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babylooneytoonz · 3 years

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Warnings: These two just can't stop fighting // them being adorable // poor jokes

Please find all the other links to other parts in the Master list.

You looked at yourself in the mirror for probably the tenth time. Were you looking trashy ? Not really. You ran your hands through your hair, ruffling them up just the right amount so that they looked bouncy as your fingers moved on to the lipstick. Were you looking just too plain? You groaned at youself for probably the twentieth time, but this time you grabbed the red lipstick. It was a bold choice, red lipstick, a plaid checkered shirt, and a pencil jeans, not to forget your heels, that you never really wore.

"Damn girl, you really look great," Wanda tossed herself against your mattress, her eyes plastered on you. "Lucah will go crazy, I tell you."

"How do you even know this guy again?" You raised your eyebrow, looking at her through your mirror, as you slid your glasses back on and scanned at yourself one last time.

"He was Pietro's bestfriend."

You noticed Wanda zone out, probably lost in some old memories. You knew memories were bitches; so it was better not to scratch them up, so you decided to change the topic.

"Is he hot?"

"Smokin'." Wanda smirked, propping herself up as she walked up to you, "Think a strong , muscular back, veiny arms, the guy can flex, sandy blond hair."

"Jeez, I can really picture Steve right now."

Your words were enough to send Wanda into a snort, followed by a carefree laugh as she shook her head.

"Na, Steve is more, I don't know, decent looking? Lucah, I'd say he's 21st century, Steve likes jazz, Lucah likes R&B. They're like poles apart?"

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but since you already texted him three times just to make sure he arrived on time to pick me up, I'm sure the guy is probably waiting for me right now." You grinned, grabbing your purse. As if on cue, Friday's voice rang through your room, informing you that your date had arrived downstairs to pick you up and Wanda's grin just widened.

"I'll see you later, babe, have fun." She winked teasingly and you gave her a last smile before you practically ran out towards the elevator.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Wanda was right, the guy looked handsome. He was just the right amount of handsome, and you did look good when you sat clinging to him while he rode his motorcycle through town, all the efforts you had put into setting your hair down the drain. He had complimented you, the first thing he saw you, how beautiful you were, and who were you kidding, it had been ages someone had said that, and you were already blushing a scarlet red. When he asked you if you had something planned out for the day for you had already communicated through Wanda that you were planning the date this time, you gave him a tight lipped smile.

Thus, the two of you found yourselves seated at an open air cafe that was directly in front of the entrance of the movie theater, on the opposite side of the road.

So far, the date wasn't going good. Of course, you were sitting there, right across from him, giving him the most bored looks ever. Not that he was bad, maybe you just weren't feeling it, or you had been off the market and under the radar for so long, you had forgotten what made a date a really fabulous date. Also, your eyes found themselves trailing over the cineplex doors, wondering when the afternoon show of the only movie that was playing there today will get over.

"So, Y/N, the Avengers huh? How does it feel to be one of them?" Lucah just said, trying to lighten up the weirdness that was already bubbling up inside of you. On the table, in front of you, your untouched plate of fries, and a cappuccino lay, while he was happily gobbling up the nachos, at a pace much faster than yours.

Your breath left your lips rather loudly, when you finally saw the doors open, and people started to tumble out, discussing the movie and mostly critiquing it.

"Hey, are you listening -"

Your eyes lit up in excitement, when you saw just the people your eyes had been waiting to see, followed by an obvious scowl that crept up on your lips. Bucky had his arm wrapped around her still, and although he didn't appear to be smiling, he wasn't frowning either, so you assumed that he did have a good time, except for when he looked at her with slight irritation when she would bring up her palm, holding two popcorns between her fingers as she tried feeding him.

"Cringy as fuck," you blurted out in a low annoyed voice, and Lucah just looked at you, his frown now obvious as he turned to follow your gaze to look at what you were looking at, or who.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"Life of an Avenger, I meant."

He nodded and sat back, staring down at his hands. He wasn't sure suddenly why he was even here, and hadn't he left already. Although you were pretty, he was sure of that, he didn't really seem to find you interesting and you only seemed like you were distracted, looking around, not even having your fries, that laid abandoned on the table.

Suddenly, Bucky's eyes, like a magnet flew towards you, but you at the right time, you turned your gaze away, fixing it on Lucah and leaned forward, reaching out and placing your palm on his hand that was laying on the table. You threw out the sauciest smiles that you could, parting your lips, your tongue sneaking out and moistening your lower lip. Slowly, you stood up and cleared your throat, you knew that Bucky was watching you now, you could feel his burning gaze on you.

You walked over to where Lucah was seated, round the table; and boy, did he look scared at what you were going to do, and not to mention, totally confused. You didn't understand what got into you, it was like you were suddenly on fire, and you wanted to put on a good show, for Bucky's eyes. You lowered yourself on Lucah's lap, his arm snaking around your waist in reflex. He didn't push you away, he was so startled, and even before he could push you away, you didn't give him the time; you smashed your lips against his, leaning down on him, your nails almost digging into his shoulder, your other hand holding him by his head, your fingers matted into his hair.

Bucky kept watching, from afar. His eyes had darkened two shades, and his face had a look, a look that said, if anyone would even dare mess with him now, he would rip them apart into pieces. He let out a frustrated grunt, and the woman next to him stopped blabbering and looked at him, frowning at his sudden outburst.

"Let's go and eat at that cafe, I'm starving," Bucky grumbled, under his voice, grabbing the woman's hand and walking her towards the open roof cafe, eyeing the table just next to yours.

As Bucky and the woman passed you by, he intentionally cleared his throat so loudly, you had to break your kiss, but the smug smirk on your lips meant that you knew that what you wanted to do had had the desirable effect on him, and that was what made you feel even more better.

"Well, that was nice," You brought your palm up to Lucah's cheeks, your thumb grazing against the stain that your ravaged lipstick had left against his soft, plump ones. You finally stood up again, straightening your dress, and running your hands through your hair until you walked back to your chair, sliding down against it. Your breathing was hitched, your ears felt warm, and your cheeks were heating up.

"I don't get it these days, with people and their cheap, corny as fuck public display of affection." Bucky suddenly began, causing you and Lucah to snap your head towards the table next to you; your eyes narrowed. Bucky just sat there, lounging against the back of the chair, sipping on some soda through the straw, his eyes fixed on the blonde.

"Well, excuse me but are you talking about-" Lucah began to speak in a low voice, but you cut him off, reaching oit for Lucah, until you had taken his hand, your fingers coiled with his.

"You know some people are just so closed off, they would suck at this PDA thing, and knowing they can't do it, they just like to comment on others," you said those words loud enough so Bucky could hear them, and then you grabbed a fry, tossing it into your mouth, sitting back more comfortably. If anyone could see the scene unfurl, it would have been hilarious to watch.

"Maybe we just have more class, and prefer to fool around at more private places."

If you had eyes on your side, you would sure have seen the widest smirk on Bucky's face. But even without taking a look at him, you knew he was smirking.

"Private places? Like what? The back of a theater? Who even does that? What are you? Like 16? Get a room," you snapped.

"Well, you have a room, but do you have a partner to share it with?"

Before you could come back with a reply to what Bucky had just said, your eyes skid to where Lucah was. He had stood up, making a ruckus with his chair, to snap you out of whatever you had going on. He cleared his throat, slammed a few notes for the date on the table, and walked off, his leather jacket dangling from his shoulder. He, however, made his way to the blonde sitting opposite Bucky, who had a clear scowl on her face.

"Maybe you would like to get another table? And we could just leave them alone?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," the woman stood up, clearly giving Bucky the cold shoulder and she unzipped her purse, and pulled out a few dollars, almost throwing them into Bucky's face. He was taken aback, and was ready to say something to her, when you suddenly called out, "Hey blondie, you do realize that metal arm can choke you right? And I'm not talking about choking you in bed. The guy took you to the movies, the least you can do is be a little respectful."

Their heavy footsteps vanished away; and you finally craned your neck towards Barnes, your eyes finally meeting his. He had an amused look playing on his face. It wasn't a smirk, but it wasn't a smile either. It was a mix of them both.

"What?" You mumbled, in a low voice, reaching out and grabbing your fry.

"Mhm, nothing, just wondering why you defended me."

Another fry was awkwardly stuffed into your mouth, followed by a sip of your cappuccino.

"So I could be the one to insult you the next time."

A silence fell on the two of you and now, you averted your eyes. You didn't want to look at him, so now you didn't know what he was doing, or what he was probably thinking. You could hear him aimlessly tapping his palm against the table but the sound suddenly stopped. You heard him stand up, and then he moved to the chair that laid abandoned in front of you, pulling it out and propping himself down against it.

"Well, it's just the two of us now, and that's a lot of fries, you sure you can eat them alone?" Your lips twitched, but you bit on your tongue to control yourself from giving him the widest smile that you could give him, as you saw his hand inching towards your plate. You swatted his hand with yours at the exact time he grabbed a fry, but he was fast, he had already pulled back and pushed the fry into his mouth.

"Don't put your fingers into my fries, I don't even want to think about the places your, uh, fingers have been while back at the movies." You made a gagging face, and Bucky's face turned red for a second, and he just started coughing, and grinning at the same time.

"We were watching Wall-E."

"Are you fucking kidding me? That's-"

"The only place my fingers were was into the bucket of caramel popcorn. Who the hell prefers caramel anyway?"

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

"I can't believe it," you smirked; almost widening your eyes in the most dramatic way while Bucky just rolled his eyes and shook his head, looking at you. "You've been fucking around with that one for weeks, and you've not even asked her what her name was?"

"She did tell me her name, I just forget. It was Maggie or Pastry, I don't even remember. Who the hell is even called Pastry?"

"Barnes, my cat's name was Pastry, are you fucking saying it wasn't a good name?"

"For a human, not a cat." He just smirked, leaning forward.

You were sitting on a swing, your heels laying abandoned next to where Bucky sat on a bench, from where he could see you; your feet grazing against the dew on the grass. It was pretty late at night, well not that late, but it was almost dinnertime.

"Who the hell named you Bucky? You don't even have buck teeth."

"Really? Was that supposed to be a joke?" He smirked, leaning forward, his elbows resting against his knees, his hair falling against his eyes.

"Yeah well, you know. Bucky, buck teeth, it rhymes?" Maybe it was the two bottles of beer that the two of you had, but it annoyed you how he was in his complete senses and here you were, making weird cringy jokes that didn't even make sense.

"I thought you hated me."

You stopped swinging abruptly, when you heard him, his words slowly sinking him. Groaning to yourself, you stood up, and walked up to where he was, lowering yourself next him to him, staring at the swing that was still moving lightly.

"You give yourself too much importance, Barnes. Besides, you started this whole thing in the first place."

You couldn't see his expressions now, but you could feel him lost in a deep thinking. At a slow pace, you turned your head to face him and you saw that he was staring at the starry sky, thinking.

"I don't get it. You're a freaking super soldier, you're supposed to be strong, and you're supposed to be pain tolerant, and you whined about me burning your fucking abs for days."

He suddenly snapped his head towards you, whatever he was thinking before this now abandoned. His eyes were narrowed, and his lip almost twitched, in annoyance before he grumbled, "that was my favourite tshirt. And besides, I was sort of having a bad day."

You stood up, turning around so you were now looking down at him, a frown having paved it's way over your forehead and your hands fixed on your hips.

"You fucked with my mind, you made me look like a freaking joke in front of Steve, just because you had a fucking bad day?"

He shook his head, almost grumbling under his breath, wondering why he had let you drink.

"And who do you think you were back at that simulation training?"

"Well that was different- "

"How? Care to explain?"

You couldn't believe it, the nerves on this man. You almost gasped, taking a step away from him, draping your arms over your chest.

"You knew what clearing that certification meant to me."

"Well, doll. Being an Avenger means everyone fends for themselves; it was a fair fight, but you didn't want to play fair, and that's your fault."

While Bucky just deadpanned, his face giving you a look of disapproval, you just curled your lips into a snicker, almost throwing your head backwards, so you could let out a laugh.

"Look who's talking."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Bucky shrugged.

"How fair would you think messing with someone's weights at the gym is?"

Now it was your turn to smirk, and your smirk even widened when you saw a sudden look of discomfort flash against the man's face, which he quickly masked by pulling on his cold and emotionless expression, "I don't understand."

"Sam told me, you prick. You messed with my weights, you wanted to get back at me. Don't you dare tell me this was all my fault. When I just wanted to fucking make things right."

"Yeah, make things right? I can see how you made things right." His knuckles cracked, and his jaw squared, as he towered over you.

"Well, I would've, if you weren't busy getting into that bitch's pants, whatever her name was."

"Pastry."

"You've gotta be kidding me, who the fuck names a child Pastry?"

Bucky sighed, for probably the tenth time, and ran his fingers through his hair. Women, they always suprised him; and the women he met, they were all different and unique in the most weird ways, like this one standing right in front of him. She was just plain weird, and psychotic. But he couldn't deny, even with her weird psychotic ways, she was slowly growing on him.

"The point is?" He raised a brow.

"Well, the point is, Sergeant, I came to your room, to make this right. But you were so excited to go on this lousy date."

"You really hate that I went on a date with her right? Why don't you go on a real date with me then?"

His palms grabbed your arms, and he pulled you closer, his blues staring into your (Y/E/C).

You swallowed the bile in your throat, and parted your lips. Words wouldn't come out though, it was as though your throat had constricted and you couldn't speak. You were like a ferocious animal cornered, you wanted to bite but you couldn't, so you just gave him a glare, furrowing your brows, and flaring your nostrils just a bit.

"Atleast be a man and kiss me when I know you're dying to do it for a long time, Barnes."

"You've gotta be kidding-"

Bucky couldn't complete his sentence; not when you had smashed your lips against his surprisingly soft ones. He tasted like peppermint, and cinnamon, a taste you could not put a name to, but whatever it was, it was just right.

You finally pulled away, almost gasping for air, and the expression on Bucky's face was just priceless. His jaw slightly hung, and you could see that his lips were parted, confusion reflecting in his expressions. But at the same time, his cheeks had a faint tint of red, and he licked his lips, relishing in the aftermath of the kiss.

You took a step away, and turned around, casually skipping along the grass, until you were down on the swing again, and he just kept staring at you.

You really were the weirdest one he had met.

"Oh, and bdw, I know you checked out my ass that day at the gym. Hope you liked it."

If you could compare Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes face with a tomato, you wouldn't have been able to decide which one was redder.

(Author's Note- I am so sorry this was so long! I was practically giggling when I wrote this chapter. They remind me so much of Tom & Jerry, I just can't. 🤣Anyway, I hope you guys liked this. 💗 )

Permanent Bucky Barnes Taglist :

@really-dont-forget-it

@thepeakygurl

@all-art-is-quite-useless

@baumarvel

@janajjj

@chipilerendi

@nyotamalfoy

@skittychat

Want to be added to my taglist? Please fill up a form on this link. 💗

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader

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kyber-kisses · 4 years

Text

I, Alone (Part 6)

Dean Winchester x Reader

wanna start from the beginning? Here is the masterlist!

Warnings: more of that fine ass yearning. . . And more angst.

Summary: Music brings back more memories for Dean as he continues to search for the person he lost, while the reader begins to give up her hold on life.

A/n: I honestly have no idea how i feel about this chapter, so please tell me what you thought! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

“9:30? Are you kidding me Sam?” Dean grumbled to himself, glancing down at his watch as he slid the rest of the groceries into the back seat. “You asked me to go on a supply run at 9:30 in the morning?”

He should be in bed right now still sleeping. . . Or better yet: trying to figure out who this mystery person was that he was searching for.

But no. His brother sent him out for groceries because it was “his turn”or whatever.

Shaking his head Dean flipped the keys in his hand before sliding into the front seat of Baby and jamming the keys into the ignition. The vehicle roaring to life along with the radio. Dean grimaced at the tune as he reversed out of the parking spot and turned towards home.

“Alright, who the fuck was messing with the dials-“ he sighed, taking one hand off the wheel to direct the radio back to its usual station. . . Before he paused, suddenly caught up in the tune.

Ain't no use in calling out my name, boy

I can't hear for you any more

He didn’t understand why the tune suddenly pulled at him, but it did. His hand dropping from the radio dial as he glanced at it in confusion. He wasn’t particularly fond of this music normally but he couldn’t bring himself to change it. It felt familiar.and he had no clue as to why.

When your rooster crows at the break of dawn

Look out your window and I'll be gone

You're the reason I'm traveling on

Shaking his head Dean turned his attention towards the road once more, tapping his fingers to the tune as he drove towards home. Maybe it would come to him if he left it on. Sam was probably gonna think he was crazy when he tried to explain this later. Eventually he found himself humming along, finding the song more familiar as it continued. He had a connection to this song, he could feel it in his bones.

It ain't no use in calling out my name

I can't hear you any more

I'm a-thinking and a-wond'rin' walking down the road

And before Dean could even realized it he was finishing the lyrics, his brain going into auto pilot. “I once loved a woman, a chi-”

The second the lyrics left his mouth he froze, mouth snapping shut as he looked back to the radio with wide eyes.

“I once loved a woman.” He repeated, taking a big gulp of air as it finally hit him. “Holy shit.” And like a switch being flicked he suddenly pressed his foot to the gas and tore off down the dirt road towards home, paying no mind to the speed limit.

The next few minutes when by like a blur as Deans mind raced and then suddenly he was throwing the impala in park and racing towards the bunker door, swinging it open with such force that it made the younger Winchester jump from his seat in the library.

“Dean, what the hell?!”

“It’s a woman!”

“What?”

“I said-“ Dean paused, taking his time as he raced down the metal steps and into the war room. “It’s a woman. The missing pictures. The missing person.” Panting he placed his hands on his knees, gulping in air.

Closing his book, Sam slowly slid from his seat, working his way down the steps towards his brother. “And how did you figure that out?”

