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testingthewatersss · 6 months

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I never lost him Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture, etc. Just unapologetic cuddling and comfort ft. Steve Rodgers. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 8 2560 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Post TWS Steve realises that he's not the only one looking for Sargent Barnes. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

“That went great” Y/N says instantly, "Well done, Buck"

The praise washes over him like water, soothing the frayed edges of his soul like a balm.

He relishes in the soft swell of affection for a moment, nuzzling down into her embrace until he feels like he might be able to speak without his voice cracking;

“‘days not over yet, doll” he murmurs eventually, “’s only the afternoon— still plenty of time for me to ruin’ it”

“Don’t be ridiculous” she counters, “You’re here, with me— there’s no way you could ruin anything.”

He scoffs, holding onto her a little bit tighter.

Y/N can feel the way he’s clinging onto her waist with both of his hands, clutching onto her t-shirt like a child who’s afraid of being abandoned.

Her heart is aching, behind her ribs. He’s clearly trying to catch up with the reality of everything that’s just transpired, and she doesn’t really know if she can do anything to help.

Holding him seems to be doing something, at least.

So, she decides to just keep doing that, stroking circles across the back of his ribs.

“I can’t believe he went to the deli dressed like that” she murmurs, “I bet it makes the news.”

He smiles a little at that, small and hidden against her shoulder.

“He… he wasn’t wearin’ his dog tag”

That hurts.

It hurts more than she’d have expected it too.

“I asked him where it was” she tells him, “He says he lost it, y’know? In the ice”

That sounds reasonable, he’d been prepared for a similar answer, but, she doesn’t sound sure. There’s something about her tone, that makes him furrow his brow;

“You don’t think he did?”

“I might be wrong” she sighs, “but, I could’ve sworn I saw it in one of Peg’s old boxes”

It’s why I recognised yours so quickly, she thinks.

“If… If it was in Peggy’s stuff, maybe he did lose it, but she, she found it?”

“Maybe” Y/N agrees, “Or maybe I never saw it at all”

‘Excuse me, boss’ FRIDAY inserts politely, ‘But Bucky is right, I can confirm that when Captain Rodgers was first brought to SHEILD headquarters he was booked in, and his dog tag was noted along with his compass and original suit in the documentation regarding his personal belongings.’

That catches her attention, she tilts her head and hums,

“Was… was he awake when you brought him here?”

‘No’ FRIDAY replies, ‘He remained frozen until our medical officers felt confident in their ability to bring him round without complication’

“But he had it on him when he arrived?” Y/N cuts in, wanting to clarify, “Do you have any record about where it went?”

‘Yes, boss.’ the AI agrees, ‘And whilst there is no official mention of the article after that initial reference, I can use the archived security footage to speculate that Agent Carter may have retrieved it from him during one of her regular visits.’

Oh—

“Well there we go…” Y/N murmurs, stroking Bucky’s back again, “…mystery solved.”

“She…” Bucky says, clearing his throat, “… Y’think she took it?”

“Probably” she sighs, “she loved him, it’s not a stretch to think she’d want to try and keep a piece of him close, ‘specially… ‘specially when she realised that he probably wouldn’t be wakin’ up any time soon.”

Bucky thinks that’s awfully sad.

Sometimes he forgets how unfair fate was to Steve. He forgets that it wasn’t just him who lost everything in ice.

“I think we should get it back to him, don’t you?”

Y/N’s voice makes his head lift up, away from the crook of neck.

He’s starring at her, trying to read wether or not she’s being serious.

“You… you think we can?”

“Of course we can” she chuckles, stroking his cheek, “Baby, if Peggy kept it then it’s here— After she died a lot of her stuff was archived, y’know, for security— Tony and Sharon agreed that the tower was the best place for her personal belongings, since it’s real easy to protect, and, if I saw it before got scooped up, then I’d wager it’s still exactly where it was back then.”

“So” he murmurs, “We… We really could get it for him?”

“Sure” she says, “We can go grab it ourselves, or I can ask Tony or Nat to go and find it?”

His face shifts into something terribly conflicted. For a moment, she thinks that he might speak, but instead, he just ducks his head back down into her shoulder, burying his face against her like hiding might erase the burn of shame he’s experiencing because he just can’t volunteer himself to go and retrieve it himself.

It doesn’t.

Her arms wrapping back around across his body helps though.

So does the way she presses her lips against the top of his head, hushing him before she says,

“FRIDAY, can you message Natasha discretely for me? Do it in Russian so she knows it’s private— ask her to go down to the archives and use my override to get into the safe in room 12, tell her that I think the tag is somewhere between boxes 1-8 under one of Peg’s old dresses. When she’s got it, ask her to bring it up here, don’t let Rodgers see.”

‘Yes, boss’

“I- I’m sorry” she hears Bucky whisper, voice melting against her throat, “I just can’t-“

“It’s okay” she soothes, “Baby, it’s fine, Nat loves snoopin’ around down there, she’ll get it for us, and then you can double check, make sure it’s right before you give it to him.”

“Before-“ he gulps, “before I give it to him?”

“well, yeah” she says, smiling, “Sweetheart, unless you don’t want too?”

“I- I do” he blurts out urgently, “I-I just, thought maybe you-”

“No, baby” she murmurs, “I think it’ll mean more if it’s you.”

‘Ms Romanoff is on her way to the archives now, Boss— she asked me pass on a message to Bucky on her behalf’

“Oh?” Y/N scoffs, pressing another kiss against his head, “What message would that be?”

‘Dobro pozhalovat' domoy, serzhant’

Welcome Home, Sergeant.

That makes a smile bloom across her face.

The recorded greeting being laced with a genuine tone of kindness is enough to make her affection towards her old friend swell in her chest.

“She… Is, is that her voice?”

‘Yes, Bucky- I can relay messages to anybody you like.’

“Could you reply for me? could… could you tell her ‘Thank you, and I- I’m sorry, for— for fightin’ you, and for- for shootin’ you back… back in Japan.”

“Sure I will.”

“Sweetheart” Y/N says, “you know she’s not angry, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter” he counters weakly, “It doesn’t matter if she’s angry, doll, I— I’m still sorry.”

The silence that follows doesn’t last long, but it’s still long enough for his words to make Y/N’s chest ache again.

“C’mere” she purrs, settling herself back against the arm of the couch, guiding him up, so he’s back in position between her thighs, “Grab that blanket, baby, are you sure you’re not hungry?”

He lets one of his hands snake out so he can pull the covers out from underneath his legs, whispering out an “I- I can eat if… if you want me to?” as he passes it to her.

“It’s not up to me” Y/N says, arranging the quilt across his back, “what do you want?”

“…To stay here for awhile?…”

He means in her arms. He means against her chest, where he finally feels safe, and there isn’t a single thing in the world that could convince her to prise him away. Not with the way he’s looking at her, wide eyed and touch-starved.

“Then you can stay here awhile.” she tells him, one hand snaking up to cup his cheek, “You can stay right here for as long as you want”

“Excuse the interruption, but Miss Romanoff has sent a reply, Bucky, would you like to hear it now, or shall I store it for later playback?”

Bucky’s eyes widen for a moment, and he pushes back into Y/N’s hand as he gulps;

“Can I- Can I hear it now?”

‘Ofcourse—

Zabud' ob etom. Vy byli pervym chelovekom, kotoryy ustroil mne dostoynyy boy za desyat' let. My provedem match-revansh, kogda tebe stanet luchshe.’

Forget about it. You were the first person to give me a decent fight in a decade. We'll rematch when you're feeling better.

There’s a laugh in her tone that makes Y/N scoff, eyes rolling as her old friends voice floods the space.

“See?” she whispers, pressing a kiss against his lips, “Don’t worry about Nat”

His smile is tight and anxious, and she can tell he wants to hide again, so she reminds him that he doesn’t need to reply, and that is when he surrenders, nodding and retreating to her chest.

“We’ll eat later” she says, “You, you just get comfy, it’s been a hell of a mornin’…”

It has, it has been a hell of a morning.

“I love you” is the response he settles on, “I- I love you so much”

That makes her laugh, but it’s sweet, it’s happy and girlish, and he’s beaming into the skin of her throat.

“Baby boy” she coos, “I love you more.”

“’s not possible” he counters, because he can’t not, “doll, It… it’s like you hung the damn moon”

“We’ll argue it out another day” she whispers, feeling him sagging against her, “you’re exhausted.”

He is, he is exhausted, he’s emotionally drained and the heat from her body is drawing him in, making it easy for his breathing to synchronise with hers, deep, and slow.

His eyes are closed and her fingers are in his hair.

God, he feels like the luckiest man alive.

and then, he’s asleep again.

Y/N spends more time showering him in gentle touches, this time. She plays with the curls that are hanging loose across the back of his neck. She presses her lips against his brow and then finally drapes one arm across the back of waist so that she can pull up the STARK internship paperwork that she’d mentioned filling out earlier with the other.

In two hours, it’s early evening and she’s half way through the file.

In three, she’s still half way through, but now Natasha has let her know that she has the dog tag, and she can bring it up whenever.

Now might be the best time, she considers, whilst he’s sleeping— maybe we can avoid another introduction.

She relays her thoughts to FRIDAY who quietly, and politely agrees with her theory, and tells her that ‘Ms Romanoff will be with her in a few moments.’

It’s been just over five minutes when Natasha lets herself into Y/N’s suite.

Unlike Steve she’s used to dropping by, so, there isn’t any cause for her to stop to survey her surroundings.

That is, until she spots her best friend, curled up on her couch with the very same super-solider that had been deemed as ‘HYRDA’s most dangerous weapon’ passed out between her thighs.

That is definitely worth a double take.

Y/N’s eyes roll at the look on her face, and she uses her free hand to beckon her towards her,

“He’s sleeping—” she tells her helpfully, “— and thank you for finding it so quickly”

The dog tag is already in her outstretched palm. Natasha’s smile is curious more than anything else, so Y/N finds herself mirroring it, quirking a brow and murmuring out a “what?” that makes the other woman chuckle, quiet and tempered into the air between them;

“This isn’t just a hook-up is it?”

“No” she replies, “No, I don’t think it is.”

The red-head nods, and her face morphs into something only approving.

“You met him whilst you were away?” she checks, waiting for Y/N to nod before she continues, “So you’ve been, together, for awhile?”

“Yeah” Y/N agrees, “better part of 5 years.”

“Well” Nat sighs, “I hope he deserves you.”

“He does” she’s quick to tell her

“good” the other woman replies, “if you trust him, then that’s good enough for me, just let him know that if he breaks your heart then it won’t just be Tony he has to watch out for.”

That makes Y/N snort, childish and happy as she nods, curling her fingers through Bucky’s hair again.

“Speaking off” Natasha murmurs, “Is he okay? With this whole thing?”

“I think he’s more than okay” she says, “Honestly, I didn’t expect him to be so good about it, y’know? but he’s really gone out of his way to make this easy on us.”

“He can probably tell how happy you are” she replies, “and if somethin’ happens and you need me then-”

“I know you’ve got my back” Y/N swears, “You always have, Nat- ya tebya lyublyu”

I love you

A genuine smile blooms across the red-heads face. She’s beaming as she leans in to press a kiss on Y/N’s brow, and she’s still sporting the same grin when she starts towards the door.

“Do you think he’ll mind if I stop by tomorrow?”

“I don’t know” Y/N says honestly, “I doubt it? If he isn’t ready then I’ll slip out and catch you before training”

And then she’s gone, and Y/N finds herself tucking the dog tag into her pocket so that she can return her attention to the papers she’d been working on before.

Bucky doesn’t stir for another hour. By then she’s actually almost finished. She’s so focused on the task at hand that she only notices he’s awake when he moves, rolling onto his side so he can peer at the glowing hologram she’s typing on.

“Hey, love” she purrs, “Sorry, I thought I’d try and get this finished whilst you slept.”

“Don’t be sorry, doll” he replies, voice cracking with disuse, “Have I been out long?”

“3 hours, maybe 4?” Y/N answers, looking at the clock, “it’s about 8 now, Nat’s been and gone.”

That catches his attention, he paws at his eyes, and then at his chin, all whilst using his metal arm to support his weight so he can stare at her face.

“What?” she presses, typing the final sentence of her conclusion with impressive speed, “Did you want me to wake you?”

“No” he admits, “I- I just didn’t think she’d be able to find it so quick”

The papers are finished so Y/N hits submit, dismissing the screen with a flick of her wrist so that she can give him her full attention.

“It wasn’t hidden” she reminds him calmly, “Do you want to see it?”

His lip quirks as he nods.

She shifts her hips pulling the silver, age-stained trinket out of her pocket before letting the charm drop, so that its where he can reach out and grab it.

He does, turning it over in his flesh fingers as his eyes scan the engravings again and again.

“Is it the right thing?” she wonders, already suspecting from the look on his face that it is, “I’m pretty sure, but-”

“Yeah” he says, “Yeah, it- it’s right— can I give it to him now?”

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | x | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #the winter soldier x you #fluff #x reader #drabble #series #BBneverlosthim

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inkabelledesigns · 1 year

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What’s the most complicated doll/doll piece you’ve made?

Do you have headcanons about your dolls?

(I can’t make this text regular size, tumblr is being wacky </3)

It's all good! Thank you for sending in your questions, they're a delight! ^^

22. What’s the most complicated doll/doll piece you’ve made?

This is a tricky one that can have about five answers. XD So I'm gonna give you a top five, with photos!

First is the most recent of the bunch. This is Elara Roux, she was for an Autumn Court collab. This doll's dress is one of the most elaborate garments I've crafted (and here I am wanting to sew it again for a Christmas tree doll, send help ^^''''). She's one of the hardest dolls to get to stand properly between the poofy dress not playing well with stands and the antlers adding a bunch of weight. I have to say, I'm very proud of her antlers, they were difficult to sculpt but a lot of fun, and proof that I'm getting better at polymer clay. She's also my first doll with vitiligo, which was a fun challenge to take on. I love her, so so much. She's difficult to photograph, but we're learning.

Dina the Dryad was a lot. She has a bunch of body sculpting and painting, a new arm and hand, and during her project, the humidity was hurting my sealant so much. Her face went through a couple iterations before I could fix it.

Kendra is one you don't hear me talk about much. I was in hell trying to make the resin work. I mixed up too much pigment (and the wrong pigment, seriously don't use alcohol inks with UV resin, bad idea) and it wouldn't cure properly, so her gems and the ball details on her lower half were difficult. She's also my only doll with alcohol inks coloring the skin, which I like the look of, but it was very messy. XD I love her face so much though, the lotus details on her eyes are something I need to give to another doll.

Norman is the most unconventional doll I've made. He involved full body sculpting and painting, additional sculpted pieces for his speaker and shoulder reel, a head made out of craft foam and a hinge joint so it can open to hold the candle light, wires and chords, aaaahhh, he's a lot. XD Attaching the projector to the doll's head was also a challenge. Honorary mention to Belphene, the doll with the red dress and horns, she's also complicated with those horns and having to draft her clothing pattern for myself. But I have one more pick that's not her.

It probably surprises no one that Auran is one of the most complicated dolls of my collection. XD For starters, he's one of my few hybrid dolls. His parts consist of an Invisi Billy head on an Obitsu male body (yes I ordered a special body for him, it was VERY IMPORTANT), and I had to modify the nose with apoxie sculpt to fit his design. His head used to be blue, and painting it to be smooth and have a matching skintone to the body was tough. My dad actually stepped in on this one, we needed to change out the neck peg for a different sized one so the head would stay on. His hair was redone a couple times, as were his clothes. His resin gem on the collar took multiple attempts before I could call it good, and the shoes were a nightmare even though I used a My Scene shoe as the base. I'm super proud of his epaulets, they're polymer clay shaped and glossed to look like turtles, which is caramel with pecans in it and chocolate on the bottom and top. It's one of my favorite things that Mom makes around Christmas time, so naturally he had to have them. He's one of those dolls that I put so much into, and I'm glad I did, but I needed a long break when he was done because it was so taxing. XD Worth it.

24. Do you have headcanons about your dolls?

Oh I have so many headcanons about my dolls! Who gets along, which ones like being next to each other, the things they might talk about while I'm away, there's a lot to think about.

These two sets surprised me a lot. I made Gail and Delilah separate from each other, but during the time that I was moving, I had to pack up all of my dolls so I could carry them over. These were the two I kept out during that time, and then I photographed them together, since Delilah is one of my favorites, and Gail was recent that summer, and they're both pink and delightful. I think the two of them are long distance girlfriends in my Equinox story, with Gail hailing from the spring kingdom as an assistant to the royals there, and Delilah as a pastry fairy that lives in the central kingdom. They send letters, and maybe someday they'll get to live together. They certainly do on my shelf, these two are rarely seen apart, I never want to put them away.

Marnie and Valencia are a similar story. I made these two beverage witches for the first collaboration I ever hosted, and somewhere in there, they ended up as girlfriends. XD Marnie is the studious bookworm that's always working hard while at the cafe, whereas Valencia is very chill and embraces the vibes of the beach. There's something charming in how opposites attract.

Thank you for the questions! If anyone would like to ask more, the ask game is here!

