#The Train Kept A' Rollin' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

teamchasezwrites · 9 days ago

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A Slice Of Life

Word Count: 6,449

Characters: Damian Priest/OC

Genre: Fluff

Tags: Fluff, Romance, Love, Snuggling, Minor Hurt/Comfort, Gynecology Appointments, Married Couple, Domesticated Bliss, Some Sexual Innuendos, Feelings About Not Having Anymore Babies, Reproductive Talk, Domesticated Damian

Summary: A trip to the gynecologist’s office leads to some snuggling and comfort on the couch.

Author’s Note: Inspired by my own gynecologist appointment this week. It hurt a little more this time around than usually and had the idea for a little hurt/comfort from Damian but it ended up turning into this little snapshot of their life.

While the OC is named Ali, it has no connection to my story “Breed You”.

Ali’s phone whistled deep inside her purse where she tossed it where she entered the exam room. Her cheeks heated in a flush embarrassed for her phone going off but not bothered by the fact she lay on her back with her feet in stirrups, legs spread and her nether regions on display for the doctor in front of her.

‘I should have asked for some ID.’ Then she probably would have been depressed finding out he was born closer to the new millennia than she pegged. Of course he had to be born before the year she graduated high school unless he was a reincarnation of Doogie Howser. She highly doubted it though.

She also doubted he even knew who Doogie Howser was.

It’s usually why she always made sure to have female doctors for this type of visit. Not that she particularly cared if the doctor scoping out her nether regions was a male or female. It was more for the fact that the male doctors she ended up with were either as old as her grandpa or looked barely able to order a beer.

Ali could go for one right now.

A beer.

Not a barely legal boy.

She wasn’t a cougar.

Besides, she didn’t need a man -or a boy.

Her phone whistled again with a reminder she received a text.

The reason she didn’t need a man no doubt.

Either that or her oldest daughter was texting about the woes of middle school.

‘If that child gets detention again for texting during school…’ A broken line of Spanish entered her head and Ali felt a snort build up she had to choke back because how embarrassing to be snorting when a speculum was currently invading her body.

“Doing okay?” The doctor, who definitely grew up with CDs and not cassettes, asked.

“Yup.” Ali chirped.

She didn’t even speak Spanish. Not beyond a few words and a few naughty lines she learned to whisper in Damian’s ear when they were alone. Ever since their oldest daughter, Gabriela, hit thirteen, Damian muttered Spanish under his breath more frequently. Thirteen came with an attitude that had her husband missing his little girl. The little girl with her brown hair in pig tails. Crooked smile showing off a small gap between her teeth. Disney princess dress wearing, Disney movie lovin’, snuggle up next to you, I love you Papi whispering little girl somehow managed to turn into an eye rollin’, lip curlin’, snarky little thing who hid in her bedroom most of the time.

Ali wouldn’t admit to having a favorite child but there was one whom she tried not to piss off.

“Alright you’re gonna feel a little cramp as I pull the old IUD out…”

Ali winced as a cramp rippled deep in her pelvic region. Not too bad though. She kept her eyes trained to the ceiling. Last thing she wanted to do was make eye contact.

“Okay the old one is out…” The doctor spoke. “Would you like to see it?”

“Ah no?” Her voice came out pitchy at the confusion of the question. Why would she want to see something that was in her body for almost nine years?

Didn’t that make her sad to think about. Her last baby was already nine. It felt just last week she was scooping her giggling wiggling body up as she chased her through the living room into the kitchen after she swiped the TV remote and ran off. Wasn’t she just bringing her home from the hospital? Tiny and precious with tuffs of brown curls hidden beneath a soft cap and inquisitive big brown eyes always looking around even at one day old.

She sighed.

“Doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Ali answered. Maybe the removal of her IUD sent her hormones in a frenzy. Her uterus was probably wiping down the walls, getting refreshments ready, spritzing some air freshener, straightening the throw pillows thinking there was gonna be a guest soon. After all she had the door barricaded for almost a decade.

‘Jokes on you,’ she thought listening to the rip of plastic as the nurse got the new IUD ready for the doctor. They talked quietly but she paid them no mind.

Maybe she shouldn’t be pulling jokes on her uterus. After all, her uterus had the ability to hold her hostage for seven days out of the month. More if she was feeling extra cynical. She was probably down there getting herself ready only for the shackles to appear once more. Ali figured she probably needed to brace herself for her next period. It was bound to be huge as a payback.

Probably why she hadn’t looked forward to this appointment. After getting the IUD six weeks after Sofia was born, she enjoyed the comfort of no periods. Sure she cramped every so often for a day or so, but no bleeding, no soiled bed sheets and underwear. No pads or tampons. No ruined sexy time. It was glorious.

‘I am so getting a period next month.’

“Alright you’re gonna feel a little cramp…”

Ali stayed relaxed on the exam table. She’d taken the recommended Motrin before the visit to help alleviate the cramps and discomfort the visit would bring. She had an IUD inserted since she turned eighteen and didn’t want to deal with remember to take a pill every day. Eight years later she was getting it exchanged when she let herself be talked into going through a cycle. Even now she didn’t know the reason but she ended up pregnant with Gabriela before she could get the new one in.

Her breath caught as another cramp made itself known.

“We just gotta get the other side and it will fall into place…”

Her body started at the wave of pain and she rocked back away from the doctor. Her eyes screwed shut and her hands clenched. Her body tensed from the pain; her breath stuttering to a stop.

Then it was gone almost as quick as it came. Ali blew out the breath she’d been holding and opened her eyes. She stared at the ceiling once more as she breathed slowly. Her hands still clenched over her stomach. Even her legs were tense in the stirrups. She waited for the speculum to be removed and the doctor to declare it all done but that didn’t happen. There was more low rumbling as he spoke with the nurse.

“Sometimes when you don’t have your period for an extended period of time, your cervix will tighten and become firmer,” the doctor started explaining. She heard the ruffling of sounds as items were passed back and forth. A cupboard opened and closed. “Which is the case here. The IUD is not sliding in as it should.”

Ali’s heart fell. She thought the IUD was inserted with the last round of pain but it wasn’t. That meant more cramps. Her belly clenched. This time she wished she did have Damian come along. Squeezing his hand was a whole lot better then clutching the front of her hoodie.

“I’m going to dilate your cervix a little and that should allow the IUD to slide home.”

There were a couple weird moments where she felt her insides being messed with and she wondered if this was how some people viewed an out of body experience. Or how those people felt during surgery who weren’t quite knocked all the way out and they could feel their insides being moved and manipulated. It sort of felt this way after the c-section she had with their twins – Ian and Isaac. Awake the whole time, could only feel pressure and tugging but in a muted tone.

Ali gasped as painful cramping shot through her. If she could have one of those out of body experiences right now she was certain she would look to see the doctor’s entire hand inside of her with his fist clenched around her uterus squeezing it like it was a stress ball. Her eyes twisted shut again and her body tensed up. Her breath caught in her throat refusing to escape. Her fingers pressed down on the vinyl cover; the crinkling of the tissue paper she lay on mixing with the soft murmurs of the doctor and nurse.

“All done.”

Ali blinked her eyes open. Tears were gathered in the corners but she refused to let them fall. Her fingers relaxed but her body was still frozen. She blew out a breath, slowly breathing through the cramping still happening. There was a clicking sound and then the sensation of the speculum sliding free.

It took her a moment to realize they were waiting on her.

“Oh man that hurt…” there was a jovial lilt in her voice she didn’t feel. The one usually saved for when she was pretending to have a good time but she actually just wanted to go home.

“I’m sorry about that; I hear a wide expansion from patients in the amount of pain, but since I’m a guy…”

“Yeah,” Ali braced herself on the stirrups and pushed her butt back from the edge of the table before she sat up, dropping her legs and fixing the sheet draped across her lower half. Her insides still cramped and quivered like she was on the second day of her period.

“I left the strings comparable to the one I took out,” the doctor explained. “It’s better to leave them a little long because they will curl out of the way much like your old one. I didn’t want to go too short because then…”

Ali watched a blush creep across his cheeks not hidden by the scruffy beard.

“If they are too short then they will poke and you don’t want that.”

Ali snorted at the implication. No. She didn’t want that. Damian didn’t either.

“If everything is good… this should be your last one.”

Well damn…

Now she was cramping and depressed. By the time the IUD needed to be taken out, she would no longer need birth control. Her uterus would have hung up a ‘permanently closed’ sign. Not that she was looking to add to her brood. The thought was still a little heartbreaking knowing the last years of being able to reproduce were upon her. As if coming up on 40 didn’t suck enough.

“Thank you.”

