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darkdemeter · 12 days

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𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑮𝑶𝑳𝑫 𝑶𝑭 𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘 (+ notes)

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Mafia! Bucky x Female reader series

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official series side blog @thegoldofwinter

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| NOTES

> Old variants of tgow have been phased out/deleted > Tgow's side blog will have its own separate taglist for the series, so if you want to be a part of that, let me know

Paradise is your home. Luxury, and all things glamourous, are right at your fingertips. It only takes a snap of your fingers and all that is your heart’s desire is yours for the taking.

You see a gorgeous, studded-diamond necklace and guarantee it, your father will have it laid on the white and gold embroidered pillow next to your head for when you next awaken. Wrapped up nice and tight. A man guilty of harassing - or so much as giving you a look you don’t fancy - and he’ll be silenced. Never heard from again.

As the darling princess and sole heir to the most powerful mob family, you are entitled to these dark grandeurs without restraint. Anything for the daughter of the man known as King.

But how has such power and influence come to your family, and surely willed into your birthright?

Revered. Established. The top dog of the criminal realm, your father has poisoned the weaker-to-resist governments and nations, affording blind eyes to his dealings. An inner circle of Made Men loyal to him prosper in his looming shadow. He is feared with great reason. He pulls strings to make ends meet and severs those who serve no purpose to him. And he does a damn good job at it. But you and your mother are the king’s pride and joy. The centre of his empire that he works hard to maintain with an iron grip.

Of course, you’re not blind. You see the bruised knuckles of men dressed finely in their suits and bloodstains on their collars. You see the black car parked out front as a captive with a sack over his head is escorted into the trunk. You overhear the commanding voice of the king - your father - bark at his troop to keep them in line.

The work your father and his underlings specialise in is known to you because it’s your duty to marry further into his expertly woven web. You live a life of great privilege that so many are not fortunate to have. All that your father asks of you in return is that you are loyal in your duties to him, and when the time comes, to your future king. Your husband.

Tradition, call it old fashioned, from his father and his before him, dictates that you cannot rule alone. By your side, you’re required to have a husband. One that captains, crews, friends and associates can call a leader. Decades measured by forefathers, ages spent climbing the ranks to reach the crown many below you vie for, he would not see it crumble for any man less than born to bear such prestige.

Your father has nothing against you, your mother herself is such radiant power alone. Men tremble beneath her sharpened stare, like daggers ready to stab them in the back the moment they step out of line. Your mother has always exuded ruthlessness despite the challenges. And you strive to be just the same. But even the strongest of women are challenged here and often far more brutally and head on than any of the men.

Your father says that with a husband at your side, none shall stamp you out, that your position will only be stabilised. And you're his dutiful daughter, are you not?

And that is why you must look exceptionally presentable tonight at this party. Undoubtedly, you could ask anyone, you always looked your best. A spitting image of perfection in anyone’s right mind. But tonight was not another one of your father’s business parties. No, tonight was a night dedicated to you. Your 22nd birthday.

You stand on the landing as you enter Paradise’s grand hall. Held to awing eyes that turn to your stature, regal and elegant. Gold. That is how you are known. For gold is the materialistic entity you covet, warm in its powerful glow, it is your pet. Your accessory. Your signature.

Hair styled in a way that frames your features, the marble carved sculptures could enviously weep. Your dress hugs to your form, curling around your waist to accentuate your curves. The illusion that the gold embroidery crafts, shimmering beneath the exotic chandeliers and interior lights, is clung to your body.

Down each step, the approach is calm and well versed in practice, hand running down the carved and sleek surface of the railing. Your father waits for you in the middle of the hall. Silver-streaked hair slick back and his face wearing a look of pride. Adoration.

The valued prize that now walks to him with a hand stretching out to take his own. Tradition meant all to your father, as did you, and thus this particular celebration calls for a dance between father and daughter.

And it's this evening you catch sight of his shadow, lurking in the background for the last time. It feels like history is repeating itself. Only on your 21st did you see his shadow for the first time during this same dance. But no more would he hide amidst the shadows, his piercing blue eyes being the only tell that he watches you from afar. Those eyes that captured yours since your first meeting in the reflective surface of your vanity that same night.

Tonight, a shift in the balance for your family’s crown would occur as you dance with your father across the floors of Paradise. The mask known as the Winter Soldier would rule. The very same man who has been your entrusted bodyguard, would not be used as a means to an end anymore.

You should have known the moment his eyes bore into your own right there in that moment. A gaze hellbent on dominating you beneath it. To say he achieved such a feat is an understatement, for no other man has ever held your prisoner like that before.

That should have been your warning. For all the seeing and the overhearing and the knowing, the wool was pulled far over your eyes this time.

On the eve of your 22nd birthday, the shadow who speaks announces himself as the new korol'; and you as his koroleva. As his promised bride...

#female reader #bucky barnes x reader #preview #mafia bucky au #winter soldier #mob boss bucky barnes #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky au

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buckysforeverprincess · 9 months

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Sneak Peek...

Engineer!James Bucky Barnes x Admin Assistant!Reader

Warnings: Language, angst... lots of angst

A/N: This is my first fic diving back into writing. I've got many chapter written so here's a long preview of chapter 1. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Please let me know what you think!

(Divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

Walking into the office, you set your things down on your desk and turn on your computer, watching it slowly come to life like it has not a single care for your urgency or desire to get a jump on the day ahead. When it’s gone through its process and the apps appear you quickly pull up today’s schedule, making sure the first appointment is still set for nine, which gives you plenty of time to head downstairs for your usual order of coffee and muffins, ready to get the day going. Your boss was counting on you to make his day run smoothly and fuel was a must if you were going to keep James Buchanan Barnes afloat.

Being the Administrative Assistant of the head of engineering at Stark Industries was a dream come true, but could be at times brutal and frustrating. Thirty four year old James Barnes was a very focused but fair boss, and it was your job to keep things running smoothly behind the scenes so he could focus his energy on keeping Tony Stark happy. You loved your job and all the perks of working side by side with the man you were secretly in love and sleeping with for the past two years.

Like all things, sleeping with your boss wasn’t anywhere on your radar and started as a ‘see what had happened was…’ kinda thing; the two of you working hard on a project, putting in late hours, both sexually frustrated with no outlet. His ruffled appearance and normally short brown hair had grown out and was dangling in his face as he looked down at his desk at the stack of papers trying to figure out the missing equation. James was a hot mess and the moment his eyes left the papers and met yours, you knew you were totally and truly fucked. Literally.

What you thought was a one time thing was anything but. James pulled you aside the next day and wanted your thoughts about having a benefits type of relationship. Neither of you had significant others and we’re both devoted to your careers leaving no time for dating or relationships. His argument made sense so you agreed and is why you’ve spent the past two years being his assistant by day and his fuck buddy by night. Such an illustrious life you lead at the ripe age of twenty-eight.

“Morning,” the deep voice says, alerting you to your boss's arrival.

“Morning, Mr. Barnes,” you politely reply from your desk, eyes watching him as he makes his way to his office. He looked good in his black suit and tie, his face sporting some stubble making him absolutely delicious. For a moment you questioned if you had forgotten to lay out his razor on your way out of the bathroom but remembered today was Wednesday and you hadn’t stayed over the night before so today’s appearance was all on him.