#doll asks #doll ask game #doll artist #ooak doll #doll photography #doll customs #long post

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1kook · 3 years

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new parent syndrome

— kim namjoon x (f) reader

SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.) WARNINGS dilf!joon, dreamy husband joon, loving parents au, jimin is also a dad, bathtub sexy times, exhibitionism 😳 kinda sorta, tiny praise kink, joon calls her wifey TT, fingering, cunninglingus, doggy style, it’s kinda cheesy n romantic /.\, unprotected sex, …. impreg kink RATINGS m (18+) WC 9.5k

NOTES writing parent fics is harder than i thought :/ i had this idea last week n was like yes, lets write this fic that absolutely no one asked for... except me! <3 so here we are, fantasizing about dreamy dad joon.... as always i have to thank rumu ( @kigurumu ) who is kind enough to edit these n b like that don't make no sense -_- anyway lemme know what u think !! enjoy !!

No matter how hard you try, the letter f refuses to fit itself into Hyejoo’s phonemic understanding. She’s a growing toddler so it’s only normal that there are sounds she still can’t pronounce, words she doesn’t quite get. But her inability to say food or family or friends, which are undoubtedly the three most important things in her three year-old world right now, is definitely a setback you didn’t see coming.

Your worrywart husband has taken matters into his own hands, using the power of Google and about twelve parenting books to create an extensive, one-hour-a-day, mini lesson to try and increase her pronunciation skills. Of course, Hyejoo already attends daycare in the mornings while you and Namjoon are off at work, and gets sufficient learning done there. So she can’t exactly sit through Joon’s lectures, no matter how pretty he tries to decorate her flashcards. She’s still tiny— she’s still your baby, and you want her to enjoy the last of her daycare years before you’re forced to submit her to the worst twelve years of her life (also known as compulsory education).

But as you’ve mentioned before, Namjoon doesn’t quite feel the same way.

“She can’t sound out the letter,” he mopes in bed that night. He’s laying down beside you, face smushed against your thigh. The lamp on your side of the bed is the only thing on, casting a faint golden hue on his cheeks.

This conversation has occurred a variety of times these past few weeks, and you’ve just about ran out of every comforting reassurance possible. You settle on stroking a hand through his hair. There are emails to respond to and clients to check in with, but there’s also a huffy husband in bed beside you who quite pitifully crawls up into your arms.

It’s with his face between your boobs that he speaks again. “What if she’s getting made fun of at school? Or her teachers think she’s dumb?” You roll your eyes. “My baby is not dumb, __,” he says, as if you don’t know. “Her IQ came back above average when I took her to the development specialist that one time, remember?” You have half the mind to tell him an IQ test on a three year old isn’t exactly valid, but there’s already enough stacked on his plate. Finding out he wasted a hundred bucks for an invalid test would just be the cherry on top of all his worries.

Water clings to the very tips of his hair, remnants of his bath with Hyejoo. Namjoon is getting older now, nothing like the dashing grad student you had met what feels like a lifetime ago. There’s bags under his eyes, bags that surpass any all-nighter-pulling college student’s, induced by none other than the sheer power of becoming a parent. And still, he retains his beauty, looks like a doll with his skin so dewy from his skincare routine, lips puffy and red and kissable.

He looks up, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his lips, his familiar scent making you melt into his arms. When he pulls away, there’s still a subtle furrow between his brows.

“Hyejoo is fine,” you reassure him, carding his brown hair out of his face. He leans into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Our girl is the smartest three year-old out there,” you huff, feeling the slightest bit annoyed that he could even insinuate otherwise. “And if she was having problems at school, you know I would be the first one in there, fighting all the other moms.”

Namjoon relents, face falling back into its haven between your tits. “Okay,” he mumbles, muffled from the way his plush lips drag against the soft skin over your sternum.

The subject of Namjoon’s worries is in the other room sound asleep, not the least bit concerned with measly letters and sounds. It’s really only Namjoon who is, his stack of letter flashcards glaring at you from on top of the dresser. “Your mother hen is showing,” you tease as he slips beneath the covers, leaning over you to flick off your lamp. Just like everything else in your house, his t-shirt smells like him. It’s a natural, woodsy scent that floods your nostrils and makes your toes curl when he comes so close.

Namjoon snorts as he settles beside you, beefy arm pillowing your head as he pulls you close. “I’m not a mother hen,” he says, hand on your waist, the tantalizing expanse of his neck before your eyes. “I’m the rooster— the cock,” he snickers, and you reward his terrible attempt at a joke with a pinch to his side that has him retreating to the other end of the bed.

Hyejoo’s best friend in the entire world— or, as she says, her best pren in the entire world —is none other than Park Yerin from daycare. As the universe would have it, Park Yerin is also the one and only daughter of your college philosophy seat neighbor, Park Jimin.

Crossing paths with him later down the road was not something you could ever anticipate, especially when you and Jimin were never that close in college to begin with. It was the only class you had with him in all four years, one where you had quietly acknowledged his charisma and occasionally shared homework answers, before never speaking to him again. You could have greeted him on campus, as you often crossed paths. But Park Jimin was a walking friendship magnet who seemed to bring with him a parade of followers everywhere he went, and approaching him required three layers of strategic planning if you wanted to catch him alone.

So bumping into him at the entrance of Hyejoo’s daycare six years later comes as a bit of a shock. You had never pegged him as the type to settle down so quickly— you don’t mean to label him, but there were certain college stereotypes that he fit like a glove —but there he was, carrying the tiny love of his life who’s currently dressed in a bright pink Minnie Mouse dress.

Unsurprisingly, just like her father, Park Yerin has the same enthralling personality that makes everyone in the three to four year-old daycare class want to be her friend, and your sweet little Hyejoo is not exempt.

Long story short, out of all the kids at Sunny Side Daycare, Yerin is Hyejoo’s favorite, and Hyejoo is Yerin’s favorite.

So now it’s been a little over a year since the two girls have established their friendship, which means it’s been a little over a year of acquainting yourself with Jimin again. He’s a house husband, something you never expected, and he loves his daughter like no other. Some afternoons after daycare are spent with Jimin and Yerin at the nearest coffee shop, watching the girls haphazardly scribble over every piece of paper they can get their hands on while the two of you catch up.

Overall, you’re happy Hyejoo can have a friend like Yerin, and secretly, you're also happy you can finally befriend a fellow parent as nice and put together as Jimin. On top of that, Namjoon’s liked him on the few occasions he’s met him; the two have even gone out for drinks.

However, befriending Jimin and Yerin comes at a cost, and that cost is seeing your little girl grow up.

It’s your turn to mope.

“Yerin asked her to sleepover,” you groan, sadly patting in your skincare routine the next night. Namjoon is somewhere behind you, his naked back glaring at you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. He’s so broad and big, sleep shorts clinging to his waist as he lotions up his body post-shower. There’s a thin gold chain around his neck that glints everytime he moves around, biceps flexing and bulging in plain view until he finally slips his shirt on. There was a time in your life where his back could not go more than two days unscathed, your rabid (read: horny) claw marks painting rosy trails down his spine. These days, you can barely remember the last time he’s held your hand.

“Who?” he asks once he’s settled beneath the covers with whatever book he’s reading now and his thick-rimmed reading glasses.

“Who else,” you say, tugging your night robe closer to your chest as if it’ll prevent your heart from breaking anymore than it already was. “Hyejoo’s first sleepover,” you sigh.

You take it harder than you imagined. In the back of your mind, you’ve always known your little girl was growing up— hello, you were literally watching her grow more and more inches every single day —but you had convinced yourself she would stay your baby for a little while longer. As much as you wanted her to see and learn about the world, you selfishly wanted to keep her home too. She was your baby, your only one at that.

At least Namjoon feels the same way. “Absolutely not,” he squawks, abruptly slamming his book shut. He’s usually really meticulous about lining up his fancy bookmark right on the line he left off on, so his sudden carelessness tells you all you need to know about how he feels.

You sit down beside him, hand over his. “It’s Yerin’s birthday,” you inform him in what you hope is a comforting tone; unbeknownst to him, you’re trying to reassure yourself as well. “And Jimin said he and his wife are gonna be there the whole night.” You trust Jimin, you really do. If there’s anyone who’s more in love with their kid than you and Namjoon, it’s Jimin. He would never let anything happen to his Yerin, and by extension, he would never let anything happen to your Hyejoo. He’s a good dad.

Namjoon rubs at his eyes. In the span of two minutes, he’s aged about five years. “No,” he sighs softly, squeezing your hand tightly. “Once she starts going to sleepovers she’ll start wearing makeup and getting into relationships and having her heart broken—“

A kiss is enough to silence him when he gets like this, his warm breath fanning across your bottom lip when you pull away. “She just wants to wear tutus and sing Baby Shark right now,” you murmur, hand creeping up over his chest. His heart is beating fast as hell beneath his t-shirt, feels like it’ll burst straight out of his chest if you don’t calm him down.

He’s the bigger worrier out of the two of you, has a classic case of paranoid parent syndrome.

It’s no secret that Namjoon has a big brain; he’s an educated man with a respectable job. For every problem he encounters, he can procure a variety of solutions with different approaches. He’s always prepared and part of you thinks he’s a huge reason you managed to survive those first few weeks as a mom. Unlike you, who had attended a whopping two mommy classes in preparation for your upcoming child, Namjoon had studied up on parenting. A lot. He had read books and reviewed scientific studies, had learned about development on the chemistry level and the social level, did all he could until he was confident in his own dad abilities.

But, for every solution Namjoon can find, there are always twenty-eight other factors to worry about.

“What if she has an allergic reaction and Jimin doesn’t know what to do,” he pales, death grip on your hand. His matching wedding band digs into your skin and you have to wrestle his hand away before he accidentally breaks your finger. He nearly broke your neck once when you were in college, had almost sent you to the ER mid-thrust because he had underestimated his own strength while trying to choke you.

“Hyejoo doesn’t have any allergies,” you remind him, giving up on your awkward half-seated position as you clamber over him. His thighs are full beneath you, tense up as you move over him and he manhandles you into his chest.

He’s not done. “What if she asks Jimin for a fizzy drink and he can’t understand her?” His eyes are owlish beneath his glasses, covered in what you can only describe as a visible sheen of absolute terror. “What if he thinks she’s saying ‘pissy’ not ‘fizzy,’ __— what then?” It’s amazing, really, how a man who graduated cum laude can hypothesize this many disasters pertaining to a four year-old’s sleepover.

In the other room, Hyejoo calls for you, so you gladly take the opportunity to remove yourself from Namjoon and his spiraling thoughts. “Look,” you say, tightening the sash of your robe as you get back up. “I’m gonna go tell her that she can go to Yerin’s sleepover tomorrow,” you tell him, giving him exactly three seconds to groan dramatically, before continuing, “and you figure out how to turn that big brain off by the time I come back.”

Luckily, the cause of Hyejoo’s sudden wake up is a tiny bug bite she got from playing outside that just won’t stop itching. “Mommy, it hurts,” she whines, digging her nails into the tiny red mark by her knee.

“Uh huh, lemme see,” you order, turning on her bedside lamp to illuminate the space. Her room is the prettiest shade of yellow, fitting for a ball of sunshine such as herself. “Were you playing by the flowerbeds?” You ask, running a finger over the mark a little too weird looking to simply be another mosquito bite.

She knows she’s not supposed to play near the flowers— the bugs like her a little too much. It’s with a hesitant little nod that she confesses to it. You give her a pointed look. “You’re not supposed to play too close to the flowers,” you remind her, a tiny scolding for now.

With a sniffle she responds, “not by the plowers.”

A little bit of anti-itch cream has her settling, and by the time you return to your bedroom, Namjoon is out cold.

“How old is Yerin turning?” Namjoon asks her at the door, heartbreak clearly painting his features as you help Hyejoo into her shoes.

“Pour,” she beams, her tiny hand held up to show four stubby fingers. She has Namjoon’s pretty smile, an honest look in her eyes that makes you want to put her in your pocket and never let her go. Alas, Yerin’s sleepover party starts at five and Hyejoo has been trying to leave since noon.

“Pour,” Namjoon repeats, shooting you a pointed look as if to say see. He had fought the decision up until the end, had even tried to tactically convince your daughter to stay home by getting a head start on preparing her favorite food. And well. She said no. So now the two of you are stuck having dinosaur chicken nuggets for dinner without her.

She’s got her little travel bag on now, tiny feet stuffed into her ladybug rain boots because it had rained last night and she’s awfully addicted to jumping in muddy puddles. She’s absolutely adorable, your little girl, and you think Namjoon might’ve let out a tiny sob earlier. (Or maybe it was you.)

Namjoon joins you at the front door. “Be good,” he warns her. His eyes are suspiciously wet, but you don’t say anything because yours are too. You’re both crouched in front of her, her big eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you without a care in the world. Mixing your self-assured personality with Namjoon’s (mostly) composed attitude was quite possibly the worst genetic crossover to ever happen; Hyejoo doesn’t even seem remotely bothered by the fact she’s spending her first night away from home. Meanwhile, you and Namjoon are on the verge of a joint breakdown.

Anyway, Namjoon gives in first. “Love you forever, princess,” he tells her, their ritual expression, and kisses her forehead.

She accepts it and then, in an unexpected turn of events, surges forward to hug him around the neck. “Love you pporever, daddy,” she repeats, and your heart feels so painfully full at the sight, like you just unlocked a new life achievement from seeing your daughter and her father be so cute together. You don’t get to coo at them for long, because then she’s giving you a warm hug as well, the same phrase muttered in your ear.

It’s the hardest thing about parenting.

Seeing your kid slowly broaden their horizons, meeting new people and learning new things. Leaving home. (Granted, she’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon but even that feels like an eternity away to the dramatic parents you and Namjoon have become.) The second goodbye on Jimin’s doorstep isn’t any easier, especially when Hyejoo tugs on your arm and asks you to “say night to daddy please” for her, and your heart breaks just a little more. Jimin flashes you an understanding smile but all you want to do is punch him in the nose for ever telling Yerin what a sleepover is.

You get home and Namjoon is in a calmer state by now, some old sitcom he hates playing on the TV. Usually, this time of day is reserved for his daily phonemic lessons with Hyejoo, drilling the f sound into her tiny brain, so you guess this is his preferred method of coping in its place: torturing himself with some boring television show.

“Hey,” he says, and you crawl into his lap with a sad sniffle. “Shh,” he soothes, hand on the back of your head as he guides you into his chest. You’re actually crying now, which is super embarrassing in itself considering you scolded Namjoon for this exact behavior last night. He doesn’t mention it as he pats your back, stupid sitcom paused in favor of soothing you with the deep vibrations of his voice. “Hye’s gonna be back tomorrow, baby.”

“I want her back now,” you huff, vaguely aware of how childish and silly you sound. The tables have turned, and you find yourself wishing you had the same emotional fortitude as Namjoon now. All those parenting books have clearly amounted for something. Somehow, you will the feeling back into your body and pull away from his chest. You must look a mess because he doesn’t even try to hide the amusement on his face. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Namjoon laughs, deep and hearty, with his eyes squeezing shut from the force. “Come on, wifey, those chicken nuggets aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

It’s quite possibly the most boring evening you’ve had in years.

(The internet calls it new parent syndrome, where you’re so undeniably in love with your first child and the parenting experience that the rest of the world is put on pause.)

You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)

Kids are prone to asking weirdly philosophical questions, a fact that had greatly delighted you when Hyejoo first started speaking. Who am I? What’s money? Why not? It could get annoying sometimes, trying to answer all of Hyejoo’s curiosities. But as you begin on your second batch of dinosaur chicken nuggets, all you can think about is how Jimin gets to answer them tonight.

Anyway, seven rolls around and you and Namjoon are bored. You can only watch so many episodes of Seinfield before you get tired of feigning interest, so you retire from the living room for the night. “I’m gonna take a bath,” you tell him, but he’s as brain dead as you by now.

A second later, “lemme join.”

It’s been a while since the two of you have squeezed into the bathtub together, usually assigning each other days to individually join Hyejoo. So it’s really not either of your faults when you realize a second too late how small the space is. One on each end, feet bumping into each other with every movement, it’s like trying to squeeze two feet into one shoe. You try to readjust yourself, but the bath flooring is slippery and you nearly take away Namjoon’s procreative abilities with a mighty kick.

To make a long story short, you end up pressed against his chest, Namjoon’s thick thighs framing you as you relax into the steaming water. Instinctively, he reaches for Hyejoo’s bottle of baby shampoo that sits on the tub’s ledge and only catches himself just as the first droplet is meeting his palm. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs, quickly closing the lid before he can waste any more precious product. “Shit, I’m so sad.”

You snort, sinking farther back into his chest. He’s warm and soft in all the right ways, the hot water making him slippery. “What did we even do before Hyejoo?” you ask, reaching into the deepest crevices of your mind for answers. Namjoon’s hand comes around, fingers sprawled out over your knee, the one you have propped up and breaking the water’s surface

He makes a rather vague sound, something like I don’t know, as he lolls forward, forehead on your shoulder. “Go on dates,” he responds eventually. “Fuck like crazy.”

You roll your eyes. “Besides that,” you chide, pinching the back of his palm. “Don’t we have any hobbies? Any interests?” He doesn’t answer, which is all the answer you need. Why didn’t you get into puzzle solving back when it was a trend? “Is this what our life has become? Crying in a bathtub at seven pm because our emotional support child isn’t here?”

