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buckets-and-trees · 8 months

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Devour: ACID

Fandom: MCU Collection: Devour Title: ACID Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x f!Chef!Reader Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: A month since SALT and three weeks since FAT, your situation with the mob boss who bought your restaurant is still evolving in unexpected ways - including an unexpected episode after work tonight.

Content Warnings: explicit smut, oral: female receiving, analingus: female receiving, vaginal penetration/fucking, some light drinking, mob boss Bucky is kind of dom

Logistical Notes: I had planned for this to punch the ticket for week 10 of my Hot Bucky Summer 2023 collection for the prompt "Long day at work?" and so this is late for the @buckybarnesevents event itself, but I'm a completionist and am marking it off on my personal list for my own satisfaction. Also ticking off the U3: "Kink: Concubine" square of my Bucky Barnes Bingo, Round Five card for @buckybarnesbingo.

Additional Notes: @mlibbydp and @goldylions were so benevolent in doing some beta work on this so HUGE AMOUNTS OF LOVE TO THEM for what they both contributed to the piece and to me personally. This chapter is much longer than the previous two and just as part two evolved their relationship, part three makes some more significant moves and ... I needed the notes on making sure this still felt like Devour. Also... @biteofcherry you might see something interesting in here that's definitely included because of a throwaway comment you made earlier this summer.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

When you walked out into the garage, there was a black luxury SUV idling near the exit with Sam Wilson leaned up against it. Seeing you, he slipped his phone into his pocket and pushed off the side of the vehicle.

“Hey, Chef,” he greeted you with a grin.

“Really?” you sighed. “Now?”

He shrugged. “Please?”

“And is that you asking nicely, or him?”

“You know I just do what he says.”

You huffed. “You don’t always do what he says, but he knows you’re the most charming one and I wouldn’t refuse you.”

Sam laughed as he opened the door to the backseat. “Don’t let the charm fool you, honey, if you said no, I’d throw you in the back regardless, it would just be less fun for you.”

You knew that, too, which is why you simply got in without a fuss. Bucky, Sam, the rest of his men? They were all mobsters running mob business, dangerous beneath the surface.

As the door closed behind you, you looked to the front to see who was driving, then clucked your tongue. “He sent both of you?”

Steve smirked. “Buckle up. And of course he sent us. You don’t think he trusts just anyone with his girl, do you?”

Oh. You bit your bottom lip and looked away and out the window, a small warmth stirring in your belly. As inconveniently annoying as this ordeal seemed to you in this moment, there was that piece. Being his. You were starting to feel it.

You had told Bucky that second night in the restaurant that you needed more than gifts and sex.

He had taken your word seriously.

There had been walks in the park, an auction, brunch on his yacht, a gallery opening, a rooftop wine tasting, even a dinner party at Sam’s place where he ended up proposing to his girl. You had enjoyed all of them, but except for the night at Sam’s, the time with Bucky had been last minute – sometimes there was a text, but most times it was him showing up or – like tonight – someone sent to fetch you without notice. He seemed all too aware of your schedule, so none of these instances were logistically inconvenient, but with it happening once more again tonight, you couldn’t help but notice this pattern of behavior was clearly becoming a habit – being summoned. In general, you didn’t mind, you saw that he was demonstrating that he wanted to spend time with you, but if you were his girl, you didn’t want to be treated like one of the droves of people who were at his beck and call and certainly not like a concubine kept solely for his whims.

The SUV slowed and pulled up to the curb of an incredibly unremarkable building that spoke to money for how unremarkable it was – the kind of money that demanded magnificence but privacy. You’d never stepped in a place of residence quite like this before – you hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet, but even in the darkness you already knew.

Both men slipped out of the front seat. Sam opened your door and offered his hand to pull you to the sidewalk. “No frowns needed tonight,” he said.

“Says you.” You didn’t realize you were frowning.

Sam grinned, then headed around to take the driver’s seat just as Steve appeared at your side.

“I’ll walk you up,” Steve gestured for you to enter the building with him.

“This is his place?”

“One of them,” Steve responded.

You took a deep breath and followed him in.

Sharp looking doormen, green marble floors, golden elevators.

Chatting with Steve was always easy, and it was no different on the fifteen-floor ride up to the penthouse at the top of the building. However, you did feel a touch of nerves as this was your first time at Bucky’s place. You weren’t quite sure what to expect but were keen to learn more about this enigma of a man by seeing where he lived.

And there he was, ready to meet you as the doors of the elevator opened, hands in his pockets, tired smile on his face, but his blue eyes dancing with excitement, and that stirred the storm of butterflies immediately in your stomach. He reached out a hand to pull you into him.

“Thanks, Steve,” he said, though he didn’t take his eyes off you.

“Sure thing, Buck.”

Once the elevator closed, Bucky brushed his fingers over your cheek, cradled your head in his hand to tilt your jaw up, and then his lips were on yours, your back pressed up against the wall. Within moments you were breathless.

In the intervening weeks since seeing him at the restaurant he’d also kept his physical contact minimal, only a few light touches, an arm around you when it seemed natural for the occasion, except for two lingering kisses. One of those instances was after a walk in the park when he’d kissed you full on in the afternoon daylight, then deposited you into the car he’d arranged to take you directly to work, where his heated kiss had distracted you throughout your shift. The second was three nights ago, the last time you saw him, and that had been only a ghosting of his lips against your ear, along your jaw, and then a soft kiss pressed to your mouth before withdrawing and leaving you at your door, but it had gotten your whole body humming for him and haunted you as you went to sleep and in your dreams.

This, after so long, so much wanting, was like a wave crashing over you. You moaned softly, you let him pull you in, melting against him, and you nearly let him sweep you away, but then you pressed insistently against his chest.

“James.”

“Yes?” he did move back, but only enough to look into your face fully.

“What is this?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“So, you just summon me?”

You knew he didn’t miss the tenor of agitation in your tone because he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, and you could feel the smirk before he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the juncture at your shoulder. “I was hungry for you,” he said, completely undeterred. And as his lips moved solely along your throat, your core begged you to forget the conversation you were attempting to have.

“Why?” you barely managed to ask.

“You know why.”

“Do I?”

Bucky pulled back again, frowning this time, but you put your hand on his face to soften his reaction. “Steve and Sam said I’m your girl, but…”

“I told you you were mine. Surely over the past few weeks, you can’t doubt that.” His stare into your eyes was steady, straight.

You didn’t doubt him.

You did need to hear those words said just that way though. You didn’t know how much you had needed to hear them.

It gave you the surety to say what you needed to say to him. “I’m not just another girl. No more summoning me, Barnes. I’m not one of your people, I’m not your plaything.” With your hand now resting on his chest, you let your fingers brush soft strokes up and down over his heart. “If you want me, want all of me.”

He hadn’t interrupted your statement. He’d let you finish without argument. You could see the way his face changed, and the shift of the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. He drew you in closer, encircling his arms around your waist. “Oh, I want everything, don’t doubt that.” He brushed his lips softly on your forehead. “I was only waiting for you to want this.”

Your chest tightened at those words, but the next moment you couldn’t think because then he kissed you again.

And that kiss, though brief, was thick with heat, and when he pulled back he said, “I see your point about the summoning. Just know that I was eager to have you around at any opportunity.”

You smiled because he smiled. “I can forgive you for that – I guess I can be a bit irresistible,” you teased. Somehow his confidence made you feel steady enough with him to be direct, to be flirtatious, to simply be around him.

He brought a hand to your cheek again. “I’ll mend my ways, but let’s be honest… a little bit of you likes it – the spontaneity of it.” His smile turned to a truly wolfish grin.

You sighed but rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe a little.”

He stepped away, taking your hand. “Come. You can have a tour later.”

Rather than asking where you were going, you simply let him lead you through the grand apartment. You didn’t take in every detail, but it was big without being too big. Rich and luxurious without being cold or opulent. There were sleek lines, but also elements of warm and comfort folded into the power that was also clearly on display. But your focus was on the way he held your hand and led you through his domain. He had no question that you would follow.

Were you so easily his?

No.

Your mind wasn’t made up.

You weren’t all in, but you weren’t reeling to run away.

He stopped in front of a mahogany door and looked over his shoulder at you. You arched your brow.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

“Alright.” And you did.

He opened it, and you let him lead you inside, through a room, clearly walking you past some furniture. You heard the sound of a fire in a fireplace, then you heard another door opening, and he ushered you in front of him and through that door. “Take your time,” he said softly, lips against your ear. “I’ll be waiting.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, and then he was gone, shutting the door behind you.

You opened your eyes to the sight of a large jade green-tiled shower enclosed with glass and four gleaming gold showerheads. Turning around, you couldn’t help a soft giggle falling from your lips. The lavish bathroom was sheer perfection. Showering after your shifts at the restaurant was ritual for you. You toed off your shoes and began peeling off your clothes. Off to the side of the palatial shower, there was a gorgeous clawfoot tub, and next to that a plush navy settee with what looked like some silky things set out for you. After inspecting the knobs and heads of the shower, you got them running, adjusting them to the perfect water temperature easily, and stepped under the streams, a sigh falling immediately from your lips.

One of the shelves was stocked with some of the skin and haircare products you used, some you hadn’t but certainly knew the name and reputation of (but hadn’t indulged in for yourself), and the other shelf was stocked with men’s products. It reminded you of the significance of where you were – in his home – and the element of intimacy it evoked, being naked where he had been and would frequently be again. Where he likely would be naked with you. You bit your lip. You pulled down the bottle of his shower gel, popped the top open, and inhaled. You hated how much you already loved that smell.

No, you didn’t.

You inhaled deeply again, then set it back on the shelf.

After that, you set to reveling in the flow of the water over your body, and got to washing, unsure of the time, only focused on the smooth feel of the soap and textures over your skin, feeling more and more relaxed, and ultimately refreshed and clean.

Once you had shut off all four showerheads, you reached for towels more plush than any you had ever used in your life and dried yourself off before wrapping the large bath sheet around your torso. You padded over to the settee to discover a short black silk robe waiting for you.

And nothing else.

You shook your head but grinned. “Audacious bastard,” you whispered.

But you didn’t bother with anything else.

At the vanity there were more hair, face, and body care products and tools clearly stocked for you – again some familiar and some you’d only dreamed of, none of this really a shock given your experience with this man. You weren’t certain how long you’d taken in the shower, having lost track of time, but here you suddenly did find yourself trying to take more time, a small fluttering of nerves in your stomach, because though he'd had his way with you in the kitchen of the restaurant and discreetly pulled an orgasm from you at the table in the dining room, this would be different.

Tonight, your body would be his, no restrictions. There was no worry for privacy, no limited amount of time.

There were also emotions now.

You had set the terms – that you needed to be more than a body to him – and he’d met them, courting the rest of you these past weeks, and putting the physical on the back burner.

He had made his intentions for tonight expressly clear.

And you wanted him, too.

But you were still nervous.

When you put your hand on the doorknob, you closed your eyes for a moment, taking one deep breath to steady yourself. Then you stepped out and into the next room, which – to no surprise – was a grand and spacious bedroom. Bucky was sitting on a couch in front of the fireplace you’d heard earlier, but immediately set a book aside and stood when he heard you. You were happy – and feeling a little more heat in your core – to see he was out of his earlier clothes and down to only a pair of silk pajama bottoms.

“How was your shower?” he asked, standing up and beckoning you over.

“The shower was glorious. You’re a bit wicked to only leave me a robe, though, aren’t you?”

He placed a kiss to your forehead and motioned to get comfortable on the couch while he moved over to a small bar cart nearby to get you a drink. He shot a smug over his shoulder. “I plan to get lucky.”

You snorted. “You brought me here late at night, kissed me like you did earlier, sent me to shower, left me only a very slinky silk robe to wear, and then greet me again looking like this,” you gesture at him, “fixing me a drink, and you call that ‘planning to get lucky?’”

He shrugged, his smug grin only growing. “Do you think there’s any way in hell I’d be where I am if I hadn’t strategically hedged my bets? Absolutely I plan to get lucky. I make sure I don’t give luck any reason not to go my way.”

You didn’t need alcohol. He was beyond intoxicating. He had been from that first night.

“And I’m assuming I don’t get a choice of drink tonight, either?”

He looked at you again. “I let you choose a lot of things, but I want you to try this. I think you’ll like it.”

You bit your lip and tucked your legs up under you, draping an arm over the back of the couch and facing him as well as where he would return to sit once finished mixing your drinks. His back was to you now, and you were not surprised he seemed to want to keep his preparation a mystery at least for a few more moments.

“Long day at work?”

“Work?” You weren’t expecting such a normal inquiry about it.

“Yes,” he chuckled, “work, my beautiful, talented chef.”

He handed you a wine glass with clear liquids over ice, garnished with fresh mint and slices of lemon, while he had what looked to be a whiskey smash in his other hand. You took an experimental sip as he sat close to you, angling his body to face you, resting his arm over the back of the couch as well. The citrus and mint blended with something floral and…

You swished the contents of your drink in your glass before taking another sip. It was bright and refreshing and not quite the evening night cap you would have expected.

He watched your face, gaging your assessment as he sipped his own drink.

“What is this?” you asked.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” you countered, “but what is it, James?”

Your name on his lips ticked the corner up in a half smile. “It’s a Hugo cocktail.”

“It’s not a predictable choice for the middle of the night.”

“It wasn’t my intention to bring you hear and tuck you in straight away.”

You laughed. “There’s no question what your intentions were. We established that.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You’re not picking up on all my intentions.”

Your brow furrowed. Then you let out a little yip of surprise as he pulled you closer, you clutching your wine glass to keep from spilling the drink.

He had already positioned himself close to you, but this was even more intimate. You were nearly in his lap, and he did pull your legs up to drape across his thighs.

“Now tell me about your day.”

“Oh, you were serious.”

His hand settled on one of your bare thighs, just next to your knee.

“If I didn’t want all of you, I would’ve fucked you in the foyer and let you go home. I want this, too. Now talk.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you smiled. This really was him – demanding but not inflexible, and certainly giving you more than you expected.

So, you did talk, just as you had been really starting to the more he had brought you around to spend the time with him these last weeks. However, there was no getting around that this was more intimate. No others around, no distractions, no functionality of a thing you were doing together, only the two of you.

His line of inquiry was genuine, and he listened intently.

Almost too intently.

You were his singular fixation, and you knew he was thinking of nothing but you as you spoke.

And his fingers brushed idly over your thigh as you conversed.

The soft, repetitive motion wasn’t distracting at first, but it wasn’t long before it was an overwhelming tease of what wasn’t happening.

The physical touch you hadn’t experienced at his hand in weeks.

He was asking questions about how some of the new members of your kitchen staff were integrating, and all you wanted him to do was glide that hand down between your thighs.

You sipped at your drink, and as you continued to talk, you let your other hand drift to rest on his arm still draped over the back of the couch, and your fingers traced along a vein on his forearm. Although it was difficult not to let your eyes drop to his bare chest, you kept his gaze. If he was going to continue talking like this proximity and the lack of clothing between you both wasn’t affecting him, you were determined to match him.

Finally, he moved his hand from your thigh, but it went straight to your waist to curl just above your hip. “Kiss me,” he said.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips hungrily to his without hesitation. He set his drink to the side, then grabbed yours to do the same. With both your hands free, neither of you wasted another moment. Your hands went to his neck while one of his hands traveled slowly up your spine, the other holding your face. As impatient as you were for him, both of you kissed to savor, but there was no rush to it. His lips moved against yours, your tongues explored together, tracing, memorizing, exploring. It wasn’t enough, the tenor moving from savoring to consuming, and you shifted, moving into his lap.