“Here is your card,” the nurse stated, holding up a wallet sized card stock card. It had the date of insertion. Ali wasn’t sure why she needed it. It was in her medical records, but she’d toss it in her purse anyway. “Do you need a pad?”

Ali shook her head. “I’m okay. I’m heading straight home.” Pads were hidden under the cabinet in the kids’ bathroom because Gabriela was still too embarrassed about having a period. She hated pads and preferred tampons. There weren’t any of those in the house since she didn’t have a period for eight years and Gabriela was too psyched out by them yet.

“I’ll leave you to change.”

“Thanks.”

Ali waited for the nurse to take her leave before she climbed from the table. The cramping in her pelvis a contrasting sharp and dull. She balled the sheet used to cover her and put it on the table. With a hand on the table she leaned down and breathed slowly, pressing a hand on her hip. Her fingers hitting the flesh portion and digging in.

When the pain dulled she stood and pulled her underwear from where she’d hidden it beneath her jeans. The doctor just had his fingers inside of her but she drew the line at him catching a glimpse of her underwear. With her jeans on, she sank to the chair and pulled her phone from her purse.

‘Wanna grab lunch after? I don’t know why you didn’t let me come with you.’

Ali smiled at the text from Damian and send a reply.

‘Because all the women in the waiting room would have ended up pregnant the moment you walked in.’

She finished pulling on her shoes when her phone whistled again.

‘Come home right now and we’ll put that IUD to the test. Got the house all to ourselves.’

The devil emoji was attached to Damian’s latest message and she snickered rolling her eyes.

‘I thought you wanted to grab lunch?’

Ali tucked the card in her purse and shouldered it. She gave a quick look around the room before she left. At the front window she checked out before heading back into the lobby where a handful of women were waiting for their appointments. Her phone whistled again.

‘I was gonna have desert first.’

Ali’s face warmed and she ducked her head as she walked the hallway of the medical center to the front doors. They slid open as she neared and she exited the building into the beautiful Florida sunshine. The seventy five degree weather was perfect.

Once inside her vehicle, she started the engine and sat in the driver’s seat with her head leaning back against the head rest. Post Malone came through the speakers singing about how he couldn’t give away what didn’t belong to him. The pain in her lower belly wasn’t unbearable, but the cramping made her want to curl up into a ball.

The Motrin hadn’t done shit.

She laid an arm across her abdomen and pressed gently. Then she just breathed; willing the painful cramps to go away. By the time she was putting the vehicle in gear Post Malone was over and it was well into the next song.

It took twenty minutes before she was pulling into the driveway. Seemed like she got stopped at every red light between their house and the doctor’s. It didn’t help that it was the beginning of the lunch rush hour. Parking next to Damian’s vehicle in the drive, she grabbed her purse and climbed out. Once upon a time they could park in the garage, but Damian turned it into a home gym. She teased him often that she had a dream to one day she’d be able to park in her garage again.

Entering through the front door, Ali could see Damian pop up from the couch in the open style layout. They purchased the single story house a little over three years ago. Their previous house was lovely and in a good neighborhood. They had simply outgrown it as the kids got older. Located a little bit outside the Orlando area, the house offered them a room for each child if Ian and Isaac decided they wanted to stop sharing, a lovely screened in outside patio with plenty of room for entertaining, a pool to combat the hot Florida summers, and a decent sized fenced in yard they were still trying to fix. She was honestly ready to rip it all up and just lay down turf.

“Ah,” Ali held up a hand. “Don’t move.” She dropped her purse and car keys on the table to the right just inside the door. She made a face seeing random papers and items that seems to accumulate from school days, book bags, and any trip back in from outside. She was constantly telling the kids it wasn’t their desk.

“You okay Corazòn?” Damian asked dropping his foot from the coffee table as he sat up. The first Iron Man movie played on the TV mounted above the fire place. He more or less spent more time scrolling his phone than actually watching the movie he’d seen at least a dozen times especially now that his sons were big into the Marvel Superhero movies.

He watched, concerned, as Ali made her way to him. She skirted the sectional and in three steps had her shoes kicked off and was collapsing into his side. He pulled his arm from where she trapped it between them and wrapped it around her. “Ali? Corazòn?” He asked, worry creeping into his voice. “Are you okay?” Her head shook back and forth against his chest. “What happened? Did the doctor do something?”

Again her head shook. “No he was fine.” Ali shifted on the couch to tuck her legs. Her inside arm bent across her belly in an effort to soothe the cramps. Her other arm laid across his abdomen, elbow bent so her hand laid over his chest. She pressed her face into his neck breathing in his comforting scent.

“He?” Damian repeated feeling his body tense. “I thought your doctor was a woman?”

“It is.” Ali’s words were muffled and she shifted closer. His arm tightened around her. “But then I had to reschedule because school let out early that day. Only ones with availability then were men. Then I had to reschedule again because Sofia was sick. Then reschedule another time because she still wasn’t over her fever and I had a boy today that just learned how to drive last week and he’s talking about how this is the last one I need because by the time it needs to be changed out all my parts will be shriveled up and old and I just realized my last baby is nine already and it hurts.” The long rambling of words just continued to pick up steam until she finally hit a wall as she burst in to tears.

Damian was dumbfounded. There were no other words to describe it. He couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up breaking free in a low laugh as he tightened the hold he held on his wife and pressed a kiss onto the top of her hair. “Ah Corazòn…”

“Are you laughing at me?”

The tone caused Damian’s laughter to cease with a cough. “Definitely not.” The lie came out through twitching lips as he struggled to keep a straight face. He brought his arm across his body to wrap around her back. His hand moving up and down in comforting strokes. He could feel the shuddering of her chest and he held her tighter. “Ali, Corazòn, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”

“It hurts.” Ali’s fingers clutched the plain white t-shirt her husband wore.

“I know,” Damian murmured softly. “Sometimes I get a little sad too about our baby life being over. Usually when I see an old photo of how tiny Ian and Isaac used to be or when Becky and Seth would have Roux with them. I realize how I missed being able to hold them in my arms. Have them fall asleep on my chest. Their tiny snuffles and the baby smell. For a quick second I almost ask you to have another.”

She stayed quiet in his arms. Her shoulders stopped shaking but he could feel a hitch every now and then as she calmed down.

“But then I think about how awesome this phase is. How each of them are constantly changing and morphing into their own person. All so smart and inquisitive and funny. I can’t wait to see what will fall out of Isaac’s mouth when he comes home from school. I love watching them in all the sports and activities they are involved in. Being able to take them to a Knicks game or Yankees game. The excitement they bring to it makes me appreciate it even more seeing it through their eyes. Gabriela, she’s so beautiful and smart just like her mama. I can’t wait to see where she takes her life.”

“Then I think about our life in ten years when they’ll be out in the world and I’ll finally have you to myself. And Lady I have been waiting for years to get you to myself. Dinners that don’t involve chicken tenders. Conversations that don’t involve Fortnight. Moments that aren’t interrupted because the kids are trying to kill each other. Vacations that are just you and me enjoying the beach, a hot tub in the mountains, or walking the streets in Italy. More than just stolen moments over the years.”

Ali lifted her head from Damian’s chest and caught his eyes; blurry with the new tears at his words. She palmed his cheek with the hand that had been resting on his chest and kissed him softly. Their lips moved together gently; warm and familiar from so many years together. But no less potent as warmth spread through her body. The kiss ended just as slowly as it began. Her thumb caressed his lips, moving back and forth in a gentle manner causing his lips to place a kiss on its pad. “I actually meant I’m in pain. That shit hurt today.”

Embarrassment swept through him. He thought Ali was talking about how it hurt knowing they were done having kids. Now that he looked at her, he could see the signs he originally missed. Her arm over her belly. The tense way she holding herself even snuggled against him. The green eyes tinged with a trace of pain. “I’m sorry Ali, shit,” he pulled her back to him, tucking her head back on his shoulder and pressing his hand gently on her belly. “You should have let me come with you.”

“Then you would have punched the doctor for being all up in my lady bits even though it’s his job.” Ali relaxed against him. Her eyes closed feeling the gentle soothing movements of his fingers on her body.

“Being all up in your lady bits is my job.”

Ali hummed in agreement. She wished she was feeling up to a job evaluation of Damian right now. The thought of it made her belly cramp and she tried to bring her knees closer to her chest in an attempt to alleviate it. She blew a breath from her mouth. Her fingers once again tightening in his shirt.

“It’s okay Corazòn,” Damian murmured softly as his hand started its movement again on her back. “Do you want me to get the heating pad?”

Ali shook her head. “Just need this.”

“Always available for this.” Damian shifted to slouch further down on the couch. He lifted both his legs up on the table and crossed them at the ankle. “Do you wanna go lay down?”

