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yanderenightmare · 3 years

Note

dude I would kill for more DADDY DEKU, the last one gave me liffff, maybe like... "embarrassed to ask".... some anal?? plez and thank you Mizz Nightmare <3 I love all your work!

yandere dom ! MIDORIYA IZUKU

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: condescension, degradation, coercion, profanity, abuse, DUBCON/NONCON, yandere, manipulation, suggestive language, slight infantilization

BUNNYHOLE

She’d started to lose track of how much time passed during their session, forgotten what she’d done to get in the position she was in, forgotten what it was Deku felt the need to remind her of. Too much blood rushing to her head in her position of kneeling over his chest, her ass arched up and her face pushed down, cheek resting on his pelvis, running her tongue up and down the length of his cock nuzzling in her small palm, lips locked and sucking on the pulsating veins bulging from his erection. Or perhaps it was her way of forgetting where she was, her way of escaping, becoming numb to spare herself the humiliation, the frustration, the hopelessness and desperation of being subjugated, of being taken against her will, where becoming mindless was her only option when being in the hands of the madman.

Deku’s larger than life hands held onto her hips, held her in place, stroking the dome of her ass affectionately yet wantonly every now and again as his mouth swallowed down on the juices starting to spill drizzly down her thighs. Fat fingers, lined with muscle, coming to delve ghostly over her folds, with his tongue prodding at her entrance. She’d managed to block most of his praising and coos out of mind, focusing on coming, yet now… having lost count of how many times she’d done so on his experience dedicated tongue, with her oversensitivity blaring and buzzing in her lower abdomen, gnarling and crying for it to stop, it was getting harder by the minute to forget where she was and who she was with when he was still so very intent on lapping at her sensitive heat with his thick tongue again and again and again.

And he knew it.

“Such a good Bunny.” He cooed, slurping at her opening, the stiff pinching scratching of the beard on his chin an extra factor of teasing friction on the lips of her pussy, the action sending vibrations to simmer through her and a moan to spur from where she was nuzzling on the hill of his hairy thigh, her mouth guzzling down on one of his balls, letting go with a wet pop to allow the noise to leave her throat unstrained. “Getting so wet for her Daddy.”

His sloppy tongue continuously licked up the ravine presented to him, making its way farther up than usual, playing with the other unused, and preferably so, tight hole.

She made a jump, hopping further down on his lap, face buried in his ball-sack, yet was quickly pulled back by the strong hands on her hips, cheek thoroughly smeared with a glistening mix of saliva and precum and tears.

As though understating yet not caring about her distress, his hands comforted by messaging circles on her ass-cheeks, perhaps in an effort to keep her at bay as well. “Just play with Daddy’s cock while he plays with your cute little butt, okay Bunny?” She’d gotten so very used to instructions, so used to bending her own will.

His tongue found its way back to prodding at the tight hole, pummeling his fatness inside, seemingly trying to pry her open. “But, Daddy-” She tried, still in an effort to scramble away from his ongoing attack.

He would not have her disobedience, that time had passed long ago. His fingers starting to carve their presence into her midriff, stifling her attempt of escape. “Play with Daddy’s cock, just like I taught you.” He was firm in his demand this time, yet the same whine of condescension, of whiny patronizing correction, was still so disgustingly present in his tone. The voice that made her want to rip her hair out and strangle him with it.

Yet, she obeyed. Mouth proceeding to slobber over his massive cock, suckling on every inch of his girth, licking paths over every enhanced vein, making him groan and buck his hips into her face, letting her head disappear between his strong thighs, massive thighs that could snap her neck if she made the wrong move.

“Good little Bunny.” He drawled before he too continued.

Mewls and adorable small whines escaping her focus on pleasing his cock, as his tongue crammed into the tight space of her butthole. More tears gathered at her eye-sockets, falling onto his cock, making her taste her own despair on her tongue gargling on his balls.

“Bunny’s so hungry… sucking on Daddy’s balls like candy-apples.” She felt like gagging, not out of reflex, but out of disgust and wholehearted cringe for his words, but wasn’t given much space to feel anything but anxiety for too long, what with his thumbs making to spread her ass-cheeks further apart. He was happy to see she stayed in place, yet not surprised as the marks on her hips were already blooming with defined raw redness, evidence of just how intolerable hesitation and especially disobeying hesitation was in his cruel eyes. “Good girl.” He praised, hammering the thickness of his tongue inside her tight ass, now with the new easy access.

One hand shifted from its position of spreading her ass, pointer running over the budding hole curiously.

She felt her guts churn at the act, fear riding her body full with goosebumps. “Daddy?” She squeaked uncertainly, sucking in a breath, relenting from her sloppy activity between his legs, fingers curling into the bedsheets in a manner of bracing herself.

“You’ve such a pretty little butt.” He stated, where the amount of adoration was terrifyingly present in his calm and collected voice.

His finger quit its tormenting haunting and she sighed a relieved sigh, wet slicked face falling back onto his glistening manhood, tongue making to lick up his girth yet again.

“Does Bunny want one of Daddy’s fingers inside?” Her fear rushed back, causing her to go all light-headed while his tongue lapped at the bud again, wriggling over the ring of muscle, drawing circles on it, ignoring her growing anxiousness fully. “Hmm, I bet Bunny would love Daddy’s finger inside her little butt.” She’d gotten used to his suggestive language, knowing what was best for her, but still she couldn’t help but way her options, even though deep down knowing how if Deku wanted something from her pliable little body, he was sure to get it no matter the struggle and fight she put up. “Filling her up-” His musings were cut off, the little girl on top of him fighting ever so slightly to move further away from his antagonizing mouth, pleading with her face shoved into his cock.

“No, Daddy please, I don’t-” He didn’t like that, holding her back with his harsh grip, keeping her ass well arched and presented for him to ravage.

“To me it sounds like Bunny is begging to be punished.” He warned, still playing his games, still with his disgusting tone masking the true sentiment of his words. “Do you want Daddy to punish you, Bunny?” One hand stroked over the plump flesh of her ass, threatening to strike the unprotected skin again and again until she complied with his wishes. She knew from experience she didn't handle the pain well, always folding.

She backed down, better now than later with blooming bruises and a discomfort to sit for a week. “No, Daddy please, I’m sorry, I’ll behave.” She scurried back, scared into position, promptly sloshing over his cock with newfound devotion, moaning happily with his precum smeared on her face, anything to spare her from what cold hell he would show her if she didn’t.

He smiled, kissing the doughy flesh of her ass-cheek, welcoming her back. “Well then… tell Daddy how much you’d love his finger in your butt.” Hand returning. “Come on, don’t be shy.” Stroking over the bud of firm flesh, letting her feel the size of his fat finger, begging her to disobey him, begging her to cry and plead or to sob and force herself to obey his commands.

She chose the latter, knowing what other harsh torture awaited her was she not to comply like a good little girl. “Please, Daddy, please finger my ass.” He hummed contently in response, poking the hole ever so slightly, his fingertip sliding in the wetness of his drool. “I want your finger in my ass so badly, Daddy.” She whined, just like she knew he liked, wiggling her ass at him impatiently like the entitled brat he wanted her to be only for him to correct and humiliate.

“Bunny wants a finger up her little butt?” He spoke hurriedly in the spiked frenzied rush of her words, having them slur in drool as he kissed the hole sloppily, lightly biting the flesh of her one ass-cheek, again to scare her into playing the game.

“Yes please, Daddy.” She suckled on his girth desperately, letting false moans pass her lips as though she couldn’t get enough of his cock choking her throat. Playing the game, playing her part, surviving.

“This little butt right here?” He questioned, tongue flicking over the hole.

“Yes, Daddy please!” She started grinding her hips back into his mouth, knowing her enthusiasm is what his anticipation beckoned.

“Well, if you’re a good Bunny and play with Daddy’s cock then I’ll give this butt what it needs.” He needed her devotion, he needed her to understand just how under his thumb she was, he needed his ego satiated, his cruel sinister sadism fed.

“Thank you, Daddy…” She sobbed, fearing while knowing what he’d do if she were to disobey, resulting to dragging her tongue up and down his cock, hands working the base as she sucked, head bobbing up and down as she made cute little glugging sounds that had his stomach fluttering in utter bliss. “I love your cock, Daddy.” So sweet, just like he trained her.

He hummed at how precious she was, feeling somewhat proud of himself for having brought that out of her. “What do you love about it, Bunny?” His words pushed, but it wasn’t the only thing that was tormenting her. His tongue, burning and wet and forceful, dug into her backside, worming its way into her little hole as she tried her best, fighting with every nerve of her being, fear motivating her to stay perfectly still, though not managing to stifle the whimper.

Her breaths were shaky as she spoke to answer him before he grew impatient. “Daddy’s cock is so perfect and big, feels so good inside me.” He didn’t seem to care that she spoke with a cry in her voice.

His hand, having had rested on her ass as a warning, swung under, calloused textured rough fingers rubbed the bead of her clit, making her moan through her cries onto his cock. She was happy her position didn’t allow her to see his smirk. “I think Bunny thinks Daddy’s cock is scary, hmm?” His finger swirled, sandpaper-fingertip dragging over the sensitive swollen pearl again and again with little regard to how her stomach was curling. “A little intimidating, perhaps?” She rested her head on his thigh, her own thighs shaking, though his other hand kept her steady as his mouth sucked on her tender ring of muscle. “But Daddy’s a hero, Daddy would never hurt you, Bunny. Daddy loves you. You understand that, don’t you?” He asked, knowing damn well her answer would be scattered with how ruthless he was being with his fingers in her clit, abusing what power they had to make her bow.

“I love-ve you too, Da- daddy…” She drooled and sobbed out on his lap, wanting so badly to wind her thighs shut, protect what was about to burst, eyes closing and fluttering as her one hand dug fingernails into where they held her steady in the thick stiff muscles of his thighs, her other hand holding his cock, trying her best to guide him into her mouth so she could do as he demanded and save herself being scolded for not listening even though he was the one making it almost impossible to do much of anything except lie there and take it.

He stuck one finger, on long thick finger, into her sopping wet folds, felt her writhe before she could control herself, another finger still held firmly on her clit, drawing careful patterns he knew would make her mewl. “Daddy knows exactly how to please his little girl… and Bunny knows exactly how to please her Daddy, doesn’t she?” He asked rhetorically, words still carrying even though they were muffled into her ass. “I taught you so well.” His finger pumped, curling, scraping, hooking up into her spongey walls, making her mew. “Do you think Daddy’s a good teacher?” She could feel the curl of his salacious smirk as his teeth grazed past the lips of her pussy, tongue flicking, zig-zagging through the wet tender folds.

“The b- best.” She strained, inching further back as he was dragging, hauling her with his finger clawing at her insides.

“Good girl…” He purred, licking up and up until he met with the bud that now seemed to pulsate, her fear so endearingly on display for him. “I think Bunny deserves her prize.” His voice lowered, and she sucked in a breath with caught in her throat as she felt his hand, scathed and scarred and strangely rough and angled with how many times he’d broken his fingers.

He gave her much time to prepare, finger swirling circles onto the hole before dipping the tip inside. She scrunched her eyes shut at the feel of the tight skin of her hole stretching, forced apart to accommodate for Deku’s fat finger. The tight ring feeling as though ripping at the intrusion, tearing as he drove the digit slowly inside, a digit that seemed foreverlasting, growing thicker the more it inched inside her, until he was finally knuckle-deep.

She sucked with fervor now, in a way to pacify herself, gobbling down on his cock gluttonously. “Does it feel good, Bunny?” He asked, voice like honey so sweet it was burning. “My finger in your cute little butt?” He whined and mocked as he wiggled the length inside her, churning her guts in the prosses, earning small cries of discomfort from her slobbering on his cock.

“Yes, Daddy.” It was barely audible as she whimpered it into his thigh.

“Speak up.” He ordered, stern and stoic voice, still with his finger pumped and prompted into her tight ass, with the other hand’s fingers rubbing circles and pinching her swollen clit between them.

“Yes, Daddy.” Her back sloped as she tipped her head up. “I’m sorry.” Her one hand steadying her, placed in support on his thigh as the other tugged on his cock, fingers not managing to enclose around his girth as she messaged his length in long tentative strokes. “Thank you, Daddy, you feel so good.” She wasn’t exactly lying, and it was clear by the slick dripping that coated her thighs.

“Are you proud to have Daddy’s finger in your ass?” He asked, making her scrunch her brows, strangling herself with how hard she was trying to keep from crying. “You should be.” She cursed her existence, wishing she could take back whatever it was that had his eyes locked on her in the first place, whatever had him kidnapping her only to torment and use her as some slave. “To have Daddy’s number one hero finger pleasing your little quirkless butt.” And there it was, the reminder of how crucially inferior she was, such a perfect quirkless toy to feed his superiority-complex. “Tell me how grateful you are, Bunny.”

This was her life. Subjugated to a mere ragdoll for someone who’d do whatever the fuck they wanted to her, a life of belonging to someone, a life of a pet. “I love you so much, Daddy…” He groaned at her words, yet his fingers dug even harder into her hips. “You take such good care of me.” She just needed to tell him what he wanted to hear. “I’m hopeless without you. Thank you, Daddy.” Seems she did a good job, because he was shifting beneath her, hands letting her go for a second only to pull her into the new desired position.

“Come here, turn around.” He ordered, still in his frenzy, turning her around on his lap, making her sit with his cock smearing drool and precum over her stomach, hot against her skin where it bobbed up between the two of them. His hand and fingers glossy with juices from her pussy, came to grab her chin, cupping her cheek to still her as he pushed his lips onto her face, kissing her with hunger, as though in a hurry, his finger finding her ass again, sinking knuckle-deep inside her once again while grabbing onto the soft doughy flesh of ass, making her yelp against his lips, before he parted once more, a string of spit connecting them. “Does Bunny want Daddy’s cock inside her ass?” He mushed her face between his rough finger-pads, her lips puckered like a fish at him, eyes glossy with tearful plead, her thighs beginning to quake against him as she sat uncomfortably with his finger spearing her in the wrong hole.

Her bottom lip quivered then, eyes wide and brimming. “No- please… Daddy.” She would at least try to sway his mind, bargain her way out of it.

His look hardened, cocking an eyebrow at her resistance. “Is Bunny disobeying Daddy?” His grip on her face was past painful now, bruising, nails marking their presence, close to breaching her skin.

“No, Daddy, please-” She started, scrambling for something to save her, trying to make his hold relent, but falling short of making any savory excuses, reduced to mere whimpering as she accepted a preferred compromise. “My pussy would feel so lonely without you filling me up…” His fingers detached, yet only barely, still holding her chin, still controlling, though looking fascinated by the turn of events, pleasured with his little pet openly submitting to him, all with that adorable sweet voice. “I want your big beautiful number one cock inside me, please, Daddy please, I want you in my pussy.” She pushed forward to brush her breasts against his chest, grinding up into him in the process, hands brazenly stroking his cock all on their own command, forehead pressed against his as she did her best to seem seductive, licking her lips and maintaining eye-contact even as his green orbs seemed crazed and fervent and so dangerously feral.

“Bunny wants to come on Daddy’s cock, doesn’t she?” His tone was weirdly condescending, like he was talking to a toddler about getting ice-cream, and though she despised it with every fiber of her being, feeling like the tone itself was gasoline to a roaring raging fire, she did her best to swallow the smoke, knowing it would get her nowhere.

“Yes, Daddy. Pretty please.” She begged, and he wrapped his one hand around the small of her back, pushing her against his chest, his other hand still not having left, with its main finger inside her butt, doing small curious pumps into the tight flesh.

He licked the shell of her ear, a small chuckle coming out as huffs as his hand moved once again away from her back, to line his cock up with her still slick with spit clit, rubbing his cockhead over the bead before sliding it down to push open her sopping hole. “Can Bunny take Daddy in her cute little pussy with his finger inside her pretty ass? Yeah?” Tapping his thickness into her tightness while watching her nod in agreement, only slightly disappointed she didn’t repeat what she said once more, especially when it sounded so delicious dripping from her defeated lips. “Good girl, sit down on Daddy's cock.”

She eased down like she’d done for the past couple weeks, always surprised by just how thick he is, how stingingly and fearfully painful it is, always thinking it couldn’t possibly be as bad as she made it out to be previously though always proven wrong, thinking she ought to have stretched out to accommodate his size to a comfortable fit, yet not having achieved the pleasure still with how many times he’d ripped her apart.

“Hop on that dick little Bunny.” He whispered as she eased herself all the way down, cock fully sleeved inside her, feeling as she was about to burst, so full, so blown, yet he hadn’t any mercy left to spare. She felt his finger wiggle where it penetrated her backside entrance, how his cock and it messaged the wall that separated her two holes, feeling a new type of dangerous, giving her another worry even as the anxiety for what pain treading herself over his cock was already overwhelming enough on its own. “Come on, little Bunny, hands on my shoulders and jump.”

She hadn’t the mind to hold back the whimper, letting her seductive mask slip as the pain mingled pleasure demanded her attention more, hands unsteady as they gripped his shoulder, fingers running over those deep healed scars on his skin she’d gotten so used to tracing. She folded her feet over his legs, given her better balance as she began sliding him in and out slowly, at a pace she could hope to handle and hope was fast enough to please him and his beastly member.

He hummed, free hand coming up to toy with her breasts, grabbing it with those labor-knuckled fingers. “Such a happy little girl bouncing on Daddy’s cock…” He licked over his toothy-grin, salacious green eyes glistening with drunk toxic love-sick madness as he felt her tight suction on his manhood, gliding up and down, in and out, full and hollow. “What do you say?” He decided to tease, decided to make the hurt worse.

A soft whine left her and he couldn’t describe the sick bliss that fluttered in his chest because of it. “Thank you, Daddy.” She forced out yet again, her voice all shaken and adorable.

And still he felt the wanton desire to push. “For what, Bunny? Be specific.”

She knew the drill, what he wanted to hear, but that didn’t make it any easier to force from her throat, even harder to relent from seething the words through grit teeth where she knew such aggression wouldn’t be tolerated, because nothing but her complete and full submission would be tolerated by Deku. “Thank you, Daddy, for giving me your big beautiful number one cock.” What was funny was that it was in a sense still true, despite her hating every word of it, despite her cursing the sentence, the praise, the gratitude. It did feel good, behind the pain, behind her disgust, it felt good. What more, Deku was the number one hero, not just the strongest man alive, but intelligent, knowledgeable and ruthless too, where it really would be unwise to not feel grateful for having been chosen by him, where people should be grateful he even chooses to be a hero at all, when he could just as easily be a villain, or a bloody tyrant. She should be grateful that she was given the honor of being his. Her body sure knows how to show its humility, doing its best to please him, showing him just how appreciated and welcome his touches are with how undeniably wet her pussy gets each time, clenching around his shaft as it drills deep into her, filling her out, completing her, pushing into that spongey spot deep within her, making her stomach flip, toes curl, clit buzz with pleasure, shamefully come all over him.

He made a moan of awe, patronizing in its nature. “Are you gonna come for me? All over Daddy’s cock.” She wanted to scream, throw herself off his lap, slap him, claw and bite and kick, but instead she was doing exactly what he said. “A happy little Bunny stuffed with Daddy's cock and his finger up her bum.” He whined, hand having glided down from holding her chin in favor of wrapping around her throat, nose touching nose, emerald steel-eyes keenly watching her every move, feeling her clench around him, making him hiss with pleasure like a snake.

“Yes, Daddy please.” She never liked snakes. Her new life was made of snakes. Snakes taking the form of ropes, tying her down, chaining her up, snakes in her guts, swirling and coiling and tickling that strange pleasure that had treacherous venom drip onto the snake that penetrated her, his arms like snakes around her waist, thick constrictors holding her still, keeping her trapped for devouring.

