#mafia!Bucky Barnes x reader angst

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

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Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel au #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky x you #mafia au #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes hurt/comfort

[purple-babygirl]

my bucky?

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x f!reader (reader is little in the very beginning)

Word count: 7,390

Summary: Bucky's angel finally sees the hidden side of him.

Warnings: details of violence, kidnapping, getting shot, physical abuse by kidnappers, slapping, too much crying, angst

A/N: to all the nonnies that came to me once and asked "what if angel saw bucky beating someone up?" "what if angel gets kidnapped?", this is for you💜 i hope you have a good time with this one, loves x💜

~

Whenever he’d think of her, he’d think of jasmines. Soft, fragrant, pure-looking, fragile, beautiful jasmines. Like jasmines, she released her sweet perfume engulfed by the darkness of his night. Only he got to bask in her aroma. And like a jasmine in autumn, he’d fallen for her evergreen soul and he’d fallen hard.

Bucky knew she saw him through a pink lens. She ate up his lies like candy and although he felt bad, he knew it was for the best. He could visibly see her running out the door whenever he’d imagine someone opening her eyes to how cruel he actually was. It was selfish, but it was easier for him and safer for her this way. Better for both of them.

Luck wasn’t exactly his best friend though.

Bucky would never forget the look in her innocent, teary eyes as she watched him literally beat the life out of a man with all his might. He knew it was fairly stupid of him to do it in the back of his own garage, right next to his house where she was peacefully getting ready to call it a night. But he just couldn’t hold back when he saw the guy’s dumb face when his men brought him in.

“Miss?” She found Roseanne by the door, looking more nervous than usual.

She was shocked, no, terrified at the scene she couldn’t take her eyes away from. How and why was she even here in the first place?

~

Daddy said he’d be back for story time but he hasn’t been back yet. What was taking him so long?

She couldn’t fall asleep if his voice wasn’t lolling her to sleep. She couldn’t fall asleep if it wasn’t in his arms. Life without him just didn’t make sense anymore.

She got out of bed, slipped in her fluffy cat slippers and went on a little quest to find him. Bucky was always happy to see her so he’d forgive her for getting out of bed where he’d expected her to wait.

“Roseanne, have you seen my Bucky?” she asked with a smile.

“I think he’s busy right now, miss. You better wait in your room where it’s warm,” Roseanne tried to tempt her, using the cold as a good reason why she shouldn’t go outside where Bucky was.

The young woman looked distressed, like she was scared of something.

“What’s wrong, Roseanne? Is daddy okay?” she questioned the poor maid, her smile leaving her face.

“Yes, miss. Don’t worry. He’s just a little busy but he’ll be here soon.”

“Is he in the office?”

“I— I don’t know, miss. I think he is,” Roseanne lied.

She tilted her head suspiciously before running to the office to check it out, leaving Roseanne’s pleads for her to get back to the bedroom behind.

It seemed even more suspicious now that Bucky was nowhere to be seen in his office. It didn’t feel right and she had to find Bucky and make sure he was okay. Bucky always knew how to calm all her worries. He knew what to do and what to say.

Bucky protects her and is here for her.

But wait a minute, she didn’t hear his car leave. And if the car didn’t leave then Daddy was certainly in the house, she just missed him while looking.

She roamed the whole mansion, up and down, checking every room twice and she still couldn’t find her daddy.

Her mind was getting cloudier and she was getting more scared. Did daddy leave? Where would he go without letting her know that he’d be leaving? Why didn’t he kiss her forehead goodnight before leaving?

She made her way outside the main door and took sure steps to the large garage, once again taking no regard of Roseanne’s begging, confident in her smart train of thought.

When she arrived at the garage though, the pants she heard startled her to a halt as she ducked behind the black Range Rover.

Was that really Bucky? Her Bucky? Beating up a man to the point where his features weren’t recognizable anymore? That wasn’t possible. Her daddy was a sweetheart. He was the gentlest man she’s ever met and he wouldn’t hurt anyone like that. She knew he was feared because of his work, but he couldn’t kill anyone. Could he?

She peeked around and fell silent as a rock. The sight before her made her feel cold, leaving her poor mind perplexed.

On the first look, she couldn’t fathom what she was looking at. She wanted to look away. She did. But she couldn’t will her head to turn even just a little.

“How stupid do you have to be to think I wouldn’t know you were sent here to hurt my girl?”

A stronger pang hit her little heart when she realized this was happening because of her.

No, this was no bad dream though she’d hoped with all her heart that it was.

She’d made Daddy promise that he wouldn’t hurt anybody on her behalf. He’d promised to choose forgiveness if it was an option. It didn’t make any sense.

Was she too sleepy that she was seeing things? Did her little mind fall asleep without a story anyway and she was having a nightmare?

Sam had seen her first, wide eyes tearing up at the sight of her man smashing another’s face with his fist. He’d tried to tell Bucky, but it was too late. She’d already seen it all.

Those fingers that have ever so tenderly glided across her cheeks time and time again were hidden behind brass knuckles, covered in someone’s blood. That jaw that has only ever tensed from smiling too much around her was clenched, making him look scarier than she could’ve ever imagined him to be. His eyebrows were furrowed and his breaths heavy as he repeatedly and ruthlessly punched the man on the chair.

Her fear intensified when she’d recognized the beaten up man as their newest driver. She remembered him trying to repeatedly ask her if she wanted to go get ice cream with him when Bucky wasn’t home. She also remembered saying no like she was taught. She remembered Bucky promising to choose forgiveness if it was an option again and she saw him break his promise.

“Bucky, enough!” Sam pulled him away from the tied up guy, head nodding to the black vehicle.

Her head went dizzy when she thought of all the men she’d complained to Bucky about since they’d started their relationship. Have they all faced the same fate?

Who was this heaving, bloody-fisted beast before her? Did she ever know Bucky at all? Was he ever truthful about anything he’d told her or was it all just a big lie? How could she trust him with herself ever again? Who was her daddy really?

The walls around Bucky collapsed and he almost collapsed with them when he saw her face. She was there and she’d seen everything. His angel saw it all. His angel was scared. She was scared of him.

“Angeră?”

Her legs no longer wanted to hold her up once she heard his hoarse voice. The air was out of her lungs as she took slow steps back until she pressed herself to one of the grey walls behind her. The stuffie in her hands fell to the ground and with it her heart.

She wanted to run, but her cold body wouldn’t budge. Maybe if she could go back to the house right now, listen to Roseanne, stay in bed, and pretend this never happened, Bucky would miraculously come back with a perfectly healed, clean hand and they would peacefully have a cuddling session while his loving voice told her a story.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she begged, her voice above a whisper as she cowered away from him.

Bucky carefully walked closer, visibly watching her hands tremble. He raised his clean hand to caress her cheek like he always would when she needed him to calm her down.

He wasn’t expecting her to lean into his touch like she was used to, but it still shot daggers to his heart when she flinched, closing her eyes in fear and letting out the tiniest whimper.

“Angel, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Bucky’s broken voice had her heart clenching as she saw him trying to muster up a smile.

“Stay away from me,” she said in panic when he tried to take another step towards her.

“Angeră—”

“Please, Bucky, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t call him daddy or even her Bucky. She couldn’t.

“Baby, let me—”

She shook her head, running away from a shattered Bucky, almost tripping on her own feet.

“Go, we’ll take care of him,” Sam told him, patting his shoulder.

He watched her run as if she was escaping a wild lion, terrified and fearing for her life.

Bucky slammed his fist into the concrete wall where his love once leaned before slipping the brass knuckles off his probably broken fingers and hearing them clank on the ground. He rested both palms on the wall and let his head fall down as he breathed hard.

“Dragă, nu! Te rog, (love, no please)” Bucky begged, his hands grabbing her forearms to stop her from throwing more of her things into the suitcase.

Bucky ran like a mad man on the way to their house. He had no idea what he was going to say or how he was going to justify what she’d just witnessed him do.

She called him Bucky with glossed over eyes. She was bordering on little and he just gave her the trauma of her life. He had no answers to any possible question she might rightfully throw at him. Bucky only knew that he couldn’t lose her; she was the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He busted through the front door and ran up the stairs only to be met with her frantically packing her things, fat tears soaking her face as she hiccupped out sobs.

“Please let me leave.” Her voice trembled and more tears left her eyes. His right hand had dried blood all over it and it made her skin crawl.

“Please don’t,” Bucky pleaded again, on the verge of crying himself.

“I’m really scared. Please don’t make me stay here,” she begged Bucky, trying to slip out of his grip.

“Angel, please believe me. I will never hurt you,” Bucky swore, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Angel, of course I love you! Please just stay and listen to me, baby.” Tears rolled down Bucky’s cheeks as he took a dress out of her hands before she could pack it.

“Did you ever really love me? Would you really never hurt me? Was anything you ever told me the truth?” Her voice was way too innocent as the questions left her trembling lips.

She didn’t even sound like she was blaming Bucky, she just sounded confused. Disappointed. Hurt.

“I wanna leave. Please let me leave,” she repeated, crying harder as she tried not to let herself crumble down on the floor of their bedroom.

“Angel, please don’t say that.” Bucky shook his head, holding onto her writs for dear life, “I can’t live without you, love. I can’t.”

She looked up at him and the look she gave him let him know she wasn’t little anymore.

Bucky despised himself for making her feel and think that way, “angel—”

“Why did you ever take me? Why did you bring me here?” She asked, the reproach hurting her too, “I didn’t know what love was before you. I trusted you. I trusted you with my heart, Bucky.”

She was saying everything that came to her mind, unable to keep her thoughts inside or else it felt like they might suffocate her. She was mad at herself for letting herself trust and love when she shouldn’t have.

“Are you used to doing this to people? Do you kill people, Bucky?” Her voice broke as she asked, already fearing the answer.

“Angel, please.”

“No, answer me.” Her eyebrows furrowed in sadness, anxious of the reply she was about to receive.

Bucky closed his eyes, not wanting to see her face when he told her his truth, “yes.”

“Yes.” Bucky nodded, hot tears leaving his closed eyes.

Her breath hitched at his answer, making more tears leave his eyes.

“D-Did you do this to the other guys I complained about before, too?”

“Did you kill them?” Her tone fell with her heart.

Bucky only swallowed, going dead silent at her question.

“Oh my god.” She cried, her knees almost giving out as she tried to get her arms free from his grip.

“No, no, angel, I only drove them out of town. They’re alive.” He assured her, leaving out the details about the probable permanent disabilities some of them left town with.

“Why?” She sobbed, her shoulders hurting from squirming in his grasp with no avail.

“They were bothering you.”

“So this makes it okay to kidnap them and beat them up?!” She screamed, her tears never drying up.

“I wanted to protect you,” Bucky whispered, his heart dropping at the realization of how his angel must see him now.

“Protect me from you then and let me go.” Her words shot daggers right into the mafia boss’ chest.

“I can’t believe I loved you so much.” She whispered, mostly to herself, lamenting her foolish, trusting heart.

“Angel, I can’t. You know I can’t.” He knew she was right, but he couldn’t let her leave.

She was his whole world; his life and everything good in it.

“Loved?” Bucky could hear his heart shattering.

“Loved,” she replied despite herself, knowing too well that she was lying.

Bucky finally let her arms go after her confirmation. He knew that if he tried to hold her back now she would only end up hating him. He would rather have her leave him than hate him. He wouldn’t be able to take it.

“I’ll tell the driver to get the car ready so he could take you to your grandma’s,” Bucky told her without looking up, wiping away his tears. For now.

She didn’t reply, and only continued shoving clothes into the bag.

“I just want you to know that I’ll always be here whenever you need me. I will always be yours, angel. Even if you’re no longer mine. I love you and I will love you until the day I die.”

But all of this was nothing compared to the fear that shot up her spine when she heard gunshots making contact with the car she was inside, forcing the driver to stop abruptly.

Bucky’s last words had her sobbing even harder as she fell to her knees the moment he left her alone in the room.

She didn’t want to leave him and she never saw a day like this one coming, but she knew it was only right that she did. They were different from the beginning and she was wrong to let herself live in a daydream for too long. She had no place in Bucky’s world.

~

The drive back to her grandma’s house was torture. The pain of being fooled could only be overruled by the pain of fearing the only man she’s ever loved. She couldn’t ignore the feeling that she was leaving a piece of her behind in the mansion that the car just drove away from. She knew that piece was her heart and she knew that she was most likely never going to get it back. It will forever remain with Bucky.

Her tears kept coming as she silently wept in the backseat.

Pathetic fallacy was at its highest and the skies were sobbing with her. It was cold and the roads were muddy, thunder hitting every now and then, making trees shudder where they were rooted.

She cried more knowing Bucky would no longer be there to hold her through thunderstorms.

The man and the guard next to him got out their own guns but it was too late for them to do anything as another couple of bullets were shot, going right through their heads. The driver fell lifeless, face first on the driving wheel and she felt her heart stop with his.

“Let me go for your own good,” she said, trying to keep her tone confident and her pain veiled.

Before she could even think of a route to run in, a bag was put over her head, her screams futile as she got violently dragged to another vehicle before it all went completely dark with a hit to the back of her head.

~

“I thought we were past that shit, babygirl. Three days didn’t teach you who’s in charge yet?” Lloyd Hansen, Bucky’s biggest enemy, asked her with a provocative smile.

She was in absolute agony.

She let oud a loud, pained scream, desperately trying to pull her arm from underneath his huge shoe.

They’d untied her an hour ago after she claimed she needed the bathroom, a guard on her tail as he led her through the abandoned building.

Once inside the toilet, she managed to pick up the upper part of the toilet seat. She gained the guard’s attention with a scream, going down on his head with the heavy ceramic piece as soon as he opened the door to check on her.

She managed to run as far as the hallway of the floor she was in before a very angry Lloyd grabbed her. She surprised him with a harsh slap across the face, taking the chance to run again when he froze for a second.

Lloyd got even angrier, stretching his leg and knocking one of her feet off the ground, making her fall over. He walked over her crawling body and evilly stepped on her right wrist.

“I can’t wait to kill you,” Lloyd said, not taking his foot off before he heard a snap and a loud screech from her.

Lloyd got hold of her hair, dragging her all the way back to the room where she was previously tied up.

He tied her to the same chair again, only this time one arm got the ropes while the other was left to redden and swell.

Now she was here, on the same chair, throwing empty threats as she’s almost given up hope that Bucky might find her.

“Aww, did you hear that, boys? Little slut right here is worried for our good,” Lloyd mocked her, laughter erupting and filling the room in response.

“You’re not getting out of here, babygirl,” he spat, his voice laced with venom, “this is where you die.”

“Let me go. I won’t say it again.” Her voice almost shivered with her heart at the end of her warning.

She was scared, and in so much pain, but she couldn’t let it show. She wouldn't even cry and was sweating like crazy from the ache in her dangling wrist. She was Bucky Barnes’ girl.

“You’re making the demands now? Not even a “please” to persuade me?” Lloyd moved his face closer to hers, slowly pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear with a smirk, “or do I have to heat you a bottle to get to meet your polite side?”

She felt her face go hot as her eyes filled with tears and she couldn’t stop herself from spitting in the bastard’s face, “fuck you”.

Next thing she knew was his rough hand slapping down hard on her cheek, making her go dizzy. Blood trickled out of her nose and down to her lips right after and she couldn’t hold back her tears this time.

She was tired. Terrified. She needed Bucky.

“Your filthy mouth isn’t anything short of your boyfriend’s, but don’t worry, if you don’t know how to be respectful to your masters I have ways to teach you, and believe me, I can’t wait to start your lessons.” Hansen smirked at her wrist before spitting back at her and leaving with everyone else.

She cried harder than she has ever before, tears and blood mixing. Her body was shivering and her arms aching from being tied up in the most uncomfortable position and smashed down under Lloyd’s boot.

There was no way out for here, was there?

She knew she was done for and she didn’t have any last wishes except for getting to tell Bucky that she loved him and that she will never stop loving him one last time.

She couldn’t even pay her pain or blood any attention when all she could think about was Bucky and how he would have never let anything like that happen to her.

She remembered his soft smile that only she got to meet. The way he’d lean forward to engulf her in a hug momentarily warmed her before the iciness of the empty room made her shiver again.

She didn’t dare linger on Bucky, however.

It’s been exactly 3 days and 21 hours since his angel left him and he still couldn’t believe it.

She left him. She left and now she was here in some old factory under some asshole’s mercy. She couldn’t escape the situation she was in no matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t give her mind any kind of relief. There was none. Before she realized, her head was falling forward and she was getting a temporary break from reality.

~

“Bucky, are you o—” Sam cut himself off when his sight landed on his best friend’s face.

Bucky’s eyes were red with yet to be shed tears, again.

His car never reached her grandma’s because his men were murdered on the way. His angel was no where to be found and neither was Bucky’s will to live.

He kept telling himself that it wasn’t true, that she was at work; that she would eventually come back and sleep in his arms again.

However, she didn’t even call. Didn’t even look at his multiple texts. She really was missing and Bucky couldn’t face it. Between denial and heart wrenching pain, he buried himself 9 feet under.

He’s looked everywhere, asked everyone, but still couldn’t find her. It was as if she’s disappeared, turned to air.

Bucky has deserted their bedroom ever since she walked out of the mansion, the bed still as messy as she left it after she dragged the sheets down with her packed bag. Every time Bucky would enter the room he would see her leaving him, so he’d stopped. That couldn’t be his last memory of her. He slept on the couch in his office now, if at all.

And soon enough, the Bucky he used to be when she was around was dead and another angrier, more violent and very impatient Bucky had replaced him. He was always mad, at everyone and everything. And he was drinking every night, sitting on his bar for as long as he could, just to get himself hammered enough to fall in a deep unconsciousness where he didn’t have her scared eyes invading his dreams.

Sam was seriously worried for him, but there was nothing he could do; no advice he could offer. Nothing would bring that Bucky back as long as his angel was gone.

Bucky’s wallowing and Sam’s overthinking were interrupted when Bucky’s phone rang, vibrating on the ceramic floor. Bucky quickly crawled over to it, hardly believing his eyes when he saw her name in the place of the caller ID.

“Angeră?” he answered, his voice hoarse from staying silent for too long.

“Awww, you call her angel?” the voice on the other side mocked.

“Who the fuck is this?” Bucky asked, standing up slowly as his anger and worry forced him to sober up.

“You know too damn well who this is,” Lloyd answered, his smile evident in his tone as he knew he had Bucky by the throat.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked immediately.

“Tied up somewhere cold.”

“I swear on my life, if you touch her—”

“Relax, she can take a few scratches,” he replied, chuckling as if it was a joke.

“You son of a bitch!” Bucky shouted, losing his mind at the mere image of his angel being hurt.

“I’d watch my mouth if I were you, Barnes,” he snarled confidently.

“What do you want?” Bucky asked through his teeth, just wanting to get to his girl as quickly as possible.

“Let me hear her voice.”

“No,” Lloyd chuckled.

“I wanna destroy you.” Hansen laughed.

“Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.” Bucky tried his best not to sound desperate but it was obvious that he was begging for his girl’s safety.

“That’s where you’re wrong, B. She has everything to do with this.” Lloyd walked into the room where she was with a smug smile.

“Let her go.” please

“If you sound so distraught just because I’d hogged her for a couple of days, imagine how you’ll be when I erase her off the face of the earth,” Hansen said, laughing at the thought of hurting Bucky this bad.

Her face toughened up at the realization that it was Bucky on the phone.

“If you do as much as touch a hair on her head, I’m gonna kill you and everyone you know,” Bucky promised, his heart hammering in his chest as he hastily started moving.

“I might’ve broken a bone or two, but that’s only because she was a bad girl.”

“You’re dead, Hansen. Fucking dead!” Bucky promised, throwing the bottle he was drinking from across the room.

“We’ll be waiting with popcorn.” He hung up on Bucky, laughing.

“He’s gonna kill you.” She smiled once he hung up, making Lloyd grab her hair.

She hissed, trying not to show she was in pain.

“Not if I kill him first, angeră.” Lloyd spat, throwing her head forward before leaving the room.

She was horrified at the thought of anything bad happening to Bucky, but she willed her heart to trust in him. She had no time to ponder but she was actually proud of the fact that Bucky could so easily end this awful, evil man and she couldn’t wait for him to do just that.

Still, she waited for him. Something inside of her told her Bucky would never abandon her, not even to death. So she waited. Waited with the longing of all the lovers that ever were until longing had exhausted her.

~

It was like a slow motion dream. Doors being kicked down, guns being fired and her Bucky entering the room with a man’s body held in his left fist by the neck.

Instead, Bucky found Hansen and smacked him so hard with his metal hand that a tooth flew out. He slapped him again and his nose was bleeding. They made eye contact one more time and she noticed the difference for the first time. That wasn’t Bucky. It wasn’t her Bucky. His eyes still softened for her but the hint of revenge in them was more dominant.

He doesn’t even talk; doesn’t negotiate. He doesn’t even ask for her to be released. He doesn’t need to.

His men were getting everything done. His only mission was to look for her now. His eyes met hers but he didn’t start walking towards her like she’d expected he would.

She thought she would be afraid meeting Bucky again after what she’d witnessed him do, but she actually didn’t. Not even a tiny bit.

She was rather happy, the feeling that she was safe again warming up her body so much that she’d started sobbing.

It was like no matter how long they were away from each other, they were still together, never estranged from one another.

Bucky was on his 40th slap/punch on the man’s bloody face when he noticed her crying. He temporarily threw the man’s tired body on the ground and rushed to his girl.

He kneeled before her shaking body, wanting nothing but to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

And she was.

She looked up and could still see the coldness in his eyes despite hers being blurred by tears.

“I missed you. Is my Bucky okay?” She asked, her voice drained but not scared like Bucky had feared and expected.

“Let’s get you home, angeră,” he replied, saving his answer for now as he noticed the finger marks on her cheek.

She nodded desperately, her tied hand reaching for him despite being behind her back.

“Stop right there,” Lloyd said, crocking his gun at Bucky.

“Bucky,” she whimpered, eyes glued to her man, her anchor.

“E în regulă, angera meu, (it’s okay, my angel)" Bucky replied, getting closer to her and sticking to her side.

“No, it’s not. He’s lying to you. Just like he’s lied to you about everything else,” the man chuckled.

“Shut up,” she whispered, trying to calm down her breathing.

“Give it up, Hansen. I beat you. Again and for the last time. You’re done.” Bucky racked the slide of his gun.

“He never loved you. Do you even know who he is most of the time?” Lloyd continued, not willing to give up until Bucky was reduced to nothing before him.

“Shut up,” she repeated, wishing her hands were free so that she could cover her ears with them.

“Do you have any idea about the other side of this man you gave yourself to you poor little thin—”

“Shut up!” She shouted with all her might, “don’t speak about him like that.”

“Do you even know what you’re defending?” Hansen yelled at her with a crazy, bloody smile on his face.

“I know,” she answered calmly, “I know everything.”

Bucky looked at her in surprise, not believing what he just heard. There was no way she knew. How would she know? How would she choose to stay if she actually knew?

“Oh so you know about frosty over here?” Hansen smirked, pointing to his head.

“That’s enough, Hansen,” Bucky warned, barely controlling himself.

“I do,” she answered once more, her answer shocking Bucky yet again.

“Angel?”

“It’s okay, Bucky. I promise.” She sincerely promised, making it hard for Bucky not to tear up in the middle of the room.

“Aww, how sweet—” Hansen cooed and in a second 3 of Bucky’s bullets were in his head, neck and chest before he could say anything else.

She gasped, closing her eyes and turning her face away from the body as it collapsed on the floor with a thud.

She didn’t notice that Hansen had landed a shot at Bucky before he collapsed and Bucky didn’t even flinch as a bullet literally made it through his right shoulder. He didn’t feel the pain. He didn’t care about anything but his angel.

She was the only thing he could see and hear. Her wounds were his pain more than his own.

Bucky wordlessly kneeled down and untied her quickly. His gaze was glued to her wrists for a second before he rubbed the one that wasn’t swollen with his smoother thumb.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, referring to her other wrist.

“I'm gonna need a doctor to look at it.” Was all she gave him for an answer.

He silently opened his arms for her and she threw herself in them without an ounce of hesitation, crying more now that she was home.

She was so scared she wouldn’t get to feel like this again. She let herself let go. She then closed her eyes and finally succumbed to the cozy darkness now that she was safe.

Instead, Roseanne looked at her with a teary smile, “welcome back, miss.”

She lost all sense of consciousness that she didn’t hear Bucky shoot the man’s dead body a fourth and a fifth time with her in his arms as he took another look at her wrists.

~

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in Bucky’s bed, but Bucky wasn’t by her side.

“Roseanne, I missed you so much,” she replied, unable to stop her own tears.

“Thank goodness you’re okay,” Roseanne said, breaking the hug to let her rest her back.

She invited Roseanne for a hug with her good arm as she noticed the other was in what looked like a cast.

Lloyd had broken her wrist.

“Mr. Barnes is in his office,” she told her while adjusting the pillow behind her when she noticed her eyes roaming the spacious room.

“Is he mad?” she asked, more tears gathering in her tired eyes.

“At himself, maybe.” Roseanne shrugged politely.

“Please help me go to him, Roseanne.”

“One more thing though.” Roseanne chew on her lip.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t know what he would’ve done with himself if something had happened to her and he kept blaming himself as he sat there with his right arm in a sling.

“Mr. Barnes has been shot.”

~

Bucky didn’t care to look when the door to his office opened, not knowing that she was awake and too busy wiping his tears of regret.

He’s been like this since he got her home and in his bed again. His tears were unstoppable now that he saw the results of his lifestyle on the one girl he chose and held closest to his heart. In fact, he cried more every time he took a look at her angelic figure tiredly sleeping in his large bed as the doctor patched up her broken wrist.

She was so small, so pure and so so good for this world. Her face was fainter and the spark was gone and he was sure Lloyd didn’t feed her. The fading finger marks she had on her cheek, the rope burns around her wrists and ankles and the cast around her forearm slashed new wounds at his heart.

“Bucky,” she called out faintly, her head and body still aching a little, heart dropping when she saw him with his arm hanging, “are you okay?”

He stood up and helped her sit in his chair, not sure if it was okay for him to carry her and sit her on his desk like he usually would.

He hastily wiped his eyes with his hand to look at his baby.

“Hi, angel,” he tried to say with a smile but his voice cracked as another tear escaped down his red cheek.

She surprised him by using his chair as a step to get on top of his desk, pointing to the chair for him to sit back down.

Bucky was on eye level with the marks on her ankles as she settled her bare feet on his lap.

What was he going to say now that she was awake? And most importantly, what was she going to say?

“My Bucky,” she could recognize the difference between this man and the man who started her rescue right away.

Bucky was stunned to see she could see it despite everything. He didn’t want her to ever find out about that side of him and it killed him even more that she caught the difference. How on earth did she find something like this out?

“All yours, angel.” He tried to compose himself, for her.

She couldn’t bare seeing him like this. It was like she’s forgotten about everything that happened before this very moment and all she could do was sit up and hold his face to lovingly wipe his sorrows away with her left hand.

It was enough time away from Bucky.

“I’m okay, Bucky. I’m okay,” she tried to reassure him, only making him cry harder as the dam broke when she rubbed his shoulder.

“Iarta-ma, iubita mea. Te rog. Iarta-ma. (forgive me, my love. Please, forgive me)" He sobbed, moving his lips to the palms of her hands to leave wet kisses all over the reddened skin.

“I’m okay, I swear,” she repeated, not knowing what to do or say.

“I forgive you. Please don’t cry; we’re good,” she said it to him in the kindest tone like it was the easiest thing to say.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance to. Please, love,” Bucky cried like a child in her lap.

No, he couldn’t even remember a time when he cried like this as a child despite all that he’d gone through. He didn’t care though. He was going to do whatever it took for his angel’s forgiveness. He disappointed her, broke her heart and risked her life. Bucky was going to beg until the end of time if he could.

Bucky shook his head, crying harder, “no, you’re good. You’re too good to me, angel. Too good. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. Never did.”

It sent a knife to his heart that she still sincerely called him her Bucky after everything she’s been through just because he was in her life; because he was selfish enough to bring her into his without a care.

He was still beating himself up over it. And how could he not when everything terrible that’s ever happened to her had happened because of him? He traumatized her more than anyone ever could have and he’s gotten her hurt time and time again.

This girl who’s made him feel like he could stand against the whole world all by himself with no fear just because she called him her lover. This girl who taught him loyalty, kindness and love and was now teaching him forgiveness. This girl was sitting before him with a broken wrist and heart telling him not to worry about it.

“Don’t say that, please. I’m alive right now thanks to you, my Bucky.” Her own tears rolled down her cheeks before she could stop them.

She loved him more than anything and wished she could make him see that. Oh how she was dying to make him see how safe and loved he made her feel.

“You mean you were taken and hurt thanks to me.” Bucky casted his eyes down, too ashamed to even look at her marked face.

“Bucky—”

“I get it if you still wanna leave me. And I will let you. I would never make you do anything you don't want. I just want you to know that I never lied to you about my love for you. You’ve been and still are the realist thing in my life, angel. Everything I said and did was true. I adore you.”

“Bucky, I—”

“I know it’s selfish to choose to speak about this now, but I’m afraid you’d leave before I get to tell you how in love with you I really am,” he sniffled, wiping his eyes again in vain before looking up at her, “I would die without you. Your love owns me, heart and soul. But.. if leaving me is what you choose.. and if leaving me will make you safe, I will accept it. I just need you to know that I’ve never lied to you. Angel, you are my whole life. You’re my one and only. I belong to you. I’m yours and I will die yours.”

She was speechless, too taken aback to stop herself from crying harder. Bucky’s never opened up to her about his feelings before. Not like this.

“Bucky, I love you,” she managed to whisper before he cut her off again. Before she could tell him that she felt the same way, that she was all his and will forever be his, that only him ruled over her heart.

“You don’t have to say that, angel—”

“Let me speak,” she demanded, her palm cupping his wet cheek as she grabbed him a tissue from his desk.

He nodded, biting his lip and bracing himself for the harshest ‘but’, preparing to get his heart ripped out of his chest.

“I don’t wanna leave you,” was the first thing she could get herself to say, desperately wanting to soothe his thumping heart.

Bucky’s eyes filled with more tears because he knew he didn’t deserve her.

“I forgive you. I want to tolerate this dangerous life because it lets me have you; be with you, which is the only place I ever wanna be.” She took a deep breath, her own tears continuing to fall as she wiped his.

“Baby,” Bucky whispers, hating to see her tears yet again.

“I knew you weren’t the nicest guy to others and I knew your line of business wasn’t the safest either. I just— it freaked me out when I actually got to see you inside of it. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

Bucky lowered his head in shame again.

“In my head, especially when little, you’re incapable of hurting. In my eyes, you’re safety, Bucky. You’re home.” She brought his eyes back to hers with a hand on his cheek.

“I’m sorry, love,” Bucky was quick to apologize but she shook her head in reply.

“It might take me some time to get used to everything now that I know everything. But it didn’t affect my love for you, Bucky. Not one bit. I lied. I was so scared I would die without getting to tell you that. I still loved you more than ever even in that moment with your fist against another man’s cheek, and I guess that scared me even more. Because it was unlike the me I thought I knew. But this me, right here, is madly in love with you and she doesn’t care about anything other than being by your side for ever.”

“Angel,” Bucky sobbed, holding her hand to his lips, leaving appreciative, wet kisses on her palm, “you won’t regret it, baby, I promise. This is the last time you get hurt. I would die before I let anything like this ever happen to you again.”

“I know, and I trust you, my Bucky. If you’d give me time and if you’ll have me, I wanna be with you every moment of my life, forever.” She couldn’t not throw herself inside his arms, needing the closeness to reassure her this was real.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, holding her on his lap as tight as he possibly could.

“Lucky me,” she whispered in his shoulder.

Bucky felt himself coming alive again at the smell of jasmines in her hair and the feel of her warm body in his hold. She was a piece missing from him and now that she was back, he wasn’t going to waste a second without worshiping the steps she walked.

“I know I might need a while, but that doesn’t change anything. I still love you with my whole heart, Bucky,” she reassured, squeezing him to her even more.

“Take all the time you need, angel. I’ll be right here. I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

“Promise me something though.”

“Anything.”

“No more killing people on my behalf.”

“What if they have a gun pointed at you?”

“Okay, only in that case then because it’s self-defense.”

“I promise.” Bucky smiled, sliding her hair behind her ear before kissing her forehead.

She pressed her forehead to his with a smile, “thank you.”

“We’re injury buddies now,” she joked when they pull away making Bucky laugh out loud for the first time in days.

“Does it hurt, angel?”

"Mine doesn't hurt, you?" He kissed her covered wrist gently.

"Does it hurt?"

They both asked at the same time, making each other laugh.

“Not as much anymore,” she replies, not wanting to remember how much it hurt when she was tied up in the cold room.

“Let’s eat so you could take your pain meds.” Bucky offered her his metal hand and she took it with her good one with a content smile.

~

Everything was going to be okay again. She knew it. Her hand was back in Bucky's and there was nothing their love wouldn't be able to pass. This might not be the Bucky she got in a relationship with, but it was the Bucky she wanted and was going to continue it with.

He was still and was always going to be her bucky.

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[bucky-fricking-barnes]

The Cards We're Dealt

Title: The Cards We’re Dealt

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, alcohol, cursing, objectification of women and mild sexism, bad parents, angst, fluff, mentions of drugs

Summary: Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.

A/N: Wow! Another long fic because I have no self-restraint. There’s a bit of Irish in this because I couldn’t resist it when I wrote Steve. Translations are at the end, and anything incorrect can be blamed on Google Translate. As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and supporting me in all the ways you do. 

There is an unspoken rule amongst the mobs in New York that the more drug manufacturers a man controls, the nicer you treat his daughter. So, when Bucky’s father tells him that he’s once again been pimped out as part of a deal, Bucky knows to ask the question,

“How many does he control?”

If Bucky had his way, of course, he would treat all girls as well as he is able (which is very well). He likes girls, and he likes going out with girls. He just wishes he could choose which girls he got to take out.

“Seventy-five percent,” George Barnes says, and Bucky freezes with his glass against his lips. He has a club soda to his father’s whiskey—he’s in a good mood and was actually hoping to enjoy the day, though now he’s reconsidering it. His plan to lounge by the pool with Becca and soak up as much of the late spring sunshine as possible is quickly dissipating. 

“That’s not possible,” Bucky replies. He quickly does the math in his head. His dad owns over half the manufacturers in Brooklyn. “We own—“

“Not anymore.”

The library falls silent as Bucky tries to wrap his head around the news. Just yesterday he’d overheard his father on the phone with one of his men, explaining in great detail what he’d do if they didn’t get him a sample of their newest product by the top of the hour.

“How?” he asks. He sets his glass aside and sits straighter in his chair. “Did something happen? You didn’t tell me about a takeover.”

George takes a sip of his whiskey. “That’s because there wasn’t one.” He sets the crystal tumbler on the small bronze tray nearby. Marta will come clean it up later. “I sold them.”

“You sold them? If you’ve already struck a deal, then why am I taking out his daughter? Isn’t that normally something you have me do to butter their fathers up before you make the deal?”

Bucky watches as his own father stands and goes to watch the landscapers through the library window, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s long since been out of the army, but some habits die hard. Very rarely did the man ever relax.

“You are the deal,” George answers, his voice much too casual for Bucky’s liking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” snaps Bucky.

“Watch your tone, boy,” his father replies. He doesn’t turn around to witness the way Bucky grinds his teeth together in response. “In exchange for the majority of Theo’s territory, you and Y/N will be married within a year and a half, though the exact date is up to the two of you. I believe that Theo mentioned his daughter likes spring, so perhaps a spring wedding. June is popular, from what I’m told, though that’s cutting it a little close to the deadline.”

Bucky’s up out of his seat now. He can feel his pulse thrumming and he can’t quite catch his breath.

“So what? You threw me in to sweeten the pot? Am I just another bargaining chip to you now?”

He’s shouting. He doesn’t care.

George turns and regards him in silence, and, like always, his expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking or feeling. He doesn’t seem fazed at all by Bucky’s outburst.

“You’re my heir. I make my decisions based on what’s best for our family. Nothing about this decision is impulsive or frivolous, James,” he finally answers, his voice cool and even. There’s nothing familial in his tone—George Barnes is all business. 

