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societyfolklore · 2 months ago

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Dangerous Notes – Part 1

Title: Dangerous Notes – Part 1

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Singer!Female Reader

Fic Summary: Reluctantly agrees to fill in for her sick friend at a prestigious jazz club The Armoury. Thrust into a world of old-world glamour and unknown danger now that the club’s owner, Bucky Barnes, has set his sights on making you a permanent fixture on his stage—and in his life. Chapter Summary: After a long day of teaching, you reluctantly agree to fill in for your sick friend The Armory, a prestigious jazz club steeped in glamour and whispered intrigue. The weight of your decision—and the allure of this mysterious world—begin to sink in.

Word Count: 2.7k

Fic Warnings: // Explicit Content // Mature Themes.18+, Minors DNI, Dark Romance, Slow Burn, Possessive/Obsessive behaviour, Violence, Smut (eventually) Chapter Warnings: Mention of Parental death (brief) A/N: Ok! This is part one of what I’m hoping to make into a proper multi part series, with hopefully a regular updating schedule.

You toss your bag onto the couch and sink into the cushions, kicking off your shoes after a long day of teaching. The faint ache in your feet reminds you of the endless hours spent standing in front of a classroom, guiding your students through scales and arpeggios, correcting technique, and cheering on their small victories. Your voice feels a little hoarse from a day of projecting over a chatty group of teenagers, and the thought of a quiet evening feels like a gift you’ve earned, a rare reward after a week of juggling lesson plans and extracurricular rehearsals.

You glance around your apartment, the quiet stillness wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The clutter on the coffee table—half-graded assignments and an empty water bottle—is a reminder of the work that still needs doing, but for now, you let yourself sink deeper into the cushions, feeling the tension in your shoulders begin to ease. You close your eyes for a moment, imagining the peace of an uninterrupted evening, maybe even a chance to indulge in an old favourite record you haven’t touched in years.

Just as you’re about to lean fully into the moment, your phone buzzes on the coffee table, jolting you out of your reprieve. The screen lights up with Kara’s name, her call interrupting the quiet you’d just started to savour. Groaning softly, you reach for the phone, bracing yourself for whatever she’s about to ask.

“Kara, what now?” you say, half-joking but already bracing yourself.

“Don’t be mad,” Kara’s hoarse voice croaks through the line. “I need a favour. A huge favour.”

You sit up straighter, sensing the desperation in her tone. “Kara, I just got home. What kind of favour?”

“I need you to cover for me at The Armory,” she blurts out, before you heard her blowing her nose, while you wince at the sound. “Just for a week. Please, you’re the only one I trust.”

You blink, her words taking a moment to register. “Cover for you? At The Armory? Kara, I haven’t been on stage in years and I’m teac-" Kara cut you off "You know the setlist already." This was true, you'd helped her put it together. You even arranged the covers of modern tracks. "Please.” Kara coughed more “I can’t risk losing this gig to one of those vultures.”

“Kara, I’m not a performer anymore. I haven’t been on stage in years!” you said, pacing your small living room while holding the phone against your ear.

Now it was Kara turn to groaned, her voice rasping before she cleared her throat. “Come on, you're sound is classic, you have the vintage sound the boss of this place adores. Who else am I going to trust with this?”

“Kara.. I can't." You plead "Can't the band play on it's own..” you suggested, already regretting the thought of stepping onto a stage again.

She let out a humourless laugh. “Do you think the boss is going to just 'let that happen'? Pleeeease, I can't afford to lose this gig to someone else. If I call in a replacement they pick, I might as well hand over my job. This isn’t just any club—it’s The Armory. They don’t do second chances.”

Your protest caught in your throat. You knew she wasn’t exaggerating. Still, the idea of stepping back into that spotlight sent your heart racing with anxiety.

“Kara, I don’t know if I can do this. It’s not my life anymore.” You'd given that part of yourself up.

“Please,” she said softly, her tone shifting to one of genuine desperation. “I know I’m asking a lot, but I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. Just one week. That’s all I need.”

The weight of her plea hung heavy in the air. You sighed, feeling the fraying edges of your resolve start to give. “Kara,” you said after a long pause. “If I bomb—”

“You won’t bomb,” she interrupted, a hint of relief threading through her voice. She could hear you giving in. “You’re amazing, and you’ll knock them dead. I promise.”

"Can I think about it?" You needed time, feeling your insides churn up like a stormy sea, or maybe you'd just forgotten what stage nerves felt like? Back before all those years of hospital visits, sleepless nights, and sacrifices you made for your mom had felt both necessary and soul-crushing. You’d spent every ounce of your energy ensuring she had the care she needed, and when she passed, it felt as though the last bit of your own light had been extinguished.

Performing wasn't your life now. Kara knew that. You’d thrown yourself into teaching, pouring your love for music into your students, finding solace in watching them thrive. It was enough, or so you’d told yourself. You'd had plenty of talks about the topic over the years.. How deep down, you’d always felt the ache of what you left behind—the thrill of performing, the way the stage could transform you, even for a fleeting moment. When everything fell away.

“Just say yes” she had begged over the phone, her tone breaking. “One week. Just one week. That’s all I need. I'm emailing you the set list now. It has to be you."

The weight of her plea had tugged at you, fraying the edges of your resolve until you’d finally relented. It wasn’t just about her flu-stricken voice or her job being on the line; it was about loyalty and trust. She needed you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You knew how valuable long term placements were like this for any singer. Closing your eyes you ran a hand over your face. "....Alright.."

*#*#*#*#*

Garment bag dappled over your arm you got out of the cab and stepped onto o the Brooklyn street and took a deep breath, your heart was already beating fast and you weren't even inside yet. The Armory—a name that carried its own weight of reputation and myth in the city. The building stood like a fortress, its polished black doors tall and unyielding, framed by golden accents that glinted faintly in the dim streetlights. Above, the red neon sign glowed steadily, its bold letters casting a warm yet foreboding light across the pavement. It was a stark contrast to the bustling streets behind you, as though you’d stepped into a different realm entirely.

Stories surrounded this place, just like they surrounded its enigmatic owner, Bucky Barnes. Everyone seemed to have their version of the truth: the whispers about The Armory being more than a 40's style jazz club, tales of shadowy dealings and high-stakes meetings, of power moves made over glasses of aged whiskey. But weren’t those just rumours? Every club had its legends, and every owner had a reputation these days—You were sure the stories exaggerated to keep people talking, to keep them intrigued enough to walk through those imposing doors.

Still, there was something about this place that made your stomach twist, a subtle undercurrent of tension that you couldn’t entirely dismiss. Kara wouldn’t send you somewhere dangerous. That thought anchored you as you stared at the entrance. She wasn’t reckless, and she wouldn’t work for someone truly dangerous. You told yourself this over and over, as if repeating it enough would make it true. Kara had worked here for a while now, she wouldn't of stayed if it was what everyone thought? Right?