He broke off the kiss briefly, turning his head to the side, but his left hand remained firmly against your back, keeping you close, and you rested your forehead against his temple. His other hand reached to the side table, and he plucked one of the slices of lemon and some mint from your drink. Curious, you lifted your head away. He brought the mint leaf to your mouth first, pressing it along your bottom lip. Then he pinched the fruit against your lip. The mint played with the acid of the citrus deliciously as he kissed you again, this time each of you nipping and licking intermittently through the kisses. Your hands explored the broad planes of his chest now, and his hands raked up and down your sides, thumbs skimming over the side swells of your breasts.

Keen for more, you pressed your body closer to him, pushing your core directly against the hardness of his cock. Rocking your hips, you drew a debauched moan from him that made you swell with pride and made your pussy ache even more for him. You needed him, each moment driving that need exponentially now.

The thick arms and broad chest you were getting to explore freely for the first time held only some of the rippling muscles that made it seemingly easy to push up off the couch while still holding you close with one arm, and it made a broken whine escape the back of your throat. You wrapped your legs around his torso, and his other hand squeezed and held your ass against him as he moved you from the seating area across the room to the bed. He tossed you down on the mattress, then pushed the silky robe – which was naturally already askew – off your body and flung it away. You pushed yourself back a bit more on the bed, and he was only a half second behind crawling up after you.

He pushed your legs wide open, and dove immediately for your dripping cunt. You laughed, a little flushed, but also more than ready for him to bury his face between your thighs. You let your head fall back against the soft bedding, closing your eyes. Then you yelped as there was a sharp slap to your pussy instead of his lips on your folds. You jerked up to look at him, and the devilish grin on his face, the darkening of his eyes made your heart stutter.

“Don’t laugh, Chef, I told you I was hungry for you. Keep your eyes on me,” he said.

You took a deep breath, leaned back on your elbows, and gave him a solemn nod.

He pressed kisses slowly along your inner thigh, his deep blue eyes locked on yours. The fluttering in your stomach rose steadily, your pussy desperate for his attention. When he planted his lips in the crease of your thigh, he left his mouth there. A broken whimper leapt from your throat, and you pushed your hips up.

He pushed your hips back down with one of his large hands and moved his mouth the opposite direction and bit at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, making you yelp.

“Please,” you murmured.

“Eager for me?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation.

“Good.”

And then he worshiped your cunt, kissing it with as much fervor as he had kissed your mouth, and you moaned openly, no worries over anyone but him hearing you here. You didn’t look away, completely captivated because this was also a new level of intimacy that you felt both ready and unprepared for. Receiving oral sex from other partners had never felt so purposeful. This man in this moment was so avid in the way he was pleasing you, making you watch him, you brain was having a hard time recalling if sex with anyone before him had ever been so intense. You didn’t think it had – that first night when he’d demanded it from you in the kitchen, the next time he’d coaxed you into a few moments of pleasure in the dining room, and now inviting you here to have you without restraint – each encounter had been unlike anything before.

The pleasure was overwhelming as his lips and tongue licked, sucked, flicked your clit, delved into your folds, and he kept a keen eye on your every reaction. You began to feel lightheaded with the mounting waves of bliss, your toes curling, breaths coming in short gasps until your head fell back because you simply couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t do anything but feel, ready to fall over the edge because of him again.

But then he pulled his face away, jerking you back from that edge of ecstasy and you would have whined, but he was already manhandling your hips to flip you over. One of his rough palms smoothed slowly and firmly up your spine, applying delicious pressure, but you still felt the lack from the orgasm he’d dangled then withdrawn. “James,” you moaned. “James, please.”

He drew his palm slowly back down your spine. “You’ll have me, Chef, don’t doubt that.”

You whined again, but he pushed your thighs apart and slotted himself again between them, holding you splayed open for him with his broad shoulders. It was a little uncomfortable, stretching your legs, but you settled and breathed through it anticipating what was coming next.

His tongue teased at your clit for a moment, then slowly licked up and between your folds to dive into your cunt, lapping inside, and you shivered. But then one of his hands pushed at your ass cheek and his tongue continued moving up, and you gasped and tried to move away when the tip of his tongue teased your tight, puckered hole.

“Easy,” he said softly but firmly, his other hand moving beneath you and hooking at the juncture of your thigh to pull your hips back flush against him. He pressed a kiss to your round ass cheek.

“I’ve never,” you admitted enough, he knew what you meant. He kissed the same spot on your ass cheek, but then he shifted, and you felt him moving up over your back, his body pressing lightly against you until he was up at your shoulder. He pressed a kiss there, and then looked at you.

“Then I won’t give you more than my tongue tonight, but you know I’ll make you feel good, don’t you?”

You nodded.

He smiled, then left the ghost of a kiss to your temple and slipped back down behind you.

Resuming his exact same positioning, his left hand curling under to anchor at the juncture of your leg, his right pressing you open to expose your ass, you pressed your cheek into the pillow and took a deep breath. You reached your left hand down to meet his, and he twined his fingers reassuringly with yours as they sought him. Then his mouth pressed in, and his tongue darted out, swiping over the tight ring of muscle.

“Just relax and feel,” he instructed.

You concentrated on breathing and then the new sensation. Unexpected. Then a different kind of pressure, then pleasure. It wasn’t awful as had always been insinuated. It was debauched more than anything else, and he soon had you moaning and panting and wriggling back against his tongue which alternated between lapping at the hole and teasing in and out. It was when you pushed hard back against him that he pressed a kiss again there and pulled back.

“I know what you like.”

It wasn’t a brag; it was a statement of possession that sent a shiver through your body. Because he was right, and you couldn’t deny that.

“Now come here,” he said, pulling you by your hips up to kneel, presenting for him. “Such pretty folds.” His fingers circled your clit, then slipped briefly inside your cunt, drawing a happy gasp from you.

He grabbed his thick member and brushed the tip up and down over your sensitive parts a few times as you pushed up on your elbows, your back arched in a beautiful bow for him. When you looked over your shoulder at him, he finally sunk his cock into you. His hips pushed forward against you slowly until he was completely buried inside you, filling you, pressing so intimately into you. Fully sheathed, he stayed there for a moment, and he ran his hands over your hips and your lower back, caressing, relishing in the fill. He pulled back slowly, but only a couple of inches, then pushed back in, clearly wanting to relish in this for a moment. You had no desire to rush him either.

When his hands gripped your hips, you dropped your forehead to rest your forearm on the mattress, and then he began to fuck you, building a steady rhythm. He built up bit by bit, and you both let words and sounds fall out of your mouths as the physical feelings increased in intensity. Having been so close twice, when he finally moved a hand to rub expert circles into your throbbing clit, your body quickly responded in releasing your orgasm, and your spasming walls pulled him right along with you, and he came with a shout over your moans, a stuttered thrust, and then he continued a few more pushes, his hot spend coating your walls.

He wrapped an arm around your stomach and pressed kisses into your back, and you curled up into him with a hum of contentment.

When he pulled out, he reached over to the bedside table to retrieve a waiting damp hand towel – you shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d prepared to this detail – and then cleaned you up and then him before tossing it away. He stroked your back once more, then scooped you to your side, and pulled your naked and spent body to him so he could spoon up against you. You put your arm over his, and he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“Stay?” he murmured simply into your ear.

This you didn’t answer immediately. You let your chest fill and empty with a few breaths, weighing your answer between your head and your heart. But neither of them fought to leave.

“Okay,” you finally breathed.

He settled in even closer, then reached for the sheets to pull up over the both of you. “I told you that first night that you would warm my bed.”

“Don’t be smug,” you protested.

“I’m not,” he insisted, and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, “I’m only pleased I’ve finally got you here.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #mob boss!bucky barnes x reader #mob au #bucky barnes x you #devour au #aspen wrote something #bbb2023 #buckybarnesbingo2023 #female reader

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aro-ortega · 5 months

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i have GOT to replay beck valentine

#obviously i knew mc mom left but i dont really think about it bc she doesnt come up often and i have no issues about my birth father leaving #me apart from thinking the guy is a major asshole and wanting nothing to do w him #but fuck ! that last ask is so good made me realize i need to Consider this #thinking about beck keeping his crush a secret on sam bc he doesnt want him to leave first #finally making a move moving day bc theyre leaving anyway. just to be devestated anway when sam wont take the chance on a ldr and rejects #rejects him #thinking about his Determination with tennis and how he Has to be the best. he has to be good enough (to prove that he was good enough for #for his mom. she shouldnt have left him he was good enough)#thinking about his rivalry with rayyan and rayyan is like. The person he wants to do better than and *impress* bc he sees rayyan as the best #hes cocky and sure of himself and wants rayyan to look at him wants to show off for him. see ? im good too. i can be the best to #and he wants THEM to be the best. hes proved that hes good to the coaches he won against almost everyone he played against #and he and rayyan did so good in the doubles match ! and theyve been paired as partners ! he gets to work w the best and show him that hes #just as good and this is perfect- and rayyan is demanding that it be changed. rejecting him. bc hes not good enough #agh.#beck valentine #beck x rayyan #beck x sam #ct os #op

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phantomstatistician · 1 year

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Fandom: Sam & Cat

Sample Size: 182 stories

Source: AO3

#sam puckett #cat valentine #tori vega #jade west #freddie benson #carly shay #beck oliver #robbie shapiro #andre harris #sam & cat #fanfiction #ao3 #statistics #phantom statistician #sam x cat #cat x sam

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mochinomnoms · 6 months

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Hiii! For the Hanahaki event can I request Vil (romantic) with prompt #7? A gender neutral reader would be appreciated, thanks!!

Also if youre up for it maybe prompt #12 with Ace (Platonic) with the reader’s object of affection still being Vil? This prompt with Ace is too funny for me to ignore I just HAVE to sneak him in 😭😭

vil schoenheit, platonic!ace trappola x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, humor, semi enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, sickenly sweet [wc} – 3,458 prompt 7: “I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but wearing petals in your hair is a whole new level of fashion statement.” prompt 12: "No, I haven't been growing marigolds out of my ass. Why would you even ask that?!” note - writing this was surprisingly hard. but i got it and i think it's very cute, i just hope Vil is mostly in character :skull: also i don't know german so idk if the nickname is an accurate translation! comments loved and appreciated! a floral inconvenience

Marigold: often used during festivals like Diwali and Navratri, marigolds symbolize purity, auspiciousness, and the divine.

You were going to murder him.

“Heyyyyyy Prefect!” Ace gave you a cheeky grin as he held your glass bottle of very expensive salicylic acid serum, balancing it precariously between his fingers. “What about this? Can I take this—whoops!”

“ACE!”

You shrieked as the bottle slipped from his fingers, only to be caught by his other hand, an infuriating grin still on his hand.

“Hehe, relax! I’m just messing around—oh shit!” The bottle slipped again from his fingers as a now panicked Ace scrambled to capture it. “Oop. Got it. It’s fine.”

“Oh my gooooooooood, Ace, I’m going to fucking kill you, give that back!” You snatched the bottle from his hands, giving him a good kick behind the knees as you walked past him.

“Owwwww, Prefect, why are you so mean to me?” Ace pouted as you put your serum back on your desk with the rest of the skincare Vil had gifted everyone at the start of the SDC training. Ace continued whining as he packed his bags to go back to Heartslabyul, being left behind by Deuce who went to get snacks from Sam’s with Epel.

He felt bad that all the food you had was cursed by Vil at the beginning.

“It’s almost like you want me out of your dorm, kinda rude, you know.”

“You know what’s rude?” You smacked down the pillow Ace threw your way as you huffed, “Your face. Ugly ass, you know you had a room next door, how’d all your stuff end up in my room?”

Ace shrugged as he shoved his wrapped up sweater into the now bulky backpack he’d brought over, throwing himself onto your bed and grunting as he bounced on the squeaky frame.

“I don’t know, how’d you burn the Queen of Hearts’s statue—”

“That was you—”

“—the world will never know.”

You rolled you eyes as you laid on your stomach next to him, hugging a spare pillow to your face. Closing your eyes, you sighed as the events of the last few weeks replayed in your head. Between acting as manager for the SDC group, to barely keeping up with classes, to Vil’s overblot, you were utterly exhausted. Speaking of Vil…

“Ah, that’s right, I should check on Vil before he leaves. I wonder if he’s doing okay?”

“With you at his beck and call? Perfectly fine, I guarantee you.” Ace yelped as you smacked his side, giving him a red-faced glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ace turned on his side with a teasing smirk. The kind of smirk he gave you whenever he wanted to fluster and embarrass you in front of your friends and teachers.

“It means whatever you want it to mean. Maybe someone should consider not acting like a little kid with a crush whenever they’re around Vil—owowowowowow—stop hitting me!”

You pounded your fists onto Ace’s sides and back as he tried to roll away from your reach, arms cradling his head in meek protection. He managed to roll off the bed, turning over to look at you briefly to stick his tongue out and politely flip you off. Ace let out a small shriek as you launched off the bed after him, running out of the room into the hall and turning into a goosechase. You could practically hear the yakety sax song playing in your head as the two of you pushed past Jamil and Kalim, the former crying out at you in annoyance.

“Watch it!”

Ace practically threw himself down the stairs, jumping past four whole steps, using the banister to whip him around into the main hallway where he ran into the living room. Finally catching up to him, Ace positioned the coffee table between you two as he continued egging you on.

“Ayeeeeeee, embarrassed Prefect? Gonna throw a fit?” Ace let out a low cackle as you both shifted around the table.

“Gonna throw your ass into the fucking sun, little bitch ass! You got something to say then fucking say it!”

Ace snorted as he pointed behind you. “You’re one to talk, you wanna talk about the marigolds coming from behind you? It’s like you’re growing a garden out of your ass, wanna talk about that?”

“The fuck? I haven't been growing marigolds out of my ass. The hell you’re talking about,” You turned your head to look behind you, still growling at him now with confusion. “Why would you even ask that—WHAT THE FUCK!?”

You hissed as you jumped backwards into the table, the edges jamming into your skin. Behind you had been a long trail of beautiful, shimmering orange flowers. Upon closer inspection, you were pretty sure they were marigolds.

“...Ace, this is your fault.”

“What! Nuh-uh, I’m not the only with flower sickness—”

“The fuck is flower sickness?”

“You know, hanahaki? The love disease? How do you not know what flower sickness is, it’s like basic 8th grade bio—”

“I didn’t go to school here, dumbass!”

Ace’s mouth formed an ‘oh’ shape as he remembered. “Oooooh yeah, I forgot.”

“Forgot what? You little potatoes are acting awfully rowdy so early in the morning.”

You looked up to see Vil standing in the hallway, a bemused Rook behind him inspecting the flowers on the ground. Vil briefly made eye contact with you, both of your sharing a small smile before an irritating, itchy feeling made its way in your throat.

You felt a hand pack your back as you started roughly coughing up several bunches of marigolds into your hands as Ace grimaced.

“I forgot that they’re not from here, so they got no clue about hanahaki…or any other illness…huh it’s kinda a miracle they haven’t gotten sick from something else yet.” Ace hummed, as he leaned down to look at your face.

You made eye contact with your peripheral vision, motioning Ace to lean closer into you and horasely whispered, “Come… closer…”

Confused, Ace obliged, ear up to your lips, giving you the perfect opportunity to sock him straight in the gut. Your dear, beloved friend gagged from the pressure, hands cradling his stomach as he fell to his knees, groaning in pain.

“Y/N…” Vil sighed in exasperation, walking over to give you a gentle flick in your forehead as he chastised you.

“It’s unbecoming of a friend of mine to be so belligerent, do you really have to be so crass with all your friends?”

You clicked your tongue, licking the spit from your lips. “I’m not with you, besides Ace deserves it, you know how he is.”

“Mm-hmm, and how long have you been coughing out the flowers, meine Süße?”

