Reblog If You’re 30 Or Older

“Life is funny. If you don’t laugh, you’re in trouble.” -Taylor Hawkins

This one hurts and it’s going to take awhile to get past.

love is a game by adele - for the song drabble!

Moving On

Word Count: 530

Warnings: None, some angst.

Frank x Female Reader / Special Guest

The sun shines through the blinds, casting a warmth that this apartment hasn’t seen in months. You know it’s time to go, your tears no longer worth shedding over a man who won’t commit, let alone communicate. There’s a weight off your shoulders that feels oddly freeing. You thought that you would sadder than this, to leave this place that you once called a home with a man who you thought would want to see this through.

Life has a weird way of making you realize that what you thought you wanted at a point in your life is now a lesson, one that hurt, that challenged you, broke you and ultimately left you being reintroduced to part of yourself that you thought you had lost. She was always there, just hiding in the misery that Frank had managed to pile on during your relationship. What could be said for the boxes that line the hallways? The dishes that you bought, the coffee cups carefully wrapped – and you have so many because you thought you’d spend your mornings on the balcony, drinking coffee with the love of your life. You’ll use every single of them one day. You know this. For now, they are securely in a box, waiting to be whisked away to your new apartment.

It's like a checklist now, moving through the apartment as you mentally tick off everything you’ve packed or given away to charity. You’ve thrown away the pictures of you two together, unceremoniously placed in the trash as a symbolic gesture of how quickly things went wrong. You aren’t upset anymore and you don’t wish to be. There’s no numbness, no wishing that things could go back to the way they were.

You know now that you deserve better.

That alone keeps the momentum up to finish packing, the doorbell ringing to signal that the movers are here. Where Frank has gone, you have no idea. Somewhere up in Northern California most likely, hanging out with his friends who probably told him it was a good idea to get away from you because this last fight, the one where you looked him in the eye and told him you were unhappy, only seemed to make him disinterested in continuing the conversation.

As the movers come, you survey the place, looking at the note that is placed on the counter. It’s a quick goodbye, your portion of the rent already in his bank account in case he thinks you’re skipping out.

Before long, the truck is packed up and heading to your new place as you follow behind.

It doesn’t take long for you to get there, looking up at the brownstone building with a sense of hope and peace of mind before a man walks past. You almost do a double take at the sight of him. He looks so much like Frank that you aren’t sure if you’re seeing things, the man stopping at the sight of the moving truck.

“New here?” he asks with a kind smile.

“Yeah,” you answer.

“Always good to have new people around. I’m Bucky,” he introduces, holding out his hand as you shake it. “Hope to see you around.”

Chris Evans as Frank Adler in Gifted (2017)

undrunk

summary: your friends with benefits situation with bucky takes a turn that could break your heart

pairing: frat!bucky x reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explicit language, consumption of alcohol, implied smut, mention of previous cheating (not bucky), reader may have a slight drinking problem, bad rebounds, one (1) game of spin the bottle, bucky is kind of a dick but also reader is kind of crazy, slightly toxic but it works out in the end, like the tiniest bit of fluff (if you squint). loosely based on undrunk by fletcher

a/n: here she is, the long awaited frat!bucky. i hope this was worth the wait, and everyone enjoys the happy ending i tried to do. if you like this please make sure to reblog and comment - i appreciate every single one!!

main masterlist ─ i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary and turn on notifications for fic updates!

You were woken up by the click of your bedroom closing, and the soft sound of padded feet through your hallway and out the front door. You squeezed your eyes tight, willing the tears not to come as you rolled over and checked the time. 5am. At least he was consistent.

It was stupid - you were stupid - to let this happen again. Bucky had broken your heart enough times that you should know better by now. But you never learn.

You guessed you couldn’t really blame him. He had made it clear to you from the very first night that he wasn’t interested in a relationship. That it would only ever be sex. Of course, when you’re half drunk and desperate for him to just fuck you already, you agree to anything. No one could blame you for a one night mistake.

No, the real pain came from the months after. The 1am texts and the secret touches. Because with those came the silly pictures and the late night talks as he laid in your bed. With it came the desperate want for more. Even when you knew it wasn’t possible.

So you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling as the tears streamed down your face, knowing you had no one to blame but yourself.

-

Despite the ache in your chest, there was one thing you could never say no to: a party. Maybe you should learn to stay away from them, considering that’s how you ended up in Bucky’s bed in the first place, but you just couldn’t; there was nothing like the sweet release of drinking your pain away.

At the very least, you could stay away from Bucky’s frat house. Or that’s what you told yourself.

Somehow, though, you ended up in the basement of the Phi Gamma Delta house, even though you specifically told Wanda not to let you anywhere near Fiji tonight. Not after your conversation with Bucky a few days ago.

Not after he had accidentally stayed the night, and you thought it meant more. Not after you had asked him to go to breakfast and he practically sprinted for the door.

But you hadn’t seen him yet, so that was a plus. There was always a chance he had skipped out on the festivities for the night. Maybe he had gone home to Brooklyn for the weekend, or maybe he was upstairs in his room and you could just -

Your thoughts were cut off by the cheers of the group of people around you, and you turned to see Sam in the middle finishing off a handle of vodka. In your experience, that could only mean one thing.

“Let’s play spin the bottle!” Sam shouted as the last burn of the liquor coursed through him. Having no reason to say no, you made room for yourself in the circle and patiently waited your turn.

Sam gave a dramatic look around the room, before spinning the bottle with a twist of his wrist. Everyone watched as the glass slowed, anxious to see who the first person to kiss the frat president would be tonight. To your surprise, the bottle came to a slow stop on you.

You looked up with slightly panicked eyes. Even in your inebriated state, you could recognize that kissing one of Bucky’s brothers probably wasn’t the greatest idea. But then you remembered the look of absolute terror on his face at the mention of more. And Sam was moving across the circle to you, and Steve - Bucky’s best friend - wasn’t saying anything and so you came to the conclusion that you did with most things: fuck it.

When Sam’s warm lips met yours, you felt… nothing. No spark, nothing beyond acknowledging he was a good kisser. It lasted less than 10 seconds before you were pulling away and spinning the bottle yourself.

Which is how you ended up kissing half the people at the party: Peter - everyone’s favorite pledge, Natasha - your chemistry lab partner, and Scott - who you had never met before but was as funny as he was a good kisser, just to name a few.