“You can’t just decide that I’m getting married. I won’t do it. I refuse,” Bucky tells him. He balls his fists at his sides and he sets his jaw, furious. How dare his father try to control his life like this? It’s one thing to occupy the majority of Bucky’s nights and weekends with dates, meetings, dinners, and weapons runs, but it’s another to throw him into a marriage he doesn’t want.

“I can and you will. If you don’t, there will be consequences. To start, you will be immediately cut off from our family. You will have no money, no home, no resources, and no contact or communication with anyone involved in the business, including your mother and your sister.”

Heart pounding, Bucky glares at him. He’s got a migraine coming on. He knows his father isn’t kidding, but he wants more than anything for Steve to pop out and say that this is all just a joke. He’s never even met Theo’s daughter. He’s barely even met Theo. According to the rumors, his only daughter is his most prized treasure. She isn’t someone who frequents any of the bars, clubs, and restaurants that he and the other “mob children” frequent. Maybe “mob children” isn’t exactly the right term, at least not anymore. After all, Bucky’s engaged now. He’s just part of the mob, another pawn to be moved around the chessboard.

“You have the rest of the day off. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning,” says George. He picks up his glass and downs the last of the liquor. “Theo and his family are coming for breakfast, and then Y/N will be moving in with us. I want you on your best behavior.”

He pauses and Bucky continues to glare at him, not validating his words with a response. George’s eyes grow dark with a thinly veiled threat. Bucky knows that look—if he pushes his father any harder, he’ll regret it. 

“Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky grinds out.

Turning on his heel, Bucky stalks out of the library and slams the door behind him. He immediately heads down the hall, then down the stairs and across the ground floor of the Barnes Estate to the garage. His keys are still in his pocket; he’d only just gotten back from a night out with Steve when his father had summoned him.

It doesn’t matter that he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Bucky climbs onto his bike and revs the engine, speeding off down the long driveway that winds around the house. The guards barely get the gate open in time and then he’s flying down the road, heading straight to Steve’s bar in the city. He knows his friend will be there, most likely nursing his hangover and going over the books in his back office. He won’t be hard to convince to go out again, though Bucky knows he won’t approve of the plan to drink as much as he possibly can in the next twelve hours. It doesn’t matter, though—it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man, and he’s determined to make the most of it.

You sit between your parents, staring at the empty seat across from you. They’d told you this morning that you were going to the Barnes Estate for breakfast, and while you’d expected the grandeur of the dining room and the meal, you didn’t expect the eldest Barnes child to be completely absent. You’ve never met him, but your mother has insisted that you speak to James—George Barnes’ only son and heir—as much as possible during the meal. Supposedly, he’s the same age as you.

Rebecca Barnes is a ray of sunshine and her cheery disposition is a stark contrast to the dark clouds that now hang over your fathers’ heads. Maybe it’s a deal gone wrong or maybe it’s something else, but you don’t like it. It leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Silently, you sneak a hand under the table to find your mother’s. You squeeze and your mom squeezes back, glancing over to give a reassuring smile.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Barnes starts, and you jump a little in your seat. You haven’t been verbally addressed since you’d been seated a half hour ago. The food has yet to be served. “Your parents tell us that you’re very interested in horticulture. Did you know we have a rose garden out back?”

You force a polite smile. “I don’t know about very interested. I have a few house plants that I’ve managed to keep alive, though I would love to see your garden sometime. I’m sure it’s beautiful,” you add.

“Maybe Bucky can take you,” Rebecca says, earning herself a sharp look from her mother. She simply shrugs.

Oh, to be as unbothered as Rebecca Barnes!

“Where is James?” your father asks. His voice is a low, threatening growl and you sink down in your chair, staring at the cloth napkin still folded atop your plates.

“He knows to be here,” Mr. Barnes growls back. “You’ll have to excuse his tardiness, he’s not normally like this.”

Mrs. Barnes gives Rebecca an even harsher look when she opens her mouth to speak, and this time the girl actually looks ashamed. She takes a sip of her orange juice to hide the guilty look on her face. She’s the first person to have actually touched something on the table, and it’s like whatever spell the room has been under is broken.

All at once, the dining room springs to life. A short, slightly heavy-set woman in a gray dress and white apron enters through one door. She’s holding a delicate silver coffeepot and the smell of coffee instantly fills the room. Two younger women in identical uniforms follow behind her, each of them pushing golden carts laden with food. Through the door across the room, a tall man with short, dark brown hair stumbles in. He’s wearing all black, from his rumpled button-up and jeans to his boots and sunglasses. His hair is sticking up in every direction and just like the coffee, you can smell the stench of alcohol coming from him even from your seat.

You grimace at the smell and pull your napkin into your lap as one of the women comes to place food in front of you. It’s a formal dining service and the strange new man who’s entered feels entirely out of place. From his attire to the way he shuffles across the antique rug, everything about him screams that he’d rather be anywhere else. If you acted like that, your father would be pulling you back out into the hallway to reprimand you, and you look anxiously at Mr. Barnes, who’s seated at the head of the table. 

“James,” he greets, his voice unnervingly even. A chill runs down your spine. “It’s nice of you to join us. I trust that you slept well last night?”

James collapses into the only empty chair at the table, the one across from you, and pointedly ignores his father. You risk a glance up at him as he reaches for the cup of coffee that’s already been poured.

True to form, Rebecca leans over and claps a hand on her brother’s shoulder blade. “Good morning! Aren’t you excited to have breakfast with our guests?” she shouts, and her smirk makes it much too clear that she’s fully enjoying the way her brother’s scowl deepens. Rebecca also ignores her parents, including her mother, who leans forward to look past James and give her a look of warning.

James shrugs his sister off of him and starts buttering the toast on his plate. You watch for a moment, then start picking at your own food as your mother also begins to eat. Everyone’s acting so strangely that you’re already on edge, and you’ve only managed to get down a few grapes and two bites of dry toast by the time your father speaks up again.

“So when are we signing these papers?” he asks, sipping his coffee. 

“As soon as the marriage license is signed,” answers Mr. Barnes.

You frown. Marriage license? Who’s getting married?

“And the terms are the same as when we last spoke?”

Mr. Barnes sips his own drink, something that looks suspiciously like whiskey, and sets down the glass. “Yes. I have that contract in my office. We’ll review and sign after we’re done here. Are all of your daughter’s things ready to be moved?”

Your stomach drops and you turn to stare at your father with wide eyes. He nods, not even paying attention to you as he continues his conversation with the other man. Your mother pointedly ignores you, choosing instead to stare at her plate as she eats. When you look around the room, it seems like almost everyone else is doing the same. Rebecca is the only person who actually meets your panicked gaze. She gives you a pitying look as your anxiety rises.

It feels like your mouth is filled with sandpaper, and you grab your glass of juice. You have to drink half of it before the feeling even mildly abates. As soon as you set it down, one of the women in gray appears to refill it.

“What’s going on? Why are you moving my stuff?” you finally choke out. You twist the napkin in your lap with both hands, wringing it as you look from one person’s face to the next.

Mr. Barnes stops mid-sentence and the whole room freezes. Even James, who’s pouring something into his coffee cup from a small silver flask, stops what he’s doing.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” your mother begins, taking your hand under the table.

You want to pull away. You don’t.

“After breakfast, your father and I are going home, but you’ll be staying here with the Barneses.”

“What?” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “No, I don’t— I don’t want to stay here. You never said anything about me—“

“We’re getting married,” James interrupts. He’s chewing and you look over at him, gaping at the casual way he’s sprawled out in his chair. You can feel his gaze on you even from behind his sunglasses and it makes you feel dirty. 

“Excuse me?”

He chuckles and sits up, then leans forward in the chair. He drops the greasy strip of bacon he’d been eating onto his plate. “We’re getting married. They’re using us like bartering chips, sweetheart. You and me in exchange for all the drugs and all the territory in New York.” James gestures grandly with one hand, a too-wide grin on his face. There must be at least ten rings on each of his hands and you swallow thickly at the threatening display of black and silver metal.

You’re trembling now and you pull your hand away from your mom’s. She reaches for you again but you shake your head, shying away from her touch. Frantically, you look around the room to see if this is some kind of joke or a drunken rambling, but no one is laughing. Even Mrs. Barnes has the decency to look sympathetic on your behalf.

“No, no. You wouldn’t—“ You look back at your parents, imploring them to say that it isn’t true. You swallow thickly, trying to stave off tears, and your voice wavers as you prompt, “Mom? Dad?”

Their silence speaks volumes and a whimper escapes you as you wring your hands in your lap. The napkin slides onto the floor. It suddenly feels like you can’t breathe and when your mom reaches out for a second time and starts to tell you to calm down, you jerk away and stand. The chair falls backwards behind you, but you ignore it as you rush out of the dining room and into the hallway you’d entered from. Everything is unfamiliar. Frantically, you pick a door and yank on the handle. It doesn’t give way and you continue the process until one of them finally opens and you can rush inside. You lock it behind you and press your back against the door. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows are closed, shrouding the room in darkness. You can’t make out much of the furniture through the tears in your eyes.

Out in the hallway, you can hear your mother calling for you and your father arguing with Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes is yelling at somebody too, but it’s hard enough to hear the others over your own gasps and sobs. You’re properly crying now and you sink to the floor, curling up on the carpet as you heave. It’s a good thing you weren’t able to stomach much breakfast.

A knock on the door makes you yelp and then cry harder, and you crawl into the darkness of the room to try and find a hiding spot. You’re lucky enough to find an old, heavy desk right away. It’s the perfect size for you to crawl under for shelter, and there’s no chair for you to move out of the way. The drawers on both sides create a cubby for you, so you crawl into it and curl up into a ball with your back towards the door, just in case someone manages to get in. If you’re quiet enough, it’s possible they’ll walk right past you.

The crowd in the hallway has definitely heard you by now. The doorknob is rattling as whoever’s on the other side tries to get in, but after a few minutes, they stop and the hallway goes quiet. You hold your breath after every couple of sobs, listening for any sign that they’ve found a key or that they’re picking the lock. Nothing happens, however, and after a while, you give up on listening.

You sit in the darkness and cry until you’re thoroughly exhausted. Once you’ve run out of tears, you sit and zone out with your head resting against the side of the desk drawers for a while longer, numb from the news. Your body feels light and a buzzing, tingling feeling makes moving your limbs seem impossible. You could’ve never imagined that your parents would be so capable of treating you so poorly. You’ve always felt so loved by them, and to hear that they’ve practically thrown you away at the first chance of a profit makes you want to puke. Upon that realization, you actually do throw up, and the stink of your vomit on the carpet of whatever room you’re in makes you want to cry all over again.

The door opens just as the stench is becoming too much to bear. Light floods in from the hallway and you squint, curling up in fear. After a moment, the shorter woman in the gray uniform that you’d seen at breakfast appears a few feet away from the desk, right in the path of light. You look up at her. 

“Oh dear,” she sighs, and you instantly feel ashamed at the disappointment in her voice.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. Your bottom lip is trembling again as fresh tears somehow appear in your eyes. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your wrists. “I can clean it if you—“

“You’ll do no such thing,” the woman says. Her voice is gentle and kind, so much so that you don’t feel the need to argue with her. She waves her hand dismissively and approaches you, then holds out both hands. She’s careful not to step in the mess you’ve made. “Now come on, up you go.”

You let her help you to your feet and then you straighten out your clothes, sniffling and wiping at your nose again in a desperate attempt to look more put together than you feel. Still a bit unsteady, you whimper for a second time, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, dear.” She gives you a warm smile. “My name’s Marta. I’m the head housekeeper here. It’s very nice to meet you.”

You don’t feel the same way about meeting her, given the circumstances, but you hold that comment to yourself and simply nod in agreement. Marta leads you back out into the too-bright hallway. It’s empty except for a bald man mopping the floor on the far end.

The high ceilings and glossy marble floors make it look like you’re in a castle. Even the silence feels regal. Everything seems so cold compared to your home, and you feel too small in the massive space.

“What time is it?” you quietly ask, looking back at Marta.

“It’s almost noon, Miss.”

Your stomach sinks and you press your lips together, inhaling deeply as you look around again. Three hours have passed.  “My parents…”

“They left about fifteen minutes after breakfast,” she tells you. Her words are matter-of-fact, even if she delivers the news in the softest possible way.

Somehow it hurts worse that they’ve left you than finding out they’d practically sold you to the Barneses in exchange for God knows what. Drugs or territory, whatever James had said. Not only did they treat you like nothing, but they’d deserted you after it was clear you didn’t agree with their plans. They hadn’t even tried to reassure you that they still loved you or that you’d still be able to see them. Maybe you wouldn’t be. Maybe they didn’t.

You nod numbly. There’s been nothing to prepare you for this, no precursor or warning, so you keep looking around the hall, though in reality you’re not really seeing anything. 

“Your room is ready upstairs, Miss Y/N. Would you like me to take you?” asks Marta.

You nod again. You feel like you’re underwater as you follow her up a grand staircase and then down a long, narrow hallway. It’s decorated similarly to the ground floor, though with a plush Persian rug running its length. Marta talks as she walks ahead of you, no doubt explaining what the many doors lead to, but her words simply go in one ear and out the other. It’s all so surreal that when you finally get to your own room, you don’t even open the door. Marta has to reach around you to open it, and then she gently ushers you inside when you still don't move.

Just as they had said at breakfast, your belongings have all been moved into the Barnes Estate. The furniture here is different, grander than what you’re used to, but your blankets and pillows are on the bed, and the two bookshelves are packed full of the books you’ve collected over the years. Even the strip from the photo booth at an old friend’s wedding is pinned to the bulletin board above the desk. Someone’s even thought to put your plants on their own table by the window. 

“There’s a bathroom on the left and your closet is on the right,” Marta explains, pointing to each. “If you’re hungry, dinner is at five.”

“Do I have to eat with them?” you ask.

If Marta is surprised by your question, she doesn’t show it. She simply shakes her head with a gentle smile. “No. We can bring food here if you’d like.”

You nod and stand in silence until she leaves and closes the door behind her. Then, after another minute passes, you drag yourself over to the bed, climb under the covers, and close your eyes.

If there’s any mercy left in this life, you think, I’ll fall asleep and never wake up again.

Weeks pass and you still haven’t adjusted to life at the Barnes Estate. The staff is only slightly less friendly than those you grew up with, but they’re more attentive. It helps that there are more of them. For every member of the Barnes family, yourself included, there are at least four staff members to attend to their every need. It makes you feel like royalty, but it also makes you feel guilty. You don’t need this much. You certainly didn’t ask for it.

You haven’t seen James since the ill-fated breakfast, nor have you seen your parents. They’ve gone so far as to block your number. After that discovery, you’d locked yourself in the massive ensuite bathroom and cried for an hour. Marta had been the one to coax you out. The poor maid who’d found you when coming to get you for dinner hadn’t known how to help. You’d spent that entire evening curled up on your bed while reruns of The Nanny played on the TV embedded in the wall across from the massive mattress. Marta had spent every second with you that she could, but eventually Mrs. Barnes—Winnifred, as you referred to her in your mind—had scolded her for neglecting her nighttime duties across the estate. That made you feel even worse.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca asks, and you turn to look at her from where you’re staring out the hallway windows at the gardeners. The backyard is massive, complete with a rose garden in full bloom, an outdoor swimming pool, a forested walking trail, a large green expanse for games and parties, a gazebo, a fountain, and what seems to be stables far in the distance, though you haven’t ventured far enough to be sure. A visit to the rose garden hasn’t been brought up again either, and nothing seems interesting enough to explore on your own.

Nodding, you don’t say anything before turning back to watch the men work. They talk and laugh with each other as they prune, pick, and water. You wish that you could trade places with them. 

“You don’t look okay,” she says. Rebecca props herself up on the window ledge to your right, facing you with a suspicious look on her face. “We haven’t seen you at any meals, and Valerie told me that you were crying in the bathtub three nights ago.”

You should feel ashamed, but you’re too numb to care. It feels like you’re floating through each day, detached from most things. You’ve spent your entire life thinking that you would marry for love and live happily ever after. Now, your parents have sold you to the highest bidder and your husband-to-be is a cruel, disgusting man-child that wants nothing to do with you.

Rebecca’s fingers lacing with yours jerk you back to reality and you look down at your joined hands in confusion. Her nails are bitten short and she wears a single ring with the Barnes family crest. It’s dainty and gold, a stark contrast to the many rings on her brother’s fingers.

“You’re safe here, Y/N,” she tells you, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to be alone. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you. If I had any say in it, you could be home right now with your parents, but I’m far from the top of the totem pole.”

“I hate them.” You spit the words out and jerk your hand away from hers. “I hate my parents.”

That’s the first time you’ve ever said that in your entire life and your heart skips a beat as the anger makes your lip curl. You’re baring your teeth at her but Rebecca doesn’t even flinch. She’s a mafia princess, through and through.

“They made me believe that I could have anything I wanted, that I could marry whoever I wanted whenever I was ready, and then they threw that all away and treated me like shit the first time it was convenient for them.”

She nods. “That’s true.”

“I was so foolish to have believed them,” you growl, but the fight in you is fading just as quickly as it came. You burn bright, but you burn quickly, too.

“No,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “You’re just human.”

You look away, embarrassed by your display of emotion as your eyes begin to water with more tears. You were raised to be reserved. You knew very little about the inner workings of your parents’ business, but you’d learned as a young girl that you’d fare better if you always clung to the edges of the room, avoiding the dirt and grime and blood that surrounded your whole life. Over the years, you’ve grown very good at hiding yourself and your emotions from the people around you. From the spark in her eye, you have the feeling that Rebecca is the exact opposite. She could hold her own if it came down to it. You couldn’t.

“It’s okay to be upset,” she insists.

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath and look back out the window. You lift your chin slightly and when Rebecca tries to rope you into another conversation with her, you ignore her and focus on the men outside. They’re finished tending to the roses on the edges of the garden. Now they’re working their way inwards.

You’re finally left alone a few minutes later and as soon as she’s around the corner, you let out a heavy sigh and relax your posture. Slumping forward, you lean forward into the window ledge, curling up just a little as you continue to watch the gardeners. The silly song from Alice in Wonderland pops into your head and you hum along, eventually mumbling to yourself about painting the roses red.

You feel a little bit like Alice, you realize. You’re out of your element in a strange land where everything you’ve learned about life seems to be turned on its head. In this world, nobody marries for love and the girls are just as entrenched in the business as the men. Does Rebecca conduct business with her father and older brother? You could certainly picture it. Will the same be expected of you?

That afternoon, Marta knocks on your door with a written invitation from Winnifred. Your presence is being formally requested at their dinner table, though from the look the housekeeper is giving you, it’s more of a demand than a request. With her help, you pick out something to wear. By the time five o’clock rolls around, you’re crossing the enormous hallway in a dress and heels that you’ve never seen before. It’s far too showy for your taste, but it’s clearly something someone wanted you to wear. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have put it in your closet.

George Barnes and James stand when you enter the dining room, as do several other men you don’t recognize. Your father is standing near the head of the table with George, though your mother and Rebecca are nowhere in sight. Besides Winnifred, you don’t recognize any of the other women. The only empty seat is beside James and your immediate instinct is to flee, but then he’s stepping aside to pull out the chair and all eyes are on you.

Slowly, you close the distance between the two of you and sit. He helps you scoot in, then takes his own seat on your right. The other men sit as well and then dinner resumes. You sit in silence, staring at the top edge of your plate with your hands in your lap. You’re not really listening to the conversations around you, either, but you can feel someone’s eyes on you as you try to stay as quiet and motionless as possible.

“Are you sick or something?”

You startle and look up with wide eyes. James is watching you. He’s got one hand on the table with his fingers brushing the stem of his wineglass and the other resting on his thigh. Unlike your fateful breakfast weeks ago, James is dressed in a neat, all-black suit. He has no tie, and his rings are all gone except one. It’s identical to Rebecca’s family crest, except his is silver and has a thicker band.

His eyes are full of something you can’t place and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. As quickly as you turned to him, you turn away and look back at your plate. The napkin is folded in some elaborate way on top of the plate. You’re not sure if it’s supposed to resemble anything at all, but maybe if you stare at it long enough, it will look like something.

“Y/N?” he prompts. You nod once, tightly, and then pull the heavy cloth napkin into your lap when a server appears to present the first course.

Between the second and third course, you can feel James’ eyes on you. After the third, he gets roped into conversation with a man sitting across the table, but you know that he’s glancing at you all the while. After the fourth, he bumps his arm against yours. You shirk away and feel him tense beside you.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, and you push your chair away from the table. Immediately, the conversations stop and all the men stand again. It’s too much attention on you and you hurry out of the dining room as fast as your heels and dress will allow. You’re stumbling over yourself by the time you get back to your suite on the third floor. The door slams behind you and you collapse onto the floor beside the bed, too overwhelmed to even climb atop the oversized mattress. You’re on the verge of tears when there’s a soft knock from the door, and that rips a sob from your chest that you hadn’t expected.

Immediately, the door opens and James is standing in the open space, a dark look on his face. You sob again and scramble backwards until the edge of the bed frame is digging painfully into your spine.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You swallow hard and take several gasping breaths, trying to control yourself. Your mind is spinning with insults, calling you weak and pathetic, and you believe every one.

“It’s just too much,” you answer through your tears. “I don’t want this!”

James huffs. His angry expression has faded, now replaced with something more akin to irritation. “And you think I do?”

You shake your head. “Of course not.”

“These are the cards we’ve been dealt, doll. You’re gonna have to get over it. Let’s just get married and then we can live happily ever after in a big house where we never have to see each other. I’ll do what I want and you can do what you want. Sound like a plan?”

You look down at your hands. A big part of you wants to say that no, it doesn’t sound like a plan. You don’t want that life. You don’t want a house so big that you practically need a golf cart to get from one side to the other. You don’t want a husband who ignores you in favor of his blood money or his side chick or the next shiny toy off the black market. You don’t want James.

Though every part of you is screaming the opposite, you nod. He crosses the room and you inhale sharply to steady yourself as he approaches you with no care. His black dress shoes are tracking dirt across the rug. James holds out a hand to help you up and you take it. The heirloom ring on his right hand digs into yours until you’re standing, and then he drops your hand like it’s on fire.

“We need to go back,” he tells you, and you nod again. “Our parents are pissed.”

“Of course they are,” you mumble. 

James pauses, staring at you critically. You’ve been staring at the baseboards since he helped you up, but when he doesn’t move or speak, you glance upwards at him. He’s got one eyebrow raised. His expression is thoroughly unreadable otherwise and an unsettling feeling blooms in your stomach.

“What?” you ask. You step back a little, but there’s no place to go except up against the bed again.

He shakes his head at you. “Nothing. Come on, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” You scrunch your nose. “Anything but that.”

“Sugar?” he offers, and when you shake your head, he sighs. “Well, what do you want me to call you, since you’re suddenly the one calling the shots?”

His words cut deep and you look back down, hating the way shame immediately pools in your belly. How could he seem angry and irritated with you, then borderline kind, and then completely disinterested in your feelings the next? It’s disorienting, and you don’t need that on top of everything else.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

Grabbing your arm in a grip just bordering on painful, James pulls you out of your bedroom and back down the hall. He holds on as you stumble behind him in your heels. When you reach the ground floor hallway again, he drops his hand and offers you his arm. You’re hesitant to take it, but he sighs a little and you decide that it’s easier to give in than to put up a fight.

The two of you walk back into the dining room and the conversations immediately hush. James leads you to your waiting seats, pulls out the chair for you, and then helps you scoot towards the table again once you’re seated. As he takes his spot beside you, your father speaks up.

“Have you and James discussed when you’ll be getting married?” he asks.

You pick up your fork and stare at the strange food on your plate, ignoring him. Though your stomach is churning, you force yourself to take a bite. He can’t expect you to answer while you’re chewing—it would be bad manners.

“Next spring,” James answers. “In the rose garden.”

You want to spit on the roses. You swallow your food instead.

“Good choice,” Mr. Barnes agrees. He turns his attention back to your father. “Your daughter is quite the well-behaved woman. She’ll do well with our James.”

Beside you, James tenses again, his grip tightening slightly on his fork. You glance at him, holding your breath, and wait until he relaxes again to take another bite of your food. 

The rest of the dinner passes with mundane, meaningless conversations. Nobody addresses you for the remainder of the meal, not even your parents, and finally the men begin to make their way out of the dining room to an adjoining room. You hadn’t even realized there was a room connected; the door is hidden amongst the paneling and crown molding on the walls.

“You can’t go in there.” James grabs your wrist as you stand to follow the group of men into the new room. His voice isn’t malicious and his grip isn’t tight, but you flinch away from him anyway. It’s only then that you realize the few women that had been in the room are leaving through the door to the hall with their wineglasses in hand.

“Because I’m a woman?” you counter.

“Because you don’t want to hear the things that they’re going to discuss,” he answers. He tosses his napkin on the table and stands, towering over you. After a long second of eye contact, he steps away from you and heads towards the men.

You watch him go and silently weigh your options. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have even thought about following the men into the second room. You would have simply taken the same path as the other woman, though your wine would have continued to remain untouched. Now, however, with your wine in hand, you stood at a crossroads. You could go into the room and potentially face the wrath of your father, James, and George Barnes, or you could live forever curious as to what was actually being discussed. 

With your mind made up, you down your wine, step around James, and head through the open door into the room. It’s a study with dark wood paneling on the walls, leather couches, and stale cigar smoke in the air. As soon as you enter, the laughter and conversation stop and all eyes land on you.

“Y/N, you should be with Winnie and your mother,” Mr. Barnes says, stepping towards you. James is behind you now and though you’re hedged in, you simply lift your chin at the older man.

“Why? Am I not allowed to know what family I’m marrying into?”

His face darkens. “Girl, I’m warning you—”

“Don’t speak to my wife like that.” James’ voice from over your shoulder startles you and you quickly turn your head, looking back at him with shock. 

Why is he suddenly standing up for me?

“Hold your tongue, James,” his father snaps. “You aren’t married yet, and Y/N needs to learn her place. One would think her father would have taught her better, considering the problems his wife caused.”

Though you hate your parents for what they’ve done to you, your blood boils at the insult. Your anger rears its ugly head even more when you realize that your father doesn’t look intent on standing up for you or your mom, either.

“That’s enough!”

You swear the room rattles around you when James shouts and you grit your teeth, furious at Mr. Barnes. How dare he insult your father? How dare he talk to you and his son that way?

James grabbing your hand shocks you back into reality. Once again, his grip is almost painfully tight, but you force your face to reveal nothing.

“Y/N and I are going out. If I so much as hear that you’ve said a single thing about her in my absence, you will regret ever giving me any kind of power in this business,” he growls. “The next time you see her, I expect that you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.” 

The men stare at you and James in disbelief, and then you find yourself being practically dragged out of the room. You’re too stunned to fight back, so you let him pull you across the ground floor of the estate to a door only two down from the dark room where you’d hit the morning your parents had left you behind.

“We’ll have to take the car, unless you’re okay riding the bike in that dress,” James says, pushing open the door. He doesn’t look back at you as he speaks, and it takes you a second to realize he wants a response.

“Car,” you answer after a few seconds. “Please.”

The room James has led you to is a massive garage, stretching farther than you ever realized a similar room could. Three of the walls are made of light gray cement, as are the floor and ceiling, and the fourth wall is made up of windowed garage doors, each one big enough for several cars to drive through simultaneously. Running down the center of the rectangular garage, there is a row of seven parked cars, with enough space to fit at least another car between each one, and beyond that, you can see a row of several motorcycles parked in a similar manner. The cars are in varying shades of gray and black, with the exception of one red sports car at the far end of the group. You can’t see the bikes well enough from the door, but you catch glimpses of blue, silver, gray, and black.

Four enormous, black and silver tool chests are lined up against the wall facing the hoods of the cars, but there isn’t a spot of oil or dirt in sight. You don’t even see any loose tools or equipment. Looking around, you wonder if the tool chests are just there for decoration, or if someone on the estate actually works on the cars and motorcycles.

Maybe James works on them?

“Are all of these yours?” you ask, unable to help yourself. He seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy driving around for fun, and he’s just mentioned something about a bike. You stare at the side of James’ face as he plucks a set of keys off a black pegboard on the wall. There’s a button embedded in the wall beside the board. James pushes it with one thumb and the keys in his hand bump against the wall.

One of the garage doors near the last few cars starts to roll upwards onto the ceiling, revealing the outside of the estate. The sun has completely disappeared from the sky, and the moonlight is blocked by the clouds you’d seen rolling in earlier in the afternoon. The leaves of the large shade trees that surround the estate and form a protective shield from the outside world rustle in the wind. Crickets and cicadas chirp, reminding you of the cool spring nights you’d spent on your family estate as a little girl. You’d run around in the grass near the garden while your mom or your nanny watched you. Sometimes your father’s men would watch from the perimeter of the property, and when you’d wave, they’d wave back, asking what you’d done that day. You always answered them, even if you knew it would get you in trouble. They never stopped asking either, even if it got them in trouble, too.

You stop walking and close your eyes, then breathe in deeply as the night air rushes into the garage. It’s the first time you’ve been even close to the outdoors since arriving at the Barnes Estate. Your skin is still warm from the stifling dining room and the anger you’d felt in the men’s study. The breeze is a blessed relief, even if you do shiver after only a moment. Goosebumps form on your exposed skin—the dress Marta had picked out for you did little to keep you safe from the elements. 

James keeps walking down the aisle formed by the wall and the front of the cars, though you hear his footsteps pause a few moments after you stop following him. 

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You’re a little surprised that he’s not demanding that you catch up. When you open your eyes, you immediately meet his gaze, and a weird feeling bubbles up in your stomach. The expression on his face betrays little, but his stare reminds you of the way your father’s men looked at you all those years ago—interested and almost fond, but ready to push you away at a moment’s notice. You nod and hurry to catch up with him.

Once you get closer, James presses a button on the key fob in his hand. One of the cars in front of the open garage door rumbles to life. The sound it makes is a low purr, almost seductive, and you raise an eyebrow as James approaches, then runs his fingers over the hood. Even if the others aren’t, this car has to be his. It’s a sleek black, with dark tinted windows and a gleaming silver grill in the front. The BMW logo shines proudly in the center. It looks like a car your own father would own. Though you know he’s never owned a BMW, if this car is anything like the ones in your father’s fleet, you know that the inside will be as much a picture of luxury as the outside.

You slide into the passenger seat when James opens the door for you, and in the time it takes him to cross around the front of the car to the driver’s side, you take inventory of the interior. It’s a manual transmission—something your father once said was obsolete, except for car collectors and enthusiasts—which means that you wouldn’t be able to drive it, even if you tried. The car is pristine, so much so that you’re afraid to move. Two water bottles are in the cupholders, and it still smells brand new inside. There isn’t a speck of dirt or dust on the dashboard, nor on the floor mats. The leather seat is soft and there’s a control for seat warming and cooling on the control panel.

James climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. He buckles up and you follow his lead, and then you sit back as he reverses the car out of the garage and onto a winding driveway that leads you around the front of the estate, then along the other side to a large gate with a guard house. You’d forgotten about the extensive security since the last time you’d been outside the Barnes Estate. Your father had handed over your driver’s license, along with his and your mother’s, before breakfast all those weeks ago, and there’d been a strange code word of some kind. It dawns on you as the guard opens the gate for you and James that you’d never gotten your license back.

“Where are we going?” you ask as James pulls onto the main road. It leads away from the estate and into the city. 

“To get some real food,” he replies. His tone is gruff, and it feels like he’s on the verge of an angry outburst, so you slump back in your seat as he shifts gears and the car accelerates. The tension in the car is thick. You don’t want to be the one to deal with it, especially since he’s the one creating it.

After several minutes of watching the enormous mansions and the forests surrounding them pass by, you look over at James again. His expression, just like in the garage, reveals nothing, but you can tell that he’s more put-together than the last time you’d interacted, and it’s not just the tailored suit. His hair has been trimmed and styled, and he has an even dusting of stubble that frames his jawline nicely.

In the time since you’d learned you were engaged, James hasn’t said anything to you. You’ve heard him talking in the hallways as you wandered, but you haven’t wanted to be near him. This is the closest you’ve ever been. Your brief conversations so far tonight make up the majority of the words you’ve spoken to each other. His words from the bedroom echo in your head, until finally, you can’t help but blurt out your thoughts.

“Do you really not want to marry me?” you ask. Your voice sounds small and pathetic, and you hate it, but it’s too late now. 

He glances over at you with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. “What do you mean?”

You sit up a little in the seat, though you keep your hands in your lap and you try not to move your feet, just in case there’s dirt on your shoes.

“I mean,” you say, watching him carefully for his reaction, “that when you came to get me upstairs, you said you didn’t want to marry me. Is that really true?”

“I never said that.” He shifts gears again as you near a stoplight, and the car slows. 

“Yes, you did.”

“No,” he shifts again, his teeth now clenched, “I didn’t. I asked if it looked like I wanted to marry you, and you said it didn’t. But I never said I didn’t want to.”

Now you’re confused, and you frown at him, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. The car rolls to a stop behind a Ferrari blasting music out the open windows. 

“So you do want to marry me?” you ask. 

He sighs and drops his hand from the gear shift, then looks over at you. “Y/N, I’m not going to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, so if this is you testing to see how I’ll treat you, then you have nothing to worry about. I’m not a monster.”

“It’s not. I just…” You stop, unsure of how to phrase what you’re feeling. It’s strange to be upset over a marriage you don’t even want, but for some reason, you are. 

“What?”

“If you don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you, then why are we going along with this?” you finally ask, settling for the bigger question than the one that’s truly nagging at you.

“Because we know that if we don’t, life will be hell,” he answers.

It’s the truth. You know it is, and you know it deep down. If the two of you refuse this marriage, your life will be worse than you could possibly imagine, and you’re fairly certain that your fathers will find a way to make it happen anyhow. They’re well-connected in every sphere of life, not just when it comes to drugs and weapons. Your father probably has a priest on his payroll.

The light turns green and James moves the car forward again, merging into the right lane almost immediately. He slows as you approach a valet stand outside an upscale bar you’ve never heard of. It’s not one of your father’s, which means it probably belongs to George Barnes.

Then again, you think as a uniformed man opens your door, maybe it belongs to James.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Barnes,” a valet on the other side of the car greets.

James hands him the keys. “You too, Tommy. Listen, don’t park it too far off. We’re not staying too long.”

The man nods and climbs into the driver’s seat as your own valet leads you away from the curb. James meets you next to the valet stand and offers you his arm, then heads towards the doors.

“What is this place?” you ask as he holds open the door for you.

“My friend’s bar,” James says.

Your stomach twists itself in knots as heavy club music starts to get louder. The bass rumbles in your chest and you dig your nails into his arm as you near a set of glossy black double doors. You haven’t been to a club in a long time. The last time you’d gone, you’d been dragged by a childhood acquaintance, but you’d spent most of the night alone after she’d ditched you for someone she met on the dance floor. You’re not particularly eager to relive that experience tonight, especially with the man you’re being forced to marry. Who’s to say he won’t ditch you for someone else right in front of you, just to rub it in your face? After all, he’d said it himself in the bedroom—you’ll do what you want and he’ll do what he wants. It’s the cards you’ve been dealt.

If these are the cards, then I’ve got a sucky hand.

“James—”

“Bucky.”

You stop and squint at him in the low light of the entrance hallway. The two bouncers in all-black suits stop with their hands on the door handles, ready to open them for you once you start walking again. The music pounds in your ears, so much so that you can feel your eardrums vibrating.

“What?” you ask, not sure you’d heard him correctly.

“Bucky,” repeats James, a little louder this time. “You should call me Bucky, if we’re going to be married.”

“Is that… a nickname?” 

Even in the darkness, you can see him laugh, and a bashful, boyish smile spreads across his face. “My middle name is Buchanan. Steve used to tease me about it when we were kids, and he started calling me Bucky as a joke. It caught on.” He shrugs it off, but there’s a fondness in his voice when he speaks of his childhood friend, and it makes you smile just a little.

You loosen your grip on his arm. “Okay then. Bucky,” you add.