“Bob Dylan.”

“What?”

“It- never mind. Just pay attention to the fact that I’m slowly figuring this all out.” Dean waved a hand before falling back into one of the vacant seats. Sam pulling out his own chair so he could sit besides him.

It had taken a few days, but Sam had slowly begun to believe Dean about his missing person, doing his best to help in whatever way possible. But as he waited for Dean to catch his breath he could also see his face beginning to fall, his excitement slowly being taken over by worry.

“Dean?”

Apart from his bouncing knee, Dean remained still. He could feel his heart threatening to break out from the confines of his chest as he took a deep breath, ignoring his brother besides him. He had been fine a second ago. Why did he suddenly feel so scared?

“I’m scared Sam.”

“Why?”

“Because what if she’s dead? What if she been dead for a long time and I’m only now just remembering her?”

“Hey, don’t say that-“

“Or what if she’s alive but she’s hurt? What if she’s been scared and alone and all I’ve been doing is sitting here forgetting she even existed?”

“Dean-“

Dean could feel the burn of oncoming tears as he continued to bounce his knee, eyes focusing on some point in the distance. “I fear for her Sam. What if shes trying to come home but she can’t? What if she alone?” He repeated, dragging a shaky hand through his hair. “She should be here with us. She should be home where it’s safe.”

Sam let out a sigh as he squeezed his brothers shoulder, Dean whipping around to look at him with glossy eyes. “We’re gonna figure this out.”

“I love her Sam. I don’t know her name or who she is, but I love her. I know I do. I can feel it in my bones.”

“I believe you.” Sam nodded, his heart breaking at the sight of his older brother. Dean looked scared. . . And so very, very frightened.

“You do?”

“Yeah. Have you heard anything from Cas lately? He might’ve found something on his Heaven business?”

“No. I haven’t.” Dean let out a sigh, his head hanging as he raked his hands through his hair once more.

“Well then in the mean time I’ll help you figure this out, okay?”

“Okay.”

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Three days. That how long you had been locked in that cellar. At least that is what it felt like. You had been trapped in the dark for what felt like forever, the cold and musty air of the root cellar being your only companion.

Why you weren’t dead you didn’t understand. You were sure the second that poltergeist wrapped it’s icy fingers around you that you were about to meet you end. . . But instead you ended up here, with a temple crusted in dried blood and what felt like bruises around your neck. Your pack was gone along with your head lamp so you had no way of patching yourself up.in other words, the situation you were in was not a good one. At all.

Most people in this situation would be scared shitless at this point. . . But not you. You were just tired. You had tried getting out for awhile but eventually gave up, too weak to even attempt to break down the massive wooden door of the cellar. If you died here so be it. Nobody would miss you. You would just be another one of the many unfortunate victims of the poltergeist. Sure you weren’t very fond of dying alone in the dark, but what else were you supposed to do?

Sliding back down the hard stone wall, you let your butt hit the dirt, pulling your knees into your chest. The only noise coming from the rumble of your stomach. You couldn’t remember the last time you had eaten, but clearly it hadn’t been in awhile.

During the first several hours you weren’t that bothered by it all. You only found it to be a mild inconvenience. . . And then you realized how quiet it was. And you hated it. From the moment you left the bunker you tried to fill every moment with noise, whether it be the radio or staying in the noisiest part of whatever town or city you were staying in.

Silence was your enemy because it only allowed you to hear everything going on inside your head. When it was silent you thought of home. You thought of Sam and Dean.

And that was a whole other type of pain that you could not take. They were the past and you couldn’t go back.

But sometimes when the silence got really bad, like now for instance, you talked to yourself. . . Sometimes even pretending Dean was sitting there besides you, listening. He was always good at that. It gave you a small dose of comfort.

“My mama used to tell me that when you dream about someone it’s because they miss you.” You spoke softly, trying to fill the quiet air around you. “A few weeks ago I dreamt you and I were walking through downtown Lebanon, your hand on the small of my back. I can’t remember what I said but you laughed so hard you threw your head back with a smile that out shined the sun. I told you how beautiful your soul was and you kissed me on the mouth with so much passion my bones shook.” Feeling the tears begin to track down your dirt smeared face you paused.

That dream had been both nice and horrible at the same time. It was nice to momentarily live in a world were Dean loved you back in the same way you loved him, but that just made waking up that much crueler. He didn’t love you like that. He never had. Never would.

“When I woke up my eyes were filled with tears because I never got to tell you what being in love with you really felt like. I never got to hold you the way I wanted to so badly.” At the sound of your voice breaking you paused once more, using the heel of your hand to rub at your eye. God, you were so tired. “I wish I still believed my mom. That me dreaming of you meant you missed me. But I know it’s too good to be true. That’s not how this thing works.”

You wanted to cry more,let it all out, but you were so dehydrated that your tears had already come and gone. You were too weak to do anything, so instead you slid further to the ground, curling up in hopes of finding some warmth in the cold cellar.

If this was where you were going to die you wanted Death to take you quickly and painlessly. No one was coming to save you, you were childish to think that your little trick would work when you were being attacked.

Humming a familiar tune to yourself you closed your eyes, exhaustion taking over.

It ain't no use in turning on your light, babe

That light Id never known

And it ain't no use in turning on your light, babe

I'm on the dark side of the road

And that’s when you felt the pain and hunger drag you under, reality slipping through your fingers like sand as you lost yourself to a heavy and dreamless sleep, drowning in darkness.

You were unconscious by the time the old wooden door was blown open, the silhouette of an old friend taking up the threshold and blocking the full moon just beyond.

So maybe your small trick had worked. . . But you didn’t know that.

SPN Taglist (still open!)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy @idksupernatural @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo @xoxoaudreymarie @greenarrowhead @mrsjenniferwinchester @mysticalfuncollectorus @brebolin @biahblue

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #spn x reader #dean winchester series #dean winchester angst #supernatural #bi-danvers writing

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honeyhenry · 4 years

Text

traitor - b.b (part 5)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

A/N: oooo one more part to goooo and perhaps an epilogue! this one took me ages and i am so sorry but i hope it makes up for it! also i tried to check and edit it but its literally 1am soooo any mistakes are also mine lol

Faint bruises. Tangled hair. He has nothing to lose.

‘You have no idea how much I wish he was mine too’

Bucky tenses, aware of the tiny grip still clutching onto his hand, now fiercely protective of the wide eyed baby he has loved so fully since he first knew of them.

‘You shouldn’t be here, Steve’

He doesn’t need a long winded explanation from the man who is in competition for this child’s parentage. But as his friend, a reminder of what the Captain once meant to Bucky, he owes Steve at least the chance to provide an answer as to what the fuck has been going on behind his back.

However, Bucky’s thoughts don’t always line up with the words that end up leaving his mouth, and he starts rambling on, finding that he is only so emotional and angry when his family are involved.

‘Have you come to gloat about it then? Was cheating on your own wife with mine not enough?! Could you not have knocked up your own wife and saved all this bullshit?’

Steve’s heart plunges as he takes a seat on the rocking chair - noting its similarity to the one he had planned on building last year in his own house, next to his own room, for his child.

‘I-I did.”

“What? You sayin’ you did sleep with my wife you damn punk?!”

“No!” he cries, just as Bucky heads towards Steve, his metal hand curled into a fist so tight that he’s glad the baby can’t see over the edge of the crib to view the man he recognised as safe become the dangerous weapon he had hoped had vanished without a trace.

“I did...I did get my own wife pregnant, I did. We were…she, she was due a month before y/n was.’

Steve doesn't have to say what happened or “she lost it” for Bucky to understand. He’s glad Steve doesn't have to.

The Captain swallows back the heavy emotion caught in his throat, choking out the rest of his sentence as if he was struggling to breathe; ‘Our baby sweetpea. God, nothing can compare to that love you feel, you know? When you find out after trying and getting a nursery set up and nicknames and just thinking of everything they could someday be. We were so excited, and then to hear that y/n was due the month after us and- and everything was meant to be okay.’

Bucky remembers throwing each and every punch at this broken shell of a man only days ago, who was crumbling before him once more, but this time purely in an emotional sense, not physical, as the strong barrier he’d put up to protect himself and his wife was being demolished bit by bit at each passing second of his confession.

‘Steve..fuck Steve I never in-’ he tries to speak but he stops. It wouldn’t do any good. He can’t bring the Rogers’ baby sweetpea back. And nothing will.

‘Buck, I need you to understand that your son is not mine. I spent the two days before leaving for the mission with my own wife. Nothing happened I swear, i didnt even see y/n. We’re just trying to piece everything back together but its been a year and...I don’t think its gonna happen for us.’ He sobers up, sniffing after the slow fall of tears tracing down his face come to a halt.

Bucky knows he’s been a real punk, an asshole, deserving of a good beating himself. He should’ve been there helping his friend get through such hard times, not beating him up over false accusations.

“Steve, don’t say that. Sometimes it can just take a little while. I’m always around to talk. End of the line, et cetera.”

He pats his friend on the back as they embrace in a tender hug. A silent promise to each other that there’ll be no further miscommunication or bitter, unsaid words.

The two men peer over the crib, and Bucky smiles sadly at the blue eyed beauty resting there. It was a comfortable silence, gazing at his namesake, until Steve piped up with a chuckle.

‘He’s gonna have your hair y’know. Your ma always showed me pictures back in the day and you were blonde before you were even walkin’.” Bucky grins, remembering the pictures laden on the windowsill of his childhood home, showcasing a happy toddler James. The normalcy of the moment is comforting. “And he has your hands” Steve continues,”He’s a sturdy little guy, he’s gonna be so much fun, Buck. He's already big for his age, too.”

Bucky can quickly understand why Steve is so knowledgeable on this topic, and how he can so easily reassure him, realising that for 2 sweet months, Steve had thrown himself into the role of ‘daddy’ to his own unborn child. The Sergeant goes to apologise again, still barely able to understand his pain but fully aware that his best friend did not deserve this.

“Steve, I can’t even begin to describe to you how sorry I am, from the bottom of my heart...I trust you, I do. I just- JJ is my weakness. I can’t lose him, or y/n. He’s our little piece of heaven.”

The father moves to wrap his hands under the armpits of his baby, picking up the round cuddly boy who coos and kicks his fat little legs. He rests happily in Bucky’s arms, knowing he is safe, surrounded by love, and at home. He rests a hand on Bucky’s cheek and beams a sweet smile towards his Daddy.

“Hi buddy, yeah it’s daddy, daddy’s got you now, and look! Uncle Stevie is here!” He turns the sweet babe in his arms towards Steve, who smiles goofily, as Bucky plants a kiss on JJ’s cherubic cheek. They play around a little with JJ, the baby heartily laughing every time Bucky made him fake-punch Steve in the chest or face. After a while, as JJ settles against his father’s chest, revelling in the comfort Bucky provides, Steve quirks his head up, a question coming to mind that he hadn't thought to ask.

“Who even put that idea into your head anyways?”

“...Sam.”

“Buck...Sam?! You can’t have thought jack about anything that Sam has to say. He really is a bird brain sometimes, God, you really based this off of Sam, huh?”

Bucky blushes, hiding behind a soft, nervous chuckle. He really has no explanation or defence for what he did. All he knows is that he's got to resolve it.

“Steve can you take J? I’ve got a Momma to apologise to”

Bucky is quiet as he moves downstairs, leaving Steve to play contently with his Godson. He hopes he finds you soon, and he prays to God you will forgive him for the utter mess he has needlessly created.

"Y/n? Honey? Where are you?”

He checks the living room, the kitchen, the hallways.

All to find no sign of you.

“Baby I’m getting scared here, if this is to get back at me then I’m sorry! I’m dying out here-”

He halts.

A single sob can be heard from the bathroom. It’s muffled but it means you’re here and you’re alive. Bucky has never felt so relieved.

“Y/N, doll please- are you alone in there? Babydoll please, let me apologise”

You take a few moments to compose yourself, and open the door. Bucky has never seen you look so small, with tear tracks dried down your cheeks from red puffy eyes.

But it’s what you say next that truly makes his heart feel like it’s been plunged into an icy cold river.

“I think it’s best you leave, James.”

------------

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes writing #marvel writing

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tarithenurse · 4 years

Text

Agent of Hope - 27

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Errors (trying to stay awake to switch to night shifts), pain, detailed violence, quite nasty hints, angst, fluff, sadness, basically everything horrible you can imagine. A/N: You’ll find the previous chapters through my masterlist. Lots of love for liking and reblogging!!

27 - Kick Ass and chew Bubble Gum

It’s a tension at the back of your knees. It’s muscles itching to work overtime – fight or flight. It’s a sour taste at the back of your mouth at the point where no amount of water can wash it away. Still it doesn’t matter because what you’re doing, your mission of sorts, is going to be worth everything.

It’s taken much too long to get to this point where your walking up the dusty lane towards an inconspicuous house in the outskirt of…where’s this again? Somewhere in Sierra Leone. You had known, memorized the town’s name as well as anything else. Memorized the plan. Now, however, it’s replaced by a memory of something that hasn’t even happened yet, making your skin crawl as cold shivers run down the spine. Red sand clings to the boots (much too warm for the temperature). Like blood.

“Something nice…” you mumble, grasping at a flicker spark of joy before it’s swallowed, “…something nice…”

Red like fiery hair. And suddenly, it’s possible to recognize the blue of the sky in the teasing sparkle of a pair of grey eyes capable of looking into your very soul, making you feel safe and at home. The churning lead in your guts lessens. Now you can let the shoulders sink and even look up towards the goal: a heavy door painted green behind which Rumlow waits.

… Rumlow …

Every single note and stick-figure drawing Brock has received from [Y/N] is kept in a tin as evidence. At first her replies had been brief, hesitant in the wording and quite confrontational…but that was to be expected. She has still to admit her feelings for him, but it’s obvious as the communication extends how she recognizes the true nature of the Avengers. Why spend resources on catching someone, when they are willing to come on their own.

Brock isn’t a fool. Far from. There’s always the risk of a double-cross, his own plan mirrored to out him or more of Hydra. And regardless of the reasoning for [Y/N] to come today, she will have to be processed and vetted before he will allow himself to trust her. But it will be much easier this time.

Watching the screen, the ex boyfriend sees the hesitation melt away from the figure to be replaced with resolution. Come to me, baby. All the other screens show…nothing. No, would-be heroes. No pesky Mister Rogers with a shield and the American flag so far up his ass that he can’t relax. No red-head traitor. All alone? It’s hard to believe, so Brock doesn’t, flicking a switch instead that light a tiny, orange diode in the two free-rooms, as the team have started calling the scan-blocking basement sections. On your marks.

There’s a muted sound of footsteps outside preceding the knocking on the door. Twice, a pause, and once. Good girl.

He’s smiling as he unlocks and pulls the door aside just a crack to see the nervousness on [Y/N]’s face, but it’s not enough to drown the stubborn set of the jaw or the air of…excitement? Eager to come home?

“What’s a girl like ya doin’ in a place like this…?” Such a cliché, but it rolls off Brock’s tongue with a neat drawl.

The hint of an eyeroll also hints at times passed. “Girl’s just wanna have fun. Nice decoy to free me up from ‘em.”

Them. Not Natasha or Steve or whatever. “Only the best for ya, as always.” She has said the password but hesitates to enter when Brock opens the door fully. “C’m’on in, babe.”

“How long we got?”

“They’re smart, but th’ain’t that smart…I’ll guess an hour.” There’s a tickle of something he can’t place in the woman’s smile. “The cool air’s escaping, get it.”

Like in a dream, she really does step over the threshold, carefully keeping a bit of distance between them. I should’ve expected that. It still gnaws inside Brock, tugs at the side of him that needs the bitch to understand, to accept her place. But he bites it back. All the anger and possessiveness is shoved deep down somewhere dark because he knows he’ll bring her to her senses. Soon.

Brock casts a brief glance to a screen out of the girl’s view showing a mix of live feeds from local and global news stations, a few of them covering the draught and the lack of safe drinking water while the majority heralds the wedding of some celebrity. No breaking news. It’s not typical of the Avengers to work quietly, especially not if the glorified tin can is flying around blasting rock music. Well…at least one of those idiots has style. Haven’t they taken the bait?

“All alone?” There’s an air of something studied mixing with the playful tone. “I’d half begun to think I was –“

“Shut up.” Thankfully, [Y/N] does as told, body ripe with fear to the point where he almost can smell it. “Why’re ya here? Really?”

“Really?” Perfect confusion. Innocence. “’Cause we’re not over yet, Brock.”

Something beeps from the console of screens and the hydra agent is about to turn to see what has caused the alarm to go off when [Y/N] reaches for him. Such a simple gesture, still it sparks an old habit in the man and he takes the hand in his for a long second – one he would wish could last forever. But he has to let go, hand slightly sticky from her sweaty touch. Another alarm begins, and he can hear the sound of the agents in the free-rooms banging on the doors though an oceans rush in his head. The world sways, unfocused. What the fuck? Oh, yeah, there comes the sea sickness even if he hasn’t felt it since he was a kid.

“You know,” [Y/N] softly whispers from far away into his ear, “when I said we’re not over…” She has a stronger grip than expect on his arm and shoulder, somehow forcing him on his knees. “I should’ve said I’m not done with you, Rumlow.”

The world might be reduced to a stormy sea, but he can still feel the nauseating pain as the shoulder dislocates. I’ve had…worse. That much is true. It’s not even the pain, really, making him sick to the stomach, rather the knowledge of what [Y/N] wants to get even for.

“[Y/N],” he slurs, the tongue too thick in the mouth, “I-I-I…lllo’ ya…” That lands his face pressed onto the dirty floor at an uncomfortable angle. She’s…holding my ass…

“No, Rumlow, you don’t love.” There’s a sound of metal against metal. “Let me demonstrate what you do.”

