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indouloureux · 2 years

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hung up on you

peter parker x reader

summary: you and peter parker are left to deal with the aftermath of the snap, both grieving in your ways that includes inconsequential bickering and redundant jealousy. what happens when you get hurt during an unexpected mission and he's left to take care of you?

word count: 8, 729

warnings: enemies to lovers! mentions of grief, thanos' bullshit, knives and guns, violence, and someone's throat getting split open. reader uses she/her bc this is one of my old works and ive yet to study the usage of second pov back then so im sorry 😭

a/n: i wanted to write a fic about how peter didn't get blipped bc poor baby did not deserve that honestly. this fic includes wilson fisk, during the times he hired the ronin (as mentioned in hawkeye?), akihiko is here too, the person ronin killed in endgame. i wanted to try something new so here it is! ava orlova is an original marvel character and i do not own her.

MASTERLIST

༻✦༺ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ༻✧༺

“Any plans for today? Or are you just going to sit in your bedroom reading a book on how to lose your virginity?”

“Hm, and you? Pushing eggs out of your stick-covered ass, insect?”

She pivoted her right arm. Peter swerved, panting as he bypassed her punch. She wasn’t convinced if the blush on his face was from the sweat he got from training too hard, or if he was flustered at her spider joke. Either way, it was amusing to see his ears turn red.

“For the last time, (y/n), I don’t push eggs out of me,” he stammered on his words, huffing. She chortled, brooking advantage as she drove downwards and swiped her leg beneath his, striking him down. “Ah, fuck. You hit like a girl.”

“I am a girl.”

“Really? ‘Cause last time I checked penguins don’t look like that.” He affronted, pushing himself back to his feet.

The groan that fled his parted lips when she punched the bridge of his nose using her uncovered knuckles assembled an impish smirk on her face. “And last time I checked, Spider-Man dodges punches.”

“I was just beginning to stand up,”

“Still.”

Peter took benefit when he caught her withdrawing the other glove from her left hand. But (y/n) was swifter, precluding his punch with the base of her palm and directly aiming for his unprotected stomach.

“Give up yet, Jabba?”

“Not a chance, Yzma.”

She headed toward him, vaulting and kicking him mid-air. But he seized her leg, hauling her to the ground. The impact rendered her a gasp, witnessing black spots in her vision from how badly she struck her head.

He bent down, legs on either side of her, squinting his eyes. “You alright, sunshine?”

Groaning loudly, (y/n) snagged both her legs around his neck, ploughing her heels harshly on his back and flipped him over so now she sat on his chest. She grasped his shoulder, positioned it between her legs, spreading down obliquely beside him, tautening on his arm.

“I’m grand, Spider-boy.” A harsh laugh followed. “Tap out, bitch.”

(y/n) may have underestimated his potency because he lifted her using the arm she harbored against her chest Broadening her eyes, Peter unexpectedly collided her down once more on the mat, allowing himself to hover over her and stapling her arms down to the ground with both his hands.

His chest upheaved laboriously, damp curls dangling from his forehead while he stared at her vehemently with a smirk on his facade, hands seizing her wrists in nuanced coarseness.

“Not a chance.”

With a scowl, her knee aimed for his crotch.

He let out a bitter cry, hands plugging down his genital region. (y/n) stood up, wiping her hands on her thighs; moving her hair out of her face.

“Not fair, Yzma,” he wheezed, forehead on the ground. “Not fair.”

She threw his towel at him. “No. What’s not fair is you using your weird super strength on me, Parker.” (y/n) placed her hands on her hips, bending down to smile at him. “Too afraid to let everyone know you got your ass handed to yourself by a girl?”

“Alright, that’s enough.”

Peter glowered at her as Natasha descended underneath the net, proffering both of them bottled waters. “(y/n)’s right, Peter. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I- she punched me in the face while I was standing up! That was unfair. And she was ungloved!”

“No, that was strategy.” (y/n) spoke aloud. “Never wait for your enemy to recover, Jabba. Or else you might have an unfair advantage.”

“No, neither of you were fair,” Natasha commented. She pointed at (y/n), an arm crossed on her chest. “You punched his face without a glove.”

“It’s training, isn’t it? He’s gotta know what it feels getting punched in the face without a glove.”

Natasha sucked her cheeks in - a semblance of aggravation, although she retained it in, availing herself in toleration. “If it were training, both of you would know better than to not follow my rules. I’m assuming both of you came here to resolve some petty fight?”

“It wasn’t petty,” Peter grumbled. “She ate my sandwich. And hey, I’ve been punched in the face without a glove before.”

(y/n) groaned, turning to face him. “You wear a mask, Parker, it doesn’t feel the same. And for the last time, it wasn’t me that ate you’re god damn sandwich!”

“I come back home to help and this is the thanks I get? Babysitting?” Natasha whispered to herself, massaging her temples. (y/n) flipped Peter off, dipping beneath the net to clasp her own towel, patting the sweat off. “Anyway, I came here to stop you guys. Mission in 20.”

“Wait,” (y/n) jogged her way to Natasha, giving her a confused look. “Mission?”

Two and a half years ago the entire population of the universe got demolished in half. She witnessed the people around her shift into dust, get frittered away by the wind and by far it was the most cataclysmically mortifying thing she had to encounter. (y/n) had been in Wakanda when it ensued, reaching her friend instantly but when she left five voicemails she knew they were one of them.

Since then, the only people she had left in her life were the remaining vigilantes on Earth.

(y/n) wasn’t the one to grieve but she did – she had lost the only person she had left in her life.

During her times of affliction, she had lost hope – lost hope in herself; to the people around her. And if she had lost hope, she thought maybe that it meant everyone else did too. So (y/n), aside from presuming about how alone she currently felt, figured criminality would stop, with the world hopeless.

The only thing that held her up and made the world feel ordinary even for a split second at sullen junctures, was her endless puerile altercation with Peter. It was a shocker, and she felt vexed about it because it was true.

Crime did stop, nevertheless. The world felt despairingly amicable with corruption gone, and it left some of the people to think that Thanos’ sadistic, genocidal plan was for the greater good. With the lack of missions, it left the vigilantes, and (y/n), stuck inside the compound helping those in need instead of fighting and protecting that they used to accomplish.

Up until now.

“Yeah,” Natasha answered her. “Mission.”

“No one’s done crime in two years, Nat,” she mumbled. “What could they possibly be doing?”

“That’s what you think,” she replied. “Remember a couple months ago where you would always ask me why I always stayed in the surveillance room? And I said a bunch of murders started occurring, but you were too drunk to function?”

Natasha gave her a long stare, eyebrows raising. She stared back, pondering what she might have meant until her thought clicked into one person Natasha searched for in her sleepless nights. “You don’t think…”

“I found him,” she sighed. “I caught Intel from Mexico. This is it, (y/n).”

“What’s going on?” Peter approached the two of them and for the first time, she didn’t roll her eyes at his arrival. Instead, she pursed her lips.

“Natasha found the Ronin who she thinks is Clint.” She squinted her eyes at Natasha. “Which is impossible because no one has seen Clint in years.”

“No way,”

“Yes way,” Natasha began walking away from them, in which the two followed suit. “We haven’t heard from him since he got home arrest. And like you said, no one has seen Clint in years. None of us are sure if he blipped or not. And as for the Ronin,” they arrived in the living room, where Natasha mostly spent her time. Her finger swiped over the sent surveillance video, widening as it hit the center of the screen. “I know a Clint Barton when I see one.”

It was the Ronin, in Mexico, sent two hours ago, killing another group of rebels.

But something felt off.

“I don’t know, Nat.” she whispered. “It’s…I think it’s too dangerous. Going after him, I mean.”

“Too dangerous for you,” Peter mumbled, and she shot him a glare.

“This is the first sign of hope for me in years, (y/n). The thought of Clint out there, alive. It’ll help us. All of us,” Nat proposed, her hands on the edge of the table screen. “I can’t catch him alone. Steve’s out there being a shrink to strangers, Tony’s MIA, the weird space dudes are in a galaxy far, far away. You two are the only ones that can help me right now.”

Peter scratched his neck. “And Rhodey. He’s not AWOL, right?”

(y/n) shook her head. “Look, even if that is Clint, that’s not enough help to get everyone back, Nat. We don’t have the stones, they’re gone.”

Natasha severely tugged on her cheek sideways. (y/n) decided not long ago that being unpretentiously honest was the best for everyone. With the stones gone, there’s no reason left for people to be optimistic about the retrieval of those who perished. But perhaps she’d been too blunt at Natasha, who lost her sister, and possibly, Clint.

“(y/n), Peter, please,” Natasha almost begged. “I know Steve told me to look at the bright side but fuck it, there is no bright side in this world. Everything is just fucking grey.”

(y/n)’s eyes shifted to Peter’s, who was already staring at hers for some sort of approval – the one time they’re actually relying on each other to make a decision. She took a deep breath, eyes returning to Natasha’s, which were already bloodshot.

Perhaps there wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have another person in the compound.

“Okay,” (y/n) whispered, nodding vigorously. “I’ll meet you guys at the departure in 20. Besides, it would be nice to visit Mexico. Never been there.”

She swore she saw Peter smile a little on the corners of her eyes.

The gentle mechanical sound of Peter’s nanotech suit was the one that got her out of her daze. Natasha and Rhodey have yet to be seen, and it would be a shame to say that (y/n) appreciated Peter’s presence as of the moment.

Peter. He also mourned the loss of those who are important in his life – May, Ned, and MJ. As soon as he set foot on earth he did the first thing he could do that he couldn’t do in space, which was call aunt May.

He found out from some stranger who stole her phone that she blipped. And Peter found out from Brad Davis that half of Midtown high’s students were gone too, including Ned and MJ.

He mourned, like (y/n) did. But he attempted to look on the bright side, that he still had Tony and the rest of the Avengers. Yet he couldn’t prevent himself from crying every midnight, pondering about the people he loved that he lost, and blaming himself for what happened.

The only thing that kept him sane was the same as hers – the incessant bickering with (y/n). With her, everything felt almost normal. The only thing that would make him remember the present condition the world was in, was the absence of those he loved.

Even if he’s varied through this before when he lost Uncle Ben, that didn’t stop him from grieving. For Grief is a sensation that no one, even a stoic sociopath, could get used to. It’s inescapable; it’s never-ending.

“I’ve never seen Natasha like that,” Peter said softly, breaking the silence. “I haven’t – I didn’t imagine that she could be vulnerable.”

“She’s human, Parker,” she replied. Though her comment was sarcastic as opposed to practical, Peter though the latter. “She can be vulnerable.”

Peter sat on the stairs of the plane, body suited except for his face that looked unusually pale. His eyes scanned the area, his elbow on his knee. “I know. I just, didn’t think that she’d let herself be vulnerable in front of us.”

A sigh for another short reply. (y/n) crossed her arms, foot tapping in a slow manner as her hair blew across her face. “Neither did I.”

He stared at her for a moment, as if his aspect was plain observance. But really it was just curiosity – how could someone, despite losing everything, be so strong?

Despite the immense nuisance Peter felt for her, he couldn’t help but feel strong formidability for the girl. (y/n), from what he understood, lost almost everything in her life. And as for Peter, he was fortunate enough that he still had Tony to get him through his swarthy days.

Her mien demeanor signified a novelty of altruistic valiance for herself and for the people who presently need her. Did Peter need her? Maybe. He wasn’t confident enough to answer that question. But he hoped for her to abide in his life because she was the only one that kept his life moderately intriguing nowadays.

Peter shook his head to stop thinking about her, and instead: “Why do you stand like Quasimodo?”

“I- what?” her back straightened. “I do not!”

“Hm. I think I know a bell ringer when I see one.”

“It’s called scoliosis,” She scoffed, taking offence. “At least I don’t look like an idiot who dances around the campfire wearing badges and holding a stick of marshmallows in their hand.”

“I told you I was a boy scout one time!” Peter stood up. “And, hey! I said that with confidence.”

“Of course, you’re being defensive.” She gave him an amused grin, fingers formed for mock salutations. “Once a boy scout, always a boy scout.”

“I’m never telling you things about me ever again.”

“Oh, I’m so ashamed. Poor me, how will I live with myself?” she gasped in faux despair. “A life without the knowledge of Peter Benjamin Parker’s nerdy hobbies? Oh, the horror!”

Peter held himself in from webbing that pretty mouth of hers, knowing he’d be getting himself in trouble for taking (y/n)’s voice for at least two hours. Sure, he was pissy that she made fun of him for the hobbies he once had as a child, but he also felt his heartbeat rise — (y/n) remembered something about him that he told long ago.

Instead, he rolled his eyes, sitting down on the stairs once more. “At least I have hobbies.”

“Honestly, Parker, when are you going to have comebacks that don’t make you sound like you’re eight?”

“When I have a peaceful life, (y/n). So that I can look back at this day and tell myself how much of a loser you are.”

She grimaced. “Now you just sound like an eight year old kid who got bullied.”

“Aren’t you bullying me?”

“You started it!”

“I was stating a fact!”

“Both of you are eight year olds,” Rhodey stopped them from shouting at each other as they were on the verge of it before he and Natasha arrived. “’d you have your bags?”

Peter lifted his. “Yeah. Why’re we bringing a suitcase, anyway?”

“Because we don’t know how long we’d be staying there,” Natasha came out from behind. “Intel said that Cli- the Ronin strikes in alternated days. Which means, if he attacked yesterday, he’d hide today. Then he’d attack again tomorrow, then hide the next day. So on, so on, whatever.”

(y/n) carried her bag up the stairs, clutching it to her chest. “So we’re staying there for three days?”

“Maybe more than that,” Natasha replied. “Besides, Rhodey has a condominium in Mexico that we can stay in.”

“Bet (y/n)’s going to enjoy Mexico. You haven’t been out of the country in years, right? Because you’re too busy reading enchiridions while drinking the blood of a virgin?”

“And you? Too busy trying to look cool in children’s birthday parties at New York?”

“Three days of this,” she heard Rhodey mutter to Natasha. “I might kill myself tomorrow because of this nonsense.”

The entire flight felt as if though God Himself heaped miracles onto them. It was incredulous that both Peter and (y/n) lingered in silence the entire trip, as they were deep asleep. Of course, not that Natasha missed their endless quarrels – it simply felt uncanny to not encounter the hellacious arguments they had to witness from the two young adults that often transpired in enclosed spaces.

When they arrived, the air felt crisp against (y/n)’s exposed skin. She hadn’t felt fresh air for a while, since Peter was partly correct – she did spend most of her time in her bedroom.

The airport, in spite of how large it was, had merely ten people inside that weren't staff. The Blip militated on certain companies, particularly in public areas made specifically for the people’s entertainment. It felt as though the world had been desolated; like it had gone through extinction.

(y/n) was sure there was grass spurting from the cracks of the floors.

“I’ll go ahead and rent a car,” Rhodey spoke after a long silence, his voice echoing a bit from how quiet the airport was as they all took their passports. “Peter, you know how to drive?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“He knows how to drive bumper cars.” (y/n) retorted sleepily, rubbing her eyes. Yawning, she continued, “I’ll drive.”

Peter glared at her. “I failed my test five times, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drive.”

“That ‘five times’ you said was enough proof that letting you drive is going to kill us all.”

Natasha shook her head, smiling a bit. “(y/n)’s driving. Sorry Peter, can’t risk it.”

Peter glared at (y/n), who winked at him as Rhodey tossed her the keys when he returned.

Rhodey’s apartment was an hour away from the airport. Stoplights were transient and traffic was inevident, permitting the car to drive steadily on the undulating highway. Though (y/n)’s eyes remained directly on the road only, she couldn’t help but detect the vandalism on the borders – do people actually believe that Thanos was right?

Sure, perhaps the absence of crime signified peace; the halt of overpopulation implied more resources; the scarcity of pollution from diluted oxygen meant nature’s retrieval, but how are you going to relish the drastic evolutions when the people you love aren’t with you?

She thought it was selfish – thinking about your own safety rather than long for those you lost.

Or maybe that was just her.

The two adults fell asleep the backseat, leaving Peter with (y/n) as company once more. His fist was on his chin and the other tapped gently on his knees as he stared out the window in boredom, mouth sealed. But when he sighed, knocked his head on the headrest, Peter looked at (y/n) with a small pout.

“I’m bored.”

“I have nursery rhymes on my phone if you want. Oh! I’m pretty sure I have a coloring book in my backpack, too.”

A long stare for a pause. “You have a coloring book?”

“You know, for when I’m babysitting you. I also have a 64 crayon Crayola!” she pipped, a sarcastic smile on her face

“You’re serious?”

“If I smacked you with a book would you believe me?” (y/n) raised a brow. “No but seriously, I do. It’s a stress reliever. Try it out, just, be careful with my colored pencils.”

Peter looked back, assembling his web shooters. “Which bag? Is it the red one? You always bring that bag when you’re visiting the compound.”

She frowned at his observance. “Yeah, it’s the red one. Careful, please.”

Her bag linked to his hand in less than a second. With the book on his lap and the pencils on his hand, Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She wondered if he didn’t feel the subtlest bit of nausea – she can hardly skim at a sentence sent on her phone as the car drove. And here was Peter, coloring as if he sat on the table.

It descended into silence again. The fainted gentle bumps of the car and Peter’s scribbling filled the quietness filled her ears. Yet despite his attention being glued to his activity, she had sensed that Peter was disputing with himself on speaking to her, as he evidently glanced at her through his peripherals with twitching lips.

(y/n) waited.

Peter soughed in dissatisfaction a minute later, banging the open book on his head. Underneath, he looked at (y/n) with shy eyes, and she glanced at him when they stopped at the red light. She raised a brow. “Do you…have the nursery rhymes on your phone as you said?”

(y/n) looked straight back to the road, and answered, “No. But I have data, so if you want to watch-”

“Do you think Mr. Barton’s the Ronin?”

She hindered down. There were no cars around them except maybe for three more, yet she still slowed down, terrified of hitting someone as her head pivoted towards Peter’s direction, who looked at her with sincerity in his eyes and anticipated her candid answer.

If there was one thing (y/n) was adequate at, it was being candor. She could keep a secret, no doubt. Though regardless of the pest in honesty or the benefit of validity, she was too pragmatic to care about the chaos; better to be honest early, or let the truth divulge itself late that could convey chaos.

But when it came to Peter’s question, she felt like she had just sinned by the thought of lying to him. Which of course, it was.

An arbitrary question after another. It caught her off guard yet she couldn’t bring herself to be genuine with him because she was ashamed of her answer. But she consistently felt ashamed around him, or maybe it was internal shyness – when Peter’s around there were moments where (y/n) just couldn’t think nor function straight.

Her fingers tapped on the wheel. “I don’t know.”

Peter looked behind, seeing Natasha still sound asleep. But he didn’t need to observe her looks, given that he could just listen to her heart beat. Like (y/n)’s, which raised at each second.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t let my expectations up,” she glanced at him. “I don’t expect Clint to be Ronin nor do I expect us to catch him because I’ll just be disappointed in the end.”

He looked at her, hand twitching. “Y-yeah. You’re right. If you expect disappointment, then you can never really be disappointed.”

(y/n) raised a brow. “Wow. My first time hearing you say something wise out of your mouth.”

“It’s not my wise word,” Peter looked out the window, a small frown on his face. “It’s MJ’s.”

Rhodey’s apartment was as big as the whole first floor of the Avenger’s compound. There were at least three cabinets full of resources, and it occurred to be his so-called ‘bachelor pad’ as a bright-neon sign nearly blinded his guests as soon as they strode in through the door.

“Welcome, to my third home,” he placed his bags on the couch nearby. “I only have two rooms. I’m willing to sleep on this couch,” he patted on the one with his bag, “And you guys can figure out who shares with who. My suggestion is we lock these two kids together.”

Natasha looked at Peter and (y/n), who looked at her in horror. She rolled her eyes. “I’m only allowing this for precautions.”

“At what point in putting he and I in the same room are taking precautions?”

“I- You guys don’t even like each other! How will you even have se-”

“No, not like that! I meant that we’d most likely die by killing each other than a murderer killing us.” Peter had never witnessed her so flustered by a dirty remark, noticing her cheeks tint pink felt entertaining, despite himself feeling and appearing the same way. “I know you don’t want anyone’s death on your conscience.”

“It’s good that you know that, so please don’t kill each other. For me.” Natasha shoved their bags to their chests, looking at both of them. “And both of you are nearing adulthood. You know better than to be irresponsible, and you know better than unsafe sex.”

“Oh my God-”

“Now get inside, please? Get some rest. Better yet, strategize. Both of you will be working together anyway so if you’re not going to sleep, go ahead and plan.”

(y/n) was never fond of Peter Parker.

She tautened as he threw his bag aside, both of them gaping at the one small bed in the middle of the room. If she couldn’t stand being near him in confined spaces let alone an entire floor, what would happen if they share a bed?

Perhaps she could ask Natasha if she could sleep with her, but she felt too shy to say so. Besides, she respected Natasha’s love of privacy; maybe she could ask Rhodey to bunk with Peter instead?

She didn’t know, because her agendas are tackled by the thought of sharing the bed with the person she despised the most.

Unless, of course, one of them sleeps on the floor.

“I’ll sleep on the ground,” she offered, grabbing her bag and throwing it beside the window. “I…like sleeping on the ground, anyway.”

It was true – (y/n) primarily consumed her sleepless nights laying on the ground. Somehow she found solace in laying down on the cold floor with the covers over her body. She felt as though she didn’t deserve to sleep comfortably in the condition (she’s) everyone’s in. Besides, what use is the relaxing bed if she didn’t feel relaxed on the inside?

“Okay,” Peter didn’t oppose; he needed the comfortable bed. His evenings are spent rousing up every 10 minutes, eyes bursting open once the occurrences in Titan reappeared in his head. He didn’t care if her body ached the next day from laying down on the ground – Peter cared that he would at least get a whole, hopefully, dreamless sleep so he could focus the next day.

Dinner came by quick and they ate faster than dinner itself came, all rushing in their perspective areas. Natasha was in her room, studying Intel and Rhodey went somewhere neither of them knew. As for Peter and (y/n), they didn’t strategize – they bickered. Like they always did.

“Can you breathe quietly?”

Peter sighed loudly. “Sorry. I have asthma.”

“Bullshit. You’re breathing too loudly it makes me want to kill you so it would be quiet in here.”

“You talk too much it makes me want to staple your mouth shut.”

“You talk too much it makes me want to shoot myself in the head!”

“I’d actually be glad if you did that.” He ignored her violent threats.

She threw her head back, slumping on the chair. If she weren’t being careful she might possibly break her laptop by smashing it on Peter’s chest. Instead, she pulled her earphones out, giving him an exasperated tight-lipped smile before putting it on her ears.

Before she hit play she had heard Peter’s muffled voice, “Of course she wore earphones. Can’t even finish her problems.”

(y/n) threw a book at him.

He caught it, obviously, and he rolled his eyes at her.

Peter himself knew that he wasn’t like this before; he used to be a nervous, horribly skittish wreck. Hell, each sentence of his included at least two uh’s before getting to the point. But when the snap happened, where he had lost those who were in his life, he found himself altering into someone he’s not.

It was partly because of (y/n). Peter used to like her, but when he conceded that she was enduring things better than he did (even if he actually respected her because of that), immaturity had dominated him that despite the impressive fierce bearing she delivered out, he began to slowly detest her because of envy.

He envied her because she could handle grief better than he did-

They were both suffering, and he envied the fact that she was still strong and he wasn’t.

The other part was because Peter began to realize that he’d have to quit being such an apprehensive mess and stop being too nice to everyone – he was being too much of a pushover; he consistently saw the good in people that it put his life and those he loved in jeopardy.

So he changed, for himself, and for everyone around him.

And there was another reason. There were times where he couldn’t quite put his finger on it but when he looked at (y/n), sometimes he felt like he knew.

She sat there, in front of him, eyes glued to her screen. And Peter sat on the bed, staring at her with an amalgamation of abhorrence, and stoic ardor. Then he fell asleep.

“I got eyes on Ronin.”

Natasha’s voice startled (y/n). Peter smiled a bit, which made her roll her eyes before looking back at the window, having a clear view of Fat Man Auto Repair. She placed her fingers on the comm. “I got eyes on these guys wearing tracksuits. All…of them are wearing tracksuits why are they wearing tracksuits?”

“Some type of pop culture reference?” Rhodey suggested. “Millennials only do that. These idiots are in their forties.”

“What? Since when did teens wear tracksuits?”

“In the 90’s?”

“Wait,” Peter interjected, approaching the window with his mask finally on. “Kids wear tracksuits in the 90’s?”

“I didn’t,” Natasha scoffed. “Tracksuits are for rich losers, makes them look fat and lazy. Now, focus. We can’t miss any details. CCTV’s are down.”

A static after another before Natasha and Rhodey fell silent. (y/n) sat in front of the window, arms crossed yet her fingers tampered with the knife on her palm dangerously. Peter anxiously monitored her do it, fingers jolting for him to stop her from getting herself penetrated.

She tossed the knife at the wall, puncturing it onto the concrete before she pulled it out and reprise it.

Peter was upside down, a single strand of web stuck to the ceiling to sustain his weight. With his phone in hand, he resumed to explore through Star Wars theories and what-not; as of the moment, he was missing Ned and his weird fun facts that he sent to Peter every five seconds.

With no one to send Peter fun facts, he started looking for it himself, and thank God someone still posted them – the same author Ned favored did not blip.

(y/n) missed no one but her friend, Ava – Ava was the only one left for her to regard as family. With both her parents deceased and the anonymity of her siblings, she’d been the only one (y/n) deemed important enough to stay in her life.

In their past times, she and Ava would throw knives at each other. The leisure to them had no connotations of infliction, merely a practice of their dexterity and reflexes. There were points where their hands had been shrouded by little cuts by the end of the day; now (y/n) threw the blunt knife at the wall.

Peter bit his lip – he wanted to ask (y/n) a question, but he fretted the discussion might end into another brawl, as it consistently did. He was used to it, anyway; the boundless, pesky quarrels. He’d have to get used to it eventually, or else he would clog his ears with webs so he wouldn’t have to hear her silk voice that made his knees wimpy at moments.

He chuckled at his own morbid joke, cheeks reddening from what came after.

It caught her attention, spinning herself around to look at him with hooded eyes. She raised a brow. “Something funny, Parker?” she drawled. (y/n) tipped her head back, where Peter was convinced it would ache a few minutes later. She set the knife on the tip of her nose, lips parted in engagement.

The hasty blood rush to his head caused his eyes to sheer white. Peter shook his head, gradually dipping from the ceiling and onto the filthy, holed up bed. He rubbed his eyes. “N-no.”

“Sure? With that crackhead of yours-” she took the knife off her nose, drumming the tip to her temples. “-you might be hearing voices, Jabba.”

“I’m laughing because I remembered how sad it must be for you to spend your free time writing Smurf fanfiction while you ate cranberries out of the can.”

“Hey, I do not write Smurf fanfiction,” she sneered at him. “It’s Star Wars.”

“What was that?”

“I said I fucked your mom.”

“My mom’s dead.”

“Thank God I have enough patience for me not to stab you.”

“Thank God I have enough patience for me not to ruin you.”

She made a face at him before returning to the window. Just in time, she’d noticed a black van parked in front. The door unfurled, displaying a large man in a white suit, a caduceus in hand for an asset. (y/n) squeezed her fingers on her comm once more. “Nat- Nat there’s a big guy out here.”

“What big guy? Banner?”

She could discern Peter standing up from the bed, arranging himself behind her to take a glimpse – Peter recognized the man, somehow. He’d seen him around, in abandoned alleyways, always with a suitcase in hand that he’d be offering to nonnatives before walking away.

It was the same guy Peter kept tabs on but seemed to have forgotten about.

“No,” Peter answered. “I-I know him. His name is…Wilson Fisk. Kept tabs on him a few years ago but I forgot about it after the Snap happened.”

“Wilson Fisk,” Natasha muttered. “Know anything about him?”

“He used to take authority over juvenile gangs who run drugs for the mafia clans and what-not. He goes by the appellation ‘Kingpin,’ a name which he uses when he employs bad dudes. Has a niece named Maya Lopez, and studies Japanese art of sumo,”

“You don’t think he’s here for the Ronin, do you?”

“Intel said he’d be here, and now so is this dude. Pretty sure it’s not a coincidence,” (y/n) answered, feeling her dual batons inside her holsters. “Should we stay or should we follow them?”

The shuffling made her wince, as it was too clangorous. (y/n) glanced at Peter, whose eyes remained on the man outside their window. She winced once more when she heard Natasha’s voice. “Stay there, I need someone to keep an eye on them. I’m following Clint.”

“I don’t think that’s a good ide-”

Natasha turned her comm off. And she heard Rhodey’s voice next.

“I’m going on air to get a better view,” he informed them. “You two better stay there until we say so, got it? We still need backup and lookouts.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good ide-”

He turned it off.

(y/n) groaned in exasperation, pulling the knife off the wall. “Why won’t they let me finish my sentences?!”

Peter’s suit formed his mask, and he opened the other window at the back of the room where no one could see, adjusting the comm in his right ear before he looked at her with negligibly squinted eyes. “I’m going, too.”

“What?” she hissed, standing up, “No, you’re not; You three are about to do something stupid and the best I could do for this mission is make it two people doing something stupid.”

“I have to help them, (y/n),”

“The only way we could help is if we stay here.”

“Are you only saying that because you want to follow Natasha’s orders, or you actually want to come with me but you can’t and you want me to stay so you wouldn’t feel left out?”

Her back straightened, lips pursing and eyes anywhere but his as her foot tapped lightly on the floor, her hands quivering as it grasped her own waist. (y/n) dodged his (what seemed to be) delighted stare, in hopes he wouldn’t notice her shyness and chagrin in her eyes. “…both.”

His mask extracted itself, so she could see his wanton Machiavellian manoeuvers. Peter looked at her softly – in a way he never did before, and he chose to gaze at her like that in a moment where he wasn’t supposed to be. Her determination in persuading him to stay was ebbing away; his kind eyes seemed pious.

“Then come with me.”

“Someone has to stay and keep an eye.”

Peter tapped the spider on his chest, the emblem ascending to reveal a miniature flying camera, which established itself on the edge of the window as if it were an operating monitor. “I have that to watch over them.”

She hesitated. “If I come, it’ll be four people doing stupid things.”

“(y/n),” Peter started. “We always do stupid things. Besides, they can’t do it alone. I mean- not that I don’t trust Natasha because she’s really good- not that I also don’t trust Rhodey either- look, my point is: we haven’t done anything in two years. Catching them will stop the murders, and I know you’ve been wanting to go on a mission for a long time, and Natasha brought us with her for a reason.”

“Yeah, it’s because Steve and the others are AWOL.”

“You know what I mean. They need us too.”

She sucked her cheeks in. “Well, I haven’t really been in any missions since- since Natasha found me.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, but his mask formed itself around his face once more. “I don’t know what you mean, but we have to go.”

Her eyes ricocheted between the small camera watching Kingpin, and Peter, who stood by the window with his hand dawdling on the frame. (y/n) sighed, yanking on the grappling hook stuck to her waist.