Your heart pounded just standing on the street opposite, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your chest. Stepping into this world, even temporarily, felt surreal and overwhelming. Kara’s voice echoed in your mind: ‘Just one week. That’s all I need.’ Her words had been spoken with desperation, but the look in her eyes had carried something heavier—trust. She believed in you, even if you weren’t sure you believed in yourself.

But this was no ordinary stage, and you weren’t sure if you could live up to its demands. But you also couldn’t ignore the other reasons that had pulled you here: the paycheck. One week of performing at The Armory would pay more than a month of teaching, and that kind of money could make a real difference in your life. You could finally throw a significant chunk of it at the mountain of medical debt you’d been burdened with after your mother’s passing. It had been over a year, and yet the hospital bills still loomed, a constant reminder of everything you’d sacrificed and the weight of responsibility you couldn’t seem to shake.

The thought of finally lightening that load was enough to steady your resolve, even as your nerves twisted in your stomach. Beyond the financial relief, though, there was still that quiet, nagging curiosity about what it would feel like to stand on a stage like this again. Could the music still transform you the way it once had? Could it still make the world disappear for a while, allowing you to lose yourself in the notes and noise as you left your burdens behind, if only temporarily? You’re not ready for this. You haven’t sung in years, not in front of a crowd. You’d promised Kara, and backing out now isn’t an option. Just one week. You can do this.

You approach the imposing black doors of The Armory, shifting your garment bag draped to your other arm, it starting to feel heavier with every step. Your heart pounds in your chest, the weight of Kara’s trust and your own nerves pressing down on you. The Armory's doorman was an imposing figure. Tall, broad-shouldered man stands stationed outside, his presence alone enough to give you pause. His buzz-cut hair, neatly trimmed beard, and piercing gaze make him look like he belongs more in a military barracks than as a bouncer at a jazz club.

He crosses his arms over his chest as you approach, his expression unreadable but intimidating. “You lost?” he asks, his voice low and gruff.

You shake your head quickly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “No, I’m… I’m here to cover for Kara. She’s out sick this week.”

His eyes narrow slightly, scrutinizing you as though weighing your words. The moment stretches uncomfortably, and you fight the urge to fidget under his gaze. Finally, he nods toward the door. “Oh yeah. They said someone would be coming."

You swallow hard, your voice a little shaky. “Well, here I am..” you don't sound as confident as you should of with that.

The doorman let out a low grunt, his stance still firm and imposing. “Head in, you'll want to find Yelena inside, she'll take ya through to the back." You found yourself just nodding along with him "But next time," You pause mid step when he didn't move out of your way "-staff uses the door down the side.” "Cool, side entrance next time." You nod, relief washes over you as he steps aside, but his eyes remain on you slide between him and the heavy door. Heading inside. The interior of the club feels like stepping into another era. Velvet drapes hang from the walls, cascading down in rich, luxurious folds, their deep burgundy color amplified by the warm, intimate lighting. Brass fixtures gleam faintly, and the intricate patterns on the dark wood floors seem to whisper of decades past. The patrons are dressed to match the ambiance, their suits sharp, their dresses elegant, their laughter soft and restrained, perfectly fitting the atmosphere of a place styled to evoke the golden age of jazz. It feels out of time, a deliberate nod to an era that thrives here, preserved as if untouched by the modern world.

You clutch your garment bag tightly, suddenly aware of how out of place you look in your jeans and jumper. As your eyes scan the room, taking in the polished mahogany bar and the vintage microphone perched on the stage, your heart beats faster. The smell of aged whiskey mingles with faint cigar smoke, the air thick with sophistication and something more elusive—a sense of power and secrets.

As you move tentatively toward the bar, your path was intercepted by a striking blonde woman. Her tailored outfit immediately catches your attention: high-waisted Catherine Hepburn-style trousers paired with a crisp white shirt, her sleeves rolled just enough to hint at both elegance and control. Her hair is swept into an old-Hollywood wave, and she exudes an effortless confidence that only makes you feel more underdressed.

“You must be Kara’s fill-in,” she says, her sharp green eyes appraising you in a way that makes your pulse quicken. Her tone is polite but firm, and her accent took you a second to place, Russian? You nod quickly, feeling your cheeks flush. “Yeah, that’s me. Just for the week.”

Her gaze flicks to the garment bag you’re clutching like a lifeline, and a small, knowing smile curves her lips. “Relax,” she says, gesturing toward the bar. “You’re not on stage yet. I’m Yelena, bar manager. Let’s get you situated. You look like you could use a drink too."

“Thanks,” you manage to say, your voice a little shaky as you follow her. You feel like a nervous mouse, clutching your garment bag to your chest while Yelena strides confidently ahead. Her effortless grace and the way she moves through the room, completely unbothered by the watchful eyes of the patrons, make you feel even more self-conscious. She belongs here in a way you can’t imagine for yourself.

Instead of stopping at the bar, Yelena leads you toward a ‘Staff Only’ door tucked to the side. She pushes it open with ease, holding it just long enough for you to slip inside before it swings shut behind you. The space beyond the door is quieter, the hum of the club muffled as the hallway stretches out in front of you. It’s lined with warm wood panelling and faintly lit, the ambiance continuing the old-world charm but with a more practical edge.

Yelena glances at your garment bag and raises an eyebrow. "You brought options, I hope? The boss is picky, likes a certain look."

You nod quickly, feeling your cheeks flush. “I brought two, tried to keep it on 'theme' since Kara said it was like that here..” you stammer.

Yelena smirks, clearly pleased. “Clearly Kara gave you more of a heads up then I assumed she would..” She walks briskly, her heels clicking softly against the floor, and you have to quicken your pace to keep up. “Kara vouched for you.” she says as you round a corner. Her tone is neutral, but her sharp green eyes glance back at you, measuring. “You know the setlist?”

“I helped her put it together,” you reply, standing a little straighter. “I’m familiar with all of it.”

Yelena nods once, clearly approving. “Good, good. The boss likes things perfect. Best keep that in mind, he’s a bit of a grump like that.” Her words are calm, but the weight of them is impossible to miss. It’s less a suggestion and more a warning.

She stops in front of a door and pushes it open, revealing a small but charming dressing room. A vintage vanity with a round mirror and warm, golden lights dominates one wall, while a small rack for clothing and a plush chair sit against another. It’s cozy, almost inviting, though the nerves twisting in your stomach make it hard to appreciate.

“You can get ready here,” Yelena says, leaning casually against the doorframe. “What would you like to drink?”

You blink at her, surprised by the question. “Oh, I don’t usually drink before performing,” you admit, though the idea of something to steady your nerves suddenly seems appealing.