When Bucky steps forward again, the doors are pulled open, revealing a much more casual bar than you could’ve anticipated. Though it’s clean, it looks a little run down, and the heavy music fades into jazz piano as you step through the open doorway and into the large, open space. With almost cathedral-height ceilings, walnut floors and support pillars, and well-worn wooden booths and tables, the bar feels more homier than you’d expected. It’s clearly been well-hidden from the busy crowds of New York. Only a few patrons are scattered around the room, sitting in the booths or at two-top tables, but Bucky leads you to the wood, u-shaped bar that juts out into the room from the back wall. A single man stands behind it, drying glasses with a white bar towel. He smiles when he looks up and sees you approaching.

“Bucky,” he greets, and he reaches over the bar to pull Bucky in for a hug. It’s the first time you see Bucky smile—a real, full, genuine smile—and you watch in silence as he hugs his friend.

“Steve,” Bucky replies. Instantly, your brain starts connecting the dots. This is his childhood friend, the one who gave him his nickname.

“Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil.” Steve turns his attention to you, and you quickly look away from Bucky and at him. Your brain whirs as you try to place the language he’s just spoken. It’s not one you’ve heard before, which means none of your father’s men speak it, and neither do any of the Barneses.

“You must be Y/N.”

You nod and offer Steve a small, polite smile. You’re not sure how to act around Bucky’s friends. If they’re also part of the mob, it’s possible they’ll treat you even worse than George Barnes had after dinner, but a new, surprising voice in your head argues that Bucky would never be friends with someone like that.

“It’s okay,” reassures Bucky. He reaches out and touches your arm, gentler than he has all evening. “Steve’s a nice guy, and he knows about our family businesses. You can trust him.”

Steve looks between the two of you before picking up a glass and setting it right-side-up in front of you. “What’ll it be, Y/N?”

You glance at him, then at the wall of liquor behind him. After a moment, you list off a drink that’s not your favorite, but that you know you’ll be able to stomach no matter the circumstances. Steve nods in response before starting to make it.

Silently, Bucky takes one of the chairs at the bar, and you do the same. He sits with his arms folded on the counter. He’s still wearing his suit from dinner. You feel a little out of place in your fancy clothes, and you wonder if he feels the same.

Your drink is placed in front of you a moment later, and after Steve’s silent prompting, you take a sip. It’s delicious, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Aha, I’ve still got it!” Steve cheers, and you laugh. He grins at you, a charming type of smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You feel a little sheepish at the intensity of his joy, and you fidget in your seat, then with your hair.

Beside you, Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a round paper coaster at his friend. “Knock it off, Rogers,” he huffs. “Stop flirting with my girl. You’ve already got one of your own.”

You glance over when he calls you that, but you don’t say anything. There’s another weird feeling in your gut now. This one, unlike the one you’d had in the car or the fluttering feeling Steve had given you, you recognize immediately—pride. It feels good to have Bucky call you “his girl”, even if you barely know him. It’s strange, and the thought makes you squirm in your seat again. You drop your hand down to the bartop and take another sip of your drink, trying to quell the strange feelings inside of you. 

What is going on with me? Why can’t I just feel normal about all of this? Is there even a normal way to feel about this?

“You hungry?” asks Bucky, and you nod when you realize he’s talking to you again.

“I make a mean twice-baked potato,” Steve says. He plants his hands on the bar to look between the two of you. “Whaddaya say, Y/N? You up for it?”

“Only if you put the jalapeños on the side this time, punk,” Bucky tells him before you can reply. He seems to remember himself a second later, however, because he looks over at you. “Unless, of course, you want them on top.”

You shrug, not wanting to upset anyone, and Steve groans.

“Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he smiles wide as he gestures around the almost-empty bar. “I’ve got all the time in the world to make your food exactly the way you want it. Don’t make me guess.”

“He’s bad at guessing,” Bucky chimes in.

“Terrible,” Steve adds, nodding earnestly.

Tentatively, you list off what you want, and Steve makes a note of everything on a notepad that seems to appear out of nowhere. Once he’s got your order down, he disappears through a door in the back wall. Before it closes, you catch a glimpse of a shining kitchen filled with stainless steel, and you wonder how many patrons come through the bar if Steve has what looks to be a full-sized kitchen in the back.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you someplace that actually has good food,” Bucky says. He reaches across the bar to grab a bottle of beer Steve has left out, and he uses one hand to pry the top off. 

You gape at him, too distracted by the blatant show of strength to properly process the very thoughtful thing he’s just said to you. “What?”

“I said that you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured—”

“You just pulled the top off like it was nothing. How did you do that?” You look around on Steve’s side of the bar for another bottle, hoping to try your luck. Maybe it’s some new kind of bottle that he’s trying out before it hits the market, or maybe Steve has bootleg beer with a different kind of cap.

Bucky is staring at you, seemingly just as confused as you. “With my arm.”

“With your arm?” you repeat. You’re certain that he’d used his hand to pry it off.

He stares at you for a second longer before the confusion disappears and is replaced with a glint of mischief in his eyes. It makes the shadows on his face melt away a little, and his blue irises seem bright and youthful again, entirely unlike a man who’s seen too much.

“My arm,” he reiterates, and then he pulls off the black glove you’d assumed to be part of his personal style. It’s not just for show, however, because he pulls it off to reveal a black metal hand with dull gold knuckles. Bucky continues, standing and shrugging off his jacket, then rolling up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. As he reveals more and more, you realize that the black metal continues, making up what would be his left arm.

No wonder it hurt when he grabbed me.

“It’s metal,” you dumbly say, and he snorts.

“Observant.”

You shake your head and look from his arm to meet his eyes. “You have a metal arm. How didn’t I know that?”

Bucky shrugs and drapes his jacket over the back of the chair. He leaves the glove on the bar where he’d first set it down. Once he’s seated again, he rolls up his other sleeve to match.

“Beats me. I figured everyone knew. My dad wasn’t subtle when he was bragging about the arm he had made for me when it first happened,” replies Bucky. He takes a sip of his beer, then sighs and sets it back down.

You don’t want to pity him, so you try your best to school your expression by taking a sip of your own drink.

“Was it an accident?” you ask after a minute has passed. He doesn’t reply right away, and you scramble to save the conversation. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen,” he says, and his voice is quieter than before.

You look back down at the drink in front of you. Twisting the glass around and around, you ask, “And it was an accident?”

Bucky takes another swig of his beer. “I was with my dad, working a job. I didn’t even realize I’d been injured until I woke up in the hospital, two weeks later, missing an arm. Apparently, falling shipping containers are heavy.”

You can’t help but curse. What he’s describing sounds horrible, but Bucky only laughs.

“That sounds about right, yeah. I’m lucky I had Steve around to keep me sane,” he tells you. “My friend Sam was a big help too, but he moved down to Louisiana a few years ago.”

“Steve seems like a good friend,” you agree. “They both do.”

You can feel Bucky staring at you now, and you take a sip of your drink while you wait for him to look away again. When he doesn’t, you glance in his direction.

“What?” you ask.

“What?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” you laugh, and you look at him fully this time. Bucky’s grinning, and you ball up a cocktail napkin and toss it at him.

“Okay, I was staring,” he admits, still smiling. “But I can’t help it. You’re pretty, and you’re nice, and you seem smart.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment, and you look away. “You don’t have to say that. We’re already engaged.”

“I’m not saying it because we’re engaged. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before Steve comes out with two hot plates. He places them in front of you, joking briefly about giving you the wrong order, and it’s distraction enough that you sit up tall and smile wide. You push Bucky’s compliment out of your head as you chow down, groaning and moaning about the potatoes. They’re exactly what you need after the stressful dinner. Bucky was right—you hadn’t eaten much, and Steve’s cooking is delicious.

Once you’re full, you push your plate away and lean back in your chair. Steve grins at you before he goes back to counting the cash drawer. The other patrons have left already, leaving you, Steve, and Bucky alone in the bar.

“That was amazing,” you tell him for the hundredth time, and Steve chuckles.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell mo bhean chéile—my wife—you said that, considering she still believes potatoes aren’t a meal.”

You notice the wedding band on his left hand as soon as he says it. Above it, also in silver, is a familiar ring. If you weren’t able to see the family crest, you would’ve thought it was the same as Bucky’s, but this ring has an eagle and a star engraved on it, rather than the wolf you’ve seen on Rebecca and Bucky’s rings.

“Potatoes are a meal!” you argue. You can tell that Steve has clocked you looking at his rings because he shifts his hand, instinctively blocking your view as he looks for your own ring. You’d taken your parent’s ring off the day you’d cried in the bathtub and you haven’t worn it since, but no one in Bucky’s family has replaced it with their own. It’s the first time since middle school that you haven’t worn a family ring, and you’d be lying if you said it was a weight off your shoulders. You’d thought it might be, but instead it just makes you feel naked.

Steve laughs and his posture relaxes. He stops hiding his rings from you when he realizes your hands are bare. “Well, whenever you meet her, you can have that argument with her, because I’ve already had it at least a dozen times.” He closes the drawer and fixes his eyes on Bucky, who’s just finishing his food. “Speaking of, when are you two coming over? I promised Peg I’d wait until Y/N had settled in to ask, and you seem settled enough to me.” He glances at you for the last part, and you look down at your empty plate.

“It’s not up to me,” answers Bucky. “We’ll come over whenever Y/N is ready. This is the first time we’ve been together since my dad dropped the bomb on us.”

Steve pauses, his hands on the tablet he’d set down before starting to count the night’s profits. “Wait. Really?”

You nod when he looks at you, suddenly self-conscious again, and you pull your hands into your lap. “I haven’t been the best house guest…”

“You’re not a guest, Y/N. It’s your home now, too,” Bucky interjects.

Reaching over the counter, Steve smacks the side of Bucky’s head. His accent is thick when he huffs, “Íosa Críost, you thick! You didn’t think to go talk to her? To see if she wanted to watch a movie? To see if she needed anything?”

Bucky stammers over in his seat, and you keep your head ducked to hide your smile. Clearly, Steve knows more about being married than Bucky does—most likely from experience, since he’s already mentioned his wife—and he isn’t afraid to tell his friend off for not looking out for your well-being.

“I’m sorry!” exclaims Bucky, ducking another hit. “I wasn’t thinking!”

“Like ifreann you weren’t!” Steve retreats and picks up the tablet with a huff, then looks at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him. He’s actually a nice guy when he’s not being stupid.”

“Stupid?” Bucky protests beside you.

“I wouldn’t have talked to him even if he’d tried,” you admit, finally looking up, “but it wouldn’t have hurt if he had.”

Steve nods, satisfied with your response. He leaves you a minute later when his phone rings. The wide smile on his face is enough to tell you who’s on the other end, but then he says her name as he walks away, the phone already held to his ear.

“So what’s with this place?” you ask. The quick change in subject is purposeful, and you hope that Bucky will take the bait.

Thankfully, he does. Bucky glances around before finishing off the last of his drink and setting the empty bottle closer to Steve’s side of the bar.

“Well, Steve wanted a place that we—and other people like us—could spend time without feeling like there was always a fight about to happen. We didn’t have that growing up, you know? And now that he’s in charge, he can do what he wants with his money. Everything’s filed properly, he doesn’t advertise, and all employees are paid above the table. If other people show up, then sure, they’re welcomed in, but they’re also fully vetted once Steve gets their IDs. Weapons aren’t allowed, and there’s no shop talk of any kind.”

“So it’s your little hideaway,” you say, propping your head up with one hand. The heaviness of the potatoes combined with the alcohol is starting to make you sleepy, and the emotional exhaustion from the night has started to weigh heavy on you, too.

He smiles a little. “Something like that.”

Bucky stands and rolls his sleeves back down, then pulls on his glove. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and sets it on the bar.

“Come on, doll. We should head home,” he says.

The warm feeling you’d felt when Bucky had called you his girl comes back, and you smile a little when he holds open his suit jacket for you. A little sheepish at the gesture, you slide off your seat and let him help you into the sleeves, then take Bucky’s hand when he offers it.

“Bye Steve!” you call, waving with your free hand.

Steve looks up from the other end of the bar, where he’s wiping down a counter with one hand and holding his phone with the other. He lets go of the rag to wave back.

Silently, Bucky leads you out to the front, where the valet already has his car pulled up. You’re not sure how they knew to have it ready, but you don’t dwell on it. Stranger things have happened in your world. Bucky tips the valets with another wad of cash before opening the passenger door and helping you in.

You fall asleep on the drive home. You don’t mean to, but Bucky turns on the radio a few minutes into the drive, and he lets the first station that comes on continue to play. The music is soft, and he drives so smoothly that it lulls you to sleep before you’re even fully out of the city.

When you wake, it’s because Bucky’s stubbed his toe on something, jostling you in his arms. He’s muttering curses under his breath and hobbling down the hallway, and though the jerking motion and his tightening grip isn’t the most comfortable for you at the moment, you keep your eyes closed and force yourself to keep your smile at bay. Bucky is a much sweeter guy than you’d first thought him to be, and it seems like he’s trying now to make up for lost time. You’d misjudged him at first; just like you, he has his own ways of dealing with the life forced on him by his parents, but he really is a gentleman underneath it all.

He carries you to your bedroom and carefully lays you on top of the covers. Then, as gently as possible, you feel him lift your foot and pry off the uncomfortable shoes Marta had picked out for you. Bucky stays totally silent as he takes the shoes off and sets them on the floor at the end of the bed. He pulls a thin blanket over you, one that you’re sure is just for decoration when the bed is made, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. You have to force yourself not to smile when he whispers,

“Goodnight, sleep tight.”

The door clicks shut as he closes it slowly, and you peek open an eye after a few seconds have passed. Your room is dark and empty. Silently, you smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, your eyes heavy. It’s been a long, exhausting evening, and you’re happy to be in bed. You fall asleep to the sound of spring rain on the estate windows and with Bucky’s jacket still wrapped around you.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky slowly enters your life in both big and small ways. He smiles at you over meals in the dining room and late night snacks in the kitchen. He drives you to the city to visit Steve, Peggy, and his other friends, and when he finds out that his father still has your license, Bucky argues with him for over an hour to get it back. Marta delivers your license to your room the very next day, along with a handwritten note that the dark blue Mercedes in the garage is there for your use. Sometimes, you wake up to a bouquet of flowers with another handwritten note. Sometimes it’s a text, and sometimes it’s a gift. Bucky develops a habit of purchasing anything you mention enjoying or even vaguely liking, and you eventually have to tell him to stop because he’s bought you so much that there’s nothing left to buy for yourself.

Bucky turns out to be a closer friend than anyone you’ve ever known. He’s kind, and funny, and intelligent, and he remembers all the little things about you that nobody else does. When you’re sick or feeling lonely, he’s attentive and his presence alone reminds you of all the good things in the world. He makes your days brighter, even the worst ones. You find yourself falling in love with him, much to your surprise. You admit this to him one day. He kisses you then, and he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first trip you’d taken to Steve’s bar. 

Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas roll around. New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, and Easter come and go. The Barnes’ grand celebrations for every holiday blur together as the months fly by, until eventually, it’s June and you’re standing in your room, staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror.

The wedding dress you’d picked out a few days after Christmas is just as beautiful as you remember it being. It fits you perfectly, thanks to the impeccable work of several tailors employed by Winnifred, and your hair and makeup are flawless as well. There’s no possible way you could’ve imagined how beautiful you look and feel on your wedding day. 

Through the open window, you can hear a string quartet playing outside in the rose garden, where the ceremony is set up. Steve has already come by once to check on you at Bucky’s request, but both men are back downstairs. Bucky’s no doubt at the front of the garden with the priest—the one that you now know for certain is on your father’s payroll—and Steve is waiting with the rest of the wedding party. The only people remaining in your room are Marta, your mother, and Peggy. 

You’ve grown to love Peggy more than any of your childhood friends. She didn’t grow up in the same world as you. She didn’t even grow up in the same country, and you love her all the more for it. She’s rational, cool-headed, and kind, though she’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right. On top of all that, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. It’s easy to see why Steve fell for her during his time in the military.

The quartet finishes the song and moves onto a new one, one that you recognize after only two notes. Your stomach drops and you close your eyes, gripping your bouquet tightly. It’s the song you’d been listening to the morning you’d found out about your engagement. You’d discovered it the night before, and you’d had it on repeat before going to sleep that night, then again that morning as you’d gotten ready. You’d even listened to it in the car on the drive from your parents’ estate.

Who added this to the playlist? Is this some kind of sick joke to them?

The same feeling of dread you’d felt that morning comes back, making your mouth dry and your head spin. You try to take a slow, deep breath to calm your nerves and block out the song, but it doesn’t work.

“Y/N?” Peggy asks.

You inhale sharply at the sound of her voice so close to you. She’d been texting Steve from near the window only moments before. You hadn’t thought that anyone would realize your distress, and you’d hoped to be able to collect yourself before it was noticeable. You hadn’t even sensed her coming closer.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell her, but your voice wavers and your lower lip quivers. You try to take another slow breath.

“What’s going on?” Marta asks. Her hand lands on your arm and you pull away, closing in yourself and pulling the bouquet tight against you.

Your mother’s scolding makes you feel like you’re a little kid again. “Careful, Y/N! You don’t want to ruin those flowers. We don’t have time to make another bouquet for you. George is already hounding your father about how soon after the ceremony you’ll be signing the certificate.”

Anger wells up in you at her thoughtless comment, and you open your eyes. She’s standing behind you in the main part of the bedroom, near the foot of your bed. Any guilt you might’ve felt over ruining the flowers is gone now, and you turn and chuck the bouquet at the carpet by her feet. It bounces once, then lays motionless in a heap of smashed petals and ribbons.

“Enough, Mother!” you shout.

Marta rushes to close the window so the guests in the garden won’t hear your outburst.

Your mother gapes at you, somewhat surprised, but she doesn’t budge. “Y/N, dear. What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you yell, stepping closer. Your dress swishes as you walk, and you normally enjoy the sound, but you’re too furious to care how pleasing it is. “What are you doing? I am your only daughter! You should be treating me like a princess and worrying about how I’m feeling and what I need, but instead you’re too busy thinking about the damn flowers! I’m sick of you thinking of me like I’m an object you can sell, steal, and trade away whenever it’s most convenient! You and Dad are so obsessed with the timeline you’ve created for yourselves that you don’t even notice how much this has affected me! You didn’t even ask if this is what I wanted!”

She scoffs at you, and any trace of motherly care and concern has disappeared from her expression. Your mother is showing her true face—the mafia wife that has almost as much blood on her own hands as her husband does, if not more.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” she asks. She picks up her clutch from the end of your bed and steps closer until you're standing eye to eye. Her voice is patronizing and infuriating, and she continues, “It’s your wedding day, dearest, and you can’t back out now. We’ve made sure of it. Even James has agreed to the contract.” 

Your anger wavers. “Contract?”

“Yes, the contract,” she repeats, smirking. Her cards are all on the table now, and she’s got a winning hand. You both know it.

There’s a malicious glint in her eye as she says, “It’s already in effect. It has been since we agreed on the marriage.”

“What contract? What are you talking about?” There’s a sinking feeling in your chest, like your heart has decided to drop into your stomach, then down to your feet and through the floor. Bucky hadn’t said anything to you about a contract, and you trusted him, but you certainly didn’t trust your parents anymore, nor did you trust George and Winnifred Barnes.

Your mother smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile that makes you want to puke. “That’s a conversation for another time. After all, it doesn’t even matter to you until James gets you pregnant.”

The alarm on your phone rings and you close your eyes, your hands trembling. You’d set that alarm to remind you when it was time to leave for the ceremony. Right on cue, the wedding planner knocks on the door to your bedroom.

“Y/N?” she calls, knocking again. “Are you ready?”

Slowly, you squat down and pick up the bouquet. It’s smashed on one side and the petals have fallen off of various flowers, but it’s mostly intact. It shakes as your hands tremble and tears well up in your eyes.

Marta appears in front of you, having pushed your mother out of the way, and over the ringing in your ears, you hear Peggy talking to the wedding planner. Somehow, you make it out to the ground floor of the estate, to the double doors that lead out to the rose garden. You’re dazed by your mother’s strange revelation. The sound of the alarm is still ringing in your ears. Peggy says something to you, but you can only stare straight ahead. 

Your father is next to you then, as Peggy disappears through the doors and joins the rest of the wedding party. You see her glancing back at you, and whispering to the rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Most of them are Bucky’s friends who have now become your own, and all of them look worried. 

“Let’s go, princess,” your father says, and he pulls you forward by the arm.

Numbly, you follow his lead. Not even Bucky’s initially delighted expression shakes you out of your trance, but the way he rubs his thumb over your hands at the end of the aisle pulls you out of it just enough for you to lift your head and look around. You don’t remember walking to him, nor do you remember handing off your bouquet to Peggy, just like you’d practiced last night at the rehearsal.

“Y/N? Darling?” Bucky asks. He crouches and tilts his head slightly to try to catch your eyes. “You okay?”

“I—” Your mouth is still dry and you swallow, your eyes flitting from one place in the garden to another with no rhyme or reason. The world feels like it’s spinning and you clutch Bucky’s hands, unsure of what to do.

“Someone get her a chair,” Bucky orders, raising his voice enough that you flinch. He immediately starts murmuring reassurances to you, and he pulls you into his arms until he can lower you into a seat.

Someone fans you and a cool glass is pressed to your lips. You drink obediently, closing your eyes as the water helps the sandy feeling in your mouth abate just a little. When the water is gone, the glass is pulled away. 

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Bucky asks. 

Slowly, carefully, you nod your head. He sighs in relief and when you open your eyes, he’s kneeling down in front of you. His shoulders are tense and his forehead is creased with worry. You’ve never seen him this stressed over anything and it makes you want to cry.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, heat flaming in your cheeks. You feel horrible. Bucky has been looking forward to the ceremony—he’d told you last night at the rehearsal dinner.

“It’s okay,” he quickly replies. He reaches forward and takes your hands, and you glance away from him to peek at the guests, your parents included, who are still watching you from their seats.

“Are you ready for this, or do you need a break?” 

You look back at Bucky. “A break?”

“She’s fine,” your mother says, and you look over at her from your seat. She’s standing in the front row, her eyes fixated on the priest behind you. “They’re fine, Father. Y/N’s been a bit nervous all morning. Wedding day jitters, you know.”

“I—” You frown at her, still clutching Bucky’s hands. “That’s not what it is.” You look down at him and shake your head. “I’m not nervous to marry you.”

“I’m not nervous either,” he says with a small smile. 

“Then shall we continue?” the priest asks.

You turn to shake your head at him. “No. I’m sorry, Father. I need to talk to Bucky—James—in private for just a minute. Is that alright?”

He smiles gently and nods. “Of course.”

There are more agitated murmurs from the crowd, but you ignore them as Peggy, Steve, and Bucky help you up and back down the aisle. When your mother moves to follow you, she’s blocked by Sam and Clint, another one of Bucky’s friends. She calls after you once, but you ignore her as Peggy helps you onto a bench inside, then leaves, closing the double doors behind herself. She’s handed back your bouquet, and you clutch it with both hands like it’s an anchor in the storm.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asks. He stands near the door, and you can tell from the way he rolls his shoulders that he’s stressed. His prosthetic always bothers him more when he’s agitated, and you suddenly feel even worse about stopping the ceremony.

“Yes,” you say, but then you shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t have stopped everything. I’m sorry, Bucky, but I have to ask you something.”

“Okay…” There’s a wariness in his eyes, one that you loathe yourself for. You put it there, and you wish with all your might that your mother hadn’t told you what she did. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to do this.

“Did you sign a contract? With our parents?”

He frowns and his whole body grows very still. “A contract?”

You nod. “Yes.” With your hands still fisted tightly around the bouquet, you inhale deeply and add, “A contract about getting me pregnant.”

“What?” Bucky’s furious response is immediate. He shakes his head, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you might be making this up. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“Did you sign a contract agreeing to marry me, and agreeing that my parents get something after you get me pregnant?” The words make you sick to your stomach. You haven’t eaten anything all day, which doesn’t help, but the thought of Bucky agreeing to something so vile… It’s enough to make anyone nauseous.

He’s shaking his head at you again. “Why the hell would I sign anything like that? Do you really think I would do that?”

You shrug a little and look down at the bouquet. “My mother…”

“Darling…” Bucky sighs and comes closer, and he kneels down in front of you again, just like he had outside. All the fight and anger has left his voice. “I would never do anything like that. Not in a million years, and especially not to you. I love you.”

“She said you signed it before they’d even told me we were engaged,” you said, quiet now that he’s so close. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, to see what his face might be telling you that his words aren’t.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, you lift your eyes from the flowers in your lap to meet Bucky’s eyes. They’re just as blue as the ribbons wrapped around the flower stems, a choice you’d specifically made without the wedding planner’s guidance. You’d wanted him to be your “something blue”, even if it felt a little cheesy.

“Do you want to marry me?” Bucky asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Yes.”

“Do you believe me when I say I had nothing to do with that contract? That I didn’t know it existed?” he questions.

You nod again, tears forming in your eyes.

“And do you trust me to help you find a way to get rid of it, once all of this is over? Do you trust me to protect you?”

You nod for the third time, and Bucky takes both of your hands in his.

“Okay. Then let’s get married, and I swear to you that as soon as our honeymoon is over, the guys and I will start doing some digging.”

“What about me?” you ask, sniffling. You pull one of your hands away to dab at your eyes before the makeup can get too damaged by your tears.

“What about you?”

“Can I dig, too?”

Bucky chuckles and kisses your knuckles on the hand that he’s holding, and then he pulls himself up off the floor to sit beside you on the bench. He pulls you into a half-hug and you cling to him, sniffling and smiling as he rubs the your back and answers,

“You can do all the digging you want, doll. I’ll even hand you the shovel.”

Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil. = It’s good to see you.

Mo bhean chéile = My wife

Íosa Críost = Jesus Christ

Thick = A stupid person

Ifreann = Hell

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Bucky Barnes: @lipstickandvibranium @valhalla-kristin @buckymcbuckbarnes

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[bucky-barnes-diaries]

His Most Prized Possession

Pairing || Dark!Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Summary || You’re the wife of the most feared man in all of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes, the mob boss of the biggest mafia in town. Your his—his girl, his beauty, his love, his property, his most prized possession. He will torture and kill anyone who dares to make any advances on his woman, and he won’t hesitate to show them who you belong to in the most sinful way possible before their end…

Word Count || 8876

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut, Angst, Dark Themes — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, slight dub-con, Dark!Jealous!Possessive!Bucky, angry/vicious!Bucky, soft!Bucky, mob/mafia business, mention of drugs/alcohol, violence, implied use of weapons, implied torture, blood, murder, crying, use of force, graphic/explicit content/language, pet names (doll, baby, babe, princess + others), unprotected vaginal sex, exhibition kink, forced voyeurism, daddy kink, spit kink, degradation & praise kink, use of the word whore, dom/sub dynamics, oral (m & f receiving), teasing, begging, face/throat fucking, gagging, fingering, spanking, choking, rough fucking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, aftercare.

Authors Note || After a lot of work it’s finally done! I’m so proud of this! Please enjoy this twisted and sinful journey! Feedback would be so much appreciated on this piece <3 I want to know what you think!

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Mob!Bucky Masterlist

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The Underground Lounge

It was the most high-profile club in all of New York City. A place for criminals, the filthy rich, politicians and like-minded people to converge in secrecy for whatever they desire with no repercussions, whether that be alcohol, drugs, women, sex or just a fun time. Everything and anything went down here.

The club was nestled deep below The Blend nightclub, which acted as a cover for the underworld of crime below.

They were both owned by James Buchanan Barnes—Bucky amongst friends and loved ones. The most feared man in all of the city and the mob boss of the biggest and baddest mafia in town. He was also your husband. Your dangerous, vicious and sexy husband.

You and Bucky would usually be at the club on the weekends for some party and fun, which you were right now.

The VIP area that was only reserved for Bucky and company was slightly elevated over the rest of the club—giving Bucky the best view to look over his domain. It also showed the guests that they were nothing compared to the boss sitting on the high throne. The VIP area had an abundance of seating places—fitting several people. All compacted in a sizeable curved couch with a low circular table in the middle to put drinks on or other substances, for that matter. There was also enough space for Bucky’s security to keep a lookout over the club and its activities.

Today it was only you and Bucky attending. No friends, no other company, except for your security detail.

With a good percentage of alcohol in your system, you and he were all over each other—lips sloppily crashing into one another as you moaned and groaned into each other's mouths and hands roamed both your bodies.

You'd unbuttoned a few buttons of his white long-sleeved shirt—wanting to feel his collarbone and chest underneath your fingertips as you made out. His dark blue velvet dress jacket was tossed to the side long ago. Your other hand rested delicately on top of his covered bulge—palming him ever so often.

Bucky’s hand kept a tight grip on your naked upper thigh; the short little dress you wore barely covered anything, giving him easy access to your skin. His other held your throat gently in his grasp, making it impossible to move away from him not that you wanted to.

Ever so slightly, he inches his way higher up your thigh, hicking your dress up with his moves, as he caressed your delicate skin with his rough hands, making you moan and whimper into his mouth. His end goal was to get into your panties—wanting to force his fingers knuckle-deep into you and have you make a mess all over them.

It wasn't unusual for him and you to get a little naughty together in the club. On multiple occasions, you'd have his fingers deep inside your pussy or straddle his lap to grind yourself on his clothed cock. And occasionally giving him a handjob here and there.

You'd think he would be against having you so exposed to everyone’s prying eyes since he was always so protective and possessive over you in day-to-day life. But on the contrary, he loved showing you off here. It gave him the power to assert his dominance over you and make everyone know that you're his—his girl, his beauty, his love, his property and his most prized possession.

This was his club—his rules—his everything. Everyone knew not to mess with the mob boss's precious wife. Not unless they had a death wish.

Your body tingled in anticipation of having his digits buried deep inside you. You were so ready for it. So needy for it, but… God, did you really have to pee now, urgently.

“Bucky.”

His name came out in a moan rather than a plea for him to stop with his touches, making him think you wanted more. He swiped your damp panties with his thumb while his lips assaulted your neck with licks, kisses and bites, making you whine even more.

“Bucky!”

You placed your hands on his chest, shoving him lightly off you, making him stop with his kisses and retract his hand from under your dress.

“What!”

An annoyed tone was laced in his voice, but that quickly turned into concern as he thought something was wrong.

“What is it, baby?”

His thumb caressed your cheek lovingly as he tried to search your face for any discomfort. There was none, so he didn’t understand why you'd make him stop.

“I just really need to go pee.”

He nodded his head in understanding and was about to call for one of the security to accompany you, but you stopped him before he could.

“No! I can go on my own.”

“Doll…”

He cocked his head to the side. He didn’t like that. He didn’t want you going on your own.

Although the club was a safe space for you to wander around due to everyone knowing who you were and not daring to approach you under any circumstances, Bucky still wanted you looked after due to the reason that occasionally a rouge and unwanted person managed to get into the club, despite the tight security, and cause chaos and bothering the other club patrons. But that rarely happened, and right now, you just wanted to go on your own without having anyone on your tail all the time.

“Please, Bucky,” you pleaded with those puppy-dog eyes you knew he couldn't resist, “if I'm not back in 15 minutes, you can come and find me.”

“Alright, princess,” he pecked your lips, “but hurry back to me, baby,” and once more, “because I need to bury my fingers in your tight little pussy….”

He cupped your core harsh, making you moan out at the roughness. Bucky groaned out as he touched what belonged to him.

“... my tight little pussy.”

He growled in your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand and your core pulsate at his filthy words.

“I’ll be right back, babe.”

You gave him one last peck before you got up and fixed your dress—the material had bundled up your hips entirely. Bucky gave you a light tap on your ass before you walked away in search of the bathroom.

You did your business in the bathroom and freshened up before walking out to the club’s main area.

Bucky hadn't left his positing from the VIP area. His leg was crossed over the other, and his arms rested on the back of the couch while he looked calm and relaxed. You wanted to take advantage of your freedom and decided to get a quick drink at the bar before returning to him.

You made your way to the bar that was settled in the middle of the club while swaying your hips to the music playing. Luckily, the bar wasn't packed, so it should be a quick deal.

You order the drink and make yourself comfortable with your elbows on the bar counter, squeezing your breasts together, almost exposing them entirely. Your ass poked out behind you—the dress so tiny and short that it almost showed your entire ass.

You knew everyone had their eyes on you, thirsting and yearning for you—for something they knew they could never have, and that's what you loved so much about it. In this club, you loved being a little cock-tease to everyone—it made you feel powerful.

While waiting for your drink, you scanned and observed the club’s guests. Most of them you'd seen before and recognised—politicians with their mistresses, criminals making shady deals with each other, and some new faces you'd never seen before. Everyone looked to be in great spirit and having fun tonight.

“My, my… don't you look pretty tonight.”

A deep, smooth voice murmured in your ear, making you jump out of your skin a little at the roughness of it. You thought it was Bucky for a second, but the voice didn’t match quite right. When you spun around, you found yourself caught in an intense gaze by a man. Usually, you'd back away and decline any stranger like that, but something about him just made your whole being scream in need.

The man oozed danger, sex and confidence—all things you loved and had gotten so used to with Bucky. So you couldn't help yourself when you got ensnared in this stranger's trap. You knew you shouldn't talk to this man. Bucky would be pissed if he found out. But Bucky wasn't here right now, and the drink should be done any second, so you decided to play along and then would politely decline once it was time. Bucky would never know.

“Well, hello to you, stranger.”

You batted your eyelashes at him and gave him your most appetising smile and gestures you could muster up, popping your hip out and tilting your head to the side, wanting to play a bit dirty and rile him up.

“My, you're the prettiest little thing in this whole club.”

He came closer, almost pinning you against the bar with his massive frame. He licked his lips as his eyes travelled across your whole body. This man was playing a dangerous game in approaching you like that—intentions clearly sexual.

He presented his hand, and you took it gladly, shaking it.

“The names Roman,” he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it while maintaining eye contact, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Roman?

Roman?

You'd heard that name before, but you couldn't quite put your finger on who he was. It was such an unusual name that you would think with such a name, you'd remember who it belonged to, but your mind was completely blank. It must be the alcohol and the intense surge of sexual energy you were experiencing.

“The pleasure is all mine, Roman,” you gave him your name, which made him smirk when he heard it.

“That's a beautiful name, princess. What brings you to this club, sweet thing?”

“Oh, I-”

The conversation was cut abruptly by someone grabbing Roman’s shoulder and pulling him away from you, turning him to face whoever it was.

You gasped.

Shit. It was Bucky.

His face was stone cold as he stared Roman down with absolute dark rage in his eyes. His fists clenched by his side—knuckles turning white.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Roman?” Bucky spat out while getting all up in his face.

Wait?

Bucky knew him?

Oh…

Oh!

Oh, no…

He was that Roman.

Shit. Now you remember.

He's the man that betrayed Bucky about a year ago and went to be with Bucky’s number one rivals instead. You remember at the time what kind of a toll it had taken on Bucky to be so gruesomely crossed.

This was not good. You felt so horrible and guilty now with the later knowledge of know this man was. How could you have forgotten him? Forgotten what he's done? You should have brushed him off instead of instigating his actions further.

You couldn't hear what they were saying because they were so up in each other's faces, but you could tell that it was a heated argument. You wondered what was being said. What kind of complications and events this would all lead to.

Suddenly, Bucky shoved him hard, and it looked like he would fight him right then and there. But he didn’t…

“You’re fucking dead, Roman,” Bucky uttered through gritted teeth.

Bucky came to your side and grabbed your arm hard. So hard that it hurt, and you winced and tossed to try and get out of his harsh grip, but he wouldn't budge. He pulled you back to the VIP area and ordered you to sit on the couch.

“Don't fucking move.”

His words were like poison, making you flinch at the absolute anger in his voice. Your eyes were becoming glossy—tears threatening to spill at any moment. You wrapped your arms around yourself for comfort.

How could you be so stupid? You should have just said no to Roman instead of acting like a fucking brat and whore—wanting to be a little cock tease for a man that wasn't even your man. You should have just been an obedient little wife and returned to your husband like you were supposed to.

Bucky was furiously talking to one of his men for several minutes. You saw how stressed, angry and fearful his demeanour was. His hand ran through his short hair multiple times. It was rare to see Bucky in this state. He was usually tough and determined, not bothered by what people said and did, and always in control of things. But it looked like Roman had really struck a sensitive nerve—said something that had put Bucky out of check.