Ali shook her head. “Wanna stay right here with you.” She made a noise of protest when Damian moved and turned his body but calmed when she realized what he was doing. A minute later he was stretched out on the couch with her laying on her side between him and the back of the couch. Their legs entwined and she snuggled further into his side.

They laid quietly enjoying being wrapped up in each others arms. She finally relaxed in a way she hadn’t from the moment the first cramp rippled through her earlier at the doctor’s. His fingers moved lazily on her hip. The material moved against his ministrations and it didn’t take long before warm fingers met warm skin. She nuzzled her cheek against his chest.

The quiet was broken by an explosion on TV and Damian reached out to grab the remote from the coffee table. A press of a button had the screen going black. Sliding the remote back onto the coffee table, he shifted to angle his body more toward her. His fingers moved from her hip to tangle in her hair. While his other hand grasped hers on his chest. His fingers curled around her palm and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I hate that you’re in pain Corazòn.”

“It had to be done.”

“No it didn’t. I could get a vasectomy instead. Then you wouldn’t have to go through this.”

“No.” Ali’s voice was firm. She tilted her head up and met his eyes. “Then the possibility of having babies is gone.”

Damian’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought we were done having kids?”

“We are.” The conviction in her tone wasn’t as convincing. It came out almost questioning. “We are,” she repeated; this time her voice a little more steady. “I just… that makes it so final. The door is completely shut and right now… Right now the door is… resting against the jam. I’m not saying I want to push it open but at least it still opens.”

He kissed her forehead. He understood the logic about having the possibility still available even if one didn’t want to actually do it. “I can start wearing condoms.”

“No,” Ali’s face warmed with a blush and she kept her head down on Damian’s chest; her eyes averted. “I like it when you come inside me and…” her face on fire. Irony wasn’t lost on her. She begged him numerous times to ‘come inside me’ and ‘fill me up’ in the throes of passion.

“And what Corazòn?” Damian’s voice came out in a low growl. The sound of his inhale caused goosebumps to break out all over her skin. She shivered.

“And I like it when you mark me.” The words were rushed as her face flamed hotter.

Damian smirked and brought their joined hands up to tilt her chin so their eyes could meet. He enjoyed seeing the red hue on her cheeks. “And I like slipping inside of you with nothing between us. Feeling that wet heat all around me.”

Their lips met again in a kiss with a little more heat than the last time.

“I can pull out,” Damian suggested when the kiss broke and she snuggled back down on his chest.

“Now you’re just talking crazy.” Ali’s voice was full of amusement. “That’s a dangerous game. Need I remind you that we have twins without it being in either of our families? Your swimmers are potent.”

“Now that’s something to put on my resume when I hang up my wrestling boots,” Damian said dryly. “And why is it my potent swimmers? Maybe it’s your overzealous eggs.”

Their laughter slowly died down and they fell silent again. Damian’s fingers working magic on her scalp as he massaged the area. She caught herself nudging her head back in his hand like a cat.

“We could always just have another baby…”

Want jolted through her body. Having her belly grow round as she grew another piece of her and Damian. Feeling the fluttering of movements and little tiny kicks. Holding that life to her breast as tiny fingers grasped her finger while they feed from her body. The quiet nights spend rocking staring into deep brown eyes so much like Damian’s. The soft little sleepers. The sweet smells of after bath time. The wide toothless smiles and giggles…

“We can’t.” Ali finally spoke as the image she painted in her head faded. Damian’s earlier words were correct. As much as she missed those days when her babies were babies, she enjoyed this phase of their life and seeing how they were growing and changing into tiny adults. Yet there were still moments where she’d see them make a face that would take her back. “We don’t have any more room.”

“We’ll have room when we send Gabriela off to boarding school. She got detention again.”

Ali groaned at Damian’s words. She hadn’t checked her email since earlier that morning before the kids left for school. “Texting?”

“Yup.”

Ali broke the hold Damian had on her hand and reached back behind her to the throw blanket on the back of the couch. Living in Florida didn’t matter. She was always getting cold; loved curling up on the couch beneath a blanket. She worked to maneuver the blanket over her body with Damian’s helping hand. Soon it covered most of her body and his. When the blanket was situated, she took his hand again.

“Detention again. I swear… that child. You know I thought it was her texting me during my appointment and all I could think about was her getting caught again… and I swear I heard a line of Spanish in my head.”

“Was it a naughty one?”

Ali snorted. “Maybe I should practice more for when you get back.”

“I hope you’re not asking my mom to help you with this.”

Ali laughed, “Definitely not.”

“Thank God.”

“When do you leave for Europe?”

“Wednesday night.” Damian shifted as they settled closer together. He had a love-hate relationship with the overseas dates. He enjoyed performing in front of the European fans. They were always charged and ready to go. It was so easy to feed off them. However, it pulled him away from his family for weeks and he hated that. Missed them like crazy. The phone calls and FaceTime calls were never enough.

“Think your mom would come and babysit her grandchildren?” Ali was only half teasing. It was kind of too late to be trying to tag along on the three week trip.

“She would but she’s already coming for WrestleMania week.”

“I can’t wait for that trip.” Just her and Damian and a week in Vegas. Granted Damian’s commitments would take up most of the time, but there was definitely downtime for just the two of them. “I’m feeling pretty lucky.”

“How would you like to get lucky?” Damian murmured unable to let the opening go.

Ali hummed. “The kids go to bed at nine… How about you pencil me in for nine oh one…Hopefully by then I won’t be so crampy.”

“Ah mi amore, I’m sorry.” Damian kissed the top of her head. He allowed himself just to float in the moment forgetting why they were cuddled up on the couch in the first place. “Here I am hitting on you and I’m supposed to be comforting you.”

“I like it when you hit on me besides I was thinking about you being all up in my lady bits earlier.”

“Tonight Corazòn.” He kissed her forehead right at her hairline and rested his head on hers. “Do you wanna go get lunch?”

“Eating might help,” Ali mused as this time it was her belly showing its displeasure instead of those lady bits. “Feeling a little empty.”

“I got something to fill you up.” Damian burst out laughing when a sharp slap connected with his chest. He jumped, his body tensing at the assault while trying to catch her hand from hitting him again. All while laughing.

“Christ man, you couldn’t resist.” Ali shifted and rolled until she came up on her elbow. Half her body laid on his. Her elbow and forearm rested on his breastbone high enough so her fingers could lightly caress his jaw and chin. With a barely seen movement, her index finger could run over his lips. She tilted her head down; her forehead resting on his brow. His arm came up around her waist. His own fingers pressing lightly against her back.

“Lunch, then come back and do this some more before the chaos of after school begins?” Damian trailed his hand up Ali’s back to tangle in her hair. When she lifted her head he didn’t have to move far to kiss her lips.

When the kiss ended, they climbed from the couch. Ali went to the bathroom to clean up and change when she noticed she did in fact need a pad. Thankfully it was just light spotting that she hoped would be finished by bedtime. As well as the cramps with seemed to be letting up.

“What were you feeling like?” Damian asked as she was slipping on the shoes she kicked off earlier.

“Mexican.” Ali nearly moaned at the thought. Unlimited chips and salsa. A margarita…

“Real Mexican or American Mexican?” Damian slipped his wallet into his back pocket and grabbed his sunglasses. He had to move random crumbled math worksheets that Sofia emptied from her folder to find his keys.

“It’s all the same to me.”

Damian groaned and met his wife’s smiling face as she walked toward him. “Corazòn I swear…” It was an argument they had numerous of times about how most Mexican restaurants in the United States were knock off Ameri-fied versions. How if she wanted real Mexican cuisine they needed to stay away from chain restaurants and go for the hole in the wall places. After dragging her to a couple, she swore it all tasted the same. The twinkle in her eye at the time told him she was needling him. “I’m gonna tell Dom you said that.”

Ali scoffed and rolled her eyes as they walked from the house. “Please. Sofia has a better pallet than he does.” She slipped her sunglasses on against the bright Florida sun and climbed into Damian’s car

“Where are we going?” Damian started the car and reached out to lower the volume of the radio to a more respectable level than when he was last in it.

“Julio’s.”

“American Mexican it is.”

“Shut up,” Ali gave him a little shove on his shoulder.