Yelena smirks, as though she was expecting that answer, looking you up and down for a moment. “Whiskey, then. You can thank me later.” Before you can protest, she’s already turning to leave. “I’ll have it sent in. Take your time, you've got about half an hour before we need you.” she calls over her shoulder, the door clicking shut behind her and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You glance around the room, setting your garment bag on the rack and running your fingers over the vintage vanity. The soft glow of the lights reflects your anxious expression in the mirror, and you take a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. Whiskey might not be such a bad idea after all. “It’s just one week..” You told yourself out loud, and yet, one week was starting to feel like forever. END

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lokiswifeduh · 9 months ago

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Doll, please

Pairings- Mob!Bucky x Fem!reader

Summary- Bucky is taken by the reader's ex-boyfriend. You go to save him, not knowing it was a trap.

Warnings- crime, violence, mention of drugs, angst, minor fluff, character being shot, cussing, torture, graphic violence.

WC- 2.6k

masterlist

James was taken, that was definite. The reason was still unknown. Of course, many people had motives. He runs the city. Being the head of organized crime. He had eyes and ears everywhere. He moved drugs and was the owner of most clubs, restaurants, and companies.

His only weakness is you.

However, Rumlow didn't take you. He took Bucky. You knew that for sure.

"Steve, please tell me you know a location. Something, anything?" The blonde looks down at the computer, wanting to give you some form of information. But comes up with nothing.

"I'm sorry, we still don't have anything."

You groan, putting your head in your hands and groaning.

"Boss' tracker went dark before he made it across the bridge into Brooklyn." Sam walks in, throwing the last known location that was printed down onto the table.

Your head perked up, running over to look over the information. "So let's go check it out." But Steve shakes his head, "No." "Why not?!"

He moves forward, getting slightly in your face. "Because that bridge has over five thousand people on it hourly." He throws the paper out of your hands and into the trash bin next to the door. "Buck may be missing but damn it I will not endanger you in any way in his absence." "But Steve-" "No!!" He shouts, making you flinch slightly. "You stay put where it's safe until we know why and or how he was taken." You let out a long breath, "Fuck this." Taking long strides you run out of the room and to your and Bucky's shared bedroom.

"Watch her." Steve mumbles, making Sam nod.

There was protocol, you knew that. If there was ever a reason why Bucky couldn't run things, Steve was the one who was appointed to take over. But just as Bucky would have it, Steve would never put you in danger. Which made it harder for you to help.

Or Steve would think.

You paced in your shared room, trying to think of ways you could leave, a way you could find your husband. You fiddled with the diamond ring on your finger when suddenly your phone pinged with a text.

You ran over to your bed, grabbing your phone with both hands.

CALL THIS NUMBER IF YOU WANT YOUR HUSBAND BACK ALIVE

You went to the dial pad, dialing in the number with shaky hands and pressing call. It rang four times before picking up. All you heard was silence before you spoke, "Hello, James?"

"Not James, sweetheart." Your heart stopped as you heard the voice of your ex. Brock.

"W-where is he? Is he okay? Is he safe?"

Brock chuckled, requesting to Facetime, to which you accepted; facing the camera up in an attempt to conceal your face.

He switched the camera around, revealing a dark and bloody room, focusing on some steel tools before he panned over to Bucky.

The state of your husband shocked you, making you almost drop the phone. "James?" His face was bloody, cuts and scratches tore his cheeks and jawbone.

His wrists were red, blood dripping from them as the wire that held him down cut into his skin. a knife was sticking out of his thigh, and his chest was adorned with deep lacerations that even you could tell needed stitches.

"Doll?" He lifted his head. His blue eyes had lost the sparkle they had not only a day ago as he looked into the camera.

"Hi love," Tears streamed down your face as you looked at how much damage and torture he had been put through. "I'm so sorry. I promise we're gonna come find you okay? I promise." You hiccuped, sobbing as you watched him grimace in pain.

"Baby don't come. Send Steve. Please, don't come-"

Your husband was silenced with a punch as you yelped. "Stop! Brock, please." The video was taken off of Bucky and went back to Brock. You could still hear him groaning in pain in the background as your ex-boyfriend smirked.

"I'll let him go. But I need you to do one thing for me princess." You gulped, hearing Bucky scream and protest as loud as he could in the back.

"What?" Brock punched Bucky one more time, silencing him.

That only brought more tears to your eyes as you gulped, seeing him give you an evil smile. "You, for him." "You want me?" "I will let Bucky go, as long as I have you in my possession."

You bit your lip, thinking it over. Wondering about how you would even get away. But in the back of your mind, the schematics didn't matter. All that mattered was Bucky being free, even if that meant sacrificing yourself for it.

"Where do I meet you?"

You once again could hear Bucky protesting in the back but tried to keep a straight face while looking at Brock. He smiled again, "At the corner of East 96th and Park." You gulped, realizing how close that was. Brock must've known where your and Bucky's shared home was.

"And you promise you'll let Bucky go right?"

Brock nodded, "For old times sake princess."

You thought it over for a moment, before wiping the still wet tears on your cheeks. "What time?" "You'll meet my men over there in an hour and they'll drive you to the location." "No," You shook your head. "My husband gets dropped off before I even think about going with you." "Ahhh," Brock sighs, turning the camera back to Bucky before landing yet another hit against his already bleeding cheek. "That's not how this is gonna work, sweetheart."

"Okay! Stop!" You screamed, "I'll be there in an hour. Just please don't hurt him anymore."

"Sounds like a deal." Brock sneered, ending the Facetime.

You broke down, falling to your knees on Bucky's side of the bed, clawing onto the covers. You could still smell the faint scent of your husband. The musky pine and balsam were almost gone as you laid on his side all night, crying yourself to sleep.

You had to do this. Steve and Sam were no closer to finding or retrieving him. And you knew they wouldn't let you go alone, or go at all. You just had to find a way to sneak out without anyone noticing.

Thankfully you still had an escape route from when the house was being targeted by HYDRA's men and you needed to get out for your own sanity.

You realized you had been crying, staring at the framed picture of you and Bucky on your wedding day. Looking over at the clock, it was almost time to meet Rumlow.

You slipped on some black leggings, putting on a long-sleeved black shirt and a jacket. Opening Bucky's nightstand drawer, you grabbed the Glock he kept in there and two hand knives.

Slipping one knife into the holster under your shirt and the other one in your boot. Finally hiding the Glock in the back of your pants under the jacket.

Now all you had to do was slip out without Sam, Steve, or any of Bucky's men seeing you. You knew Steve had for sure put you on lockdown.

You opened your door, seeing one guy turn the corner at the end of the hall. You stealthy moved, closing your door behind you, and walked to the other end of the hall, opening the usually locked door to the armory.