There was a schedule in place for the nights you kept James company, in more ways than one. Monday, Wednesday and Thursdays were the evenings you came over and spent time with him, ultimately staying and leaving together the next morning, the man driving you both to work. Tuesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday were the ones Barnes liked to have to himself and do whatever it was James Barnes did to keep himself happy. It was a shame you’d never find out what it was he truly found pleasure in. He was good at playing things close to his chest.

Once James was in his office, you walked over and leaned up against the doorframe, silently watching and keeping your distance while he got himself situated to begin his day.

“Something on your mind?” Barnes asks, never once looking up from the monitor on his desk, knowing you were steadily watching him.

Shrugging, you smile and move off the door, taking a step into his office. “I’m gonna head down to the coffee shop and grab some breakfast. Want me to get you anything?” You politely offer in your very best morning voice.

James' blue eyes move from the screen and meet yours, his brows furrowed in question. “Didn’t you eat what I made this morning? I left you a plate when I went to shower.”

“I-uh… last night, I was-uh… at-uh my place,” you stuttered out uncomfortably.

The brunette appeared lost in thought for a moment, his gaze fixed on you and never waivered. After what felt like minutes but were really only seconds, the man nods slowly and turns his attention back to his computer screen. “Guess there��s an uneaten plate of food on my counter then,” he says dryly and begins tapping away at his keyboard.

Sighing heavily at the apparent dismissal, you shake your head and turn around. “I’ll be back shortly,” you call over your shoulder and walk out of his office, leaving your boss to whatever had gotten into him this morning. It was too early for his shit and you could tell it was going to be an extra large coffee and two chocolate chip muffin kinda day.

🍷

“Did R & D send the file over I asked for?” James is hovering over your desk, eyes shifting through the mountain of papers, looking for said file.

Your hand gravitates to your face and pinches the bridge of your nose, the tension already building, your body responding and knowing exactly what’s about to take place in a few short seconds from now. Couldn’t he have waited until after lunch to have this conversation? Something had this man out of sorts today and knowing him, he wasn’t about to divulge to you the inner workings in his head.

“No. They said it would be ready on Friday, remember?”

James scoffs and rubs at his face in frustration, looking more like a pouty child than a full fledged adult. “I told them I needed it by today! I have a presentation to give on Friday and we need to make sure everything is presentable to the board ahead of time!”

Closing your eyes you inhale a sharp breath and let it out, trying to calm yourself. You know James was told he’d have the file on Friday by R & D. Hell, you even reiterated Friday when he asked you again on Monday. So, why in the love of all things holy, would he be upset about the file not being here today when he was told Friday several times by different people?! What the fuck suddenly crawled up his ass and died?!

“Mr. Barnes…,” you calmly said, standing from your chair so you can be face to face with your boss, “...what would you like me to do?”

James’ eyes bug out and he gawks, looking like he can’t believe you even had to ask. “I want you to go fix it! You’re my assistant… assist!”

Shaking your head you start to laugh, clearly this man has lost his mind and you weren’t about to stand for his assholish behavior. “And what, pray tell, am I supposed to do, walk down there and make them pull a file from their asses?! They said Friday. Why did you have Pepper schedule a board meeting for Friday when you didn’t have all the materials in hand prior to?”

Barnes places his hands on his hips and glares back at you, his body reeking of alpha dominance. “Are you questioning what I do?”

You opened your mouth to speak but thought better of it, quickly shutting it before something rude and snarky came out. You couldn’t add fuel to this already blazing fire, given the mood James was in he’d enjoy it and you’d get burned in the process and put a strain on your benefits arrangement.

“How ‘bout I head down to R & D and see if I can speed them along?” You give your best fake smile hoping to appease the ball of fury standing in front of you.

“Oh? You finally ready to do your job?” He cocks his head and crosses his arms to his chest.

“What?” You look at him stunned. You never thought he’d say anything like that to you.

“I know you’re not hearing impaired so I’m pretty sure you heard me.”

Scowling, you can feel the anger building inside you, your breathing becoming faster and your face heating up. If looks could kill, James Barnes would be a dead man standing. This time his mouth has gone way to fucking far.

“I’m leaving!” You yell and storm off, needing to put some much needed distance between the two of you before things were said that couldn’t be taken back.

“Oh!” You stopped far enough away and looked back at your asshole boss. “When I come back, whatever made residence in your ass needs to go because I refuse to put up with holier than thou Mr. James Barnes any longer!” You spun on your heels and headed for the stairs, purposely avoiding the elevator.

Stepping in the stairwell, you came to a complete stop and took in a few deep breaths, trying to regain your composure. Barnes and you had a very interesting work relationship. For the most part he was a very laid back boss, the two of you joking throughout the day, intentionally getting on each other’s nerves, sometimes acting like the two of you couldn’t stand to be around each other. Some employees actually thought you two were enemies, only tolerating each other at Stark's insistence but that wasn’t the case. The two of you got along exceptionally well and it’s why you were able to carry on the benefits relationship. You both were experts at separating work and extracurricular activities.

Today though, today James was off. He’d forgotten you hadn’t occupied his bed last night and dismissal of you earlier this morning already had you seeing the warning signs screaming something wasn’t right. Top it off with his performance at your desk, and you knew there was something eating away at the man like acid.

Whatever it was, he’d better find the remedy before you told him where to stick his ninety-nine problems while you enjoyed a container of Oreo mint cookie ice cream on your couch alone.

Not the end of the chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it. I appreciate all feedback. I promise there’s more to come!!

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes x reader #sneak peek #fic preview #sebstan #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

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I finished a new Bucky fic tonight! Just didn’t have time to do the logistics of posting because I was already up past my bedtime…

But a little preview:

“Well, thank you again,” you finally said. “We’re pleased to have you dining at our restaurant tonight. Devour is a dream for all of us on the staff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the kitchen to oversee final preparations for the dessert course.”

“I’m eager for what’s to come next, Chef,” he said, looking you up and down, his eyes darkening. You’d delivered the overture for your exit, but he somehow made it clear it was only with his approval that you would leave in that moment.

#mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #fic preview

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darsynia · 1 year

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Sneak Peek: Shipping and Handling Ch 2

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: There’s a chance you and Steve aren’t the only people dealing with the strange chemical bond from Mistress, so you agree to submit to daily tests that should help Dr. Banner figure out what’s happening, and maybe how to stop it. The problem? Seeing each other every day brings a new set of side-effects that both of you hide from each other and Banner until things come to a head– not just for the two of you, but also for the man who has to deal with you: Bucky Barnes. Length/Warnings: 451 words for the snippet / Mentions of sex acts Minors DNI

Chapter posted either tomorrow or Monday. Finally some Bucky PoV!

“You practically knelt down in front of him. Take pity, will you Doll?”

Bucky only realizes the endearment after he’s said it aloud, and to minimize the damage, he clenches his jaw and twists his lips into an inconsequential smile.

It doesn’t work.

“You’ve never called me that before,” you say, your lovely eyes lit with surprise and something else, something he shouldn’t be looking for.

Gruffly, he says, “Really?” It’s a shut-down tactic, because people are much less likely to elaborate on something they’re uncertain over. He maximizes its effect by leaning down to examine the oven door, which is indeed fucked.

“Really. I liked it, don’t worry.” Your voice is soft. “Looks like you’ll be needing these menus, I doubt the stove is kitchen rated with the door off! Come on, I’m sure Steve is going to be hungry when he shows back up.”

Are… you joking about what Steve’s doing in his room right now? Bucky lunges over to block your way out of the kitchen. The shirt you’re wearing smells like the detergent he and Steve use, and something about smelling Steve on you sends heat straight to his groin.