The game continued until it dwindled down to a handful of people and you switched to another drinking game. One which you were losing terribly and it showed in your glassy eyes and drunken babble.

The last thing you remembered was the feel of strong hands on your hips, the soft plush of a mattress, and an ache between your thighs.

-

A beam of sunlight burned across your face, enunciating the raging headache you had after going to bed without Advil or an acceptable amount of water. You could have sworn you closed your blinds, but figured you must have opened them up at some point during the day before.

It wasn’t until you reached for the bottle of water you usually kept on your nightstand and grasped air instead that you realized you were, in fact, not in your own bed.

You shot up before groaning at the rush of dizziness to your head. Slowly, you blinked until the room came into focus, and assessed the damage of your night.

You were naked, so that wasn’t a good sign. You remembered sloppy kisses and hushed whispers of are you sure? And at least whoever it was was just as drunk as you were, so there was no harm done in your mind.

That was, until you realized who you had spent your drunken night with.

Broad shoulders gave way to a freckled back and narrow waist. The tuft of blond hair was a mess, like he - or you - had run hands through it, a lot. You knew there was no one else you could be, but when he rolled over, his long lashes fluttering awake, it was confirmed.

“Steve?” you hissed, still in shock. “What the fuck happened?”

At the unmistakable sound of your voice, his eyes snapped open, and he nearly fell to the floor.

“Y/N? Fuck, fuck! Bucky is gonna kill me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” you scoffed, and you wanted to crush the little bit of hope that creeped into your mind. No, he had made it clear there was nothing more than sex between you. But off course he wouldn’t want his best friend to sleep with the same girl. Bro code or whatever.

God, his best friend. This was worse than Sam, who he’d only known a couple of years. This was his other half since they were practically in the womb. You couldn’t have chosen a worse rebound.

Wanting to forget the mess you had just made of your life, you quickly pulled on your clothes while Steve watched with wary eyes, though he didn’t say anything else about Bucky.

“Are you okay?” You heard Steve’s timid voice as you were about to pull open his door. The motherfucker was such a sweetheart, and you couldn’t handle crying on top of everything else right now.

You were so close to just leaving without a word; that would have been easier on everyone. But damn Steven Rogers, so charming without even trying. You walked back to his bed where he had sat watching you, and gave him a quick kiss. It was a thank you and an apology and a let’s never talk about this again all in one, and he seemed to understand.

Pressing your ear to the door, you made sure no one was in the hall before you slipped out of his room. It would be your luck if Bucky was coming out of his room across the hall at the same moment you were leaving his best friend.

Thankfully, the hall was empty, and you couldn’t hear the usual chatter that came from the frat house, so you figured they must all still be sleeping off their hangovers. You pulled out your phone and ordered an Uber, figuring your best bet was to wait outside on the steps for the few minutes it would take to pick you up. You were so engrossed in your phone you didn’t hear the clatter of plates in the kitchen or the abrupt stop of voices.

When you finally reached the bottom of the stairs, you felt eyes on you, and you looked up to see Bucky staring at you from the kitchen.

You couldn’t have predicted how much it would hurt to see his face, even after only a few days. You also couldn’t have expected the gut-wrenching feeling that came with him cooking breakfast… for someone else.

Not just anyone else, Dot, the beautiful redhead from Chi Omega that you had always been insecure about, even before Bucky.

Flashes of walking in on your ex-boyfriend buried between her thighs had you stumbling back, and Bucky could do nothing but watch as you made your way to the front door. You could even hear the snicker of Dot’s voice just before you slammed the door shut behind you.

-

The great thing about having your own apartment is you could get wine drunk every night of the week and no one was there to judge you for it.

So every night for the next week, you poured yourself a glass before you started on your homework, and were happily tipsy by the time you took a shower and fell into bed. Some may call it a problem, but they weren’t around to know.

You got so used to the feeling that by the time Thursday night rolled around and you had nothing to do but drink, you went a little overboard.

After the first glass you didn’t even bother with any etiquette, instead drinking straight from the bottle until it was empty and you were hungry. You started a pot to boil while you uncorked another bottle, and had half of that down by the time your pasta was ready to be cooked. Trying to maneuver a pot of boiling water proved to be difficult with a bottle of wine in one hand, so you tried to set it down to give yourself room to work, but ended up knocking the handle of the pot, spilling hot water across your arm in the process.

Though it stung, your pride was the thing that took the most damage as you pressed a cold washcloth to your forearm. You slid down to sit on the tiled floor, bringing the bottle with you, and only when you drained the last of the liquid did you allow yourself to feel your emotions.

It started off with silent tears, hurt from the shards of your heart, and gradually your drunken mind spiraled until all you could feel was seething anger at the way Bucky had treated you.

How were you not supposed to catch feelings after Bucky was in your bed practically every weekend?

There were even nights where he came over just to study - although you supposed those always ended in hookups too. But he called you beautiful as he pushed into you, brushing your hair from your face and leaving delicate kisses across your flesh. He made you feel more than any other reoccurring hookup. You couldn’t believe you were the only one who felt the spark that always buzzed beneath the surface of your relationship.

Letting your anger and uninhibited brain fuel you, you grasped for your phone, dialing the number you now knew by heart.

The line rang once, twice, before he picked up, and at first all you could hear was the chatter of other people. He yelled something, muffled by his hand over the speaker, before you heard the sound of a door shutting and he finally spoke.

“Hello? Y/N?” He sounded relatively sober, which did not bode well for you. It was a lot harder to argue with someone when they weren’t as drunk as you were - and that’s exactly what you were looking for.

“James Barnes, you motherfucker.” You tried to sound confident and put together, but the tell-tale of slur coated your words. “You fucking suck, dude.”

“Why are you calling me?” You could hear the agitation in his words, and that made you even angrier.

“To tell you that you’re the fucking worst, James. You need to know that. I need you to know that.”

“God, Y/N, how drunk are you?”

“I’m not -” you hiccupped, giving yourself away even more. “I’m not drunk. You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not the one that’s wasted on a Thursday night. Jesus.” Surprisingly, you couldn’t hear any judgment in his tone - just disappointment. And maybe that hurt worse. What right did he have to be disappointed in you? You weren’t his anything.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that. Just don’t.” Your voice wavered and you could feel the tears coming again. “How could you?”