Thank god Steve had unlocked it earlier when they thought they had a location.

Moving to the computer in the corner, you disabled the cameras that were placed on your and Bucky's bedroom door. Shifting over you scooted one of the gun racks out of the way, trying not to make too much noise as it revealed a hidden door behind.

You silently thanked Bucky's mom for making an escape door in the brownstone.

Unhooking the latches from the door, you slipped inside the small space and closed it behind you, carefully descending down the ladder. You jumped to the bottom, opening a door to the alley.

The steam from the subway got in your face as you locked the door behind you, blocking your view. You felt a hard hit on the back of your head as you fell to the ground on your knees. You touched the back of your head, feeling the sticky blood on your fingers.

Another hit made you fall all the way down as you rolled over, looking at who your attacker was. "N-Natasha?"

"Night night...doll." One final hit to your skull and everything went black.

-----------------

The first thing you felt was restraints holding your wrists down. Pounding in your head made you not want to open your eyes. But you could swear you heard someone yelling your name.

Lifting your head with as much strength as you could muster you wearily did, squinting.

"Bucky?" You mumbled, still out of it.

"Doll? Wake up, honey. You gotta look at me."

You opened your eyes more, seeing a bloody, tied-up Bucky in front of you. "James!" You tried to stand up but as you did wire cut into your wrists and ankles. "Ah!" You screamed in agony as you looked down at your wrists which were starting to bleed.

"Doll, don't move, okay? It only makes it worse." Your eyes shot back up to Bucky.

"Are you okay? Where is Brock?"

Bucky shook his head, "He hasn't been in since they brought you in here." "Natasha. She hit me in the head." You remembered, wincing.

"I know," Bucky groaned, "I'm gonna fucking kill her for betraying me." You felt your head pound again, making you groan in pain once again.

"What hurts, baby?" Looking Bucky in his eyes, you saw the worry and guilt he held for this. "It's okay. I'm okay." But he could see the pain your body held. Blood dripped down your neck from the back of your head. An open wound was still bleeding on your forehead, and your chest heaved up and down as you tried not to cry. He vowed to protect you and here you were, tied down and bleeding.

"I swear, I will get us out of here, doll. I promise." Bucky gave you the best smile he could when suddenly the door opened. Revealing Brock, and the traitorous redhead behind him.

You kept your head high, not showing your distaste as Rumlow grabbed the front of your neck with his hand, bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear.

Bucky however did, pulling on his restraints which only made blood drip from his wrists more. "Touch her again and I'll have your fucking head, Rumlow."

Bucky's threat only made Brock laugh as he removed his hand from your flesh, allowing you to take a much-needed breath.

"This is how this is gonna go, Barnes." Rumlow walked over to a table, picked up a pair of pliers, and walked back over to Natasha, handing the rusty tool to her.

"You're gonna tell me the codes to that locked safe you have in Moscow. You know the one."

Bucky gritted his teeth, watching how Natasha pulled up a chair, playing with your hand which was still tightly wired down.

"Or what?"

Brock looks over to Natasha, giving her a nod. The redhead puts the head of the pliers on your index finger, pulling it backward, slowly ripping your fingernail back; eliciting a guttural scream from your throat.

"Stop!!" Bucky screamed, but the torture continued. Blood poured from your finger as you pulled and tried to twist away. "Okay! Stop! I'll tell you anything! Stop!!"

The rusty metal was released from your hand as tears streamed down your face.

Rumlow pulled another chair up, sitting in between you and Bucky. "Now that wasn't so hard was it?"

Bucky's brows furrowed in concern, looking only at you. "Doll, I'm so sorry."

You shook your head, "It's not your fault, Buck."

"So, what are the codes?" Rumlow looked over to your husband as Natasha slipped iron knuckles onto her hand. "Don't tell him." You groaned out, knowing Bucky would lose everything he'd built if he gave that information away.

"Shut up!!" Natasha screamed, slamming her fist into your face, the iron weapon hitting your cheekbone and nose, causing your head to whip to the side. You screamed, more tears coming to your eyes as blood started to pour from your nose.

"Stop!" Bucky screamed, "She doesn't know anything! She doesn't have anything to do with this!!" "Oh, but you do." Brock stood, walking behind you and maneuvering your face to look right at your husband. Your chest heaved as you couldn't breathe from your nose without blinding pain. Blood dripped into your mouth and your right hand trembled.

"And this lovely specimen is your only weakness."

Bucky shook his head, "I'll give you everything, just let her go."

But Brock tutted, also shaking his head in disappointment, "I need collateral, Barnes."

"You won't get anything out of me if you hurt her."

Rumlow laughed, "Oh, I bet I will." Moving out of the way, Natasha stroked your face three more times with the weapon, knocking you unconscious.

A tear slipped down Bucky's cheek, "Please, stop. You can have everything." He pleaded, not being able to take his eyes off your beaten and broken body. A sob escaped his chest. He hadn't cried since the day of your wedding, and this was breaking him to his core.

Rumlow moved the chair in front of Bucky. "What's the code."

Bucky gulped, "The code.." He sighed, closing his eyes, "It's her birthday." Opening his eyes, he glared at Rumlow. "It's her birthday." Brock grinned evilly, "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Standing up, he threw the chair to the side, moving over to you and cutting all your restraints off.

You fell to the floor, startling you awake. However you didn't move, your body not being able to gather the strength.

"I gave you the codes, Rumlow! Let her go!" Brock turned back, Natasha and him both standing at the door. "You really think I would let you both out of here alive?" His head pulled back as he laughed. "Not a chance, Barnes." Natasha opened the door, and ten men walked through all with guns, lining up in a row. "This city is mine now."

Closing the door behind him and Natasha, a loud speaker squeaked. "You have thirty seconds to say your goodbyes before the firing squad shoots you both to pieces."

Bucky gulped in fear, not noticing you lifting your boot to grab the knife that was inside.

"Doll, you gotta get up!" Bucky shouted, watching you struggle to pull yourself to stand. The ten men readied their weapons, aiming at you and Bucky. You were surrounded.

Finally, you pulled your body up, hobbling over to him with the knife as you tried to cut the wire from his wrists. "You gotta get out of here, doll." You shook your head, "I'm not leaving you." Tears streamed down your face, hearing Rumlow count down. "I won't"

"Doll, please." Looking up at Bucky finally, you let out a sob you had been holding. Ten seconds left.

"I vowed to stay by your side, Buck." Looking back, ten guns pointed at you. You knew what you had to do. "Doll?"

You dropped the knife, straddling Bucky's lap in the chair, wrapping your arms around his neck, and protecting his vital organs with your body. "NO! Doll, please!!"

The men cocked their guns. "Doll!! Stop!! Get up!!"

You shook your head. "I won't let you die!!"