“Fine. But we have to be quiet. We can’t let them know we followed, and we only attack when they say so, okay?”

She did not linger for a response. (y/n) sat on the sill, enfolding the rope around her waist. Peter, existing like the indisputable dick he was, shoved her without warning.

The hook didn’t stick anywhere, and she was vamoosed, dropping 6 stories without any support. Peter hopped out the window, attached himself to the wall and shot a web to her torso.

It caught her before her back smacked to the ground, and from afar she could witness him giggling at the mortified look on her face not even a second ago.

Peter gently rested her to the ground, leaping down. His oblivious affront pushed her to haul a baton off her holster and torment him violently with it; to him, it may have looked humorous due to his morbidity, but to her, it seemed as though her dread of heights had been taken into frivolity.

The baton stung even through his metallic suit. Peter unmasked, looking at her with a painful smile. “Dude, ow!”

“That was for pushing me off,” she pointed at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t scream or else the both of us would’ve been dead the second I hit the ground.”

“Sorry! Just needed a little laugh.”

“And making fun of my fears is funny?”

“Yeah, because, well I hate you.”

“My God, Peter, that’s so fucking rational.”

He pouted before masking up again.

Kingpin walked toward a truck, a green one with a big sign painted Trust A Bro moving company. She hid behind one of the cars, with Peter beside her overhearing their conversation.

Peter etched closer. When (y/n) peeked over the hood of the car, Ronin had already been there, hood down but mask up. Her fingers fiddled with the comm, trying to contact Natasha but nothing came.

She glanced at Peter, who pulled her down. “He’s saying something about how he did a great job the other day. He’s sounding like he just hired a prostitute.”

“Peter.”

“Says he has one last thing to do before going to Japan. What’s in Japan? And this Ronin guy’s not talking at all, it’s just Fisk.”

“Ronin could be after the remaining Yakuza subordinates and Akihiko,” she suggested. “Nat had an entire dossier over Ronin that she showed me earlier before we left the condo. He’s been searching for Akihiko for almost a year now.”

“Why?” he shook his head. “Well whatever it is, we’ve got to stop him before he kills more innocent people.”

“The Yakuza’s aren’t innocent, Peter. They’re criminals.” She whispered harshly. “Besides, Natasha’ not here to stop all the murdering – she’s here to get him back.”

“Then why is he killing all these innocent people?!”

“Clint doesn’t kill people who are innocent. And right now, he’s been hired by Kingpin and we don’t know why he started Ronin in the first place and he sure as hell won’t be hurting innocent people without a proper reason-”

Peter unexpectedly tensed, grasping her wrist tightly. He placed a finger over his lips, gesturing for her to dwell in quietness. (y/n) furrowed her eyebrows before peering over the car once more, ultimately constructing eye contact with Ronin.

She plopped down once more, looking at Peter with widened eyes. Finally, Natasha’s voice emitted from their ears. “Where are you guys? Are you two behind that car? I told you to stay put!”

Peter’s hand made a spasmodic motion, clinging a man to the wall that (y/n) hadn’t detected was there from the hasty alarm she felt upon hearing Natasha’s voice. Her fingers dug on the ground, forcing herself up but Peter flung his body over her, deterring her from doing so.

Gunshots tinged everywhere, splitting through the glass, perforating through her exposed skin. With the other hand cladding her ear, she tugged a baton out, flogging the guy on the knee before she towed him down and captured his pistol.

“You know how to use one?” Peter shouted over the loud noise.

“Obviously! I can do anything.” Despite her answer, (y/n) threw the gun aside.

“Seriously?!”

“Can you be a useful arachnid and web the others up?” she commanded. “I’m going after Kingpin. Nat’s after Clint I’m sure.”

“Why do you get to go after Kingpin?”

“Because I’m more experienced?” she stated as more of a fact rather than a question. “Just do it if you want to live.”

Peter scoffed when she slid over, utilizing the exact approach she used on him yesterday – kicking their chest. Except this time she successfully managed to kick someone, dismounting on her foot before punching the next one on his face.

Peter’s hand aimed for the running man’s wrist. “Nice watch, man! My friend had one of those,” pivoting his arm in the other direction, he crossed the man’s hands, latching him. Peter yanked his pants down. “Now those boxers are amazing. Is that me? I’m flattered to have my printed face over your crotch man.”

He webbed the next one in the eyes, sticking another one in the chest before Peter pulled him to himself, fist positioned to his covered face. He winced mockingly. “Ooh. Sorry dude. Webs dissolve in two hours, don't worry.”

(y/n) propelled herself off of two guys, sitting on the man with her crotch at his face. She pulled on his hair, before her knuckles collided with his nose. She hissed at Peter. “Less talking, more fighting.”

The man threw her to the side. (y/n) wrapped her legs around his neck once more, using her might to flip him over onto the car. She struck the next one in the face with her baton, evading his punch with the palm of her hand, enclosing it so she could wrench it around his back, booting him from behind to send him down.

Unbeknownst to her, someone had come up behind to haul on her foot. Her chin banged on the ground, feeling her teeth clash together before she’s twisted over to see Clint’s eyes through his mask.

He wavered, staring at her but his sword remained dangerously close to lacerating her neck open. Kingpin had sauntered away, and Peter was too preoccupied to notice what was ensuing at the moment.

“Clint,” she whispered, hands raised on either side of her head. “It’s me.”

By the time Peter adhered another man to the wall, his eyes caught sight of Ronin looming over (y/n). She glimpsed at Peter, and he couldn’t decipher if her eyes denoted fear, or it was apprising him to stand down.

Either way, he would not have listened to her – Peter clung his webs on both Clint’s wrists, hauling him back. The sword on her neck had scoured scarcely to her skin and formed a slim slit over the base of her skin, yet it had no deterrence of bleeding profusely.

She inducted her palm gently over her neck, glimpsing the viscous red substance flaring thinly over her stained complexion. Peter tossed Clint aside, standing over her in sabbatical moratorium, eyes on his mask broad as (y/n) stared back at him with quivering hands and lax blood.

Another gunshot and Peter roared out in pain, hands shooting down to clutch his right thigh, kneeling to the ground. A man in a tracksuit held a gun in his hand, aiming directly for her head. If she wasn’t too jolted from how brisk things were happening—her having her neck sliced open the slimmest, and Peter getting shot—she would have shot the man first.

If only she hadn’t threw the pistol aside.

Natasha appeared out of nowhere, heeling the man in the front. Rhodey strode down, glancing at Peter who managed to stand up and web his open wound. “Get out of here. Get her anywhere, just get out safe. We’ll find you.”

Peter nodded too swiftly, carefully pulling her up. With his hand on her waist, she reluctantly encased her arms around his neck before being lifted off the ground and onto somewhere neither of them knew.

Her chest upheaved laboriously, and Peter gently positioned (y/n) on the floor. He located an abandoned warehouse, where they hid right after he made a quick stop at a store nearby to assemble supplies. Peter’s unmasked face goggled at her, his opalescent skin gradually going pale and so did hers.

“H-how’s the bleeding?” Peter asked her. She shrugged, wincing.

“Feels like I have a cough, but it’s painful both inside and outside,” she whispered. “What’s that?”

“I asked Karen how I could stop the bleeding on your neck and how to properly cover it up. I-I don’t think that needs any stitches.”

“And yours?”

“I just need to get the bullet out and I’ll be fine.” He sat facing her. “But I’ll do you first.”

(y/n) chuckled. “Do me.”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled afterwards.

His touch against her tainted skin felt like a thousand fires – painful, fortuitous, imminent; sentient. Something about it felt so wrong yet so right. (y/n) hated him – despised him, yet his skin against hers felt complex on ataraxy. His devout eyes were gentle on her weakened state instead of pridefulness, a contrast to what she expected.

The sanctification of Peter’s hand drafting the shape of her neck appeared as though he was treating her as if she were such a fragile métier he’d be too afraid to break. He scrutinized upon her unfamiliar eyes, desolated in trauma and somnolence.

Unfamiliar – Peter never knew her, the knowledge of his simply from his abidance in observation; from what he’d witnessed, she was strong, cosmopolitan, stubbornly obnoxious, complicated. He based it on his own facts, rather than asking her herself on who she was.

She chose to dwell in silence, as for him:

“When you told me, back at the apartment,” his hand carefully dabbed on the battered bruise on her neck, “how you’ve never been in a mission since Natasha found you, what did you mean?”

(y/n)’s eyes darted between his, blinking rapidly. “I grew up into espionage,” she began. “I’d been indoctrinated in the Red Room as a child, years after Natasha left them. They sent me out on a mission one time, undercover with people I barely knew, and I met this girl.”

“Ava,” Peter answered. “You talk to Nat about her a lot.”

She nodded. “Ava Orlova. She told me Natasha got her out from a Russian Mafia, and- I don’t know. Hearing her name made something click inside me. Like, it made me mad. All I felt was, when I heard her name, was that it was entirely taboo.

“One time, Dreykov sent me out and Yelena caught me, and she poured that weird red powder thing all over my face and I got out of my trance. I felt – I felt free,” she paused, shifting uncomfortably when Peter accidentally pressed on her open wound. “Natasha found me a safe house, and I took Ava with me. We stayed there until the weird flying donut came here.”

Peter placed the gauze over her skin, taping it gently. “How old were you?”

“Fifteen,” she whispered. “We stayed inside the safe house for two years, and I felt like I was normal. The whole thing about me being mad at Natasha was something Dreykov drilled into our minds.”

(y/n) grabbed the tweezers off of Peter’s hands when he began to poke on his wound. He let her, an unanticipated wave of trust relaxed upon her shoulders. Peter placed his hands behind him, leaning backwards.

“I got bit by the spider when I was fourteen,” he softly said, having the sense that she were to ask the same thing. “I was at Oscorp for a field trip and I wandered around into this room full of radioactive spiders before I got bit.”

She snickered. “Kinda boring.”

“Hey! I got cool powers, you know: super strength, heightened senses-”

“Being sticky, horrible senses.”

“My senses aren’t horrible.”

“If you were, you wouldn’t have gotten shot, Parker.”

The smile beginning to form on his face dropped, but hers remained. “I did it on purpose.”

He ignored the immense pain he felt when (y/n) left the tweezers halfway through his skin. “What?”

“He was about to shoot you,” Peter whispered. “I blocked him as soon as he pulled the trigger, (y/n).”

“What?” she hissed, yanking the tweezers off his flesh, “Why would you do that, you idiot?”

“Well I couldn’t just let him shoot you, couldn’t I?” he hissed back. “A thank you would be appreciated!”

“Jesus, Peter, you could’ve just let me take the shot!”

“You would have died!” Peter grabbed her wrist. “Why can’t you just accept that I saved you? Are you ashamed?”

“No! You got yourself hurt all because you don’t want me to maim your conscience? Do you realize how stupid that is? I thought you hated me?”

“I never hated you, (y/n) - I envied you and I've been in love with you.”

This- this was the answer he was looking for: he changed himself because he was undeniably, unconditionally, irrevocably in love with her. He changed into someone he wasn’t to force her away from his life because if he let her prevail like everyone else did, his heart would be vastly desecrated by anguish once more when he forfeits her.

What’s ironic was that he loved her the same reason he envied her.

"I envied you because of how good you handled grief- how good you were at handling things and I wasn't. I was vulnerable, and you weren't and it was unfair for me, and I wanted everyone to be vulnerable like I did and it was also unfair. The craziest part is that I love you because of the same reason I envied you. Your determination in trying to be strong for everyone, and how even on the inside you were vulnerable like me too.

“Trying to deny my feelings for you made me hate you because of how hard you are not to love. I hate loving you, and I love hating you."

Lachrymose on the threshold of her eyes, hand inching along the undulating arm of his that trembled in distress and fury. The specificity of what he felt caused her heart to flutter; his impetus aching for more of her tactile trace. He was a hamartia, falling for a girl he hated the most in the world.

Shamefully, she looked down on his wound. “I hated you because you talked too much.”

He laughed, curling his finger underneath her chin so she would look up at him. Peter tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What? No I love you back?”

(y/n)’s lips tugged downwards in a teasing manner. “Ask me again tomorrow where I feel okay.”

༻✦༺ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ༻✧༺

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coldsoupbowl-blog · 3 years

Text

For The Sake Of Better Times (Ler Hawks/Lee Dabi)

This has been a long time coming bruh. Hope you like it Eevee my heart and soul was poured into this. Love you and everything that you do <3

When you see big bad villains on TV or on the big screen, you usually see them in the midst of an incredible battle. Guns blaring, fiery explosions, big declarations of their victory over the hero. All of these big productions of turning the world into something that fits their own worldview, even if that worldview is broken and demented. One often wonders what's going on behind the mind of someone who has that worldview; one who sees a perfectly fine place as disgusting and corrupt. Because they've been through the disgusting and corrupt, and they know that not everyone's glass walls have been shattered as theirs has. The big explosions and wide killing sprees and wild maniacal laughter of a textbook villain is nothing compared to the wild currents blurring their mind and storming their heart.

The League of Villains, a villain organization made up of powerful quirk abusers and double agents had no current agenda as of today. Most of the patrons that made up the alliance were residing in their hideout, a hollowed-out building that was restored to resemble a bar service. One of the villains that participated in the League, Dabi, occupied a bar stool and watched the latest news intently from the flat screen in the corner of the room.

A new interrogation method against villains was being proposed by the Hero Commission, the spokesperson reported, an interrogation method that would take a sensitivity-heightening quirk and develop it into a mass-produced serum. This serum, once administered, would take the subjects five senses and heighten them to make nearly any stimuli incredibly uncomfortable. Using this, tools and extra manpower would be unnecessary seeing as how the subject would be sensitive to almost anything that would be thrown at them.

Dabi rolled his lidded eyes at this. What a pathetic way of saying that the Hero Commission couldn't handle the enemies as they came, they had to power them down as well as they could to get the upper hand. Taking advantage of the villain's five senses just for interrogation purposes seemed inhumane. Another patron to the League of Villains, Himiko Toga, didn't have the same reaction to this news, however.

"Ehehehee!~ Doesn't that sound so thrilling, Dabi-Kun? Being unable to resist anything the interrogators decide to do to your unwilling body, whether you liked it or not? What if the interrogator is cute, all of your forced reactions will be the product of their actions against you! Ooooh, my heart is pounding!~" Toga smiled dreamily and twirled around like a princess, although Dabi didn't know any princesses who wielded knives with dried blood crusted over the blade. Toga threw herself onto Dabi's shoulders and pinched the spikes that his onyx hair naturally made when it was tousled like this.

"Say you agree with me, Dabi-Kun~ We can be freaks together!" Toga's voice dropped to a seductive mutter in Dabi's ear, but this had no effect on him. The villain wasn't attracted to girls like Toga, or girls of any nature, now that he was finding out. He was about to reply, surprisingly, before he felt a finger slide down his side. He felt the pressure end at the top of his hip, but to this, he only gazed at Toga's hand to make sure the blonde villain didn't pull anything. Toga visibly pouted when the male villain didn't give her the reaction she wanted.

"Dabi-Kun! You're not ticklish? Why nooot? No tickles for big bad Blueflame?" Toga's fingers started to wriggle over Dabi's left side, but he simply watched. Watching the fingers slide over his cotton shirt made a memory flashbang in his mind, but the vision soon slid away once he thought about it. The bored villain slapped away his partner's hand and signaled the barkeep, Kurogiri, for a drink.

"I don't have time for kid games like those." He said simply. This caught the attention of a certain personality in the room, a personality that not everyone was excited to see, but his presence was necessary nevertheless. The number two hero on the Pro Hero Charts, Keigo Takami, or Hawks, peered up above the couch he was seated on to get a glimpse of the onyx villain. The double agent's amber eyes shone in the dim lighting as something that the villain said piqued his interest.

"Oh boo. You and Shiggy-Kun aren't ticklish like I want you to be. This place would be so much cuter if you were! Maybe I can steal a few of those serums from the Hero Commission and turn you into my little-" Toga daydreamed out loud, but a swooshing sound interrupted behind her, like a pile of feathers were thrown onto a chair. In a sense, they were. The double agent Hawks had selected a barstool to sit in next to Dabi, which Dabi groaned at. Hawks gave Toga a warm smile despite their different lines of profession.

"Himiko, Shig-Man needs to see ya in his office. Said it was urgent, and you know he hates to wait. Maybe he overheard your serum idea and wants to play a prank on Twice." At this, Toga swooned and gave a girlish squeal of excitement.

"Oh, how exciting! I already know the table I want to strap him into!~" The blonde villain skipped out of the room, humming a sweet song despite her knife scraping up the plaster on the walls as she ran past. Hawks watched her leave and shook his head, turning back to see Kurogiri handing Dabi his drink.

"So, Staples, when you say that you don't have time for certain kid games, what exactly are those kid games? Are you saying that you played different games when you were a kid?" Dabi threw the conniving man a sideways glance as he finished the sip of his darkly colored drink.

"Staples? The hell kinda name is that? It's Dabi, and nothing more. Secondly, you don't get to know the kid games I played when I was younger. Because I didn't play any of them." Dabi's tone was quiet but forceful. Sometimes that was scarier than being loud and upfront. Hawks, or Keigo, drummed his fingers over the wooden barkeep. Dabi's response didn't scare him, not this time anyway; it riled him up. His crimson wings were puffed up and clearly agitated like an upset bird.

"So what did you do over the course of your childhood then? You didn't pop up in the gutter at 24 years old and just start blowing shit up." Keigo was needling for something; he didn't know what it was exactly, he just wanted to get any indication that Dabi had been happy at least once in his life. Maybe happy with a childhood friend-

"Let it alone before I turn you into a burnt chicken wing," Dabi growled and shoved his barstool back to stalk out of the room. Kurogiri watched silently. Keigo's left leg bounced as he thought up an idea to look inside Dabi's past. There was something that the blonde hero was looking for, and maybe with enough pressure, Dabi would give it up. Keigo sniffed and looked up to the television, the Pro Hero Eraserhead speaking on the panel about the developments of the sensitivity-heightening serum.

"-serum is now being trial-tested against our own strongest participants. This project will put an end to cruel and unusual interrogation methods. The Hero Commission recognizes that these villains are wicked, yes, but they still deserve to be treated with a level of dignity and respect that these new developing methods will offer. Thank you very much for your time." The tired hero stood from his chair and bowed towards the reporters who were all asking their questions at once. Keigo's wings suddenly perked up with an incredible idea.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Yeah, Shig said he wanted us in the conference room. Something about this sensitivity-heightening serum has him rubbed the wrong way." Keigo relayed onto Dabi, who was walking right next to the conniving hero. The hero's heart was racing. Two days after the incident at the bar, the number two hero had pulled some strings with the scientists creating the serum and had them form it into a gas. He had them make it under confidential means. It was the chloroform gas that was the hard part to set up-

"Whatever it is, let's get done with it. I got shit to do." So short and to the point with him. Keigo was jealous of Dabi's straightforward demeanor. Alright, the room was almost here. Just a little bit further before Dabi realized that they were needed in the conference room that was on the other side of the building.

The golden double agent and the onyx villain walked into a decontamination hallway, the doors on either side locking and bolting shut. Dabi looked visibly confused before it was replaced with his usual bored expression. The villain turned to the hero for an explanation. Keigo shrugged nonchalantly.

"You know the boss. Every precaution is not nearly enough..." Dabi had turned his back on the hero as he narrowed his eyes towards the chambers that held the decontaminating spray. There were black nozzles screwed onto the chambers that hadn't been there before. Dabi's cyan eyes flew open as a thin vapor began to seep into the chamber. Keigo had just clamped a mask over his own mouth and nose as Dabi was already losing consciousness, his knees striking the floor and his hands sending out small defensive flames. Keigo relished a quick moment of pride as he watched the hardened villain choke on the powerful gas, his head already rolling to the side in defeat.

The hero knelt down beside Dabi and held his cheek; the insane murderer looking almost innocent in his peaceful rest. "Poor Dabi. You'll realize soon enough that I'm doing you a favor. You and I both need to find out what happened to Touya Todoroki.."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''

The room was cold, freezing even, as if the cold air were needles sticking into his skin. He was too aware of his surroundings even with his eyes closed; the biting leather strapped over his arms and legs, his soft cotton shirt now a lead weight on his chest, his soft aerodynamic hair now a dense mat on his forehead. It was incredibly bizarre and uncomfortable; it was like he was feeling everything all at once. And not just feeling; The dim lights in the room were bright enough to him that they stabbed into his shut eyes, he could taste the acrid gas that had knocked him out on his tongue despite it being hours since that had happened, the low buzzing of the generator outside of this holding cell was a high enough frequency to give him a headache. The skin stitched between his scarred skin and pale skin were like live wires sparking against his nerves.

"Sensory overload, must be absolute hell. I can't imagine what it must feel like. Then again I'm not really interested in finding out. Oh, and don't try to get yourself out with your flames. Not only will it hurt like hell against your sensitive skin, but your quirk has been canceled out anyway. I totally didn't have some guests over while you were konked to help me set this up...and take pictures of you." The voice that was speaking to Dabi sounded like he was fighting back a laugh. It was also damn loud and obnoxious, more so than with this sensitivity-heightening serum coursing through his veins.

Dabi's lidded eyes opened with a furiousness in his pupils so honest that Keigo swallowed nervously. Dabi had his arms strapped outward on either side of him, his palms face up and clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Leather straps were pulled tight over his biceps, forearms, and wrists. A belt laid dangling by the side of the table in case his midsection needed restraint, and his legs were held down at his thighs, above his knees and his ankles. Keigo couldn't help but look him over a few times; the villain looked like he was made just to be on this table and in these restraints.

"Let. Me. Out. Before I set your skeleton on fire." Dabi growled, and pulled on the restraints. They were tight and unforgiving, no wiggling room here. Whatever was in that serum also made sure to sap him of his strength; the once strong villain felt as if he were made of liquid. Keigo shook his head and tsked, walking over to place a hand on Dabi's belly. The hero's light hand felt like a five-pound weight on the sensitive villain. Dabi watched the hero's every move, although it didn't feel like nearly enough to prepare him for what was to come.

"Tsk tsk, little blueflame. You really think I'd set you free after everything I've done to get you here? Not to mention," Keigo's luminous golden eyes looked up to Dabi's cyan ones, a hardened seriousness in the pupils, "that you're a convicted child abductor." Keigo removed his hand from Dabi's chest, and Dabi took in a deep breath once Keigo had looked away. The villain felt as if a weight had been removed from his chest. This serum was horribly effective; it almost made him sick.

Keigo turned back to Dabi and cracked his knuckles. Dabi started to sweat; he had no idea just how elevated his nerve endings were and how they would receive everything, but he felt like all of his nerves were standing on the edge of his skin, just underneath the surface. Despite his anxiety, Dabi cleared his throat and shook his head.

"I'm no child abductor. That brat from UA was Shigaraki's project. I knew the kid was bad news from the start." His voice came out evenly, thank God. But this didn't convince Hawks. Keigo walked back over to Dabi and inspected his restraints. The fun must be about to start, Dabi involuntarily thought in his head. He took choppy breathes, wondering what torture would be first on the docket.

"Nah ah ah, not Bakugou. I'm talking about Touya Todoroki. He's been missing for about 10 years now. He came from a loving family with siblings and friends alike...but he suddenly disappeared. And you were the last one to have been seen around him." Dabi's heart flipped at the name. He didn't know why, he's never heard the name before. But something settled in his stomach like a fluttering of butterfly wings. Keigo placed his hands flat on the table on either side of Dabi, the warmth of his skin was even felt against Dabi's hypersensitive nerves.

"You're gonna tell me what you did to Touya Todoroki, even if I have to force you." Dabi looked at Keigo like he was a crazy person. He's never taken a kid named Touya, but his body felt like it remembered the name even if his brain didn't. Dabi cleared his throat and hardened himself before looking back up at Keigo.

"Whatever you do won't get the truth. You have the wrong guy, and even if I did have any idea what you're talking about, I wouldn't give you shit." Keigo chuckled darkly at this and set his bare fingers up to Dabi's triceps and traced along the muscled lines in his skin. Keigo hardened his own expression, flat gold disks looking into even blue plains, and smirked at Dabi's immediate reaction. The villain had twitched and jolted in his chair, his fists balling up and his muscles flexing underneath the leather straps.

"We'll see about that. Oh-ho-ho, we'll see." The blonde hero kept his smirk on his face as Dabi tried to worm away from the alien sensations; Keigo lightly tracing his fingers underneath the villain's twitching arms. Dabi hasn't felt a sensation this light in years; he's completely forgotten anything could feel so gentle and tingly.

"Ya know Stitches, this sensitivity-heightening quirk caught my eye for a reason. The scientists who developed it reported that nerves the subject thought had gone dormant years ago were suddenly reawakened, like the kindles of a dying fire bursting into bright flames in a split second." Dabi's fingers knuckled, his breath hitching as Keigo's fingers skittered nearest to his open armpits, but scuttled back at the last second. Dabi shuddered and let out his breath silently. Keigo however, soaked in every delicious reaction with a sadistic hunger.

"At first I thought, "There's no way hardened lowlife criminals could be so sensitive to such small stimulus. Bright lights, loud music, gross smells-" Keigo took both of his pointer fingers and circled them around the outer rim of Dabi's armpits, which made Dabi's eyes fly open and suck in his breath. The damn tingles were climbing in his arms and fluttering in his chest, like there was a swarm of butterflies caged in behind his ribs. "-light touches~ Oh don't tell me these light touches are doing anything for you, are they? They're already drawing out such animated expressions from the most stoic man I've ever seen stalk this earth."

Dabi's stomach was jumping, like he was going uphill on a rollercoaster, just waiting for the descent. The onyx villain's fingers relaxed, however, once Keigo drew his own fingers away from the sensitive spot. Keigo quirked his lips and held his chin, in a thinking pose before the restrained criminal. The blonde hero resembled a butcher standing over a cow carcass, wondering which part of the animal he was gonna slice up first. Dabi swallowed in a dry throat as he chose his words cautiously. As he opened his mouth to speak, Keigo pointed a finger to the ceiling as he thought up what he wanted to say with a delighted grin on his face.

"Of course. There just so happens to be a word for this phenomenon, these light touches that feel like they're taking over your body~" Keigo suddenly swooped in close to Dabi and layered all ten of his fingers onto Dabi's raised individual ribs. Dabi's eyes stared right into the double agent's unreadable expression as the fingers started to press in.

"It's called 'tickling', the kid games that you were dissing earlier. Looks like we have all the time in the world to play them now, right little blueflame? And you're just sensitive enough to enjoy them this time with me~" Keigo's fingers shook into Dabi's ribs, each finger taking up a bone and vibrating into it. Dabi winced instinctively, but instead of pain, he found maddening consistent tingles. Ungracefully, the villain let out a snort and started letting out frantic giggles. His muscled arms pulling on the restraints and his legs hitched up to try and curl into a ball.

"Pffmmt- H-Hahahawks! S-Stohohop thihihis nahahahaow!" Deep baritone laughs rumbled out from Dabi's chest without his consent. There was no restraining or trying to keep back his giggles. Keigo's fingers were like lead weights scribbling on his hypersensitive skin. Keigo had a proud look on his face; he was half-expecting for something like this to simply not work on Dabi. But it seemed the exact opposite was true. This was working a little TOO well; with the hardened criminals face bright and squinted in a look of happiness.

"Mmhmm... If you wanna tell me what happened to Touya Todoroki, I'd be more than happy to help you. On the other hand, though, it looks like you're missing some ribs there, kid. Wouldn't want ya walking around with half an empty ribcage, now would we~" Keigo narrowed his eyes with a smirk on his face as he started from the top of Dabi's ribcage and made sure to scritch each bone and count loudly enough for the villain to hear.

"Ooone...twooo...threee-" "Keihehehego stohohohop!" "Mmmm...I don't think 'stop' is an acceptable number, I'll have to start aaaall the way back at the top~" With Dabi's arms spread on either side of him, every time he bucked to rid himself of the sensation just pushed the hero's lead fingers into his sensitive skin. His skin felt as if Keigo's fingers were actually about to reach inside of him and count the bare bones of his skeleton.

The blonde hero took a moment, stilling his fingers, to watch Dabi's reactions to his stimulus. A bright smile infused with mirth was spread across his face; his eyes already glittering over with tears, and his fluffy hair crowned his head to make him look like a bashful giggling kid. His cheeks were dusted over with a light pink from all his hard chuckles. Keigo bit his tongue to keep back the truth; he wanted to blurt it all out for Dabi so they could hurry up and reminisce together.

The hero covered up his torture stopping by becoming all business and suddenly gripping Dabi's chin to force him to look up into his golden eyes. Dabi was woozy from his lack of oxygen, a dumb smile still plastered across his face. It made Hawks' heart do kickflips, but he couldn't speak to that now.

"Touya Todoroki was declared a missing person 10 years ago on October 25th, 2010. What did you do with him? Is he still alive? When is his birthday?" Keigo threw all of these questions at once at the dumbfounded villain. The villain tried to jerk his head out from the hero's grip but the hero held on tight.

"I told you already you fucking dumbass birdbrain! I never abducted any kid! The squirt probably got hit by a train or was bullied to death by some bastard schoolkids!" That last yelp of desperation left his chest without him realizing what he said. Bullied to death....bullied? Something about that doesn't feel right. Like...it's true. Maybe the kid was bullied. It's almost as if... I've experienced it-

Dabi's thoughts were suddenly scattered with his own bouncing cackles; Hawks' fingers gripping his slender sides and squeezing into them. Hawks made sure to hold onto his bottom ribs and taze them while his thumbs squished into the criminal's skin. Dabi jerked on his leather restraints as the cords of his neck stood out on the surface of his skin from his insane laughter.

"GAHAHAHAD!! STAHAHAHAP!! I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOW SHIHIHIT!! I SWEHEHEAR!!' The criminal's eyes screwed shut tightly in his laughter, the vibrations so deep and pronounced that it felt like it was inside of him. Dabi's knees pulled up and slammed back down on the table in an attempt to do anything to get out of this situation, but his restraints were too tight. Keigo had a VERY amused look on his face at this recent development.

"Swearing already?~ That's cause for celebration, isn't it? Bravo to our modern scientists for creating something so malicious that it made our hardened criminal swear within the first five minutes~ Although, it doesn't answer my question. Where is Touya Todoroki? What color is his hair? What outfit was he wearing on the day you captured him?" Keigo threw nonsense questions at Dabi to see how he would react to them. Of course, Keigo already knew all of the answers, in part anyway, but he wanted to see how this villain would crack under the pressure. The hero's fingers vibrated in Dabi's lowest ribs as his thumbs massaged in two places on his lean belly. Keigo tried not to look for too long at the villain's contracting abs.

Dabi's limbs were restless in their quest to try and weasel their way out of this situation; his legs and arms squirming and wrestling against the restraints. Dabi's fists balled up to try and fight the maddening tingling sensations, and his hips bucked up like the bronco he was only to slam down on the table once more. Keigo felt like he was tickling the riding bull you find in dive bars and the like.