He really should’ve punched Banner, too.

“What?”

“Are you sure you want everything out in the open?” You look at him, uncomprehending, and Bucky’s a hypocrite, because there’s no way any of what he’s been thinking about lately can be in the open.

You’re shaking your head at him. “I don’t--”

Bucky grips the doorframe so tightly it gives a little under his metal hand. “He’s jerking off in there. He’d only do that while we’re waiting out here because he has to. If he comes out here and you make a comment like that, he’ll feel guilty for--”

“--weeks. Maybe forever. Shit.” you interrupt. He pushes off from the door to let you pass, and you continue; “Banner seemed certain that the… intensity was because we’d spent those two weeks apart, but this is--” You break off and drop the pile of menus on the dining room table with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m really worried it’s going to be untenable, but then I remember all the people out there this could happen to, you know?”

Bucky nods toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms, where Steve is probably touching himself right now. “Is that the 'untenable' you’re talking about?”

Your face wrenches in embarrassment, eyes closed, and you nod. Because he doesn’t want to go through this whole ordeal without some amusement at his own expense, he says, “There are two bedrooms, if you need to borrow mine? You know where it is.”

#stucky x reader #stucky #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sex pollen #darsy twirls the tropes #preview #series: safe in my (our) arms #the readmore cut keeps moving and i'm insecure AF so it's all under the cut now sry about that

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wntrsnat · 2 years

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࿐ Preview; unnamed

✧ Pairing: BuckyNat/Winterwidow

✧ Warnings: Jealousy, violent intrusive thoughts, mentions of newborns + black market.

✧ A/n: this is just a preview! Work is in progress. If you wish to be tagged in the final version, let me know <3

Bucky didn't always enjoy going on missions with Natasha. Everybody knew the Black Widow. She had mastered variety of martial arts – sambo, hapkido, Lucha libre-style wrestling, Krav Maga, multiple styles of kung fu and many more – along with numerous assassination techniques. Her espionage abilities didn't even need to be mentioned. However, it wasn’t her skills that intimidated him on their missions. Moreover, nothing gave him more pleasure than having his eyes on her. Since the 1950s, he had watched Natalia spin in the air and throw punches, but she never ceased to surprise him. So, no, her strength did not threaten his ego. He found it incredibly hot. That was the issue from a professional standpoint, but it was anything but that from a personal one.

The sight of another man feeling her up was what he despised. Seeing their target grab her thighs, devour her chest with his eyes, and covertly grab his own crotch under the table made Bucky’s chest tremble with anger. That was what he hated about missions with Natasha, and he was well aware that it was not her favorite part either, which fueled his impulse to gut and disembowel that fellow. However, it wasn’t his fault that he was so drawn to Natasha, was it? It was his fault, though, that he was selling dozens of infants on the Black Market to dozens of customers. Bucky knew she despised being around that man for this reason alone, if not because of their relationship.

They may have been cold-blooded spy-assassins with see-saw morality, but there were some lines they wouldn't cross. Involving children in this industry was undoubtedly one of them, especially for Natalia, whose fate was set before she had even developed her eyesight. Given that he was a teenager during World War II, he shared the same opinion.

Right now, his hands itched to slam his head on the nicely placed white table, breaking the bottle of wine squarely against his head. No matter how badly he wanted to burst out of his seat – which was only a few feet away from the couple – and act on his intrusive thoughts, it wasn't the right time yet. They needed to gather more information before proceeding with the mission. It would most likely take another day or two, but not a week.

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

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OMG, 300 followers?!?!?

I think I've been at this tumblr thing for...

(checking. checking. what?)

...a little over two months. Holy sheet, gang!

Shall I offer a preview in appreciation? Why, yes. Yes, I shall.

Icon, excerpt (from part 10 of The Dignity of His Choice)

Over the course of their lives, Steve and Bucky have had many moments of extreme understanding with each other. Bucky knew Steve would try to get into the army again. Steve knew Bucky blamed himself for all his actions as the Winter Soldier. Bucky knew Steve would do anything to keep Tony at bay in Siberia. They both knew that Thanos could be the real end of the line. For five years, he was.

When the Blip ended, Steve knew Bucky wanted redemption, and Bucky knew Steve wanted a life. So Bucky jumped from the altar cliff on Vormir with the Soul Stone in hand and woke in glimmering puddle with Natasha in his arms. So Steve married you.

Fate makes a sick trade off of punishment and penance. For better or worse.

Steve doesn’t have to say a god damn thing. Bucky knows that you are it for Steve. The whole kit and caboodle. The station at the end of the line when it comes right down to it. He doesn’t have to apologize. Bucky knows Steve will beat himself up the rest of his life either way. There is no good choice, but Steve makes one anyway.

He lifts the gun. Bucky nods. Steve can see the pristine acceptance written across his friend’s face. None of this is what Steve wanted for his life. He’s meant to put bullies in their place, teach them the error of their ways, not kill for them, not choose between the two most important people in his life, not destroy half of his whole world.

Steve hears that you’re speaking, but he thinks you’re trying to tell him not to do it. He can’t let you talk him out of it. If Costa thinks Steve won’t, he may kill Bucky himself or make good on his promise to hurt you.

Steve’s finger starts to squeeze the trigger. He almost shuts his eyes.

The whine of the repulser stings like lightning in the air, and for a split second, he thinks Tony’s found them, too. His finger relaxes only after Steve points the gun back to…

…to where the guy is supposed to be.

You and Costa are tumbling down the frosted slope. Bucky launches himself forward before Steve even drops the weapon. It lands beside Costa’s in the snow. He follows, blood pumping too fast in a weakened frame. You’re smashing thin saplings along a mostly open path downhill.

“Go,” Buck commands as the traitor’s body stops first.

You fly one rotation feet first and skid to a halt. Steve can see you moving before he’s by your side.

“Honey,” he soothes, pawing at your face to steady you, to look over your wounds, and to simply touch you because you’re alive and he’s alive and Bucky’s alive.

“I TASTE METAL,” you yell, slowly shaking your aching head out of his grasp. “IS THAT BAD?”

Steve tilts you to examine the side where the repulser fired. The blood spatter isn’t yours, but the rivulet from your ear is.

You’re disoriented, looking around in the wrong direction before staring back at him.

“DID I GET ‘IM?”

“Buck,” Steve questions over your shoulder.

Bucky’s voice drips with pride and shortens on a smothered laugh. “Yeah, I’d say she got him. He has no face left.”

to be continued...

I know I'm behind on the posting schedule, but luckily I'll have the holiday weekend off. I'm hopeful I can bust out enough writing to get back on track. Thank you for all the kind notes and responses in the meantime. I'm excited to wrap up this angst with that happy ending I promised! I know you've all been very patient waiting for it, too.

#preview #steve rogers fic #steve rogers #steve x reader #fanfic #fools rush in #steve rogers fanfiction #series #captain america x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction

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scoonsalicious · 2 months

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Unwanted, Chapter 1: Unarmed, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: (For this part only) Following the events of CA:CW, Tony Stark has offered Steve Rogers an olive branch of sorts to bring The Avengers back together. You, CTO of Stark Industries and head of Innovation & Technology for the Avengers' Initiative, have your doubts, as you're not quite ready to forgive Captain America for ripping your family apart just yet. Steve had one condition, however, when agreeing to return to the team, one that's going to turn your life upside down and inside out: If he's coming back to join The Avengers, he's bringing his best friend, Bucky Barnes, with him.

