#mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

[rosepetalsinwinter]

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!

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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."

Note: Thoughts?

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Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

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[buckrecs]

You are literally doing god work thank you so much for this blog

I kinda have a request if that's okay. Can you please give us some Mob Bucky recs . Series or one shots

Thank you so much

Mob!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

Thank you so much:) Here are some Mob!Bucky fics!

* = contains smut

ONESHOT

Kiss it Better by @straywords

You’re not entirely sure your boss with the staring problem even likes you, but you’re determined to do your job either way.

little lilly. by @raysheart

you unknowingly bring out a side of bucky he never knew was there.

*Come Home. by @sinner-as-saint

Bucky comes home to find you and your son asleep in your bed and his heart damn near explodes with how much he loves his family. And after putting your baby to sleep, Bucky proceeds to show you just how grateful he is to have you and how much he loves you... 

That I What? by @itsthewritergal

Y/N’s ex seems to have more of a hold on Y/N than Bucky realised.

Never Giving Up by @itsthewritergal

Reader is ill on the one day Bucky said no interruptions... 

*the proposition of a lifetime by @tee-swizzle

mafia!bucky teaches his best friend how to please a man.

Put My Mind At Ease by @slyyywriting

You married the head of the mob in payment for your father’s debt. The contract includes that you must give whatever Bucky wants. And what Bucky wants is for you to be jealous.

protector by @vxntagedior

the moment bucky fell in love with you

Kerosene by @metalbuckaroo

“You took my heaven away and didn’t think that I wouldn’t go looking for revenge?”

Black Card by @jelsasnowflakes1

When Bucky finds out you finally used the card he gave you he was confused why you only spend 15 dollars with it.

third date rule by @classylo

you had a rule, the third date rule, you had never reached it so perhaps that’s why you were still a virgin...that is until you meet the infamous sweet mob boss.

I Am Your Fall by @sinner-as-saint

You’re hiding from your past, in Madripoor. You did nothing wrong, other than mix dangerous business with a lot of pleasure. You couldn’t go home because... he would find you and Madripoor was the only place he didn’t do business, or had any allies or friends. But little did you know that the mob boss had finally found you after obsessively looking for you ever since you left, and left him in pieces. He didn’t want revenge, he just wanted the one thing he had hopelessly fallen in love with; who also happened to be the one who had betrayed him and hurt him more than anyone or any bullet ever did before - you. 

A Simple Housewife by @beyondspaceandstars

A new member starts getting too friendly with you one night, forcing Bucky to show a side of himself you’ve never seen before. And possibly never want to see again.

Could It Be Fate? by @bxcketbarnes

taken. by @wintersldr1

when you are captured by Bucky’s enemy, he will stop at nothing to get you back, and remind everyone the lengths he will go to to keep you safe.

a wolf in man’s clothing by @witchywithwhiskey

you walk into a bar owned by the Russian mob, and Bucky just has to swoop in to save you—and claim you.

Protector by @cherryrogers

Ironically, the man with blood on his hands and a permanent target on his back was the one you’d never felt safer with.

*My Devotion by @cryptidcasanova

The one where Bucky doesn’t take your breakup well.

SERIES

A Business Deal by @ezm-imagines

Mafia Boss Bucky and Stark Reader agree on a deal to improve their businesses. A deal which will unite them together forever, whether they like it or not. Well, that is if they go through with the deal…

*A Moment of Your Time by @stevesbestgirl

A soulmate AU where the headstrong reader realizes that she’s meant to love the brutal mob boss of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes. She doesn’t want to be a part of organized crime and she doesn’t want to rely on anyone, but how do you ignore your soulmate?

*Deception by @avecra

Growing up in the dark business your father ran, violence wasn’t new to you. Rivalries and bloodbaths were something you unfortunately were used to. And in order to save your father from an unnecessary fight, you force yourself into an arranged marriage with Brock Rumlow. But when he threatens your father over a small mistake on your part, you find yourself in front of your husband’s biggest rival and your old friend, Bucky Barnes. With the shared history between the two of you, Bucky finds himself drawn to you once again, and will risk everything he has just to keep you safe.

Gunslinger by @ghostofskywalker

The bitter reality was this: you did what you had to do to survive. And if that meant going head to head with the most feared mob boss of the city, so be it.

*honey, there is no right way by @bonky-n-steeb

when you agree to be the feared mobster Bucky Barnes’ sugar baby, you expect to get enough money to pay your bills. what you don’t expect is to fall head over heels for him.

*Hostage Of Your Eyes by @sinner-as-saint

You accept an unusual offer made by a very familiar, but dangerous mob boss. And despite the rather bizarre situation and all the troubles which come along the way; old flames rekindle – and you find love again, where it wasn’t supposed to be.

Invisible String by @oitommothetease

James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

*Lost Without You by @angrythingstarlight

Soft Mob Bucky Series

Missing by @buckyalpine

Bucky’s baby is missing and he will not stop until he finds her.

Run to Me by @sgtjbuccky

In where you’ve always had a habit of ending up in situations you shouldn’t, and when you caught the eye of the man who ran New York, Bucky Barnes, your life changed. They warned you about him, but the one thing they never warned you about was how you’d always want to run to him. 

*Run To You by @bestofbucky

Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard.

The Light We Lost by @world-of-aus

James Buchanan Barnes had been it for you, and you wanted to believe that what the two of you had, was you making it. You wanted to be the other side of the statistics that actually made it, but your marriage wasn’t meant for this life. You fought hard to make your way back to him, to get him to see you, but life had a funny way of kicking you down when you were already down.

*wrong choice, right places by @mvtthewmurdvck

never wanting to work for him or protect his fiancé, falling for you was the last thing he should do—especially when his boss was zemo, who now ran most of the city.

The Maid of Mr. Barnes by @disasterofastory

You get a job as Mr. Barnes's maid. You heard about the notorious gangster, but since you desperately need money and a place to live, you are not in a position to be picky.

Icarus by @marvellous1917

it’s the day after giving the dangerous mobster his first tattoo, and he hasn’t contacted you yet. What a dick.

[huffelpuff210]

His Obsession

His Obsession 

Chapter 1

:Jordan didn’t exactly know what she was getting into when she accidentally bumped into Bucky Barnes aka The king of New York the boss of the Mafia 

Warning:Stalking, kidnapping, Forced relationship, Forced Marriage, NonCon.

You were running down the street bumping into people every now and again. 

“Excuse me. Sorry.” You say as you continue to run

You were running late. You are a RN in the Emergency room. Working sometimes double even triple shifts. Not really having a personal life, Always working and if you weren’t working you were home sleeping. 

You turn the corner only to be knocked off you’re feet, about to fall on you’re ass. 

But you were quickly caught by the wrist and quickly pulled to you’re feet. 

“Sorry about that.” You hear 

You look up and see a man in a black suit. Rings on his left hand. Tattoo on the top of his left hand and it loos like it goes up his arm the way it disappears from the sleeves of his suit. 

He had dark hair that was almost shoulder length and icy blue eyes. 

“Oh no I’m sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You say as you smile at him. 

You’re watch beeps. 

“Oh sugar plumbs I’m late! Sorry I have to go thank you for saving me from a nasty fall.” You say as you run down the street. 

Bucky watches as you disappear in the crowd of people A smirk on his face. He didn’t think there was anyone in this city that could smile at him like that. Most people take one look at him and shiver in fear. It did something to him, You’re long dark hair and Jade green eyes that reminded him of freshly cut grass, 

He didn’t fail to notice You’re name tag, Jordan Cross He smirked 

“I’ll be seeing you real soon doll.” He smirked 

He pulls out his phone hitting the contact number. 

“Natasha I need you to find an address for me.Jordan Cross She works at Mercy Hospital” He says 

“Okay, Text it to me when you find it.” He says hanging up the phone

He smirked knowing that he just found the one person that wasn’t aware of who he was or the profession he was in. 

It didn’t take long to locate you’re apartment, And it didn’t take much effort to get the key from the manager, All he had to do was give him a look. Which was very concerning. As he looked around you’re house he noticed there wasn’t much. No picture’s on the walls. The fridge and cabinets were empty. A TV and love seat in the main room, A a queen size bed in the bedroom. 

“Seems pretty basic.” Steve says as they look around

“But no personality to it.” Nat says 

“Start hiding the cameras.” Bucky says everyone nods 

You were dead tired after working a double shift. All you wanted to do was shower and sleep screw eating it was way too much work. 

You unlock you’re door shuffling to the bathroom stripping you’re scrubs off and jumping in the shower for a much needed shower. 

After you’re quick shower you dress into a pair of plaid black and white shorts and you’re old collage jersey. Flopping on the bed without covering up you just fall into a deep sleep. But unknown to you, Bucky stood over you, His knuckles brushing against you’re cheek. 

“Soon doll. Soon You’ll be mine.” He whispers with a small smile on his face.

The next day you were running late again, Rushing out the door, and running down the streets to the hospital, You always end up shutting you’re alarm off to get a little extra sleep, You’re boss doesn’t ever give you a day off or ever cut you any slack when you are late he retaliates by making you work a double shift, He’s a complete tool in you’re eyes anyway, Bucky watched as you ran past the many people on the side walk bumping into a few on the way. He smiled knowing he was going to bide his time to set his plan into motion, He had been waiting to find someone like you for a very long time and He knew that you were a hard working woman who barley had a social or private life because of you’re job. From what he dug up on you you’re mother died when you were only five years old leaving you to be raised by you’re step father. In and out of the hospital a lot with mysterious injuries broken arm, cracked ribs, broken tail bone, the list went on and on it’s no mystery what was going on, You left for collage at the age of eighteen, graduating not long after. went for you’re clinical at the same hospital you currently work at now. Never had a vacation or personal day. This was a bit concerning for Bucky you didn’t have a life, all you did was work and sleep, hell you barley had any food in you’re apartment. He knew tonight he was going to take you away from this life, that you were going to have a better life with him and his men. You wouldn’t have to work hard just to get by anymore he was going to make sure of that if it was the last thing he did. He smiled and walked towards you’re apartment. 

He made himself comfortable sitting in you’re love seat in the main room and waited 

You sighed grabbing you’re purse and walking out of the hospital Eric you’re boss made you work a triple shift you were exhausted, You have a bruise on you’re bicep from him grabbing you when he called you to his office when you were late today. He said one more time and you are fired. What does he expect you work double sometimes triple shifts then he expects you to come in the same day after only a few hours of sleep. 

You unlock you’re apartment door, closing it behind you setting you’re purse on the counter. When a hand covers you’re mouth. 

“You’re late doll.” You hear from behind you. 

You try to struggle but the intruder was too strong you feel a prick in you’re neck and you can feel yourself getting weak and tired 

“Don’t worry doll you’ll be home soon.” Was the last thing you hear before falling into a deep slumber.

[neonovember]

Redwood Oak’s

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

divider by @firefly-graphics​ !

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Steve's words echo loudly in your skull like a ball being knocked around your head, turning your brain to mush. The warmth of Steve's breath that had gripped you like a vice had dissipated the second the both of you had entered the expansive room of Steve's Office.

You don't see it, but Steve clenches his jaw in tight restraint to stop himself from putting a hole in Rumlow’s head and instead envelopes himself into the stone-faced demeanor he had learnt to form the moment he stepped up to the throne destined for him.

But god, did that horrified look on yourself tear Steve from the inside out. What had he done to you? It screamed betrayal in Steve's mind, that you not only had been hurt but by one of his own men. The man who had sworn to protect you had lied. And for Steve, his word was as good as its weight in fucking gold.

Steve had to play it level headed, the heavy weight of his father's presence was always near, but it seemed to cloud his vision at this moment,

“Don’t do nuthin stupid, think, just stop for a second and think”

Steve didn't want to think, he wanted to delve deep into the darkened desire within him that preened at the idea of Rumlows blood dripping between his clenched fists. Steve’s desire for violence shocked him a little, he could feel his fist shaking under his grip, like they had a mind of their own.

Steve wasn't a violent man, he was sensible, it didn’t matter if the entire city of New York believed he was cruel, because he knew every action had a means, it wasn't just to spill blood and crack skin. Steve’s entire enterprise was never built on appearances, despite the world it lives in, nothing Steve did didn't have an objective reason. He thought that would be a light of mercy before the spray of blood would coat his button-up.

But now, there didn't seem to be any reason to wait and sit, in the end, it all seemed sensible. Any threat of danger to your life needed to be eliminated, and returned with such a display of cruelty that no one would try it again. There was a gnawing feeling, however, at the recesses and edges of Steve's mind, the kind that screamed at him to see what was truly happening.

“Look”, and Steve learnt to listen.

There was something more to Rumlow than just scaring you, something more sinister, it echoed deep within Steve and the reminder of the cruel world beneath the gravel ground was as clear as ever. Steve had to find out because now he felt that your safety was his responsibility, an obligation he felt every bone within him scream to fulfil.

“Bucky” Steve calls the brown-haired man dressed down in a black suit, the outline of a holster poking through the waist of his jacket.

Bucky murmurs something into Sam's ear, before making his way towards Steve, his gaze shifting between you and the tall blonde standing a few spaces behind you.

“Need something from me, Steve?” Bucky says, making an effort to keep his gaze towards Steve, despite Steve's gaze being situated on you.

“Take our friend here to get something to eat, and then use one of my cars to get her home”. Steve murmurs, almost discreetly so only the three of you can hear.

You noticeably fidget at the mention of going home, it wasn't that you didn't want to, you did, by all accounts, but you didn't know what you would open the door to when you did end up back at the decrepit apartment complex you loved. Your apartment wasn't necessarily known for being the most well-secured, but you figured your neighbours would at least tell you if someone had broken in and trashed the place.

Steve moves towards Bucky, turning his body to face away from your wandering gaze

“Take one of my unmarked cars, it seems we’ve got a fuckin rat in our very own house” Steve whispered into Bucky’s ear, causing Bucky to turn his head to face Steve. A look passes between the both of them, their eyes conversing in a way words never could, in a way that told you they had been brothers long before this entire world fell upon their shoulders.

“Well go on then” Steve’s deep voice whispers into your ear, you can taste the heat of his hand pressing onto your waist, as you feel the outline of his revolver press into the small of your back.

“Don’t think I won’t hurt my men to protect you, I’ll kill him if I have to” Steve murmurs, he doesn’t have to say his name, but your mind has been repeating it enough to know who he's talking about, and your heart skips a beat in surprise, air catches your lungs and you have to swallow back the strange feeling brewing in your stomach before following Bucky’s pointed gaze out the office doors, several dozen eyes watching your every step.

The squeak of Bucky’s dress shoes and the click of your pump loafers follow each other down the carpet and painting-lined hallways. You sneak glances through half-open doors and you're met with similar pictures, women and men dressed in black and white staff uniform cleaning and dusting away priceless antiques, ruffling pillows and beds that were never going to be slept in, and folding the endless crisp white shirts Steve wore.

You pass a hallway that looks different to the rest, darker somehow like it was sacred. You don't see any of the endless staff coming out of any of the rooms too, and the millions of questions it springs forth have your eyes squinting to see past the 2 main opening doors.

Bucky turns a corner quickly, and without realising you bump into his back, the rock-hard muscle acting like a brick to cushion your fall. You can’t help but let out a loud yelp, before Bucky turns and catches you from falling flat on your face.

You look up at him clearly flustered, and Bucky gazes down at you in interest, he begins to murmur something but thinks better of it, and slowly lets go of his grip on your waist.

Coughing, he straightens his suit, before motioning forward

“We’re here”

“Hmh? Where is here-” You say

“Oh”

You look towards the expansive dining room, fitted with leather couches surrounding a cast stone fireplace connected to a brick stone kitchen, an iridescent chandelier hangs from the tall ceilings, looking as if diamonds were dripping from above, and the halo of a sparkle glints over the both of you and you can't help but gaze in awe.

“Gorgeous isn't it?” Bucky says, and you glance at him watching the way the chandelier cuts the sunlight so it breaks across the dining room.

It was beautiful, despite being in a room that was in a house of violence, it was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

“Bucky? I thought you already emptied out my kitchen” Calls a voice from the kitchen

Bucky turns towards the voice, a smile for the first time appears on his face and he walks up with you trailing behind.

“You’re still here? I thought Steve gave you the rest of the week off?” Bucky says, and as you walk past the expansive dining room you see a woman dressed in a dirty apron, wiping down a pristine marble countertop that Bucky leans on.

Pots and pans hang from high above the centre block, glinting in a perfect steel arrangement, long panned windows filter light in from the manicured lawns and an array of shelves and creme cabinets line the kitchen. A double burner oven is situated against a grey stone wall, and low-hanging lantern lights are hung from above. David would have loved cooking in this kitchen, that is all you can fathom as you gaze across the opulent space.

You are too fazed to take notice of the conversation happening beside you, until the kind woman looks towards you, cocking her head, her hazel eyes gaze you up and down, taking notice of your strange attire.

“And who is this?”

“One of Steve’s friends came here to get her something to eat but if you're leaving, just know your kitchen is in great hands” Bucky smirks towards the woman, who shakes her head reverently.

“Oh absolutely not, he burnt soup once, goddamn soup!” The woman scolds, a frightened expression taking over her face as she widens her eyes at you.

You can't help but let out a giggle, she was nice, this woman, dark auburn hair braided into a fishtail cascades down her back, her cheeks full as her big brown eyes smile at you.

“Hey!, it was one of those artisan ones alright, screw me for trying to follow a recipe online” Bucky replies, rolling his eyes at the woman as he tries to argue his side to you

“It’s soup Bucky, you put it in a pot and let it heat up” You reply, shaking your head, the woman looks up at you swiftly, a look comes over her face and she nods.

“By your clothing, I can see you are a curator of the kitchen as well?” The woman replies

You look up at her surprised, “Oh no, I’m,-I’m just a waitress”

“Well does the waitress have a name?” She replies

You hadn't had to introduce yourself for much of your life, your name and entire identity stolen and curated by your husband until he was the one introducing you, and now, the sound of your voice feels foreign on your tongue.

“A pretty name for a pretty lady, my name’s Katerina, but just because you're a friend of a friend you can call me Kat. So what would ya like darling?” She says

“Oh, no” You take notice of the recently wiped down and cleaned tabletops

“It’s alright, you've already cleaned up everything and I'm not that hungry, besides Bucky promised to show me around the Manor '' You reply, wiping a hand down to iron out the wrinkles in your work shirt.