As Damian backed out of the driveway and headed toward one of her favorite places to eat, Ali couldn’t help but look around his vehicle. It was cleaner than hers because anytime they went somewhere as a family, they had to take her vehicle. Damian’s didn’t have the space they needed. Sofia’s booster sat in the seat behind the driver because even at nine she still wasn’t quite able to go without it yet. More than likely there was a stray fry or two underneath. The remnants of a melted crayon still in the cup holder. Rocks from somewhere in the cup holders in the 3rd row of seats because for some reason Ian and Isaac needed to collect them wherever they went. There were random clothes from quick changes after sporting events or for whatever reason. A forgotten toy beach shovel from a trip to the ocean months ago. One shoe she had no idea where its mate was. She was certain it wasn’t even in the house.

There were still water beads on the floor from a fight over a toy that no matter how many times she took her car to the car wash and used the vacuums, they still randomly popped up. Not to mention the little bits of trash that accumulated from shopping trips where tags were ripped off and tossed away or the paper from plastic straws.

Damian’s car had none of that. As she looked around though she could see little imprints left behind. A couple of her hair ties hung from the blinker arm. One of Sofia’s beaded friendship bracelets circled the gearshift. A ring belonging to Gabriela lay on the floor mat. No doubt fallen unnoticed from her hand. The baseball glove Isaac said he couldn’t find two days ago, laid on the backseat right in the open after he swore he checked the cars. A Pokemon card sticking up out of a tiny little compartment near the door handle.

Her eyes drifted back to Damian. Plain white t-shirt. Medium wash jeans. Hair pulled back and twisted into a bun. Ray Ban aviators. His ever present silver cross necklace around his neck. Silver skull bracelet on his right wrist. Silver Versace watch on his left. His fingers were free of rings except one. She stared at the black band on the ring finger of his left hand. A permanent fixture since she slid it on over a decade ago. He never took it off even when he was wrestling.

“What?” Damian could feel her stares. He glanced at her quickly before his eyes darted back to the road. “You feeling okay? We can go back home. Just swing through a drive thru…”

“You are,” Ali started. “My favorite person.”

Damian broke out into a grin. In a fluid motion, his left hand took over the wheel and his right reached out across the center console. When she placed her hand in his, he threaded their fingers and brought their hands to his lips. He kissed her knuckles before resting their joined hands on the console. “Eres mi cielo en la tierra Corazon.”

“I don’t know what that means but it sounded beautiful.”

“I said you’re my heaven on earth.” He squeezed her hand as he expertly flipped his blinker on and changed lanes with one hand.

“Maybe I should get a tattoo.”

“Cómo?” Damian was thankful they were stopped at a red light when Ali spoke. “What did you just say?”

Ali rolled her eyes. “I said maybe I should get a tattoo. You got one for me and the kids.”

“Well tattoos are kind of my thing.” He lifted his arm to draw attention to the tattoos covering it. The tattoo she was referring to was covered beneath his shirt in the space connecting the fiery cross with with the sleeve of tattoos he had from his wrist to his shoulder. A lily flower bursting from a skull. So intricately done certain petals on the lily doubled as sections of the skull bones. He had the kids’ names written in Ali’s handwriting on each petal. The lily was also Ali’s favorite flower.

“Maybe I’ll get your name right here.” She dropped his hand and held hers up to the left side of her chest above her breast. Her fingers curled making a c with each hand. “Big. Right over my heart because you have my heart.”

Damian guffawed. “Estás loco Corazon. You’re crazy.” His laughter died but it was still heavy in his words as he continued speaking. “I love you Ali; I do. There is not a thing I don’t think you can’t do. I would never bet against your strength or your heart, but there’s no way I see you ever being able to get a tattoo.”

Ali wanted to be affronted, but she figured her husband was probably right. Needles didn’t bother her but she couldn’t imagine the hundreds of tiny little pricks on her skin. The ability to even make a decision of what she wanted on her body permanently was paralyzing in and of itself. “You’re probably right. They’d get the ‘D’ and I’d quit.”

“I got a ‘d’ for you.”

Ali rolled her eyes as she groaned. “Only ‘d’ that’s gonna be happening around here is the dee-vorce I’m gonna serve you with.”

Damian chuckled and reached for her hand again as he made the left hand turn into the strip mall entrance where the restaurant was located tucked up against the road he’d just driven and not back toward the shopping center. “Sorry Corazòn. This permanent. You’re stuck with me forever.”

That was the caption she used later when she posted the photo she took of them side by side in the booth at the restaurant to her Instagram.

‘Stuck with each other forever. Wouldn’t have it any other way. I am completely and irrevocably in love with you.’

#wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfics #damian priest #damian priest fanfic #damian priest fanfiction #damian priest x oc #fanfiction

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rosepetalsinwinter · 2 years ago

Text

Meant to Be — Bucky Barnes (7)

Chapter 7 — Mr. And Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

Word count: 7,856

Summary: There is more than meets the eye, and Bucky is suspicious. What is everyone hiding?

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, brief nudity? (blink and you'll miss it)

Note: Sorry, it's been a while. Enjoy!

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist│Series Masterlist│Series Playlist

Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

"Today I know that such memories are the key not to the past, but to the future."

— Corrie Ten Boom

May 4th, 2018

He never understood what triggered it, but he found himself reliving it at odd times. The figure always sneaked up on Bucky in his dreams with an eerie silence, draped in shades of gray and brown.

"You really don't remember me?" the figure would taunt.

Bucky's responding grin was almost derogatory. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to?" He dismissed the flicker of familiarity attempting to crawl up his spine.

"You've changed."

He chuckled, deciding to humour the person. "Have I now?"

"You used to keep your promises."

"Did I?" Bucky slowly loosened the restraints behind his back, reaching for the concealed metal in his waistband. "You hit my head pretty hard earlier. I don't remember much."

"At least you kept your stupid sense of humour."

Bucky scoffed, spitting out the blood that pooled in his mouth from his bleeding nose. "You think you know me?"

"I do."

He shook his head. "You don't," he retorted. "You don't know me." The click of the safety turning off made them both pause. "And you never will." Years of training propelled him into action. The figure collapsed on the floor before the gunshot could reverberate through the room.

He stood tall over the lifeless form. "I always keep my promises."

May 4th, 2018

Bucky was beyond pissed. So far, his entire day had passed attending to one matter or another, making call after call instead of getting to know his wife. Not that she was in a state to talk.

Hmm, his little wife had been unconscious for nearly eighteen hours since she fainted in church. Bucky would have been seriously concerned if it weren't for the French maid and her reassurances. Fran—was that her name?—had informed him that the girl hadn't slept properly in over a week. Stress, she claimed, though Bucky suspected a deeper meaning behind the word. The way the maid narrowed her green eyes and tilted her reddish-blonde head hinted at something more.

The mobster took large swigs of Scotch straight from the decanter. Earlier, when the flight attendant came by to pour him a glass, Bucky had unleashed his rage, barking at him to leave the whole thing and disappear. He was in no mood for small talk.

A pounding headache throbbed in Bucky's temples. The entire day had been a whirlwind of problems. First, waking up to discover Phil Coulson dead. Dealing with Rollins' men—though that was stress relieving, at least.

Then, being brutally attacked outside the church, resulting in the need to dispose of the body in the East River, where the strong currents would erase any traces of foul play.

And let's not forget the spectacle that was his wedding. Fuck. The fucking wedding. And the shitshow that followed after. Bucky had so many questions. So many things he needed to address.

He hadn't been married a day, and already his wife was causing him problems. Bucky was exhausted, drowsy, and to make matters worse, he was overwhelmingly aroused.

With a scowl, Bucky downed the last of his Scotch, then glanced at his watch to see if he had enough time to address his growing... predicament.

He didn't.

They would reach Constanţa in half an hour, the estate in one. Bucky couldn't wait. Suddenly, his phone lit up with an incoming call, causing him to huff before ending it. Not even a minute passed before Danial Burgundy's caller ID appeared again. God, the man was persistent. After ignoring twelve calls, he still tested Bucky's patience.

"What do you want, you sick fuck?" Bucky answered impulsively.

The man on the other end sounded amused. "Hello to you too, James."

"Cut the bullshit, Danial. I'm in no mood for small talk." Danial was the last person Bucky wanted to talk to, especially after their conversation in New York. The older man was lucky he was Bucky's father-in-law now, or he'd already be six feet under.

"Right. Straight down to business then," Danial sighed. "I want to speak to my daughter."

Bucky scoffed dismissively. "No ace."

Annoyance tinged Danial's response. "Don't tell me—"

"She's taking a nap," Bucky interrupted. "She can't talk right now."

"I don't fucking believe you, James."

"I don't care." Bucky didn't give a damn about what Danial thought of him.

"Listen, asshole," Danial began losing his temper, "I know you've always been a good-for-nothing motherfucker, but—"

"Is that why you gave her to me?" Bucky taunted, a sardonic grin on his face. "Is that why you gave me everything?" That seemed to silence Danial, at least for the moment.