… Romanoff …

“Damn, sweetie…”

Even Nat is impressed, and slightly grossed out, at the creativity her girlfriend has shown. So much so, she almost feels sorry for Rumlow who’s passed out on the floor in a sticky pool of almost every bodily liquid of his own. Well if almost means not at all.

Sam had taken one look and then gone outside to hurl, and even Thor looks shocked. “My lady, your enemies will surely know not to stir your wrath from this day forth.”

“My track record with coping mechanisms isn’t great…so…” Tony can’t look at it either, but at least he hasn’t lost the bad humour. “Let me know if’t works, ‘kay?”

“Oh, it feels very…cathartic…” [Y/N] looks at the guy with a distanced calmed.

Too calm. Cathartic or not, this will undoubtedly have consequences both legally and emotionally for Rumlow’s former prisoner. None of it can be explained away as self defense. It can’t be by the time the person is face down, ass up, and the metal sheathed where the sun don’t shine.

“I’m gonna take her to the quinjet, you guys stabilize him and see if he can talk…ever…”

And so Natasha leaves the men behind, steering a dazed woman by the arm across the uneven terrain through a patch of dried out shrubs behind which the plane is waiting.

Once onboard, she observes the mechanic reactions as [Y/N] complies with every order without uttering a single word. Come back to me, baby. The former assassin can only hope that the words reach far enough, somehow breaking through the shell her girlfriend’s mind has build in record time to prevent any of the grotesque happenings from settling. Eventually the good advice of reason are spent, leaving nothing behind but an insufferable ache.

You were doing so well, why did I let you go? “I’m sorry, love,” Nat whispers hoarsely, fingers stroking the blank face, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have been here. It’s my fault, please come back. You can get through this too, alright?”

On and on, the pleas dripple out similar to a hushed prayer that knows no end. The tears falling aren’t [Y/N]’s this time because for once Natasha can’t be the strong one. Kneeling before [Y/N], she wraps her arms around the living statue’s waist and buries the face in the heat of the soft breasts where she can hear the heartbeat. Slow and steady as opposed to Nat’s own that beats so frantically, she couldn’t hold her hands still if she tried.

Some things change the very foundation of a person.

In the Red Room, the girls were taught not to show mercy, to follow orders unblinkingly even if it meant the death of an other. Though the first fatalities weren’t at the students’ own hands, they knew what the consequences were once they forced another child to give up or be flunked. The changed had already started. By the time a girl graduated, became an adult though never a woman, the transformation was completed. It was expected. A flinch. A faint taste of regret in the dark of night. Nothing more.

Outside the Red Room, for people growing up in normal lives, only a low percentage of people are prepared for the Graduation, and most of those never have to complete the change themselves. For the lucky ones, violence and unnatural death will not become a habit of theirs.

[Y/N] had been one of the lucky ones until the day Hydra captured her, placing her at the mercy of Rumlow. Her change had been forced upon her, nearly killing her in the process. Perhaps Natasha, the team, even the victim herself had been fools for thinking she would be alright and the metamorphosis never would be complete. My fault. Today had been Graduation, and the ex-Russian brought the student to the test.

“Shhh,” gentle and soothing against red hair, “It’s okay, Tash, I’m here…it’ll be okay.” Gentle fingers cart through the fiery strands, nails scraping against the scalp in a calm rhythm. “I know what I did…I’ll never do it again.”

They’re both crying as they lock gazes.

“Do you know that?” Be honest. “Have you seen it?”

“This is the first time you ask me what I’ve seen.” The smile is gentle and almost reaches the [Y/E/C] eyes. “I have to continue therapy, but yeah…never again.” Soft lips kiss the salty water away from the upturned face. “I’m all yours now.”

… Reader …

Of course the clock isn’t ticking. After ages of therapy, you should be used to that…instead it makes the silence way heavier than strictly necessary. Or maybe it’s because this session is so important? Double session, actually. Pinching your brows, you manage to divert the attention from the missing tick-tock to the bit of dirt under a nail as you wait for the team consisting of a psychiatrist and a psychologist to ask the question they want to. It’s silly really. Anyone can rehearse an answer fitting with the “need”.

“So, how are you feeling, [Y/N]?” one of them final begins, glasses dangling from between to fingers and a pen in the other hand.

You take a moment, do a mini body scan. “Right now I’m nervous…” They both nod at your answer. “Generally speaking…pretty good. Still get the odd nightmare where it’s like I’m back.”

“Back?”

“M-hm.”

They want you to define the term, but it’s fun to see them try to be correct and direct at the same time. “To when Rumlow first held you against your will or…?”

“Or when I took revenge? Both.” You give them time to scribble ferociously before continuing, “I don’t think there’s some specific reason it’s one situation instead of the other…not always at least. And the technique to guide myself away from the nightmare is beginning to work a bit.”

The glasses are pulled down again, so the Psychologist can look at you directly. “Is there a difference in the intensity?”

“No. Both…events were horrible. For different reasons, sure, but horrible. What I did…” Both doctors hold their breaths as you ponder your words. “There’s an explanation for it…but no excuse. I know that.”

With all the nodding they’re doing, it seems only fair if they get a kink in the neck eventually. Sometimes the bobble-heads ask more questions, about the house arrest in the tower or your relationship with the Avengers. They never once get into specific about Natasha and you, although it’s there like some elephant in the room. Even professionals can have issues.

By the time the two hours are up, you’ve got them smiling genuinely. Perhaps, maybe, if you’re lucky…will they clear you?

…

“Who sends letters nowadays?” Tony scoffs, dumping a big, brown envelope on the newspaper you’re reading.

Justice Department! It’s damn near impossible to tear open the thick paper because your hands a shaking so much, and when you finally do, the words barely make any sense, so you don’t protest when the genius billionaire snags it out of your hands.

It feels like forever, longer than the months you’ve waited to hear what the psychiatrist’s and psychologist’s decision is, before Tony finally looks up. “Jarvis!”

“Yes, sir.”

You can’t read his face, allowing the nerves to run amok. “Call the team, Pepper, and Happy.”

“May I inquire as to the occasion?”

“Yeah.” Finally, his face splits into a huge smile. “We’re gonna celebrate.”

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peachximagines · 5 years

Text

Princess Five 2

A/N: This was very delayed and I’m so very sorry, but there will be updates. Also, I am big-ignoring the end of Season 3 because I started this before the season came out and I got some big plans.

Hopper was livid. I managed to get home by 11:30 but the foreign jacket wrapped around my shoulders reeked of alcohol and cigarettes.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Hopper yells. I fidget with the silver zipper. “I let you go out once, Jesus Christ, once and you come back smelling like some boy?” My tongue feels heavy in my mouth. I want to speak but I feel as though I’m being choked. I want to yell that Billy’s not some boy, that he gets me and that the time we talked was the most normalcy I’ve felt since closing that fucking gate. But I didn’t. The words stayed trapped behind the prison bars that was my tongue. I bow my head, staring at my shoes.

“You drank, you were with a boy that was not Steve and you can’t even look at me.” Hopper scoffs, rubbing a hand down his face. “Can’t you see that I have these rules to protect you? Has your time at the cabin not made you realize that?” The mention of the cabin spike in my adrenaline. I can't go back. I look at him, dead in his eyes.

I’m sorry. I think, forcing the thoughts in his mind.

“I know you’re sorry, but sorry isn’t going to keep you safe.” Hopper sits at the table, the light hovering over us in an unflattering light. “Just go to bed.” I nod, leaving the small cramped kitchen. The hallway was a labyrinth as I snailed my way to my room. The effects of the alcohol weighing on my body as if I was being pulled deeper into the ground. The yellowing wallpaper taunts me, never-ending. Before I could process time or my own movements, I was pushing open my door. The twin-sized bed tucked in the corner of the room seems like heaven. Taking my cement heavy body across the room, I make the trek. The blankets consume me, letting me be absorbed into the beautiful mattress. I hope for a sleepless night but I dream of Billy and I’s conversation.

“You just move here?” The fire cast a beautiful warm glow over Billy’s skin. He was golden, laying beside me. I nod, my hands seemingly more interesting than the Adonis in front of me. The lead muscle in my mouth prevents speech.

“You really don’t talk?” Billy asks, taking another swig from the dangerous poison. I nod, again. “The strength in your neck must be insane with all the nodding you do.” A joke. I giggle before covering my mouth. The noise was an accident and it felt wrong coming from me. But Billy loved it. His eyes lit up, the fire dancing in his light eyes.

“I got a noise out of you, princess.” He whoops loudly, gaining the annoyed attention of a nearby couple. I cover my face with both hands, shaking my head furiously trying to prevent the overflow of giggles that threaten to flood the sound barrier.

“C’mon, I wanna hear another noise. You make the prettiest noises, princess,” his voice was lower, closer to me. I couldn’t see him but I knew he was smirking. The intent behind his words wasn’t the same as the meaning. I feel the same fire in my belly as I did earlier. His close proximity just added to the fire. I know now, it’s not from the alcohol.

“What’s your name? I can keep calling you ‘princess’ but that’s not only your birth certificate.” I knew this would come up. I stick my hand out and stretch out my fingers. Five. I will him to hear me. The telepathy was a new discovery, one that I hope to master.

“Your name is Five? Like the number?” he laughs loudly. It comes out in waves, each one stronger than the one before. I wring my hands, squeezing them tight. I wish I lied. Billy’s laughter died off. He sighed, leaning back against the rocks.

“Shit, I’m sorry, princess. Five’s a badass name.” Billy leans his head against my shoulder. “Badass just like you.”

“Five,” A stern voice stands over me. A dull pain drums in my head. Nothing that I haven’t experienced, still unsettling. “I have an Advil and some water for you downstairs. Get up and come to the kitchen. We need to talk.” Hopper turns away, leaving the door to my room wide. I peek out the window, the sun barely making its own appearance. The sky a dull gray, representing my whole mood. I slink out of bed, leaving the warmth and the smell of Billy. I look at the jacket tucked underneath my pillow. How can I get it back to him? I shake my thoughts away, the dull pain turning into a constant throb now that I’m vertical. I drag my feet down the hallway. I heard the clinking of metal spoons coming in contact with ceramic bowls. I half-assedly take a box of cereal from the fridge.

“You’re gonna learn to use your arms and not your powers,” Hopper grumbles, placing a bowl in front of me. I reach across the table, clutching the cool gallon of milk. It felt wrong.

“You do what you did last night again and it’s back to the cabin, do you understand me?” I nod vigorously. “I can’t protect you if you’re out getting drunk with some rich teenage nobodies. You don’t have the pleasure of being able to do shit like that.” I nod again, swallowing down the cereal. I’m sorry. I push the thought, but it felt like nails scratching a chalkboard. I flinch.

“Advil, water and more food,” I smile. “I love you kid, I swear I’m trying to protect you.” I nod again. Of course Hopper, I believe you.

“On a lighter note,” Hopper slurps the milk from his bowl. “We have to go shopping today, you need school clothes.” I jump from my chair, my headache pushed to the back burner. The long-awaited battle and anger from being cooped up are finally over. Thank you, thank you I love you, thank you. Hopper laughs. I wrap my arms around him tight, almost knocking his bowl of cereal tasting milk off the table. He returned the favor, the strong tobacco smell laced into his clothes. Just like Billy’s.

“I think you are the only kid in America excited about school.” I shake my head. The Party likes school. “And I told you not everyone is like them, kiddo.” I agree. They’re better than everyone else.

“When do I get dressed? Can we leave now?” I shove the questions at him, forcing through the could of pain-blocking them.

“Shower, then we can leave.” I have never run so fast.

The mall was packed to the brim. Pink flyers advertising Valentine’s Day were in every window.

“What is Valentine’s Day?” Hopper raises an eyebrow at me.

“Did you not learn about holidays at the lab?” I shake my head, suddenly feeling embarrassed. I bet every teenage knew what this pink and red holiday was.

“It’s basically love day. It’s reserved for couples but friends do stuff for it too.”

“You and Joyce?” I inquire, out of genuine curiosity. Hopper clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Something like that, kid.” I nod, smiling softly at the thought. “It’s coming up next month so the stores have to shove the sentiment down single folks throats.” It sounded a little bitter but I didn’t question further. Hopper keeps a watchful eye on both me and our surrounds. Surveying for threats as if I couldn’t sense them. Dustin said they’re my Spidey senses. You’re Five-y senses! He had exclaimed, very proud of himself. The mall bustle seemed to overwhelm the sheriff more than I.

“We’re okay, Hop. We’re okay.” I urge, tapping three times on his knuckles. The muscles in his slack slightly and his shoulders give. I offer him a smile.

“Love you more.”

We continue our trek through the crowds, getting a couple of outfits that would fit me better than Hopper’s old clothes and Nancy’s hand me downs. I point to the pretzel cart, dragging Hopper with me as he groaned.

“You’re trying to fatten me up, aren’t you?” He jokes, reaching into his pocket to grab his wallet.

“You did that before I came along,” I respond, bumping my shoulder into his. Hopper laughs loudly, seemingly at nothing. A bored-looking teen slides us the cholesterol destroying delights. I smile, hoping that they could feel a little dosage of happiness but not even my powers could help this teen. I’m distracted from my minor failure when I catch a glimpse of recognizable blonde. Hargrove. He has his arm around some giggling girl and they’re surrounded by pairs in similar positions. Hargrove gives girl next to him a wink, before standing and walking towards the restrooms.

“Bathroom,” I tell Hopper before shoving the pretzel in his hand and taking off. I try to focus on Hargrove’s beautiful figure in a sea of people. People block my way with no care about my passing. They give me dirty looks as I try to sneak through the slim spaces they create to get to my destination. I finally emerge from the labyrinth of people but I can’t find him. I frown, searching the crowd but he is nowhere to be seen. I walk towards the bathroom and find a water fountain. I lean over to take deep sips, disappointed in my behavior. Searching for a boy I barely know like some love-struck puppy. Disgusting. If Papa knew how I was acting, it would be the worst punishments. I’m pulled from my thoughts when my Five-y senses pick up on an approaching person. My pores open, my hair standing on edge as my blood runs seemingly cold.

“Well, well, well. Isn't this a beautiful surprise?” Hargrove. I wipe the excess water from my lips hurriedly. I try to smile like a pretty girl. “Hey, Five.” He leans next to the water fountain. Even in the most horrid of lighting he still seems to glow. It wasn’t from the warm fire last night, it was just him. I wave.

“One day I’m going to want to hear you say my name, beautiful,” he approaches me. “Say it for me, babe. Just once.” I feel like all the air has left my lungs. I want to say it but I can’t. Hargrove doesn’t seem to be disappointed though. He strokes my cheek softly. “I saw you looking at me when you were with the sheriff. Am I just that pretty?” I feel my cheeks warm and I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water. He was being bold, maybe I needed to be too. I nodded. He liked that. A lot.

“You know what, princess?” he leans over pressing his lips against my ear, “I think you’re really pretty too. The prettiest girl in this shit hole town to be honest.” I feel goosebumps disperse across my skin. I felt a need like I have never before but I didn’t know what. I swallow, loud enough that he could definitely hear.

“You’re so shy and innocent, Princess Five,” he rests a hand on my waist. The unknown feeling intensifies and I feel dizzy. “I wanna change that so bad.” I nod, not knowing what I was agreeing to. “But only for me. I want everyone to see you as this innocent little thing but I want you to be naughty for me.” He presses a kiss to my jaw before backing away. I want to pull him back towards me.

“I’ll be at the quarries tonight around midnight. Just me. I hope to see you there.” I nod again, the only thing I seem to be able to do.

#billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove x reader #Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x oc #stranger things imagine #stranger things #peachximagines

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tommybaholland · 5 years

Text

Far From You | Peter Parker x reader

(:((( gif is not mine)

READ “After Ashes” FIRST

Summary: what happens after defeating Thanos?

Word Count: 4K+

warnings: angst, swearing, post-Endgame, ffh spoilers

a/n: phewww finally got this donE...i’ve been thinking about it ever since i saw ffh so im real excited to finally have written it and am now sharing it w you :’). this is also for @plushparker ‘s 2K writing challenge congrats bby!!

Prompt: “I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

––––––––––––––––––––

“We wait for Mr. Stark to save us.”

And so you waited, you and Peter.

It was pretty agonizing, to say the least. There was nothing to do but wait. You and Peter were completely alone, surrounded by orange.

“How many people do you think are also trapped here?” You asked as you cradled Peter’s head in your lap.

“Thanos said he’d wipe out half of Earth’s population, so a lot,” Peter responded with his eyes shut, enjoying the sensation of your hand playing with his hair mindlessly.

You looked up, scanning the orange horizon, still seeing nothing.

“Where is everyone? It’s just us here,” You noted.

“I’m not sure. Maybe everyone has their own section of the stone,” Peter proposed, opening his eyes to see your reaction.

You smiled, chuckling. “Then it’s kind of a miracle that we got to have our own little section together.”

Peter smiled back, sitting up and turning to lean towards you.

“Yeah, it kind of is,” he agrees.

He leans in slightly to give you a small kiss, with his suit-covered hand on you shoulder while yours came up to cradle the back of his neck.

It was scary, that unknown feeling. You might be gone forever, and never see Ned or MJ or your parents again. Peter may never see May or Tony again. You may never get to experience life, or living, ever again.

It was a hard pill you might have to swallow.

But being alone Peter was enough to get you through it, for now.

Pulling back slowly, you opened your eyes to admire your whole world, smiling at the tiny details around his eyes as you stayed close to one another.

Suddenly Peter looked behind him, as if he were anticipating something.

“Peter? What is it?”

He looked around the orange space, searching for the threat that triggered his senses, the little pulses vibrating throughout his body.

“Something’s...happening,” he voiced before lowering his eyes back to you, making sure you were okay.

You felt something on your hands, tickling in between your fingers. Looking down, your eyes widened as you saw your hands begin to crumble into dust.