“I did?” Bucky replies, and you turn your head, pleading with him to go along with it

“Oh yeah, um, I’ve got to get my Vitamin D you know” Bucky coughs, wincing as he digs his hands into his dress pants.

Kat looks between the both of you, a knowing smile on her face as she nods,

“Oh, I know you'll be here a while.'' She replies, before you both bid your goodbyes and head out through the French doors and onto the stone steps of the entryway of the Manor.

“You really made me lie in front of Kat? What do you think this is? You know I don’t answer to you, and Steve told me to make sure you eat something, especially since last night-” Bucky scolds, before cutting himself off at the mention of your embarrassing

“You know about last night?” You mumble, the burn of embarrassment crawls up your chest as Bucky shifts his gaze to you in guilt

“Parts alright? It was late at night when Steve found you at that bar and it was getting..I just knew I had never seen Steve so, so..” Bucky trails over, shifting his gaze from your eyes.

“So what?” You reply, Bucky was about to tell you something about Steve, specifically last night and every inch of you wanted to know what it was.

“Forget about it” Bucky replies, and you shake your head defiantly.

“No, no I won’t, ever since that day Steve walked into my diner, I’ve been doing this blindfolded dance, spinning around the truth but never being told anything” You reply, challenging Bucky.

Bucky pulls his tongue from his cheek, eyes trailing the manicured garden of the front lawn before looking down at you.

“He was silent. He didn’t say anything the entire ride back, just motionless. And I know Steve has that stone face going on, but honestly? It was like he was thinking, plotting something in that mind of his, and he didn't stop until you were taken to your room and tucked in, hell he didn't stop until we both walked into those office doors”.

You look down at your hands, twirling the old copper band around your index. Thinking? Thinking? You didn't have a clue how to read Steve, let alone know what he could be thinking of all things.

“What does that even mean?” You reply

“It means Steve is deeper in this than he thinks he is,” Bucky replies.

You catch your tongue before you reply with what automatically pops into your head,

If Steve was in this knee-deep, you were entirely swallowed.

Your eyes catch a light shining from the corner of your peripheral vision, over the wall overgrown with ivy.

“I wasn’t lying before,” You say

“Hmph?” Bucky asks, clocking his eyebrow

“Take me there” You reply, pointing towards the wall towards the back of the Manor.

“You mean the abandoned garden?” Bucky scoffs, shaking his head

“If it’s abandoned then no one will know we’re there, right?” You argue

Bucky narrows his eyes, but reluctantly agrees, walking down the steps in long strides as you run after him to catch up.

You both walk along the expansive gravel driveway, the piercing gaze of Steve from the office window above follows the both of you as you venture through the spiny trail that leads to the garden hidden beyond the large hanging evergreen trees that grew along all over the grounds.

Almost losing your balance once or twice, you finally make it through the overgrown foliage, following the stone trail that soon crumbled into the dark dirt floor. Bucky steps over a broken step, before unlatching some kind of bolt and shoving a rotten gate open, breaking the vines that had once grown on the wood.

You walk through the opened gate, Bucky following close behind, and the shrubbery opens up to a clearing. Large evergreen trees like the ones near the Manor surround the open land, however, a different kind of tree stands sky high, and you can’t stop yourself from walking up to one, and feeling the maroon bark rough against your fingers.

You close your eyes and it comes to you,

Redwood oaks.

Times when you would think hard enough, the silhouette of skyscraping trunks, and deep green leaves would cloud your vision, and when you lean your head forward you can almost smell your past. It is beautiful and strange and it hurts just as much. You can’t find yourself anymore, you've resigned yourself to that, but these thousand-year-old trees make you feel more connected than ever.

You want to climb into it and let it consume you. Sleep until you woke up and you knew who you were. It’s strange, the tree reminds you of Steve somehow, like you've been here with him before and it's hitting you like deja vu.

Something has gifted between the both of you, between you and Bucky too, you noticed it today when he spoke to you rather than through you. He didn't have that unsure expression anymore like he didn't fully trust you, and you don't know whether it was because of Steve or because of last night.

The clearing is almost a hill, and you can see fields of honey-coloured wheat and grass cascade into hills as you look beyond the tall trees. You can make out the backbones of where some sort of wooden shelter or structure once stood, now all that was left was a pile of rotting wood and leaves.

“Why is this place abandoned,” You say, it was gorgeous and let in the sun in just the right way for it to be reflected from the trees and shower the clearing with a honey glow, but it was hidden. And all hidden things were hidden for a reason.

“Don't know, it's been in Steve's family for generations, rented out to a couple people and then sold to a family in the mafia. Until Steve bought it back, it seems like this used to be where some sort of sheltered seating area once stood” Bucky replies, digging his shoe into the dirt.

“Yeah well it seems like someone’s put it to good use” You reply, noticing a small hardwood sculpting table fitted next to a workbench, a small but well-built wooden gazebo shelters the workspace, and you want to step forward but something tells you that place is sacred.

A sound comes out of Bucky and when you turn your head, he looks towards the gazebo like he knows who it belongs to. It hits you that he probably does, being the eyes that see all in the place anyway.

“This place yours or something?” You reply, and Bucky looks towards you in surprise like he forget you were there.

“Hmp? No, not me necessarily, but I think I know who” Bucky murmurs, his eyes trailing back to Manor fixating on Steve's office and you have to swallow the laugh that erupts at the assumption.

“Steve? If Steve was to have a hideout behind his Manor it would be for a guillotine, not an easel” You reply.  

You look towards the Manor and even though your vision only catches the pitched roof peeking through the dark pine trees you don’t doubt by the feeling crawling up your arm that Steve is watching you too.

“Steve, he's done something but, he's- he's a good man” Bucky replies, turning a rock onto its smooth side between his hands

“Oh yeah? Just like my husband is? I’m starting to figure out good men don’t need to say they're good men” You retort

Bucky shakes his head, turning the rock between his hands before tossing it into the shrubbery.

“You’re husband, he's done things you can't even imagine, he is the farthest from Steve, he's the farthest that Steve could ever be” Bucky replies with a heated tone.

For some reason that statement sent a burn down your stomach, in some sick way, you felt it was your responsibility to protect your husband's honour and name in front of Bucky, but it disappears when you realise you're the one who had run across the country to escape the very man Bucky loathes.

“I know the things he's done alright? I’m not that oblivious”

“I’m sure you aren't, Steve wouldn't go through all this trouble for someone who isn't..smart. But what you know about your husband is only what he's allowed you to see, in this life, there's so much that goes between looks and eyes,”

“Steve, it's this life that's changed him, changed all of us, swallowed him up until we couldn't even recognise each other. God I wish you could have seen him before, he was so carefree, ran like the wind couldn't even catch him. Your husband, evil like that is born in you, encoded into your DNA until you know nothing else" Bucky replies

“How do you expect me to believe that about him if you leave me in the dark all this time? You say Steve is a good man, well then tell me how” You reply

Bucky grinds his teeth, his jaw working as he weighs the metaphorical pros and cons of letting you in, and telling you things you he doesn't doubt Steve hasn’t. It was strange, Bucky felt it was wrong for you to be in this agreement with Steve so blindly, Steve had told him he wanted to protect you, but how can he say that when you don't even know what he's protecting you from?

With a gruff sigh, Bucky turns his neck to face you, delving into one of the main, if not the entire reason Steve is the way he is, and of course it had to be connected to you.

“About a decade or so ago, Steve was in love with a woman, she was everything to him, his breath, his bones, his love, she owned it all. Now it was about the time when Steve was ordained to take over from his father, it was a tradition since the Rogers planted their foot in the underworld, and it was once Steve's father did not take it lightly. Taking over meant your entire life would be dedicated to this throne, you would live, breathe and eat business, and for Steve, what he lived for was her.” Bucky shifts so that his gaze moves from the Manor. And like he's ashamed to be telling you this, to let the stark demeanour of Steve crack.

Bucky chuckles in the sort of way that wasn’t out of humour, your eyes strain as you peer at him, watching him scratch his jaw and tussle his brown locs free from their curls.

“Steve’s father could sense his weakness before it even started, I guess he thought Steve would realise what was at stake, the responsibilities that he had to honour as part of this family. That week before his coronation, Steve refused his father in front of an entire dining room of men. He refused to let go of her in exchange for his marriage to the throne. Told all of them that he was going to marry her and run off. And I still don't know if it was a show of discipline or plain evil, but Steve never got that chance” Bucky says.

“What do you mean?” You reply, your confused expression turning grim as you notice the bleak look on Bucky's face.

“She was- she was murdered that very next morning” Bucky replies, his eyes returning to you, as you whip your head back to stare at him in horror.

“Your husband, was paid by Steve’s father to murder his fiance” Bucky replies after a beat, your breath leaves your chest as you stare at him in disbelief, hands grasping the edges of your apron as you wait for the punchline, and Bucky stares at you in anguish as you realise there isn't.

You don't know what sounds leave your mouth, just the look of Bucky’s face tears you away from his gaze and the tears glide down your neck. You don’t bother to wipe them, you don't doubt there is more anguish to come, more revelations that will have your head spinning, more secrets that were kept from you.

“Hey, hey, look at me” Bucky replies

“I can’t, I didn’t tell you this for nothing alright? I can’t have you leaving here teary-eyed, you told me you were strong yeah? So be strong. Your husband is a murdering psychopath, he has been since he was a teenager, this mercenary job was done to get his foot in this business, and now you're all muddled up in it too. And Steve, he doesn’t want what happened to her to happen to you” Bucky replies, squeezing your arm to shake you back to the present.

“But why? Why would Steve’s father do that?” You reply

Bucky stares off into the curving hills of wheat and grass, shaking his head before replying

“It was Steve’s obligation, it had been since he was conceived, Steve's father thought he gave him a life free of responsibilities while growing up in that town, he didn't think that recklessness would follow him to Brooklyn”.

“Town? What town” You ask, and this time Bucky avoids your gaze, whispering incoherent obscenities under his breath

“That is something only Steve can tell you, me and Steve grew up together in Brooklyn during our teenage years. That place was something from before even that, before even me”. Bucky replies

You nod as you stare at the river that swirled across the Manor grounds, the shock of your husband's role in Steve’s becoming the invisible stone-faced don he was now didn't fully hit you yet. It was like you were numb, forced to put on a brave face in front of Bucky, who had trusted you enough to tell you about Steve.

Steve.

The man who you had believed conned his way into your life, and tricked you into a deal you didn't agree to now seemed different to you, you can’t fathom how a man like that, a man so instilled in the traditions of this world once defied it. Steve had once been so in love he was ready to disown his father's own expectations of him, and yet in the end it had gotten her killed, and it had left him seated on the very throne he despised.

“We should probably head back, lord knows what Steve would say if he knew you were still here” Bucky replies, pulling out a cigarette from his suit breast pocket, and flicking open a metallic silver lighter encrusted with the Rogers family heirloom.

The amber light that ignites the bud elicits a strange feeling that litters goosebumps across your body, it reminds you of a burning photograph, left to ashes and soot. You can smell the stench of it too, and Bucky watches you carefully as he clasps the lighter back into his pocket, nodding to the trail you had just come from.

Your mind is too preoccupied to remember walking back to the Manor, or even sliding into the car door Bucky had opened for you. Your mind circled back and forth between the answers Bucky had muttered under the sweet wisp of the morning breeze and the millions of questions that were met with the same silence and face of neutrality that Steve wore.

There was so much that you didn’t know, it hadn't hit you before, but it was so frighteningly obvious now. You were still the same foolishly naive girl that you had been 10 years ago, except this time, if Bucky had been right, you weren't being robbed of your entire autonomy.

You couldn't deny that since you had arrived in Brooklyn, you felt a strange pull that led you to Steve, you felt it the first time he walked into the diner, and although it was crowded by fear then, you can feel it in all its entirety now. For some strange reason, you hoped what Rumlow had said was just another thread of lies he had made you unravel, you hoped to god for Steve’s sake that all it was, was a childish attempt at getting out of babysitting.

You had steered your mind clear from falling down the rabbit hole of what else it could be, and the sinking feeling that begins to unfurl in your stomach now has you pinching yourself awake,  and forcing yourself to stare through the tinted car windows. You watch the blur of the pine trees crowding the curving roads and Bucky’s incessant tapping of the steering wheel over-stimulate your senses, resting your head on the window.

Perhaps Steve knew a thing or two about betrayal, and from the same man that had made you run halfway across the country.

[jobean12-blog]

Impossible to Resist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mafia/Mob AU)

Word Count: 1,144

Summary: From time to time your husband has to attending important events and from time to time you just don't want to go and would rather keep him home.

Author's Note: Seb's new and delicious looks have been so fun! I just loved the idea of a bratty reader seeing him looking perfect and just needing to keep him home-at least a little longer 😏Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️ Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you so much Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: fun, fluff, bratty reader, dom Bucky but he's always soft and sweet for his wife, fingering, curses

“You’re still not dressed?”

Bucky’s voice rumbles through the room and even from your semi-hidden spot under the plush covers you can hear the edge in his voice.

“BUCKKKYYYYY. I don’t feel like going to the gala,” you whine.

“Doll,” he warns. “We don’t have time for you to be a brat. Get. Dressed.”

“NO.”

In the next breath the covers are ripped from your body and your bare skin instantly chills in the cooler air. You keep your face snuggled into the pillow to hide your smile but do nothing to hide the curves of your body for him.

You feel his heat first then the familiar weight of him against you when his lips meet your ear.

“If you’re trying to tempt me into staying home it’s not going to work.”

“Yes it is,” you murmur, still hiding.

That’s when you take the opportunity to remove yourself from the pillow and languidly stretch your body out under him.

Your breath catches when your eyes focus on him.

His lips turn up into a knowing smirk and he stares right back. Your palms flatten on his hard chest and you gently push him off you so you can get a look at all of him.

The crisp white material of his shirt is fitted against every sculpted muscle and his pants fall effortlessly over his long legs. But it’s the neatly fastened bow tie that has you  licking your lips before your teeth sink into the wet flesh.

“Bucky.”

You sit up and crawl to the edge of the bed to reach out for him. Your arms circle around his neck and you curl your fingers through the ends of his hair.

“I don’t want to go,” you whine. Again.

He takes your chin between his fingers and tugs your face up to his to let his nose run along your cheek and when his lips are just a centimeter from yours he whispers, “get dressed.”

With a kiss he releases your chin and steps back.

You pout and chase his lips. “What am I going to wear?”

“I bought you something. A surprise. Come see.”

Still naked, you slide from the bed and follow with a huff.

“I think what I’m wearing now is just fine,” you purr.

He takes your hand in his, sliding his fingers up your arm until they rest at the back of your neck. He gently massages as he guides you toward your walk-in closet.

“Definitely my favorite outfit,” he croons. “But not for a gala.”

You giggle and press yourself into his side.

A garment bag hangs against one of the glass doors and he walks over to slowly unzip it, revealing a gorgeous designer dress beneath.

You gasp and clap your hands together.

“OH BUCKY! It’s perfect.”

“Of course it is,” he preens. “I picked it out.”

You step into his arms and press your soft curves against his hardness.

“Are you sure I have to get dressed now though?”

Your fingers work along his broad shoulders and then straighten the bow tie at his neck. You graze your hands over his chest and bat your lashes.

“Doll face,” he simpers.

“Hmm?” you ask in a soft sweet voice, feigning innocence.

His hand falls between your bodies and he smooths his fingers along your skin leaving goosebumps in their path.

A soft moan spills past your lips and he moves you toward the wall, pinning you against it with his body.

As his fingertips continue teasing along your skin you quickly undo his bow tie so you can tug on each side and pull his lips down to yours. He groans into your mouth and slips his hand between your legs.

“Please Bucky. Please,” you beg. “I need you.”

“Fuck doll,” he murmurs. “You know hearing those words makes me weak.”

When his fingers meet your soaked flesh he hisses out another curse and easily slides them along your clit, gently pressing and circling until your legs are shaking.

“Is this what you want baby doll?” he asks as he pulls away to gaze at you.

“Yes Bucky,” you breathe out. “Yes!”

He’s still fully dressed and the lush fabric of his clothes is overwhelming as it glides along your heated and sensitive skin. With his hand wedged between your bodies you can feel the cool metal of his bracelet and ring as they press into your skin and it makes you roll your hips, desperate for more.

A firm hand spreads your thighs wider and he pushes a finger inside you. His lips meet your neck and he bites down on your pulse point, relishing how you tighten around his finger.

“You’re such a brat,” he whispers against your lips. “So needy for me.”

“Always Bucky,” you answer on a moan.

He slips a second finger inside you and rolls his thumb over your clit. His other hand ghosts up to your neck and gently closes around your throat. At first the pressure is light but as you begin to chant his name he puts more, squeezing harder like you squeeze his fingers.

Your orgasms hits you in a blissful ripple, making your body tremble and cling to him until you ride out every second of perfection.

He pulls his fingers free, still glistening with your release, and lifts them to your mouth to run them along its plush outline. Your tongue darts out to lick them and he hums in satisfaction, parting your lips until you clean his fingers of every drop.

“See how sweet you taste,” he whispers before he kisses you.

You’re putty in his hands by the time he pulls away and you grasp his shoulders.

“Please. I want you inside me Bucky.”

His mouth captures yours in another hard and dominant kiss. “I decide when I’m going to fuck you.”

Your lips curve wickedly. “Fine. As long as it’s now.”

Amusement dances in his eyes, but it’s quickly extinguished with determination and desire. Keeping his gaze locked on you, he starts to drag the undone bow tie from his neck.

You try to stay steady as he reaches behind you and brings your wrists together, securing them tightly with the silky fabric.

“You’re going to do as you’re told,” he murmurs as he spins you around and presses his chest to your back.

His lips lightly brush the shell of your ear. “Understand doll?”

You give your wrists a slight tug, whimpering when nothing budges.

“Yes Bucky. I understand.”

He steps back to look at you, naked with your legs spread wide, thighs shiny with your wetness, and growls out a low “fuck.”

“Please Bucky!”

You arch along the wall, presenting yourself for him.

“When I’m ready doll,” he says, running his hand along the curve of your spine, “I’ll fuck you like the madman you’ve turned me into.”

@lizette50 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @kmc1989 @identity2212

[buckets-and-trees]

Any thoughts on Mafia bucky and Steve? Love ur works!!