"I SAHAHAID I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOW THE FUHUHUCKING KID!! YOU GAHAHAHA!-" Dabi's deep rumbling laughter soon turned into high pitched hysterical giggles. Keigo's crimson wings had accidentally fluttered over the criminal's belly as he had shifted in his place. Keigo looked back at his magnificent wings and soon had a horrible look shadow over his face. The hero's fingers stilled once more as he plucked a feather out from his own wing. Dabi's cyan eyes were rolled to the back of his head as he laid limp on the table; his mouth open and sucking in as much oxygen as possible.

"I don't think that's gonna cut it, Patches. I want real answers, not this tippy-toe bullshit you keep pulling on me. I'm gonna get what I'm looking for even if it means I have to kill you." His voice was deep and serious enough for Dabi to perk up and look at him. Dabi didn't care about dying; he even welcomed it at this point just to get out of this damn table. Dabi turned sharply towards his collarbone and coughed into his shoulder. A regular cough wouldn't hurt unless it was a virus, but Dabi's hyper-sensitive insides made this cough burn up his parched throat. The villain looked back with a newfound seriousness and tried not to look too terrified at the slim wiggling feather in the hero's hand.

"Ask the multiple personalities dude or the blonde psycho bitch! They're always up to some random bullshit that doesn't involve me. I only live by Stain's ideologies and live up to the expectations to make the future he wanted to be realized. Child abduction isn't gonna make that future happen!" Even Dabi could hear the desperation in his own voice; he wanted to kill Hawks for making him so vulnerable. Especially while the hero was looking down at him with that damn lazy smirk, like this was all too amusing for him.

Keigo took a long breath and twirled the feather in between his fingers; his lips quirked in that thinking look once more. Dabi's eyes couldn't tear away from the hypnotizing piece of tickling equipment. The blonde hero could tell that Dabi was getting shrill, and distraught at that. He was getting there; with just a little more pushing Keigo could possibly unlock Dabi's memories and make him see that HE was Touya Todoroki himself. That's what all of this was.

"Mmmm... not convinced. Sorry, when it comes to child abduction cases like these, pointing fingers won't help when I know YOU'RE the child abductor. Just a matter of time until you wanna admit it to me. But hey, at least it's fun torture and not a messy one, right? A few things I have to do before we get started up again though-" Keigo stepped forward and tucked his feather in the crest of Dabi's ear like he was holding a pencil there.

"Hold onto that for a second," Keigo said simply as he lifted Dabi's thin cotton shirt and lifted it up over his head.

"As soon as I get out of these restraints, you're bones are gonna be liquefied inside of your damn disgusting body." Dabi hissed, while Keigo wasn't paying attention to that and staring directly at Dabi's impressive toned six-pack. Dabi followed Keigo's gaze and blushed deeply at the realization. Keigo suddenly snapped out of it and reanimated himself.

"Oh, well, in that case. I'll just put more on you so that doesn't have to happen!" Keigo flashed Dabi a squinted smile and took the straps that lay on either side of Dabi's hips. Keigo pulled on the leather belt tightly so now his midsection couldn't buck in any direction. The belt also helped pull Dabi's diamond navel taut. Dabi's belly and entire torso were unmarked with his scars; the scars only curving over his sides and disappearing under his pants. Keigo also noted that Dabi's hips were deep and indented, like someone pressed their thumbs into them. They must be really warm and hopefully very sensitive at this rate-

Keigo cleared his throat and stole back his feather with a wink while he was face to face with Dabi, to which Dabi attempted to headbutt the birdman. It was then that Dabi realized that with the belt now strapped just above his belly button, any wiggling room that he had before had just evaporated.

"Realizing just how fucked you are? And the effects of the serum don't start depleting until the victim's body has cooled down. The victim's body cooldown tells the serum that the job has been finished and the Hero's have the information they're looking for. Until then, it lasts as long as it needs to." After Keigo's helpful explanation, Dabi then noticed just how hot his body actually was, like he was running a high fever. Which meant that the serum was probably running at it's highest potent capacity to keep him horribly hyper-sensitive to any and all touches. Keigo watched the realization play over Dabi's face as he stepped forward and started circling his wiggly feather over Dabi's belly button.

Dabi jerked immediately and clamped his teeth down to prevent any giggles from slipping out. Keigo watched with a newfound sadistic hunger; he watched with the sudden drive to make this man shout his lungs out and regret ever forgetting about his childhood best friend.

"This can all stop if you just tell me where the kid is. Just give me a location and I'll send the heroes on their way. I got a phone right here. I got heroes at my disposal. We're just waiting on you, Patchwork." Keigo continued to circle and even started sweeping his feather across Dabi's strip of belly like he was dusting a piece of furniture.

Dabi shook his head and kept his laughter caged in his chest. The single feather was so tingly that he wanted to crawl out of his skin. "I mmph- I t-tohold yohou! I- grrmmph- I-I don't knohow ahahanything about the kid! I never heheard his nahame before!" Dabi involuntarily thought back to Touya Todoroki's name, the damn kid that he was being tortured over. In Dabi's haze, he thought he remembered the Bakugou brat having a friend named Todoroki-

"Wahait wait wait! I-I-I remember something! I reeheemehember sohohomething I promise!" Dabi pleaded, Keigo taking immediate pity and stopping his red wiggly feather. Keigo pointed his feather like an accusing sword towards Dabi's face.

"If the information is bullshit, you're getting a second dose injected right in your belly button. Imagine that hell burning in your stomach. Think about this wisely." Dabi swallowed what felt like cotton balls in his throat. He didn't know if Keigo was bullshitting or not, but he also didn't know if he could trust his own memories. He's never been able to remember too much of anything past his twenties... Dabi's shaking fingers hardened into fists as he hardened his resolve to get out of this table.

"Okay okay... The Touya kid has a brother right? Todoroki? What's the half and half kid's name? Shoto? Yeah, it was Shoto. Go fucking torture him for answers instead of me you damn prick! He knows more about his own brother than I do-" At the sound of the repeated use of the word 'brother', a flash of red hair jumped past Dabi's vision. Keigo shook his head and was starting to step forward to tickle the criminal's belly once more before Dabi hurriedly stopped him. "Woah Woah Woah Woah Woah, hold on, hold on! The Touya kid had red hair! Instead of half and half like his brother, he had all red hair." And white hair with red strips, and blank white hair like the snow- Dabi involuntarily remembered this as well, but before he could grab onto it, it slid away.

Keigo had a pleased look on his face, however. Dabi was starting to remember bits and pieces of the past, and that's what Keigo wanted. Just a little bit further, and hopefully he would remember who he was.

"Finally, we're getting somewhere. Unfortunately, no cookies for you. We know Touya had red hair, his family comes from a line of gingers. We need to know where the kid is, Dabi. And you're the only one with the answers. So let's hear 'em." Dabi fought the urge to protest as Keigo willed about six of his feathers to detach from his wings and dust over Dabi's belly, while Keigo's fingers gripped his sides and scribbled his manicured nails into them. Dabi pulled on his restraints and cackled loudly into the sound-proof room.

"CHRIHIHIHIST!! I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOHOW AHAHAHANYTHING!! LET ME GOHOHOHO!!" Dabi's eyes screwed shut as his mouth was agape with his hysterical laughter. Both Hawks and Dabi were unaware that the reserved and quiet male could produce such sounds. Dabi's veins stood out like cords against his neck as his chest heaved in with his laughter. Such small stimulus is driving him insane, Hawks thought to himself. Six of his feathers from his crimson wings were dusting over his belly and his navel, while his fingers scratched and scraped over the villains pronounced ribcage. Sure, maybe it was a little intense in terms of tickling, but he thought that this would be too easy for the hardened villain. Apparently not; Hawks could see that Dabi was fighting for breath already.

"HAHAHAHAWKS I SWEAHAHAHAHA-" Dabi cut his own laughter short with a hard snort. One of the fluffy crimson feathers had started twirling itself into Dabi's stretched navel. There was nowhere that the villain could twist on the table to escape its feathery clutches. Hawks cracked half a smile. Even if he were to take his hands off the villain's ribcage to halt his fingers tickling, which he did; Dabi still produced the same amount of crazed hysterical cackles from just the feathers tickling. The double agent stood with his arms folded and watched his childhood best friend laugh an insane amount.

The villain had tousled his onyx crown all over his eyes; the once fluffy hair now a dense mop against his forehead. Dabi's smile was agape enough that Keigo could see his glinting incisors. His biceps flexed and struggled; the sweeping of the crimson feathers not ceasing for a moment. They traced over his waistline, the deep cavernous dips of his hip indents, fluttering over the small pinch of skin underneath his navel. Keigo stood fascinated by the scene, while Dabi's eyes started rolling in the back of his head.

"-AHAHAHAP!! I'LL-I'LL TAHAHAHAHALK I PROHOHOMISE!" That roused Keigo out of his stupor. He forgot that Dabi was in an extremely sensitive situation. The agent quickly halted his feathers and lifted them up from Dabi's belly. The feathers had worked so fervently that the villain's hypersensitive skin was a baby pink on the surface of it. Dabi sniffed back his tears of mirth and heaved in delicious clean oxygen. It was ice cold in his lungs, but the villain much preferred it over the sweaty ticklish hell he was just subjected to.

"Alright, Staples. Get to talking then, or there's gonna be a lot more feathers where that came from. You don't want these puppies all over you in the situation you're in." Keigo flapped his wings and shook them out to showcase his entire wingspan of crimson ticklers, all individually flowing and wiggling delicately in the air. Dabi gave him a death glare, but even the feathers made him gulp. The villain flexed his fingers as he tried to think up of something that this douche didn't already know about the kid. Keigo could see the villain's brain working to think up a bullshit story just to appease him. That just meant more tickles for-

"He-He was 15 when he went missing. His father had abused him when he was young and he was shunned by his siblings. His mother tried to protect him but-" But she was crazy. And no one protected him. He was the forgotten one, the one who faded into the background. And no one had a problem with that.

Dabi choked on his words, clearing his throat and clearing his mind. Keigo watched with interest as Dabi had spilled all of this information from thin air. Even the villain looked confused, he didn't know where this revelation came from.

"Mm-hmm, quite the truth serum this stuff is, isn't it? Just a little bit more and you can get off this table and get yourself an ice cream." Dabi shot his gaze up to Keigo's eyes and pulled on his restraints.

"N-No! No more I can't handle it! It's too much! Don't do this!" For some reason Dabi didn't even sound convincing to his own ears. Maybe because even he knew that no matter how much pleading he tried, he wouldn't get out of this until he coughed up more information. Keigo looked quite amused by the display, however. That fox's grin was back on his face.

"Come on now, it can't be that bad, little patch~ It's just some tickling afterall." Dabi's heart stopped when Keigo walked up to him and gently placed his fingers on Dabi's waistline. "Little kid games, right Blueflame? You can handle it." Keigo suddenly gripped Dabi's right hip and squished his thumb inside, making Dabi curl up and giggle like a schoolboy.

"Gahahahad! Hahahaha-Hahahaow mahahahany tihihihimes?!" "How many times what? How many times do I have to tickle tickle tickle you before you get the gist of your situation? You're not getting out of this until I get my answers, kid. So cough 'em up, before you cough up a lung." Even holding Dabi's hip like this made the villain squeal out. His hips bucked and shook in their binds, which only drove the hero's thumb in further to his divet.

"I dohohohon't knohohohow anything! I-I cahahan't rehehember!" Hawks could see that Dabi was actively trying to remember something, he wasn't lying in a situation like this. And Keigo wasn't wanting him to remember his childhood trauma or to relive it in any way, he just wanted his childhood best friend to remember him. Hawks took a deep breath in his lungs and decided to up the anty. Hawks sent four crimson feathers up to Dabi's stretched armpits, the wiggling plumes fluffing over the villain's soft divets. Dabi started to shriek, but Hawks suddenly slid his hands down to Dabi's thighs and squished into the soft material.

Dabi must have unlocked a second quirk along with his Cremate abilities, because Hawks had never heard such an unearthly howl thrash itself from Dabi's chest. Keigo winced from the piercing sounds from the villain as Dabi's eyes were screwed tightly in hysterical cackles with tears budding in the corners of his eyes. The feathers twisting and fluffing in his stretched armpits along with Hawks kneading up and down his toned thighs had the villain in tears. Dabi didn't know which way to buck, to twist, to jump on the table. He was stuck either leaning into the fluffy feathers for more relentless dusting, or to literally push himself into his captors hands for closer and more effective squeezing.

"Looks like you're in a pickle, bud. I say just cough up the information and be done with the whole thing but, to each their own, right? If you like it, you like it. I won't judge, I'm having way too much fun~" Keigo had his thumbs fixed to the villains inner thighs as his other eight fingers splayed out as wide as they could stretch to squeeze and grip the skin underneath Dabi's jeans. Dabi wanted to tear his hot tingling skin off with how insane the sensations were.

"SHUHUHUT THE FUHUHUHUCK-GAHAHAHAHAD!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHA!!" Dabi was screaming at this rate, the man's throat parched and raw from the yelling. Keigo rolled his eyes at the exclamations of his victim when something silver flashed in his eye. Keigo thought it was probably just the restraints glinting off the light in the room, but it was Dabi's stitches that caught his eye. Keigo suddenly had a stroke of curiosity and reached behind him to pluck a feather from his wings and swiped the fluffy appendage across Dabi's silver stitch.

It was liked the criminal was electrified, his body jolting like it touched a live current and his insane cackles jumped an octave with the single swipe. Dabi's stitches had already been sensitive to touch even before he had the serum in his body. Now the nerve endings underneath the stitch felt like it was intertwined with the silver itself. Keigo bit his lip at the torture that was to come. Watching Dabi writhe on the table with the feathers in his armpits, Keigo sent six feathers to every visible stitch on the mans body and let the appendages fluff and dust and wriggle all over him. They were twirling in his ears and driving in his collarbones; they were doing figure eights in his armpits and dragging up his triceps; they were skating down his sides and writing nonsense with their quills down the lines of his abs.

"GOHOHOHOD!! SAHAHAHAVE MEHEHEHEE!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! I-I'M DHYHYHYHYING!!" It was a horribly dramatic thing to exclaim that Keigo should have listened to, but the way the bird saw it, if Dabi still had breath in his lungs to shout, then he should be fine. Keigo's never seen such a contorted face on anyone before. It was a mix of childlike happiness and mirth with pure anguish and torture. But, whatever gets the truth out, Keigo supposed. It was only a matter of time before Dabi choked on the truth. And Keigo could never get enough of the sight of Dabi's abs contracting with every giggly laugh harvested from his chest.

"KEHEEHEEHEE-KEIGO!! KEHEHEHEEIGO PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! STOHOHOHOHOP!! I-I REEHEEMEMBER!! STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIT!!" Dabi suddenly erupted his confession once Keigo neared his bucking kneecaps with his own fingers. Keigo's feathers and hands suddenly halted; the villains heart bursting through his ribcage. The poor captured man had aching ribs and a sore stomach, and his limbs were irritated from pulling on them for so long. Hawks stood with his hands on his hips. His entire body shivered with flashes and icicles, his searing hot sweat sliding down his icy back. It was complete hell, but the stimulus was enough to break the barrier of his lost memories. This was it. Dabi just needed to remember where he came from and who he used to be. Maybe he'd be more cheerful, or at least a little more...anything, at this point.

Dabi's head was laid back on the table, his body slightly curled up in the small defense he had. His eyes were rolled up to the whites in exhaustion. But in the swirling chaotic blackness behind his eyelids that he was used to, he saw something new. Something he hasn't appreciated in a long time.

Summer, the scalding heat on the back of my neck, the taste of ice-cold popsicles, the sand inbetween my toes. Being the kid with the dad who pushed them the highest on the swingset. My scraped knees and elbows patched up by the smiling boy. The summer festival and the exploding fireworks in the infinite sky above me. My best friend who stood there to watch when nobody else would. Keigo, my best friend. His toothy smile and his squinting eyes; his untied shoelaces and messy hair. He never left my side. But I left his.

Suddenly I don't feel so heavy. I don't feel so alone, so burdened with this weight on my chest. Because I know Keigo is there. He always was.

"And I always will be, Touya." Dabi slowly looked up to see Keigo with a gentle smile on his face. Dabi hadn't realized that he was speaking aloud. Hawks turned to Dabi's right arm and started setting free his aching wrist. But after this newest revelation, Dabi didn't feel hurt anymore. He felt like a completed puzzle; the lost piece that made him whole was finally inserted. Dabi held his wrist to his chest and rubbed over his tingling body to rid himself of the leftover sensations.

"T-Trauma's a bitch, huh? It...Itmade me forget my best friend, the only one who was truly there for me. I'm...I'm sorry about that, Keigo." Keigo shook his head, his bangs swaying back and forth. "Please, don't be sorry. It's your dad that should apologize. I just wanted you to remember everything that was bright in your life, and not live in this bleak purgatory. You have friends and people who care about you. And you used to smile all the time, you know. I know it's not your fault that you forgot who you were and you forgot how to smile. But now at least, maybe you can put your past to good use in the future."

Dabi nodded, understanding Keigo's words better than he would have thought. Keigo extended his hand out to Dabi to help him off of the table. Dabi hesitated for a moment, a good second passing before he grabbed it and hopped off the table. Dabi was still slightly curled and hunched even as he walked, his defenses still not lowered after that episode.

"Don't worry, it's all over. No more tickles, I promise. Unless you kinda liked it, then I can give you more. I thought I saw you leaning in for some more now and again on the table. You also remember how ticklish you used to be and you still are, right? I mean, I thought something this childish was gonna work on ya dude, but your vocal cords must be thrashed-"

"Yeah, you know what, Keegs, I think I remember just how ticklish you used to be as well when you were a kid. Care to test it out?" Dabi picked up one of the syringes off the table filled with the swirling blue sensitivity serum with a horribly antagonizing look in his eyes.

Keigo gulped and ran for dear life.

#icanttellyouhowlongthistookme notcomplainingthoyoudeserveitbabe hopeyoulikeitmerrycrimin

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violetnotez · 4 years

Text

Dabi x reader

This is loosely...LOOSELY based off the myth of Persephone and Hades-honestly, I tried to do the fic based off the legend and it just turned into a yandere Dabi, so enjoy!😘😘

⤷ Genre: Yandere, angst+fluff

⤷ Word Count: 2898

⤷ Warnings: cursing, abduction, mentions of spicy themes 🔥

⤷ Synopsis: You wake up in a new place, feeling tired, achy, and not understanding a single clue of how you got there-until you realize you have been taken prisoner by non other than Dabi, who has seemed to take a strange liking to you.

Song Recs: ⤷Tourniquet-Evanescence⤷Hollywood’s Bleeding-Post Malone ⤷The Reaper-Chainsmokers

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

You groaned, your eyes barely opening to slits as your mind awoke from its foggy state.

Everything felt numbingly painful: your joints ache as if they were rusted metal, unmovable and thick with time. Your feet tingled with exhaustion and your arms were heavy with fatigue, your forehead throbbing slightly from your uncomfortable nap. Your chapped lips parted, the skin detaching itself from being molded together for so long as you began to try and awaken yourself.

Feet-then legs- then hips-then arms- then head.

You began to pick apart each piece of body, the connection running slowly as you moved each ligament and limb, awakening them from their ill rested sleep.

What the hell had even happened to you?

Nothing was familiar to you- this room you were able to slowly piece together was foreign and solemn, almost akin to a warm dungeon with its steely brick walls and frugally decorated exterior. The only thing that seemed remotely comfortable was the bed you were laying on, the cool black sheets chilling your bare skin.

Your heart skipped a beat as your heavy head lazily looked down at your body: these were not even your clothes, if you could call it even that

You could sense on your skin that you were still wearing your undergarments, but the only thing covering you was a thin white shirt, the fabric charred at the top with gaping holes and flowing just past your upper thigh.

Everything was so strange-this foreign scenery, these clothes that were hastily thrown on you, your aching body....

The shock of the newnness couldn't seem to feel frightening. Your senses and survival instincts were cloudy and murky, your mind slowly trying to piece together the situation in front of you.

But it was like trudging through a river upstream-the rush of the water was too powerful, slowly pushing you as you climbed desperately to fight your fatigue and understand your situation.

“Oh good, your finally awake-thought you’d be out for another hour,” a voice drawled out from the shadows, sending a shiver through your thoughts.

Your body stiffened instantly at the sound, your heart beating against your chest like a hammer pounding against a nail. The voice seemed to speak from the shadows of the room, a body less phantom, it’s voice low and bored sounding as it slowly came closer to your fragile body.

“-seems your body didn’t like the drug Kurogiri made- youve been out for a while now,” it continued, a smile eminent in the voice’s tone as it creeped in the darkness.

What the hell was going on? Who was Kurogiri? And what freak drugged you?

And why couldn’t you remember anything from the last night?

Questions swarmed your brain, each one more complex and confused than the last. You were completely awake now, your eyes wide with shock as they darted across the room, trying to find the source of the voice.

You took a deep swallow through your dry mouth, coating your tongue with thick saliva as you willed your beating heart to squeeze out any courage it could.

“Who-who’s there?,” you stammered, your voice craggily and thick like sleep, “Who are you? Where am I?”

A low chuckle tumbled against the room, turning your blood ice cold.

“Slow down dollface, introductions first. Cant be demanding things when someone welcomes you into their home,”

“I never asked to be brought into your home-”

“And I never asked to like you so damn much, but here we are,”

Like...you? Your shocked eyes turned into confusion, trying to decipher the meaning of that sentence.

Who even was this guy-and what did he want with you?

Steel boots on wood floor pounded against the wall, small details finally being able to be seen. Fear pooled in your stomach, making it difficult for you to look and see who your captor was.

You started gazing at the bottom of his tall stature: boots, black and worn….black pants to match, a trench coat inky and dirty in spots with dirt…..a white shirt, looking painfully identical to yours…silver details glinting like knives as it wrapped around your captor’s lean forearms, strangely scarred purple skin….

“the name’s Dabi,”

He gave you a crude smile, those piercings digging into his skin with the motion as his eyes light up with amusement.

Fear gripped your stomach and flooded your whole body, squeezing your lungs painfully and forcing you to be unable to breath. You knew who this was, he was hard not to miss, with his marred skin and piercing blue eyes.

A Villian of the LOV, a dangerous man with an even more dangerous quirk.

You gulped, noticing how the scars ran against his skin for the first time, covering most of his body in a thick film of painful markings.

“Telling by our face, your already know me, dont ya doll?”

If he had those marks because of his own quirk...you shivered at the thought, knowing full well it would be 10 times worse for yourself if he used his fiery power against you.

You had to be careful with this one if you wanted to come out if this on one piece...extremely careful.

His face turned down slightly in annoyance, his blue eyes squinting as he peered at your shivering form.

“Answer me, I don't like being ignored,” he chided, his tone extremely calm and dangerous.

You gulped, shifting quickly so you could sit up and talk to the man directly.

“Yes, yes I know who you are-you're part of the LOV,”

“So you already know? Such a smart girl,”

That thin smile returned, almost like a grimace by how wide it was. He stepped closer, those boots like the ticks of a bomb, ready to explode at any moment.

You couldn’t fathom why this-this Villian, wanted anything to do with you.

You were no hero or sidekick, just a frugal girl going to college in the city. Your quirk wasn’t anything special: it was called Plant Growth, which allowed you to grow plants by merely touching any part of it exterior. You had been told it was strong, but you had never really paid any mind to it, only using it to grow your own garden or help others who couldn’t seem to grow their own.

Was this why you had been kidnapped?

Did the League see something useful in your quirk, something I’d use to them?

“What do you want with me?” You asked, hating how terrified your voice sounded compared to his prideful, calm tone.

“I-Im not going to be apart of your League’s plans if thats why your kidnapping me,”

Dabi chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, the League doesnt know I have you. They think Im still trying to recruit more members at the moment. No, you, you are my dirty and innocent little secret, dollface,”

This was wierd-too wierd.

Why did he sound so possessive, As if he was a child protecting his favorite toy from the other kids? What was wrong with him-you had never talked to this man a day in your life, only knowing him from the occasional news reporting about him.

So why did he treat you as if he owned you?

You grimaced at the way he described you, the words making your skin crawl.

“Please dont call me that-”

“I gonna call you whatever I want to call ya,” he snarled, that disturbing grin still plastered on his face, “youre not in a position to be calling the shots.”

“Can you at least call me by my real name?” You asked, your voice timid and begging,” It’s-“

“Y/n, I know,” he smiled as you stared at him with terrified eyes, your mouth slightly agape.

So you were right-he did know you.

But how?

“How do you-“

Dabi chuckled again, the sound rich and deep rumbling out of his chest.

“Damn, you have hell of a lot of questions“, he sat himself down on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his added weight.

The smell of burning wood and whiskey floated to you, your senses going into override from the smell. It confused you how comforting it felt, but the fear was still growing in your stomach.

You instantly brought your feet close to your body, your knees hugging your chest as you tried to grow distance from you and this man.

“Well, you did just kidnap me, so I kind of deserve a few answers,” you remarked, your eyes trained on him.

He seemed so calm, so collected, staring at you with patient and waiting eyes.

“So you wanna bargain with me?” He drawled out, almost sounding bored as he leaned his head forward.

You swallowed, the blood rushing to your ears. That shit eating grin he was sporting seemed so menacing, as if he was secretly playing some cat and mouse game with you.

“What’s the bargain?” You asked hesitantly. The thin shirt pooled against your thighs, sending shivers against your skin.

Even with the strangely warm room, the fright from this situation and this Villian sent up your spine.

You had to admit it to yourself-there was a strange charm to him. He radiates pride and commanded power, from his messy black hair to his piercing blue eyes. His marred skin rippled like infinitely connected rivers, the purple wine color quite pleasing once you got adjusted to the shock of it.

The only thing that showed weakness were the staples: they seemed so painful, the way they pulled taught against his smooth skin and stretched it agonizingly against his skin. A small part of you felt empathy for the Villian and these crude marking adorning his body, but he didn’t seem fazed by them.

He continued to grin, even with those staples stretching his skin to ungodly lengths.

His piercing blue eyes racked into your body, gazing you up and down with a hungry gaze, like a lion looking at a lamb.

“You ask one question-and thats it,” he instructed, his low tone commanding.

One question?! You stared at him in shock-He can look as pretty and ethereal all he wanted with his pale skin and sultry voice-but no way in hell was he going to allow you one question after he kidnapped you-he was out of his mind!

“But that’s not-“ you argued back, your face clearly annoyed by his proposition.

“Not fair??” He cut you off, his voice taunting you, “Well wake the hell up Princess, your under possession of a Villian-‘fair’ doesn’t mean anything,”

You pursed your lips, hating how smug he looked as he peered at your clearly irritated face.

If he wanted to play that game-fine, you could play too.

You turned your head defiantly to the side, your hair cascading across your face as you looked away from Dabi.

It was a risk to be so openly resistant, but if he liked you as much as he seemed to, he might break slightly.

An exasperated sigh came from the Villian, the weight in the bed shifting as he moved slightly closer to you.

“Fine then,” he said exasperatedly,” three,”

A wave of relief flooded your system, a small smile tugging against your lips as you looked again at the Villian. Dabi looked back at you, a change flashing across his face.

He almost looked-relieved? Peaceful? Dreamy?

You couldn’t quite place it, but before you could fully understand it, his expression turned back to its lazy default.

“Now go, before I change my mind,” he instructed, his eyes trained on you as you shifted in your spot.

Three questions? Better but still-not that much.

“How much time has passed?” You asked first, your voice soft and tentative as you stared at the Villian with expecting eyes.

“Time?” He repeated, a grin on his bi-colored lips, “ That’s a short one…it’s been 2 days.”

Your breath caught in your lungs-2 days since you’ve been gone? You felt a small bit of panic flood your system, realizing your life had been unattended to for a whole 48 hours...but you quickly brought yourself from the intial shock. 2 days isn’t that long...it could be worse.

“Okay…” You sucked in a deep breath, willing your body to calm itself “How did I get here?”

“Now that’s a long one….

You watched him sigh slightly, his marred hands rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed slightly vulnerable like this, almost, well, sweet, as he tried to find the right words.

“I’ve been watching you from afar for a while now, and figured out you like to go into your garden before you go to bed for the night.

It was simple-I drugged you with a little sleeping serum I got from another member of the LOV, Kurogiri. Your currently in the LOV headquarters, in my room. Your clothing got dirty getting here, so that’s why you're wearing my clothes.”

Well hell-that was a lot to process. You instantly looked at him with worrying eyes, unable to process all the information. Hes been watching you? And drugged you? And, on top of all that creepiness, saw your in just your underwear and bra? Oh god, maybe even more-

He seemed to already read your mind, a dark laugh coming from his lips.

“Oh don’t worry dollface, I didn’t do anything,” he joked, his voice sultry and dangerous, “you’d feel it if I did,”

You gulped, letting those words register.

So he was a stalker and a flirt-great.

You licked your lips, clearly not finding the remark funny as you continued to stare at him with terrfied eyes.

The room seemed extremely quiet, Dabi’s dominant exterior faltering as your body language oozed fear.

“Why do you want me?” Your voice wa s barely louder than a whisper, your legs wrapped close to your body.

Dabi was the quietest you had seen him from this intial meeting, his inky black bangs cascading across his face and obscuring his eyes.

“Ya know…” he finally said, his voice vulnerable and quiet, “shit, I wish I knew that,”

“I just know that you-you are so whole and innocent, so loving...I-I fell for that. Not many are accepting of me, not just because I’m a Villian. They see my scars and instantly want me gone-but your not like that.”

He turned to you, that sultry smirk framed on his lips as he leaned in slowly, his digits resting gently on your knee.

You stared at that hand, the soft embrace on your bone making your heart jump. He was so gentle with you, so soft and endearing-you knew that he wasn’t like this with everyone. There was something inside him that longed for you, and it made your head spin in confusion.

“I’m not as good of a person as you think I am,” you replied, as if desperately trying to convince him,” I’m sorry people treat you so horribly, but-but I’m not your savior from it.”

He continued to smile at you adoringly, his blue eyes sparkling like diamonds.

“See, your sorry for me. Your-naive like that, and that’s why I like you so much.”

“But I barely know you, I can’t care for you as much as you want me to-“

“But isnt that people like you do-learn to love everyone, for all their traumas and flaws?” His voice became louder, more passionate as he shifted even closer to you. His hand grabbed yours, the staples digging into your cold skin.

He was so warm, his palms radiating a comforting heat as that smell of burning firewood filled your shocked lungs.

“Your so naive to everyone, to the people who dont deserve it-,” he continued, “you love everyone and everything.”

“I promise doll, if you just care for me like I care for you...I won’t hurt you,”

Your breath hitched in your throat, fears and defiance filling your body.

“You took me away from home. That’s hurting me,” you remarked back, desperately trying to fight yourself from leaning into the naturally warm man.

“Falling in love with someone and having them not love you back is hurting too,” his face contorted into anger and some pain, as if your words cut into his ego as his blue eyes pierced into you.

Your lips pursed again, your eyes forming into angry slits.

“I’ll never love you. Never,” you spat back. He may be pretty, and in some ways endearing, but no way in hell would you be his personal side girl, kept against your will to satiate his needs.

But something in your tone flipped a switch in him-no more was the patient, flirty Villian in front of you.

