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asphalt-cocktail · 1 month

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Lead Us to Temptation- Chapter 2

Chapter 2- Good Old Fashioned Catholic Guilt

Summary: In the small town of Eden Ridge, you knew several things to be true: church happened every Sunday, the saloon served free lunch with the purchase of a drink on Thursdays, coal miners left work at 7PM sharp, and Bucky Barnes was a man sent from the depths of hell dangling the threat of temptation and sin right in front of your face. All you need to do is reach out and grab it.

Pairing: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Nicknames, heavy religious themes in this chapter, mentions of threatening with a gun and criminal activity, thunder storms, smut, oral f receiving, virginity kink (sorry but also I’m not), arguing, talk of marriage, good old fashioned catholic guilt

Word Count: 4.2k

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Chapter 1- Precious Lord Take my Hand

Dinner with Bucky in Thunder Creek was… well it could have been better. The dinner itself was lovely, the part that soured it was the big gray storm clouds that created a contrasting line against the bright blue sky. You could feel the humidity weighing the air in the restaurant and feel the sudden drop of pressure along with the cold breeze that blew in with the storm.

April showers did in fact bring May flowers.

They also forced you to bed down for the night in the local hotel. There was no way you’d be able to make the two hour ride back home and avoid ending up soaked to the bone or having a tree fall on you from the violent winds that whipped. You’d catch your death if you stayed out in this type of weather too long.

The spring thunderstorm promised the renewal of life to the brown and yellow earth, it brought both anticipation and fear. Fat raindrops fell from the sky, once a bright cloudless shade of green is now a tempest of charcoal gray as heavy storm clouds cover it. The heavy drops of rain were swallowed up by the thirsty ground turning the streets into muddy rivers.

Bucky licked his lips, deep in thought and looked down the street to the hotel. It was only a matter of time before the last rooms were taken by the other visitors in town. He handed you his jacket for you to cover yourself and wrapped an arm around you, sprinting at a leisurely but rushed pace to salvation. Mud splattered up the back of your boots, sticking to your tights and soiling the bottom of your dress. The creaky wooden floor boards just outside the hotel sag and groan under the weight of water as you step into the hotel, wet and shivering like a stray dog.

You didn't know how, but he’d managed to finesse the last hotel room in town. It was something close to a miracle you thought. Bucky would never tell you that he pressed the barrel of his six shooter deep into the side of the clerk and demanded a room while you looked at the various taxidermied game that hung like trophies on the wall.

After a nice warm bath your clothes were dry enough for you to pick the dried chunks of mud off the hem of your skirt and brush it off your boots. Since it was night time, you didn't even bother changing back into your petticoat, bodice, and dress. Instead you hid behind the changing screen, mind consumed with the fact that you and Bucky would have to share a bed tonight.

The rain swelled to a great deluge that is enough to drown out the conversations in the hotel lobby, people angry that there are no more rooms left and arguing with the clerk. Outside the trees bend and sway, the weaker branches snapping loudly and falling to the ground. There was no way you’d be able to make it home, not in a storm like this.

Thunder rumbled, low and menacing as you played with the little tie on the front of your chemise. You were scared, scared of what your father would say when you returned in the morning, scared of what Father Liska would say during your confessional. You didn't have to worry about what the women would say at their bible study groups. They already loved to talk about you out of both sides of their mouth.

You felt exposed in the thin white fabric, it did very little to hide your womanly figure. You’d never been in such a state of undress in front of someone before, not in your entire adult life at least. Nerves flipped in your gut as lightning struck outside, flashing and illuminating the low lit room followed by the low rumble of thunder.

The changing screen did very little to help you feel less exposed, knowing that all that stood between you and Bucky were a few tall wooden panels. You poked your head around the corner of the screen and saw Bucky’s back to you. He had already stripped down to his cotton drawers and was shedding his shirt.

Your eyes were drawn to a scar on his shoulder, it emerged from his skin like the smudge of a brush stroke, edges jagged and uneven, the skin taut. The pink hue stood out against Bucky’s tanned skin, starting at his shoulder and tracing the contours and muscle of his arm before it tapered off at the elbow. You could only imagine the terrible memories that came along with it.

You forced yourself to look away, now distracted by broad planes of his back, built from decades of intensive labor and living off the lam. The muscles rippled with Bucky’s movement tempting you to touch him.The sight made you a bit light headed and your stomach throbbed with an unfamiliar feeling. Stiffly, you stepped out from behind the changing screen.