When he was done conversing, he came back to you and took your hand, gently this time, and pulled you with him out of the main club area, not saying a thing. It looks like you were leaving. You went through the backdoor that was only used for you and Bucky and a selected few other people.

Once in the elevator, Bucky wrapped a protective arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his torso, still not saying anything. You wanted to say something. To plead for his forgiveness, but you felt awkward doing it in this tight place when you weren't alone. You would try and talk to him in the car when it was just the two of you.

Bucky ushered you into the backseat of the black luxury car, him getting in behind you. You weren't sure where you were going—home, most likely. The screen divider that separated the backseats and driver seat was up, so you were all alone, and you could finally try to talk to him.

“Bucky?”

You tried in a sweet and calm voice.

Nothing.

He pulled his phone out when it pinged with a message. His mouth remained in a thin line, eyebrows furrowed, with no emotions in his eyes as he typed on his phone before placing it inside his jacket.

“Bu-Bucky?”

Your weak voice cracked as his name came out in a sob this time.

“I-I’m so s-sorry. I-I shou-” You sobbed even more, unable to finish your sentence. You were about to cry any second, knowing that Bucky was mad and disappointed in you for being so stupid and reckless. You turned your head away from him, unable to look at his stern face.

“Doll…”

His voice was sweet compared to the poisonous one he used with you in the Underground. You thought he would yell at you once in the car. But it was the opposite. His loving and caring side surfaced—your wonderful husband that loved you beyond words.

“Baby…”

He grabbed your chin with his fingers and turned your head towards his. His eyes held nothing but love and adoration for you—his wife. His heart broke when he saw a few tears roll down your cheeks, your lips quivering.

“P-please d-don't be mad a-at me, Bucky.”

“Oh, baby… come here.”

He pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his strong arms around your waist. His head nuzzled in your neck as he laid tender kisses on the soft skin to try and soothe you,

“Mad at you? No, doll. I could never be mad at you, and I’m sorry it came across that way. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you like that, my sweet love.”

“Bu-but, you seemed s-so angry at me. Angry for what I’d done and who I was talking to. I swear, Bucky, I forgot who he was, and I-I just-”

“Doll.” He made you rest your forehead on his. His piercing blue eyes focused deep into yours—showing you that he spoke the truth. “I’m not mad at you at all. Please don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not your fault. Not even the slightest, ok? I love you, babydoll.”

“O-ok. I-I love you t-too, Bucky.”

He dried your tears while giving you a warm smile. “My precious girl.” He cradled your face in his hands and laid a light, comforting kiss on your lips. The kiss slowly progressed to a more passionate one—neediness and love poured into it.

The moment was quickly interrupted by Bucky’s phone pinging with a message in his jacket. He groaned as he fished it out to read it. You caught a glimpse and gasped when you saw what it said.

It's done.

You knew what it meant. It was the worst possible outcome following the events that unfolded in the club.

“Is, is he d-dead?”

“No, no, doll. They only questioned him, that's all.” Bucky tried to reassure you.

You knew what questioned meant. It meant that they had beaten the shit out of him, almost to the point of death. And although Bucky spoke the truth that Roman wasn't dead, he would be soon. Bucky never let something like what happened at the club go unpunished—people trying to cross his line. Certainly not when it comes to you. He would torture and kill anyone who made any advances on you, especially when they were fully aware of who you were and belonged to. And Roman most certainly knew what he was doing when he approached you. He wanted to provoke Bucky and test his limits. And now he would pay for it.

Maybe he didn’t think it through enough? Perhaps he thought he was safe because he was under the protection of Bucky’s rivals?

But one should never underestimate Bucky. He didn’t give a fuck who anyone belonged to, enemies or friends. If provoked, he would have you severely punished or, in the worst case, killed.

You shook your head—not wanting to think about it anymore. Instead, you lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder and close your eyes for the remaining car ride. His fingertips delicately caressing your arm lulled you to a relaxed and sleepy state…

———

“Doll,” his soothing voice murmured in your ear, pulling you out from the light sleep, “baby, we’re here.”

You softly moaned as you lifted your head and saw that you’d pulled into the garage of your penthouse—you were indeed home now. Luckily, because you were ready to cuddle up with your husband in bed and go to sleep in his loving and protective embrace.

“You want me to carry you?”

“N-no, I can go on my own.”

Once in the elevator, Bucky pressed the button for the roof terrace, not the apartment like you thought we would. You looked up at him. A confused expression on your face—eyebrows furrowed.

“Are we not going to bed yet?”

“Not yet,” he wrapped his arms around your shoulder, pulling you close to him, and kissed your head, “I have something I want to show you.”

What did he have to show you on the rooftop?

When the elevator arrived, Bucky took your hand and led you to the patio overlooking the light-filled city. Nothing looked unusual. Everything looked as it always did. There was no thing to show. So why did he bring you here?

“Bucky, what are we doing here?”

“Come.”

He led you to the very edge of the fence and wrapped his arms around you from behind. His head rested on your shoulder, and you leaned yours on his.

“Do you see, doll?”

“See what, Bucky?”

“The city!”

“Your city, babe.”

“Our city, baby girl. All of this is for you. Everything I do is for you. You and my undying love for you influence every decision I make in life.”

“James… you know I don't need any of this. I appreciate it, baby, you know that, but… I just need you.”

“I know, I only need you as well, but I just wanted you to know that we’re in this together. We can always count on each other. We will always have one another. Our love is powerful and unbreakable.”

“You know it, Bucky.”

You stood for a while longer. Staring out over your city as you swayed to imaginary music. Bucky’s lips graced your cheek as he whispered sweet nothings that had your heart burst with warmth, love and security.

Words can’t describe how much you loved this man. This vicious, menacing, murderous, but also affectionate, warm and joyous man. One would think such words couldn’t be combined to describe a man—that it doesn't fit. But Bucky was all those, and you wouldn’t change him for the world.

Your sweet bubble was interrupted by another notification on Bucky’s phone, making him groan in annoyance. He held one arm around your waist while the other retrieved his phone.

You couldn't see what it said this time, but he let out a groan of approval and then pulled you with him back to the elevator once he read it.

“Where are we going now? More surprises?”

“We’re just going to our room.”

Ah, finally. As much as you loved Bucky for bringing you up here and expressing his undying love for you, you really just wanted to snuggle up to him in bed now.

But once you arrived at your room, one of Bucky’s men was waiting by the door, which was highly unusual. You wondered what was going on. It probably had something to do about Bucky’s recent text message. Probably an update on Roman and his current… situation. But no matter what it was, you hoped it would be able to wait till the morning. You just wanted Bucky all to yourself now.

“Wait here, doll.”

You stood in place while Bucky approached his man. He whispered something to Bucky, and Bucky nodded before he called you over. The man bid you good night, and then it was finally just you and your husband.

“What was that all about, babe?”

“My love…”

He lay his hands on your shoulders, staring deep into your eyes with seriousness written all over his face.

What was going on?

Why was he acting so… strange?

“Yes, my dear?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do, Bucky, with my life.”

“Would you do anything I ask of you?”

You didn’t like to admit it, but you would kill for this man if the situation ever occurred.

“I-I… yes.”

“Then come with me,” he presented his hand, and you took it without hesitation, “don't be alarmed.”

Alarmed?

He opened the door to your shared master bedroom. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Although you trusted Bucky, his behaviour was more abnormal than usual, which scared you slightly.

You expected to be met with something significant while walking into the room, but there was nothing in the dim-lit room. It was a little hard to see with the lights out, so you scanned the entire space to try and find the abnormality—from the huge windows lining the outer wall, to the bed, and finally, the other side of the room. And that's when you saw it.

You gasped out loud in horror, eyes wide like saucers when you saw a person in the darkened corner of your room. It was a man—beaten, bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair. His scream was muffled by something shoved into his mouth.

Oh my god… it was Roman…

“B-Bucky, wha-”

What was happening? This was wrong. This was so wrong on so many levels. Bucky never brought any of his mob business into your home. He always tried to shield you from that gruesome aspect of his world as best as possible. So what was he doing?

You backed away slowly but were stopped by colliding into Bucky’s chest. He grabbed your upper arms to keep your shaking form in place. His breath fanned your face while he whispered in your ear.

“Don’t be scared, my love.”

You were very much horrified by the sight of a bloodied and bruised man bound tight in your room. I mean, who wouldn't be?

“Wh-what i-is going o-on?”

You contemplated screaming and running away. If that's what you wanted, Bucky would have let you go—he would never force you into doing something you absolutely didn’t want. But you didn’t move a muscle. This situation intrigued you. Bucky’s vicious and twisted mind fascinated you.

Although you were the innocent and sweet one in the relationship, you had a slight devious nature to you as well. So you wanted to see what kind of plans Bucky had in store for bringing Roman into your privacy. What kind of things does he want to do. So you let go of all your worries and went with the flow.

With Bucky’s hand secured around your neck, craning your chin up to make you look at Roman. Bucky spoke, loud enough for Roman to hear as well, the most sinful, possessive and immoral words he's ever uttered—making you shamelessly aroused and almost crumble to the floor.

“He’s gonna watch us, doll, all powerless tied up in that chair as I do with you as I please. He’s gonna watch as I undress you and expose your beautiful flesh to his eyes. He’s gonna watch as I kiss, lick, suck and bite all over your skin. He’s gonna watch and hear as I make you moan, whimper and scream. He’s gonna watch as I fuck you hard, my wife. Claiming your body and soul as mine, and mine only.”

Fuck.

You were all in.

Bucky circled his arms around your waist and brought you closer to his firm chest. Very delicately, he started leaving kisses on your exposed shoulder, making you purr in delight. His feather-light kisses made goosebumps erupt on your skin. You craned your neck to the side, giving his lips more space to continue their journey further up. A loud moan of satisfaction escaped you as he became rougher with it—licking and sucking on your tender sweet spot.

In a swift motion, he removed your little dress—leaving you in your pretty underwear. His hands started roaming all over your exposed body, paying close attention to all your curves with his fingers—hips, waist and breasts—especially your breasts. He palmed them in his grasp and pinched your nipple through the material of your bra, making you wince out at the slight pain.

While one of his hands palmed your breast, the other ran down your stomach and found its way into your panties, making you gasp once his expert fingers found your aching core. He ran his fingers through your slick folds, groaning deeply in your ear, making the hairs at the back of your neck stand.

“Fuck, baby, already so wet and messy for me, huh? Did that turn you on, princess? My little speech about fucking you and claiming you as mine while he watches all helpless?”

“U-uh, huh.”

You were revelling in the pleasure your twisted and loving husband provided you that there was no way to form any coherent words, let alone sentences. It made Bucky chuckle in a sinister way at how absolute speechless he could make you with such simple touches.

Then it all stopped—his touches and kisses. You whined out in protest and were starting to turn around to see what was going on, but he stopped you by grabbing your upper arms and turning you towards Roman again.

“Stay still, baby.”

Thankfully, his delicate touches returned to your skin. His fingers ran from your shoulder and down until they met the clasp of your bra—unclasping it with no difficulty. The bra straps ran down your arms and hit the floor with a soft thud. Your breasts fully exposed to the two men.

With Bucky’s hands caressing your waist, he descended to the floor behind you. His fingers hooked into your panties and pulled them down your legs. Now, you were fully exposed; your parts that Bucky was so protective and possessive over came to light.

He left a wet kiss on each of your ass cheeks before travelling the kisses upward your naked back—until he stood straight up and wrapped his hand around your throat again, making you yelp and pay full attention to the man tied to the chair. Bucky spoke loud again for him to hear as well.

“This here is all mine. My body—my tits, my ass, my pussy,” he groped your wet and naked core, making you gasp out, “Only I will get to touch and take all of her as I please. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

“I-it’s yours, B-Bucky, I-I belong to y-you.”

He turned you around and pulled your naked body flush into his clothed one. His hand grasped the back of your neck and brought your lips to his—hungrily kissing you, tongues caressing one another as you moaned and groaned into the heated and needy kiss. His other hand took hold of your ass cheek—altering between squeezing hard and delivering slaps to the plump flesh, which made you whimper into his mouth each time he did.

While still keeping your lips connected, Bucky manoeuvred you to the foot of the bed and removed his jacket while you helped with unbuttoning his white shirt—tearing it off his muscular body.

You roamed your hands all over his hard chest and stomach, moaning as you felt every curve and dip of his delicious muscles. While you touched him, Bucky went to work on getting his pants off.

“Let me.”

You descended to your knees, finding a comfortable place on the marble floor, and helped him tug his pants and underwear down. A satisfied gasp slips from your mouth as his hard cock springs to life—slapping against his belly.

“This cock belongs to me, doesn't it, daddy?” You mutter as you take a firm grasp on his base, and kitten lick his tip while looking up at him.

Bucky chuckled at your possessive nature, licking his lips. You could be just as possessive over Bucky as he was over you, and he loved it. He belonged to you as much as you belonged to him.

“You know it does, baby,” his hand cradled your face, “all of me belongs to you, body and soul.”

You pushed him down to sit on the foot of the bed, his hands on the mattress keeping his weight up. His eyes were fixated on your kneeling form as you nestled between his spread legs. The palm of your hands caressed his thighs up and down as you stared at his entire cock—your mouth watering at how delicious it looked.

“I’m so hungry for your cock, daddy.”

“Yeah? You gonna show him what a little cock-whore you are, baby?”

“Yes,” a glob of your spit fell on him, making him groan as your hand jerked him and spread the saliva all over his length, “I’m a little cock-whore that wants your cock in my mouth.”

He twitched at your lewd words.

“Take all of me then.”

With his hand at the back of your head, he guided and encouraged you to take him whole. With no hesitation, you engulfed his length immediately—too cock-hungry to tease and toy with him until he begged for you. You desperately needed his length deep in your throat.

You gagged around him as he tickled the back of your throat. The vibrations made him shudder where he sat. With each hand cradling your face, he forced your head up and down on him, thrusting his hips upwards to meet your moves.

Tears pooled in your eyes, and saliva dribbled out of your mouth as he forced his way down your throat. It was so messy and erotic—sloppy sounds filled the room.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as he concentrated on how your warm and wet mouth felt on his throbbing cock. Guttural groans rumbled in his throat.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well, baby.”

He removed you from him, which made you whine in protest—missing the feel of him choking you with it. Your hand wrapped around him and jerked his length in long strokes as you presented your tongue—showing him how absolute needy you were for his cock shoved deep in your cavity.

With his fingers holding your jaw, he leaned down till he was level with your face and gifted you a glob of his spit on your awaiting tongue. “Fucking whore, you know that?” You nod your head. The degrading action and words had your pussy flutter. You rolled your tongue into your mouth and leaned down to retake him, bobbing your head while Bucky supported his weight on his hands, allowing you to take control of his cock as he sat and enjoyed the lewd performance.

“I bet you’re fucking jealous now.” Bucky sneered at Roman as the corner of his mouth turned up in a sinister smirk.

Your hand accompanied your mouth—stroking his base while your mouth paid attention to his sensitive head—finding a perfect rhythm to bring Bucky over the edge. The other hand cupped his balls to fondle them.

“Look at me….”

You peered up at him through your thick lashes while you had your mouth and hands full of his cock and balls. Drool and tears covering all of you.

“...fucking shit, doll, you’re gonna make me come.” A few seconds later, he grunted as he reached his climax. His hand gripping your shoulder hard to brace himself.

Watching his face contour in pure pleasure, moaning, groaning and grunting while his thick load shoots down your throat must be one of the most pornographic scenes you’d ever witnessed. Your pussy fluttered at the sight and vocalisation of him—slickness running down your inner thighs.

Holy fucking shit.

You worked him thoroughly through his intense orgasm to make him feel as good as possible. Not letting a single drop of him go to waste—all of it trickled down your throat.

Once he had come down from his high, you pulled him out from your mouth, making his head leave with a pop. Bucky hisses as his sensitive cock is freed from your expert hold.

You were a mess—drool covering your face, hands and tits, but to Bucky, it was the most stunning you’d ever looked.

“Oh, baby. So beautiful and messy for me.”

With his hand holding your throat, he leaned down to give you a sloppy kiss which you whimpered into.

“Get on the bed.”

All giddy, you switched places with him. Your elbows supported your weight as you spread your legs for him, showing him your glistening and needy pussy.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

“Are you gonna fuck me, daddy?”

Bucky tugged your legs, pulling you further towards him—till your ass was right by the edge of your bed.

“Not yet, babydoll. I need to taste that pussy first.”

He finds a comfortable place on his knees between your spread legs so he can go to work in worshipping all of you, like the Goddess you are. His face is inches from where you so desperately need him, feeling his breath on you, making your pussy ache for him. You arch into his face, your hand running over his short hair, begging for him to taste you, touch you, do anything to you. To eat you out until he shatters your existence.

“Please, Bucky,” you pathetically plead.

“You want it, baby?”

The tip of his tongue flickers your nub. That simple touch has your whole body convulse on the bed and a soft whimper escaping you.

God, you were so needy.

“P-please.”

“I’ll make you feel so fucking good, princess,” he laid a simple kiss on your wet folds, making you convulse once more, “but first, I need to clean up this mess you’ve made, baby.” He was referring to the slickness that had spilt from you, running down your inner thighs.

While his hands caressed the side of your waist, making delicious tingles erupt on your skin, he went to work on cleaning you up with his tongue—licking up the mess you’ve made, moaning at your taste. “Your taste is outstanding, baby.” Your whimper in pain and pleasure as he nips the skin of your inner thigh with his teeth—his tongue soothing the sting after.

“You have the prettiest pussy; you know that, baby? I’m so lucky that I’m the only man who will ever get to see it, to taste it,” he licks your outer lips, which has you arch into him for more, “and to fuck this needy little cunt.”

Finally, he places his mouth where you desperately need it to be. He drags his broad tongue through your folds and flicks the tip of it on your clit. The action has you arch your back, and your eyes flutter shut.

“O-oh…”

A glob of his saliva hits your clit, trickling down your folds. He groans as he watches his mess mix with your own—making your pussy look like the most delicious five-star meal he’s ever seen.

“Look at him, baby. Look at him while I eat your pussy.”

You turned your head to look at the man bound in his chair. It’s fucked up to admit it, but it turned you on to have Bucky between your thighs while a beaten-down man watched. You could see him shaking in his chair, shock overloading his system while his bloodied face pleaded for mercy—for his hurt and misery to end.

Fuck, this was hot.

You moaned loudly as Bucky went to work on devouring your pussy like a starved man that hasn’t had a decent meal in forever. He drags his tongue through your slit multiple times to get all of your flavours. His groan against your pussy at the taste has you quiver on the mattress and a loud cry emitting from you.

He lewdly spits on your pussy to claim ownership over it before his lips wrap around your raw nub—altering between sucking and licking the sensitive nerve. You try to keep your focus on Roman, but your eyes flutter at the pleasure, your mind and vision becoming blurry.

Two fingers penetrate your velvet walls, stretching you out and reaching knuckle deep, making you wail out. Their tips brush against the spot that has you absolutely lose it, making you writhe on the bed. The other works your breast—palming the supple flesh in his grasp, pinching and pulling on your sensitive nipple. You're nothing but cries of pleasure—moaning, groaning and whimpering as Bucky works you to perfection.

You feel kind of embarrassed at how noisy and pathetic you sound, so you bite your bottom lip hard to try and keep yourself down. Bucky didn’t like that at all.

“No, no,” he releases your clit from his hold, “let him hear. Let him hear all your pretty noises, baby.”

He quickly returned his assaults on your swollen clit that throbbed in need. His fingers moved in and out of you at an expert pace, and his other hand worked your breast.

Upon his wishes, you let your cries of satisfaction flow freely—filling up the bedroom. Your breathing hitched in your throat as the buildup was nearing its breaking point, so close to shattering your whole existence—body and soul.

Both your hands are placed at the back of his head, keeping him there so that he cannot move away and deny you your pleasure under no circumstances. Your hips rock into his vicious mouth as you chase your orgasm—it’s right there, so close.

“Bucky,” you cry as you come hard, your toes curling and your whole body convulsing on the bed. You try keeping your gaze on Roman as the coil in your stomach snaps, but your eyes cross. The surge of intense pleasure on your mind and body is almost indescribable—you’ve never come so hard in your entire life. As stars blur your vision, you feel like you're floating on a cloud.

Bucky groans as he works through your orgasm, your clit throbbing in his mouth and your tight walls fluttering around his digits. He’s in awe as he watches you fall apart like you’ve never done before, and he doesn't stop pleasuring you until you are all but satisfied.

You sob from sensitivity as his mouth and fingers leave your used and abused pussy. You’re a panting and heaving mess as you try and come back to your senses.

“You have no idea how sexy and breathtaking you are when you come like that, baby,” he says before kissing your mound, making you twitch. He proceeds with his kisses up your stomach and gives each of your nipples a lick; each touch has you spasm on the bed at how overly sensitive your whole body feels. He comes to face you—gently laying a kiss on your lips so you can taste yourself.

“I really fucked you up, didn’t I? I’m the only one that can make you come like that, huh?”

All you can do is nod while babbling unfinished words as you still haven’t recovered from your high.

Bucky chuckled at your distant and fucked out state.

“I’ll fuck you up some more, doll. He’s gonna watch as I absolutely wreck you.”

He pulls you further up the bed until you’re both in the middle of it.

With his hard cock in hand, he taps the head on your swollen clit, making you twitch and sob; a weak no falls from your lips as you place your hand on his hip to try and push him off.

You can’t. You’re so overly sensitive that it hurts. You can’t take anymore. But Bucky didn’t seem to give a fuck. He wasn’t done with you.

“I-I c-can’t.”

“Yes, you can, baby.” He speaks through gritted teeth.

He takes your hand off him and pins it down on the mattress.

Again he taps your clit, pulling out the same reaction from you as before. He glides his leaking tip through your wet folds. Gradually, his cock gliding on your tingling nub feels fucking incredible, and you’re ready for him to wreck you with his length.

“Please, daddy, fuck me.”

He groaned out at your neediness for him and lined his tip with your quivering entrance. Slowly, inch by inch, he penetrates your tight velvet walls with his cock, making you whimper at the slight ache. His hands grasp the back of your thighs as he forces his way inside you, guttural groans rumbling in his throat as your warm and tight walls engulf him. The last bit of him he forcefully pushes inside you, slamming into your pelvis, making you sob a cry, and your eyes roll back—showing white. The feeling of fullness has you blabbering pleas for him to destroy and fuck you senseless.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

His voice is so deep and husky, making your walls flutter around his length, pulling out a heavy moan from him.

“I’ll fuck you so good, doll.”

He pulls out and then forces himself hard into you again, making you jolt and cry on the mattress. He does it a few times, being rough and abusive with it, before he starts fucking your tightness in deep and powerful strokes, slapping his skin against yours.

He hoists your legs on his shoulder, pinning them against his front, as he thrusts into you, his tip brushing your sweet spot each time he reaches deep inside you. You’re nothing but a moaning, whimpering mess as you take it all. Your hands grip the sheets to brace yourself, your eyes cross as he fucks you into oblivion, and your breasts bounce with each abusive thrust he delivers.

“My pussy. Mine, mine, mine, mine,” he grunts between each hard thrust, watching his length disappear through your walls.

There's nothing on your brain other than his cock—nothing but earth-shattering pleasure that it's giving.

You convey that you want him closer with grabby hands as you’re entirely speechless with how he’s fucking you.

Answering your pleas, he drops your legs on each side before lowering his body till his naked chest meets yours, holding his weight up so he won’t completely crush your sensitive body. His forehead rests on yours as his warm breath hits your face.

“So needy for my cock, huh? So needy for all of me?”

You can only let out a sound of approval.

“Good fucking girl.”

With the rolls of his hips, he manages to reach even deeper inside you, making you wail in pleasure. You wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, clinging to him with your weak strength. The buildup was fast due to your last orgasm, and you were ready to explode with pleasure once more.

“I-I-I’m go….”

You couldn't even form a coherent sentence, making Bucky chuckle at how good he was fucking your brains.

“You gonna come, baby?”

“U-uh, huh.”

“Look at him, baby,” with his fingers on your jaw; he turned your head to look at Roman, “look at him as you cream and make a mess all over my cock, you fucking whore. Look at him while I stuff your little cunt.”

You try to keep your focus on him, but it was near impossible with the way Bucky was fucking you, clouding your every sense.

A few more brutal thrusts, and you come hard, toes curling, almost blacking out at the intensity. Silent noises escape your open mouth, and your eyes roll as you explode around his cock—your walls viciously pulsating around his length and making a mess all over him. Tears streamed down your face as it became too much, too hard, but you wanted more; you wanted his cum to fill you so badly, so you pulled him in tighter with your weak legs, wanting him to spill his warm seed inside you.

With a heavy grunt, he spurts ropes after ropes of his cum inside you, decorating your walls. His hips snapped rapidly against you as he filled you up to the brim, emptying himself entirely and not stopping until you were both fucked out and satisfied.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl taking all of me.”

He stilled inside once he was done, making a breath of relief and satisfaction escape you, and a deep groan came from him at the aftershocks. He peppers kisses on your clammy neck and collarbone, whispering sweet praises and affirmation after being so dominant and rough with you. You hold him close, nuzzling your face into his short hair as you hum and sigh in contentment at being stuffed full of his cum.

A whimper falls from you as his body leaves yours, leaving you cold, followed by a sob as his cock leaves your used and abused hole, leaving you unfulfilled.

“Look at that, baby,” Bucky was fascinated with his cum trickling out of your quivering hole, ”such a pretty sight.” He collected all of the cum with his tip and pushed himself hard into you again, making you squeal. After giving you a few more strokes, he pulled out, making the cum flow out once more. He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek, followed by some words that made your breath hitch.

“Stay still, baby. I need to show him.”

He what?

You were still and spread out like he requested, your body too sensitive and sore to move anyways. With hooded eyes, you watch Bucky’s naked behind as he walks away from you and over to the man bound tight in the corner.

Bucky removes the gag from Roman’s mouth, and you can hear him coughing blood and saliva as his voice is freed. He tries to say something, but it comes out as a gurgling sound.

“Did you really fucking think I would let you go unpunished from my club, you fucking filth?”

Bucky’s fist connects with Roman’s bloodied and bruised face—the noise of skin punching skin and the crackling of Roman’s teeth at the force of it is the most uncomfortable sound you’ve ever heard. You shut your eyes tight as Bucky hits him again, and then a last time.

“Did you really fucking think I would let you speak about my wife like that without me having your head for it?”

You still didn’t know what Roman had said to Bucky in the club, but it was obviously triggering. So Bucky had gone to this extent in showing him, and others for that matter, what happens when someone spoke about his possessions.

Bucky removed his restraints and pulled Roman by his hair over to you on the bed—propping him up so he rested on his knees, his bruised face close to your pussy.

You were lost for words at what was happening, at what Bucky was doing. You just closed your eyes tight and hoped that whatever was going to happen would be over soon.

“Look at that, huh. Look at it. Isn’t it so fucking beautiful?”

Bucky was referring to his cum seeping out of your quivering hole—making a beautiful mess.

Roman looked with hooded eyes and tried to say something, but his words came out strained and unclear.

“Fucking LOOK AT IT!”

Bucky yelled in his face. It startled you and made tears roll down your cheek. This feels so degrading… but my God, also so fucking hot at the same time—to have someone being forced to look at your most intimate part that’s just been used and abused and stuffed full of cum.

Roman looks with wide eyes now, well, one at least; the other one is too bruised to open fully. He makes a painful noise as Bucky pulls his head up by his hair.

“This is mine. My pussy,” Bucky spreads your lips, “this is my girl, my fucking wife, and that’s my fucking cum that’s claimed her. You will never ever get to touch her. Touch what rightfully belongs to me. How dare you come into my club and use your filthy disgusting words on my wife, especially after betraying me like that, you worthless piece of shit.”

Bucky tosses him to the ground, his body hitting the hard floor in a loud thud while he groans in pain.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky spat at him.

Bucky retrieves his phone from his jacket, and you hear his thumbs moving across the keyboard—typing a message. You’re unsure what’s happening and too tired and slightly traumatised to ask questions.

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on the bedroom door, and Bucky stands with his back, all tall and broad, to you, blocking your body so whoever is on the other end can’t see you fully exposed. Bucky doesn’t care about his own nudity in the slightest.

Whoever entered the room didn’t say anything, but you could hear them come closer and stop by Roman, waiting for Bucky to give them instructions.

“Dispose of him,” Bucky utters in a deep and sinister voice.

“Yes, Sir.”

You hear Roman getting pulled away, never to be seen again, and then a door closes, leaving only you and Bucky in your bedroom.

“Baby.”

His sweet and caring voice was back; his protective and warm touches were back—your loving husband. He cleans you off with his shirt and then cradles your body, making you sit on his lap as he wraps his tender, soft arms around your frame. You nuzzle your face into his sweaty neck, a tired sigh leaving you as his fingers run delicately on your clammy skin, soothing your aching flesh and lulling you to sleep.

“Are you ok, doll?” He takes your tired face in his hands, making you look at his concerned one, searching yours for any sign of stress or discomfort. “Was that too much? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, doll, you had to see that, to hear that. That I had to put you through that.”

You honestly didn’t know what to say at what just unfolded—too tired and sore to process the whole event properly, but you were ok, for now. You were just happy to finally have your husband to yourself after such a pleasurable and vicious evening. All you wanted now was to fall asleep in his protective embrace.

All worries and questions about tonight could wait until the morning.

“I-I’m o-ok, James, just tired,” you yawn.

“Oh, baby…”

He scoots you up the bed—until you both rest your heads on the fluffy pillows, facing each other.

“... come here.”

You make yourself small and vulnerable as you nuzzle and cling to the embrace of your vicious lover and protector—his arms and legs holding you close. A content sigh breathes through you as your head tucks into his chest; listening to the calming beats of his heart—this was your home, where you wanted to be forever; despite Bucky’s brutal nature at times, you never ever wanted to leave his side.

Bucky’s murderous hands treat your skin like it's the most delicate thing in the world—softly stroking your back, making you shudder and purr in delight. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered against your hair, followed by a hum of a pleasant tune that slowly lulls you to sleep.

The last thing you hear are words that solidify your love and trust for your husband.

“You’re mine, mine only, my everything, and I love you beyond words, my sweet love….”

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

#mob!bucky #mob!au #mafia!bucky #mafia!au #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes one shot #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #marvel #marvel smut

[daisybvck]

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 : Bucky Barnes x reader

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 : Your superior agent Bucky Barnes just wants the best for you, right ?

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 : 18+, smut, Bucky Barnes as a fucking whole, dubcon/noncon, cockwarming, manipulation, praise

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Bucky had invented a way to manipulate you into fucking him. And honestly; he was pretty proud of himself. When he approached you last week and offered some one-on-one training, you jumped at the chance. No one else is able to perform domain expansions like him, who were you to turn down additional support? You'd do anything to get ahead in your training, and the better you were, the better help you'd be in the field

You were grateful, albeit a little confused when he didn't invite you out to go into the compound gym Instead, he drove you to his apartment.

But that's okay... Right?

He probably has tools and things here he needs to get before he heads out. Although you've never actually seen him use anything besides that blunt butterfly knife. That's okay too, just because he doesn't use any other weapon isn't to say he doesn't have others. It's the only logical explanation as to why you were in his apartment right now. He was finding a spare tool just for you!

Alas, that suspicion was dashed as you watched Bucky remove his tie, calmly. Before you could ask what he was doing, he tied the silk accessory around your neck. You would have objected; but you were just totally lost for words at what was happening. When there was a secure knot around your neck, he tugged you closer to him.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Please remove your clothes... Slowly." he demanded. He backed away to form a gap between you both. He wanted to see you do as you were instructed and enjoy the display. He began unbuttoning the top button his dress shirt.

"I don't_"

"Speak up if you have something to say he interjected, insulting your whispering tone. You couldn't help it. Your throat practically closed all on its own.

"I don't- why are you- how is this going to help?" you stuttered. His vision sharpened in on you. The stuttering displeased him, immensely. “I'm just not sure how removing our clothes is going to make me a better sorcerer.”

"Are you questioning me?"

"No! I just-" you choked as you found yourself being dragged closer to the blonde man before you once again.

He looked down sternly into your eyes, his lips in a tight line as he planned his next words. You knew he was preparing to chew you out. But what he was actually doing was attempting to come up with a plausible lie to manipulate you into thinking this is acceptable conduct from a superior.

"The avengers are all about endurance. Whoever has the weakest will to go on, less energy to fight, will lose. This is to help you. But if you're too selfish-” he trailed off, knowing the idle threat of removing the opportunity from you would have you at his beck and call.

“I’m not selfish! 'm sorry Bucky, just didn't understand!”

“Please... Please help me. I'm so grateful, promise." you whimpered pathetically. You even began to remove your clothing for him, just as he'd asked. Better late than never, he supposes.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

He joins you in continuing to take off more articles of clothing. He's satisfied with the speed you find yourself naked. While shirtless, he pauses to inspect your body.

He has waited an awfully long time to see you like this. In this vulnerable, intimate state. And you're too dense to realise it's all a rouse. But he'll never tell, and he's sure you'll keep it secret too. God forbid any of the others discover his sick little plan. If you're both careful, both smart about this, you could probably do this forever. You feel a little embarrassed under his harsh gaze, using your arms to cover whatever intimate areas as best you can.

He tuts once and shakes his head.

"Don't do that. You have a fine body, beautiful in fact." he admits. You don't really want to uncover yourself, but you do as he asks regardless. He raises his index finger, whistling as he spins it through the air. You obey his speechless command and spin around. You're unsure if he wants you to do a 360° or 180°.

"Stop." he speaks while your back is facing him.

He comes up behind you, palming his hands over the flesh of your right cheek. He knows you're only doing it because you're uncomfortable, but he's revelling in the way you're squirming around under his touch.

Has it been a while for you, perhaps? Just as it had been quite some time for him? You yip as you feel his palm collide with your soft flesh.

"I want you to remove my trousers and underwear for me.” he informs you. You're spun around to be facing him, and soon he's pressing down on your shoulders, indicating that he wants you on your knees. He doesn't mind that you are fumbling and taking too long. He knows this is a lot for you to handle out of the blue. He can see in the way your whole body shakes that you're terrified, but he'll be gentle with you - mostly.

Finally his member springs free and thumps against his chiselled body. Even he cracks a little smile on that serious expression when he notices your eyes bulge in fascination. The little patches of drool forming in the corner of your mouth don't go unnoticed either.

It's so pretty. The prettiest you've ever seen. If Nanami didn't know any better, he'd thinking you were falling in love. He couldn't believe you were genuinely salivating over his dick like this. What else were you meant to do?

The tip was pink and pretty, the type of pink that makes you feel giddy. The head wasn't particularly large, but the slit was delectable, too. A gorgeous hole that you wanted nothing more than to tease with your tongue. And it was already leaking for you. So pearly and drippy. The length was admirable, too. It was a just perfect girth; and not too veiny. Two distinct veins ran along the underside his his length.

You couldn't take it anymore. You had to have it, to taste it. But before you could swallow him up, he yanked on your makeshift leash and tugged you away from his erection.

"Not today.

"But-"

"This is business, not pleasure, remember?" he reminded you. You nodded, dumbly. How could you be so stupid? It was so amusing to him. His sweet, naïve girl. “When I sit down, you're going to sink yourself down onto me." he instructed. You squinted at him in confusion, it seemed like an over explanatory way of saying he wanted to have sex with you.

"You want me to ride you." It's a statement, not a question. Because that is what it sounds like he wants, but he shakes his head. What a silly girl you are. There's more to life than fucking.

"I just want your cunt wrapped around me."

Your knees were either side of his thighs as your pussy enveloped his desperate, wanting cock. It shocked you that Bucky was such a gentle kisser, very sweet and tender. Even as he moved from your lips to other parts of your body, he was never rough with you. Featherlight kisses worked down to your neck, your shoulders, and eventually the soft flesh of your breasts.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

This is the extent of your encounter, this is all you'd been doing with him for the last half an hour. His lips and wet tongue felt perfect around your protruding nipples; but now it was nowhere near close to enough. You were so full, full of him, and yet there was no relief. His cock head was nuzzled snuggly in your cunt. It would be so easy for him to fuck up into you, granting both the release you desperately craved. But he had forbade it. He stilled your attempt at riding him by digging his fingers into your hips and slamming you back down in place.