A deep sigh, like he knew this was coming. “How could I what?”

“You could have picked anyone but her, anyone but Dot. You know how I feel about her, and you fuck her? It’s like you don’t even care about me.”

“It’s not like that -” You cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever lies he spouted.

“Don’t bullshit me. You even cooked her breakfast. I thought you didn’t do relationships, huh? Or is it just that you don’t do relationships with me?” Finally, the dam cracked and you were sobbing and you heard Bucky sigh again, like you were a nuisance, like he had better things to do.

“Listen, Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re hurt, that you caught feelings, that you thought there was more. But I told you from the beginning that I didn’t want a relationship. More than once.” The truth of the words stung, but he wasn't done yet. No, Bucky had to make sure every piece of your heart was irreparable. “I’m not going to keep explaining myself to you, not when you’re acting crazy like this.”

“At least your best friend doesn’t think I’m crazy. And he was a better fuck anyways.” You were grappling for any way you could hurt him the way he had hurt you but he was a brick wall.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

Crazy. The word bounced around in your thoughts over and over, even after the call had ended. You stared at the kitchen wall, thinking about where everything had gone wrong. Where you had gone wrong.

Because this was your fault, and that was a hard pill to swallow. Bucky was right, he had been honest with you from the beginning, and you had held onto unfounded hopes.

In that moment all you could wish was to go back in time - to stop from getting drunk that first night. To stop your spitefulness and your anger. To stop from ever falling in love with him.

-

The next morning you woke up, still on the kitchen floor, with a splitting headache and dried tears coating your face.

You thanked the gods you didn’t have a class on Fridays as you stepped into the shower, feeling the ache of last night slowly wash off you. It was after that you decided, staring in the mirror at your sunken cheeks, that you would make a change. You would get your shit together.

You started with an apology to Steve, one he deserved long before now, then took the time to delete the pictures of Bucky from your phone. The ones that were private and you had kept for when you needed something to take the edge off of missing him. The thought filled you with guilt now, as you pressed delete and hoped he had done the same on his end. Then you texted your friends you had neglected the past couple months, the ones who tried to warn you and who had gotten sick of your own self sabotage.

The last thing you did was type out a text to Bucky, apologizing for your behavior, for the way you had treated him, and wishing him well. But you couldn’t bring yourself to send it, so it sat undelivered in your phone until you could finally bring yourself to delete the entire text thread.

You knew you should delete his number too, erase any temptation, but it was just something you couldn’t bring yourself to do.

The urge to text him and explain yourself took a while to go away, especially when you found out that Bucky wasn’t lying about nothing happening with Dot, that she was there because her sorority sister had needed a ride home that morning, and she just so happened to catch Bucky in the kitchen.

You beat yourself up for that one, though you knew it wouldn’t have made a difference. There was never anything more for you and Bucky, regardless of who he did or didn’t sleep with. That was the hardest part to get over.

But you did it.

You stopped going to frat parties, too, deciding that part of your life was over. You threw yourself into your studies and before you knew it, May was approaching and you were just a couple weeks from graduation.

Preparing for one last hoorah with your friends, you met Wanda at your favorite bar downtown - dressed up for the first time in a while, and drinking more than a single glass of wine with dinner since that phone call with Bucky.

Who, speak of the devil, walked in just as you were grabbing a tray of drinks off the bartop. You locked eyes, but quickly hustled back to your table as you saw him attempt to push through the crowd towards you.

You thought he had gotten the hint, because you only saw him in quick glances from across the bar after that, until you made your way to the bathroom, brushing Wanda off when she offered to come with you.

Unfortunately, there was only a single stall that was annoyingly occupied, so you leaned back against the wall and waited.

You were scrolling through Twitter, contemplating going full Maddy from euphoria and banging on the door, when you felt a presence beside you. You knew without looking up exactly who it was.

Slowly, you slipped your phone in your pocket and turned to look up at him.

He was devastating. Just as charming and handsome as you remembered, and it was a struggle for a moment to catch your breath.

“Hi,” he whispered, and you wondered if maybe he was thinking the same thing about you. You could only be so foolish to hope. “I’ve missed you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, and you wanted to shove the feeling down but suddenly his hands were cupping your face and he was just a breath away.

“I was an idiot, to say the least, and I’m sorry it took a few months of missing you everyday to realize that.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It felt like a fever dream - awful and amazing all at once. “Could you give me a chance to not be an idiot?”

What you should do was tell him no, that you had moved on, that he didn’t mean anything to you anymore.

But you had always been a terrible liar.

Instead of falling into his arms like you desperately wanted to, like the you of six months ago would have, you pressed a kiss to his cheek - a forgiveness and a dismissal all in one - and walked back to your table.

After exchanging goodbyes with your friends, you sent one last look Bucky’s way before heading home.

-

It had been a few days since you’d heard from Bucky, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Although you had wanted to forgive him and move on that night at the bar, a part of you held back. You wanted to make sure it wasn’t a result of him being drunk and lonely. And unfortunately it seemed your suspicions were right.

You’d spent the days since then with your phone always in arm’s reach, hoping he would call, but on the third day of nothing, you had accepted your fate.

Just as you were about to run a bath and block out the world for a little while, there was a knock at your door. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you shoved it back down along with the lingering hope that it would be Bucky on the other side.

Preparing yourself for anything, you swung the door open to the one person you wanted above all else - Bucky Barnes, weighed down with… grocery bags?

“Uh,” you weren’t quite sure what to say, and the sheepish smile on his face was one you had never seen before.

“Can I come in?” He asked, lifting up the bags. “These are pretty heavy.”

Wordlessly, you stepped aside, and he set the bags down on the counter. When you peaked inside them, you were surprised to find an array of breakfast foods. You sent him a questioning look, waiting for some sort of explanation.

“I spent the last few days thinking about how I could prove to you that I was serious. Probably have about 50 unsent texts. After everything, I thought I could start with breakfast. Low stakes, and you don’t have to decide anything right now. Just let me be here with you.”

Although you had decided the moment you saw him on your doorstep, you let him cook you breakfast. You let him open up in ways he never had before. You let yourself fall more in love with him, knowing he was doing the same with you.

if you liked this please consider donating to my ko-fi! 🤍

What were you thinking?

The Phone Call (5/?)