Something changed inside him, a dangerous personality took over, his hand swiftly reaching for your throat and wrapping around it.

All you could see were those expanse of blue, the irises dilated with anger as the staples in his hand dug painfully in your skin. Your eyes blew out in fear, his palm warm and suffocating as your skin became hotter and hotter, until the point of pain as you stared at those icy blue orb.

A sadistic smirk flashed again Dabi’s marred skin, causing a intense chill to spread along your spine.

“Aw you sweet thing, you scared?” He taunted, his voice dripping with amusement and anger,

“ You should be,”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

Taggings:

@sergeant102105 @weebartistinc @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser @bakarinnie

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha dabi imagine #bnha dabi x y/n #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader #mha dabi x reader #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader imagine #mha dabi x y/n #mha dabi x you #mha dabi #bnha dabi x you #bnha dabi x y/n imagine

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marmolady · 3 years

Text

Old Ghosts

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC

Summary: In which twelve-year-old Liv is a doofus and makes a series of poor decisions.

Word Count: 6548

Chronology: set after 'How the time escapes me....'

More Montoya family backstory and other content: Of Secrets and Stars, Scar, Home, Sweet Home, A Ride to Remember, Inheritance, When the Fight is Over, Mutual Comfort

Warnings: grief and loss, coarse language

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr,

@greengroove... as you've been enjoying your angst recently, this might be your cuppa tea. ;)

____________________

--BANG!--

Liv jumped near a mile in the air at the sudden sound. In that single moment it took for her blood to run cold, it became clear what exactly this recording showed… and why it had been hidden away in a box she’d been forbidden from touching.

Fumbling, she managed to press pause, then held her breath. Had she been heard? That gunshot hadn’t been as loud as it had seemed to her, had it? The sounds of her mothers talking, laughing, floated up from the backyard. They hadn’t heard. Liv turned down the volume a couple of notches before pressing play again.

Why are you still looking at this?

But it was her abuelita, the person for whom Liv was named. In watching, Liv felt she was paying her respects.

You’re going to regret this.

She already did. But that didn’t stop her from watching on, even while her heart seemed to pound in her throat.

Who was this woman? It had seemed like she was Abuelita’s friend. What kind of friend would…? It didn’t make sense, anyway, she’d always been told that the Bad Man, Rourke, had killed Abuelita….

‘Lila… how could you…?’

She watched with wide, frightened eyes as the woman, the devil woman, put the gun to the forehead of Liv’s grandmother. She braced herself, knowing what must surely be about to happen. She wished that her abuelita didn’t look so much like her Mama Estela.

‘I told you to stop. I begged you. Why did you have to betray him?’

Another gunshot, and it was all over. Shaking violently, Liv yanked out the flash drive and again, listened for any sound that suggested anyone had a clue what she’d been doing. There was no sound, just her own frantic, rattling breathing. The vision of the dead body, fuzzy in the black-and-white security footage but unmistakably still, and bloodied, and broken… it was seared onto Liv’s brain, burning her, and she was helpless to escape.

She shouldn’t have looked at it. Whether it was the guilt or the shock of what she’d just seen, she felt a pit in her stomach, and swooping nausea. Granted, she’d been feeling stomach-achey a lot of the night before, but this was different.

Liv placed the small drive back in the secret box, and put that back where she’d found it, among the old school photos, gymnastics trophies and other bits and pieces that had never been unpacked. Then she high-tailed it out of there, praying that she wouldn’t be physically sick.

Following the trauma she’d just unleashed upon herself, Liv needed space to think and feel. Her mothers, thankfully, were quite content for her to take a bicycle and go off on her own as far as the big park in the centre of Valle Brava. She just had to call out ‘I’m going for a ride!’, and they’d let her go-- in this case, without her getting close enough for it to be obvious that she was really not okay.

As far as Liv was concerned, there was no question telling her mothers what she’d just watched. There was not a doubt in her mind of just how badly it would hit her Mama Estela… now of all times. Estela had not been okay. Liv had known it even before Taylor had sat her down and explained. They were in the lead up to Estela’s fortieth birthday; she’d be the same age her mother had reached before her life was ended. Now and then, Estela would get so distant, lost in a sad place where even those she loved most had to work hard to reach her. Immediately after, she’d swing hard and fast in the other direction; becoming desperate for closeness with Liv and Taylor… as though the distance grief had made her impose had brought about a fear of further loss. It had all become worse in those past few weeks; Miel, the old horse Estela used to ride with her mother, had succumbed to old age, fueling the feelings of bereavement.

Liv could not, would not go around stabbing knives into already tender wounds. She loved her mama too much for that.

One time, when Liv had been… seven, maybe eight, she’d gotten what she thought was a bright idea. It had seemed so simple to her-- if Reggie’s dead grandmother could be brought back via a hologram, why couldn’t hers? Liv had prepared herself to be lauded as a hero for her stroke of genius, but that wasn’t how it went down. Estela shot the idea down so fast Liv’s head almost spun. Bewildered, the well-meaning little girl had doubled-down, stubbornly insisting that she had the fix for everything that had brought her mother sadness. At the time, Liv hadn’t understood why Estela had gotten so angry at her, and why, instead of being happy about the magic solution, she’d become sadder than Liv remembered ever seeing her. Now almost thirteen and much wiser, Liv had developed a honed sensitivity to triggers of her mama’s grief. This, she knew, would do it.

Arriving at the park, Liv lay down her bicycle, then herself. She gazed up into a blue sky, and the clouds painted across it became blurred from her tears. The guilty pain in her gut lingered, and it brought her mind’s eye again and again back to the darkening bloodstain that had spread across her grandmother’s abdomen. As if her own body was intent on tormenting her-- punishment for what had been a blatant betrayal of trust.

As she cried, her belly pain seemed to get all the stronger, the force of her sobbing perhaps straining whatever had already become tender. Liv felt queasy. She supposed that make sense. A mix of shame and horror could do that to a kid. She closed her eyes.

Okay…. You can’t go home until you get a hold of yourself, and you can’t stay out here forever.

Liv focused her breathing. Sensible deep breathing techniques had been a staple in her mothers’ bag of de-anxiety tricks for as long as she could remember. Jitters before first day of school? Deep breathing. Robin-dog disappeared after digging under the fence? Deep breathing. There’s a goddamn yeti outside her window? Deep breathing.

Her bellyache wasn’t going anywhere, and she still felt like crap, but Liv’s head was clearer. She was less shaky. She wasn’t hyperventilating. And she could string two thoughts together without seeing nasty flashes of a cruel murder. She didn’t dare close her eyes, so she sat up and forced herself to focus on a family of birds in a tree across the stream. Whenever visions of death and betrayal reared their ugly heads, she’d just have to make herself pay attention to what those birds were doing. Eventually… eventually she’d feel better. Right?

Liv left the park just as the sun began to descend in the sky, knowing she’d be walking her bike home at a glacial pace. The pain in her belly had become sharp. She had no appetite-- not remotely-- but was already steeling herself for putting on a smile and forcing herself to scarf down whatever dinner she had to look forward to as if nothing was wrong. As she rounded the corner home, she took a deep breath, and got onto her bike, being sure to arrive home with nothing suspicious about her entrance.

“Hola Livita!”

“Hi Mama.” Liv plastered on a smile as she wiped her feet at he back door. “Dinner smells good-- are we having a roast?”

“You’ve got a good nose on you,” Taylor said, nodding. “Should be about a quarter of an hour?”

“Do you guys need help with anything?” Please say no… please say no….

“You’re all right,” said Estela. “Go cool off; you look like you’ve been riding hard.”

With her mothers both in the kitchen, Liv slipped in the bathroom and discreetly took a couple of Nurofen tablets. They were rarely used, and it seemed unlikely anyone had count of how many were in the box.

That evening felt to stretch on forever. The pain in her stomach had become sharper, more insistent, and it was all Liv could do not to visibly wince when she moved. This was one nasty-ass stomach-ache. If she could just get that horrible image out of her mind… the sound of those gunshots…. But there was no way. Something like that wouldn’t just disappear, and she had only herself to blame.

Over dinner, Estela had watched her eat, eyes narrowed.

“Are you all right, Livi? It’s not like you to be the last one with a clean plate.”

Liv’s cheeks reddened. Crap. Think fast! “Um… I might have stopped off at the bakery on the way back from the park….”

“Livita!” Estela shook her head. “No wonder you’ve got no appetite. What was it that was so good it couldn’t wait until after dinner?”

“I, uh, had a few buñuelos….”

“A few?”

“Three….” Liv hunched her shoulders guiltily for good measure. There was really no acting involved; she felt genuinely terrible-- just for a different reason.

“Three?” Taylor exclaimed. “And you didn’t think; ‘hang on, this could be one for me, one for Mama Estela, one for Mama Taylor’….?”

“I was really hungry after all the riding. I really, really enjoyed dinner though! I promise next time I’ll save buñuelos for after.”

Estela sighed, but her eyes were soft with affection. “What are we to do with you, nena?”

Liv had been sentenced to cleaning up all the dinner dishes for her fabricated crimes against donut-sharing. Keeping to herself for the rest of the night, she was able to avoid scrutiny. A couple more pain-relief tablets before bed and… well, all she had to do then was to try and sleep through the stabbing feeling and the nausea, and the flashes of her grandmother’s murder. It was to be a long night.

____________________

Come morning, and Liv was a wreck; in just as much pain, but now sleep-deprived to boot. First order of the day was to down a couple more Nurofen, followed by a shower, in the hope she’d make it to school without raising suspicion.

True to form, though--

“Livi, did you sleep all right?”

Liv tried not to wince as Estela put a hand to her forehead.

“You’re very warm--”

Liv flinched away, scowling. “Well, I didn’t have a cold shower, did I?” she snapped. Feeling her mother studying her, assessing, she looked pointedly away. “Can I eat my toast now? Or do you wanna whisk me off to the doctor because I’m hot after a shower and am tired on a Monday morning?”

Estela gave a soft huff. “Less of the attitude, okay?” Hands on her hips, she looked over her daughter for a few moments more. “Grab a piece of fruit as well.”

Pretty certain her mom was not entirely convinced, Liv nonetheless felt relief-- not least because the ibuprofen was kicking in.

She managed to make it to school without being pulled up on anything odd about her demeanour, and relaxed somewhat, knowing that no teacher was going to be half as switched-on to her being okay as her mothers. School, Liv was sure, would help. If she had something to occupy her mind-- assignments, trying to hold onto mathematical formulas, her friends’ own troubles-- she should be able to get some respite from the flashes of a murder scene, and the guilty stomach pain and nausea they triggered.

For the most part, it did help. And no doubt being dosed up contributed as well. Liv managed to get through the first block of lesson-- with a hunched posture and a wandering mind, true, but she’d powered through nonetheless. But when she met up with her friend Izzy during break, it became obvious that her ‘powering through’ looked to the world rather more like ‘something that had crawled out of a zombie movie’.

“Shit! Are you about to faint? Maybe you should sit down?”

Faint, probably not, but at this point Liv wasn’t going to bet against a good hurl. She sat down for good measure.

Reggie sat down beside her, a definite air of sympathy about him, but he was still Reggie; straight to the point. “Livia’s feeling bad about watching security footage of her grandma getting murdered.”

“WHAT?” Izzy yelped. “What the fuck?”

Liv glowered. “I know, right? What the fuck, Reggie?”

“No one’s around! It’s not as if anyone ever listens to us anyway.”

Izzy turned her wide hazel eyes to Liv. “Wait? You are serious? You saw… that?”

With a glance around, establishing that no one was within earshot, Liv gave a shaky nod. “It wasn’t really graphic or anything… but it was someone dying. Someone who’s family.”

“Ohmygod. Are you okay? Guess it makes sense that you look like shit!”

A nervous giggle sent a sharp pain to Liv’s middle, and it was all it took to set the tears flowing. In an instant, her two friends huddled closer, Izzy rubbing her back, and Reggie putting a long arm around her shoulder.

It hurt. It hurt so bad. And it hurt all the more because the comfort she most desperately wanted… she wouldn’t let herself have.

“I-I’ve known the gist of what happened since I was little,” she said softly, “it wasn’t a secret or anything. But it makes it different to actually see something, you know? That was my mom’s mom. I got out the house and I just… I cried like a baby. I feel so mad that it even happened, and it feels like… like I lost something, and I didn’t even really know until just now. And I’m so friggin’ scared my moms are gonna find out I saw it, and I feel just sick thinking about it. I dunno what to do, I….”

Again, the blasted tears came, and they left her doubled-over.

“Maybe…,” Izzy ventured, “maybe you could go to the sick room? You look really bad. Like, you’re shaking…. And no one’s gotta know anything about the, uh, the other stuff.”

Liv, curled in on herself, shook her head. “You don’t know my moms. They’ll wanna know what’s wrong. They’ll find out.”

“Yeah…,” Reggie agreed reluctantly. “Tia Estela doesn’t miss much. I’d say your best bet is to cry it all out, and once you’re feeling better emotionally, the sickness’ll clear too.”

I goddamn hope so.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, Liv was exhausted. Too drained to deal with her friends’ insistence that she got herself some help-- for by this point Reggie was convinced she’d be better off just telling Estela--she took herself off on her own, hiding out behind the bushes at the edge of the sports field.

She tucked her knees up against her chest and squeezed them with her arms. The pain was unlike anything she’d felt before-- and just from guilt?

It’s almost like it’s a fucking curse. Great. I’m being cursed by the ghost of my abuelita.

As bad as it was, Liv knew she’d just have to ride it out. No one ever, like, died from guilt-gut did they? And if it was her abuela was trying to teach her a lesson, there was no way she’d let it get that far either. Just thinking about the look on her Mama Estela’s face if she were to find out what Liv had been looking at just made her feel like vomiting all the more, and---

Liv dived to the side, hurling into the long grass. Her whole body was trembling as she propped herself up on her hands and knees. The sudden movement had left her feeling like her body was ripping itself in two. Hot tears splashed down from her cheeks.

What the hell am I gonna do?

What she did do, was to take another couple Nurofen, and stubbornly get herself through the day. In the couple of hours between lunch and catching the bus home to Valle Brava, the sharp pain in her abdomen seemed to dissipate… and she could, at last, breathe deeply… she could move without feeling like her body, or even a ghost, was punishing her. Maybe her abuela knew she was sorry. Maybe she’d just needed that vomit. Liv even managed to-- at long last-- pick at some of her packed lunch; though she did guiltily throw out or give away most of it. She might have been getting her appetite back, but she had to wolf down dinner convincingly, or toughing out the school day would have been for nothing.

At home, though, she was in luck. Both her mothers were dealing with unusually packed schedules, and though they checked in with her, Liv found that she was feeling just better enough that no one worried about her between rushing through dinner and making important calls. The night drew to a close, and despite her tiredness, Liv felt brighter. Having again dosed herself up, she curled up between her mothers on the couch and watched Planet Earth III, piping up her own commentary-- though she was told that if she truly dreamed of being the next David Attenborough, she’d have to learn to narrate without dropping in Spanish swear words. Her stomach still ached, and if her mind was allowed to quiet for too long, dark images would reappear… but the storm had been weathered.

Lying in bed, Liv was much more comfortable than the night before.

I’m sorry Abuelita. I know I screwed up. Would it help if I promise to tell Mama Estela? Just not now. Sometime in the future when she’s feeling better. If you’re watching close enough to put a curse on me, you’ll know she’s not okay.

Of course, there was no response from anyone or anything to the voice of Liv’s mind.

Don’t hate me. I just wanted… I just wanted to know you more. Even if it was knowing the worst part. Please don’t hate me.

Please don’t hate me.

The wee hours of the morning saw Liv awoken by throes of agony. She couldn’t stop shivering, but every tiny movement made her want to scream. She was going to be sick. Unable to make it to the bathroom, she vomited over the floor, and let out a cry of despair. And then she simply couldn’t stop.

The sound of a switch… light across the hall… and footsteps….

“Livi! Baby, what’s happening?”

And she could only sob.

I’m so sorry.

Please don’t hate me.

__________________________

Hushed voices washed over Liv from where she lay. What had happened? She could remember flashes of… flashes of voices strained by fear. And the pain. Where was she now?

“--can’t stop going over it in my head. How was she this sick and we didn’t even know? What did we miss?”

“Tell me about it,” came Taylor’s sighing reply. “There had to be something we should have caught. And I know there’s no point beating myself up now but… god.”

She was… she was really sick? Then… then it couldn’t have been any kind of curse. Even to teach her a lesson, her abuela would not have put her in danger. And the kind of sickness you get from guilt wouldn’t have made her mothers this scared for her, would it? There quiet for a little while, before Estela spoke again.

“Then she was hiding it from us. Why would she do that? There’s gotta be something else going on here….”

“I… think you’re right. I don’t know if that makes me feel even worse.”

“But we’re here for her now, cariña. I guess… for whatever it is she needs us for.”

Liv forced herself to stir. She needed her moms. Now. Every inch of her body was heavy, and all her efforts could only go so far as to move her hand just a little.

“Livi, honey?”

Slowly, she opened her eyes. “Mm… Mama…?”

“Hey, baby. It’s okay; we’re here. We’re here….”

“...Mmmm….”

Liv fell back to sleep, and when her eyes opened again, it was rather less of a chore. Her mothers were still there on either side of her.

“Back in the land of the living, nena?”

“...Mmph…. Am I in… in hosp’al? Thissnot our house?”

“You’re in hospital, sweetpea. And you’re gonna be just fine. No need to worry.”

Slowly, Liv returned to her senses. Though it had to be repeated to her a few times, she learned that she’d been taken to hospital with a nasty case of peritonitis. This was explained to her to mean that her appendix had become infected to the point where it had ruptured from the pressure, and the infection had spread all through her abdominal cavity. She was told that her pesky appendix had been taken out, and the surrounding insides thoroughly cleaned up. And she was told that she’d be in hospital to receive antibiotics for maybe as long as two weeks.

“Two weeks?”

Estela squeezed Liv’s hand, her dark eyes soft. “It’s important that you stay in hospital so they can put the medicine straight into your veins, and so the doctors can keep a close eye on any signs that you might need any more help. Th-they….” Her voice cracked. “They are going to need to help you to eat. That’s what the tube in your nose is for. It will take food straight to your stomach while eating is too hard for you.”

Soooo, definitely not just a guilt-induced angry belly, then? Well, crap.

“Sweetpea…,” Taylor ventured, “what happened? Why… why didn’t you say anything?”

Liv felt her cheeks flush. She could feel those worried gazes upon her… worried and hurt, though they might try and hide it.

Tears filled Taylor’s eyes. “This was very serious, Liv. You could have died. Baby, you can’t just hide it when you’re not feeling all right! You know that.” She gave a little sigh, and stroked her daughter’s short hair. “I’m not trying to scare you, hon. But what happened was very, very dangerous.”

Liv’s chin wobbled. You’ve fucked up. God, Liv, you’ve really fucked up….

No one probed further; they just held her, and stroked her hands, and kissed her hair, and told her she was safe. Maybe… maybe not knowing what had happened would hurt them even more than the honest truth.

“You’re gonna be really mad at me…” Liv said meekly.

“Maybe,” said Taylor. “But I’ll let you in on a secret; your Mama Estela and I are just so damn relieved you’re alive right now, I think we could forgive you anything.”

Liv looked up from her hands, meeting Estela’s worried gaze. Her mouth was dry. She didn’t want to say it… to see the sadness she knew would follow.

“I…,” she started tentatively. “I was going through those old boxes in your room that hadn’t been unpacked yet. I was looking for my beam medal I got back in Northbridge… you know, to put up with my new one. And I… and I found that old box you used to keep on the top shelf in your dresser.”

Beside her daughter, Estela sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. At Liv’s other side, Taylor’s face clouded over.

“Oh, Livi….” she murmured.

“I did something really, really stupid. I knew you must have had good reasons for not wanting me to go in there, but I did. And I found the drive, and I watched what was on it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Estela had gone very still, save for the tremble of her lip. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she scrunched her eyes in protest.

For Liv, the world seemed to slow. A swooping need to vomit was upon her once more. Please… say something.

Taylor had reached for her wife, grasping a trembling arm, all the while holding Liv close. She couldn’t know how much Liv needed to be held like that in this moment.

“I wish you hadn’t had to see that…,” Estela whispered finally.

“I know-- but it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been so nosy. An-and I thought that was why I felt sick, and I had a bellyache. Because I felt so guilty, and so sad, and….” Liv spluttered, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

Estela’s strong arms surrounded her. “Oh, mi amor. Mi pobre nena. Shh, shh, shhh…. We’ve got you now.”

For the first time in she-didn’t-know-how-long, Liv exhaled a deep breath. The nurse came by and fussed around her for a while, then the doctor as well. They were gentle on her, which she appreciated. She’d had a shit couple of days. She patiently let them do their thing, waiting for them to leave so she could talk freely to her mamas.

At last, they were alone again.

“Abuelita was really brave,” Liv murmured.

“We are a brave people, Livi. My mami showed me the way, and Mama Taylor and I try and pass it on to you. But, yeah… your abuelita was very brave.”

Liv wasn’t sure whether her trying to endure appendicitis counted as being brave or stupid, and she didn’t ask. She hoped that somehow, she was doing her grandmother proud.

Her dark eyes brimming with tenderness, Estela stroked her daughter’s cheek with her thumb.

“We’ll talk, okay? We can’t really… here. But we’ll talk about what you saw, and any questions… I’ll answer any questions you have that I can. Is that… is that all right?”

“Yeah…,” Liv replied, her voice small. “If you’re okay…?”

Estela put her arms around Liv, and held her as though she was the most precious thing in all the world.

“Livita. You’re safe. So, I’ll be okay.”

_____________________

The hospital stay was long and tedious. Liv frequently felt like crap, though she appreciated the pain relief given when it got too much. There was little to do. What she really needed to talk about, she couldn’t; she’d just cry and hold her mamas and know they understood what was hurting so much. Sometimes, she and Estela cried together. That made Liv feel bad. It always did. She wanted her mom to be less sad, not more. But Estela assured her that the crying helped her feel better, and Liv realised it was something she’d have to make peace with. Her mom had been through too much to not be overwhelmed by feelings sometimes. It didn’t mean that she, Liv, had done anything wrong, that she was somehow making it worse. Taylor, of course, gave away hugs to the two of them as if they were going out of style. And they had visitors. Tio Nicolas came by almost every day. Every day he would ruffle Liv’s hair and tell her she was a stubborn tonta. But, he’d have to concede, stubbornness did run in the family. Estela would grumble, saying she didn’t have a clue what he meant by that. Aleister, Grace and the kids came round a lot too. Reggie had looked about as horrible as Liv had felt-- turned out he’d been blaming himself for not snitching on his cousin and getting her to the sick room whether she liked it or not. The two kids exchanged apologies for the poorly handled situation, and he sat on the bed with her to watch the T.V.

Home felt wonderful. Liv was expected to take it easy, with no strenuous activity for several more weeks. She’d had a brief panic thinking she might not be able to go along to the reunion trip, less than a week away, but the doctor had given the go-ahead. It would just be… a more sedate La Huerta visit than what she’d usually go for.

Being home, though, meant it was time for a tough talk. Her first afternoon back, and Taylor and Estela invited Liv to sit on their bed with them, for what she knew was to be a serious discussion. Somehow, though she’d been longing to let out everything she’d been feeling, answer all the questions that had been flying through her mind… Liv felt so nervous. She sat down cross-legged between her moms, and noticed that Estela looked small, hunched in on herself… as trepidatious as Liv felt. It was okay. They were in this together.

It was Taylor who spoke first. “Hon, you shouldn’t have been looking at that stuff. At all. I know we’re not exactly strict on you, but when we say something’s off limits, we mean it, and we mean it for a reason.”

Well, yeah. Learned that one the hard way. Liv winced, feeling the hurt in her mom’s voice. They’d trusted her, and she’d deliberately broken that trust.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as humbly as she could muster. She was sorry. More than she could say.

“We know,” Taylor said. “And maybe… maybe it would have been better if we’d told you what was in there. We thought your trusting our judgement would be enough.”

Estela gave a sad little sigh. “Well, it is what it is. You can’t exactly unsee that, anymore than I can. So, if you wanna talk about what happened to your abuela… if you’ve got questions….” She took Liv’s hand and squeezed gently. The reassurance was deeply welcomed. “We’ll answer the best we can. It’s a… it’s a lot to process.”

For a long stretch, Liv went over in her head what it was she wanted to ask first, how to ask. She didn’t feel rushed; her moms let her take her time.

“I thought,” she said at last, “that it was Rourke… the bad man, who killed Abuelita. Who was that woman?”

Estela nodded stiffly. “Yes, it was Rourke. That woman-- her name was Lila Sethi--” she spat it like it was poison, “she was his weapon of choice. Though… she was good at hiding it sometimes. Or people were too stupid to trust their gut feelings about her. My mom trusted her, and I….” Her voice cracked.

“Did you meet her? When you went to La Huerta to stop Rourke?”

“I… didn’t just go to La Huerta to stop Rourke. I went there to kill him. For what he’d done. I’m sorry, Livi… I know that’s hard to hear.”

The world blurred out of focus. Liv could see mouths moving, her mothers reaching to offer her comfort, but the sound just washed over her, void of meaning.

“Livita.” Estela took Liv’s face in her hands, and cradled her. “I didn’t do it. I had opportunities, and I tried if our lives were in immediate danger, but I didn’t kill Rourke. Or Lila. I could have done, but… she was already dying, and… my mom had died trying to get me a more peaceful life. She wouldn’t have wanted….” Her voice broke, and she let out a dry sob.

Liv snuggled in against her mother’s chest, and wrapped her arms around her body as hard as she possibly could. She thought of what she’d seen on that recording. The horror that had filled her, making her cold from head to toe. How much her abuela had looked like Estela... how it must have felt to have someone she loved that much viciously torn from life…. Her poor mama.

“I love you, Mama ‘Stel.” The words muffled against a chest heaving with emotion, they were heard and felt, touching where they were needed and acting as a soothing balm.

Estela squeezed her eyes tight, and kissed the top of her baby’s head. “I love you, nena.”

Liv rearranged herself so that she was tucked into a comfortable cuddle with Estela, her free hand being taken by Taylor, who stroked it tenderly with her thumb.

“We knew Lila,” Taylor said quietly. “Or, more like, we thought we did. She was the tour guide who was looking after our group when we arrived on La Huerta. I think just about all of us were suspicious of her-- I mean, she worked for Rourke-- but most of the time… it seemed like she was one of us. Just… just trying to work out what was going on. Just trying to survive.”

“Would you believe, when Taylor and I found that footage, when we watched it… Lila actually walked into our room at the end? She’d made us breakfast.” Estela laughed bitterly, a cold, unpleasant sound. “How fucked-up is that?”

“...And… she was your mom’s friend? She trusted her. And….” Liv shuddered.

“I know, sweetheart,” Taylor soothed. “Your abuela deserved so much better than her last moments to have been a betrayal. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.” She scooched even closer, so she could kiss Liv’s forehead and Estela’s cheek. “Lila was not okay. Not remotely. She’d had a hard life, and Rourke took advantage of that to make her loyal beyond reason. He didn’t care for her. And the people who did… well, Lila was too blinded by Rourke’s promises to see it. Not until the very end… and so much had already been taken.”

Liv cried for the unfairness of it all, held by Estela who cried too.

“Why… why’d you keep it? Don’t you just wanna throw it in a fire and let it burn?”

Estela groaned sadly. “It seems very morbid. Sometimes it drives me crazy knowing it’s there-- I hate it. But there’s no other evidence left of what my mom did; how she gave her life to stand up to a powerful, evil man. I don’t want it to ever be forgotten what a hero she was.”

“I guess… that kinda makes sense.”

“Grief is weird. What makes sense when you’re feeling it, it isn’t always logical. To me, keeping that footage meant that in the end, no one can take away the fact that my mom was a hero. I’m never gonna watch it. Ever, ever again. But I can’t ever bring myself to throw away how brave she was.”

Liv thought she understood. Certainly, she was proud to be her abuela’s granddaughter… to carry her name. The brave thing she’d done shouldn’t be allowed to be erased.

“Mom?”

“Yes, mija?”

“Is it stupid that I feel so sad? It’s not like I knew Abuelita. But I think… I think that’s why I feel so bad. It’s like… I’m missing something. Something really important.”

Estela hugged Liv tighter. “You are. Sometimes that’s the hardest part.” She briefly pulled away one of her arms so she could wipe her eyes, before wrapping it once again around her daughter. “Some days, it feels like that’s killing me. All the happiest times-- like when you were born. Your abuela should have been there, celebrating with all of us.”

“Do you think…” Liv asked tentatively, “… she’d like me? I kept thinking, she’d be so mad that I watched that-- she’d be so mad that I’d do something to hurt you. I’m scared she must hate me….”

“Oh, nena.” Estela began to weep once more. “Your abuelita would have loved the bones of you. And if any part of her is hanging around at all, she’ll be hanging around wishing she could cuddle your little brains out.”

“Do you think she is? Hanging around?”

Estela sucked a breath. “I don’t know. I talk to her sometimes, as if she is here. I’ve even written letters to her-- I told her all about you when you were born. It makes me feel closer to her, but… I don’t like to think much about if she’s actually there, hearing me. One way or another, I just like to think she has peace. Mama Taylor is convinced Abuelita is still with us, just beyond reach.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Taylor. “I saw her, when I nearly died bringing the world back. Either a near-death hallucination or… maybe it was something real. I like to think she’s sticking close.”

“Probably waiting for Tio to kick the bucket so she can smack him ‘round the head for letting her teenage daughter fight in a civil war.” Estela chuckled darkly, and sighed.

“Estela!”

Liv laughed too, feeling a shift in the atmosphere. It sure wasn’t easy to talk about these things… to let yourself feel the enormity of what had been lost, but it didn’t seem there was much other way to learn to live with it. Once the pain was felt and acknowledged, the love left behind was less of a burden, more a gift. Until, she knew, the sadness struck again. She’d be there for her Mama Estela, the way her mothers had been there for her.

“Livi?” said Estela. “I need you to know that it’s not your job to try and protect me from grief.”

Liv felt her cheeks flush. “I don’t wanna make things worse…,” she muttered.

“I know. And I love you for caring so much. But I’m your mother, and it’s my job to look after you. I can’t do that if you hide when you’re not okay.”

“My being okay isn’t more important than yours,” Liv demanded.

“Well, yeah. But I’m looked after. Mama Taylor is there for me; always. And sometimes I need to go round to see Tio Nicolas and unload on him as well. I’m, um, I’m going to see a grief counsellor soon… you know, ‘cause things have been eating me up recently. I’m going through a hard time, but I’m going to be all right.”

Secure in her mother’s strong arms, Liv let out a long exhale.

“So all you need to do,” Taylor added, snuggling in, “is trust that no one in this family is going to struggle and not be taken care of. Whatever you need help with, you can talk to us-- and if we need help in turn from elsewhere, we’ve got it, okay? We don’t want you suffering for our benefit; not ever.”

Liv could trust in that. It was a weight off her shoulders; a heavy one. “You don’t mind,” she asked, “if I sometimes ask questions about Abuelita, right? ‘Cause even if it’s hard to talk about, it’s better than me bottling it up?” She turned to face Estela. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, as Liv knew her own would be.