I thought I didn't really have any thoughts other than that I pretty much am always weak for them.

But then I got struck with this idea about an hour ago, and the muse BOLTED with it...

Title: Little Lark Characters/Pairings: Mafia!Bucky x Millennial Female!Reader x Mafia!Steve Word Count: 950 Summary: You were already in a dangerous situation, but one meeting may drive you into far deeper waters than you're ready to swim in.

Content/Warnings: non-con, non-main character death, vaginal fingering, non-explicit PIV and oral (male receiving), use of pet name (little lark), mild degradation, implied praise kink, dacryphilia

Author Notes: Catching up on week seven of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer - using the COLLARS prompt - and filling my November box for Build-a-Bucky Bingo with OBJECTIFICATION.

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

You flinched at sound of the gunshot and looked away.

Somehow you didn’t think they would do it, but they did.

You didn’t need to look to know your boss was dead.

You would be relieved, finally free from the debts and blackmail that had held you captive to work for him and keep your family safe, but you didn’t know if you would truly fare any better with the men in front of you now.

Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers had come from Brooklyn to Atlanta to make a deal with your boss only to find out he had tried to cross the two men before they’d even sat down to negotiations.

“You have a choice to make,” Steve said.

Hesitantly, you turned your head back to look at the most handsome and intimidating men you had ever seen – it would be your opinion even if you didn’t know the things you already did about how dangerous they were, and you were sure you didn’t know even half of what they had done or what they were capable of.

Steve unlocked and flipped open the briefcase he’d brought in for the meeting, then turned it to face you. “You’ll walk out of here wearing one or the other, but it’s up to you.”

You frowned, looking at a leather collar on the left and a silver chain with a stunning sapphire pendant. Then you looked back up at the men.

The choice seemed too obvious.

“What’s the catch?” you asked.

“No catch. Your ours now, but you can pick what that looks like,” Bucky explained.

“I’m not–” you tried to protest, but Bucky cut you off.

“Unlike your idiot boss, we thoroughly did our homework before this meeting. We know you only worked for him to keep your family alive.”

“So, let me go! The debts owed were to him, not to you!”

Steve smiled, but it was cold, calculating. “But we don’t want to. Why would we squander a pretty little asset like you?”

Your chest tightened and you could feel angry tears welling up. “It wasn’t like that! I was only his assistant!”

“The only decent thing about him was that he never cheated on his wife,” Bucky admitted, “but his intentions for you were never innocent. You were on the list of things that could be part of our potential deal.”

An object, not a person. There was a sudden pit in your stomach now, too, but you tried not to react in any other way.

“Neither of us need an assistant, but we have other needs we think you’re well-suited for,” Steve took over explaining the situation, and made no attempt to hide the way his eyes roamed your form.

“Again, your choice,” Bucky said, “or we choose for you. You can be either our whore or our companion.”

You were quiet for another moment, then you dropped your eyes and softly murmured, “Necklace.”

The modicum of dignity would be minimal, but maybe you would be afforded at least some semblance of humanity as a companion.

Bucky took the necklace from its velvet case and strode around the desk and the dead body on the floor. He motioned for you to stand so he could put it around your neck. As he fastened it, you couldn’t help but notice the sound and feel as there was twisting and then a click.

The chain fastened with a permanent lock.

“Aw, our little lark is trembling,” Bucky cooed, tracing his fingers along the side of your neck.

“In fear or anger?” Steve asked.

You looked at him sharply.

He smirked. “So, it’s both. Good.”

Bucky didn’t move away from behind you, and his hands reached to tug your skirt quickly up around your hips. You yelped in protest when he pushed his hard bulge up against your ass and groped the fleshy globes.

And somehow Steve was suddenly in front of you, moving before you could even register. He took your chin in his hands even as Bucky’s fingers moved down between your legs, invading your panties to start playing with your folds.

“Bucky and I have always shared everything,” Steve said. “It’s why no one can beat us or come between us.”

Bucky suddenly found your clit, and it made you jump and whimper.

“Mmm, give her more of that, Buck,” Steve said, a wicked glint in his eye.

“We’ll make your body sing for us,” Bucky vowed, “don’t fight it, little lark.”

Your breath hitched, and you fought back a sob.

While Bucky kept tormenting your clit, his other hand went to the small of your back, urging you to arch and present your hips more readily for him. You couldn’t do anything but comply.

It was Steve who nudged your legs further apart with his foot edging your right to move out to a wider stance. Then he stepped back, and Bucky continued to push you forward. You almost stumbled forward, but Steve caught your hands to steady you.

And then he put your hands at his belt.

“Go on,” he urged, looking down at you, “be our good girl. You know what to do.”

Disobedience could mean death – maybe not yours, but someone else’s. They’d killed your boss in front of you without hesitation. You didn’t want to test them in the slightest. Your fingers worked open the leather belt and zipper in front of you while Bucky peeled your panties down over your ass and let them fall to the floor.

One cock in your pussy, one in your mouth, you tried to ignore their degradation and praise as they worked your body into unwanted bliss, tears falling down your cheeks and their collar hanging around your neck.

You were theirs.

READ THE SEQUEL: BIRD ON A WIRE

When I tell you these mean mafia men really came and took over my creative brain about an hour and a half ago, I'm not lying. Start to finish, they were direct, brutal, and exacting in what they wanted.

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

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[mrsbarnesblog]

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

ko-fi ao3

⭐️ - personal favorite

❤️‍🔥 - smut

🩷 - fluff

🖤 - angst

⭐️❤️‍🔥Jersey - College! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Natasha’s idea of getting a jersey with Bucky’s name turned out to be much better than you expected. (3.2k)

⭐️❤️‍🔥Push Him - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x PR Manager! Reader

When you became Avenger’s PR manager, you basically got your dream job, but one particular man, who had been staring at you every single time you were around, made you wonder whether it was because he hated or liked you. (6.8k.)

⭐️❤️‍🔥Stay quiet for me - Modern! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky fucks you while your parents sleep in the next room. (1.6k)

❤️‍🔥Little games - Gamer! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You really need to calm down, so you get under Bucky's table while he's playing with his friends. (1.4k)

🩷Sandcastles - CEO! Husband! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky is always working overtime, but when his best girls really need him, he leaves everything behind just to make you happy. (1.6k)

❤️‍🔥 New purchase - Mob! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You just got a new expensive lingerie set and decided to tease your mafia boss boyfriend with some sexy pictures. (2.3k)

⭐️❤️‍🔥 Firewood - Lumberjack! Bucky Barnes x Reader

When you decide to chop wood in your backyard, your hot neighbor, who happens to be a lumberjack, offers you some help. (4.8k)

🩷 I can't let you get hurt - Brother's best friend! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You have just moved to New York, where your adopted brother Steve has been living for 5 years. Desperate to make new friends, you give the dating app another go. You didn’t even think that you would have to ask for help from the person who has not left your thoughts for the past month - your brother’s best friend. (3.3k)

❤️‍🔥 Don't hide - Mechanic! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Somehow you ended up in a storage room with one of your dad's mechanics. (1.8k)

🩷 My everything - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before. (6.8k)

⭐️🩷Personal pillow - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You confront avengers when they start teasing Bucky about being too soft. (1.6k)

⭐️🩷 I trust you - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

When Bucky comes back from a mission with a knife wound there is only one person who can convince him to get help. (3.5k)

⭐️🩷 You deserve the world - College! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You were in a relationship with a man who had never truly cared about you, but after catching him cheating on you at a friend's party, you eventually decided to end things with him. The good news was that there was always someone who wasn't going to let you go through it alone. (4.6k)

🩷 Barbie - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky takes his best girl to watch a Barbie movie and then spoils her with gifts. (1.3k)

❤️‍🔥 Wakanda - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Reader

You visit Bucky in Wakanda, and the hidden feelings are finally coming out. (2.7k)

Requests

We could've done it earlier - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

When one of the new recruits started following you around and being too persistent, Bucky decided to help you by kissing you right in front of that guy. Though he didn't realize that he wouldn't be able to stop. (2.3k)

Night - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You wandered around the Tower at night because you couldn't sleep. In the common room, you find Bucky sitting in the dark and decide to share an ice cream pint with him.

Snowman - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

When the first snow of the year had just covered the whole of New York City, you tried to convince Bucky to play outside with you. He couldn't find the power in himself to say no to you, even if it's his least favorite time of the year.

[themorningsunshine]

Pie - eyed over you

Mafia - Baker AU 

Masterlist                         Series Masterlist

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Mentions of murder and weapons 

Word count - 3.3k

a/n - This is my first time writing an AU and I am super nervous (also because I have combined two things I can just not write about, weapons and cooking). Please let me know what you think.

Rain was pouring heavily on the roof of the shed and he wasn't sure if the old sheds meekly covering the building could contain them much longer. He couldn't care less.

He walks out of the building and into the rain, wiping his left arm on his dry coat to wipe off the blood covering it. The pouring rain caresses his face but does nothing to the ever-present frown on his forehead and the grimace on his lips.

He used to love the rain as a kid. The gentleness of the droplets, the smell of rain, and the puddles. It was so much easier back then. So innocent. He closes his eyes as droplets slide their way all over him. They touch him like they don't know what he has just done.

His frown deepens as images claw into his mind once again. He clenches his fist remembering how it had taken him mere 10 seconds to shoot 3 bullets straight into the man's head. The killing had become easier over the years. Picking the bullet and shooting straight into the target had become second nature to him.

What hadn't become easier was the aftermath. The guilt that somehow always gnawed its way into his heart. The question was there any other way?

With his eyes still closed, he brings his face towards the sky, daring the rain to wash away his thoughts the same way it has washed away the blood that stuck to his metal arm not so long ago.

He likes the rain for a completely different reason now.

It provides him with an escape.

From his mind.

His thoughts

The images. The man screaming, begging him to stop and he doesn't even feel disgusted by himself when he doesn't even falter. He left his men to take care of the body.

A face lingers in his mind, pushing away all the dark thoughts. His ma "Bucky "

It's like he can hear her call out to him, urging him to come back home.

She would have hated how he turned out.

But he tells himself he doesn't care.

It didn't matter what his ma would have thought about him. She wasn't here. She didn't have to know.

He snaps his eyes open when he doesn't feel the rain falling on his face anymore. He can still hear the raindrops thudding on the roofs of the buildings. He looks up to see a huge umbrella over his head, shielding him from the rain.

He frowns and follows the handle of the outrageous floral print object only to be met by the sight that was going to change his life forever.

The first thing he saw when his eyes met y/e/c ones was that they held a certain softness to them that he didn't think still existed in this world. He was almost afraid to take his eyes off yours as if he was scared that you would crumble down under his gaze.

But when he brought his eyes over your face and then the rest of you, he knew it was the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever landed on. That even the most beautiful paintings in the world didn't hold a candle to you.

"Are you okay?" You whispered, voice so gentle, it could calm the most violent of storms.

Bucky thinks those are the most precious three words he has ever heard. He nods his head, mostly because he doesn't speak too much these days and also because it has been a very long time since someone has asked him that question.

"I am walking that way and the rain is increasing, you don't want to get drenched. Walk with me?" You ask and he thinks he would burn the whole world down to the ground with a smile on his face if you asked.

He looks at the way you are pointing and realizes that's where his car is parked. He says, "Okay" and sees as you take a step towards him, covering the both of you with your umbrella, and his senses are filled with your smell. You smell like freshly baked cookies and coffee. It's his new favorite smell.

You take a couple of steps ahead before turning towards him and he realizes he is staring. He doesn't remember the last time when somebody had enthralled him so much. For some reason, he just can't get himself to look away.

"I have not seen you around before." He says only to hear you speak again.

"Yeah, I am kind of new here. Been less than a week." You reply with a smile on your face and Bucky thinks this cursed town has just been blessed.

You look around before commenting, "It's a beautiful town." And for the love of god, he can't figure out how this part of the town which is more of a  dumpster with remnants of buildings all around can be beautiful to somebody.

"This is not really a safe place." When you look at him with confusion in your eyes, he continues, "Especially at this time of night." As if that explanation is enough. He straightens his back and tries to get the confident, mob aura he has around everyone. "What are you doing here?"

If his slightly changed demeanor throws you off guard, you don't point it out. You just bite your lip before speaking, "What if I tell you I lost my way?"

The chuckle that leaves him is involuntary. "Really? Lost your way?"

"Hey. In my defense, it's just been a week." You place your hand on your chest in fake offense.

"Where were you heading to?"

You put your hand in your pocket before taking out a piece of paper. "Here"

Bucky takes the paper from you and looks at it with furrowed brows. "Why are you walking this way? This place is at the other end of that alley." He says before pointing out to a dark alley.

You make an o shape with your mouth before turning toward where he is pointing. "Got it. Thanks."

When you reach his car and his driver opens the door for him, he turns back before saying, "Let me drop you." It doesn't sound like a request.

"No, no. It's fine. I don't want to be trouble. Also, I am not sure your car would fit in there." You said before tilting your umbrella towards yourself.

"I'll see you around." You tell him before giving him a small wave and walking away, a smile still etched on your lips.

Bucky stands there, watching you go, and realizes he didn't ask your name. But he'd be damned if he let you go in that alley alone. He asks one of his men to make sure that you reach your destination safely.

"Keep an eye from afar." He instructs him. Voice cold and commanding.

But the frown on his head and the grimace on his lips are a little less evident on the way back.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" Bucky's voice bellowed around the dark room, startling everyone around him.

"S- sir, I tried." Peter bows his head before whimpering.

Steve, who has been standing beside Bucky's chair leans in to whisper, "He is just a kid, Buck."

Bucky rubs his hand over his face before looking at Peter trying his best to give him a soft look. "Okay, Peter. I don't have time for this. What exactly is the problem here? And don't tell me a full-blown story."

"S-sir, the new bakery. The owner says she isn't going to pay the money. Said something about taxes and also that, 'If I don't barge in there asking for weapons, don't barge into my place asking for money.'

Some of the men standing in the corner chuckle but are rewarded by a glare from Bucky.

"I don't have time to deal with a Baker. Did you tell her that everybody in town pays the money? It's for protection." He says, voice slightly irritated. The townspeople feared him. There was no doubt about that in his mind. Hence, they sent him money at the start of every month diligently. But sometimes, out of the blue, someone would come and try to be the savior, trying to rebel. He didn't understand what they wanted. He wasn't a monster. Over the years, he had relieved some people of paying the money on various occasions.

"I did tell her that, sir. She asked me who exactly is this protection from." Peter whispered, now slightly trembling with fear.

This piqued Bucky's interest. Over the years, nobody had ever asked his men the reason behind the money. They just obliged.

Peter continued, "I told her it's from the mob. Some of us. And she said she isn't going to pay us to do the bare minimum, to be human." Bucky leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes in annoyance.

Steve spoke up, "It's okay, Buck. I'll handle this. You know they all give in eventually."

Bucky opened his eyes and stood up from his chair. "Nope, I will come with you. This is different." He then looked at Sam who was standing at the other end of the room, "Receive the order of the weapons. The delivery is scheduled in an hour."

Same nodded his head before walking out of the room. Bucky dismissed the other men and along with Steve walked towards Peter, both of the men towering over him.

"Peter, are those crumbles of pie on your face?"

A shiver passed through Peter at his cold tone and he willed himself to speak, "She gave it to me, sir. I tried to refuse. Really did. But she said that I am just a kid and don't deserve - " Peter cut himself before he could speak too much. He somehow had the habit of always speaking about stuff that is supposed to be kept secret.

A small smile found its way to Bucky's lips but it was gone as soon as it came and he patted Peter's shoulder dismissing him. "This is different." He said to Steve before walking out of the room.

And for some reason, he was sure it was true.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

"We are here, sir."

Bucky looked up from the file he was reading to his driver and then around him. It was one of the good areas of the town where families stayed, holed up in their whole little world, the darkness of the other side not fully reaching them.

Steve instructed the driver and the guard to stay in the car as the both of them walked out. "That is the one," Steve said pointing towards something.

Bucky followed his gaze and his movements faltered for a slight second. He had never seen something so - warm.

A little bakery standing between a bookstore and a cycle stand with sweets adorning its shelves looking delicious enough to lure anybody inside—soft music playing in the little speaker placed outside. People occupying the chairs outside and inside the shop, kids running around with huge grins on their faces, every one into their own little world.

It looked lively.

Bucky couldn't remember seeing something like this in the town before. Maybe he hadn't even bothered, or maybe something had really changed. With their black sunglasses and dressed up in dark colors from head to toe, he wasn't sure if he and Steve were going to fit in, but he couldn't care less.

As they walked closer, Bucky could now see most of the shop and when his eyes landed on the sole person behind the counter, his breath hitched in his throat.

Removing his sunglasses to get a better look, he stopped in his tracks when his suspicions were confirmed.

.

It was her.

The girl with the floral umbrella and the warm smile.

The girl who had somehow crept her way into his thoughts more than he would like to admit in the past week since he had seen her.

And she was beautiful.

He saw as you stood behind the counter, handing a box to a little girl with a huge grin on your face, the girl jumping up and down in excitement as you leaned towards her to whisper something.

He then saw the little girl run out of the bakery, clutching the box to her chest towards her mother as if it was the most precious thing in the world. When his eyes went back to you, he saw how you talked to the next customer, an old lady, with the same huge grin on your face.

He hadn't noticed that he had been staring until Steve cleared his throat, a smirk on his face. Before Steve could say something, Bucky muttered, "Stay here, let me handle this." He walks towards the stops with a calculated gaze and a perfected aura of confidence.

As he opens the door to the bakery, the smell of coffee and cookies hits him hard and a feeling of warmth engulfs him.

"How can I - " Your words die in your throat when your eyes land on the familiar figure.

Bucky could swear your smile gets wider.

You compose yourself before saying, "Hey, I know you. You are the cute guy from the other day."

Bucky frowns as he takes in your words. Cute? Did you just call him cute? He had been called intimidating, scary, and even sexy. But cute? He was furious. He was anything BUT cute. Also, was he allergic to something in the shop? Why the hell was his stomach suddenly fluttering?

He also ignores the way his heart is beating quicker at the realization that you remembered him. What was happening to him today? "I am looking for y/n l/n."

Your smile turned slightly mischievous as you replied, "That would be me."