Suddenly bullets rang through the air, but you kept your head down, your body shook into Bucky's as you felt two bullets hit. You screamed, still attempting to hold onto your husband. Bucky sobbed, "Don't do this to me." You looked up, shakily holding his face in your hands, "I love you, James Barnes." Blood dripped from your mouth, "Till forever and always." "Doll, please."

Everything went black.

Fin

part two

masterlist

#buckybarnes #fanfic #bucky angst #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #oneshot #bucky imagine #one shot #light angst #angst with a sad ending #avengers #fluff #james bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mafia!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #husband!bucky

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deliciousangelfestival · 11 months ago

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Guilt

Character: Mob!Bucky x Police!Female Reader

Summary: "Of all the women in the world, does she have to be a cop?" Bucky, a gangster, fell in love at first sight with a policewoman.

At the golf course, two outstanding men in the mob world are playing golf together to have a quiet time, to forget the worst day at the club they owned.

Steve, the second person in charge, still feels frustrated, while Bucky, the leader, is the only one enjoying the game.

"Of all the women in the world, does she have to be a cop?" Steve, his childhood friend, asked as he watched Bucky hit the golf ball.

Bucky clenched his fist in frustration as he made the shot. Turning to Steve, he replied, "I can't help it. She just took my breath away the first time I saw her."

Steve sighed, recalling the first encounter between Bucky and the policewoman when their club was unexpectedly visited by the narcotics police force.

Steve sighed, "She's known as a scary person, even among her colleagues," he said, relaying what he had learned from his connections.

"And from what happened last night, I feel like she holds a big grudge against people like us," Steve continued, reflecting on the recent events. Most of the cops he knew turned a blind eye to their business dealings, never getting involved with drugs.

Bucky remembered how composed you had been last night, effortlessly throwing punches and giving orders to make arrests. He even recalled the moment you pushed him to the ground and handcuffed him.

At that instant, he knew you were different from other women.

Bucky took another swing at the golf ball, causing it to fly too far. With a smile, he declared, "I will make her mine."

Steve sighed deeply, realizing that once Bucky had made up his mind, no one could stop him.

As Bucky began his courtship, he tried various approaches to get closer to you:

1. He sent you flowers with cryptic notes, hinting at his admiration and interest.

2. Bucky strategically positioned himself at events where you were present, making sure to catch your eye without being too obvious.

3. He orchestrated chance encounters, bumping into you at coffee shops or restaurants, always ready with a charming smile and a casual conversation starter.

4. He even went as far as anonymously sending you a gifts or helpful tips related to your work, trying to show his support and understanding of your profession.

But you didn't give any reaction; you consistently ignored him.

Bucky didn't mind your game of "playing hard to get." He was confident that in the end, you couldn't resist him.

However, his confidence wavered when you finally spoke to him, your words cutting through the air like icy daggers. "In 2022, Bobby Smith died because of a gunshot. He was my fiancé."

Bucky's face drained of color, his body going rigid with shock. The revelation hit him like a sledgehammer, the weight of guilt crashing down upon him. His mind raced as he realized the implication: Bobby Smith's death was because of him.

After the revelation, would Bucky give up his pursuit, or would he persist despite the overwhelming guilt?

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sjsmith56 · 5 months ago

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A Better Man - Complete

Summary: Bucky Barnes, a shy general contractor who also provides services for criminals, falls in love with the single mother of a baby girl. The father works for one of his rivals, and wants nothing to do with the woman or the baby. Can he be the better man for her?

Length: 10 parts

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, named OCC, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Winnifred Barnes, May Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Brock Rumlow, various Avengers in minor roles.

Warnings: Childhood trauma, angst, cursing, conflicting emotions, criminal behaviour, violence, no smut.

Author notes: This AU started out as a one shot but I got carried away and it just grew. A bit of a slow burn between Bucky (who is a softie) and OFC. There is some humour in this, as the guys of Barnes Contracting are sometimes dumbasses, but with hearts of gold.

All MCU character names are the property of Marvel / Disney. Original characters and the plot are the property of the author and all rights to those aspects are claimed by her. I DO NOT give permission to copying and pasting of any portion of this story into any other app or platform.

Listing of parts titles after the break. 🛠️ 👷‍♂️ 👩‍🍼

Part 1. Preparation

Part 2. Foundation

Part 3. Structure

Part 4. Connections

Part 5. Warmth

Part 6. Transformation

Part 7. Appearances

Part 8. Attachments

Part 9. Clean Up

Part 10. Walkthrough

Short Fiction Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes au #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky au #buckybarnes slow burn #steve and natasha #idiots in love #angst #dumbasses #bucky barnes fluff #no smut

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mymoonagedaydream · 2 years ago

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Part 1

Summary: Maybe the relationships worth fighting for were the ones in which you had to fight the hardest.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Language, vague references to violence, light public wankery

Author’s Note: This one has been sitting in my inbox for literal years so I hope you’re still in an angsty mood after all this time. Was meant to be a oneshot but hey I got carried away what can I say.

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Three loud knocks hammered against your door. It made you jump every time he did that, you were used to your guests ringing the buzzer.

You checked the time as you hurried across the length of your cramped apartment, cursing under your breath when you saw that it was almost nine. Him finishing work this late was never good news. Whatever had happened, whether it be another drawn out meeting or an unplanned, after-hours assignment, it would almost definitely have left him in a shitty mood.

You sighed. It used to be that bad days for him were few and far between, now they seemed to outnumber the good ones.

Sliding the chain off and turning the lock, your heart sank when you pulled the door backwards and caught sight of his miserable expression. You wished so much that there was more you could do to uplift him when he felt like this but, short of marching into his office and scolding his colleagues as if they were suave-suited school children, you were helpless. All you could do was try to help him take his mind off things.

“Hey, Hot Shot.”

He managed to summon a weak but warm smile, planting a kiss on your temple as he shuffled past. “Hey. The crazy newspaper lady let me in again.”

“I figured,” you pushed the door shut and followed him inside, “did she give you another fistful of clippings?”

“Whatta you think?”

He stuffed a hand into his pocket and set down a few scrunched up papers on the coffee table before dropping onto the couch. With a smirk, you picked them up and smoothed them out, scanning your eyes over the headlines.

“Bless her, she always saves the business stories for you.”

“Yeah, why is that?”

“Probably ‘cause you’re always in a suit and I’m always referring to you as Hot Shot.”

“You talk to her?”

Realising your mistake, you stopped absentmindedly thumbing through the clippings, lifted your gaze to his and shrugged. “Occasionally.”

He narrowed his eyes. You knew exactly what he was thinking. He didn't like the idea of you going near her, he thought it wasn’t safe, probably thought you’d end up locked in her apartment and chopped into tiny pieces that she’d save and use as bullion cubes.