“Yes. You can always talk to me about Abuelita. And, honestly? I reckon Tio Nicolas would love to tell you lots of stories.”

“Hey,” Taylor said, “maybe we could bring out the old home movies?

That… all sounded really nice. She didn’t want her grandmother to just be those horrible, haunting images playing over in her mind; she wanted to know the person, in the only way she could-- through shared stories and memories played back.

A sharp bark and a long whine made Liv jump, almost clunking poor Estela in the chin.

“Jesus, Livi!”

Seeing that no one was actually hurt, Taylor snorted with laughter. “Sounds like Robin’s realised we’re up here cuddling without him. So bitchy of us.”

Liv laughed. It made her body ache. She was tired, so tired. Working out a great sadness off the back of life-saving surgery and a long period of hospital treatment could do that.

“Poor Robin!” She yawned a massive yawn. “I. Am. So. Tired.”

“You can nap in here, or we could bring you some lunch?”

“All right-- lunch first!”

Helped up against the large, just-firm-enough pillows, Liv settled in. Now, she was through the storm.

#liv montoya #estela x mc #endless summer #estela montoya #montoya family feels #liv ain't immune to the angst just cause she's cute!

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dadzawa-adopt-dabi · 3 years

Text

Yandere hawks for Bear

This whole thing is dead dove as Fuck. Yandere Hawks and Rape occur in this fic. If you don't like it, Dont read it. enjoy!

@possessedfuzzybear

Dabi knows the moment Hawks lets him limp away that he’s going to get an infection. The alley is disgusting and the Hero hadn’t been gentle as he’d used Dabi , resulting in more than a few popped staples. He jerks away as the Hero presses a thumb into one of the seams, plucking another staple he loosened out of the skin.

“Fucking watch it.” He snarls at him and rips his arm out of the Hero’s grip. Dabi braces himself against the wall as his knees try to go out from under him. His pants are coated in muck from where Hawks had forced him to kneel.

“When’s our next meeting? You know I can’t go back to the commision empty handed.” The Hero drawls out with a bored expression as he examines one of the Villain’s staples in his hand. A small baby feather slips onto a loop on Dabi coat as he picks it up.

“When Shigaraki decides it.” The coat slides on providing him with another layer he can hide from Hawks prying eyes. TheHero has already seen the wreck of his body under the clothing and yet Dabi can still feel him undressing him with his eyes.

“I’ll swing by your new base sometime next week then? I’m sure we can find some way to pass the time... If there’s no news for me.” The Hero narrowed his eyes at Dabi, twirling a longer feather in his hands again. They both knew he wouldn’t harm Dabi with it. Not when it was more useful as a threat of how the Hero could pin Dabi in place. A casual reminder that he could do as he wished with Dabi, and no one would stop him.

“If we don’t have any news for you can keep your ass out of the base. I’ll come over the same as usual. No one at the base needs your Herobullshit attitude hanging around.” He snaps at him. Hawks kept finding their bases despite Dabi routinely checking for stalkers and it’s gotten to the point where if he doesn't want the rat with wings to show up he goes to his apartment. He should tell Shigaraki to move it again when he gets back.

Tomura knew something was wrong. Asking got him nothing but upturned lips and insults in return. The one time he tried to corner his second-in-command it got him lit on fire. Tomura wasn’t sure what it would take to fully bring Dabi into his party. If the scarred man would ever be willing to. Dabi seemed to have his mind set on his own goals. He still only trusted Twice and Giran with his number staying absent from important meetings.

The conversation couldn’t wait until Dabi was comfortable with his boss anymore. Tomura dropped his coffee cup and snagged Dabi by the arm as the man’s knees buckled. Dabi glared at the hand on his arm right before emptying his stomach into the kitchen sink. Tomura's fingers twitching as he waited for him to be done. Both of them were really content to ignore the elephant in the room.

“I’m fucking fine.” Dabi rasped out as Tomura had Twice come over and pick him up. Setting him on the couch.

Dabi retched and Sako quickly pulled a trash can out of nowhere. He wasn’t sure if it was the same magic Kurogiri had always pulled on him or if it was Sako’s quirk. Maybe the man was an actual magician for all that he knew. Tomura had a team falling apart at the seams right now and Dabi wouldn't work with him. Heart events and trust took time. He’d achieved one that night on the roof and he would wait for the next ones as well.

Dabi had been spending a lot of time with the new recruit, leaving without saying anything and staying the night. Shigaraki suspected there was something between them. The way Dabi always had to be in Hawks eyesight and the nights he spent over there.

“How long have you been sick, Dabi?” Mr.Compress asked as he peeled Dabi out of his jacket. Rubbing the man's back as he melted into the couch.

“ It's just an infection, it happens.” Dabi mumbled, laid back against the couch, shrugging Sako’s concerned hands off him. His shoulders were slumped and covered in a cold clammy sweat, causing him to shiver.

Tomura’s nails dug deeper into his bloody neck. Scratching and peeling away at the scabs there. Dabi had probably gotten it by living with them. He had access to a shower and medical supplies through that fucking Hero recruit. Maybe, he’d been coming back to the base for them. He brought back shit often enough for the members and slept here still. At least, Tomura thought he slept here still. “Fucking gross.” Tomura sneered to himself as he thought about their space, mumbling soundlessly to himself as he looked around. This base wasn’t the cleanest. None of them had been, especially for a member with open wounds. There was still only so much they could do. Mr. Compress stiffened and glanced over at him. “You got sick because we’ve been moving around a lot right?” Sako’s voice was thick with concern and trepidation.

Dabi rolled his eyes. He pushed his shirt up so the LoV could see a scrape cutting across healthy skin and scar tissue. One of the seams that wrapped around his back up to his chest had staples missing. The area was swollen and shiny with inflammation and the accompanying pus produced as Dabi’s body desperately tried to heal itself. The infected area wasn't turning extreme colors so nothing would have to be removed there at least. “Got in a fight. Lost.” He let out a laugh that ended in a coughing fit. Dabi flinched away when Sako went to rub his back. He let his eyes slip closed as he gasped for air. “Not everything is about you guys. I'm just shit at keeping my mouth shut.”

Finally the shaking and sickness around Dabi got so bad that he asked Tomura where they were. Cementing the fact that unless they can kidnap a doctor and force them to help Dabi, he won't get better this time. Dabi had been insistent on sleeping around the League since he’d gotten sick. Whether it's for Dabi to guard them or for them to watch over him is something Tomura still hasn’t figured out. Toga is constantly wrinkling her nose with a worried look on her face and flips knives in a nervous habit everytime someone encroaches ‘her bubble’. Her bubble keeps fucking growing to the point where it’s just the same room as her sometimes.

“We have to give him up.” Tomura finally makes the choice for them as they watch Sako try and cool him down with a damp rag. It’s about as sanitary as they could get and hasn’t been working.

Tomura doesn't realize that his thoughts have been so similar and different from his members until Shuichi is flinching away like he’s said something worse than he has. He knows none of them trust the Hero, but Dabi spends some nights there and it's surer to be cleaner than where they are squatting. He’d have access to proper medical care if something goes wrong or if he gets worse.

“He has to go. That stuipd Hero can take better care of him than we can.” He snarled at them and Toga stepped forward, knife held tight in her hands and shoulders loose. Only a noob underestimated Toga. He’d seen her fighting against Heroes and there was a reason he was unafraid to send her in amongst the Heroes to spy.

“I am not giving Dabi up. If we have to steal a nurse then I can just take their place until Dabi is able to come with.” She took another measured step in Tomura’s direction.

‘Hold on, Maybe the boss has a plan. Shut and let her kill him! Like, we give him to the Heroes and they wouldn’t just kill a sick man right? Yes they would, they’ll kill us all.” Jin held his head in hands as he struggled to word what he wanted to convey. Tomura watched with frustrated red eyes as he argued with himself. This was not what he meant at all. What kind of leader leads their team straight to the enemy when their health bar is so low?

“Then we break him out right? That’s stupid and risky. I wouldn’t do jackshit for that weak guy. Survival of the fittest.” Jin looked up at him and his eyes were watering.

“We’re not handing him over to the actual heroes? What the fuck guys?” his voice was low as he tried not to yell.

“You want to leave him here for anyone who comes by then? He’s sick, Tomura-kun!” Toga glared at him and the knife shifted in her hands. “He needs us! He needs the League! He would never let anything happen to you!”

Sako kept one hand splayed on Dabi as he carefully watched the one going argument with thinned lips. Dabi was starting to wake up due to their noise but it seemed as if this time he wasn’t fully making it to the world of waking. Continuing to sleep fitfully.

“He’s sick and not getting better.” Tomura delicately grabbed Toga’s sleeve when she went to swipe at him. “Most adults who are staying out almost every night with another person are generally fond of them. He'll be happy. He’s a fucking Hero and he can’t take care of him better than we could ever hope to!”

“What are you talking about?!” Shuichi crossed his arms, walking over to stand by his boss. At least one member was willing to listen to him.

“Dabi’s been recruiting a Hero. One of the top 10. The Hero can take our burnt bitch until he’s not dying. He has access to medical equipment and can bribe a doctor. Dabi’s going to recover a lot quicker in a clean area with proper care. And we, we just dont fucking have that right now.” Tomura grit his teeth as Toga pulled her arm back and the room was dead silent.

‘It won’t, it won’t always be like this. I have a plan okay?” Tomura flung the hair that tended to fall in his eyes back. Brushing strands behind his ears as he stared his members in the eye.

“But we are going to have to move and Dabi needs- think of it like giving him a vacation from us. He gets to go enjoy 3 meals a day, sleep better and some hot water. When he comes back we are going to be able to at least have a place for him to be kept stable.” None of them looked reassured.

“I don’t like it. I’ll kill the bird if he hurts a hair on Dabi’s head.” Twice reached out and felt the skin on Dabi’s clammy forehead. “Whatever we have to do. We don’t have to do this. We can kidnap a nurse. I'll be a nurse, I'll steal an outfit and everything.”

“So were we in agreement? We’re going to pass him to the Heroand when he’s recovered? We will never have to watch him go through this again.” Tomura tried to speak with conviction. As if he knew that the Hero was on their side. As if Dabi wasn’t dying feet from them of something a Hero would never dream of. He wanted to assure them it was alright and that he had a plan. Tomura had nothing. Nothing but riskier and riskier gambles for party members he couldn't sacrifice.

They’d all die. Either slow and sick, like Dabi. Or during his craptastic ‘plan’ to get them resources and money. Still, he got slow nods from the league and went outside to make the call. He was going to have to pull a better and less desperate plan out of thin air.

Several hours later Hawks walked into the base like he owned. It sent shivers up Tomura’s back. He was a Hero and they were Villains. They outnumbered him technically, yet he seemed perfectly at ease and hadn’t even bothered to let them know he was coming. When they were all on high alert with an injured party member. Maybe he was so cocky he thought that they couldn’t kill him by accident. Tomura knew they very well could with how keyed up they all were.

“What part of ‘Get your feathery ass here’ was unclear?” Tomura stepped into his space. Fathers hand covered his face as his hands shook and he scratched at his neck with familiar destructive anxiety. “No knocking? Are you that confident you're welcome here?”

“Didn’t think I really had to announce myself considering you were expecting me. Sorry I had duties to attend to on my way here. Where is he?” Hawks looked around as if expecting them to just hand over their gift wrapped team member. Grimacing as he reminded himself that although that’s what it felt like, that’s not what they were doing.

“Follow me. His room is back here.” He led Hawks back, hating every moment his back was turned to him. The way he stared made him uncomfortable.

“Couldn’t have been too bad if he’s not ready to go. He hates me spending time around you guys for some reason. Like he’s jealous I'm gonna cheat or something. Staples doesn't come across as a real insecure guy but you can’t judge a book by its cover right?” He threw a patented press smile at Tomura. Tomura didn’t want to decay the Hero. Hedidn’t want to slap that look off his face.

He wanted to ram his fist into the Hero’s perfect teeth and shove them down his throat. Wanted to see him starving, bleeding, asking for help. Wanted to rip that nose that wrinkled at their living spaces and shove it between his teeth, chew it and spit the mangled mess out.

He wanted an end to all the Heroes, and this one. This one was one he had to hand his second-in-command over to.

Best case scenario?

He was wrong and Hawks cared for Dabi. Then he would at least have someone who could attend to Dabi. Dabi could murder them when he was better and not a limp sack of scars and bones on a dumpster dived couch.

A room for everyone. With beds. Room to grow so no one was moving too often or trying to find a spare bed.

“Damn.” Hawks let out a low whistle as he walked up to Dabi. “You look like worse shit than usual.”

Dabi sleepily stumbled off the couch when Hawks started talking. Trying to back out of Hawks space at the same time as stay upright. He threw a hand over his mouth as he blearily looked around for a bucket. Sighing, Tomura placed it next to Dabi, who heaved into the bucket.

Dabi laid back down on the couch, covering himself with a ripped crochet blanket and closing his eyes with a low groan. Hawks stepped up and grabbed the blanket away from him, tossing it back over the back of the couch as he picked up the small framed Villain.

“I can take him off your hands. Doesn't seem real safe to be leaving him here so I’m glad you called me.” The hero’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Leaving Tomura with a bad feeling. He had to put aside his own feelings about Heroes and how disgustingly performative they could be. Dabi shoved against the Hero’s chest and muttered feverishly.

“It’s just your boy-toy Dabi.” Tomura walked up to them and caught Dabi’s hand, smirking when Dabi looked up at him with blank glassy eyes. “You're going on Vacation, I’ll come get you when we’ve leveled up enough.”

Dabi’s expression remained blank as Hawks pulled him away. He didn’t watch as Hawks took Dabi out of the room and then out of the base. Quickly shoving the last bag of crap they had through the door. Bright ass winged fucker would bring Heroes down on their head even if he didn’t mean to. Which meant moving bases again.

Dabi had nightmares of being trapped in Hawks arms. Covered by his wings, the feathers being laid on him sharp and if he twitched too hard away they would slice his skin open. Hawks rubbing his back as he puked only to start plucking the staples out one by one and then jamming them back in. Hawks feeding him and making stupid noises as he shoved it down his throat. Of being used as he wove in and out of consciousness. Hawks cuming on his sleeping face or the seam line on his chest.

The next time Dabi was fully lucid he realized they were not nightmares.

He was somehow in Hawks apartment, an IV stuck in his arm and taped down. Dabi was horrified to realize he was naked beneath the sheet he was covered with. His chest seized and he coughed up gunk into his fist, Hawks walking around the corner saw him.

“Morning sleeping beauty.” The Hero shook a bottle in his hand as he walked over. Dabi flinched back and gritted his teeth as his legs cramped. His arm hurt and if it wasn’t for the scar tissue he was sure he would be able to see a dark bruise. As it was it ached and he couldn’t tell how bad the damage was.

“Fuck off.” He snapped at Hawks as the Hero tipped two pills into his hand and held them out. Dabi had no idea how long he had been here. It wouldn’t be the first time Dabi had woken up to Hawks having raped him. Or in the process of raping him.

There wasn’t anything gross around his thighs and he was in no more pain than usual. Reaching up to hold his pounding head revealed he couldn’t trust that though. Hair still damp so Hawks must have showered him. It wasn’t like his consent mattered to the Hero. “Sure if you want to end up right back here. How do you think you ended up here ‘Dabi’?” He questioned as Dabi stared at him. Hands in white knuckled fists holding on to the sheet. He picked at the IV shoved into his arm as he refused to answer. He didn’t know.

“The League gave you to me. They didn’t really want to wait around for you to suddenly be healthy.” Hawks said with an almost apologetic tone. Dabi looked from the pills he was holding out to the hero’s fake expression.

“I don’t believe you.” Dabi stared at the pills making no move to take them. Sighing Hawks turned the bottle around so Dabi could see it. Amoxicillin, regular antibiotics then, which made sense since Hawks needed him to try getting into the League. The IV was probably because he was dehydrated, which wasn’t unusual. Still, if he was awake there was no need to have it in. He swallowed the small capsules and peeled off the tape on his elbow. Gently easing out the needle.

“Well I’m the only thing you’ve got now.” Hawks smirked at him. Dabi looked away but Hawks grabbed him by the chin. The Hero’s thumb pressing directly on his staples and causing him to wince. He straddled Dabi’s waist and pressed a messy kiss to his lips. Dabi’s quirk smoldered ineffectively as he tried to force it to work. Hawks was moving too fast and he didn’t want this, unable to concentrate enough to use his quirk as Hawks gripped him to tighty and grabbed his dick.

A flicker of flame escaped and Hawks sighed at the sight of it. The Hero didn’t waste time reaching over to the coffee table and dumping the glass of water on it.

“Is that your way of telling me you want me to take us to the shower so I can have my fun?” Acidic yellow eyes bored into Dabi’s as he tried to force his heavy limbs to move.

“It’s my way of telling you to leave me the fuck alone.” He snapped back at the Hero. Hawks looking fake affronted as his phone rang. “I’ll be back, we can discuss how to plan to pay your way here if it’s not with your body when I get back.”

Hawks left out the door and Dabi stood up, starting the search for clothes he could escape in. Knowing Hawks he wouldn’t be gone long. He eventually found a pair of sweats he shoved on after looking everywhere for his clothes. Hawks must have thrown them out.

The Hero had, of course, came through the door right as he was leaving. Trying to disappear into the setting sun as Dabi coughed and tried to get himself down the fire escape faster. Hawks walked through the door after him, not bothering to rush as he turned and shut the door after himself. He stuck his hands in his pockets and cracked his neck as he stalked down after Dabi.

“Aren't we past this? Where are you even going, Dabi? I told you the League gave you up, they moved as well. Who knows where they are at this point.” The Hero walked after him. “I take care of you don’t I?”

“You’ve fucking drugged and raped me.” Dabi shouted back at him, voice raspy as his lungs refused to draw in enough air. He coughed and mucus came up his throat. He spat it at Hawks. Dabi had no idea how long it had been that he was with the Hero but… At this point he was starting to believe Hawks. The League must have given up on him. Determined that he was no longer a use to them with his stupid ragdoll body and poor health. He had just been using them right back to achieve his own goals so he couldn't really blame them.

A coughing fit seized Dabi. He wheezed, doubled over in the alley, as Hawks blocked the light coming into it. The Hero’s yellow eyes nearly glowed. Dabi was reminded of fool’s gold. He was a fool for ever falling for him.

Hawks walked up to him The Hero placed his chemical scented hand over Dabi’s mouth and nose, waiting until he passed out and fell to the ground with a roll of his eyes. Hawks easily picked up the Villain and tossed him over his own shoulder. walking back the block to his apartment with the villain slung over his shoulder.

Dabi woke up to being thrown on the bed painfully. Uncaring if it hurt or the state he would end up in afterwards he blindly reached for his quirk. He should just cremate the Hero and steal his apartment. His quirk didn’t come to him and Hawks gave a smug grin as he pulled the Villain’s sweats down. Trying to kick him with his heavy limbs did nothing.

“You look cute in my borrowed clothes. How am I supposed to resist you when you look all sexy flushed like this? I could keep you like this, you know. Never let you finish the antibiotics. Would be fun until they no longer worked at least.” He hummed as he stroked Dabi’s thigh.

There was shouting as Dabi was brought back to himself and Hawks was throwing pants on himself as he shouted at Twice. Dabi let out a chuckle as he realized he was going insane, Twice was part of the League and no matter how good of a guy he was he wasn’t coming to save him.

“He’s not even responding to me. What did you do to him?” Twice yelled as he started making a clone of himself, splitting. The original spun around as Dabi laughed. What had Hawks been doing to him? “Dabi I came to check on you because this dickhead kept telling us you didn’t want to talk to us and we know that’s not true!” His mask was damp with tears and Dabi didn’t know what to say to an ex- friend. Coworker, whatever Twice was. “We hate you back.”

“He’s been uh, raping me. I think. You guys gave me to him though. So I don’t think he really expected anyone to visit.” he glanced around uncomfortably. What did they think the Hero would do with him when they decided to just do this without his consent?

There was a roar of outrage from Jin. Several clones of Twice were busy holding Hawks back as the original pulled Dabi out of bed. He numbly accepted it and pulled his sweats up. Jin was slinging his arm over his shoulder, gently helping him up.

“We can deal with him later. Can you walk? What about your quirk?” He asked as they moved towards the door. There was a sickening crunch Dabi knew well as the sound of bones being cracked and twisted, when he glanced back Hawks was dogpiled by clones. Even as they were destroyed more were made and Hawks wings were twisted to be facing downwards. Mangled and bloody as he was passed out. “Forget your quirk, it’s useless anyways.”

“I'd rather not use it if I don’t have to.” He muttered as Twice walked him down to street level. A warp portal in an alley waiting for them. The familiar noise of the League greeting his ears as they stepped through.

“Do you want to clean up before you're mobbed? We missed you.” He quietly commented as he quietly asked as they paused in what appeared to be a hallway. “We got you a room! I bet you’ll hate it! And your nurse!”

“What? Why do I have a room?” Dabi looked blearily around as he saw the

Examining the actual hallway in what appeared to be an actual house. Mansion actually.“I don’t need ujiko.”

“Shigaraki killed him before we took over the mansion.” Jin whispered to him,frowning before a thought occurred to him. “Wait, did you actually believe that asshole? That we just- just handed you over?”

“It doesn't matter. I’ll be out of the League's hair as soon as I shower.” He jerked himself away from Jin, shaking off the hand that went to hold him steady. “I’m fine.”

“No. we would never do that!” Jin shouted as he hovered near him. “Shigaraki actually had to fight us on it. We couldn’t wait to get rid of you! We didn’t want to give you to him at all!”

“Then why did I wake up in his apartment? Drugged up with him telling me how you had led him right to me when he was the reason I had an infection in the first place?” He snapped at Jin as Shigaraki came around the corner. Another coughing fit starting up. His breathing made a whistling noise as he breathed with his agitated lungs.

“What’s going on?” Shig narrowed his eyes at the state of his second in command. Neck already itching. Dabi had not been looked after obviously.

Dabi glared at him but didn’t answer as he stalked off down the hall. Jin shook his head when Shigaraki looked at him.

“Kill the bastard.” He told Shigaraki as he lit a cigarette. “We were wrong, He’s a dick that never should have been near one of us. He told Dabi that we just gave him up. We might as well have.” He wandered off as he went to tell the rest of the League that Dabi was back, but it was up in the air whether he would be staying.

The next evening after Shigaraki and Dabi had spent most of the day arguing over how Dabi exactly had ended up with Hawks. How the League had been ready to split over him abandoning one of them. That the mansion was at least in part brought about by Dabi being immunocompromised.

Shigaraki grinned as Kuroguri opened a portal to the Hero’s apartment. He just wanted a few words with him.

“Are you sure you don’t want anyone to accompany you, Young Tomura?” Kuroguri asked as Shigaraki popped the buttons holding on his artist gloves.

“I was the one that pushed for it. I was the one who assumed that they were something they obviously were not.” Shigaraki bit out as he threw his gloves on the floor in front of him, stepping through the portal as he rolled his shoulders.

He wrinkled his nose at the minimalist apartment, the place was spotless like no one lived in it and Hawks was removing his Hero uniform. Back to Shigaraki, He took advantage and activated his quirk, grabbing a vase and hurling it at the Hero. Hawks wings had stiffened the moment Shigarki had moved. Suddenly aware of the Villain despite him not making a noise. Several loose feathers hovering in the air despite his wings being wrapped tight in casts on his back.

“You thought we wouldn’t come for him? That he didn’t have anyone?” He hissed as he stalked forward. Hawks dodged the vase disintegrating as it flew towards him. Sending a few feathers his way, Shigaraki grabbed them midair with all 5 fingers. Not caring or truly even feeling the cuts they left.

“You're the one who just expected me to take someone into my home and not have them pay for it like some sort of freeloader.” The Hero sneered at Shigaraki. “He liked it anyways, came back enough times if I promised him something in return.”

Shigarki ran for him, sliding under a table and more feathers as he touched the floor with bloody hands. The floor quickly started to crumble as he shoved himself into Hawks space. Snagging a chair by the leg as he came out the other side.

“We both know you need my connections and money too much to kill me Shigaraki. One man is not worth your whole operation.” he smirked with that stupid look on his face again. The face of a man who had so much more than the League did and like nothing could touch him.

Hawks, distracted by his floor crumbling and unused to fighting in an enclosed space while stationary, didn't expect the leg of what had once been a chair to clock him in his face. It crumbled in Shigaraki’s hands and dropping it he slammed both hands against Hawks ribcage. Continuing to push as Hawks struggled to get the control necessary to send one of his feathers for him.They hovered wavering in the air before falling to the ground.

“Go fuck yourself Hero. The League does not have replaceable members. We’re not Heroes.” He growled out as Hawks crumpled. Shoving a fist as hard as he could into the Heroes face and grinning with insane satisfaction as he felt teeth break. Shoving them and his fist towards the back of his throat. Hawks choked on his own teeth as he decayed slowly.

Shigaraki carefully rinsed his hands off in Hawks’ sink, hurrying as the apartment itself started crumbling to dust. Bending down near the dust pile he scooped the soft pile into a jar. Screwing a lid on,. Toga had taken the liberty earlier of decorating it with rhinestones and drops of blood before writing Hawks name elegantly on it. He would leave it outside his friend’s door. It wouldn’t fix his mistake but at least it might show he didn’t want Dabi to leave.

#dabi todoroki #Dabi #Rape #Non con #Hawks #Evil Hawks #Asshole Hawks #Hero Hawks #shigaraki tomura #bnha #mha #DabiHawks #takami keigo #thedarkonewrites

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loser-writings · 4 years

Text

Tristful ||Angst || Dabi x reader

Reader: Gender Neutral

Character: Dabi x Reader (Romantic) Toga x Reader (platonic) LoV x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Death, mention of self harm, possible OOC characters, Platonic affection between an adult and a minor.

Summary: The league of Villains remember you a year after your death, and two are still dealing with the pain of you being gone.

A/N: I don’t know why Dabi is the one getting the attention, but he is. Welcome to the first true angst that was written at 4:30AM after some serious crying.

3/15. One of the worst days for the League of Villains. Toga would be crying all day, Magne would be doing her best to help comfort Toga, Shigaraki would be a bit more irritable, and Dabi would be completely absent. Shigaraki had managed to find Dabi though after hearing a voice that he didn’t think he would hear ever again.

“Hey baby! I know you might think this is stupid since yknow, I’m working and Boss would kill me if he saw me on my phone, but I wanted to let you know that I’ll be coming home a bit later tonight.”

Shigaraki had remembered you. How you managed to befriend everybody in the league with your natural charisma as well as your singing that filled the halls. Sure, he may have scolded you for it before, but he didn’t mean it. It was like you both knew that deep down, so you never stopped singing. His heart ached a little as he listened again once your voice picked up again.

“They’re on your tail too by the way. I’d stay indoors for a while and let me handle everything that involves going in public. I don’t think I could handle having you taken from me.”

Then you laughed. The same laugh that you did when you were stressed, but trying to hide it. It was obvious that under your happy persona you put on for your hero work, you were deeply troubled. Some nights ended up with you breaking down to different members of the league, but the main two that helped you through it all was Dabi and Toga. Thanks to you, the two found comfort in each other when you were gone.

“Anyway, I’ll let you go darling. Be as good as you can be. At least until I get home-” “Hey! Get back to work!” “S-Sorry sir! Calling my roommate to make sure that I didn’t leave the oven on.”

The voice of the eldest Todoroki boomed through the speakers before it cut off, a sigh coming from Dabi before the creek of the bed. Shigaraki could only guess what the other was thinking, so he just knocked to alert the other before walking in. He was met with Dabi laying on his back, staring at the ceiling blankly.

“You okay?”

“Want an honest answer or the one you want to hear?”

Shigaraki scoffed and rolled his eyes before moving to stand by the bed. “You’re of no good use to me when you’re all mopey like this. Kinda depressing honestly.” He snapped while the other promptly flipped him off. Shigaraki smiled a little before sitting on the edge of the bed. “They would hate to see you like this.-” “Yeah and I sure fucking hate not having them here to yell at me for it.” Dabi huffed and rubbed at his eyes before sitting back up. “Believe it or not, but I miss them too. I miss our bickering and how they would sing at ungodly hours. I miss how they would play fight in the bar with Toga. I miss their contagious laughter, but all we can do now is continue for our goal. A world where Heroes get what they deserve when they harm the innocent. A world where people like us don’t have to worry. A world where-” “A world where innocent people don’t get murdered and then the murderer is praised for it.” Dabi sighed and moved to run his hands through his hair. “Exactly. A world where Endeavor gets what he deserved. He found out, and he didn’t hold back.”

They both remembered that day. They remembered seeing it on the news in Kurogiris’ bar that Endeavor had found another member of the League of Villains. Not really a big deal since they assumed it was just another pawn, but when they disclosed your name, quirk, and status, they were all in shock. They framed you to be a traitor, the bad person when in reality, you were the most “Normal” one out of everybody. You had no Ill intentions when you gave them the information they wanted, yet they praised Endeavor for “Subduing the threat.” Little did they all know, you wouldn’t wake up from the coma he put you in. In their mind, they murdered you.

The worst part was that they couldn’t really get in to see you. Sure, Kurogiri would sneak them in to see you for short periods, but they were no longer than 5 minutes due to the risk of somebody walking into the room. Toga managed to go in one day during visiting hours, holding your hand and talking to you until visiting hours ended. Nobody would've believed that it was the bloodthirsty girl from her appearance alone since her blonde hair was down, her eyes were bloodshot and red from crying, and her normally loud voice was barely a whisper. When the doctors asked her about your relationship with her, she just smiled a little, wiped her tears, and said you were their best friend. She left you a few gifts and kissed your forehead before blinking away tears as she thanked the nurses for doing their best as she left the room. When she got back to the hideout, she just locked herself in her room and didn’t respond to anybody. It wasn’t the first true loss in her life, but it was the most painful. Her cries and screams for you didn’t fall on deaf ears either since it wasn’t an unfamiliar sight for somebody to walk through with wet eyes.

The day you were announced dead had to be one of the most depressing. Details of your funeral that was being held for anybody to attend flashed on the television before going back to what was playing originally. Despite the day being grey and rainy, everyone in the league went to see you one last time and wish you goodbye. When they saw your plain casket, Twice made a comment about how you deserved better before snapping about how it was lame as hell. Nobody minded though since they knew he couldn’t help it. Toga wiped her tears as they approached the casket before sighing softly. She clutched the stuffed bear you had given her tight in her hands before choking back a sob. This was unfair. Why did everybody she love get taken away from her? Her hand softly rest on the wood before choking back another sob. She wanted to hold you again. She wanted to hug you again and have you tell her that everything would be okay, but the hand of Magne broke her out of her delusions as she broke down in tears again, falling to the ground and screaming out in pain. Magne was quick to hug her to her chest, trying to comfort the young girl the best she could despite her own tears.