“Peter! Wha—what’s—”

Your breaths became heavy as you tried to reach out to him, frantic that you would lose him again.

“I—I,” Peter didn’t know how to respond to what was happening. He watched as tears fell from your eyes, his heart breaking at the sight.

But he wanted to remain calm for you.

“I’ll find you, babe, okay? It’ll be okay. It’s going to be okay. You’re alright,” he soothed, his arms enclosing around you as you nodded.

“Peter,” you sobbed before the remaining parts of you blew away, reduced to nothing but dust.

Peter’s senses continued to pulsate through him, and he waited for something to strike, to explode, to end.

He assumed his attack position, crouched down with a fist pulled back, ready to strike whatever was coming.

“C’mon, Mr. Stark.”

The orange soon began to fade, and Peter let out several short breaths, hyping himself up for the finishing fight with Thanos.

“This is it.”

—

You woke up in a startled panic. Sitting up moments after you opened your eyes, your saw that you were back in your room, laying on your bed.

You surveyed the space, seeing that not much had changed physically, but the atmosphere was almost haunting. All of your belongings were left untouched, unmoved, unloved. Everything seemed normal, but a dull normal.

Getting up from your spot on the bed, you went over to the window to look out at the city. Lights in apartment buildings were on, cars were moving, and the night was still young. It was almost as if you dreamt the whole thing, and at this point you were considering it.

You felt uneasy.

After everything that happened, everything that Peter told you happened, something had to be different. Walking over to your desk, you looked at your pictures on the wall. Pictures of you and your friends, pretty places, you and Peter.

Was Peter any different? Did they actually do it?

Turning back to your bed, you reached over the mattress with haste to grab your phone, the screen lighting up to show the current date.

April 27, 2023

You eyes widened as you clapped a hand on your forehead.

You were gone for five years??!

It seemed like only hours, a school day at most, in the soul stone.

You unlocked your phone, clicking your way to call the last person you saw.

“Please, please, c’mon..”

“Hey, this is Peter! Leav-“

“Fuck,” you swore as you pulled the phone away from your ear, the call disconnecting, your phone shutting off from low battery.

Talk about major deja vu. Except maybe Peter would come back this time. Or maybe you wouldn’t find him in some unfamiliar place as a prisoner to an alien who wanted half of humanity dead only to come back finding out that you’d been gone five years.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring back up at the wall of photos. You weren’t even looking at them, just staring. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. The desensitization kicking in, you passed time easily and quietly.

You eventually decided to exit your room to see if your parents were there or not. You didn’t even know if they had been in the stone with you. You had no way of knowing who was there with you. Turns out they had been snapped too, leading to you explaining everything you knew about what happened.

After catching up with your parents, you went back in to your room, you intentions set on sleeping on it. Upon opening your door, you flinched as you discovered Peter, who was sitting on the edge of your bed just as you had done earlier.

“Peter!”

You exclaimed as he stood up quickly and taking a few steps to meet your embrace, tightly hugging you around the waist. Your cheek felt cool against the surface of his iron suit as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Oh my god, what happened? Did you win? Is Thanos gone? Is everyone okay?? Did you know that we were gone for five years?” You threw out a bunch of questions as you released him, getting a good look at him for the first time since he showed up in your room.

He looked like he had just stepped off the battlefield. Messy hair, dirt-smudged face, and glossy eyes adorned his features. He didn’t respond for a few moments, just looking as you as if he was trying to conjure the right words.

“Yeah,” he finally replied, stepping back to reclaim his position on your bed.

“We won. He’s gone.”

You followed his lead, sitting next to him, turning towards him with one knee up on the mattress.

“You don’t...seem too happy about it,” you commented on his forlorn tone.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention.

“How does it feel to win your first fight as an Avenger?”

You tried to perk him up, not understanding what was causing him so much...anguish.

He turned his head towards, reluctant to meet your eyes.

“He’s gone.”

“Yeah, P, Thanos is gone–“

“No,” he cut you off. You noticed tears surfacing in his eyes, darkening the chocolate brown color of the iris. Fear struck your heart trying to guess what he would say next.

“Mr. Stark is gone.”

You shook your head slightly, somewhat in disbelief.

“Wha-“

“He’s gone, y/n! Mr. Stark is gone. He’s dead! And I-I didn’t–I didn’t—“

“Shh, Peter. It’s okay.” You shushed him, pulling his head down for him to cry into your shoulder.

You smoothed down the hair in the back of his head, your other hand rubbing his back comfortingly.

“It shouldn’t have been him. I should’ve saved him, I should’ve–“

“Shh, it’s okay, babe. I’m sure you did everything you could to help,” you comforted.

It was hard to see him like this, especially when you didn’t know exactly what went down during the final battle with Thanos.

“Baby, let’s clean you up, get you out of this suit and lay down,” you offered, starting to move away from him.

“Noooo,” he whimpered, pulling you closer to him, pressing his face deeper into your shoulder.

“I just want you to hold me.”

“Peter, let’s just lay you down so you can rest, okay?”

Peter nodded into your shoulder, leaning his head up to let you move back to the head of your bed. Peter followed suit, crawling up to the other side of the bed beside you, wrapping your arms around him. You guided him to lay his head down on your chest, right over your heart. His arm was thrown over your waist, the cool metal of his fingers brushing over your hip.

He relaxed, closing his eyes as he listened to the loud thump of your heart, feeling you fingers in his hair once again. You laid there, letting everything sink in, again.

“Dr. Strange said there was only one chance for us to win,” Peter spoke up, his voice hoarse from crying.

“Why did that one chance have to be the one that killed him?”

It broke your heart that Peter watched the person he looked up to the most die. It wasn’t meant to be like this, or maybe it was.

You didn’t know what to say or how to help him. You wish you had powers, and could take away his pain. But for now, all you could do was remain calm for him.

“It’s going to be okay, P.”

—

The next eight months would prove to be tough. On everyone. And starting over the school year after the Snap didn’t help.

However, everyone who was gone adapted rather quickly once they came back. It was weird seeing people, friends and teachers, who survived the Snap and are now five years older. But you and everyone else soon returned to your day-to-day routines, acting almost like nothing happened.

Peter had it the worst.

You didn’t want to go with him to the funeral, wanting to spare yourself of the pain, but he wanted you to be there with him. He held onto your hand throughout the entire service, squeezing it every now and then to make sure you were still there.

You didn’t know Tony too well, only having seen him a few times since he gave Peter the suit he made for him after Peter went to Germany. That was even before you knew he was Spider-Man, before you were dating. You though he was just a regular, nerdy cutie who liked to play with Legos and eat smushed sub sandwiches.

And you still loved all that about him.

But he was gone way too often and you were in way too deep to not figure it out, with the help of MJ.

In a way, Tony brought you two together. Peter would always mention the “Stark Internship” and vaguely how he was working right alongside Tony and the Avengers. And even when his cover was blown, and that ended up to be mostly not true, Peter would still take every chance he could to impress Mr. Stark and protect the city.

Peter was Spider-Man all on his own but meeting the high expectations of Tony Stark was what, he thought, made Spider-Man great and amazing.

For the first few months, Peter was mopey and sad. You didn’t see him as much as you used to, even when you wanted to help him. But you had to admit, it took up a lot of your own energy to see him sad and trying to help him through it.

You really didn’t feel like you were helping at all, and felt more like a burden to him, if anything.

But for the last few months, he had gotten better. That spark in his eyes and the pep in his, now deeper, voice was coming back. He went out to patrol the city more and even made appearances at FEAST shelter charity events that Aunt May hosted.

You knew he was still hurting.

You knew he was trying to distract himself from the unfortunate end for Tony, those images of him dying right before Peter’s eyes.

The school year was ending and the school science trip to Europe was coming up, and Peter couldn’t be more relieved.

“We’re going to have so much fun and see all the famous parts of the world!” He beamed laying next to you one night after going out on his nightly patrols.

You hated to mention it but it was itching at your mind.

“What if someone here needs help while we’re gone, or while we’re on the trip?”

Peter picked his head up off your shoulder, leaning on his elbow to look at you.

“Well...I was thinking…” he began, his eyes shifting from yours. “I’m not gonna take the suit.”

You knew he had been through a rough spot, but you thought he was starting to enjoy having these abilities and using them for good again.

“But you love being Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, I do, babe, but I just need a break. I just want to be Peter Parker, going on vacation and enjoying it with my friends and making out with my beautiful girlfriend at the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

You giggled as he got closer to you, hovering over to bring his lips to yours for a few sweet kisses.

“You’ll always be Peter Parker to me,” you replied, pulling back slightly but still close enough to see the small, minute details of his pretty face.

He smiled and continued to kiss you, enjoying hearing your laugh as his lips tickled your cheek and neck. He thought about all the plans he had for you on this trip, some of which you knew nothing about.

He sold all his Star Wars figurines and memorabilia to make money and buy you a glass blown necklace in Venice with an orchid charm, your favorite flower. He wanted to give it to you in Paris, at the top of the Eiffel Tower, the most romantic spot in the world.

He’s told you ‘I love you’ before but he wanted this time to be special.

Truthfully, he felt like he had neglected you. You were there for him through it all and he wanted you to know that he appreciated that. He really loved you, everything about you.

—

The trip was not going well for Peter.

The first day in Venice was alright and he was somehow able to sneak away for a moment to get the necklace for you. It was prettier than he imagined and it would look even better when he’d put it on you.

So it was going well, until that water monster thing showed up. And if it weren’t for Mysterio, he probably wouldn’t have been able to control the situation without his suit, which May packed, much to his dismay.

Mysterio, or Beck, as Peter knew him, was the only good thing about Nick Fury inserting himself into the vacation.

He understood and praised Peter for being a smart kid who was being bogged down a big responsibility. And you were happy listening to Peter talk about him as you walked together through the streets of Prague, making up for lost time.

“So he had me try on the Edith glasses, right? And he was like ‘They look stupid’ so then I passed them over to him and he put them on and oh my god, y/n! He looked just like him,” Peter exclaimed.

You smiled at his beaming tone, enjoying that he was obviously excited to have another ‘super person’ he could be friends with.

“So then I thought, ‘It’s him’ and I gave Edith the confirmation to let Beck have command of the glasses. Isn’t that great, babe?”

You frowned slightly at the last part. “Why did you give Edith to him, again?”

“Because this is what Mr. Stark wanted me to do! He gave me the glasses so I could find the next Tony Stark. Don’t you see?”

“Peter, I think he gave you the glasses because he wanted you to have them,” you responded.

He seemed to be overthinking it. Why wouldn’t he cherish something that was given to him by someone he cared for a lot?

“I’m not the next Iron Man, y/n, Beck is. He’s the only one who knows how to beat the Elementals, Nick Fury trusts him, he fits the Avengers to a T; he’s perfect!”

You shook your head. “I just, I don’t know about this, P. You haven’t known him for very long and since when does Nick Fury trust anyone?”

“Listen, babe,” he answered, putting his hands on your shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, I have a good feeling about this. And if I didn’t, I would feel it.”

You sighed. “I have something to show you.”

Taking off your backpack that you’d brought, you pulled out a small metal device that had some of Peter’s webs hanging off of it.

You handed it to Peter as you began to explain. “I found it after you knocked it off of that fire thing. I don’t know what it is, but it seems...strange.”

Peter looked at it, thinking it looked like a light or something before it sparked, causing him to drop it. Hitting the ground, the device projected a cloudy, ghost looking monster, similar to the other Elementals.

Peter was confused, trying to put it together in his head.

“I-I don’t understand…”

“Peter...I think all those fights, the Elementals….” you started, getting his attention. “They were fake.”

How could that be? Peter fought them himself, they seemed so real.

“No, no. That can’t be true,” he denied, shaking his head.

“It has to be,” you corroborated. “Why are there projectors falling off of the Elementals? Why do they suddenly surrender when Mysterio shows up? It all makes sense, Peter!”

He didn’t want to believe you, but everything you were saying didn’t make Beck look good. And what made it worse was—

“Oh god.”

Peter trusted him.

—

Peter was left alone, again. But this time he was betrayed by someone he thought he could trust to be like Mr. Stark.

“I’ve gotta get to Berlin,” Peter voiced, frantically tearing his clothes off to put on the ‘night monkey’ suit.

You just stood there in your room, not knowing what to say.

“You were right, y/n,” he admitted as he finished putting on the suit, holding the mask in his hand.

“I shouldn’t have given him the glasses. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

He was closer to you now, a hand caressing the side of your head, brushing some of your hair back.

“It’s okay,” you accepted, grabbing his forearm. “What are you gonna do?”

Peter shrugged slightly. “Try to stop him, I guess? I’ll figure it out once I find Mr. Fury.”

You nodded, not wanting to say goodbye.

“Cover for me and warn the others. I’ll try to get in touch with Happy. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You nodded again, a quiet confirmation just barely passing your lips. You squeezed his forearm as he leaned in to place a small kiss on your forehead.

He put the mask on, turned and went to the window to jump out of the hotel, taking all your hope with him.

Going to London didn’t feel right. You didn’t know what was going to happen or what was currently happening, but you didn’t feel very good about it. No one really noticed that Peter was gone, excluding Ned and MJ, not even Flash, who was too busy vlogging for his Spider-Man fan account.

It was very cloudy and overcast in the city, looking like a storm was coming. It was getting windier by the second and it wasn’t just because you were on top of a double decker bus. Ned and MJ looked out at Tower Bridge with you, seeing a big cloud start to take shape.

“Is this Mysterio?” Ned asked.

“It must be, but it’s not real.”

You had told them about Mysterio and how he was using drone tech to fake the Elemental attacks.

“Where’s Peter?” MJ questioned.

You looked around the sky, hoping that he would swoop in soon to stop this.

“I don’t know.”

The next ten minutes became increasingly intense as the storm escalated, causing the entire class to exit the bus and run in the opposite direction of the chaos. You looked back as you ran, seeing a small figure fly right into the cloud of drones disguised as an Elemental.

Peter glided into the scene, closing his eyes as he entered the cloud, finding hundreds of drones projecting the illusion. He used the taser webs he built into his custom-made suit to short-circuit the group, effectively stopping the projections.

Peter fought for his life once he found Beck on the bridge. Destroying all his drones in a matter of seconds and stopping a gunshot to his head proved to be a moment of clarity for Peter.

He could trust himself when it came to danger.

“You can’t trick me anymore,” he announced before ripping the glasses off of Beck, putting them on to order Edith to turn off the drones.

He watched as the drones retreated, flying back to wherever they came from. He sighed, finally able to take a breath and feeling exhausted after actually fighting something. Looking out at the real damage on the bridge he noticed a person standing in the middle of all the debris. He made the figure out to be you, seemingly looking around for him.

“y/n…”

He was about to make his way down when he noticed two drones flying towards you from both sides. His eyes widened as he saw they were going to meet in the middle right where you were standing.

“Y/N!”

He jumped on top of the handrail in front of a broken window. He didn’t have any web fluid left in his web shooters as he flung himself from the window, trying to glide down to grab you.

He screamed out for you, trying to get your attention to move. He didn’t want to accept that he wasn’t going to make it in time. The drones collided with each other, causing a big explosion that threw him back further down the bridge.

He landed in some debris, coughing to quickly get up and see the aftermath. Once the smoke had cleared, he saw your body on the ground, not moving.

“Oh no, y/n!”

He ran as fast as he could over to you, punching his way through anything that was in his way.

“Oh my god, y/n.”

He reached you, dropping to his knees as you coughed, barely conscious. There was a large gash on the side of your head, blood flowing out. Peter cradled your head as you spoke hoarsely.

“Peter…”

“No, y/n, no, no, no.”

Tears filled up in his eyes, getting more hysterical as your eyes started to droop closed.

“Babe, no. You’re-You’re alright, it’s going to be okay,” he sniffled. “No, y/n, please. You’re okay, just, p-please.”

He was fully crying now, leaning down to cry over your lifeless body.

“Peter?”

His ears perked up as he straightened up, looking back to see you walking towards him.

“y/n?”

“No, no, no. Stop,” Peter held his hand up at you.

“This is another trick. You’re not real, you’re-you’re dead!” Peter acknowledged, gesturing to your body laying on the pavement.

“Peter, this isn’t a trick, it’s really me,” you spoke.

“Prove it. Tell me something only you would know,” he whimpered, distressed.

You held out your hand, opening up your palm to reveal the necklace.

“Happy gave this to me,” you explained. “He said that you were going to give it to me. Is that true?”

Peter was breathing heavily and nodded, too tired to speak.

“It is you…”

He looked back to find the dead you gone, confirming that was the illusion. He looked back to you, who stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He pulled you into his arms, burying his bloody and tear-stained face into your shoulder.

“I love you, y/n,” he spoke into your shoulder, words coming out muffled.

“I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

You pulled away from him, about to respond when he kept talking.

“I had this whole plan to give you that at the top of the Eiffel Tower but that didn’t happen because of….everything and I wanted to show how much I love you and appreciate you. I’m sorry it was ruined, guess I can’t just be Peter Parker…” He trailed off, lowering his eyes from your expression.

“No, you can’t,” you replied, meeting his eyes. “I told you, you’re always going to be Peter Parker to me, and that includes Spider-Man. I love you, Peter, all of you.”

He smiled at your response, his eyes still slightly glossy from crying. He leaned in, holding you close to him as you shared a short but passionate kiss with enough love to last a lifetime.

—

And that all happened about a week ago.

Now you stood outside of your apartment, waiting for Peter to come get you so you could have date night. You figured you both deserved it, given what a disaster the trip came to.

You phone suddenly vibrated in your hand, signaling a call from Peter, which was odd considering you had just been texting him.

“Hey, babe. Are you coming?”

“Y/N! Ohmygod…”

“Peter, what’s wrong?” You questioned his frantic tone.