Bucky's eyes almost widened at that. "You are y/n? The owner of the bakery?"

"Yup." You said popping the p as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And the last I checked, introductions went both ways."

You raised your hand towards him for a handshake and after looking at your hand for a moment, he shook it. "I am B - James." For some reason, he didn't want you to know who he was. The nickname might give it away.

You smiled at him again before returning your hand, a little too early for Bucky's liking, "So, James. What can I get you?"

He had it all planned. It was like second nature to him. I want my money. Abide by the rules, you don't want to know the consequences. It was the usual. But for some reason, his mouth had gained a mind of its own as it said before he could comprehend, "Cupcakes"

You looked at the huge display of baked goods before looking back at him, "Which one?"

Bucky gave the display a glance, he was sure he hadn't ever tasted most of them. "What do you recommend, sweets?"

He watches as you are visibly taken aback by the nickname. A smirk find its way to his lips as he watched red color creeping up to your neck.

"I - uhm" You take a breath to compose yourself. Get it together. "These red velvet cupcakes just came out of the oven and they are kinda my favorite. So.." You look at Bucky with excitement in your eyes and he likes how passionate you are about your work.

"I'll take a box."

You smile at him before bending down to pack a box of the delicacy and he watches how you oh-so-gently pick up each piece before placing it inside the box with practiced precision.

When you hand over the box to him and your hands brush, you feel the sparks through your spine once again as when you had shaken hands.

When he puts a hand in his pocket to retrieve the money, you cut him off. "Don't worry about it. It's on the house."

Bucky smiles a little before replying, "Sweets, you keep giving free goods like that and you'll have to close the shop soon." He says in a teasing voice.

"I'll let you in on a secret, James." You lean towards him as if it is the most secretive thing in the world. "This is a business strategy."

He frowns a little, trying to cover the fact that he was getting too comfortable with how close the both of you were, before saying, "How's that?"

"The first order is on the house but then you come again. And again. It's really profitable."

There is this - innocence and purity in your voice that reminds him of a little child. Of old times. Easier times. And he just stares into your eyes for as long as he can, as if they could help him escape, become a portal to a time long lost.

You don't dare to move either. His eyes are the prettiest shade of blue you have ever seen. They have this intensity to them as if hiding the stories of a lifetime and you just can't get yourself to look away. You have always loved a good mystery.

Bucky clears his throat, bringing the both of you out of the daze as he brings the teasing tone back to his voice, "What makes you think I will come back?"

You chuckle a little before giving a proud smile. "Oh, you will, James. I trust my cupcakes."

He gives you another small smile as he takes a step back. This is the longest conversation he has had with a person outside his line of work in a very long time. Everybody was just too scared but he couldn't care less.

"Goodbye, sweets." He says before letting the new customer who had just entered go ahead. 

"Goodbye, James. Until next time." You add with a wink.

Bucky walks out of the bakery, his initial motive forgotten completely. From the outside, he turns back to look at you for the one last time and watches as you say something that makes the teenage boy laugh while taking out cookies from the shelf.

A moment later, you look towards the window and your eyes meet for a fleeting second. You smile at him and give him a small wave.

Bucky turns around to walk towards his car when he notices Steve standing a few feet away with a knowing smirk on his face.

Bucky rolls his eyes before muttering with clenched teeth, "Don't"

Steve doesn't ask about the money and Bucky is glad. He isn't really sure how he would answer. Whatever happened wasn't what he was expecting.  You weren't what he was expecting.

As he slid into the back seat of his car, the image of your smile when you were that close to him lingered in his mind and he couldn't stop the way his lips had pulled slightly upward.

When the car started driving, and with Steve on a phone call, he opened the box of cupcakes and picked one to take a small bite.

As he takes the first bite, the softness and the sweetness of the cake engulf him and leave him wanting more. He doesn't remember eating something this good in a long time.

And for many reasons, he will definitely visit again.  

Next part

[sweetiebarnes]

Warm Love Summary: Bucky loves it when you keep him nice and warm. Even when Steve is around to watch. Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warnings: Cockwarming, voyeurism, dirty talk, degradation, pet names A/N: This is Day 1 of my Kinktober 2023. All mistakes are my own. As always my work is intended for adult audiences. 18+ Only! Pay attention to all warnings given. You're responsible for your own media consumption. This isn't very or as long as I had initially planned. It's just a short drabble. I have a cold right now, and I just wanted to get it out.

Bucky was currently on the brink of pleasure. The sound of your moans filled the room and felt like music to his ears. "Look at you being such a slut for Da-" The sound of a knock on his door stopped him mid-sentence. “For fucks sake, what is it?” Bucky bellowed out. You were currently bent over his desk with your dress bunched up as he pounded into you from behind. He was supposed to never be disturbed in situations like this. And considering how loud you got for him, he knew his men knew exactly what was happening. 

Steve’s head appeared in the doorway, his eyes immediately down casted to the floor. “Sorry, boss. But there’s been a situation and I knew you’d want to know.” 

Bucky lets out a frustrated groan before pulling out of you. He could hear the whimper leave your lips from the sudden emptiness. Almost immediately you stand up and begin to look for your panties. He cocks his eyebrow as he watches you, trying his best to figure out what you were doing. “We’re not done here, doll. I just need to talk to Steve about this, but you can stay and keep me warm.” Your innocent expression meets his and he could see the apprehension in your eyes. But he chooses to ignore it. “Don’t give me that look. You and I both know how needy you get for this cock. Now be a good girl and do as you’re told.”  Bucky doesn't wait for you to respond. Instead pulls you down onto his lap. He could feel your walls flutter around him and he knew that this was driving you crying. You had been just as close to your release as he was, but for now, that'll have to wait.

It didn't take long though before you clearly began to get antsy. Small wiggles turned into discreet bounces. His focus and attention on the meeting wasn't being waved though as he delivered a smack to your thigh. "If you want to give Stevie a show, all you had to do was ask, doll."

[rosepetalsinwinter]

Meant to Be — Bucky Barnes (6)

Chapter 6 — Could Winter Be a Feeling?

Pairing: mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

Word count:  2,142

Summary: A secret is revealed. Alas, our two love birds finally meet.

Warnings: depressive thoughts, betrayal, abrupt ending.

Note: A short chapter. I ended it where I did for dramatic effect. The next one will be a lot longer! Enjoy!!

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist│Series Masterlist│Series Playlist

Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

We feel the chill north winds coarse through the home despite the locked and bolted doors... this is winter, which nonetheless brings its own delights.

— Antonio Vivaldi

May 3rd, 2018

Under different circumstances, the girl might have found St. Patrick's Cathedral incredibly beautiful and enchanting. The grey building had completely transformed from the flowers and hanging lights decorating the space for the upcoming festivity. She was idling in the corner of the sitting room, waiting for her father to retrieve her.

Her bridesmaids were in the front hall, lined up with their respective groomsmen at the entrance. Fleur was nowhere to be found.

The girl shifted in her chair, feeling restless. She accidentally caught her reflection in the small mirror on the wall and froze. Her complete image stared back at her, and she barely recognized herself. Her painted lips were downturned in a partial gloom, and dark circles peeked through her glowy skin. Her veil created a halo around her head, bathing her in an air of innocence.

She looked like a bride.

She didn't look like herself.

The girl shot from her seat, suddenly feeling hot. Her lower body came into full view, displaying her figure. Her dress engulfed her, feeling too tight in some places and loose in others. She towered in her heels, like a statue or awkward skyscraper, swaying this way and that.

Eventually, the heat became too much to handle. The girl hastily walked out, staggering like a drunkard, until she found the restroom. She sighed in relief once cool water came in contact with her scorching skin. She let the water stream down her elbow, as close to the sleeve as she could risk.

Already she was feeling better. The girl wouldn't dare ruin her makeup; instead, she ran the back of her hands against her neck and ears, relishing in the coolness it offered. A growing sound in the hall caught her attention— feminine voices nearing the restroom.

What would they think after finding the bride in such state of disarray?

She immediately went into the first stall to avoid a confrontation.

The clacking of heels echoed harshly, and from a crack in the stall door, the girl saw two women enter.

"I still can't believe that bastard is getting married, Nebula," said the woman in the green dress.

"I know, and so suddenly!" Nebula exclaimed. She was wearing blue. "Think he got her pregnant, Gamora?"

Two women were fixing their makeup and talking about her, though she couldn't find it in herself to care. Let them think she was pregnant.

"No way! James Barnes is a lot more careful than that."

"Well," Nebula said mischievously, "if she isn't pregnant yet, she will be soon."

The girl tuned the rest of the conversation out and leaned her head against the stall. She didn't want to hear them talk about her future as if they knew more. She didn't want to listen to them talk about kids.

Her feet were starting to hurt, so she focused on that. She hoped she wouldn't trip in front of everyone. On second thought, it wouldn't be so bad if she did. Maybe, just maybe, the wedding would be postponed if she twisted her ankle badly enough. Or, perhaps, it would be better to get the whole ordeal over with.

"You didn't hear about her mother?" Nebula suddenly hissed.

The mention of her mother broke the girl out of her stupor. She became hyper-aware of every word.

"Eleanor Burgundy? Doesn't she help host the American Ballet Theatre Gala every year? She's pretty."

"Was pretty."

The girl stopped breathing.

"Didn't you hear? She's dead. I went to the funeral last Sunday."

"Shit, Nebula!"

"Yeah. The Barnes were all there, with the Rogers. I even saw Tony Stark. I didn't see the daughter, though."

The girl stumbled, stepping backwards. She heard the words loud and clear but couldn't understand them. She felt cold all over, a stark contrast from before. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Gamora ask something.

"How'd she die?"

Nebula's voice dropped to a conspiring whisper. "She was murdered."

The girl tittered. She couldn't help it. The moment the words registered, the girl couldn't keep her body shaking as she tried to suppress her laugh. To think she was under the impression the worst had already passed. God was really testing her.

One of them was washing her hands, and the girl's laughter was lost under the sound of the faucet.

"You didn't hear it from me, but apparently, Mrs. Burgundy was against the marriage. So James Barnes killed her."

"It was Eleanor's idea," her father had said. "Your marriage to James Barnes was her idea."

"Jesus!" Their voices moved away as if they were leaving. "That's messed up, even for James. And she's still marrying him?" The door shut behind them, and they were gone after shaking her entire world.

The girl laughed loudly now that she was alone.

"Bahamas," her father had told her.

"What is she doing in the Bahama?"

"Staying away from you."

The girl covered her mouth, giggling through her fingers. After a moment, her laughter ended with a sudden sob. Her breaths were coming in too quickly and not quickly enough. The girl dug her manicured nails into her palms, focusing on the sharp pain radiating through her hands rather than the crushing weight on her chest.

Was she sick? She felt sick. Like she was congested and overcome with the flu, making her ears ring and her head heavy.

She threw open the stall and fell against the counter, dry sobbing between crazed laughter. A minute passed—maybe two—before she straightened her shoulders. Her leer fizzled away, replaced instead by a numbness that comfortably settled in her bones. She was tired.

Her feet moved of their own volition, and she found herself in front of a set of large double doors. The beginning notes of an orchestra emerged from the other side.

"There you are," her father said. "I was just coming to get you." His voice sounded far away as if he were on a different planet entirely. He lowered her veil, then moved her around until she was on his left, placing her arm in his. "Ready?"

The girl must have nodded because Danial took a deep breath and secured his grip.

"Remember to smile." Her father's voice echoed in her ear, and she swivelled her head toward him. They were standing in front of the doors leading to the altar—to James Barnes. Any moment the doors would open, and the girl would be forced to vow her life away to a man she did not love.

She looked her father in the eyes. "I won't ever forgive you."

Danial scoffed. "You say that now, but marriage will change your view of life. What I did won't seem so bad."

She didn't let her gaze waver. "Is Mama dead? I heard she died."

Her father visibly stiffened. "Where did you hear that?"

The doors opened, and soft music reached her ears. Her father looked at her for a moment longer before he cleared his throat, diverting his gaze to the hundreds of people trying to get a peek at the bride.

"That she was murdered."

Her father abruptly dragged her forward, and her words were confirmed. His face was stoic, his jaw clenched, and his movements choppy.

She couldn't look away, trying desperately to find a lie in his expression. They were halfway down the aisle when a camera flash made her blink, and she finally diverted her gaze.

The girl might have found the Cathedral beautiful if the room wasn't three shades too bright and spinning like a top. The carpeted floor beneath her was a deep red, considerably contrasted to her white strappy heels and manicured toes.

So lost in thought, the girl barely realized they had reached the altar. Danial placed a forced kiss on her forehead and shoved her hands in her fiancé's cold ones.

The girl looked at her father one last time, knowing she would never see him again. She was surprised to see tears in his eyes and a hesitancy there that she would have never expected from him.

It was only for a second—barely—but her gaze moved behind her father's head, and she recognized a face she thought she would never see.

Dove waved at the girl with a hesitant smile. She stood out amongst a sea of neutrals and pastels in her red, cowl-neck dress. Her other hand was entwined with Peter—no, Pietro's. The girl's mouth parted with a silent gasp. She didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was hard to ignore. She recalled how adamant Dove was to become her friend when the two met all those years ago. Dove was pretty, strong, and outgoing. She was smart, with an unusual affinity for mobster movies. The signs had been there all along.

Her two best friends sat together solemnly as if they hadn't betrayed her, and they dared to smile and wave like she wasn't slowly deteriorating from the inside. Was she finally all alone in the world?

There was Fleur; Fleur, with her mysterious behaviour and tragic past. Fleur, who pretended not to know certain things, and who somehow knew everything.

The girl whipped her head to the front and fixed her eyes on the top button of her fiancé's suit. She noticed with numb amusement that James' white dress shirt was ruffled, and he was wearing a bow instead of a tie.

His grip tightened, and he led the girl up a step toward the altar. He reached for her then and lifted the veil away from her face, seeing her properly for the first time.

Somehow, it didn't shock the girl that the man in front of her was the same one she'd seen in the hotel's lobby earlier. Her ability to be surprised had lowered immensely. James, however, looked like he'd seen a ghost. His eyes, startling as before, were revealed to be a steel blue. The girl's eyes drifted to James' pink lips when he licked them, but she had to look away when he gulped audibly. She faced the altar and nodded numbly at the priest as a greeting.

James' hands were big in hers, rough and calloused, while hers were soft and pliant. The girl wondered how much innocent blood flowed between the lines of his palms—if it was as red as her father's or as thick.

Theirs was a traditional ceremony. The Barnes were Eastern Orthodox, a fact that made her laugh when she first learned it. It was a trend in literature, it seemed, for evil and familial men to be religious in certain aspects. Did they think believing in a God absolved them of their sins?

The priest droned on, reciting prayer after prayer, performing one ritual after the next. The girl followed along, though she wasn't paying any attention. She was stuck on a single detail that somehow slipped past her before.

She recognized him—James Barnes. Something about him felt oddly familiar, maybe the way he said her name.

"I do."

Last week someone had said her name the same way, with the same cadence, tone, and pace. She was drunk the night of the party but, somehow, remembered a pair of hands on her waist and warm breath on her neck. Her name; said the same way, with the same cadence, tone, and pace.

She had met him before, had she not? That night at the party.

"Hey," he asked softly, dipping his head to look her in the eyes, "you okay, baby?"

Those same eyes. Those same lips.

"I do," she replied mindlessly. James removed her engagement ring and transferred it to her right hand. Then, he revealed another band, just as big, ugly, and heavy, and slid it onto her left ring finger. She did the same with him.

A feeling in her gut surfaced. One of dread and fear.

James Barnes killed her mother. And she was now married to him.

"You may kiss the bride."

James tugged her closer until she had no choice but to look at him, and he smiled down at her. His eyes drifted to her lips before licking his own.

Everything in the girl was screaming at her to run. To never look back. James Barnes was dangerous, and she would ultimately die a slow and painful death if she was associated with him.

James' lips were right there. So close the girl could almost taste them. Though, she never got to.

The last thing she saw before the world turned black were his steel-blue eyes, and she thought, with sudden clarity, that if he were not a monster, she could easily find a safe place amongst his beautiful blue.

Instead, she found black.

Note: I feel the need to apologize. Sorry  :(  :/

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Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

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[purple-babygirl]

my bucky?

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

Word count: 7,390

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

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

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

~

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

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

Luck wasn’t exactly his best friend though.

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he in the office?”

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

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

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

Bucky protects her and is here for her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angeră?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angeră—”

“Please, Bucky, I’m sorry.”

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

“Baby, let me—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angel, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky only swallowed, going dead silent at her question.

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

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

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

“They were bothering you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Loved?” Bucky could hear his heart shattering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

She was in absolute agony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was tired. Terrified. She needed Bucky.

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

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

There was no way out for here, was there?

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

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

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

She didn’t dare linger on Bucky, however.

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is she?” Bucky asked immediately.

“Tied up somewhere cold.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me hear her voice.”

“No,” Lloyd chuckled.

“I wanna destroy you.” Hansen laughed.

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

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

“Let her go.” please

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

Lloyd had broken her wrist.

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

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

“At himself, maybe.” Roseanne shrugged politely.

“Please help me go to him, Roseanne.”

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

“Mr. Barnes has been shot.”

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was enough time away from Bucky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky—”

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

“Bucky, I—”

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

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

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

“You don’t have to say that, angel—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky lowered his head in shame again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lucky me,” she whispered in his shoulder.

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

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

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

“Promise me something though.”

“Anything.”

“No more killing people on my behalf.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it hurt, angel?”

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

"Does it hurt?"

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

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

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

~

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

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

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[huffelpuff210]

My new list for the dark

Biker Bucky Barnes x abused reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Dark alpha Steve Rogers x dark alpha Bucky Barnes x dark alpha Tony stark x omega reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Dark professor Steve Rogers x innocent reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Soft dark Stucky x reader

Part 1

Part2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Dark professor Tony Stark x shy reader

Part 1

Dark shifter Bucky Barnes x shifter reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Dark mafia Bucky Barnes x reader

Part 1

Part 2

Mob boss Steve Rogers x innocent reader

Part 1

Part 2

[neonovember]

Bruised Knuckles

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

9K words

a/n: this one is a really long chapter, I went a little overboard, maybe this makes up for my procrastination

The whizz of a snowball blurs crystal white from the corner of your eye as your feet crunch across the gravelled road, the breeze of melting ice from the summer heat just misses you, and for a second you think- he's going to hit you for real

You can hear the barrelling of shoes behind you, and you know he’s advancing. He makes it really obvious when he tries to send an outstretched hand towards you, attempting to trip you, you laugh maniacally as you slip past wavering fingers.