"Sit still for me sweetheart.?

"'s too hard! Too hard Bucky!"

It was embarrassing. Wriggling around in his lap like a desperate virgin. It was out of your control now. Your cunt was soaking wet because of him and he could feel the way your sopping walls clenched around him. Even he has to admit that he can barely hold himself back anymore.

"You're never going to reach my level if you can't endure.

A little pathetic aren't you, hm?" he taunts. It's mean an unnecessary, but it's all part of a larger scheme. If you feel like you've failed, you'll be desperate to do it again and prove him wrong. And he can keep up this charade for as long as he can get away with.

"I- I can't! James please, I can't wait any longer. Fuck me! I need it, need it s'bad!" you are nearly screaming as you beg and plead with him to make your dreams a reality. He hushes you as he repositions himself ever so slightly. He needs to get a more comfortable angle if he wants you to see what he's truly capable of. Bucky kisses the shell of your ear a few times and coos. He's going to make it better, he's going to make you feel better.

"So obedient for me angel, aren't you?" he whispers to you, bouncing you lightly on the length of his cock. It's not enough, you know it and he knows it. He's just getting started. He picks up the pace as he aligns his mouth to whisper into your ear once again. "You're such a good girl when you're begging for cock. the vibrations of his voice traverse directly into your ear and make you shudder. He grunts harshly as his whispering results in your cunt clamping him in a vice grip once again.

"Wanna be a good girl... Wanna be a good agent!" you explain. He shushes you again and praises you for your determination. His thumbs are put to use when tears spill from your eyes; the pleasure of his cock finally pleasing you feeling so heavenly and so intense all in one.

"Good girls... Good agents can endure their training”

“Good girls aren't desperate to get fucked by their superiors." he hums. He does feel a little guilty. He's chastising you for no good reason, after all. He wanted

this just as much as you did - if not more so, in fact. But the way you sniffle at his words dashes any guilt he felt.

You really are a good girl.

“sorry B-Bucky. I'II do- I'II do better n-next time!”

“Promise!" you stutter, hoping to get your point across.

You know you're understood when his index finger and thumb find your chin, tilting your face to his. His lips meet yours in another sweet, delicate kiss.

"Ah, yes." he begins, "Clever girl. Next time."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #dom!bucky #mob!bucky #mafia!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #Bucky Barnes x female!reader #x reader #marvel #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n #smut #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x you

[themorningsunshine]

Pancakes

Pie eyed over you - Chapter 4

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist                        Series Masterlist

Previous Part

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Implied smut, Making out, wounds, brief mention of first aid, fluff and angst 

Word count - 5.9k

a/n - I really tried writing smut for the first time for this chapter, but realised soon enough that it’s not my cup of tea. Alteast not yet. Maybe some other time. Till then, please let me know what you think :) 

(I couldn’t find a more accurate gif. It in no way represents the reader) 

"y/n, y/n!"

Wanda's voice and her brisking past you to switch off the coffee machine brought you off the hole you were glaring into the wall with your stare.

Your feet walked on your own as you picked up the cup and walked towards the elderly woman, handing over the cup, a smile plastered on your face.

"Are you okay, dear?" The elderly woman, Mrs. Hudson, asked in a gentle voice.

You nodded your head and with a more convincing smile at her concern, replied, "Yeah, yeah, I am totally fine, Mrs Hudson. Just a lot on my mind right now."

"You have to take care of yourself, child. How else will I get the best coffee in the world?"

You chuckled before replying, "Don't worry, Mrs Hudson. You and this town aren't going to get rid of me this easily."

She gives you a wider smile and with small steps, carries her cup and box outside. You wanted to help her and make sure she reached home safely, but after all these months, you just know how stubborn she can be.

"Y/n, you seriously need to take care of yourself. You look tired."

You dismiss Wanda with a shake of your hand, you knew you were tired. You felt tired. But it had nothing to do with the bakery or your chores, you knew it and if nothing else, they were a pretty good distraction from what had been plaguing your mind for what felt like forever now. "I am fine, Wan. Don't you worry about me? You have got enough on your plate." And you meant it. Ever since Wanda gave birth to the twin boys, she had been super busy and the both of you hardly got any time to hang out together, but you understood. She was a mom now. She would eventually take out some time for the both of you, and she did. If the shopping bags and the skip in both of your steps were any indications, she came back for a wonderful girls' day out after all.

"I am never going to stop worrying about you, y/n. It's kind of my birthright." She noted before picking up a cupcake from the shelf.

After a moment of comfortable silence and a couple of customers, when you found yourself lost in your thoughts once again, Wanda spoke up. "Come on, y/n. I know it's been a month and that's a pretty long time, but you need to stop thinking about the worst-case scenarios. Maybe he is safe and sound, and you are just worrying yourself over nothing."

You sighed. You knew she was right but there was absolutely nothing that could calm down your nerves. "I - I don't know, Wan. That day, Steve said it was an emergency. They sounded so worried. And I have got no damn idea about what it even was about."

"What emergencies would mechanics have that could take a month?" Wanda asks with a furrow. The first time she had met James, flashed back into her eyes. She knew something had not been right about him. She just couldn't pin out what. She didn't want to tell you and worry you about it if it was nothing.

"I - I think something is not right, Wan. I think there is something huge he isn't telling me." Your throat contracted as the words left your mind. You had been thinking that for quite some time now. But giving voice to your suspicions and putting them out there, was a different deal altogether. It wasn't just a thought running into your mind anymore.

"You think he has been lying to you?" Wanda whispers, her heart sinking in her chest at your dejected expression. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve lies or even half-baked truths and it hurt her so much that she could do nothing about this.

"I don't know. I mean, he could lie to me, right? It's not like he owes me anything. He could straight up one day decide to never show up at the bakery again and there is absolutely nothing I could do about it."

"But he wouldn't do that. You know it." She puts her hand ahead to try to comfort you.

"Then where is he, Wan? Where has he gone for one month without a single word? And hell, I can't even ask around if someone has seen him, because guess what, he is supposed to be nothing to me." You half screamed with exasperation. You wished it wasn't this way. You wished that he hadn't just gone without any contact for a month and you wished that it didn't hurt this much. You wish you could just care less.

"But is he? Is he nothing to you, y/n?" She asks, knowing the answer all too well, but she needs to hear it from you. But your silence and the slight tears brimming in the corner of your eyes are an answer enough for her.

She puts her hand around you to comfort you before stating what has been obvious to her for a long time now. " You're in love with him. "

You suddenly take a step back, running your palm on your face, before replying, "What? No, no, no. That's not true."

There is a pang in your chest that tells you otherwise. The way the bakery hasn't just been the same since he left tells you otherwise. The way your smiles haven't truly reached your eyes for the past week says otherwise. The way your eyes always instantly look at the door at the voice of the bell, hoping with everything you have that it's him, tells you otherwise.

But you wish to stay in denial for a little longer. You wish to ignore all the feelings James Barnes has ignited inside you locked up a little longer. Because for some reason, you knew that it could only lead to inevitable hurt, and you wish you could live in this blissful ignorance a little longer.

Wanda just puts her arms around you and engulfs you in a hug, muttering comforting words into your hair.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

It was a dead silent night.

The only thing illuminating his path were the few streetlights and lights of the shop that were still open.

Bucky flinches slightly as the wound on his face makes its presence known.

He knows he shouldn't be here. Maybe at work, informing everybody of the long mission, celebrating the fact that one of his biggest enemies is gone for good now, or maybe getting some medical care, but definitely not here.

But it has been too long, and if he doesn't see you right now, make sure that you're okay, even though he's the one who has been in near-death situations more times than he can count, he is not sure he will be able to breathe.

Maybe he should have stopped for a moment and thought about what he would tell you about the scars and the wounds, but right now, he was a desperate man.

As the bakery comes into view, he lets out a sigh of relief when he notices that the light is on.

You would be cleaning up after the day right now. Maybe, if he was lucky, you would let him just sit there for some time and not send him away from the door. After the radio silence he has given you for more than a month, he will deserve that, but he is not sure if he will be able to live with it.

When he reaches the bakery, he stops for a moment and looks inside.

There, you are. In all your glory, wiping the counter with a determined look on your face.

Bucky is stopped in his tracks. Just like the first night he had met you, he needs a moment to catch his breath, to look at you for a moment longer to convince himself that this is real. You are real.

To him, you get even more beautiful every time he looks at you.

As if on instinct, you look up from the counter towards the door, and your movements halt when your eyes meet the blue ones you had missed more than anything.

You stand there, staring at him for a minute, to make sure that this is actually true, that he was here and it was not just your mind playing games.

When you are finally able to get your feet to move, you walk towards the door to the bakery and pull the door open.

Bucky looks at you with a small smile on his face. Even after he had fought through literal hell the past month, the mere sight of you made it all better. It was like he had been lost into the sea for far too long and you were the first sight of civilization, of peace, of life.

But there is a slight fear in his eyes. He knows you had all the right in the world to just ask him to get lost, that after the radio silence he had put you through, he would deserve everything you had to say to him.

But he couldn't have expected what you did next.

You took hurried steps toward him and before he knew it, you brought your hands around his neck, engulfing him into a tight hug.

"James" You breathed his name as you held onto him tighter. You wanted to be angry with him, to let him know just how much he had worried you, to give him a chance to silence all your worries, but the second you saw him, all you could get yourself to care about was that he was here, and he was fine.

After the initial shock, Bucky brought his arms around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer and burying his face into your hair, letting your smell and the feeling of you pressed against him, engulf his senses.

He doesn't know what peace felt like, but he is pretty sure it feels a lot like this.

The both of you stay like that for a moment longer before anger comes sweeping back to you and you pull away.

"Where the hell was - " Your words die on your tongue at the sight in front of you. James' face is bruised and he looks like he has been through hell. He looks tired, and all the shine that you had started to associate with his eyes is completely gone now.

"Holy shit." You almost shout before bringing your hand towards his face to gently run your fingers over his bruises.

He flinches first before closing his eyes and leaning into your touch and you can't help but feel guilty for being angry with him when he has clearly been going through something.

"How did you get hurt?"

He bites his lip and slowly opens his eyes, but doesn't look at you, instead choosing to focus on your palm that's still resting on his face. "I - I got into an accident." He says, cringing at the way he hesitates. He used to be able to lie like a breeze. It was the easiest thing in the world for him. But there is something in your eyes and something inside him that's begging him to stop this. To just come clean and face the consequences. But he knows for a fact that once he does that, your hand wouldn't gently rest on his face like it's doing now, healing wounds that he didn't even know existed and you wouldn't be looking at him like that. Like he could ever in this lifetime be deserving of the affection of someone like you. And he realizes he needs it, maybe just for tonight, but he needs to live in a false lie.

You bring your hand away as his words settle in. There is a hesitation in his voice and a pang in your chest that tells you he's lying, even though you desperately want to believe him. You search for something in his eyes, anything that could convince you that he was telling you the truth, but you find nothing.

You look down, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill.

You shake your head and then look up only to be met by his battered face and you take a deep breath before reaching out for his hand.

You needed to help him right now. If you knew something about James that was not a lie, it was that he could be extremely stubborn and he would never take care of the bruises himself. You could either wallow in self-pity or demand the truth later. For now, you take his hand in yours and pull him towards the stairs leading to your apartment.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩

Bucky very slightly flinches in pain as you put the tweezers down on the plate, his bare minimum reaction to everything you were doing would have been a concern to you but you knew just how strong he could be.

You look up at his face and feel relieved at what you see. The wounds weren't very severe and you were thankful for the first aid box you always kept tucked inside your washroom.

It had been almost an hour since the both of you stepped into the apartment. His wounds were all catered to now, including the ones on his chest and back.

He sat there, shirtless, in the kitchen of your apartment as you slowly looked after the bruises one by one, using everything you had not to stare at his bare chest. It really should be illegal for someone to be this good-looking.

You could see the scars where metal met skin and you couldn't help the pain that swept into your chest. You had gently run your fingers across them as if that would somehow relieve his pain and Bucky would never say it out loud, but it somehow did.

Not a single word had been uttered between the both of you since you stepped into the apartment. James had tried talking, anything that would make you look at him even for a fleeting moment but your sheer reluctance to meet his eyes made his words die on his tongue.

When you are finally done mending all the wounds, you keep the first aid box to the side and take a seat in front of him, still refusing to look at him.

James looks at you but is met with complete ignorance from you. He knows he deserves this, but he would apologize if you just gave him the chance. He finally decides to fill the silence that has surrounded the apartment for so long. "Sweets - "

"How did you get hurt, James?" You cut him off, looking up to look directly into his eyes for the first time that night, begging him through your eyes to be honest for this once. To just cease your fears and tell you whatever he is so adamant about hiding.

Please, please, be honest with me, James.

I want to be able to believe you, to be able to trust you, to love you.

Please, don't lie to me.

"I told you, sweets. It was an accident."

You feel the worry and hurt morph into anger. "And where were you the past month? Preparing for the accident?"

You watched as he shook his head, unable to meet your eyes and you could feel your stomach drop. You didn't want to do this, not right now. He was hurt, and tired and your heart was begging you to stop and save the little shred of hope left between the both of you, but you had to know.

James let out a sigh and closed his eyes before muttering, "Sweets, I told you. It's nothing."

You let out an involuntary humorless chuckle, before closing your eyes shut, "Why is it so difficult for you to be honest with me, James?"

Bucky closed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, anything to stop him from spilling out everything to you. You sounded broken, hurt and he mentally berated himself for making you feel this way. There's nothing more he wanted than to let it all out, to lay the pieces of his soul bare in front of you.

But he instead leans his head closer, his forehead brushing against yours, willing you with everything he has to Munster and everything he couldn't put into words.

You let a silent sob as your lips quivered and a tear rolled down your cheek. "I - I don't know, James. You were gone for more than a month and I had absolutely no idea where you were. I was worried, but I shouldn't be. You don't owe it to me to tell you where you were, you don't owe me anything - "

"That's not true." He interrupted, voice pleading, something that felt so foreign to him, but for you, he would do it. For you, he would get down on his knees if it meant you would stop hurting.  "I need you to know that that's not true, sweets. You have no idea how sorry I am that I couldn't reach out to you, but please, believe me when I say this, I would have if I could, 'cause it was killing me. Every single moment not spent with you, not knowing how you are is torture, a torture I am not sure I will be able to survive for long."

You let out a broken sob as he brought his hand behind your neck, gently pushing you towards him, your foreheads now completely leaning on each other, your breaths mingling and you involuntarily close your eyes.

The whole world ceased to exist at that moment. The both of you comfort each other with your mere presence. There were a lot of things unsaid, a lot of things unvisited, for that small moment right there, all that mattered was that you had found each other.

After what felt like an eternity, you let out your worst fear. Something that has plagued your mind for a long time now. "Sometimes, I - I feel like I don't even know you, James like all of this is a huge lie, a front that would fall apart someday."

You don't let him answer as you pull back and stand up quickly to turn away. You had to get away from there. The intimacy of it all, and how real it felt, filled you with dread now.

But before you can walk away from him, James's hand shoots up and grabs hold of your wrist. His hold is gentle, but firm, keeping you with him. He looks up and you see in his eyes how vulnerable he is. How important this conversation is for him, too.

He gets up and takes a step forward and your heart begins beating so fast, you are pretty sure he would be able to hear it.

You take a step back if only to save your heart from getting away, a meek attempt at postponing getting it broken by the man in front of you, the man who had held your heart for a long time now, only for your back to hit the counter.

As James took another step ahead and with nowhere to go, you saw in his eyes as several different emotions pooled through his blue orbs. The intensity of his gaze makes you look away.

He slowly brings his hand under your chin and makes you look up at him and you realize there is hardly a few inches of distance between the both of you. Your thoughts turn frantic and it becomes impossible to focus on your breathing.

"You know me, sweets. You know me in ways nobody has ever before."

He whispers the sentence as if it was something to be kept just between you two, his voice dripping with conviction and honesty. His eyes determined to make you believe every single word falling from his lips, which were now mere inches from yours.

He knows it's true. In all those times when everything became a little too much and he wasn't himself, even when he didn't even realize it, you did. You could read him like a book and it would have scared him if it wasn't for what came after. Your comforting words, your slight touches that made him believe that this world hadn't gone to shit just yet, that everything could still be okay. You didn't have to know what troubled his mind and plagued his nightmares but you made it all better and silenced the whisperings of his troubled mind nonetheless.

You know it's stupid, but you believe him. You believe every single word that falls from his mouth, and you realize the man in front of you was always going to hold a piece of your heart, even if he had no idea. Because he might have lied about something that you didn't know, but it didn't have to matter. Nothing else in the world had to matter if he kept looking at you like this.

His intense gaze falls from your eyes to your lips for a fleeting second and you would have missed it, if not for your sheer inability to focus on anything else but him at that moment.

Your breath mingles as he leans closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

The world stops spinning when his lips finally touch yours.

The silence around you explodes and a world of colors appears from behind your closed eyes.

Every thought in your mind is stripped out and replaced with him.

Just him

The kiss is gentle, soft, almost tender. All the things that have been missing from his life for as long as he could remember.

He doesn't just feel the kiss on his lips, he feels it in every fiber of his being.

The way his bones feel like they are on fire. Like his soul has finally found water.

Like every part of him that came from a dead star is alive again.

It is everything he has ever wanted. You are everything he has ever wanted.

he slides his hand to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as if even an inch of distance between the both of you was too much for him.

You encircle your arms around his neck, your fingers gently running through his hair.

You taste like coffee and cookies, and it's all exceptionally sweet and he wants to taste it all like a man who has been devoid of air for a long time.

When the necessity to breathe arises, you pull away. But James doesn't let you get too far, as he walks you toward the counter, trapping you between his arms.

Your lips are parted, still breathing heavily, when he leans in again. Now that he knew how your lips felt, he never wanted to be away from them for even a second.

This kiss is passionate and desperate, hands wandering, tongues desperately exploring each other's mouth, your back pushing against the counter.

James' hands get lower towards your thighs and he picks you up effortlessly placing you comfortably on the counter, stepping between your legs, not breaking up the kiss for even a moment.

He bites your lower lip and you let out a sinful moan, making all his blood run south.

He breaks up the kiss before bringing his attention to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your exposed skin.

"James" You hiss out when he kisses that particular spot.

James suddenly stops and looks at you. You would think he didn't want to take this further had it not been for the desperate hold he had on your waist.

He looks into your eyes, not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes, before saying, "Tell me to stop."

You frown before he continues. "Tell me to stop, sweets and I swear I will, 'cause if you don't," He swallows before continuing. "I can't promise you that you will be able to walk tomorrow."

You are soaking wet, which is proof enough that you want this as much as he does, so you don't ask him to stop. Instead, you pull him towards you by his collar and press your lips to his in a passionate kiss giving him all the permission he needed.

He brings his hand under your thighs before picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, encircling his neck with your arms, holding onto him for dear life.

He walks the both of you towards your bedroom without breaking the kiss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*

The warmth of sun rays falls on your face as you slowly open your eyes.

The feeling of an arm splayed on your stomach makes your heart stop for a second before the memories of last night come sweeping back to you.

It all felt like a dream and considering just how good last night was, you would have actually considered it a dream if it wasn't for James' hand laying gently on your stomach while also effectively pinning you to the bed and the feeling of soreness between your legs.

But you didn't mind. Not when he had taken you apart more times than you could count last night, leaving you a mumbling mess every single time.

You look to your side and your eyes land on his sleeping form.

With gentle hues of the sunlight sweeping its away through the window and onto his face, he looked dreamy, ethereal and you couldn't help but stare at him.

It was still early into the morning but you knew you would have to get up soon enough, so, in a desperate attempt to engrave this memory into your head, you brought your fingers to his face, gently touching his cheek, his stubble a little rough under your touch.

It is a tender moment for you. One in which you can engulf in your feelings for him a little longer, before facing reality, a reality in which he might never feel the same way.

You watch as his eyes slowly flutter open, immediately turning into a warm look when they land on you and you can feel your cheeks turning warm.

He smirks before saying, "I could get used to this."

You chuckle and take your hand away before he holds it in his and brings it to his chest. "Good morning to you too, James."

"Good morning, sweets." He leans in and places a light feathery kiss on your lips and it's already the best start to a morning you've ever had.

When he leans back, his eyes never leaving yours, you attempt to get out from under his hand to get the day started, but he doesn't move his arm an inch, effectively keeping you in the same spot.

"We both have got work to do, James." You tried your hardest to be stern but the way he looked with his bed hair and a carefree smile on his face made your insides melt.

"Nope, it's too early." He mutters, closing his eyes and pressing his face on your neck, his breath on your exposed skin making your skin tingle.

You chuckle before wrapping your hands around him, already drifting toward sleep and you feel him smile.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩

The sound of footsteps brings you out of your stupor and you flutter your eyes open.

The bed beside you is empty and before you could think much about it, a voice from the door brings a smile to your face.

"Good morning, sweets."

You turn your head towards James who is leaning at the doorway his arms crossed. He isn't wearing a shirt and even after last night, it doesn't stop amazing you just how perfect he is. Your eyes drift over his form, noticing how his sweatpants hang low. You shook your head, willing yourself to not let your mind go there.

"Like what you see?" He says, a smirk is evident in his voice.

You shrug before blatantly lying, "I have seen better."

He pushes himself from the doorway. He knew you were lying. The goofy smile on your face, and the blissful look you adorned told him everything he had to know.

When you hang your legs from the bed, about to get up, he told you to sit right there, before walking out of the room. Even when he was gone, you couldn't help the smile on your face. Your sheets smelled like him.

He came back a couple of minutes later, a mini table in his hand.

When he kept it in front of you, you gasped as you saw what was on it. There was a plate full of pancakes, a warm cup of coffee, and your living room flowers in a mug beside it.

You looked up and whispered under your breath, "James, you didn't have to do this."

"Are you kidding, sweets? God knows how many sweet meals I owe you. There are a little too many, but this is a good start.

You chuckled before leaning in and pressing your lips to his in a brief kiss.

You took a piece of the pancake and tasted it, doing everything in yourself to not let the grimace show on your face.

James was good at a lot of things. Intimidating people, physical strength, reading, shooting (apparently), knowing exactly what you wanted, and definitely sex. But cooking wasn't one of those things.  

"So?" He asked, squinting his eyes trying to gauge your reaction.

You smiled at him before shoving the piece down your throat. "It's amazing."

His smile widened before he leaned towards the plate. "yeah, I knew it. Let me taste it."

"No, no, you don't - "

You were too late as he took a bite of the pancake and gagged before spitting it out. "It's terrible."

He leaned again and took the plate away from you. "No human should be subjected to this."

You chuckled. "It isn't that bad, James."

He shook his head in disapproval.

The both of you had coffee (which was pretty good) with you telling him everything you had planned for the bakery that day.

Bucky looked at you talking and sipping coffee and couldn't help the grin on his face. Your messy bed hair, sitting in an oversized shirt, talking so passionately about something you loved, filled his heart with warmth.

It was all so peaceful. So serene.

And he might not accept it right now, but if he got to start his day exactly like this for the rest of his life, he wouldn't mind one bit.

Unable to help himself, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss.

You taste like fresh coffee and terribly baked pancakes, it's his favorite taste in the world.

You reciprocate the kiss with equal fever before realizing you were involuntarily slipping into his lap.

It took everything in you to break the kiss. "Nope, we both have got work to do."

You get up from the bed, walking away from him.

"Maybe I could convince you to spend the day in bed?" James said with a voice that made walking away almost impossible.

"It's not gonna be that easy, James." You said with a smirk before reaching the doorway and turning to look at him.

"Your underestimation of me hurts me, sweets." He said before getting up and walking towards you.

You took off from the doorway and ran towards the living room, giggling.

You hadn't even reached the sofas when you felt a pair of strong arms wrapping around you.

James picked you up from the ground, his bare chest pressing to your back before giving you a twirl and turning you towards him.

"Knew I'd catch you, sweets."

Your lips were parted breathing heavily as he brought his lips to yours, entering his tongue into your mouth. His hands pulled you by your waist bringing you closer, before reaching towards the buttons on your shirt.

You gasped as you felt his clothed length against your core, all your resolve fading.

The ringing of his phone became a background noise initially before jolting the both of you out of your haze and you reluctantly pulled back, pointing towards the kitchen counter he had kept his phone on the previous night.

James growled before stepping towards you again, choosing to ignore whoever it was who wanted his attention so badly.

But you leaned back, adamant about him picking up the phone. It could be important.

He stepped towards his phone, pressing it to his ears without checking the caller id.

Steve's voice bellowed against his ear and Bucky knew he was pissed. "Where the hell have you been, Buck? I have tried reaching you since last night."

"I was - I was in the middle of something, punk. Is this important?" He deliberately doesn't tell him where he is, wanting to keep everything between you for as long as he could.

"Of course it's important. We have a meeting with Stark in 15 minutes and you are not even here. This deal is important, Buck and you know, he doesn't like to wait."

"I don't give a shit about Stark, Steve. Why can't you or Sam handle this?"

"Because you know about these weapons more than any of us. I don't understand, you spent months trying to get this deal. What is something so important now?" Bucky could hear the suspicion rising in his tone.

"Fine." He sighed. "I will be there in 10."

He cuts the call before turning back and walking towards the kitchen, where you'd sneak off to give him some space to talk on the phone.

"Sweets, Steve called. I have to go."  He sounded disappointed and regretful.

You tried to hide the disappointment in your voice before saying, "I told you we both have work to get to."

A moment of silence passed between the both of you, slightly awkward before he walked towards the bedroom to get dressed.

He walked back into the kitchen 5 minutes later, bid you goodbye, and walked towards the door.

He hastily turned back and took hurried steps towards the kitchen.

You looked up from the counter and frowned when you saw he had come back. But before you could utter a word, he pressed his lips against yours for a brief yet firm kiss.

"I was wrong, sweets. You are the best damn thing I have ever had."  He spoke with a smirk before walking back towards the door.

You felt red creep up to your neck and you were stuck in place for a moment before shaking yourself out of your thoughts.

For the rest of the day, you felt giddy, happiness settling inside you, making you feel like you were flying.

But here's the thing.

Flying felt a lot like falling till you hit the ground.

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#mob bucky #pie eyed over you #bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky x reader #bakery au #mob au #mafia au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes flu #wanda maximoff #steve rogers #marvel #series

[myfictionaldreams]

Duke, Duchess and Knights // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: You get so lost in the fantasy dream that when it turns into a nightmare, you're not sure what reality is when you wake up screaming.

Requested by: @proseraphine - im sorry it's not exactly what you requested but I hope you like it regardless!

Tags: polyamory, angst, fluff, nightmares, panick attack, crying, mentions of murder, fantasy au, comfort

Words: 2.1 k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

There’s a mixture of muffled, panicked voices as you drift between sleep and reality.

“Doll, wake up! You’re just dreaming; listen to me, you need to wake up!”. The voice shouting for you to wake up sounded recognisable, but something more high-pitched was covering the sound of the voice you wanted to drift further towards. Someone was screaming, terrifyingly loud and shrill, and it took a couple of breaths to realise that it was you who sounded so frightened and fearful.

Upon this realisation, the unconscious world you’d been trapped in disappeared as you came back to full consciousness, attempting to sit bolt upright but found that you were being held up already. With the seconds it took for your eyes to dart around at your surroundings, you became aware of a few things.

One that Bucky was currently sitting in the middle of the bed with you between his legs, your head resting back against his shoulders and back against his chest as he wrapped his strong arms around your body to keep you in position. Two, that Steve was kneeling in front of you, his eyes so fearfully large and face drained of any colour as he reached to cup your face.

Everything felt incredibly disorienting; the room was spinning, and dark patches were edging around your eyesight. Not only that, but you were in uncomfortable pain, specifically in the centre of your chest and throat, presumably from the screaming you’d been doing for god-knows how long. There also seemed to be an unsettling amount of fluids coating your face and body, and only then did you realise that you were also crying hysterically.

“Baby, look at me. I need you to listen to me and take a deep breath, " Steve instructs, panic coating every word he speaks, only adding to your fear that something is incredibly wrong.

You try, though. Try to open your mouth to take a breath, but it felt like someone was wrapping their hands around your lungs so that you couldn’t draw a breath. The lack of air added to your disorientation and dizziness, feeling like you were trapped in your own body.

The hands around your face tightened to bring your attention back to Steve as he rolled his shoulders and attempted to relax his facial features to look as calm as possible. “Keep looking at me, Sweetheart. Now, I want you to try again and take a deep breath, slowly, like this” he then proceeds to take a deep, slow breath through his nose and out of his mouth.

You try and copy but still find it a struggle to open your lungs as your body seems to be still trapped within the state of fear caused by your nightmare. A chaste kiss to the side of your head captures your attention as a different voice begins to talk from behind, “It’s okay. I’ve got you, Mama. Breath in nice and slow and out through your mouth”, Bucky repeats Steve instructions as he continued to hold you. Only then did you realise that he was forcing his chest to move up and down to mimic the slow breathing, giving you something to ground yourself to and copy the movements yourself.

The next breath that you take is shaky but enough to fill your lungs that you can release a desperate sob.

“That’s good, really good. But I need you to do it a few more times for me. That’s it, breathe in again and out slowly, " Steve instructs, giving you a soft smile that would have melted your heart in any other circumstance.

Each breath had the tightness easing in your chest as you began to relax into Bucky’s hold until you could breathe without the fear of becoming trapped by a panic attack. However, as your breathing eased, this gave you the energy to pathetically sob and weep, reaching to grip both Steve and Bucky’s arms, needing to feel their warmth and touch.

“Shhh, it’s ok, we’re here. We aren’t going anywhere. You’re safe, Baby girl”, Steve spoke delicately, his voice audible over a whisper as he made you feel safe in the room with him and Bucky.

“I- I- Thought- It felt so real-” you choke on the words tumbling out. Everything was so intense and overwhelming that even though you knew you weren’t in any danger, the hysterics continued. Bucky rocked his body gently to try to calm you down as Steve’s thumbs attempted to catch the endless flow of tears, but eventually, his hands were soaked, and he used the corner of the blanket on the bed to dry your face.

“Try to relax for us. Whatever you dreamt about wasn’t real; none of it was true. You’re safe with me and Steve, and you always will be”, Bucky reassures as he pulls your body closer to his so you are in a tight cocoon of his arms around your waist.

Steve inches forward as well, pressing his bare chest against your face and arms around the back of Bucky’s so that you are in a boyfriend's sandwich. The warmth surrounded every part of you, like they were human radiators, calming you down to the centre of your being. The hysterical sobs quieted enough that you were now only sniffling with hiccups, attempting to manage your emotions adequately to lean into them further.

Your eyes were sore and slightly swollen, and your throat was burning from the screaming and crying. It had been such a long time since a nightmare had rocked you to the very core like this; however, usually, it was due to something from your past, not the fantasy journey your unconscious mind seemed to take you to.

“It’s so stupid”, you admit after a couple of silent minutes, nuzzling your aching face into the shoulder of Steve, savouring further his warmth and muscles that flexed at the action.

Steve leans back slightly but only to kiss your temple carefully, “What’s stupid?” he asks.

“My dream or, I guess, my nightmare. Whatever it was, it was so stupid to overreact the way I have, but it just felt so real”.

Bucky shifted the arms around your waist so his metal fingers interlocked with your smaller hand, cradling it and drawing circles in your palm with his thumb. “Doll, whatever your nightmare was about, it’s not stupid, especially to have frightened you this much. You know we’ll always be here for you, whether you want to tell us what happened or not. But, from my personal experiences with nightmares, it might feel better to talk to someone”.

You sigh, knowing he was right and you’d had to do this exact sort of care with him on multiple occasions when he had nightmares from his past as an assassin. Taking a steading breath and letting the air out slowly through your mouth, you tilted your upper body to look up and between your two boyfriends to begin explaining your dream.

“You both…died. I mean- we all died in the nightmare, but I had to watch you both die first” As you remembered the horror of seeing the light leave Steve and Bucky’s eyes, a tear escaped yours, landing on Bucky’s arm. “I only woke up from the nightmare because I died in the dream and could hear you both shouting. I thought it was some sort of weird afterlife that I’d fallen into”.

Steve dips his face lower to meet yours, his nose nudging the very tip of yours, drawing a smile to your lips at the soft touch. “That’s not stupid at all. It was all just a dream; we’re very much still alive. Don’t worry about that, Sweetheart”.

Sighing, you close your eyes for a moment, not because of the sadness quickly easing away from your tense limbs but because you remembered the rest of your dream. Each of your cheeks warmed in embarrassment as you avoided looking either of them in the eye. “It’s not the death that was the stupid part; it was just the part that scared me the most. I was quite enjoying the rest of the dream before all of the death, but you’re going to think it’s silly2.

Steve and Bucky share a confused look between themselves. “Anything you tell us won’t be silly or stupid. You’ve seen what Stevie here draws in his spare time.  Can’t be more silly than monkeys riding on unicycles.” Bucky tries to cheer you up, and it works as you giggle against his chest as Steve gives his boyfriend a deadpan head tilt.

As you look between the blonde and brunette Mafia men, you already know you will regret telling them. “Promise me that you won’t laugh at me”.

“Baby, there’s no way I’m laughing at anything you say, especially after just watching you nearly have a panic attack”, Steve concludes as Bucky nods with his words.

Trying to breathe away the tension in your body, you begin to tell them the intricate details of your dream that consequently shifted to your worst nightmare. It was a land you’d never heard of before, thick with orange-shaded trees as Autumn drew in. You were in a ridiculously lavish dress. Steve sat beside you in his golden attire as the carriage rocked with the uneven path.

You were the Duchess of the land whilst Steve was the Duke. The two of you were targets for many dark forces, which was where Bucky came into the dream, saving you both on your travels as attackers went for the carriage. Thankfully, Bucky, a local knight, had saved the two of you, and eventually, as the dream spilt through snippets of a relationship, the duo became a trio. It was all whimsical and light-hearted as it seemed to parallel your life with both of them, but it was in this fantasy universe.

The dream, however, started to darken into a nightmare as the three of you were captured by the forces who had been seeking to find you and Steve. “I don’t know, it was like some sort of fantasy novel in my head, and it was all so peaceful, but then everything changed so quickly. I had to watch you both be killed by Bucky’s own sword, which then was shoved into my chest just before I woke up”.

As you recalled their fictional deaths, you visibly shook as fear began to spark through your body once more. Steve moved first, kissing your cheek a few times to help keep that anxiety away, “Well, it was all just a dream, nothing to be frightened of, Sweetheart. And that wasn’t stupid or stilly, was it, Bucky?” Steve asks his boyfriend with a glare.

You look up, confused by the negative look from Steve, only to find Bucky holding in a laugh as he nods but then cracks, releasing a light-hearted laugh. You release the hold on his hand but only so you can swat at his shoulder, even more embarrassed than before as you look towards the wall, away from them both.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, it’s just - what kind of an idiot gets killed by his own sword?” Bucky asks, laughing and causing you to sway on the bed as his chest vibrates with his chuckles.

Despite the embarrassment, you couldn’t help the smile teasing your lips, “You told me you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry; I promise I’ll stop laughing; just give me time to process this all”. Taking a deep breath, Bucky attempts to compose himself, but as soon as you both catch eye contact again, the three of you laugh at the entire situation.

“At least we know Bucky’s a dumbass in this world and your dreams”, Steve casually mentions as he kisses beneath your jaw.

“Hey! At least I had a sword; your lazy ass still needed saving, even in her dreams. What does that say about you?” Bucky counters, making you laugh even harder and cling to both men.

“For two of the most powerful people in Brooklyn, you really are just a couple of goofballs”, you say whilst lovingly cupping both of their faces, kissing each of them in turn. “Thank you for helping me through my panic attack”.

“You’re most welcome, your royal duchess. Your noble knight will always be here to protect you”, Bucky joked in an emphasised lower tone that only caused you to laugh harder.

Steve rolls his eyes, but you can see his attempts at trying to hide his smile as he looks between Bucky and you. “I do think we need to stop watching Game of Thrones before bed”.