“Beg for it.”

She sucked in a beaten breath, forcing her will to comply to his wishes, swallowing her pride, subduing the fighter in favor of having her fall on her own sword, instead of digging her own grave. “Daddy, please can I come on your cock?” One would think the human soul gets used to humiliation after some time, but the ball in her chest hadn’t softened no matter how many times she’d offered up her dignity, no matter how many times Deku had forced her to her knees. “You feel so good inside me, Daddy.” She mewed in gratitude, moaning as he hit the right spot again and again, making her go blind as she tried focusing on what sweet nothings she needed to say. “I wanna come for you so badly, Daddy please.” He gave her a kiss to her nose then, meant to be sweet even though it would have revolted her had she been in the right mind to feel anything but forcibly good, all sweet with chasing her release, riding him, jumping on his length like a good bunny should.

“Good Bunny.” He purred an she had not the mind to feel like cussing, only desperately waiting for him to allow her release. “You see? Things are so much easier when you do as you're told, when you do what Daddy tells you.” He bottomed out into her tight heat, filling her up to the hilt, felt her body spasm with half panic at how deep inside her he was and half pleasure with how dangerous it felt to have her cervix molded by the shape of his cock-head burying itself in the spongey spot. “Come on, come on Daddy’s cock, make Daddy feel good.” She couldn’t refuse, even if he’d told her to hold it, she couldn’t, couldn’t stop the lightning to shoot through her, pussy clenching around his cock like a death-grip, strangling his length, sucking on him, milking his shaft, unsure whether she wanted him to pull out or stay inside her warmth, but luckily that decision wasn’t up to her, all she needed to do was not forget her manners.

“Thank you, Daddy…” It dripped from her mouth like sweet-tasting poison, tongue dripping with thick drool as she panted and mewled with how he continued warming his cock inside her, trying to push further and deeper inside even though there was no more space to be filled, resulting to a deep thrusting that felt as though he was about to push through into her womb.

He kissed her cheek as she numbed down to a relaxed exhausted limp body in his arms. “You’re welcome, Bunny… but Daddy isn't finished with you yet.” She felt her stomach twist despite knowing how she wasn’t done until Deku shoots his thick cream and paints whatever part of her body he had the appetite for.

Pulled from her high by the knowledge of how it was a psychotic madman who had granted it, as she felt said green-haired man guide her to lay on her back.

“There you go, Bunny… such a cute mess.” He licked his lips, where she only barely tried to scurry away from his hungry lips gaining on her sensitive raw orgasm-glossed sex.

She whined when his tongue dragged up her slit to drink her juices, flicking over her tender swollen clit, hands in his hair, trying their best to refrain from yanking him away.

“Oh, Bunny’s so sensitive… did Daddy make you feel too good.” She squirmed beneath him, convulsing as he teased with his tongue and his lips and the light grazing ghosting of his teeth. “Look at you… Daddy’s little Crybunny.” He snickered, smirking as he gorged himself beneath her legs, loving the whiny moans and whimpers she couldn’t hold back, and how her hands tried ever so sweetly to nudge him off, how she dug the balls of her feet into the mattress to try and shuffle away from his attack, but not allowed to go anywhere with his arms locked around her thighs, keeping her just where he wanted her, shivering beneath him and only seconds away from crying and begging him to stop. “Does the little Bunny need her pacifier?” He hummed in askance. “Don’t you move a muscle, Bunny, I have a treat for you...”

He hopped off the bed with a speed that went unnoticed while she blinked to find him position behind her, hovering above her face, thick and fat and veined from hilt to tip, tidy shaven green-stubble above his strutting proud cock, a path of longer hairs trailing up to his belly-button and sprinkled into a pretty growth of chest-hair the higher up his chiseled abs it went.

“Open up, Bunny.” He tapped the glossy mushroom-tip onto her lips, smearing what concoction of precum and juices had mingled together there.

She did as commanded, parting her lips yet making sure to wrap her teeth, knowing how he didn’t appreciate being bitten either by accident or not, having little understanding to how hard it was to fit him in her mouth without letting her teeth graze his impressive girth.

“Taste yourself.” He groaned. “Suck me clean, Bunny.” He lightly patted the side of her face, fingers drumming on her cheek, telling her to hollow them in and suck on him. “There you go.” He praised, watching her struggle not to gag as he began lightly fucking the back of her throat, pushing farther down, liking how her already tight tunnel began clenching around him, trying to hold back the coughs. “Be a good Bunny and swallow all of me.”

Usually he’d enjoy the feel of her nose dipping into his pelvis, but now with her upside down, he could feel his balls being poked as they smothered her only remaining breathing option. Still, he took his time, knowing how she could take a few seconds without air, enjoying the look of his fat cock down her throat, his hand testing a daring stroke over her jugular, watching to see if she would convulse and gag and splutter out coughs like she did the first couple of times he ventured deep, yet was proud to see her stay in play with only a few panicked spams of her chest. He probed even further as he lightly pinched the outline of his shaft between his thumb and index-finger, listening to her begin to whine, a submissive little prayer to let her breathe again.

“Good Bunny…” He pulled out, large hands cupping her cheeks, telling her to remain lying there as he bent over to kiss her spit-slicked lips, his hand reaching over to palm her breast while the other reached farther to rub rough patterns into her terribly oversensitive clit, making her gasp out a strangled uncontrolled moan into his receiving mouth. “Come on, one more time.” He straightened himself, taking the opportunity to push through her open-mouthed panting with his dripping cock. “Get me nice and wet for your little Bunny-butt…”

Her eyes shot open, hands flailing instead of holding onto his thighs. “No-” She tried protesting, as she lightly tapped at his firm muscled ass with the face of her palm, slapping to get her discomfort across.

“No, no, Bunny, do as you’re told, do what Daddy says.” Deku chastised, grabbing her bothersome hands by the wrist and holding them behind his back, feeling her try to recoil away, yet well-trained enough to not bite as his cock pushed down her throat again. “Be a good Bunny and suck on Daddy.” He rocked his hips slowly back and forth, jutting lightly into her mouth. “Just like Daddy taught you.” His voice remained sweetly stoic, like a teacher or a parent, made her want to throw up on him, yet knowing how he didn’t stop last time she did, he just kept fucking her skull, even with the bile and acidic liquid burning in her throat. “Wash out all those filthy protests.” She whimpered at how his hands tightened around her wrists, balls lightly clapping over the bridge of her nose, swinging into her face each time he pushed until his entire length was enclosed to the hilt. “Teach you some manners Bunny-girl.”

Her eyes stung now, with the built-up tears that now flowed freely, dampening her hairline before dripping into the sheets.

Deku moaned, releasing her hands, needing his own to reposition his toy in the new desired position. “Up on your knees.” He remained staining at the edge of the bed, helping his darling kneel. “Posture, Bunny.” He chastised. “Arch that ass up for Daddy.”

His hand spread flat in the space between her shoulder blades, pushing her upper-body down into the sheets, gliding to enclose around the back of her neck to keep her still while the fingers of his other hand stroked chaffed fingertips up and down the tender lips of her pussy, diving between her folds to gather slick wetness he used to push into her sore hole, curling two digits into the spongey velvet walls, making her moan into the pillow she was forced against.

“Stay.” He ordered, all his warmth leaving her as she remained clutching and balling up the fabric of the sheets in her tiny useless fists, keeping her ass presented in the air, waiting with eager horror for Deku to return.

She heard him open a drawer, then click open a lid, the squirt of something she had an educated guess of what was, listened to the slick sounds of him messaging the liquid into his hands, before his heavy steps carried him back to his position behind her.

“Look at this precious little bunny-hole.” His fingers felt slippery as they rubbed and palmed her ass-cheeks, left hand lifting the plump flesh on one side, whilst the other moved to slide up and down the ravine before hooking a finger inside the top tight little ring of muscle. “Bunny needs Daddy’s cock inside her little butt, doesn’t she?” He pushed it in with ease now with the lube covering his hands, preparing the tightness by pumping the digit in and out, tickling the unsuspecting nerves that had never been played with before, the feeling strange yet surprisingly pleasant as his finger scraped downward, rubbing against a spot that had her pussy gushing around nothing. “Bunny’s tight little butt is just begging to be filled with Daddy's cock isn’t it, Bunny?”

She wasn’t too sure anymore. “No…”

He stuck another finger in with the first one at her reply, making her whine out a wail, toes curling, her one leg thumping up and down into the mattress, trying to shake and crawl away but not allowed to go anywhere with his hand reaching to recover the position it held before, holding her down, pressured around the back of her neck. “Up until now Bunny has been enjoying herself, but this attitude… tch, tch, Bunny... perhaps she needs a little reminder of who she belongs to?”

She whimpered at the feel of both his thick fingers gliding alongside each other in and out of her tight tender hole, as she clenched around them and around nothing where juices were dripping down her thighs.

“And there is no punishment without a little pain.”

He’d only been dipping his digits in halfway, and she realized this once he decided to go knuckle-deep inside her, making her jolt at the foreign feeling of something going inside, much deeper now.

She was arching her back up like a cat, trying to hide her ass from his antagonizing hands. “What have I told you about posture, Bunny?” His hand let partially go of her neck to glide up her spine, resting on the small of her back. “Give Daddy your hands.” She hesitated, taking her time to breath, feeling his fingers sink in, making her knees tremble, before she listened and folded her arms behind her, again like he’d taught her. “Now, arch your little Bunny-butt up for me.”

She took small shallow breaths as she readjusted her back into a slope again, knowing what was coming, however as she felt it, big and warm and slick and soft like velvet, riding up her drooling pussy, his fingers disappearing from playing with her hole to make room for what would soon take their place, something much bigger and much longer, both his hands grabbing each her wrists, but not before making a cross of her arms, perfectly immobile for him as he lined his aching eager cock up with her pulsating little hole, she couldn’t hold back.

“No, please, Daddy, I’ll be good.” She begged, trying to scramble away, but being to late as she was left simply sobbing into the mattress, unable to move to any other position without it hurting with how his hands had bent her arms behind her back, yet despite knowing this he still took it upon himself to raise his foot and place it down over the side of her face, stomping slightly on it as a warning to keep still. Her movement obliged, coming to a halt, though not able to contain the trembling. “Please…” She tried one last time, though knowing he had no mercy nor patience left to spare her.

“Don’t disobey Daddy.” He fit his cockhead into the dip of her back entrance again, lining up the attack. “Now Bunny, beg for Daddy to fill your little butt up.” She tried shaking her head beneath the pressure of his foot, feeling her heart in her throat, pouting and scrunching her eyes shut, sniffling so adorably, yet he couldn’t take any pity on her when this was a lesson she needed to learn. “I said beg.” He pulled her arms back, as she screamed with how her shoulder-blades were close to popping out, his foot mushing her face harder into the mattress.

“Pl- please Daddy… fill me u- up…” She blubbered, every inch of her quivering.

He quit his torture, leaving her to simply snivel. “Good girl.” And then he started pushing.

Big bulging mushroom head entering slowly as she whimpered, butthole seizing around it, swallowing it up. “You see, Bunny?” His movements stilled, letting her get used to the new feeling of having something so big fit in the firm taunt hole. “Your little butt is sucking on my cock like a lollipop.”

He aimed a drop of spit at where he was cramming inside her, the cold wetness hitting her with surprise as she slightly jumped on her knees, bouncing in the soft sponge of the mattress, the movement inadvertently making his cock rock with shallow thrusts in and out of her, messaging her opening.

He moaned at the cute gesture. “Bunny’s so eager to receive Daddy’s cock, isn’t she?” He slid farther in, making her moan as his cock dragged along the wall that separated from her pussy, making everything tighten up, her pussy feeling so empty, clenching on nothing at all, yet feeling his fat length in just the wrong place, teasing her, making her so unbelievably wet. “Tell Daddy how good it feels, Bunny.” He pulled out again, beginning a slow tempo of lolling halfway into her.

He looked to her face, flushed red and squished together beneath the sole and weight of his foot keeping her down, lips puckered and bloated, cheeks tear-stained, eyes sparkling as she mumbled on small bubbling purrs, unsure pleasure painting her face, looking like such an endearing hopeless mess as he squeezed into the tight fit of her perfect plump ass. “It feels good, Daddy.” She quavered, shaky breaths and small sniffles leaving her adorable expression.

He hummed in return, sinking just a little bit farther inside her, feeling her tense as he did, an open-mouthed whine leaving her, drool hanging like silver string from her lips. “I think Bunny can be more creative than that, can’t she?”

She knew better than to disobey, especially when he already had her in such a compromising postion, knowing he wasn’t far away from pushing all the way inside her still accommodating ass, make her scream and possibly bleed as he fucked her through yet another punishment. “Daddy’s cock feels so good. So good with your number one cock inside me. I love you, Daddy. I love Daddy’s cock. Thank you, Daddy.” She drooled out as sweetly as she could, which was sweeter than honey with how hard it was to breath in her position of being pushed into the pillow beneath her, body slunk with no way of getting up, a proper prayer-pose as Deku stuffed her even fuller, making her mew.

“That’s right…” He groaned, hips rocking slowly and carefully back and forth, opening her little butt with his thickness, messaging her insides, teasing all the sensitive provoked nerves, poking shallowly into the spot that usually had her coming were it not on the other side, in her other hole who was begging to be stimulated in a way that wasn’t half-way fulfilling and half-way terrifying. “And to think Bunny thought she didn’t want this. Daddy still hasn’t heard his apology…”

“You’re right, Daddy, I was wrong… I do want this…” Another moan was forced from her as he inched even further inside, pushing into uncharted and unsuspecting tender areas, making her bleat and sigh ever so sweetly, unable to do anything but lie there and feel every inch of him stuffing her full, taking his time enjoying her tight hole.

He moaned in awe at her words, nearly slobbering. “Daddy knows what’s best for you Bunny.” Another inch had her feeling even fuller, as though he was in her stomach. “Daddy knows what Bunny wants and needs.” He fucked with the added length for a short-lived while until pushing another full inch inside, having her whine out a moan, her ass shaking like a little tease, wiggling at him, her arms also trying ever so slightly on reflex to pull out of his grasp. “Daddy’s always right, Bunny only needs to please Daddy.”

He started sinking in inch after inch, unbothered or perhaps coaxed by how she struggled now, opting to bottom out fully, have his balls squished against her glossy pussy, his cock completely enclosed by her tight spasming butt, grunting out a shuddering groan of potent pleasure while feeling her little futile struggles trying so desperately to make him stop or slow down as he filled her up completely.

“You just need to listen… and obey.”

TIP-JAR

#yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere #yandere deku #yandere midoriya #yandere midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku #Midoriya #izuku midoriya #bnha midoriya #yandere izuku #yandere izuku midoriya #deku x reader #daddy deku #izuku x reader #izuku mydoria #Izuku #izuku midoria x reader

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sj-thefan · 3 years

Text

5. Revealing Secrets I (I Don’t Do That Anymore)

Previous | Series Masterlist -- Warnings: Death/Murder, crimes

Y/n dreamt about Bucky that night. It was an odd sort of dream. She wore a dress with a large skirt, and her hair was done up in victory rolls. Bucky was in a soldier’s uniform, complete with the cap and metals on his chest. His signature glove was still on his hand.

They were in an empty bar while 1920’s jazz played. They danced and laughed through the night. It was perfect and romantic—

—Until the sounds of whimpering drew her back to reality.

As she woke, she noticed the sounds were coming from the main room. Thinking that something was wrong, she quickly sprang from her bed to check on Bucky.

It was dark, but the light from the windows was enough to guide her to the light, which she promptly turned on before making her way to Bucky. He was thrashing in the bed. The blanket was crumpled at his feet.

Y/n tried to reach out to him and shake him awake, but the constant movement kept pushing her hand away. She called out to him, but the only response was his whimper.

He started speaking through the whimpers. “No!” His body shook with fear.

“Bucky!” she yelled. She sat on the bed, trying to stop him from moving so much as she continued to call his name. “Bucky, wake up!”

His eyes shot open. Feeling the restraint on his arms, he panicked. He pushed away the thing restraining him and stood up, trying to recognize his surroundings. The sound of groaning drew his eyes to the area behind him.

Y/n sat on the ground; she was rubbing the back of her head.

He quickly rushed forward, hoping to comfort her, but he stopped. What if he hurt her more? He knew this had been wrong. He couldn’t risk hurting her any more than he already had. Perhaps it was time he left.

An airy laugh filled the room, and Bucky snapped his head to Y/n.

She was off the floor now and moving to the couch with a smile. Her eyes found Bucky’s fear-filled face. “I’m okay, Bucky,” she reassured. “Next time, remind me not to wake you from a nightmare.” She smiled at him, taking a seat on the futon.

He didn’t return the smile. Instead, he kept his distance, pulling the sleeve of his hoodie to cover his metal hand.

“Are you okay?” she asked as he backed further away. “I promise I’m okay, Buck. I’ve been through worse than a bump on the head.”

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispered.

“I forgive you. You don’t need to feel bad.”

“I’m a monster.” This he whispered under his breath.

Y/n didn’t want to push him to talk. She had heard his claim, but she knew it wasn’t true. What she wanted to know was why his first thought was about his character. “Does this have something to do with your memories?”

Bucky’s shoulders slumped. His eyes stayed focused on the ground as he nodded.

Y/n sighed. “Will you sit with me, Bucky?” Slowly, the man made his way to the bed and sat on the opposite side of her. Y/n took a deep breath before speaking again. “I want you to know that I’m not a breakable as you may think. I’ve been through some shit; a lot of people have. I know better than most what it’s like to run from a terrible past.”

Bucky finally looked up and met her gaze.

“I don’t judge anyone on their past mistakes. All that matters is who they are in the present and who they’re trying to be.” She crawled closer to him, still keeping a respectful distance. “I really like you, Bucky. I don’t care what happened in the past. I care about now—about us.”

Bucky felt a pit in his stomach. “What if,” he gulped. “What if a memory comes back and I don’t like the person I was? What if I did something unforgivable?”

“Do you trust me, Bucky?”

He hesitated. “More than anyone.”

Y/n took another deep breath. “I did something bad a few years ago—really bad. I knew that I had to tell you eventually, but,” she paused, feeling her eyes fill with tears, “I’m just so scared you’ll run away—that you’ll think I’m a terrible person.”

Bucky couldn’t stand to see her cry. He moved closer and—keeping his metal arm out of her view—hugged her close. “You don’t need to tell me. You’re a good person Y/n, and I could never think differently.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” As she pulled away, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “But I do need to tell you. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t.” Bucky offered his hand, and she graciously held it as she began her story. “I met Noah right out of High School. He was attending the university I was planning to go to and got assigned to be my mentor. But instead of talking about school, Noah and I talked about,” she hesitated, finding the right words, “more personal stuff.

“Soon, we were going on dates, and I was sure I was in love. He was the first guy I had ever really dated. I was really naive. I thought he was acting like any boyfriend would. The bruises started to become a frequent accessory of mine, but after each one, he would kiss me and tell me he loved me more than anything. And like a fool, I believed him. He brought me presents and took me on expensive dates. We were in love.

“I quickly figured out he wasn’t running in the best of circles. He told me the money and gifts were provided by his work, and in a way that was true.” Y/n gulped, stealing a look at Bucky to find his eyes glued to hers. “He was in a gang. They would steal and cheat and beat anyone who stood against them. When he found out I knew, he told me it was all for me—so that I could have a lavish life, because ‘that’s what I deserved.’” She shook her head. “I was stupid.”

“That’s not stupid, Y/n,” Bucky cut in. “You deserve to be treated with respect, but he wasn’t giving that to you.”