The creak of the floor boards under your feet alerted him. He turned, it felt like Bucky’s eyes were going to burn your clothes right off with how hard he was staring. You didn't want to look up and meet his hungry gaze, but you could picture exactly what he looked like as he devoured you.

“Please stop staring.” You tried to sound biting, but it came out weak. Nervous even. You crossed your arms over your chest to try and allow yourself some modesty.

In one large step Bucky was in front of you. His hands lightly grasped your arms, and gave them a light tug. You rested them against the firm planes of his pectorals, “I'm just thinking about all the fun we can have tonight.” He dipped his head, kissing the corner of your mouth, “Just me and you.”

You gasped, breath stolen by his suggestive words. They made your gut twist with nerves. Every God-fearing part of your brain was burned away with a hellfire that warmed your body. You swallowed thick and exhaled through your nose, “I’ve… I’ve never…” you trailed off almost too embarrassed to let the words come out.

Bucky let go of you, hands jumping away like he just touched hot iron. The sudden distance between you both had you feeling exposed, vulnerable even.

Was it something you said? Did he not want you now?

“Bucky?” Your voice was meek.

You were a virgin?

Jesus Christ of course you were a virgin how could he be so stupid. So inconsiderate!

He wanted to skip all of the prose, all the ceremony of courtship and just take you here in this hotel room. He was thinking with his dick and not his brain. You must have been horrified at his advances.

He sat down on the edge of bed lost in his own head.

“Are you mad at me?” You didn’t know what else to ask. You pull him from the deep recesses of his brain and shattered his heart with the nerve in your voice.

“God sweetheart,” he huffed and grabbed your arms pulling you close and looked up at you, “Of course not.” His arms wrapped around your waist comfortingly.

If things were going to continue as they were he had to lay out all his secrets, even the ugly ones. He let out a soft exhale and looked away from you, “Look, if you’re going to be my woman there’s some things I need to tell you first.”

Well if that was supposed to comfort you it didn’t. It made you more afraid. What was he going to say? He had a secret family in Pennsylvania? He was wanted by the Pinkertons? He was a Protestant? That would truly be the worst out of all three of the options.

You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you were bedded by a Protestant.

He swallowed hard. Bucky desperately wanted to keep you hidden from his alternative lifestyle “I’m a wanted man babydoll.” His information served as a warning for what you would get yourself into should you continue seeing him.

His low, gravely tone sent a shiver down your spine and made the hair on your arms stand on end, “What do you mean?” You spoke in a hushed tone. You knew what it meant.

Well at least he wasn’t a Protestant. A criminal you could handle, something that could be forgiven.

“I’m not a good man.” He cleared his throat, his tone was almost pleading, “I’ve done…I do bad things.” He killed people, lied, stole, all without mercy. Bucky was not a nice man, he was mean and callous, calculating and manipulative. “But, Jesus, woman, I'd walk the line for you if it meant I could have you.” But for you, he’d get on his knees and beg for your love.

It should have made you push him away, seek the closest stagecoach, alert the town sheriff, run for the hills and call the Pinkertons, but hell it made you want him more. The air of danger around Bucky Barnes pulled you, like a moth to a flame, “You don’t have to walk any lines to have me.” You didn't care about his rambling ways. You wanted all of him, all his sins and imperfections. Your head spun with an intoxicating mixture of nerves and excitement, “I’m your woman now?”

“I don’t sit through Sunday mass for just anyone.” He reminded you. It was true, he’d manage to attend mass with you every Sunday and even stomached the post service lunch your family always had.

The heavens opened up and rain continued to fall from the sky, spraying the windows in waves. But you didn’t have half a mind to pay any attention to that now. Not when Bucky’s hand was sliding up and gripping the meat of your thigh so close to your butt, “Come on, sweetheart.” Bucky cooed and pressed his face between your breasts and kissed the valley.

Not when he was doing things like that.

“Lemme take care of you.” He coaxed your fear of damnation away with a few simple words. You moved, kneeling on either side of him and sitting on his lap, “That’s my girl.” He said softly, resting his hands on your thighs.

He kissed you softly, his beard scratching against your skin. You shyly opened for him, allowing his tongue to move and caress your own. You expected a rugged man like him to be a lot less gentle with you, but he was letting you set the pace tonight.

You could taste the sweat in his lip and the lingering tobacco from the cigarette he smoked an hour earlier. You relaxed into his touch as his hand slid up and snaked around you deepening the kiss.

Bucky’s hands roamed up your body, feeling the soft curve of your hips before grabbing your tits. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, noses barely touching, breathing in each other's labored breaths. His thumb brushed over a hardened nipple and you gasped at the foreign sensation, back arching slightly.