#mafia stucky #mafia!stucky #mafia au #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel one shot #mine* #bucky barnes #bucky #steve rogers #steve rogers angst #bucky angst #stucky x reader

[lvrdrafts]

Rescued by Love Part 1

★ Summary: Your brother Steve always hated you after your mother's death and when he finally gets the family's empire he is ready to sell you off to some toxic marriage but will the knight and shining armor save you or make it worse?

★ Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

★ Warnings: Arranged Marriage

★ Word Count: 2,000+

★ Genre: Angst/ Fluff

Masterlist

From the moment you took your first breath, you carried the weight of a past you didn't fully understand. It was a past overshadowed by the loss of your mother – a loss that your older brother, Steve, held against you.

As far back as you can remember, there was always a palpable tension in the air whenever you were around Steve. His eyes held a mixture of resentment and sorrow, a constant reminder of the day your mother's life slipped away while giving birth to you. A day that, in his eyes, marked the beginning of his own torment.

Your father, desperate to mend the frayed threads of your family, tried tirelessly to bridge the gap between you two. He believed that time and shared experiences could heal the wounds that festered beneath the surface. But no matter his efforts, Steve's heart remained encased in ice, his bitterness toward you seemingly unbreakable.

★

15 years later...

The air was alive with the beat of the music and the laughter among the people at the lively party. Steve and Bucky stood by the refreshments table, each holding a drink and engaged in a casual conversation

"So, have you talked to Sarah lately?" Bucky asked, leaning against the table. Steve shrugged, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Yeah, we caught up yesterday. She's doing okay, just busy with school and all."

Bucky chuckled, nudging Steve playfully. "You know, I think she's got a crush on you." Steve's cheeks flushed slightly, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, Bucky. We've been friends forever. It's not like that."

As they continued chatting, you stood at a distance, watching them with a mix of envy and loneliness. You'd always felt like an outsider, never quite fitting in with the crowd.

Seeing Steve and Bucky laughing together only accentuated your isolation. Summoning up your courage, you decided to approach them. You took a deep breath and walked over, hoping to join the conversation and maybe finally feel like you belonged somewhere.

"Hey, guys," you greeted softly, a small smile on your face. Steve and Bucky turned their attention toward you, their expressions changing ever so slightly. Steve's smile faded, and his brows furrowed as if he was annoyed by your presence. Bucky knew how this would end and a part of him felt bad.

"What do you want?" Steve snapped, you'd heard that tone so many times. But still, you were taken aback by his sharpness, and you stumbled over your words.

"I just thought... I mean, I don't really know anyone here, no one really wants to talk to me... and I thought maybe I could join you guys."

Bucky shot Steve a sidelong glance, his eyes silently questioning the change in his friend's demeanor. Steve's lips twisted into a bitter smile.

"We're not in the mood for your company. Just go find someone else to annoy." Bucky shot Steve a look, clearly taken aback by his friend's harsh tone. "Steve, come on."

Ignoring Bucky's protest, you felt a lump forming in your throat. "Please I promise I won't bother you and-and I—"

Cutting you off, Steve's frustration boiled over. "Well, maybe you should've thought twice before showing up. People like you shouldn't be at parties like this."

Your heart plummeted, a mix of hurt and humiliation washing over you. Swallowing hard, you turned and hurriedly walked away, tears stinging your eyes. You found a quiet corner where you could be alone and tried to hide your face as you wiped away your tears.

As you huddled there, Bucky's voice reached your ears. "Was that really necessary, Steve?" Steve's response was cold and unapologetic.

"Yeah, it was. She's always been nothing but trouble, if it wasn't for her I would have still had my mother."

Bucky sighed, a mixture of disappointment and frustration in his voice. "You still didn't have to be so harsh. She's just a kid who wants some friends. You don't have to be an ass about it."

Steve shrugged, a stubborn set to his jaw. "She needs to know her place."

★

7 years later...

The corridors of the mansion stretched out before you, each step echoing the weight of my uncertainty. Ever since your father had succumbed to Alzheimer's and the grip of illness, Steve had ascended as the new head of your family's sprawling mafia empire.

It was a shift that had altered the dynamics of your life in ways you couldn't have imagined. With hesitant determination, you made my way toward Steve's office, a heaviness in my chest that seemed to grow with each passing moment.

Even if he didn't love you, you were still determined to try even if it would take a million years so like every day you brought him lunch even though you knew he was probably going to reject it.

As you approached the slightly afar door, fragments of conversation reached my ears, stealing my breath away. "...marrying her off to Jason Storm," Steve's voice cut through the air, a sentence that hit like a sledgehammer to your heart.

Jason Storm – a name that carried a reputation that curdled your stomach. A man who was known for his cruelty, a vicious cycle of abusing his wives. The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning – your life, your choices, was being manipulated for the sake of getting rid of you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stumbled away from the door, your world crumbling around you. The bitterness of the truth tasted like betrayal, a sharp reminder that in this world of shadows and secrets, your well-being mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

You found yourself outside, the cool air doing little to quell the turmoil within you. The weight of your emotions was suffocating, and the façade you had tried to maintain for so long was crumbling. Your sobs echoed through the empty corridor as you leaned against the wall, your heart aching for the love and compassion you had always hoped to find within your own family.

Amidst the darkness of my despair, a voice cut through the haze – a voice you recognized as James Barnes, a name that held a sense of familiarity and warmth. "You can't do this, Steve." Bucky's words were fierce, laden with conviction.

His presence was a surprise, a glimmer of hope in the darkness that had enveloped you. You wiped your tears away as you listened intently, your heart pounding in your chest. "Why not?" Steve's voice was tinged with a coldness that had become all too familiar. "Because it's wrong, Steve. You can't marry her off to a man like Jason Storm. You know what he does to his wives,"

Bucky's words were like a lifeline, a lifeline that you had never expected to find. Steve's retort was sharp, but Bucky's resolve didn't waver. "You want to marry her, then?" At that moment, you felt a spark of something deep within you, a flicker of hope that perhaps someone was willing to stand up for you, to see you as more than just a pawn in a dangerous game.

Bucky's voice held a determination that cut through the tension. "No, that's not what I meant." And then the words that would change everything hung in the air – words that carried a mix of motives that I couldn't fully comprehend.

"Actually, I will," Bucky declared. But in Bucky's heart, he didn't want to marry you, but marrying you would be a disguise for his parents to stop nagging him while he was off with whores.

As the weight of the conversation continued to hang heavy in the air, the office door swung open, revealing Steve and Bucky. You sat there, tears glistening in your eyes, vulnerable in your moment of despair. Steve's scowl deepened as his eyes met yours, and without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving you to wrestle with your emotions alone. Bucky; however, spared you a quick smile before quickly following Steve.

#bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader fluff #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x reader angst #steve rodgers sister x bucky #steve rodgers reader x bucky #mob steve rodgers #mob steve rodgers x reader

[holylulusworld]

Fool me twice

Summary: You meet the man of your dreams.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, betrayal?, lies, implied smut, plot twist (kinda), secrets, the reader doesn't know Bucky is with the mafia

A/N: Inspired by a post I saw on social media about a spicy legend.

Maybe there will be more. I don't know yet.

Five months earlier, …

Who would have thought that you’d meet the man of your dreams at McDonald’s after a drunken escapade with your best friend.

You yelled at one of the employees, demanding food. “I need a spicy legend!” 

“I’m right here, doll!” Someone yelled back, making you squeal. “Try me!”

“I want the same,” your friend slurred and jumped at the employee, peppering kisses all over the poor guy’s face. “Are you spicy too?” She purred and shamelessly wrapped her arms around his neck.

The poor employee tried to handle your friend while the guy strolled toward you. He flashed you an irresistible smile and captured your heart with his soft blue eyes.

“How about I invite you for coffee before you get a taste of my spiciness?” He offered and held out his hand. “You look like you need it.”

“I can’t leave my friend here,” you replied and pointed at your friend. “Oh, shit. Wait…” You gasped as your friend started to strip her shirt off. “Fuck, babe! You can’t do this here!”

Suddenly, sober you stopped your friend from stripping and apologized to the employee. 

“I wanna ride him! He looks ready to get eaten,” she whined and tried to get her hands on the guy, but you dragged her away. “Please.”

“No, [BFFs name], we gotta get you out of here!”

“Can I lend you a hand,” the stranger offered. His smile was charming, and you felt your cheeks heat up. But he was still a stranger. “I won’t bite, promised.”

“She likes it when a guy bites her!” Your best friend exclaimed loudly. “Bite her neck and she’ll come like a … uh… waterfall!” 

“That is enough [BFFs name]. We don’t know him.” You guided your friend out, ignoring that the cocky guy followed you outside.

“Hey, don’t just run off. Give me your number,” he softly said. “I know you just met me, but I’d like to invite you for coffee.”

You sighed deeply. He was a very handsome guy and seemed to be nice. The problem was you fell for nice guys in the past. In the end, they never were nice guys.

“No.”

“Give him your number, babe,” your friend slurred. “Here!” She threw her purse at him. “My code is 6666!” Your friend grinned. “Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. You can call her doll, though. Save her number and call her tomorrow.”

“I like your friend,” he chuckled as you slapped the back of your friend’s head. “Don’t hurt her. She means well.”

“I want her to get laid!” Your friend grinned at the stranger. “I hope you can dick a girl down like there is no tomorrow.”

“Oh, sweets. I will destroy her,” he replied, smirking darkly. “In a good way, of course…”

Five months later you and the stranger you met are going steady.

He’s charming, irresistible, and yes, he loves to destroy you. Only in the best way possible - of course.

“Bucky, why not,” you whine and tug at his wrist. “I promised my mom we would meet up with her for lunch. You can’t cancel now.”

“Babe, I got an important meeting. I’m sorry, but I can’t cancel the appointment. I wanted to go with you, I swear.”

You sniff, and let Bucky wrap you in his arms. “Next time.”

“Next time.”

He kisses your hair and sighs deeply. It’s one of these days. On these days he’s still a caring boyfriend, but a little more distant. 

“I love you,” you whisper, and he kisses your temple. But he doesn’t say it back. Not today. Maybe tomorrow he’ll return it.

“Doll, you gotta see this,” Bucky shows you a picture he took of you while you were sleeping. He smirks at you, making your heart flutter. “You looked so pretty, I had to take a picture.”

“I’m drooling.” You punch his arm. “It’s creepy taking pictures of me while sleeping.” 

“I love you and want to memorize every moment with you.”

Today is a better day. He smiles more and tells you he loves you. “I love you too. Maybe next time you can come with me and finally meet my mom. She’s nice, you know. I want her to see how happy you make me too.”

“Wait…you wanted me to meet your mom?” He furrows his brows. “Shit, did I forget a date? I’m sorry.”

“What? Bucky, did you forget that you told me last week you wouldn’t make it? You said something about an important meeting.”

“Oh, yeah!” He scratches the back of his head. “The meeting. Sorry, this week was hell. I forgot about it. Next time, I’ll be there. Promised, doll.”

“Okay,” you snuggle into his chest. “I hope you don’t take more pictures.”

“I can’t promise anything,” he chirps and pats your back. “I’m really sorry that I forgot about the date with your mom.”

Bucky searches for his phone, and curses under his breath. “Babe, did you see my phone.”

“On the nightstand. I recharged it for you, baby,” you poke your head out from inside the bathroom. “Why don’t you join me in here?” You crook your finger and try to lure him in.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he dips his head to look at you. “I wish I had more time.” Bucky bites his lower lip. “If only I could…”

“You can always take a day off, baby,” you purr, and drop the towel covering your modesty. “If you want me to, I’ll call your boss and tell him you need more time for your girlfriend.”

He runs his hands over his thighs, considering you. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he drops the keys in his hands and cups your face. Bucky kisses you fiercely. He moans into your mouth. “I can’t resist you…”

“Bucky? Baby? Oh my god,” you gasp watching your boyfriend limp inside the living room. He’s got a black eye, and his nose is bleeding. Blood soaked his white shirt, and his knuckles are split and bloody.

“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have seen me like this. I got into a fight and …” Bucky runs one hand down his face. “You should see the other guy.”

“How did you get into a fight at the office?” You carefully touch his face. “Bucky, tell me what happened. I don’t think you got into a fight over a stapler or paperwork. This looks like you tried to kill someone.”

You grab his hand and lift it. “I’m so sorry…” He sniffs. “I thought…back then it was…shit…you’ll hate me.” Bucky cups your face with both hands, wincing at the sting of his wounds.

“I don’t understand, Bucky. What is going on?” Your heart thunders in your chest. Something is off with Bucky tonight, and you fear it’s worse than split knuckles and a black eye. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

“He should’ve stayed with you. And protect you while I’m away,” he drops his gaze and sniffs again. “I didn’t want him to fall in love with you too.”

“BUCKY, I don’t understand a single thing. Did you lose your mind?” You look at Bucky with teary eyes. “This morning you were so happy, and we made love. Now you look like you got thrown under the bus. Please tell me what happened.”

“He wanted me to keep an eye on you for him.” You scream as Bucky’s spit image steps inside the room. He’s wearing the same suit he wore this morning. 

“No…no…” you chant and step away from Bucky. “This can’t be. No…I…no…” you shake your head. 

“He shouldn’t have fallen for you, or touched you,” Bucky reaches out for you but, you slap his hand away. “It was for your protection. Every time I couldn’t be here, with you, Nick kept you safe.”

“Kept me safe?” You angrily wipe a stray tear away. “Did keeping me safe include fucking me?”

“It was only this once,” Nick hastily says. “I found an excuse to not touch you…” He licks his lips. “This morning you broke my resolve, and we ended up…” Nick shakes his head. “I’m sorry…so sorry, babe. I never wanted you to find out this way.”

“I hate both of you,” you choke out. “And I never want to see any of you again…”

Double the trouble

Tags in reblog.

#nick fowler #bucky barnes #mafia au #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!nick fowler #bucky barnes x reader #nick fowler x reader #angst

[stardustdreams-andcaffeine]

More | Bucky Barnes (Mob AU)

mob!bucky barnes x f!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: You're the secretary to one of the most powerful mob bosses in the country, and that's what he was supposed to stay—your boss. The heart often has other plans. Now, you're in a race against time to save the life of James Barnes, the mob boss who has become so much more.

A/N: Longer one today, just as angsty as I'm used to. I write better with the more angst I do and you can't tell me any different. As always, let me know if you have any requests or comments because I love you all! Keep those dreams alive 🤍

Warnings: mob!bucky, vioence, angst, fluff throughout (because I'm really trying here), secretary!reader, mentions of past abuse in relationship, protective bucky

Word Count: 13,122

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I have to make it. I have to.

"Come on, come on, come on," I breathe out, drumming my nails nervously against my steering wheel and peering around the car in front of me.

He's not answering his phone. I have to make it in time.

I take my lip between my teeth, the anxiety in my chest only rising as each second ticks by. Finally I swear under my breath and swerve around the car before me, slamming the gas pedal to the floor. A chorus of honks rises around me but I don't care. All I know is that he's going to die.

My boss is going to die if I don't make it.

You may be wondering to yourself, how did a meagerly-paid secretary end up breaking traffic laws and nearly crashing her boss's brand new Tesla just to get to him in time? Why would I even bother? Why would his life be in danger in the first place?

Well, to understand that, I'm going to have to take you back to where my life of crime began.

If my mother ever heard I had a life of crime, she'd kill me herself, so let's keep this one between us.

|||

2 Years Prior

"I'm sorry sir, but you don't have an appointment and Mr. Barnes is full for today," I repeat, quickly losing my ever-bearing patience with the brash business man before me.

His eyes dart around my desk and to the office of my boss, CEO James Barnes. I've only worked here for a few months and yet being his personal secretary is proving more difficult than I imagined.

"Look sweetheart, just let me through and I won't take but a few minutes of his time," the man pushes, not even sparing me a glance as he walks around my desk. I shoot to my feet and step in his way, not hearing the office door open behind me.

"You can either see yourself out, or I can have someone help you. Either way, sir, you're not seeing Mr. Barnes today." I assert, my heart pounding and blood boiling in indignation.

If there's one thing I've learned in my time working in Corporate America, it's that most rich and powerful men think they're so far above the rest of the world that they're entitled to open doors wherever they go. Thankfully, my boss is one of the better ones.

Definitely better than this tool in front of me. I almost scoff in disbelief when the man goes to step around me again.

"You don't scare me, sweetheart. I'm just gonna-"

I step directly in front of his path, my eyes flashing with anger.

"Either you leave right now, or I'll personally make sure you'll never get a time slot with my boss. And it's Ms. Y/L/N, not sweetheart" I grit out, standing my ground and leveling my glare at the man.

"Who do you think you-"

I feel the warmth of his presence before he even says a word.

"Do you feel a need for career-suicide, or are you just incompetent?" A dark, rough voice sounds behind me, cutting off the business man.

As my boss steps beside me, the heat of his presence washes over me and I don't even need to look over to know that his menacing face is on display. I can see it's impact in the business man's sudden desire to leave.

"Uh, I-I am so sorry sir. I'll be on my way."

As he scurries to the elevator, I feel my cheeks heat as I look over at James. His dark hair is cut short but is left long enough to be perfectly messy. His bright blue eyes are already piercing into my exhausted ones.

"Sorry for the commotion, sir. I'll try to handle them quicker next time," I start, but my nerves are lessened by the slightly impressed look upon James' features.

"I've never seen you get angry before," my boss notes, making more heat crawl up my neck.

"Yeah well, I used to let everyone use me as their doormat, but I don't let people walk all over me anymore." I respond with half of a laugh. He hums at that, his eyes trained on me.

I break the contact first, turning around suddenly to my desk to avoid the way his eyes seem to burn the air between us to nothing.

"Miss Y/L/N, can I have a word with you in my office?" He speaks again after a few agonizing moments of silence. My hands freeze and I slowly turn around to find his gaze inquisitive.

"Of course, boss" I reply, clasping my hands together to hide the way they tremble slightly. James Barnes is quite possibly the most terrifying person I've ever met, and yet the more time I spend in this job the less he scares me.

When follow his gesture to walk before him to his office, he slips his hand to the small of my back as I enter and I swear my skin sets on fire. I hurry away from his touch and into a chair as fast as I can. There's a slight hint of amusement upon his features as he settles back in his massive chair, eying me from across the desk.

"Is...is everything alright, sir?" I question after a minute of the thick silence. He sits straighter at this, leaning his forearms on his desk and clasping his hands together.

"Do you have a criminal record, Miss Y/L/N?"

His question startles me so much that it takes me a moment to respond.

"I'm...sorry?" I question, not understanding where this is going.

"Anything at all," James continues as if I didn't say a word, "Petty theft, aggravated assault, murder-"

"Sir I definitely don't have a criminal record," I cut in, my heart beginning to increase in speed. James nods, his blue eyes pinning me to the spot.

"Good, that makes you unsuspecting," he states, only heightening my confusion, "In order for you to be of best use, not to mention safe, it's best if you know exactly what it is that I do."

I sit completely dumbstruck and left with no response at all. My mouth opens and closes as I search for words, but I can't seem to find any.

"You've got a backbone and you're an honest, hard worker. That, you've proven. And, against my better judgement," Barnes pauses, his gaze taking on a somewhat softer, almost vulnerable gaze, "I trust you, Y/N."

My heart leaps into my throat and something stirs within me when he says that...that word. Y/N. My name. He said my name for the first time since he hired me. I don't know why it has such an effect on me, but it does.

Before I can stop myself, I blurt "I trust you too."

I do? When did I make that decision? And why did I just say it out loud?

Something in my boss's face shifts at my words, but he masks it with his usual cool, calm demeanor. He sits again in silence for a moment, taking in me and my response before he nods.

"The business I run is more lucrative than what the surface shows. I need someone on my side on the surface level, an associate who can assist me in matters at this office."

"This office?" I repeat, my brows furrowing together as my heart begins to race again. What does he mean by lucrative? And why is there excitement bubbling in my gut?

What he says next would change my life forever.

"I'm the White Wolf, Y/N." my boss's low voice rumbles, his eyes bright and clear, "I'm the-"

"King of organized crime, ruler of the New York mob," I interrupt, my eyes wide and my entire being not comprehending what's happening. I should leave. I should quit this job and call the police and leave. I should be terrified. But there's something in those eyes...

What I say next would start that life of crime I mentioned earlier, and quite frankly I still don't fully understand where it came from within me.

"Sure," I simply say, and the shock that splays on James' face must mirror my own.

"Sure as in..." he trails off, waiting for me to elaborate and clarify what we both know I mean. I swallow down my nerves and go with the decision my entire head is screaming against but my entire gut yells louder for.

"I'm in," I say, this time with more confidence, "Like I said before, I trust you. And I get the feeling you'd kill me if I said no."

Humor traipses across his features as he sits back in his chair in surprise. He plays with the ring in his finger, nodding slightly to me.

"That went better than planned," he murmurs, and I don't know why but I feel like smiling. My entire body is buzzing and my head is swimming, but something deep inside of me is waking up.

I've been walked all over my entire life. That's just the way it's been. I didn't know the difference between being nice and being a doormat for people's convenience until I was well into my life. As much as I hate to admit it, there's something about James Barnes that I trust, there has been since the day I met him. I felt it pull deep in my soul and now, knowing what he does and who he is...

It's time I control my fate, time that I grab my destiny and force it into motion. It's time that I stop letting people walk all over me and be the person who has a voice and a say and...and power. I've heard of the White Wolf as long as he's been around. He may be ruthless but he is not cruel. He's always looked out for the city, taken the scum off the streets and done the things the politicians refuse to. I trust James. And something deep within me is shouting that this is right, that this my destiny, that this is the strings of fate pulling.

And I know when to listen.

"Welcome, Ms. Y/L/N," James announces, standing and keeping his gaze burning down on mine, "To the real business."

|||

Seven months later.

One night, about seven months after the conversation that absolutely changed my life, I'm working overtime in the office.

My hands are dug into my hair and my eyes droop closed. I release my hold on my hair to knock back the last of an energy drink, but the liquid has little effect. I desperately read through the computer screen, hoping to solve the legal entanglement before me.

James informed me when I came into work this morning that some over-righteous beat-cop was looking too much into the business we hide behind our Property Management company. I've been here all day long trying to figure out how to file all the necessary forms to make this disappear and seem a joke. That's taken longer than I expected, though, and at nearly midnight, James and I are still here working.

"God, this is awful," I groan, dropping my head to rest on my arms upon my desk, my forehead seeping in the cool of the wood. I hear my boss's office door open but don't even bother moving. Eventually, a soft laugh sounds that makes me drag my head up and look over to its origin.

"You look absolutely pitiful" James comments, his tired eyes dancing with a humor that seeps into my own features slowly. A small smile tugs at my lips as I sit up fully.

"Thanks, that's what I was going for," I quip sarcastically.

He coughs out a laugh that makes my chest tighten slightly and some of the exhaustion part. Over the months working for the White Wolf of crime, we've become...friends. Well, as close to friends as a mob boss and his secretary can get.

"Come on, let's take a break. We've been at this for too long, I don't even know how you can think straight," James mentions. I shake my head, blinking a few times before turning back to the computer screen.

"No, I've almost got this loophole figured out and we'll be golden if I can just-" I'm cut off abruptly by a strong, calloused hand gently gripping my chin and turning it up so I'm looking at James. My heart gallops suddenly and it takes every ounce of strength to keep my composure against the charge coursing through me.

"Y/N, take a break," he mumbles so soft that a shiver runs down my spine. We stay locked like that for a moment until I nod and pull myself out of his grip by standing.

"Alright" I murmur, breaking the tense, charged moment by pointing a finger at him.

"But if you bring out alcohol on the job, so help me James Barnes I'll turn you in to the police myself," I threaten emptily. He laughs genuinely this time, and it warms my spirit.

"Come on, doll. I've got an idea" he urges, walking out to the massive open save before my desk. I eye him warily and step to it, hoping that the sudden skittering and tripping of my heart at that nickname doesn't show. He's never called me anything but my name, before. Now, it's almost too easy to forget that I work for him.

"You might wanna take your heels off," he suggests, which only heightens my confusion. Nonetheless, I slip the footwear off and walk barefoot in my pant suit to my boss.

"Should I be concerned?" I ask, bringing another humored glint to those beautiful steel eyes.

"No," Barnes says simply, my eyes darting to his forearms as he rolls up the sleeves of his button-up, "I've actually been meaning to do this for a while. You're working for me in a very dangerous business, and although your involvement is kept a secret, I want you to be able to defend yourself if anything goes wrong."

His words settle over me heavily as I shrug my  close-tailored suit jacket off and lay it on my desk. This is actually a smart idea. I sure don't want to be helpless should the time come and, lets be honest, it inevitably will.

"Okay," I reply, walking warily in front of my boss who's practically made of muscle, "Teach me."

Something dark floods his eyes that he blinks away quickly before holding his hands up in a fighting position, gesturing for me to do so. I oblige, putting my fists up in the best way I can. He walks over to me, slowly taking a few steps around my body to inspect my stance.

"Not bad," Barnes announces before stepping close to my side and placing those large hands against my torso and turning it slightly, "There, like that you can use the power you have against someone who might have a lot more than you."

His touch muddles my mind and I can't help but feel that his burning hands linger for a second longer than necessary before he steps away and back in front of me. Even as he does, I instantly feel like I'm missing something without his warmth. It's been that way since I began working here, though. Every little touch here and there has gotten me irrevocably addicted to the feel of him.

I'm so startled by the thought that it almost shows on my face. That train of thinking is...is highly unprofessional.

"Now, punch me" he orders. I hesitate, but don't lower my fists.

That's also unprofessional, and yet look at us.

"Are you sure?" I ask, and he simply nods. I shrug, "Alright then."

I throw the best punch I've got, but he dodges it easily and grabs my fist in his hand. Before I know what's happening, his leg hooks around my vulnerable one that I stepped with and he throws the momentum of my punch back at me so that I crash to the ground. I know that if he'd done that little move fully my back would've slammed into the ground along with my skull. Instead, he follows me to the ground and wraps an arm around my waist, breaking my fall and easing me to the ground as he hovers above me.

I know he means to say something, but words must die for him too when the all too small space between our bodies is realized. I can barely breathe and it's as if time itself has stopped. I watch his fingers flex on the floor by my head, almost as if he's going to reach out to me but chooses against it. All too soon, the moment is broken when James stands and extends a hand down to me. I take it and let him pull me up to standing, disappointment and relief mingling in my stomach.

"That move can save your life, especially against someone bigger than you." James says, a little bit more distantly than he was before.

I thank him quietly and watch him clear his throat and walk back to his office. He pauses when he reaches the door and looks back over at me.

"Y/N, I want you home in an hour tops." He orders. I nod, still slightly breathless.

"And if I stay longer?" I taunt, not even knowing where the words come from. He tilts his head at me, a challenging gaze taking over.

"Then I'll throw you over my shoulder and walk you out myself."

I almost think he means it from the mischief lingering in his gaze.

Sure enough, I go home an hour later.

|||

Five months later

It wasn't until about a year after I joined in on the mob business that I realized how well I was beginning to know James.

And how much more he was becoming to me.

"Y/N, can you get me-"

I cut off my boss by setting down two steaming coffee cups.

"Two triple espressos with low fat cream," I announce, before fishing the folder out from underneath my arm and setting it on the desk before him, "And the monthly finance report. The guys in finance weren't finished when I came by yesterday, so I made sure they had it done for this morning's meeting."

James stares up at me in shock for a moment. That shock is still lingering when he says, "And the meeting schedule?"

"Already in your computer, I emailed it to you last night. I also sent it out to everyone who's coming and made sure to tell Mr. Martinelli 10:30 instead of 11:00 so he arrives on time." I respond, clasping my hands before me and giving my boss a light smile.

"Oh," I exclaim, turning around suddenly and picking up the package I left by his door, "And this gift basket came with a heartfelt apology from Mr. Lankov. It did have an assortment of toffee-filled chocolates which I went ahead and removed for you."

Mr. Barnes reaches over and slides the basket I set down on his desk towards himself before looking up at me. He looks almost impressed, which is high praise enough.

"Will that be all, Mr. Barnes?" I ask when he just stares at me for another minute. I feel my entire body burning under his gaze and, as usual, the air is thick and palpable whenever we're in a room alone. His gaze hardens again into the cold, meticulous mob boss he is and he nods once

"That'll be all, thank you Ms. Y/L/N."

I nod and turn to walk out only to be stopped by his voice calling out to me again.

"Y/N?" James announces, making me turn to him again. I don't know what I expect him to say, but it certainly isn't what comes from him, "I think you are too close of a friend to be calling me James and Mr. Barnes by now."

My heart stutters, but I keep the emotion that surges from his words from splaying all across my face. He considers me a close friend, not just his secretary. When did it ever become more?

When did I ever convince myself it wasn't more.

"What would you like me to call you?" I ask, and the question seems all too formal. The corner of his lips tug up and the movement makes my stomach flip.

"Most of the people closest to me just call me Bucky," he informs, and a rush thrills my entire body as I nod and try to keep my smile small.

"If you need anything else let me know, Bucky." I reply, and something darkens in his gaze.

I'm frozen for another moment, his stare binding me to where I am. Phantom electricity skitters across my limbs and I realize how much I have to restrain myself from walking closer to him. It's almost as if he's the Earth and I'm the moon, caught in his gravity and unable to pull away, All at once I come to my senses and leave his office quicker than usual. I make sure the door is shut behind me before I press my back up against the cool surface.

My heart is pounding in my chest. That was too personal, that was all too personal and wildly unprofessional. Nothing that was said was but the way he looked at me, the way I melted in my spot at that gaze. It was all consuming, and I didn't think I could breathe in that room. He's a mob boss, my mob boss, and I'm his secretary. James...Bucky is naturally a brooding, intense sort of person so the way he looked at me wasn't unusual. The way my entire being reacted was.

And he's so much more than my boss, no matter how much I may try to ignore it.

As the day goes by, I try to rationalize it all. In the end, I know everything there is to know about him—what he likes and dislikes, his routines, his daily patterns. It's my job to, but he doesn't know that about me.

If he did he'd know that today is my...

I think that same thing over and over to comfort myself that everything is normal and okay, but it only just makes a part of me sink. It's almost as if the thought that I'm not more to him has the potential to break me.

You can only be broken by things that hold you.

I'm jarred from that thought when Bucky's voice sounds over my business phone speaker.

"Y/N, my office" He says simply, his voice holding that natural authority and sharp edge that it usually has.

I get up and am walking into his office moments later. Once I'm inside, I take notice that Bucky's hard at work on some document before him and doesn't even spare me a glance until the door clicks shut behind me. At this sound, he looks up and sets down his pen. He stands slowly and adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket. That small movement sends my entire body into a downward spiral.

"You tried to hide something from me, Y/N," Bucky rumbles, and my stomach hits the floor.

I did? What did I try to hide?

"Sir, I'm not entirely sure what-"

My word die out as he stalks around his desk and up to me. My entire body is trembling, but not from fear, when he stops before me and stares at me so deeply that I feel like he's taken my heart straight from my chest with his bare hands. I'm not so sure he hasn't.

"It was a valiant effort, really," he muses, and I still have no idea what he's talking about, "But even if I only know you half as well as you know me, there was no way you could've hidden it."

My brows are furrowed when he finally reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out an envelope.

"Happy birthday, Y/N," My boss whispers, and the moment feels all too intimate as he hands me the envelope.

He knew it was my birthday. That thought sends a thrill through me that I wish I could forget. I look down at the envelope and back up at Bucky who stares at me with the hint of a genuine smile on his lips.

"You didn't have to..." I whisper, but he gives me a 'really' sort of look.

"You do everything for me, and I'm pretty sure my world would fall apart without you. Now open it."

That only makes my heart race harder and I can't keep away my smile as I open the envelope. Everything seems to fade away when I pull out what's inside. There's no card, just a single slip of paper. When I flip that paper over, I realize that I'm in love with him.

Because it's a round-trip ticket to Kinsale, Ireland. A place I mentioned only once months ago that I've always wanted to go to.

I look up at him, my eyes wide and already filling with tears that I refuse to let go.

"How did you know?" I breathe.

"You said it was one of your dreams to go, and it's hard to forget when you speak about something so passionately." Bucky's reply softer than I've ever heard him be.

I've seen him kill people, torture criminals, and threaten politicians. I've seen him command his mob and rule with certainty and ruthlessness. And yet here he is, giving me one of my dreams because I mentioned it once.

I love him. I know it then, and I don't think I'll ever escape it. I've loved before, but never has it felt like this. This is encompassing and devouring and scary. It's real and deep and world-shifting. How much in love I realize I am with him is the kind of love I never thought I'd get. And yet...

I know it's unprofessional, but I can't stop from stepping forward and getting on my tip toes to wrap my arms around his neck in a sudden hug. He freezes, and for a moment I wonder how long it's been since he's been hugged. Bucky gives in almost instantly and wraps his strong arms around my torso, tugging me closer to him. I decide in this moment that this is my favorite place to be. Kinsale might have been one of my dream places, but this, in his arms, has just as quickly topped the list.

All too quickly I realize the intimacy of this position and pull away, no matter how much it leaves me feeling cold and alone.

"Thank you," I whisper, clearing my throat and taking a step back, "No one's ever done anything like this for me before."

Bucky just stares at me with that all-encompassing gaze.

"Then they're all idiots," he murmurs, and my traitorous heart surges again.

This man is my boss. He's the most powerful person in this city and the last thing he'll do is care about someone as powerless as me. And yet...and yet, and yet, and yet. I can't stop.

|||

Eleven months later.

Eleven months later and I'm still just as totally screwed.

I can't stop the feelings that bubble through me, that take me over and encompass everything I am and hoped I could escape. I tried convincing myself he was nothing, tried to fall for someone else, anyone else, but I can't.

James Bucky Barnes is intoxicating in the most wonderful and awful way. And I can't quit him.

That's why I'm here at Angel's Fall, the bar every corporate associate and beat cop or detective in our slice of town finds themselves at after work. I haven't been in a while, not much liking the smell or taste of alcohol, but after spending nearly ten straight hours with Bucky that serve as a reminder that I'll never have him, I needed to take the edge off.

"Anything else I can get for you, babes?" The bartender asks as she takes a stop in front of me, giving me a friendly smile. I return the gesture and let out a long sigh, finishing out the last of my whiskey sour.

"Scotch, straight," I request, giving her a tired smile, "Thanks."

"Sure thing," she replies, instantly beginning to make my drink, "You seem like you've had a long day."

I scoff, running a hand through the hair that I freed from my low bun, "Long few months."

"That bad, huh? Well I'll keep these going till you say when, sweetie," she replies, sliding my drink to me. I give her another quiet thanks before she leaves to her job.

"Y/N? Y/N is that you?"

I furrow my brows, not putting the voice to a face. I turn towards the sound of the man to find him standing beside me. Once my eyes land on his features, my entire being runs cold. Instantly what little alcohol I had in my system sobers out and my blood freezes in my veins. It's as if I've been dunked in ice water and I find it hard to draw in breath.

"Ian. It's been ages" I comment, my voice thankfully not trembling like I expected it to be. Ian laughs before me, leaning on the bar and drinking me in with his eyes. I squirm under his gaze, which only serves to make me uncomfortable.

"Damn right," he comments, smirking at me lazily with that smile that wrecked my life nearly three years ago, "I've missed you, baby."

I bristle at the nickname, my heart flinching even if my body doesn't. I know he's probably missed me, I had to move to a new state to escape him the first time. I thought I'd done good, too. I'd gotten settled here for a while and then worked my way up to a job at Bucky's company. The past almost two years in Bucky's business have been so good for me that I almost forgot my life before it, the reason why I was so ready to take on the life of organized crime.

The reason stands before me, proof that our demons never die. They just hide away until we're vulnerable again.

"What are you doing in New York?" I ask, trying to make polite small talk and avoid the obvious elephant in the room.

The elephant being that the last time I saw him, I smashed a lamp over his head before I scrambled out of his apartment and to the nearest cab that whisked me far far away, leaving behind all of my belongings except for a wad of twenties and my cellphone.

"I got a transfer to a firm a few blocks from here not too long ago. God, you look great Y/N," Ian averts. He says my name again, almost as if he can't believe I'm standing before him. I nod, wringing my wrists and shoving my forgotten drink away from me.