“I was swinging through the neighborhood to come get you when...Beck—”

“Mysterio? I thought he was dead!” You interrupted.

“So did I!” Peter agreed. “But he filmed a video of himself before I got to him on the bridge..or somethings, accusing me of all these bad things…”

“Oh, Peter…”

“And then he-he…” Peter paused, in disbelief that he was going to say it aloud.

“What did he do, P?”

“Revealed my identity.”

“He wHAT?!!?” you exclaimed, clapping a hand to your forehead.

“The whole world knows I’m Spider-Man.”

You and Peter really can’t seem to catch a break.

—

A/N: should i write another part and make some shit up or shall we wait two more years so i can write something based off what they do next with our sticky boi??

<3 tommybaholland

what will happen to peter and y/n?? (feedback much appreciated)

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sweetdeathwrites · 5 years

Text

And It All Comes Down To This

Pairing: Tony Stark/Reader, as well as past/ex!Tony Stark/Reader

Summary: It's not often that Tony Stark is on his knees for someone. You just wish it wasn't like this.

Warnings: serious violence, death, and suicide warnings. This ain’t for the light of heart... very dark. Specifically, guns. ANGST ANGST ANGST! Mentions of sexual situations, fantasizing for sexual things as well as nonsexual things. Again, HUGE suicide warning.... an AU!!!!!!... Iron Man 3 spoilers?

Word Count: 2,289

AU! Where stopping Aldrich Killian didn't go as planned, and rescuing a certain someone didn't go as hoped. ~ this is for April's Challenge (on Luna) for the prompt "Villainous"–– but it's quite late...~

(posted on Luna/AO3! My latest posted fic!! yay!! Here’s the original A/N! finally,y the last time I have to type that!...

(hi!! i've been gone ages!! this is for the April Challenge with the prompt of "Villainous", but it's... late.... sorry! The wonderful mod Shade said I could submit it and have it added anyway!! if you liked it, please comment! if after reading this you felt like i came into your house and ripped your heart out, also let me know! I've got more MCU things in works, because I've been binging the movies so I can watch Endgame soon.... I'm a decade behind in the movies atm... thanks!!! PLEASE comment! send this story to your friends so you can both cry about it and comment!! i am motivated write and post because of comments! (and READ the goddamned warnings, please!) )

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After everything, he still wants you. Maybe that’s not right. He needs you, but he wants her– had her. But when one is the direct cause of the love of their life’s death, hey– you’ll take what you can get. “Come on, kid, don’t let me down now,” he laughs but it’s cold, and he’s pressing your hand forward into his chest even harder. Gunmetal is not a pretty color on him. “I can’t,” you beg, “Tony, please don’t make me.” “I’m not making you do anything.” He’s on his knees in front of you, your living room carpet has been trampled over by him a million times by now. He’s run out of steam from his pacing, and burned the skin off his knees from his shuffling. He’ll be crawling to press his skull against the barrel of your gun if you don’t show him mercy. “Honey,” he says with the smoothness of syrup, but it’s nothing like how he used to say it. He used to call your name so sweetly. With reverence. Like you were worth the worship he gave. “Honey, please give me this. Just this one thing, and I promise, I promise everything will be okay.” Tony’s goddamn charming smile breaks through his dark circles and the tear tracks that scar his face and swell his eyes. That fucking smile that made you weak in the knees until he found Pepper–and bye-bye, baby– he couldn’t be pried from her with a crowbar. Bye-bye, baby, indeed. You don’t want this. You want to go to bed. You want to drain your wine cellar and steal his warmth and the comforter off him, you want the scratch of his stubble on your jaw, you want his rough hands, you want– He’s all too much. But god, do you want him in your life again. His hands curl around your own, long fingers tracing yours. Tracing the trigger. “Babe, I don’t have anything. I don’t have anything at all.” “You have me.” He doesn’t answer but his smile grows a touch more genuine. Not sweet, but there’s less force in it. His eyes shine brightly, a fevered brightness that hints that perhaps the feeling you sense is pity. “And you have me.” Yes, that’s it. It’s definitely pity. “I never have, Tony. It’s always been her,” he winces at that, cows at the mention of his dear, dead almost-wife. Your carpet is fucked up beyond repair. You always told him to take off his shoes, but he never did. Now he’s got blood and dirt and those fucking steel boots all over your cream-colored carpet. He was the one who bought it for you. God fucking damn it. “Come on,” Tony tries again, kissing your knuckles and looking up at you so sweetly. Sickeningly sweet. The view he gives you is unfair; reminding you of all those times he made love to you so sweet and slow you felt like you would go mad with it. When he used to bend you over, chest flushed to chest, and kiss you and whisper things that were so intimate and vulnerable, that now bring tears at the memory. His eyes look up at you and his lashes are so long, a fact you’ve damned him for and yourself for because you were jealous. The way he used to look up at you from between your thighs, pressing fluttering kisses to the thin skin of your inner thighs and leg hitched over his shoulder. “Baby?” Can’t you stop it all? Can’t you go back to how it used to be? “She’s not coming back, Tony. Pepper wouldn’t want this.” Tony’s lip curls and his grip on your hand turns painful. “And how the fuck would you know what she would want?” You don’t bother answering, just slide down on the carpet with him. Colors flow and wrap around you like silk, soft and cool and so satisfying against the hurt you feel. He wasn’t your first, but he was the best. It was for a few months, though that was a lifetime for Tony Stark, who bragged about who he could keep in his sheets. Tony’s passionate– selfish, maybe, but you were always compensated, satisfied beyond what you’ve ever thought was possible by yourself. His bites left marks for days that fascinated you, pretty little bruises that proved what you had was real. And then he would stay to leave new marks. You wish he wanted to stay now. “Pepper’s not here right now.” Right. She’s not. But when she was, she had him wrapped around her finger. You were stupid to think he was all yours. It hurt, when he left you for Pepper, but you understood. They fit together– simple as that. On some level, it was inevitable. Imminent as death. Death– “Pepper’s not here right now,” Tony repeats, bowed over and practically shoving the gun to that shining light that keeps his heart going, that keeps danger and death and shrapnel always minutes away from tearing that tired, aching muscle to bits. “So that’s why I need this. Need you.” “Not me, baby,” you whisper, lips pressed to his temple. His sweat smells like fear and calamity, but you can’t not taste it. You burn that salt into your memory because you know you’ll never be the same, never find peace in another as you’ve found it in him. Reap what you sow, and all that. “You don’t need me, you need this,” you press that cursed metal into his chest, trail it up to his collar. Massage that pulse with the muzzle of the gun and his breath hitches, excited and impatient. “I need it,” Tony gasps, beautiful brown eyes clouded over with that suicidal greed you’ve known all too well– from him and from yourself. Fuck it all. “I’ll miss you, Tony. I already do,” you hold back tears. If you don’t pull the trigger, he’ll squeeze it for you– as long as he’s not holding the gun, it’s all good in his warped, complicated book. “I wish you never left me, I wish you didn’t love Pepper more than me, I wish I kept you safe, I wish–” The tears roll down and you only stop begging to cry, to sob, really. You can’t breathe but he holds you upright, tight and secure. Whatever soft words he’s whispering in your ear don’t make a lick of sense to you, you can’t understand yourself, much less him. He’s not genuine, anyway. He’s got a goal. “Hey, hey, shh, baby,” his nose is buried in your hair. Sweaty as he is, probaby. But he won’t have to burn the smell and feel of you in his head, because he’s only got a half hour, at most, left to hold anything at all in that genius skull of his. The cold of the gun burns your palm, burns you like holy water to the devil. Tony kisses your hair and the faint sensation of his stubble is a balm over you. His hand is insistent against you. “I know, baby, I know,” he says. Not ‘I love you,’ but ‘I know’. You know too. Hiccuping, you pull the gun up, trail it between the two of you. “So is this it? This is what it comes down to?” You ask, cocking it and pressing it to that glowing core that you used to kiss. You’ve kissed him there before he had it, too. At least you had that over Pepper. Had him before her. “What comes next?” “You’ll get everything you want,” Tony croaks, hand trailing up your body as if to memorize the shape of you– as if he’s forgotten. “JARVIS knows. Whatever you don’t want, charity. The Avengers. Goes wherever,” he shrugs, like his billions in cash and investments are disposable. Like you wouldn’t have killed for that money when you were younger. “They’re just things, isn’t that what you used to say, sweetheart?” Tony kisses the shell of your ear and it stings to have your well-meaning intentions thrown back at you like this. It was years ago. “Sure.” You take a slow, deep breath. The gun presses against that metal bit over his heart. Your eyes flicker up to his and he’s staring at you so intensely you could catch on fire. Those molten brown eyes envelop you in a warmth you used to know, still feel in your dreams. Chill crawls up your spine with how cooly he’s regarding you but the weight of it isn’t lost on you. He’s calm. He’s ready. Tony trusts you to do this… But that trust is what hurts the most. “Okay,” you say, swallowing that suffocating lump in your throat. You lean in and kiss him slowly, as slow as you can. His lips are hot and dry but then he licks at your mouth, pulls your hair back to open you up to him and kisses you deeply. He pulls back right when a moan crawls out of you, grinning slightly. “Best one yet, I hope.” You smile sadly. “You wouldn’t be wrong.” The trigger is heavy. You yearn to kiss him again, bruise those pretty lips with your own. If you did you’d never be able to carry through, though. “Goodbye, Tony.” You say. “I love you.” And the trigger snaps under your hand, hammer striking metal and– nothing. Cold. Your blood is cold. “Tony?” A slow satisfaction creeps up his face, pulling him up like he was strung. Warm laughter bubbles up in him. “I had to know,” Tony says, taking the gun from your hands and giving your fingers a fond pass. You don’t feel it. Everything is numb and far away. “Had to know if you loved me enough to try. If I asked you to kill me, I needed to know you would,” he explains, as if though it’s the easiest thing in the world. He’s elated, really. “Sweetheart, you don’t know how much you mean to me. No one else could do this, believe me, I’ve asked.” “T-Tony…” tears blur your vision. He wanted you to kill him. He wanted you to kill him– he wanted you to kill him! And now Tony’s just going to move on, like he hasn’t fucked you up in the worst way possible? “Tony–” “Hush, pretty thing,” he says, hands occupied. You’re shaking but you look down and it’s just shock after shock tonight, isn’t it? Tony’s loading up his gun with a bullet. He takes a second one and holds it up, shakes it slowly in front of you. “I’m just being considerate with this one,” he says, lightly and with some terrible, dark humor– as if he’s about to tell you to have fun, but don’t do anything he wouldn’t do. “Though I’d advise against it. Guns are pretty dangerous.” Then that silver little bitch is loaded too– Stark Industries, of course– and the hammer is cocked and it’s pressed up to his pulse, skin beating over it quickly. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me tonight, princess.” Tony pulls you in for another kiss, this one desperate, harder. He kisses you like it’s his last and at that moment the gravity hits you that this time, he really intends for it to be. His tongue smooths against your teeth and over the roof of your mouth, sucking and he bites you with all the heat and life still left in him. When he breaks away, lips shiny with spit and jaw half open in a hungry sigh, he speaks. “One for the road,” he says, voice rough and weak with arousal, fear, and a burning love for you. A love that he knows is returned, from your kisses and begging him not to go and your helping him on his way out. For once since Pepper’s death, Tony is satisfied and almost happy. No, he is happy. And it’s all thanks to you. Almost as an afterthought, but the most sincere thing he’s ever said, “Thank you.” “Tony, don’t–” you start to say, reaching to turn the barrel away. “Please–” He grabs your wrist firmly and keeps it away from the gun. They’re dangerous, he told you. He presses a wild little kiss to your palm first, then when he looks up at you his eyes are bright with fear and excitement: eyes of death. “See you on the other side, babe,” and he pulls the trigger. This time, there’s a reaction. You scream, the gun explodes and so does Tony. The hand that held your wrist slackens and falls to the carpet growing red, the light in his eyes gone, but the smile sticks. White and bright and painfully horrific against the bloodstains spreading. You can’t stop the shakes or your sobs, but Tony’s been considerate and left an extra bullet in the gun for you. The gun is warm with him, with his blood too. Fits better in his hand than yours, but it’s okay. You’d never make it after this, so, might as well follow him. Anyway, the carpet’s already fucked.

#tony stark #iron man #tony stark/reader #tony stark x reader #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #tony stark fanfic #tony stark fic #mcu x reader #mcu/reader #marvel #marvel/reader #marvel x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

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youandmeandlife · 6 years

Text

Your “honeymoon” (b.b)

Summary: On a spontaneous trip to Europe, spontaneous things happen... Like, spontaneously getting married.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff (so much fluff!)

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 6099

A/N: I’m getting married soon and I started getting real honeymoon vibes.... So I wrote a little thing, you can thank me later.

You smile as you feel arms snake around your waist, the the coldness of the left one can be felt even through the tanktop you’re wearing. You lock eyes with him in the reflection of the glass and drop one arm to rest on top of his flesh one. Bringing the glass in your left hand up to your lips, you take a sip of your wine

“You know,” You begin, twirling the tiny drop of red liquid still in your glass. Bucky hums in your ear.

“Yeah?” He breathes, his breath fanning the side of your head. You sigh and close your eyes. His arms tightens around your waist, pulling you until your back is flush against his chest and you can feel the heat radiating off of his body.

“This is what I imagined our honeymoon to be like,” You tell him as he leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Our honeymoon?” He questions. You nod, opening your eyes again and turn your head to look at him.

“Yeah,” You say. “You know, take off somewhere, stay at a fancy hotel, fuck all night and day, eat good food, bathe in the sun,” You smile. The corners of his lips twitches.

“You wanna get married?” He asks you and you shrug.

“It’s not like we can,” You tell him. “You’re what? A hundred years now, pretty sure they would give you looks if you turn in your ID-papers,” You laugh. “ And aren’t you technically still recorded as deceased?” You joke. He hums, but doesn’t answer. You sigh and lean further into his warmth, watching the city lights flicker against the dark night.

“Do you want to though?” He asks. You think about it for a moment. If someone asked you a few years ago, before you’d met him, the answer would have been yes. You had always dreamed about the perfect marriage, having a loving husband to come home to, maybe children one day. The idea of marriage excited you, just having that special someone you could actually call yours. But you loved Bucky so much now, and things with him were beyond complicated. You somehow made them work. You didn’t want to mess them up. You were happy with the way things were now and you had gotten used to it, which is why you were both surprised and excited when Bucky offered you a spontaneous trip to Europe with him.

“I don’t need to marry you to be happy with you, Bucky,” You tell him, eyes meeting his in the reflection of the window again.

“Are you sure?” He asks and you nod.

“Of course,” You say. “I love you,” He smiles and leans in, his head resting completely beside yours. You turn your face, meeting his awaiting lips with a sweet kiss.

“Tell me more,” He says and you chuckle.

“About what?” You question. He unwraps his arms and settles his hands on your hips, dragging on one side and pushing on the other until you turn around. Your arms wrap around his neck, careful not to spill your drink.

“Our honeymoon,” He clarifies. “Tell me how you imagined it,” A wide grin breaks out on your face.

“Weeeeeell,” You start, swaying from side to side, starting a rhythm of an awkward dance. He catches on and sways with you. “I don’t know honestly. Just like a normal honeymoon, I guess. A nice champagne or wine from the room service, maybe chocolate covered strawberries or some cliché shit like that. Slow and sweet sex before passing out from exhaustion and jetlag,” You smirk, hoping the light in the room was dark enough to hide the slight blush covering your cheeks. You hadn’t been too big on romance, but a honeymoon had always been an exception. You’d always imagined how passionate it would be, full of newfound love and emotions.

“Slow and sweet sex, huh?” He asks, eyebrows lifted in amusement. You nod, biting the insides of your cheeks. “Am I too rough with you?” He suddenly frowns as the thought seems to strike him, and his face falls.

“What? God, no! Bucky, no,” You tell him, bringing a hand up to the side of his face. You stroke it, his stubble pricking against your thumb. Bucky had never hurt you. He was a huge man, heavy with muscles and metal. He looked dangerous, you had to admit, with the rough look he always had on his face. But truth was that he was just a huge teddybear. He always made sure you had everything you needed, always getting up early in the mornings to brew a cup of coffee for when you’d wake up or run you a bath when you need it.

Even in bed he was caring. He was never rough, not ever, and more times than not he’d let you take control. You knew he was scared of hurting you, and no matter how many times you told him he never does, the thought always seemed to scare him out of being anything but careful.

“You sure?” He asks and you nod.

“Yeah, of course,” You smile, your thumb finally stopping the stroking. Leaning up on the tips of your toes, you press your lips against his. “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. You’re my sweet and caring little hero, and you’ve never hurt me,” You tell him seriously and a small smile finally breaks out on his face again. You peck his lips once more and step out his arms. You walk over to the table and put your glass down.

“I love you too, you know that right?” He asks.

“You only remind me of it every single day,” You chuckle. “I never get tired of hearing it though,” You look over your shoulder and wink at him. He smirks.

“Well, in that case; I love you. I love you, I love you,” He repeats the words as he comes up behind you again, nuzzling his face in the back of your neck. You laugh, his more-beard-than-scruff tickling your skin.

“Okay, okay!” You say, stepping away from him once more. “I love you too. Now do you want some wine, or something else to drink? Or can we just go to bed already? My feet are killing me after all the sightseeing we did today,” You chuckle.

“We can go to bed,” He tells you and you feel grateful, your feet so used up that it feels like they’re actually itching. You head towards the giant bed in the room and you sit down on it. You lean down to open your suitcase and roam around it for toiletries. Once you find your toothbrush, you start looking for deodorant, hair brush and make-up wipes.

“Babe?” You ask, turning to look at Bucky. He was kneeling down beside his own suitcase, looking nearly lost in thought. “Bucky, babe?” You call out again and his eyes snap up to meet yours.

“Huh?” He asks. You laugh.