He wanted to watch you, see how your body reacted, see how your brain broke from the pleasure he gave you. His fingers kneaded the flesh of your heavy breasts and he pinched and twisted your nipples until they were sensitive and peaked.

Your cheeks reddened from embarrassment as he untied the front closure of your shift and pulled open the small split in the front, he kissed your neck then your chest before he pulled the thin white fabric down where it shelved beneath your breasts. You felt indecent. Exposed.

The cool air chilled you to the bone and made you shiver. Bucky mouthed at the sides of your tits licking and sucking on one and then the other until your back arched and you whined beneath him.

God if this was how you reacted to him playing with your tits, he couldn’t wait to hear how you sounded when he fucked you. But that wasn’t going to happen tonight, he was a gentleman after all. He couldn’t go having dessert twice in one night now could he? It was a bit too self indulgent for him and maybe too much of a shock for your poor catholic conscience.

But he was still planning on eating tonight. He was going to absolutely devour you. “Lay down.” You followed his command and moved, laying flat against the lumpy mattress and watched Bucky lay on his stomach and settle between your legs.

You sat up on your elbows, shuddering as you felt him kiss your thighs, getting dangerously close to your dripping cunt, “What are you going to do?” Your breathing quickened when you saw Bucky lick his lips and draw his lip between his teeth. He nuzzled the apex of your thigh, inhaling the natural heady scent of your arousal. The scent was so distinctly feminine, it made him ravenous.

“Bucky!” You squeaked, shocked at his behavior.

“Oh sugar, we haven’t even gotten started.” He said and kissed the top of your mound. In that moment you were certain Bucky Barnes was the serpent in the garden of Eden, beckoning you towards a life filled with sin and temptation, and by god you were going to take his hand and let him lead you there.

You gasped loudly, feeling the broad flatness of his tongue lick a stripe up your cunt, then back down again and shuttered at the foreign sensation. You flopped back onto the bed and hand immediately knotted itself into his dark hair gripping a fist full of it, hanging on for dear life, “Oh my god.” You huffed in disbelief. His mouth was really down there, licking you, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

His tongue traced little circles around your clit before he let out a groan and sucked on it, his actions hedonistic and greedy as he continued to indulge. The wet noises that came from between your legs mixed with the overwhelming pleasure that warmed your body and made you feel dizzy.

Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, a thick finger traced around your entrance before he stuffed it inside you. His finger penetrated your cunt, stuffing itself deeper inside you until the knuckle of his hand rested against your slippery skin. He pulled back and quickly added a second, stuffing them back in and curling them against your sinfully wet walls. You felt stuffed to the absolute brim, full with a delicious burn that made your fists clench the cotton sheets of the hotel mattress.

When you finally gained half a brain cell of consciousness you opened your eyes looking down and seeing his face coated in wetness.

Your wetness.

It coated his chin and cheeks, your thighs, drenched his hand as he fucked you with it. It was like the floodgates of heaven opened up from the Great Deep and the tide swallowed him whole.

The flat of his tongue found its way back to your clit, rubbing down and making you whine with pleasure. You dug your nails into Bucky’s scalp pulling a satisfied deep groan from your lover's mouth as he continued to devour you.

Bucky’s thumb replaced his mouth and he licked a spot of wetness from your thigh, “I can’t wait to fuck this tight little pussy.” He mumbled and pulled his fingers out, lightly slapping your sensitive, swollen clit. You hissed at the feeling and at his lascivious words before he stuffed you full once more and pressed his thumb against your clit rubbing it in a circle, “You want that?” He asked and you nod your head, “Want me to fuck this tight virgin cunt of yours?”

God he wanted to split you open, carve a hole for himself deep inside your untouched hole and fuck you stupid.

“Oh god yes,” you could feel your pussy throb as he continued to beat his fingers into you at a brutal pace and suck hard on your clit, pulling you closer and closer to the edge.

You clenched a fist full of his hair, grinding down onto his face, sloppily trying to meet the rhythm of his hand. The only sober part of your brain was thankful for the thunderous rain that continued to hammer the windows and covered the sounds coming from your hotel room.

Finally, your back is arching off the mattress, cunt pulsating and squeezing his fingers as he digs them further inside you, rubbing them against your walls and pulling more pleasure from you. Your body trembled, spasming around his fingers, flooding his face.

Bucky watched you in awe, your body writhing and twisting against the sheets, hair haloed around your head, lips kiss swollen and body flush with arousal. You were absolutely gorgeous. Responsive and gorgeous. He couldn’t let a girl like you go.

He was going to marry you if it killed him.