Shigaraki did feel a bit numb to the situation, but he had been finding his mind wondering to you as time went on. Now that your casket was in front of him, he couldn’t help but find himself missing you a little more. One by one, everybody left their gifts for you before going back to the hideout to grieve in private. By the end, the only ones left were Dabi, Shigaraki, and Kurogiri. None of them spoke, just standing in the rain until Dabi broke the silence. “Come back for me in five. I need time alone with them.” The two agreed before leaving Dabi alone with only your casket and his thoughts.

He moved to sit in front of the wooden box for a minute before he just choked out a chuckle, covering his eyes as he found them watering. “Why?” He asked out loud before shaking his head again. “Why the FUCK must he take everything from me?” Dabi asked out loud as he felt the rage wash over him. He already hated Endeavor for everything he had done in his past, but now he took you too. He quickly wiped away the tears before he grabbed his hair, tugging on it softly to mimic how you would rake your hands through his hair to calm him from his nightmares. “I thought you said you wanted to figure shit out? That we would make it past all of this and that neither one of us would leave? You fucking coward, You broke that goddamn promise!” He didn’t mean it, but he knew he was speaking to the world more than anything else. “Goddamn it...We were supposed to make it to the end…” He leaned back in his chair before looking at the casket again. “You got my fucking hopes up...for a future I don’t deserve.” he sighed and shook his head again. “And you didn’t deserve this either.” He wiped off the scarred burns under his eyes, the staples burning a bit from the tears but it was oddly comforting. After sitting for a moment, he heard Kurogiri behind him again. He simply sighed before standing to pull out the velvet box from his pocket. “Wherever you are, I hope you’re not hurting anymore.” he sat the box down on the lap of Togas bear, staring at it for a moment before sighing. “Maybe one day...we can be normal. Have a family together...like we promised.” he said before placing his hand on the wood just as Toga did before. “I’ll watch her too...So don’t worry.” He moved to kiss the top of the box before pulling away. “I love you doll...I think I always will.” he chuckled sadly and started walking away, sighing as he walked through the portal with Kurogiri following after.

The next few weeks were hard. Dabi had kept his promise to you and kept an eye on Toga, finding her passed out one day after she had a large fit which resulted in her hurting herself with her knives. Luckily they had a spare medkit and you had taught him how to do basic first aid. Slowly, Shigaraki had managed to create a new task for the league and everybody slowly got back on their feet. It was what you would have wanted anyway. Yet at your one year death date, here everyone was all gloomy.

Dabi sighed once more before looking at his phone, speaking to Shigaraki once more. “I have a ton of voice mails from them saved. I have all of our texts. I have videos and pictures of them. Sometimes, it just feels like they were here yesterday.” He sighed as the other man just nodded. “Yeah...I still find myself thinking of them. It’s not the same, but one day it’ll all be worth it.” Dabi slowly nodded before another soft knock was at the door, the blonde slowly walking in before noticing Shigaraki already inside. “Oh...Sorry for barging in. I uh...Just was going to ask to steal one of their shirts for the night and maybe ask for you to just...Hold me for a bit.” She sighed and shook her head, rubbing at her puffy eyes. Dabi slowly got up and nodded, walking to the closet to pick out your favorite large shirt before tossing it to Toga. She took it and smiled a little at the memories. “Uh...Thanks. I’ll come back when you’re done talking.” She said as she smiled a little at them. Shigaraki sighed and stood. “Nah, I think we are done. You both need to rest anyway. Recover as much as you can and remember, this is motivation.” Dabi rolled his eyes before sighing. “Sure, now leave us alone you fucking raisin.” Toga couldn’t help but chuckle at Dabi’s retort as Shigaraki rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” He waved before leaving the room. Toga sighed and tossed off her shirt, knowing Dabi didn’t care since he saw her as more of a sister than anything else, before pulling on your shirt.

“Do you think that we could leave flowers on their grave tomorrow? I wanna talk to them and catch them up to speed since we haven’t talked in over a year.” Toga spoke before moving to lay in Dabi’s bed as the other stripped off his jacket. “Sure, we can do that. I bet they’ll appreciate it.” She hummed as Dabi laid next to her before she curled up against his chest, sighing at his warmth before hugging him a bit tighter. His hand played with her blonde locks before he yawned, moving to kiss her head softly. “You know they loved you right?” Toga asked which only got a chuckle from Dabi. “Yeah. Y’know that we had plans to adopt you after we won against the heroes?” Her eyes shot open and she sat up a little. “Really?!” He simply nodded and pulled her back down. “We thought you would want a family that cared. So they brought up adoption, and I agreed.” Toga felt her eyes water before she moved to snuggle in his chest again. “I would’ve loved that…” She sniffled before hugging him tighter. “I wouldn’t have been able to ask for a better family…” Dabi simply sighed and went back to playing with her hair. “Well...I’ll still adopt you when this is all over. Just give it some time?” She nodded and felt herself growing sleepy. “Okay…” He hummed and continued to pet her, watching as she slowly fell asleep snuggling into his chest.

He couldn’t help but shut his eyes and sigh. When he met this brat, she was just some girl who was crazy, yet now he was holding her and speaking of adoption. You would’ve adored seeing how close the two had gotten and how they trusted each other. For a moment, he felt like you were watching from wherever, smiling at the sight and praising him. He could almost hear it as he pulled Toga closer, holding her protectively. “It’ll all be okay…” He reassured the sleeping girl. “We got this...We will make it through for them.”

#Dabi x reader #mha dabi #Dabi #Dabi imagine #himiko toga #toga x reader #himiko toga x reader #bnha toga #league of villains #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha oneshots #Bnha Dabi #dabi oneshot #toga oneshot

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everyotheryaromance · 3 years

Text

Introduction (4)

The magical marks could look like almost anything, and could be almost anywhere. Babette knew people with flames running down their back, tentacles curling around their knees, knives and flowers printed onto hands and feet. Marks of gods that made the wearers gods in their own right. Babette looked like a three-year-old practiced drawing shapes on her face while she was asleep. A cacophony of circles, triangles, and squares and shapes with far too many sides ran along her hairline. Starting from her ears the became larger until they reached a large design that sat right in the middle of her forehead. No one could tell if it made her forehead look bigger or smaller, but it did make people look. At her. Which was about the worst thing she could imagine. Worse than wearing uneven bangs for ten years of your life. Some others had their marks covering their faces, but they knew how to balance them out. With gorgeous bodies, clothing, and personalities of all varieties that sold you on the idea that the mark was the most average thing about them. Babette looked like someone went into a random person generator, didn't like any of the options, and set everything to the most basic defaults. Long hair that was somewhere between brown and dirty blonde. It could maybe be pretty if she put effort into styling it, but Babette petered a very messy almost bun knot to keep it out of her face while reading. Eyes people said where hazel or olive or whatever fancy word they could think of that just meant green and brown. Pale skin from lack of sunlight in Greywater and her own distaste for the only available outdoor activities, though not untouched skin. Unfortunately Babette Morin had the Morin family genes, and bad acne was a staple amongst the young adults. Maybe that was why when she went to open her bedroom window along the main floor she was startled to see twenty high-class individuals looking back at her.

#writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writer #writblr #writeblr #writebrl #ya #young adult #fanasty #novel #fiction #literature

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Getaway

This is for a request made @sathlens I hope that you like it <3 Please let me know what you guys think in the reblogs/comments! 💜

Warnings: noncon sex (oral and intercourse). This is dark!(nomad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is away on vacation and finds something, or someone, in the woods.

Note: So in my head, to make this work, after Civil War, Steve’s kinda running around on his own. He was on a mission and got separated from the team. He’s found himself in the middle of nowhere but no alone.

Anyways, hope you all enjoy some scurry Steve and let me know what you think as always. Love ya <3

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It had been a few years since your last real vacation. Well ever, because who could really count that disastrous road trip as a vacation. Time away from it all; stress, work, your boyfriend. You loved him but you didn’t realize how much you needed time to just be you. A girl’s week on the northern shores was nothing to complain about and you were ready to take full advantage of the serenity. The isolation.

You deposited your cars at the docks and climbed aboard the small boat, crammed in with the luggage of four other girls, plus the girls themselves. It was Kaya’s family cottage, concealed by thick pine, aspens, and spectrum of fragrant foliage. After hours of driving, the sun was well into its descent and it was a race against daylight before the pearly ripples turning dark and foreboding.

You watched the shoreline come into sight. A small dock where you could see yourself sunbathing, a carpet of twigs and dirt turned to grass the further you ascended, the wooden deck that fronted the cottage peeked out from between the crowd of trees. A small stream trickled away from the dock; a small finger off the greater lake. You smelled the purity; the unfiltered wild. It was refreshing after the filth of the city.

After you docked, it took a couple trips up and down the trail to unload all the bags, and the two large coolers of assorted goodies. One was filled with all varieties of alcohol with more stored warm in a box. The other contained the more important staples; bacon, sausages, tofu, milk, eggs. Enough to feed your small army until another boat trip was made to the closest town.

Kaya claimed the master bedroom; your sister, Gia, and you shared the bunk beds across from those occupied by Camile and Milani, while Coretta took the fold-out sofa. All were situated by nightfall and cans were opened as sausages grilled on the stove. With the generator awaking from its seasonal sleep and the cabin groaning in welcome, you settled in for a late night of cards and rowdiness.

The first morning greeted you in a golden dawn. You drank your coffee on the dock and spent most of daylight reading a book in the sun. The hours were punctuated by empty cans and drained bottles. You fed your buzz enough to relax and lose yourself in the natural lull of the lake. After dinner, you tried your hand at fishing and after an accidental dunk into the stream, you returned with the other girls to the cabin. Drinking games to end the night; one in which you did not reach your bunk, awaking at the table in shame.

The next day, the rest of the girls wanted a trip to the waterfall. The thought was enticing but your stomach grumbled from your previous day’s excess and you hoped the painkillers would help ease your hangover. You had several more days at the retreat, you could go tomorrow. You helped clean the dishes from breakfast and bid the girls farewell as they boarded the boat for the opposite shore.

A day alone would be nice. You had never minded solitude. In fact, you had hoped for it. The idea of being trapped in a small cabin with half a dozen others had been intimidating. You had trouble enough with just your boyfriend in your cell-like apartment. You watched them roar across the lake, the engine fading to a distant whir until the noises of birds and critters were the only left. You hung your legs off the dock as you dipped your toes into the water and basked in the ambiance. The soft ripples eased the stone set in your forehead.

You pulled your feet up after a while and went to grab your book from the kitchen table. You changed into your bathing suit and grabbed your sunscreen. The sun was strong today. You opened a can of cider and sat in the low deck chair as you opened the novel and delved into fantasy. A sword shining in the dark; a gloom most sinister on the rise.

The water and summer breeze mixed to lend a calming vibrance to the dock. You eased deeper into the chair and listened to the occasional flick of a fish’s tail as it ventured close to the surface. You sighed and rested your book across your chest as you leaned your head back. It had been what, an hour since they left. You loved how time seemed to slow down here. How you could just be; not think.

Your eyes popped open as you heard a distant rustle in the trees. You shrugged and set aside your book to sip on your cider. You had seen a deer earlier that day, some other critters hung around when they thought no one was looking. Near the outhouse, you had even thought you saw wildcat. Kaya said it was possible but not likely.

Another rustle. The snap of a twig. You drained half your tall boy and peered around your chair up into the trees. Whatever it was, it would scare itself away. You stood and stretched in the sunlight. You went to the edge of the dock and onto the large flat rocks that led to the water. You dipped down into the shallows and squeaked at the chill. Your body attuned to the temperature and you ducked your head under, rising with a gasp. It was nice. Revitalizing. Your headache started to slake away.

You heard the jostle of leaves and again glanced towards the forest. It did sound so much like there were footsteps out there. You tried to laugh at yourself but the shiver that went up your spine kept your self-deprivation at bay. You made your way back to the rocks and climbed up on the dock. You took the towel from the back of your chair and rubbed your hair and body as dry as you could. You let the towel fall across the arm of the chair and slipped on your sandals as you followed what you were certain weren’t footsteps. There was no one else here. You were alone. Of that you were sure. There was no way anyone else could have stumbled upon this little hideaway.

You didn’t bother calling out. You were quite convinced it was only a confused deer. Or an overly zealous rabbit. You walked up past the outhouses and the noise stopped. You exhaled but stared through the trees. You were still curious about what had caused such a ruckus. You saw no sign of flight. The sound had just died. It was almost eerie.

Assure yourself it was nothing and you could return to your book. You sighed at yourself and wandered into the brush. A chipmunk here, a woodpecker above, several other avian calls through the trees. You glanced around at nothing more than leaves and bark. You were definitely psyching yourself out. You finally laughed and turned back.

You cried out in surprise at the figure that waited behind you. Your yelp was smothered as his hand went over your mouth and he saved you from falling out of your sandals. You pushed against the tall man in your terror and confusion. He pressed his palm tighter to your lips and you silenced your murmurs as he shushed. He held you against him, his dark clothing rough against your bare stomach.

“Quiet,” He warned gruffly and carefully removed pressure from his palm.

He watched you as he lowered his hand and you stared up at him with wide eyes. Even if you screamed, it would be muffled by the branches above and none were anywhere close enough to hear. He released you and stepped back. He leaned against a tree and wiped the blood from the corner of his lips. As you got a good look at him, you realized he was injured. A man of poorer stature would not be standing.

He pushed himself straight and growled as he examined the blood on his fingertips. It was dry; flecks scratched from his flesh. His wounds were at least a few hours old. You hoped that meant they had not been dealt near here. He reached out and grabbed your shoulder firmly. Your body went stiff as he guided you past him, back in the direction you had come.

“You have a place around here,” He said. His tone was steely, his fingers left your skin tender as he rescinded his hand. “Show me.”

“How did you get here?” You asked as you wove along the path, past the outhouses and towards the back steps.

“No questions,” He retorted, “Are there others here?”

“No,” You answered, uncertain. “Well, not right now. They’re at the waterfall. Across the lake...they’ll be back soon.”

“Will they?” He sounded doubtful at your last-minute addition. “It’s barely noon. I’m sure they’ll want to enjoy the sun.”

You swallowed and remained silent. He wasn’t going to answer your questions; only discern your lies. He marched you up the steps and you opened the screen door. He caught it behind you and followed you inside.

“Any weapon?” He nudged you against the counter as he looked around. “I’ll find them and I can promise you, I can wield them better than you.”

“Just a flare gun…” Kaya’s family weren’t the hunting types. The most dangerous possession they had were fishing knives and those were down in the shed. “Just beside the fireplace in the next room.”

He nodded and pushed past you. He opened and closed each drawer. He huffed and neared the round table. A few half-empty cans remained from the night before and the deck of cards in a crooked pile. He pulled out a chair and sat heavily.

His dirty blonde hair hung in sweaty knots around his face, his thick beard a shade darker. His narrow blue eyes shone beneath long lashes as they never stopped searching. He wore a dark blue uniform; some sort of combat suit. A harness stretched across his broad chest and the belt around his waist was lined with several pouches. His boots were worn and covered in grime and what looked to be even more blood. There was more crimson along his shoulders, small cuts along the corner of his lips and top of his forehead. You could guess that he had won the fight, even if he had taken a few blows himself.

“Well, you got a first aid kit or something?” He asked as he planted his elbow on the table. “Something stronger than…” He lifted an empty canned cocktail and eyed the label, “Whatever this is.”

“In there,” You pointed to the cooler by the door. “The kit is just…” You moved slowly, afraid that you might provoke him. When he had grabbed you in the woods, you had felt his strength. Even in his state, he could easily overpower you. “Over here.”

You crossed to the table just inside the living room; the space divided by the change in flooring. He watched as you opened the slatted door beneath and pulled out the metal box. It looked to be right out of the seventies. It must have been as old as the cabin. The man stood as you set the kit on the table and he kicked open the cooler. He bent and grabbed the bottle of gin you hadn’t yet uncorked. He resumed his seat and placed the bottle down beside him.

He dragged the box over to him and undid the metal clasp. He stirred through the contents and pulled out gauze and the small bottle of peroxide. Then he fished around for a spool and a curved needle. They looked like they’d never been used. That was reassuring. He shifted in his chair and pulled off his fingerless gloves. Next he pointedly loosed the buckles of his harness and slipped it past his arms with a pained grunt. He piled each piece on the tabletop between the cans and the open first aid kit.

You began to back away as he tugged at the hem of his shirt and he paused. He looked up at you and shook his head. He kicked another chair towards you, “Sit.” Your throat contracted and you obeyed. Despite the hot air trapped beneath the sun-cooked roof of the cabin, you felt ice in your veins.

You sat and he finished stripping himself of the sweat-stained shirt. His chest and torso were laced with thick muscles, his right shoulder gashed and bloody. You watched his bulging arms as he reached over to grab the gauze and peroxide. You had never scene a man in such peak condition. Not outside the television screen. The power which lay in his form kept you from admiration. It was more intimidation.

You watched as he cleaned his wound. He hissed through gritted teeth as he touched his tender flesh and blood flaked away. He dumped the reddened gauze on the table. He unscrewed the cap of the gin and drank heavily before he reached for the needle. He sterilized the metal in peroxide before he began the agonizing work. You wanted to look away but you didn’t want to seem weaker than you so obviously were. The only sign of his discomfort was the tic in his jaw.

Time dragged by as he wove the stitches. He glanced up at you when he finished, his brow lifted and he tilted his head. He was surprised that you hadn’t looked away. Then you did. You didn’t like the weight of his eyes on you. There was something behind them. The crystal-like irises could not disguise the darkness beneath. This man had been good once but now...something had corrupted him.

You listened as he cleaned the needle and wound up the thread. He packed it up with the unused gauze and closed the box with a click. The gin swished as he lifted the bottle and swigged. You kept your gaze averted until a speck entered the bottom of your vision. You turned to look at the short neck of the bottle. He held it out to you with a staunch look. You bit your cheek and accepted it.

You took a small sip and handed it back. He gulped again and pushed his shoulders back as he looked around. “How many of you are there?” He asked.

“Five,” You answered in a half whisper.

“All girls?” He passed the bottle back. Another small drink; your stomach was sinking and the alcohol wasn’t helping.

“Yes,” You should’ve lied but you suspected he already knew.

“Didn’t know you were still here,” He took the bottle back and drank again. He set it on the table as he turned his chair and leaned forward. His blue eyes held yours. “Was hoping to hang back and sneak in and out. Maybe steal a few pieces of bacon if you hadn’t ate it all.”

“I won’t tell,” You said in a small voice, “You can still go. Take whatever you want.”

“Aren’t you curious about what happened?” He leaned his elbows on his knees as he gauged your expression.

“I think the less I know, the better,” You replied grimly.

His eyebrows shot up and his lips twitched. “Smart,” He sat up and his chest rose and fell as he exhaled. “You should’ve gone with your friends.”

“I should’ve,” You agreed. “You were watching us then?”

“Watching you.” He countered. “You were talking to yourself when you came out to the dump the dishwater.”

You recalled how you had in fact been muttering to yourself as you tipped the large steel basin over the side of the porch. It meant he had been close enough to hear you. He had been lurking in the trees for at least several hours. You nodded. Your voice was trapped in your chest.

“Have a drink.” He took the bottle and held it out to you again. You looked down in defeat and numbly accepted the gin. You raised it to your lips carefully. “A real one.” He pushed up the bottom of the bottle and forced you to gulp back the searing alcohol until you choked. He grabbed the gin and put it back on the table as you grasped at your throat.

When you recovered, you looked up at him. There was a frightening confidence to his gaze. “You can take the gin...there’s more bacon in the fridge and--”

“I don’t want it. Gin doesn’t affect me that much. Not very hungry anymore,” His features set as his pupils dilated. “Well, in a manner of speaking.”

“My friends--”

“Have got five, six hours before they need to start their boat and head back.” He said evenly. “It’s summer, they might have even longer. At least eight hours before dusk. I’d say we’ve got all the time in the world.” His tongue poked out between his lips as a smirk spread across his face. “You and me. All alone.”

You swore your heart stopped. You stood but he was faster. He shoved you back to your chair, his hands on your shoulders as he loomed over you. His nose was only inches from yours. “How far do you think you’ll get?” You blinked. Resignation shadowed your face and you knew he could see it. He could feel it as your shoulders fell. “It’s a vacation, isn’t it?”

He stood straight and his hands ran along the front of his belt. His fingers deftly unbuckled the leather and you looked to the wall. You listened to the metal as it clinked and the zipper of his pants as it descended. Your fingers sank into your thighs without thinking. The brush of fabric, the movement in the corner of your eyes, his breath steady and determined with his movements.

His hand was on your chin as he forced your head straight. You closed your eyes and his fingers squeezed harder. He could break your jaw with a single pinch. “Look at me,” Your eyes opened and you kept them aimed up at his face. He had his cock out, you could see it at the edge of your vision, smell it even. The odor of sweat and something else. Of him; dusky. “Just you girls up here...must be boring.”

Your nostrils flared as your fear melded with anger. Then shame. You thought of your boyfriend waiting for you back home. You had felt bad enough going away without him. Now look at you. It might not be of your own volition but you weren’t fighting it much were you.

“I don’t want to tie you to the chair.” He warned. “But I saw the rope in the drawer and it wouldn’t be hard. So stop that little mind of yours from running astray and open up.”

You did as he said. Your lips parted mechanically as his hand moved to cradle your cheek. His fingers spread and he gripped the side of your head as he pressed his cock to your lips. Slowly he pushed further and you couldn’t look him in the eye. You lowered your gaze so that you stared at the trail of hair along his pelvis. He sank deeper until he poked at your throat and you struggled to take more of him. He was bigger than your boyfriend. Much bigger.

“It’s been about a month since I’ve talked to someone else.” He spoke as he forced himself down your throat and you pushed against his thighs. You were at the edge of your seat as you tried not to gag. “Been running. Fighting.” He pulled back and then back in. He worked himself in and out as he urged you to accept more. “Lonely.”

Your eyes rolled back and your lids finally closed. You slapped at his thighs as he kept his motion steady, slowly building his speed. The room filled with the sound of his cock sliding in an out of your throat. Slobber spread across your lips and up his shaft. Your nails dug into his skin as he held your head between his hands. Your head spun as you were suffocated by the gin and his relentless fucking.

You were just about to fall out of the chair when he pulled out. He held onto your head with one hand as he stroked himself with the other. “Open.” He commanded and you kept your lips as you were as he tilted your chin. Erratic ribbons shot along your tongue and around your mouth. You waited until he finished and at last released you.

“Swallow.” His voice was smoky as he stared down at you. You closed your mouth and urged yourself to do as he said. His cum slid down your ragged throat with a painful gulp. “Strip.”

There was something about his tone, the way he ordered you around, that told you he was used to being in charge. You rose and stiffly untied the neck of your bathing suit top. The cups fell forward and you undid the back as well. You tossed away the bra and braced yourself as your fingers slid under the waist of your bottom. You bent and drew them down in one swoop. You stood straight as you stepped out of it.

“Turn around,” He twirled his finger in the air. His cock hung out of his pants without shame and you turned to hide your stray eyes. He looked even bigger than he felt. “On the chair. On your knees.” You approached the wooden chair and got up on your knees. He growled in approval as he came up behind you. “Do you swallow your boyfriend’s cum?”

“How--” You stopped yourself and bit your cheek instead.

“I heard you mention him to your friend. Something about him working too much. Wasn’t really listening.” His hands came up on either side of your head and brushed through your hair. He dragged his nails over your scalp and you resisted a shiver. “So, do you?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t have spoken if you tried. He gave a soft chuckle as his hands settled on your shoulders and kneaded them. His fingers then danced down your shoulder blades and along the curves of your body. He cupped your ass in his large hands; his palms calloused and rough. He pulled the cheeks apart and pushed them back together.

“Should I feel special then?” He teased. You sucked in your lip as he slipped one hand below your ass. He felt around and you closed your eyes as you felt your wetness at the same time he did. “Maybe less work and more play for you.”

“Shut up,” You whispered, “Just shut up.”

He slapped your ass so hard you fell against the back of the chair. “Too bad he’s not here to see how it’s done.” He continued. “Hmm? He could probably use some pointers if your quivering like this.”

You wrapped your fingers around the back of the chair. You clung to the top bar as you clamped your lips together. He felt around with his fingers until he found your entrance. He pushed inside with two fingers and you bit down. He added a third and you squirmed. He roughly worked in and out of you as he slid his cock down between your cheeks.

He pulled his fingers out and pressed on your lower back, your juices spreading across your skin. You arched your back as he lined his cock up with your entrance and you exhaled slowly. As he pushed inside you couldn’t help the whimper. The signal of your surrender as you hung your head. With every inch, you leaned forward, aiding his delve inside. When he bottomed out, he sighed. He slapped your ass with both hands and bucked his hips, poking your cervix sharply.

At first, his thrusts were slow, as if to allow your body to adjust. Your walls strained against him, aching as he stretched you to your limit. You grunted as you tried to withhold your moans. His hand slid up your back and his fingers wrapped around your shoulder as he curved your back further. He slipped out of you so that only his head remained and paused.

He slammed into you and you cried out as you slumped against the back of the chair entirely. Your breath picked up as his thrusts turned sharp; rough. He was done playing nice. The chair creaked and wobbled beneath you as he threatened to fuck it to splinters. You held on as you feared its collapse. His other hand was on your hip as he rutted into you like an animal. The grunts and snarls which rose from him assured you of nothing else. This was a man unhinged. A man who had left his humanity far behind.

Your walls clung to him, pulsed around him as you felt the bloom. The sudden surge and your head flung back. His fingertips dug into your shoulder as his pelvis clapped against your ass. You whined as your orgasm flowed through you and shattered the last of your strength. You spasmed against him. You dropped your head down and leaned it against the back of the chair as you chased the breath that had whisked from your lungs. You could barely keep yourself from crumpling to the floor.

The chair almost tipped as he pulled out of you suddenly. He drew you off your knees and turned you to face him. He swiped the empty cans, the bottle of gin, and the first aid kit from the table with his arm. He grabbed you and lifted you so easily your head spun. You landed on your back atop the wood and he was quick to move between your legs. His hands went to your thighs as he pushed your legs up as far as they would go. He entered without delay, even deeper than before.

His blue eyes glided up your body and watched the twitch of your cheek as you tried to restrain the pleasure soaring through you. His gaze retreated as he smirked and he pressed his thumb to your clit. You moaned and reached to latch onto the edge of the table as he resumed his former rhythm. There was no patience left in him. He pounded into you so that the table shook and your body added to its tremble.

You swore as another orgasm tore through you. Your legs were flush to his torso as he grabbed onto your thighs and held you close. He rocked his hips into you in violent thrusts. Your ass was almost off the table as he bit his lips and threw his head back. His strokes turned spastic and he slowed as he came. His heat seeped through you as he buried himself as deep as he could.

You shuddered as he let your legs fall around him and your chest beat a melody. You lay prone across the table and he removed himself after a moment. He huffed and fell back into the chair. He was still hard but fatigue lined his eyes and hung from his broad shoulders. You raised your head as you sensed his gaze. He watched as his cum leaked from between your legs and you pushed your thighs together as you sat up.

“Come on,” He patted his thigh and held the base of his cock with his other hand, “Might as well have some fun while your friends have their own, huh?”

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#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #nomad steve rogers #mcu #marvel #captain america #fic #au #steve rogers #dark!fic #dark fic #darkverse #dark!verse #dark steve rogers

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agustdomain · 4 years

Text

October Ink | #2

Sicheng was different, but you didn’t care. You were never supposed to know.

It’s been long since I’ve last visited. I know, Y/N, but please trust me. Meet me at the cemetery tonight. Our spot. 1 am.

Love,

D. Sicheng

Tearing the note off of your bedroom window, you already knew who it was and what it would probably entail. You read the note over and over. The bitterness filled your brain, as harsh as vodka. Sighing, you tucked it into your pocket.

Violet River. A small town of 3,057 inhabitants. Known for its Halloween spirit, it was a tourist hotspot from September to November.

You hadn’t had friends growing up- well, that’s what you got used to telling people these days. The truth was, you had exactly one.

There was no meaningful memory of your life, none in your mind that didn’t have Dong Sicheng. Growing up, you never considered how weird that was, how every single staple in your memory, he was there.

He first acknowledged you when you were both nine years old.

The road you both lived on stretched wide, the acres between your home and his felt like a country- at first. You yearned to be his friend, always smiling and waving when he and his father drove past your house. When he was with his father, he always gave you the same blank look.

One day, when you went out too far in the woods and got lost, he appeared. He was there to lead you home.

You were alone, and then you weren’t.

Your friendship was a secret for a long time. You’d meet in the woods, and whenever you tried to spook him he’d get mad. Not because you succeeded… it was because he told you not to mess with monsters.

You knew he was different when you were 14.

By that age, you’d taken to creepier settings, finding the perfect little getaway in an old cemetery. In the far back was a mausoleum, the creaky old gate too rusted to hold. There, the two of you read books and shared your dreams of leaving this dead town.

At that age, no one could convince you to not be his friend. Your mother, who pursed her lips whenever she saw you with him, tried but gave up when she knew you wouldn’t stop. The other kids who whispered about him, the occasional few bold enough to say something to his face.

Most people, though, were terrified of Sicheng’s father. You? You were proud your best friend was a legend.

That fateful day, had to be around October, you had decided to make the journey to your cemetery getaway early. You wanted to surprise him with a picnic, so you lugged a big basket and blanket with you as you trekked the usual shortcut through the forest.

About halfway there, you heard a woman’s cry. There was no other sound like it, hairs standing on end as your body went rigid. You held your breath, wondering where all that bravery you claimed to have disappeared.

Now, you wonder if you’d somehow sensed what you were about to stumble upon in the woods.

You let the sounds of her crying draw you closer, moving silent like Sicheng once taught you. Holding your breath, you peeked around a tree.

The basket thumped to the forest floor, birds somewhere nearby croaking as their wings shot them to the sky.

Sicheng’s head shot up from her neck, blood coating his mouth and chin. His fingernails were black and elongated, holding her in place. His pupils, the color of an endless well. The woman was fading in and out of consciousness, one of her hands shakily reaching out to you.

“Help,” She whimpered.

To this day, you wondered why you ran. Why? You knew in your heart you weren’t scared, so why did you run away?

He came to you the same night, eyes watery with tears as he begged you not to leave him. You were hurt at first, tugging him to sit next to you on the bed. Then, you were angry, offended he’d even think you’d run.

“You’re still you. This doesn’t change anything.”

“Oh, Y/N. But it changes everything.”

You held him that night, the stir in your heart more intimate than you’d ever realized. When he turned to face you in bed, his fingertips brushed at your cheek, his eyes the brown you knew so well. Was what you saw in the woods also him? Yes, it was.

You were too weak to care.

Even now, you weren’t sure who leaned forward first. The kiss left you dizzy, his hands puzzle pieces sliding into place as he pulled you closer, his lips soft with their appraisal.

“I love you. I was made to protect you,” He whispered into the night.

He’d answer your questions, you knew he would. For now, you’d just needed to reassure him that you’d never leave.

You didn’t know that’d be the last time you’d see him for five years.

The town had tales of night guardians, beings created to protect the oasis that was Violet River. Crimes didn’t happen here. And if they did, they were taken care of with little explanation.