"That's great, Ian." I keep it simple, knowing that if I talk too much I'll lose myself again. I spend my mental energy searching the thickening crowd of people for a way out. I even consider signaling the bartender that I need an escape.

I'm barred from my thoughts when his hand, a hand I'll never forget, skims over my arm. I jerk my attention back to him, ripping my arm away from him as fast as I can and taking a step back.

"Woah, calm down baby. No need to be so jumpy" Ian placates, that same easy, manipulative smile that would bring me crawling right back to him every time stretching across his features. It makes my blood turn to ice and my stomach roil.

"Do not touch me," I command, surprised at the strength in my tone. It's a strength I didn't have before I got this job, "You lost that right long ago."

Ian's shock is not easily hidden. He realizes in that instant that I'm not the same girl I was three years ago when he broke me and used me and ruled my emotions. I've grown and gotten stronger because someone saw the potential in me to handle power with ease, to be a part of something bigger and stronger than anything I'd been in before. It may shatter me to be around Bucky every day, but he still saved my life in ways he'll never know.

I used to see the world as good and evil, black and white. Now, after my work in the mafia, I know it's gray. There's evil in the good and good in the evil. No one is ever truly both, and sometimes the ones you think are the villains are truly the heroes.

"I-" Ian cuts himself off with a surprised laugh, his eyes incredulous upon me, "I'm sorry, when did you convince yourself of that lie?"

"What lie?" I grit out, and I almost slap myself for indulging him. I'm quickly unhinging, though, and I know that if I stay in this conversation much longer I'll break back into a remnant of who I was. I try to swallow my bile at the thought. I refuse to do that.

"The lie that you're strong. The lie that you can survive in your own, the lie that you'll be anything or anyone without me," Ian seethes, his words sickly sweet like unsuspecting poison. His words cut me so deep that I almost shatter right there as old wounds I thought had scarred over rip open. Instead, I remind myself of the strength and control I've garnered these last two years working for Bucky Barnes.

And then I slap my ex so hard across the face that my hand stings.

"I am not some helpless little girl that's still in love with you," I grit out, my tone sharper than I've ever heard it before, "You broke me once, you are not going to do it again."

His shocked eyes are so wide upon me that I almost don't register his hand raising to strike me back until my head whips hard to the side and pain explodes across my cheek. When I snap my gaze back to him, my eyes brimming with tears of rage and instability, I see him open his mouth to say something. His words don't make it out.

Not before the crowd of patrons splits and a hand closes around Ian's throat so fast and with such force that his back is slammed into the bar.

Oh, I must've forgotten to mention this before. The Angel's Fall is one of the bars the White Wolf owns.

And here the wolf is himself.

I'm so shocked by Bucky's sudden intrusion that I'm left speechless as his grip tightens on Ian's throat and he brings his face that's flooded with an icy rage close to Ian's clearly terrified one. No one lifts a finger to protest or stop my boss, because they all know who this place belongs to.

"You touch her again and I'll kill you," Bucky growls lowly, and Ian is smart enough to believe him as he nods quickly.

Something warm and bright twists in my chest at his words, even when I know any normal person would be screaming or calling the cops. I've never seen Bucky like this before, not about me at least. About his business, sure. But not me.

"When I let go, you're going to leave this bar and this city," my boss commands, his tone leaving no room for negotiation, "If I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to slit your throat."

Ian whimpers, a sound that I hadn't realized would bring me so much wicked joy, a sound that satisfies the thirst for vengeance that I hadn't even realized I held.

"Now, thank me for my mercy and apologize to Ms. Y/L/N," Bucky orders, his grip loosening enough on Ian's airways to let him gasp out the commanded words.

Once he does, Bucky lets him go. His hand isn't off of Ian's neck for two seconds before my ex-boyfriend is scurrying out of the bar. The noises resume as usual, everyone carrying on as if a man's life was not just threatened. Bucky turns his gaze, still filled with that icy rage, towards me and it softens in a way that melts me.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

I avoid the question completely, hoping he'll forget to inquire about it again.

"Thanks for that," I manage out, ignoring the burning of my now very tender cheek, "I honestly thought I had it under control but then I just had to go and slap him."

"That gives him no right to lay a hand on you," Bucky asserts, taking a step closer to me and running a gentle, calloused hand over my hurt cheek. The simple motion sends electricity surging through my entire body and I somehow feel empty when he clenches his jaw and drops his hand.

"You didn't answer my question. Are you okay?" Bucky asks again, not taking a step back.

My heart is pounding and my body is overrun with so many different emotions that I don't know what to focus on or how to stop it all. I may be looking directly into those steel blue eyes, but I'm miles and years away. Memories of Ian and a version of me I often try to forget flash through my mind and I can't stop them.

"Who said you could parade yourself around like a whore when you are mine?" Ian growls out, making me flinch back and wrap an arm around my torso.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

My head whips to the side with the force of his hand. The sting sets in with the silence for a few moments, suffocating me and drowning me in my own pain. Then I hear him sigh and walk up to me, his hands now gentle as he turns my face up to his.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to do that, can you forgive me?" His words are sweet and his eyes genuinely sad. I look up at him warily and almost pull away when that breathtaking smile tugs onto his lips.

"For me, baby? I promise I'll never lay a hand on you again. I don't deserve you"

"Okay" I whisper, letting him kiss my lips and then the cheek that he'd hit again and again and again and as long as I'd keep forgiving him.

I don't even realize I'm not at the bar anymore until there's a soft click of a door behind me and I register a warm, strong hand encasing my own as Bucky leads me into what looks to be an office in the back of the bar.

I hadn't even realized I'd zoned out. I haven't done that in...in a very long time.

He lets go of my hand only to capture my face in his surprisingly gentle hold. When my eyes meet his, everything seems to quiet in the blue of his irises. Still, my mind is aching to send me back to three years ago, to broken bottles and shattered hearts patched with false kisses and pretty words.

"You're safe," Bucky assures, his face softer than I've ever seen it, "You're safe and you're here. I don't know where you went just now but I need you to come back to me, okay?"

Bucky's soothing voice brings me back to reality and grounds me to the moment until all that's left is this room and him and me.

"That's it, there you go, doll. Stay right here with me," he breathes, making my heart flutter. We stand in silence like that for a few moments that stretch for eternity, with his thumbs running across my cheeks until the consciousness returns to my gaze.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Bucky asks, taking a step back and pulling his hands from my face. I almost make a noise of protest at the loss of contact, but stop myself. Instead, I just shrug.

"It was nothing, really. Just an ex of mine who doesn't know boundaries," I respond, but I can tell that he doesn't buy a word of it.

Bucky takes a slow step towards me again. This time when I tilt my head up to keep his gaze, something tender and almost tangible crackles in the air between us, tugging and pulling and yanking us together. In the steel of his eyes is a dichotomy of emotions, ranging from a breaking softness to a stifled rage that I don't think is directed at me. It sends shivers racing down my spine.

"Y/N," he starts, and my knees almost turn weak at that one utterance, "I think you're not telling me because you know what I'll do. But I need you to understand something before you leave this room and we go back to our daily routine."

One of his hands hooks under my chin, and his thumb grazes ever so lightly over my lip and so swiftly that I almost think I imagined it.

"I don't care who I have to kill or what I have to do. I will do anything if it means protecting you. Anything." He vows, that rage still lit in his eyes. But when I look closer, it seems to be fueled by something so much deeper, so much richer.

I don't know why the words slip past my lips but it does before my mind can stop them.

"Ian manipulated me for years," my voice is trembling and unsure and so unlike every other time I've spoken with him, "He'd use me as his punching bag and then cry on his knees for me. I was stupid then, I always came crawling back. It wasn't until this job that I learned to stand up for myself."

Bucky's entire body is as rigid as a board and I know that look in his eyes. It's the look that appears when he grows unhinged and closer to losing himself to the rage and carnal violence. His jaw clenches and he seems to compose himself.

"What do you want me to do to him?"

It's a simple question, but in his eyes I can see what Bucky wants to do. I can see it as clear as day and it sets my entire being on fire. I choke up, though, because as much as I want to open my mouth and ask for him to kill him, I can't seem to. He sees my hesitancy and nods, taking a step back from me and adjusting his suit.

"Just let me know, Y/N," Bucky states, sounding more professional again as he turns and heads towards his office door.

A sudden sense of urgency overtakes me and I dart forward, grabbing a gentle but insistent hold of his arm that makes Bucky freeze and turn back to me. His arm is in my grasp and I realize that I'm holding on to it for a sense of stability as I try to get the words out. I think he realizes it too because Bucky lets me hold his arm, his eyes boring into mine and that professionalism dropping for a moment. I open my mouth, but close it again, my entire being trembling as flashes of every horror I endured with Ian overtake me.

"I want him gone," I finally manage out, my voice barely more than a whisper, "Please,"

Bucky's eyes search my face for a moment before a certain softness overtakes his gaze. I can see in his eyes that he knows exactly what I mean, even if I can't say the words out loud. He pulls his arm from my grasp only to take a hold of my hand and bring it to his lips. My heart nearly explodes from my chest when he places a kiss to the top of my hand. My skin is ignited where his lips touched it and I almost can't think straight.

God, I'm so in love him. I love him so much it hurts.

"Done." Bucky vows, his eyes never leaving mine.

Ian's mutilated body turned up in an alleyway the next morning.

|||

Two weeks later

I don't know how everything could have gone so wrong only a few weeks later. It all just happened so fast.

"Yes sir, the catering should arrive about 7:00 pm...yes sir, thank you sir. See you then,"

Once the phone is hung up, I take the pen from behind my ear and check off the catering company from my list of gala preparations. In just a few days, the company is going to be holding its annual Employee and Beneficiary Gala. My last few days have been consumed with making sure it runs seamlessly.

"Excuse me, miss. I have a 3:15 with Mr. Barnes." A man's voice I don't recognize calls out to me.

I look up from my paper, smiling warm at the business man who stands before me. My smile falls slightly when I see that he doesn't seem all too happy at the moment, but I set it aside.

"Yes, Mr..." I pause, looking over at my computer screen and scanning for his name, "Stark?"

"That's me." Mr. Stark responds.

"Alright. I'll let Mr. Barnes know that you're here and you should be right in," I inform, giving the man a polite nod before calling Bucky. While I inform him that his appointment is here, I can't help the uneasiness in my chest at Mr. Stark's grave expression.

"You can go on in," I inform once I get off the phone, giving the man a quick smile before turning back to my work, my entire being crawling for some reason.

The meeting's normal for the first few minutes, but pretty quickly their voices begin to raise.

"You need to be careful, Barnes! Pierce and his men are looking for any in to attack our organization."

Alexander Pierce, that's the boss of Bucky's largest rival—Hydra.

"Trust me, Stark. I am careful and perfectly capable of taking care of my business." Bucky grits back. I lift my hands off my keyboard, my attention slipping to listening to the words.

"No, you're not, you're being reckless. You're getting too close and you know it! She is a weakness!" Stark practically shouts. I hear a sudden screech of chair legs on the floor and a brief silence.

Whatever is said next is too hushed for me to hear, but I'm able to catch the last few words.

"I'll take care of it. You know I will," Bucky says, and the office door opens.

"I know you will, buddy. I just needed to get you there," Stark replies, shaking Bucky's hand before turning and walking past my desk without so much of a glance.

"Have a nice day to you too," I whisper beneath my breath.

"Ms. Y/L/N, my office" Bucky says abruptly from his office. His tone seems...almost cold, unfeeling. And he called me Ms. Y/L/N.

With furrowed brows, I get up and make my way into his office, closing the door behind me per his request. I settle down in one of the chairs before his massive desk, an inexplicable worry washing over me. Nonetheless, I ignore the feeling and carry on as normal. Thinking this to be one of the many previous briefings we've had on the gala, I begin to give him my report.

"The catering company is all set for Saturday as is the decorating committee and half-orchestra. All that's left is to-"

"I'm letting you go." Bucky interrupts suddenly, his voice so nonchalant and his gaze so flippantly down on the papers before him that I almost don't register his words.

As in...he's...firing me?

"I'm...sorry?" I question, to which his jaw clenches tightly.

"You are formerly fired, Ms. Y/L/N. Effective immediately," Bucky clarifies, and it feels as though the floor's been ripped out from underneath me.

I can barely breathe let alone hear over the sudden roaring in my ears. He's firing me, after all this time?

"Bucky, I don't-"

"Sir," he interrupts, finally snapping his gaze up to mine. His tone and glare are so ferocious that I almost think he'll pull a gun on me anytime soon.

That one simple correction makes my heart shatter. He hasn't been 'sir' in I don't even know how long. And the way he's looking at me right now...it's almost like he couldn't loathe anyone more in the moment. Like he doesn't even know me. Like he didn't just kill a man for me.

Like he didn't let me fall in love with him.

Tears burn my eyes as I steel my face and straighten up in the chair, clenching my hands so hard together in my lap that they turn white.

"Sir," the word is bitter on my tongue and I feel sick to my stomach more so than I ever have, "May I ask why?"

"Your work is sloppy and your intentions with my business, both legal and not, are undecipherable. I have decided that the best intention for me and my business is to part ways irrevocably with you, Ms. Y/L/N."

It takes everything within me to not let my mouth drop open in shock. The hurt that flashes through me is so piercing and raw and real that it arrests my chest. I can't...I don't know what I did wrong.

"You're just going to let me walk away," I breathe, my jaw clenched tightly, "With everything I know about you and your mob. You've killed people for less."

His cold, calculating eyes study me for a minute before he leans back in his chair, his features the picture of nonchalance.

"You won't tell anyone. You and I both know I wouldn't hesitate to kill everyone you love and then you." Bucky informs blatantly.

That's when my heart splinters. Because I can see in his eyes that he means every single word. Emotion blocks my throat as I simply stare back at him, no longer working to hide my shock or pain. I nod once and I stand, smoothing out my silk blouse.

"I've lost everyone I love, you're out of luck there."

The lie burns so strongly on my tongue that it nearly makes me physically sick. I say it to make it true, to trick my mind and heart into believing it. I should hate him. I should loathe him with every fiber of my being. But I just...can't.

With tears that I refuse to let fall swimming in my eyes, I stare down at the man who changed my life, who stole my heart and is now breaking it.

"Whatever it is that you've been relentlessly pursuing these past years, whether it's power or money or blood," I whisper, not daring to bring my voice above it for fear that it will shake, "I hope you find it."

Bucky's gaze bores into mine, something unreadable that's nearly akin to conflict flashing through his eyes. Without a word, I turn and leave, stopping only at my desk to grab my things before leaving. Leaving this office, leaving the mob, leaving him.

And as I drive home with silent tears streaking down my cheeks, I can't ignore the gaping, pain-filled hole in my heart. I hadn't realized how much I needed that business, that man. But I have to move on. I have to.

And yet, I have this awful feeling that I'm not going to be able to.

|||

A few days later

It's the day of the gala, and it's all I can do to keep myself composed.

I've been an emotional wreck the last few days, and as much as I've tried to deny it I can't any longer. I'm in love with Barnes, I have been for a while and as bad as I want it to, it's not just going to go away. Losing the job was like losing Bucky, and I hadn't realized how much I leaned on him until he was ripped away.

"Oh come on, you stupid computer," I grumble, shoving my laptop aside as it launches into an update I didn't ask for.

When I woke up today, I decided it was time I start looking for another job. No matter how much it hurts, I have to move on if I have any chance of continuing on with my life. I was job searching when this piece of junk laptop started to reboot.

My attention is glued to my television and the show I have playing while I wait for my laptop to finish the update. I get so engrossed in the show that I almost miss it when the screen goes bright and it turns back on.

"Finally," I breathe, pulling it back to me and typing in my password.

As soon as it opens to my desktop, my laptop begins to pop up a bunch of random windows from my most used apps, just like it usually does whenever it's powered down and back up suddenly. I close them out with mild irritation, but freeze when my spreadsheet window opens up, displaying the spreadsheet I was working on last.

The guest list for the gala.

My heart stutters. I'd done so good all of today avoiding thoughts of the event only for my stupid laptop to bring it to the forefront of my mind. My heart wrenches as I can't stop myself from scrolling briefly through the list of invited guests. Near the end, I notice my name and stifle the sudden rise of emotions that inundate me.

With hasty, almost frantic fingers, I rush to delete my name from the sheet. Before I can erase my name, my eyes catch on four names at the bottom below mine. Strange. My name was the last one added. I know because I edited and set up this spreadsheet and only added myself when I had double and triple checked that everyone had been added.

Maybe Bucky found four more to invite. I try to accept the thought, but my curiosity takes the better of me and I can't stop myself from pulling up the internet on another window and searching up the first of the four names.

Xavier Taft. 34 years old, works for a bouncer service...wait. Criminal record.

My heart stutters again. With events like this, we're always so careful to keep the criminals down to only our own, and I've never seen this man's name in our regiment before. With furrowed brows, I search up the next one.

Lance Salone. Bouncer. Criminal record.

My heart is racing when I search the third.

Amanda Vice. No criminal record.

I frown, my adrenaline seizing a little bit. Maybe I was too hasty, maybe those two were just-

Oh my God.

My entire body freezes when I notice an article underneath Amanda Vice's search. She's a personal assistant, like me. But she works for Pierce Enterprises, the cover business for-

"Hydra," I whisper beneath my breath, feeling as though someone's taken the world and spun it around me.

With trembling fingers, I navigate back to the spreadsheet and look to the fourth name. I don't even need to search it up to know.

Alexander Pierce.

My heart is in my throat as I fly my cursor up to the top of my spreadsheet and check to see the editing history. My eyes scan the hundreds of entries by me until they rest in the last entry, one done by an email I don't recognize.

One I never gave permission to edit the document.

"They hacked it," I piece together aloud. Nothing seems real as I throw my laptop off of me and shoot to my feet, the world still spinning. The two bouncers, obvious muscle with the clear ability to kill.

I know I should hate Bucky, I know that I shouldn't give a damn what will go down tonight at the gala, but I can't stop myself from reaching for my phone and dialing the number I saved to my phone of the weapons dealer Bucky's mob used. The man I spoke with on Bucky's behalf many a times picks up on the third ring.

"Y/N. I haven't heard your voice in so long, how are you?" the dealer, a man by the name Nick Fury, asks.

"Nick, this is going to sound so random but I need to know if there's been any movement from Pierce or his men in the last week or so," I rush out. There's a beat of silence on the other end before Nick speaks again.

"What's this about? I thought Bucky fired you," he points out skeptically. My desperation is taking the better of me and I nearly snap.

"Damn it, Nick I just need to know! Has Hydra done anything unusual lately that you know about? If anyone would know it would be you," I practically beg. He must hear the urgency in my tone because he doesn't question me again.

"I caught word they were hanging around upstate earlier this week, they're not usually over there," Nick announces. I furrow my brows.

"Where upstate?"

"Some place called The Sky Palace. Heard they were there for a good bit of time snooping around before they got booted out," Nick answers, pausing for a moment, "Y/N, what's going on?"

I can barely breathe, let alone work up a response. The phone nearly slips from my limp fingers.

"Y/N, are you-"

"That's where the gala is tonight" I whisper, an aching, yawning sort of sensation ripping in my chest at the sudden realization that slams into me.

They're going to kill him. They're going to kill Bucky Barnes and they're going to make a move on our mob.

"I have to go," I rush out, my voice trembling and my stomach roiling with nausea, "Thank you, Nick"

"Of course."

I end the call, rushing to grab my purse and throw on the first pair of shoes I can find. As I rush out of my apartment and into the streets of New York as the sun sets low behind the buildings, I no longer think about the betrayal or hurt. I don't ruminate that I'm fired or that Bucky doesn't care for me like I do him. All I can think about is that my family isn't safe tonight, and I have to do everything in my power to protect them. All of them.

As I whistle for a taxi, my phone is already pressed to my ear and ringing as it tries by I reach my ex-boss. The call goes unanswered as I sit inside the cab.

"Where to?" The driver asks.

I almost say the venue, but pause. I set up Bucky's schedule for today, he should still be at his mansion upstate getting ready. He always did like to make grand entrances. Even if I'm wrong, it's only a ten minute drive to the venue. I give the driver Bucky's address and dial his number again as the driver speeds off.

"You've reached the voicemail box of-"

"Oh come on!" I groan out, pulling my phone away and ending the call. My heart is racing so fast that I can practically feel it trying to run out of my chest. I feel utterly powerless right now knowing that Bucky could die and I can help. What if I don't make it in time? What if he's already gone?

Tears blur my vision and sudden heart ache seizes my chest at the thought. I shove it all down and keep myself composed as I try his number again, but to no avail. Thankfully, we're pulling up to his mansion now. I pay the driver and rush out, putting in the gate code and sprinting to his front door. I don't even waste time knocking, knowing he's probably in the garage or his room, and dig up the spare key from its hiding spot to let myself in.

"Bucky!" I shout as soon as I'm in, slamming the door behind me.

There's no response.

"Bucky please! Are you here?" I shout again, but the silence rings in my ears.

One quick check of his room shows he's not here and when I sprint into the garage, I see one of his twenty cars missing.

I missed him. He's already gone.

I curse, checking my phone to see that he's running fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, something he never does. Of all days to be more punctual to his own event, tonight was probably the worst. I hesitate for only a moment as I ponder what to do.

"You'll forgive me later," I mutter to myself before I spin on my heels and jog to the key rack by the door. I swipe the first set I find and press the button only to find his brand new, cherry red Tesla lighting up.

If things weren't so dire, I'd squeal in excitement.

I don't waste time with giddiness, though, and sprint to the car. I'm inside and have the engine running in record time. Not one minute later, I'm peeling out of the garage and onto the road with screeching tires. I press the gas pedal nearly all the way to the floor, the engine roaring in my ears as I whip into the traffic.

I have to make it. I have to.

|||

And here we are, all caught up.

I hope you understand now more than you did before why I'm so desperate to get to Bucky in time. I hadn't realized it fully in the moment before, but now that I just might lose him, I know that he's everything to me. I wouldn't be half the woman I am without him and his constant assurance that I was strong and skilled and perfectly able to stand up for myself.

I can't lose him, not when he's so much more than a boss to me. So much more.

I cut the ten minute drive to the gala down to four. My headlights cut thought the pitch black night as I swerve up to The Sky Palace that's teeming with cars and richly dressed guests. The Tesla screeches as I grind to a halt before a group of gasping patrons and a wide-eyed valet.

His eyes grow wider when he sees me step out of it in a pair of jeans and a hoodie.

"Don't scratch this car if you want to live," I advise as I toss the young valet the keys. He must think I'm joking because his gaze flashes with humor.

He doesn't realize I'm being dead serious.

I don't care a modicum about the horrified, disgusted looks I'm getting from the elite who are still making their way to the Palace's entrance nor do I care about their cries as I break into a sprint and shove past them all.

I can't let him die, I can't let Pierce hurt my family. I can't.

I only stop running when I reach the two men guarding the front entrance with iPads to check in guests. I know them both, since both happen to be members of Bucky's mob. Their eyebrows furrow once they see me approaching them.

"Y/N?" One asks, his eyes nearly popping from his head, "Boss won't like it that you're here."

"Let me in, Sam," I order, my chest heaving with breath, "He's in danger, you're all in danger."

The two men's eyes widen and they share a look for a moment before glancing back to me.

"Y/N," the other begins, but the panic is getting too much and I cut him off.

"Listen, you're all in trouble. The business is in danger of being thrown into chaos, and your boss-" my voice cuts off with sudden emotion, tears swimming in my gaze, "Your boss is going to die if you don't let me in right now."

They only hesitate a moment longer before they step aside. Relief like I've never known it crashes through me. Just before I walk in, though, Sam catches my arm.

"I don't know what the hell's going on, but we're already falling apart without you. We...he needs you, Y/N," Sam whispers.

My heart tugs painfully in my chest and that same hole opens again. I miss them all, I miss the mob and the meetings where we'd all mess around like kids. I miss Bucky.

And with that last thought, I give Sam a nod before turning and jogging into the Palace.

Classical music wafts into the air, broken up only by soft chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The gala is classy and elegant and beautifully well-done, but I don't take time to admire any of that. Instead, I race through the room in search of Bucky.

I receive more than one disgusted glare and scoff at my apparel and messy, unkempt hair. I don't give one damn as I try to blend in as much as possible to not alert Pierce or his men while searching for Bucky.

I stop when I reach the grand staircase that leads to an upper balcony, taking the advantage of the steps and climbing a few to see the room from a birds eye view. It only takes me a few seconds to spot Bucky near the center of the room. My heart squeezes in my chest and I almost sob in relief to see him alive and safe. Just before I move to rush down the stairs and towards him, I hear a click from the top of the stair case.

I whip my gaze up in time to see one of the two bouncers from the list, Xavier Taft, begin setting up a sniper rifle atop the dimly lit balcony that no one but him stands atop.

My heart stops. Time freezes. My stomach hits the floor and all I can think about is that I can't lose him.

"No," I breathe, snapping my gaze down to see the gun trained on Bucky.

When I look at him, I see Sam at his side and speaking in rushed tones, probably about me. Knowing I don't have many options left, my mind works in overdrive to figure out the best way possible to do this. I need to cause a distraction, one to catch Xavier's attention long enough for me to finish climbing the stairs and get that gun away from him. At the same time, though, I need Bucky to see it happen, I need him to know his life is in danger so Lance Salone, the other bouncer, doesn't surprise attack him.

Bucky's just snapped his head towards Sam, his brows furrowed and his jaw tight when I make my move, my nerves humming.

"BUCKY LOOK OUT!" I shout, my voice piercing and carrying out over the room. Instantly, Bucky's head snaps up to where I am on the stairs and his entire body goes rigid.

I don't waste time watching him any longer and begin to sprint up the last of the stairs and towards Xavier who curses. He wasn't ready to shoot yet, I timed it perfectly. Beneath me, Bucky sees the gun trained at him and he sees Xavier, who now has his gaze on me. Bucky's entire body changes again into a mode of desperation, but I don't see it. I'm focused on closing the distance between me and the gun that's almost ready.

"Y/N!" Bucky roars, but I'm barely listening over the chaos in my brain.

"Bitch!" Xavier growls, cocking the rifle hastily and wrapping his finger around the trigger. He's too late, because I finish bounding up the stairs and crash into him, knocking him off of his feet and shoving the gun off balance enough so that the bullet he intended for Bucky slams into the roof instead.

Xavier's body slams into the marble tile as I tackle him, but he quickly overpowers me, flipping us over so I'm beneath him. Below us, I can hear screaming and glass shattering, but above the panic I swear I can hear a voice bellowing my name.

I scramble out from underneath Xavier before he can pin me, shooting to my feet and sprinting to the sniper rifle still sitting on the balcony. Just as I hear Xavier get up behind me, I knock the rifle over and send it careening down into the panicking crowd.

"I'll kill you for that!" I hear Xavier spit from behind me, and I whirl just in time to see him throwing a fist at me.

Time suddenly slows, and it's like I'm back in the office that day ages ago where Bucky tried to teach me self-defense. My body remembers the way he grounded me from my punch before my mind does, and I snap back to reality just in time to dodge Xavier's punch. Just like Bucky did to me then, I hook my leg around his and use his momentum to shove him to ground. I crash down on top of him and practically feel the slam of his head into the marble below him.

"Y/N!"

My entire body jumps at Bucky's voice, now close to me. I snap my head around to see him bounding up the stairs, blood splattered across his tuxedo as if he killed a man himself down there during the chaos. I almost sob in relief. He's okay. I melt beneath his gaze that bores down into me as he stoops down to reach out to me.

His hand is inches from me when his eyes snap up to something behind me and horror flashes through his face a millisecond before a hand wraps around my waist and wrenches me to my feet and away from Xavier's unconscious body. I gasp, and the world suddenly goes very still and very quiet as the cool of a gun presses underneath my chin, forcing it up slightly. My stomach hits the floor and I hardly find it in me to breathe.

Bucky stands ever so slowly in front of me, his jaw clenched and his eyes spelling murder.

"Leave her alone, Pierce," Bucky orders, and sudden fear clamps over me.

Alexander Pierce has me at gun point.

"Why? I'm actually quite taken with your girl," Pierce responds, tightening his hold on my waist. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment at the disgust and fear rolling through me before looking back at Bucky. He catches my slight movement and his fury heightens.

"Pierce, I swear to God if you kill her I will skin you alive," Bucky growls.

"See, now we're getting somewhere," Alexander announces, but I can hear the annoyance in his voice. This isn't what he wanted to happen, "What are you willing to give for her life?"

Immediate tears spring to my eyes and I meet Bucky's gaze again.

"No," I beg immediately, not daring to shake my head because of the gun beneath it, "Let me die. I'd rather die."

Bucky works hard to keep the cold exterior upon his face, but I can see between the cracks that he's...he's terrified.

It's only when Alexander moves his arm that restrains me to cover my mouth that I realize my slim window of opportunity. Without thinking, I slam my free hands into the gun that Pierce holds to the underside of my chin hard enough that it knocks his hand away. His hold loosens in sudden shock and I rip away at the same moment that Bucky darts forward and grabs ahold of me, ripping me to him and immediately crushing me into his side for protection as he rips out his own guns and shoots before Pierce can even recover.

The bullet finds its target perfectly, right between his eyes, and it's over.

My entire body is trembling so violently that I cling to Bucky, scared that my knees will give way from the adrenaline. I've never been in a situation like that before, never been so close to death. Bucky drops the gun from his hold and switches his full attention to me, probably realizing just how pale I've turned and how badly I'm shaking.

Keeping one arm secured around my waist, he runs the other through my hair, his steel blue eyes taking in every feature of mine.

"You saved my life," Bucky murmurs, his hold on me so tight in the most protective sort of way, almost as if he's just as terrified as me, "Even after I fired and threatened you."

I shake my head, tears of relief pooling in my eyes.

"I couldn't let you die."

Bucky's jaw clenches and before he can react I throw my hands around his neck, hugging him close to me. He reacts instantly, wrapping both massive arms around my waist and pulling me close to him, holding me tighter than I ever have been.

"Don't ever do that again, doll," Bucky mumbles into my hair, clenching my hoodie in his fists, "Don't be willing to die for me. I don't deserve it."

I don't know why tears are gathering in my eyes but I find I can't blink them away. I only tighten my grip, nuzzling my head into his neck.

"I don't think I can promise that," I breathe, and my next words come out before I can even stop them, "You'll always be deserving."

Bucky pulls away so fast that my heart lurches into my throat. His eyes examine mine so frantically, so dangerously, so desperately as he holds me out from him. His chest is heaving, almost as bad as mine.

"I did it to protect you, you have to know that. Everything that happened before, it was all to keep them away from you," Bucky swears, and my heart stutters at the look in his eyes, as if the police and ambulance sirens filling the air alongside the shouting don't exist.

"Why?" I breathe, hoping on everything he'll say what I think he will. Bucky brings a hand to cup my cheek, shaking his head at me with something almost close to tears in his eyes.

"You're my only weakness, Y/N, and they know it. Everyone knows it," Bucky murmurs and I swear I stop breathing, "If it came to you or the world I'd pick you every time."

My chest is so tightly constricted that I can hardly draw in any breaths. My chest is moving just as fast as his and butterflies are pressing into my stomach in anticipation for whatever is thick in the air between us.

"Don't ever fire me again," I order, and a low chuckle leaves his lips. My humor drains in a second though, and suddenly it's hard to speak without my voice trembling, "I don't think I'll survive it."

Something breaks in his gaze, softens it and turns it so tender and passionate that my skin tingles. He brings his other hand to cup my face to, so I feel completely under his control.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He asks carefully, his eyes searching mine, "This life will never slow down. Someone will always want to take you from me."

"I'm sure," I whisper, not even hesitating.

His lips are on mine before the words are even fully out of my mouth. My heart leaps out of my chest as I melt into him, pulling him closer as our lips move in perfect harmony. My entire body feels like liquid and lightning all at once and he's the only thing left in the world. One of his hands finds their way into my hair, leaving me completely at his mercy. When he finally pulls back, he leaves a breath of a kiss on my nose and then my forehead before tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.

"You've been more to me for a long time now, doll" Bucky breathes, and a shiver rushes down my spine. He's so beautiful. A smile twitches onto my lips as I caress his stubble-covered cheek.

"I think how I feel is pretty obvious, considering I did tackle a fully grown man for you," I remark, and a surprised laugh rumbles out of him. The sound nearly turns me weak.

"And it was probably the scariest and hottest thing you've ever done," Bucky assures. This time I laugh and kiss him again, but we're both more serious after it.

"This life may not be safe," he begins, his thumb running over my lip, "But you always will be. As long as I'm here, you'll always be safe."

"I love you, Bucky" I whisper, my words a promise. He freezes, something new and bright flashing through his gaze. I don't think he's ever heard those words before.

"I've always loved you, and I always will," he swears, and for a moment my life is completely and totally content.

It doesn't matter what's happening around us, it doesn't even matter that I nearly died a few times in one day. With Bucky by my side, I feel invincible, I feel strong and capable.

"I don't think I can be your secretary any more," I whisper, and his smile is back, turning my insides to butterflies.

"No, I've got a better idea," he smirks, kissing me quickly.

The next day, Bucky would introduce me to the mob as his equal partner.

The King and Queen of crime.

And it would stay like that for the rest of our time.

I don't know when exactly Bucky Barnes became more than my boss, maybe it was always. Maybe I should have known I was in trouble from the beginning, but it's the best kind of trouble. So, if you ever get the chance to do something a little crazy, maybe something you never thought you would, but it just feels right, then you need to do it.