A pleasant warmth flooded your cheeks at the nickname. You choose to ignore the tickling sensation of marigolds growing from the tops of your head, which instead formed into sneezing fits.

“I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but wearing petals in your hair is a whole new level of fashion statement.” He remarked, leaning down to observe the blooms. “Now, answer my question, meine Süße.”

“Achooo! Ugh,” You sniffled as you replied, “Um, not that long—achoo!—ago, ugh. Just today—”

“Ah! The little trickster started expelling the belles fleurs approximately a month and a half ago!” Rook chirped, a little too happily for your tastes. “Two weeks after we began training for the SDC.”

Vil let out another sigh as you whipped your head to glare at Rook, hissing out, “What. The. Fuck.”

“Excuse me?! Language Y/N!” Vil barked at you, making you flinch and burst into another coughing fit. Noticing this, he softened his voice, though the blonde still sounded angry.

“That’s nearly two months with the flower sickness, have you been taking potions to help with the symptoms?”

You shook your head, clearing your throat. “Ahem, no, uh. I didn’t know that there was medicine for this kinda thing, haaaaa I just figured I was being pranked by someone.”

You heard a snort behind you as Ace stood back up, grumbling, “Of course you would, dumbass.”

“I will actually kill you—”

“You will actually not.” Vil placed a gentle hand on your upper back, guiding you to the front door. “Rook, ensure everyone packs up and cleans their mess by the time we get back, I believe Kalim may still need help packing up.”

“Oui! How kind of you Vil to escort our lovely Trickster to get them a remedy for their affliction!”

Rolling your eyes, you let Vil guide you out of the dorm, calling out to Ace, “Don’t forget to grab the rest of your stuff, it’s still in my room!”

“Okayyy!”

With that, the door shut behind you two as you began a pleasant walk over to what you assumed would be Sam’s shop. A pregnant silence fell over you two as you walked down the pathway leading to main street, having to maneuver past the alchemy building and botanical gardens. You were hyper conscious about his hand that remained on your back, which is when you started another coughing fit.

“Oh you poor dear, did you really have no clue what was going on all this time?” Vil spoke to you in that soft tone that he’d been reserving for you since you first became friends, a few months ago. You’d gone into the Film Research Club interested in working as a stagehand, plus you had a good working knowledge costume design and general clothes repair, which was sorely needed.

It’d been an incredibly rocky acquaintanceship at first, as Vil made subtle, snide remarks on your disheveled appearance, while you shot back with loud, brass comments on his ‘Regina George wannabe’ act. Now, he didn’t know who Regina George was back then, but took offense that a ‘dirty, lumpy potato would have the audacity to insult him’.

He only kept you on in the club because no one ever willingly signed up for backstage work, and you only requested free access to spare cloth and sewing materials to fix your clothes. Vil was also more than happy to point out how scruffy the patches all over your uniforms made you look:

“You certainly fix the part of the ramshackle Prefect, now don’t you?”

Though, looking back on it now, you’re pretty sure he wasn’t aware that everything of yours was either found in Ramshackle’s attic or bought with the meager allowance Crowley gave you. Shortly before finals, Vil found you crying in an isolated part of backstage because another first-year permanently bleached your only jacket during a botched potions class.

“What’s going on back here, practice your scenes upfront with the rest of us, I don’t care how ugly you look crying—Prefect?”

You jumped, scrambling to get back up from the dusty corner you’d shoved yourself into. You awkwardly wiped the tears from your face, wrapping your arms around yourself as you gave Vil a feeble glare.

“What do you want Vil, I already told the others that their costumes wouldn’t be ready yet, if you want me to get stuff done, you gotta stop annoying me—”

“You’ve been crying.” His simple statement shut you up, as he approached you with a firm look on his face.

“…Yeah, stating the obvious much?” you muttered back, finding the scuff marks on the ground very interesting. Vil let out a sigh, reaching into his jacket to take out an off-white, embroidered handkerchief.

“I’m trying to be sympathetic. Ugh, you’re all red and puffy, let me see.” Vil tipped your chin up with his fingertips, gently patting at the tear streaks on your cheeks. “You look worse than normal…is the red bleach stain on your uniform meant to be a fashion statement?”

Pausing at the stuttering breath you took, sniffling, you answered, “No, some dumba—”

“Language”

“—Some jerk,” you drawled, “from my last class messed up his potion, and it got all over me. Stained my only jacket, right when it starts snowing, too.”

Vil raised a brow at you, leaning back once he was satisfied with your dried cheek.

“Only one? Even Ruggie has a few spare uniform jackets from Leona, did you seriously not think ahead to purchase a spare?”

You half-laughed, half-scoffed at his statement.

“You think Crowley gives me enough money to buy another jacket for his bougie ass—I mean, fancy, school? I barely have enough to feed myself and Grim between the roof caving in and the water pipes breaking. The bathroom flooded again last week.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you felt a migraine coming in, unaware of Vil’s growing horror.

“I was lucky enough to find my uniform in the attic, it waaay too big and makes me look homeless, but at least it keeps me warm…now it just looks even more like shit.”

You finally looked up at the blonde, expecting him to lecture you on your foul language. Instead, you were surprised to see Vil’s horrified expression.

“What do you mean, you barely have enough for food?”

It was then that you discovered that no one outside your group of friends were really aware that you were stuck on campus, victim to Crowley’s whims and needs. You know the others in Heartslabyul were faintly aware of your predicament, being from another world and stuck until Crowley found you a way home. Ace and Deuce did their best to help repair things around the dorm, but could only do so much. Savanaclaw and Octavinelle knew of the disarray of your dorm, but based on comments from Leona and Floyd, weren’t aware of just how much you were struggling just to eat and sleep.

Ruggie definitely was, seeing as he occasionally slipped you a spare meat bun or snack that he happened to buy extra of when running errands for Leona. Ruggie was a real one, as long as you didn’t point it out.

Since that day, Vil had sort of taken you under his wing, along with Epel who you hadn’t met yet at the time. You had to give him credit, he wasn’t the villain you’d made him out to be in your head. And Vil admitted, he enjoyed that you were quick on your feet and enjoyed your banter, as long as it was unique to him.

He spared you his previous uniforms that he’d grown out of his freshman and sophomore year, minus the band and vest, watching as you mended the waist and ends to fix your stature. More often than not, especially after hearing that you’d be stuck by yourself during winter break, Vil was sending you care packages with personal hygiene products from brand deals he never took. He’d send fabrics and sewing supplies with sewing patterns. Vil even started buying you breakfast and lunch once back to school, though you refrained from joining him for dinner in Pomefiore.

In exchange, you managed to replicate, with his help, some of the scripts for the more famous musicals from your world. You even told him who Regina George was! He still wasn't fond of the comparison, but did find the musical intriguing. Vil was fascinated by the works of art your world produced, and just slightly enamored in the way you described them with glee and fondness. Still, the exchanges still felt a bit uneven.

You’d once made the joke that he was practically a sugar daddy, just without the sugar. He snapped back, “Well, I’m not stopping you, now am I? I’ve never had a sweet tooth, but you’re more than welcome to give me thanks, meine Süße.”

(You spent that night screaming into your pillow with a red-hot blush while Grim looked on with concern.)

Truly, you two had developed an unlikely friendship, one where you both spoke your minds to the other with no hesitation or fear. Which is why the lack of conversation at the moment was slowly driving you insane.

You sneaked a peek at Vil, taking a sharp breath as your eyes met his own. It seemed that he was watching you with his very lovely, sharp purple eyes. The thought sent a hot flash through you as you sneezed a flurry of petals and pollen.

“Ooof, ugh, this is gonna make my allergies go haywire.”

“Sam will have some potions that will help with the symptoms, though you will have to confront the root of the cause.” Vil slid his hand down to rest in your mid-back, rubbing his thumb against you in a soothing motion, though it cause you to shiver and flush.

“Yeah, okay.” you managed to squeak out, groaning as you felt the tickle of glowing marigolds pop up on your skin and in your hair. “Ummmm, so how do you get rid of, uh, Ace called it hanahaki?”

Vil nodded and opened his mouth to speak before being interrupted by the faint screaming of your name. Both of you looked down the path, where you saw Deuce running over to you two, followed by a confused Epel chasing after him.

“PREFECT! PREFECTPREFECTPREFECTPREFECT—”

Yelping as Deuce skidded to a half and grabbed you by your arms, shaking you with intense concern, you managed to reply a stuttered, “W-w-what?”

Deuce paused his shaking to give you a concerned lecture, “You didn’t tell us you had the flower sickness!? Why didn’t you say something, you’ve been running around for SDC all this time—”

“You too—”

“But I’m not sick!” Deuce dug through the paperbag you’d just notice he was holding and shoved a pale pink potion in your hands. “Here! Take this!”

Before you could even touch the bottle, Vil plucked it from a confused Deuce’s hands, studying it with scrutiny.

“Hmm…This is an average allergy relief potion for hay fever, did you actually ask Sam for a hanahaki symptom relief potion, or did you just grab the first thing you saw off the shelf?”

Deuce visibly deflated, opening his mouth to sheepishly reply before Epel interrupted him with a harsh, “I told him to ask, but he got all riled up and started yammerin’—I mean, uh, talking about getting the Prefect help immediately.”

Vil sighed, handing Deuce the potion back and shooed the two away with a wave of his hand.

“Just go back, I’ll handle it, just make sure your messes are all cleaned up before we get back.”

The two replied, “Yes sir!” and continued on their path, waving goodbye to you. Though you could hear Epel mumble to Deuce, “Those are marigolds, right? I think Vil’s favorite flowers are those, you don’t think…”

You slowed down to ponder Epel’s words, remembering what Ace initially called the illness.

“Vil…Ace called it a love sickness…would these flowers related toooo, I don’t know, a hypothetical crush somehow?”

Vil briefly opened his mouth, closing it as he hesitated to speak. You think you could make out a soft blush on his cheeks.

“Yes. Your hypothetical crush must favor marigolds. Can’t say I blame him, I’m fond of them myself…”

The two of you made eye contact, a knowing look in his eye and tone making your heart skip a beat and you look down in embarrassment.

“Oh…I see…” You coughed awkwardly, a few petals flying from your mouth. “So you said there was a way to get to the root cause?”

Vil hummed, stopping at the entrance of Sam’s shop to turn to you with an unreadable expression.

“Yes, as an illness based on love, appropriately the cure is to confess your feelings to the one you’ve found yourself fancying.”

A cold flash went through your body as your stomach dropped. Again. “Oh.” The thought of confessing to Vil made you sick, like you could puke at a drop of a coin at any moment.

“I wish you’d mentioned something sooner, I could’ve helped you…ease into it.” Vil murmured, his hand moving to cradle your cheek. He squished your cheek with a fond look in his eye.

“I know it’s a daunting task…I won’t rush you into it.” Vil moved his hand to brush your hair away, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “When you’re ready to say something, just let me know.”

Leaning back, VIl covered his mouth to hide his amused smirk. Your face was a blazing red as the marigolds grew a trail down your neck and chest. He motioned for you to follow him into the shop, holding the door open as he held a hand out to you. At the moment, you’re having a hard time imagining why he’d only ever been typecast in villain roles, he looked more like an enchanting love interest catered for you specifically.

“For now, I’ll be by your side. I will wait for you, meine Süße.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil shoenheit #twst vil #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #a floral inconvenience #nnbrk

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avecra · 2 years

Text

Not My Babe

summary: After a nasty break up to a nearly two year relationship, you find yourself dragged to a bar by your best friend, though a familiar blue-eyed biker makes the best of your crappy situation.

pairing: biker!bucky x reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: angst and fluff, mentions of toxic relationship, violence, alcohol, smoking, biker!bucky is also protective!bucky

a/n - the title and some dialogue is partly based on #icanteven by The Neighbourhood and French Montana, let me know if you guys want a part 2 :)

The smell of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey burned your nostrils all while you kept your hand encased with your best friend’s, following her into the packed bar. Rock music echoed against the walls, lyrics of Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith filled the air. You passed by a few people, before settling down at the far end of the bar.

You felt wildly out of place, glancing between the leather clad patrons and the grey sweater that sat over your shoulder. Nervously fiddling with your fingers, you saw Natasha plop herself on a stool next to you and place a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Relax, would you?” Her green eyes and soft smile seemed to relax you, but there was still an inkling feeling in the back of your head. “You are not together anymore, if he wants to make a big deal of you going out then he can talk to me.”

“Him being the horrid boyfriend, I presume?” You looked up at the sudden voice and smiled, seeing Sam Wilson behind the bar.

“Ex-boyfriend, actually,” Natasha cut in, a knowing smile, but you couldn’t even muster yourself to lift up the corner of your mouth.

Nearly two years was wasted, and you spent it chasing a man for affection that didn’t even care about you in the first place. A relationship that had started so beautifully, that had been filled with joy and happiness that had now developed into something that filled your days with misery.

Quentin Beck never showed you affection unless you were the one to initiate it, he never showed up on dates and when he did, he was always either staring down at his phone or up at a television set, watching whatever sports was on at the moment.

It didn’t just stop at that, though.

Continuous nights of coming home when it was nearing one or two in the morning, the stench of stale beer and the hint of floral perfume tearing you from your sleep as he slithered into bed. The times you questioned him about it, he brushed you off and told you in an annoyed voice, “Would you relax and stop being so dramatic? You were probably having another one of those dreams.”

Looking back, you put up a lot for a long time with him and his flaws. Always having to clean the apartment, do the dishes, the laundry, everything. Natasha had begged, practically pleaded you to leave and break up with him, but you always opposed that. He, unfortunately besides Natasha, was all you had. You had no one else.

Conversations about your relationship swirled between you and your best friend for months, until finally, you saw him kiss another woman’s neck in the small restaurant you had about to order from, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from how he gently held her waist and caressed her face when he moved to cup her cheek.

It physically hurt you.

Not the fact that your boyfriend was kissing another woman in a bar, but the fact that in the past year of your relationship, he ever showed you an ounce of the love and affection he showed her.

You finally decided that was the final straw and broke up with him the day after. Natasha and a few of her friends volunteered themselves to help move you out of his apartment and in with Natasha.

To say it had been a stressful past few weeks would be an understatement, dealing with moving and adjusting to a life without him, Natasha instead that the two of you meet up with her friends, to let yourself loose.

And now, you found yourself sitting in a bar surrounded by people who you had only met on a few occasions, but Natasha had told them enough to get a good read off of you.

“And I presume that’s a good thing?” Sam’s voice tore you out of your thoughts. Natasha nodded her head a little too enthusiastically and you moved your gaze to his and nodded. “Well, good riddance to his ass. What’s your drink, sugar?”

“I guess a vodka cranberry,” you replied, unsure if you really wanted it.

In all truth, Beck always seemed to discourage you whenever you ordered yourself anything remotely alcohol, he would advise you to take it easy and to order something else in a bitter tone. But Natasha knew you better than anyone else.

“No, give her a whiskey sour. I think she’ll like that,” She slung an arm around your shoulder and leaned her temple against yours. “I know it feels like everything is falling apart, but I’m really glad you’re here with me tonight. I missed my best friend.”

The familiar sting of tears pricked at the back of your throat and you leaned into her embrace. Sam placed your drink on the napkin in front of you, handing Natasha a beer.

“I missed you, too, Nat.” you said back, taking your drink and clinked it against her bottle. You took a sip of your drink, and you looked at Sam with a gleam in your eyes. “Oh, I like that.”

“See? Don’t I know my friends?” The redhead smirked as she took a sip from her bottle, eyes glinting with excitement when she heard the deep familiar voice of the owner.

“Probably knows us all better than we know ourselves.”