On the flip side, there were those who weren’t so keen on night guardians. They called them impure, unnatural, wanted them to disappear. The town’s sheriff? More like a certified Guardian hunter.

It didn’t take long for things to click, why Sicheng and his father were on the outs with everyone else.

You didn’t know why Sicheng up and left you, but he made sure to leave you with a wound so deep, you vowed he’d feel it himself if he ever returned.

He was there when you arrived that night at the cemetery, just like the note said.

Older now, face more refined and handsome than you were prepared for- was he an angel… or something much darker?

“Why now?”

His expression broke as he approached, hands cupping your face. You turned away, the bitterness prominent on your tongue. His forehead touched yours, and when he opened his eyes, they were the black that haunted your dreams.

“I had to protect you.”

“I guess the whole leaving thing was only for me, right?”

“My people. They kill whoever has proof of us. You saw me that day, saw me with that woman.”

You broke away, finger jabbing his chest. “I didn’t care. You are what matters to me. Sicheng, I-” You almost said it, but you didn’t know who this was. There were five years between the two of you. The boy you loved then wasn’t the guy before you now.

Stepping back, you shook your head. He followed your tracks, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“I don’t care what you are. I still don’t. But I’m not going to let you hurt me again.”

“I would never hurt-”

“You already did. You left me. Before this goes any further, I’m going to walk away.”

“Please. You need to hear me. It’s important that I-”

“Goodbye, Sicheng.”

You spun on your heels, booking it out of the cemetery. You came to the crossroads, either taking the shortcut from the woods or the long way home. You took the long way.

Your first deep breath found you at the sight of your house. The sting in your eyes... Was it relief or disappointment that he didn’t stop you?

Stepping into the foyer, your gut twisted and let you know something was very wrong. The lights were all off, silent save for the sound of slow dripping from the kitchen.

“Mom?”

The ceiling creaked overhead, the sound of someone moving around upstairs telling you weren’t alone. Your mom would’ve answered. Fumbling for the handle behind you, you heard a small splatter as you stepped backward. Eyes trailing down, you strained to see the puddle you were stepping in. It was too dark to make anything out, so you slowly pulled out your phone. With shaky fingers, you turned the flashlight on and directed it to the floor.

It was the color of candy apple red, the puddle almost as big as the entirety of the living room. Following the trail, nausea knocked you back into the door at the sight of your mom’s lifeless body, eyes dead as she stared right back at you.

You didn’t scream, didn’t move. Stared at the claw marks deep in her chest, the gashes likely the cause of her death.

“My son should’ve never come back.”

Your brain was muddled, heart numb as your gaze trailed to Sicheng’s father. His boots creaked with every step he took down the stairs. He was tall, rugged, as terrifying as people made him out to be in their horror stories.

His pupils were already black.

“Why now?” You asked him the same question that you’d asked Sicheng.

He tilted his head. “The answer’s simple, darling. He convinced me to leave, to spare you. On the promise that he’d never return. He went back on his word.”

Why? What had he been trying to tell you? Why did you walk away like an idiot? Why did he come back?

He moved inhumanly fast, hand closing around your neck and lifting you off your feet like you were a doll. Clawing at his hand, you gasped for air, eyes going to your mom.

At least you’d see her soon.

“Think of my son in these moments. I’ll make sure to tell him you begged for him.” As your vision faded, he brought your body closer, his mouth morphing as his teeth elongated like his nails.

There was a scream, a figure darting toward the two of you. Then, you were gone.

You awoke to excruciating pain, knives pricking every inch of your body. It hurt to breathe, to move. It was someone pulling the skin off of your body, sewing it back on, then peeling it off once more.

“Y/N! Hang on. I’m here. Focus on my voice! Focus on my…”

Violet River. 3,055 residents.

You and Sicheng come to visit during the tourist season. The sheriff purses his lips, but doesn’t argue. After all, only tourists are the issue when it comes to crime in this sacred town.

You lure them into the woods, promising them nights of their lives.

You take to blood like you took to Sicheng- naturally and loyally.

There’s only one thing you’d kill Sicheng for: if he ever stood in the way between you and a kill. After all, he made you what you are.

Every day, you hoped it would never come to that.

A/N: A second drabble back to back? Who am I? Haha. I truly couldn’t figure out who to use for this one. In the end, I think Sicheng fits the role well. If there’s a certain someone you’d like to see in these drabbles, drop an ask! If there’s a certain fall scenario you want to read, feel free to request it! These are fun. I promise they all won’t be spooky.

~Angelo

Check out my drabble list here. It’s still small, but it will get bigger with time! (:

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mehenxe · 4 years

Note

“ i want to be in love. ” / “ can i be a little nasty?” / “ it wasn’t anyone’s fault. not really. ” / “ i’m losing my mind, losing control. ” / “ terrified of my love for you?” / “ your words felt like sharp knives. ” / “ how did you become like this?” / “ say something nice or don’t speak. ” / “ really? what did you dream about?” / “ we were both afraid, shut up. ” — dealer's choice, have fun.

“ i want to be in love. ” // the grey seer ◌ her best friend.

and the depiction of love upon the laptop screen in front of them, high-definition, remastered in soundtrack, unfolds. black-and-white creases and tears, static in the picture, what could i do if i didn’t have you? where will i go? and the embrace, the hands around the shoulders, the subtle squeezing of the appendages. she watches the scene, & then watches him, enraptured, wanting it. does he even realise he has remarked this aloud to her? spoken it into existence, wished so desperately for its occurrence? “i know,” she whispers. just in case he hadn’t. just in case this is a secret he wished for the walls to swallow. “i know you do. and maybe you already are. and it just hasn’t seen you yet.” perhaps she is thinking of herself. perhaps she is thinking of a woman with dark, short hair and gloss on her lips. perhaps she is thinking about all the things she said. or hadn’t. “it’ll happen. i promise. just be patient.”

“ can i be a little nasty? ” // the french serpent ◌ his beaded shark.

the inquiry interrupts the little song and dance he has happening in front of the stove. two pans on the burners, one sizzling, one being brought up to sizzling after being coated in olive oil. it is a surprise supper, which he framed as cooking for others but, in truth, he planned to cook for the two of them. he glances over his shoulder, arching his brow. breakfast for supper: the staple of french toast, of course, and then some spins on grilled cheese, quick little soup. something sweet bakes in the oven. he meets that little smirk, and realises he must be in a good mood. ( it pleases him greatly to see him smile. ) “a — little nast-ee?” he is dressed in a matching set of black silk pyjamas and bright blue shark slippers. his apron is blush-pink, with the princess is in the castle embroidered in the corner. he shakes his hips as if dancing. “now, i am intrigued? tell me at once what is on your mind, eh? nice kisses in, ah, naughty places?”

“ it wasn’t anyone’s fault. not really. ” // the god of death ◌ his god of life.

the city stretches out behind them, fog-riddled, dense, encrypted. a myriad of secrets he must discover within its recesses, all of them putrid, stinking of bile. he sits at the desk, crossed one ankle over one knee, elbow propping up his upper body and his neck, erect. his glasses do not disguise the repulsion in his gaze, and he does not bother to save face about it. a sneer, then; a bitter draught to drink from. it wasn’t anyone’s fault. then there is that pause, that label slapped on their foreheads: not really. judgement passed, recite the sign of the cross, depart the pews. the service is ending. the funeral is over. “not really, hm. is that your defence now?” he rises. he is rolling in his own steam, the own wrath of it. but he cannot bring himself to raise his voice. it is as though there are too many parties listening. “not really. that means it was someone’s fault. and we know exactly who’s fault it was, don’t we?”

“ i’m losing my mind, losing control. ” // the bejewelled dragon ◌ his skeleton beast.

“no, you’re not. you’re right here with me.” blood, dripping from the edge of the soul’s sword, and he stows it in his scabbard, the echoing veins of the throbbing hollow, deadening around them. the whole of the battle, muted. soot against their cheeks, and he swipes it off of his thin cheek and it drags, it stains further. “you’re not losing anything. okay? it’s different now.” and it remains to be seen, how much he would do, how much he could do, in order to make sure this pierced his hide and penned itself as the ultimate truth. the bones of their dragon-corpses, how they rise from the stream, water pouring from their nostrils. the errant roar of another from not too far away, the slipping and diving of their siblings. the star-magic pealing through the sky. his heart throbs as he stares at him, watches those eyes, staring, daring them almost to become as soulless as they both feel. “we’re almost done here. it’ll be over soon.”

“ terrified of my love for you? ” // the undying warlord ◌ his ridden battle.

it had been the one confession they both had silently agreed to avoid. what good would it do, for creatures of their respective natures to love? to be such beasts of the literal underworld, for love to be a price that neither of them can afford. what good would it do? and now, the bones revealing themselves, the flesh peeled away. they do not stand far from each other. there are no clothes to separate them. he feels so young, his breath stopping entirely, and how fortunate it is that he does not need it any longer to be alive. ( he is, after all, nothing worse off than dead. ) how can he hope to — what will he — “terrified? perhaps. terrified of what it means. terrified of you. what you mean. how we’re going to — how we’re going to carry on with this. because of what is happening out there, and waking up, discovering you feral in the forest —” he shakes his head. “you love me? even through this, you love me, and how?”

“ your words felt like sharp knives. ” // the god of chaos ◌ his oceanic song.

he keeps his back to him. the carton of cigarettes, a staple on the counter, perhaps even more so than home-cooked food, and this, this was the person that he had surrendered the remnants of his piss-poor life for. this was the glitter-bomb, the madness unravelling, the toxic and terrible idea that so readily laid itself bare across his lap. getting high together, and regaining feeling in their senses through slotting their hips and moaning into each other’s mouths, this had become his life. he is a sharp knife. left out where he can be touched, he slices, that is the end of it. this is what his lover knew, when he signed up to continue to be with him. when he ignored all of the warning signs, the red flags, the advice from others. the better choices. “the hell you want me to say? i already said sorry. i even meant it.” everything he says, awful, crooked, it has no general direction. as chaotic as he is. “you want me on my knees, princess?”

“ how did you become like this? ” // the final heir ◌ his grey seer.

frothing, flames licking at his arms, he embodied the arson, the tragedy. he could not escape it. he wept tears and all of them tasted like the grief he refused to acknowledge. himself, thorough in how embittered he had become against those he once called friends. and how difficult it made things, in attempting to connect with people of a different time. now, their conversation, hushed and secretive. all could see him, and yet it is as though he cannot exist freely. “i already told y’all the story of what went on. we’re tryna find out the truth of it, yeah? but — i guess that ain’t what you mean.” and he isn’t sure what else there is. what else he has been created from except for his wounds. how the witch managed to sew him together will remain a mystery for as long as he remains a tethered soul. “i became like this ‘cause — i dunno. nobody was around to make me become somethin’ different. that’s all i got, really.”

“ say something nice or don’t speak. ” // the fallen jedi ◌ his lilac princess.

“don’t speak? perish the thought.” he is cross again. look at him, with that pucker across his forehead and the crease in his brow. he’s become offended by something that was said, and to think, he hadn’t the slightest idea what had done it. leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and he pushes away from that surface to approach him. his boots softening each of his steps, and those, slower and deliberate. approaching, stalking perhaps. because he finds him to be stupidly interesting, and he himself is the worst idea, the worst decision that could be made for a princess of this calibre. still, the two of them, refraining from ever touching, and yet, continuing their orbit, their delicious desires licking at their insides. he would like to lick him. down that slim column of a throat. perhaps he should say that. perhaps that would be nice. “we can’t have it both ways. either you want me to speak my mind, or not.”

“ really? what did you dream about? ” // the ripest peach ◌ her stable mountain.

she had not dreamt in quite some time, and therefore, it frightened her. what does it mean, these successions of images, these pictures in frames? of children that she had known, and ones she did not remember, what significance could this have? she presses her back into his chest, his shoulders broad, his arms large; all of him, larger than life, than the world, strong and impermeable as rock, and she melts against it. her nakedness safe with him, her medical scars, her lack of fertility. her darkest secrets, which she has so long tucked beneath her tongue. and he brushes back her hair from her ears, as if coaxing the churning words from her mind. “i had a dream that — that we were all in paradise together. that the creatures had gone. that our family hadn’t separated. i had a dream that none of us had to die in order to find it. there were so many children there. running in the fields amok. all of them — ours.”

“ we were both afraid, shut up. ” // the underground racer ◌ his forsaken son.

“... y-yeah! we were both afraid, sure! or maybe we weren’t!” his lover, climbing over the middle console, grinding his hips down upon his own hips, and he bites back a moan. they’re going to forget about the fear; it doesn’t matter if it’s confessed to the walls of this car. the engine, how it purrs as it stalls, until he turns it off, and then, only their mingling breaths. the sound of a zipper, that hand, it finds him — “oh.” a gasp. “yeah — oh, jesus —” their clothes, sliding down enough to reach each other, to be bare where it matters, where they’re most needed. he clings to those hips, slides that tunic up his lover’s chest, bites down on the skin there. “you shut up.” halfway to teasing. he feels every part of him now, his irises so brown, mundane, attentive. “make me shut up.” he does. hips in tight circles, reducing him to whimpers, his own rocking, frantic, and passioned. “y-you shut up, i — oh, god, i love you — you’re so good, baby —”

#mr: mine #moonbeam tag #v: we are engraved in our hearts

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wonderwomanfantasy · 5 years

Text

Enemies with benefits

I am a sucker for soft Dabi

Dabi x Hero!reader

word count: 2.320 (about)

warnings: smut, cursing, violence, injury and slight gore (Dabi gets a staple ripped out) blood.

Summary: Dabi sure as hell didn’t mean to fall in love with a hero. but here he was, pulling his punches at the last second, and you aren’t exactly helping by stealing his clothes and staying the night. but he should have feelings because this isn’t a relationship. It’s just sex.

Dabi had never meant to fall in love with a hero. And he was sure you had never planned on being in a relationship with someone like him. If you could even call whatever this was a relationship. The term 'fuck buddies' seemed to fit better. All the same you were still here in his bed, wearing only his shirt and cuddling into his chest, and of course, he wasn't pushing you away. He moved a strand of hair out of your sleeping face, before gently pressing his lips to your forehead. It was a romantic gesture he would have never tried if you where awake.

Dabi wrapped his arms around you holding your body close to his. You squirmed in his grasp, settling into a comfortable position. Maybe you didn't love him, maybe this was all just sex for you, but moments like this really got his hopes up. Of course, catching feelings were against the rules. You and your stupid rules.

Rule 1.) No feelings, Just sex. After all, what would happened if people found out you were dating? A Pro hero and an evil villain, what would people think? And besides, where would you go to on dates? Nowhere public that's for sure.

Rule 2.) No special treatment. He would still kick your ass if he saw you outside of his bedroom, and you would still try to arrest him. He couldn't even save your name in his phone. And as much as it pained him-No flirting on the battlefield.

And last but not least, Rule 3.) No one else. This was a rule just for Dabi and it wasn't really a rule. Every time he got someone else beneath him, or on top of him for that matter, they always failed to satisfy. It seemed that you and only you could satiate his hunger.

Dabi had been the one to approach you first. The club was dark and there were so many people. Countless, sweaty bodies colliding to the heavy base of some song he didn't know the name of. Even still, he had spotted you at once and recognized you the same instant. I mean how could he not know the face of the Hero who had tried to kill him countless times. But you just looked so damn good in that dress. Your costume didn't do justice to your curves, not the way this skimpy little thing did. He couldn't stop his feet from moving to your side. Or his hands from falling to your waist and yanking your ass against his groin. Dabi was always one to play with fire.

Maybe you didn't recognize him, although that was hard to believe, or you just didn't care who he was. Either way, you followed his lead. Grinding your rear against his hips. Your fingers running over his scared chest in feather light touches. you where the one to pull him out of the club and lean him up against the cold stone wall of the building. He had never thought about kissing you before, now it was all he wanted.

He had kissed you passionately while his fingers dug into your exposed thighs. His mouth traveled from your lips to your jawline, then your neck. He bit at your flesh, twisting it between his teeth before licking away the pain with his warm tongue. “I'm going to fuck you so hard, you aren't going to be able to walk tomorrow,” he growled into your collar bone.

“you better or else I'm going to walk my ass back here and find someone who will,” you snapped bringing your thigh between his legs, right against his growing bulge. He loved that you didn't roll over and give him what he wanted. He loved having to work for what he wanted.

It had been an amazing night. So amazing that he had given you his number. Well, the number to a burner phone but that's not the point. It wasn't often the two of you could hook up, you were busy a lot and he was in jail, a lot. But when he could have you it was always amazing. Over the months you staid the night more often, and every little thing he learned about you only made him love you more. It had been almost three whole weeks since he had last seen you but luckily the two of you had a fight.

Not a domestic fight (was it wrong that he wanted to have domestic fights with you?) but a real fight with blood and punching. You could be ruthless when there were other people around.

“Damn, Baby that hurt,” he muttered looking at the staple you had just ripped out of his cheek.

“Don't you 'baby' me,” you snarled dodging one of Toga's knives as it whizzed past your head. He swung at you his fist engulfed in blue flames. You avoided it narrowly and stopped his foot with your dumb High healed boot. Honestly, how could you even fight in those things?

“Get out of here Dabi, you're only getting in the way!” Shigaraki shrieked like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Dabi knew he wasn’t giving his all in this fight. You sure as hell weren't pulling any punches, but he couldn't bring himself to hit you as hard as he used to. He didn't need Shigaraki yelling at him twice. He wasted no time leaving the base and stumbling his way back to his lonely apartment. As he walked, he silently prayed you would get away unharmed.

He staggered into his bathroom and looked at himself in the small mirror above the sink. He looked like shit. The right side of his jaw was dark with blood and there was already a bruise forming on his temple. He dropped the staples on the lip of the sink and slouched down on the linoleum floor. His head was swimming and the harsh fluorescent lighting wasn't helping.

The next thing he knew he was being jolted awake by a pounding at his door. It could be you. or it could be Shigaraki. “It's unlocked” he shouted hoping his voice would carry through the thin walls of his apartment. Just a moment later you were creeping into his bathroom.

“hey Baby,” you purred crouching down beside him

“don't you Baby me,” he said mocking your voice. You winced.

“I'm sorry Babe, let me clean you up,” you whispered. He let you sit him on the edge of the bathtub and pull out your medical Aid kit. Dabi was glad you were using your stuff and not the half empty bottle of vodka and hello kitty band-aids he always used. You cleaned off the blood, stitched up his wounds, and even put his staples back in for him. All the while kissing him softly to distract him from the pain.

“there all better,” you said cheerfully

“don't tell me that means your leaving now,” he whined grabbing your wrist. He could always get away with being clingy when he was hurt.

“well my options are Paperwork or hanging out with you, and honestly, you are a lot more fun.” you purred kissing him again, this time more flirtatiously. He stood, cupping your face gently, and pressing you against the cold tile wall. His hands developed minds of there own and groped your ass. Normally he would be rough both of you fighting for dominance. But tonight he just wasn't in the mood for anything rough, plus he was still kind of sore from the ass kicking he had just gone through.

“aren't you tired?” you asked sliding your hands up his shirt. He was tired, but he was also horny.

“you're just going to have to gentle with me,” he purred. Dabi grabbed you by the thighs, you jumped up wrapping your legs around his waist. He smirked and surprised you by biting your shoulder.

“I'm delicate,” he whispered in your ear sending a shiver up your spine. He carried you to his bed his teeth nibbling along the side of your neck. He laid you down on his bed. He was out of breath already. You hooked your leg around his hips and flipped him so he was beneath you

“naught little thing,” he chuckled. You sat up on his lap and took off your shirt, revealing your black sports bra.

“Shut up and let me take care of you,” you said pulling off his shirt as well. Dabi had to say it was nice having you pamper him. You kissed him gently, letting your tongue explore the inside of his mouth. Dabi ran his hands over your back, holding you close.

Your mouth traveled lower, kissing his chest you ran your fingers over his nipples tweaking slightly. He hissed, making you twist his nipples once more, before moving lower. You kissed his hips while undoing is jeans with your hands. Dabi angled his hips up so you could slide his pants down his legs. You ran your fingers over his tented underwear.

“don't tease,” he grunted closing his eyes. You pulled his half hard cock out of his boxers. You pumped him slowly. You licked the underside of his cock the way he liked. You continued to tease his cock until he was rock hard and leaking pre-cum.

“what do you want?” you asked, flicking your eyes up to meet his Azure eyes. There was a cold fire burning in his eyes that sent a wave of heat to your core.

“I want you to be good for me and sit on my face,” he growled. You were quick to remove the remainder of your clothing and scramble up the bed to meet him.

“are you sure you Dabi? You don't have to do that for me,” you whispered. He thought about it for a second and cupped your face pulling you in for a kiss. It was sweet and passionate, almost loving. You would have called it romantic if it was coming from anyone other than Dabi. You must be misreading thing again, because Dabi didn't do romantic.

You flipped from beside him to on top of him, giving him better assess to your mouth. His hips would buck up grazing his cock against your clit teasing you both with the bare minimum of friction. You kept having to remind yourself to keep things slow as not to hurt Dabi any more than you already had. Dabi didn't seem to have the same struggle as you did. He turned the kiss from sweet and passionate to sweet and Lazy and the teasing didn't seem to be affecting him as much as it did you.

“I need you inside of me babe,” you whimpered pulling away Dabi smirked.

“then take what you need baby,” he said, his voice like soft velvet. You took him in your hand again pumping him while lining him up with your entrance. You never grew tired of the soft ache that accompanied him filling you up. You took a deep breath trying to relax as Dabi tried not to buck his hips as you stretch your self out on his cock.

“you feel so good I missed this,” you moaned digging your nails into his chest. He settled his hands on your hips, ready to try and control your pace.

“I missed you too,” he whispered so quietly you almost couldn't make out the words. It sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't understand why he was being so sweet to you. maybe you had hit his head harder than you originally thought. Your heart insisted that he really did love you but you knew better than to get your hopes up.

You rocked your hips up and down slowly. He cupped your face and brought your mouth back to his as you moved your hips up and down. Dabi really loved your mouth, he loved how soft it was and how well it fit against his, he could die kissing you. Or fucking you for that matter.

You moved your body slowly, moving up his length than sinking back down. Dabi groaned into your mouth when you clenched around him. He slid his hands up your sides feeling your curves before wrapping his large hands around your breasts. He squeezed your soft mounds and rolled your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

He started rocking his hips up into you as his kiss and his fingers got needier. He couldn't seem to get enough of you. You could feel a tight ball of pleasure building inside your core as you continued to ride him.

“Fuck, Dabi I'm going to cum fuck I'm so close,” you panted speeding up the buck of your hips.

“I'm close, too (y/n), G-gah just like that,” He moaned pushing his hips up into you. He dropped his hand to your pelvic bone fondling your clit as you rode him. Your thrusts faltered as you reached climax. Dabi rocked his hips against yours chancing his own orgasm. You could feel hot spurts of cum fill you as you came down from your high.

You didn't even bother cleaning yourself off you just grabbed one of Dabi's shirts and fell asleep. Beside him. The fight and the sex had both tired you out more than you thought.

That's how Dabi got you here in his arms. He wished he could spend every night like this. With you cuddled into his chest. He closed his eyes pressing his lips to your forehead again.

“Dabi? Are you awake?” you whispered. No, no he wasn't awake for you to persuade him to let you go. You would just have to stay the whole night because he wasn't ready to let you go.

Your lips where so close to his, he could feel the soft puff of your breath hit his chin. “I love you Dabi,” you whispered against his lips. He jerked away to look at you in the darkness.

“What?”

edit: a lot of people wanted a follow-up for this so, here is part two

#mha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x reader smut #imagine dabi #bnha dabi #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia head cannon

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loveforpreserumsteve · 4 years

Text

Those Who Fall: “APTF” Story (Modern Domestic Stucky AU)

Twenty-Three:

"I can never get these da--" Steve glanced at the younger kids and quickly corrected "--rn things open."

"Here," Katie offered, holding her hand out across the island. Once Steve gave it to her, she placed one hand at each end and easily twisted the long can. Hearing the, POP!, Katie handed it back to Steve.

"I loosened it for you," Steve joked as he continued twisting it until the Pillsbury Pizza Crust landed on the floured counter.

"Sure," Katie giggled while Jonas commented, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes, but focused on Ethan and Sophia who were standing on kitchen chairs in front of the counter. Dividing it in half for the pair, Steve asked, "Did you want to use the cookie cutters to make them pumpkins?"

"Yes!" The pair exclaimed, excitedly hopping up and down and causing Steve to nearly have a heart attack when Sophia's chair rocked unsteadily.

"Sophia Rose!" Steve reprimanded while Bucky held the chair of the little boy to stop him, "Ethan Patrick!"

As they stopped, Steve's racing heart took a moment to slow back to its normal, uneven thumping. All they needed was for them to crack their heads open. Steve shook his head, trying to get those images out of his mind. Beside him, Bucky must've known how Steve was feeling because he started rubbing Steve's back.

Leaning over, Bucky kissed Steve's temple and reassured, "It's okay."

Nodding, Steve made sure that the knives were closer to the older teens than the kids. Walking over to the cabinets, Steve pressed down on the baby-lock and pulled open the drawer with the cookie cutters. Stars and hearts. Flowers and candy canes. Even finding the penis shaped ones that Natasha had gotten him for his bachelor party, in the far back of the drawer. Blushing a little, Steve grabbed the pumpkin, ghost, and bat, just to give them some options.

Walking back over to the kids, Steve noticed that Katie was using the cat cookie cutters. While she used one hand to press down on the cutter, she dropped some shredded mozzarella cheese into her mouth. Poor thing, despite being lactose intolerant and her favorite food being cheese. Just like cats. Always loving the things that could hurt her.

Placing the cookie cutters on the counter, Vis politely asked, "May I use the ghost real quick?"

"Sure, ya can," Bucky reached for the ghost cutter to hand it to the young man, both smiling; Bucky's more confident in the moment but encouraged the younger man's all the same.

"Thanks," Vis averted his gaze. Beside him, Wanda gave his back a rub before she went back to eating banana peppers and fresh spinach while constructing her own pizza.

"Geez," Jonas good-humoredly teased, "What're ya tryin' to do? Be number one son?"

Briefly, Vis looked worried. Almost as though he believed that he had offended the other young man. When Katie snorted though and Jonas started chuckling, Vis relaxed. Steve wondered if he should tell his kids to take it easy on Vis. But this was who his kids were. They were sarcastic and sassy and Steve loved them for how they handled themselves in situations that could be considered awkward. And Steve knew that them playfully messing with Vis was bringing him into their world.

They were treating Vis like family.

Ethan's whining regained Steve's attention. Looking down at the little boy, Steve saw that he was struggling with the pizza crust. Sophia had already cut hers out and Steve asked, "Want some help, bub?"

Sniffling, Ethan nodded and Steve brought his hands around Ethan and took hold of his little hands. Guiding him, Steve placed his hands back on the cookie cutter and pushed down. Using his fingers to touch the top and bottom of the cutter where Ethan's fingers couldn't reach, Steve pressed down on the pumpkin cutter while allowing his son to think that he was the one cutting the dough.

Pulling back, Steve removed the cutter and the shaped dough, so Ethan could see that it had worked. Lighting up, Ethan turned to look up at Steve and said, "I did it!" Looking to Bucky, he exclaimed, "Daddy, I did it!"

"Good job, honey!" Bucky encouraged, winking at the little boy.

Proud of himself, Ethan redirected his attention to the leftover dough in front of him, and Steve asked, "Do you want to cut out some more?"

Ethan nodded and Steve helped him cut out a couple more from the leftover pizza crust dough. All the while, Sophia used the other pumpkin cookie cutter. They were a little messy around the edges, but she was doing them herself and she looked up at Steve seeking approval.

"You're doing such a good job, sweetie," Steve encouraged, earning a large grin in reply.

While Bucky free-handedly shaped his own pizza dough into a classic circle, he leaned over and kissed Steve's temple. As he went to focus on his pizza again, Steve turned his head and tilted his chin up. Thankfully, Bucky got the gist and leaned back in to press a kiss to Steve's lips. Then, before Steve could pull back, Bucky dropped a quick succession of kisses to his mouth.

"Ewww," Jonas exaggerated while Katie mocked a gagging noise.

And since they were acting like that, the little kids copied them. Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and Steve childishly stuck his tongue out at his children. Once they settled down, Steve spooned out some of the infamous Joe Rogers' Slammin' Jammin' Homemade Pizza Sauce onto the crusts and let the little kids spread it around with their fingers.

"Want me to make yours, babe?" Bucky asked, already done with making his own.

"Please," Steve answered, supervising Ethan and Sophia as they started reaching out to touch each other with sauce hands. "If you two don't stop, you're not going to have enough time to eat them before the game."

"Fine," Sophia dramatically sighed, tossing her head back just like her older siblings often did.

Steve shook his head but ducked down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Thank you."

"I want a kiss, too, papa," Ethan exclaimed, tipping his head back just like Sophia had.

Just like he had with Sophia, Steve kissed Ethan's forehead. Looking closer at the little boy, Steve spotted sauce smears on his glasses and flour on his cheek. Shaking his head, Steve let Ethan get back to assembling his pizza. Making a mental note to thoroughly wash him once they were done eating.

Sophia glanced over to the side where Vis and Wanda were stationed, she said, "Whoa! What happened to your arm?!"

Which, of course, had everyone look over at Vis. It even had Vis looking down at his own arm. Steve didn't see anything wrong with his arm, but he did notice a tattoo. An impressive piece of metal gears peeking out through faux torn skin being held by fake staples.

As Vis went to hide his arm from view, Sophia looked down at her own arms and asked, "Is that what's inside of us?"

Bucky barked out a laugh and Steve said, "No, honey. It's a tattoo. Just like what daddy and I have. Just like what Katie has."

"What?" Katie stopped eating olives and her eyes widened. Then, she narrowed her eyes at Jonas and accused, "You tattled!"

"No, I didn't," Jonas defended himself, looking equally as surprised.

Rolling his eyes, Steve explained, "We follow Mya on instagram."

"I need a new best friend," Katie muttered. Telling her parents, "I was going to tell you."

"It's okay," Bucky assured. Chuckling, "At least we've been in your position before, so we can understand."

"Hey," Steve took a step away from his husband as though physically distancing himself from that situation and mockingly defended himself, "My mom knew when I got tatted."

Feigning offense, Bucky said, "We're supposed to be a team."

Steve shook his head and Ethan asked, "What's a tattoo?"

"It's a picture on your skin," Wanda explained.

Actually offended, Ethan looked at the adults in the room and demanded, "I want a picture on me!"

"When you're older," Steve told him while Bucky promised, "I'll even get one with you!"

That brought Ethan's grin back as he turned to beam up at Bucky as he excitedly questioned, "Really?!"

"Yup," Bucky confirmed, winking at him.

Sophia asked Vis, "Did you get your tattoo with your daddy, too?"

A flash of despair crossed Vis's face and Steve wanted to immediately apologize for his daughter. As much as Steve loved children -- and his more specifically -- he hated how tactless they were. Especially in moments like these.

"No," Vis weakly smiled at the eight year old, "I wish that I did though."