Bucky’s hands slowed and he licked your wetness off the soft skin of your thighs and stomach not wanting to waste a single drop of it before he pulled his fingers from you and sucked on those too groaning like he’d just had a tasty meal.

Watching him only fed sugar into the fire. You leaned up, pulling him towards you and sloppily kissed him, all tongue and teeth as you pushed down his drawers. Bucky smiled against your mouth and pushed your hands away, pushing you back onto the mattress, “Patience, sweetheart.” He scolded, and then laid next to you sighing with content.

“Aren’t we going to… well you know.” He stared at your confused expression and looked amused, “Have sex?” You finally said it out loud and it felt dirty. It felt like someone had dropped an anvil through the ceiling and it fell on your chest.

“Not tonight.” He answered, “We’ll work our way there, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I thought you said I was your woman” you didn’t know if it was because Bucky gave you an earth shattering orgasm, or what but you were just plain confused now.

“You are my woman.” He said and pulled you into his side, “One thing at a time love.” He wedged a leg between yours, tangling them together.

The following morning when you returned to town, braving the mud and fallen tree branches, the doors to the church seemed almost intimidating. You already knew how your father was going to react to your absence from the family home last night. Your brain was wrought with an overwhelming sense of guilt as Bucky took your hands and opened the tall wooden doors.

Father Liska’s homily only further propelled you into a cavern of guilty unholiness. It was like God himself told the father of what happened last night, of the wanton sin you committed. Laying with a man before marriage? How could you be so foolish?

“God does permit us to be tempted” Father Liska stood at the pulpit, usually his words of wisdom helped comfort you, “Not so that we fall, but so we grow in holiness,” No, this just made you feel worse, “Temptation forces us to rise up and make a choice for God or to succumb to the devil's temptation.”

You were going to be sick.

During the Rite of Peace you couldn’t bear to look at your father as he shook Bucky’s hand, death grip, jaw clenched, a bitter “Christ’s peace be with you.”

Bucky shook your fathers hand back firmly a smarmy smirk plastered across his face, “Christ’s peace be with you too sir.”

Then Bucky hugged your mom and kissed her cheek with a smooth “Christ’s peace be with you ma’am” which pissed your dad off too. Everything about Bucky pissed him off.

Once you were in the privacy of your family home, seated at the dinner table, Bucky next to you, parents on either end of the table, brother and sister-in-law across from the you, you father took it upon himself bring some good old fashioned shame to the table, “You didn’t return home last night.” He said loudly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Your mother said his name in a scolding tone, “No I didn’t. I’d have caught my death in that storm.” You sat up a bit straighter. It was true. Traveling two hours back home in the rain in wet clothes would have signed your death warrant.

“What were your sleeping accommodations like?” He probed further, trying to figure out a way to make you feel even guiltier than you already did. Remind you of the devil's presence in your life and how you succumbed to his temptations.

“Bucky paid for me to stay at the local inn. Is that what you want to hear from me?” You shot back sharply, “I don’t understand why you’re making such a big mess over it.” You threw your cloth napkin onto the table and pushed your seat back and stood up to leave.

“Sit down!” Your father snapped, “I’ll not have that disrespectful tone under my roof,” your father spoke sternly and then turned towards Bucky and pointed at him, “And you,” he said dramatically, “Are going to bring nothing but trouble for her and you know it.”

Bucky rubbed his hands in his trousers and leaned back in his seat, his casual posture contrasting your fathers intensity, “What makes you say that sir?” He was genuinely curious. There was no way your father would have known of his criminal history. Not when they were so far from the last town they’d committed a crime in and even then their faces had been covered. Bucky struck a match and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and waiting for the answer.

If he wanted to sit through someone pissing and moaning about how he lived his life he’d go talk to his own father, God rest his soul.

“You have no steady work, no land, no history outside of the few months you’ve been here. You parade around with a troupe of delinquents and bring good young women like my daughter down into the cesspit of a life you live. “

Bucky licked his lower lip, “With all due respect sir, it isn’t like your lifestyle is any better.” When your father scoffed loudly, throwing his hands up in disbelief, Bucky continued speaking before he could interrupt, “Wrath and greed might serve you well now, but you can’t buy your place in heaven.”

Your father was greedy, he was like a dragon who sat upon a hoard of black coal and iron, pillaging the Earth, taking what he wanted, and draining the life force of his workers. There was no way your father didn’t have as many, if not more lives than Bucky. His hands were undoubtedly stained red.

God spoke out, let there be light and your father damned his employees to a life beneath the ground. He probably didn’t even know their names, just the numbers crudely written on their mining helmets that correspond to his payroll ledger.

