Deadly Silence ||Black Noir x Reader||

Chapter 50

Years had passed since that night in Miami, and Y/N's life had settled into something that almost felt normal — at least, as normal as life could get with a masked assassin showing up at your house every week. She'd carved out a decent routine for herself, working part-time as a detective while pretending she wasn't still running from her past. But she wasn't really running anymore, not since Black Noir started visiting.

Noir never said anything, but he didn't have to. His visits were consistent, every week without fail. He'd show up, silent as ever, and they'd spend the time together. Sometimes they'd watch old movies, and sometimes they'd just sit in comfortable silence. Other times, well... things would get more intense, in ways she couldn't have ever imagined when she first started this strange journey.

At first, it freaked her out — having him there, lurking in the shadows of her new life. But over time, it became a comfort. She wasn't alone, even though Noir didn't exactly fit the usual definition of a supportive partner. He had his quirks. Like how he still wouldn't take his mask off, unless on particular occasions. And how he'd disappear for days at a time without any explanation. But she knew who he was, and that was enough.

Miami suited her, and it seemed to suit him, too. They had their little routines — late-night strolls along the beach when the city was quiet, sneaking into her favorite hidden spots for takeout, and just hanging out on her couch, Noir always maintaining that quiet, watchful demeanor.

Y/N didn't ask questions. She didn't need to. The life they'd built together was unconventional, but it worked. Noir didn't push her for answers, and she didn't pry into his business with Vought. She knew he was still tied to that mess somehow, still in the mix of the superhero world. But when he was with her, it felt like they could escape all that, even if just for a while.

There were nights when he would stay with her, never really sleeping but always close by. She would wake up and find him watching over her, his presence a silent protector. It was weird at first, but now she found it kind of comforting. No one was going to mess with her while Noir was around.

Then, one day, out of sheer curiosity or maybe because she wanted to see the reaction, she asked him to come with her to a therapy session. She'd been seeing the same therapist for years, and the woman had already heard more about her complicated life than most would ever want to know. But she had never met Noir.

To Y/N's surprise, he agreed.

The session was... interesting. Noir sat in the corner of the room, looming in silence while Y/N tried to act like it wasn't the weirdest thing ever to have her masked lover just hanging out while she unpacked her trauma. The therapist, bless her heart, did her best to remain professional, but Y/N could see the shock on her face the second Noir walked in.

The whole session was a mix of awkward pauses and long stretches of silence, with the therapist occasionally glancing at Noir, like she was trying to figure out what to make of him. After all, it wasn't every day someone like Black Noir just showed up to therapy.

When the session ended, Y/N couldn't help but laugh on the way out. "You totally freaked her out," she teased, nudging Noir as they walked down the street. Of course, he said nothing, but she could sense the amusement in the way he walked next to her.

After that, life continued. The routine visits, the moments of connection. Y/N sometimes wondered how the hell she had ended up here, but she didn't question it too much. The world was a fucked-up place, and if having a mute ninja as a sort-of boyfriend was her version of normal, she'd take it.

It was a late Friday night when Noir showed up again, his presence announced by the familiar creak of the door. Y/N was in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine when she felt him. She didn't need to turn around to know he was there, but she did anyway, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

"Right on time," she said with a grin, raising her glass in a mock toast. Noir moved silently toward her, his gaze never leaving hers. He towered over her like always, his presence both intimidating and comforting at the same time. She could never get used to that feeling — the way he could fill a room just by being there.

"How's it going?" Y/N teased, reaching up to gently tug at his mask. He didn't flinch, didn't pull away, just let her have her moment. She knew he wouldn't take it off, but that was okay. She didn't need to see his face to know him.

As they sat down on the couch, Y/N leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. He didn't speak, just wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. It was their usual way of communicating — no words, just actions.

"You know," she began, her voice soft, "I used to think this would all come crashing down one day. That you'd get tired of showing up here, or I'd finally move on and forget about all the shit from our past. But here we are." She chuckled lightly, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. "Guess we're stuck with each other, huh?"

Noir's hand moved to her hair, his fingers threading through the strands in a way that made her heart ache just a little. She knew he felt the same. He wouldn't keep coming back if he didn't.

Later that night, as they lay in bed together, Y/N found herself staring up at the ceiling, her mind wandering to all the places they'd been, all the danger they'd faced.

"I love you." she whispered, her words barely audible in the dark. She didn't expect a response — Noir didn't do that. But she didn't need one. His arm tightening around her waist was answer enough.

The weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years. Noir kept coming back, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. He never stayed too long — just enough to remind her he was still there, still watching over her.

One day, out of sheer madness, Y/N invited Noir to another therapy session AGAIN. She couldn't resist the urge to see the look on her therapist's face when Noir walked in again. This time, though, it was different. They weren't just two broken people trying to figure out their shit. They were a team.

As they sat in the therapist's office, Noir silent as ever and Y/N trying not to laugh, she realized something: this was her life now, and she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Noir might not have been the typical happy ending, but he was hers. And that was enough.

As they left the office, Y/N slipped her hand into Noir's, feeling the warmth of his skin through his glove. She glanced up at him, a soft smile was on her lips.

"I guess we're doing okay, huh?" she teased lightly.

Noir said nothing, but the way he gently squeezed her hand said it all.

They didn't need words. They never had. They just needed each other. And in the end, that was all that really mattered.

The end.