Pairings: collegehockeyplayer!steve rogers x female reader (Cappy x bug)

Warnings: idiots in like, banter, innuendos, teasing- lots of teasing, explicit language (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: not beta read. All mistakes are my own.

Cappy and bug: hockey AU

Lucky Charms: hockey AU

"Bug?" Cappy answered the call after the second ring, "you OK?"

"I won't take money from Mary" you exhaled, chewing at your thumbnail as you sat cross-legged in your bed. Your room was pitch black, save the light from your phone screen. You finally gave in and called Cappy after you had been tossing and turning for nearly an hour.

"...um... good?" Steve laughed, getting up from the living room couch and making his way towards the stairs.

"Cappy... where are you going? It's your turn" you heard a women's voice whining in the background.

"You're busy" you exhaled, rolling your eyes, "I shouldn't have called."

"No, bug! I'm glad you called" you could picture Cappy's warm smile, "that's... nothing. It's movie and game night and some friends of the guys came over."

"It's almost 2am..." you frowned.

"Yeah" Steve agreed, making his way up the steps to his room.

"On a Wednesday" you added.

"Yup" he confirmed.

"You do movie and game nights until 2am on Wednesdays?" you asked, "what about classes or practice?"

"The team has late start on Thursday's" Steve said, pushing his bedroom door open and finding Gretzky curled up on his bed. Steve crossed the room before sinking down gently next to the small sleeping cat.

"Everyone on the team?" you asked.

"Everyone on the team" he confirmed, smiling into his phone, "you could come sometime" he offered, "if you're really that worried about our sleep habits..."

"I wasn't..." you huffed before Steve cut you off.

"I'd definitely stay in bed if you tucked me in..." you could almost hear his eyebrows waggle while he mercilessly flirted.

"Meatball" you rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to smirk at his ridiculousness.

"OK..." Steve shrugged, "But seriously" his laugh was warm before he cleared his throat, "you could come over for a movie night... the rest of the team would be here... not just me... it would be nice."

"No thanks" you said, shooting him down -too quickly- before thinking better of it, "but... it's not... I don't... I mean..." your exhale was heavy, struggling to find the words, "I don't hate you."

"Good to know" he laughed, "if you change your mind, next week's movie night is Gremlins."

"Gremlins?" you snorted, "that weird 80s movie with the gerbil things?"

"They’re called Mogwai" Steve corrected, laughing, "it's Storm's favorite movie from when he was a kid... I picked Goonies for mine..."

"Oh... well I guess that's kinda cool" you smirked.

There was a long beat, but it was a comfortable quiet.

"So... what's up, ladybug?" Steve finally asked, breaking the silence.

"I... couldn't sleep" you said, narrowing your brows as you faltered for only a second at the new term of endearment, "I know you're trying to be nice... but I won't take Mary's money..."

"You keep saying that" Steve's brows furrowed with confusion.

"Well... it's true..." you were determined.

"Bug... can ya help me out here?" Cappy quipped, "I know that beautiful brain of yours is a lot bigger than mine... but I'm not following."

You felt your cheeks heat as you ducked your face, resting your cheekbone on your knuckles and smiling so hard it made your face hurt.

"Oh... uh... yeah" you sputtered, "well, Frank said the team raised money for Mary last year. If the adoption drive is taking away from fundraising for Mary, I don't want to do it... I won't" you clarified.

"Is that it?" Steve's voice was warm, sighing with relief.

"Well... yeah" you said, "I couldn't sleep."

"You in bed, bug?" that peaked his interest.

"Yes" you said, rolling your eyes at his suggestive tone.

"Me too" he smirked, hooking an arm under his head as he leaned back on his pillow.

"If you ask me what I'm wearing... I'm gonna hang up on you" you threatened.

"The fundraiser won't be taking any money from the fund we have set up for Mary" Steve clarified, smirking at your empty threat.

"Good" you sighed, relief rolling through your body as you sank back into your bed, eyelids feeling heavier, "thank you..."

"No problem, sweetheart" Steve's bedroom voice had a low timbre to it that made you shiver, "I'll talk to you to..." he started.

"Did you remember the shirts?" you interrupted his goodbye.

"Yes, I remembered the shirts" he smiled, "but I got something tomorrow morning so I asked Sam if he could run them over to your place" Steve said.

"OK... I have a class at 10, but I'll be here before then" you confirmed.

"Yup, already told him he needs to be there at 9 to catch you before you leave" Steve said.

"How did you..." you started to ask, fighting back a yawn.

"Your itinerary" Steve smiled, "you added your schedule in case we needed you... I gave you mine too... on a post it in your new planner."

"I saw that" a small smile spread across your face, "along with your hockey schedule- dates and times of all your games... you even let me know when you'd be away."

"Well... I figured you'd want to know for when I ask you on a date" Steve's laugh made your heart flutter.

"Who said we're going on a date?" you goaded.

"Well... hopefully you" Steve laughed, "I've got a five step plan to win you over..."

"That's nice" you sighed, only half hearing him as you started to drift off.

"Night, bug" Steve murmured into the phone.

"Wait!" you rolled over on your side, not wanting to end the call just yet as you cradled the phone gently to your ear, "will you tell me something? Tell me something about Cappy that not many people know..."

"Like what?" he laughed.

"Something you don't use to impress" you smirked, chewing your bottom lip.

"Ummmm... l dunno... I hate peas" he laughed.

"Boo... everyone hates peas" your words were slightly slurred with sleep.

"You're cute" Steve's voice was so soft you almost missed it.

"You're cute" you shot back sleepily before your eyes snapped open, "I mean... I..."

"You think I'm cute" Steve teased.

"No" you chirped, "I was half asleep!"

"You think I'm cute... no take backs..." Steve continued taunting.

"I'm hanging up" you said, half-heartedly.

"No!" Steve laughed, "OK… OK… something no one knows about me? Um... I was a really sick kid... like really sick" he offered, "bad asthma and always had that croupy kinda cough. But my Ma's a nurse and took me to the best doctors around. They told her to try cold air in the winter when my croup got real bad. It's how I started skating when I was around 3... and then I got stronger and started hockey when I was a little older" Steve said.

"Wow... Mr beefcake meatball? A sickly kid? I would have never guessed" you teased affectionately.

"Yeah, hockey's made my lungs stronger. I still have exercise induced asthma but it only gets real bad if I gotta do shifts back-to-back" Steve said.