She smiled weakly at him, giving a squeeze to his hand. “I know, and eventually, I realized he didn’t love me. But I hadn’t figured it out then.

“At the end of the summer, Noah fucked up. He told me that we needed to leave town. Someone had died. I figured out later that he had killed a security guard during one of their jobs. But even though I wasn’t a part of his gang, I went with him. I left my friends and family for the man I had known for less than a year.

“The town we ended up in wasn’t the nicest. It was dirty and filled with sketchy people. We lived in a small apartment over some bar. He told me he would get a job, and I got one too. The money was shit, and my boss treated me like I was a piece of meat. When I quit, Noah was angry, so I promised to find a job that brought in more money. And I did.

“I’ve always been good with computers; it was what I wanted to do in school. It was really simple to get into people’s accounts, especially when I swiped their card from them in the bar below. Noah was happy for a while. At least until one of his friends mentioned they needed someone to deactivate an alarm for a job.

“I became the designated hacker. Then one of the jobs went south. The house was meant to be empty; they only sent in three men. The owner wasn’t too happy to see three men breaking into his house and opened fire. They all died. In Noah’s mind, it was my fault. I should have been able to tell that the alarm had only been set overnight instead of for the week like their intel had suggested. I didn’t want him to be mad at me, so I told him I’d make it up to him.

“He found a job the next week. It was similar to the previous one: the family went on vacation for a week, tons of valuables waiting for them. The only difference would be that I would go inside with them. They didn’t count on a house sitter.”

Bucky started rubbing circles into her hand. He could tell she was struggling to get the words out. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“She wasn’t that old either, only a few years older than me. I was the one who found her. When Noah saw how scared I was, he put the gun in my hands. He told me to shoot her—to kill her. She had seen too much.” Y/n closed her eyes tight, tears escaping as she let her head hang. “I didn’t want to, but he screamed, and I jumped, squeezing the trigger.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I killed her. She had done nothing wrong—nothing but be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Bucky held her close. “That’s not your fault, Y/n. He manipulated you. It’s on him.”

It took a few minutes of Bucky holding her, but eventually, Y/n’s sobs subsided enough for her to continue. “I wanted to leave then, but I was scared. The next week, Noah heard that the police had a warrant for his arrest. He gave me a bag filled with anything that he thought could be used against him and told me to run. I think he knew that I wanted to leave, so if the police got me, I would tell them everything, and I would have. I was done.

“I went home, but my parents didn’t want me there. They said that I was a criminal, and they were right, so I left. My brother wanted to help me out, so he sent me enough money for an apartment. I got a job, and I got this lovely apartment.” Y/n huffed, content to have gotten her story off her chest.

Bucky was speechless. That definitely wasn’t the story he had been expecting from the quiet bookstore worker.

“Last I heard, Noah was in prison. I’ve kept tabs on him, but for the most part, I try to forget him. He represents all the mistakes I’ve made. All I can do now is try to help out anyone I can: to atone for my mistakes by trying to be the best person I can be.”

When Bucky remained silent, Y/n got worried.

“I promise, I’m not that person anymore.”

“I know, doll. I just can’t believe you’ve been through all that.”

She smirked. “Sometimes, I can’t either. But I did. I get nightmares about it sometimes. I’ll see Noah come for me, or I’ll see that poor woman’s face.” She shook her head, clearing it of the terrible thoughts. “It’s strange.” Bucky cocked an eyebrow at her. “Since you’ve come around, I haven’t really had any nightmares.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Y/n leaned forward, placing a kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “Thank you for listening, Bucky.”

“Any time.”

-- Next

#Sj writes #I Don't Do That Anymore #IDDTA #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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misslittykitty · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Need A Hero

Titel: I Don’t Need A Hero

Characters: Steve, Y/N, OC Gabe (no pairing)

Prompt: “I’m not a damsel in distress, I’m a damsel doing damage.” (bolded in story)

Warning: 1st person reader, nothing else

Word count: 2,255 word

A/N: This was written for Kaytees1000FollowerChallenge.- Dear @kayteewritessteve I am so, so sorry this took me ages to write. I had more than half of it already written but then with everything corona going on and my mental health taking a turn for the worse during summer, I couldn’t bring myself to write at all. But now, finally, I found a good ending and was able to finish. I hope that you like it even though it’s way, way too late. Big hugs to you.

----

I Don’t Need A Hero

Steve let the pen fall out of his hand and, with a sigh, stretched his arms high over his head. Looking up at the clock, he realized with surprise that it was already 9.15 p.m. and therefore after closing time. His gaze went back to the paperwork on his desk which had held his complete attention for the past hour.

Deciding that he was done for the day, Steve got up. He arched his back to stretch out the muscles while turning to the offices’ windowfront to overlook the training area.

He counted four of his regulars still finishing up their workout or collecting their bags to head out and one of his instructors, Gabe, cleaning and stowing away equipment. The boxing ring which had been occupied by Bucky and Sam last time he’d checked, was now empty

A movement at the back of the training area caught his attention and he focused on the person at one of the punching bags. It only took him a few seconds to know he’d never seen her before.

His lips formed into a crooked smile as he watched her punch and pummel the bag with a lot of determination but not much else. Wondering why none of his staff had at least instructed her with the bare minimum, he headed for the office door and down the stairs.

His intention of directly approaching the woman was diverted when he passed Gabe at one of the equipment racks.

“Bucky and Sam already left?” he asked unable to hide his grin. Gabe returned it while shaking his head.

“Yeah, and both were still alive when they did. And bickering like an old married couple”, Gabe replied while he continued to wipe down one of the benches. “I’m really, truly amazed they’ve not yet seriously injured one another.”

“Nah, they won’t. Deep down, they like each other”, Steve said with a smirk, “at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”

Gabe threw his head back laughing before he went on to pick up several skipping ropes. Those too received a thorough wipe-down.

“By the way, what’s the deal with the woman back there?” Steve wanted to know and motioned with one hand to the back of the gym. Gabe hung up the ropes he was holding and closed the locker before he shrugged.

“Oh man, she walked in a couple minutes past nine, slammed fifty bucks on the counter and asked to just punch something for a few minutes”, he explained, holding up his hands in a ‘Don’t ask me’ kind of gesture.

“And you just let her?”

“Sorry, Steve, really but I was already in my close-up routine and got no time to argue. It’s fifty bucks for our coffee fund, man. I didn’t think it would hurt anyone,” Gabe replied and shrugged again.

“Yeah well, not anyone but her.” Steve rolled his eyes at Gabe and continued his way. He’d just noticed that a) she was wearing a white and blue striped blouse, a black skirt reaching to her knees and high-heeled strappy pumps - in short, clothes entirely not suited for this kind of workout - and, even worse, b) no hand protection whatsoever. If she hadn’t already severely bruised her knuckles, she would in the next few minutes with the way she was going at it.

Approaching her cautiously from the side to not startle her overly much, he came to a stop right next to the punching bag.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”

------

I had no idea how I’d ended up in this place. All I knew was that I’d desperately wanted to get away from my apartment. And on my mad dash, anger started to boil up inside me, growing quickly and evolving into the urgent need to hit something, anything. Hard.

A gym sign had registered even in my agitated state of mind and I’d simply walked in, put some cash on the counter and asked for a punching bag.

After that, everything else had faded away. Almost all thoughts had fled my mind, leaving me with the image of him projected onto the punching bag and I’d gone to town. Swinging my fists to punch and pummel his face wearing that unbelievably gentle, stupid ass smile – the last thing I’d seen before running from the apartment with tears blurring my vision.

I still couldn’t believe how everything had gone downhill. We’d been so happy once, not too long ago even. Where had we taken the wrong turn? And why? But I was tired, so very tired of thinking these thoughts, these never-ending questions which had been going round and round in my head for the past hour.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”

The voice startled me momentarily and delayed my next punch by a millisecond. But I kept going, letting my fists connect with the bag again and again while mumbling out, “I’m fine.”

“It’s just that…you forgot to use gloves and didn’t even wrap your hands.”

“It’s fine, I don’t need it”, I replied curtly, concentrating on the target in front of me and simply continuing to hit the bag with as much force as I could muster. Which sadly wasn’t a lot.

“I could show you how it’s done”, he said, an upbeat tone to his voice.

Heaving a deep sigh, I stopped my actions and turned toward the intruder. The second I laid eyes on him, recognition set in causing a slight shiver (probably of nerves) to run down my back and my eyes to widen for a moment.

Then I sighed again and said, ”Listen, thanks for the offer but I don’t need a hero. I’m not a damsel in distress, I…I’m a damsel doing damage, okay?”

It was his turn to widen his eyes before he had the audacity to smirk and shrug. Putting one hand on his hip, he lifted the other to gesture at nothing while saying, “Sure, go ahead, damage away. But the way I see it, going on like you have, the only thing you’ll really damage is yourself.”

I stared at him, lost for words, lost for even the tiniest reaction to what he said. Inside my head, his words reverberated around and around, creating an echo but instead of fading away it increased in volume, screaming, and screaming the words “The only thing you’ll really damage is yourself”.

And I promptly burst into tears. The anger, the rage which had held me up and had kept me going vanished and I felt myself deflate. My sight blurred by tears, I made a grab for something to hold, to keep myself upright and found a forearm – an extraordinarily strong forearm – being offered.

By touch alone – because I couldn’t see anything through this onslaught of saltwater pouring from my eyes – I managed to find his upper arm and eventually his shoulder to cry on. Which I did for an unknown amount of time.

-----

When I’d somewhat calmed down, I noticed that he’d walked me over to one of the benches and had sat down with me there.

His shirt bore the real signs of my outburst, wet tearstains all along his right shoulder. Heat rose up my neck and I averted my gaze while embarrassedly wiping at the lingering moisture on my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” I said with a sniffle. “And…well, thank you, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, withdrawing his arm from around me now that he knew I had calmed down. “Uhm…what brings you here, anyway? Haven’t seen you around before.”

His question made me snort so hard, snot threatened to burst from my nostrils. Blushing even more, I put up my left hand to try and stop the flow.

Meanwhile, the man…okay, let’s be honest here: I knew who he was, I had recognized him right away…. So, meanwhile, Steve Rogers aka Captain America chuckled and got to his feet to collect some paper towels which he then handed to me.

Mumbling a soft thank you, I blew my nose and, while I was at it, dried the last spots of tear residue from my cheeks.

“Who thought to make crying so messy, hu?” I said, more as a statement than a question and Steve chuckled again.

“Probably the same asshole who invented nosebleeds and asthma”, he replied to my surprise and I burst out laughing.

“Sounds about right,” I said but felt the grin fading from my lips as his earlier question still hung unanswered in the air between us. I sighed, hoping for the right words to miraculously fall from up high directly onto my tongue but I ended up blurting out,” My marriage fell apart about an hour ago and I was so angry, so frustrated…and I came across this gym and needed to…just hit something.”

“Oh”, he said, sounding genuinely surprised and when I met his gaze, his eyes held a mixture of embarrassment, pity, and compassion. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I”, I agreed, felt my shoulders sag again and looked away. For several minutes no on spoke, the only sounds those of the few clients and staff, clattering, footsteps, and in the distance, a shower running.

My eyes studied the floor, not daring to look up, straying only as far as to where his shoes met the linoleum.

“How…how long….” He trailed off just as quickly as he’d started to speak. I heard him clear his throat and lifted my gaze just in time to see him rubbing the back of his neck. He’d probably realized his question might come off insensitive.

I laughed without any real humor behind it and sighed, opting to just answer him anyway,” 7 years, the darned seventh-year itch. How cliché is that?”

“I can go and beat some sense into your husband,” Steve offered, signaling with a wink that he was joking, and I laughed, really laughed this time.

“Oh god, no. It’s not…well, he didn’t cheat on me or anything. It’s…we fell apart. Somewhere in the past year we’ve started to drift away from each other.”

I shrugged my shoulders, my lips forming a half smile before I continued, “And…well, I guess I’m just frustrated because I wasn’t really surprised. I mean when he brought up during dinner today that he wanted to separate…it should’ve come as a surprise. But it didn’t. It didn’t. And that’s when I knew.”

“What did you know?” he asked, and my gaze met his once again.

I shrugged again, my smile turning even more lopsided before I heaved a deep sigh. “That there is nothing for me to do but to accept that my marriage is truly over.”

My voice had taken on a slight tremble, tears once more started to burn behind my eyes. But I bit my lower lip, averted my gaze from his and tried to blink them away.

“Oh”, Steve said and added, “I’m truly sorry.”

For lack of a better response, I graced him with another of my grimaced smiles which he mirrored.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, just remember my offer stands.”

“Which one?” I inquired and upon the confused look on his face, I elaborated, ”Your offer of showing me how to box or to beat up my husband?”

Was it my imagination or did a slight blush creep across his cheeks when he chuckled and said, “Both, I guess?”

My smiled widened. “Thank you, Mr. Rogers. I really appreciate it.”

“Steve. Please call me Steve”, he corrected and held out his hand. “And you are?”

“I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”, I told him and took his hind to shake. Yet, the moment his hand closed around mine, I winced, let out a hiss and yelped “Ouch!”

Steve quickly took my hand into both of his and lifted it up. A small crease appeared on his forehead while he inspected my knuckles and when he met my gaze a few seconds later, the ‘I told you so’ was written all over his features.

“Don’t”, I warned him and shook my head. “Don’t you dare say, what you want to say. I know, okay?”

“How can you possibly know what I wanted to say?”

“Oh please”, you groaned, “your expression was screaming it very, very clearly.”

“Alright, fine”, he laughed, shaking his head. “I won’t say it, but I would recommend an icepack and maybe some arnica gel overnight.”

“Okay, advice taken”, I giggled and gently pulled my hand from between his. “And, well, thank you. For…”

I trailed off, saw his smile from out of the corner of my eyes.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Anytime.”

“I should get going. So….” I said and motioned toward the exit.

“Yeah, okay. Have…well, despite everything have a good night then.”

We smiled at each other once again before I turned and walked toward the door. When there were only a few steps left to reach the front desk, I turned back around and called out, “Hey, Steve? Turns out that I did need a hero after all!”

The last thing I saw was him throwing back his head laughing and if that didn’t lift my spirits, nothing would.

Yeah, may words rang true. Maybe it had been fate that I’d chosen this particular gym. Maybe I had really needed a hero tonight.

#steve rogers fanfiction #kaytees1000followerchallenge #steve rogers x reader #tati writes #i don't need a hero

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kayteewritessteve · 4 years

Text

Beautifully Unfinished - 6/8

Description: One foolish outburst, one moment of weakness at the worst possible time, and everything goes up in smoke. Who knew finally voicing your true, deep-rooted feelings, would lead to the complete destruction of your most cherished friendship?

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 3,450 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Curse words. Lots of angst. But if you’ve read my stories before, then you know how this will end.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

Adulthood.

You make your way down the long hall to your suite door, it’s a little later than usual, as you stayed at work late to finish up a few things. Not wanting to leave them for Monday You to have to suffer through. It’s Friday night now, AKA BFMMN™, and the last few months your traditional friends group night has been going full force. None of you missing a single Friday in the last 6 months.

It’s been 9 months since you all graduated and started your careers. It took you all about 3 months to fully settle in and get the swing of things. But after that initial transition time, you all had more free time and were able to pick up your Friday night plans again. Plus you were all able to see each other more in general during the week as well, it was wonderful to have your guys back again. You’d missed them, and little updates here and there via text just wasn’t cutting it for you.

You approach your suite door, and instantly hear muffled voices on the other side. Now most people would probably freak out if they returned to their apartment after work, and heard voices behind the door. Especially if they lived alone like yourself. But you know those voices entirely, and knew the guys would be here when you got home, as they both have a key to your place and this was how every Friday night went. Except normally you’d be here when they arrived, but today, not so much.

You open the door, knowing they’d have left it unlocked for you and are just about to yell hey when you hear the hushed voices a little more clearly. Your words halting in your throat at the tone both men are using, it’s their pissed off tones and your curious what they are bickering about now.

They bicker like an old married couple, they always have, both guys being far too outspoken and comfortable with each other. Plus both are ridiculously stubborn and bullheaded, in their own ways, and when they want to be. It’s rather frustrating for you, when you have to go up against one of them in that state. But if you’re being totally honest, it’s hilarious when they go head to head with each other. You normally stay all the way out of it, and just sit back to quietly allow them to work it out on their own.

Though sometimes you’ll step in, if you feel the issue is going nowhere and they will just end up at an angry stalemate. Or the odd time that you side strongly with one of them, then you’ll pipe up and voice your opinions on the issue. But it’s a pick your battles sort of situation, and they always work it out, with or without your help or say on the matter.

You quietly close the door, locking it and tiptoeing to just before the living room entrance, not wanting to give yourself away just yet. At least not before you can figure out what the issue is this time.

“Just drop it, Buck,” Steve exasperatedly whispers. “It’s done, and I’m happy about it. I’m not going to put a damn grenade in the middle of my life, just because you have these unfounded and unrealistic beliefs. I love her, end of story.”

“You may ‘love’ her, but you aren’t in love with her. And you never will be, we both know it. And don’t give me this ‘I’m happy’ bullshit, we also both know that you aren’t, you’re just lying to yourself,” Bucky quickly fires back. “Why are you doing this? Why are you letting it go this far?”

“I am happy,” Steve growls, which doesn’t really prove his case and flat out contradicts his words. “But I can’t stand this shit, we always fight about this. Why can’t you just let this go already. Why can’t you see that this is what I actually want?”

“Because it’s not, and don’t act like I don’t know you inside and fucking out,” Bucky scoffs, clearly offended. “We both know what you really want, Punk, I’ve only said it about a thousand times. And marrying that woman ain’t it,” he bluntly says. “Give ya damn head a shake, she ain’t right for you. She’s never been, and she never will be, and you know damn well exactly why.”

“I can’t have this fucking conversation with you anymore. I’m marrying her and either you get on board with that, or you don’t, but keep it to ya damn self from here on out. Because it isn’t going to change anything, I already proposed and she already accepted. It’s done, now just drop it. Please.”

You freeze at his words, your heart plummeting to the hardwood floors beneath you—no, further than that! Plummeting to the damn ground floor of your apartment, 8 whole stories down. You feel your eyes start to prickle, Steve is engaged. Fuck, you didn’t even know he was planning to propose. Shit! You didn’t even know he was thinking about it for crying out loud.

You blink quickly and take a few silent steps back, quietly unlocking the front door and slipping back out into the hallway. You’ve heard enough—too much, actually. And now you just need a moment to collect yourself before you face your two best friends, head on.

They have no idea you were eavesdropping, and you want it to stay that way, so you have to get your emotions in check, and fucking fast at that.

After a few moments, and some deep breaths that do little to quell your shattering heart, you force yourself to plaster on your best fake smile and re-enter your suite. Promptly slamming the door just enough for the guys to hear and know you are ‘just getting home.’

“GUys?” You call out, your voice cracking on the vowel and you cringe. Ugh! Like who even still suffers from voices cracks this long after ending puberty! You, clearly. You clear your throat as you remove your jacket to hang it and your purse, up on the coat hooks by the door. “You both here already?” No voice crack this time, thank God.

Your ears pick up a few rushed, and hushed voices going back and forth, but you can’t make the words out this time.

“Yeah, Doll. We’re in the living room,” Steve hollers back, and then the hushed voices start up again. The guys are clearly still arguing about Steve’s engagement, obviously they weren’t quite finished but you’ve already inserted yourself into the mix so they will just have to be done for now. Unless they continue it on with you present, which is highly unlikely from what you can gather, and you thank fuck for that. You don’t want to be apart of this topic, not one fucking bit.