“Our only child,” he corrects. Namjoon tries to placate your looming existential crisis with a kiss to your shoulder, lips against wet skin, that he trails up to your neck. “And what’s wrong with going on dates and fucking?” he murmurs, hands around your stomach. “That’s how we got here,” he teases, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm water or the way his voice is like melted chocolate dripping down your body, but you become all too aware of his presence at that moment. Particularly, of the plush lips mindlessly kissing your shoulder, the wet smack of their motions.

Another kiss, this time right below your ear. It has your head rolling to the side, exposing more skin for him to kiss up on. There’s still that overwhelming cloud of worry in the back of your mind, but it’s gradually nudged away by Namjoon’s warm hands on your skin. Sensing your weakening resolve, Namjoon strikes again. A hand slips down over your stomach, brushes over your belly button and finds itself between your thighs. “You used to love date nights, baby,” he says, the pad of his pointer finger grazing your clit.

It’s been so long since you and Namjoon have been alone like this, months since you’ve been able to touch him beyond a simple make out session, a halfhearted grope beneath the sheets. Your daughter, as much as you loved her, made intimacy impossible for the two of you. She was always around, always looking for one or the both of you, so there was never time to even think about getting frisky.

Only now, with his finger circling your clit, do you realize the blessing in disguise that was your daughter’s first slumber party away from home.

His finger nudges your clit, flicks it teasingly. “Why don’t you let me take care of you, hm?” he hums, the hand that had been soothingly stroking the inside of your thigh coming up to rub at your breasts.

“Yes, please,” you whine. Resting your head on his shoulder leaves Namjoon with a clear view down your front, lips kissing and sucking along your neck. His huge hand palms your breast, massaging the sensitive skin. You hadn’t realized how sore you’d been until now, his nimble fingers pressing deliciously into the skin. If your nipples weren’t already hard before, they certainly were now.

He traps one pearled nipple between two fingers, the sudden pinch making you hiss. “Easy, now,” he chuckles, his low tenor paired with his wandering hands making your eyes roll back.

Namjoon liked to use a higher tone around the house. He read somewhere that children prefer lighter, sweeter tones, so the last few years have been spent listening to him lighten the tone of his voice for the sake of your daughter. The deeper, growlier voice that had first made you fall in love with him became a rarity in your household, reserved for quiet nights in the living room or long drives where Hyejoo was asleep in the backseat. Only then does he unleash the gravelly qualities of his voice.

Then, and apparently, now.

His doll-like lips press against your jaw, suck lightly enough to make your body tingle. “Do you remember how it was the first time?” he says suddenly, his hot breath against your neck.

Namjoon’s got your clit trapped between two wandering fingers, has your pussy twitching with the vibrations of his voice alone. And for some reason, he’s trying to reminisce about your first time sleeping together.

“N- Not really,” you confess, subtly reaching down. You cover his palm with yours, hoping your touch will encourage him to carry on with his actions. It doesn’t. It just leaves both your hands hovering over your pussy, your thighs instinctively closing in on them to keep him there. Namjoon responds to that, releasing the breast he had been gently massaging in order to pry your legs apart. He does it so easily, despite the way your legs feel tight as hell, and the fact makes you whimper.

Once he’s got his hands back between your thighs— this time, he uses one hand to carefully part your quivering lips, the other one gingerly pressing down against your clit to draw the most heavenly sensations out of you —Namjoon feels the need to dive into a recap of your first fuck. “You were so cute,” he laughs, and you don’t know if you should take offense. Well, considering you're married and have a kid now, it’s probably too late to say anything anyway. His hand suddenly switches gears, three fingers joining together to begin caressing them over your throbbing clit. “Kept talking to me so politely, even when you were creaming my cock.”

You scoff, but it gets cancelled out by the moan he draws out of you. “D- Didn’t know you that well,” you remind him, your thighs twitching. You desperately want to buck forward into his giving hands, want to feel the true power of those long, pretty fingers on your cunt.

Behind you, Namjoon’s cock grows thick, his breathing a slow and steady pace by your ear. You can already imagine how heavy he is, the vein that runs along the underside and throbs with each new bit of stimulus he receives. Normally you would reach back and try to offer him the same helping hand he gives you, but your thighs feel wobbly already. Your libido has been dormant for so long that even just the barest flick of his thumb has you dissolving into his arms like this is your first time.

It’s as if Namjoon’s sensing your inner battle, a muffled laugh against the side of your neck. “This is about you,” he reminds you. As much as you want to protest, a sudden hard rub against your quivering lips has you gasping for breath. “Give me a kiss,” he commands softly, nudging his nose against the side of your face. It takes a second for you to ground yourself, draw yourself away from your building pleasure, to turn toward his waiting lips.

Namjoon kisses you slowly, like he’s taking his time with you. For the first time in a long time, he truly can. He doesn’t have to worry about a certain someone waking up in the middle of the night or walking in or anything along those lines, lips molding against yours. Plush as always, the faint taste of dinosaur chicken nuggets clinging to his lips. It makes you laugh a little, drawing away with an airy giggle. Namjoon smiles at your reaction, murmuring a soft, “what is it?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as he continues his circular motions against your clit. “Nothing,” you pant, finally getting in your first thrust against his fingers. “I just really need you,” you say instead, pushing his hand harder down against you.

You’re feeling a little antsy, having been deprived of this sensation for so long. Namjoon knows this, which is why he very purposely slows down. “There’s no rush,” he smirks, placing a kiss against your chin. “How do you want it, baby?”

The inside of your brain is a scrambled mess, filled with fantasies and ideas that have been plaguing you for months. There’s so much you want to do, want to try, but it’s like your brain completely blanks out when he asks. It’s just as you’re beginning to formulate a thought that you’re interrupted by the sound of your ringtone in the other room. Your husband’s arms tighten around you. “Don’t go,” he says quietly, the tip of his nose running along your neck. It’s so tempting to stay here, to let yourself go in his arms and chase the pleasure you’ve been craving for so long.

But the endless possibilities of who exactly could be calling wins over. Was it work? Was it your parents? Jimin?

It is with a heavy sigh that you reach for Namjoon’s hand, slowly pushing him away from your cunt. “I’m sorry, honey,” you frown, standing up out of the tub. Your legs really do feel like jelly, and you nearly slip and crack your skull on the porcelain edge. Luckily, Namjoon is there to steady you with two secure hands on your waist. “I’ll make it quick,” you reassure him, dropping a kiss on his pouty lips as you fasten a towel around your body.

The phone is just starting up its final ring when you reach it. It’s Jimin, and you’re torn between being thankful that you’re getting word on Hyejoo and full blown panic from the fact Jimin is calling you while Hyejoo is in his care. The unease has you accepting the call without a second more to waste. “Hello?” you say, hand tightening on the front of your towel. Stray water droplets trace ticklish trails down the backs of your thighs.

“__?” comes Jimin’s sweet voice. It’s normally soothing, but right now it has every hair on your body standing on end. Before you can even respond, Jimin is jumping headfirst into a whirlwind of a conversation. “Sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to check in on you, babe. I know you were really panicked about Hye’s first night away from home, but don’t worry! Me and the missus are doing everything we can to make sure she’s fine.”

His confidence reassures you, lessens the weight that had been sitting on your chest all afternoon. But at the same time, you find yourself wanting to throttle him.

Your gorgeous, sexy hunk of a husband is sitting in the other room, cock at full mast and ready to pleasure you to the moon and back, and here you are listening to Jimin brag about how good of a caretaker he is. You were definitely going to make Jimin pay for this.

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, toying with a stray thread on your towel. “Really,” you drawl, and you can practically see Jimin’s ego swell over the line.

“Yup,” Jimin agrees, and by the sounds of it, doesn’t seem like he’s hoping to end this call anytime soon. You want to shoulder part of the blame; you had been extra sad and mopey when you dropped your daughter off. On top of being a good dad, Jimin was also a good friend. It was only naturally he wanted to reassure you when he could.

Still, the memory of Namjoon’s wet chest was calling out to you.

“The girls are playing princess in the living room with the missus right now,” Jimin chats on. “New dresses and everything— the Yerin Birthday Special —and they asked me to be their handsome prince!” You sincerely cannot wait for the day you get to introduce Jimin to your right fist.

“That’s great,” you offer, not that he’s really listening. He’s too busy talking about Yerin (and making sure to include Hyejoo in for your sake) and how amazing it is to watch your kids grow up before your very eyes. And while you agree with the sentiment, you really wish he had called you and told you this earlier, when you were at the peak of your motherly meltdown. Not now with Namjoon waiting for you in the bathtub. Was the water even warm anymore?

The mind blowing orgasm practically slips from your fingertips the longer Jimin talks. “Anyway! Enough about them. I’m thinking of trying out that blueberry bread recipe that aired on TV last night. You know, the one they had that actress make.”

You’ve just about resigned yourself to listening to Jimin talk about his love for pastries for the next thirty minutes when something brushes up behind you. “What the fu—“

He’s so tall and broad, practically covers your entire frame when he stands so close. And his smile is so pretty when he aims it your way. “Sh,” Namjoon murmurs, gesturing towards your phone.

“__?” Jimin calls. “Everything alright?”

Namjoon nods eagerly, the hands on your waist properly positioning you in front of him. It’s with a shudder running down your spine that you respond. “I’m fine,” you tell Jimin, letting go of the front of your towel when Namjoon abruptly pushes you over. The white comforter infused with both of your scents comes all too close, your elbow barely managing to reach out in time to catch you.

Wide eyed, you turn to throw Namjoon a scandalized look over your shoulder. He meets you with a close-mouthed smile, the dimples in his cheeks making themselves known. His chest is drier now, the smooth planes covered in a thin dewy glow and a spattering of droplets he missed. There’s a towel around his waist that’s barely doing its job, especially when you catch sight of the erection tenting beneath it.

“As I was saying,” Jimin rambles on. Namjoon nods towards the device, refusing to move again until you finally turn back around to finish your conversation with Jimin. “That actress fucked it up so bad. They really give anyone with a pretty face screen time these days, huh? At least I know how to properly preheat an oven.”

You nod. “You do make the best cookies in town,” you respond, a ball of anticipation building in your throat from the mere fact Namjoon is standing behind you.

It’s completely warranted once you feel two cold fingers trail up the back of your thigh, your towel gradually pushed up to drape around your waist. The air in your room is a little chilly, and the goosebumps that raise on your skin are partly due to that, as well as the ghostlike touch of Namjoon’s fingers. “Pretty,” he murmurs, so deep and gravelly it has you shuddering.

Two fingers dance along your skin, and you subconsciously jolt away when they meet the tender skin around your pussy. By your ear, Jimin says, “if I completely fuck it up, we’ll just pretend this conversation never happened. Deal?”

Using your own body against you, Namjoon lets one finger dip just the smallest bit into your quivering hole. You clench up, thighs trembling when he eventually pulls it back out and traces your own wetness over your folds. “Perfect,” you bite out, clutching at the sheets beneath you as Namjoon reaches for your forgotten clit. It’s still so sensitive from your little fun in the bath, and it takes every ounce of strength in you to hold back the whiny gasp in your throat.

Behind you, Namjoon suddenly presses in close. One hand on your hip, he gently encourages you onto the bed. Your knees sink into the mattress, one less strain on your legs. “Good girl,” he praises quietly, rewarding your behavior with a finger sinking into your cunt.

“Joo—“ you almost slip, burying your face into the sheets just in time.

A devastatingly slow pace, his finger just barely moving in and out of you. The bulk of your pleasure is coming from that bundle of nerves towards your front, but the teasing gesture isn’t appreciated anyway. When he leans over you, breath against your neck, you feel the length of his cock against your thigh. “He’s asking you a question,” Namjoon whispers, “answer him, baby.”

You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he presses himself closer. Jimin hasn’t even noticed your lack of participation, mindlessly humming a song. The sounds of a running sink highlight his vocals. “Oh, absolutely,” you babble. “I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

“Ha!” Jimin scoffs. “I knew I could always count on you, Miss __,” he snarks playfully.

The hand toying with your clit comes around your waist, fingers stroking against your folds from this new angle. A silent moan has you writhing forward, unconsciously away from him as Jimin babbles on the other end of the line. He’s none the wiser to the lewd acts happening on the line, listening to the sound of his own voice. Namjoon lands a mean little bite against your shoulder, plunging his finger deeper inside of your clenching hole.

Paired with his teasing fingers, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your moans, biting your lip until it stings. “Fuck, fuck,” you whimper against the sheets, holding your phone as far away as possible from your mouth as a litany of curse words spill from your lips. Namjoon chuckles at your dramatics, not like he has his fingers deep inside of you right now or anything.

“So cute,” he hums, removing his hand from your clit to snatch your towel away. It gives way too easily, messily thrown over the edge of the bed. With your back completely exposed now, Namjoon wastes no time trailing a line of kisses up your spine, finishing off with an especially wet and hard one behind your ear. “Hang up now.”

His permission sets your body on edge, drawing your phone close again. Jimin is talking about dinner or something, you don’t even know. Not an ounce of remorse fills you when you clear your throat and hurriedly announce, “I have to—“ Namjoon’s cock, finally uncovered by his towel, presses against your folds and you nearly lose it. “—I have to go now, Jimin,” you say, leveling your breathing as best as you can.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Jimin says, thrown off by your sudden departure.

The mushroom tip of his cock kisses your clit. “Fuck— I really have to go.” And you hang up, chucking the phone off to the side hastily. With your hands both freed, you scramble onto your back, meeting the amused gaze of your husband behind you. “Fuck me, now.”

Namjoon laughs, reaching for the towel barely clinging onto his waist. One suave swoop later and it joins yours on the floor. “You did good,” he praises, lowering himself between your spread thighs. You roll your eyes, grabby hands reaching for his hips until he’s sitting snugly against you, cock resting over your throbbing cunt.

“Yeah, yeah,” you snap, the tight feeling in your tummy growing with every second that passes. Namjoon isn’t as unaffected as he pretends to be, a pearly bead of cum appearing at the tip of his engorged cock. “Just fuck me now.”

He raises a brow. “Missionary?” As if it’s the first time.

“Is there something wrong with it?” you ask anyway, self-consciously reaching an arm over yourself to cover your naked breasts. They’ve pebbled over just from his stare alone.

Namjoon hesitates, the hand on your hip drawing slow circles with his thumb. Eventually, he responds with a halfhearted shrug. “It’s not the best.” This is news to you, and you find yourself sitting up at the sudden bomb he’s dropped.

He’s still hard as rock between you, his dick laying almost artfully against your slit. You really just want to throw aside all reservations and begin grinding against him, penetration be damned, but now Namjoon’s got that thoughtful quirk to his lips. The one that usually accompanies any big brained idea, so you settle down, nudging him with your thigh until he’s looking at you again. “Penny for your thoughts?” What you really want to say is please fuck me like I’m just another cum rag of yours and make it hurt, but alas.

Namjoon sits back on his haunches. “I read somewhere that on your hands and knees is the best way to get pregnant.” You choke on your own tongue, face ablaze from his forward statement. Meanwhile, Namjoon is looking as relaxed as ever.

You hadn’t really discussed children after Hyejoo. The wordless agreement had been that sure, you were both down for another kid sometime in the future. But the exact date had sort of been murky. Hyejoo is three now, and you heard from another mom that it’s difficult for children with wide age gaps to get along. You don’t want her growing up being far removed from another sibling.

But also, now?

It’s like Namjoon knows your thoughts before you even do. “Alright, wifey, say no more,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips. “I’ll get the condom, alright?”

And then he’s stepping off the bed, every muscle of his toned body flexing as he swaggers over towards the dresser. He’s a walking dream, the physical embodiment of all your crazy sex fantasies, and he wants to fuck a baby into you. Your pussy says yes, but your rationality is still on the fence.

You roll onto your side, head propped into your open palm. “You want another baby?” you ask tentatively. Namjoon shrugs, carefully opening the new box of condoms you had bought half a year ago.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have another kid,” he answers, procuring a tiny foil packet from the box and returning to his spot between your legs. It’s like staring at a marble statue from this angle, the defined planes of his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous slope of his nose, the sharp angles of his face. You really lucked out.

Your decision comes just as he’s easing the rubber over the tip of his cock, the swollen head just barely enveloped. You place a hand against his wrist, earning his attention. “Take it off,” you mumble, and you swear on your entire life he swells another inch.

“Oh, baby,” he groans, hastily throwing the condom somewhere across the room. He rolls over you, bulging arms sweeping you up into his embrace, lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss. You whimper, letting his tongue push itself past your lips. When he pulls away, it’s with a wet pop and glistening lips. They’re so puffy now, flushed a nice rosy color, that makes him look even more handsome when he smiles down at you. “Gonna look so pretty all pregnant,” he beams, placing a chaste kiss against you one last time before he’s hurriedly rolling you onto your stomach.

You hide your bashful expression against the sheets, suddenly feeling very shy before him. But then Namjoon’s cock is running along your lips and you’re left a shivering mess. “Please just fuck me,” you beg hoarsely, and Namjoon obeys.

“Whatever you want, wifey,” he teases, and before you can call him out for his cheesiness, he’s pressing his thumb into your aching hole once more. “Is this okay?” he asks, somberly for the first time in what seems like forever.

“I’m okay,” you confess, a little shyly now that you know his true motives.