You turned your head to see James, or Bucky as he liked to be called, walk up to the bar, several bottles of alcohol in hand as he began to stock the bar. Striking blue eyes met yours and he sent you a smile.

“The shipment just came in,” Bucky spoke to Sam. “Just stock it up in the freezer and Nat and Steve will go over the inventory tomorrow morning.”

Sam nodded and looked to Natasha, nudging his head to the back, where the inventory was waiting to be put away. Then, she turned to you with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“You gonna be okay if I help Sam out?” she asked and you nodded, pushing out a smile for her. She squeezed your arm and murmured how she wouldn’t be long. You watched her until she disappeared into the back before returning your gaze to your drink.

From behind the bar, Bucky watched as you trailed a finger up the side of your glass, catching the condensation before it touched the bartop. He lifted up your drink and placed a napkin below and leaned his elbows against the counter.

Bucky had been one of the first to know of your messy breakup with Beck. Afterall, he and Sam were both sitting with Natasha in the near empty bar when you called her, crying and almost hyperventilating after a two hour screaming match with him.

He had driven his truck to the apartment you shared with Beck and watched as Natasha dashed out of the backseat to you, pulling you into her arms. A shared look with Sam and Natasha was leading you to the truck, helping you inside before rushing inside to pack you a bag of essentials, some things to hold you over until you could properly move out.

The tissues that sat unopened in his glove box were offered to you, and your glossy eyes met the soft hues of his blue ones and more tears filled your eyes. The night was a blur to you, but you could distinctly remember him getting out of the driver's seat to comfort you until Natasha returned.

It was the simple acts of kindness, like when he placed a hand on your trembling back, rubbing soothing circles across your tense shoulders. Or when he helped pack and move your belongings from Beck’s apartment to Natasha’s.

You had only known him for a few months, but he had shown you more care than Beck had in the two years together.

“How are you?” Bucky asked as you took another sip. You shrugged and propped your head up on the palm of your hand.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “One day I’m fine, the next day I just want to cry my eyes out for a guy who treated me like shit, now that I realize.” It never dawned on you how horribly he had treated you during your relationship. How he never liked you going out with Nat, or just going out in general unless it was with him. He could go out with his friends, but you had to stay home. He despised when you came home from work late, and would often pressure you into cooking even though you were exhausted. “I’m so stupid for staying with him for so long.”

You quickly downed the rest of your drink and winced at the sour taste before running the back of your hand over your forehead. The urge to cry tore its way through you, but you fought the desire.

Bucky placed a cup of water in front of you and brushed his fingers lightly over your knuckles. “Please don’t talk about yourself like that. You are not stupid, don’t think that you are.”

His voice was soft, and though he was dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt with tattoos lining his arms, he was always gentle when he spoke to you. You had seen him get rousey and excited during football games shown at the bar, but even then, he still remained a gentle person.

Parts of you wished Beck could have been more like Bucky… or that Beck was Bucky. If Beck had been more like him, maybe you wouldn’t have been in a bar drinking your pain away, but you couldn’t change the past, though you desperately wish you could.

“You have such a beautiful personality, don’t let that asshole take that from you again. Don’t let him hurt you even more.” Blue eyes held so much intensity as they gazed into yours and you could feel your cheeks heat up.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you said, mustering up a small smile. He winked at you and took your empty glass off the bartop and you asked, “can I have another?”

But Bucky was already a step ahead of you, placing a freshly made whisky sour in front of you. He watched you with a smile as you took a sip, sighing in content as the lemony alcohol satisfied the pain. “The guys and I have really enjoyed your company. We really like it when Nat invites you to the bar.”

You let out a hearty huff and smiled at him. “I like hanging out with you. I feel like I can… I can just finally be me.”

“It’s a good look on you,” Bucky said with a cheeky smile and he leaned forward. “But seriously, it doesn’t matter how long you stayed with him, or how poorly treated you. What matters is that you are away from him.” Tears gathered at your waterline. “Besides, you’re way too beautiful for him anyways. It’s his loss.”

You were at a loss for words, you couldn’t help the bashful smile and the heat that spread across your face like a wildfire. The way he spoke to you made your stomach flutter, the calm ocean blue of his eyes brought you to a safe place, away from all the toxicity you had faced.

“Thank you, James.” you whispered, blinking away the tears, though one escaped down your cheek. Before you could wipe it away, Bucky beat you to it, catching your tear with the pad of his thumb. He dropped his hand and brushed his fingers over the back of your hand and over your fingers.

As he was about to say something, a few patrons down the bar flagged for his attention. He nodded to them and turned back to you, pushing himself up from the bar. You watched him in content as he gave you a small smile and and you reached out and placed a hand over his tattooed wrist.

“I’ll be okay. Go help your customers,” you gently told him.

“I’ll only be a minute, doll,” He nodded and gave you one last smile before making his way down the bar. Your stomach fluttered at the nickname and you kept your eyes on his back until he was down at the other end of the bar, pouring whiskey into glasses and pulling out beer bottles from the cooler. You forced yourself to pull your gaze away from him, opting to swirl the straw around your drink.

Absorbing yourself in the atmosphere, you looked around, seeing how some patted each other’s back and laughed, some cheered to who knows what, and others placed bets on who would win in a game of pool.

Everyone knew each other around here, and the thought made your heart warm. The music wasn’t too bad either, as the jukebox played mostly classic rock, you still enjoyed it. The atmosphere in general you enjoyed.

You silently thanked Natasha in your head for dragging you tonight, though you had no interest originally, but being around Bucky and talking to him lifted your spirits. The thoughts of Beck and being with him instantly flew out of your mind.

Until you felt an all too familiar presence behind you, followed by the same nauseating stench of his cologne.

You turned around with wide eyes as you came face to face with your ex-boyfriend. Quentin Beck looked at you with an annoyed, malicious smirk. You couldn’t help but scoot closer to the bartop as his eyes raked over your form.

“What are you doing here?” You were the first one to speak, though your voice wavered. Your last encounter with him had been a two hour screaming match that left you sobbing and trembling.

Beck let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. “What am I doing? What are you doing, Y/n? Who the hell brings you to a place like this? I know we had our ups and downs, but really, a biker bar?”

Ups and downs? You swallowed thickly and stared back at him, biting your lip to ground yourself.

“Quentin, you cheated on me. With another woman. All the downs came from you, not me. We did not have ups and downs, you did,” you retorted, trying to hide the tremble in your hands. Your heart beated rapidly against your ribcage. “You can’t control where I go and who I go with anymore. You threw that away when you cheated.”

“For the love of-”

“Did it make you feel bad when you cheated on me? Did I even cross your mind for a second? Did those years mean nothing to you?” you spewed, and he stood with wide eyes that began to fill with anger. “You’re gonna say I’m overreacting even though you know I am right.”

Brown eyes flared with anger and he reached out and grasped your bicep tightly, pulling you up from your seat. You quickly pushed him a few feet away and looked for Bucky down at the end of the bar, but dread sank in your stomach as you found the space vacant. Beck grabbed you again, this time with a much firmer grip on your wrist.

“You keeping talking like that and I swear to god Y/n, I’ll-”

But before he could finish his sentence, Beck was ripped away and the tight grip on your wrist was released. Wide eyes focused on Bucky’s back as he stood himself in front of you, acting as a shield from Beck.

Patrons paid Bucky no attention, merely moving out of the way to give him more area. Beck, who had landed on his rear, pushed himself up to his feet and stood up to meet Bucky, unprepared for the height advantage Bucky had on him.

“Oh please, Quentin, I beg you to finish that sentence. ‘Cause that’ll give me just about another reason to beat the living shit out of you,” Bucky announced to him, piercing blue eyes narrowed on him.

Your shaking hand touched Bucky’s black shirt, and he immediately snuck a hand behind his back and you quickly latched onto his hand. Beck noticed, it only made him angrier.

“You talk about me cheating, bitch? Yet here you are, giving yourself to a biker nonetheless, whore.” You trembled at his venom laced words.

Bucky’s hand was ripped out of yours and you looked up to see Bucky punch Beck right in the nose. You clasped your hands over your mouth as patrons around the three of you cheered and applauded.

Natasha and Sam came running out to see Bucky leaning over Beck, who was nursing a bloody nose. Natasha made her way over to you, placing an arm on your shoulder as she looked to see if you were okay.

Though Sam did nothing but watch with a gleeful smirk as Bucky grabbed Beck by the collar of his jacket and whispered in his ear, “You come near her again or call her anything other than her name, and I swear to god I’ll make your life a living hell. If she so much as sheds a single tear, it’s over for you, Beck. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Now get the fuck out of my bar.”

You couldn’t hear what Bucky said, but you watched and took your hand away with surprised eyes as Bucky released beck and stood up, wringing his hand out. It was only then did you notice the irritated skin of his knuckles.

“Are you okay?” You tore your gaze from Bucky to Natasha, her hands smoothing over your sweater and your bruising wrist.

“I’m okay, Nat,” you mumbled, though you weren’t sure if it was entirely true. You were expecting a night with your best friend but instead saw the one person you dreaded seeing. Bucky made his way over to you, looking to see if you were okay, but you caught his hand in your grasp. “You’re bleeding, Bucky.”

He didn’t feel the stinging of the minor knicks on his knuckles, but he took a glance at the bruising skin of your wrist. “And you’re bruisin’ up, doll. Let me put some ice on that.”

You nodded and allowed him to lead you away from the busy bar to the back office, not before scooping some ice into a cup. He led you to sit on the small couch he kept in the office, and as he sat down next to you, he rolled up your sleeve and pressed the ice against your skin.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked quietly, and you sighed, blinking away the tears that formed at your waterline. You didn’t feel okay, but with Bucky next to you, in the moment, you felt more than okay.

Nodding your head, you fully expected him to get up and return to the bar, but he stood himself still in his seat next to you. “Thank you for what you did.”

Bucky shook himself and caught your gaze. “You don’t have to thank me, doll. I didn’t like how he was holding onto you. I’m sorry about my temper, but once he called you all those horrible things, I couldn’t help myself. You deserve someone who will treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

He wiped away the tears that leaked out of your eyes and you grasped his forearm in appreciation. “Thank you, Bucky.”

The two of you sat while he continued to hold the ice to your wrist. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your arm, goosebumps littered your arms and you felt yourself leaning into his embrace.

“Do you think that maybe, whenever you find yourself ready again, I could maybe take you out on a date?” Bucky asked a moment later.

A heat spread across your face as you looked at him. Cerulean eyes stared back at you and a soft smile lit up your face. After a nasty breakup with Beck, you hadn’t even considered anyone else.

But spending the evening talking to Bucky, feeling the fluttering butterflies in your stomach from someone who genuinely made you smile, made you feel something, it was hard to not have some sort of attraction to him.

So, you looked up at him and nodded, “Yeah, I would really like that.”

It would be okay, you decided as Bucky pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Maybe a little rocky to start, but eventually everything would be okay.

Afterall, you had a tattooed biker at the end of the tunnel, waiting for you.

Yeah, everything is gonna be okay.

Part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #biker!bucky

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crazyunsexycool · 10 months

Text

Heart’s Munition

Chapter 4

Pairing: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid single mom!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: mentions of blood, hospital visits, mentions of a seizure, Elijah being a lil shit (in a cute way of course),

Series Masterlist

“Where is she?” Steve demanded an answer through gritted teeth.

“She’s resting in her room.”

“Why didn’t anyone call me sooner?”

Steve took the stairs two at a time. He was furious and someone would be paying for this soon enough.

“You had that meeting with Hansen. If I remember correctly you said to not disturb you because you wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Also the doctor was with her anyway.” Bucky said as he followed Steve up the stairs.

Steve didn’t knock, he just slammed the door open. Peter sat at the foot of the bed and jumped at the sound.

“What the fuck?” You said as you walked out of the bathroom. “Can you be more careful?”

“Who did this?” Steve ignored your question and looked from Peter to Nat, who was reluctantly laying in bed.

She had been cornered while she was alone. Now Nat was a good fighter, even one of Steve’s best. She also had gained his trust a long time ago, along with Bucky and Sam. So whoever did this knew her abilities to defend herself and still managed to get the upper hand. That wasn’t good, it meant his people were being watched.

“You know who it was. They were sending a message. If they can get to us, they can get to you.” Nat said between pained breaths. She looked bad. Black and blue bruises all over her face and chest. She had a cut lip and a few scratches as well as one eye shut due to the swelling.

“We’re going to send a message back. Do you know who actually did it?”

“It was Quentin Beck.” That was all Steve needed to hear before he was out the door. Bucky again followed closely behind.

“Do you need anything else Nat?”

“I’d like to sit up a bit more.”

“Sure thing. Peter, come help me.” You moved around the bed and helped her sit up while Peter added some pillows behind her.

“Thanks. Peter, could you get me my gym bag, it’s in the trunk of my car.”

“Sure thing.”

Peter hurried out of the room and Nat looked over at the nightstand and then around the room.

“Have you seen my phone?”

“You didn’t have a phone on you when you were brought in.”

“Fuck. Ok, you need to tell Steve they probably have my phone. Go.”

You say a quick ok as you hurry down the stairs and into the hallway that leads to Steve’s office. He’s yelling orders, you can hear his voice by the stairs. It takes you knocking a few times before Sam opens the door. The tension in the room is palpable.

“What?” Steve snaps.

“Nat wanted me to tell you that she thinks they have her phone.”

“Fuck. We have to go now. Someone call Jensen and Stark, let them know they need to burn the phone.”

Everyone starts walking out and you ask them to be safe. You close the door before Steve can walk out and the glare he sends your way would make anyone flinch but you don’t.

“Get out of my way.”

“Listen I know you’re angry but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? Are you serious? One of the people I swore to protect almost died and you’re asking me to calm down?”

“Yes.” You say in a soft and almost sweet voice. “If you go out there blinded by rage how many more people will end up hurt? They’re already pissed enough as it is, you can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

You see his demeanor change slightly. He’s still angry but he’s reigning it in.

“Also if anyone else ends up hurt I’m going to be pissed as fuck.”

The corner of his mouth lifts a little. The smile is barely there but you’ll take it.

“Even if it's me?” He asks.

“Meh- depends on how injured you are.”

He smiles this time but it’s gone just as quickly.

“Be safe out there and make sure you kick some ass.”

“You’ll take care of her for me?”

“You know it.”

Steve nods in your direction before walking out and you sigh. It was barely morning and the chaos of it all was already giving you a headache. But you marched up the stairs again and checked up on Nat one more time before starting on your regular duties.

When your work day ended you waited about half an hour and no sign of Steve or his men. Dom and Coulson both nagged until you left.

You had been asleep for maybe half an hour when your phone rang. With Eli getting worse you were sleeping less. So you were in a bad mood as you answered the phone.

“What?” You didn’t even know who you snapped at.

“I’m sorry for calling at this time but we need you at the house.”

“Coulson? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here. You’ll be getting paid four times your regular pay.”

“Uh- I need… I need a few minutes.”

“That’s fine. Dom will pick you up.” He didn’t wait for you to reply.

“Fuck.” You mutter as you dial Mrs. Fields number and ask her to stay with Elijah.

****

“What the fuck happened?” Your eyes grew wide as you took in the living space. There was blood everywhere. The floor, the walls and the furniture. It’s like the fight had happened right there.

“They just got back not too long ago. No one is seriously injured but we need to get rid of the blood. Boss only trusts you and that you won’t say anything.”

“Of course not. Before I start with the cleaning, does anyone need anything?”

“Probably some steady hands. The adrenaline is wearing off by now. They’re taking care of their wounds.” Coulson informs you as he nods towards Steve’s office.

****

“It’s gonna hurt baby but I’ll be quick.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You hear Bucky say with a chuckle.

“You guys are together?” You ask from the door.