Well, at least not tonight anyways, you need some time for the news to sink in first. You need some alone time to cry and come to terms with it before you are forced to comment or partake in this topic. Now all you can do is pray they drop it and leave it the fuck alone for tonight. God, that’s all you ask for in this moment.

You remove your shoes, and take a deep breath before venturing into the war zone—eer, you mean your living room. And as you do, you see Bucky sitting up on your couch, leaning on his knees, and Steve standing by your large living room window. Both guys look towards you as you enter, the blonde giving you a smile that you know is forced, but you ignore that. And the brunette looking at you sceptically, as if he can tell you heard something you weren’t supposed to. As if he can read your currently dazed and frazzled mind.

But you just ignore that as well, and pretend you are perfectly fine. You aren’t supposed to know a damn thing, so you’ll just run with that cover.

“How’s my guys today?” You ask, as you force a smile of your own.

“Good,” Steve says quickly.

“Yeah, fine,” Bucky says right after, still giving you the side eye.

“So convincing,” you say sarcastically with an eye roll, but you don’t give them a chance to comment back and quickly go to change the subject. “What are we thinking for food? Chinese? Thai? Pizza?” You ask hopefully, as you move towards your kitchen to grab your various take out menus. “If you can’t tell, I’m freaking starving,” you say with a giggle, trying your best to lighten the awkward and gloomy tension.

Bucky chuckles, “you’re always starving.”

“Ain’t that the damn truth,” you sigh, returning to the living room and plopping down on the couch by Buck, menus in hand. “So. Food. What’s it gunna be?”

Steve smiles and shakes his head at you, as he makes his way towards your arm chair. “Whatever you feel like, Doll. You know we ain’t picky.”

“At least not like you are,” Bucky grumbles, playfully elbowing you.

“I’m not that picky, ya Jerk,” you defend, elbowing him back. “I just like what I like. So sue me.”

“I just might, I could use some extra play money,” he says through a grin as he elbows you again.

You scoff, “why, so you can buy more ridiculous clothes? You’re worse than a woman.” And because of who you are as a person, you also elbow him again, but more forcefully this time.

He flinches, and shoots you an indignant glare. “Wanting to look good isn’t ‘ridiculous’, Y/N,” he defends, then pokes your shoulder. “And I’ll have you know, that many men take their looks more seriously these days. Not just me. Be more open minded, would ya?”

“Awe, did your therapist tell you that, to ease your troubled mind?” You chuckle then poke his shoulder in return, “and I am completely open minded. Thank you very much.”

“No, but she did tell me that donating my time to the less fortunate would make me feel better about myself. And she was right, I do feel better about myself afterwards.” He gives you a once over, before pointedly locking eyes with you and smirking, “with that said, want to get coffee tomorrow, ya closed-minded little asshole? I need the ego boost.”

You give him a dry look, “no, you don’t. At this rate I’ll have to get a bigger apartment, just to fit your whole damn ego into my,” you trail off, your eyes locking onto a part of his hair. Fixating on that one spot.

Bucky narrows his eyes at you, asking suspiciously, “what are you looking at?”

You snort, snapping your eyes away from his hair, “nothing, nothing.”

“Spit it out, Y/L/N.”

“You been a little stressed lately, Buck?”

“What does that matter?”

“Oh, ya know, you just got a few rather juicy grey hairs coming in,” you point to the spot you were looking at before. “I like that you’re so okay with having them on display at your age. But the salt and pepper look really works for you, and the girls must really dig the whole ‘Daddy’ vibe.”

Bucky gasps and goes to snap back, but Steve beats him to it with a loud, overly dramatic sigh. “Would you both quit it? You’re like freaking siblings. One minute you’re all lovey dovey, and the next you’re shooting to kill. I’m getting fucking whiplash over here.”

You glance over at Bucky, barely able to contain your smirk and holding your hand out. “Pay up, fucker. I won this round.” He groans loudly, but pulls out his wallet and hands you 5 buckeroos, as is the deal.

Steve scoffs, “You guys still play that stupid game?”

You laugh, looking back to him as you tuck your newly acquired fiver into your pocket. “As long as we can continue to piss you off with it, we’ll continue to play it.”

“Plus someone has to fund her damn coffee addiction,” Bucky playfully adds, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind you.

You laugh, then focus back on the real issue here. Food. “So, Chinese then?”

Steve snorts and Bucky hums, tapping a finger on his chin, “I dunno. I was kind of feeling Indian.”

You gasp, “I didn’t even think of Indian! Oh no,” you groan, then whine out, “now I can’t decide!”

“Way to go, Jerk,” Steve says playfully as he shakes his head.

Bucky bursts out laughing and picks up the Chinese menu, “on second thought, Chinese sounds best.”

You think that over for a second, then nod, “yeah, you’re right. Chinese, it is.”

Once you’ve called and placed your order for delivery, you pick out a movie. Well, Bucky does as it’s his turn to pick one, regardless of how much Steve or yourself bitch and groan about him always picking the same movie. You’ve all watched it so many damn times that you literally know every word off by heart. For the whole freaking movie, start to finish.

“Space Jam is a damn classic!” Bucky defends his choice. “You uncultured swines!”

“It is a classic, no one is refuting that!” You quickly say. “We have just watched it so many damn times! Can’t you pick something else for once? Please, for the love of all things that are holy, pick a different movie!” You aren’t above begging at this point.

“Y/N’s right, Buck,” Steve agrees. “We’ve watched that movie once a month since it came out, let’s watch something else this time, maybe?”

Bucky glares daggers at you both, before sighing loudly. “Fine! Then we will watch Fight Club.”

“Ugh, I hate that freaking movie,” you groan, “but I’ll take anything over Space Jam, at the moment. Even fucking Fight Club.” You narrow your eyes at the brunette standing on the other side of your living room looking at your wall of DVD’s. “You just have the worst taste in movies. You know that, right? You’re aware of that?”

He scoffs, “not as bad as your taste in them. Pretty Woman, really? Ya know, I used to have dreams with Julia Roberts in them. And not because I found her hot, but because we watched that movie so many times that her face was etched into my mind.”

“Take that back!” You gasp.

“I won’t,” he crosses his arms, “I meant every word.”

“Pretty Woman is a fantastic fucking movie! It’s the best ‘two worlds collide’ love story that there ever was! And Julia Roberts is a damn fox! So don’t pretend like you wouldn’t have had dreams about her anyways. We all know how depraved your little mind truly is.”

He opens his mouth but you don’t give him a chance to speak, “and furthermore, you are comparing a true 90’s classic romcom, with 2 hours of Edward Norton talking about his shitty life, and Brad Pitt shirtless? I mean, I’m okay with that last one,” you trail off, making an overdramatic ‘Oooh, got it’ face. “Never mind, I just figured out why you like that movie so much, you perv.”

“Okay, okay, wave the white flag already,” Steve sighs. “Geesh you two, break it up before someone gets hurt. Or ya know, I lose what little sanity I have left,” he grumbles the last part quietly, but you hear him anyways.

You grin and stick your hand out at Bucky once again, causing him to groan loudly and drop his head back in exasperation. “Stevie, buddy, come on already! You are gonna make me poor! Can’t you pipe up just once after I say something!” He picks his head back up to look at Steve. “Just once, that’s all I’m asking for here. It’s like you two are working,” he trails off as he shoots a glare at you, then your still outstretched hand, then Steve before his eyes land back on you and narrow. “You’re working together to doop me out of my hard earned money, aren’t you?”

“What? We would never!” You feign shock just to bug him, and truth be told, you weren’t actually working with Steve. That would have been a fantastic idea though, had you thought of it first! But now that Bucky put it out there, it’s no longer an option, he’d be too suspicious now. “But no, seriously, I’d never cheat against you,” you say honestly, then smirk, “because I wouldn’t need to, I’m naturally just better at this game than you are. Face it.”

“I’m not paying you this time,” Bucky says adamantly, with his stupid arms still crossed.

“Fine,” you grumble, pouting as you drop your hand back down. But then your smirk returns tenfold, “I’ll just add it to your tab then.”

“Like Hell—“

Steve groans loudly, cutting Bucky off as he gets up and takes the Fight Club DVD out before putting it into the player. “Okay, that’s enough of this game for tonight. Both of you are driving me insane with this shit.” He grabs the remote and gets to the movies main menu before looking pointedly between the two of you, “I’m pulling a temporary Rule Card, no more ‘Stevie Snappie’ for tonight. Got it?”

You gape at him, “wait, you know the name of the game?” Then you look up at Bucky and narrow your eyes, “you told him the name!?”

“It wasn’t me,” Bucky shakes his head. “It must have been you!”

“Jesus Christ. It was neither of you,” Steve says exasperatedly. “I overheard you guys arguing about it back in grade 10.”

“You’ve known this whole time?” You question, wide eyed. “And you’ve never said anything about it before tonight?”

“Don’t act surprised, you both aren’t very stealthy about hiding the game from me. You ask for payment right in front of me,” he shakes his head. “Every time.”

“Oh, we don’t care if you know about the game, Stevie,” Bucky says and he comes to retake his spot beside you on the couch. “But the name was sacred. We both vowed to take it to our graves.”

“Well, you failed, because I’ve known all along,” Steve says as he pushes play. “Now both of you zip it, and watch the damn movie.”

“The damn shitty movie,” you correct, but one glare from Steve has you snapping your mouth shut and nodding to tell him you’ll keep your mouth shut from here on out.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, at least while the guys were still here. The food had arrived shortly after you started the movie. You and Buck had abided by Steve’s temp Rule, and ceased on the fake bickering for the remainder of the night. But just for the night, you both secretly needed this game to keep you sharp and on your come back toes, so it would pick back up. Just on a different night, as Steve’s wrath was no joke, and neither of you wanted to be on the receiving end of it. Not even a little bit.

You had kept all your groans and mumbling insults towards the shitty movie to yourself, and once it was over you all had decided to watch Home Alone. That movie was a fan favourite for the three of you, and never caused any bickering arguments. Why you didn’t just start with a movie like that, was beyond you.

After that one ended, around midnight, the guys called it a night and both headed out. And the moment the door closed behind them, you locked it and promptly flopped down on your bed. You spent the rest of the early morning hours crying, and feeling sorry for yourself. Which was a first in a while, you hadn’t actually cried once in the last 9 months.

But the news of Steve’s engagement took all the wind out of your sails. No, wrose than that, it ripped your heart directly from your chest, and then just for good measure, it stomped all over it. Ya know, just to ensure it was truly and completely broken beyond repair this time.

You ended up spending the entire weekend in bed, once again. But come Monday morning, you dragged your ass out of your makeshift hidey-hole, showered and band-aided your heart back into one piece. And as you opened up the door to your suite, you plastered that all too familiar fake smile on your face, and continued to pretend like you were okay. Like you were fine. Like you weren’t in love with your, now engaged, best friend.

I know that I should not hold on, so why can't I let go?

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

@caps-lockdown @boxofteenageideas @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @viarogers @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @cjhorseback @jessiedaeum @capricornprince118 @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @anika-ann @wxstedhexrt @rynabarnesrogers

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the-omni-princess · 5 years

Text

Toys and Flowers

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary: Insecurities and some badly written jokes can hurt, especially when they come from family. (Intrusive thoughts TW)

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2K (It got away from me whoops)

Prompt:

“I am not a toy you can play with when you’re bored or lonely or horny. I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me.” - Scandal

Warnings: Angst, Insecure reader, language, intrusive thoughts, unintentionally negative comments, Avengers kinda acting like dicks but they didn’t realize it, also a splash of anxiety, a happy ending I promise, Fluff

A/N:

A little bit of self-fulfillment whoops. Still new at this so please tell me what you think.

This sorta thing comes from my own experience with these thoughts, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t quite fit someone else’s. Anyway, if you’re having negative thoughts, like our dear reader, please go speak to someone. I made this way more angsty than I originally intended.

Prompt is bolded.

Written for @sunmoonandbucky

and their #1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge :D

[Read on Ao3!]

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You were fed up. This had been going on for too long, going around and around in circles for too long. Jokes you could deal with. Insecurities brought to the forefront, teasing, crude one-liners, snide comments. When they came from strangers or from people you never necessarily liked you could deal with them. But when they came from the people you considered family? They hurt, and they hurt severely. Every comment, every glance, every joke sent a searing pain down your chest.

You knew it was most likely in good fun, after all, the Avengers were known to always toss quips at each other. They called Sam and Clint Birdie, teased Steve and Bucky about being old, and there was always some form of ribbing against Vision when he didn’t understand a meme despite being the literal embodiment of the internet. Yet despite all that, every joke that was aimed at you hurt you more than you care to admit.

Thwack. Thump. Every hit of your fists against the punching bag did little to help the anger in your chest, the anxiety, the hurt. Fighting back tears, you tried to block out the voices in your head reminding you of every joke you heard the others say as you kept hitting the bag. You thought you were overreacting, but then another jest meant to just be a poke in the ribs felt like a knife made of fire being pushed into your heart.

Sweat rolled down your back, it prickled at your neck, and you weren’t sure if the wetness on your cheeks was tears or sweat anymore. Sniffling, you paused, wiping your hot face with a towel, and downed half of your remaining water bottle. You sighed, fanning yourself with the towel, not that it helped the sweat clinging to your grey t-shirt or your gym shorts very well.

More comments swirled in your head, anxiety that you weren’t good enough to be an avenger started to creep back into your head, so you tossed the bottle and towel back to the ground and resumed punching. The comments were bad, but they were manageable. At least you thought so. Until a certain super-soldier, who you most definitely had a crush on, started to join in. You were happy he was starting to open up, but when his teasing started to join Sam’s the pain in your chest grew, along with the wall you built around yourself.

Burying yourself in paperwork, reports, and training, you did everything you could to not be in the Compound’s living room when you knew everyone else was there. You even tended to your outhouse garden more often than usual. Those thoughts are what brought you here, to the gym, to punch the shit out of a punching bag for the third time that day, instead of upstairs eating dinner with the rest of the team. It was too late to be out in the garden, your fairy lights you recently bought not fully installed yet, you were weeks ahead of paperwork, and there hadn’t been a new mission to report recently so your last hope was the gym.

Natasha was the first to notice your absences after you repeatedly started to miss dinners with the team and refused to say anything to her about it. “Has anyone seen Y/N today?” She suddenly questioned in the middle of dinner that Friday night, another dinner you were spending in the gym. Eyes all looked towards the redhead, as they started to realize you weren’t there again.

Tony was the first to speak up, sipping away at his drink “Passed by her on the way here, said she was heading to the gym.”

Steve was the next person to speak, hands fiddling with his fork, “But I saw her this morning at the gym, it was really early, and she seemed to tire herself out, why would she go back there so soon?”

Wanda then spoke up, “Her mind has been clouded recently, she blocks me out mentally, but she is blocking us all out as well.”

Sam gave her a confused look, unaware of what was the problem, “Why would she do that?”

“Because you idiots keep making fun of her,” Natasha snapped. She had seen the way you closed yourself off from a conversation the second a joke landed a low blow in your self-esteem. An off comment that maybe the new gal needed more training after she missed a shot during a mission. A quip about something new you were trying. Natasha noticed that not every joke had sent you spiraling, that most you were used to, and some truly were funny enough that you didn’t care, but she also noticed how close you had been to tears as you quickly excused yourself to your room after Bucky teased you the day prior.

Wanda looked up from her plate towards Natasha, the gears in her head practically visible as she connected the dots. “The boys’ comments and jokes about her fuel her anxiety!” She suddenly declared, and the room quickly silenced.

Sam’s eyebrows lifted, almost comically, “But she knows we are just having fun, right? We don’t mean any of it seriously, after all we make fun of the Olsen Twins for their age all the time, and Tinman for being slow.”

“Doesn’t mean the comments don’t hurt,” Bucky put his head in his hands, his own mind quickly filling in the blanks, finally noticing that the emotions in your face as you shuffled out of meetings and movie nights after a joke was betrayal and pain. He was quite acquainted with what pain looked like, and still he managed to miss it in you, though in hindsight he saw it now. The light leaving your eyes as Tony aimed a joke at you, your responding smile never reaching your eyes, your laugh sounding almost fake and forced before you practically sprinted towards your room muttering some excuse about being behind on mission reports.

“From what I’ve been noticing, not all the teasing seemed to affect her, but perhaps you were being a bit harsh on her when you said she needed more training after that mission last week Sam, or the comment about shirt yesterday Bucky,” Clint finally spoke up, having quietly observing everything from his spot on the windowsill couch.

“I was trying to compliment that shirt!” Bucky tried to defend, only to have Natasha snicker.

“’That’s an interesting choice’ is not a compliment,” Natasha glared at him, making him groan as he realized he had been acting like an ass towards you this entire time. “You know this all explains a lot, especially how she looked like she was seconds away from crying when Buckaroo here made some joke at her.” The man in question looked up, equal parts confused and upset. He had made you cry? Why would some joke, one that Sam had already said that didn’t elicit a response, get such a negative one when it came from him? Natasha snickered again, this time because Bucky looked like a kicked puppy. “You haven’t noticed oldie? Poor girl has had a crush on you practically since the moment she met you two years ago.” His heart stopped, then promptly dropped down into his stomach. He was making the girl he liked miserable and he didn’t even know it.

“You didn’t notice Bucky?” Wanda expressed almost remorse as she saw clouds of regret swirling in his head. “The extra cookies she hides away specifically for you, the coffee always ready for you in the morning, the small blushes when you look at her, the smile that lights up her face the second you actually compliment her?” The redhead was listing off the reasons he started to fall for you. The sweet girl, way too good for the world, for him, and the fiercest warrior out on a mission. You had missed that shot because Bucky’s cover would have been blown if your aim had been true. You had taken metaphorical bullets for him multiple times, always the first to defend him whenever someone came after him, especially whenever Ross or some Hydra goon started to monologue him on his past.

Shoving himself from the table, Bucky quickly stood, “I have to go fix this,” he muttered, mostly to himself, already rushing to the gym to find you.

“She’s stubborn, it’s not going to be that easy Bucky!” Steve tried calling out to his best friend, well aware of how Bucky felt about you. His comment fell on deaf ears and Bucky sprinted to the gym where you were still trying to lose yourself to your moves.

Jaws clenched, you kept swinging at the bag in front of you. You were tiring out, your exhausted mind probably catching up with your fatigued body. The gym door behind you swung open, making you jump, wide eyes locking onto a frantic looking Bucky. He looked disheveled, and you noticed his erratic breaths as if he ran here.

Suddenly hyper-aware of your own dishevelment, your body sweaty and tired from working out, you tried to make yourself smaller; quickly turning back to the bag, you swung at it again with new found energy. “What’s up, Buck?”

You could practically feel his eyes burning holes into the back of your head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, and, dare you to say it, pained. Your hands fell from the punching stance you had them up in, turning to face him with a puzzled look.

“Whatcha mean Bucky? What didn’t I tell you?”

“The intrusive thoughts Y/N… how much my comment about your shirt actually hurt you, really how many of the comments or jokes I made towards you hurt you.” Your body froze, completely caught off guard by him cornering you.

Feeling a bit petty and standoffish, you mustered your best death glare, though it no doubt probably did nothing towards the ex-assassin, “Why would I tell you?” Swiftly turning to grab your discarded water bottle and towel you muttered under your breath, “Why would I tell any of you?”

“Because we’re your family Y/N/N” he responded softly. Damn super soldier hearing. Chancing a glance towards him, you could see his hunched shoulders, his hands fidgeting with the end of his shirt.

His anxious body behavior only fueled you on, suddenly wanting to get out of this conversation as fast as possible yet wanting to confirm every negative thought in your head, you practically snarled at him. “Family don’t hurt each other… they shouldn’t hurt each other.” You whispered the last part, unexpectedly frozen where you stood.