Namjoon chuckles, quickly removing his finger from inside of you to give your ass one soothing pat. “Going in,” he warns you, and finally, you’re rewarded for all your struggles. It’s only as his mushroom head squeezes in that you realize you could have done with a bit more stretching, but that thought fades away the more and more he pushes in. “Fuck,” he groans, the low intonation of his voice making your toes curl.

If it’s not his voice, it’s the sheer length of his cock inside of you. The girth makes your spine tingle, has you muffling a pitiful whimper into the comforter beneath you. “Relax for me,” he directs, and then suddenly he’s placing a palm against your back, pushing you further down. “Hips up.”

You groan. The normally soft fabric of the blanket feels like hell on your sensitive breasts. “I’m trying,” you whine, pushing back onto him in an effort to familiarize yourself with his cock again. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you like this, since he’s filled you so well, that your body acts a little stupid now. He hasn’t even begun thrusting and you already feel like you’ll cum just from this.

The angle is different than your usual style, has him moving along every inch of you as he sinks in. Two big hands grab at your waist, manhandling you closer to him until you’re just like he wants you to be. “There we go,” he sighs, and with him motionless, you finally relax. It’s about a two second pause before he begins to draw himself back out. “How do you want it?” he grunts, but it’s lost beneath the moan that escapes you. It’s the same question he asked you in the tub, right before Jimin called, except this time you have an answer.

“Fast,” you gasp, the pain from the stretch finally, finally, melting away as your body grows accustomed to his presence inside of you. “Do it fast, please.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, waiting until he’s pulled out until the tip to satisfy your requests. And then he’s off.

Your body isn’t as young as it once was, left a little worn from the entire child-bearing process. Sometimes you wonder how exactly you and Namjoon would fuck until sunrise before, how your sex drive was so high that it allowed such a thing to happen. Admittedly, there’s currently a stiffness inside of you that has been there for a while now, and you barely remember how you got rid of it before. Apparently, this is how.

Namjoon’s hard cock rams into you once, makes you release the most embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden intrusion, and it’s like all those months of tension that built up in your body are melted away. His cock pushes past your folds, creating a lewd squelching sound that would otherwise leave you mortified to learn it came from your body. You shudder, desperately pushing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to feel it again.

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he growls, snapping his hips forwards. His skin slaps against yours, leaves you feeling tender from the brutal movements of his body. But at the same time, it feels absolutely terrific.

Your lips are still coated in your own wetness, have him noisily moving in and out. “J- Joon,” you whimper softly, but you doubt he hears it over the sound of his own labored breathing. “More.”

He responds with a sudden piston inside of you that has the tip of his cock nearly kissing your cervix. “More?” he huffs, the hand on your back pressing down until you fear you’ll become one with the mattress. “You want more?” You nod hurriedly, somehow managing to stretch a hand down between you to toy with your clit. The brush of your own fingers has you bucking back onto him in surprise.

Wordlessly, he speeds up his pace, thrusting his hips into your velvety walls at a faster speed than before. It’s a weird sensation, a sort of ticklish feeling m that makes you tremble with each roll forward. You can’t say the two of you have done it in this position a lot, always preferring the more romantic missionary position to anything else, but this experience was quickly making you an avid believer of its validity as a top tier sex position.

You swirl your pointer finger around your clit, trying to sync up your shaky touch with his steady thrusts. It’s useless, because every time you feel like you’ve gotten into the same groove, Namjoon one ups you by hauling you back against him. “Oh, f- fuck,” you sob, clawing at the sheets beneath you.

Namjoon groans, momentarily pausing his rapid thrusts to roll his buried cock against you. “Come on, baby,” he husks, the hilt of his cock kissing your folds.

There’s a lot of built up sexual tension inside of you, months on top of months of nothingness. Not to mention that little scene in the bathtub just now. So you’re not really surprised that your orgasm rears its head so early, curling up tightly in your stomach the longer Namjoon fucks you. He’s back to thrusting now, shallow little movements that make you see stars every time his cock glides inside of you. “Joon, I'm gonna...” you rasp out pitifully, grinding back against him.

“Whenever you want,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss against your shoulder. It’s sweet, but on top of that, it has him pushing in further than before, finally pressed against that sensitive spot inside of you that makes your entire body lock up. You sob, thighs quivering when he reaches an arm around you. It’s almost romantic how your hands meet, his fingers covering yours as he guides them over your clit slowly. “Give it to me, baby,” he croons, lips pressed securely against your neck. He leaves soft kisses there, smooches really, that make you melt.

Another shallow buck of his hips forward and you’re cumming, breaths picking up until they accumulate into a choked wail against the sheets. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” you cry, your thighs spasming from the force of your first satisfying orgasm in months. Namjoon holds you through it, slowly thrusting inside of you until he’s drawn out your entire orgasm.

The new added pleasure makes his movements sound even wetter, dirtier even. “That’s it,” he purrs, pushing himself back up to his full height behind you. You feel absolutely boneless beneath him, laying limply against the mattress as Namjoon repositions your hips for himself. “Can I finish like this, sweetheart?” he asks anyway, thumbs drawing a soothing pattern along your hip.

You can barely catch your breath, so you settle on a halfhearted nod that has him huffing out a laugh.

For some reason, Namjoon fucks you harder once he knows you’ve had your fill. Like he’s trying to draw another orgasm out of you, but is also the least bit concerned with you. Honestly, it works. He moves fast and hard, like he has no regard for your pleasure, and for some reason that turns you on more than it should. It’s this weird fantasy of yours, to be mistreated by a man as respectful as Namjoon, and you find yourself weirdly fulfilling it now as he fucks his cock into you.

His fingers dig into your skin, wildly bucking into you as he chases his own high, and it’s embarrassing how quickly a second one builds up for you. You moan at one particular thrust, body sensitive all over. “Oh,” you whimper, “Namjoon.”

He grunts, your cries fueling him on as he continues his mad race to the end. “Gonna cum with me again?” he pants, his quick pace rocking you forward. You nod, using your killer grip on the sheets to ground yourself as you weakly attempt to meet his thrusts. “Aren’t you the sweetest,” he hums, and doesn’t let you respond as he continues to jackhammer his way into your pussy at a bruising pace.

It takes a few more thrusts, and one whiny cry of his name— “come on, Joonie,” you whimper, turning to throw him a teary-eyed gaze over your shoulder; he shudders at the sight —until Namjoon is finally tipped over the edge, shooting his pleasure deep into you on the next thrust. It’s warm, paints your walls and threatens to spill out when he finally pulls out.

But Namjoon has read up, using those big strong arms of his to keep you from collapsing onto your tummy as he scrambles around for something to keep your hips up. “It sticks better this way,” he says, a sheen of sweat against his temples when he flops down beside you.

“What sticks better,” you groan, the achy feeling of just having your world rocked quickly settling into your bones.

Namjoon leans forward and places a kiss against your lips, as if saying here, for all your hard work. “You know... it,” he shrugs, hands behind his head as he prepares himself to supervise your post-sex nap, just to make sure you don’t accidentally move around and let his cum leak out. “You did good, wifey,” he praises with another smooch. “Maybe we should let Hyejoo sleep over at Jimin’s more.”

Hyejoo’s return is the highlight of the year.

You pick her up around noon, and your heart nearly grows ten sizes when you see her come running down Jimin’s front steps and into your arms. “Hi, mommy,” she beams, the same smile as Namjoon. And just like Namjoon, you can’t stop yourself from covering her face in tiny kisses. She says they tickle and squirms and squeals in your embrace.

Jimin’s at the door with this weirdly blank look on his face. “Hey, Jimin,” you call out, helping Hyejoo load her bag into the backseat.

“Hey…” he greets, just as Hyejoo frantically begins calling for you to buckle her in. “Um, __,” Jimin says, but you’re a little busy securing the tiny love of your life into her booster seat, so you just throw him a quick glance to let him know you’re listening. Kinda. “There’s something I have to tell you—“

“I wanna see daddy!” Hyejoo babbles from the backseat, wildly waving her hands around as you finally close the door on her. With it shut, her loud voice is drowned out and you’re left raising a brow at Jimin as you round the front of the car.

“What’s up?” you ask.

Jimin comes down the steps, awkwardly hovering by the front of your car. “Um, when we were on the phone—“ Hyejoo knocks her tiny hands against the window, gesturing for you to hurry up. You flash Jimin an apologetic frown at the interruption. “Well, you see. She kinda heard us— well, me—”

Another flurry of knocks, and you can’t wait to relay to Namjoon how excited your daughter had been to see him again. It’ll boost his ego, not that he really needs it to be any bigger. “That’s fine,” you tell Jimin, swinging your door open. Immediately, Hyejoo’s high-pitched voice fills the space between you and Jimin. “You know I don’t mind talking to the missus,” you joke, nudging his side. “She’s my friend too, ya know.”

“Gotta show daddy something!” Hyejoo shouts from the backseat, has this big smile on her face that makes you smile as well.

Beside you, Jimin is quickly falling apart. “No, well—” you drop down into your seat “it wasn’t her who heard—“ You shut the door, lowering the window to thank Jimin one more time. Hyejoo beats you to it.

“Bye, Mr. Jimin!” she says, tiny legs kicking around all wildly in her excitement. You shake your head with a grin, waving goodbye to Jimin one last time as you pull out of his driveway.

“Daddy!” Hyejoo shrieks upon entering your home. Her tiny overnight bag is tossed down at the entryway, ladybug rain boots haphazardly kicked towards the general direction of the shoe closet. Namjoon had been upstairs in his study when you left, but he now comes bounding down the steps at the sound of your daughter’s voice. He cries out a dopey, “princess”, as he scoops her up in his big arms. He does a twirl and everything, so dramatic. But it makes Hyejoo giggle like crazy.

She allows one big fat kiss against her chubby cheeks before she’s shushing him with the news of her announcement. “Daddy, look,” she beams, holding his face between her tiny hands. “I can say the f sound now!”

Namjoon has been avidly working towards this ability for months now. Namjoon, who has spent nights reading every page of every child development book possible, who has spent hours decorating pretty flashcards for her, who has sectioned off time from his busy schedule everyday just to go over lessons with her. Well, Namjoon looks over the goddamn moon at the news.

“Let’s hear it, honey,” you urge, stepping in when his happiness renders him incapable of speech. So he just nods along, looks like a bobblehead doll beside you.

And with both of her proud, sometimes overprotective, parents standing before her, Hyejoo puts on a big grin and says, “fuck.”

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 6 years

Text

Black Serpent

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes was the most notorious mobster of New York City. He was rich. He was powerful. He was feared. But something – or rather someone – made him realize his life meant so little to him.

Word Count: 10,010 - One Shot

Warnings: Violence, Mentions of sex trafficking

Bucky stared down at the fingernail on his right thumb. Despite just getting out of the shower, he recognized the red tint to the dirt underneath it. But it wasn’t dirt. It was dried blood. Blood that was not his. Not even a scolding hot shower could rinse away his sins.

He finally dug it out somehow and pushed the act to the back of his mind.

When he walked back into his bedroom, with only a towel around his waist, he was relieved to see his bed empty.

But then he heard the movement around his kitchen.

Bucky smirked as he threw a pair of sweats on and didn’t bother with a shirt.

He entered the kitchen to find Steve rummaging through his fridge for food.

“Coffee should be ready soon,” the man said without turning away away from the refrigerator. Bucky couldn’t sneak up on his best friend if his life depended on it.

“How do you get rid of them so fast?” Bucky asked him.

Steve finally turned around to smirk at him. “I’m nice to them.”

Bucky scoffed and mumbled something under his breath about always being nice to his flings.

Steve shoved a plate of breakfast in front of Bucky.

“Peg says you’re getting thin. She was close to hiring you a live-in chef to make sure you actually ate 3 meals a day.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but dug into the food. “Can you call the boys and tell ‘em to meet at the office?”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “What for?”

“There’s rumblings going around the city about this Black Serpent,” Bucky answered casually.

“Isn’t your worrying a little premature? We’ve been hearing these rumors for years. And how do we know they’re based in anything real?” Steve challenged.

Bucky pointed his fork at Steve. “My worrying is what’s kept you alive all these years, punk,” he retorted with a mouth full of food.

“All we know about this ‘Black Serpent’” Steve said with finger quotes, “is that no one even knows what they look like. And they’re trying to shut down Pierce’s sex clubs.”

“Yeah, and what happens when he gets bored with Hydra’s mob, huh? He’ll come for us next.”

“We deal in money laundering, Buck. Sex clubs aren’t really a gateway crime to that.” Steve teased.

“Stop bugging me and just call the damn crew, Steve.” Bucky snapped. ————-

“Why doesn’t anyone know a damn thing about this schmuck?” Bucky asked as his men sat around a table.

Clint shrugged his shoulders. “He’s well-protected, I guess.”

Bucky ground his teeth together. “There’s not so much of a picture of this guy. How is that even possible? It’s 2018.”

The group started shifting their weight and sharing looks with each other as they saw Bucky’s irritation rising.

Steve put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I wasn’t teasing you when I said I don’t think we need to worry about this quite yet. This Black Serpent hasn’t made a move against us. So until that happens, let’s not lose any sleep over it.”

“Someone’s making threats in my city, I’m not ignoring it.” Bucky muttered dangerously.

The mobster stood up quickly and buttoned his suit jacket. He gave a warning look and pointed to Clint, “Get me a picture of this asshole.”

Clint nodded, knowing he couldn’t let his boss down.

————-

It had been weeks since Bucky ordered his crew to find out anything they could about the Black Serpent and his gang. But they still had their jobs to do.

Steve walked into his office to find Bucky washing his hands in the sink of the bathroom. The water below was tinted pink from the blood.

Steve sighed and sat in the seat across the Bucky’s desk, “Well… I think you broke his nose and fractured both his cheekbones.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t kill him,” Bucky mumbled as he sat across from Steve, behind his desk.

Steve eyes the bruise that now filtered across Bucky’s knuckles. Some of the skin even split and was still bleeding slightly.

“Why do you still stick around, Steve?” Bucky asked with surprising gentleness.

Steve blinked. “What?”

“You have a perfect wife and life outside of this. Why risk ruining all of that by staying at my side?”

“You’re my best friend, Buck. Where else would I go?”

“Home,” he answered harshly.

Steve didn’t know how to respond to that.

Bucky stood up abruptly and threw his suit jacket on.

“Where you going?” Steve asked quickly.

“The bar.”

Steve stood up. “Want me to come with?”

“No,” Bucky answered harshly. “Go home, Steve.”

—————

It was a nice bar. Every drink cost at least $15. Bucky was sort of a regular. He liked it because no one bothered him. He could sit by himself and be left to his devices. It was quite amazing how he managed to be alone in a crowded and fancy cocktail bar.

Bucky listened to the music playing in the speakers. It didn’t overwhelm him and it wasn’t the shitty modern stuff all over the radio.

“Another?” The bartender asked him casually, knowing better than to judge the king mobster and his alcohol intake.

Bucky just nodded at the bartender and made him another Old-Fashioned.

Suddenly the hair on Bucky’s arms and the back of his neck stood on end. He sensed someone walking in his direction. But somehow he knew they weren’t a threat. They sat to the right of him at the bar.

Bucky didn’t look over, but saw the bartender’s reaction and knew they were a woman. But not just any woman, he could tell she was beautiful by how the bartender seemed slightly flustered by her arrival.

“Vodka Martini, please. Extra dirty.” The voice cooed politely.

Bucky subtly looked over as soon as she made her order.

She was wearing a sleek and sexy jumpsuit that left very little to the imagination. The front plummeted almost all the way down to her naval. Yet somehow she made the outfit look effortlessly classy and stylish. Her makeup was clean and impeccable.

“Put it on my tab,” Bucky orders the bartender.

The woman eyed him. “No, thank you,” she refused politely, before handing over a matte black credit card to the bartender.

Bucky, not offended in the slightest, smirked at her. “Doll, I don’t think you picked that seat if you didn’t plan on me buying you a drink.”

She raised a brow. “I am perfectly capable of buying my own drinks. Thank you. I chose this seat because it looks like you’re having a rough day. And I hoped that would be enough for me to sit here and not be bothered by you.”

Bucky whistled lowly, "You are something else.” Then he chuckled. “What makes you think I’m having a rough day?”

She sighed, not planning on answering the question. But then her gaze landed on his bloodied and bruised knuckles. “Hope the other guy’s still breathing.”

“You don’t know the fool. How are you so sure he didn’t deserve it?”

She smirked at his retort.

The bartender placed her martini down and gave her a wink.

Bucky didn’t miss it. But the young woman seemed to mostly ignore the gesture.

Bucky then lifted his glass to her, offering to clink glasses.

She eyed him suspiciously, but raised her martini to him.

“Can I know the name of the beautiful woman I’m cheersing with?” Bucky asked suavely.

“Y/N,” she said with a tilt of her head.

“Y/N,” he repeated back like it was his saving grace.

But she didn’t miss his cocky grin. Like getting her name meant he could get anything from her.

She took a heavy sip. “This isn’t going to go how you expect,” she suddenly warned.

Bucky smiled. “Is that so?”

Y/N nodded. “You shouldn’t waste your time on me.” Then she eyed something over Bucky’s shoulder. He turned around to see a group of beautiful women. They were eyeing him too and Bucky quickly turn back around to face Y/N.

“You should go talk to them,” she urged.

“I don’t want to talk to them. I want to talk to you, doll.” Bucky answered with a smile.

Y/N sighed and then leaned toward him. “Listen to me when I say that I’m not the girl for you.”