"Because I'm a good-for-nothing motherfucker?" Bucky chuckled, acknowledging a minor defeat. "I'll admit, you caught me off guard before with the stipulation you threw in my face, but don't think you have the upper hand here." Adrenaline coursed through Bucky's body as he further provoked Danial. "I got what I wanted. I didn't even have to work for it. You handed it to me on a silver platter." He prepared himself for the final blow. "In fact, I've already begun fulfilling that condition of yours." Bucky clicked his tongue. "No complaints so far. She's amazing."

"You bastard!" Danial exploded.

Yes, Bucky was being vulgar. Danial had forced his hand to leave for their honeymoon two days earlier, and Bucky didn't appreciate it.

He hushed Danial. "You'll wake her up. I tired her out. She needs all the rest she can get."

And there it was, the silent row of defeat. Danial sighed, audibly distressed. "She's still my daughter," the coward insisted.

"No, she's not," Bucky retorted, not to mock but to state a fact. He shrugged nonchalantly. "She's not yours. Not anymore. She's mine. She became mine the second I signed your papers."

"You Barnes' have always been greedy," Danial sneered. "Wanting what's not yours. Not giving a shit who gets hurt in the process. Fucking murderers."

"And you Burgundys have always been manipulative bastards," Bucky spat. "Pulling underhanded shit. Whoring out your women for a quick buck."

"You little—"

"Then that's exactly how I'll treat her. Like a slut, a fucking whore."

Danial's breath hitched on the other end of the line.

Bingo.

"No! Wait, no! Barnes, don't you fucking dare! Don't you dare fucking touch her—"

"Leave me the fuck alone."

Bucky ended the call.

The moon hung low in the sky, making way for the impending sunrise in a couple of hours. Bucky tossed his phone onto the seat opposite him and turned his attention to the porthole, gazing out at the soft glow beginning to fill the horizon.

They should be flying over Pitești by now, en route to Constanța. It felt good to be back home. Bucky stretched his arms above his head, contemplating Danial's reaction. If he didn't know any better, he might have mistaken Danial's tone for genuine concern about his daughter. Fortunately, Bucky knew better. With most of Danial's cards laid out on the table, Bucky would respond accordingly, starting with his bride.

Suddenly, the cabin door opened, causing Bucky to whip his head around, prepared to unleash his anger on the intruder. It was his bride, leaning against the entrance of the small bedroom at the back.

She still wore her wedding dress, barefoot and breathing heavily, cheeks flushed and hair rumpled. Her gaze wandered around the cabin in a daze, clutching the door frame in a white fist when the plane encountered slight turbulence.

"You're awake," Bucky broke the silence.

Her eyes scanned the surroundings as she took in their location. "Where am I?" she croaked.

Bucky frowned, realizing she must be thirsty. "Sit," he commanded instead of answering. His wife blinked owlishly, staring at him as if he had grown another head. A faint smile threatened to emerge. "Don't make me drag you here," he muttered. "Because I will."

His wife snapped to attention, unsteadily walking across the aisle, leaning against the empty seats for support. The image stirred something pleasurable in Bucky's mind. She halted across from him, hesitating to sit when she noticed his phone perched precariously on the edge of the armrest.

When Bucky reached over to retrieve the device, he let his arm brush against her leg. It was a gentle graze against the white lace that, nonetheless, left her flustered. Bucky smirked, savouring the sound of his wife's hitched breath.

The girl slowly lowered herself onto the brown leather, almost robotic in her movements. Her back remained rigid, and she wouldn't look at him. Why wouldn't she look at him? Bucky didn't like that. The table separating them was the only thing preventing him from reaching over and forcing her eyes to meet his.

Bucky pressed the overhead call button, his gaze fixed on the girl. He noticed black smudged under her eyes and lipstick smeared around her mouth. How many hours had it been since the ceremony? Too many and not enough. Her features appeared more striking in the natural light than in the harsh illumination of the church.

And there, when her eyes flicked up ever so slightly at the sound of the call button, Bucky recognized that same dead look from before, the one she had when he leaned in for a kiss that never happened because she fainted. It was more subtle, tamped down, but still present, difficult to ignore and even harder to comprehend.

Bucky summoned the flustered flight attendant and ordered food, water, and another Scotch. He may not have been hungry, but he assumed she was.

"Drink," Bucky pushed the glass of water toward her. She was playing with her fingers, gaze fixed on her lap.

"Where am I?" she breathed.

Bucky frowned when she didn't immediately comply. "Drink," he demanded with more force, pushing the water closer. He watched as she brought the glass to her lips with trembling hands and took a small sip.

"Where—"

"More," he interrupted with dissatisfaction. She was an impatient one.

Bucky thought he heard her huff in annoyance but disregarded it as she began to take hesitant sips that soon turned into large gulps, causing water to trickle down the sides of her mouth.

The glass was empty within seconds.

"We're in Constanța," Bucky answered her earlier question.

She looked up at him in surprise, eyes wide and lips parted. Bucky was hit with a sudden urge to kiss her.

"Excuse me?"

"Constanța, Romania," Bucky clarified. "I have a family house in Mamaia. We'll be landing in ten minutes."

Bucky leaned back in his seat and sipped his Scotch, raising an eyebrow at the girl's obvious shock. The slight burn of alcohol felt pleasant, immediately relaxing him.

She glanced around the cabin, blinking owlishly. She seemed flustered. "I don't have—" She took a deep breath. "Why are we in Romania?"

Bucky couldn't help but smile. "Why do you think? What do newlyweds usually do after getting married?"

He waited for the realization to dawn on her, watching as she trembled and shied away. Bucky wondered how experienced she was if a simple innuendo left her so flustered. He couldn't wait to find out.

She still wouldn't look at him.

"Where's my father?" the girl asked, her question directed at the floor.

It appeared the Burgundy princess was close to her last remaining parent. "Danial?" Bucky sneered, unable to suppress his annoyed scoff. "In New York, where he belongs."

She seemed taken aback. Her lips parted, and she straightened her posture in attention.

Bucky narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

Flustered, she started to answer but then froze, her eyes wide with an emotion he couldn't quite discern. She shook her head furiously. "Nothing."

Bucky's suspicion grew tenfold. He was ready to interrogate her, but she interrupted him.

"And my friend?" she asked desperately. "Where is she?"

"Hmm," Bucky mused. "The blonde with the big mouth?" He missed the expression on her face as he finished the rest of his drink. "Dove, was it?"

"N-no," the girl denied. "She's French."

It took a second for Bucky to recall, and once he did, he couldn't help but smile.

"The French maid? She stayed with you after the ceremony. I talked to her about—"

"Well, is she here?" the girl cut him off.

Bucky met her eyes, and the second he did, she averted her gaze. Acting on instinct, he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You interrupted me."

He watched as her breath quickened and her irises dilated. Bucky waited for a verbal response, but she remained frozen, struck dumb by his intimidating presence. "You're lucky you're cute," Bucky said, finally releasing her.

She seemed to deflate the second he retreated from her personal space and mirrored his relaxed posture, melting into her seat as if suddenly drained.

"Eat," Bucky ordered, pouring a finger's worth of Scotch into his glass and pushing it toward her.

An indescribable tension filled the air, an unspoken awkwardness. Which was to be expected, Bucky supposed, since this was their formal introduction. The girl shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she whispered.

Bucky downed the rest of his Scotch, keeping his gaze fixed on her. Her discomfort in his presence was palpable, incredibly aware of him with how she uncomfortably squirmed in her seat.

"Eat," he repeated, the finality in his voice leaving no room for argument. The girl obediently picked up the fork, ready to dig into the food. The meal consisted of a variety of fresh fruits, sweet and savoury pastries, and various breakfast proteins. She nibbled on a melon, taking such small bites that Bucky became frustrated.

The pilot's voice came through the overhead speakers, announcing their impending arrival, and the flight attendants prepared for landing.

"Shall I pack this to go, Mr. Barnes?" the female attendant asked, gesturing toward the untouched breakfast.

Bucky nodded. "Has the car arrived?"

"Of course, Mr. Barnes. Also, the police commissioner is waiting for you on the tarmac, per your request."

Bucky hummed. "Good." He retrieved his wallet and handed a few hundreds to the male attendant, who was closer. "For both of your discretion," he explained, referring to his previous phone calls.

"Thank you!" The attendant quickly pocketed the money, and the area was swiftly cleaned. The table between Bucky and the girl was folded and moved out of the way.

"Mrs. Barnes?" the female attendant called. "Mrs. Barnes, please fasten your seatbelt."

Bucky watched as the girl stared blankly at the attendant. "What?"