Warnings: (For this part only) Language (obviously), minor mention of alcohol, I'm obviously on Team Tony during the CW; don't come for me, awful jokes, minor use of (Y/N). As always, if I missed any, please let me know.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's a little preview of Unwanted. In it's current form, it's standing at about 50k words, with about 25k still in editing, and I'm maybe about half done with writing the entire thing? I'm not going to lie, it starts out cute and fluffy, but it's gonna get real angsty and painful. Dear Reader has unresolved emotional trauma and Bucky doesn't understand the importance of boundaries in 21st century relationships. This piece has been my baby for several months now; I really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

"You're sure you're cool with this, Boss?" you asked Tony Stark, for what was probably the ten thousandth time in the last hour. The two of you were sitting by yourselves off in a corner of the common area of the Avengers Tower while the rest of your team congregated around the bar, eagerly anticipating the official return of Captain America to the Avengers. That, by itself, would be enough to warrant a gathering of Earth's mightiest heroes, but what had everyone in attendance talking was the fact that Steve Rogers wouldn't be returning alone.

Your billionaire employer sighed and swirled his glass of Laphroaig, the amber liquid sloshing along the sides of the tumbler. "I don't love it, Pocket, but it was Cap's only condition for coming back into the fold, and since Barton, Wilson, and Maximoff all went off the reservation with him, it seemed a small price to pay to get everyone back under one roof." He took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of your nickname. Thor had inadvertently given it to you when you first met the God of Thunder years ago, remarking for everyone to hear that you were so small and tiny, he could tuck you into his pocket and abscond away with you to Asgard. Somehow, it stuck. You'd hated it at first; it had felt dismissive and condescending, which of course meant that it soon became the only thing the members of your team called you, but the more they used in their daily lives, the more you actually came to love it. It was a brand new, unique identity that came to embody the person you’d become, and the past you’d worked so hard to put behind you. You were more likely to answer to 'Pocket,' now, than you were your legal name, and you were grateful for it.

"Besides," Tony continued with a shrug, "if letting the Barnes thing go means we get the band back together, I'm willing to be the bigger person about it."

You stared at him, impressed. "Well look at you. When did you get so emotionally evolved?"

"Since Pepper told me I needed to start seeing a therapist or she’d leave me once and for all," he admitted to you with a cheeky wink; you both knew that, though Tony drove his partner, Pepper Potts, absolutely insane sometimes, she loved him far too much to ever walk away from him for good. That didn’t stop the threats, though. Lord knows he tried her patience. In your opinion, the woman was a saint.

Your eyes widened at the revelation and you let out a low whistle of appreciation. "You're going to therapy? Wow. Tony, That's amazing. I'm proud of you."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed, "I have much more important things to do than sit on a couch and spill my feelings. Besides, my secrets are too valuable to divulge to an actual human being. I just trained FRIDAY on therapeutic conversational datasets so she can handle all that psychological mumbo jumbo and then I paired that with BARF's augmented reality-- it's seriously the platinum standard in mental healthcare. No awkward silences or judgmental stares, just pure efficiency. You should try it; it’d do you wonders. And the best part? No copays."

You chuckled as you took a sip of your pineapple and Malibu. "Yeah, okay. That completely tracks for you," you told him with a smile. "So, what did Dr. FRIDAY tell you that got you to change your mind about the Barnes situation?"

Furrows appeared between Tony's eyebrows as he took another sip of whiskey to buy time for collecting his thoughts. There was still so much pain in him where Bucky Barnes was concerned. You'd worked for him in some capacity for nearly fifteen years and you'd never seen him as defeated as he'd been when he got off that Quinjet from Siberia. He'd been bloodied, battered and utterly broken, body and soul. Seeing him like that had shattered you, and you never wanted to live through something like that again.

Tony ran you through his experience with his therapeutic innovation, and you had to admit, it was impressive. The system had helped him realize that Bucky Barnes wasn't responsible for the heinous crimes Hydra had brainwashed him into completing, and so his anger over the death of his parents, while justified, had been misdirected.

"Once I processed that, it was a quick jump to realizing we can't be the best version of the Avengers if we only have half the team at home, and it's innocent people who would pay the price for it. So, when I reached out to Cap and he agreed to come back if I agreed to let him bring Barnes with him, well..." Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand toward the where the rest of the team was waiting.

"So, you and Rogers are just, what? Good then? All water under the bridge?" you asked him, mild irritation clouding your voice.

"Oh, absolutely not." Tony took another sip of whiskey. "I can work with him again, and I'm glad to, but we're not going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Good," you said, raising your glass in a mock toast to Tony. "I'm not quite ready to forgive him on your behalf just yet." Tony had essentially saved your life when you first met him, and he’d continued to support and guide your career to heights you could have never imagined. You'd started as a systems analyst and mechanical engineer at Stark Industries fresh out of college, and under Tony’s mentorship, it wasn’t long before you found yourself rising to the position of the company’s Chief Technical Officer, second in command only to Pepper, now that Tony had passed on the reins to her. All this happened long before he'd ever brought you in to work with him on the Avengers Initiative, and now you spent the majority of your time heading up their Technology and Innovation Department, as well.

Any kind of healthy respect you might have had for your boss had died out a long, long time ago, because Tony Stark was Tony Stark, but now he was just Tony-- more like an annoying older brother you loved dearly, whose name just happened to be on your paychecks. You owed him everything and that had earned him your unwavering loyalty. You'd follow him to hell and back again if he asked it of you, though he knew he’d never have to; you’d be paving the path there right alongside him.

The sound of laughter made its way across to you from the other side of the room and you felt warmth at the sound-- everyone, together again and happy. Just a few short months ago, you never would have been able to imagine the scene before you, not after the fight in Berlin and its brutal aftermath. You had thought for sure that this little family you'd found yourself in the middle of had been destroyed beyond repair.

So, you might have had your own reasons to be pissed at Steve Rogers.

"What's Barnes like?" you asked Tony. Having only ever glimpsed him from a distance, or from behind a computer monitor, you'd utilized all the resources at your disposal to dig up as much information on the Winter Soldier as possible, but even your skills hadn't been able to get you what simply didn't exist. "You know I don't like unknown quantities."

Tony seemed to think for a moment. "You mean, aside from being a brainwashed, murderous assassin?"

"Tony," you chastised. You knew that Barnes had spent a good deal of time in Wakanda before coming home to New York, working on having the words that triggered his homicidal alter-ego neutralized. Rogers may not always acted rationally when it came to making decisions about his oldest friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t be bringing Barnes back to the Tower if he posed a serious danger to the rest of you. Right?

"Fine," Tony said, with a typical exaggerated sigh. "Aside from being a former brainwashed, murderous assassin; better?" You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Don't really know, didn't care enough to ask. I'll be happy as long as he doesn't start murdering us all in our sleep. Cap vouches for him, so that counts for something. Maybe not as much as it did once upon a time, but something. But T’Challa seems to think he’s harmless enough now, so that’s good enough for me."