“Keep on digging, boy, that’s why you were born.” Born to serve the company, born to keep your fathers pockets fat and their own empty. It was a cruel, greedy joke that had been said too often.

Bucky took one more drag of his cigarette before he stubbed it out. You frowned, ultimately this was your mother’s fault, she was the one who had Bucky come by for after service lunch. Now here your father and Bucky were, making a scene in front of God and all his followers, “Now sir, I plan on marrying your daughter sooner or later, so I suggest you get all your acrimony out now because we will be seeing a lot of each other in the future.”

Your father opened his mouth to speak back and quickly your mother spoke up, “Not another word.” She hissed at him when he opened his mouth to speak back to Bucky, “James, dear, we’re extremely grateful you took care of our daughter. Aren’t we, darling?”

Your father didn’t answer her question, instead he stared, eyes narrowed at your lover. He didn't want Bucky to marry you. He wanted you to marry a rich, god fearing catholic man from town. Perhaps the son of the livery stable owner and farrier, maybe even the son of the Union Pacific RailRoad representative in town. Not some drifter with a silver tongue.

“It was truly my pleasure ma’am.” Bucky smiled sweetly at your mom.

Despite Bucky’s statement about taking your hand in marriage at lunch earlier you still couldn't help the internal barrage of guilt your brain waged against your heart. If Bucky was planning to marry you then it wasn't bad, right? You wondered if God could hear your pleas and if he would answer your prayers for clarity. You looked at the walls of your room, dimly lit by lamplight, the crucifix you’d gotten at your communion watching your internal struggle.

Your revelation was a self confession from the heart-To experience love and be loved was a gift, to sin was to be human. Perhaps love was the holiest form of rebellion, something that burned away dogma leaving something raw and utterly human, something to be forgiven with merciful grace.

Chapter 3- Hell Hath No Fury

#marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #bucky barnes #marvel cinimatic universe #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #LUT

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asphalt-cocktail · 1 month

Text

Lead us to Temptation- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Precious Lord Take my Hand

A/N: As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are immensely appreciated. There will be no tag list because I am far too lazy to do that, but feel free to turn on notifications for me or bookmark it on AO3 where it will also be posted per usual.

Pairing: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Nicknames, religious themes, suggestive language, profanity, pining, mentions of criminal activity, period typical misogyny, physical fighting, mentions of alcohol and gambling

Word Count: 3.3k

Masterlist

Read me on AO3

There were a handful of things you could always count on happening in Eden Ridge: the saloon having a free lunch every Thursday with the purchase of a drink, church every Sunday, the coal miners leaving the mines at 7PM sharp, and that springtime would bring a sloppy muddy mess. When your family set out westward you stopped about halfway to Oregon and found your home in the town of Eden Ridge, named after the Eden Ridge Mountains which served as the beating heart for the small but quickly growing town.

The hills were full of coal and iron which your father proudly exploited along with the good hard working people of Eden. He controlled the mineral exports and the main work force in town. The hills acted as a hungry maw, devouring the hopes, dreams, and even bodies of the coal miners that dug down to the depths of hell just to keep your father’s pockets fat. It was the only town where the sunset was painted with a harrowing combination of orange and gray and where the air was so heavy with coal dust you could taste it.

Once your older brother was of age he quickly found a wife and married off, having two kids in the blink of an eye. It was common knowledge that your brother was the heir to the Eden Coal & Iron company, but only after he did his time laboring in the bowels of the Earth

The coal mines weren’t the place for a lady, so you didn't know much beyond the fact that your father was the owner and employed 90% of the town. You liked it that way, it kept you cleaner than your brother. You saw how filthy he was when he came back from a long day under the mountain, skin so blackened by coal and filth his eyes and teeth seemed to glow even though the hills stole the light away from them. But your father wasn't going to let your brother become some pencil pushing fancy boy if he could help it. If your daddy had to do his time in the mines, so did anyone who wanted to take over his business. It garnered respect from the laborers and it helped your brother get a glimpse of the bigger picture when it came to a business like this.

Your brother’s future was clear as crystal, but yours was always a frequent topic of discussion. Who were you going to marry being the number one. Since you were the ripe age of 25 your mother spent most of her time about town talking with the other wives and figuring out who the most eligible bachelor was. She told you not to worry, because she had a list made that you could take your pick from. You’d long since thrown away your dreams of traveling and leaving Eden Ridge, those were the dreams of a little girl, and mama always said dreaming was unholy. God gave you what you needed, nothing more, nothing less. So, you best be grateful for it. The older you grew, the more you questioned that statement. There was no way that your father needed to control the coal and iron exports in town.