Wanda rubbed his back, and Sophia offered, "Maybe you can get one with my daddy. He's a good daddy. Papa is too."

Bucky leaned over to kiss Sophia's cheek in a silent thanks. Before Ethan could demand for one, Bucky kissed his cheek, too. Vis's smile grew and he asked, "You'd share them with me?"

"'Course," Sophia shrugged as though it was the easiest decision ever. And, of course, why wouldn't it be. She'd been sharing Bucky and Steve with kids since the very moment that she arrived at their home. So, it was only logical for her to continue doing so.

A wet sniffle came from Wanda, but Holly showed her up by knocking over her bowl with the tiny, bite-size pasta. Instantly, Bucky stopped assembling his and Steve's pizzas as he took care of the fussy baby. Meanwhile, Steve picked the overturned bowl off the floor and placed it in the sink as he grabbed some paper towels.

As Steve started wiping up the noodles and red sauce, Vis crouched down to help. Steve tried to stop him, "You don't have to do that."

"I don't mind," Vis grinned. Then, he teased, "Gotta get used to it eventually, yeah?"

Steve smirked and agreed, "Yeah, I guess you do."

#a place to fall #jump then fall #those who fall #bonus #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #marvel #fanfic #wattpad #ao3 #modern au #domestic life #fluff #smut #otp

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 6 years

Text

Best. Proposal. Ever.

Summary: Every year, Bucky makes his new year’s resolutions. And every year, he fails. Maybe this time, with a little help from his favourite girl, things will turn out different.

Characters: Bucky x Reader Warnings: Bad language. Some well deserved murder and discussions of Bucky’s sexy man parts.

A/N: After writing Best. Date. Ever. I needed a sequel to explore this crazy relationship a little more. Both stories are connected, but you can read them in either order. Thanks a million to my fabulous boo @interestedbystanderwrites who decided to host a challenge and give me the idea for the next part of their story. This is all about “New Year’s Resolutions” so here we go!

If you want on/ off the tag list, send me an ask!

MASTERLIST

*****

JANUARY 1

The wall feels blessedly cool against your forehead. Resisting the urge to bang your head repeatedly, you try an angry whispered pep talk.

“Come on. Come on. Go. This is not a big deal, it’s not. Get in there. Now. Now. Now.”

The kitchen is so close the scent of fresh coffee makes your mouth water. You could be in there, sipping that delicious black gold, but no. Instead, you’re standing in the hallway, shuffling awkwardly and berating yourself.

See, here’s the problem.

Last night at midnight, there were fireworks and party horns screaming as the New Year arrived. Slightly tipsy on champagne and caught up in the crazy whirl, you melted into Bucky’s snuggly hug. When he placed a soft kiss on your cheek, the feel was pure electricity. Without thinking, you turned into him, pressing your lips to his.

It was tradition. A kiss at midnight. Everyone does it.

Except you lingered.

Breaking the kiss, you didn’t step away. It was far too easy to let yourself drown in those cool blue eyes. He held your stare and you saw the excitement brewing in his face. Then he took a breath, and you knew if he spoke, your walls would crumble.

Because since day one, Bucky’s made it abundantly clear he wants more.

So, like always, you panicked. Stepped back. Made another excuse and rushed off before he could speak.

On the surface, it makes no sense. Bucky Barnes is it, the full package. Full of dry humor and sweet smiles, his no filter approach to life leaves you breathless at time. And of course, there’s the obvious.

He is delightfully, scandalously sexy.

But you know starting something with him won’t work. Relationships are always hard, but when you tack on the business of avenging? They’re damn near impossible. Keeping your distance is best. Bucky always looks disappointed, but he respects the decision. Although it doesn’t stop him from flirting outrageously every time you’re together. You know he’s holding out hope that you’ll change your mind.

Cut to this morning.

You know he’s sitting alone in the kitchen. A barrier of sinfully sexy man sits between you and the coffee and you’re feeling exceedingly stupid about last night’s reaction to an innocent kiss.

“Go. Just sack the fuck up and go.”

Shoving yourself into the kitchen, you find Bucky hunched over a piece of paper. Deep in concentration, his tongue pokes from the corner of his mouth while he writes and the sheer adorableness makes your brain go fuzzy. Wide swaths of skin are on full display, as he’s decided to visually massacre you today by wearing nothing but a ragged pair of sweatpants.

Fuck.

“Morning,” he says, his voice quiet with a handful of gravel.

“Morning,” you murmur and head straight for the coffee, where the first sip sends caffeine surging through your veins. Sighing blissfully, you glance up to find him watching you, a small smile on his lips. “What are you doing?”

“New year’s resolutions,” he says. “Make them every year, but never seem to finish them.” He gives you considered look. “Keep thinking maybe I just need the right…motivation.”

“Maybe I can help,” you offer. “Tell me your list and I’ll keep you on track.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure, I can whip you into shape.”

Bucky makes a little humming sound. “That sounds like a good time.”

Embarrassment skitters down your spine at the innuendo. “Well, you – um, show me what you’ve got.”

With a flourish, he brandishes the list. Written in careful block letters, you find three items and a random assortment of doodles.

Dance more

Find my karaoke song

Stop holding grudges

Whatever you expected, it wasn’t this. You’d assume Bucky Barnes’ new year’s resolutions included things like increase number of fiery explosions per mission and learn three new ways to sever a femoral artery, but these are surprisingly normal.

“These are great, Bucky. Are you only doing three though? I thought you only made lists in multiples of four.”

He gives you a cheeky wink. “I like that you know that. But no. I’m living on the edge this year.”

“Ah. I like your drawings.”

“Right? Everyone thinks Steve’s the artist, but I hold my own,” he points to the line of knives and grenades and cats he’s drawn down the page. “Figure if I get tired of murder and revenge, this could be another career path.”

The decisiveness in his voice makes you bite back a smile.

“Well, I swear I’ll harass you whenever required,” you say and Bucky’s nose scrunches when he grins.

Gathering up your coffee, and thanking god you made it out without looking like an idiot, you turn to walk away when he suddenly barks out a request.

“Wait! We should shake on it. Make it official.”

Sometimes he gets weirdly formal about things, so you capitulate with a firm shake. Right before you pull away, you feel him curl his finger and teasingly tickle your palm.

A long shiver runs from your head to your toes. Tugging your hand nervously away, you fold it behind your back. He smiles, little crinkles lining his eyes.

It’s distracting.

“Um. Okay. Bye then.”

And you turn and hurry from the kitchen.

Bucky scratches his nose with the pen cap and watches you leave. He starts to fold up his list, when an idea pops in his head. One he’s been thinking about for ages. Since the very first day he met you.

Best day ever, actually.

Smoothing out the list, he adds one more thing. Then he folds it carefully and slips it into his pocket.

*****

RESOLUTION #1: DANCE MORE

“Sometimes I can’t believe this is our job,” Bucky says with relish. He adjusts his duffel bag, dragging you through the crowded alley.

Tripping along behind him, you hold tight to his sleeve. “Remind me why you volunteered for this mission?”

“I said I wanted to dance more,” he answers nonchalantly. “New Year’s resolution and all. Seemed like a good opportunity.”

“But it’s a strip club. I thought you meant like, you wanted to tap dance or something. You know you’ll be dancing on a stage. In front of people. In tiny underwear. Like - very tiny underwear.”

“What?” Bucky gasps and stops so abruptly you slam into him. He spins around to face you. “Are you saying people will see my special naughty place?”

“You’re an asshole,” you grumble and he laughs.

“Don’t forget, you’re supposed to be encouraging my resolutions. You promised to support me.”

“Yeah, well…”

You did agree. You just didn’t know fulfilling the resolution would involve wiggling his man bits for all the world to see.

Not that it matters. Because it doesn’t. It doesn’t.

There’s a burly bouncer guarding the back entrance to the club and he lifts an eyebrow when you both arrive. Bucky turns it on, rubbing his neck and giving the man a shaky smile.

“Hello sir. Is it okay if she comes with me? It’s my first time on stage and I’m just feeling so nervous, you know? Like, ugh! Are people gonna like my dance and will I be able to swing around the pole right and what if my junk falls out of my underwear too soon? God, it’s like, so stressful!”

The man rolls his eyes, waves you through, and goes back to Tinder swiping.

“Nailed it,” Bucky whispers smugly. “Hashtag espionage.”

Backstage, the world smells like baby powder and perfume. The club specifically hires dancers who look like celebrities, and seeing a parade of scantily clad men and women you think you recognise is strange.

Bucky looks around with interest. You suddenly want to staple his eyes shut.

“Quit staring,” you mutter. “We’re supposed to be undercover.”

“I’m not staring, it’s reconnaissance. Why? Does it bother you?” He nudges you. “Don’t worry, you know I only prefer you. Gimmie that green light and I’ll prove it.”

Hefting the duffel bag on the make-up table labelled DANCER 3: WINTER SOLDIER, he empties the contents.

“Bucky, you know we – ”

“Aha!” Fishing his outfit for the night from the pile, he dangles it in front of you. “Sexy right? You gonna be okay with everyone seeing me in tiny underwear?”

That’s – okay. That’s a red g-string. He’s going to wear a red g-string and get all sweaty and oily and dance in front of everyone.

This is bullshit.

“I’m – that’s just. Yeah. Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Why the hell did your voice scale up? He tilts his head and there’s that smartass little grin.

“No reason. Just hoping you might wanna keep my ass all to yourself.”

“Well, I’d hate to deprive the world from the glory that is your ass.”

“I do have a great ass,” Bucky agrees solemnly. “You know there’s even a Twitter account for it?”

“I know,” you say drily. “You started that Twitter account.”

“Well, someone needed to. Alright, I gotta change now.”

And he starts stripping.

He kicks off his boots and tugs his shirt over his head and your mouth goes dry. His fingers fiddle with the zipper of his jeans and he slides it down slowly, your eyes following with fascination. When he starts to pull the jeans open, you lick your lips.

Bucky clears his throat.

Wide eyes fly up to meet his and you find a ridiculously smug expression.

“Sorry,” you sputter and he shrugs.

“S’okay. I like when you look at me. You’re gonna oil me up for this too, right?”

He tosses you a bottle of baby oil and you immediately fumble it. It slips and slides and you drop it, step on it, and kick it under the make-up table.

Bucky looks at you in surprise.

Panicked, you make a beeline for the door, calling behind you.

“I gotta go. You’re good. Have – fun. Or whatever. Bye.”

Thirty minutes later, you’ve finished a sweep of the place and settled into position. Waiting for Bucky’s show to begin, the internal debate rages fiercely.

It doesn’t matter, right? Bucky Barnes isn’t yours. There’s no friend’s with benefits thing and you don’t want a relationship. You don’t. You’ve made that perfectly clear.

So, here’s the million dollar question then: if you don’t care, why the hell does the idea of an oily, naked, dancing Bucky make you want to blind everyone else in this club?

You have a problem.

“Fucking focus,” you snap to yourself. Fixing your eyes on the evening’s targets, the four Hydra assholes in the booth opposite the stage, you shove aside the mental images of oily, naked, dancing Bucky and concentrate.

Sort of.

Until –

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new dancer. Here for his stage debut, put your hands together for our sexy Winter Soldier!”

The lights dim.

Smoke billows across the stage and a tall shadow appears in the door leading backstage. Broad shouldered, shoulder length hair, even the arrogant outline of his body exudes sex.

Full scale theatrics. Of course.

He steps forward and the spotlight embraces him. Music blares through the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

Dressed all in black, from his leather jacket and leather pants, to the combat boots and mask hiding his face, he murder struts across the stage and grabs the pole. With his left hand, he lifts himself easily, curving his body gracefully as he swings a slow circle.

“Oh my god,” you grit out.

“Oh my god,” you hear two women beside you groan happily.

Bucky dances like he owns the stage, punctuating each heavy bass beat with a thrust of his hips. As he moves, he drags down the zipper of his leather jacket, teasing it from his shoulders until is slides off and he launches it into the crowd.

Under the low light, his bare chest shimmers with oil.

“Jesus that arm is realistic,” a guy behind you shouts.

Bending at the waist, he runs his hands slowly up his legs and then reaches behind and slaps his ass. Popping the button on his way too tight leather pants, he starts to shimmy them down his hips. How he manages to get out of them so easily is a question for the ages, but there they go, flying into the audience.

Cocking his hip, he poses. Dark hair frames the black mask and his thick thighs are accentuated by his black combat boots, and of course, there it is, in all its itty-bitty glory.

The red g-string.

What. The. Fuck.

“What the fuck,” you whine under your breath.

And then it gets worse.

He falls to his hands and knees and crawls across the stage. It feels like you swallowed sawdust so you start chugging a bottle of water. When he reaches the end, he sits up on his knees and drags his hands through his hair. His hips mimic the heavy bass beat, rolling in a slow, pulsing rhythm.

“This is fucking bullshit,” you hiss. Fingering the rough handle of the gun strapped beneath your coat, you glare at the beautiful woman by the stage who’s now enthusiastically shoving dollar bills in the waistband of Bucky’s underwear.

Later, you’ll thank god and Steve Rogers’ precise ops planning timeline, for saving you from accidentally shooting her in the foot on purpose.

Because here’s what happens next.

Like a record scratch, the music ends and that’s the cue. Lightning fast, Bucky flips backward, and you’re not sure how he does it without his dick flopping out of his tiny underwear, but mid-roll, he snakes two knives from his boots and lets them fly.

Wickedly sharp blades hit the necks of the two men on the edge of the booth. The other two men leap up, drawing their guns, but they’re so focused on Bucky, they never see you coming. Two well aimed bullets hit their mark and both drop.

There’s plenty of screaming in the club, although half the crowd appears entertained, thinking maybe it’s all part of the Winter Soldier show. But then the lights go up and here come Sam and Steve, bringing it to a close.

Handcuffs, several arrests, a little more baby oil, and a few mission reports later, the place is clearing out.

Bucky stands by the stage, still dressed in his tiny underwear and combat boots, a patient smile on his face. The same woman who was shoving money down his pants earlier is batting her eyelashes and trailing her finger down his arm.

It makes you see red, and no, that’s not a euphemism for the scrap of cloth covering his goods. In that moment, the clouds clear and you realise something.

Maybe it’s a good idea, maybe it’s not – but you’re done ignoring this feeling.

Stalking toward them, Bucky shoots you a look, begging to be extracted from the conversation. Stepping between them, you face the woman, removing her hand from his bicep and giving her a brittle smile.

“Hi. Time to back off, Karen.”

“My name’s not Karen,” she sneers.

“Whatever.” Pulling the money from Bucky’s underwear, you turn around and shove the fistful of bills in her face. “He’s good, thanks.”

She looks like she’s going to say something, but you make a waving motion with your hands. “Shoo. Go away.”

Turning back to face him, you find a dark little smirk.

“Jealous, honey cakes?” he asks saucily.

“Insanely,” you admit and shock lights up his face. Locking your fingers behind his neck, you pull his face toward you. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an idiot. Can I change my mind? I want to try this you and me thing. If you’re still interested, I mean.”

“Holy shit, I’m so fucking interested,” he says eagerly.

“Also, I know you wanted to dance more this year, but how about no more dancing unless it’s just for me. Is that okay?”

Bucky answers with a deep kiss and you feel him grinning.

“Fuck yes it’s okay,” he sucks your lip when he pulls back. “See, I knew you loved my ass. You can run the Twitter account now, if you want.”

RESOLUTION #1: DANCE MORE

*****

RESOLUTION #2: FIND MY KARAOKE SONG

Deep in thought, Bucky slouches in the cracked leather booth. Absently peeling the label from a bottle of beer, he flips through a fat notebook stuffed with song titles.

Once in a blue moon, the world decides to play nice and you find yourself mission free for a night. It seems like the perfect opportunity to work down his list, so with a little cajoling and a few well-placed kisses, here you are.

“I don’t know about this,” he says doubtfully.

“I do. Come on, you’ll be great.”

“Well I know that,” he says, taking a swing of beer. “I’m always awesome. So are you, by the way. I’m just not sure any of these songs can really showcase my awesomeness.”

“The ongoing tragedy of your life,” you reply in amusement.

He snorts in agreement as he flips through the binder, page after page, shunning every song he finds, until he stops. Shuffles back a few pages and a sly smile emerges.

“Nevermind. I have it. Best idea ever,” he decides. Slamming the book shut, he picks up the stubby little pencil, scribbling the title on a piece of paper. When you try to get a peek, he shields it from view and tuts at you.

Bemused, you steel yourself for the inevitable occurrence that comes with taking Bucky Barnes anywhere.

That is to say: shit might get weird.

Folding the paper into a complex paper airplane, he aims it at the kid manning the karaoke machine. It zips through the air and lands right on top of the pile of song requests. The kid looks unfolds the paper and looks around, searching for the requester.

Bucky waves maniacally and points to himself. The kid gives him a strange look. Looks at the paper in confusion. Looks back up to Bucky, who nods again and gives him two enthusiastic thumbs up. The kid shrugs and punches the song into the machine.

Now officially decision free, he snakes an arm over your shoulders and nuzzles his face against your neck. Tugging your legs toward him, he walks feather light fingers up your thigh, slipping under your skirt.

“Hey, listen,” he breathes against your skin and goosebumps bloom in the path of cool metal. “Think I’m gonna need some physical encouragement. My ego’s very fragile.”

“No, it’s not.”

“No, it’s not. But how’s about you lemme feel your panties anyway?”

“Bucky stop,” you whisper sternly, pushing his hand down, “saying panties. It’s creepy. Now get your head in the game.”

“Okay,” he whispers, choking back a laugh. He squeezes your knee instead. “But just tell me one thing though, and be honest – are they lace? I fucking love lace.”

“Yes, I know. You texted me seven times while I was shopping. Try not to suck ass up there and maybe later you’ll find out.”

He makes a growling noise and bites your ear.

“Fuck me, you’re so god damn sexy.”

Whiling away the time until his song, he spends the next fifteen minutes trying to persuade you to join him in the bathroom for ‘just one quick peek at your underpanties, I swear that’s all.’ His fingers are stroking the inside of your thigh and you’re this close to giving in, when a voice booms through the bar.

“James Barnes! You’re up.”

“Woo yeah, here we go,” Bucky sings out. Planting a huge kiss on your lips, he rolls from the booth and heads up front.

Foregoing the stairs, because he’s exceptionally dramatic, he leaps onto the stage and finger-guns the crowd as he strolls to the centre. Plucking the microphone from the stand, he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck, bounces on his toes and shakes his arms, loosening up. His voice drops several octaves when he lifts the mic and speaks.

“This one,” he drawls, raising a finger and aiming at you, “is for that absolutely gorgeous creature right there.”

Then he blows you a kiss and looks over to the sound guy working the music.

“Hit it Jeeves,” he orders.

There’s a momentary pause and the down beat hits. And there, on the stage of a small divey karaoke bar on the outskirts of Manhattan, you see something you never expected.

Bucky Barnes, belting out Beyonce without a hint of self-consciousness.

Such a funny thing for me to try to explain

How I’m feeling and my pride is the one to blame

‘Cause I know I don’t understand

Just how your love can do what no one else can

The blue screen displaying the lyrics is wholly unnecessary. He clearly knows the song by heart, his rendition is flawless and his Beyonce imitation so perfectly on point, you wonder when the hell he had time to memorise it all.

Watching him in that moment, a flash of understanding fills your head, and you know. Beyond a shadow of doubt, you know.

You are in love with this man.

Crazy in love.

Wildly and completely, with every piece of your heart.

If you ain’t there, ain’t nobody else to impress

It’s the way that you know what I thought I knew

It’s the beat my heart skips when I’m with you

But I still don’t understand

Just how your love can do what no one else can

Basking in the fresh knowledge, you laugh when Bucky suddenly jumps from the stage. Without missing a beat, he remains effortlessly in tune. Eyes locked on you, he dances his way through the crowded tables, a slow progression toward you.

And when he arrives, you fall even further.

Hand on his heart, Bucky serenades you, big and sweaty and beautiful. When he motions you up, you climb easily from the booth and find yourself face to face in the unexpected spotlight.

‘Cause your love’s got the best of me,

And baby, you’re making a fool of me,

You got me sprung and I don’t care who sees

‘Cause, baby, you got me, you got me so crazy –

“Nah, fuck it.”

He ends the song there, dropping the mic where it hits the floor with a screech. Curling a wide palm behind your neck, another around your waist, he dips you back over his arm and captures your lips in a searing kiss. Throwing every drop of passion into the kiss, you jump and he catches you, pulling your legs tight around his hips. His mouth slants across yours and he keeps kissing you, longer and harder, until you’re both gasping for air.

You feel lightheaded and tingly. And then Bucky bumps his nose against yours and whispers three new words in your ear.

“I love you, honey sugar. I really do, I’m so fucking crazy for you. Just in case that wasn’t clear.”

Raking your fingers through his messy mop of hair, you kiss his forehead, his nose, his lips. Every inch of skin you can find.

“I really love you too,” you say breathlessly. “This is our song now, right?”

“You’re damn straight it is.”

RESOLUTION #2: FIND MY KARAOKE SONG

*****

RESOLUTION #3: STOP HOLDING GRUDGES

Perched on the roof, you press your eye to the scope on your rife. Through the cross-hairs, you see people milling below, dressed in cocktail attire. Bucky has his rifle propped up as well and he grunts when he spies one of your targets for the evening.

“Look at that fucking dickbag hitting on that waitress. She looks upset.” He looks over at you and offers his pleading puppy eyes. “I’m gonna shoot him, ‘kay?”

“Bucky, no.”

“Bucky, yes.”

His finger caresses the trigger longingly, until you reach over and push his rifle up. He lets out frustrated little squawk.

“You can’t kill him yet, you’ll blow our position.”

“I didn’t say kill him. I said shoot. Just a little maiming. He deserves it. Please?”

“Later,” you promise and he sighs. Laying his gun on the edge of the wall, he folds his arms and chews his thumbnail in silence.

Well, as silent as Bucky Barnes can ever be.

“I’m still mad about earlier,” he announces.

“I’m still shocked,” you reply.

Turning to you, he eyes you suspiciously.

“Are you mocking me?”

“I would never do that.”

“That sounds fake, but okay. Do you even know why I’m mad?”

Shrugging, you stay focused on the crowd. “Something Sam did, right?”

“It wasn’t just something,” Bucky hisses. “This is serious and I need you to pay attention. Do you remember that time I opened all my blueberry Pop Tarts so they could get stale before I ate them?”

“I do,” you say without looking over. “We had ants for a week.”

He waves his hand dismissively.

“Listen, I’m not looking for a history lesson.”

“Also, that was weird. Who eats stale Pop Tarts?”

“I’m also not interested in unwarranted criticism of my culinary skills. The point is, I thought we all agreed that any and all future stale Pop Tarts were to be consumed by me and me alone.”

“We did agree,” you say.

“Then why the hell were all five packages I opened gone? They were nearly perfect - almost chewy, just a little crunchy, and now I have to start over. My whole fucking week is ruined.”

Finally looking away from the scope, you fix him with an exasperated stare.

“I know baby, but maybe you should just get over it.”

Betrayal sparks from his eyes at your words. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Maybe I should just get over it? How can you say that? Whose side are you on? I’m emotionally compromised here.”

“You’re also a drama queen,” you answer, going back to your scope and Bucky digs a metal finger into your ribs.

“That’s not the point. I’m never getting over this. Sam’s an asshole, he’s been eyeing my Pop Tarts for weeks.”

“Kinky,” you murmur under your breath.

He throws his hands up in frustration. “How can you still be joking? I’m righteously indignant and you’re ruining it.”

Through the cross-hairs, the asshole bothering the waitress and his fuckwit companion suddenly appear in a dark window. Bucky sees your posture tense and professional that he is, flips seamlessly from petulant Pop Tart lover back to lethal assassin. Lifting his rifle, he goes silent, waiting for your signal.

“Third floor, second window to the south,” you say quietly. “I’ll take right, you take left.”

Through a stroke of luck, the window into the room is open. Shoulder to shoulder with him, you fire simultaneous silent shots, and in the dark room, both men collapse.

Piece of cake.

Easing the rifles down, you lean together against the wall to disassemble the weapons. Snapping the magazine free, you look at Bucky with a soft smile.

“You know, this is a good opportunity to tick the box on your last New Year’s resolution. The one about not holding grudges. Maybe you should take it, cut Sam some slack.”

He glances over and a strange look comes into his eye. Before you can react, he plucks the gun from your hands and pushes you back, swinging a leg over to straddle you. Pinning your hands above your head, he leans down and leaves a wet kiss on your neck.

“Why are you always right? It’s annoying.”

“Well, I learned from the best,” you reach up and lick his face.

Huffing a laugh, he rubs his damp cheek on you and presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re too good for me. I’m not sure if you know this, but sometimes I get a little murdery.”

“That is absolutely new news,” you deadpan and he growls and digs his fingers into your sides, tickling you until you’re quietly begging him to stop before someone hears. He complies and that strange look is back, before it gives way to an affectionate smile.

“Honey darlin, you know what? You make me want to be a better person.”

You place a kiss on the tip of his nose and he beams.

RESOLUTION #3: STOP HOLDING GRUDGES

*****

DECEMBER 31

Another year has come and gone, but this New Year’s Eve is different.

While the party rages down below, up on the roof the night is quiet. Wrapped in a sea of quilts, you and Bucky lay tangled together on a lounge chair, staring up at the stars.

“So, New Year’s Eve again,” you nudge him. “Looks like you made it through your list this year. Success like that deserves an extra special sexy reward.”

Bucky’s face is buried against your neck and you feel the vibration when he laughs.

“As much as I’d love to cash that in, I don’t deserve it. Not yet.” Keeping the quilt around you, he shuffles himself down your body, until he can rest his chin on your chest. “I didn’t finish the list.”

“Yes, you did,” you remind him, smoothing back his hair. “Dancing, karaoke, no more grudges. We crossed them all off.”

There’s a slow smile spreading over his face. The kind that makes you equal parts nervous and sort of sappy.

“Are you sure that’s all that was on my list?”

He reaches into the pocket of his suit pants and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. Unfolding it carefully, he hands it over. Written below the third resolution, is a fourth line of text, surrounded by cat doodles. There, in Bucky’s careful print, is one resolution you don’t remember.

Dance more

Find my karaoke song

Stop holding grudges

Sack the fuck up

The words make no sense and you look up in confusion. And for the first time in your life, you see a blush of red staining his cheeks.

Bucky Barnes is nervous.

He clears his throat.

“Here’s the thing. Every resolution I did, you were with me. And every time, they meant something. Special. About us. But I still got this last resolution, and I knew it’d be the hardest one, but I gotta do it before midnight, because I’ve been thinking about it the whole damn year.”

“Okay, can I help you? Does it mean sack up and do something specific?”

“It does. Means something very specific and I do need your help. But before I tell you what, I need you to do me a few favours. Can you reach into my left coat pocket?”

Slightly bewildered, you dig into his coat where your fingers close around a scrap of silk. Pulling it free, you find his red g-string. Stitched on the front in black cursive letters, are your initials.

“That night I did my dance, when you almost kicked that lady’s ass and said you wanted to give us a shot? I’ve never been so fucking excited in my life. Told you then I’d only ever dance for you and now I got your initials on my goods, so everyone’ll know. I’m all yours.”

Your heart skips a beat.

It’s the sweetest, weirdest thing he’s ever done. You want to say thanks, but the words are stuck in your throat, blocked by a sudden batch of tears, so you simply nod.

The corner of his lips quirk up.

“Okay, now reach into my left pants pocket.”

He wiggles his hips suggestively and this time, you find a Polaroid picture. The image is a little blurry, but there’s Bucky dipping you backward, your arms around his neck while he kisses you. The memory surfaces easily, of karaoke and Beyonce and declarations of love. On the edge of the photo is a little black button and he squeezes it.

The sound of Bucky singing ‘Crazy in Love’ starts playing and the tears in your throat spill now from your eyes.

“Had a few people recording it that night. Got Stark to embed a little speaker in the photo. That night was the first time I said I loved you. Not sure if you knew that. I’d been sweating about it for weeks.”

Taking a shaky breath, you give him a watery smile. “I knew. It was the first time for me too.”

He nods and light as a feather, strokes his thumb down your cheek, wiping away the tears.

“Next. Try my right coat pocket.”

The strange feel of crinkly foil meets your fingers and you discover an open pack of Pop Tarts.

“They’re the frosted cherry ones, ‘cause I know you like those best. Sometimes, when I’m pissed off at the world, I remember what you told me that day on the roof. And I think to myself – if I can forgive someone for eating my Pop Tarts, a capital offence by the way, then I can forgive anything. You really do make me wanna be the best version of myself.”

There’s no conceivable reason why Pop Tarts should be a trigger, but the tears flow faster, punctuated with the occasional hiccup. Bucky chuckles, kissing them away and waiting.

“When I started this year, I had three resolutions in mind and because of you, I did them all. And I made them count. You’re the best god damn thing in my life honey. I hope you know that.” He kisses your palm and lays your hand against his cheek.

Bucky has never been shy about telling you these things. He says them frequently, with clarity and conviction. After everything he’s been through, you know it stems from a deep-rooted fear that the things he loves could disappear in the blink of an eye. It’s why he goes full throttle on everything he does – every mission he takes, every date he plans, every toe-curling kiss he gives.

“But after I wrote those resolutions, something was still missing. The one thing I wanted to do more than anything else. That’s why I added that last one.”

“Bucky – ”

“Not just yet,” he whispers. “Last one. Can you check my right pants pocket?”

Smooth satin lining brushes your trembling fingers, until they connect. It feels velvety soft and before you can think, you pull it free.

There it is.

Sitting in the palm of your hand, is a blue velvet jewellery box. Heart thumping wildly, you stare at the box and mutely look up at Bucky. He watches your reaction, his expression raw and vulnerable. Picking the box from your numb fingers, he cracks it open and you see the ring nestled inside. Looking back to him, you see his throat bobbing as he swallows twice, before he can speak.

“I knew it back in January, that’s why this was my last resolution. Sack the fuck up – and ask her,” he takes a deep breath, his eyes burning into yours. “I love you, honey. I swear I’ll never, ever stop loving you. So, how about it? You wanna be my forever?”

If the only thing you get to see the rest of your life, is that beautiful smile on his face, it’s enough. The answer comes easy, so simple, because it’s Bucky.

“Yes. Good god, yes, of course! Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

Tipping his head back, he shouts his excitement to the heavens. Taking out the ring, he chucks the empty box over his shoulder and slips it on your finger.

Two kisses follow, one above the diamond, and one below.

He sags with relief, rubbing his neck ruefully. “Jesus I was nervous, no clue how to ask, nothing seemed good enough – ”

“Stop,” you interrupt him, covering his mouth. He narrows his eyes and licks your hand.

“You fucking weirdo,” you giggle and wipe your slobbery palm on his face. “This was perfect, Bucky. You are perfect. And this? Best. Proposal. Ever.”

Above you, midnight arrives with an explosion of colour, fireworks streaking in red and green and gold and blue, but you barely notice.

In the frosty air of a brand new year, the love of your life and the warmth of his kiss are the only things you need.

*****

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