“Do you have any toohpaste?” You ask, apparently having forgotten yours at home. It’s not like you traveled a lot so forgetting some things were kind of obligated for a spontaneous trip.

“Oh, yeah,” He says, roaming around his own suitcase for a moment. “Here,” He says, throwing a tube your way. You catch it single handedly, feeling a little proud of doing so.

“Thanks,” You say. Gathering up your stuff you head into the bathroom. You start by removing what little make-up you were wearing and then starting the rest of your routine. Once you had finished and also done your business on the toilet, you walk back out to Bucky who is sitting on the bed. His hands are folded together, left leg shaking up and down as if he’s nervous or thinking very hard about something. You clear your throat and his head shoots up.

“Can I talk to you about something and you promise not to overthink?” He asks. You frown.

“Um, yeah. Of course,” You say, walking over and taking a seat next to Bucky. “Talk to me,” He sighs a little.

“So, you remember last month? When Steve and I went to Germany for awhile?” He asks and you nod slowly. You knew it wasn’t a mission, because he’d told you it was something else he had to take care of. He had never really told you specifically what he had done there, but you’re feeling he’d about to now. “We tracked Becca down, my sister…” He tells you. You nod slowly in understandment.

“Yeah?” You say, urging him to continue.

“Or, actually since I broke away from HYDRA I’ve kinda always known where she was, I just never visited. I didn’t know what to say… And then she died,” He tells you.

“Oh no! Bucky, I am so, so sorry,” You say, hand immediately coming down to rest on top of his that were still folded together. “I had no idea,” And you didn’t. Bucky wasn’t the most open person, and even though he was slowly crawling out of the shell he’d been hiding in, he was still always telling Steve the hard things, afraid to draw you into messy situations. You couldn’t blame him, he’d known Steve a long time when they were younger.

“It’s fine. That’s not why I’m bringing this up,” He says, and he actually seems fine. He’d always been good at hiding his emotions, but there was no shakiness in his voice, no sniffle or indication that it bothered him to talk about it. “Um, anyway. I went to the funeral and I went through her stuff… And I found this,” He says, pulling his hands away from yours and unfolding them. Inside the flesh palm that he outstretched towards you was a beautiful diamond ring. It was a thin line of gold with a slight pattern, a single diamond at the top. It looked old, vintage and antique.

“Wow!” You breathe. You’d seen all these fancy rings, huge rocks and breathtakingly designed, yet there was something about the piece of jewelry in Bucky’s hand that was calling out to you. It was simple, yes, but you could somehow also tell it was old.

“It was my ma’s” Bucky tells you. “Rebecca got it after she died, and when Becca died…” He explains, trailing off. “It’s the only thing I have left of either of them… And I’d like it to be yours,” He says and you look at him as if he has two heads. That ring… was the only thing he had that reminded him of his family, and he wanted to give it to you.

“I can’t do that, Bucky,” You tell him, feeling so honored, but it was wrong. It was his.

“No,” He shakes his head. “I want you to have it… No court will ever marry us, no church. And I know that no matter what you say, marriage is something you’ve always wanted. I would give you up, let you go and marry someone else, if that makes you happy… But I think you can be happy with me. I wish I could give you the world, and I will if you allow me. I want the privilege of calling you my wife, Y/N, so marry me. Right here, right now. Marry me?” He says and you’re too shocked at his words to even cry. You would have, if you could. You’d always imagined this sweet proposal, at a nice restaurant perhaps, making a huge deal out of the simplest and sweetest thing Bucky just did. And now that he sat there beside you, ring still in the palm of his hand, suddenly all those scenarios you’d imagined seemed like the worst possible ways to propose.

“Are you serious right now?” You had to ask, you just had to. You’re not even sure if you’re awake anymore. Perhaps you’re dreaming. But Bucky nods and suddenly it all seems real again.

“Unless you don’t want to… if you don’t want to, then let’s pretend the last few seconds didn’t happen,” He chuckles, but you can tell he’s doubting.

“Yes, of course!” You grin. “A thousand times yes, Bucky!” You shriek out in joy, throwing your arms around his neck and knocking him backwards on the bed. He chuckled as you hug him tightly, moving to straddling his hips. You kiss him, pressing pecks all over his face until your lips meet his. You kiss him slowly, pouring all your emotions into the kiss and you can feel him doing the exact same. When you pull away you smile at each other.

He sits up again, and you let him. Sitting in his lap with his metal arm wrapped securely around your waist, you grin wider as he brings his hand forth again. You hold your hand up, fingers noticeably trembling as he moves to grip the ring between the pads of thumb and forefinger. He slowly slides the ring onto your finger and you have to hold your breath.

“I do,” He says, breathing the word against your lips that are mere inches from his own.

“I do,” You repeat his words, grinning.

“I guess you’re my wife now, then?” He says, his lips stretched so wide you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him smile that hard.

“Well, you kinda still have to kiss the bride,” You tell him smugly, and he does. And fuck how he kisses you. The air gets knocked out of your lungs, leaving you lightheaded. But that’s okay, because if you pass out and die from lack of oxygen then at least you’d die happy. Oh, and married.

Bucky’s hands both settle on your hips, holding you tightly against his body as his lips move against yours. He tastes so good, like heaven with a hint of the dinner he’d eaten hours earlier still on his lips. You moan as his hands snake under your shirt, pushing the material up so he can stroke at your exposed skin. You need to pull back, feeling on the verge of passing out if you don’t get some air down your lungs. You pant, looking at him with hooded eyes. He stares at you with the same heat, hands moving to tug the tanktop further up.

“What are you doing?” You ask, feeling like nothing seems real anymore. But in a good way.

“What does it look like?” He grins, pushing the shirt up past your breasts. “I’m getting you naked,” He says as if it was obvious. You laugh and let him remove the shirt from you completely. Your hands fall down to his own, and you lift it over his head. Reaching behind you, you unclasp your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms.

“Are you gonna have sweet and slow sex with me?” You tease and he give you a serious look.

“Of course,” He answers and there’s no indication he’s joking. “Hop off, baby,” He says, patting your thigh. You do and pull your jeans down your legs. “Underwear too,” You do as he says and he stands up from the bed. His hands settle on your hips again, and he all but throws you back on the bed. You laugh as you bounce on top of the covers, hair all over your face and legs spread in the most unsexy way possible, but the look Bucky gives you tells you otherwise.

He kneels down at the end of the bed, hands coming out to rest on your inner thighs. He spreads you wider, pushing your legs down on the mattress and you’re suddenly grateful that you’re flexible. He lays down in between your spread legs, his head on level with your pelvis. You bite your lips, resting your head on your arm. Your free hand come down to stroke his face, making him look up at your face.

“I love you,” You whisper. He smiles. Leaning forward, he licks a fat stripe up your slick folds, skipping all teasing and foreplay. You shudder.

“I love you too,” He says. “Wife,” The word falls from his lips in the most sinful way and you can’t help but think this is something he’s going to refer to you as. His wife. Sure has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

He leans forward again, tongue licking at your core. You moan softly. He shifts, grabbing your legs and shoving them over his shoulders. He brings his arms around your legs, circling them and holding your hips pressed to the mattress with his metal arm across your stomach. He’d done this so many times now that he knows how much you trashed when he gives you oral. You could never help it. He was just so talented and he always knew how to make you see stars.

His thumb and forefinger of his free hand spread your lips for him, giving him a full view of your glistering core. You bite your lip as you watch him, hand snaking into his hair, pushing it out of his face. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to do this, that he doesn’t even have to fuck you at all, that you two can just fall asleep and it’d make you just as happy. But you also know Bucky loves this as much you do, if not more. There are hardly any nights you spend together that doesn’t involve him going down on you. It was weird. He grew up decades ago, in another era. You’d expected that he’d be used to simple intercourse and that was about it, but he sure seemed to love eating your pussy out. And he’s so damn good at it, you don’t really want to stop him. So, you don’t.

Bucky starts licking at your folds, the warm heat of his tongue lapping at your labia and around your clit, never really touching it. He licks all over you, switching between the pressure he uses.

“So good,” You praise him, combing your fingers through his hair. He hums, the vibrations hitting you to the bone. You moan loudly, knowing he likes to hear the pleasured noises you make that he causes. He leans further down, flicking his talented tongue against your hole. He circles it a few times before dipping his tongue into your opening. You breath out shakily, legs already trembling on his shoulders. He licks into you, the shallow trusts of his warm muscle feeling so good. He does this for a while until he runs his tongue all the way from your hole up to put pressure on your clit. You let out a pornographic sound, something in between a moan and a whimper. He lifts his head and grins at you.

“How many times do you wanna come tonight, baby?” He asks and you stare at him. You know what he’s asking. If you say one, he’ll stop it right there, discard his clothes and push his cock into you, make you come around him. If you say two, he’ll continue to eat you out until you fall apart, then fuck you. If you say three, he’ll lick and suck on your clit until you’re a moaning mess, then finger you until you’re seeing stars, and then make you come again as he’s inside you. If you say more than three… Oh boy, you’ll spend the entire night having sex and the first hours of daylight the following day to sleep it off.

“Put your fingers in me,” You breathe, hand tugging at his hair. “Please, Bucky,” You beg him. You didn’t want this to end, but you also needed sleep. You couldn’t drag this out forever.

“Okay,” He says, his hands switching. His metal fingers now spread your pussy lips open. He pulls his arm from around your leg, gripping your thigh and pushing it up. “Hold it,” He orders and you do as he says. Holding your left leg against your chest, your right still over his shoulder, you’re giving him more space.

He brings his hand down, running his fingers up and down your folds a few times, coating them in the slickness there. You try to control your breath as a single digit dips into your opening, sliding all the way in and curling once, twice up against your g-spot oh so perfectly. Then he pulls them out, only to return with two fingers. You moan. His lips return to your folds, licking over them before wrapping his lips around your clit. He sucks lightly and you feel the heat start to grow in the pit of your stomach. You wouldn’t last long, you never do when Bucky uses a combination of fingering you and eating you out like he does now.

He switches between intensely sucking on your clit and flicking his tongue against the nub that’s revealed by his metal fingers pulling the hood back. His fingers never stop stroking your insides, and before you know it your walls clamp down. You moan.

“I’m close, Bucky,” You say, wanting to warn him because that’s what you always do. Your legs shake as his tongue flicks hard, catching and dragging along your clit. He sucks on it against, putting an intense suction for a few seconds before pulling away and raising his head.

“You gonna come? You gonna come for me, baby?” He asks and you nod desperately. “Let go, I got you,” He says, and as cliché as it sounds, that’s all you need. Your muscles stiffen, walls clamping down completely around his fingers as you come.

“Oh!” You moan, feeling tingles travel throughout your entire body. Your toes curl, but you can’t really feel it, the soles of your feet numb from walking around the city just half an hour ago. Bucky fingers you through it, his fingers pressing not as harshly as before up against the spongy part of your pussy. He ignores your clit though, which you’re grateful for because you’d be oversensitive if he kept giving it attention.

He pulls his fingers out just at the right time, just after you’d have time to come down from your high, but before you’d be shaking with overstimulation. He always knew when that was, he knew your body so well by now.

“Come here,” You whisper, dragging at his locks so he’d get the hint. He smiles, dropping your leg from his shoulder and crawling up the bed until his pelvis is on level with yours, his head right above your face. You finally let go of your leg, letting it rest against the mattress again.

“You okay?” He asks and you grin. Your hand is still in his hair and you drag him until his lips meet yours in a short kiss.

“Always,” You promise him. He smiles, leaning forward to nudge his nose against yours.

“You think you have one more go in you?” He questions, never wanting to pressure you.

“I don’t know?” You say innocently, dropping your hand from his hair to stroke his cheek lovingly. “You think you can handle me? I mean, we’re married now, I think it’s a good time to tell you I can be pretty wild sometimes,” You joke. He throws his head back and give out one of those deep laughs you hardly get the chance to hear, but still love.

“Oh, trust me, baby. I know,” He says, leaning down to peck your lips again. You grin as you taste the essence of yourself. He hops off the bed, starting to undo his pants. You get a glimpse of his muscled torso as he undress before you, having not had the chance to admire his abs yet tonight, even though he’d been shirtless for the past five minutes. It’s so unfair really, how no matter if Bucky spends countless hours in the gym or goes weeks without even lifting a finger, he can still look so good. It’s like he’s sculpted by some God, his muscles always bulging even if he’s not flexing.

He takes his socks off as well and you have to look down to see if your wearing yours or not, head still cloudy from the mindblowing orgasm he’d just given you, but then you remember that you had been wearing flats on your sightseeing trip, socks never present on your feet. He slips his boxers down his legs and bite your lip as you eye his erection, hard and even in the low light you can see the tip glistering with pre-cum. It always amazes you, how he can get so hard just from pleasuring you, not even touching himself.

He crawls back on bed, positioning himself between your spread legs and he gives you a look as if to ask if you’re sure. You just nod. He smiles, his hand grabbing your leg and pushing it up to your chest again. You don’t even need him to tell you anything, you just hold it there. He pushes his hips against yours, rolling them forward so his cock slides between your slick folds. You moan, whimper quietly as his tip catches on the hood of your clit. He gives you a look, stilling his movements and you shake your head.

“I’m fine, just fuck me, Bucky,” You tell him. He grins. Grabbing his cock in his hand, he drags it up and down your slickness, covering the tip as well in your natural lube. If the muscles in your neck weren’t stiff, you’d lift your head to watch, but you couldn’t. You’re too tired, head resting against the mattress.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” He says. “I’m gonna make sweet and slow love to my wife,” He says and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, the phrase straight out of some romance movie. Still, the thought excited you more than ever so your couldn’t complain.

You don’t say anything as he pushes forward, his tip sliding in as he slowly presses more of himself into you. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, before you sigh as you concentrate the friction he creates as he pushes in.

“Fuck,” He breathes, clearly feeling the same as you. He holds still, his hand coming down to your leg again and he pushes your hand away. He hooks your knee around his waist before leaning forward, all the while never moving his cock an inch in or out. Resting his weight on his elbows, his face just above yours as you watch each other. You smile, reaching both your hands up to tangle with his hair, running through it and untangling some knots created by the wind outside.

“Move, baby,” You tell him, whispering the word the way you know will egg him on. He smiles, lips connecting with yours as he slowly pulls his hips back before rolling them forward again. You sigh against his lips, and even though his form is ridgid from holding himself over you, you can feel him relax. You hadn’t even realized he was tense, but then again you should have figured; new place, lots of people, Steve and the rest of his safetynet gone.

You moan as he starts going deeper, the rolls of his hips slow yet hard enough to hit that spot deep inside you that isn’t really your g-spot but still felt good. He was so good at this, making you feel good in all ways possible without even seeming like he was trying.

“I love you, Bucky,” You whisper, feeling afraid you hadn’t said it enough yet.

“I love you too,” He replies, his trust and pace never faltering and it feels so good, that you for once could just lay back and let him do all the work. Bucky was always scared of hurting you, that he’d somehow cause you pain, which is why sex with him usually resulted with you on top. It’s not like you hated it, you liked it very much actually, but sometimes it was just nice to relax and enjoy the things he did to you.

The longer he trusted into you, dragging the minutes out, the more you started to realize you really, really liked this slow sex thing. You’d expected it to be dull, boring, but you had also wanted to try it for your honeymoon because you expected that’s what newly wed sex should be like; slow, passionate, glances, desperate stares and lips that barely separate. It is like that right now with Bucky and so much more. With his slower-than-usual pace, you could feel everything. You could feel the veins and bumps along his cock. You could feel the way his foreskin stretched and compressed as he moved, his pace and your tight opening not allowing you or him full friction. But that was okay, because usually after sex with Bucky you’d be sore the next day, the friction essentially ruining your pussy for hours. You could feel the way the thick hairs of his thighs tickled your skin, rubbing against your asscheeks and legs as he rocked against you. You could feel everything.

You arch your back and suck in a breath as he angles his hips differently for a second, spreading his arms wider and leaning more down on you. The change in the angle of his hips makes him nudge your g-spot, just teasing it and leaving you wanting more. Bucky seems to notice because he leans down, pressing his lips against yours in a slow and passion filled kiss. He pushes his pelvis further down, almost laying down on the bed as well, which resulted in his cock pushing upwards instead of back and forth. As he thrusts his hips again, he rubs against your g-spot perfectly with each roll. You close your eyes, tearing your mouth away from his to breath.

“Fuck, Bucky. That feels good,” You let him know, feeling the knot start to form in your stomach again.

“Think you can come like this?” He ask and you nod desperately. Hell, you’re already close again. Your hand go down to wrap around his neck, the other gripping his bicep and feeling the muscles there shift.

“Yeah,” You breath, forcing your eyes open. You look up at him, your eyes hooded and you know there’s hardly any color left other than white and the black of your dilated pupils. “I’m close,”

“Again?” He questions and you nod again. “Fuck, me too, baby. Touch yourself, come with me,” He all but begs and you do as he asks. Bringing your hand down from around his neck, you start rubbing harsh circles on your clit, having had enough time to recover from your previous orgasm by now. Your fingers brush against his cock a few times and you feel the muscles in his abdomen tighten from where his stomach is pressed against your arm. You moan, loving all the sensations you’re suddenly becoming aware of. It was like slow sex, or making love or whatever you’d want to call it, was really opening your world, letting you experience things you never before knew possible.

He shudders a breath and you feel him twitch inside of you. You know he’s about to blow so you clench around him, making him hit your g-spot even harder. Rubbing on your clit even more fiercely, you feel the warmth in your belly slowly start to travel with your blood, heating up your entire body. Before you close your eyes in pleasure, you catch a glimpse of the ring on your finger, the gold matching Bucky’s tanned skin so beautifully where your hand is clutching his arm. You stare at it in awe before you can’t help yourself, closing your eyes shut as the coil finally snaps completely.