“You gotta be a lot faster than that Rogers!” You howl it into the wind as it takes it, and the grunts of running are heard behind you as you slip through the alleyway into the trail that leads to the pine forest on the edge of town.

“C'mon, that’s not fair!” Steve shouts after you, turning your head you catch his staggering frame, hands pressed into his knees as he bends over, huffing and puffing as if the world didn’t have enough air to fill his lungs.

“Hey, you’re the one with the so-called impeccable aim” You tease

You slow down your pace as you feel the wind ruffle your hair, it’s summertime and you drink in the syrupy goodness that comes with evenings in daylight. The broad pine trees tower over the both of you, leaves and sprinkles of birch fall from the tops and settle around you as you lean against a tree. You would never get used to this, the earthy smell of some thousand-year-old monuments, the laughter of Steve’s voice. Never.

“God, I wish I could just stay here forever”, You whisper to him, eyes glossing over the clearing you both arrived at, an ingrained letter of your initials in one of the trees to the left, a fire pit surrounded by rocks, now ashes and dirt.

“We could, you know we can” Steve’s voice comes back, between awkward breaths of lung-filled air.

“Yes we could, we could, but then we’d just be like our parents, stuck in a town that’s stuck in the past. God, I know my father would never forgive me if I ended up like him” You say solemnly, kicking a stone at the base of your aged converse.

“Come with me,” Steves says suddenly, and you look up to see his staggering form leaning across a tree. His breathing seems to be back to normal, as he walks towards you. Suddenly though, it's your heart that has begun to thump loudly behind your ribs.

“Huh? What- What do you mean?” You ask bringing up a hand to wipe the perspiration settling uncomfortably on your forehead.

“Let’s go, me and you, right now. Let's leave this town and everything in it for good. Your mom, my father, fuck, everyone” Steve urges, his hands wavering around his words, he's never been afraid to look you in the eye, but now his focus is anywhere but you. God, he couldn't do this without you, he needed you, and now he was praying to the heavens you needed him just as bad.

“I-“ You begin to form your reply, before forcing Steve's chin to face you, he had grown a whole foot taller over the winter and it was awkward to reach up at him at such a low angle.

“Look at me Stevie” You plead, and all it takes is the sound of your calling for him to do anything you ask him to. 

Steve’s cerulean blues watch you closely, the burning feeling of anxiety and trepidation spilling into his stomach as waits on your every word.

You begin mouthing words, your eyes shining with an expression his only since one before, but he isn't able to understand. Like his dove into the deep end, your words are muffled and unintelligible, you look at him then, confusion lacing your features. You look at him like he’s turned into an alien, and he can't fucking hear you goddamnit. You mouth those same words, yet they don't reach Steve, hitting the surface, unable to penetrate and find him.

The edges of his vision begin to burn a dirty orange, and the pine trees surrounding the both of you begin to melt. The bright orange storm of a wildfire burns behind you, lighting up your features like a beacon. Steve begins to scream, he tries to scream, he fails to scream, he reaches for you, shaking as he nudges your shoulder to look behind. The confusion on your face increases as your eyebrows furrow and a shivering fear wraps itself around Steve's spine, as the fire edges closer and closer.

You're not listening, acting as if nothing has happened as the heat drips down Steve’s back, a feeling of grief washes over Steve as he realises your going to die out here, in the town you hate, you're going to be buried 6 feet into the dark dirt of this place for eternity. 

And for the first time, Steve panics. He can't speak, he can't move,  he can't save you. He's a little boy again, hanging onto the last bar of the monkey bars as you cheer him on from below. But no matter how far he stretched out his hand he can't reach it, he can't reach you. And those same hot tears spill down his face, dripping down his neck, dirty and humiliating and fucking weak. The flickering tongues of the wild forest fire wraps itself around the pine trees, and before Steve can reach for you, before Steve can even scream, you're engulfed by the formidable inferno, and like a flame to a photograph, you’re gone.

Just like that.

-- -

Steve wakes with a shivering sweat, his internal furnace staining the sheets as the glistening perspiration slides down his back uncomfortably.

The sun is just peeking through the fluttering linen curtains, and Steve reaches around to place the fallen alarm clock back onto the side table. It seems it was knocked during his slumber, his slumber. You had begun to seep into his mind until you began to stain even his subconscious, confronting him with past memories that seemed like mirages all these years later.

There were ginormous, those pine trees that towered over the edge of town, he remembers how they seemed like giants compared to his sullen form. In a sense, Steve admired them, they were resilient, to man-made destruction, against the forces of nature, they stood still and remained unchanged, he doesn't doubt they would be the same even now when the both of you had changed so much. He doesn't doubt those engraved initials would still feel the same against his thumb, even if Steve felt something akin to betrayal when you had scraped both your initials into one of the birch trunks.

Those pine tree roots that sprung beneath the surface that travelled for miles, seemed to interlink the both of you, wrapping themselves around you until you both would be forever joined, somehow, even thousands of miles away. Steve would never escape their grasp, he could never escape you, no matter how hard he tried he was nothing against the monumental giants of nature. 

A burn of nostalgia and regret begins to unfurl in Steve's stomach as he begins to piece back the fractured parts of the dream that had slowly begun to slip between his fingers. He's reaching desperately, hopelessly, reaching for them, grabbing at scraps of years where he wasn't always so mad, so exhausted, so indifferent.

It had been years since his mind had reopened the memories from his childhood, and it is with caution, those times were locked in a chained drawing cabinet, filed impeccably and thrown into the Mariana trench and left to rot. There wasn't time, and money to waste on nostalgia, not in the life Steve had chosen for himself, not after those same hands reaching for that chest were blooded and raw with sin. No, no, those memories were long tainted, there was no point in digging up old graves.

The bleeding red digits indicate it's far too early in the morning, and therefore just the right time to get up, for Steve Rogers, at least. The crumbled and sweaty sheets are left haphazardly on the bed for the in-house maid to clean, and Steve wastes no time jumping into a cold shower to wash off the uncomfortable reality of his past.

The activities from last night still seeped into his blond locs, across his chest, and between his fingers, and Steve grumbles as he recalls the waste of space and energy that informant had been. Steve turns the water a scalding hot and the nostalgia, memory and fevered dream of you is washed down the drain along with the dirty red specks of blood and dust that were still stuck to the edges of his skin.

He just needed to talk to you today, and use this poorly organised meeting to clear his head. If he set boundaries, if he set an endgame then it would be easier to de-attach himself from the grasp of contingencies. Steve wouldn’t make you a liability, he couldn’t, he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he did.

The clank of Steve’s cuff links roll across the chestnut drawer and they remind him of the years with his father. The red and white pills rolling across the rotting wooden floors of the home you wouldn’t call home. His snake eyes and silvery skin seemed to pale and scale each day that passed. Steve shakes his head, muttering as he clicks them into his cuffs. As far as he knew, his father was as good as dead. To him at least.

His fingers grasp the keys to his car, they jingle in his broad palm and he pockets them swiftly, the ring of his cell phone resounds through the quiet room and Steve reaches for it quickly. A call this early in the morning meant one thing and one thing only, what had occurred in the night was not yet finished, seeping into the safety of the morning light.

Steve nods along to the gruff voice sounding from the receiver, a hand coming to push back his fallen locks, leaving the room Steve enters the Manor's kitchen space.

Bucky is perched on one of the silver stools, sipping on a glass filled with what seemed to be orange juice, but with closer inspection was clear to be all parts liquor with a splash of the citric acid. God, alcohol this early in the morning? Steve ought to get Bucky a therapist.

Bucky senses Steve's presence before he even steps into the room, eyes trained on his figure practically hugging the cell phone perched between his ear and shoulder. A puzzled expression fills Bucky’s face as if to say ‘What are they saying?’ And Steve waves him off as he takes the steaming cup of coffee waiting for him on the ceramic countertop.

The kitchen is soundless this early in the morning safe for Steve's peaceful sips and Bucky’s fervent gulps, and a few minutes pass before Steve ends the call abruptly, a grim expression overtaking his features.

Bucky stands at attention, his eyebrows raising as he awaits steves explanation for such an early call.

“Got some trouble from the east end, some low-level goons messing with some of our men. One of the guys wants to meet up to talk ownership over the east side docks.” Steve replies, throwing the cell phone onto the granite counter, it clatters and bounces for a second before it settles in the corner.

“Isn’t that owned by, ya know, our runaway girl's husband?” Bucky replies, pushing against the counter to get up and walk towards Steve.

Steve nods, hands bent across his chest as he leans against the counter.

“That’s what’s confusing, Micheal, you know the guy? Short stoic and always a little on edge? He’s saying that Matthews is willing to talk about some sort of alignment. Make that area some fort of peacekeeping, owned by the both of us” Steve replies.

“It’s not bad, both of our men up there would mean the problem of those pocket-picking gangs would be solved, less of a strain on us” Bucky nods along, before adding

“But, Micheal, he’s-, he isn’t really known for being the most reliable ya know? Gets you caught up in the details, blows them out of proportion and leaves too many loose ends” Bucky reasons, his body now across from Steve.

“It makes sense though, those rising groups haven't just incapacitated our operations, Matthews is suffering from their outstanding resilience to incapacitate them. But you’re right, Micheal can’t be completely trusted, that’s why I need to talk to some contacts and see what’s been seeping into conversations underground. Either way, I need to check on our men up there, see if everything alright” Steve sighs, mind reeling over the impending tasks on his mind, but most importantly you.

“You were meant to see her this morning, right” Bucky smirks as if reading Steve's mind from across him.

“Told her we’d iron some things out in the morning, promised to pick her up. This thing I’ve done, I don't want it to be for nothing Bucky, and I don’t want to go back on my word” Steve says solely, checking his phone for the 3rd time for your call.

“I need you and Sam to fill in for me,” Steve begins

Bucky nods before whipping his head to face Steve’s

“Sam? Why does he have to come, I'm perfectly capable of talking to her by myself” Bucky grumbles, and just like clockwork, Sam comes strolling in, his shirt rolled up to his forearms as he dusts off the specks of blood littering his chest.

Bucky looks towards the man in disgust, eyes rolling at the displays of violence clearly sprayed across his body. 

“Really? Do you have to walk around the house looking like you've just come from massacring a family of 5?” Bucky groans, going to plunk his glass into the sink.

“Who’s to say I didn’t” Sam replies, a mischievous grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, as he bumps into Bucky, pushing him to the side with his hip as he washes off the grime covering his fingers.

“Let's face it Bucky, you’re a bit…intimidating.” Steve trails off, amusement on his face as he watches Sam groan at the discovery of a stain ruining his dress shirt.

Bucky swirls his body to face Steve’s, his eyebrows raised in shock.

“Inti-intimidating? There’s a man in this room with blood-stained cuffs, and I’m the one who’s intimidating?” Bucky sputters

Steve shrugs his shoulders, a whisper of a smile etching itself on his face.

“You just have this lone wolf thing about you, it scares people off” Steve murmurs thoughtfully as if he’s been analysing Bucky’s palatability before.

“C'mon, she was practically telling me to piss off the last time I talked to her, she out of all people can handle a Barnes”. Bucky replies, an annoyed expression on his face.

Steve bristles at Bucky’s comment, for some reason, a fuelled hatred fills his chest at the mention of you having to ‘handle’ anything.

“She’s already agreed, there’s no need to intimate date her further, besides,  from what I’ve heard it seems she’s the one intimating you both” Steve lets out a comical laugh, swiping his phone from the counter and shoving it into his suit pants.

“Guess it’s a road trip?” Sam replies, before dodging an incoming plate thrown at him from the hands of Bucky.

“I swear to god…” Bucky replies gruffly, shouldering in his suit jacket before pushing past a snickering Sam

“Hey-“ Steve calls, his voice a little lower than moments before. Bucky’s stiff back turns slowly at the sound of Steve’s suddenly baritone voice that bounces through the swallowing hallways.

“Don’t scare her, try and be- just don’t show her your daggers or pull some stupid shit, I mean it. She’s different, I mean she was practically inducted into this life but she was always kept hidden, ya know? Never knew how deep it got” Steve says, the icy expression that morphs his features into the dark formidable creature he turns the air around them a frosty cold.

Both Sam and Bucky nod, they understood a command when they were told one, and this one seemed as if Steve’s entire being was hanging onto it.

— -

It's well into the morning light when you finally rise from your slumber, the beating heat slipping through the cracks of your blinds. A sense of anxiety rushes through you as you realise you’re late to work, clamouring out of bed and ending up on the floor.

However the sound of the neighbour kids bustling footsteps through the apartment complex eases your worries, it’s Sunday. Your well-earned, and only, day off.

You lay there, on the dusty carpet of your bedroom floor, and drink in the bliss of a day without a multitude of tasks that needed to be completed. Your legs ached from the turbulent labour you’d that had been forced on you daily for a job you knew didn’t pay for the work it took. You couldn't let yourself dwell on it, you'd only just ends up in a spiral of depression and regret you don't know you could pull yourself from. What you did need was coffee, you think you might collapse back onto the floor if you don't get that liquid gold in your body.

What can you say? Old habits die hard, for you, it was caffeine and for your husband it was knuckles on skin.

-- -

Your shower lasts less than the amount of time you have warm water, which is about 15 minutes. Not nearly enough to wash the grime and dirt that was always stuck to the back of your ears or other inconspicuous cracks you’d only find after the water had drained out.

It’s when you're pouring yourself a steaming brew into your favourite mug when you get the text. Your phone lights up, illuminating the small kitchen darkened by the black-out curtains you’d bought to keep the sun out. You can't help but grow audibly as you fear that your one day off would be interrupted by your boss’s demand for you to come in. It wouldn't be the first time she had thought you lived breathed and slipped on her every beck and call.

Flipping to the screen side up, your heart hammers loudly against your rips when you are confronted by an unknown number outlined in dark text

Something came up, Sam and Bucky are gonna come pick you up?

Steve.

You should be thinking about how he had found your number, or who this Sam is, but all your mind reels at is his apparent absence. Hell, you don’t know why but your heart sinks at that. You had thought that maybe, stupidly, you'd find out why he truly wanted to help you, use this meet-up to determine what his endgame was, and quell the what-ifs and questions that had been swirling around your skull since yesterday.

It was foolish really, to think that he would just open himself to you, that he wouldn't don the same mask he wore when he was ripping off drug lords and executing their men. You were simply another source of information to him, nothing more, nothing less. At least this way you knew where you stood.

Your phone begins to light up as the bubbles of an incoming text display on the grey chat. 

That alright?

He's asking for your permission? You can’t help but laugh, it erupts from the depths of your stomach and escapes through your mouth. And without even a blink of a second, you bent over, loud laughs leaving your mouth uncontrollably as hiccuped tears run down your cheek. The man who had no less than shown up at your workplace followed you home, and send his men after you were asking for your permission. You knew it meant nothing, you knew he would still send them anyway, he just wanted to make sure you did too.

You snatch your phone from the laminate counter, scoffing as you type out a reply,

Perfectly fine.

It was NOT perfectly fine, but you’re too tired at this point to argue, a little talk wouldn't ruin your day, and most importantly he wouldn't ruin your day.

Plopping yourself on your velvet couch you wipe the fallen tears stricken on your cheeks, you still had your coffee. Maybe you could throw that at him, he may be a formidable monster that dominated the criminal scenes of New York, but he was still human, and coffee was still fucking hot.

-- -

You watch Bucky and Sam pull into your apartment before they do, it wasn’t hard, a car like that in a place like this stood out like a sore thumb, you wouldn't doubt by the time they'd dragged you out of your home that they’d find their tires missing.

A smile lights your face at the thought, now that would be funny.

They exit with the car still running, donning tailored suits that clung to every dip and stretch of their body. You don't wait for them to knock when you catch their heavy footsteps pounding against the concrete balcony, maybe if they thought you weren't home they would just leave you alone.

You remain huddled into your coach,  watching their tall shadows move about the front of your apartment. They wouldn't try and break in right..?

There is a hurried knock that causes you to jump involuntarily, and it is soon followed by a bellowing baritone voice that seeps into the cracks of your plaster walls.

“Doll, we ain't got all day, and I know you’re in there so why don't you be a pretty peach and open the door?” Bucky’s voice causes you to bristle, and your teeth press into your bottom lip nervously. There is a sliver of dominance in his voice that doesn't quite reach the surface. Enough years and you learn when someone is trying to hold back. 

There is a rummaging of clothes before Bucky begins to speak again,

“This look like some reinforced steel Sam?, How about tripe pane glass?”

A man's voice soon follows, replying with a chuckled no.

“You hear that doll? Your door isn't some reinforcement against us, it won't protect you, I figure I could bust it down with the tip of my foot. Now I don’t think your neighbours would quite like that disturbance this early in the morning hm?” Bucky’s voice is muffled by your door, but you can tell he's stepped closer, his lips pressed into the crack between the door and your hallway wall.

“Am I right doll?” Bucky reiterates, his voice deepening a dangerous octave, the kind that probably gets him what he wants, no questions asked.

Your eyes travel to your apartment door, the paint chipping off the sides of the wooden frame, dust falls to the bottom as Bucky taps his foot against it, chuckling at the pitiful sound it makes in return.

Yeah, your door is practically a pillow against them.

You cough loudly as you attempt to form a reply, the words getting caught up in your throat

“Yes, I'm coming, just, just don’t break down my door please” You finally let out, you hope to god you sounded the least bit content, but as you fumble with the door handle you know there remains a tremor in your voice.

One last swift turn does it, and you open your door swiftly.

They is a short moment that passes, where they both seize you up again as if you'd changed from those days before. Bucky eyes wander behind your shoulder, practically scrutinising the contents of your home.

“For your information, this door has withstood a grade A snow storm,” You say, your hand resting on the corner of your door,

Bucky flashes you a sickening grin, his canines shining against the morning light. The man beside him is just as tall, only a mere few centimetres below Bucky, his suit stretches against the expansive muscle of his chest and shoulder, and with the veins running up his arm you don't doubt that he could quite literally crash you with his bare hands.