Both Sam and Bucky turn to the door, the latter turning red immediately. Sam just gives you a small smile.

“You didn’t know?” Sam asks.

“Didn’t have a clue, you guys are cute together.”

“You hear that babe, we’re cute together.”

“I knew that already Samuel.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Anyways, what are you doing here?”

“Doing what I always do, cleaning up your messes. But I wanted to check in to see if anyone needed anything.”

“We’re good here but maybe check in on Steve. He’s up in his room. The other guys are in the kitchen.” Sam says and you just nod and leave them be. You can hear them saying sweet nothings to each other and can’t help but smile.

As you walk back out toward the living room you see Clint and Scott on one of the couches. They were beaten and bloodied too and they were getting the couch dirty. You sent a worried glance in their direction but they just waved you off as they rummaged through the first aid kit. On the stairs there were drops of blood everywhere and they led all the way to the third floor, Steve’s floor. It made you wonder how bad it had been and if this was a win or a loss for him.

You knocked at the door, where you could see a smudge of blood on the doorknob. There was no answer so you knocked again and still nothing. Worry settled into the pit of your stomach at the thought that he may be passed out on the floor. You open the door and call out his name but nothing. His clothes are on the floor by the bathroom and you hurry over and knock but don’t really wait for a response.

“Steve, are you o-oh my god! I’m so sorry.” You turn around and cover your eyes when you realize his state of undress.

“Y/N, It’s ok I have sweats on.”

“Still I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to barge in on you like this. It’s just you didn’t respond and I saw the blood so I thought you needed help.” You rushed out.

“It’s really ok, you can turn around now.”

You drop your hand and turn around, he does in fact have sweats on. How had you not noticed? More importantly, how had you not noticed the injuries he had? The longer you stare the more you realize he has tattoos all over.

“What the hell happened?” You rushed over, completely forgetting the embarrassing moment just seconds ago.

“A fight.”

“Yeah but everyone looks like shit. Did you lose?”

“Not really.”

“Well if this is you winning I don’t want to see you losing.” You say as you look up at him. “Let me get the first aid kit.” You turn and head to where Steve keeps the first aid kit. “Sit.” You motion for him to sit on the countertop.

“Why here?”

“Because my back hurts and this will be easier to reach the cuts.”

He just nods and sits where you told him to. Steve’s breathing is even until you touch him around his ribs. You think it’s because there’s pain but he knows better. The light touch of your fingers on his skin sends shivers down his spine and although he’s imagined your hands on him it was never like this.

“Steve?”

“Sorry what?” He looks down at you.

“I think you might have a concussion or some type of head injury.”

“No, I was just thinking about what needs to happen next. I’m fine.” He says but really he was thinking about how your touch would feel everywhere else on his body.

“Ok well this is going to hurt.”

You work silently the next few minutes, cleaning and bandaging him up. During the whole process you feel his eyes on you. Every move you make he watches silently.

“Ok, all done.” You put away all of the supplies and make a mental note to have Coulson refill it. “I should go and get started.”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course. Call me if you need anything and please rest.”

“Doctor’s orders?” He teases and you level him with your best mom glare. “Fine. I’ll rest. Maybe I should have put you out there to interrogate people.”

“The house would be less bloodied.” You murmur before pointing at the bed. “In bed, now.”

“Ok mom.”

You laughed because he sounded so childish but you noticed the way his eyes softened as you did. Like you instructed Steve laid in bed but grabbed his phone and made some calls. There was more to be done and Quentin Beck still needed to answer for what he did.

You made it home right around noon and were beyond exhausted. You dismissed Mrs. Fields and took a quick shower, thankful that Elijah was taking a nap. Instead of going to your couch you scooped him up and cuddled with him as you took a nap of your own.

The afternoon was spent in a daze. Some sleep, some tv and some food while you stayed close to Elijah. At around nine at night you get a text from Coulson telling you to sleep tight. It was code for don't leave your apartment, which meant that whatever was going on with Steve and his enemies was close to where you were.

For most of the night it was fine. You were watching a movie with Elijah but when you turned to tell him something he was slumped to the side. His breathing was shallow and he was non responsive. You panicked and dressed in your pajamas you grabbed him and your purse in order to get to the hospital.

*****

Steve and the rest of his men had taken up residence in the waiting room of the hospital. Everything had gone sideways in a heartbeat and now they were waiting for news for one of their own. He was already anxious enough but the next few minutes would leave him utterly confused.

“Help! Someone please… he’s not breathing.” Steve heard your voice, frantic and desperate as you walked in through the emergency room doors.

Bucky and Sam immediately got up and stood next to him to see what was going on. The last thing they expected was that you were carrying a child.

“Please, help him! He’s not fucking breathing.”

Your second cry for help snapped Steve into action.

“You,” he pointed at a nurse that was taking his sweet time on the phone. “Get your ass up and help her.” He got in the nurse’s face, his voice low and menacing. “If something happens to him I will end you.”

The nurse looked like he was going to shit himself. He rushed over to you as he called out for a stretcher. He asked you a few things before rushing him in to get Elijah breathing again. Steve had to hold you back from running after them.

“It’s ok, He’s getting help. You need to calm down, sweetheart.” He whispered but you still tried to free yourself from him embrace.

“Please he has to be ok.”

“Hey,” Bucky cups your face and wipes away the tears. “He’s going to be just fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They’re going to do everything they can, Doll. But we need you to breathe. You have to be ok when he wakes up.”

Bucky grabs your hand and places it on his chest and he takes a quick look at Steve who is still holding you. Both of them match their breathing as Steve softly asks you to do the same and eventually you calm down.

“Sweetheart,” Steve turns you around so that he can look at you. Your eyes are red and your cheeks are tear strained. It breaks his heart to see you like this. “Who is that? Is he your little brother or something.”

By now he had pulled you into the waiting room the rest of his men were at. They all knew you so they were concerned at seeing you so distraught.

“He’s my son.” You say in a low sad voice.

Steve was left speechless and so was everyone else. Never in his life did he imagine you to be a mother but a lot of things clicked into place. He silently told two of his men to move to allow you a seat and of course one next to you for himself. Steve never lets you go though, he keeps you tucked into his side but you’re too upset to notice the closeness.

“You have a son? Since when?” Sam asks.

“Since eight years ago.”

“This isn’t one of those situations where your parents died and you had to take care of your little brother so now you’re technically his mom but not really?” Scott asked really fast. Steve shot him a glare over your head.

“He’s my son, my baby ok. I carried him for nine months in my belly. I have the pictures to prove it or I can show you the video of me pushing him out of my vagina if you want. ” You snapped.

“Sorry, it’s just, you’re so young.”

You rolled your eyes.

“It’s called a teen pregnancy, look it up.” Then you look at him and frown. “I’m sorry Scott I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Ok that’s enough, everyone out. Except for Bucky and Sam.” Steve ordered, reluctantly the men left.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

He’s called you sweetheart three times in the last few minutes but you don’t say anything. Right now you relish having someone at your side. Sitting alone in the waiting room was always the second hardest thing for you to do.

“Do you need us to call someone?” Steve asks and pulls out his phone.

“No.”

“No? Your parents or your son’s father?”

You give him a humorless laugh.

“The latter broke up with me the minute I told him I was pregnant and the former kicked me out when they found out. So no, there’s no one to call.” You sighed, “Wait, maybe Peter? He knows about Eli. So does Coulson and Dom by the way.”

“I’ll call Dom, I’m sure he won’t mind coming in.”

“Wait, where is Peter? I haven’t heard from him all day.” You look from Bucky and Sam to Steve. None of them would look you in the eyes and you sat up straighter. “Why are you even at the hospital?”

“Sweet-“

“Don’t sweetheart me. Why are you here?” You ask again, cutting Steve off.

“He was shot. He’s currently in surgery, that's why we’re here.”

“Bucky what the fuck.”

“Thanks Bucky, at least you had the decency to tell me.” You glare up at Steve.

“I didn’t want to stress you out more than you already were.”

“Family of Elijah Y/L/N?” A nurse calls out from the doorway. Immediately all four of you get up.

“Is he ok?”

“Yes, we got him stabilized and we’ll be moving him to a room. Why don’t you follow me and I’ll take you to him. Only two people at a time though.”

“It’s just me.” You give the nurse a sad smile. You’ve only taken one step when someone grabs your hand.

“And me. Call me when you hear about Peter.”

Steve squeezes your hand to reassure you that he’s there for you. Both of you silently follow the nurse as she brings you to the small room Elijah is in until he’s moved upstairs. The moment you’re behind the closed curtain you rush over to his side. You take his hand and lean down to press a few kisses on his forehead before whispering that you’re there with him. Steve just stands back and watches the scene unfold. His heart aches for you and he wants nothing more than to give you some sort of comfort.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what does he have?” Steve asks after a few minutes of silence.

“The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with him or how to help. He’s been sick for about a year. We’ve tried different medicines but nothing seems to really work. He has his good days but recently it’s been all bad days. ”

You struggle to hold back a sob. Elijah’s health has been declining so quickly that you fear it’s only a matter of weeks or even days before you lose him. Steve gets closer to you and pulls you into a hug. You cling to him like your life depended on it. Even with Mrs. Fields there to help you, you’ve always felt truly alone in life. Somehow it felt different with Steve there.

Steve excuses himself for a moment and disappears outside of the curtain. Just as quickly as he left he comes back and wraps you in another hug.

The sound of the curtain being pulled back has you moving away from him. A young man walks in with a tired smile on his face and lets you know he’ll be moving Elijah. He moves around the space efficiently and soon enough he starts pushing the hospital bed down the hallway. Steve places a hand on your lower back and guides you. He doesn’t stop you from leaning into him while the elevator goes up. Your eyes are half closed when Eli is finally set up in a private room. That wakes you up and you’re quick to protest that you can’t afford a private room.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.” Steve tells you.

“What? No way. He’ll be fine in a shared room. There’s no way my insurance will cover this.”

Steve cups your face so that you have to look at him. His expression is stern as he looks at you.

“I don��t like repeating myself, sweetheart. But I will right now. Don’t worry about it, you focus on Elijah. That’s all you have to do, try to rest so that when he wakes up you can be there for him.”

“Fine,” you murmur before looking at the clock on the wall. “I can squeeze in two hours of sleep before I have to be in.”

“Be in where?”

“For work?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve mutters, looking st you completely dumbfounded. He has never met anyone that has made him go through so many emotions in such a small time frame.

“No, I have to work. I need the money.”

“Fuck the money, Y/N. As of this moment you are on paid leave and you don’t come back until he’s out of this hospital.”

You shake your head. “I can’t accept that.”

“Well you don’t have a choice.”

You both start whisper yelling at each other now. Steve grabs you by your arm and pulls you outside of the room.

“I do and I’m going into work.”

“And who is going to be here when he wakes up?”

“My neighbor, she’s his sitter when I’m at work.”

Steve rubs a hand over his face. The situation hits way too close to home. The only difference is that now he has the power to do something and he won’t take no for an answer, even if he knows you’re stubborn as hell.

“If you had to choose between you being here or the sitter being here if money wasn’t an issue, which one would it be?”

“Me obviously.”

“And I’m giving you that opportunity. Please, don’t think about work or about your paycheck. I will pay you, I promise. Just be here for him. I promise you there won’t be anything that will make your kid happier than you being the first person he sees.”

Your eyes well up with tears again as you look from Steve to Elijah’s frail form on the bed.

“Ok, but only for a few days and then I’m back at work. I don’t like just taking money, I have to earn it.”

“For fucks sake woman. How about you take a week and then we’ll talk about it.”

“One.”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“One day and I’m back at work.”

“Five.”

“Two.”

“Three,” he gives an exasperated sigh before shaking his head. “Three days and we will talk before you even think about working again.”

“Fine. Also you have to let me know how Pete is doing.”

“Deal. So is this what Peter found out when I had him follow you.”

You nod as you walk into the room. At the other end there was a window seat that doubled as a bed. There was a pillow and a blanket already folded and ready for use.

“I begged him not to tell you.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want anyone to threaten Eli so that they could use me against you. I don’t want to put him at risk, I take a long way home just to make sure I’m not being followed.”

Steve’s hands were on his hips as he listened to you. That wasn’t something you should have to worry about when all you were doing was working to try and give your son a chance to live.

“Why not work somewhere else?”

“Because people don’t like to hire single mothers. Before I started working for you I had to work two to three jobs and I barely ever saw him. When I found the job posting as a maid I just went for it. It was enough that I could quit the other jobs and even get an apartment. But then he started getting sick and well here I am.”

He just nodded. It felt like he was watching memories from his childhood replaying right in front of him.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me or anything. I’ve managed just fine.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I admire you even more now.” Steve says. “Get some rest, I’m gonna head back to wait for news on Peter and Dom will be here in the morning. Anything you need he’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you.”

Steve just offers a small smile and walks out.

By day break Steve was already back on his way to the room Elijah had been set up in. He had some coffee and breakfast for you, as well as good news about Peter. Thinking you’d be awake he was already calling your name as he walked in.

“Y/N, the surgery was a success.” He stopped in the middle of the room when he realized you were asleep beside Eli’s bed. He frowned when he saw you hunched over sitting on a chair while holding your son’s hand.

Steve was surprised to find your son looking back at him. He placed the coffee and breakfast down on a table and moved the other side of the bed.

“Hi Elijah, how are you feeling kid?”

“Are you my doctor? You don’t look like one.” Eli asked in a hushed voice as he sized up Steve. He looked frail but tough.

“No, I’m your mom’s friend.”

“Wrong.” Elijah furrowed his brows. “My mom doesn’t have friends. And she doesn’t have a boyfriend either, so you’re not that.”

Steve chuckled but then cleared his throat when he saw Elijah was glowering at him.

“Well I’m sure she does have friends. But anyways, you can call me Steve and I'm your mom’s boss.”

“Oh, and you brought her breakfast?”

“Yeah. Is that bad?”

Eli shook his head. “No, but I’ve heard mom tell Mrs. Fields you’re an ass. So that was nice of you.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at that. Elijah was a little copy of you, especially that mouth of his.

“So how are you feeling bub?” Steve sat down as he waited for an answer.

Elijah looked from Steve to you and back. A certain kind of sorrow that no eight year old should ever experience crossed his eyes.

“My tummy hurts and so does my head. But really I’m worried about ma.”

Steve’s eyes softened as they looked your way.

“She’s barely been sleeping. I know she checks in on me while I sleep. And I know that she was probably really scared last night.” His lower lips trembled. “And I’m scared too.”

Steve’s heart ached for this kid. He knew exactly how he felt, having to spend so many nights in the emergency room with his own mother.

“Scared of what?”

“That I won’t get better and then ma is gonna be all alone.”

If mob bosses cried this is where it would happen. Steve had to look away for a moment and compose himself.

“Well, I’m not going to let that happen. I’m gonna make sure you see the best doctors available. But I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“That you’re not gonna give up. Even when you’re in pain or extra sick, you’re gonna keep fighting.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Steve smiles. “Now, how about you wake her up and I’ll have the food reheated.”

“Ok.”

Steve stood up and grabbed everything. Just as he headed toward the door he could hear Elijah calling you softly. With a look over his shoulder he could see him gently caressing your face.

****

You stirred from your very uncomfortable sleeping position and were greeted with a very happy Elijah.

“Eli.” You smiled as you sat up and stretched. Immediately you felt the ache in your body from having fallen asleep the way you did. It didn’t matter though, your sweet boy was awake and that’s all you could ask for. “How long have you been awake?”

“A while.”

“Then let me get a nurse.”

“One already came by. I asked her not to wake you up. She didn’t say much, just that everything looked fine.”

“Ok, well I’ll ask when someone comes back. Did they say you can have breakfast?”