So now probably wasn’t the best time to bring up your weekly visits to her apartment for coffee and cake.

Sure, she was a little intimidating to look at, with her wild eyes and deep, sunken cheeks, but she was a sweetheart really. She’d started tearing up newspapers in the downstairs lobby after her husband died a few years ago. He loved his morning reading and she loved clipping out his favourite stories and saving them for him, apparently doing it for other people was the only thing keeping her going now she was alone. You just wished you could think of a way to explain all that to Bucky without incurring his paranoia.

His glare wasn’t letting up. You knew if you didn’t swiftly change the subject there was a danger he might start trying to convince you to move into his much nicer, much bigger and much safer apartment again. As much as you appreciated the offer, it had taken so much for you to move to the city on your own, and you weren’t ready to give up your independence just yet. You were happy the way things were.

You cut in as soon as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Rough day?”

His head collapsed backwards. “Mhmm.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Nah, s’alright, just seemed like everyone was out to piss me off.”

“Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

He chuckled gruffly as you flopped down beside him, his arm moving to cradle your shoulders and hug you tight to his side. “Have you eaten?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“You wanna order pizza?”

“Definitely.”

You leaned forward and rustled around for the takeout menu in your coffee table junk drawer. Bucky shifted slightly, out the corner of your eye you could see him starting to dig the fingers on his free hand into his knee. He cleared his throat nervously before speaking again.

“Can I pay this time?”

“We’ll split it.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind-”

“Buck.” You gave him a look as you dropped the menu in his lap. “We’ll split it.”

He didn’t push back. You’d gotten pretty good at standing your ground out of necessity because, if Bucky got his way, you’d never be allowed to spend a single dollar. He earned a lot more than you, a helluva lot more, but you still preferred to keep things equal. You got by just fine.

The two of you settled in on the couch together. He hustled downstairs when the buzzer sounded and you demolished the pizza in front of the TV, enjoying the peace of each other's company, chuckling at whatever shitty reality show was on at 9pm on a weeknight.

Despite his best efforts, though, it was obvious that something still wasn’t quite right with him. He needed some help unwinding.

“Hey, you wanna hear something funny? It might cheer you up.”

His head lolled towards you, a wide smile creeping over his lips. “Go on.”

“So, at work this afternoon, Judy was doing her rounds upstairs when she noticed a guy tucked in the corner by adult fiction. It’s pretty routine to get the odd embarrassed reader trying to hide away up there but apparently he was grunting like a professional tennis player , her words.”

“Jesus.”

“Mhmm. So she called the cops and they hustled up there, apparently he’d been jerking off in the aisle to a fucking Mills & Boon novel called The Dark Duke . We had to get the janitor to get rid of it in a biohazard bag, poor guy. He’ll probably call in sick tomorrow from the trauma.” You were laughing through your words but, when you looked over at Bucky, an incredibly stern face was looking back. “C’mon, you gotta admit that’s funny.”

“It’s not funny that you’re around creeps like that every day.”

“This city is full of creeps, just so happens that a few of them have library cards.” You flashed your eyebrows at him, he didn’t even crack a smile. “Jesus, Buck, you don’t think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”

“No, I don’t.”

The two of you fell into silence. His eyes flicked away from you for a second, his expression suddenly becoming resolute. You could see the words forming in his throat. You knew exactly what was coming.

“You really need to think about coming to work at my place.”

You jumped up from the couch. “I can’t have this conversation again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re already in a shitty mood and me making the same argument I’ve made a thousand times before isn’t gonna help.”

You picked up the empty pizza box and trudged through to the kitchen, hoping that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t, unfortunately, because he decided it was smart to jump up and follow you like an irritating child.

“I just don’t get why you won’t take it. It’s better money, better hours and we’ll practically be-”

“Practically be working together yeah, I know, I’ve heard this speech before and the answer is the same. Thank you, but I’m happy where I am.”

“You wanna work in a fuckin’ library forever?”

You threw the box down on the counter and swivelled round to face him. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk about my choices like that, like you know better.”

“Jesus, I’m just tryna’ look out for you.”

You shook your head, in disbelief that you’d been dragged into this argument once again. “Whatever.”

“Is that it?”

“I honestly don’t know what you want from me, Buck.”

“I want to know why you’d rather stay in a shitty job and a shitty apartment than have something better.”

“Because I don’t want to work for your fucking father, alright?”

His face dropped. You realised that your words had come out with much more venom than intended but, in all fairness, this had been building up for a while. You’d been with Bucky long enough to know what kind of business his family was in and you wanted no part of it. Your love for him had helped you move past your unease about what he did for a living, because you knew with utmost certainty that he was a good man at heart, but you couldn’t say the same for the rest of them. You wouldn’t allow yourself to get dragged in too.

He clenched his jaw for a second before biting his cheeks, his head slowly beginning to nod, anger rising in his face. You just waited. Anyone else might have been scared of him in this moment, of how he seemed to be coiling up like a threatened snake ready to strike, but you weren’t. He’d never given you any reason to be.

His mouth fell open but quickly snapped closed before any distinguishable words could escape. With a loud huff, he stormed away, yanking his jacket from the couch as he passed and tearing your front door open.

You saw him hesitate in the corridor for a second. He brushed his hand over his hair before suddenly lashing out, striking the side of his fist against the doorframe. The whole wall shuddered.

“Whoa, hey.” You hurried over and reached for his shoulder. “That looked like it hurt, are you-”

He grabbed you.

Your eyes locked with his, you’d never seen him this angry before. In fact, you were so caught up in his warped expression that it actually took you a few seconds to feel his grip, to feel how tightly he was squeezing and how his fingertips dug into the space between the veins and tendons in your wrist. You frantically looked down at his white-knuckled hand and tried to yank yourself free, hoping that any amount of resistance would encourage him to release. He didn’t let go. You looked back up at him.

No words were exchanged, but you saw in his face the moment he realised he was hurting you. The redness in his cheeks seemed to drain away in an instant, leaving behind a deathly paleness that highlighted how quickly the tension dissolved from the muscles in his jaw and forehead.

He let go.

With panic thumping in your chest, you quickly stepped backwards and slammed the door. You sheltered behind it, frozen, as he softly knocked against the wood and apologised over and over again.

You stayed there until you heard him walk away.

---

Part 2

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Permanent Taglist: @touchstarvedforbuckybarnes @sjsmith56

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ramp-it-up · 1 year ago

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@sonia_barbie_tucker Happy Saturday 🤍

#mannnnnn #ttoo inspo #she cold #fic inspo #Inanna #Inanna x Bucky #mob boss! Bucky x Inanna #ttoo au #this thing of ours au #mob boss!bucky #mob boss!BuckyBarnes

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corie-the-writer · 3 years ago

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Curious Question…

Which would you prefer to read first???