Bucky’s moaning in your ear, quiet grunts that vibrate throughout his chest that’s pressed against yours. You can feel his trusts falter just the slightest, his hips jerking a few times and you purposely squeeze yourself around him.

“Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He shants and your rub harder at your clit, finally feeling the pleasure spread through your entire body once more. You throw your head back, wrapping your leg tighter around his waist to pull him closer. You bare your neck to him and he takes the chance to place a single, wet, open mouthed kiss on the middle of your throat. You moan loudly, knowing he loves to feel the vibrations of it as he turns his head to bury his face in your neck.

You slowly come down, still feeling the tingles wreck your body again. You can feel your pussy pulse in time with your rapid hearbeat, fitting so snugly around him as you’re tight from your orgasm. He eventually stils his jerky trusts, hips flush against your pelvis as he breathes heavily against your neck. You sigh, dropping your hand from your throbbing clit.

“You okay?” You ask after you’ve taken a few shaky breaths to calm down. Bucky hums against your neck, his lips brushing your skin and making you shudder. You move your hands up and down his back, stroking the skin there with pressure to assure him you’re still awake and still there. He sighs happily, before lifting his head. You grin up at him.

“Hi,” He whispers, breath fanning your face.

“Hi,” You laugh. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a series of sweet pecks. “I love you,” You whisper against his mouth, breathing the same air as he does.

“I love you too, my beautiful wife,” He says and you actually roll your eyes this time. He pulls out of you slowly and you wince, already starting feel a little sore.

“You’re never gonna shut up about this, are you?” You laugh as he kisses you one more time before getting off the bed.

“Of course not,” He says. “You are my wife now, and what kind of man would I be if I don’t brag about that?” You laugh and watch as he disappears into the bathroom. You spot your neglected glass still on the table where you left it, a little bit of wine covering the bottom and can’t help but smile, thinking about how fast the events of the night turned.

Bucky returns minutes later, a wet washcloth in his hand and a toothbrush dangling between his lips. He throws you the rag and you start cleaning yourself up as he finishes his nightly routine in the bathroom. About the same time as you for the most part finish getting his cum cleaned up, he walks back out, still in all his naked glory. You throw the cloth in the direction of the bathroom and crawl under the covers as Bucky turns off the lights. He gets into the bed as well, hands immediately reaching out to pull you against his body for some snuggling that he’ll never admit to actually loving.

“I’m so tired,” You breathe against his chest and his arms tighten around your waist. “Sorry,” You apologise. You usually spend a lot of time in bed together during the night, having endless conversations about nothing and everything before falling asleep. It seemed to calm Bucky, making his troubled mind settle down enough to give him a decent night's sleep.

“It’s fine. I think I tired you out,” He says. You chuckle tiredly. You watch as his metal hand reaches for yours that are resting on his chest and he carefully twists the ring on your finger, straightening it so the diamond is pointing upwards. You smile. “You’re not regretting this, are you?” He asks.

“Of course not,” You tell him. You didn’t. You weren’t technically married, but given the circumstance, then this is the closest you’ll ever get. And it feels right. You don’t know how being married is supposed to feel, but you’re pretty sure this is perfect. “I love you and I wouldn’t change this, I wouldn’t change us for anything in the world,” You tell him honestly, turning your head to look up at him with parted lips. He gets the idea, because he ducks his head down, meeting your lips in a slow, sensual kiss full of passion.

“I love you too,” He whispers, rubbing his nose against yours and you smile. You lean your head more into his chest, nuzzling against it. His heartbeat is calm, so much more than your still racing one and it soon lulls you into a deep sleep, but not before reminding him once more that you love him.

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@moondancewrites @stucky-thorki @kawaiispacepriincess @liamakorn @letaliabane @theblueinyour-eyes

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snowbellewells · 5 years

Text

Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)

Thanks to each and every one of you who has been reading this story, liking and commenting, and keeping me pressing on even when it’s fought me or I’ve had to go back to the drawing board. I truly appreciate your patience when I had to skip a week. Hopefully I have the wrinkles smoothed out now, and I’m excited for you to read Chapter 10!!

So, here without any further rambling, Enjoy!!!

by: @snowbellewells

chapter ten ~ plots and plans and tangled webs

Unfortunately, as the dawning hours lightened the sky and morning fully broke in the woods outside of Storybrooke, the sun rose to warm the secluded retreat Emma and Killian had found and allowed themselves a moment to indulge within. It had been a fragment of time - a snapshot that Emma hoped to store away in her mind’s eye against the darkness that might well stretch ahead of them - that made her feel bonded to the man who stretched and sat up to rifle through the tangled covers, seeking one large enough to wrap around himself and maintain his dignity until they could sneak back to his ship for new clothes not destroyed by forced transformation.

Emma couldn’t help reaching out to pinch playfully at the warm skin of his hip, even as she lingered reluctantly within sheets wrapped around her own form. She had to bite her bottom lip to forestall the attraction rising within her at the sight he made, even draped ridiculously in some old, unraveling brown blanket. There was barely an ounce of fat on his sculpted, darkly furred body, barely enough skin loose for her to grab, but she managed, and then squealed and rolled away when his eyes flashed and he dove after her for retaliation.

A low growl rumbled through his chest and thrummed against her palms and fingers as she braced her hands on his chest. Though he rolled her onto her back, covering her with his muscled body and kissing her thoroughly - nearly devouring her mouth like the animal he was - Killian didn’t push further, as if silently knowing and acknowledging that it was time for them to return to the rest of the world. Her heart swelled just that much more with affection for him that he didn’t question her, try to guilt or persuade her otherwise, but though he clearly felt the fires of attraction building between them once more, he also seemed to understand the need to check on her boy, see that he and her parents were alright, and to see that she had not left any of her responsibilities too long. That he would accept and honor her needs, without her even having to explain had Emma staring at him in awed amazement as he lingered above her.

Reaching up, she smoothed her hands over his scruffy cheeks, cradling his widely grinning face between her palms until he leaned down quickly to peck a kiss to her nose and roll off her and away, chuckling at her moan of frustration just as she’d been ready to pull him in and deepen the kiss, her resolve to get them moving almost forgotten in the magnetic pull he held over her.

Her own tiny (and much more human) growl of frustrated lust at the sheer playful humor on his face did not seem to faze him in the slightest. “Come, Love, rise and shine,” he urged with entirely too much cheer for the hour. The rugged, handsome man whom she had first taken for dark, brooding, and perhaps even a bit dangerous, now looked almost boyish as he winked at her from across the room, tossing first her jeans, then her socks and bra from where they’d strewn them over the floor the previous night, then once more wrapped the blanket almost toga-like around as much of himself as possible. “After all, I know it can’t be helped, but I’d prefer to get across town and aboard my ship before too many are out to see me like this.”

He gestured down at himself in the ridiculous get-up. It was the best they had at hand to preserve some bit of his modesty, but she had to giggle at his rather sad attire all the same, simply couldn’t help herself. “It is perfectly laughable,” she added, unable to resist teasing. “Not exactly befitting a pirate captain or a fearsome lone wolf either one.”

She had shimmied into her own jeans as she spoke, listening to him splutter indignantly at her jab as she pulled on her socks and reached around herself trying to refasten the strap of her undergarment. Somewhere in the midst of her actions, Killian had stilled, watching her with his mouth almost agape until he finally gathered himself, waggled those heavy, dark brows salaciously, and asked, while swiping his tongue over his lower lip for effect, “Need some help there, Swan?”

It was at that point she finally managed to clasp the bra together once more and stood, slipping her sweater down over her head as she did so. “Yeah, right,” she snarked. “I don’t think so. We start that again, and we won’t get where we’re going ‘til noon.”

“More’s the pity, Deputy,” he murmured lowly, eyes tracking her every move hungrily. Emma for her part, was just noticing the size and darkness of the love bite he had left at the juncture of her neck and shoulder and wondering ruefully as she pulled at the collar of her top if it rose high enough to hide the mark from her curious and eagle-eyed son. “Really?” she huffed in exasperation at him with her hands on her hips.

“Sorry?” he offered, not looking one ounce repentant as he studied her, gaze more than a bit possessively proud of his handiwork. She couldn’t even be that angry with him. She’d thought him nearly dead already when she burst into the clearing to find Gold standing over him, a silver bullet in him and more cuts of the deadly metal littering his body, paralyzed and about to have his heart stolen. That she had somehow stopped their powerfully magical nemesis, that he was healed and well again, and that they had forged this trust, this bond, between them - one she’d not been sure she was capable of forming with anyone - well, it was enough to make her forgive him his overzealous behavior. Truth be told, she felt more than a bit possessive of him herself.

Shaking her head she slipped into her boots and led the way out the door. “Come on, you ruffian, let’s get you some clothes.”

He laughed right along with her, but upon reaching the door, he opened it for her and caught her gaze with a much more serious one of his own. “Be that as it may, Emma,” he whispered, brushing the back of his forefinger down her cheek, light as the flutter of a butterfly wing. “You had just one thing wrong before.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked breathlessly. “What’s that?”

“I’m not a lone wolf,” he vowed, earnest devotion in his eyes and tone absolute, “not anymore.”

~~~~~*****~~~~~*****~~~~~~~

As it turned out, they did make it to Killian’s ship without too much interference or embarrassment. They did run into a wide-eyed Leroy on the pier with his early morning fishing catch, but an only half-teasing threat to gut him like the fish he had in hand had the town’s unofficial crier scuttling off at a pace hasty enough to make Emma pretty sure it was one rumor that the dwarf wasn’t going to spread.

Before long, Killian was clothed, with only a minimum of kissing and touching in between, and they were off toward Main Street and her parents’ apartment. Emma found that the closer they got, the more she began to pull ahead, anxious to see Henry and have him meet Killian. She was so excited that it took her several minutes to realize that Killian was falling behind and almost slowing down.

“What is it, Babe?” she asked, turning to look at him curiously, the endearment slipping out without thought, then blushing until she saw by the lightening of his face that he didn’t mind a bit.

“Nothing,” he hedged quickly, “I mean, not really...nothing serious. It’s just - are you sure you want me to come? Want me around your boy? Will your parents even allow me in their home? Things have been moving pretty quickly so far, there hasn’t been time to speak of it… but they’re royalty, and I’m...well...I’m hardly prince material,” he finished ashamedly.

Emma was already opening her mouth to argue when a loud “pop” sounded just behind her, whipping her attention back in that direction as Mr. Gold appeared before them, but not as she had ever seen him before - full out covered in a glittering sheen not unlike scales over his skin, his hide appearing almost as disturbingly leathery as his strange garb clearly not from modern day Maine, and nothing like the suits he’d worn in his guise as mild mannered pawn shop owner. “I’d listen to him, Dearie,” the freakish apparition of a man cackled at her almost giddily, “Keep company with such as him, and you’ll wind up getting hurt.”

Emma didn’t know what she’d done to send the man sprawling in the forest any more than she did what she was doing still, but she squared her shoulders and faced the Dark One, bared in his true guise, head on. Never one to back down from a fight, she was even more determined not to see Killian harmed any further, never mind that she had no doubt he could more than defend himself in a fair fight instead of an ambush. Her hands raised in defense, she didn’t back away, merely watched the imp as he glowered at her smugly, not trusting him to drop her guard for even a second.

She could feel Killian at her back, a sturdy, comforting presence and his warmth steadying the quivering fear in her stomach that she couldn’t dismiss as easily as she schooled her facial features. His large hand pressed at the small of her back was a calming weight, grounding and reassuring her that he was there at her side as clearly as if he had spoken those very words aloud.

Drawing in a fortifying breath Emma savored the feeling of a true partner facing their foe with her, and breathed out in a voice that sounded surprisingly unafraid. “Thanks for your concern,” she shot back, letting him know she was well aware of just how false his solicitude was, “but I think I’m capable of choosing my own company.”

“Suit yourself,” Rumplestiltskin shrugged, sounding worrying unperturbed either way. “I merely thought to offer you an out.... Some assurances, if you will…” He paused a moment, as if thinking she might suddenly change her mind. “No matter,” he continued, one of those high-pitched, grating giggles leaving him when she didn’t jump at his proffered deal. “I’ll admit you took me by surprise, Miss Swan. Raw and untrained as it is, your light magic is staggering. However, if I can’t entice you to my side, make no mistake, I will be ready for you next time. Don’t expect to get so fortunate a second time.” His gaze then flicked to Killian just next to her. “And you… Your time is coming at long last, cur. You’ll get your retribution - not here, not right now, but soon. You will lose everything you’ve gained, mark my words.”

And with that dark threat and a dramatic flip of his wrist, he was gone as instantaneously as he had appeared. Emma deflated with a whoosh of breath, and fell back against Killian’s chest where he easily caught and cradled her tightly.

“You were brilliant, Love,” Killian whispered against her temple fervently, making her shiver in both relief and pleasure. “Bloody amazing. He isn’t sure he can beat you, doesn’t understand your power, and so he’s holding back, as cowardly as he always was.”

She nodded at her companion’s words, sure he was quite probably right and trying to draw some assurance from that. But she knew the stalemate would not last forever; Rumplestiltskin would come for them, Cora and Regina with him most likely, in their quest to wrest Henry from her, and she had just begun to ask Killian what happened then, when pounding footsteps reached her ears and she saw her father, mother, and son nearing them at a run, clearly alarmed and having seen the face off with the Dark One. The worry and fear already radiating from them had Emma tabling the discussion she needed to have with Killian for later. In the next instant, Henry plowed into her, nearly knocking her backward and arms flinging around her waist. Her mom wasn’t far behind, simply wrapping both her daughter and grandson within her shaking arms.

“Emma!” she exclaimed breathlessly, “Are you alright?!?”

Emma nodded against her mother’s shoulder, a bit squished between she and Henry’s intense ministrations, but still managing to rub her boy’s back in what she hoped was a soothing pattern, even as she allowed herself to be comforted by the sort of maternal support she’d wished for countless times growing up but never had until now.

Finally, when Snow backed off slightly and released her, and Henry relaxed a bit as well, Emma drew in enough breath to answer steadily, “Yes, we’re fine, I think,” before David sandwiched her in his strong arms, having clearly tried to wait his turn, but no longer able to hold back.

His large hand cradled the back of her head securely as he rocked them slightly from side to side. “Thank heaven above,” he murmured thickly before finally making himself let go and take a step back. “We were heading to meet you and saw Rumple appear right in front of you both. I was so afraid he’d strike you down before we could reach you.”

Emma shook her head at that, looking to Killian briefly, who gave her a gentle, bolstering nod in return. She ignored the fact that her father’s large hand was trembling slightly where it squeezed hers, not quite ready to process that he cared for her that much, that he had been shaken to his very bones in fear for her safety. “He didn’t do anything,” she assured, trying to project a calm she didn’t quite feel yet in the hopes of spreading it to her rattled loved ones. “Just a lot of useless posturing and empty threats. Trying to keep us scared, no doubt.”

Her father opened his mouth to caution or argue her seeming unconcern with his experience in dealing with the Dark One, but Killian beat him to the punch, voice still smooth and lilting but wary when he spoke, resting his hand on her forearm as he did so. “I wouldn’t be so certain about that, Swan. Unfortunately, though it might seem like nothing now, the Crocodile rarely makes empty threats. His taunting was clearly a prelude to some move on his part.”

David nodded his solemn assent to the other man’s statement, the closeness of Killian’s body to his daughter’s, nor the supportive physical contact she was allowing him, not going unnoticed but being put aside for the larger issues at hand.

“Great!” she exhaled in frustration, throwing her arms up and letting them fall back against her sides. “So what are we supposed to do? How are we supposed to be ready for it?” She looked from her “wolf man” (secretly loving the little nickname that popped into her head even as she bit back her smile and tried to retain focus) to her parents and back in quick succession. “Has anyone seen Regina or her mother yet? Could we get any clues from what they’re up to?”

Her mother shook her head remorsefully, knowing that her answer was far from what Emma was hoping to hear. “I’m afraid we haven’t, Sweetie. They’re still lying low, which I know is not helpful at all, but at least no more damage has been done.” Her dark-eyed gaze flew to Killian quickly and a small smile dimpled her full, pretty cheeks so much like her daughter’s. “Glad to see that you’ve recovered nicely,” she added to the man who had clearly captured her daughter’s affection.

The sentiment did Killian’s heart good, despite whatever other doubts and concerns might have been swirling inside his chest and all around them. It certainly was not full parental approval of their lost princess daughter dating a lycanthropic pirate, but the glimmer in the royal’s eyes reminded Killian that, if memory served, Snow White had at one time survived as a bandit and graced ‘Wanted’ posters as much as any pirate. Perhaps he had more of a chance to win them over than he had first assumed.

“Aye, milady,” he replied to Snow with a small bob of his head, “Thanks to your daughter.”

Snow looked at him sweetly, her face practically beaming, and he wondered if there were not something else she yet wished to say; however, before he could question further, or anyone else could speak, Henry broke in hopefully. “I don’t want to think my other mom would still be plotting to hurt you all, but ...I ...I know she might. Maybe we could try to check in at the library? Belle was anxious to learn all she could about everything and everyone she’d known back in your world, and I know she really wanted to understand what Mr. Gold was after. She might have turned up something about what they want. If she hasn’t, well, maybe we can?”

His last words rose questioningly, and Emma, who had already hugged him closer at his troubled admission that he hated to consider the woman who had raised him as a villain, now pulled back just enough to look down at him encouragingly and grant his request. “That sounds like as good a plan to start with as any, Kid,” she said, her affection for her son clear even in the understated tone of her voice. “Plus, I probably ought to check in with Graham, and I wonder if we might not find him there too.”

With those words, she shot a conspiratorial wink at the other adults, but Henry giggled right along with her as they set off for the clock tower which housed the town library beneath. When they all looked to him in surprise, Henry shrugged. “What?” he countered, “I’m eleven, not blind! Sheriff Graham’s been really looking out for her. I think he likes her.”

The wide, mischievous grin on Henry’s face made Emma laugh heartily as she ruffled his hair and followed his scampering steps with a bit more spring in her own. Yes, there was still danger afoot, and they needed to figure out their three villains’ game before they could spring a trap, but she suddenly felt more hopeful about the whole thing. Henry would tell her that in every story, no matter the odds, good always won out in the end. All she said aloud was, “You know, Henry, I think you’re probably right,” and followed him on through the square. For once, with her family and a man she rapidly felt she was growing to love on either side, she was willing to summon some belief and hope.