"You learned how to skate when you were 3?" you sounded a little shocked.

"Yup" Cappy shrugged.

"I don't know how to skate" you yawned.

"Well, we're gonna have to change that" Steve smiled.

"You wanna teach me how how to skate?" you snorted with laughter.

"Yeah" he shrugged, sitting up and leaning against the wall.

"I can't picture you teaching anyone how to skate" you laughed.

"Hey... I've helped out at mini mite camps back home" he said, "I'm gonna teach Mary too" he continued, "gonna get her her first pair of skates... and no figure skates, hockey skates."

"Can Mary even walk?" you smiled, your stomach doing a flip at how cute Steve was with Frank's niece.

"She's crawling and pulling up on the coffee table" Steve said, "she'll be ready soon."

"That’ll be cute" you smiled into the phone.

"You can come watch" Steve offered, "if you want... I can teach you both..."

"Frank wouldn't mind?" you asked.

"Not at all... Frank really likes you... he's never that... not cranky" Steve said with a laugh.

"He likes me?" you smirked, "maybe you could... give him my number..." you goaded.

"Really?" Cappy huffed, not sure if you were serious or not.

"Yeah... I mean he's really cute" you smirked, "and then there's Mary" you teased.

"But I introduced you to Mary!" Steve grumbled.

"You think Frank would teach me how to skate?" you were just being mean now.

"Really?" Cappy's voice went up an octave.

"No... you doofus! I'm messing with you" a fit of sleepy giggles followed before you added, "as much as I know I'll regret it... I kinda have my eye on another meatball" your heart was kicking against your ribcage.

"I knew it" Cappy sat up, pumping a fist into the air as he jumped up from his bed, scaring Gretzky in the process, and doing his go-to goal celly.

"Don't ruin it" you whined, rolling your eyes as you laughed at the image of him celebrating around his room.

"So... you wanna come over after the game this weekend?" his excitement with palpable.

"Won't Bonnie or any of your other adoring fans be disappointed?" you smirked.

"No" Steve shrugged sitting back down on his bed before his tone dropped serious, "I'm not seeing anyone. Frank wasn't lying... I haven't had a girl over since that night."

"Bully for you" you voice was dripping with sarcasm, "you know that's not really an accomplishment, right? Most people aren't bedding a new person every night..."

"Bedding a new person" Steve snorted.

"What?" you frowned.

"Nothing... I just like the way you talk..." he smiled, "you remind me of Frank."

"I remind you of your best friend?" you asked, "isn't that weird?"

"No" Steve shrugged, "I kinda like it."

"So... say I do come over... what will we do?" you asked, "I'm not showering with you..."

"Like just this weekend or ever?" Steve asked.

"What?" you squeaked.

"You'd never shower with me?" Steve smirked.

"What?... I... no" you felt your cheeks flush with warmth.

"Never?" he pressed, "not even if you were my girlfriend?"

"When was the last time you had a girlfriend?" you scoffed.

"I don't know..." Cappy said, "when was the last time you had a boyfriend?"

"About a year ago" you said, "he... it was long distance and just didn't work out. He said I didn't make enough time for him... that I wasn't a good girlfriend."

"Hmmm" Steve's tone didn't give much away.

"What?" you chirped, embarrassed at your lack-of-sleep induced overshare.

"I think you'd make a good girlfriend" he said it so matter-of-factly that it made your stomach flip.

"How would you even know?" you smiled bashfully, rubbing at your tired eyes with the back of your hand.

"Only one way to find out" Steve smirked.

"Oh... you're good" you scoffed, "gross... you’re too good at that" you cringed, "so that's how you do it?"

"Do what?" Steve asked.

"Get all the ladies?" you said, "you're using your meatball charms on me..."

"What? Meatball charms?" Steve snorted, "no...I'm... we were just talking..."

"So... how many has this worked on?" you smirked, "how many women are you just talking to at a time?" you asked out of curiosity.

"I mean... I don't know... do you want a list?" Steve asked with a nervous exhale.

"Is that how you keep track?" you asked, honestly.

"Geez, bug" Steve choked, "you really think I'm that bad?"

"What you do is on you... no judgment" you said.

"Bullshit" Steve shot back, "you've been judging me since we first met..."

"I have not" you chirped.

"Who gave me the charming Captain Meatball nickname that I just can’t seem to shake?" he smirked.

"I... oh, shit" you laughed, "you're right" you confessed with a heavy exhale, "well… if it makes you feel any better… I know now that there's more to you then just a meatball that sleeps with everyone in sight."

"Thank yo..." Steve started.

"A teeny-tiny bit more..." you interrupted him with a giggle.

"Whatever" he laughed, leaning back on his pillow and rolling his eyes playfully.

"I wouldn't normally mind... about who you're sleeping with" you pointed out, "the only reason I care is because..." you paused.

"Because?" you could hear the curiosity in his tone.

"Because I guess I kinda like you" you surrendered.

"That wasn't so hard" Steve laughed as you rolled your eyes, "you know I wasn't always like this..." he offered.

"Like what?" you asked.

"I had a girlfriend all freshman year and another one sophomore into the first part of junior year... and then after Frank left the team... I dunno... I just started hooking up with random girls..." Steve offered, honestly.

"I'm sorry" you whispered, "it must have been hard to watch your best friend go through that.. to lose him on the team."

"Nahh" Steve shrugged, "what he's had to deal with was so much worse... losing his sister, taking on Mary... his family's no help and he's not even sure when he'll finish school..." Steve's voice was strained with emotion and it made your chest tighten.

"I'm sorry, Steve..." you said, "we don't have to..."

"No... I'm glad it came up..." he cleared his throat, "I like talking to you, y/n."

"I like talking to you too, Steve" you smiled.

“Think that’s the first time you’ve used my real name” he smiled into the phone.

“It’s a nice name” you yawned, stretching your arms up over your head with a squeak.

"Oh, shit" Steve cursed, "it's real late... I'm sorry!"

"It's OK" you yawned again, "you don’t have to go…”

“I’ll talk to you soon, sweetheart” his laugh was light and warm.

“I'll talk to you soon” you sighed.

"Oh and uh... I tweak the tshirt order a little, but I think you'll actually like it..." Steve said.

"Wait?" You shot up in your bed, "Steve what did you..."

"OK, sweet dreams, bug! Byyyeee" he rushed before the line went dead and the call ended.