1.) Mob!Chris Evans being in love with his step-sister who he has had intimate encounters with over the years (both adults) — but is set to marry another man?

2.) Mob!Bucky Barnes meeting a woman who is dating his biggest rival which leads to an affair with the woman who he happens to fall in love with, stopping at nothing to be with her?

Or maybe the storylines flipped? 🙃

Warnings would include : fluff, angst, fluff, mafia drama, violence, possessiveness, smut and a whole lot more.

Make sure to leave a comment which you would like to read first one or two, either way you’ll eventually get both. 😉

#bucky barnes #captain america #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!buckybarnes #mob!bucky #mob!chris evans x reader #mob!chris evans #chris evans x oc #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans smut

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wicked-mind · 4 years ago

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Okay? Okay.

Summary: The powerful James Buchanan Barnes loves you, but has kept his business a secret from you. Unfortunately, you find out when a rival of his finds you.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Swearing, violence, talks of murder (bad guy), angst with fluff at the end

A/N: Unbeta’d. All mistakes are my own. Song used is mentioned with correct artist (To my knowledge).

As always, any likes, comments, and/or reblogs are deeply appreciated! I love that shit (:

All Writings Masterlist

Italics for Flashbacks.

*gifs not mine

Bucky was completely infatuated with you. He loves you, he actually said those words to you and those words had never been uttered to any other woman in his life since his mother. It was reserved specifically for you- his little, perfect, innocent angel.

He knew it was wrong to hide things from you, to keep the dark secrets of his business, but he didn’t want to scare you off. He had to keep you close. He didn’t want to tell you he was a powerful, dangerous man because you told him you had enough danger throughout your life. You had been new to town and didn’t know a thing about him which he enjoyed. Such a naive girl and he loved it. He knew you’d figure it out eventually, you may be naive but you weren’t stupid, and he hoped he would be the one to tell you.

Bucky’s first thought when you didn’t answer his call, instead forwarding him to voicemail, is that he got his schedules mixed up and missed a date with you so you were upset at him. But then he tried calling you again and got the machine saying your number was no longer in service meaning you blocked his number, he knew it was something more serious.

You were so important to him that Bucky walked out of an important meeting without a word, driving to your apartment. He didn’t need a key, he owned the building and had one already. He slipped through your door and shut it behind him, “Baby, you here?” He called out as he walked around your apartment slowly trying to find any trace of you, “Come out, come out wherever you are…” He sang as he walked around through your bedroom before heading into your bathroom. His brow furrowed when he looked in the trash can, pulling out the diamond necklace he had gotten you but that wasn’t what caught his eye. What caught his eye and raised his concern was the bloody towel under the necklace, “Oh darlin, what happened to you?” He pondered aloud though his voice had changed to one that sounded threatening and dark.

With one phone call, his men were roaming the streets looking for you. Even some police he had on his payroll were looking for any sign of you. Bucky was driving slowly up and down the streets, his eyes scanning every person trying to find your face, a face he would know anywhere. Then the call came in from his right hand man, Steve, saying you were at the club where you worked. Dammit. Bucky should’ve checked there first but didn’t because he knew your schedule, you weren’t supposed to be working tonight. He sped his way to the club, marching in through the doors and scanning every face trying to find you. It brought back memories of how he originally met you seven months ago:

Bucky walked into the club, taking up his usual spot on the curved plush couch. He enjoyed the women here, liked to ogle them until they were flushed with desire for him but none of them were good enough. The club was a gentleman’s club, one meant for men to enjoy women in skimpy clothing that left nothing to the imagination. Sometimes there would be poker games that Bucky would host here and sometimes he would do business transactions here. But tonight was all about pleasure for him, he just had to find the right woman he could make his for the night before discarding.

It wasn’t his usual day to come in. He never came in on Fridays and quickly noticed things were different when the dancers exited the stages and instead you came on one of the stages dressed in a short black dress, tall red heels and a matching boa around your neck. He raised an eyebrow at you, wondering if you were going to strip off that pretty little dress you wore right in front of him but then you did something unexpected. Music started playing and you lifted a microphone to your lips, starting to sing ‘My Oh My’ By Camila Cabello. Your voice was the sweetest sound he ever heard. He watched you step off the stage, sitting on the laps of other men and flirting with them as you sang before walking around and riling up the crowd. He realized then your job was to give the dancers a break while leaving the men in the crowd wanting more. Then you made your way over to Bucky, dropping yourself into his lap as you sang,

“A little bit older,

A black leather jacket.

A bad reputation,

insatiable habits.”

You sang as you tickled his nose with the red feathers on the boa,

“He was onto me, one look and I couldn’t breath.” You leaned close, your eyes meeting his gorgeous baby blues while your lips grazed along his neck but still you sang,

“I said, “if you kiss me, I might let it happen.”

Then you stood up, wiggling those cute hips in front of him,

“I swear on my life that I’ve been a good girl,

Tonight, I don’t wanna be her.”

Then you returned to the stage and finished your song, leaving men around the club whistling as you wondered behind the curtain to the backstage. The dancers came back on but Bucky wasn’t looking at any of them, his brain stuck on you. You were so close he could smell you, sweet like strawberries. The way your lips felt on his neck sent shivers down his spine and goosebumps on his skin. It was right then that he knew he wanted you, needed you. No other woman had made his skin crawl like you had.

Bucky flagged down the manager and asked about you, “Who is she? The woman that sang?”

“That’s Y/N Y/L/N.” Your manager replied with a sweet smile. She was an older woman that took care of all the girls here.

“I’d like to see her.” Bucky said with a smile, but his eyes let your manager know that there was no room for her to deny his request. He followed the manager to the back, walking through the door she pointed to and there you were. Sitting on a chair scrolling through your phone, “Hello, gorgeous.” Bucky grinned over at you, shutting the door behind him and walking up to the chair you sat in. It was then he saw the innocence in your eyes as you looked up at him all doe eyed, and that just captivated him more.

Bucky pushed past the bouncers keeping everybody from going to the back where the dancers and you were, thought it didn’t take much. They knew who he was and they knew better than to stop him when he had that look in his eye. He stomped back to your designated door, trying to open it but it was locked, “Sweetheart, I know you’re in there. Open up.” He said, gently tapping his knuckles against the door.

You sniffled from the small chair, your eyes going to the door when you heard the familiar voice of the man you loved. You chewed on your lips and shook your head to yourself, “No. I don’t want to see you.” You say back loud enough for him to hear you.

Bucky sighs and puts his hands on each side of the doorframe, “Please baby, I saw the blood at the apartment. I just want to see that you’re okay.” He stood there for a moment, staring at his shiny shoes as he waited for your reply but it didn’t come, “If you don’t open up the door, you know I’ll just break it down. You don’t want that, do you darlin?”