You nodded, taking another sip of your pineapple and Malibu, then leaned back, pensive. "Oh, God," you said after a moment of thought, sitting up in alarm. "You don't think it’s going to be like having an entire extra Rogers around, do you? All '40s morality and emotional repression? Because I am so over having him police my language." It wasn't that you had anything against Captain America as an Avenger, but there was only so much of the Boy Scout act you could take before you started getting nauseous. And okay, fine, you weren't too proud to admit it-- there was a not-so-small part of you that still hadn't forgiven him for what you saw as his blatant betrayal of Tony when he refused to sign the Accords. You'd promised to play nice, though, for the sake of your family, but your personal relationship with The Star-Spangled Man had taken heavy damage since Berlin.

Tony chuckled. "As if you'd ever let Cap's presence keep you from a good profanity. I should put out a swear jar. We could fund that crisis algorithm project of yours off your mouth alone."

"Fuck you, Tony," you uttered with a chuckle, fully aware that he had your number. You never met a four-letter word you didn’t fall immediately in love with.

"And look at that," Tony said with a smirk, "I just made another dollar. Hey FRIDAY, open up a new savings account and deposit a dollar into every time Pocket has a potty mouth."

"On it, Boss," the AI replied cheerfully.

You swore at Tony a few more times for good measure. "I fully intend to financially bleed you dry now, asshole."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my custom Tom Ford's," Tony mockingly bemoaned, putting his feet, enclosed in the aforementioned ridiculously expensive loafers, up on the coffee table.

Raised voices from the other side of the room caught your attention. You stood up and craned your neck, trying to see what had caused the commotion. "I think they're here, Boss," you said.

"Alright," Tony said, standing up and putting an arm around your shoulder, "big smiles, kiddo. Remember, we're supposed to be happy about this." You suppressed a chuckle as you watched Rogers present Bucky Barnes to the rest of the team. Everyone was welcoming; you wouldn’t have expected any less, but as you watched their body language, the only word that came to mind was guarded. And you completely understood; The Winter Soldier’s reputation had preceded him, after all. There were hugs for Rogers, of course, but no one made any attempt to reach out to his friend.

Despite your overall annoyance with Rogers, you couldn't help but feel some degree of happiness for the giant oaf. When you'd been assigned on a mission with him (which happened fairly frequently, as he was so pathetically abysmal with anything having to do with technology) and ended up having to hole up in a safehouse for an extra couple of days while waiting for extraction, he'd started opening up to you about James Buchanan Barnes, and the reminiscing had made him so happy, you encouraged Steve to tell you everything about this Bucky. After that, the trouble was getting Rogers to stop telling his Bucky stories. If he wasn't sharing tales about growing up with his best friend during the Great Depression and all the absolute mischief they got into, he was sharing war stories of their time together with the Howling Commandos. He'd even shared his grief with you– how painful it had been to watch Barnes fall from that train and the guilt he carried for not being able to save him. He’d confessed to you once that, when he went into the ice, fully prepared to die, there was a part of him that was relieved to be reunited with Barnes in the next life, and waking up some 70 years later to a world where he was still alive but Bucky was still gone had broken his heart all over again. And yet, here they were– together in the next life, after all. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say it was a goddamn miracle.

Because of the way Rogers described his best friend in those old stories, you were expecting Bucky Barnes to come swaggering along next to him, with a cocksure tilt to his head and a panty-dropping smirk playing along his lips, but the man who accompanied Steve was the furthest thing from that.

He shuffled behind Rogers slowly, looking at the floor and avoiding making eye contact with anyone else from the team. His hair hung long and limp, curtaining off his face as though it were a protective barrier. Though, if it was keeping him away from everyone else, or everyone else away from him, you couldn't be sure. He was much thinner than you'd anticipated, especially for a super soldier– though still extremely muscular, giving you the impression that it had been a long time since he'd let himself indulge in anything more than the bare minimum amount of calories he needed for survival. Tilting your head, you tried to steal a glance at his infamous metal arm, the thing of legends that had turned him from a run-of-the-mill assassin into the stuff of waking nightmares.

But the sleeve of his jacket hung limp, only empty space where the appendage should have been.

Curious. He'd come to Tony Stark's home unarmed. Your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop the uncontrollable snicker that broke loose at your own stupid joke. Tony elbowed you gently in the ribs to shut you up, and you hoped you were too far away and the others too distracted by Steve's introductions to notice you, but that thought flew right out the window when Bucky Barnes' head snapped up at the sound, his eyes locking onto yours from across the room.

"Holy shit," you breathed, knowing another dollar would go into Tony's digital swear jar, but damn if the man didn't have the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. There were dark circles under them, and he looked incredibly tired, yeah, but they were beautiful. You didn't mean to stare, but you found you couldn't look away, either, and so the two of you were locked into some sort of impromptu staring contest. The longer you looked at him, the more you could sense an overwhelming sadness coming from him, as well as a level of wariness at being in a room full of strangers. It was almost overwhelming.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Blinking once, Bucky looked away and you felt the tension vanish from between you.

"What was that about?" Tony asked you in a low singsong voice.

"I have no idea," you answered, honestly. There had been so much pain and loneliness in his eyes. You'd seen eyes like that before, when you were younger and looked at your own reflection in the mirror following a scalding shower with your skin scrubbed raw and bloody. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally, Steve managed to disengage himself and Bucky from the other Avengers and began making his way toward you and Tony. Up close, you were struck by how tall Bucky was. He had to be at least a foot taller than you, if not more. And God, he was handsome. Granted, in a kind of heroin-chic sort of way, but still. A couple of good nights' sleep, a few good meals, some light personal grooming, and... well, there was a very good chance you were going to be in trouble once he got his shit together, that was for sure.

"And Buck," Steve was saying, drawing you out of your ogling, "This is our resident computer genius, Pocket (Y/L/N). You ever need help with anything technology-related, she's your girl."

"A bit of an over-simplified version, Rogers," you said, sticking your hand out to shake Bucky’s, "but yeah, that about covers it."

Bucky looked at you, then down at your hand, making no move to take it.

"What the hell kind of name is Pocket?" he asked, voice rough as though he hadn’t been using it a lot. Pulling your hand back, you shot him an annoyed glare.

"I don't know," you oozed back sarcastically. "What the hell kind of name is Bucky?"

"It's his nickname, Pocket," Steve supplied helpfully, though not without a trace of confusion. You gave him an annoyed, pointed look.

"No shit, Rogers." You turned back to Bucky and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "So, what do you think Pocket is, then?"

"Oh," said Bucky, catching on. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Gotcha; m'sorry about that. My manners are rusty from a severe lack of use."

You didn't mean it, but your mouth curved up into a hint of a smile, too. And then, almost as if you couldn't stop yourself from doing it, you found yourself saying "I see you've arrived unarmed."

There was a long, heavy beat of silence as Steve and Tony stared at you, mouths slightly agape, and you wondered if you'd made a critical error. You were just about to punch yourself in the face and claim you had a concussion and therefore couldn't be held responsible for what you said when Bucky burst into laughter.

It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard, and it was contagious. Through your own laughter, you risked a glance up at Steve. He was looking back and forth between you and Bucky, an indiscernible look in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd heard his best friend laugh. Hell, you wondered how long it had been since Bucky Barnes had laughed at all.

"Pocket," Tony groaned, palming his face, "that was truly terrible, even for you."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to catch your breath through your burst of giggles. "It just slipped out-- I couldn’t help it. You know once these things come into my head, they just bounce around in there until they fall out. I didn't mean it."

Steve smiled at you. "So that's what you were snickering at," he said, amused. Damn that enhanced super soldier hearing. Rogers didn't need to be so nosy with it.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Bad jokes are my superpower. Don't be jealous that all you got was super strength and a six pack, Rogers."