"Damnit, Crappy!" you cursed, falling back on your pillow with a huff.

The hockey divider was made by the lovely and talented @firefly-graphics ❤️

As always, thank you for all the love and support. Please check out my archive blog where I only post new fics @drabblewithfrannybarnesfics ❤️

play pretend

18+

in order to appease his uncle, bucky needs to prove that he's a family man. what better way to get that image across than with a loving wife? there's only one problem: bucky doesn't have a wife. he does, however, have a little fairy.

content warning: mob!bucky x best friend!reader, fake relationship, idiots in love, friends to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, kissing, angst, mention of sex, dirty talk (degradation kink, dom/sub dynamic).

mob!bucky masterlist

The second you get to your apartment door, you know something's wrong. You feel it in the air. You may be tipsy from the drinks you got with your colleagues after work, and the late hour may be making you paranoid, but if being best friends with a criminal has taught you anything, it's to trust your instincts. When you hear a quiet thud from inside, your eyes widen. Fuck.

You put your key in the door while dialing Bucky's number, before reaching into your purse and taking out the pepper spray. It isn't a gun, but you can't exactly take a weapon into your office every day.

"Hey, fairy," Bucky's calming voice rings through your phone, giving you some relief.

"James," You whisper curtly while slowly turning the key. "There's someone in my apartment. I'm gonna kill him, but I just wanted to let you know, first."

All he does is chuckle while you open the door as quietly as possible, his tone oddly light for someone who claims to be so protective of you. "Go get him, tiger. Show him who's boss."

Did he just hang up?

You frown at his lack of concern, but peg it on him not believing you. Bastard. He'll learn to take you seriously when it's he who has to clean up the blood. Entering your apartment, you drop your bag and hold up the pepper spray. "Whoever you are, show yourself!" You call out, flicking on the light and looking around. "I've been taught how to kill a man with nothing but my bare hands!"

"If you wanted to use your hands on me, baby, you should've just asked." The smooth voice makes you scream in shock, your eyes and mouth wide as you see Bucky sitting in your armchair.

"What the fuck?" You yell, kicking the door shut behind you. "Don't scare me like that, you prick!"

"I'm sorry, fairy, it's just too easy," He laughs, standing up and striding over to you before pulling you in for a tight hug. When he pulls away, he cups your cheek, scanning your face and frowning when he smells the vodka on you. "Why you home so late, huh? Haven't I told you to call me when you come home late? Especially when you've been drinking."

"It's fine; Mr. Stark walked me home from the bar," You tell him casually while taking off your coat.

"Tony?" Bucky repeats with narrow eyes. "Why the fuck were you at a bar with him?"

You grin. There's that protective instinct, back in full swing. "It was a work thing; Margo's last day, so we went for drinks," You explain. "Sorry I didn't tell you. I figured you'd be busy, seeing as it's a Friday night, and all."

"I don't care what day it is; you stay out past 9, you call me," He states firmly, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck. "How many times do I have to explain that to you?"

"Alright, alright, jeez," You whine, pulling his hand off of you and walking over to the kitchen area. "You hungry? I'm hungry. Hummus. I have hummus and pitta. Yum."

While you grab items from your fridge, including the tub of hummus and a carton of orange juice, Bucky takes a seat at the table. He watches you with a smirk as you flit around the kitchen, grabbing everything that looks good and putting it on the table in front of him. After toasting some pitta bread, you cut it into bite sized pieces and place it down too, before sitting next to him.

He wraps his hand around the leg of your chair and pulls you closer, parting his lips when you bring up a piece of pitta bread with a healthy dollop of hummus to his mouth.

"Here comes the airplane," You tease, your eyes filling with delight as he eats it. He bites on the tip of your finger, making you yelp and pull your hand back. "Bad boy! You have lost your pitta privileges."

Bucky pouts but says nothing, sitting back and letting you indulge in your feast. After a few moments, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black, velvet box. "Fairy," He mumbles, patting your thigh. "Got something for you."

"What is it?" You ask with a mouthful of chocolate, raising your brows.

Instead of telling you, he shows you, flicking open the box to reveal the most beautiful ring. With a smile, he meets your eyes. "Marry me."

Your heart skips a beat but a split second later, you snort. "Get the fuck outta here, Jamie. What's that for?"

"You're gonna wear it over the weekend," He informs you. "I need you to pretend to be my wife until Sunday. Two days, that's it."

"What the fuck for?" You ask, utterly baffled. "You got a coupon for a honeymoon package, or something?"

"My uncle's coming to town," He says with a sigh.

"Uncle Jack?" You ask with wide eyes. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Don't look so excited," He grumbles with an eye roll. "He's expecting to come home and be introduced to my family. I need you to do this for me."

After the death of Bucky's father, Jack took over the business. Then, once Bucky turned 18, Jack left the country, claiming Bucky was capable of running the business himself. You haven't seen Jack in a few years, but every time he visits, Bucky almost goes insane with stress. He feels pressured to impress his uncle; as though he has something to prove.

"The numbers don't meant a thing to him; he won't care how successful the business is," Bucky explains. "All he'll be criticizing me for is my lack of a family. And that's where you come in."

"Your wife?" You sputter with wide eyes. "You want me to pretend to be your wife?"

"Please," He implores, taking your hand in his. "With this ring, I thee wed - for the next 48 hours."

Your eyes narrow into a glare as you pull your hand back before he gets a chance to slip the ring on your finger. "What if I took you seriously before, Buck? What if I got my hopes high, thinking you were proposing for real?"

"Then I'd marry you for real," He says simply, shrugging nonchalantly. "Now, come on. Put the ring on, and then it's bed time. We have an early start tomorrow."

Rolling your eyes, you childishly stick your hand out. "At least get down on one knee." You know that whatever Bucky wants, he gets, and besides; it's only for the weekend. You'll survive being his fake wife for 48 hours.

Knowing he's got you on side, Bucky laughs before kneeling on the ground. He holds up the ring, an adorable look in his wide eyes. "Fairy, baby, you're the only woman I'd be happy to wake up to every day for the rest of my life. You make the best alfredo, and you're nice enough to feed me when my hands are roughed up. I don't know what I did to deserve a guardian angel, but God gave you to me anyway. Will you make me the happiest, luckiest son of a bitch alive and marry me for the weekend?"