You never know who will become more to you in the process.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #angst #oneshot #au #bucky oneshot #bucky x reader #bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky oneshot #mob!bucky #mob bucky barnes #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia au #mafia bucky #mafia!bucky #fluff #avengers #bucky barnes angst

[myfanficlibraries]

Bucky Barnes

Alpha!Bucky

1) Alpha!Bucky Drabble by @vanillanaps

2) Heart and Soul by @all1e23       Complete Series

3) Little Red Riding Hood by @holylulusworld       Dark

4) Need You Now by @angrythingstarlight       Smut

5) The Start of Something New by @navybrat817​       Featuring: Hal Carter       Omega!Reader       Ongoing       Smut in later parts

Angst

1) Question by @bluehourbucky       Cheating

2) Stuff of Fairy Tales by @hannibals-favourite-meal       Complete Series       Plus Size Reader       Pregnancy       Sex Pollen

3) The Ultimatum by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky       Ex-Boyfriend Angst

4) Waiting on the Corner by @holylulusworld       College AU

Biker!Bucky

1) Kiss Me Like You Mean It by @angrythingstarlight       Fluff       Implied Smut

2) Roar & Giggle by @holylulusworld       Ongoing Series

Boyfriend!Bucky

1) Can You Not by @buckyalpine       Exhibitionism (later parts)       Reader’s Ex

2) Measurements by @invisibleanonymousmonsters       Fluff       Tall Reader

3) So Perfect by @bloodredwolfsbane       Fluff

4) Something New by @beanthesprout       Smut

5) Take the Trash Out by @splendidreads       Angst       Reader’s Ex

Dark

1) Make You Feel My Love by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

2) Wrong Number by @targaryenvampireslayer

Drunk!Bucky

1) Clingy by @sleepypanda27

2) Drunk Baker!Bucky by @angrythingstarlight      Dirty Jokes      Implied Smut

3) Drunk Bucky Drabble by @pellucid-constellations

4) Drunk Words Are Sober Truths by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

5) Guess What’s On Your Mind by @tellmealovestory       Angst       Insecure Reader

6) Guys Night by @teamcap4bucky       Featuring: Avengers       Injuries       Mentions of vomit

7) I Think I Wanna Marry You by @likeahorribledream

8) Maybe Later by @lovelybarnes

9) Sober Thoughts by tropicalcap (Deactivated account)

10) You Know What Rhymes With Drunk? Sex by @seventven         Implied Smut

Fairy Tale AU

1) The Unseen One by @extremelyblackandwhite       Complete Series       Hades!Bucky

Fluff

1) Anything to Make You Smile by @takenbypeter

2) Best Boyfriend You Never Had by @language-rxgers       Fake Boyfriend       Complete Series

3) Big Fan by @bubblessunshinehoney      Ongoing Series

4) Happy Little Accidents by @espinosaurusrexex​       Veteran!Bucky

5) The Life by @hesthermay

6) Little Black Dress by @thefallenbibliophilequote       Insecure Reader       Plus Size Reader

7) Tall Drink of Water by @invisibleanonymousmonsters​       Tall Reader

8) You Are Beautiful by @holylulusworld       Ongoing Series       Plus Size Reader

Fuckboy!Bucky

1) Send Nudes by @bucky-barnes-diaries       Implied Smut       Nudity

Librarian!Bucky

1) Face Sitting by @bucky-barnes-diaries       Smut

2) Once Upon a Time by @navybrat817

Mafia AU

1) A deal with Bee by @angrythingstarlight       Fluff

2) Blow Sweet and Thick by @angrythingstarlight       Smut

3) Owned by @jobean12-blog​       Smut

4) Passionate Negotiations by @targaryenvampireslayer       Smut

5) Plot Twist by @winterarmyy       Arranged Marriage       Mini-Series       Smut in later parts

6) Power Play by @late-to-the-party-81       Ongoing Series       Smut       Soft!Dark

7) Promise by @straywords       Smut

8) Trespassing by @sebstan2020      Dark Fic    

9) Your Hands On Me by @slyyywriting

10) Your Love Gets Sweeter Every Day by @povlvr       Series

Omega!Bucky

1) A Touch Too Far by @angrythingstarlight

2) I Am Sorry Alpha by @bucky-boo-bear

3) Where the Shivers Won’t Find You by @heli0s-writes       Alpha!Reader       Smut

Series

1) Baker!Bucky by @angrythingstarlight       Fluff       Ongoing Series       Smut

2) Keeping Me Up by @writing-for-marvel      Complete Series

3) You Will be the Death of Me by @fluffysucker       Angst       Completed Series       Ex-husband!Bucky       Fluff       Some Smut

Smut

1) Beard Burn by @biteofcherry        Featuring: Ari Levinson

2) Fitness Pack - Bucky by @holylulusworld       Personal Trainer!Bucky       Plus Size Reader       Smut in Part 2

3) Lumberjack!Bucky Drabble by @angrythingstarlight

4) Midsummer Night’s Dream by @jamesbuckybarnes1917

5) Overtime by @navybrat817       Featuring Jake Jensen

6) Petals by @biteofcherry       Sex Pollen

7) Pluvious by @buckymorelikefuckme

8) Sleepless Nights by @kikixreverie

Soft Dark/Stalker!Bucky

1) Follow You Home by @navybrat817

2) Permission by @silver-pieces​

3) Sleeping With a Friend by @rubynationwins​      Plus Size Reader      Somnophilia

Soulmate AU

1) Heartbeat for a Biker by @definitely-a-nerd

Winter Soldier

1) Kidnapped by @buckgasms       Dark       Smut

2) Sleepwalking by @lanadelreyscokewhor3       Smut       Soft Dark

3) Welcome Home...Soldat? by @winterarmyy       Light smut

4) Winter Soldier is a Match Maker by @universitypenguin       Dark/Soft Dark?       Smut

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky master list #bucky masterlist #winter soldier master list #winter soldier masterlist #bucky x plus size reader #alpha!bucky #omega!bucky #soft dark!bucky #mafia!bucky #boyfriend!bucky #fuckboy!bucky #librarian!bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #biker!bucky #drunk!bucky #drunk!bucky barnes

[generalmoonpolice]

i love you (stuckyxreader)

A/N: Actually my first post so feedback is super welcome. :)

Warnings: angst to fluff, mentions of gunshot, mentions of blood, hospital (i think thats it)

w/c: 554

Fingers gripped my cheeks roughly as I felt my head being lifted onto something warm. Another set of hands pressed into the wound on my stomach which sent copious amounts of pain through my body. I left out a groan in protest and heard my name being called out, though it sounded distant. 

“Y/N?! Baby can you hear me?” 

Even though my eyelids felt like they were glued shut, I forced myself to crack them open slightly, to be met with deep blue eyes that belonged to Steve. Fear, anger and relief were only some of the emotions that swirled in the depths of blue as he stroked my hair softly. It took me a few moments, but from the corner of my eye, my vision picked up on Bucky pressing his hands into my side, trying to stop the blood from leaving my body. It was only then, when I remembered the bullet that had hit me. 

Tears began to fall from my green eyes and my body began to shake as the weight of the scenario hit me. 

I was going to die.

Steve gently brushed the tears away, speaking to me but I couldn’t hear him. It felt like I was underwater. I whispered a soft “I love you” to Steve, watching as his eyes darken and his face filled with rage. My eyes met Bucky’s and I repeated the statement as he began to shake his head. 

Everything slowly started to dim, and I felt hands frantically shake me before the world went dark, the pain vanishing. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first thing that hit me was the smell. It smelt overly medicinal and sterile. Confusion filled me as I pried my eyes open, wincing at the bright white lights that shined above me. I let out a moan as my body was overwhelmed with pain. The sharp throbbing from my side accompanied with the dull headache made me nauseous. 

Suddenly, Bucky’s face appeared above me, his eyes swimming with concern as squeezed my hand to make sure I was really awake before leaning over and pecking my cheek. 

“How are you feeling, doll?” He asked with a raspy voice. I went to answer him but my throat wouldn’t cooperate, instead sending me into a fit of coughs. Immediately, Bucky lunged forward to grab the water that rested on the small table beside me. He helped me drink some water and I cherished the way the cool liquid ran down my throat, easing the ache. 

“I’m sore.” I merely replied, before looking around the room.

“Where’s Stevie?” I asked the man in front of me. Bucky opened his mouth to answer before the door flung open, making me flinch at the sound. I was met with the sight of Steve looking at me with wide eyes as he quickly made his way over to me. His eyes roamed along my body as if he was expecting to see any new injuries before he pressed a firm kiss to my forehead. 

“I’m—We’re sorry sweetheart.” They said as their heads hung in shame. 

Shaking my head I grabbed each of their hands before pressing a kiss to the back of each. 

“I love you.” I repeated to them giving them a small smile, before I closed my eyes and got some more well-needed rest.

#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers angst #mafia stucky #stucky #stucky x reader #mafia steve rogers #mob boss steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #mafia bucky #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob!bucky angst #avengers x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #steve x reader #steve x bucky #steve x y/n #steve x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader

[barnesboo1967]

We, as a socity, need more famous bucky barnes, cowboy bucky barnes, and mafia bucky barnes. Some with smut, some with angst, and some with fluff

Trust me guys I know what is best.

#bucky barnes #marvel #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #sebastain stan #boyfriend #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #mafia bucky #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #cowboy #cowboy au #famous au

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

The First Time

Pairing || Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Summary || Bucky answers a question you’ve wanted to know for a long time.

Word Count || 876

Contents & Warnings || Angst, Fluff, Implied Smut, Dark Themes — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, implied sex, mob/mafia business, mention of violence/death/murder/weapons.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Mob!Bucky Masterlist

I don’t do taglists anymore so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

You and your husband were lying in the messy entanglement of the sheets, catching your breaths after a long and steamy love session—taking in the blissful calm as you lay beside each other, brushing shoulders.

As you watched him out of the corner of your eyes, all relaxed and content with a happy smile, you felt guilty about the question you’d been longing to ask him. You’ve tried to wait for the perfect opportunity to ask, but you realised it would never be an ideal moment to do so. It would be better to just get it over with instead of pondering.

“Honey?”

“Hey, come here.” He made you cling to his side, wrapping your leg around him and resting your head on his warm chest. He hugged you tight, stroking your back with a soft touch.

“I want to ask you something.” You asked hesitantly while tracing patterns on his skin.

He lifted his head from the pillow and lifted your chin, making you look at him. He furrowed his eyebrows at your worrisome tone while caressing your cheek.

“What is it, honey?”

“I…” You swallowed hard, trying to free the words from your throat that seemed to be stuck. “…. I-I want to know what it feels like to kill someone?” He looked dumbfounded at your question—completely catching him off guard. “What goes through your head while you do it? Is it as easy as breathing to pull that trigger and take someone’s life?”

It was obviously no surprise who Bucky was or what he did. It’s not like it was a dirty secret that he kept from you in what world he lived in, what world you lived in as well. You’d seen it; you’d experienced it. You’d been through a lot with him, and you loved and married him despite it all.

You’ve seen him hurt people. He’s given orders to have someone kill while you were with him. But he’s never killed someone in front of you. He would never put such an awful burden on you, for you to carry that sight with you.

“Shit, baby.” He ran his hand through his short hair. “I don’t know what to tell you. I-I don’t think I can.”

“Please, James. I want to know. I want to understand. I won’t judge you. You know that.” Now you were the one caressing his cheek.

“O-ok.”

He inhaled and exhaled deep and long as he averted his eyes back to the ceiling, not daring to look at you while he spoke. Afraid you would see him as a ruthless monster with no soul or compassion.

You lay your head back on his chest again, retracing the same patterns on his skin.

“The first man I ever killed, I was scared shitless. I thought I would never recover from it. I didn’t sleep for days. My mind haunted me with those last few seconds while he was still alive… and then, just as easy as exhaling, he was gone....”

He paused for a moment as he inhaled a shaky breath. He turned his head to look at you clinging to him, looking for any signs that you were ready to run and scream. But you didn’t. You stayed right there, hugging him closer.

He returned his gaze to the ceiling as he continued.

“After a while, it just feels normal. Like it’s just another regular day.” He chuckled. “It sounds fucked up, I know, but that’s the whole and honest trust. And just the power you feel when taking someone’s life that’s hurt and terrorised someone you care about, someone you love. Taking someone’s life that’s betrayed and fucked you over releases some of that anger and hurt the minute you pull that trigger.”

“I don’t judge you, James. I hope you know that. Even if I sometimes may not always agree with how you deal with business, I still support you because I know you always make the right decisions.” You turned his head towards yours. Nothing but sincerity was written on your face. “I know what I signed up for when we got married, and I’ve never regretted my decision ever.”

For other people, this whole conversation may seem fucked up and disgusting, but this was yours and his reality—yours and his life.

He cupped your cheek and rested his forehead on yours as tears welled up in his eyes. A stray one fell down his face, and you wiped it away.

“I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve such a woman like you.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me forever.” You grinned. “When I said till death do us part, I meant it. I’m never leaving, babe.”

He was relieved that you were still here and loved him. You were the only thing in his life that kept him sane, and he wouldn’t know what to do without you.

“Can you hold me?” He muttered with pleading eyes.

You opened your arms and let him cling to you as he nuzzled his face in your naked chest, finding warmth and comfort there. With one hand, you stroked his back while the other massaged his scalp, lulling him to sleep.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your skin.

“I love you too.”

Thank you for reading🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

#mob!bucky #mob!au #mafia!bucky #mafia!au #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #marvel #marvel x reader

[themorningsunshine]

Muffins

Pie - eyed over you - Chapter 3 

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist                        Series Masterlist

Previous Part 

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Mentions of murder, lots of fluff (gotta give the fluff before the angst for it to hurt more, yup I am evil), Steve and Sam being a menace 

Word count - around 6k 

a/n - So, after two delays, hell a lot of editing, and straight up changing the whole structure of this chapter and then combining it with another (hence the length), it’s finally here. Thank you so much to all of you for putting up with me. Please let me know what you guys think about this. Your kind words keep me going. 

You placed the muffins in a tray for display before making a note in your diary to buy more chocolate chips when you go to the market on the weekend. 

Running a bakery all on your own is a difficult job but you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. Even though you were not a morning person, the prospect of coming here and baking made it getting up from the bed every morning a tad bit easier. 

As you heard knocks on the door, you frowned before looking up, there was still some time left before it was time to open up the bakery. 

But when your eyes landed on the figure standing outside the door, looking like a complete misfit in his dark clothes and sunglasses and surprisingly, a baseball cap covering his forehead, a pathetic attempt at being discreet, you can't help the way your lips turn upward and your heart flutters. 

He was here just yesterday and yet it felt like you were seeing him after too long. 

Get yourself together. 

It's just a crush, it'll go away. 

You wiped your palms on your apron before walking towards the door to open it. 

You gave him a teasing smile before saying, "You're at the wrong place. Baseball convention is another mile from here." 

He rolled his eyes before stepping inside the bakery, bending a little, the door a little too short for him. "Hello to you too, sweets." 

You chuckled before walking towards the counter as he took his usual seat. Everything felt like a routine. Engraved in your soul as if it had always been there. 

"Gracing this bakery with your presence two days in a row. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Maybe I just missed my sweets." He shrugged as if it was obvious. 

"Continue this and you are going to get diabetic." You remarked with a smirk. 

"Not the sweets I was talking about, but okay." 

The smirk immediately left your lips as you could practically feel your heart beat out of your chest. He didn't mean it. He's just teasing. 

But no matter what you think, you can't help the way the red color crept up to your neck at his words. 

Okay, this crush is getting out of hand. 

"So, how's work?" You say in an attempt to change the topic. 

He tenses at your words. You had asked him what he did, and he had replied that he was a mechanic. It was becoming more difficult for him to lie to you. 

But maybe, he won't have to much longer. 

He was pretty sure Walker was on his way to screw things up. 

That son of a - 

"Earth to James!!" Your voice moving and your palm waving in front of his face brought him out of his thoughts. 

"I asked how was work." You said with a frown. James always got weirdly uncomfortable when you asked about work. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it, but you were no one to ask. 

"Oh, it's been fine. You know, the usual." 

"Yeah, yeah. Steve is a dorky idiot and Sam is an annoying prick. I know." You said imitating the words he had said to you not a long time ago. 

Bucky chuckles. Telling you about Steve and Sam was easier. Maybe sharing something about him which wasn't a lie, made him feel less guilty. 

He knew this was wrong. 

He was creating a web of lies that you will find out one day.

But Bucky Barnes wasn't a good man and he would take whatever time he has got before the inevitable happened. 

Which wasn't going to be today. 

He wasn't going to let Walker ruin this.

He will just sit there, hiding half of his face with the baseball cap. It would be easy. It wasn't like Walker would expect to see him here anyways. 

He was just here to make sure that he didn't hurt you. 

The both of you striked a conversation just like usual and you immediately felt better. You knew it was going to be a great day. Had started off on the best possible note, atleast.

The clock striked eight before you knew it and you got up from your chair to flip the sign at the bakery. 

"Why don't you hire someone to help you?" James asks, sipping his coffee. 

"Why, you're looking for a job?" You teased him with raised eyebrows. "Job at the garage doesn't pay enough for your baseball conventions?" 

He rolled his eyes. "When are you gonna let this one go?" 

"I think… never." 

He chuckled before asking again, "But, seriously, sweets, why not get a helping hand?" 

" 'Cause I am selfish." When he narrowed his eyes, you continued. "I know this sounds weird, but I don't like it when anybody else cooks the food. It's just never good enough." 

"So, why not hire someone to deal with the customers?" 

"That's literally the best part of the job." You half exclaimed. "People telling you whether they liked the sweets or not is the best part, James. Almost as good as getting to eat all the leftovers." 

James chuckled before setting his coffee mug down. "There is no pleasing you." 

You shrugged before walking behind the counter to get everything ready for the morning rush you were sure was about to walk through the door any moment now. 

When a few people came in, some regular customers and some students hoping to get in some caffeine to start the day, you saw as James involuntarily tensed. 

Bucky watched the front door with focused eyes as minutes ticked by. He knew Walker will be here any minute now. 

And he was proven right as he saw John Walker opening the door of the bakery and walking in with a smug look on his face, shoving away whoever came in his path. 

Bucky wanted nothing more than to pull him out of here, away from you and this warm place but he couldn't do that. There would be consequences, which he normally wouldn't give a second thought to, but the real nuisance would bring questions. 

He watched as you greet him with the same grin on your face that you used for all your customers, saying in a soft voice, "Hey, what can I get you?" And Bucky can swear Walker doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you.

"Why not start by paying off?" Walker said with a tone harsh and loud enough that a few customers turned to see what was happening. 

You frowned your eyes in confusion, "I am sorry." You were still speaking in a calm, soft voice, trying your best to get whoever this man was to calm down. You didn't want a commotion so early in the day. 

"Walker." He said as if it was enough of an introduction before continuing, "And I think you have an idea of where I am coming from. You owe us." 

James watched as realization dawned on your face and you stood straighter, your smile turning into a forwn. "I don't owe anyone anything."

He leaned towards you, keeping his arms crossed on the counter, speaking with a smirk, "Don't try to act smart, baby doll. Pay up and no one gets hurt." 

He watches as you cringe at the nickname  and almost take a small step back, discomfort clear on your face. 

Bucky almost gets up from his chair, his first instinct to slit off Walker's throat with the knife he had tucked in his jacket. He would make it less messy too, but painful. 

Control, he isn't going to hurt her. 

"I am not going to pay you a single cent, Walker. So, why don't you take your ass out of my bakery and leave me alone?" As you speak, your hand inches towards the knife that you keep below the counter for situations like these. Even though you hoped you'd never have to use it, it was better to be prepared than sorry. 

John clenches his fist as his eyes bore into your skull, "Don't make this difficult. You don't know who you are trying to mess up with. The people I work with wouldn't blink an eye before dumping your body in a dumpster. Just pay every month and we leave you alone." 

"I have said it before and I'll say it again, I am not going to pay you to let me live." It's as if something switches inside you. The slight fear or discomfort that could be seen in your features is completely gone now. 

Bucky watches as Walker growls in impatience before reaching for his jacket pocket. 

Nope, not happening

"Listen to me, you little bitch - " 

Walker is cut off immediately when a larger figure stands between him and the counter. 

James shields you from him, obstructing his view. 

"Leave her alone." The sound is almost a growl. And if Walker hadn't been too preoccupied he would have noticed how familiar that sounded. 

"And who the hell are you?" He spat. 

Bucky looks down at him and watches as all the color is drained out of his face when he recognises him. 

"S - si "

"Leave her alone and if you show up around here ever again, it will be you in the dumpster, cut into more pieces than you can count." 

Fear is obvious on Walker's face, as he completely forgets the weapon he was reaching for, trying to get his senses to work, confusion evident on his face.

Before he can ask any questions, Bucky takes a step towards him, with sheer coldness in his eyes as if he could slit Walker's throat right now and wouldn't blink. 

You watch as the man - who had introduced himself as Walker- saunters out of the bakery with quick steps. 

You frowned your eyes at whatever had happened here. 

You weren't going to pay the mob any money, you knew that. But you also knew that you couldn't have overpowered that man, especially if he had a weapon hidden under there somewhere. 

"You didn't have to do that, James." You said softly, in an attempt to get his attention away from the door he was boring holes in. 

He turned back and you watched as his expression turned into the soft one you were so familiar with. 

You walked from behind the counter towards where he was standing before explaining, "He works for the mob. Trust me, you don't want to get involved with them." 

Bucky's breath hitches at that. How could he explain to you that he wasn't just involved with the mob?

"It's okay, sweets. They won't hurt me." That was some truth. They were never going to hurt him, and before Walker could utter a single word to anyone about the events of the day, he would be fired. Bucky would make sure of that. 

"I know." You sighed, looking down at the floor as if contemplating something. It was silent for a moment before you looked up, "Thank you, James. It does mean a lot to me." You said with a soft, grateful smile on your face and your hand reached out to his. 

"Anytime, sweets." 

A moment passed before anyone of you dared to move. Your hand was now brushing his arm in slight touches. 

You broke the silence, "Come on, have some muffins. They are on me." You said before turning back and walking towards the counter. 

Bucky had to stand there for a moment because his skin had suddenly started to feel cold and empty. Like it wasn't enough without your touch, before walking back towards the counter and standing right in front of where you were taking out some muffins on a plate. 

"So, Ms Feisty, something against the mob?" He said, trying desperately for his voice to sound joking. 

You shrugged while passing the muffins to him and turning to pour some coffee for yourself. "I am not going to pay them money just because everybody else does. Why the hell do I pay taxes?" 

"But the way you were standing, you don't just want to rebel, sweets. You hate them." He said, an emotion in his voice you couldn't really place. He prayed that that wasn't the case, that he had read the situation wrong and maybe you didn't really hate the mob. 

"Hate is a strong word, James. I - despise them." You reply before looking up at him to meet his eyes, but he looks away, almost as if looking at you right now would physically hurt him. 

"I mean, they aren't really that bad, right? It's not like I know a lot about them but I have heard they protect the city." He tries.

"Uh-huh. They are not good people. You remember that day when we met? When it was raining and I had lost my way, and you were there - "

"I remember the day we met, sweets." He interrupts. Every part of that day was engraved in his mind.

"Yeah, yeah right. So, that day I was coming back from a friend's house. She has a daughter, Ellie, about 5 years old." 

He hums, nodding his head, not sure where you were going with this. 

"Both of them were switching houses. Leaving their home, that they had built, to live in a one bedroom apartment in the not so respected area of the town. You know why?" 

He narrowed his eyes. 

"Because her dad was killed." You took a deep breath, trying to keep the rage from bubbling up to the surface. "A 5 year old lost her father, James. And why? Because of some stupid mob feud." 

"What was her dad's name?" He asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

"Jake" 

Bucky's moments halted as images came back to his mind's forefront. He had killed that man himself. Shot three bullets straight into his chest. He had felt no remorse then. That man was a traitor. Had joined hands  with the enemy, knowing very well what the consequences could be. 

He had felt no remorse then because he hadn't given a moment of thought to the people he might be leaving behind. It made his work easier. Pretending that there were no consequences to whatever they did. 

But now he could see the consequences. In the form of rage in your eyes at the tale and the hurt he felt in his chest, thinking about the girl. He knew how that felt. Being alone, and helpless. 

"She didn't deserve that. None of them did. Nobody deserves to lose somebody they love, James. But it hits the worst when it's unforeseeable. When the people who did it are out there in the world, as if their hands aren't tainted with blood, living their life and you can do nothing about it."  You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. Thinking about your friend and Elliot always brought you to tears. You tried to help them as much as you could, but there was only so much you could do. 

Bucky looks into your eyes and sees tears in the corner of your eyes. He wants to hold your hand, to comfort you, to tell you that they are going to be fine. But how could he, when his were the hands that were tainted with blood, that had taken the life of that man without a second thought. 

So, he just sits there, listening to you talk about the lady and her kid, even though each of your words is like a sword stabbed through his chest. 

When he knows you are fine, he takes his leave, bidding you goodbye before walking out and calling Steve. 

"Steve, I need you to do something." 

"What's up, Buck? Everything okay?" Steve replied in a concerned voice. Even after everything, his concern for his best friend never faded. 

"I am sending you some details of a lady and her kid. Send me the contacts of the person who bought their house." 

"Give me half an hour. But who are these people?" 

"They are going to be our responsibility, Steve." 

He cuts the call and sends a quick text with all the details he might need. 

He can't help but turn back towards the bakery to have one last look. He has made up his mind. He was going to tell you the truth. 

he didn't care if it meant you would hate him. There were many people in the town who despised him, what's one more?

But when he turns back and his eyes land up on you, handing a cup of coffee to a middle aged lady, talking to her with a softness unique to you. 

As if you can feel his eyes on you, you turn towards the window and as your eyes meet, your smile grows wider. A smile that's only reserved for him, he realizes. 

And he would have hated himself for how quickly his resolve fades away. 

But Bucky Barnes was not a good man. 

And maybe many people in this world did hate him, but he would be damned if you were one of them. 

He wanted this. The weekly bakery visits, the warmth, the sheer simplicity of it all, even if it was all this was ever going to be. 

And it was about damn time he got what he wanted. 

Why should he apologize for the monster he has become when no one ever apologized for making him this way?

Maybe, one day you'll find out the truth and hate him more for lying to you, but it wasn't going to be anytime soon. He will make sure of that. 

So, he straightens his coat and walks away from the bakery, choosing to not pay any mind to the inevitable doom that could leave the both of you shattered. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*

"James Buchanan Barnes" 

He turns back from what he is doing to find you, cross armed, shooting daggers at him. 

"How could you, James? It's like you're not even trying." 

He can't help the smile that finds its way to his lips at the way you look. Your christmas sweater that you had deemed "perfect" for the occasion and a scarf draped loosely on your neck, trying to look intimidating, just makes you look even cuter. 

You walk towards him and take the candy decoration from his hand, to place it exactly just an inch away from where he was going to, because it looked in your exact words, "more festive" 

Bucky just smiles at you as he watches you ramble more about Christmas decorations. 

When a week ago, he had heard you reminding Pietro that he had to come over to help you decorate, he had stepped in and offered his help. He was free that day anyways, he had told you. There was an international shipment that he had to sign off that day, but that could wait. 

When Pietro had shaken his hand and thanked him for 'saving him', he didn't understand, but now he did. You were extremely particular about how each and everything had to look for christmas and was not shy to tell the other person what a terrible job they were doing if it wasn't exactly the way you had wanted.

But if the cute pout on your face and the warmth that it caused in his chest was any indication, it was worth it. The cookies whose smell reached him even in the living room was just an added bonus. 

Right now, standing in the middle of your apartment, surrounded by incomplete decorations that signaled the arrival of a festival he wouldn't have cared the slightest about a year ago, being scolded by you for not hanging the canes correctly, he regretted nothing. 

3 hours and a lot of debates later, all of which you won, the house was finally decorated enough for the festival. 

"Here you go." You said, handing him a warm cup of coffee and placing a plate full of cookies on the table in front of him. It was your way of saying thank you. 

Bucky looks around your apartment. It's just above the bakery and much smaller than the mansion he lived in. But it felt different in a way he couldn't point out. 

A shelf filled to the brim with books standing in the corner, pictures adorning the walls, each telling a different story. Some soft music playing on the speaker, it was like a blanket of warmth stood over your house. A little messy, but beautiful nonetheless. 

His eyes then land on you, sitting across from him on the sofa, sipping your coffee with a warm, content look on your face, your scarf now lying on the table. 

As if you could feel his gaze, you turn back to look at him and your breath hitches in the throat at the way he is looking at you. 

It's as if the world could crumble around him and he wouldn't blink an eye. 

You can't get yourself to look away. So, you just raise your eyebrows, because you have suddenly forgotten how to breathe and if he didn't look away right now, you are not sure you will be able to survive longer. 

He just shrugs and turns towards his coffee, as if it was a natural occurrence. As if your whole world hadn't stopped spinning for a moment there. 

Bucky looks at you through the corner of his eyes and watches as red color creeps up to your neck and you try your hardest to not smile. 

He now recognises the feeling. 

Your apartment feels like home. 

And the next realization brings with itself questions and doubts he wasn't ready to answer. 

He wouldn't rather be anywhere else. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩

He clenches his fist as he drags his feet towards the bakery. 

It was pretty late. He knew that. 

But he just had to be there. 

He liked his work more often than not. The impending guilt and the danger aside, the reason that had initially brought him to this world still stood. 

It made him feel something. The adrenaline of each task, the satisfaction of seeing everything that belonged to his enemies burning down till there was nothing but smoke.  

The mafia world had welcomed the darkness that he had inside of him and made him one of their own, for which he will be eternally grateful. 

But for some time now, it hasn't been enough. 

The darkness that had surrounded and consumed him for so many years now was suddenly not enough. 

Something inside him changed. 

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he had thought twice before shooting that man today. The whispers inside him that asked him every time 'if there was any other way' had become louder now and even the noise of the bullets couldn't silence it. 

He knew what was happening. 

He was seeking the light.

And every single part of him knew that this could only end in disaster. In a fire that threatened to burn every single thing to the last piece. 

But that didn't stop him from taking the next step. Or the one after that. 

He was still walking to the one place that could silence away his thoughts and make it all go away. Like a moth attracted to a flame. 

Maybe this was selfish of him. Maybe he was tainting you with his darkness. 

He will think about that some other day. 

When the bakery comes into view, he realizes just how late it is. 

You would be about to close now. 

Maybe he could catch a glimpse before you retired for the night. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. But it had to do. 

As he reaches the bakery, he watches as the door slowly opens and a young boy steps out. 

He frowns before walking ahead, and his eyes almost widen with who he sees. 

"Peter, what are you doing here?" 

Peter looks up from the book he is currently holding and his eyes widen with fear at the figure who stands before him. 

"S - sir, I - I was just - " 

A voice from inside the bakery calls out to him. A voice Bucky recognizes all too well. 

"Peter, you forgot this." 

You step out of the bakery with a textbook in your hands as you hand it over to Peter. 

Peter opens his mouth to speak but then closes it. Too afraid about what was going to happen. 

You turn around and when your eyes land on James, your lips turn into a grin before you know it. 

"James, hi"

Peter's eyebrows shoot up as he looks between the both of you. You have a glint in your eyes as if you couldn't be happier by anything else and the man he had feared with everything he had for the last couple of years, had a softness to his features that made Peter wonder if he was somehow swallowed into an alternate dimension. 

"Hey, sweets." Bucky says almost on instinct, before turning towards the boy who is still looking at the both of them as if he just saw a dolphin flying in the air. 

You probably notice it too, because you then point towards Peter before saying, "James, this is Peter, and Peter, this is James Barnes." 

"James?" Peter says almost on instinct, confusion evident in his voice. 

"Wait, you know him?" You ask, looking between the both of them now. 

Peter looks at Bucky and almost crumbles with fear by the warning glare he is shooting towards him. But there is something else there too. Something, he can swear he has never seen in the mob boss' eyes. 

There is fear in them. A tiny flicker of it. He fears the answer he is going to tell you. Whatever it was, it was too important for him. 

"No, no. I don't think we have met before." 

"Oh, okay." You say, confused as to what had just happened here. "All the best for the test and tell MJ I said hi," You give him an easy exit from a situation he was clearly uncomfortable in. 

You watch as a small blush spreads across his cheeks before he bids you goodbye and glancing at James once, takes his leave. 

"He is a nice kid." You break the silence after Peter walks away, out of earshot. "Pretty smart. I was helping him with his test tomorrow." 

Bucky looks back at you and shrugs in response. "Good for him." 

"By the way, it's closing time, James." You say with a teasing voice and he is relieved that you don't ask any further questions. 

"Come on, sweets. You could make an exception for your favorite customer." 

You roll your eyes before replying. "What about this? You help me clean up, and I get you something special I made today." 

"Help you clean up?" 

"Aww. The prince doesn't like to get his hands all dirty?" You smirk. 

"This special treat should better be worth it, sweets." He huffs before walking inside the bakery. 

You walk in behind him while giggling. 

__

"And that's it." 

You look at him with a smile and silently clap your hands together with an impressed look. 

If any of his men would see him right now, wearing an apron with a bunny on it, hands covered in flour, working in a bakery with soft music playing in the background, their eyes would pop out of their heads. But he couldn't care less. 

"Great job for a first timer, Barnes. You have earned yourself a serving of something special." 

Bucky smirked before replying, "Something special, you say?" He leans in and sends a wink your way. 

You roll your eyes before turning towards the kitchen, hoping that it wasn't evident how flustered you were.

You take out something from a box and place it on a plate in front of him. 

Bucky looked at it closely with a frown. It was clearly made of chocolate and was shaped like a dome. He could swear he had never seen it in your bakery before. 

"Come on, give it a try. If I wanted to poison you, I would have done it ages ago." 

He picks up one and after a moment of close inspection, takes a bite. 

As the taste of chocolate invades his senses, he moans and puts the whole into his mouth. 

You watch as his head falls back in delight. 

Once he is done, which is faster than he would have wanted, he says, "Sweets, that was the best damn thing I have ever had." 

You chuckle, "You say that every single time, James."

"And I mean it every single time." 

You just smile at him before putting another on the plate. 

As he devours that one quickly too, he inquires, "What is it called?" 

You smirk before replying, "James." 

"Yeah?" 

"James. That's what it is called." 

His eyes widen and he takes a moment to reply, "You named a sweet after me?"

"Well, technically, you were the inspiration for this." 

He frowns. "How so?" 

"Well, It's full of chocolate and exceptionally sweet. It's exterior is hard but its insides are so soft, they practically melt in your mouth." 

Bucky looks at you, baffled and you look away, unable to meet his eyes. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but is suddenly shushed by you. 

"That's my favorite song." You whisper, as if not wanting to obstruct the soft melody. 

Bucky listens to the sound coming from your phone.

Wise men say

"Only fools rush in"

But I can't help

Falling in love with you

He looks back at you and at the way you have a soft smile on your face, your features highlighted by the soft glow of the kitchen light. 

You look at him and with a teasing smile puts your hand forward, indicating to him to take it. 

He looks between your outstretched hand and your face with a frown.

"Dance with me." Your voice is so soft, he just can't get himself to say no. But, who is kidding? He will set the whole world on fire and watch it burn with a smile on his face if you asked him to. 

He slowly places his hand in yours as the music continues. 

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help

Falling in love with you

The both of you stand in the middle of the kitchen, the moonlight sweeping its way through the windows. 

Everything is brightened in a warm glow but you know nothing will ever shine brighter than the way his ocean blue eyes do right now. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

One of his arms finds its way around your waist while the other holds yours. 

You place your free hand on his shoulder and he gently pulls you closer. 

The both of you stay like that for the rest of the song, swaying slowly to the music. 

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

You don't know who  leans first but before you know it, the distance between the both of you starts decreasing. 

You hold your breath and your gaze move from his eyes to his lips. 

You would be lying if you said you had never thought of this before, of how his lips would feel against yours, how he would taste like. 

This man had occupied your thoughts since the day you had met all those months ago and you were pretty sure he had no idea of the effect he had on you. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

Just as the song is about to end and there's nothing but an inch of distance between the both of you, the door to the bakery was suddenly pushed open with a force and the sound of the bells invaded the comfortable silence that had covered the room in a blanket. 

The both of you took a sudden step away, and you needed a moment to calm your heart which felt like it was about to beat its way out of your chest, before looking up to see who it. was. 

You squinted as two men, one blonde and the other dark haired, stood at the door, looking comically too big, having no idea of what transcribed in the bakery before they had not-so-smoothly barged in. 

The blonde one speaks, breaking the silence, "I knew we'd find you here." 

You watch as he steps towards James, who looks at him with sheer annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here, punk?" 

The other man looks at you and forms a smirk before stepping towards you. "So, this is where you always sneak off to? I guess I understand why." 

James huffs in annoyance and with a sten face stops him, "Shut up, Wilson." 

You look between the men who looked like they were in a staring contest when realization hit you. "Steve and Sam?" 

All the men look at you at the same time and you feel like a deer caught in headlights before you stand up straighter reminding yourself that no matter how intimidating the situation was, this was your bakery. 

"And you must be y/n l/n. It's great to finally meet you, Ms l/n" Steve says, smiling. 

"Please, just call me y/n." 

"Or we could call you beautiful." Sam replies before stepping forwards, stretching his hand to take yours for a shake. 

You let out a chuckle before shaking his hand. "Y/n is fine." 

"What are the both of you doing here?" Bucky speaks up, shooting daggers at Sam, his fists clenched. 

"There's an emergency. We need to go." Steve replies, a serious expression adorning his face. 

Sam interjects them "What's the hurry? I have heard so much about this bakery. We could eat something before leaving." 

Bucky spats at him, "This bakery has closed, Wilson. Time's up. Get your butt moving." 

Sam pouts and you chuckle at the antics of these grown men, "Why don't you come here some other day, Sam, I have something that I think you'll like." 

Sam looks at you, a childlike smile replacing his pout, "I like her already." 

Bucky steps forward towards Sam, pulling him away. "Don't listen to him, sweets." 

Steve and Sam turn their head towards him so fast. you are sure they will get a sprain later. Sam raises his brows with a smirk on his face, while Steve looks at him with a smile on his. 

James then quickly bids you goodbye before pulling the both of them outside the bakery. 

Once they reach the car Steve and Sam had driven in, they both look at him with amused grins. 

"Back off, the both of you. What's the emergency?" 

Steve's expression turns serious as he replies, "Our shipment from Iran has been stopped at Morocco and they are refusing to comply." 

Bucky narrows his eyes at the information. Who would dare to stop their shipment and risk getting on his bad books? "Who is it, Steve?"

"It's Alexander Pierce." 

Bucky lets out a breath before looking in the direction of the bakery once more  and then turning towards Steve and Sam. 

"Get in the car. We need to leave right now. This is going to be a long assignment."

Next part

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