You couldn’t look up at his face, fully aware he probably had some cute puppy dog look aimed your way. You couldn’t stand those looks, you knew your resolve would melt instantly if you looked towards them. His silence somehow hurt more than you thought it would. Your body finally getting with the idea of running from this, you turned away again, heading towards the door.

“Doll…” Bucky started, clearly, about to go on some tangent, you stopped him.

“No doll Bucky. I’m used to the comments… strangers, co-workers even, definitely kids when I was younger… I just thought they would stop eventually, along with these thoughts in my head, guess that was naive of me to think that.”

“Y/N please don’t do this, please, just let me explain. Fuck I didn’t mean those comments like that, Y/N, I tried to say it as a compliment. God, I really like you, and I’m terrible at speaking whenever you come around, and I didn’t mean it like the way it came out doll,” You didn’t hear him move, you just abruptly felt his hand around your wrist.

Pulling it back towards your body as if his touch burned you, you spun on your heels to face him. Rash and hotheaded as always, your words came out like venom aimed straight towards the man in front of you, “I am not a toy you can play with when you’re bored or lonely or horny. I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me.” You were too quick with your harsh words to realize the full weight of his words, only reacting blindly to the hatred your mind had been building towards yourself and lashing it out towards Bucky. He looked as if he had been slapped in the face by your words. The truth was, you did like the pet names, especially from him, especially when they were on the back end of his praise for you when training or after a particularly good mission. However, your need for a punching bag or the need for these thoughts to not be focused on you for once, made you throw them at the one person in this entire compound you wanted to hurt the least.

You scrambled towards the door, trying to bite back your tears and keep your resolve. You didn’t look back as you rushed towards your room, knowing that if you took one look at the heartbroken man you left standing at the gym, you would sob at his feet. You shut the door behind you promptly sliding to the floor in your room, your back against the door. “FRIDAY, don’t let anyone in. For anything.” You called out, knowing the AI would catch it.

“Are you sure Ms. Y/L/N? My sensors are indicating your elevated heart rate and erratic breathing, it is recommended for me to contact Mr. Stark or the Med Bay.” The AI dutifully replied, making you cry out. You put your head in your hands, feeling the wetness of your cheeks, making you realize you were already crying. When did that happen?

“No! Please FRIDAY, please don’t let an-anyone in… Please. I don’t want them to see me like this.” Your speech slurred faintly, sniffling as you tried to get a hold of yourself. You just felt weak, too drained to shower or eat or even pull yourself from the floor you currently were residing. As your thoughts finally slowed you exhaled shakily, the anxiety and intrusive thoughts gone, leaving a blank mind except for a startling realization to what Bucky said before you snapped. “God, I really like you.”

You weren’t sure when you had fallen asleep, but considering the light hitting your eyes from the window, you figured it must have been a while ago. You shuffled to get comfortable in the sheets around you, desperate for a few more minutes of the nothingness of sleep. Wait… when did you go to bed? Hadn’t you fallen asleep on the floor? You sat up quickly, ignoring the burn in your eyes at the sudden light change as you surveyed the room. “FRIDAY? How did I get to bed last night?” You asked carefully, truthfully scared of the answer.

“Mr. Stark used his override code to enter your room shortly after you fell asleep. Sergeant Barnes put you in bed before returning to his own quarters.”

Groaning as you got out of bed, you realized you were still in your work-out clothes from the previous night, at least Bucky didn’t try to change you last night. Well, why would he? Your mind started to think as you headed for the bathroom to shower, suddenly grateful you woke up in your bed instead of on the floor. You suddenly froze, halfway to the bathroom door as you remembered one small detail of last night: “God, I really like you.”

Pushing away from the thoughts in your head, you quickly showered and got dressed. Going through routines helped the thoughts in your head from swirling around so much. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a cereal bowl as you ignored how quiet it suddenly got when you walked in. Pouring all the necessary (and frankly colorful) ingredients and sitting down, you paused, spoon halfway to your mouth as you noticed most of the Avengers staring at you. “What?” You said it defensively, the simple word carrying a small amount of venom behind it.

Sam spoke up first, eyes locking with yours, “Y/N I’m sorry- no, no interrupting, eat your breakfast and let me say it, no running away Y/N/N” he spoke carefully, gentle yet clearly concerned. You gave him a wary look before starting to eat your cereal. Sam took that as an invitation to speak again. “I’m sorry, no, well yes, but we are all sorry. We didn’t realize the jokes we said were hurting you, and we hope you can forgive us and open up to us again. Y/N/N we miss seeing you around here. Your family but you’re avoiding us, we didn’t even realize what we said was causing you pain and behalf of all of us, even though most of it was my jokes, we are all sorry for making you feel like you weren’t a valuable part of this family.” You winced, hearing the guilt in his voice, conscious everyone was probably looking towards you as you stared at your cereal. “Because you are a valuable member of this family Y/N, and we miss seeing you happy.” That was the nail in the coffin, the tears that were bubbling in your eyes suddenly, but thankfully quietly, spilling down your face.

Sniffling, you looked up at Sam and the rest of the team, your view starting to get a bit blurry as tears clouded your vision. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys,” your eyes making a point of looking at Bucky. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night, hair mussed, his hand most likely running through it several times throughout the night. You quickly looked away before your resolve to finish your thoughts crumbled. “I thought I could just get past the thoughts, the words, the jokes, I was probably just hoping it would go away… thanks for being there, I know I can be kind of a mess, I’m not always perfect, but I’ll try to actually talk through these thoughts, and… feelings.” A few heads nodded, the tension dissolving in the room.

“Now, with the messy stuff outta the way, when you finish your breakfast, someone is requesting your presence at your garden kid,” You looked up at Tony, confused as you tried wiping your tears, happy you were talking through things for once instead of being rash. He shook his head, “No details coming out of me kid, just relaying the message.” He was quick to leave the room.

Your face must have looked perplexed still because Steve spoke up as he headed out as well, “Just trust us Y/N/N, you have a surprise waiting for you down there,” Steve knew how much you adored the greenhouse garden you had practically begged Tony to help you install when you became an Avenger. It had been the only thing you have ever asked of him, your small piece of comfort. Tending new flowers and growing herbs became a habit when you were younger, a positive way to keep yourself distracted from the thoughts in your head and the worries of the outside world.

The kitchen was now relatively empty, leaving a certain redheaded Russian alone with you. Natasha walked over, kissing your head motherly, “I’m always here to talk Malen'kiy,” she spoke softly, hugging you gently from the side. You rested your head against her, a faint smile on your face, your first real smile in a while.

“I know, thanks, Nat. I promise I’ll actually talk to you next time,” your voice was just as soft as you looked up adoringly at your practically adoptive sister. Nat had always been the one to know you the best. She knew you had these thoughts, always the clever one, but she didn’t realize they had become this bad.

“Now, hurry up and go to that garden you love before I have to kick your butt and drag you there myself,” You chuckled, smiling up at her as she playfully nudged your arm towards the door. Something was definitely going on. Three Avengers in cahoots to send you to your garden? Suspicious. You walked a little faster than usual down to your garden, wondering what was such a big deal that everyone really wanted you to go there.

The door’s open. That weird, I always close it. You thought as you approached the greenhouse. Walking inside you were flabbergasted, it looked completely different, in a totally good way. The weeds you had missed the other day were already uprooted, the floor swept, the fairy lights you had been dying to put up were already up and on. But what surprised you most were the new flowers that had lined the formerly empty new section you weren’t quite sure what to put there.

It was right beside the bench you used to read when you wanted to be alone after rough missions and no matter what plant you could think of, nothing ever felt right being put there. It would be the scent that would surround while you read, the light perfect there for reading, so you wanted something nice but none of your choices stuck. You already had those type of flowers, or it just felt wrong next to the bench, but the arrangement of flowers currently there now? They were perfect. Purple violets, purple lilacs, yellow daisies, red carnations, and hydrangeas.

Caught up in the new additions to your garden, you didn’t notice Bucky sitting on the bench beside the flowers at first. You knew the meaning of these new additions, but you weren’t quite sure what to say. “Did you do all of this?” you kept your voice low, eyes locking onto the sheepish blue eyes in front of you. Dark circles surrounded those beautiful eyes you tried so hard not to think about. He nodded slowly, a hopeful look in his eyes as he motioned for you to join him on the bench. “Last night… I couldn’t sleep… so I decided to do what you said I should do.”

“Which was?” you prompted, still a bit wary that this was some big joke against you.

“Earn you…” his eyes locked onto yours before he continued. “Y/N, I’m sorry for all the things I said, I know Sam did a big ‘forgive all’ sorta’ apology but I wanted to say I’m sorry personally. Y/N… I’m sorry, dreadfully, absolutely, completely, and utterly sorry.” He was biting his lower lip, anxiously fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he waited for your response with bated breath.

You gulped faintly at the implications of what he was saying and one key phrase he had said last night was replaying in your head. “God, I really like you” Your eyes fell from his gaze, looking towards the flowers, did he even know what this all meant?

“Bucky, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt, and I accept your apology about, well everything I guess. And thanks for fixing up the place,” you found the courage to say your thoughts, still locked onto the flowers. “Did you really not get any sleep just to do all of this for me?”

“Yes.” He said it quickly, with conviction, and when your attention snapped back to him, you noticed how nervous he seemed. Nodding faintly, you sat on the bench beside him, just out of his reach, he would have to scoot over to be near you.

You leaned against the arm of the bench, bent towards the new flowers. “They’re perfect by the way. I could never find a good combination of scents and colors for this spot, but you managed to do it beautifully.” You heard Bucky shuffle behind you, most likely still fidgeting, his metal fingers bumping against the metal of the rings on his right hand.

“Steve may have mentioned how he overheard you upset you were that you couldn’t figure out what to put there,” apprehensively he added, “Do you really like them?”

At that, you turned back towards him, grinning brightly at him. “They absolutely perfect Bucky.” You spoke with the same conviction he spoke earlier. Still gathering the nerve, you looked back towards the flowers, already enveloped by their scent, calming you as you spoke. “Do you know what each flower means?” Your voice was soft again, hopeful. That it wasn’t some accident he chose these specific flowers.

“Yes.” He answered simply. You turned towards him, his blue eyes, nervousness, and hopefulness evident in them.

“Then tell me,” you smiled warmly, feeling your cheeks warm up as he smiled back at you.

“Why do I have a feeling you already know?”

“Because I do… it’s just… some flowers can have multiple meanings, I want to know what you meant by each one.” You knew you were most definitely blushing at the moment, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as he moved closer, thigh now pressed against your own. He started to point out each flower and he explained.

“Purple violets mean that the giver’s thoughts were, and I’m quoting the website here darling, ‘were occupied with love’ to the person they are giving it too,” you giggled, smiling up at him as he continued with a bit more confidence. “Purple lilacs symbolize the first emotions of love, yellow daisies mean anything from youthful beauty to loyal love to new beginnings, I was honestly aiming for all three, as they remind me of you.” You noticed how Bucky was now blushing, eyes turned to focus on the flowers, nervousness flooding him again. “Red carnations mean love, pride, and admiration, and finally the hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions, but I like their second meaning more.” He paused, biting his lip again before continuing,

“That they can be used to express gratitude for being understood… Y/N, you’re amazing. You’re always kind, you’re never quick to judge but you're quick to protect, you’re fierce, whether it’s beating up bad guys or defending one of us. What I’m saying,” he finally looked back up at you, “I like you a lot Y/N. You showed me kindness and welcomed me here at the compound before I could even remember what either of those words meant anymore. You’re hot-headed, rash, too stubborn for your own good, quick to jump into a fight, you and Steve have that in common. But you’re also quick-witted, ambitious, and God I’m rambling, again aren’t I? I just… I wanted to show you some of the beauty you show me every time you walk through the door without even trying.” You couldn’t stop smiling as Bucky spoke, somewhere along the line you two had started holding hands and you most definitely weren’t letting go anytime soon. “I’ve fallen in love with you without you even trying doll.” He froze, realizing the pet name rolled so easily off his tongue, the same one that had upset you the night before.

You released one of his hands, gently placing it to cusp his jaw, “Bucky, I think I have some of my own confessions to make” your voice was soft, and it surprised you that you even could speak. Here was the man of your literal dreams confessing his love for you in the garden you had built from the ground up. “Before you panic, I actually like the pet names, I just… last night I was really wound up, and I lashed out at you, I’m sorry Buck...” He visibly softened at your words, elated he could go back to calling you that, but he still stared at your intertwined hand. “I really like you to…” his eyes shot up from to meet yours.

“Really?” If anyone knew that the formidable Winter Soldier had practically whimpered out that word, you knew Sam would never let Bucky live it down. You just smiled, standing and gently tugged him into the garden. You had a second bench, hidden amongst the thick foliage of the surrounding trees and vines. The bench was at the edge of a hidden circle opening, the circle was lined with rock and shells, the center filled with soft blankets and fluffy pillows. This was your favorite place to nap, the quiet secluded heart of the garden just hidden in the darkness, and away from the exit. Bucky hadn’t been the first to enter the garden, but he was the first you were willingly showing this part of it. It was your, or well our now you guessed, little secret. Fairy lights, these installed by you as the first batch you received, surrounded the circle.

You sat towards the edge of the circle, just a bit off from the bench, motioned him to join you on the fluffy pillows you sat on. He hesitantly sat beside you, close but cautious, unsure of what you were doing but trusting you completely. “Do you know why this small area is my favorite spot but is the one area of the entire garden I don’t let anyone into?” You asked softly, gently holding his soft yet calloused hands in your lap. He shook his head, intrigued but staying silent. You pointed towards the bush in front of you, small blue forget-me-nots dotting the bush. “They remind me of you.” You confided, looking towards him. His eyes gazed back towards you, full of admiration, awe, and, dare you to say, love. “There’s the obvious memory joke in there, but that’s not why they remind me of you. They symbolize a love brimming with memories, and every time I look at them I remember the hundreds of times your eyes look at me with such awe, like you can’t believe I’m real. No one’s ever looked at me like that before. Their color reminds me of your eyes, those ocean eyes I could get lost in if I’m not paying attention, the eyes I’m searching for during those boring briefs before meetings. They also symbolize how I don’t want you to forget about me one day.” You saw the emotions flash in those very eyes you could fall into as you spoke.

Bucky gently moved closer, his hands now cradling your jaw as he spoke. “I could never forget about you doll.” His words pushed you forward almost subconsciously, finally daring to get closer to the man you could see yourself falling in love with. Every second went by painfully slow as the two of you grew closer, until Bucky’s lips met with yours. You hummed happily, his thumbs rubbing soft circles against your cheeks as you finally kissed. Your hands found themselves at the nape of his neck, gently tugging at his hair as he deepened the kiss. You pulled away finally, suddenly very aware about the burning need in your lungs to breathe. Bucky, ever the super soldier, was the first to recover, grinning as he tried to catch his breath. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since forever.”

You laughed at that, biting your bottom lip, noticing how kiss swollen Bucky’s lips were. “Stop being cheesy and kiss me again Bucky, matte’ of fact, never stop kissing me,” You said softly, pulling him back for more. He smiled against your lips as you both finally felt content, surrounded by flowers and fairy lights.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #my writing #1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge #angst #fluff #tw: intrusive thoughts

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hoeforbilly · 5 years

Text

be my mistake

summary: billy leaves his girlfriend behind when he run away from hawkins, slowly realizing his life makes no sense without her

warnings: implied smut, swearing

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 1.9k

based on the brilliant song Be My Mistake by The 1975

And be my mistake

Then turn out the light

She bought me those jeans

The ones you like

Billy let out a sigh as yet another girl walked up to him at the bar, giving him a seductive look. If only they could live him the fuck alone to mope around and get sad about where he left things with the girl he now was sure was the love of his life.

"Those jeans are doing wonders for you, pretty boy" she laughed, sitting next to him. He gave her a forced smile and a nod, the thought of you never leaving his mind. He got these jeans at a thrift store with you, during one of the many unique dates you took him on. The left back pocket was ripped out so you sew in back on for him. He cursed under his breath realizing, yet again, he couldn't get you out of his fucking mind.

Not even an hour later he was entering his hotel room, the girl hanging on his arm. She reached over to turn the lights on but he promptly stopped her, not really wanting to look at her. As cruel as it sounded he just couldn't bring himself to put his eyes on her for longer than a few seconds.

"Leave it off" he mumbled before falling down on the bed. She wasn't you but maybe she'd be good enough for now.

I don't want to hug

I just want to sleep

She draped herself over Billy's chest, both breathing heavily. He let her lay there for about 30 seconds before gently pushing her off of him and turning his back to her. Thankfully she got the memo and didn't try to cuddle him any more. They layed like that for a bit before he couldn't take it anymore.

"I want you to leave" he got out, turning to her.

"Excuse me?" she had a somewhat disguisted expression on her face.

"I can drive you or get you a cab or whatever. I just... I gotta be alone." he didn't really feel bad about kicking her out and that's why he didn't apologize.

The smell of your hair

Reminds me of her feet

He didn't wanna tell her that but she was nothing. Nothing compared to you. Her neatly styled hair couldn't stand a chance with how goregous he thought your fucking pinky finger was. His heart was heavy at the thought of the tip of your nose, though while he had her whole body in front of him, he didn't feel a thing.

So, don't wait outside my hotel room

Just wait till I give you a sign

'Cause I get lonesome sometimes

She was leaning on his door, dark hair falling on her shoulders, short dress riding up her thighs. Most guys would swoon over her but Billy didn't even notice her beauty. She wasn't ugly, she had a nice body. That's all she was to him. Seeing her like this made him furious.

"Why the fuck would you come here huh?" he asked upon approaching her figure. She shot him a glance and quickly looked down on her feet. "I said I'd call you" he added.

"You only want me when you need something. What about me? About what I need?" her words were bitter. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. God how she hoped he would look at her for longer than 3 seconds. How she wished he would notice her.

"You knew how it was gonna look from the beginning. Don't get fucking sappy on me now" his voice was cold and he knew he'd hurt her but he really couldn't care less. She'd come back as soon as he called.

Save all the jokes you're going to make

Whilst I see how much drink I can take

Then be my mistake

Seeing her cry in front of his room made his heart soften a little. He didn't mean to make her cry like that. So reluctantly, he forced himself to take her out. She wore her best dress, bough new heels and got her hair done. But now matter how hard she tried his eyes didn't stay on her for longer than a few seconds.

They say down at the bar, he ordered whiskey and pulled out a smoke. She tried to hold a conversation, telling him jokes and stories, but they went over his head. He nodded politely as he kept ordering one drink after the other, hoping the alcohol running through his veins would muffle out the sound of your voice ringing in his head.

"Let's get out of here huh?" he suggested, leaning over to her, eyes heavy. She nodded, helping him up. They ended up in his room again, him on the bed, her on top of him. It was how they always ended up.

I shouldn't have called

'Cause we shouldn't speak

He was at a payphone, tears rolling down his cheeks. You didn't pick up the phone, he missed you so fucking much he couldn't breathe. Mindlessly he dialed her number. She picked up after 2 signals.

"Hello?" her voice was quiet.

"This is Billy. I shouldn't have fucking called you but I feel so bad. I've been feeling so fucking bad for weeks now and I..." he stopped. This is the most he's ever said to her. "Can you come pick me up? I'm at a payphone and I can't drive right now. I'll pay you for gas." she agreed and not even 20 minutes later he was seated in her car. He stopped crying and was as unapproachable as ever. He muttered a "Thanks" and handed her 20 bucks as he got out of his car. She tried to say something but he slammed the door and didn't even look back at her until he heard her call her name.

"You can talk to me Billy" he chuckled at her words and left without saying anything. Of course he couldn't. He didn't want to fucking talk to her.