"We are preparing to land," the attendant explained, struggling to hide her bewilderment.

After a few more uncomfortable moments, Bucky leaned forward and fastened her seatbelt himself, ensuring it was secure. She tensed under his touch, but he ignored it, both amused and annoyed by her reaction to him.

He would need to rectify that later. There was no sound reason for a woman to be so cold toward a man. But for now... They needed to discuss more pressing matters, starting with why she...

Vaguely, Bucky recalled a drunken whisper from his father regarding the Burgundys. Something he had said after one too many drinks. "Their manipulations killed your grandfather."

Bucky hadn't comprehended it at the time, but perhaps he did now. He remembered his conversation with Danial. Surely, any offspring of Danial's would be just as cunning and manipulative as him.

Bucky would uncover the truth if it was the last thing he did.

May 4th, 2018

The car ride from the airport was filled with silence. The girl had lost her appetite but was picking at her food at the behest of her husband, who was engrossed on his phone. She took small, reluctant bites of the fruit, struggling to keep it down.

Husband. The word brought a welling of tears to her eyes. She fought to hold them back as she felt his penetrating gaze upon her. Was this how prey felt just before they were pounced upon by their predators?

James was a prevalent man, it seemed, if the Romanian Chief Commissioner himself came to the runway to greet the newlywed couple on their recent nuptials. The commissioner discreetly pledged his unwavering loyalty to them, and they exchanged handshakes.

"If you need anything," James assured him, "don't hesitate to reach out. You have my number."

They were on their way to James' villa, situated on the outskirts of the city and nestled in a little strip of private land. It was a secluded house meant to provide the newlyweds with privacy during their honeymoon. James had explained this to her before diving straight into his work.

Honeymoon. The girl felt a bout of fear wash over her at the thought. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with a murderer.

Oh God! Would she have to...? Bile rose in her throat. Fleur had warned her that the first time could be painful if both partners weren't ready. She vividly remembered the almost-kiss with Nathan two weeks ago—the anticipation, the push and pull. The immense relief when their moment was interrupted.

No, she wasn't ready at all.

Horror struck her. If Nathan, the university's golden boy, could stoop so low as to drug her, what would James be capable of? James, with his imposing stature and intimidating presence, his unconventional upbringing and violent tendencies. He was involved with the mafia! And now she belonged to him, bound by the laws of God and man.

He would force himself on her and take what he wanted. After the events of the past week, She wouldn't have the strength to fight him. She would lie there, helpless, as another piece of her soul withered away. At this rate, she wasn't sure how much more she had left to lose.

Bile rose even higher, but she forced it back down. Through the tinted window of the Escalade, the Romanian landscape flashed by, though she could not find solace in its fleeting beauty. The unfinished food sat neglected as they finally arrived at their destination.

The house was beautiful. Its dark exterior was adorned with soft lights hanging from nearby trees, creating a mesmerizing canopy that resembled a starry sky. Nestled behind trees and overlooking a meticulously landscaped garden, the two-story Spanish-style building exuded charm and elegance.

It seemed like a place she could one day call home... but she hated it.

The car faltered to a stop on the smooth cobblestone driveway, and the girl was so enraptured by the view that she didn't see James at her side until he opened her door and extended his hand.

She hesitated. Of course, she hesitated. Her father had sold her to this man as part of his despicable retirement plan. A man responsible for her mother's death. Perhaps he would be the one to eventually kill her as well. She didn't want to touch the hands that would bring about her demise, nor did she wish to meet the eyes that would watch the light in her own slowly fade.

Fear took over, and she let him help her out of the car. Clutching her skirt in her free hand, she took cautious steps, mindful not to trip over the fabric that now grazed the pavement without the support of her tall heels. It was then she realized she was still barefoot.

James barely acknowledged her, offering only a quick nod. His grip on her wrist remained firm and unyielding as he guided her pliant form around. They passed stone figurines portraying scantily clad fairies, a white deer with golden antlers, and fire-breathing dragons. They crossed over a small bridge above a flowing stream, with a seating area to their right and a vibrant array of flowers that tied the scene together.

A sudden wave of sadness washed over her as they reached the threshold. Like countless other girls, she had dreamed of her perfect wedding. She envisioned her lover cradling her in his arms, gazing at her adoringly, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he carried her into their new home. Never did she imagine being dragged by her arm, trailing behind a husband she did not love, and into a house she never wanted to call home.

James released his grip on her wrist as they entered the foyer, and the girl exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. And if his touch provided even an inkling of comfort in this strange and unfamiliar place? Well, it was promptly ignored.

A few servants had gathered at the entrance to welcome the young couple. A frail older woman dressed in splashes of red and white stepped forward. "Ai venit devreme," she grumbled, her shoulders stiff and an ugly frown etched on her face.

"Scuze," James replied.

"Cum a fost zborul?"

"Lung."

"Trebuie să fii obosit."

"Nu prea."

The woman's eyes flicked toward the girl. "Ea trebuie să fie obosită."

James and the woman studied the girl until she warmed with shame, realizing they were talking about her.

"Poate," James grumbled, and they looked away.

The older woman suddenly embraced James, running her arms down his back. "Bine ați venit acasă, domnule Barnes!"

The girl was surprised to see a smile on James' face. The sight made her pause, and she tilted her head in contemplation. In her dreams, the monsters that appeared as smokeless fire, mocking her pain and suffering, never smiled. Yet here was one of those monsters standing before her in the form of a husband, smiling, laughing, displaying emotions she did not believe him capable of.

"Bunică!" James kissed the older woman's hand before gently touching it to his forehead as a sign of respect. Ah! So she was his grandmother. The girl understood that much Romanian. "Mi-a fost dor de tine!"

Their attention was solely on each other, and as if compelled, the girl found herself stumbling backward, one step at a time. It was an instinctive reaction to the turmoil festering in her gut, threatening to drown and suffocate her.

"She's not wearing shoes," a voice with a thick accent remarked.

The girl froze in place. James' grandmother looked at her pointedly, with a kind of resentment the girl couldn't comprehend.

James gestured toward the girl's stiff figure. "Bunică, this is—"

"I know who she is," Bunică snapped. "I can smell a Burgundy from a kilometre away."

"Bunică," James warned in a low tone.

"I want to know why she isn't wearing shoes."

The girl consciously flexed her toes, trying to hide them beneath her dress. Her feet were dirty and sore from walking across the tarmac and then from the car.

Bunică circled the girl, closely scrutinizing her. "Well? Can you speak, girl? Or are you going to stare at me dumbly all day?" For a slighter woman, she was very assertive.

"Bunică," James warned once again.

"I just want to know if Danial gave you a mute bride. I wouldn't put it past him."

"She can speak," James snapped. "Say something."

The girl raised one arm in an awkward wave. "Salut." Shame filled her immediately after having obeyed him.

Bunică narrowed her eyes. "You speak the language?"

The girl vigorously shook her head.

Bunică turned to James for confirmation. "She doesn't," James replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Nu mă face cu ochii aia mari! How can I know if she isn't just as manipulative as her grandma—?"

"Bunică," James interrupted. "Why don't we talk in the study?"

The girl trembled from the number of accusations and verbal abuse hurled at her. She didn't know what she had done to deserve such treatment, but it obviously had something to do with her father.

Bunică gave the girl one last piercing look before abruptly walking away. Her eyes stung at the harsh treatment she was receiving from this stranger. If the grandmother was like that, how unpleasant would James be? She didn't want to find out.

James strode toward her, firmly gripping her arms. "Yelena will show you to my room. Get comfortable and wait for me there." He paused as if considering his words carefully. "Don't leave."

From one prison to another. Perhaps it wasn't such a drastic change from New York. He shoved her into someone else's arms without waiting for a response and hurriedly strode away to catch up to his Bunică.

Yelena was a sturdy young woman with broad shoulders and a slender waist. A dirty blonde braid rested atop her heart-shaped face, with round eyes and pink lips adding to her appealing features. "This way," she said in a thick, palatal Russian accent.

The girl followed Yelena further into the house and up the stairs. The Spanish-style villa boasted ample natural light with contrasting dark accents. Climbing the stairs, they reached a small hallway that led to a pair of doors.

"The master suite," Yelena announced, pushing open the double doors with a flourish and guiding the girl inside. Coming to a stop in the middle of the spacious room, the girl took in the striking contrast of grays, blacks, and earth tones that adorned the bedroom. Floor-length mirrors adorned one wall parallel to the bed, and a set of French doors leading to a small balcony graced the far side of the room. Cool air swept in from the open door, causing the girl to shiver as her heated skin lowered in temperature.