His stance is domineering, and his short black hair makes him look infinitely more lethal. He looks the picture of the men who work for your husband, and occupy the hallways of your home at all times, however, there is one defining difference. His eyes. Even whilst they are a deep earthy brown the kind shadowed by trees and left in the darkness of the underground, they are soulful.

They carry a hidden kindness, even if they may be muddled by violence and bloodshed, it is still there. The sliver of humanity that separates Sam from the thousands of men you've encountered, those men of your husbands whose fox eyes watched your every move, surveying you, scrutinising you as if to find a reason to hunt you down. 

You never found peace in that home, for your every move was watched by cameras and hundreds of pairs of scrutinising eyes that were bought with money that was caked in blood.

‘Do you want another minute to judge my apartment or can you shove me into the boot of your Mercedes already” You sigh, grabbing your bag, and throwing in your phone and a jacket.

“Your lead, and for your information, it's a Maserati” Sam chuckles edging closer so he whispers it into your ear. A shiver runs down your back and you fix your shoulder, locking the door behind you as you walk down the concrete steps that crumble beneath your feet.

Sliding into the backseat, you don't notice the way their eyes linger on you, watching you from the review mirror as your gaze travels across your apartment and neighbourhood, the kids are still playing some game of ball, the basketball aged and torn apart from its frequent use, the old man at the bottom of the stairs is resting on an armchair, smoking a cigarette you've told him countless times will contribute to his death.

You bid them farewell, as Bucky turns out of the parking lot, the pine trees towering at the edge of the road blur a green and brown as you let the scenery around you consume you. This side of the city can be beautiful when it wants to be, when the morning dew hasn't yet fully melted, and the blanket of security covers you just for that moment.

You don't like to, but it reminds you of your childhood strangely, the trees and the way the sunlight shines through the branches. You don’t quite know why, it presses into the edges of your mind, like half-memories, like a big chunk of your mind has been cut open and taken out. There's a searing pain whenever your mind travels to those years before, a white-hot burn whenever you think too hard about it. So you don't. You close your eyes and rest your head against the leather seat, with two pairs of eyes watching you the whole ride.

-- -

Your body moves along with the twists and turns of the route Bucky follows almost mechanically, Sam had gone into a rather long phone call, the cell phone perched between his head and shoulder.

The terrain has changed from the concrete skyscrapers of Brooklyn, venturing into the natural scenic roads separating the buzz and hum of the city that was always alive. You hadn't travelled or even explored much since your settlement in Brooklyn, so much of where Bucky was taking you was unknown to you, you would’ve liked it, you think. If you weren't on the run and had notches of your past scorched into your back. Maybe in another life, you would've spent your twenties backpacking across the states, an ocean blue van that would be your home.

Now though, it takes everything to push the rising anxiety back down into your chest and not have a meltdown in the back of Bucky’s car.

As the smooth city roads turn into fragmented gravel paths you shift in your seat, edging closer to the window, your eyes watch the world around you evolving into the nature that once replaced New York, Bucky almost senses your wonderment, and quietly pulls the window down an inch or two. The scent of sea foam and wet dirt waft through your hair as you breathe it in, you reach out with a hand, letting the soft wind from Bucky’s press of the accelerate twirl and glide between your fingers.

You catch a pair of eyes watching you closely, but before you can look up they’re looking away, back to doing what they once were before.

The speed of the car begins to slow down, and Bucky turns into a dirt road surrounded by forest trees. A sense of unease fills you before Bucky drives up to a clearance, the shrubbery and foliage clear up to some sort of national park.  A long lake snakes around the rocky mountains, hidden behind the same deep brown trees towering over the sides of the road.

There is a car park towards the front, in which Bucky pulls into and parks swiftly, your gaze travels across the park, a wooden sign at the front is carved with the name of the clearing, some founder or explorer you had probably learned in 8th grade but is forgotten at the back of your mind. A map is attached below, along with the phone number of the park ranger closest. Triangle-shaped yellow signs warn hikers of the habitual animals that roam the parkland, and you smile as a figure of walking ducklings urge drivers to be wary.

There are a few cars parked around Bucky’s; a large red minivan with aged and peeling bumper stickers attached to the back, a dark black jeep, and a small sedan with one of those stick figure family stickers at the back.

You don't wait for Bucky or Sam before opening the door, the crunch of your sneakers against the gravel path.

“Wait a sec” Calls Bucky, you look behind your shoulder to find him rummaging in the backseat of the car, before shutting it and jogging up to you.

“Sam’s gotta finish up with something” Bucky explains as you catch Sam half smile as he continues with the phone call. You and Bucky must seem out of place, him with his perfectly tailored suit and you with your lazy Sunday outfit you pulled from your laundry.

Bucky leads you both to a park bench, and as you being to settle down Sam pops up, sitting across and joining Bucky, shooting you a quick apology.

“So, since you've agreed with this... arrangement, we've got to set out some ground rules and finalise a few things” Bucky begins, taking out a few papers with typed-out paragraphs of jargon you probably wouldn't understand.

“Do I need a lawyer..?” You ask as you eye the printed documents sitting across from you.

“It's all a formality, Steve.. he uh, he likes to be professional with his dealings is what I can say” Sam chuckles, crossing his head

“In exchange for your voluntary participation and the provision of sensitive and confidential information, Steve will provide you with fully serviced protection and surveillance of oneself and accommodation. Basically, me and Buck will come around each day to check everything is in order, and one of our men with be stationed at your apartment” Sam continues, nodding towards the documents before you.

“So ill be followed everywhere,” You reply, you had just escaped a life of constant surveillance and control, and right now it just felt like you were taking two steps back.

“I know what it sounds like, but most of our men are more friendly and less..well, automatic and mechanical. Steve only really trusts us, so you'll be seeing us more often than some random guy with a gun” Bucky says, smoothing down his suit pants.

Steve only really trusts us

You don't know why but your heart fumbles at Bucky's inclination that Steve cared about who was around you, your comfortableness, your satisfaction. It seemed so wrong after years of negligence to truly be cared after.

The loud sound of a dog barking causes you to tense just a fraction, your eyes flinch and you shift nervously in your seat. Get your shit together dammit, it was just a husky running beside its owner, the park never said it was free of dogs, but you can't help but stare at its blubbery open mouth, spit hanging from its sharpened teeth and a look of pure animalistic instinct in its eyes.

Stop, this isn't like the ones he keeps. Stop. overreacting.

It seems as if the dog sparked some sort of realisation that you were not in the safety of your apartment or in your workplace diner, that you were in a space occupied by the public in which anyone, even your husband could enter.

The more they talk, the more you itch with the anxiety bubbling in your chest, the bench under you is hard and itchy, you don't like it, and the sun has risen high into the sky, beating down on you. You try to keep up with them, head fuzzy as you nod after their every word, they glance at each other after a while of your scattering mind.

Both Sam and Bucky notice your uneasiness and the way your eyes dart around the nature park. Years in this life taught them how to read someone easily, and right now, you were practically crawling out of your skin.

You just, weren't used to being so out in the open, you feared you were running out with a printed target on your back saying “Shoot Me”. In the darkness of your apartment at least you felt somewhat safe, here, where you didn't know where you could hide, or if there even was somewhere to hide, the expanse of shrubbery and forest trees looked domineering, like they tower over you and swallow you whole, you didn't feel safe. In fact, you felt like it was open fucking season.

They'd picked an open space out in public, so you dint feel boxed in or isolated, a chance to feel a sense of normalcy whilst discussing deals with the mafia, huh, what a fucking joke. You keep readjusting your necklace, and they keep looking at you with that unreadable expression on their faces.

“You alright doll?” Sam replies, you can’t focus on him, the lines of his features blurring a little from the pounding headache that has begun to radiate from your temple

You nod and try focusing on the soft sounds of the nature park, the calls and whistles of native birds and the currying sounds of animals burrowing in their habitats. You know it does nothing, but you try and sink yourself into the false security of it.

Sam nods awkwardly back, he glances at Bucky and an unreadable conversation passes between them before Sam collects the papers you don’t remember signing.

“I think that’s enough business talk for a bit” Sam glances at his watch, muttering an obscenity under his breath.

“How about we drive you back home so can spend the rest of your day without having to deal with us, huh?” Sam replies trying to lighten the mood that has gone still with your curt answers.

You nod, itching to get home and under the covers, or under the heat of your shower to wash off the sludge of unease and anxiety coating your skin.

Bucky quietly watches you, and you throw him an always smile as you get up from the bench, tugging your sleeve down.

A moment passes with Bucky watching you closely before he smiles in return, but it’s one that mirrors yours, insincere and masking true emotions.

This time Sam opens the front passenger door for you, and you slide in quickly, shoving your bag at your feet and clicking the seat belt on. Bucky leaves the window down for you and you shut your eyes and let the warm wind settle the nerves that seemed to remain in your stomach.

— -

Bucky pulls out of your apartment complex, despite almost hitting a young boy running after a beat-up soccer ball.

He hadn’t pulled out until he had been sure you were safe and secured in your apartment, walking in and checking the place for any intruders despite your objections.

God, he never understood it, why you hated the idea of anyone helping you. Most women in this life demanded constant and immediate attention, hell he’d seen his own mother not lift a finger his entire life, raised by the many nannies and maids that had been employed at his family’s estate.

You though, helping you was like pulling teeth. It added to the hundreds of other questions Bucky had about you that Steve refused to answer, like why you had run away from a life he thought was full of luxury and opulence, or why Steve was so adamant in him and Sam to watch over you. 

Steve had never really involved himself in these types of business arrangements, but this one, it seemed as if Steve would commit murder if he found out you were left alone with one of his dispensable.

Bucky reaches for his phone left in the car’s compartment, fingers dailing Steve's phone as his other hand rests on the steering wheel. It rings twice before he picks up.

“Yeah?” Steve's gruff voice resounds against the echo of the basement he’s in, and Bucky has already gathered that he is deep within the monster that consumes him and enables him to rest on the throne of New York.

Bucky coughs a reply

“Hey, uh, we just finished up with her-”

“What’s the problem, something happen?” Steve’s voice replies in urgency, a sliver of concern in his tone that doesn't go unnoticed by them both.

“No, nothings wrong, we just-, well she-, Steve, I think you outta talk to her again, she's agreed and everything but she is, she’s on edge. I have a feeling she doesn't think you can protect her” Bucky finally lets out, the expansive nightlife of New York flashes past against the tinted windows of the car as Bucky follows the twists and turns to home.

“I mean she was practically clawing out of her body being in a goddamn park, Steve. A park. I figured she needs you to talk to her a little, and reassure her because, without her confidence in whatever this is, it all goes to shit. It’ll all fall down” Bucky says.

There is a beat of silence before Steve replies.

“Okay. I'll take the night off, tell everyone I'm off fucking.. somewhere. Back at the club.

“Alright,” Bucky replies before Steve ends the call abruptly. Sam glances at Bucky, sighing out loudly in the car before sinking into the leather seat.

“I have a feeling this will be the beginning of something that will be the end of us” Mutters Sam, but Bucky hears it all the same. And he can’t help it, but it all rings true. You will be the death of him.

The clench of Steve's jaw tightens as he slides his phone into his back pocket, rolling up his sleeves, Steve waste no time before striking the man bound to the chair across the face. Stringing blood and pieces of bone are scattered across the dingy basement floor, the burning lightbulb above them is the only thing that gives the light in the damp room, and it only adds to the sinister maliciousness that radiates from Steve.

He’s already dealing with an uncooperative subject, and the unexpected call from Bucky didn't quite ease the tension beginning to appear on his shoulders.

“Tell me,” Steve says, both his hands resting on either side of the armchair the man, a look of boredom crowds Steve’s face, his features unreadable as always as he stares down the snitch

“No” The spits it out along with flecks of blooded spit, and Steve chuckles, wiping away the blood splattered on his cheek before calmly replying

“You are nothing, your loyalty is that of a drop in the ocean, you don't think they won't cut your tongue and throw you in the Hudson with concrete feet for even getting caught by my men? Face it, you're a snitch, a rat- Steve pauses to spit to the ground- “and you and I both know the destiny a man like that has. Now do yourself a favour of a quick death and answer me, why is Matthews trying to free up the eastern docs?”

“Maybe he’s gathered a change of heart, it is the season to be generous no?” Chuckles the man, he smiles with his teeth covered in. blood, and Steve's grip presses into the armchair.

“You think this is a fucking joke? When has Matthews ever been generous, there has always been an endgame to every single move he does, what's the endgame to a fucking peace keep? Huh?”

“Look, I told you what I know, Matthews is trying to look as stable as possible, especially since he's begun to slip through the cracks, you know what they say right? That his little wife has gone running away? That sweet thing managed to slip past the biggest army in Northern America” The man replies, laughing manically.

Steve grunts at the mention of your name that passes through this animal’s mouth, how fucking dare he. He knows he shouldn't, he knows he needs to reign it in but all he hears is your name muttered from chipped golden teeth and he swings.

The savagery in the way Steve beats the man does not go unnoticed by the men around him, they watch on, as the crunch of bone and flesh fill the quiet basement, and the groaned pleas of the man are muffled by Steve's iron fists, his jaw collapsing in on itself as Steve throws his body to the ground with an obscene shout.

Steve had sometimes forgotten, how he has that formidable creature within him clawing its way out each time he steps out his front door, how he lets it consume him whenever he thinks of Matthews, and in a way; you.

“Clean this shit up, I don't ever want to see this fucking rat in New York ever again”. Steve growls towards the man around him, reaching for his keys and swiftly exciting from the cryptic warehouse on the edge of New York’s industrial area.

-- -

He doesn't quite know how he found himself outside your apartment, nor how fast he got there, but the thought is pushed to the side when you open your door suddenly. Wear eyes watching his staggering frame against your door frame, and all you have to do is nod before he’s entering your home.

“I thought Sam this morning would be the last I’d see of your men” You reply as you reach for two beers stacked away in your fridge. You weren't really a drinker, and you don't doubt they were stale.

“I said my men, I never said me” Steve chuckles, accepting the cold beverage you hand him appreciatively as he eases himself onto your small dining table in the corner of your room.

He practically swallows the entire place, his knees bubbing against the table as he awkwardly arranges himself on the too-small chair beside you. You hide your chuckle behind the neck of your beer bottle that you knock back down your throat.

A silence that is surprisingly comfortable falls over the both of you as you silently sip your beer bottles, and you find yourself reaching for another before ungracefully slumping your tired body into your wooden dining chair.

Steve catches the deep set bags under your eyes and the way your back practically hunched over as you rub a hand across your face

“Can’t sleep?” Steve murmurs, you look up as you catch his gaze which softens momentarily. Shaking your head you chuckle pitifully.

“That would be an understatement, more like can’t even shut my eyes” You scoff, before knocking back another sip of your beer.

“With this thing, we've arranged, hopefully, you’ll be able to” Steve replies, shifting in his seat as he looks towards you.

“If only it was that easy. Unless someone can enter into my brain and shut it off for a full 8 hours, I won't be getting any shut-eye” You smile wrily, before running a hand down your face, shaking your head.

“It’s fine, it's alright, ill- ill figure something out. It isn't like I haven't dealt with a few nights without sleep ya know? I don't even know why I'm telling you all this, you probably could care less” You reply with a finality that has Steve looking at you with that same strange expression you can't decipher.

Just as he begins to say something, Steve thinks better of it, simply shaking his head

“It’s alright, you're talking to an insomniac veteran over here, god knows I've burnt some eye-sized holes in my ceiling”

You can't help but let out a laugh, a real one, and the sound of it makes Steve’s heart collapse in on itself. Without even a moment  Steve already knows it's his favourite thing in this entire world, he wants to keep it, bottle it and keep it behind the white of his ribs and the coldness of his heart.

“Can I just ask you something?” You say suddenly,

He nods, giving you permission.

“Why do you want to do this? and tell me the real reason, not some false one you’ve made up.

“Honestly?”

It’s your turn to nod now,

“It’s selfish and cruel but I want to finally own something /make something of myself. This may come as a shock to you but I wasn’t always this fierce and formidable” you roll your eyes comically.

“I spent much of my years just wandering aimlessly, working jobs for other people, my loyalty was tied to one person and one person only. Myself.

“Seems like a tough way to live” you reply. You got it, something over came you when you got the keys to your first apartment. The first thing you actually owned since that bicycle you spend afternoons mowing lawns for. Selling lemonade for.

“You know, this deal, this arrangement-everything, means nothing if you can’t put your trust in it,” Steve says, running his hand down the neck of his beer bottle, letting the wet droplets fall down his fingers.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, silently, eyes looking up through the horizon of the beer bottle

“Do you trust me to protect you?” Steve asks again, as he rests his back against the wooden chair, an expectant expression on his face.

Do you? Everything in your mind is screaming at you to say no and run away, to hide back into the dark corner you’ve made a home out of, but as your gaze travels towards Steve, with those golden locs and cerulean blues, your heart murmurs with a familiar longing that you can’t ignore.

“Yea, strangely Steve, I do”. You reply with a look of pure candour on your face.

Your gaze travels to his hand gripping the neck of the brown bottle, and it is only then that you notice the tattered and bleeding skin of his knuckles. Steve catches your concerned gaze, eyebrows furrowing at the bruising beginning to form.

“It's nothing, just a little hands-on approach to a situation” Steve replies, shifting in his seat, but his excuse does nothing to quell the burn in your stomach.

“I know I have a first aid kit somewhere here” You murmur, rummaging through your kitchen cabinets as you peruse the tattered and peeling shelves and drawers.

“It's alright, doll, I'll get it patched up later-” Steve tries to argue, getting up from his seat, but you jolt up suddenly from your crouched position, a faded red first aid kit in your palm.

“Got it” You smile triumphantly, you rest yourself against the kitchen counter across from Steve, and Steve can say nothing as you raise your eyebrows, almost taunting him to protest against it.

“You’ve got men stationed outside my apartment, fixing up a few bleeding knuckles is the least I can do” You interject, moving towards him.

“Besides, if you're bleeding out on my living room floor, who else will be there to protect this” -you gesture your hands around the apartment- “Sanctuary?” Your question, a small smile softening your features and that's all it takes before Steve is conceating, following your footsteps to the small bathroom.

It's fitted with a peeling sink cabinet, toilet and a ceramic bathtub cramped into the corner, the low yellow light attached to the ceiling gives the room a sickly feel and Steve has to bend down onto the edge of the bathtub so you can reach him.