Your boots slapped against the wet, gray, mud as you walked through the town. You were grateful that your mother hemmed your skirt a couple of inches shorter than normal to try and help keep your dress clean and prevent it from dragging in the wet earth.

Outside of the saloon a large group of people gathered right where you needed to walk through. You frowned, the closer you got the more you could tell how rowdy the crowd was and the closer you got the easier it became to see the two men fighting in the street.

“You lying little snake.” One said swinging and punching the dark haired man in the jaw.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Of course he was the one getting his face rocked in the middle of the muddy street. You often wondered if he was the devil incarnate, a handsome sweet talking man brought up from the depths of hell to tempt you into sinning. It took all your strength not to give in and see what else his mouth could do if you just simply let him. For the last two months he’d taken every approach in the book to get you to go out to dinner with him and each time you shut him down.

Hard.

He was relentless though, stubborn, insisted that he’d treat you good if you just let him and by God you knew he would. He’d been in town for a short but annoying two months and seemed to have quite the reputation with the ladies. If you had to hear one more woman giggle and go “Hi Bucky.” while wiggling her fingers you were going to be the next one kicking Bucky’s ass in the street God help you.

Bucky staggered, shaking his head, trying to unscramble his brains, his cheek was red and already beginning to swell from the blow “I’m a lot of things but I ain’t no damn snake.” He hissed back at the bald man, Tomas.

“One of your little buddies was telling you what my cards were, I just know it.” Tomas yelled, tackling Bucky to the ground. The worst part was that one of them probably was helping Bucky cheat at cards. Anyone with a pair of brain cells knew he famously cheated at all card games, but Tomas famously lacked brain cells.

They struggled for a moment on the ground before Bucky got leverage, flipping the two over and sitting on top of the other man’s chest, “I told you I’m not a cheat.” He said, punching Tomas in the face, emphasizing each of his words as he spoke.

Someone pushed through the crowd, Steve, one of his buddies, and grabbed him, “That’s enough Buck.” He spoke harshly, pulling his muddy friend off the unconscious Tomas, “Can we please go into town and not get arrested for once?” The blond grabbed Bucky by the back of his soiled light red button down similar to how a mother cat would carry a kitten by its scruff and shoved him down to walk towards their horses.

You looked in the muck and saw a worn out, sun beaten hat discarded. You picked it up and looked over at the roughneck then back to the hat

“Excuse me!” You call after the pair, “Mr. Barnes!”

Bucky turned, immediately recognizing your voice and grinned. It was truly blasphemous how handsome he looked despite the bruised cheek, cuts and dried blood, and black eye starting to form. The beat up look seemed to suit someone like him. “You know, we have got to stop meeting like this sugar.”

“I think you need to stop fist fighting before the sun has barely set.” You couldn't help but return the smile, it was contagious like the plague.

Gingerly, he took the hat from you and brushed some of the mud from his hat before putting it on and wiping his hands clean on his soiled jeans, “I was fighting for my honor!” He completely ignored Steve, following you instead as you began to walk off.

You scoffed, “Honor, sure…” you mumbled, “was someone telling you what the cards were?”

Bucky grinned proudly, “Of course, Sam always helps me when we play cards.”

“There is a special circle in hell for liars and cheaters, Mr. Barnes.”

“Sweetheart I’ve done much worse than lie and cheat, I think I’ll be forgiven for this one.” He statement sounded dismissive and you didn't doubt that wasn't true for a second. There was something mysterious about Bucky Barnes and the crew he ran with. You never could quite figure out what he did for work or what his source of income was, but you figured it was A: impolite to ask and B: not something you wanted to have any part of. “When are you going to let me take you to dinner?” Bucky almost whined, grabbing your hand and stopping you.

You turned, yanking your hand out of his grasp “When I’m dead.”

Bucky groaned in annoyance, “I’d treat you so good sweetheart, better than any of these other guys around town.” He reached out for your hand again. This was a talk the two of you had at least twice a week for the last two months, three times if you were extra unlucky.

“I can’t.” Bucky Barnes was the type of man fathers warned their daughters about, and boy did your father have a rather strong warning when it came to Mr. Barnes. “My Daddy warned me to stay away from men like you. A roughneck like you brings nothing but trouble to a good girl’s life.”

“Sweetheart, your daddy has no idea the type of man I am, trust me.” He stepped in front of you, stopping you from walking, “Just humor me and let me take you to dinner, no funny business, promise.” He put his hands on your hips, “How’s about tomorrow, I take you to dinner in the next town over. That way you don’t need to worry about any prying eyes from these nosey folks.”