You do make me hard

But she makes me weak

She had a good body. He felt his pants tighten around his growing buldge. His eyes were hungry as he scanned her naked figure. Lust was the only emotion he ever felt towards her. She was attractive, some would even say breathtaking. Long dark hair, tan skin, thick lashes framing her deep green eyes. Lips plump as she swayed her hips before him. She did make him hard, there's no denying that. But whenever he would notice something about her it made him mind go right back to you. Her moans made him think about your laugh.

"Touch me Billy" she moaned into his ear. He did. He put his hands on her but it was your name on his lips. Your smile under his eyelids. Your scent lingering in his memory. Seeing you reading was better than seeing anyone naked. Just thinking about kissing you make his knees go weak. He quickly stood up, pushing the girl away.

"I gotta go." his voice was faint. "I can't fucking do this anymore" he swore he'd rather die than step his foot in Hawkins ever again but he couldn't live like this any longer. Being away from you was fucking killing him.

That same night he left his hotel room, got in his Camaro and made his way back to Indiana. His heart was pounding. He wad so mad at himself for not doing it sooner. He was hoping it wasn't too late to come back to you. Billy's heart was pounding as he entered the familiar town. He would have never expected to be happy to be in this goddamn town but boy was he beaming.

He noticed your father's car wasn't in the driveway, meaning you were either gone or home alone. His heartbeat picked up as he got out of the car. He knocked on your front door, hands shaking violently. Not more than a minute passed and there you were. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, nothing but his old t-shirt and a pair of socks covering your body. You looked like a fucking angel and he felt tears start to gather in his eyes.

Billy Hargrove was on his knees in your doorway. Your Billy with his piercing blue eyes, his gorgeous lips, his curls, everything about him just so real and so close to you all of a sudden. You dropped down to your knees and held his face in your hands. He sobbed and seeing him like that made your eyes water too. Your Billy came back for you.

"I'm so sorry Y/N" he cried into your your neck as you held him close. You managed to move him to the couch and as soon as you did he pulled you into his lap and held you as close as possible.

"Shhh baby, it's all good. It's all good. I love you. I'm here. I love you" you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching the back of his neck lightly. He was slowly relaxing in your arms, though tears kept streaming down his cheeks. You've never seen him so distraught, not when Neil took him over the edge, not when he climbed through your window night after night.

"I'm so sorry. I was so dumb. I don't deserve you" his cries were desperate, muffled by your shirt.

"Billy look at me" you pleaded but he kept his face buried in your neck. "Please B. Look at me" he slowly raised his head, sniffling. You placed your hands on his cheeks, wiping his tears with your thumbs. A small smile appeared on your lips.

"I love you. I've been in love with you since the day I met you. And I'll be in love with you for the rest of my life" he took a deep breath, nodding slightly. "I missed you so much. But I knew why you had to go and I didn't want to hold you back." he opened his mouth but you quickly shook your head. "I know I was. I need you to be happy Billy. And I know you can't be happy here" your voice broke at the last words, this time it was Billy shaking his head. His hands tightened around your waist.

"I thought so too babygirl. But as soon as I came back it's like a weight was lifted off my chest" he smiled and stroked your cheek softly. "Every place I went I felt like there was a fucking hole in my heart. No matter what was going on you were the only thing on my mind. I was more miserable than I ever was here" he admitted. You leaned in and brushed your lips over his. It was a soft kiss, one of the most delicate ones you two have ever shared. Billy was just as passionate and hot-blooded as he seemed. You taught him how to be gentle, how to slow down and take a breath. He felt like he hasn't been able to breathe unless he was with you.

"So you're staying?" you felt his eyelashe flutter on your cheek.

"I'm staying with you. If you wanna move the fucking moon, so do I. I'm not leaving you anymore. You're stuck with me babygirl." he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.

"Forever?" you made sure, brushing blond strands out of his face.

"Forever baby."

i love this one and i hope you do too! 💜

#billy hargrove blurb #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fc #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fluff

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musette22 · 5 years

Text

If I Fell

Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)

Rating: Teen and up

Word count: 1571

A/N: Fic number four in my 700 followers celebration! I've been getting some requests for more character bleed Evanstan (similar to There's a Tavern in the Town) so here’s a short one! Hopefully one day I’ll be able to write something a bit longer. It got a liiittle bit angsty, but mostly it’s just fluff & boys being sweet❤️

Read on AO3

It’s a gray, rainy day. One of those days that would be gloomy, if it weren’t for the fact that Sebastian and Chris are perfectly content spending it huddled up together inside Sebastian’s SoHo apartment, lounging about in their PJ’s and ordering embarrassing amounts of take away. It’s been a while since they got to spend an entire day together, just doing nothing, and Sebastian is cherishing every minute.

He’d woken up this morning safely ensconced in the cocoon of Chris’ embrace, strong arms wrapped around him from behind, warm breath tickling the nape of his neck. Chris had roused slowly, humming contentedly as Sebastian burrowed even closer, hugging him close to his chest. Cuddles turned into kisses, which turned into sleepy fumblings under the covers, both of them luxuriating in the feeling of not having to rush for once. Nowhere to be, just a long, lazy day stretched out ahead of them.

Chris had taken his time with him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear while he worked him leisurely, unhurried, slowly dragging the pleasure out of him until he’d felt it burst all the way from his toes to his lungs, catching in his throat as he spilled warmly over Chris’ tight fist. Then when they hit the shower together, Sebastian had sunk down to his knees, determined to make Chris feel just as good, just as loved and cherished.

After, Chris had cooked him breakfast – waffles and eggs and orange juice, the whole shebang. Chris isn’t exactly a gifted cook, but it still beat Sebastian’s meagre culinary efforts by a mile. They’ve mostly just been laying siege to Seb’s oversized but ridiculously comfy couch since then – Chris reading, and Sebastian working on one of his short stories. His latest one is more or less autobiographical, telling the story of a young boy living in Romania in the late 80s, during the time of the revolutions. Even after all these years, the events of his early youth still aren’t easy for Sebastian to talk about, so his therapist suggested he write about them instead. It’s been good to have Chris here for it. Just having him close helped; his big, solid body a reassuring presence on the couch beside him. And when Seb sometimes did need to talk, Chris listened patiently, clasping Sebastian’s hand in his, or just holding him close against his chest.

Sebastian still doesn’t know how he got so lucky. Sure, they’ve had their ups and downs since first getting together on the set of The First Avenger, drifted apart only to find each other again months, sometimes years later. But eventually, they came to realize they never quite felt whole without the other. They belong together, simple as that. They’re each other’s person, and Sebastian wouldn’t trade Chris for the world, no matter how tough it may be sometimes.

“You a little sleepy, baby?” Seb asks, when he sees Chris’ head snap up for the third time after he nodded off yet again. They’re watching a documentary on the Mars rover, but for once, space can’t seem to hold Chris’s attention.

Chris shakes his head like a dog, trying to wake himself up. “Lil bit,” he admits, before promptly breaking out into a huge yawn.

Seb chuckles. He picks up a pillow and puts it on his lap, patting it invitingly. “C’mere,” he orders. “This’ll be way more comfy. Just close your eyes for a second, yeah?”

With a grateful little smile, Chris pulls up his long legs onto the couch and lies down, nestling his head in Sebastian’s lap. As if they have a mind of their own, Sebastian’s hands immediately drift to Chris’ hair, fingers combing soothingly through the soft, light-brown strands.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Chris mumbles as he closes his eyes, and immediately conks out.

Sebastian smiles down at the sleeping beauty in his lap, gaze lingering on the features he loves so dearly, the laughter lines and worry lines alike all smoothed out by sleep. Chris is objectively beautiful, of course, but in Sebastian’s eyes, he’s just plain entrancing. Always has been.

Seb looks his fill, before finally turning his gaze back to the screen, settling in to finish the doc about the brave little Mars robot by himself.

---

Some fifty minutes later, when the credits have rolled, Chris is still fast asleep.

“Baby,” Sebastian whispers.

Nothing.

“Chris,” he tries again, gently running his fingers through Chris’s hair again, scritching at his scalp. “Wake up, sweetheart. You gotta get up or you won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

Finally, Chris stirs, his eyelids fluttering as he drags himself into consciousness.

“Hmm,” he sighs, rubbing his nose into the pillow. “Wha’s it, Buck?”

Sebastian blinks.

Did – did Chris just call him Buck?

He frowns, brushing the hair off Chris forehead. “It’s Sebastian, baby,” he says softly. “Not Bucky.”

A beat, and then Chris stiffens.

A few seconds tick by before Chris slowly turns his head, meeting Sebastian’s gaze almost reluctantly.

“I - I was dreaming…” he croaks, faltering. “It’s… I’m not – I’m sorry, I don’t know…”

He trails off, looking so lost, and Sebastian suddenly realizes what’s going on. He knows how much Chris has always identified with his Avengers’ character, how over the course of a decade, he’d come to see Steve as a friend, a part of himself, in a way.

How he misses him, now that he’s gone.

Or, not gone exactly, but Chris, at least, will never be getting into Steve Rogers’ skin again. He’s is still processing this, coming to terms with it, but Chris has told Seb that sometimes he still dreams he’s him. His perfect alter ego.

He’s never called Sebastian Bucky before, though. That part’s new. But since the most important person in Steve’s life is Bucky, and Bucky, in a way, is Sebastian, it figures things might get a little muddled in his head sometimes. In any case, Sebastian doesn’t mind. If it helps Chris cope, then he’s happy to go along with it.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to Chris’s face, stroking his cheekbone with the back of his fingers as Chris looks up at him with big, pleading eyes that make Sebastian’s heart ache. “’S okay, Stevie. Been a long day, you fell asleep. Everything’s okay, I’m here.”

It takes a moment, but as soon as he understands what Sebastian’s doing, Chris’ face crumples.

“Bucky,” he gasps, almost a sob. ”You’re here.” He bodily curls into Sebastian, arms coming up to circle his waist as he buries his face in Seb’s sweater.

Sebastian’s heart does a curious thing then, where it breaks and swells at the same time, until it feels fit to burst. He feels Chris’ distress keenly and he’s overwhelmed by Chris’s absolute trust in him – the way he’s letting himself be utterly vulnerable, trusting Sebastian to take care of him.

God, he loves this man. Loves him so much, and he won’t let him down. Never again.

He makes soothing sounds as he rubs Chris’s heaving back in slow, calming circles, for as long as it takes until he feels his breathing slowly start to settle under his palm.

“That’s it,” he says, voice low and hushed. “We’re both here, Steve. I’m never leavin’ you again, you hear me? Ever.”

Chris shudders, sniffling against the soft fabric of Sebastian’s sweater, before taking a deep, slow breath. As he moves to sit up a little, Sebastian keeps his eyes fixed on Chris’ face, letting his own concern for Chris mingle with Bucky’s concern for Steve and finding that it still comes as easy as breathing. He wipes away the stray tears under Chris’ eyes with the pad of his thumb – then, out of habit, lets his fingers trail down Chris’s cheek, down to his lips.

With that touch, the air between them suddenly changes, turns tense in a way that’s familiar yet at the same time brand new. Sebastian swallows.

Lowering his chin a little, Chris blinks up at him through his stupidly long, wet lashes.

“Bucky,” he starts hesitantly, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I –” His voice cracks with emotion, and Sebastian thinks, oh. Oh, that’s how it is?

The nature of Steve and Bucky’s relationship has always been a question mark between them, something they’ve danced around since the first movie, without ever outright putting a label on it. Somehow, it felt like there was too much at stake. But it makes sense, Seb supposes. Always has, if he’s being honest.

Sebastian tilts his head, making no effort to contain the affection or desire in his eyes as he lets his gaze trail over Chris’s flushed features.

“Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are when you cry, Stevie?” he murmurs, slowly dragging his thumb over the soft, silky skin of Chris’ plush lower lip, noting the distinct hitch in Chris’ breath.

Chris’ eyes flutter closed. “Bucky,” he breathes again, lips brushing over Sebastian’s thumb, and then, once Sebastian’s eyes are on Chris’ mouth anyway, it’s the most natural thing in the world to lean in and kiss him.

It’s soft and sweet, and Sebastian smiles against Chris’ lips. “Been wanting to do that since forever, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” Chris sighs into his mouth, snaking his arms around Sebastian’s neck and pulling him back onto the couch with him.

This time, they don’t come up for air in a very long while.

#my fics #my writing #evanstan #chris evans x sebastian stan #chris evans #sebastian stan #character bleed #fluff #hurt and comfort #mild angst #m/m #ao3 #stucky #people will probably come at me for putting this in the stucky tag but it is an appropriate tag for this fic #and I'm not doing it to sneakily get stucky shippers to read it #it's just about stucky so I'm tagging it stucky #I'll stop saying stucky now :p #musette22followercelebration

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welllpthisishappening · 6 years

Text

Where You Can Still Remember Dreaming (4/35)

Killian Jones, former crime reporter, was not happy to be home. It hadn’t been home in a very long time, after all. Home was an abstract construct that existed for people who didn’t know as many adjectives for blood as he did. Home wasn’t New York City, but it certainly wasn’t Boston or New Orleans either and he’d always gone where the story was. And he was positive Emma Swan was one hell of a story.

Emma Swan, pro video game player, desperately wanted to find home. She thought she had, a million years ago in the back corner of a barn and a town and faces she trusted. But that had all blown up in her face and it didn’t take long for her to decide she was going to control the pyrotechnics from here on out. So now she was in New York City and a different corner and she kind of wanted to trust Killian Jones.

Neither one of them expected a year of of video games and feature stories to dredge up old enemies and even older feelings, but, together, they made a pretty good team.

Rating: Mature. Word Count: 9.4 K of Emma Swan background and flirty text messages. AN: Hey, uh, let’s play some video games, huh? And learn why Emma didn’t really want a year-long feature story about her video game team. It’s time to try and qualify for the League (which is really a tournament, honestly) and I cannot thank you guys enough for the serious kindness you’ve shown in regards to this fic. It’s been incredibly nice. We’re just getting started. || Also on Ao3, FF.net and tagged up on Tumblr || Tag List: @jamif ; @alicerubyfloyd ; @courtneyshortney82 ; @jennjenn615 ; @artistic-writer ; @onceuponaprincessworld ; @kmomof4 ; @nikkiemms ; @resident-of-storybrooke ; @whumped-natascha-remi-ronin ; @coliferoncer ; @strangestarlighttree ; @tiganasummertree ; @game-of-once-upon-an-outlander (Let me know if you want to be tagged or don’t or, like, how your day is going.)

She wasn’t sure what was more annoying.

The very loud alarm she could hear a few inches away from her head, whatever David was shouting on the other side of the door or the horn honking just outside the window of her room. It wasn’t her room.

It wasn’t even really a room, per se.

It was a...corner.

And David wasn’t really on the other side of the door, he was on the other side of a partition that Mary Margaret ordered off Amazon for nineteen bucks a week before Emma had descended on their apartment with one suitcase in her hand and the hope that, maybe, this could work.

This had to work.

They’d find out in a few hours if it could.

A few hours from now, Emma would walk back into the apartment with one of two options in front of her – either she was as much of a complete failure as that tiny, nagging voice in the back corner of her brain promised her she was and even the idea of playing video games professionally was absolutely insane or, and this is where the hope came into play, she was the quasi-captain of the only all-female pro Overwatch team in the league and they were well on their way to splitting a four-million-dollar championship check with their names plastered across the internet and a string of feature stories written about them on The Daily Caller and and a national spotlight that would, maybe, lead to more money.

God, those feature stories.

God.

Killian Jones.

She was going to see Killian Jones that afternoon. And that didn’t terrify her. Absolutely not. She was worried about the game. And four million dollars. She couldn’t even imagine four-million-dollars, let alone imagine winning an inaugural tournament that promised just historic. Probably with a comically large check.

It had nothing to do with Killian Jones or how blue his eyes were or how she kept replaying that slightly awkward, slightly strained, undeniably sweet conversation they’d had the week before.

“Shit,” Emma mumbled, slamming her hand on her phone and promptly knocking it onto the floor. She could barely make out David’s laughter a few feet away and what sounded like cabinets slamming shut and she hadn’t actually turned her alarm off.

“You know,” David shouted, throwing what sounded like a pillow full of bricks at the partition. The whole thing shook, nearly falling on Emma and her air mattress and it would almost figure that she’d get taken down by nineteen dollars worth of plastic before she even stood up.

She needed to be more positive.

She needed to find her super cheesy team-branded t-shirt. That cost more than the plastic partition.

“Were you ever going to finish that sentence?” Emma called back, finally pushing herself off the air mattress and half of it had deflated during the night. That wasn’t a sign. God, her phone was still making noise.

David chuckled again, kicking at another cabinet and drawing the mumbled reprimand of Mary Margaret – who was absolutely going to be late for work so she could see Emma off or something equally maternal. “Yeah,” he said, padding across the apartment and leaning around the still-wobbling partition. “You need to learn how to control your electronics. And work on your hand-eye coordination. It sounded like you nearly knocked off your whole little compound over here.”

Emma scowled, but that was as good a word for it as any. She didn’t bring much with her to New York – didn’t have much to bring to New York – but David and Mary Margaret had offered up, at least, three quarters of their living room without question, pulling an ancient air mattress out of the closet and buying an entirely new bed-set, with a questionable amount of flowers on the sheets, and pushing the coffee table against the wall so Emma had somewhere to keep her phone and her laptop.

It was, exactly, what they’d always done.

And Emma would never get used to it.

“Compound Godzilla,” David continued, eyes bright and wide and far too confident. In her. He was confident in her. Even when he was insulting her and comparing her to lizard monsters.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with the damages,” Emma reasoned. “So you know, in the grand scheme….” “Of? “Of whatever joke you’re trying to make. Very badly I might add.”

“That’s rude, Em,” David said, but there was a laugh just on the edge of his voice and Mary Margaret was already humming under her breath. It was so goddamn domestic Emma couldn’t quite believe it was real.

She shrugged. “You need to work on your jokes. These are getting stale. And you’re the only who nearly knocked over the partition. I just almost cracked my phone.” “Whatever,” he grumbled and Mary Margaret’s humming had turned into open laughter, far too well-acquainted with whatever early-morning war of words Emma and David were staging in the corner. “I’m not going to provide you with any caffeine or the vast array of breakfast pastries I’ve procured from the place down the block.” “Did you just swallow a dictionary?” “Thesaurus,” Mary Margaret corrected, flashing a smile over her shoulder and she’d already taken a shower. Emma hadn’t even heard her wake up.

There was probably a reason for that. That stupid voice in the back corner of her mind did jumping jacks, bouncing off the sides of her brain as it tried to grab Emma’s attention and provide an explanation she didn’t really want to her – because the kids in the foster homes always cried, quiet sniffles and even louder wails, wondering what they’d done wrong and when someone would decide they were enough and they could leave and, maybe, get just a bit warmer.

It always seemed to be freezing in those houses.

And, somewhere in between Hartford and Minnesota and a few weeks on the street in Boston, Emma had developed the ability to sleep through anything – crying or wailing or chattering teeth or, apparently, Mary Margaret taking a shower a few feet away.

“Em,” David said, tugging on the edge of her sleeve and jerking her out of the past. “You went all glossy for a second there. Was it because I totally impressed you with my vast and detailed vocabulary?” She rolled her eyes, taking a step towards the kitchen and accepting the mug Mary Margaret offered her. “I promise,” she said. “It had absolutely nothing to do with that.”