“Yeah, it will get delivered at the regular time.” Eli nods.

“Ok good.”

You smile again at him and stand to kiss his forehead. As you pull back you hear footsteps and assume it’s a nurse.

“Good you’re up.” Steve says as he stroll in. “Got you breakfast.”

You just looked at him for a moment. Surprised by the kind gesture you give him a quick thank you before taking what was in his hand.

“Elijah, this is my boss.”

“Steve, I know.”

“It’s Mr. Rogers to you.” You corrected.

“I told him he could call me Steve.”

“When did this conversation happen?”

“While you were drooling on your arm.” Steve teases. You send a playful glare, the exchange making Elijah giggle.

“How is he?”

“The surgery was a success.”

“Oh good.” You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What surgery?”

You looked over at Elijah wondering if you should tell him or not. “Peter got hurt. He had to have surgery but he’s ok now.”

“Oh, can we visit him?”

“I’ll see what we can do.”

There was a little knock on the doorframe and you all turned to see Bucky and Sam. They both had their arms full of bags and smiles on their faces.

“Good morning.” Bucky said as he walked in and proceeded to dump all of his bags on the window seat. “Hey kid.”

Elijah just looked at you waiting for an explanation.

“Eli, this is Bucky. My friend.”

“But-“

“If you finish that sentence you’re gonna be grounded until you’re 30.”

“You never told me you had friends. Why haven’t I met him before?”

“Because we’re new friends, kid. I also work with Steve and we’re best friends.”

“And him?” Eli motions to Sam who was also placing bags on the seat.

“I’m Sam. I’m also friends with your mom and with Steve.”

“What about Bucky?”

Sam and Bucky look at you to see if you were ok with Elijah knowing.

“Sam and Bucky are partners, baby.”

“Like cops or like boyfriends?” Eli asks.

“Like boyfriends.”

“Ma?”

The tone of his voice let you know he was about to destroy you with whatever he was going to say next. You frowned by m but answered anyway.

“Yeah?”

“If guys can have boyfriends now, you’re never gonna get one.”

Sam, Steve and Bucky started laughing and Elijah seemed very happy about it. Even if it was at your expense.

“Do you want your mom to have a boyfriend?” Bucky asks as he looks at Steve with a smirk.

“Maybe, but he’d have to go through me first. And I’m not gonna make it easy for him.”

“And now you have us and we’ll help you.” Sam adds.

“Ok, I think that’s enough about me. What did you guys bring?”

“Gifts.” Bucky announces with a smile. He moves over to the pile of bags and starts to walk some over to the bed. “These are ‘get well soon’ gifts. From your new uncles, kid.”

Elijah’s eyes were wide as he looked through the bags to find legos, remote controlled cars, a drone, another video game console, more video games and gift cards. He was so excited the nurse had to come in and check on him because his heart monitor was showing an increase in his heart beat.

“Can I keep it?” The question had been directed at you.

All eyes were on you. It wasn’t that you necessarily wanted to take these things away, you just wanted Eli to learn that not everyone would be as giving. To not expect everyone to just give him stuff, that sometimes he would have to work for what he wanted. Before you could say anything Steve caught your eye. He nodded with a small smile, silently telling you to let Eli keep everything.

“Of course you can, baby. You heard uncle Bucky. They’re ‘get well soon’ gifts. Now what do we say?”

“Thank you.” Eli beams.

“You’re welcome.”

Bucky and Sam move to sit beside him and the three of them start playing with some of the toys that are already on the bed.

“We’ve lost them.” Steve says jokingly as you walk to stand beside him.

“They’re gonna teach Eli everything I don’t want him to know aren’t they?”

“Yup.”

“I'm going to completely blame this on you.” You quip.

“I’ll take full responsibility. But while we’re here, I had them bring you some things too, so that you can freshen up if you want.”

Steve had started motioning for the other bags on the seat across the room when the monitors attached to Elijah started beeping erratically. He slumped backwards and he was unconscious on the bed.

“Get the toys off the bed.” You tell Sam and Bucky. The four of you move quickly and remove the last toy just as the nurses and a doctor walk in.

“Get them out of here.” A doctor instructs, referring to you and the guys.

Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you out of the room while you fight to stay beside Elijah.

“They need their space to work.” He mutters in your ear.

You stop trying to get out of his hold, it’s the only thing that’s keeping you up at the moment. Steve turns you away from the hospital room and into himself. Your silent tears make their way onto his dress shirt but neither you nor him seem to care.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” A doctor calls out as someone wheels out Elijah. “We are taking him to have some scans done but at the moment we think he may have suffered a seizure.”

“A seizure? But why is it happening?”

“It's only a possibility that it’s a seizure. We’ll do our best to find out what’s going on. We’ll bring Elijah back in about an hour or so.” He says before he walks away.

You just stood there, trying to process what you’ve just been told. This was just another symptom in a long list of things that had been happening to your son.

The men looked at each other unsure of what they should do. It was heartbreaking on so many levels. First, seeing a child so sick and with no answers was enough to soften the heart of most. Second, you yourself were fairly young and having to go through something like this wasn’t easy. Add to it that you were working for a very dangerous man and it added to your stress. Third, you were all alone from what they had learned. Well not anymore, I’m that moment Steve had decided that he was going to be there for you no matter what. He didn’t know that Sam and Bucky had spoken about the matter as well and they were willing to provide you support in whatever capacity you needed it. Whether it be emotional, physical or financial. Right now it was emotional and Bucky was the first to move and bring you into a hug and let you cry into his chest.

3 days.

That’s how long you had been in the hospital. 3 days and still no closer to any answers. Elijah was stable enough to be discharged and around noon Sam was waiting in front of the hospital in an SUV to take you home. He had already packed up everything for you the night before and taken it down to the house, all you had to do was walk down with Elijah and the nurse that was pushing the wheelchair he was in.

“There he is.” Sam smiled as you walked out the main glass doors. “Ready to leave this place little man?”

“Yeah, I just want to go home.”

Sam looks at you confused. The plan was to stop at your place to grab some things and then stay at Steve’s place for a while.

“Baby, we’re only only going to stop by the apartment so that I can get a few things. We’re staying at Steve’s place for a few days so that I can work.” You remind him.

“Oh ok.”

Sam gives you a sympathetic smile and helps get Elijah in the car before opening the door for you to get in. The drive is quick and before you know it you’re in your apartment grabbing a duffel bag and placing some clothes in there for yourself and Eli.

“Y/N?” You hear from the front door.

“In Eli’s room.”

“There you are child. Who is that man that has Elijah? He didn’t let me get close enough to say hello.”

“That’s Sam, he’s a friend from work.”

“My dear, where are you going? Did something happen to Eli?” She watches as you move around the room.

“Nothing new. My boss said I could stay at the house for a few days and keep Eli with me so I’m just packing a few things.”

“What, couldn't he give you the time off?”

“Yes, he was more than willing to give me the days off but I didn’t want to. So we compromised. I’ll see you in a few days ok. Could you lock the door on your way out? And call me if you need anything.” You say over your shoulder as you walk out and head back to the SUV.

****

Eli fell asleep on the ride to Steve’s place. So when you got there you grabbed him while Sam and Bucky grabbed your things. At the sound of Dom’s voice Steve steps out of his office and heads to the living room to find you with Elijah in your arms. God, you looked exhausted.

“Let me take him.” Steve says in a quiet voice as he grabs Elijah from you.

He nods his head in the direction of the stairs and you follow him up. You had agreed to stay on the second floor but he just walked past the hallways and up another flight of stairs, his floor.

“Steve. I thought we agreed that we would stay on the second floor.” You whisper.

“I changed my mind. I want you close in case you need me.”

He gets to the top of the stairs and heads to the left hallway. It’s still on his floor but there’s some distance. Steve nods towards one of the doors and you open it so that he can walk in. The room is huge as most of the other rooms are. This one has been prepared especially for you though. Elijah’s new gaming systems have been hooked up to the tv. There’s a basket with some self care products in it for you. Some new pajamas for both of you and the other things that Sam and Bucky had bought and taken to the hospital. Everything was neatly arranged and all you had to do was rest. This was a dream and it was why you were against it.

Going back to your small one bedroom apartment is going to be difficult. Especially for Eli since you know everyone will want to come by and spend some time with him. Bucky had even started a schedule so that everyone had time to hang out and not overwhelm him. The only type of support you’ve had since he was born was Mrs. Fields and you weren’t sure if it was that you were tired or your honest gratitude or a mixture of both but you wanted to cry. Actually you did cry, silent tears as you watched Steve lay Eli down and tuck him in. You had never seen him be so gentle and you asked yourself why couldn’t he be Eli’s dad. He would be a great father, you just know it.

“C’mere.” Steve startled you out of your daydream as he hugged you. You leaned into it, desperate for any kind of comforting touch. “It’s ok, just let it all out.” He rested his hand on your back and moved it up and down soothingly.

“I’m such a mess, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Why don’t you take a bath and then a nap. It might help you relax. I’ll have Dom send dinner for you both.”

“Oh it’s ok, I can go down and get it.” You say quickly but Steve just shuts the idea down.

“Nonsense. He already volunteered to do it.”

“Ok.”

Steve smiles and turns you toward the bathroom. “Go relax, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, for everything.” You say over your shoulder.

“It’s the least I can do.”

****

Later that night, before Steve goes into his room he can’t help but check in on you. He knocks softly but with no answer he decides to just open the door. The sight causes his chest to tighten. With the light of the hallway he can just make out your form on the bed fast asleep. Elijah clings to you like a koala with his head on your chest and your arms wrapped around him tight. As if he would disappear if you let him go.

Steve has decided then and there that he will do everything in his power to give you the answers that you so desperately need. The best medical team and treatment to make Elijah better and if you let him he’d give you so much more. But he knows you’re stubborn. He also knows that the way to get you to agree to anything is to include Elijah in it. Steve would be lying if he said that little boy hasn’t already stolen a piece of what he thought was his cold dead heart. But like mother like son and you’d both weaseled your way in there even when he promised himself he wouldn’t let something like that happen again.

Ch 5

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rosepetalsinwinter · 4 months

Text

Five Years That Felt Like a Millennium (2) — Bucky Barnes

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x reader

Word count: 7,579

Summary: Baby Girl isn't doing too well after seeing Quentin.

Warnings: illusions and mention of violence, abuse, manipulation, and cheating, self-deprecation, fluff, flirting, angst

Note: I apologize for my absence. The response to the first part has been unbelievable! Thank you all so much. I hope I can do it justice.

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist │Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3

Happy Reading! 💜

Bucky didn't know a person could cry so much. Surely, the body must have surpassed a threshold ages ago for maximum fluid expulsion, but it seemed unlikely. Tears ran unbidden down Baby Girl's face, soaking into her white camisole, still wet from the lake. At least her body no longer wracked with sobs, which was a small accomplishment, he supposed.

He filled a glass with cold water. "Here, drink this."

Baby Girl's movements were almost mechanical as she took measured sips, slowly draining the glass. She stared at her reflection in the crystal, then abruptly stood, making Bucky hastily step back. Barefoot and half-dressed, she made for the front door.

Bucky blocked her path. "Where are you going?"

She went around him and reached for the handle, but Bucky intercepted her just in time, pulling her by the wrist. Her eyes were unfocused and wild, darting this way and that. "Hey!" She froze. "Hey," he said again, softer and with considerably less force. "What's going on in that smart brain of yours, huh? What are you thinking?"

"I need to find Quentin," she gulped. "I need to apologize to him. I need to make things right before he—"

She choked on her words, but Bucky knew her enough by now to predict what she would say next. "Before he what? Before he hurts Sam?"

Her face crumpled. "Maybe if I get down on my knees and beg, he'll forgive me, and things can go back to the way they used to be."

Bucky felt his previous anger return. Quentin Beck was a goddamn asshole because, in the span of a few minutes, he had managed to turn a bright and bubbly soul into an inconsolable mess.

"Is that really what you want?" he asked. "You want things to go back to the way they used to be?" Bucky already knew Baby Girl's answer, but he felt it was imperative for her to acknowledge out loud.

"No," she croaked. "Not really, but I don't have a choice. Quentin will hurt Sam and his family."

Bucky wiped the fresh tears from her face, letting his hands linger on her cheeks. "And what about you? He's hurting you. Are you not Sam's family?"

Baby girl began crying anew. Bucky carried her to the couch and held her close, letting her tears run down his bare skin. They sat like that until her breathing eventually evened, and her eyes drooped close. Bucky didn't dare move. Baby Girl was cradled in his arms and against his neck, legs stretched on the couch.

His eyes began to close, sleep slowly taking over, and he was going to let it. They both needed rest after the day's events, but sleep wasn't in his fortune. Bucky's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he startled awake, awkwardly maneuvering around to retrieve it without disturbing Baby Girl.

It was Sam. Bucky glanced down at the sleeping form in his arms. Dried tears painted her face, her eyes were puffy, and her nose red. Bucky's heart lurched in his chest, and he made a hasty decision—promise be damned, Bucky would fix this for her.

He answered the call. "Hey, Sam." And told him everything .

"Sam?" Bucky asked, after Sam had been quiet too long.

Sam sounded wretched with grief. "I knew something was wrong. I just never imagined..."

Bucky sighed, already anticipating the blame game. A family trait, he considered. "It's not your fault. Quentin Beck is to blame, and he will pay for his actions, I promise you." Though Bucky couldn't see him, he imagined Sam nodding his frustration. "Do you think you could get in contact with Congressman Lockhart?"

"Congressman Lock—why?"

"He owes me a favour," said Bucky, not mentioning that he had saved Lockhart's life. "How much are you willing to bet that Lockhart has met Quentin Beck before, and that Beck has probably left a less-than-savoury impression on the Congressman?"

"I don't understand."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Sam."

Sam was impressed. "I'll ask Torres to get us in contact."

Bucky smirked, feeling a satisfaction spread over him at the thought of Quentin Beck rotting in a jail cell. "You do that. When do you think you'll be back?"

Baby Girl shifted in his arms, and Bucky softened his voice. "Day after tomorrow? Alright, keep me updated." He ended the call.

"Who was that?" came a groggy voice. Baby Girl's eyes were closed, and she was in the process of waking up.

"Sam," Bucky answered, adjusting her in his arms. "His business is taking longer than usual. He and Sarah will be back in a few days.

Baby Girl pushed away from Bucky, sat up next to him, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes trailed to his chest and widened in mortification. "Shit, I'm so sorry. I drooled all over you."

When she reached over to wipe him clean, he grabbed her wrist. "Why do you make it a habit to apologize for things out of your control?"

She suddenly jerked away from him, putting ample space between them. "I can hardly help how I feel. If I feel sorry, I apologize."

"Well, don't." Bucky stretched his legs, groaning at the relief. "I'm a grown man," he teased, wiping his chest with the back of his hand. "I can handle a little drool."

Baby girl looked down at her palms, forlorn and despondent. "I'm a mess," she muttered.

"Yes, you are," Bucky responded quietly. She jerked her head in surprise, expecting him to dispute her. But she didn't need his false reassurances any longer. Bucky wanted the full weight of her circumstances bearing down on her so she might escape from the haze of melancholy and finally fight back.

Bucky looked out the window at the setting sun. It cast a beautiful golden glow over the two of them. "You should change into something comfortable," he told her. "There's a lot to talk about."

"Quentin was in one of my electives at school." Baby Girl was freshly showered and changed, wearing Bucky's sweats because she was out of clean clothes. They were enormous on her frame, which suited her well.

Bucky had also changed and was sitting across from her on the kitchen table, a warm cup of tea in his hands. It was something floral with a bitter note. He took his plain while she drowned hers in honey.