"Your luggage has already been brought up, and a warm bath has been drawn," Yelena informed her, closing the balcony doors when a strong gust of wind carried in some leaves.

The girl nodded but gave no reply, locking herself in the bathroom. It was spacious, surpassing the size of her room back in Vancouver. It exuded luxury, resembling something out of Architectural. Marble floors, wooden accents, twin vanities facing each other, a rain shower at one end, and a window overlooking the black sea at the other. And in the middle of it all, made prominent by the red rose petals scattered around, was an oval bathtub brimming with steaming water.

The girl approached the tub, hoping to relax her weary muscles and wash away the stress of the past few weeks, when something caught her eye. Folded neatly on a stool next to the tub were two engraved robes, a flash of gold against matte black. One bore the inscription "Mr. Barnes." She held her breath. While the other said, "Mrs. Barnes." She felt a sudden confusion, momentarily forgetting how to breathe—was it inhale, exhale, inhale, or the other way around?

She gave a frustrated cry and began tugging at her dress, the only barrier preventing her from resurfacing. From breaking through the layers of hurt and deceit, to feeling the fresh air on her skin, in her lungs. She kicked harder—clawed savagely, but her legs felt lifeless—her fingers weak, and try as she might, she couldn't swim to the surface—couldn't breathe.

The dress clung to her like a second skin, too tight in some places and loose in others. She reached for the zipper at the back but couldn't find it—couldn't break free of her cage. Another cry of frustration escaped her as she dropped to her knees in defeat.

And most curious, her hand snagged on something as she ran it through her hair. She painfully untangled her fingers, revealing the culprit—a ring, forcibly placed upon her by him. It was heavy, and big, and so beautiful ugly. She tugged at it, desperate to remove it from her body and cast it far away. That is what kept her here, anchoring her feet, clipping her wings, depriving her of oxygen.

This—his—ring.

Dipping her fingers into the soapy water, she watched as the diamond disappeared behind a floating petal. Yet, the ring remained stubborn, as if sewn onto her skin, fused with her very being.

Her right hand slipped, causing pain to bloom across her palm. The stupid ring had cut her! She huffed indignantly. How dare—how—why? Her lips curled, quivered, and a whimper escaped her. Then another, and another.

Pain seemed to follow the girl, clinging to her every step. Now, she finally let it wash over her. Pietro's duplicity paled in comparison to the betrayal of her best friend. Her friend who spoke too much and too fast, who pretended to care about her. Her sheepish smile at the ceremony was seared onto the girl's mind. And to think she had been involved in the entire scheme, conspiring with Pietro and her own father.

Was nothing real?

Pain! The girl recalled the last conversation she had with her mother. They talked about school and her mother's garden. Her mother had soothed her after another nightmare, as only mothers knew how. It had been nice. She had been happy.

Until she wasn't, and it wasn't. Now her mother was dead; her father had lied about it. And the girl found herself married to her mother's murderer.

Blood spread through the soapy water, turning it pink. And she finally allowed herself to cry, releasing the pent-up emotions that had thus far consumed her.

He didn't expect the first sob, nor the second or third. When Bucky heard the fourth sob echo through the room, he reached two conclusions. Firstly, he realized he needed to soundproof the bathroom and possibly the bedroom as well. He could hear every hitch in the girl's breath, every pained cry, and every sob she attempted to suppress.

Secondly, Bucky concluded that he must have overlooked a crucial detail in his extensive research regarding the girl, and something was clearly amiss. A lingering suspicion had plagued him since the morning of the wedding. Everything felt off.

Bucky recalled his conversation with Danial after the disastrous ceremony. When his father-in-law threw papers at Bucky's face and made him sign on the dotted line. Bastard.

Another sob caused Bucky to flinch, and he sank onto his bed, loosening his bow tie. Perhaps little Burgundy was unaware of her father's deceitfulness.

He remembered what his bunică had said. "How can I know if she isn't just as manipulative as her grandma?"

Or perhaps the girl was as cunning as described. Bucky knew his family had a history with the Burgundys, but he was unsure to what extent. He was gaining a lot from the marriage—power, money, land—what was she getting, apart from his last name? One thing was certain: the girl was keeping secrets from him. She had refused to see him before their wedding, and now she refused to say more than two words.

An evocative wail drew Bucky's attention back to the present. His feet carried him toward the bathroom, but he hesitated to knock. Bucky doubted the girl wanted his comfort, not that he knew how to provide any if she did.

Bucky Barnes knew women like the back of his hand—their bodies, that is; understanding the female brain was a whole different matter. Bucky knew the basics. He knew that "I'm fine" meant "I'm not fine." And "I don't mind" meant they definitely minded.

There wasn't much else Bucky felt confident about when it came to understanding female behaviour unless it concerned sex. Sex, he knew. It was easy and instinctual.

Boy meets girl. Attraction. Mind-blowing orgasm. Boom, it was as simple as that.

He had heard that honeymoons were filled with sex, sex, and even more sex. Where one's carnal desires came to life. It was supposed to be romantic, sensual, and sexy.

Bucky had spent the past month or so fantasizing about all the sexy things he would do to his wife. Nothing about her crying in the bathroom was sexy.

"Fuck." Bucky quickly changed out of his uncomfortable clothes and into a loose pair of black sweats. He neatly folded his wedding attire and placed it in the dresser, intending to have it dry-cleaned later.

Bucky plopped down on his bed. "Motherfucker," he whispered in disdain. He was not supposed to lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the girl's cries. He was supposed to be fucking her hard and fast, using her to release the stress of the past few weeks out of his system. Her tears were supposed to be tears of pleasure, not pain. His groans were supposed to be of satisfaction, not annoyance.

God, he was exhausted. Now that his body knew he wouldn't be getting lucky tonight, the weight of the entire week's stress settled heavily on his shoulders, making him feel foggy and worn out.

Bucky must have dozed off because the house was eerily quiet when he opened his eyes, and almost an hour had passed.

He stretched his lithe body with a yawn and forced himself up. He wouldn't let the girl rot away in the bathroom all day. They needed to talk, she needed to eat, and then Bucky planned to take her sightseeing in the city.

The bathroom was locked as he went to open it, and there was silence on the other end. Bucky called out his wife's name and knocked on the dark wood. "I know you're in there," he said, exasperation creeping into his voice. When he received no answer, his jaw clenched in frustration. "Come out, I need to talk to you."

There was some rustling on the other side, yet the door remained closed. "If you don't open this door in the next five seconds, I'm breaking it!" Bucky warned. He was not against property damage if it meant she would come out.

It took longer than five seconds, but the door eventually opened, revealing the girl in her wedding dress, still as beautiful as the night before.

Bucky cursed under his breath, momentarily distracted by her appearance. His mind worked a lot slower when she was wearing white. He let his gaze roam over her body. Her hair was a dishevelled mess, with pins sticking out every which way, and mascara streaked in lines down her face. It was unmistakable that she had been crying.

"What's wrong?" he found himself asking, concern evident in his voice.

The girl shook her head dismissively, avoiding eye contact.

"I could hear you," Bucky pointed out. He couldn't have ignored her cries if he tried. She was that loud. Her head bowed lower in what he suspected was shame. "Is it your father?" Bucky ventured. "Do you miss him?"

She remained quiet for a while, frustrating him further. Eventually, she spoke in a voice so low he wouldn't have heard it if he were not waiting for her reply. "My mother."

Of course. Bucky immediately realized his mistake. How could he have forgotten about her mother?

He apologized, "I'm sorry. Any idea who did it?"

His wife slowly lifted her head, eyes wide with alarm.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. "I heard it was an inside job. You really don't have any suspects?"

She slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered.

Bucky nodded, as if satisfied. In reality, his sharp mind was assessing her sincerity.

His attention shifted, noticing that her neckline had plunged significantly. It caused his heart rate to increase with excitement, his body coming alive from her proximity. He could see more of her skin than before, not that he minded in the slightest. God, she was sweet. Then a sudden thought struck him—she was still in her wedding dress.

"You haven't changed?" he asked in a husky voice.

Her response was hesitant and quiet. "No, I—I couldn't reach the back."

Cute. Bucky moved aside, gesturing for her to leave the bathroom, smiling when she accidentally brushed against his chest. He closed the door behind him and approached his little wife who stood near the edge of the bed with her back turned.

Slipping behind her, Bucky pressed his body flush against hers, feeling her stiffen. "Relax," he whispered, lowering his head to meet her height. He gently tucked a straight strand of hair behind her ear. "Let me help you."

She didn't object as Bucky ran his hand over the back of her bodice, searching for a zipper or clasp to aid in removing her dress. Instead, he discovered an intricately woven corset, revealing glimpses of smooth skin from between the silk ribbons.

