags:

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #three soldiers and a baby #my writing

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