"Abnormal Psychology," she continued, "which is ironic because I diagnosed him with narcissism a few years into our relationship. I never told him, obviously. It wouldn't have ended well."

The conversation—long overdue—produced a painful pit in Bucky's stomach. He recognized it as suppressed rage, slowly building in potency and power. Bucky took a large sip of his tea, letting it burn his tongue so he might focus on anything other than the need to punch Beck's face.

"I tripped over his bag. He helped me up; apologized, and asked me to dinner."

Bucky couldn't help how bitter he sounded. "And you said yes."

She looked at him with dead eyes. "I wish I had. Then my life wouldn't have turned into a Shakespearean tragedy."

"That seems a bit bleak," Bucky snorted.

"But isn't it?" she implored. "Bleak? He was my first serious boyfriend; I moved in with him after two weeks and quit my job after a month. He didn't say 'I love you' until I threatened to leave him when I found out he was cheating. I pretended to look the other way when I found another girl's bra in our bed. I laughed when I saw lipstick stains on his collar. I gave him my virginity on my birthday, the day after I found out he cheated on me again. If that isn't bleak, if that isn't a tragedy, then what is? Perhaps it's the fact that I made excuses for him the first time he hit me. I told myself he was aiming for the wall, and I got in the way of his fist, but let's be honest, I was deluding myself."

Baby girl took a deep breath and dug her nails into the table. Her previous sorrow was replaced with unbridled anger. "I recognized all the signs. I knew he was using me—manipulating me! He even said so himself. We were at a party, and his friend said I was 'quite something.' Whatever the hell that's supposed to mean! Quentin said, 'She is, isn't she? But I gotta tell you, I'm not with her for that brain of hers.' I was standing right next to him! He and his friends undressed me with their eyes, and I just stood there and smiled!"

Bucky felt his rage simmering—at Beck, at the situation, at her . "Why are you blaming yourself? It's not your fault!"

Baby Girl pushed away from the table and paced around. "Don't!" she shouted. "Nothing you say will make this okay, Bucky. Nothing you say will make what I did okay!"

Bucky stood up as well, breathing heavily. He had known her less than a week but already felt burning concern on her behalf. "And what did you do?"

"Nothing!" she screamed, and her shrill voice echoed throughout the empty house. "I did nothing! Quentin threatened Sam, then once Sam blipped, he threatened Sarah and the boys, and I knew it wasn't a bluff because he had the connections to back him up. I knew, because I'm the one who helped him get those connections in the first place!"

Bucky sucked in a quick breath. "What connections?" Baby Girl had calmed somewhat after her brief yet brutal rant, and she sat down at the table, sipping her tea.

"What connections!" Bucky almost shouted.

Baby Girl startled. "I don't know! Businessmen, stockbrokers, a lot of Wall Street types. They paid attention to him when he had a pretty girl on his arm."

"Was that all?" Bucky probed.

Baby Girl shook her head. "There were a lot of government officials, too. I told you, remember? FBI, CIA, Homeland Security, Senators, UN spokespersons, congressmen, federal court judges—"

"Repeat that."

"Federal court—"

"No!" Bucky interrupted again. "What you said before."

"Congressmen?" Baby Girl huffed in annoyance. "I don't understand why that stood out to you the most. Are federal court judges not impressive enough for you, Bucky?"

Bucky ignored her snark and sat across from her. "Do you happen to know a Congressman Lockhart?"

Baby Girl paused before taking a sip from her cup. "Surprisingly, yes. Mr. Lockhart left a lasting impression when he didn't try looking down my dress every few minutes or shoving his hand up my leg."

"That's disgusting," he frowned.

"That's life," Baby Girl retorted. "Trust me, I had it better than most women."

Bucky shook his head, hating how she downplayed her struggles. "That's not okay."

Baby Girl scoffed without heat. "Like things were so much better in the forties. Right, Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky ignored any feelings the utterance of his title from her lips brought forth. "I didn't stand for that then, and I don't stand for it now."

Thankfully, she seemed to have mercy on him and let the topic slide. "He didn't seem to like Quentin much; Lockhart. He asked me a lot of questions, and I think he got suspicious when I couldn't answer anything."

"Like what?"

"Like what I do for work, my interests, how I met Quentin. I couldn't tell him anything without revealing how abusive Quentin was. He especially didn't like it when he found out I was Sam Wilson's adopted kid sister."

Bucky was intrigued. "What did he say?"

"Nothing. He ignored Quentin for the rest of the event, but right before it ended, he pulled me aside and..." she trailed off.

"What?" Bucky encouraged her.

Baby Girl looked at him with shame and guilt swimming in her irises. "Congressman Lockhart told me I was making a mistake. He told me Quentin was using me because of my relation to Sam Wilson. He told me men like Quentin were rotten to the core, and I should run the other way and never look back." She gulped. "I should've listened to him."

Bucky shook his head. "You made a decision. You couldn't have known."

She didn't hear him, seemingly playing the scene in her mind. "Then the strangest thing happened. Congressman Lockhart called a few days later to meet about the project Quentin had proposed. Quentin was ecstatic, as you can imagine. He was overly sweet with me that day." Her brows puckered in confusion. "But I never understood... Why warn me away from Quentin only to cozy up to him later?"

Bucky leaned back in his chair, thinking everything over, connecting the dots. "Congressman Lockhart is a good man," he said. "A good and clever man."

Baby Girl narrowed her eyes. "How do you know him anyway? What does he have to do with anything?"

Bucky hesitated. He didn't want to get her hopes up if his plan didn't work, but he also couldn't watch her beat herself up any longer. This girl, this beautiful and feisty girl, had Bucky wrapped around her fingers since she wrapped her arms around his waist that day on his bike. This girl, who laughed and cried and smiled and was never afraid to voice her opinion. This girl, who looked at Bucky with admiration in her eyes, who looked at his metal arm with gentle curiosity and without any of the disgust or malice he was used to. Who kept her questions light and discrete so as not to unsettle him. This girl, this beautiful and feisty girl, who made Bucky smile.

He would do anything for her. Even if it meant keeping his scheme a secret.

Bucky hesitated, not wanting to lie to her, but finding he had little choice. "I have a plan," he said. "To get rid of Quentin Beck for good."

And Bucky was presented, for the first time since their swim in the lake, a genuine and awe-filled smile, directed entirely at him.

"Lemonade?"

Bucky swam toward the deck, hoisting himself from the lake. Baby Girl was sitting on the edge, letting her bare feet skim the cool water. "You take such good care of me," Bucky teased. He gave a playful shake of his head, sending droplets of water her way.

Baby Girl shrieked and raised her hands to cover her face. "You ass!"

With a chuckle, Bucky leaned back on his elbow, reaching for the drink.

"And to think I brought you sustenance!" Baby Girl pushed a plate of fruit toward him.

Bucky picked up a fruit with a deep purple flesh and examined it with suspicion. "Is this alien food? It looks like something you might find in Asgard."

Baby Girl stared in awe. "You've been to Asgard?"

Bucky was still looking at the teardrop-shaped product. "Not yet," he declared confidently and bit into the flesh. Bucky paused a moment, staring at Baby Girl before taking a larger bite. "What the fuck? Why is it so good?"

Baby Girl laughed. "What, you've never had a fig before?" She grabbed one for herself and showed him a better way to eat it. "You pinch it at the top. Split it open. Fold it over, and voila!" She popped it in her mouth, groaning as flavour burst across her tongue.

"I thought it was some weird kind of plum!" Bucky exclaimed, grabbing another.

"Nope, just a fig."

"Just a fig, she says," Bucky teased. "And what's this?" He threw a shiny orange fruit in the air, catching it just before it smacked Baby Girl in the face.

She took it from him with an unconvincing frown. " This —is a persimmon. You know it's ripe when it's ready to burst. I like to pinch the skin like this—" she demonstrated by making an incision with her teeth, "and suck the flesh." Baby Girl moaned in delight. "I missed this."

Bucky intensely observed her, paying close attention to a drop of persimmon juice on her lip.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

Bucky reached over to wipe the juice with his thumb. "You're a mess," he said hoarsely. Then, he brought his thumb to his mouth and licked it off as she watched him. "It's sweet."

She stared at him, soft lips parted and breaths uneven. "Did you think it would be sour?"

Bucky shrugged and picked up one for himself, following Baby Girl's instructions and getting a proper taste. When he was halfway through his fruit and Baby Girl was still gawking at him, Bucky realized he had taken the flirting a bit too far.

Satisfaction crackled in his muscles, and he twitched out a smirk. It was only a small accomplishment that he had retained some of his frivolous ways, but he was still proud. "What else do you have for me?" he inquired loudly, effectively diverting her.

Baby Girl quickly composed herself, dropping the rest of her persimmon onto the fruit plate. "Watermelon and grapes."

"Does the watermelon change colours, and do the grapes taste like cotton candy?"

"Change colours—No!" Baby Girl gawped. "You have a strong imagination." She suddenly turned thoughtful. "I was thinking of grabbing the cotton candy grapes, though. But they're too sweet for me."

It was Bucky's turn to gawp. "I was being sarcastic. Do cotton candy grapes really exist?"

Baby Girl smiled. "They've been around a while. I'll get you some next time."

Bucky reclined on his elbow, resting his head in his hand. "Next time. I like the sound of that." He caught her eye and asked her the burning question. "So, you've decided to stay?"

Baby Girl pushed the empty glasses and fruit tray away, lying back on the deck. From this angle, with Bucky hovering over her, the sun didn't burn her eyes. She smiled a sad smile. "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"You always have a choice," Bucky replied fervently. "We would never keep you against your will."

Baby Girl shook her head. "That's not what I meant. Quentin will always find me. He's possessive of his things."

"You're not a thing . And he doesn't deserve you."

"Maybe I deserve him."

Bucky looked into her bright eyes, thinly veiled with tears. He understood the feeling of helplessness—the intense guilt that followed. Even now, after being pardoned and making amends, Bucky couldn't stop guilt from seizing him in the dark hours of the night, when he was most vulnerable and exposed.

He often looked around and wondered if he deserved the life he had been given, this second chance that none of his victims had the fortune of. On more of a surface level, Bucky understood he was as much a victim as any other. A prisoner in his own body. He, and he alone, knew the struggle he had put up for almost twenty years before finally succumbing.

Bucky looked into her bright eyes, thinly veiled with tears, and saw himself reflected in them. He saw himself as a younger man—a better man—waging a war against invisible demons, and he understood. Trauma left its presence in various ways, and the evidence of it was scattered all across her vulnerable physique.

Bucky reached for a strand of her hair. "Sometimes, the hardest prison to escape from is the one we build in our own minds."

Baby Girl turned her head to look up at the sky. "That sounds like something you'd hear at the therapist's."

"And I'm giving it out for free," Bucky smiled.

They both said nothing for a short while, enjoying the sun, and soaking each other's company.

"He used to tell me I was beautiful every day." Her brows creased. "Well, not exactly. He never called me beautiful. He called me hot, and sexy, and fire—" she suddenly scoffed. "I hated that. 'You look fire.' One day, even that stopped. I remember thinking he didn't love me anymore because that's what attracted him in the first place."

Bucky played with her hair, letting her say what she needed to.

"Objectively, I know I'm attractive. I was told often enough by his friends. But I haven't felt pretty in a long time. And it disgusts me that I needed his validation to feel good about myself." Baby Girl took a deep breath, shaking slightly from the overload of emotions. "Sorry."

Making sure she was looking at him, Bucky leaned his head down and kissed the corner of her mouth. Her skin was soft and warm, and he lingered a moment longer than necessary. "You're beautiful," he murmured, savouring her sweet scent. "Absolutely gorgeous."

Baby Girl stiffened under him, eyes widened with surprise, soft lips parted in exhale. She blinked furiously, grabbing her necklace in a white-knuckled grip—a dainty gold crescent moon with black detailing. "I feel very hot," she croaked.

Indeed, Bucky could hear her heart furiously pumping blood through her veins due to his risky kiss. He bent down and placed another, dangerously closer to her lips than the previous. "Let's cool you down then," he smirked, grabbing her around the waist and launching both of them into the lake.

He lost his hold on her as they submerged in the cool water. Bucky kicked off the bottom and broke the surface, looking around for her. Baby Girl emerged a moment later, mascara lines running down her cheeks and brows creased in a furious frown.

She wiped her face and scoffed, "You absolute ass!" When Bucky laughed at her, she splashed him with a large swell of water, which went into his mouth. He choked and sputtered between laughter, welcoming her gentle abuse with a large smile.

"You said you were hot," he rationalized. "I only wanted to cool you down."

Baby Girl intensified her attack, wading closer until she was on top of him, attempting to submerge his head. "You idiot!" she yelled. "My clothes are all wet!"

"Pity," Bucky sputtered, trying to grab hold of her, but she was relentless in her assault, flailing her limbs in reckless abandon.

"Die!" she shrieked, managing to clamber on top of him. She wrapped her legs around his neck and pushed him under, painfully pulling at his roots in the process.

All this time, Bucky could've easily subdued her. But where was the fun in that? When her legs tightened a smidge too much, and Bucky could no longer breathe, he finally put an end to their little game. He clasped his hand around her ankle and gave a gentle pull. Baby Girl fell from his shoulders with a dramatic scream, and realizing she had far surpassed his patience, began to swim away.

Bucky grabbed her ankle once more, keeping her in place. "You brat," he hissed. "I'll teach you a lesson."

Her panicked laughter brought a large smile to his face. Seeing her happy because of him; after the horrible week she'd had, filled Bucky with indescribable pride.

"No!" she giggled. "No more. I'm tired." In fact, she had stopped swimming and was struggling to stay afloat.

Bucky lifted her into his arms, ignoring her feeble protests. "That's enough games for today," he announced, carrying her dripping body inside.

After drying themselves and changing, they settled in the kitchen for dinner. Baby Girl sat on the island with her head resting on her arms, watching Bucky cook.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked when he expertly chopped onions without looking.

Bucky shrugged. "My Ma taught me the basics when I was little. She said cooking was a survival skill."

The girl smiled. "Smart woman."

"That she was," he sighed. "I learned some more in the army. Then, after I was pardoned, I found all this time on my hands and all these cuisines I wanted to try. YouTube is very handy for that."

"That it is." She walked to his side, watching him saute shrimp for the pasta. "You sure you don't want me to help?"

"Yeah, you sit your pretty ass down and relax."

"Yes, Chef!" Baby Girl saluted, not bothering to sit. She exclaimed in delight when Bucky flipped the pan one-handed.

"Wanna see something cool?" he smirked, grabbing a bottle of Cognac from the pantry. "Step back."

Baby Girl shuffled back, and Bucky poured some Cognac into the saucepan. He was so focused on the task that he didn't notice Baby Girl inch closer. Bucky tilted the pan, letting it catch fire, and a beautiful flame blazed powerfully in front of him. He turned, wanting to see her reaction.

She stepped away with a shout, arms raised to protect her face. The flame fizzled away as quickly as it had ignited, but she was still shaking in fear. She fell against the island counter, sliding to her knees.

Bucky turned off the stove and sank next to her, grabbing her arms. "What's wrong?" he worried. "Are you hurt?"

Eyes shut tight, she shook her head, but she was still trembling. "I'm okay."

Bucky didn't believe her. He lifted her up and set her on the counter, sliding between her spread legs. "Hey," he soothed. "What happened just now?"

She shook her head, eyes still closed. "I don't know, I—" Baby Girl exhaled shakily, trying to calm down. "I wasn't expecting—I thought. I'm scared of fire," she eventually admitted.

Bucky frowned. He vividly remembered the night of the bonfire, where she chased AJ and Cass around the large fire. There was no hint of fear on her face that night, no discomfort or hesitancy. He told her as such.