Pulling his blooded sleeves up, the reality of the damage on his hands can be inspected, the skin around his knuckles has peeled off completely, and splotches of dried and et blood seep from the wound.

As you take his hands into your palm softly, Steve grunts under his breath, not because of the pain radiating from his knuckles but because your fingers are so soft against the rough pads of his fingers.

You whisper an apology he waves off before ripping open an alcohol wipe, pressing it gently against his knuckles, making sure to clean off the grime and dirt stuck between his fingers.

The smell of blood that begins to permeate the air is one that is familiar, years of drunken nights had taught you how to patch up bruised cheeks and split stitches. Nights when your husband was so deep in his hunger for power and greed that he had thought you were here to take his kingdom from right under him. You knew what liquor could do to a man, but your husband to put it lightly, has always been and always will be, a mean drunk.

You feel a pair of eyes burning into you, and you look up to catch his intense stare watching over your every move, you have to look away after a moment, focus on the tap tap tap of the loose bathroom sink.

You take the small bandaged adhesives, and place them over his bruising knuckles, before covering them with bandaging cloth. You follow the same motions you had been forced to learn over the years to his other fist, feathering the cloth in and out between his fingers.

“How do you know how to do this?” Steve murmurs under his breath, his intense blues boring into your soul, as you look up from his bandaged knuckles.

“I was quite an adventurous kid, spent a good chunk of my childhood with my dad kneeling over me, patching up cuts and bruises” It is almost automatic, the way the well-practised lie slips from your lips, it leaves your mouth without a second thought.

Steve blinks at your reply, the blank expression covering his features is now taken over by his darkened eyes, his jaw tenses against his teeth and from the way his shoulders raise, you know there are a hundred things running through his mind. His fingers flex painfully in your grip, wrist rolled into a tight fist.

“Hey! Don’t go ruining my handiwork” You chastise him, flexing out his finger so they lay flat against your palm.

“We’ve all got history..right?” You smile, before his gaze travels across your features, nodding in a grimace.

“Some more than others” Steve replies, his left eye flinching as he catches the fading bruises peeking through your sleeves.

“Thank you,” Steve says, motioning to your fingers gripping his bandaged knuckles.

“It’s the least I could do I mean-” You begin before Steve cuts you off momentarily

“Hey, no, thank you really, you didn't have to, but you did” Steve's domineering voice crowds the small bathroom and you have to look down at your laced hands to let them out of your grip.

“I’ll leave you alone now, and I mean it this time,” Steve says, following you out of the bathroom.

“So I shouldn't be expecting any more nightly visits from men with guns at my door?” You question with a smile, as Steve shoulders his suit jacket on carefully, so as to not ruin your bandages.

“No, not tonight, if you see or hear anything or anyone, call me,” Steve replies, his voice deepening into a level of seriousness that gives you no choice but to listen.

“I mean it, you've got my cell, as well as Sam and Bucky’s, and I am an insomniac, so don’t have me second guessing alright?” Steve's baritone voice takes up the entire room, and all you can do is nod fervently.

You follow the loud footsteps of Steve's dress shoes down the short narrow hallway that leads to the front door, opening with one swift turn, Steve turns back to you swiftly.

“Don’t let mind cave in on itself, burying yourself in your thoughts only leaves you with a fatigue that doesn’t wear off and a bed that runs cold” Steve murmurs, a look casts a shadow over his eyes as his gaze trails over your tired features. But it leaves as soon as it comes and you find yourself still staring at that same spot on the carpet after he’s shut the door and left.

Taglist 🏷

@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory@stupendouslovegardener @nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3  @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta​ @@wolfieeebbbyyy​ @namelesssav  @nessie2183

[clandestineloki]

the queen of hearts (NSFW)

mafia!loki x reader x mafia!bucky

tw: threesome, cuckolding, light bondage, corruption kink, innocence kink, praise kink, slight humiliation kink but it's very sweet i promise, unprotected sex

================================================

he’s always loved seeing you so nervous.

loki watches as you waddle around to the bar counter, lips parting and closing again in hesitation.

goodness, you pure little soul. he can see your dainty little hand tapping at your side as you ask for two glasses of Bourbon Old Fashioned, stuttering out a please and thank you like a good girl, and norns if you aren’t just the cutest when you’re shy.

as if you haven’t done much more depraved favors for him than just fetching some drinks.

and not only is that trait the one thing loki loves most about you; it’s also the most obvious. you can never hide anything from him— not that you do that often, but it doesn’t take him much… persuading to get you to admit what’s on your mind— the flush of your cheeks and chest and the way your eyes dart away and the way you hide your face in the side of your hair is unmistakable.

especially tonight, when he invited you to come with him to the casino for a few hours of poker between him and the second-in-command of the howlers— bucky barnes.

normally loki’s quite possessive, hiding you away from any men that even breathe differently near you, in fear that they might kidnap you or take you away from him.

but he trusts bucky and knows him quite well— from the very wine he fancies to the two secret hideout flats he has in case something happens (aka, where to find him if he even dares to try anything).

more importantly, he relishes in the flustered look on your face when bucky talks to you.

and he finds it adorable how you're nothing but a flushing, timid mess around barnes.

it’s no secret you see bucky as much more than just your lover’s illegal business partner. (loki knows that shyness all too well, from when he first took you to a dinner date at the rooftop of a first-class hotel and asked to be your official boyfriend, from when he gave you a beautiful diamond necklace to wear at a party with him, from when he kneels between your spread legs, lifting up your dress to reveal the dripping wet, clenching little cunt he loves to spoil so much.)

it was undeniably cute how you clung to loki when the three of you first met at the lobby, and even more adorable when barnes complimented your little blue dress and you mumbled a thank you, tucking your face into loki’s shoulder.

he merely chuckled, softly patting your head as he sent a knowing look to barnes.

“i’m back!”

loki looks up to see you place down the glasses.

the corner of his mouth quirks, and he reaches for your hand and presses it to his lips, mumbling a thank you, angel as he watches in amusement as you react so cutely, eyes widening and face burning red.

bucky clears his throat and raises his eyebrow from the other side of the table. “loki. your move."

loki snickers, letting go of your hand as he side-eyes bucky. “don't rush me, barnes. you'll get your turn soon."

both of them know he's not just talking about poker.

================================================

“you fucking bastard.” bucky grins, laughing breathlessly.

loki chuckles, raises his hands as the dealer sweeps the chips to his side of the table.

“one time. one time you let me win is all I ask," bucky takes another swig of his drink.

“sorry, i have to put on a show. can't let my darling here think i'm a loser.”

you perk up from leaning on loki's shoulder, half-asleep.

“hmm?" you mumble, sitting up. "more drinks?”

loki chuckles, placing a hand on your knee and another on your head to lean you back against him. “no, no, we're alright, thanks, love.”

“y’know,” bucky quips, tapping a finger on the table. “this’s getting a little boring. you and i both have a lot of money and betting a few thousand isn’t gonna change that.”

loki tilts his head, brows furrowing. “i don’t follow.”

“just wondering,” bucky shrugs, running his metal hand through his hair. “why don’t we put much more valuable stuff at stake?”

your lover grins. “like?”

bucky rolls up the left sleeve of his black button-up, flashing a stunning gold watch.

“this is one of the very first rolex oysters ever made, back in 2000. an ordinary one costs six thousand, but this baby is worth 1.7.”

“million?”

loki turns when he sees your eyes widen as you lean forward, admiring the watch.

“you heard it right. some say the only people who have ever touched it are the ceo, steve jobs, and kim kardashian.”

“and you.” you mumble softly. “i remember i watched this on buzzfeed unsolved. it went missing from from the british museum... did you-?”

“hold on, sweetheart," bucky chuckles, “i didn't steal this or anything. hydra did, i just happened ‘ta rip it off that bastard strucker’s dead body.”

loki turns to bucky. “it’s… quite interesting. though, it's a shame i don’t have anything on me tonight worth betting.”

bucky’s eyes meet yours.

then he grins.

“how ‘bout you bet your little angel here, huh?”

loki’s eyes darken, pulling you close to himself. “what?”

bucky laughs, waves his hand nonchalantly.

“not, like, forever, just one night, take her for a little spin. bet she sounds real pretty when she feels good, huh?”

in the corner of his eye, loki sees your brows furrow, and he feels you grip onto his shirt tighter.

“not that i’ll stand a chance against you, snake boy. doesn’t really matter what you put on the line if you win, right?”

you place your hand over loki’s, looking up at him anxiously. “loki, did i hear that right?”

he brushes a hand against your cheek, before turning to barnes.

“give us a moment."

bucky nods, standing up to go get another drink, leaving the atmosphere heavy with tension as loki patiently waits for you to say something.

“is it… weird that i kinda want the watch?"

loki scoffs, patting your hair as you lean into his touch. “of course not. i’ll win it for you, i’ll even kill him if it m-”

“no!!" you yelp, and he laughs.

“just joking, dear." he kisses your hand again.

“mhm.”

“mhm?" he mimics your breathy hum, smirking and teasingly kissing your cheeks and neck. “and why is my angel suddenly so shy, mhm?"

you gasp, trying to push him away with no avail. “loki, love, baby-”

he leans in just enough for his lips to graze against your ear. “can i tell you a secret?"

you nod, whining softly, and he grins.

“i know about your little crush on barnes~"

your eyes widen. “what?"

“oh, don't act so coy, love.” loki presses a hand to your chest, pushing you against the seat. “you know you can't hide anything from me, can you?"

“i’m not hiding anything-”

loki chuckles, shaking his head as he leans over you, smiling harder when your face flushes.

“right, you aren't, love," he tucks a stray bit of hair behind your ear. “not when it's so obvious to me. not when you’re such a shy little dove when he’s around, hmm?"

the way your lips part and close again as if you’re struggling to speak goes straight down to his crotch. he knows deep down you want this, that no matter how much you deny it the way you squeeze your soft thighs together is unmistakable.

“i’m going to accept this little deal, angel.”

he tentatively presses his thumb against your lips, watching intently as your chest heaves nervously at his touch.

“and while we’re playing, i’ll be watching your every reaction to him.”

he brushes your lower lip, pressing a bit harder to slip his thumb into your mouth, pulling away just a second after. you mewl softly, but he pins you to the seat so you can't get away as he leans in to brush his lips seductively against your neck.

“and if i see you turn even the slightest bit pink, i’m going to let him win on purpose and he’ll have you all to himself for the rest of the night.”

he knows you're way too transparent to even try and hide it, but that's the point, isn't it? he knows you want it too. and who is he if not the very first person who should be showering you in rewards and granting your every wish?

he nips down hard on your neck*,* then sucks delicately on the spot, relishing in the sweet sound of pleasure that leaves your lips.

“and if you’re a very good girl for him, i’ll give you a reward you’ll love very much. do you understand, my angel?”

“yeah,” you answer, more whimper than words.

he grins, and just in time, bucky comes back with a few drinks, sitting across the table just as loki moves away from your trembling figure, adjusting his tie very casually as if he didn’t just cuckold you off to his best friend.

needless to say it doesn't take long for the game to end and the more exciting part of the night to begin.

================================================

loki pours himself a drink, swirling the liquid around in the ice and taking a sip.

pretending his cock isn't getting harder with every whimper from you.

bucky’s got you pressed against the king-size bed in his suite, being a pretty angel so kiss-drunk already as he pins your wrists to your side. he’s teased you relentlessly on the elevator ride up to his suite on the 38th floor.

“bucky..." you mumble, your voice breaking off into a gasp as he moves down to your neck.

“gosh,” he grins against your sensitive skin. “you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen.”

the praise has your head spinning as bucky sucks at your neck, grazing his teeth over the mark he’s making.

“see? that right there, how you get all shy when i tell you you're pretty, makes you such a cutie… i don’t blame loki for always keepin’ his hands on you, sugar~”

“bucky-!” you squirm as his knee presses up against your crotch.

loki takes another swig of the alcohol and sets his glass down.

he chuckles. “where are you running off to~?”

bucky is just as amused by your shy antics, letting you struggle in his grip as much as you want to, though he doesn’t let you go.

“gosh, lokes. she’s so-” he kisses your neck real hard and your eyes glaze over, “-fucking pretty.”

“she really is~” loki agrees, leaning back in his chair. “you know, you can be a little bit rougher with her.”

bucky hums. “really? she's real sensitive, don’t think she’ll last long, can’t have my little prize passin’ out on me. will ya’, pretty?”

you shake your head, and both men smirk at how good you want to be for both of them.

“i just wanna get a little taste of you, baby,” bucky mocks your breathless whines. “so could you be a good girl and lay back, hmm? let me claim my prize?”

“o-okay…” you mumble, feeling floaty as his hands wander all over you,.

“so damn cute,” bucky growls, nipping your ear. he places his hands on your thighs, spreading you out for him. bucky’s eyes widen, and he looks back at loki.

loki grins. “no underwear, hmm? just as i told her. see, she’s such a dirty little thing~”

“this whole time?” bucky kisses your inner thigh. “you’re corrupting her, loki.”

“and she likes it,” loki crosses his legs. “no matter how shy she is, it makes her feel heavenly when i praise her for doing everything i command.”

flustered at the way these lethally attractive men are talking about you as if you aren’t here, your eyes meet bucky’s and he smirks.

“that true, baby?”

“i- uh, kinda…?”

loki chuckles at your answer. “barnes, i think your reward is getting a little restless~”

bucky licks his lips and dives in for the kill, tracing his tongue along your slit before sucking on your clit. you whimper, trembling at the sensation, and bucky chuckles.

“god, you taste so fucking pretty.”bucky groans, using his thumb to tease your little bud as he fucks your dripping hole with his tongue.

loki shifts in his seat, the bulge in his pants becoming more and more prominent as he downs the rest of his glass and makes his way towards your helpless, shaking body.

a loud ripping sound fills the room and you gasp, completely bare as loki reduces your little blue dress to shreds.

“i’ll buy you a new one, angel,” loki sits you up as bucky grins up at you, his face wet with your juices.

your eyes widen as he licks his lips again, and you get flustered at the brazen look in his eyes.

“god, sugar,” bucky unfastens his belt. “’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll go stupid.”

you whine, closing your legs to ease the ache, but loki whispers in your ear, “don’t move, darling, you said youd be good for him~”

when bucky rolls up his other sleeve, you realize that you’re completely bare to them while they are both still fully clothed.

the feeling of powerlessness sends a tear down your leg.

bucky pins you down on the bed ass up, and loki takes the belt, binding your hands behind your back.

“she gets all fidgety when she starts feeling good,” loki chuckles when you whimper at his drawl. “don’t want her running off when you make her dumb, hmm?”

bucky swats his hands away, and leans in really close to your ear.

“i’m gonna fuck your pretty hole real good, baby,” he murmurs, and you whine at his dirty words.

bucky spreads your thighs and lines up, smirking up at loki, who quirks an eyebrow as he returns to his seat.

“and your loki here is gonna watch as you come for me over and over and over again like the little cockdrunk princess you are.”

there’s a lewdly wet sound that comes from your pussy as he pushes his cock into you, and you moan loudly, soaking him with your arousal and clenching down on him like a little slut.

“and maybe… if you look real pretty and let me do what i want, i’ll let loki have a turn~”

your glassy eyes flicker up and you whimper at what you see.

loki’s got one fist around his leaking cock, watching as his pretty baby adjusts to bucky’s size.

“you ready, cutie?” bucky laughs at the blissful teary look in your eyes, and decides that he’s got his reply.

he pulls his hips back slowly, making you really feel every bit of him sliding out-

bucky slams back in, stealing your breath and making you squeak brokenly. he laughs, kissing your cheek with a loud smack sound. “hmm? feeling good, sweetheart?”

“uhuh…” you look back at bucky, who grins and kisses you again on the lips.

“such a good little baby~” he mocks your airy voice, and presses you down on the bed and begins thrusting at a slow but rough pace.

loki groans as he watches you get fucked dizzy. “you alright, darling~?” he smiles teasingly, voice raspy from stimulating himself.

“y-yeah…” you mumble, whimpering into the pillows as bucky fucks you from behind.

loki just loves you like this: so depraved yet still shy and willing and still so eager to please, even when your coherence is withering away with every relentless thrust of bucky’s cock into your cunt.

“so fucking cute-” bucks rams particularly hard into you, making you squeak and kick helplessly.

“no, no, don’t fight it, darling,” loki chuckles, tilting your chin up to get a look at your pretty eyes wet with tears. “you’re just his little prize, so just be a good girl for us?”

bucky licks your shoulder and sucks on your sensitive skin, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“f-fuck, i’m getting close, baby~” he whispers hoarsely. “think you can come for me? keep squeezin’ your pretty cunt around me just like that?”

“mhm…” you whimper, nudging your cute little head into the pillow.

bucky fucks into you, groaning at the feeling of your warmth, and pins your shaking hips down on the bed before coming inside of you and making sure none of it drips out. loki cums too, his spent staining the expensive carpet.

shaky breaths tickle your ear, before he laughs and kisses your shoulder, pulling out and untying the belt on your wrists. loki laughs at how limp his pretty angel is as bucky lifts you up into his lap.

“cutie,” bucky traces a metal finger under your chin, brushing his lips against yours.

you shyly hum, eyes droopy and your body too exhausted to move.

but you still register the metallic click and something encasing your wrist.

“a little gift to you for being such a sweetheart, hmm?”

your eyes flutter open as you look down at the million-dollar gold watch around your wrist.

bucky laughs at the way your eyes widen. “don’t scratch it, baby. it’s a modern-day historical relic~”

“b-but didn’t loki lose?” you ask, “that’s why i-”

another set of arms wraps around you, making you wonder when loki got up from his seat.

“darling,” loki drawls, “what you don’t know is that either way, bucky would have ended up fucking your pretty cunt, mm? he likes you very much, doesn’t he?”

your lips part as he places you back down on the bed, spreading your legs before cradling the back of your head with one hand and grabbing your hips in the other.

“while bucky’s recovering from how good you made him feel, pretty angel~” loki praises you, kissing your lips and breaking away too soon, “let’s make the most of the night and your pretty body, shall we? don’t worry, you’re in very good hands with the both of us, my princess~”

[jobean12-blog]

At First Sight

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (maybe he's a Mafia/Mob boss, maybe CEO- either way he's too delicious to ignore)

Word Count: 2,248

Summary: You're out to celebrate with friends when something unexpected happens.