Bucky laughed again, then nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. "I like this one, Stevie," he said. "She's funny."

You weren't sure why, exactly, but something in Bucky's words turned your insides into a warm puddle of goo.

Oh, you were going to be in trouble, indeed.

Next Part ->

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #mcu bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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m4tthewmurd0ck · 8 months

Text

COMING SOON!!!

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Ballerina Reader

(I do my best to be as non-descriptive as possible, but I do use she / her and mention that reader is a ballerina)

Inspired by the question: Have you ever tried to eat at a restaurant, which happened to be a mafia / mob front, but you didn’t know that, and everyone inside just stared as you walked in because nobody actually eats there?

I FINALLY decided what I want my first piece back to be and I’m so excited shdiznejfns it’s very funny if I do say so myself. Once I got the idea I rushed and typed it on my phone and I already KNOW there are so many spelling errors because I have auto correct turned off and right now it looks like shit hahdndisfn. BUUUUT I just need to give it a quick read through / fix errors on my laptop and we’ll be good to go! Full preview below the cut :)

It had been Bucky’s idea to name the restaurant Tony’s. After their dear friend who had given his life in a war that should’ve never been fought.

It had been Peter’s idea to ‘open a restaurant’. He pointed out that it would be the perfect realistic cover, though Steve argued that they didn’t really need one. Everyone in Brooklyn and the neighboring cities knew who they were, why did they need to put up any sort of front?

In the end, Bucky sided with Peter. They needed a place to talk shop and handle business, and it had to be somewhere that the outside wouldn’t attract any trouble (aka law enforcement). A warehouse was too obvious and was practically begging to be raided. He agreed with Steve, though, in that everyone knew who they were and what their business really was. He pointed out that it was actually a good thing. It would be pretty obvious that the restaurant wasn’t a restaurant, and they wouldn’t attract actual customers. But they’d make it legit, so that they couldn’t be shut down. Like Peter said, they needed a realistic cover.

Within a month, Tony’s was up and running. Running, as in the lights were on during what would be deemed normal business hours. The door was kept locked, but that didn’t matter because as Bucky predicted, no one tried to actually eat there.

Until one day when rehearsal ran nearly 2 hours late. You were tired, exhausted mentally and physically, and you just wanted some comfort food before heading back to your apartment to enjoy the next 2 days off. Still somewhat new to the city, you decided to get off of the subway one stop earlier, and find a restaurant on your way home.

Luckily for you, a neon sign reading TONY’S caught your eye. Unbeknownst to you, there was a meeting going on inside, and someone had forgotten to lock the front entrance.

As you pushed the door open, you had no idea the events that were about to unfold.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED WHEN I POST FOR BUCKY, LET ME KNOW!!

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 1 year

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wrapping up the last three hundred and sixty-five days with a round up of all the 'x reader' fanfiction I have published in 2022. thank you all for all your requests, feedback, reblogs and support over the last twelve months, especially during the 10k month of fic! sharing this love for these characters with you all is such a mental refresh for me, and hopefully I can publish even more fics in 2023. and I hope that you'll love all the new fics as much as you've loved these ones :)

happy new year!

full content warnings and content can be found on each individual post, and each fic is labelled for length. follow me on bartonstark to find all my fic in one place, or check out my ao3. smut/sexual content: *** personal favourites: ///

BRUCE BANNER:

afterwards (drabble) *** aftercare with bruce.

bend, don't break (oneshot) *** /// the take a reprieve during a party, and take a new step in your relationship.

fear and loving in iowa (oneshot) when you’re injured in johannesburg, bruce blames himself.

fireworks (oneshot) thanks to the frigid air at the top of the tower, you share a tender moment.

first times (drabble) *** having sex with bruce for the first time.

p.s. (ficlet) an unfinished note leaves you confused during your college graduation.

restoration (oneshot) after johannesburg, you have nightmares. bruce provides you with comfort.

BUCKY BARNES:

bedside manner (oneshot) sam calls you to say bucky has been hurt on a mission,and you panic.

early hours (oneshot) *** after a mission, all bucky wants to do is crawl into bed with you.

morning grind (drabble) *** morning sex with bucky.

shards of glass (oneshot) *** /// you share a past, and now bucky's tracked you down to find closure.

CLINT BARTON:

after hours (oneshot) *** clint stops by your office after work to distract you the best way he can.

body heat (oneshot) *** /// the there's-only-one-bed trope in the back of an suv during a blizzard.

bound (drabble) *** clint is really into bondage and you're happy to spoil him.

coffee break (ficlet) there's an avenger bleeding in the bathroom of the cafe where you work.

crossroads (oneshot) clint receives an offer that could change his life & you encourage him to take it.

a delicate hand (oneshot) /// clint attempts to pull you out of a funk by helping you get ready for the event.

green light (oneshot) *** /// you surprise clint with a new toy, and he is very eager to try it out.

hey, you (ficlet) *** /// you receive a note from a certain avenger in the middle of a crowded bar.

in the stacks (ficlet) *** you steal a moment of intimacy in the back of a bookshop together.

respite (oneshot) when you’re hurt on a mission, clint has to convince you to take a breather.

think of me (oneshot) *** /// when you're dragged out for a night, clint has an idea of what to do in the club.

three a.m. (oneshot) /// a knock on your window comes from a certain injury-prone avenger.

we could play pretend (oneshot) you bond over all the little things you miss about being in a relationship.

welcome home (drabble) *** you welcome clint home after he's been away on a mission.

JESSICA JONES:

reprieve (oneshot) she has to drag you out of a dingy bar in the middle of the night.

snooze button (drabble) jessica isn't exactly a morning person.

MARC SPECTOR:

fast lane (drabble) *** /// marc gives you a preview in the car of what to expect when you get home.

NATASHA ROMANOFF:

follow my lead (oneshot) natasha offers to teach you how to slow dance.

PETER QUILL:

raincheck (oneshot) /// convincing quill to go to bed isn’t exactly an easy feat.

SAM WILSON:

miss me? (oneshot) you're finally reunited with sam in the middle of the battle of earth.

soul food (oneshot) /// when you’re sick, he ditches his responsibilities just to make you feel better.

STEVE ROGERS:

lost time (oneshot) *** late for your date, steve walks in on you working off your frustrations.

TONY STARK:

afterglow (drabble) *** after care with tony.

as you're told (oneshot) *** /// tony calls you to his office with a new game in mind…

between the sheets (oneshot) *** you've decided to try for a baby, and tony can't wait to get started.

come back to me (oneshot) after tony almost dies, you’re left lost and furious at what just happened.

count (oneshot) *** /// tony is nothing if not a giver. but… he is also a bit of an asshole.

echo (oneshot) /// you’re struggling to forget the past, so you try to bring part of it back to you.

idiot (drabble) *** just an soft, sexy moment between the two of you.

insatiable (drabble) *** the real question is, which one of you is the bigger tease?

mood lighting (ficlet) *** tony spoils you by candlelight.

on your knees (oneshot) *** the idea of having you on your knees is far too tempting for tony to resist.

quick question (oneshot) tony has a question to ask you, battlefield be damned.

red and gold (ficlet) an afternoon in central park lets you appreciate the seasonal color change.

simple pleasures (drabble) *** tony loves nothing more than eating you out.

sober hearts (oneshot) a look at your relationship as it has evolved over the years.

spare key (drabble) *** you give tony a key to your apartment.

subtlety (oneshot) *** impatient, you make use of the ‘emergency stop’ button in the elevator.

warm hands (ficlet) *** the two of you share an intimate interlude out in the snow.