Bucky was serving your words to you on a supper plate and gave you a fork to eat them. You told yourself, just this once, and maybe that would get him off your back. Maybe he would go bother some other poor girl. But the thought of that kind of pissed you off, you didn't need to look deep down to know that you enjoyed the little game the two of you played. “No funny business?” All you needed was one little taste, nothing more.

“No funny business.” Bucky echoed you, nodding his head.

It didn't sound so bad going and grabbing dinner in the next town over. Thunder Creek was a lovely area, great food, great music, no one from Eden Ridge to run and tell your family you were out with the local drifter, “How about you ask me once your face doesn’t look such a mess.”

Bucky beamed at you, “Deal.”

The next time you saw Bucky, almost a full week had passed. His face had healed nicely; the big purple bruise under his eye was now a yellowish color, and the cut along his nose and cheek had scabbed over and shrank. “Have you thought about my offer, dear?” He asked, leaning on the hitching post as you readied your horse. He looked like a stray dog seated in front of a plate of steak, hungry and ready to devour like Saturn himself.

It distracted you, caught you off guard even, “What? About dinner?” You licked your lips nervously and couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze again “Yes, I’m free tomorrow evening. I’ll meet you at the train station at 3 and we can ride over”

He looked victorious, like he’d won a marathon, like he’d just been told God had saved him a spot in heaven, “3 o’clock at the train station.” He repeated back to let you know he heard and he would be there.

You weren’t shocked to see Bucky already waiting on a bench at the train depot at 3pm sharp just like you’d asked. What shocked you was the fact that you’d managed to travel the two hours to the next town over and have a nice sit down meal with him, all without him making a single pass at you. He made small talk, asking you about your horse and how long you had him for, asking you your favorite books, your life before moving out here, your fathers mining company. He picked your brain and devoured every piece of information you gave him, listening actively and intently.

You learned a lot about him as well. Bucky was 10 years older than you and hailed from New York, which explained his odd hybrid accent. He fought in the civil war as a boy some 20 years ago for the union which was where he met Steve, John, and Sam then they managed to pick up Peter along the way. He called him and his troupe ‘traveling workers’, they went from town to town doing odd jobs and when those ran out or they overstayed their welcome they left, moving on to the next town.

What he didn’t tell you was that he was a wanted man in 3 states, his traveling work consisted of robbing banks and trains, rustling cattle, and stealing horses, with a small dash of bounty hunting, and a big dash of murder. Sure there was some good honest work sprinkled in there to help keep his conscience clean but it was mostly crime.

He’d originally come to town to rob the local bank, since Eden Ridge was on the up and up, which meant lots of people came here with lots of money to start a new life and those rich assholes needed somewhere to store it all. His plan was to steal most of the money and use it to finance his next run to the next town and help pay off some of the minor bounties tied to his boys’ heads, but you were a bit of a distraction from his original plan

It almost made him not want to go through with it.

Almost.

Bucky liked you, he liked your soft curves, how you somehow managed to never have a speck of mud on your dress, he liked how sassy you got with him, like when you told him you hoped his horse would drop dead after he flicked mud in your face, and he liked the pretty white lace prayer veil you wore to church every Sunday. He wanted to marry you, come home to you wearing a little apron cooking dinner with a child on your hip. With HIS child on your hip. God the thought of making you his wife drove him near feral.

There was an added bonus to how pissed off it would make your no good crook of a father that made Bucky want to do it even more.

But, since a man was only as good as his word, he stayed true to his no funny business promise and only took you to dinner. You hated that he was a perfect gentleman and actually made you feel nice and cared for. You had no doubt that this was how he was able to get the other girls in town wrapped around his finger.

“You gonna let me walk you to church on Sunday too?” Bucky asked, grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. He knew all the right things to say to you much to your chagrin.

You chewed your lip nervously, your father would not like it if he saw Bucky walking you to church and you knew that to be truer than the word of God itself. But, He had been such a perfect gentleman at your little dinner date, “Fine. But you can’t sit with us for the mass, my parents don’t like you.” You didn’t care if what you said hurt his feelings, it was true and you wanted to be kind enough to spare him the judgemental gaze of your father while Father Liska spoke the word of God, “And you have to sit through the mass and walk me home after.”

“Ok, deal.” Bucky grinned, a win was a win after all.

Bucky was more nervous about stepping foot into a church than he was to walk you there. Women he could handle, religion… well not so much. He half expected to burst into flames the moment he stepped foot into the holy threshold. He swapped out the filth covered denim for his best set of trousers and wore his nicest button up, just for you.