"Oh, Jamie," You coo, smiling widely. "You're a fucking rat bastard, and you give me migraines, and you're the reason my social life is so abysmal. Of course I'll marry you for the weekend!"

He slips the ring on your finger with a grin before standing up and lifting you off the chair in a tight hug. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you to your bedroom, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the best, my little fairy."

"Yeah, yeah," You mumble, resting your head on his shoulder. "You owe me one."

"And then he asked me while we were in Venice; proposed on a gondola under the moonlight," You say with a dreamy smile. "We got married in Sicily a year later."

"Well, I'll be damned," Jack replies with a wide grin. "I was beginning to lose hope for you, James. Thought you'd never settle down."

Bucky pulls you closer onto his lap, looking up at you. "When you find a woman as incredible as Y/N, you want her to yourself."

"Took you long enough," Jack mutters. "How long have you two known each other, now?"

"It's coming up to ten years," You tell him warmly.

"Ten?" Bucky repeats with a mumble, frowning at you. "Guess we're gonna have to celebrate, baby, hmm?"

"Ah, young love," Jack sighs, sitting back in the armchair. "You're a lucky man, James."

"I know," He whispers, gently tilting your face towards him. "Give me a kiss, fairy."

Though you're surprised at his request, you can't help but give in. It won't be the first time you've kissed Bucky, but the fact that you're pretending to be a married couple adds a little pressure to this one. Admittedly, it's fun to kiss him, though you know it'll only hurt when you realise it's all for show. The kiss is soft and short, but still utterly magical.

"So, when can I expect some grandkids?"

You almost choke at Jack's query, immediately pulling away from Bucky. "Grandkids?"

"Don't scare her, Jack; we only just tied the knot," Bucky says calmly, patting your knee. "Let us experience marital bliss for a little while before we start having babies."

Having babies. Having babies? Babies?

You stare at Bucky. Oh, shit. This was a bad idea. Hiding your feelings from him is hard enough, but now he's planting the image of making a family with you in your head? It's like he wants to break your heart.

Jack shrugs with a smug smirk, "That's exactly what your father said to my parents. A year later, your ma had you. Life doesn't always go to plan, Buck."

No, it does not.

"Anyone need another drink?" You ask, standing up. "I know I do."

The sound of live music fills the bar, the smell of drinks and food in the air. Bucky's friends and family are celebrating Jack's return with a party, while you do your best to keep up appearances. Somehow, you got through the first day without a hitch, and you only have to pretend to be Bucky's wife until the end of tonight.

"As long as nobody notices the ring," Bucky mumbles into your ear. "They won't even realize the difference."

He hasn't told anyone else what you're up to, which you've told him is a bad idea. Bucky's sure that you'll be able to convince Jack you're married while everyone else remains clueless, but you aren't so confident.

You raise a brow, swaying in his arms as his chest presses against your back. "So, you think we act like a married couple anyway?"

He smirks while taking a sip of whiskey before resting the glass on your shoulder. "Well, we flirt, we dance, we love each other," He lists off smugly, placing his free hand on your waist. "The only thing that's missing is sex."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" You grumble bitterly.

"Very much so, fairy," Bucky teases before turning you around and pulling you closer.

"Jamie?" You begin, to which he nods. "Do you remember any of Tuesday night?"

Immediately, he chuckles. "Fuck's sake. Sam won't stop ripping into me for that; keeps making psychic jokes. Bastard."

"Do you remember when you came to see me?" You ask, feeling your heart thud.

A smirk grows on his lips. "I remember kissing you."

"That's it?" You prod, your cheeks heating up at the memory. "You don't remember when I took you home?"

He looks up, frowning. "Uh, I don't remember anything past the kiss. Why? Was I horrible to you?"

You put on a smile and you can't tell whether you're relieved that he's forgotten your admission, or disappointed. "You're never horrible to me, Jamie," You mumble, placing your hands on his shoulders as the two of you sway gently to the music.

His eyes narrow. "Are you sure? Now that I think about it, you seemed upset the next morning. You can tell me if I was a prick - did I hurt you?"

"Of course you didn't!" You exclaim, lightly hitting his arm for effect. "Don't be stupid."

"I must've done something. Isn't that why you brought it up?" He questions, a look of concern growing on his face. "Did I say something mean?"

"Like what?" You ask curiously. "What do you think you could've said that was mean?"

"Uh, I don't know," Bucky says with a shrug. "Did I try to kiss you again?"

"Actually, you didn't," You tell him with a hint of surprise.

"That doesn't sound like me," He mutters, glancing down at your lips. "Give me one now, to make up for it."

"We're only friends, though," You say, trying to sound nonchalant. "Aren't we?"

A look of mischief blooms in his eyes. "Not tonight."

"Right," You utter. "Tonight, I'm Mrs. Barnes."

"Doesn't that sound good?" He whispers, holding you closer.

You can't help but wince and stop dancing. "I can't do this anymore."

Confused, he takes your hand in his. "What are you talking about, fairy?"

With a racing heart and clammy palms, you take a deep breath and step back. "I- I think I need some space."

"Space?" He repeats, baffled. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry," You whisper, shaking your head. "Just tell Uncle Jack I'm not feeling well. I'm going home."

You make it a few feet before you feel him grabbing your arm and pulling you back, a stern look on his face. "What's going on?" He asks you. "Talk to me, fairy."

Looking around the bar, you cringe when you spot a few people staring at you and Bucky. "Not here, Jamie."

"Bucky," Jack's voice suddenly booms as he appears at your side. "We have a problem."

Immediately, Bucky's face pales. "Fuck."

"What is it?" You ask, your concern overriding your heartbreak.

Cupping your cheeks, Bucky pulls you closer. "Nothing you need to worry about, fairy. Go home, and I'll be there soon. We'll continue talking about this later."

"Are you sure?" You press. "If something's wrong-"

"I told you, there's nothing you need to worry about," He promises. "I'll be at your place in a couple of hours, I swear."

Half-heartedly, you nod. "Okay."

"Good girl," Bucky mumbles, kissing your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You whisper, hundreds of worries swarming your mind.

When Bucky finally arrives at your apartment, it's almost midnight and he looks a lot less stressed out.

"Just something Uncle Jack needed me to sort out," He mumbles as he joins you on the floor in front of the couch. "Nothing major."