Bucky chuckled. “How can you be so sure?”

Y/N just watched him.

He could tell by her y/e/c eyes that there was something intense going on in her mind. Like she was trying to decide to be sincere or keep playing games.

Bucky swore her gaze softened and the mischievousness in her gaze disappeared.

Y/N propped her elbow onto the bar and leaned her head into her knuckle.

“You want a beautiful woman, one that looks good on your arm. A woman who will play along with the game, fall for your charm, go home with you, and give you that short reprieve of surface-level intimacy.”

Bucky wasn’t expecting to be read like a book. But he kept his look composed, still appearing amused by her words.

“And you can’t be that woman?”

“No.” She gave him a warning look as well. “Because you don’t want to be challenged. You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman that didn’t accept your unhealthy habit of compartmentalizing your affections.”

Y/N took another sip of her drink. “You aren’t the first man to navigate relationships that way and you surely won’t be the last. You’ve got good company. But casual relationships equals a casual life. So don’t be surprised when you wake up one day and it finally hits you.”

Bucky raised a brow. “And what will finally hit me, doll?”

“That you don’t know how to love just as much as you don’t know how it feels to be loved.”

Bucky stared at her for second before throwing back his entire drink. “Jesus Christ,” he chuckled.

“You asked,” Y/N replied with a shrug and simper.

Bucky leaned toward her and lowered his voice, “You really think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” Then he leaned back. “You just met me.”

Y/N grinned at him, like he mentioned an inside joke of theirs. She finished her martini and stood up from her seat. “Oh, I know more about you than I think you’d be comfortable with, James.”

It wasn’t until she reached the door that Bucky realized he had never told her his name. He jumped to his feet and hurried out the door. His eyes raced around the area, trying to find the beautiful woman.

But she was nowhere to be found.

Bucky tried to convince himself he was angry and a little distressed that he was so transparent to this stranger. But he knew he wasn’t truly, for he had a subtle grin on his lips as he shook his head and walked back into the bar.

It wasn’t unusual for people to know who he was. After all, James Buchanan Barnes was the mob boss of Brooklyn and most of New York City. Bucky had gained quite the reputation. Most of it caused people to fear him. But if Y/N really knew who he was, she had shown no concern for his dangerous notoriety.

—————

Bucky was reading the papers in front of him when there was a knock on his door.

Steve walked in with a weary look.

“What is it?” The mobster asked.

“Clint tracked down the Black Serpent,” Steve told him slowly.

“And?” Bucky was irritated by the rising tension.

“They want to meet with you.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, “What?”

“Word travels fast. They found out you’ve been looking for them,” Steve clarified.

Then he watched Bucky go deep into thought.

“You’re not actually considering doing this,” Steve asked in slight panic.

“Why wouldn’t I consider it?” Bucky challenged.

“Okay. All these years, you’ve kept my dumb ass from getting killed and did your best to keep me out of trouble. Now it’s finally my turn to do the same for you,” Steve huffed. “Do not go to that meeting. We don’t know a god damn thing about this guy. How do we know he’s not going to shoot you the second you walk through the door?”

“We don’t,” Bucky shrugged.

“Do you have a death sentence?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “No, Steve. I want to make a deal. I want to do my job. This is what I’m good at. This is how we got where we are. And that didn’t happen from me playing it safe.”

Steve ground his teeth together and crossed his arms. “Fine. But I’m going with you.”

Bucky scoffed. “Like hell you are.”

“Bucky!”

But he cut Steve off. “You have a wife and the kids to worry about. I’m not risking it. If something ever happened to you, Peg would never forgive me. You’re staying behind on this one. That’s final.” “But what about you, Buck?” Steve’s voice was so quiet and filled with worry.

“I’ll be fine,” he brushed aside his friend’s concern. “Always am.”

—————

The day of the meeting, Bucky made sure none of his men entered the building.

Clint and Sam waited in the car. Neither of them liked seeing their boss walk in alone and vulnerable. But they did what he asked.

From the outside, the place looked like an abandoned building. But Bucky was quickly proven wrong when he walked in to see the place was completely refinished and updated. It was a good hideout. No one would ever suspect it.

Bucky wondered if knowing of its existence was one of the many reasons they would kill him on the spot. He just hoped Sam and Clint would get away unharmed if that happened.

Everyone eyed him wearily, fully aware of exactly who he was.

Someone stepped forward then and gave Bucky a respectful nod, holding out his hand for the mob boss to shake. “Right this way, Mr. Barnes.”

The man led him through a maze of halls until he opened a door and gestured for Bucky to walk in. He didn’t follow, closing the door behind him.

It was an empty office. The infamous Black Serpent was nowhere to be found.

Bucky smirked. It was a power move. Make the prey wait and start to get anxious. It reminds prey who is in control, because it’s not them.

There was a door behind the desk, proving there was another entrance to the office.

Bucky’s posture straightened as he heard the handle start to twist.

He didn’t know what he expected the Black Serpent to look like. Some tall and dark man? Perhaps he was handsome and sly? How does someone get a name like that without it correlating to their physicality?

But anything Bucky had imagined could not have been more wrong. For the person that walked through the door was no man. The Black Serpent was a woman. Not just a woman, but a inanely beautiful one.

But Bucky swore his heart stopped when he recognized her.

The Black Serpent was the woman who enchanted him at the bar. The Black Serpent was Y/N.

She wore an all black outfit one again. It was a velvet suit. She looked professional, like a CEO of a international company that could own the world. But it was her black lipstick staining her lips that ruined that image and hinted she was dangerous. Bucky found himself mesmerized by it. Not many women could pull off the look. But she did it effortlessly.

Y/N smirked as she saw the recognition covering Bucky’s features.

“Please sit down, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky tried not show how shocked he was, but it seemed like a failure already.

“You tricked me,” Bucky said smugly as he sat down.

“Is tricked the right word?” Y/N cooed. “I heard you had been looking for me. I decided I wanted to see what all the fuss was about before I even flirted with the idea of calling a meeting.”

“You knew who I was the whole time,” Bucky sighed.

Y/N smiled. “I did. But unlike me, you don’t really put much of an effort into hiding.”

Bucky leaned forward. “How have you managed to remain so invisible?”

“This all belonged to my father at one point. He wanted to keep me safe. No one knew he was married or had a daughter. When I took it over, it was easy to remain a secret.”

Then Bucky had the realization that she was welcoming him into this secret. Him, a rival mobster. He could easily sell this information to her enemies or the feds.

“But now you’ve shown yourself to me…” Bucky said carefully.

“You are not my enemy, James.” Y/N stated confidently. “Your business is not my competition. Nor will it ever be.”

“But Pierce is,” he thought aloud.

Y/N nodded.

“You trying to get into the sex industry, doll.” Bucky teased.

“Do not insult me,” Y/N almost hissed.

It was the first sign of her mobster tendencies that he had witnessed.

“He’s not selling prostitution or a sex club. He’s selling women. Pierce has a sex ring. He’s a trafficker.” Y/N added with poison in her tone.

Bucky suddenly put it together. “You’re not trying to take over Pierce’s business. You’re trying to kill the business altogether and take him down with it,” he muttered slowly in realization.

Y/N didn’t deny it, proving that he was right.

“I said you weren’t my enemy and now you know I meant it.” She finally said after a moment of silence filled the room.

“You want my help,” Bucky alluded.

Y/N instantly shook her head. “No. I don’t need your help.” She crossed her arms. “When I heard how aggressive you were about finding me, I decided it was best to call a meeting with you. I can’t fight a war with one mob while another is trying to start a new one me as well. I hoped to clear the air before that could happen.” “You trusted me enough to give away your identity,” Bucky pointed out.

“Don’t go getting sentimental on me, James.”

“Do you trust me?” He asked quietly.

“I don’t trust anyone.” Y/N retorted.

“I’m not going to tell anyone about this meeting or who you actually are.” Bucky didn’t know why he felt like promising it. But his words were sincere. Bucky may be many things, but he would always be a man of his word.

“We’ll see about that.” Y/N sighed.

Bucky sensed that this was the end of their meeting. He stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.

“Why did you find me that night?” He had to ask before he left.

Y/N eyed him, having an internal battle of what she wanted to share with him.

“I told you, I wanted to see for myself what kind of man you were,” she admitted.

“Let me take you out to dinner,” Bucky blurted out. His boyish charm just couldn’t be hindered. He took his shot.

Y/N raised her eyebrows, genuinely taken aback by the offer.

“I can’t be seen with one of the biggest mob bosses in New York City. It would blow my cover.” Y/N chided.

“You’re seen with me and nobody will touch you, doll. I’ll make damn sure of that.”

Y/N scoffed. “I don’t need your protection, James. I’ve done well by myself all this time. I can handle my safety on my own.”

“Then why won’t you go out with me?” Bucky asked with a smile.

“Didn’t you hear a word I said to you that night? I’m not the girl for you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle. “You won’t even give me a chance, doll.” Y/N stood up and walked to the door to open it. “Get out of here James. Before I changed my mind about letting you walk out of her alive.” “You wouldn’t.” Bucky teased like she wasn’t talking about murdering him.

“You don’t know me now, do you? So how would you know what I would and wouldn’t do?” Y/N countered with a dangerous gaze.

Bucky decided to be bold and slowly walked up to her, not stopping until their faces were mere inches apart.

“I don’t give up that easily, doll.” Bucky said to her with a smirk.

“Goodnight, Mr. Barnes.” Y/N answered coldly before ushering him out the door.

It would take more than that to discourage Bucky.

He left Y/N in her office and remembered the route back to the entrance of the warehouse. He was just about to reach the door when someone called his name.

Bucky turned around to find Nick Fury walking toward him. The man had a reputation and there weren’t many mobsters repping an eye patch and a look that could kill. He was easy to identify.

“Fury,” Bucky greeted coldly. “Didn’t know you ran with the Black Serpent.”

“Y/N’s father was my best friend,” the older man explained. Then he gave him a warning look. “I tried to talk Y/N out of this meeting with you about a dozen times.”

Bucky frowned at the direction the conversation was going.

“I promised her dad I would look after her when she took on this world,” Fury continued. “You do anything to compromise her identity or hurt her…and you’ll wish you’d never been born. Do you understand me?”

Bucky’s gaze darkened. “Are you really threatening me right now?”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s unnecessary,” Bucky said with annoyance. “If anything, I want to help her. But you won’t believe that no matter what I tell you.”

“You say that now. But if anyone finds out you know the Black Serpent, there could come a day when someone gives you an offer you can’t refuse.”

Bucky had nothing else to say to the man and left the warehouse.

As soon as Sam and Clint spotted him inside their faces both dropped into relief. They half expected to be carrying their boss’ corpse out of that warehouse.

“What did he look like?” Clint asked a half a second before Bucky even managed to close his car door.

“Was he ugly?” "Did he look like an actual snake?”

“Does he kill his enemies with poison?”

Bucky gave them both a death glare. “Enough.”

That was all he needed to say to get both of them to shut up.

They took the hint and didn’t say anything for the rest of the car ride.

—————

Bucky didn’t have the desire to go home. He had been sitting in his office for God knows how long, just staring at the wall. All of his men had already gone home. Or so he thought.

“What’re you still doing here?” Steve made him jump.

“Christ, what’re you doing, waltzing in here like that?” Bucky growled, hating being snuck up on.

“I saw your light on underneath the door. Why aren’t you at home, Buck?” Steve asked carefully.

Bucky just shrugged his shoulders.

Steve moved to sit on the edge of his desk and looked down at his friend. “Buck, you’ve been out of it since that meeting? What happened in that room?”

Bucky was silent for a moment before turning to meet Steve’s gaze. “If I asked you to keep a secret, something you couldn’t even tell Peg, could you do it?”

Steve would’ve been insulted by the fact that Bucky even felt the need to ask if he weren’t so worried about his friend. “Of course, Bucky. I’d die before giving away your secrets. I’m with you ‘till the end of the line, punk.”

Bucky nodded his head slowly. He wasn’t surprised by the sincerity in Steve’s voice. “Remember the girl I told you about a few weeks ago?”

Steve nodded and smirked, “The one that put you in your place and talked circles around you?” Then his brow furrowed as eat thought, “What was her name…Y/N?”

“It’s her, Steve.” Bucky told him. “Y/N’s the Black Serpent.”

Realization hit Steve’s face. But then he stayed quiet, not really sure how to navigate through the conversation after Bucky’s little confession.

“I thought I couldn’t stop thinking about her after that night, but once I found out her secret… I don’t know… It’s like – it’s like she’s consumed my every thought.”

Steve chuckled, “Well, that’s a first.”

Bucky glared at his best friend. “Shut it, Steve.”

But Steve matched his glare. “I’m being serious. It’s about time you stopped messing around with these floozies that only want your name and your money.”

Bucky shook his head, “She’s too good for me, Steve. And she fucking knows it.”

“Yeah, probably. So get your shit together.”

Then Bucky got a dazed look in his eye. “She fucking terrifies me,” the mobster admitted.

Any sense of playfulness disappeared from Steve. All his time knowing Bucky, not once could he remember a moment when he even appeared scared. To hear the most dangerous mobster in New York City admit fear, it was the most shocking thing Steve had witnessed in their friendship.

“She looked me up and down… and in seconds, she read me like a book.”

Steve gave him a sympathetic look. “Go home, Buck.”

“To what, Steve? An empty penthouse? An empty life? I worked my ass off for this business, for this gang… and for what? So I can be stupid rich? To be known and feared by this entire city?”

“Alright. That’s it. You’re coming home with me for dinner.”

Bucky sighed and stood up. “No, I’m fine.” He put on his trench coat and then walked over to his friend. He patted him on the shoulder. “Go home to your wife and kids, Steve.”

He walked swiftly out of his office, leaving no room for Steve to argue.

—————

Bucky walked into another one of his regular cocktail spots. The bar was on the second floor with an open concept that let bar-goers look down at the restaurant area below and subtly watch the diners.

His eyes lazily scanned below, only half interested in the crowd.

But then his gaze landed on someone familiar.

Y/N.

She was eating dinner with a couple of girlfriends.

Looking at her now, it was hard to imagine she was the threat that New York City feared so much. Her eyes were bright with amusement and happiness, and she threw her head back as she laughed so genuinely at the jokes her friends told.

Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight.

But when he finally managed, he waved over the bartender. And when the girls tried to pay for their dinner and leave, their faces turned confused when their waiter told them it had already been taken care of.

It didn’t take Y/N long to put together what happened. Bucky guessed she must’ve known he was watching her for awhile, because her eyes immediately drew upward and met his. She looked unamused.

Bucky could tell her friends were asking who he was. He read her lips as she replied, “Nobody.”

They got up to leave and Bucky purposely moved to go downstairs and timed it perfectly so he’d meet them at the door.

Her friends eyed him, but kept walking out, letting Y/N handle the situation.

Bucky had a playful twinkle in his eyes as he met Y/N’s glare.

“You just don’t learn, do you? I’m perfectly capable of paying for dinner with friends,” she warned him lowly.

“And I’m perfectly aware of it. But that doesn’t mean you can’t accept the gesture without being threatened by it.” Bucky smirked.

She sighed. And for the first time since he’d known her, Y/N looked tired.

“Don’t start this game, James.”

“It’s not a game,” he answered seriously.

“You might not think so. But it is,” she countered. “You don’t actually like me, James.”

“Like hell I don’t.”

“You like the chase. You think I’m playing hard to get, but that’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then what are you doing?” He challenged.

“Saving both of us time and effort.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Why do you have to make this so difficult?”

“You don’t know anything about me. You think you’re attracted to me…but you’ve just a projected a woman onto me that you want. And I never will be here…so you’re just going to be disappointed when you eventually realize it.”

Bucky tilted his head in thought for a moment. It seemed to bother Y/N that she couldn’t read his thoughts right in that moment. He slowly stepped into her space. It was obvious that she didn’t like his close proximity.

“Did you ever think that maybe you’re just scared that I will get to know the real you? That you won’t be able to hide behind that mask of yours?” He offered, his eyes slowly lowering down to her lips. “It’s not about the chase, Y/N. But I will say, you make it thrilling.”

If looks could kill, Bucky would be in hell right then.

“Goodnight, James.” Y/N muttered with boredom before shoving past him.

——————

Bucky jolted awake in bed at the sound of someone breaking into his penthouse.

The mafia boss slept with a gun under his pillow every night, half a dozen more were scattered and hidden around his bedroom.

On instinct alone, he sat up in bed with the gun cocked, loaded, and pointed at the door.

But it immediately dropped to his side when he recognized Steve’s silhouette.

“I almost shot your fucking head off, Steve. What the hell are you doing in my house?” Bucky growled, voice raw with sleep.

“Something’s going on with Y/N and Pierce’s crew…” Steve breathed.

Suddenly Bucky put together that his friend had sprinted here, for he was trying to catch his breath as though his life depended on it.

“Is she okay?” Bucky whispered.

“I don’t know. Pierce’s club went under fire. That’s all I’ve been told. She might not have been there. But one of our guys was listening to the radio like usual and caught wind of it. It sounds bad, Buck. A dozen men or so have already been declared dead. Don’t know from what side…”

Bucky whipped the covers off the bed and started getting dressed.

In 15 minutes, the tires of his car were screeching to a halt in front of the warehouse where he had first learned the true identity of the Black Serpent.