David’s smile wavered for half a moment and he shot Mary Margaret a nervous look, meaning flitting between them and nearly becoming another sentient being right there in their kitchen. Emma sighed. “Ok,” she mumbled, taking a sip of hot chocolate-coffee hybrid and they’d bought her cinnamon. She shouldn’t have been surprised. “That’s not what I meant it like.” “Are you nervous?” Mary Margaret asked softly, a picture of support and belief and something that felt like certainty. Emma clearly hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

“About the game?” Mary Margaret nodded. “No, no, I am absolutely not nervous about the game. We’re good and we’ve practiced a shit ton, enough to drive Granny absolutely insane and we don’t even have to win. Technically.” “You’re totally going to win.” Emma bit back her immediate response – a string of practicality and low expectations that absolutely did not belong in the same room as Mary Margaret Nolan.

She’d been part of the package deal that came with arriving in Storybrooke and life with the Nolans and enough love to almost make up for everything else.

Actually, arrived was generous. Emma had kind of stumbled into Storybrooke, nothing more than a few dollar bills stuffed into the back pocket of her ripped jeans and a blanket clutched tightly in her hands and she just needed somewhere to sleep. She didn’t expect to find a barn and a corner that was almost, nearly, sort of warm.

David found her the next morning, legs tucked up underneath her with her blanket under her head and hay stuck in her hair. Honest to God hay.

She’d run away. The house had closed a week before and there just wasn’t enough money to support a run-down building and a dozen orphans that no one wanted. Including the national government. Or maybe just Maine. Emma never could remember who was in charge of that.

It didn’t matter.

The only thing she’d known was they were going to move her again and she was just supposed to agree to Florida and another fresh start and she’d started running before she’d even really considered any other option.

She was going to run again as soon as David found her, hand balled up into a fist and halfway through the air when he held up his hands in surrender and asked what she was doing here and promised a hot meal and maybe a shower if she’d just follow him inside.

Mary Margaret was sitting at the kitchen table with Ruth when the door slammed shut behind Emma. She gave her a new set of clothes and, it seemed, Emma had found a family.

Even when she didn’t want it.

Especially when she didn’t want it.

“I know, I know,” Mary Margaret said, nudging her elbow into Emma’s side with a familiarity that made her stomach clench. “You only have to be in the top eight. Doesn’t mean I totally don’t think you’re going to absolutely wreck.” David nearly dropped his coffee. “Absolutely wreck,” Emma repeated slowly, eyes flashing up towards a determined Mary Margaret.

“Yes. Absolutely. And completely. C’mon. That’s a gaming term!” “You’re just digging yourself into an even deeper hole here, M’s. You are painfully uncool.” Mary Margaret stuck her tongue out, rolling her eyes dramatically and jumping onto the edge of the counter next to Emma. She rested her arm on Emma’s shoulder, elbow pushing into the side of her neck and it probably would have been uncomfortable it weren’t so normal and, not for the first time, Emma was glad she’d stumbled back into this life.

“She looked it up,” David whispered conspiratorially before taking a far-too-large bite of bagel and, somehow, smiling at Emma. Mary Margaret clicked her tongue in disapproval, but it wasn’t a disagreement either and Emma wondered when she’d had the time.

Probably in between attacking major website editors with plans and making sure Killian Jones wasn’t actually trying to kidnap two kids from a summer program with the promise of ice cream on his lips.

Shit.

Killian Jones.

Emma needed to drink more coffee and get some food in her and a slightly more professional mindset. There were rules about that, right? Ethics or something. A reporter wasn’t supposed to date whoever he was writing about.

No, probably not. Definitely not. And she wasn’t thinking about dating Killian Jones or or a sentence that included both Killian Jones and lips or even really talking to Killian Jones – far too focused on the game and winning and keeping her personal life, decidedly, personal.

She could be a good story without the depressing history and vaguely troubled past.

Definitely not.

Primary fire, secondary fire, obliterate every enemy – and that stupid, annoying, asshole voice in the back of her brain. It would be fine. She probably wouldn’t really even notice him. For the entire goddamn day.

“I think she’s playing the game,” David muttered, pouring another cup of coffee and, God, he’d showered too. How had she slept through all of that?

“I’m thinking what the best way would be to take you out,” Emma lied and David didn’t look like he believed a single letter of it.

“I bought you baked goods. A plethora of baked goods.” “That was actually kind of nice,” she conceded. Her drink had gone cold. “God damn. Although there are a questionable number of cinnamon-raisin in there. What time did you have to get up to make that happen?”

David shrugged. Painfully early, then. “It’s an important day, Em,” he reasoned. “And maybe I just wanted cinnamon-raisin for the week.” “Yuh huh.” “How come you don’t have to actually win to win?” “We’ve been over this twenty times already,” she sighed, but she kind of appreciated too. If Emma kept running the plan, the one that decidedly ignored Killian Jones and his far-too-blue eyes and nicknames and on-the-record questions, then she could stay focused on the goal. She could absolutely wreck – as Mary Margaret would say.

“Humor me.” She took a deep breath and Mary Margaret reached over her shoulder, tugging the mug out of her hand to fill it with scalding hot liquid. God, it was like being fifteen again. Emma was a better video game player now.

“It’s a qualifying tournament,” Emma started. “So there are sixteen teams today, from all over the world, who didn’t get the automatic bid. It’s because none of us have fancy, corporate sponsors and we’re some kind of Overwatch plebs in the eyes of the league, so, they put us in a different bracket and make us play each other.

The seeds coming into this were a total joke though. They, literally, just put our team names into a hat and that Zelena lady who’s in charge of everything picked out pieces of paper and that’s where we ended up.”

David snorted over the top of his mug and he’d mixed peanut butter and cream cheese on his cinnamon raisin bagel. Emma tried not to actually gag. “Ruby’s very mad about that,” he said. “She’s brought it up every single time I’ve talked to her in the last forty-eight hours.” “How many times are you talking to her in the last forty-eight hours?” “A couple,” he mumbled and it sounded a bit like an admission. Emma’s pulse accelerated and she was positive she was missing something. David’s nervous glance towards Mary Margaret all but confirmed it and they were talking about her. God.

“Yuh huh,” Emma repeated, eyebrows pulled low and frustration brewing in the pit of her stomach and she was fairly positive they were talking about that phone call she’d made on the other side of the plastic partition on Friday night.

She was going to kill her whole goddamn team.

“And what seed are you guys?” Mary Margaret asked quickly, trying to refocus the conversation and keep Emma from throwing things in the middle of her kitchen.

“We are fifth,” Emma answered and maybe she was as upset as Ruby was about this whole seeding debacle. Maybe Killian Jones, award-winning reporter with a history Emma was positive was also a story, should write about that.

That, however, would require her to talk to him long enough to suggest story ideas.

What a mess.

“And playing?” David prompted. Emma rolled her eyes. They’d really gone over this twenty times already, had discussed it in detail in the back corner of Granny’s on Saturday night, Ruby’s voice rising with every sip of alcohol until she and Anna seemed to be having some kind of joint screaming match over seeding.

“Vivi’s Adventure,” Emma responded, dropping her head against Mary Margaret’s side and sighing softly when she felt fingers working their way through her hair. “It’s the dumbest name in the history of dumb names and that’s coming from someone who might actually have a lawsuit on her hands if we actually make it out of qualifying rounds.” “You can’t change your name,” Mary Margaret said. She was braiding Emma’s hair. And Emma didn’t move her head.

“I’d rather not get sued for four million dollars before I even get the chance to try and win four million dollars. That’s impractical.”

“But you made shirts,” David pointed out.

“Ruby made shirts. Or ordered shirts. No one asked her to do that.” “Are you even remotely surprised that she did that?” “About as surprised as you getting up insanely early to go get me bear claws from a bagel place that makes the best bear claws in the city.” David grinned at her, ducking his head to press a kiss on Emma’s temple and maybe being fifteen again wasn’t the worst thing in the entire world. “It’s only because we live a few blocks away,” he promised. “Any more than five blocks and I totally wouldn’t have done it.”

“No, then he would have called an Uber and woken up even earlier,” Mary Margaret mumbled.

Emma’s pulse sped up again, heart hammering against her ribs with something that felt like emotion and maybe sentiment and she couldn’t just start crying on Mary Margaret’s actual shoulder. That would have been weird.

Probably.

Mary Margaret wouldn’t have blinked.

She was, after all, used to that sort of thing. And David would have woken up at dawn to get Emma bear claws if he had to, if only to prove that she had people behind her and support in her corner and a slew of other athletic-based clichés that made her vision swim just a bit.

David hadn’t just gotten her to come into the house all those years ago. He’d gotten his mom to agree to Emma and everything that she came with – a mess of legal battles and paperwork and enrolling her in Storybrooke High that fall.

And she’d had her own room, across the hall from David, and Mary Margaret had helped her fill out a closet, the very first she’d ever owned, and the three of them spent the entire year together, the memories of those days still hanging in frames on the walls in Ruth’s house.

It had been good. It had been perfect – some kind of storybook lifestyle for a town with an absurd name and Emma could never quite believe her luck.

So, naturally, she’d gone and ruined the whole thing.

She had a tendency to do that. And David graduated, got into the University of Maine and that was hours away and Mary Margaret was gone as well, that perpetual smile and positivity that Emma had allowed herself to depend on in just a few, short months, limited to phone calls and text messages.

They promised they’d come back. They’d drive back down for weekends and Emma could come up and sleep on Mary Margaret’s floor, but Emma was sure – it was all over. So she ran. Again.

She was an idiot.

Only David and Mary Margaret found her. Again. And again. Over and over, every single team she absolutely fucked it all up, there they were, encouraging smiles on their faces and certainty in their stare and, usually, baked goods in their hands.

Shit, she’d totally started crying on Mary Margaret’s shoulder.

“Em,” David said slowly, eyes wide and hand falling on her forearm. “Are you crying? God, you’re totally crying. What’s the matter?” Emma shook her head, some of the braid Mary Margaret had already finished falling apart in the process, but the evidence was on her cheeks and her slightly puffy eyes and she could hear her phone buzzing from her compound a few feet away.

“That’d be totally lame,” she mumbled, dragging her knuckles across her face.

“The lamest. Is it because I put peanut butter and cream cheese on my bagel?” “That’s totally it,” Emma agreed and her voice was still shaky and just a bit scratchy, but David didn’t push, just tugged her away from the edge of the counter and wrapped his arms around her tightly. His hand found the back of her head, cupping her hair as he mumbled something that might have been encouragements in her ear, but Emma couldn’t really think when he did that, the actual feel of self confidence enveloping her as soon as she pressed her forehead into the crook of his neck.

“Five seed’s a good underdog story,” David continued, leaving another kiss on the crown of her head. “Tell your reporter guy to lede with that.” “Not my guy,” Emma mumbled. There it was. She was, almost, surprised it had taken them that long to get there. David had absolutely been gossiping with Ruby. “And,” she added. “He’s the one who’s won awards, doesn’t seem like it’s my place to tell him how to write his story.” “Yeah, but it’s about you. He should take that into account.” “Are you trying to protect me from the big world of journalism, Detective?” David pulled back, face turning serious quicker than Emma expected and that shouldn’t have surprised her either. “Yes,” he said simply and Mary Margaret made some kind of noise of agreement in the back of her throat.

“M’s, this was your idea,” Emma said, glancing over her shoulder. Mary Margaret shrugged. “And I still think it’s a good idea. He really did seem excited about it when I saw him on Friday. Even if he was being kicked in the side.” “I’m sorry, what?” “He was holding Roland. Or trying to, at least. I’ll tell you something though, Roland Locksley has never been more excited to have someone pick him up from summer camp than he was when Killian Jones showed up. He’s not nearly that enthusiastic about the assistant.” “You’ve lost me. And how old is this kid?” “Regina Mills’ assistant,” Mary Margaret explained. “She’s usually the one who gets the kids. Although Robin comes sometimes too. He’s nice. Better with the kids than the assistant. She always looks kind of stressed out.” “And did anyone mention why Killian Jones was picking up these kids? Or how he knows them enough to offer them ice cream?” “I don’t think you need to be well acquainted with kids to offer them ice cream,” David reasoned, one arm still slung over Emma’s shoulders as she tried to twist around and stare at Mary Margaret.

“That’s true,” Mary Margaret agreed. “But I don’t think that’s what was happening. He knew those kids. Like in a part of the family kind of way. They had nicknames and everything. It was painfully adorable.” “Jeez, that’s just like a thing for him isn’t it?” Emma asked, the words flying out of her mouth before she could even really consider them. Mary Margaret’s eyebrows practically jumped off her face.

“What?” “Nothing.” “Emma Swan.” She growled or groaned or maybe wondered if she could get out of the conversation without having to talk about any of this. No such luck. “He’s just got this nickname thing,” Emma muttered. “When he talk.” “Right,” Mary Margaret said, smile tugging on the sides of her mouth. Emma’s phone was still buzzing. “And you know this because…” “I’ve had two conversations with him.” “No, of course. Two conversations. You talk to him since that second conversation?”

Emma narrowed her eyes, pressing her lips together and ducking out from underneath David’s arm. “I’ve got to shower,” she said, already halfway towards the bathroom. “Ruby’s going to murder me if we’re late.”

It didn’t matter – Emma walked out of the bathroom ten minutes later, damp hair still wrapped in a towel, to find Ruby sitting cross-legged on the couch with a controller in her hand and a disgruntled David a few feet away from her.

“Why are you so bad at this?” she laughed, not moving her eyes away from the screen and David made some kind of impossible noise, trying to elbow her in the thigh.

“Why are you so good at this? And how do you keep getting all these bananas? Oh, shit, shit, fuck, God, stop laughing, Lucas.” “I’m sorry, this is just hysterical. It’s like the game got better and suddenly you’re complete shit at MarioKart.” She dropped another banana behind her and David let out another string of curses as he skidded off the course again, throwing his head back towards the ceiling and damning Ruby to several different afterlives, including, what sounded like, the seventh circle of Hell.

“For betrayers and mutineers,” Emma intoned, not quite able to keep the laughter out of her voice when David actually chucked his controller at the ground. Mary Margaret didn’t even look surprised.

“Stop quoting things at me, Em,” he hissed. Ruby lapped him. “God, Lucas, seriously. Stop showing off. It’s just embarrassing.” “For you or me?” Ruby asked, swinging her legs back onto the floor and she’d already won. She took a step towards Emma, eyeing the shirt she’d begrudgingly put on, and grinning, confidence practically rolling off her in waves. “I told you the shirts were worth the money,” she said pointedly, tapping on the emblem they’d gotten Anna to draw nearly a month before. “And it’s absolutely embarrassing for you, Nolan. I know I’m good.” David sighed again, dropping down onto the floor and pulling one leg up until he looked like a Renaissance painting – of MarioKart 8 defeat. “We shouldn’t have bought the new one,” he mumbled. “I was better at the classic version.” “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Hey, did you get Emma bear claws for good luck this morning? I’m starving.” “Stop stealing my baked goods,” Emma said, but Ruby was already in the kitchen and Mary Margaret was already pouring another cup of coffee and they were going to be, at least, twenty minutes late. It was going to take forever to get crosstown.

“Too late,” Ruby said, mumbling through a mouthful of bear claw. “Have we complained about the seeding for this qualifying thing yet this morning because I’d really like to complain about that again.” “Too late,” Emma repeated. Ruby sighed. “How come you’re here? I didn’t think you were coming here. Are the rest of them coming here?” Ruby shook her head, confusion flashing across her expression when she glanced towards Mary Margaret. Emma tried not to groan. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” “There’s a car outside.” “What?” “Automobile. Vehicle. Motor car. A sweet set of wheels.” Mary Margaret laughed loudly, the sound working its way across the entire apartment as Emma practically sprinted towards the window. Ruby was right. There was a car outside and a uniformed man leaning against the passenger’s side door, feet crossed at the ankles and a hat in his hand like he’d wandered straight off a movie set.

“What the hell is that?” Emma asked sharply, not sure why she was, suddenly, terrified by the answer.

“Did you not hear my sweet set of wheels explanation?” Ruby asked. “I can’t really come up with another synonym. You can ask your reporter when we get to the Theater. He’s probably got more. That’s his job, right?” Emma shook her head, mind muddled and thoughts moving slowly and she needed to dry her hair. And look at her phone. Oh fuck, her phone. She moved again, actually running across the several hundred square feet of apartment and nearly knocking over the partition while Ruby mumbled something her breath at Mary Margaret.

She had six text messages and she’d never actually programed his number in her phone, but she recognized the 718 area code and her heart might have actually been in her throat.

Good luck today, Swan.

Not that I think you’ll need it. You’re absolutely going to wreck the competition. God, that’s the lamest way to say that isn’t it?

Definitely lame.

True though. Even if that five-seed seems kind of absurd since your team actually has a pretty impressive win-loss record.

How did you end up a five seed? It doesn’t make any sense. This Vivi’s team hasn’t even won a competitive game yet. And they’re a four. This is just basic math. Even Singularity is garbage. And they’re the No. 1? You’ve got more wins than them. This is absurd.

Emma bit her lip, suddenly aware of the smile on her face and the way her breath had caught in her throat, knees not quite as straight as they’d been a few minutes before. He might be more upset about the five-seed debacle than Ruby and David combined.

And Emma could nearly imagine what his voice sounded like, the way he tried to rush over the words when he started talking about something he cared about and there was a sudden and distinct lack of oxygen in her compound at even the passing idea that he cared about her.

That was insane.

Impossible.

That was impossible. There were ethics involved. And one more text message.

The car’s for you, by the way. Courtesy of Mills Media. And how shitty the MTA is this summer. Just figured it’d be easier.

Was she still standing? She was. She might not have been breathing, but she was definitely still standing and somewhere in the realm of swooning until she suddenly and quickly got very, very frustrated.

She didn’t need a car. She didn’t need text messages from a phone number she, admittedly, probably should have saved on Friday night. She could walk crosstown quicker than the car could drive there.

Ethics.

And a deep-rooted stubborn streak that was probably her undoing. Or something less dramatic.

“Em,” Ruby said, approaching cautiously and that might have been the strangest thing that had happened all day. “M’s wants to know if you want her to braid your hair so we can get out of here. We probably shouldn’t keep that fancy driver guy waiting. Seems like a dick move.” Emma hummed noncommittally in the back of her throat, stuffing her phone in her pocket. “We’re not taking the car,” she said and Ruby’s eyes widened. “That’s...how did he even get Mary Margaret’s address?”

“I have no idea. But, like, that’s a thing, right? Investigative journalism or whatever?” “Are we the investigation?”

“Eh,” Ruby wavered, teeth bared as she tilted her head slightly. “Maybe not we.” Emma sighed, any sense of swooning as deflated as the air mattress at her feet. “That was almost kind of heavy-handed, don’t you think?”

“I almost don’t care. You should have heard David’s must protect Emma speech on Saturday night. You want to talk about heavy-handed, that was, like, the single most awkward conversation I’ve ever had and, once, Anna tried to tell me about how she nearly got engaged to a Tindr date the same night she met him.”

“What? God, I can’t imagine Elsa would be very into that idea.” “She wasn’t. There was, apparently, a fight if you can believe those two actually fought about anything in their lives and, just, trust me, it was weird and David is worried about you and these stories and he hasn’t told Mary Margaret about that and I’m not supposed to tell you either and Killian Jones blushed while holding a painfully adorable kid as soon as someone mentioned your name on Friday night.” “Were you not supposed to tell me that part either?” Emma asked archly, tugging her hair out of the towel.

“No, that’s painfully obvious. Everyone knows that.”

“Jeez. You are on a roll.” Ruby shrugged, but there was a tinge of disappointment in her gaze and Emma licked her lips. “We’re really not going to take the car?” “We’re really not going to take the car,” Emma said, the weight of her phone practically dragging her through the entire apartment building. “C’mon. Let’s go over strategy while M’s fixes my hair.” She did feel kind of bad about blowing off the driver – fancy hat clutched tightly in his right hand when Emma promised they were fine with walking and Ruby grumbled under her breath about it for the entire thirteen block walk to the Playstation Theater.