"That's good," You mutter, nodding, playing with the ring he gave you.

After a few moments of silence, he gently nudges your arm. "I've upset my fairy, haven't I?"

Sighing, you look down. "Maybe."

"Help me make it better," Bucky implores. "Come on, fairy. We've known each other too long for you to hold back on me. Give it to me straight."

Looking up at him, you furrow your brows. "What if I told you that you said you were in love with me while you were high on Tuesday night?"

The question takes him aback, and he says nothing.

"That you admitted that you want me as more than just your friend. More than a best friend," You hypothesize. "That you needed more than just friendship from me?

Raising a brow, he lets out a dry laugh. "I'd say, damn. The secret's out."

"Don't fuckin joke around with this shit, James," You say sternly, with no hint of humor in your tone or facial expression.

"I'm not fucking around," He claims. "Did I really tell you that?"

You shake your head. "No," You tell him truthfully. "...I did, though."

He swallows thickly, but he doesn't seem as shocked as you were expecting him to be. Instead, he looks down at the ring and strokes one of the small gems. "This was ma's stone," He reveals.

"What?" You ask, instantly recognising it as one of the gems on his mother's engagement ring now that he's pointed it out.

"I added it to your ring," He goes on to say. "Wanted... wanted a little bit of her love in it."

"Why would you do that for a pretend marriage?" You ask him incredulously.

"Because I don't want it to be pretend," Bucky admits before taking your hand in his. "Let's get married."

Your heart skips a beat. "Jamie-"

"Let's get married."

"Stop-"

"I'm not kidding around," He claims. "This is for real. I love you more than anything."

Utterly baffled, you shake your head. Your heart is racing, your fingers twitching. "Why has it taken this long for you to say it?"

Bucky shrugs, "At the start, you weren't ready for anything serious, and I didn't want to just casually date you. So, I stayed back. Fairy, it's so obvious that we are in love. We have been for so long."

Although you had yourself convinced that he didn't want you in that way because if he did, he would've acted on his feelings by now, you trust him too much to invalidate his words. "I know," You whisper, your eyes filling with tears.

"So, what the fuck are we doing?" He asks you wildly.

"I don't know!" You exclaim.

He grabs your face and pulls you closer. "Let's get married."

Snorting, you pull back. "I'm not just gonna fuckin'... marry you, Bucky Barnes."

"Why not?" He asks you between laughs.

"Because that would be insane!" You tell him, hitting his shoulder.

"Why would it be insane-"

"We need to talk about what we want from each other," You say, shaking your head. "We can't just go from being friends to being husband and wife."

"Sure, we can," Bucky says casually. "What would even change between us if we were to get married?"

"We'd live together," You point out.

"I'm with you almost 24/7, anyway," He states.

"We'd have to share everything," You add. "Bills, responsibilities."

"When have you ever had to worry about money, huh?" He questions you with a frown.

"It's more than just finances, Buck," You say with a disbelieving laugh. "It's... marriage, it's everything."

"I'll give you everything," He vows adamantly, wrapping his arm around you.

Clinging to his shirt, you frown up at him. "We... we don't even know if we're sexually compatible."

He narrows his eyes. "Do you really have any doubts, fairy?"

"Well, what if we aren't?" You challenge him.

"I know what you're into," He claims arrogantly. "And I can more than provide you with it."

You laugh heartily at his claim, raising a brow. "Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"I've seen your PornHub search history," He admits casually.

"Buck-"

"And I know exactly who you're subscribed to on OnlyFans," He adds with a wink. "You have good taste, baby."

"You're- that's a breach of my privacy!" You complain, pushing his shoulder.

He grabs your hand, his face dropping as he wraps his free hand around the back of your neck. "I know you like being taken care of, fairy," He mumbles lowly, making you shiver as he trails his fingers up your thigh. "I know you're aching to give up control. You need someone you can obey; someone who can fuck your brains out and reduce you to nothing but a dumb little fuckdoll."

The breath is stolen from your lungs. You feel as though your mind has gone blank, and all that matters is Bucky and his honey-like voice.

"All you have to do is say the word," He tells you, squeezing your thigh. "I can make your fantasies come true, fairy. You know I will."

"Jamie," You whimper, slowly moving your face closer to his.

"I'm right here, fairy," He whispers, stroking your neck. "I always have been, and I always will be. Do you trust me?"

"You know I do," You reply quickly, letting him pull you into his lap.

"Do you love me?"

"You know I do."

Without another word, he plants his lips on yours in a sweet kiss. At first, it's gentle and slow, until his hands find your ass and his tongue pushes past your lips. Just as the butterflies erupt in your stomach, though, there's a harsh knock at the door.

"Ignore it, fairy," Bucky mumbles against your lips, too lost in the kiss to notice the fact that someone's at your door in the middle of the night. "Just be a good girl for me."

His words get rid of your concern as you return to the kiss, running your hand through his hair as your tongues dance and glide across one another. Mere seconds pass before there's another knock, though - this time it's a lot louder and aggressive.

"Police, open up!" A gruff voice comes from the other side, making your heart skip a beat.

Bucky's grip tightens on your hip as his face drops. "Oh, fuck."

"Jamie?" You whisper, terrified. "What the fuck is going on?"

Looking at you, he cups your face and utters lowly, "We need to get the fuck out of here, fairy. Now."

side blog for updates: @kinanabinksupdates

buy me a kofi <3

Omg, batmom verse is literally my favorite, I'm actually so happy it gets a reboot, I'm sure it will be just as good as a reboot of arranged verse. Thank you for your writings, I love them very much! 🩷 (english isn't my native language, I'm sorry for any mistakes in text!)

Here goes

"Run."

Your voice is hoarse. It hurts. But there's only one play left in your playbook. And it's to put yourself in the way.

It works.

It usually almost kills you but it works.

Thankfully the kid is too scared to do anything but run. Streaking into the dark. His stupid yellow cape streaming out behind him like a goddamn signal flare.

Fucking capes. Fucking embarrassing. Impractical. Stupid.

You haul yourself to your feet using the wall. Ignoring the black at the edges of your vision. Jamming your fist against the hole in your side as you pull the gun from the inside pocket of your jacket.

It's a full metal jacket and there's racks of metal industrial racks. If you're going down, this son of a bitch down with you. The world will be a safer place with one less of your targets in it.

That's all there is to it.