WANDA MAXIMOFF:

hold tight (oneshot) *** /// she loves to spoil you & sometimes that means leaving you a quivering mess.

reflected in you (oneshot) you try on your new uniform, and wanda helps you find your confidence.

spicy sweet (oneshot) *** you plan on surprising wanda, but disaster means a change of plans.

sweetness (oneshot) *** /// wanda loves the way you sound, and doesn’t care who else hears it.

THREESOMES/POLYAMORY:

hands free (oneshot) *** /// you find clint on the phone, and you can’t help but distract him.

player three (drabble) *** /// clint x bucky x you. game night takes a turn when they team up on you to win.

SERIES:

to ashes chapters (full series, this year's chapters in bold) prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - more to come...

tags: @startrekkingaroundasgard @wittyforachange @lovely-dreamer19 @castieltrash1 @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lol-you-thought @sebbystanlover-vk @mikariell95 @csigeoblue @abrunettefangirlnerd @babyblues915 @aar-journey @moistpotatobear @bellamyblakemorley @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @sentimentalalien @agustdowney @akumune @xxboesefrauxx @patheticallysentimental @loki-is-loved @ruderavenclaw @enna-core @hearmyharmony @katsies @youralphawolf72 @whovianayesha @bradfordbantams @alice-the-nerd @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish @hallothankmas @meeksmusic83 @fallinginlovewithqueue @justanothermagicalsara @dragon-chica @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @starrynightsforever @baku-writes @sorryurnotbrucebanner

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nickfowlerrr · 2 years

Text

keeping secrets

series masterlist

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (dark!soulmate au)

This is a DARK series but not necessarily a dark!bucky. Please proceed with caution. Heavy angst ahead. Read ALL warnings. 18+ ONLY.

updated: 09/07/23

prologue

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

drabbles/one shots:

series preview

hopeless (past artem x reader)

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

Text

SALT (Bucky x Reader)

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: mostly-dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: 2.8k Summary: True achievement in the restaurant industry requires a relentless drive. No compromises. You've risen through the ranks, and when your mentor retires, you're rightly given the mantle of executive chef at Devour. On your night of ascension, the dining room is packed, and among the guests is someone equally as relentless to get what he wants.

Content Warnings: imbalanced power dynamics, bribery, workplace manipulation, NON/DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit language, risk of being caught, food play, knife play, nipple/breast play, vaginal fingering, forced orgasm, edging, unprotected vaginal intercourse, non-graphic cream pie (not the food kind)

Additional Notes: Written for @the-slumberparty's April Mob AU challenge. Using dark prompt #23 (bolded in the dialogue).

tagging some peeps who showed interest in the preview for this little thing: @sidepartskinnyjeans @vonalyn @winterslove1917

“You’re not serious, Stanley.”

“I am.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Sure. Whatever. I don’t have time for customer meet and greets during a normal service, let alone tonight of all nights.”

“You will do it,” Stanley insisted, “because it’s James Barnes and he’s got more money and influence than any god. He owns the mob scene in this town.”

When your maître d’ didn’t say anything more, you turned to truly look at him.

You frowned but set down your pan with a huff. “Fine. Charlie, take over while I apparently go make an appearance.”

“Table twenty-seven,” Stanley said, handing you a clean dish towel, which you pressed against your forehead, cheeks, and neck as you headed for the door that led from kitchen to dining area, tossing the towel in the laundry bin under one of the counters.

You pushed past the kitchen doors and walked through the dining room towards table twenty-seven, one of the handful booths and tables nestled in small alcoves that offered a little more privacy for VIP reservations, set off on a small dais with walls of green plants strategically placed to create ambience while sectioning off the area from curious eyes and a plethora of potential phone cameras.

There were five individuals seated around the table, but he drew your attention first as you approached. He clocked your progress before any of his companions, and when he looked up, his stare fixed on you with such intensity that you took a brief pause before your next step, which he clearly noted, and the corner of his mouth ticked up in the slightest smirk. It made your blood heat with irritation, but you focused on remaining calm and professional as you stepped up to the table.

“This was an exquisite meal, Chef,” he said, drawing the attention of his companions to you immediately.

“Thank you,” you replied.

“Sam here hasn’t been able to shut up about it since the first course came out,” a blonde man sitting to his right said.

“And you haven’t left even a crumb on your plate through any course, Steve,” he chided back good naturedly.

Each of them had a girl tucked in next to them, but not the man with dark hair and steel blue eyes you still found it difficult to look away from who had to be the infamous James. His friends and their companions continued to rave for another minute or two about different parts of the meal’s courses. You expected them to be closer to the age of your parents, not much nearer yours.

Twenty minutes later, you sprinkled a touch of flaky salt over the ribbon of whiskey-laced caramel drizzled over the chocolate mousse, Charlie adorned it with a perfect rosette of the Chantilly cream, and you slid the final plate across to Stanley, who put it on the final tray and sent the waiter on his way.

“That’s service, everyone!” you announced, and some of the staff clapped and whooped.

You smiled, truly satisfied. Charlie bumped elbows with you, and when you turned your head to look at him, you couldn’t help the genuine smile bursting across your face.

“Truly a triumph for you taking over,” Stanley said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’ve more than earned your new title as the executive chef of Devour and this kitch–“

He was cut off as there was a burst of activity at the doors coming in from the dining room. “Everyone, clear the kitchen! Out the back, please,” came a booming voice that you’d heard speak much more congenially earlier in the dining room. It was clear this man was used to giving orders and having them followed without question.

“Excuse me,” Stanley turned to look, but on seeing who was sweeping in and ushering his staff out before him, but his tone shifted when he saw who was giving the orders – now guarded but polite, “Oh, Mr. Rogers.”

“And if I could have a word with you in particular,” Steve said, addressing Stanley and nodding towards the back.

“Of course,” he responded.

You and Stanley exchanged a glance, and you began clearing out with the rest, but Steve put a hand on your shoulder. “Not you,” he said a little more quietly. “You stay here.”

You frowned and tilted your head as you looked up at him. He only smirked at you.

“The rest of you, keep it moving, let’s go!”

You chewed on your bottom lip and let your hand drop to the silver surface of the counter where your fingers immediately began to drum impatiently. After a moment you turned to look over at the door to the dining room, and your breath hitched.

He was there, leaning up against the door frame, blue eyes fixed on you.

His face was unreadable, and so you tried to keep your face blank as well as he stalked toward you, coming around the plating area and to your side of the counter.

“What is this, Mr. Barnes?”

“I’m buying this restaurant. Steve’s arranging everything with Stanley right now.”

Your brow furrowed.

“I own this kitchen, and I own you, Chef.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he put two fingers to your lips.

“I’m tripling your salary,” he said as he stepped right into your space, backing you up against the counter, only a breath of space between you.

Your heart was racing for too many reasons – anger, incredulity, but also a thrill of arousal. You wanted to refuse him, but he also drew you in, and you could not deny that. You knew he was dangerous, you were infuriated by his audacity, and yet…

“You can’t turn down an offer like that,” he continued, “especially not after the years of hard work I know you put in for the executive chef apron in this kitchen. Our stories are not so different in that way. You earned this. You won’t walk away.”