Author's Note: We all know I love Mob/CEO Bucky and skirting that mystery line so you can use your imagination here! Honestly, if he approached me like this I'd just be putty in his hands haha 😏thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: flirting, Bucky is pretty forward, fun, drinking and mentions of alcohol but everyone is coherent and able to make clear choices, fingering, semi-public sex, curses

“I’m not sure…?”

You look between your two friends, Sadie, and Nia, and blink several times. “Too much?”

They look at each other then back at you.

“Definitely not!” Sadie squeals.

“And besides,” Nia adds, “the limo’s here. Too late to change!”

The space is dark, loud, and filled with moving bodies. You shove your way up to the bar and shout, “excuse me!” hoping to get the bartender’s attention.

With the music so turned up and so many other people slamming the bar, the bartender doesn’t even look in your direction.

“Heyyyy!” you shout with a slap on the bar.

“I’m not sure he heard you.”

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, you look up at the man pressed close to you at the crowded bar.

He’s tall. And sexy. And gorgeous. And wearing a smirk that screams trouble…in the best way.

“Yelling won’t work doll,” the man says, motioning to the bartender. “It’s just too damn loud.”

You purse your lips as you try to think of a witty comeback but before you can he continues.

“But lucky for you, he’s my friend so I’ll help you order another round of those shots you seem to love.”

“How do you know what I love to drink?” you start, batting your lashes. “Maybe it’s a Whiskey neat.”

You lift your chin and smile sweetly, waiting for his reply.

“You’ve been ordering the same blue shots all night beautiful.”

Your mouth falls open to respond but nothing comes out.

Has he been watching you all night? Creepy or…amazing?

Instead, you stare and take in his features. Perfection.

The bartender comes over and looks at the man beside you expectantly.

“Three fingers of Whiskey, Steve and whatever the beautiful woman is having. She’s been waiting a bit.”

He turns to you, wearing a lopsided smile. “Will you be having Whiskey too?”

“I think I just might,” you tell your new friend.

“And how many fingers would you like doll?”

He watches you with an innocent expression as he spreads his long fingers out on the bar.

“Did you just…?” you stammer.

“Maybe just start with two,” he says.

A playful smile teases his lips, and you can’t help but stare at them.

“Fine, two fingers,” you say the bartender, “of whiskey…,” and then you give the man beside you a demure smile, “and more shots please.”  

“First time here?” the man asks, his gaze sweeping over you.

“How did you know?”

“I’d remember seeing you angel.”  

Even with his flirty forwardness you can’t seem to find anything that makes you uncomfortable. His eyes are friendly, and he’s standing close but not too close, just enough so you know he wants to be there to talk to you and only you.

You glance back to search for your friends but can’t find them anywhere.

“What are you celebrating tonight?” he asks when your eyes find his again.

“What makes you think I’m here celebrating anything?”

You raise an eyebrow and hold his stare.

“Do you ever just answer a question?” he counters.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth to stop your smile and fire back with, “do you ever stop asking questions?”

He laughs, the action lighting up his face and making his eyes crinkle flawlessly at the corners. It makes your stomach flutter.

You hold each other’s gaze for a beat before he continues.

“All the dancing and drinks…seems like a good time…a celebration.”

“Well, you’re right. My friend just got an amazing promotion at work.”

He smiles triumphantly and you smile back.

“So, there’s no chance you’ll be leaving here with me tonight.”

The bartender sets your drinks down in front of you just as your new eye candy finishes the sentence and you grab for your glass, downing as much as you can before you start to choke.

With a laugh the man takes a long and slow sip of his Whiskey, watching you. You put your half empty glass down on the bar with a dramatic bang and exhale.

“I…what? No!”

“That’s too bad,” he replies.

“You just met me,” you argue.

“And since the moment you walked in you’ve had my full attention,” he admits.

The shots seem to hit you all at once and you sway on your feet. He steadies you with a gentle but strong hand on your arm.

“Easy doll.”

“Ok…stop being so charming. The smiling and the touching… I like it way too much. It makes me want things…and we’ve only just met.”

“What kinds of things?” he asks, voice smooth like silk and deep.

You swallow hard and he tracks the movement of your throat before his eyes linger on your lips.

You gather up the shots for the girls. “We’re going to do these.”

He nods, slowly, his smile growing.

“So…um. I’ll see you later…?”

You wait, hoping he’ll give you his name.

“James, but you can call me Bucky.”

“Ok then, see you later Bucky.”

“I sure hope so angel.”

You find your friends at a table, catching their breath, and set down the shots.

“I met the hottest guy.”

Both friends pause with the drinks halfway to their mouths.

“What the hell are you doing here then?” Sadie asks.

“Girl’s night, we’re celebrating,” you say. “Duh.”

“Fuck that, go dance with the hot guy!” Nia shouts.

You lift your glass to your lips and shake your head. “No way, I’m here to dance with you all! Let’s go!”

You polish off the shot, wait for them to do the same then hold out your hands to pull them onto the dance floor.

The beat of the music surrounds you and you let go, forgetting routine and responsibility and just enjoying the moment.

Sadie yells something to you about the song that just started but you don’t quite catch it. Just behind her, set in the shadows off the side of the bar stands Bucky.

Your eyes meet and neither of you look away.

He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to be caught staring at you. Every inch of your skin heats and when he lifts his glass, takes a sip, and smiles, you smile back…and start to move…just for him.

The hem of your dress inches higher as you lift your arms above your head, swaying your body to the rhythm of the music and getting lost in it. Your friends move closer and lean in.

“You’ve attracted an audience,” Sadie chuckles.

She whips her head to the side to point out the group of guys moving closer. You ignore the group and search the shadows for Bucky but he’s nowhere to be seen.

With unexpected disappointment you grab Sadie and tell her you need to use the ladies room, weaving your way though the crowd and off the dance floor. You follow the signs to the second floor, which is essentially a balcony overlooking the rest of the space.

After freshening up you walk out of the door and right into something hard. Bucky grips your biceps lightly, holding you close.

“You ok?” he asks.

You were standing close to him at the bar, but not this close, not close enough to smell his skin and feel the rise and fall of his chest. It makes you heady, but you manage a nod.

“Hi angel,” he smiles.

“Hi.”

“I was enjoying watching you dance.”

“I noticed.”

You hold his gaze, unable to look away. Down at the bar it was hard to tell the color of his eyes, but here, hidden away, even in the low light you can see they’re beautiful. The blue is like the ocean on a sparkling sunny day. Mesmerizing.

“Do you know what watching you does to me?”

You blink, trying your hardest to keep up with his directness.

He reaches down to take your hand, his grip loose and his movements tentative, waiting for you to tell him to stop.

When you don’t he presses it firmly to where he’s hard and aching.

“All this?” you ask in a breathy whisper. “Just from watching me?”

“Come home with me.”

You let out a little giggle.

“No. I can’t.”

“Come to my car then.”

“I’m not leaving this club with you.”

Even as you hear yourself say the words you know they aren’t holding the force you want them to.

He bends and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“But I’m dying to touch you.”

It’s impossible to pretend you don’t want the same thing and you place your palms on his chest and push him backward into the darkness.

“Is that a yes?” he asks as he runs a long finger over the curve of your shoulder.

“You aren’t some psycho are you?”

With a chuckle he moves closer, brushing his lips along your cheek. “You make me feel a bit crazy doll, but no, I’m not.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and tilt your head, whispering against his lips, “something tells me I can trust you.”

He moves willingly, and meets you with a smile, pressing his lips to yours.

“You taste as good as you look angel. What’s your name?”

“My name?” you whisper, so caught up in the feel of him you almost forgot.

“You know my name, so you’ll know what to call me when you’re about to come. It’s only fair I do the same.”

You let out a little gasp and hold onto his shoulders more tightly.

“I…,”

You feel his smile against your mouth before he turns you and presses your front to the edge of the balcony overlooking everything below.

He takes your chin between his fingers to turn your head and steal another kiss, lingering until you whisper your name against his lips.

With a satisfied smile his fingers tease the edge of your dress and then he lifts it, sliding his hands down between your legs to rub along your panties.

“You’re so wet. And all for me angel.”

You moan loudly when he slides a long finger inside you and presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs into your ear as he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit.

You turn and look at him. His eyes are wide open and clear. He teases you more, watching your every reaction then turns you to face him and drags you against the wall, bending to kiss you, hard and hungry.

“Someone could come down here,” he reminds you, meeting your eyes, giving you one last out.

You don’t care. He’s too perfect. He feels too good.

When you don’t protest he kneels at your feet and carefully pushes up your dress, hooking his thumbs into your panties to slowly drag them down.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, standing and lifting your leg to spread you open.

Reaching between your bodies, you open his jeans and push them down along with his boxers. You grab for him, rubbing him through your arousal.

“Fuck doll, wait. I need to put this on.”

He reaches behind him and fumbles for the back pocket of his jeans, pulling a condom free.

“You’re big,” you whisper, loving the feel of his warm, silky skin.

His grin is wolfish. “That’s the best thing you could say to me.”

You run your closed hand along the length of him again, letting the tip just bump your clit.

“Fuck, keep that up and I’ll be coming all over your hand.”

His fingers are unsteady as he works to slip the condom on.

“Have you done this before?” you ask, unable to keep your eyes off his cock.

“Have sex with a beautiful woman in a public space?”

He starts to push into you, achingly slowly. “No angel, I’ve never done this before…but with you, I’ll take what I can get.”

His words die away when he’s fully inside you, rubbing against your clit with each stroke and filling you so completely. You grip his shoulders as his thrusts grow faster.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

He leans back and looks down between your bodies, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief second before he starts to move faster.

When he leans down to kiss you he slows his movements, pulling out almost all the way before sinking back in. The slow pace doesn’t last long, and he hitches your leg higher to go deeper.

You feel your release building in your stomach and it’s only a few seconds more before a cry falls from your parted lips.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps, his hips moving jaggedly and rough before he comes with a deep groan.

He leans heavily against you, pressing his lips to your neck. “You’ve wrecked me angel.”

His hand is gentle when it smooths along your leg, and he pulls out. You straighten your dress as he rolls off the condom.

“That was perfect Bucky,” you hum, meeting him for a kiss.

He nods, dazed. “You’re ok?”

“Better than ok,” you answer. “And I think I’m ready for another dance.”

His lips twitch with a surprised grin and you turn away before he can respond, leaving him standing with his pants still unbuttoned.

A few minutes later you find Sadie and Nia, both ready to head home. And it isn’t until you’re sitting in the quiet of the limo, reliving every second of what happened with Bucky, that you realize you’d left your panties on the floor at his feet.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Shouldn't Have Said It

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: relationship angst, heartbreak, getting roofied at a bar by someone you trust

Summary: It's been a month since you and Bucky broke up, and it's been the hardest month of your life. In that time, you realize you never wanted to be apart from Bucky. You put your trust in the wrong person, and your entire life hangs in the balance.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: "told you so" (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You didn't know how hard this was going to be for you. You didn’t leave because you fell out of love with Bucky. You left because it breaks your heart when Bucky takes away life like he’s God or something. Could you get over it? Maybe. You shouldn’t have said what you said to him. Maybe there was room for improvement but you were so stricken with grief that you said exactly what you were feeling at that moment.

It’s been nearly a month since you and Bucky broke things off so why doesn’t it feel over with? You want nothing more than to go running back to him but it’s like you’re stuck between true love and your morals. Killing is wrong. Taking a human life is a crime. Bucky should be in jail for what he’s done. He’s the bad guy, so why do you dream of him every night? Your parents raised you to be good and to help where you can. They taught you to love and care for others. If they knew what you’ve been doing, they’d shun you for sure.

You’re scared your innocence will be stripped down to nothing if you continue to stay with Bucky. You have given him everything you possibly could. Is there anything left?

Gio noticed a change in not only your appearance but the fact that you don’t smile anymore. You’re not dressing in your usual style--flowing dresses, shorts, tanks, and all of them in bright colors. Now, you’re dressed in dark colors, jeans, and band t-shirts with your hair in a bun most days. Over the past moonth, you might have said maybe ten words to him and he’s been a gentleman and let you have the space you’re silently asking for.

Even when you and Bucky are broken up, he still finds ways to take care of you. He sent you a new verison of the car you had before so you’re not walking or taking public transportation, but you refuse to use it. That’s a pity car and you’re not taking any charity even though it’s nice and you really want to use it. It’s not going to help much but you got a job at the local hardware store where you can save up for a car on your own.

If you truly want to be done with Bucky, you can’t use anything he gives you. Yeah, keep telling yourself that. It’s so damn hard moving on because you’re still so damn in love with him.

When Gio sees you sitting alone at lunch, he decides it’s time to bring up whatever’s got you in a slum. He walks across the huge cafeteria and sits next to you. You barely look at him but he does hear you mutter his name.

“Going through a break up is never easy.”

You look up at hi with slightly red and puffy eyes.

“How did you know?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to fit the puzzle together. Bucky isn’t around anymore.” You sigh and look back down at your food. “I didn’t want tot say anything to give you space but it’s been a month. Come out drinking with me and some friends.”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s fifty cent wings at the bar on campus. They got an overshipment of chicken wings and need them to go out before they go bad. Come on, it’s one night.”

Maybe this will be good for you. You’ve been sitting in your apartment all alone looking at pictures of you and Bucky. You’re making yourself sad so going out might be the way to move on.

“Okay, just one night.”

“Can I pick you up?”

“Yeah. I’ll text you my address.”

“Cool,” he smiles. “You’re not going to regret it.” His energy makes you smile even if it’s small. “I made you smile, right? That’s progress.”

Gio gets up and leaves you alone. Gio would be so easy to be with but he’s not Bucky. He doesn’t give you the sense of danger and adventure you had when you were with Bucky. You watch him walk away, and as much as you try not to, you see Bucky walking away from you. Yeah, you might really need this night out or maybe you’re forcing yourself to get over Bucky when you know you don’t want to.

Oh, I don’t know what to do or think.

When you get home, you immediately start getting ready even though you have three hours to spare because if you don’t distract yourself, you’ll start to think about Bucky and cancel on Gio. You don’t dress fancy since you’re going to go to a campus bar but you at least try to put something nice on. Gio comes when he sayid he would, and you meet him in the parking lot. You’re not an idiot. Being with Bucky made you cautious with most things in your life. Gio is an amazing man but Bucky made you weary of anyone in your life.

“Wow,” Gio smiles.

“What?”

“You look beautiful.”

“It’s just jeans and a t-shirt,” you say shyly.

“Even better.”

It only takes ten minutes to get to the bar which is already lively with people. Gio meets up with his friends who welcome you in with open arms. There are already three boxes of wings on the table that are all half devoured with more on the way. Gio orders two beers and sits with you at the table when he grabs them. Football games are playing on all of the TV screens, people are playing darts and pool in teams, and everyone is having such a good time.

Why aren't you?

“So? How do you feel?” Gio asks and nudges your shoulder.

“This isn’t so bad, I guess,” you chuckle.

“Told you so. I’m glad I could convince you to come out.”

“Well, I figure I had my month to wallow. It’s time to move on.”

Are you saying that to Gio or yourself? Are you really ready to move on? Do you even want to? I don’t know what to think. My head is all jumbled and confused. You look at Gio with a small smile wishing you were here with Bucky instead. Actually, you wish you were back in Italy with Bucky. You had to put your entire life on hold when you were there, and you’d give anything to feel that way again.

“Your skills are getting better in class. No one can sew like you.”

“Thank you. My mother was a seamstress. She’s to thank for my love of designing.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’s an architect. I get designing from him as well. What about your parents?”

Gio clears his throat and looks down at his beer.

“My mom died when I was a baby. I don’t remember much about her except the stories I’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry. What about your dad?” you ask and sip your beer. Gio’s face immediately hardens into something that makes you uneasy. He spares you a glance and forces himself to relax but the anger is still there. “Are you okay?”

“My dad passed away a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he shrugs. “I don’t really like to talk about it.” You nod in understanding when his eyes meet yours. There’s a dark anger in his eyes that he can’t hide. He sees how taken aback you are so he grabs your half-drank beer and his almost finished one. “Let me get you another drink.”

He’s gone before you can say anything. You sigh and look around the crowded bar in thought.

“You’re out on a date with that guy?” You snap your head up when you hear his voice. “Come home. I miss you.”

Bucky is sitting right next to you as if he’s really there. You look around in panic but when you look back at Bucky, he’s gone. Who were you kidding? You can’t do this. You’re an idiot if you thought you were ready to move on. Who are you kidding right now? You don’t want to move on. No, you don’t. You miss Bucky. You miss his touch after a long day and the way his rough hands run over your smooth skin. You miss his lips when they kiss all over your body. You miss his smile when you make him work for your attention. You miss his blue eyes and the way they darken when you put on that red little number he loves so much.

So what if he kills people, right? He’d kill for you. That shows how much he loves you, right? He’d do anything to protect you. He treats you like a Queen, and you’re an idiot to let him go. If only your parents could see you now.

Gio comes back with a different drink in his hands. Right. Gio. You want to go home. Will Bucky take you back after what you said to him? Can he find it in himself to love you again?

“Hey, listen, you’re great and super nice but I don’t think I’m ready for this. It’s not you. I’m just not ready.”

“No worries,” he smiles. He sets a red-colored drink on the table in front of you. “I got you your favorite drink. Let me just say bye to my friends and I’ll take you home.”

“Thank you.”

Gio leaves your side to do what he said he was going to do. You take the glass and down the alcohol easily. Gio comes back shortly and you get out of the booth to leave. However, when you take the first step, your legs immediately feel like jelly. Gio catches you before you go crashing to the ground, and you look away in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry. This usually doesn’t happen. I’m not a lightweight.”

You and Bucky once had a drinking contest to see who could drink the most and you won. Despite how hard and dangerous he can be, he can’t handle his alcohol well.

“Come on, let’s get you to the car.”

Gio helps you to his car and inside the passenger side. Your headache is worse, your body feels completely numb, and your vision is starting to blur. What the hell happened? Gio gets behind the wheel and pulls away from the bar.

“I don’t feel so good,” you slur.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you home. Just go to sleep.”

He makes a right onto the main road and drives down the dark and desolate road. The last thing on your mind before you succumb to the darkness is that in order to get to your apartment, he had to make a left, not a right.

x

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