Despite his arguing, Bucky couldn’t manage to convince Steve to stay home. His best friend insisted on going with him to the warehouse.

Steve was hot his heels as he marched into the warehouse, unannounced.

But Bucky’s panic dissipated completely at the sight before him.

Women of all ages, even children, were huddled into groups on the floor. Their eyes were wide in fear and most of them were barely clothed. Some of them were lucky enough to have blankets covering their shoulders. They tried sharing them with those close.

“What the…?” He heard Steve whisper beside him as they both looked around.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” The voice was came out of nowhere and was so filled with fury that it made Steve jump.

But Bucky’s reaction was substituted with relief, for it belong to Y/N.

She was wearing an all black outfit, baggy t-shirt and jeans tucked into black combat boots. It was unlike her usual high-heeled and feminine ensembles.

“I came to check on you,” Bucky told her quietly.

Y/N seemed utterly taken aback by such a gesture that she simply mumbled, “I’m fine.”

But that was when Bucky spotted her right arm, dripping slowly with blood.

“You’re bleeding,” he stepped forward.

“What?” Y/N muttered and then followed his gaze down to her shoulder. “Oh, that… a bullet grazed my arm. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Y/N. You need this stitched.” Bucky reprimanded as he carefully and gently grabbed her arm to take a closer look.

Y/N slowly removed her arm from his grasp. “Look… thank you for making sure I’m okay. But I have to look after these girls.” Without giving him a chance to answer, Y/N was grabbing more blankets for the girls and then making sure they had enough food and water.

Bucky, in awe of watching Y/N in her element, didn’t know what to do and started helping. Steve followed suit.

Next thing they knew, three hours had passed and all the survivors were sleeping on cots or sleeping bags in the warehouse.

Bucky and Steve were exhausted, but they knew it was nothing near the exhaustion and torture these women had gone through.

Bucky was looking around now. Without taking his eyes away from his search, he found Steve’s shoulder and gripped it. “Go home, Steve. I’ll be okay here.”

No one seemed to stop Bucky as he searched the giant warehouse for Y/N. By some miracle, he remembered the route to her personal office.

She was sitting at her desk, slumped over with her face in her hands as her elbows were propped on the desk. It appeared the events of the night were finally catching up to her. She looked exhausted and, quite frankly, a little heartbroken.

But she decided to hide it by ripping into Bucky.

“What are you still doing here?” She asked him roughly.

Her attitude had no effect on him. He simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “They’re all taken care of, Y/N. Now let someone take care of you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m fine, James.” She snapped back rudely.

“You don’t have to prove how strong you are, Y/N. I already know.” Bucky told her with a heavy sigh.

She scoffed at him as she started to wrap gauze around her wound with one hand. “I’m not trying to prove shit…” she mumbled under her breath.

“You’re wrapping that too tight, doll,” Bucky warned and took a quick step forward. “We’re gonna have to amputate your arm after you accidentally tourniquet yourself.”

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh and held up her hands in surrender. “Fine. You do it.”

Bucky bit his lip trying to stop himself from laughing. He found her resentment and annoyance adorable. He was careful as he undid her poor wrap job.

He spotted antibiotic ointment in the first aid kit she had opened up and carefully dabbed it on the cut. Thankfully it wasn’t deep enough for her to need stitches. But he was being extra careful.

“You know… you’d think being one of the most dangerous mobsters in New York, who’d know how to tend to wounds a bit better…” Bucky teased.

She gave him a glare. “I guess I’m not as bad at my job as you are. I’m the one hurting people, not getting hurt. Maybe if you weren’t so reckless, you wouldn’t be so well-versed in nursing.”

Bucky couldn’t hold back the chuckle. “Is that what you’ve heard about me? That I’m reckless?”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Y/N muttered dully without looking at him.

“Oh, yeah? Care to share?” He asked, utterly amused.

“James Buchanan Barnes. He’ll charm the wits out of you until the very moment he murders you.” Y/N recited from memory with a caricature of a voice. Then she sighed and thought of what other rumors she’s heard. “But if you need to clean your money, your the guy. Hmm… You sleep with any pretty thing that has enough of a brain to form sentences. You aren’t scared to get your hands dirty…to a point where people have started thinking you might have a case of blood lust.”

Bucky’s amusement faded at the descriptions she shared. “I guess I’m some sort of sociopath, huh?”

Y/N eyed him for a moment, trying to figure out if she wanted to comfort him at all. “I don’t think a sociopath would’ve stuck around to help a bunch of victims like you did tonight.”

But Bucky shook his head. “One good deed doesn’t make up for a lifetime of sin, Y/N.”

He had finished wrapping her wound and looked up at her. But she was already staring down at him. “I guess we’re both lost causes then.”

Bucky wanted to say that there was no way she was a lost cause. But he didn’t think it was the time or place. So he just replied with, “Guess we are.”

“While, this has been fun. It’s time for me to get home. There’s a giant bed waiting for me.” Y/N said casually as she stood up. Then she eyed him. “That wasn’t an invitation.”

Bucky held his hands up in surrender. “I’m no fool. I can take the hint when a gal hates my guts.”

Y/N wanted to say she could never hate his guts. But she didn’t want to encourage him. She was supposed to be doing the opposite.

“Are you gonna be okay getting home?” He asked her softly.

The caring tone caught her off guard. “Yeah, my driver’s waiting outside. I’ll be fine.”

Bucky nodded slowly. He had hoped he could offer to drive her home himself. But that was obviously stupidly optimistic of him. Of course she had a driver. She probably would have 3 of her men tailing her back as well.

“I meant to ask,” He started. “Pierce…did you kill him?”

Y/N’s face fell. “No, the bastard got away.” She told him with disappointment.

Then Bucky’s entire body tensed. “Y/N, did he see you? Did anyone that survived the raid and shootout see you?”

“No, of course not.” She quickly answered. “There’s a reason I’ve stayed hidden all this time. Don’t insult me my abilities.”

Bucky nodded again. “Goodnight, Y/N.” His voice was filled with exhaustion. He didn’t expect her to say anything as he made his leave.

So his body froze when he heard her practically whisper, “Thank you, James.”

He quickly turned around and looked at her, half believing that he had imagined hearing it. “You know… you can call me Bucky. All of my friends do.”

“But we’re not friends,” she replied just as quietly.

His lips tightened into a line. Out of all the things she’d said to him, that was the one that seemed to bother him the most. “Right,” he muttered before leaving her office.

—————

A new fire was lit inside Bucky. He started giving his men tasks that caused them to share confused looks with one another. Of course they didn’t question the mob boss’ orders. But that didn’t mean they understood them.

“Get me every record we have of Hydra’s accounts,” was the general statement Bucky told his men.

He wasn’t proud of it, but his gang had been the ones to launder all of Pierce’s money. At the time they’d come to that agreement, Bucky was oblivious to the true nature of Hydra’s underground and illegal business. He thought it was a way to keep peace between two gangs, to keep Pierce’s nose out his business and keep his men out of his way.

But now that Bucky knew where the money really came from, he felt sick to his stomach with the realization that he helped in a twisted way.

“Buck, what are you up to?” Steve finally asked Bucky after weeks of men digging up their dirt against Pierce and Hydra.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked casually.

“You haven’t slept in God knows how long. You have all our guys pulling up any paperwork that Hydra’s so much as touched. What are you up to?”

Bucky shook his head. “That night… made me realize I need to make some changes. Everything I’ve done in my life…it’s all be based in selfishness. After I saw those women, those little girls… I can’t believe that’s been going on in my city, right under my nose. And I had a fucking hand in it.”

“Bucky, how could any of us know that’s what was really going on?” Steve tried to comfort him.

“We’re not idiots, Steve. There were signs everywhere. If we just looked outside of our greed for once in our God damn lives, we would’ve known something was off. What’s more fucked up is that I don’t even know if I would’ve tried to stop it if I figured it out.”

Steve was silent, unable to find the right words to say.

“So I’m taking it down. Pierce and his gang won’t deal in my city a second longer.”

“You’re going to start a war, Bucky.” Steve’s eyes had never been more serious. “You sure you understand the weight of what you’re about to do?”

Bucky’s face darkened. “You can’t start a war with a dead man.”

—————

Y/N was walking around the farmer’s market. It was finally feeling like autumn in New York City. She’d had enough of the sweltering summer and the cool breeze now felt so refreshing against her skin.

It was one of the few times she was out of the uniform of her alter ego. Now she was wearing boyfriend jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. She still had her messy bed head from waking up and she didn’t bother putting in her contacts.

Her face wasn’t wearing an ounce of makeup. There wasn’t even any left over from the last night.

She was grabbing a batch of apples as she heard someone call her name.

To Y/N surprise and slight horror, she turned around to find the infamous Bucky Barnes just a few feet away from her.

Y/N had been dressed scantily and with little skin covered every time she faced him before. Yet she never felt more exposed and vulnerable than she did now.

“Hi,” she said awkwardly.

He had a warm smile at her quiet greeting.

Y/N shifted her weight and looked around uncomfortably. “Uhh…what are you doing here?”

Bucky gestured behind him with his thumb. “I live around the block.

Her brows raised. “You do? How have I never seen you here before?”

He chuckled. “I don’t do a lot of cooking and therefore I don’t do a lot of grocery shopping. I’m trying to be better about it. Hence my presence today.”

Then he noticed that Y/N was shifting her weight because she was trying to carry three heavy paper bags in two hands.

“Here. Let me help you,” Bucky offered, rushing forward.

“Oh! You really don’t have to do that.”

But he was already grabbing the two heaviest bags from her grasp.

“Where to?” He asked her, ignoring her refusal.

Y/N eyed him, wanting to tell him to go away, but not finding the courage to be mean to him when he was being nothing but nice in return.

The short walk to her apartment was silent. Bucky didn’t bother trying to make small talk.

She guided him to a classic, yet restored building. She lead him to the elevator and clicked the penthouse button.

When they finally reached her apartment, Bucky was in awe of the place.

It was nothing like he had imagined. No one would ever guess the city’s scariest and most mysterious criminal lived here. It was warm and cozy. There were plants taking up any free space. The exposed and distressed brick only added character, instead of making it look scrappy.

Y/N watched Bucky take in her home. She had to admit, it made her rather anxious.

“What? What is it?” She finally asked, unable to take his silence any longer.

He gave her a shy smile and shrugged before putting her bags on the kitchen counter. “Nothing. It’s just not what I expected.”

Y/N kept shifting her weight and avoiding his gaze.

Bucky realized she was nervous having him there. That’s when he understood that he was seeing a part of her life and a part of her that so few were lucky enough to see. She didn’t want him there because it showed him the real Y/N, not the notorious and anonymous gangster of New York City.

It wasn’t just her apartment. It was her outfit: her messy hair, her makeup-less face. How many men were able to see Y/N in her raw and purest form?

“I should go…” Bucky stated awkwardly. Where was the suave man that could wrap any beautiful woman around his finger in minutes? How did she always do this to him?

“Thank you,” Y/N blurted out before he could leave, “for helping me.”

“You’re not used to people doing things for you, are you?” He gave her a sad smirk.

Y/N shrugged and scratched her arm. “I don’t want to depend on anyone.”

Bucky laughed dryly and shook his head, “Sometimes people want to do nice things for the people they care about. Doesn’t mean that person has to lose their independence or feel like they owe something in return.”

She tried to ignore the part where he basically admitted to caring about her. Mostly because she didn’t believe it. “Like trying to take down Pierce for me?” Y/N challenged.

Bucky’s eyes darkened. “How the hell did you hear about that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Do you know how reckless your being? If I can find out, what’s stopping Pierce and his gang from finding out? You don’t have a cover to hide behind, James. What happens when he comes after you?”

“I can handle it,” Bucky retorted.

“But what if you can’t?” She kept challenging.

He remained quiet.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Y/N spat.

“That’s exactly the point I’m trying to make, Y/N!” Bucky’s voice rose.

She finally snapped. “What if you get hurt?” Y/N yelled.

It caught Bucky off guard. He blinked, shocked at her intrinsically confessing she was concerned for his wellbeing.

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to argue with her.

“I should go,” he muttered, mostly to the floor.

When he glanced up, Y/N’s expression was unreadable.

Bucky started walking out, but paused with the door half open and looked back at her.

“You look really beautiful, Y/N.” His voice was quiet, but confident.

She couldn’t find a response. So she just watched him walk out of her apartment

—————

Bucky kept his distance from Y/N. A couple months passed. He put all his energy into his work. Steve got more and more worried as he watched his friend look more and more exhausted. It just inspired him to find Pierce and kill the man himself so Bucky would finally relax and move on.

So when Steve got a call from Sam, he couldn’t be more relieved.

He marched into Bucky’s office. “We got him.”

“What?”

“Sam just called. We have Pierce.”

Bucky quickly moved to his feet.

Next thing he knew, his men were driving him to a warehouse at the edge of the city. When he walked in, Sam and a dozen of his men were surrounding Pierce, who was already bloodied up and tied to a metal chair.

“Took you long enough,” Pierce spat a mouthful of blood on the cement floor.

“You’re pretty cocky for a dead man,” Bucky cooed as he grabbed another chair spun in around and placed it in front of Pierce, sitting on it backwards as he leaned his forearms on the back of it.

“Dead man, huh?” Pierce smirked.

Bucky didn’t say anything.

“All these years, you never gave a damn about my business. In fact, you laundered the money I made off of it. What’s made you a new enemy of mine?” Pierce questioned.

“I didn’t know what I was helping with,” Bucky replied darkly.

“Oh, so now you’re some saint?” Pierce challenged. “You’re no different than me, Barnes. You think your hands are clean? Then you’re delusional.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed, already knowing there was some truth to the man’s words.

“No, I don’t think your new path to goodness has you after me.” Pierce sighed and thought aloud. “No…No… I think it has to do with you falling for the Black Serpent.”

Without meaning to, Bucky’s gaze flickered over to Steve. His best friend instantly saw the panic in his eyes. But he managed to hide it from his enemy.

“You don’t think I know about your little infatuation?” Pierce chuckled. “Why else would you have a sudden change of heart toward me?”

Bucky had enough of his taunting. In one swift movement, he unsheathed a switchblade from his pocket, flipped it open, and stabbed it into Pierce’s thigh.

Pierce howled in pain.

“No. You’re absolutely right: I am no saint. And that’s exactly why I’m enjoying causing you so much pain. I don’t think for one fucking second that I’m a good person. But I know one thing for sure: I’m a better man than you. That’s why your death will be the only one that a higher power excuses. I’m going to hell, but you will not be the reason I’m there.”

Pierce’s wasn’t so cocky anymore.

“Not so talkative now, are you?” Bucky gave him the most evil smirk.

Pierce suddenly turned into a man who knew his life had come to an end. “I know you’re going to kill me. But I have one last thing to say before you do it.”

Bucky leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms tightly, waiting.

“The moment I go missing, my men were ordered to kill her.”

Bucky narrowed his gaze. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” Pierce smiled. “Y/F/N Y/L/N… it really is a beautiful name.”

Hearing her name come out of his mouth made Bucky’s vision turn red and the beast within him was unleashed. In half a second, he had pulled his gun out from the waistband in the back of his pants.

He had it cocked and pressed to Pierce’s forehead in another half second.

“Say her name again, I dare you.”

Pierce chuckled. It was a sound that sent chills down everyone’s spine.

“Y/N – ”

But Pierce barely said the first syllable before Bucky pulled the trigger and a bullet was sent through his skull.

The blood splattered in little dots across Bucky’s face. He didn’t blink at the feeling or the sound. His jaw was clenched so hard, it was a miracle he didn’t crack his teeth.

Bucky barely processed the murder. He was already marching out of the warehouse and heading to the nearest car.

Steve and Sam were racing after him.

They didn’t need to ask to know that he was going after Y/N. Pierce could’ve been bluffing, but Bucky wasn’t taking any chances.

He remembered the address of Y/N’s apartment. As he drove, he had his phone at his ear, desperately trying to get in contact with Fury to warn him of Y/N being in danger and to see if he could tell him that she was safe.

But there was no answer.

“Fuck,” Bucky hissed as he tossed his phone to the car floor and slammed his foot on the gas.

If there were people stationed outside of Y/N’s building to guard her, they had been told to leave Bucky alone, for no one stopped the mobster from entering the building.

Without even bothering to knock, Bucky slammed his shoulder into Y/N’s door.

To his surprise, Y/N was standing in her kitchen, an oversized and distressed t-shirt hanging off her shoulder and nothing covering her bottom except a pair of underwear.

She’d already had a gun raised and pointed at him from the intrusion.

“James? What the fuck are doing?” She gasped, lowering the weapon. Then she was looking over his shoulder at Steve and Sam, who were politely trying to not look at her intimate state.

He rushed forward and wrapped her in his arms. Her body froze, still processing what the hell he was doing breaking into her home like that.

“He said they’d come for you,” Bucky gasped into her hair.

“What? Who?” She pulled back to look at him.

“Pierce.”

Then Y/N’s whole body froze. Her mind was working, figuring everything out.

That’s when Bucky realized his mistake. Pierce’s men didn’t know how to find Y/N. But they knew he did. So they gave him an empty threat and waited for him to lead them right to her.

Before he could vocalize the terrible mistake he’d made. Gun shots were breaking through the glass.

Bucky yanked Y/N to the ground and shielded her body with his own.