Emma ate another bear claw.

And tried not to drop the two cups of coffee gripped tightly in her hands.

She heard her name on the other side of the block, Anna’s hair obvious even in a sea of professional video game players and spectators and frantic-looking league reps who, clearly, had no idea what they’d gotten themselves into. Emma waved, hoping that would, somehow, stop the screeching from the other side of 44th Street, but it only seemed to drive Anna forward even more and, suddenly, she was nearly a foot taller, held up by a pair of hands that looked vaguely familiar.

She was clinging to Will Scarlet’s side, one of his arms wrapped tightly around her waist while she balanced herself on his shoulder and waved at Emma like she was trying direct several planes. And Killian Jones was very obviously staring at his feet a few inches away, a pen stuck behind his ear and something that might have been a credential around his neck and two cameras hanging off his left arm.

Emma bit her lip. And tried not to focus on the obscene amount of sugar she’d already ingested that morning.

“We should have taken the car,” Ruby muttered again, dragging Emma with her across the street as soon as the light changed.

“Emma, Emma, Emma,” Anna chanted, pulling herself away from Will and grabbing Emma by both her shoulders. Killian’s eyes darted up, one side of his mouth ticking up when he saw she was holding coffee. “You are missing everything. There has already been trash talking and people screaming into NY1 cameras and Tink totally dated the guy who’s Singularity’s captain and she said…”

Anna paused for half a moment to take a breath and Emma allowed herself one, quick glance towards Killian Jones. God, he was unfairly attractive. That was making this far more difficult than it should have been. Anna was still talking, detailing how Tink knew some guy named Greg and how shitty he was at playing Overwatch and how they were totally going to wreck and Emma barely heard any of it, lips dry again and both of her hands were burning from the somehow-still hot coffee.

Killian smiled at her, soft and maybe just a bit nervous and Emma tried to keep her expression neutral. It probably didn’t work if Anna’s continued exclamations were any indication. “Emma, are you ok?” she asked and Emma’s head darted up at the concern in her voice.

Elsa narrowed her eyes knowingly and Emma was struck with the rather sudden realization that they’d all talked about this. God, there was probably a group text. David had probably started it.

“I’m fine,” Emma promised. “NY1 is really here?” “It’s apparently an event,” Elsa said, a smile on her face as she waved a hand at the scene in front of her.

That was, definitely, one word for it. There were people everywhere, some of them already lined up in front of the doors to the Theatre and even more pushing their way down the block, cups of Starbucks clutched tightly in their hands and they weren’t the only team with matching t-shirts. That didn’t make Emma feel any better about the matching t-shirts.

Killian still hadn’t said anything, but Will was taking pictures and Emma tried not to be completely overwhelmed by everything around her. So, naturally, her eyes darted towards Killian again and that stupid, confident smile on his face. “You didn’t take the car,” he said slowly, muttering the words quietly enough that it was a conversational miracle Emma even heard him.

Emma rocked on her heels, not sure how to respond to a statement and Ruby elbowed her in the side – hard. “Ow,” Emma hissed, but Ruby just glared at her. “What the hell?” “Here,” Ruby said, ignoring Emma completely and pushing something into Killian’s chest. He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, just glanced down and the smile turned just a bit more genuine.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” he said. Ruby shrugged. Oh, God, it was a matching t-shirt.

“Please. Although seeing as we are an all-female team, this is absolutely not going to fit you and is now a gift for Henry wherever he is.” Emma nearly dropped the coffee again, stammering slightly and growling at Will when he pushed a camera lens in her face. “Wait, what? Henry like the one in Mary Margaret’s class?” Killian nodded. “What is going on right now?” As if on cue, a kid who couldn’t have possibly been more than twelve years old, skidded to a stop in front of them – both Will and Killian reaching out an arm to brace him. “Hook,” he shouted, head snapping up towards Killian. “You’ve got to come inside. There’s this whole table of merch and you can get a credit for download bundles to get new skins for characters and…”

His shoulders heaved when he ran out of oxygen, eyes wide when he realized there were two other people around now, but he smiled when he noticed Ruby. And Emma felt incredibly out of place. “Hey, Rubes,” Henry said brightly, ducking underneath Killian’s arm and only muttering slightly when she pulled him against her side.

“Hey, kid,” Ruby grinned. “You know you don’t need to get credits for that bundle. We’ll get you that in, like, a couple hours tops.” “Really?” Ruby nodded seriously, holding one hand out and Henry wrapped his pinky around her outstretched finger. “Let us wreck this qualifying tournament and then for sure.” “God, will everyone stop using the phrase wreck in regards to this tournament,” Emma groaned, feeling half a dozen curious eyes land on her. Killian grinned.

“Who else is using that?” Ruby asked and Emma tried to brush her off, nodding towards Henry instead. “Oh, right, right, Henry, this is Emma Swan. She’s our team captain and the best goddamn Overwatch player in the country. She could get you your codes in a couple minutes.” Henry’s eyes lit up and Emma bit her lip tightly, hoping the blush she could feel on her cheeks wasn’t too obvious. “It’s really nice to meet you,” Emma said honestly. “You were in Mary Margaret, uh, Mrs. Nolan’s class last year, right?”

“Yeah,” Henry nodded. “She used to ask me about the game all the time last year. She, uh, she knew I played and I told her about my mom.” It was some kind of miracle Emma hadn’t dropped the coffee. She glanced back at Killian – as struck as she was, with wide eyes and a half-open mouth and Will was still taking pictures. “Thanks,” Emma mumbled, not sure what else to say. Henry’s smile got even bigger.

“We should probably go inside,” Elsa said. The line outside the door was starting to move and they were definitely running late already, but there was some semblance of a schedule and Emma really just wanted this first match to be over.

She nodded, more than willing to let Elsa direct them into the main room and a check-in table and, of course, she’d just fallen into step with Killian. She could nearly feel him next to her, something that felt a bit like heat and almost like electricity radiating off him and he took a deep breath before she interrupted him completely.

“This is for you,” Emma said brusquely, holding her hand up expectantly and his lips twitched again. That was distracting. “I...I should have started with that. Buried the lede or whatever.” He laughed softly, taking short, measured steps so he didn’t move in front of her and his fingers were warm when they brushed over Emma’s. “Was that a journalism joke, Swan?” “A pretty good one, I think. Mostly because I don’t know any other journalism terms to make jokes with.” “Nothing?” Killian asked skeptically. He needed to stop looking at her. And talking to her. And asking questions. There was already an Overwatch game happening on the main screen. “Byline? Deadline? Something about quotes?” Emma rolled her eyes, taking a sip of coffee. “Congratulations on proving your ability to just shout out keywords regarding your job. Although I’m not accepting something about quotes.” “Too broad, huh?” “Exactly that.” “Noted,” he grinned and he hummed softly when he gulped his own coffee. “This is good.” “I’m not trying to poison you.” “Noted, again. And appreciated. If I ask you an actual question are you going to try and turn me to stone again?” Emma stopped walking, whoever was behind her nearly colliding with her back and she did drop the coffee. It was about time. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled, dropping down and one of her knees landed directly in a puddle of caffeine and two-percent milk.

Maybe this event wasn’t quite as much a disaster as Emma assumed – a person with a League Official t-shirt on appearing beside her quickly and there was a mop and promises that it was fine and Emma found herself being pulled back up before she even realized Killian had moved.

God, his hand was warm.

“Come here, love,” he said softly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her away from the crowd. She followed him before she could come up with an argument, ducking behind the merch table Henry had been so excited about and it was, almost, quiet there.

“I’m fine,” Emma snapped, pulling her hand away quickly and wincing when it collided painfully with her side. He hadn’t even asked a question yet.

Killian nodded. “I’m not questioning that. Here,” he added, pushing his half-finished cup towards her. “You need the caffeine more than I do.” “Are you trying to tell me I look tired?” “No. I’m telling you that you’re the one who has to win an entire qualifying tournament today and that it only seems fair you to get at least some coffee out of the equation when, I’m assuming, you paid for it.”

Oh. She really was an asshole. And far too certain things were just going to go wrong by default. Mary Margaret would have some kind of hope speech perfectly prepared for this moment. Emma kind of wished she’d come with them.

“Not everything is some kind of calculated attack, Swan,” Killian added, ducking back into her eye line and smiling when she took the cup.

“What was your question?” she asked. His coffee didn’t have cinnamon in it. Damn.

“Why didn’t you take the car?” “Why did you send a car?” Killian shook his head, tongue pressed against the edge of his lip and Emma didn’t think she imagined the way he rocked towards her. “I asked first,” he said. “There are rules.” “I think you’re just making them up as you go along.”

“And I think you’re doing a very bad job of avoiding the question.”

She flashed her eyes up, but he didn’t back down, just lifted his eyebrows and stared straight at her, like he could read her mind or maybe like she was the open book he promised she was. Emma sighed. “I’m perfectly capable of walking a couple of blocks.” “I’m not questioning that.” “You really need to be more specific then.” Killian tilted his head – and Emma tried to keep her shoulders straight and her spine in line and she couldn’t remember having ever been looked at like that, like he was interested and intrigued and like he wanted to know everything, on the record, with absolutely no intention of putting it on the internet.

“I’m not one to just...accept things,” Emma said slowly. Killian didn’t respond, just moved his eyebrows again and kept staring at her. No, she thought, waited. He was waiting for her. “Especially from people I don’t really know. Who should have no idea where to send town cars.”

“Ah,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair and twisting slightly so his left arm was pulled behind his back. “Yeah, that was bordering somewhere on stalking wasn’t it?” “How did you do it?” “The receptionist at Mills is actually some kind of secret coding and internet expert. And she was very willing to do me a favor if I got Gina to get her and her boyfriend a reservation at TAO on Saturday night.” “The receptionist?” Emma repeated and Killian made a significant face. “You got a receptionist to...what, hack into some sort of record and find M’s address?” “She’s not trying to be the receptionist apparently. It’s a very involved story. But she saved the website on Friday and kept Robin from actually pulling his hair out or having some kind of episode in the middle of Broadway. So, you know, Gina owed her.” “You keep saying all these names and I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Emma admitted, appreciating his smile a lot more than she should have. “Gina is Regina Mills, right?” Killian nodded. “And Robin is…” “Her husband.” “Which makes Henry…” “Their kid. One of two. Roland is seven and obsessed with chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream and being Henry.” Emma nodded in understanding, pieces of the puzzle, almost, starting to fit together. “And you know both of these kids well enough to pick them up from school, offer them ice cream in a not-creepy kind of way and then bring one of them with you on an assignment?” “Yes, yes and yes,” Killian answered. “Although Gina wasn’t happy about that last one. It’s apparently not very education-focused.” “It’s summer.” “My argument exactly, Swan.” She’d finished her coffee. Or his coffee. Emma wasn’t sure of the specifics anymore, trying not to linger on the fact that they’d somehow managed to share one cup of coffee that morning.

It felt like something important.

Emma turned her head, staring straight at him and maybe that was a mistake. Shit, his eyes were blue. He still had his arm twisted around behind him. “And you wanted to send me a town car to go thirteen blocks because…”

“It was a gesture of goodwill,” he grinned. “So you could get here easier.” “There wouldn’t be anywhere to park on 44th Street. How did Ruby know about it?”

“I have no idea.” He wasn’t lying – eyebrows pulled low and gaze intent and he wanted her to believe him. She didn’t. Jeez.

“I feel like we’re both missing a pretty big part of this game,” Emma muttered, taking a step towards him and she was close enough that her toes nearly brushed up against his sneakers. She could have moved, could have pulled her hands up and rested them flat against his chest like she wanted to and pressed her lips against his and maybe she’d thought of that a questionable amount since she’d swallowed some of her pride on Friday night and called him.

She didn’t do any of that.

Because Emma Swan never got in the car – metaphorically or otherwise. Not anymore.

“How did this happen, Swan?” Killian asked suddenly and she realized they’d been standing in silence, staring at each other like they were taking inventory for far too long.

Emma licked her lips quickly, tugging them back behind her teeth as she tried to regain her bearings. She could make out the sounds of the game behind her, catchphrases that had been playing on an endless loop in her brain since they’d decided to do this, and she tugged self consciously on her t-shirt.

“What?” she asked a bit breathlessly. Killian’s gaze shifted, dropping away from her eyes and, maybe, down towards her mouth, but then he blinked and it was gone as soon as it came, features stoic and professional and good, she could deal with that.

“On the record,” Killian said, a recorder held loosely in his right hand.

Oh. Well, yeah, no, that was ok. They had to do that, right? He had to ask questions and write stories and that was the deal. That was what Emma had begrudgingly agreed to when Mary Margaret announced the plan and Ruby promised it was good for business like that even made sense in context, but they’d taken a team vote and Emma had been overruled and now she needed to answer questions.

On the record.

“Ask me an actual question,” Emma hissed, frustration back in her voice and there went flirting. If flirting had ever been on the table. Jeez.

“How did Emma Swan become the team captain of the only all-female pro Overwatch team in the league?” Killian asked. “Or, rather, how did you start playing video games?” “That’s a long story.” “I’ve got some time. And so do you. Your shitty five-seed matchup isn’t for another hour.” “Why do you know that?” “I can read, Swan. There was a schedule on the league site and something about streaming. You’re still not answering my question.” He shook the recorder slightly and Emma’s stomach flipped. She swallowed back the bundle of nerves in her throat, chewing on her lip as she tried to figure out the best way to answer. Killian nodded once, like he was agreeing to an idea he hadn’t voiced, and leaned towards Emma, half an inch away from her face and what was personal space when she could barely think?

“I’ll tell you what, love,” Killian said, low and intent and Emma could feel it. “We’ll go one-for-one, huh? On the record back and forth. You answer my questions and I’ll answer yours. No matter what.” She hadn’t been expecting that. “Why?” Emma asked sharply. It was an accusation. And Killian knew it. “We both need this to work, Swan. You asked me about Boston and what led me back to New York, well, this is it. A story. A good one. So I need this to work and your team needs the publicity. It’s a win-win for both of us, we might as well be honest with each other.” “You have a very high opinion of this whole situation don’t you?” Killian shrugged. “I think we could make a very good team, Swan. It’s up to you whether or not that works.” Emma considered that for a few moments, scowling when she realized he was absolutely and infuriatingly right. Damn. On the record. “My brother,” she said. “He’s the reason I’m here.” “Give a guy a second to get his recorder out, Swan,” Killian grinned, hitting a button on the square of plastic in his hand. She rolled her eyes. “Ok, brother. I’m going to guess he’s the reason behind the NYPD shirt before?” “Why do you remember that?” “Perceptive. And a journalist. It’s the details, love. So you and your cop brother started playing video games when you were kids?”

“No,” Emma said and Killian did something absurd with his eyebrows. “Ruth bought him a knockoff XBox for Christmas one year and we spent the entire break playing. Turns out I’ve got pretty good hand-eye coordination.” “Did you wreck him, Swan?”

Her eyes were going to get stuck that way if she kept rolling them, but Emma was smiling again and they kept bouncing through moods in this conversation. It felt like playing the game. She’d clearly lost her mind.

“You were right before, you know, that’s totally lame,” Emma said. “But, yeah. Every single time. And even now. Between David and Mary Margaret I was fairly convinced I was the greatest player to ever walk the Earth, but they were just both painfully bad at Halo.”

“And that sparked the interest as a career?” Emma shook her head and that was what she’d been dreading. There wasn’t any way to explain a year in jail and no high school degree and what talent did she have except the innate ability to kill her virtual enemies? Killian seemed to pick up on her concern, hand falling back on her arm and she shuddered at the touch.

When she’d gotten out of jail, she didn’t know where to go – didn’t have much more than a blanket with her name on it and the memories of everything blowing up in her face and Emma was barely making ends meet in Providence when David showed up at her apartment and told her enough was enough.

He found her. Again. And Emma had gone with him. Again.

So he took her to that sleepy little college town and got her a job at the coffee shop on campus and Emma kept playing, nights on the couch with David and Mary Margaret and, eventually, she came up with a plan.

She started making money. She almost forgot about him and a time when she wasn’t certain and confident and ready and the League just seemed like the next logical step.

Only that step had landed her in front of Killian Jones and his recorder and blue eyes and Emma needed a plausible story. “I’ve always wanted to kind of control my own life, I guess,” Emma started, mumbling over the words while she tried to keep her lip in between her teeth. “And I’ve been lucky that my brother and M’s have been super supportive of that. So they helped and played against me so I could get better and there were competitions all over the country that had big prize pools, bigger every year as games got more and more popular and less and less weird and, well, you know the rest. I’m camping out in their living room while I try to find my own place and win this whole, stupid League.” Killian hummed, hitting another button on the recorder and starting at her. Still. He kept doing that. She wished he wouldn’t. “Was that ok?” Emma asked. “On the record?” “Of course, Swan. It’s a good start.” “A start?” “Ah, well, that’s my angle I guess,” he explained. “We’d background everyone on the team, maybe highlight how shitty this whole seeding thing was and talk a little bit about what comes next. Oh and maybe the thing in Philadelphia.” “You know about that too?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, smirk settling onto his face with practiced ease and they definitely had to play soon. It felt like they’d been standing in that corner for several lifetimes. “You’re very surprised by reading comprehension, love,” Killian laughed.

“Just impressed by your dedication to research.” “Maybe not such a bad journalist, after all. I almost understand the game.”

“Color me impressed,” Emma smiled, eyes wide and that smirk was stupid. She wanted to kiss it off. She wanted to absolutely wreck Vivi’s Adventure in the first round. “You know, maybe, we could try and build on that knowledge today? If you’ve got...questions or something.” “Are you offering to explain the video game to me, Swan? Henry’s been trying to do that for two weeks already.” “And how that’s going for you?” “Eh, he’s very frustrated. Far more preoccupied with getting that credit than anything I could offer him today.” “Ah, well, there’s no ice cream involved.” Killian smiled and Emma’s heart dropped into her stomach or maybe into her feet or possibly exploded out of her chest. “Always a disappointment, of course,” he muttered, stuffing his recorder back into his pocket and leaning towards her again.

He didn’t touch her arm.

He did, however, move his left hand and Emma’s eyes caught on a flash of color and a name and the question hung in the minimal amount of air between them as soon as she closed her mouth. “Who’s Milah?” she asked. “On the tattoo.” And just like that, it was over. The whole scene changed and Emma’d been absolutely wrecked by an assailant she didn’t see and wasn’t prepared for, thrown back to the start of some metaphorical level without a single weapon to her name.

The corner suddenly felt very small and Killian couldn't seem to back up quick enough, eyes dark and lips pressed together tightly and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Someone from a long time ago,” he bit out, venom in every single letter. “On the record.”

Emma nodded, quick jerks of her neck that sent a shockwave of pain and frustration down her spine. That’s what she got for asking questions.

“Hey, uh, guys,” Elsa said, appearing in the corner with a nervous look on her face. “We’ve got to go play the game. Ruby’s half a second away from shutting down the whole tournament to try and find you, Em.” “Of course she is,” Emma mumbled. She tried to plaster a smile on her face, certain it hadn’t worked as soon as she looked at Elsa. “Ok, we’re coming.”

She turned back to Killian – shoulders tight with the tension he was holding and his thumb pressed into his left forearm. “You, uh, want to watch a game in action?” Emma asked and he hummed softly, gaze still heavy on her face.

“Yeah, Swan,” he said. “Let’s go.”

#cs ff #cs #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #video game fic #if i ever write a fic where david and mary margaret aren't emma's biggest fans #i've probably been kidnapped #just fyi

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