You didn’t have to worry about the prying eyes of your family when he came to your home to pick you up for your short little walk. Bucky greeted you at the door, you had to admit he cleaned up nicely, “You look nice, sugar.” Bucky reached up and and touched the scalloped edge of your mantilla, rubbing the delicate lace between his rough fingers.

You swatted his hand away, “Don’t touch that.” You hissed and adjusted the head covering.

Bucky reached out his hand for you to hold, begrudgingly, you took it, “Are we going to get dinner again sweets?” He tried to act coy by not looking at you, but you knew. He didn’t spend two months practically begging at your feet for dinner only to maybe want a second one.

You gave him an inch and he was going to take a mile. Maybe even two miles if he was feeling extra bold.

Bucky held the large wooden doors of the church open for you. He was flooded with the overwhelming scent of frankincense as he entered the church. It has been years since he’d set place in a place of worship. Maybe communing with god would be good for him. You looked uncomfortable under the watchful eyes of people kneeling, your presence disrupting their pre service prayers.

You dipped your fingers into the holy water and crossed yourself, holding your head high. Oh, they were going to have a lot to talk about at their weekly bible studies. You, showing up with a man to church? Well that was going to be the talk of the congregation, hell, it was going to be the talk of the town!

Bucky gave your hand a comforting squeeze before he dropped it, suddenly feeling the watchful eye of the Lord upon him. He gave you a polite nod and you almost wished you didn't tell him to sit elsewhere because now you had to walk down the aisle to the front of the room while everyone stared.

Your mother looked at you and you chose to ignore her until she leaned over and tugged at the sleeve of your dress, “What is all that about?” She said and nodded back towards Bucky.

He looked uncomfortable, like a bull in a china shop, sitting stiffly next to the Barton family. If he managed to sit through Sunday mass it would definitely get him bonus points and another dinner, “Nothing Mother.” You knew you were going to have to answer her poking and prodding after the service.

Father Liska finished the sermon and it took all your strength to not book it out of the church. You waited, ambushed by your mother who wanted to play twenty questions about Bucky. The number one being: do you think you’ll marry him? She loved to emphasize that you were a bit too bold and men didn’t like it when you told them to drop dead or that you’d rather walk across hot coals than meet with them. She would probably die early of a broken heart if you became a spinster.

“Please mother, we’ve only gotten dinner once and today I let him walk me to church. It’s nothing serious.” You hissed and hushed her once you saw Bucky walking over.

“Everything is serious when it comes to courting, dear.” Your mother reminded you. Marrying you off was serious business and she in some ways was your manager. “Mr. Barnes.” Your mother greeted him, almost breathlessly and offered her hand to him, “It's such a pleasure to meet you, thank you so much for accompanying our daughter to mass today.”

Bucky bent, kissing your mothers knuckles, you rolled your eyes at the display of chivalry, “It was truly my pleasure ma’am.” Of course mothers loved Bucky Barnes, why wouldn’t they? He was the type of man mothers loved and the type of man fathers warned their daughters about.

“I can’t believe you made him sit all the way in the back,” your mother chastised you, blushing after Bucky kissed her hand, “ Mr. Barnes dear, near Sunday please sit with us, we’ve got the best spot in the congregation.”

“Well Daddy doesn’t like him.” You said frowning, “What if Bucky doesn’t want to come to mass next Sunday?”

“Oh nonsense, he’ll be here next Sunday,” Your mother answered for him, “He loved the sermon today, didn’t you, dear?”

Bucky flashed another pleasant grin at your mother, “Of course, I loved hearing, uh, Father.... Father...”

“Liska” You filled in the gap for him knowing he never set foot into the Church of St. Michael the Archangel for the entirety of his two months here.

“Right, Father Liska, I thought it was incredibly moving.” You said a silent prayer for God to smite him down.

“Why don’t you come by the house for lunch.” Your mother urged him.

You shot Bucky a glare, “Oh I don’t think I should.” He said after glancing at you, if looks could kill Bucky would be 6 ft under.

“Bucky can stop by when he picks me up for dinner later in the week. Let’s not bore the poor man any longer.” You hooked your arm in his and pulled him towards the door, “Goodbye mother.” You said sharply.

Bucky patted your hand with his own, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

You huffed, “I am most certainly not jealous.” You took your arm back and crossed them over your chest. You were jealous. Jealous and annoyed mainly with your mother.

“Don’t worry sugar there’s plenty of me to go around.” He grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Chapter 2- Good Old Fashioned Catholic Guilt

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