"I don't know. I think it's because the bonfire was out in the open. It was controlled and didn't feel as dangerous. But indoor fires..." She left the next part unsaid, but Bucky understood.

His flambé trick took her by surprise at such close proximity. For a moment, she was transported to her childhood home to relive that fateful night. Bucky hugged her tight, soothing her with kind words of affirmation. "You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you."

She clutched tightly onto him, burying her face in his neck, breathing heavily into his ears. "Sometimes I think I was supposed to die that night," she whimpered, making Bucky freeze. "I was supposed to die in that house with my family. But I didn't. I'm scared the past will catch up with me one day to finish what it started."

Bucky held on to her tighter.

"I'm scared I'll find myself in that house again, and no one will be there to push me out the window."

"That won't happen," he promised. "I won't let it."

She briefly said nothing, and Bucky worried he hadn't done enough to reassure her.

"Have you seen the house?" she suddenly asked.

"No," replied Bucky, running his hands through her hair. "But Sam told me it was nearby."

Baby Girl hummed. "It's on the far side of the lake, covered by trees. We shared the lake with the Wilsons. Did you know the house is still there? What's left of it anyway. They fixed the damaged parts and put it up for sale. I found out two years ago."

Bucky pulled away from her, meeting her gaze. "It's been up that long?"

"Longer," she replied. "It went up for sale six years ago, but no one will buy it. Who wants to live in a house where an entire family died?"

Bucky wanted to correct her. "You're not dead," he wanted to shout. "You're not at fault. You deserve so much."

"If I had the money..." she shook her head and dismissed the thought.

Would she buy the house if she could? he wondered. The home where she grew up and created happy memories with her siblings.

Bucky thought about his house in Brooklyn Heights, which had been turned into a poor excuse of a strip mall. The house where he had sleepovers with Steve. Where Rebecca hosted her friends, and Bucky hid underneath her bed to try and scare them. Where he snuck in his prom date, Dorothy, through his bedroom window when his parents were out of town. The time he and Steve were playing baseball on the street, and Steve hit the ball straight through the front window.

Would he buy that house if he could? If it hadn't been bulldozed? He decided he would. He had the desire, and he sure as hell had the money.

"There's no point in dwelling on the past," he parroted. Occasionally, his new therapist offered advice that Bucky kept close to his heart. "You're alive to see another day. Make the most of it."

Baby Girl smiled softly. "You always know just what to say," she teased. "I will."

Bucky was consoled by her steady heartbeat and easy manner. "It's a god-given talent," he shrugged, instantly rewarded by soft giggles and an unenthusiastic shove at his chest.

Once the adrenaline from the scare dissipated, Bucky finally noticed their proximity. Her thighs were bracketing his, and his arms were caging her body. Their breaths mingled in the air between them.

"You're very modest," Baby Girl croaked, jerking away.

Bucky hastily turned to the stove, turning it on and resuming making dinner. "With good reason," he replied, clearing his throat.

He chastised himself while the shrimps finished cooking. Baby Girl had just gotten out of an abusive relationship. Now was not the time to be sweet on her—hovering so close he could smell her shampoo and the scent of her skin.

Wait. Was she out of an abusive relationship? Baby Girl had emphasized that she was only with Quentin because he threatened Sam, Sarah, and the boys. Except, that was no longer an issue as a plan was underway. Bucky knew it, Sam knew it, but did Quentin? Did Quentin assume that his dismissal from the Wilson Residence a few days prior was a fluke? If Quentin returned thinking he could whisk her away as if she owed him anything, he would be sorely mistaken. Bucky would make sure of it.

But where did that leave them? There was obvious attraction—though Bucky was unsure if it was appropriate to act on, considering the circumstances—and they were legal adults, but the path forward felt very unclear. While Baby Girl hadn't shown any unpleasant reactions to Bucky's past, she hadn't particularly reassured him either that it did not bother her. Was it fair to her to be caught up in his mess, along with her own?

So many questions, and yet the answers felt out of reach. Bucky turned around. Baby girl was sitting on the kitchen table, and she gave Bucky a smile that answered at least one question.

Did she trust him? Her smile said, "Yes. Yes, she did."

Another day passed like all the others. Had it really been over a week since she arrived in Louisiana? Sam and Sarah were still away on "business," and the boys were still at their sleepover—ridiculous really—she knew it was summer break, but there had to be a limit. She and Bucky were still alone together.

Bucky. His name made her burn with embarrassment. Lately, anything and everything related to him made her temperature rise a few degrees. His smile, his presence, his proximity . His hands holding her tight to his chest. Embarrassment always closely followed such thoughts, though for reasons that deeply ashamed her because never, in the entirety of her relationship with Quentin, did she feel like this. Beautiful, and desired, and wanted, and free . Happy.

She had invested around six to seven years in her on-again, off-again relationship with Quentin Beck and never managed to blush as furiously as she did in the presence of Bucky Barnes. The White Wolf. War hero. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

While most girls gushed over Captain America in high school, Baby Girl cut out pictures of his best friend from her textbook and plastered them inside her locker. It was a stupid girl crush, one she quickly outgrew as she matured into a young woman. However, the fascination remained. During the past week, this fascination had transformed from a small, barely there spark to a blazing fire. The gruesome analogy was not lost on her, yet it was the only way to vividly describe her deepening feelings.

Bucky Barnes had lit her heart on fire. And that terrified her. Not because she was afraid of men after her relationship with Quentin, and not because of Bucky's unfortunate past, but because of her unfortunate reality. What did she have to offer a man like Bucky Barnes? She had nothing. No job, no prospects, no backbone with which to confidently regard the world. She had spent six years with an abusive man, and she could have left at any moment—could have gathered the courage to trust her brother Sam to take care of all of them. She hadn't taken the opportunity when presented with it, and there was this man, who hadn't been given any semblance of reprieve, and he was stronger for it.

So, no. While there was obvious attraction between them both, she was not sure it was appropriate to act on. She could never deserve the likes of him.

The path ahead was unclear, but somehow she knew he would be there to guide her. And when he chucked her into the lake that evening, laughing loudly at her temper, she smiled back, hoping her face screamed, "I trust you. I do."

After an uneventful dinner, Bucky sheepishly announced he had to leave. "I forgot I promised Carlos I'd help with his car."

She raised an unimpressed brow, fixing him with a stern look. He had promised to take her shopping for a new phone, and while she wasn't looking forward to a ride on his death trap, she really wanted her games back. "I didn't know you were a mechanic along with being a war hero."

"I'm not a war hero," he responded mechanically.

The words burst from her lips. "If it weren't for you," she snapped, "Doctor Zola would've been on his merry way to design new techniques to destroy the human race. You stopped him. If that's not heroic, I don't know what is."

"I'm not a war hero," Bucky said again after getting over the initial shock at her outburst.

"But you're a mechanic?"

"I'm not that either," he huffed. "Mr. Thurow needs me to tow his car."

"Excuse me?"

"The company overcharges and always ends up damaging the vehicle. He asked me for a favour."

"Do we have a tow truck?" she asked.

Bucky raised his left hand. "I have a metal arm," he pointed out. "And super strength. I can easily tow a car."

Baby Girl was speechless. "How long will you be?"

Bucky checked his watch. "An hour? Less, if I manage to not get roped into game night."

"Game night? It's a weekday."

"Every night's a game night at the Thurow's," Bucky responded seriously. "We'll get your phone first thing tomorrow morning."

"Promise?" she asked his retreating figure.

"Promise," he replied. "Lock the door, alright? And keep the blinds down."

"Alright, Dad," she retorted, but he had already left.

Baby Girl took a deep breath. This was the first time she had been alone in weeks. She sat down on the couch and closed her eyes. A minute passed, then two, then three. Five minutes later, she opened her eyes and saw only thirty seconds had passed. She groaned from boredom and flopped over the armrest. She was loath to admit that she dearly missed Bucky. There was something in his air and manner of walking that brought peace to her inner turmoil.

She sighed, resorting to cleaning the kitchen, which was not dirty in the least. In the middle of her furiously scrubbing the countertop with a sponge, the landline chimed annoyingly from the other room. "Hello," she answered, twirling the cord with her pinky. "Who's this?"

"Baby Girl!" the jolly voice on the other line bellowed. "I was hoping you'd pick up."

"Sam!" The two talked, catching up on the past few days. It turned out Sam was in Washington. "How's Sarah?" she asked. "Is she enjoying her time away from the boys? They're lovely, but they can be a nuisance."

Sam grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

"What?"

"She's on a date," he groaned. "Look, I'm happy for her. But I didn't need to see her exchanging spit with a stranger."

"Poor you," she giggled. "And lucky Sarah! Wowza!"

Sam laughed on the other line. "It's great to hear you happy after so long."

"Hmm," Baby Girl hummed, feeling momentarily guilty. "By the way, I thought you and Sarah were going to New Orleans. What are you doing in Washington?"

"He didn't tell you," Sam said with surprise. "I thought he would."

"Tell me what?"

"I know about Quentin," Sam sighed. "I know you're still dating him."

Her breath got stuck in her throat. "He told you?" she asked in disbelief.

"Don't be mad at him," Sam pleaded. "I made him tell me."

There was shuffling on the other end. A loud sniffle.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry you felt like Quentin was the only one you could count on."

"What exactly did Bucky say?" Baby Girl questioned, thinking Sam was too calm about the situation.

"He said Quentin was blackmailing you to stay with him."

Baby Girl sighed. "Is that all? Did he say anything else?"

"Like what?"

"Like... nothing." She realized Bucky had not disclosed any of the more sensitive subject matter. Not the abuse, nor Quentin's impromptu visit. "It's nothing. I'm sorry I kept this from you."

Sam sighed heavily on the other line. "That's in the past. We can only move forward from here on out."

Baby Girl nodded even though Sam couldn't see her. "You have a good friend," she told him. "Bucky's doing a lot to help. He came up with the plan to distract Quentin with "bigger fish," as he put it. Quentin will forget all about me if he finds something more worthwhile. But I'm sure you know all about that."

"He said what? That's not what we planned!" Sam exclaimed. He swore under his breath. "I need to take this call. It's Congress—I'll tell you soon, alright? I'll call you right back."

"Sure," she said, slightly flustered. "I'll be waiting."

Sam ended the call, and she put the receiver down. The second she did, the landline immediately started ringing.

"What took you so long?" she joked with a laugh. "I've been waiting hours for your call."

"You have? I knew you missed me."

Baby Girl felt her heart drop to her stomach. The voice on the other line was not quite as deep, or quite as warm. It was low and raspy, eliciting goosebumps across her arms and bad memories across her skin.

She made to end the call, but his shrill warning stopped her. "You don't want to do that," Quentin hissed.

"What do you want?" she managed to ask between ragged breaths.

"Straight to the point, I see. You've really changed."

"Fuck you!" she seethed. "I asked you a question." She was surprised by her resolve, and so was he.

"What, you're swearing now? That's not the girl I know."

Her body was trembling with adrenaline. "Tell me what you want, or I'll end the call."

She could feel his anger through the line. "I want to talk to you in person."

"Over your dead body!" she yelled.

Quentin was oddly calm with his response. "No, not over mine."

It was so obviously a bait—one she couldn't help but fall for. "What do you mean?"

"It's a shame," he sighed, "that I'm meeting them for the first time under such shit circumstances. They're cute kids. Would've loved New York."

Time seemed to stop.

"Have you boys ever seen the Statue of Liberty? I'll take you once your Aunt comes back home. We can all go together."

There was a muffled noise, then the slam of a door shutting close. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over Baby Girl. Her muscles tightened painfully, and she collapsed onto the couch.

"No," she whispered.

Quentin laughed on the other end. "Cat got your tongue?"

Baby Girl closed her eyes, feeling tears of frustration well in the corners. This is why she kept her distance. This is why she wanted to go back to Quentin and back to New York. But she let herself hope in Bucky's presence, let herself believe that she could have a family while keeping her freedom. "You monster," she hissed. "Don't you dare touch them." But there wasn't any heat behind her words, only the bitter taste of defeat.

He tasted it too, and oh, how he reveled in it! Quentin laughed again, low and menacing. "I told you I wouldn't let you leave so easily. Meet me in person if you want to see your dear nephews again. And don't you dare tell anyone," he hissed. "This is between you and me."

Baby Girl ignored his warning and reached into her back pocket to grab her phone and tell Bucky. But her hand came back empty. She didn't have a phone; she didn't even have Bucky's number. And did she really want to risk the boys' lives by going behind Quentin's back? He didn't want them anyway, he only wanted her.

With tears burning her eyes and a fire blazing in her chest, Baby Girl asked, "Where do you want to meet?"

On the other end, Quentin smiled, knowing he had won.

Bucky reached into his back pocket and grabbed his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, realizing too late that he didn't have her number. His face fell, and he sighed deep and slow, garnering the attention of the room. Carlos Thurow had invited some friends for a game of poker and forced Bucky to play a round with them. That was four rounds ago.

"What's got you so down, Sergeant?" Carlos teased. "There a girl waiting for you at home?" The men laughed and cheered, barraging Bucky with questions.

He found himself smiling, and finished his beer in one swig. "I do, actually," he said, grabbing his jacket and walking to the door. "I should get going."

The men cheered him on, and Bucky left feeling light and tingly. It wasn't from the alcohol—Bucky couldn't get drunk anymore—it was her. His Baby Girl.

The walk to Sam's was warm. The stars were out, the sky clear, and the wind blew gently, ruffling the trees around him. Bucky took a deep breath, smelling the ocean air and the earthy trees, listening to the faint sounds of crickets chirping and owls hooting. A night had never been sweeter.

Once at the house, Bucky lightened his footsteps and creeped onto the porch, feeling mischievous and wanting to spook Baby Girl. The living room light was on, and he could see the television playing silently through the thin curtain. Bucky placed a hand on the door, frowning when it creeped open at the slightest touch.

Didn't he tell her to lock the door? And to leave it completely open? Delacroix was a small community inhabited by kind and lawful people, but there was a crazy ex on the loose. He expected Baby Girl to be more careful than that.

Bucky decided he would give her a proper scare for her carelessness and slipped through the entryway. He sneaked into the living room, arms raised like in the movies, and—

She wasn't there. Bucky quickly scanned his surroundings. TV playing, couch pushed askew, the landline dangling from its cord, the edge of the carpet flipped over as if someone had run over it. Bucky rushed to check the rest of the house, the bedrooms, the washroom—he even checked the lake. Nothing.

He went back to the living room, senses dialed to the maximum. There was no sign of a forced entry, and though a scuffle was apparent, there were no prints or marks that indicated there had been another person. Unless they covered their tracks. But then why leave the carpet overturned, the couch askew? Why make it obvious something had happened?

Perhaps Bucky was overthinking, and Baby Girl had run to the store to grab something. She had already proved herself to be impulsive and clumsy. It wouldn't be a huge stretch to believe she forgot to lock the door behind her in a hurry.

Except, she wouldn't have left without her wallet. Bucky bent down to grab her purse from under the coffee table, feeling dread engulf him at the sight. Palms sticky and breaths uneven, he looked around the room once more. This time, he noticed something he hadn't before, a hastily scribbled note peeking out from under the landline.

Bucky snatched the note, careful not to crease it.

"I'm sorry," it began. "I had no choice. He has the boys."

Bucky's mind began to race with questions. Most namely, "Where?"

It was then that his senses picked up on something new. The faint scent of smoke. Bucky dropped the note and ran out the back, scanning the horizon. There, on the opposite side of the lake, a thick column of smoke billowed from behind the treeline. The beginnings of a large fire. Baby Girl's house was set ablaze, glowing brightly in the dark. Bucky's heart dropped to his stomach, and he ran.

Note: So... I lied. There will need to be another part.

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist │Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3

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