Glass and debris fell around them as gunshots continued firing.

Bucky cupped Y/N’s face to the crook of her neck, praying to a God he didn’t believe in that his body was enough to protect her.

He managed to hear Sam and Steve screaming into a phone, telling their men of the attack and called for backup.

Time felt like it was both slowing down and speeding up simultaneously.

Bucky couldn’t figure out how long they lay there when the gunshots finally stopped.

He pulled away and lifted himself off of Y/N’s body. She blinked up at him. On instinct alone, he cupped her check. “You okay?” She nodded.

“Buck, you alright?” Steve called from the other side of the room.

“Yep. You guys good?” He called back. Not taking his eyes off Y/N.

“Pretty much. Sam’s head got grazed.” Steve called back.

“Bucky,” Y/N gasped. “You got shot.”

But he ignored what she said. He was too caught off guard by hearing her call him Bucky. She’d never done that before.

Then he suddenly felt the pain. It all came flooding to his nerves at once. He looked down to see that his left shoulder was covered in blood. He could feel it, the bullet lodged in his shoulder. He stumbled back at the lightheadedness.

“Steve, he got hit in the shoulder!” Y/N cried out as she rushed forward to steady him.

—————

Bucky glared at Steve from across the hospital room, “This is ridiculous.”

“You passed out from the shock and blood loss, punk. Stop acting like you didn’t get shot.” Steve fired back with annoyance. He sat in a visitor’s chair as he flipped through another magazine with boredom.

“This place smells like death and the food sucks,” Bucky mumbled.

“Maybe it smells like death because you almost died.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

Then his mind wandered as he stared out the window.

“Y/N… is she…”

“Fury came with her men. They took her to a secure safe house. She’s fine, Buck. I promise. Whatever’s left of Pierce’s crew, they’re too worried about their own skins to follow through with their dead boss’ wishes.”

Bucky nodded slowly, trying to convince himself that Y/N was okay.

Steve watched his best friend carefully. “You know, she practically ripped her arm out of its socket trying to get to you as Fury pulled her away.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered back to his friend and narrowed. “I highly doubt that.”

“She cares about you,” Steve confirmed. “I would go as far as to say she might damn well love you, Buck.”

But the mobster ignored him.

—————

Months went by. Word passed on the street that Pierce had been murdered and his gang disbanded, and the Black Serpent was responsible. That’s why no one had heard anything about the mysterious mob boss for so long. They were keeping a low profile.

Bucky and his men were the only ones that knew the truth.

But they had all been sworn to secrecy.

Things slowly turned back to normal.

Now that Pierce’s industry had been ruined, Bucky picked up the broken pieces and rebuilt. He owned strip clubs now. But there were no underground sex clubs, no prostitutes, no sex trafficking. Everything was clean. The girls were taken care of and protected. They felt safe and they made their living.

Bucky was taking a day off, something he can’t remember doing in years. He was drinking a glass of scotch and watching the game when there was a knock on his door.

He wasn’t expecting company and no unwanted visitors got past his guards alive.

His brow furrowed as he grabbed a hidden gun and slowly made his way to the door.

He looked through the peephole and was shocked to see what was on the other side.

Bucky whipped open the door to see Y/N waiting patiently. “Sam let me up,” she answered his unspoken question. “Can I come in?”

He nodded and opened the door wider for her. His head dipped out and looked both ways down the hallway. His guards gave a slight nod to him before he closed his door again.

When he turned around in his apartment, he was able to take Y/N in as she observed his home. She was dressed in an outfit that was in between her professional persona and her true self. It was something Bucky had never seen before.

Then Bucky looked at his apartment too. It was so different to hers. It was cold and luxurious. But it lacked identity or anything that would give a hint to his personality.

“I didn’t know you were back in town…” Bucky spoke carefully.

She nodded. “Can’t seem to stay away from this godforsaken city for long.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked then.

“Just wanted to check on you.” She admitted.

“No need. I’m good.”

Y/N shook her head. “OK. Fine. I wanted to see you.”

Bucky swore his heart stopped at the confession.

“Why didn’t you come find me?” She quickly added, leaving him no time to respond to her confession.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to…” Bucky admitted.

“You got shot trying to protect me. I saw you pass out, covered in your own blood. That’s the last time I saw you,” her eyes clouded over as she remembered the image.

“I only had to protect you because I was the one who put you in danger,” Bucky pointed out. “You were right. You can take care of yourself. I made a mess of things. I thought it was best that I stay away.”

“I wish you hadn’t.” She whispered.

Bucky blinked, convinced this was some sort of dream. There was no way Y/N was standing in his apartment and saying such things to him.

“You’re too good for me, Y/N.” He whispered back.

Y/N laughed at the ridiculousness. “And what, you just started thinking this?”

Bucky shook his head, “No, I’ve always known that. I knew it the moment I met you.”

“Well…” Y/N sighed. “If you’re so convinced I’m too good for you, why did you stick around all that time? Why’d you keep asking me out?”

Bucky didn’t say anything.

“You put yourself and your men in danger trying to help my cause.” Y/N added aggressively. “You risked your life protecting me.”

Bucky gained a sad smile and looked at the ground. “Here’s the thing, doll. I don’t think there’s a man on this earth who’s good enough for you. I thought – I just thought I’d rather you end up with one that realizes that and does everything in his power to become worthy of you.”

“Then fight for me.” Y/N gasped.

Bucky watched her for a moment.

“Fight for me, Bucky.” She repeated.

He couldn’t help himself anymore. He rushed forward and pulled her to him, crashing his lips against hers. Y/N welcomed the aggression and yearning. Then she matched it.

Bucky pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m never going to stop fighting for you.” He promised.

And she believed, with every fiber of his being, that he would.

Black Serpent - Drabbles & Headcanons I don’t know why I bother trying to write one-shots. They just end up being full-blown fucking fics. 🙄

Anyways, thanks for reading. Tell me what you thought. I’ve considered writing drabbles based on this

AU/universe, that take place after this one-shot. Let me know if you have any suggestions. Key Word: DRABBLES. NOT other one-shots.

#mobster!bucky #mafia!bucky #GANGSTER!BUCKY #bucky au #mobster bucky au #gangster bucky au #mafia bucky au #marvel au one shot #bucky x reader #mobster!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky x reader #gangster!bucky x reader #bucky angst

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thefaceofroyalty · 6 years

Text

Birthday, Loki x reader oneshot

A/N: This is a piece I’ve been meaning to write since August (that’s when my 21st birthday was). It took a different direction than I was planning since then but I’m okay with that. Hope you enjoy!

Permanent Tags: @lokixme

—————————————

Waking up in the morning was never an easy task for you. But this morning was the exception. You woke up, looked at the date on your phone, and immediately leapt out of bed. It was your birthday! But it wasn’t a normal birthday, no this was your 21st birthday. As a younger member of the Avengers you always had to hang back whenever they would go out, opting to spend time with Peter instead. You had moved into the tower when you turned 18 and started college in tandem with your avengers training.

As you made your way to your bathroom your phone buzzed with texts and snapchats from your friends. They wanted to make today extra special for you. They had the whole night planned out for you. You guys would go to a bar and go dancing and then maybe get some late night cake before they dropped you back off at the tower and they went to their apartments.

You got dressed for training and made your way to the kitchen where you were greeted by all the avengers and a surprising number of pancakes. “Happy Birthday Y/N!” They all shouted as you made your way towards the counter to make yourself a cup of coffee. You couldn’t help the huge smile that had taken permanent root on your face since you woke up. You couldn’t believe they were being this sweet for your birthday. You guys had celebrated other members birthdays before but never to this level. As if reading your mind Tony came up behind you and clapped his hands on your shoulders. “I know I know it’s a bit much but hey, you only turn 21 once.” He said as he smiled at you. He reached into a shelf above your head and handed you what you assumed to be a very expensive bottle of scotch. You gasped as he handed it to you, “TONY!” you exclaimed, “how did you even know I liked scotch?”

Tony smiled before responding with the following, “I had FRIDAY track your drinking habits for a while, you seemed to get scotch a lot so I figured now that you’re legal I can actually give you a good bottle and not that cheap stuff. By the way this was a group gift even though technically I did everything” You smiled as you hugged him in thanks. You went around hugging every member that was currently at the table. You sat down to eat your breakfast when the two Asgardian gods walked into the kitchen. Thor with a bright smile on his face with Loki sulking close behind him.

“What are we celebrating today friends?” Thor asked as he took a plate and began to pile it high with pancakes.

“It’s Y/N’s birthday” Steve said from behind his newspaper. “She’s 21 today.”

“I do not understand the significance of that number.” Thor said with a confused look as he sat down on the other side of the counter.

You smiled at him. Even though he’s been to Earth, or Midgard as he calls it, numerous times he still had a lot to learn. Last week you taught him what Netflix was. “Thor, on Earth and especially in the United States, people have to be a certain age before they can drink. Here that age is 21. So today I’m now legally allowed to drink alcohol.” You said, feeling yourself getting giddy each time you said it out loud.

“Ah!” Thor exclaimed, “Then it is a joyous occasion! What are your plans for today Lady Y/N?”

“Well, currently I’m going to train with Bucky and then later my friends are taking me out to a few bars and clubs but I’m not sure of which ones.” You said as you pondered where in New York they would take you. A huge city to explore and there are only so many hours in the night.

“Well she’s not going anywhere if she can’t beat me in training and that’s an order.” Bucky said jokingly as he got out of his seat and gestured for you to follow him to the training room two floors down.

After four hours of training, really Bucky four hours? You finally made it back to your room to start getting ready for the evening. You messaged your friends and they said they would pick you up around 8 so you had just enough time to shower and get ready. After your shower you picked out the perfect dress. It was a dark green sleeveless bodycon wrap dress with a front leg slit and a plunging neckline. Before you put on your dress you went into your bathroom to do your hair and makeup. You did your hair in a high bun and your makeup was smokey with gold accents. When you came out of the bathroom and looked on your bed to where you had put your dress you noticed a small black box that definitely wasn’t there before you went into the bathroom. You opened the box to find a note attached to another box. On the note was a simple handwritten message: Y/N- I thought this might match your dress quite nicely. -L.You smiled to yourself in shock. Was this really from Loki? You were crushing on him but you assumed that it was one sided seeing as he never said more than two words to you at a time. You opened up the box and inside was a simple but stunning gold choker necklace. You couldn’t believe how well it completed the look. You put on your dress, threw on some black strappy heels, and then walked over to the mirror to put your choker on. There, your look was complete.

Grabbing a small black purse your took one more look in the mirror and headed out to the elevators. As you walked into the great room your eyes scanned around for Loki but you were disappointed when you couldn’t locate him. You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts you almost didn’t hear Bucky calling your name.

“I’m sorry what?” You asked as you looked at him.

“I said you look great doll. Have fun tonight, you deserve it.” Bucky said as he gave you a hug. You giggled and hugged him back before making your way into the elevator. You texted your friends to make sure they were waiting outside for you. This was going to be a night you were sure to remember.

In the Uber ride back to the tower the only two thoughts in your mind were that you needed out of these shoes and that you needed water. You thanked the Uber driver and stumbled into the tower and into the elevator. When it opened on the common room floor you drunkenly made your way to the kitchen and got a glass out of the cabinet. You then proceeded to kick off your shoes and sigh in relief. It wasn’t until you were getting the water pitcher from the fridge did you hear a chuckle.

“I take it your night went well.” Loki mused as you shut the fridge and started pouring the water into a glass.

“It did thank you very much” You semi slurred as you giggled and took a sip of your water. In two sips you downed the glass and began to pour yourself another one.

“May I ask why the sudden fascination with water?” Loki questioned as he walked a couple steps closer to you.

You chucked as you pulled yourself up so you were sitting on the counter. You forgot that Loki, much like his brother, had a lot to learn about Earth and regular humans. But you were surprised with why he seemed to care. But you figured it’s 2:30AM so why not answer his question?

“Well us humans aren’t like you Asgardians. We have a much lower alcohol tolerance than you. We have to drink a lot of water after we consume large quantities of alcohol otherwise we’ll get a bad hangover the next day and trust me, that is not a fun time.” You said sourly as you remembered the last time you had a hangover. You wanted to shut out as much light as possible and you’re pretty sure you slept for like 18 hours.

“A...hangover?” Loki said like he was testing how the word felt in his mouth, “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that term.”

You couldn’t help but melt a little when you saw his confused expression. It wasn’t one he wore often and you were happy that you got to be the one to tell him this little nugget of information.

“Well, a hangover is like having a terrible headache but also a terrible stomach ache at the same time. Sometimes the room spins if you try to move and I personally get really sensitive to light.” You replied as you finished your third glass of water.

“How much water does one have to consume as to not be hungover the next day?” Loki inquired as he watched you with an unfamiliar gaze. It was like he was looking at you differently for the first time. Just now seeing how fragile the human species really is.

“I usually need about three to four glasses to feel fine the next day.” You said as you poured your final glass of the night.

“But I’m confused, if tonight is your first night of drinking, how do you know how much water you need.” He asked with a serious expression on his face.

You almost fell off the counter you were so shocked with that question. You assumed Loki had known that you, and other people, drank underage, apparently not. “Loki, yes the law says you have to be 21 to drink legally but I and many young humans like me drink before we’re 21. We’re just not allowed into bars and not allowed to purchase alcohol.” You said.

“Interesting” Loki said a bit amused.

“What’s interesting?” You asked as you began to take your hair out of it’s bun.

“I never pegged you for a rule breaker” He said as he continued to close the gap between you two.

You scoffed at him. “How would you even know what I’m like? You never talk to me.” You said a little more forcefully than intended. You couldn’t help it, when you were drunk your filter turned off. Whatever was on your mind came out.

Loki stepped closer until he was standing between your legs. He laughed lightly as he reached out and traced the golden choker still on your neck. Your skin tingled where his fingers brushed against it. “I knew you would like this, didn’t I?” He asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Your gasp was response enough for Loki. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear as he continued to speak to you in that silky voice of his. “I know more about you than you think. I knew the others wouldn’t approve if I made my affections known. They would’ve tried to persuade you to say no.” He murmured. There was a slight sadness behind his voice that you could detect but you weren’t sure why.

He began to trace the outline of your veins from your jaw to your neck. Your breath hitched every time his cold fingers touched your hot skin. You felt the atmosphere darken with lust and it took everything you had to break the silence. “Say no to what?” you questioned.

“To me. When I ask to court you.” Loki said as his hand began to reach around to the back of your neck and draw light patterns there.

You were so entranced you weren’t sure you were hearing him correctly. He wanted to court you? The Loki who had up until tonight never spoken more than a paragraph to you. “You want to...court me?” You asked incredulously.

“Just think about it.” He whispered as he ran his other hand up and down the outer side of your thigh. Ever so gently he pulled your head closer to his and connected your lips with his in a chaste kiss that brought with it so much promise. Just when you could process what was happening he detached his lips from yours and touched his forehead against yours. “Happy Birthday Y/N” he said before pulling away from you completely and walking into the darkness of the hallway.

#loki oneshot #loki imagine #loki x you #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki laufeyson

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areyoureadyforsomemeatballz · 6 years

Text

Firebug (5)

Summary: After opening a bakery a little over a year ago the reader gets a new regular customer and maybe something more.

Pairing: Firefighter!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Word Count: 1400

Warnings: Alexa this is so sad… Bucky shares the story of his accident and it’s a bit angsty, my friends. Mentions of PTSD. Swearing, as per usual.

A/N: Hey, my loves. Here’s the next part of Firebug. This part was tough for me, I restarted quite a few times. I’m happy with how it turned out, though! Thank you for all the likes, comments and reblogs on the previous parts (especially reblogs because it helps get my stuff out there)! Let me know what you think and maybe how you think the reader should respond. You’re all the best, I love talking with you.

Previously:

He takes in a shuddering breath. “Usually people treat me different after they know. But, that’s just surface level, Y/N. After it happened I was kind of messed up, nightmares and all that,” Bucky’s voice is barely a whisper as he forced himself to continue. “My uh- my fiancé left me after the accident because she didn’t like the way they looked and decided my fucked up brain was too much of a lost cause.”

You immediately pull Bucky back onto the couch and into your arms. “She did what?” you seethe as you run your fingers through his thick hair.

Bucky closes his eyes in relief. “It’s okay, doll. It was a long time ago. There’s more to tell you if you still want to hear it.”

You lean down and press a soft kiss to Bucky’s scarred shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me now, it doesn’t change anything. You don’t have to force yourself, Bucky.”

He stares at you in awe. “I want to. I want you to know this, to know me.”

Bucky leans back into you and takes a moment to prepare himself to tell you about the worst night of his life and the subsequent shit storm that followed it.

Bucky could feel the immense heat before he even stepped foot in the burning building. It didn’t help that it was a hundred degrees outside. His battalion had been called in to assist on a five-alarm structural fire in uptown. He had been assigned to one of the rescue companies, along with Steve, Thor, and Peter.

“Perk up, probie,” Thor called out to Peter. “Every fire is different, my friend, and I’m afraid this might be the worst you’ve seen this far.”

“I might be new, Sparkles,” Quill snarked. “But I think I’m plenty equipped to deal with this little Class C burn.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Electrical fires are nothing to fuck with, Quill. We need to keep our wits about us.”