~~~~~***~~~~~~***~~~~~~

Even as Emma and her posse were making their way across town, Graham and Belle were indeed ensconced at a large, heavy oak table in the quiet back corner of the library. At their research since dawn when the Sheriff had met his petite brunette friend with two to-go cups - his coffee and hers hot tea - and two chocolate croissants from Granny’s in hand at the front door to the library as she arrived to unlock it for the day, they had been huddled in the reference section undisturbed for several hours, surrounded by census charts, town records, fairy tale and folklore compendiums, anything that might either help Belle, or Graham (he realized his own hope rather ruefully) to remember any clue or rumor that either of them might have seen or heard in all their forced time in the Evil Queen’s fortress or Rumple’s Dark Castle. Knowing Rumple had always been a bit of a collector of magical totems and powerful objects, Belle had also been compiling a list of any such treasures mentioned in the resources, wondering if an item such as that might be what either Rumple or these two of his most dangerous proteges might hope to obtain.

Though neither of them had turned up anything definitively helpful yet, they were still up to their elbows in old books, piled all around them on the table and even in various stacks at their feet beside it. Belle couldn’t help but feel safe and shielded somehow by the sheer mass of volumes surrounding her, remembering with a shudder the bare walls, empty room with merely a cot and thin blanket that she had spent 28 years inhabiting in some sort of mindless haze, and the unknown stretch of time she’d spent wasting away in the lonely tower of the Evil Queen’s design with maybe one book hidden away when the man now studiously reading at her side could manage it. The fact that she could be surrounded by shelves and shelves of them to read to her heart’s content seemed like nearly unfathomable wealth after such a long deprivation.

Of course, she reasoned with another lingering sidelong glance at the man beside her, Graham Humbert might also have more than a little to do with the pervading sense of safety she felt. Granted, he did not practice magic, nor was he indestructible or infallible, but she felt protected, sheltered and cared for in his presence, in a way she had not truly experienced since she was a very small child.

All of a sudden overcome with a swell of gratitude and affection for her long lost friend, Belle reached across the table, winding her slender arm through the perilously stacked tomes to take his hand in hers from where it had rested on the page before him. Graham looked up, mouth slightly agape in surprise, his head tilting curiously as his eyes cleared from the concentrated focus they’d held while he read. “What is it, Belle?” he asked, even as he gathered her hand more securely in his own, linking their fingers and squeezing with a light, reassuring pressure, before bringing their joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of hers almost bashfully, not meeting her eyes as he did so, but instead focusing on their fingers twined together.

Belle’s breath caught at the gesture, innocent and sweet, and yet bold between the two of them, speaking of more than polite concern for one of his townsfolk or friendly remembrance of their former acquaintance. It did steal the air from her lungs for a moment; a simple, bare gesture, and yet she couldn’t remember ever being so affected by a touch before, the press of his soft lips feeling as though it were imprinted on her delicate skin.

Trying to suck in enough oxygen to speak, she blinked several times before managing to stutter, “N-nothing’s wrong. I just...just wanted to say I’m glad you’re here with me. It makes...all of this...easier somehow.”

She stopped there, not sure how to continue as her feelings seemed to escape expression in words. Regardless, Graham beamed at her beautifically, his eyes widening in a guilelessly joyful way that made the years of curse and entrapment seem to melt from his features and cause him to bear an impossibly youthful glow. “You don’t know what that means to me,” he breathed, voice little more than a pleased whisper in the quiet library nook. “And for the first time in ages, I can actually feel it. It’s exactly the same for me… being near you.”

On the verge of scooting closer and placing her other hand over his heart, both to assure herself that it was beating as hard as hers was, and to assert that they would both feel so much more from now on if she had anything to say about it, Belle was halted when a swirling pillar of purple smoke appeared in the room over Graham’s shoulder. She lurched backwards, immediately on her guard, and her sudden movement and wide-eyed wariness alerted Graham to turn and face it as well, just as Cora and Regina both stepped from the cloud of magic dramatically. Clearly having already taken stock of the situation, frighteningly matching cruel smiles stretched across both women’s faces.

The elder Mills sorceress stalked forward with the air of a noblewoman looking as if she owned the room, completely unconcerned with their definite lack of welcome. Graham shifted with quick agility to stand between the cold blooded woman and Belle, causing his friends to feel her heart swell with his selflessness even as she huffed in exasperation. She didn’t want him hurt any more than she wanted to suffer herself.

Tsking and shaking her head at their naive show of resistance to her assumed superiority and powerful magic, the Queen of Hearts looked almost amused by the gesture. Speaking for the first time with false demurity, she noted, “You’re both fortunate I’m not Rumplestiltskin after that little scene I just witnessed.” Her sharp gaze zeroed in on Graham. “If I had been him, you would already be dead where you stand.”

Reaching out a gloved hand, she brushed it down his whiskered cheek, trailing along his jaw and neck down to his chest with entirely too much familiarity. Though Graham didn’t back away or cry out, Belle could feel how stiff his body had gone in an effort not to shrink or show fear. His hand still in hers was trembling, and Belle’s stomach turned in nausea at the woman’s gall, and the very thought of him enduring even one more unwanted touch in an effort to protect her.

Darting around him, she drew up every bit of height and presence she could muster, forcing the older woman back at least a step. “Leave him alone!” she spat, eyes flashing in a way most who only knew her gentler nature would have found hard to imagine. “You and your despicable daughter have hurt him enough!”

Cora actually tittered in dangerous humor at her outburst, raising a deceptively elegant hand for some no doubt paralyzing strike, when Regina’s dry voice froze them all as she stepped forward to stand at her mother’s side. “Enough, Mother,” she demanded. “You know what we seek. The bookworm may know where he keeps it. You’re the one who taught me to keep my eyes on the goal, remember?”

Though Cora did not look pleased, she did withdraw; her desire to reconcile and please her grown child obviously overriding her sadistic nature for the moment.

Not backing down in the slightest, nor willing to be cowed by this woman who had caused so much suffering in both she and Graham’s lives, no matter how foolhardy it might be, Belle turned her harsh words on Regina. “And if you think I’ll do anything to help you, you’re into for a rude awakening.”

Regina practically simpered at her, not discouraged in the slightest. Graham pulled her back against his chest, as if remembering what the woman before them was capable of and urging Belle away from the flames before she was consumed. Shaking her head in disappointment, as if they were the ones in the wrong, Regina merely warned, “Oh no, Dear, I don’t think so. We’re just getting started.”

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @laschatzi @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @searchingwardrobes @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @spartanguard @aloha-4-ever @kiwistreetswan @bubblegum1425 @ultraluckycatnd @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @quicksilvermad @capswantrue @bmbbcs4evr @gingerchangeling @linda8084 @branlovesouat @ps1473-4

#cssns #cs au mc #cs werewolves au #captain swan au ff #graham X belle ff #ouat alt season two fic #run to me (in the dead of night)#chapter ten

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grubhivemind · 7 years

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AURYHN: -it's a BEAUTIFUL MORNING. of course, every morning on avalon is beautiful if you ask auryhn, but skaia is nice too... he decides to spend this time with kavi, dropping in at his apartment to invite him out for brunch.-

AURYHN: -KNOCK KNOCK on kavi's door.-

KAVI: =Finally his board charged up enough to get him home.... yeah he could walk but who the fuck even WALKED anymore. Bums without hoverboards is who. His watch vibrates with an alert someone knocking on his door. Tapping at the interface he sees it's Auryhn... Yay! Wait. SHIT. Some more watch tapping and he patches himself through his home audio and pulls up his wind resistent mouth piece.= who is it? =Sing-songy like he already knows. PCHOOOOOS back home=

AURYHN: -grins, completely UNAWARE of the situation.- It's me~! ~}==> -replies just as cheesily.-

KAVI: =bless his soul= ooh hi Me, i don't know any Mes but since this Me sounds strapping and attractive how can i not let them into my home? be right there =Disconnects and descends=

KAVI: =He could slow down.... but that's for wimps. Taps more at his watch to open his balcony doors. Capchas the board, action rolls in and jogs across the room to open the door. Leaning there heavily, panting lightly= hello lover ;)

AURYHN: -still wearing that dorky smitten grin of his.- Good morning, deerheart! ~}==>

AURYHN: You look-- -pauses to actually inspect him.- Winded? ~}==>

KAVI: =Deerheart.... what a nerd. Leans up to kiss his cheek= lol... windswept maybe =Don't mind the bags... which he knows he has so he shrugs=

KAVI: uh, yknow... long night

AURYHN: -frowns sympathetically- I see... Then you haven't slept? ~}==> -he spots those bags.-

KAVI: =Mmm, it's tempting to lie but that's not really useful to anyone. He just casts a glance down the hallway. Casual like= nnnnot in the traditional sense

KAVI: but i'm still good, just not tired

AURYHN: So it's a matter of restlessness ~}==> -he concludes, and then considers this.-

AURYHN: Very well! Then we have no choice but to find methods of relaxing you! ~}==> -he's decided this is his project for today and carefully turns kavi around to march him back inside his apartment.-

KAVI: =Waffles and hashbrowns though... not that he was aware of the plans he's just glad to spend time with Auryhn= lol yeah we can if you want

KAVI: =is marched back in-- oops he left the balcony doors open... Boop boop beep on the watch and closes them= i'm ready to be soothed by your smooth jazz stylings babe

KAVI: take me away like i'm Natasha Bedingfield, minus all the stoners planting labels on my lyrics. it's not weed guys, calm down

AURYHN: -eyeballs the balcony doors as he catches a glimpse of them closing. hmm... suspicious... but he won't worry about it too much for now, plopping kavi down onto his couch and immediately giving his shoulders a rub.- Jazz, hmm? That's an excellent idea... Let's put on some soothing music! That always helps me ~}==> -of course, soothing music for him is heavy metal-

KAVI: =Mmm the rubs. Bless these strong troll man hands. Grinning because... yes... he knows this= are you going to sing me to sleep on a bitchin guitar riff, Pegasus?

AURYHN: I could if you wanted me to! ~}==> -grins, leans in to kiss his cheek-

AURYHN: However, I have a feeling that would only excite you more ~}==> -chuckles, releasing his grip on kavi's shoulders to produce his comm, hooking up a little speaker to it before he settles on a playlist. some jazzy chill beats he thinks kavi will like. it's relaxing... but romantic too. a win-win for everybody.-

KAVI: =huffs a soft laugh= excite is a word they use for it, sure

KAVI: =This musical choice is good though, he does love his slow jams and tbh the saxophone is one of the sexiest instruments? Was Auryhn behind him or next to him? Either way there's arms in his direction. Let the cuddles commence tho=

AURYHN: -yes, good, he's leaning back against the couch with kavi wrapped up tight in his arms. he allows for quiet to prolong between them so the music can fill the air and their senses. but after a moment, he speaks again, softly.-

AURYHN: Tell me... Is there something on your mind that's keeping you awake? ~}==>

KAVI: =Yesss. He's still not really tired. Mentally at least but his body is a tad peeved with him riding around for most of the night. Legs especially. They're kind of flipping him off. So he's snug against Auryhn-tiddy just listening to he music and jamming lazily with small bobs of the head or hums to repeat chords . Honing in whenever Auryhn speaks though=

KAVI: mmmn. kinda, maybe i guess.

KAVI: it's never really... a thing, like, it might start out that way but then it's like fuckin rabbits in all manners of speaking

AURYHN: Ah, yes... I can relate to an escalation like that ~}==>

AURYHN: Surely there's a root issue we can focus on and work from there... Or perhaps we could focus on any thought at all! I only know that burning off energy is only so successful when battling your inner demons ~}==>

KAVI: gets you ripped as fuck though =rubs Auryhn's chest and tum, pat pat pat pat=

KAVI: choice

KAVI: .... but uh, i guess still thinkin about dem bois. especially with shit having hit the fan.... Colt seems

KAVI: fine? maybe. i mean, he was eating bones so probably not, not that i'm one to judge someone's bone intake

KAVI: Joel... idk, haven't heard from him.... not that i messaged him. which is helpful

KAVI: so. just makes me wonder, if i'm doing this shit right i guess =traces lines over his stomach=

AURYHN: Surely your brothers know how deeply you care about them... ~}==> -rubs at his shoulder-

AURYHN: This feud is their own, and it is their responsibility to rectify whatever has driven them to such extremes... Though, I can't say I know exactly what's going on between them! ~}==>

AURYHN: But I know plenty about sibling rivalry... Slepna and I rarely see eye-to-eye, but there is a bond much stronger between us that no disagreement can break ~}==>

AURYHN: It's the same for them, and the same for you... I believe they'll work it out! And if they require your help in doing so, they will seek it ~}==>

AURYHN: I do not doubt you've made yourself available to them... However, if you're worried, I don't think it would hurt to simply check in on them ~}==>

KAVI: ... i did talk to Joel, and i mean that's me reaching out i guess and it went about as i guessed it would....

KAVI: still that was like. a day before everything fucking happened

KAVI: "maybe" is a shitty word but hey, maybe if i cracked less jokes and tried to get serious and talk to them

KAVI: if you and Slepna hypothetically had your heads up your respective asses then wouldn't, you want someone there with a crowbar to assist in dislodging?

AURYHN: Ah... Well... Perhaps not ~}==> -chuckles-

AURYHN: We are both very stubborn and prideful, as you know! This does seem to be the case with Colt and Joel as well ~}==>

AURYHN: Still, approaching it more seriously might help! If they see how it effects more than just themselves... It could give them some perspective ~}==>

KAVI: =snorts softly= yeah i'm pretty aware :P

KAVI: ...guess that means i shouldn't give 'em the other end of the crowbar then..... they've probably been through enough... maybe let it. calm down

KAVI: =And not do anything haha..=

AURYHN: At the very least, allow yourself to calm down... I hate to see you out of sorts because of it ~}==>

AURYHN: You're a good brother, Kavi... There's no need to feel so responsible for them ~}==> -presses a kiss to his head-

KAVI: =Exhales softly and nuzzles into him. He felt a bit like less than a good brother what with all the secrets, how long it took and had taken him to be bit more open around his siblings about actual things.=

KAVI: thanks, i'll try... =sighs...... inahles and sighs harder.... sits up on the sofa to gently headlock Auryhn and flops over his lap to drag him down to cuddle. SIGHS LOUDLY AND DRAMATICALLY.= alright that's more than enough about me, tell me how my Champion's doing. also you too,how are both my babies?

AURYHN: -OOF, he chuckles, reclining further and wrestling him into snuggles.- We're in tip top health, as usual! ~}==>

AURYHN: There's been an awful lot of funny business happening around Avalon... Not that this is terribly unusual, but there have been some disappearances... ~}==> -frowns-

AURYHN: We're doing what we can, but it's been a challenge to find any leads regarding their whereabouts ~}==>

KAVI: =Good. This is his now, has a loose hold on him and plays with the ponytail. Pulls a face=

KAVI: that's super not great... yikes

KAVI: is it town disappearances or is this diving into the unknown junglescape where nothing makes sense and is super, incredibly not fantastic at all?

AURYHN: Well... It is likely they are connected to the paranormal phenomenon of the forest ~}==>

AURYHN: In fact, it seems very likely they were just spirited away! But I'm certain there is still a way we can rescue them ~}==>

KAVI: yeah it's definitely not great. just careful while you're out there, kay? =He loves the heroic aspect of Auryhn's personality but it could also get him into some dangerous fuckin happenings. Avalon isn't the most dangerous place sans for the forest.... and since this probably involved that he's worried=

KAVI: don't go around sayin shit like "wow, can't believe my retirement is today" or "man this has been such a good day, what could possibly go wrong?"

KAVI: also "i love living and being alive" =puts hand over his mouth briefly= also "oh HUN i'll never disappear" then you do your signature brawny laugh and give me a dorky grin and i look into the camera and scream on the inside

AURYHN: BUT I DO LOVE LIVING AND BEING ALIVE! I HAVE TO SAY IT LOUD AND PROUD! ~}==> -GUFFAW-

AURYHN: I understand your concerns... And believe me, the last thing I want to do is endanger myself! I'm no help to anyone dead ~}==> -says reassuringly-

KAVI: =Babe please, he snickers and rubs Auryhn's face=

KAVI: truuueeeee =Smooches that face=

KAVI: who else am i going to imagine when i'm feeling my inner Bonnie and start holding out for a hero?

AURYHN: I can hardly imagine anyone else who quite fits the bill! ~}==> -FLEXES and also returns the smooch.-

KAVI: =:eyes: flex and touches. Yessssss. Still Kavi puts on a coy smile, casually pawing Auryhn's muscles= i can think of a guy KAVI: he's the strong, strapping type

AURYHN: -gasps- Oh really? Who? ~}==> -WHO IS THE OTHER DOG. he will fight him.-

KAVI: yeah man, maybe you've seen him =gently undoes that ponytail and combs his fingers through Auryhn's hair= he's enthusastic, a good dude

KAVI: great ass which is essential to heroism

KAVI: goes by the moniker A-a-ron

KAVI: there's been a distinctive lack of spandex but an influx of deep-vs which i appreciate greatly

#decastichAmazifier #aurulenthuntsman #in which auryhn tries to help kavi with his brother problems #THIS IS OLD AS BALLS FUCK ME

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