“I can–“

“But you won’t,” he cut over you. You glowered, but he ignored your slow burning anger and instead reached around behind your back to tug at the ties of your apron. Then his voice dropped down an octave as he spoke again, “Don’t fight me. You will give yourself to me.”

“I won’t.” You cocked your chin up.

“You will,” he insisted. He pulled the black apron away from your body and tossed it onto the counter behind you.

“You will give yourself to me now.” He pushed forward, pinning you to the counter with his pelvis. You tried to suppress a shaky exhale, feeling his erection pressing into you. “Soon you will warm my bed,” he bent his head down to ghost a kiss at your temple, then another on your cheek, before he moved his mouth further down and murmured his next threat down the column of your throat, “and I promise it won’t be long until you will beg for me to take you apart without any coercion.”

When his tongue darted out over the sensitive spot just under your jaw, a whimper escaped from your chest before you could stop it, and you felt him smile against your skin.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Please, anyone could catch us.”

He chuckled. “Sam and Steve are preventing that,” he said, pulling away just enough to start unbuttoning your black chef’s jacket. “But,” he continued, “if you make too much noise, you’ll confirm that we’re doing anything more than talking.”

Once he had finished with all the buttons, he pushed the coat open. Your eyes were still closed until you felt the cool edge of a knife on your sternum, and your eyes burst open again, fear and adrenaline rushing through your body, but luckily he wasn’t looking at your face, focused instead on your chest where his metal fingers skimmed lightly over the bared skin for just a moment before they gripped the fabric of your black camisole and bra while his other hand tore his knife down in a swift movement, splitting your undergarments down the middle, putting your chest on full display for his hungry eyes. He pushed the clothing out of the way fully only over your left shoulder.

He lifted his gaze to meet your eyes again. “Dessert was exquisite, but it didn’t satisfy what I wanted.”

He reached for a nearby saucepan, which still had a ladle in it, and smiled as he gave it a stir. You watched as he took a scoop of the caramel sauce and poured a little over the round swell of your breast. It was warm, and started to slowly spread, but not enough to drip and make a mess. You imagined in his line of work, he knew how to be precise, not leave anything extra to clean up. He set the pan back down on the counter, and then reached for something else, returning with a pinch of the flaky salt that he then sprinkled over the caramel.

For a moment he merely admired his handiwork. then his warm hand came up to cup the underside of your breast, and then his mouth descended to lap up the salted caramel from your tender flesh. Heat bloomed across your chest and straight to your head and your core, his ministrations eliciting a low moan from you. He hummed in approval, then took your nipple into his mouth. Your nipples were always very sensitive, and he was not careful with his attention there, sucking, nipping, and licking until you whimpered and tried to push him away. He kept mouthing painfully at your nipple another moment longer.

He leaned back for a moment to look own at you, scrutinizing your face. You were not sure what he saw there, truthfully you didn’t know how to feel and what front to put up, but whatever he assessed didn’t deter him.

He lifted one hand to your neck and then trailed the back of his fingers down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach, a light touch that wasn’t rushed, knowing he could draw a shiver of anticipation from you with the purposeful action. He unbuttoned your pants, and as he slipped his hand into your panties and cupped your mound, he leaned in close to your ear and softly said, “You earned this, too, Chef.”

His fingers sought your folds. “And you are wet for me.” You didn’t need to see his face to imagine the satisfaction that must be there – it was evident in his tone. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear. “Close like this,” he whispered, “I’ll still hear even the small pretty noises I’m going to draw from you with my fingers in your cunt.”

And even though you were expecting it – dreading it? – you gasped when he quickly thrust two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, and moved them expertly in and out of your tight heat, questing and quickly finding the sensitive spongy spot on the front of your pelvic wall. You bit your lip to keep keening as quiet as you could, and your arms gripped his biceps, looking for an anchor to reality. He played your pussy quickly, nimble and knowing fingers familiarizing themselves too easily with your body for your comfort.

His thumb went to work expertly drawing tight circles over your clit, still thrusting his fingers inside you, and the additional stimulation forced you into an intense orgasm you didn’t want to give him, burrowing your face into his neck to smother your small cry of ecstasy.

You didn’t want to see his face – undoubtedly haughty knowing he’s pleased you despite you wanting to refuse him the satisfaction – and in this you are spared at least for the moment as without pretense he abruptly spins you around and tugs your pants and underwear down your thighs. You heard the quick unbuckling of his belt and unzipping of his pants as he freed his hard length. You had only a second to brace yourself against the countertop as he gripped your hip with one hand and used his other to guide his tip to your thoroughly slick and ready opening. One full and quick thrust had him fully sheathed inside you, punching the air from your lungs. He leaned forward against your back, his mouth close to your ear again. “Feel me in there? Stretching you to the limit.”

He rolled his hips ever so slightly, slowly, and your head fell back against his shoulder.

“Yes, Chef. Just like that.”

He pulled his hips back, then gave another slow and powerful drive into your cunt. “Feel as smooth and velvety around my cock as that caramel sauce was on my tongue.” While one hand remained on your hip, as he began to pick up the pace with his thrusts his other hand brushed up your spine, then moved around to grasp your breast, the one he’d overstimulated just a few minutes before. You whimpered and tried to jerk away, but you’re met with his strong chest up against your back. He chuckled and then began to tweak and roll the nipple between his fingers.

You tried to pull his hand away, still whimpering.

“I intend to leave you feeling me for days from this, Chef,” he growls in your ear. His thrusts become rougher, faster, slamming into you over and over again. Your hands pulled at his wrist torturing your nipple, but your strength was nothing to his, and soon tears were spilling down your cheeks. When an audible sob escaped your throat, he finally relented and released your breast, but then he gripped your hips with both hands, showing no mercy for your pussy as he chased his own pleasure.

Without the pain, your body focused only on the pleasure mounting in your core now. This felt good. He felt good. His cock filled you exquisitely. You tried to rock your hips just slightly to where you know he’d hit that pleasurable spot in you again, but he controlled the movement and forced you to stay at the angle he wanted.

“This one is for me, Chef, not you,” he grunted.

Still, you pant together, lungs heaving, and you’re hurtling toward another orgasm. His hips stutter for a moment, and with a groan he releases his spend inside you, slowing his movements.

You couldn’t hold back a needy whine as he pulled out of you. You looked over your shoulder at him incredulously, edged to the very moment before but then denied your second release.

He paused after tucking his softening cock back into his boxer briefs and gripped your chin, demanding an abrasive kiss from your lips. “When you come apart on my cock, I want to watch your beautiful face and hear you beg for me.”

Years in the kitchen have taught you to hold back your words when there’s even a shade of uncertainty, and you are uncertain if you will give him what he wants or not, because you can’t deny that your body absolutely wants him, and part of your spirit does, too. Relentless power recognizing another like its own, and you hate that you’re more than a little intrigued. You don’t want to just give him what he wants, but a tiny sliver of you whispers that you shouldn’t cut off your nose just to spite him.

You pulled up your pants while you heard him zip and buckle his own pants again. One he had tucked in his shirt, again with swift precision, he turned you back around to face him. He reached for your apron, wiped his hands, then set it back on the counter. He didn’t mess with your torn shirt and bra other than to adjust them well enough so he could close your chef coat and button that back up over your chest.

He gazed right into your eyes again, brushing his thumb over your lips, parting them slightly, then pushing them closed again.

“I’ll be back for more soon,” he finally said, then walked away without another word.

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

LINK TO PART TWO: FAT

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