After a few attempts, Bucky managed to undo the bow at the small of her back, and the dress unravelled before his eyes. His wife inhaled in surprise, using her hands to cover the rest of her modesty.

Bucky removed the remaining lace, discarding it somewhere behind him. He noticed red marks on her skin where the corset had been digging in, and he couldn't resist running his fingers over the slight indents. God, her skin felt burning hot against his. It made his heart beat in his ears—made sweat line his neck.

Reaching around, Bucky grasped his wife's chin, tilting it toward him. The sight made him lick his lips in anticipation. Her eyes were darkened with lust, her mouth slightly parted, and her chest rose and fell with each breath.

Sweet, so sweet. And so close he could just reach over and claim her mouth for his own. They were so close he could almost taste the dried tears on her face. Bucky felt an overwhelming desire to touch her, to feel if she were as soft and sweet all over.

His hand tightened on her chin while his other arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer until their noses touched. He was ready to lose himself in her scent, but just like earlier at the wedding, his wife's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed against him.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered, holding his half-conscious wife in his arms. She was not fully unconscious and was mumbling incoherently, blinking her eyes, trying to regain control of her body. "What the fuck?"

Was this a regular occurrence? Bucky hoped not. His line of work was not for the faint-hearted. Hell, she was a Burgundy! Her father, Danial, was ruthless and unapologetic when it came to his empire, so it made no sense for his daughter to be so fragile under minor stress.

Unless she's faking it.

But the longer Bucky stood there, cradling his wife, the more absurd the thought seemed. She looked too sweet and innocent to be as cunning and deceitful as her father.

"God damn it!" Bucky carried her to the bed and laid her down on the sheets. Her eyes were droopy, but she was fighting to stay awake. "Hey," Bucky lightly smacked her face. "You're fine. Open your eyes." She slowly regained composure, blinking and looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

"Fuck." Bucky ran a hand through his hair in frustration. All he wanted was a conversation, a simple conversation with regular-sized sentences and no fainting spells. Was that too much to ask for? He didn't think so.

He blindly grabbed a shirt from his closet and handed it to his wife. "Put this on. We need to talk." He made sure to leave no room for argument. Leaning against the wall, Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and waited for his wife to dress.

"Well?" Bucky questioned when she looked at him blankly. "Get a move on. I don't have all day." He chuckled when the girl gasped in surprise. She could think whatever she wanted, but he wasn't going to let anything else delay their conversation. "I'm not moving until that dress is off," he warned.

She swallowed audibly before slipping her head through the neck hole and pulling the fabric over her dress. Bucky observed as she fixed the sleeves and neckline, making final adjustments and letting the dress fall to her waist. Hmm, it was a sneaky move, but Bucky decided to let it slide.

"Go on," he encouraged.

His wife remained seated on the bed, lifting her hips to remove the dress from her legs. It fell to the ground in a heap, and for a moment, Bucky was met with the sexiest thighs he had ever seen. He thought he saw a flash of white lace, but it was quickly covered. His wife pulled his red henley down, attempting to hide her skin, which made him frown.

What had Steve said about him getting some? Yeah. Right. That didn't seem to be happening anytime soon. Didn't mean he couldn't look.

Bucky hummed, breaking the silence. "You faint often?"

His wife appeared taken aback. "N-no, not really."

"Not really," Bucky echoed sarcastically. "Right, we need to talk about that. What happened yesterday?"

"I don't know," she replied, fidgeting with her thumbs, a clear sign of nervousness.

Raising a patronizing brow, Bucky remarked, "Come on, you can do better than that." The girl remained tight-lipped. "Were you drunk?"

She vehemently shook her head, denying it.

"I could smell it on your breath," he accused, recalling the moment before their failed kiss when he leaned in and caught a whiff of alcohol. There was no mistaking it.

"I had some Champagne, but I wasn't drunk," she insisted with desperation.

"Well, someone saw you finish an entire bottle," Bucky pointed out, caught between his wife's words and Dot's account. "Honestly, you don't strike me as someone who can handle her alcohol."

"It was nerves," she finally admitted, avoiding eye contact by focusing on the ground, the window, or the rings adorning his fingers.

"Nerves?" Bucky raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

"I got nervous because I've never done this before," she explained.

Bucky understood her perfectly well, but he couldn't resist playing with her. He faked a frown. "I'm not sure I understand."

"You know," she shrugged, silently urging him to fill in the blanks. Bucky took pleasure in making her say the words. "What newlyweds normally do after getting married."

"You mean fuck?" Bucky chuckled, enjoying her reaction. "Somehow, I doubt that."

"Doubt what?"

"Doubt you've never been screwed," his words hit the mark.

The girl's eyes snapped toward him. "I haven't."

Bucky felt a surge of excitement at her false confession. "I wouldn't lie if I were you."

"I'm not lying," she insisted.

Bucky uncrossed his arms and stood tall. "So you're telling me you've never had a boyfriend before?"

Something resembling shame flitted across her face. She hesitated to answer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes."

Bucky didn't buy it, not for a second, especially after what he discovered the day before. He swallowed his harsh words and retorted with a snide remark. "Never had a boyfriend, huh? Interesting."

"I'm still young," she argued.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her argument. "Still young, huh? Well, sweetheart, age doesn't determine romantic experiences, but hey, who am I to question your luck with Cupid?" He couldn't help but add a touch of sarcasm to his voice.

The girl's face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. "It's the truth," she insisted, her voice tinged with defiance.

Bucky leaned in closer, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Sure, sure. I guess it's just a rare case of a twenty-two-year-old with zero love history. Must be some kind of record."

The girl clenched her fists, clearly affected by his remark. "It's not as uncommon as you think," she retorted.

Bucky grinned mischievously. "Oh, I'm sure it's a regular occurrence," he replied sarcastically, enjoying their banter. "Cupid must have taken an extended vacation when it came to your life."

She shot him a piercing look. "Well, maybe I've been waiting for someone worthy."

Bucky chuckled, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Someone worthy? Well, here I am, sweetheart," Bucky spread his arms in an elaborate display, "ready and willing."

With that final snide remark, Bucky settled back into his previous position, eager to see her reaction. The tension in the room lingered as they locked eyes, both unwilling to back down.

"You have some nerve," the girl huffed in irritation.

Bucky's smirk widened, thoroughly enjoying their verbal sparring. "You have no idea, sweetheart," he replied, his voice laced with amusement. "Nerve is practically a requirement in my line of work."

The girl's cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. She clenched her jaw, determined not to let his taunts get the better of her. "Just don't expect me to swoon over your nerves," she retorted, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Bucky chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn't dare," he said, inching closer. Somehow she seemed even smaller when he towered over her. "But it seems like you're pretty daring for the both of us." He grabbed her chin and narrowed his eyes, dropping all pretense of humour for a moment. "Don't forget though, this marriage won't be built on swooning or romance. It's a partnership, an arrangement. And you'll find that I bring much more to the table than fucking nerves."

The girl flinched at his harsh words, pursing her lips. Angry tears gathered in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "And what is that exactly?" she spat. "Because so far, you've been a beast."

For the first time that day, Bucky felt a genuine flash of rage rise within him. He stepped back and released her chin, clenching his fists at his sides and away from her. What had he done to warrant being called a beast? He was trying his best to make sure she was comfortable, but it seemed the Burgundy princess had higher standards.

He breathed through his nose, plastering a mocking smile onto his face. He could tell the second the girl realized the weight of what she said because she was suddenly back to her quiet self.

"Power, protection, and a life you couldn't even fathom," he responded with intensity. "I may not look like your typical knight in shining armour, but I can guarantee this much—no one will ever dare to mess with you as long as you're mine. You have my name now. There's nothing you could possibly want that I couldn't give you."

Bucky paused and took another step back so the girl didn't have to strain her neck as much to look at him. He wanted her full attention on him as he delivered his last blow. "What will you bring to the fucking table?"

The girl's expression softened slightly, her defiance giving way to a flicker of uncertainty. She seemed to be grappling with conflicting emotions, the weight of their unusual situation bearing down on her.

Her eyes went vacant for a moment as if she wasn't in the room anymore. "I'll give you an heir," she whispered.

"What?"

She shook her head, seemingly returning to the room. "I'll give you a son. An heir."

Bucky cocked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Well, that's a given."

He watched with mild pleasure as she deflated in front of him, defeated. Bucky turned to leave.

"I don't understand you." Her voice was the softest it had been.

"You don't know me," Bucky retorted, slowly warming up to her fluctuating tone. "And I don't know you." He glanced at his watch. "Be ready in five. I'm taking you out for lunch."

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