“I think that’s my line, Buck,” Steve said. “I’m running point for this team. Let’s start our sweep, the building’s been ventilated and the burn is under control. That doesn’t mean it will be easy by any means.”

“At him next time, Steve,” Bucky smirked.

The four firefighters worked systemically through the building. They checked each floor for stranded people and any stray flames that had been missed.

“Is anyone else cooking in these damned suits?” Peter said as he pushed through the door to an apartment on the floor above where the burn had started.

“It’s called a steam burn, rookie,” Thor grinned. “Your sweat is basically heating up and burning you, you’ll get used to it.”

“Two in two out, fellas,” Steve called. “Buck, you take Quill we’ll be here on standby.”

Bucky nodded and took point, with Quill following behind him. “We’ll stop giving you shit soon, you know.”

Peter moved toward a door to the back hallway. “I get it-” He opened the door to be met with a wall of fire.

Bucky could hear coughing over the sound of the crackling fire. “Please help us!”

“Quill back up,” Bucky shouted. “Rogers, get your ass in here!”

Steve and Thor rushed in to help. “Thor get on the radio, we’ve got re-kindle on the tenth floor with potential civvie casualties.”

“Steve, we’ve gotta get back there now. Those are kids!” Bucky said.

Steve paused for a moment thinking about the consequences of not waiting for backup. “You and me, Barnes. Quill you’ve got Odinson’s six. Peg and Dot are going to kill us.”

“If we make it out they can try their damnedest.”

The two men pushed through the growing fire. “Hey back there, it’s the fire department. Can you tell us where you are and how many of you there are?”

Bucky strains to catch the sounds of any movement. “We’re in the back bedroom, I tried to get to the window open to escape but it’s stuck. The doorknob was hot and I didn’t know what to do! It’s me and a baby.”

Fucking pre-war buildings in this old ass neighborhood. They rarely had functioning fire escapes, let alone windows. The landlord was about to be in some deep shit.

“Okay, stay calm. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Steve calls to the young girl.

He looks at Bucky and they break open the door. The girl can’t be much older than fifteen, she’s huddled by the window with a baby in her arms.

“I’ll carry the girl, you can get the baby,” Bucky says as he reaches out for the pair.

The floor begins to give way and Bucky doesn’t hesitate in pivoting his body to switch places with the kids. He feels himself falling and hits the floor below with a thud. His left arm is pinned beneath fallen ceiling and he is having trouble keeping his eyes open.

“Buck!” He can hear Steve’s frantic calls from above. “Thor get the kids out I have to help him. Send in another team to finish the sweep of the last floor, warn them the structure is giving way.”

Pain. Fiery pain is tearing through his left arm. His suit must have been compromised in the fall. His eyes slip closed and he prays for a miracle. He has so much to live for.

“Keep your eyes open, Bucky,” someone begs as he is pulled into a pair of arms. “You’re going to be okay, I’m going to get you out of here.”

He tries to listen to the voice but his brain can’t process the command. The next thing he hears is sirens.

Bucky is torn from sleep by a steady stream of beeping. He tries to tell Dot to turn off her godforsaken alarm but he can’t get the words out. He’s choking on something, sending him into a blind panic. Bucky grasps up to pull the thing from his throat.

“James, you have to calm down,” a sweet voice says from beside him. Dolores.

“Nurse! He’s awake.” That’s Steve.

He pries his eyes open and winces at the harsh light.

“Mr. Barnes you’re at New York Presbyterian Hospital. I’m your nurse, you have a tube in your throat that is helping you breathe because of the smoke you inhaled. We can remove it as soon as your doctor says that you are stable, I’ll call her now to come in and check on you. Your friend and fiancée are here, too.”

He focuses on the nurse’s calm voice and slows his breathing. As he does this an unbearable pain blooms across his shoulder. He can’t feel his left arm past that terrifying pain. What’s wrong with his arm?

“I’m so glad that you’re okay, babe,” Dolores said. “You’ve been out for a few days.”

Tears stream down his face, but no one seems to notice.

“Bucky?” your voice breaks through his reverie. You wipe the tears that are pooling on his cheeks. His head is still in your lap.

Bucky clears his throat. “Dolores- she stuck around for almost ten months. She left me for the receptionist at the burn clinic, two months before I finished up my physical therapy.”

There is rage burning in your veins that you didn’t know you were capable of. You reach down for his left hand and trace the lines of his scars. “I can’t imagine, Bucky.”

“She stuck around for all the press ‘Heroic NYC Firefighter to Return to Duty after Injuries- His Dutiful Fiancée Aids in Recovery,’” he mocks the headlines. “As soon as I was out of the news she was packing. I can only assume it was because of all this.” He motions to his entire body as he sits up.

“That’s why you’ve been pulling away,” you murmur. “You thought I might not accept you.”

Bucky pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nods. “I didn’t want you to find out after we had built something together, and change your mind. You don’t have to decide now. I wouldn’t put that kind of pressure on you.”

You squeeze his hand in yours. “It’s a lot to take in, but I want to pursue this. You are worth it to me, Firebug.”

“It’s not just the look of it, Y/N,” his voice sounds broken. “Four years later and I still wake up thinking I’m there, trapped beneath burning walls. Some days the pain will be so unbearable I don’t want to get out of bed, and there’s no medicine for it. At this point, most of the pain is in my head.”

He stands from the couch and moves toward the front door, pulling on his shirt as he goes. “Take your time, doll. Let me know when you decide, either way.”

You spring toward him. “Wait!”

He turns toward you and you throw your arms around his neck and bring him closer to you. He lowers his face into the crook of your neck and inhales deeply. You stay wrapped in each other until your phone rings from the kitchen.

“Think everything through,” he says and pulls away.

When he’s gone you sink to the floor. Your phone is still vibrating, but you can’t bring yourself to retrieve it. Tears stream down your face for the sweet man that fate had decided to chew up and spit out. You had already made up your mind. A relationship wouldn’t be easy but the two of you could work it out. You just had to figure out how to show Bucky that you were in it for the long haul.

Part 4 Part 6

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #firefighter!bucky #bucky x you #alternate universe #firebug #yes i used a meme in my warnings #sue me #meemees

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sending-the-message · 7 years

Text

The Unicorn by Ilunibi

There’s little else in this great big world that can make a little girl in the ‘90s more excited than goddamn stickers. Glittery Lisa Frank nonsense by the roll, bought in needlessly pricey gift sets that peppered the caps of the pink aisles, princesses and My Little Ponies; hell, I used to get excited about the stickers that came on the fruit my mom brought home, or the foil stars my kindergarten teacher stuck to my spelling tests. I was a goddamn ferocious sticker collecting machine, and nothing made me or my friends more needlessly excited than badly printed cartoon characters on shitty adhesive paper.

Nothing.

In fact, the pecking order of my childhood group of friends was usually decided by who had the largest, most unique, most vibrant collection on the whole block, in the same way that some of the boys used their trading cards. She who had the newest set of rainbow dalmatians and sparkling pink horses was essentially the alpha female, and the more glitter and holographic film we had to show off, the better. We’d pile together in our living rooms with shoe boxes of treasures and try in vain to compete with the reigning champion in the neighborhood: my cousin, Rebecca.

Rebecca was different than the rest of us. She wasn’t a resident of that impoverished corner of town, but she was a frequent visitor. My aunt and uncle had barreled their way out of the slums through a combination of hard work and luck (which they’d never admit to), so Rebecca had a lot more at her disposal than a bunch of first and second graders who scrounged together their allowance to buy a couple of sheets of stickers from the drug store. No, she was the cool, older kid with literal boxes of untouched sheets and rolls of Disney characters and multicolored unicorns and cute puppies and fuzzy kittens. And, while she wasn’t in any way mean or unkind to us, she was an absolute scrooge with her collection. I suppose I would be too if the situation were reversed.

We could marvel at her recent acquisitions, but we couldn’t actually touch. Trading with her was like talking to a brick wall, because she was more there to gloat than to take part in our mad scramble. Occasionally, if the wind blew in exactly the right way and the sun was aligned properly with the planets, she’d bestow upon us a gift from her hoard, though I could never peg whether it was goodwill or showing off. It doesn’t matter. She gave me a rainbow shark for my birthday and I still have it stuck in my drawer of sentimental junk.

Additionally, she was very particular about her stickers. I can’t think of time when, at the end of our sessions, she didn’t comb the entire room just to make sure that everything was in its place. I’m not sure how an eight-year-old girl manages to memorize exactly how many sheets of identical Casey and Caymus stickers she has, but it never failed that she would always notice if something was missing. Sometimes, things got mixed up and we’d have to sort through our own piles to find the errant stickers, and sometimes we’d spend half an hour looking under furniture until we found where it fluttered to. She was anal about it.

Which is why it shocked me when she left for the day and I discovered she’d forgotten one.

It was a regular day of our swap meeting, sitting beneath the picture window of my mom’s living room, the only anomaly being that Rebecca seemed more than a little under the weather. The other girls who could make it wrapped up early because their moms needed them home from lunch, but Rebecca lingered until well into the evening until her parents finally picked her up. She counted out her sheets, we spent way too long looking for a missing dragon she’d got from a fifty cent machine, and once she was satisfied with her inventory, she packed up everything and left.

Only, as soon as she was out the door, I noticed something sitting where she had just been. It was on white wax paper and was the size of a Skittle, but it was a fluorescent yellow that caught my eye immediately. I dove on it out of curiosity and a weird sense of first-grade desperation. I didn’t care that, technically, it was stealing. I just cared that Rebecca had somehow missed one of her treasured stickers--probably because she was too sick to notice or care--and I could add it to my own collection.

It wasn’t anything impressive: a yellow circle with the tiny, awkward silhouette of a unicorn on it. In any other situation, I’d think it was the dullest thing I could ever cram into my pile, but it was Rebecca’s. That made it special.

As I shuffled it into my shoe box of wonders, I justified it to myself by repeating the mantra that, if it meant that much to her, she would have noticed it was gone regardless of how ill she felt. Maybe it wasn’t even her who dropped it. Maybe it was Cathy or Ashley or a girl from a previous get-together, and I know all of my friends wouldn’t mind if I kept something as insignificant as a teeny, tiny, pinkie-nail sized sticker with a poorly drawn unicorn on it. If they did bring it up, I’d just give them one of my gold stars or weird, bug-eyed smileys from the doctor’s office. In my mind, it’d balance itself out.

Predictably, after half an hour of gloating to my stuffed animals, I did what any kid would: I completely forgot about it. That unicorn sticker was lost in the fog of dressing up a Beanie Baby in doll clothes so he could have a lovely night out at Pride Rock with his girlfriend, bootleg Hello Kitty. By the time my mom forced me to take a bath and ordered me into bed, the unicorn sticker was barely a blip on the radar, at least until Rebecca finally called me out on my theft.

Or, normally that’s how it would go, except for the fact that I barely could sleep that night. I was plagued with nightmare after nightmare, waking up to stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, feeling like something was glaring at me. I’d always doze off again, but the dreams would go on like a sick, twisted clip show: finding Rebecca eating my neighborhood friends alive in the kitchen, watching my dog get slowly crushed by a car, drowning in the river beside my house. And it just went on and on.

And on. And on.

For days.

To say my mother was concerned by my night terrors was an understatement, but less of one than to say I was scared when I realized she would react to smells and glimpses of something dark that seemed to ooze around in our peripheral vision. You see, as the days marched on, the nightmares seemed to persist in small, strange ways once I woke up. I’d catch a whiff of vinegar and sulfur out of nowhere and watch, horrified, as my mother’s nostrils would flare and her brows would furrow in confusion. I’d see strange shadows slink around the wall, always bolting out of sight if I looked to them and, eventually, I’d watch my mom whip her head around to seek out the culprit, too.

It took almost a week for me to put two and two together, my house gradually becoming more and more unwelcoming and my sleep becoming less and less restful. I probably would have never figured it out if I hadn’t knocked over my box of stickers while staggering tiredly across my room. Amidst tears of frustration and kid-friendly curses that wouldn’t get me grounded, I started putting everything back into place and stumbled across that goddamned unicorn.

It was just as boring as I remembered it, lemon yellow with a awkward silhouette like some kind of girly Batman logo. I stared at it, it stared back, and then I got a whiff of something sour that was so strong that my eyes watered. I blinked and looked down, only to see a blank yellow circle staring back from my palm.

I screamed. I was too young to really register how crazy it sounded and too trusting in the idea that my mom would believe me, and she opted to chalk it up to sleep deprivation. She practically manhandled me to force a Benadryl down my throat, telling me it was for my own good, that I needed a nap, that she’d find a way to get me to the doctor within the next couple of days.

I fought valiantly, but was out like a light within a few minutes.

And I awoke in a nightmare, huddled in my bed, the floor stretching for miles and miles and the walls climbing up to the stratosphere. The only source of light was an ethereal ball of what looked like fire but, somehow, less substantial. It ebbed and flowed and glowed and the shadows seemed to dance with its erratic undulations, twisting and squirming like snakes and monsters. Some of them seemed to have faces, but they burned away in the light.

Fire or no, it was cold. I huddled beneath my blanket, breath creating clouds in the air as I stared, transfixed, at this strange ball of energy. Something dark began to grow inside of it, a shadow that wouldn’t melt, and as it expanded, the orange light grew brighter and more golden, almost radiant. I squeaked and tried to run as I saw four spindly legs, a long and crooked neck, and a jagged horn, but my body was paralyzed when it let out a horrifying scream.

Have you ever heard a horse when it’s angry? It’s petrifying. Terrifying enough, actually, that it was the basis for a dinosaur roar in many films. Loud enough that it makes your ears pop and your head throb. I clapped my hands over my ears and felt blood pool in my palms as it grew louder and louder and louder and louder. I screamed back and it drowned me out, one voice becoming two becoming three.

Though there was only one solitary creature standing in front of me, one twisted and deranged unicorn that jittered unnaturally and bent at weird angles, its voice came from everywhere. In its screams, I began to hear whispers, then words.

Threats.

Threats spoken in languages a six-year-old shouldn’t know, yet somehow I understood. Threats of what would become of me and my family, and lists of everything it knew I cared about. It detailed what it would do to everyone from my favorite toy to my family dog to my best friend to my long-dead grandmother who it shrieked, triumphantly, it could reach even though I would never see her again. I saw flashes of white walls and cups of medicine and a woman, with hair and eyes and skin like me, hanging listlessly from a pipe by her bedsheets with a toppled chair beneath her feet.

“This is what happens,” it told me. “This is what will happen. This is what I am. I am your worst nightmare.”

The screaming only stopped when I felt a horrible pain. I awoke on the floor in my room--my real room--with my mother at the bedroom door, pale-faced and hoarse. My face was sticky and warm, my left eye wouldn’t open. As I tried to push myself up, my mom screeched in a way that would have put the unicorn to shame.

She got me to the doctor that day.

The official story was that I’d fallen out of bed, and maybe I had. Cracked my head on the nightstand and nearly gouged my eye out, but caught my brow instead. They gave me a little clamp because it was too swollen for stitches and, as per usual, a sticker to help me feel better. I stared at it on the ride home, knowing what it was that I had to do.

When the weekend rolled around and we had our little trading party, Rebecca came to gloat, as always. The neighborhood girls clamored around her most recent additions, like a whole new set of glow-in-the-dark aliens and a few sheets of Disney heroines. They ooh-ed and aah-ed and thankfully paid no attention to my bruised and battered face as I sat there, fist clenched around that fucking unicorn as I struggled to force a smile. I couldn’t help but notice how much more alive and refreshed and energized Rebecca was as she flittered around, grinning and happy.

Not like she was when she made me scour the living room for that goddamn dragon sticker the day I found the unicorn.

She had done it on purpose, hadn’t she? She’d left that thing in my house trying to get away from it and look what it had done. Anger was my fuel as I waited for her to turn her back, grabbed a box of her stickers, and chucked the unicorn in. I shook it for good measure, so the tiny thing would settle somewhere in the bottom where she would probably miss it.

And she did. Somehow, despite every odd against me, she missed it. When she left for the evening, she only did a quick check for anything that could have fallen, packed her boxes under her arm, and left with a cheerful wave. I couldn’t even feel remorse as I watched her go; in my mind, it was justified. In my mind, I was playing tit-for-tat. If she was willing to throw her little cousin under the bus, then maybe little cousin had every right to dish it right back at her.

I slept very soundly that night, and the night after that, and the night after that. A miracle, my mother called it, though I knew the truth. I still know the truth.

And I think Rebecca does, too.

I visit her sometimes, out at the ward. She’s not very responsive and more than a little prone to falling asleep mid-visit, but sometimes when she looks at me, there’s a glint of hate and fear and disgust that I can catch in her eye, and envy and spite hidden deep in her voice. It’s like she wants to tell me that I should be in her place, that it should have been me whose childhood was robbed from her.

She wants to tell me, but she can’t. She won’t. She’ll never admit what she did, because she wants me to feel like she is the victim in all of this, that she never once tried to sacrifice me to whatever the fuck that unicorn really is. She doesn’t want to admit that I won.

Or maybe, just maybe, she’s guilty. She knows what she did and I’m a constant reminder of it, the only family member who ever visits and the only one who stays to talk. Maybe she hates me because I remind her of what a monster she is, perhaps even worse than the unicorn ever could be.

And maybe? Maybe that’s the worst nightmare of all.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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