You roll your eyes and stand up, unlocking the door and quickly stepping away, hanging your head low to cover your face as you slumped back into your chair. You started to pick at the white polish on your nails as you waited for him to enter.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a smile when he heard the door unlock but faded when he remember the reason he was here. You blocked his number, threw away his necklace, and there was blood on a towel in your bathroom. He opened the door and shut it behind him, crossing the room to you and dropping to his knees. He immodestly lifted his hand to lift your chin between his thumb and index finger then frowned when he saw your face and neck. There was a cut across your right cheek bone as well as a bruise and there was a bruise on your throat in the shape of a hand, “Oh, sweet girl, who did this to you?”

You were walking out of the bakery and to your car, a bag full of fresh muffins in your hand. You were looking at the ground as you stepped down the alley towards your where you car was parked when you ran right into somebody, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looki-“ Then you gasped as you were shoved against the brick wall with a hand to your throat, squeezing so hard you clawed at the arm of the owner that had you in his grasp.

“You must be Barnes’ girl.” The man said with a sickening smile, leaning close and rubbing his nose along your cheek, “Pretty little thing.” He watched as your mouth opened but all that came out were choked gasps for air, “You’re going to tell him not to go through with his purchase.”

The man released his squeeze on your throat enough to allow small breaths of air to enter your lungs and allow you to squeak out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about… Please let me go..”

The man backhanded you on your right cheek, the rings on his fingers opening up a cut to your cheek bone with a sharp sting before his grip on your throat tightened again, “Don’t play with me, pretty thing.” He was close again, licking up your freshly damaged cheek with a chuckle, “You tell him this will be his only warning and that next time I’ll return you to him in chopped up in itty bitty bits. It’d be such a shame to ruin something as pretty as you.” He released you and was gone in a moment.

You fell to the hard ground, your hand going to your throat as you coughed and willed air into your lungs. You ran to your car, leaving the bag of muffins on the ground. You drove home and walked inside, locking the door behind you. You immediately went to the bathroom, sobs ripping through your chest as you saw the damage done to you. You grabbed the hand towel and dabbed the blood away from the damaged cheek before throwing it in the trash can and staring at the bruises on your neck. Then your eyes lingered to the necklace Bucky had given you and you ripped it from your neck and threw it in the trash can, leaving your apartment to the only place you knew you’d be safe, the club. You explained what happened to your manager who allowed you to stay in one of the rooms in the back until you figured out what to do.

You flinch away from Bucky when he sees your face, pulling yourself from his touch and looking down again. Fresh tears fell from your eyes onto your lap, “I don’t know who he was…” You whisper out, your voice scratchy before lifting your eyes to meet his, “But he knew you.”

Bucky frowned, he couldn’t help but feel hurt with the way you pulled away from his touch. You had never done that before, if anything you were always leaning into his touch or begging for him to touch you more. Then his frown deepened at your words. One of his enemies had figured out his secret, his love for you, “What did he say?” He asks in a more stern voice. He was going to find whoever hurt you and make them pay in the most painful way possible.

You took a deep breath and kept your stare into his eyes even though your vision was blurred with tears, “He said to tell you to not go through with your purchase.” You said, gauging his reaction, “Or next time he return me to you chopped up into itty bitty bits.”

Bucky took a deep breath, keeping himself calm even though his muscles were clenching at the sound of you being threatened. His perfect little innocent angel had finally been caught up in his world and he hadn’t been there to protect you or warn you of the dangers. He slowly stood, taking another deep breath before outstretching his hand to you, “Come on babydoll, I’ll take you to my house where you’ll be safe.”

Your eyes went to his outstretched hand. You could hear the authority in his tone even though he tried to hide it. You shake your head and look up at him, “I’m not going with you.” You tell him, “I don’t even know who you really are.”

Bucky sighs and keeps his hand outstretched to you while his other pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment before meeting your gaze again, “Come with me, sweetheart, and I’ll explain everything.” When you made no movements, he started speaking again, “Take my hand or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out kicking and screaming. I don’t care which you choose but you’re coming with me either way.”

You swallow hard and slowly take his hand, watching as his ringed fingers intertwine with yours. You rather do this civilly than making a scene, especially since you really didn’t know the other side of the man in front of you.

The car ride to his home was so silent you could hear the shifting of the gears as he drove. He kept one hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze every once in a while. You knew he kept looking over to you but you kept a steady gaze outside the window. Once you were at his house, he lead you inside. You had never been to this house before. Bucky lead you to his office and sat you down on his desk with one swift movement, examining the cut on your face, “Has this been cleaned?” He asks.

You nod at his question. One of the girls at the club had cleaned it for you when you arrived so it shouldn’t get infected. You lower your gaze to the ground, staring at his shiny black shoes as you chewed on your bottom lip.

Bucky stared at you, trying to discern was swimming around in that beautiful brain of yours. He stepped away and walked around his desk, shuffling through his drawers and pulling out pictures. He passed them to you, “Was it any of these men?”

You take the photos with a sigh, flipping through them as you examined the face in each photo until you found the man that attacked you wearing the same sickening smile in the photo as he was when he attacked you. You handed him the photo in silence and put the rest of the photos beside you on the desk.

Bucky looked at the photo and nodded, setting it aside before returning his attention on you. He places either hand on the side of your thighs, leaning so close his nose was almost touching yours, “I’m so sorry this happened to you. It will never happen again.”

You stare into his eyes, the familiar scent of his cologne filling your nose at how close he was to you. You let out a shattered breath as tears slowly slipped down your face again, “Who are you?” You whisper out.

Bucky lifts a hand, gently wiping away your tears but remaining close to you, “You know who I am, sweet girl. You’re the only one who truly knows who I am.” He says softly back to you.

You shook your head at him, “I don’t know who you are, James.” You respond in a soft voice, “I didn’t even know you lived here. Seven months together and I feel like I don’t even know you. I got threatened by someone because of whatever you do. He said he would chop me up, James! What, are you part of some sort of mob or something?”

Bucky sighs and tucks some hair behind your ear. He wasn’t about to let you slip away from him, he loves you and needed you with him. You were a drug to him and he couldn’t quit now, “I’m an associate of one.” He said honestly, “I buy buildings for them to run their business in and make it look legit. The man that attacked you, his name is Rumlow, a competitor of those I’m associated with. His boss is trying to stop a purchase on a building in their territory.” He watched your jaw drop and you lean away from him, fear flaming into your expression. He quickly places his hand on your uninjured cheek, “I didn’t want to scare you, sweetheart. I didn’t want you to be scared of me but everything you know about me is true. Especially the parts that love you.”

You sat there, wide eyed and blinking at him in disbelief at his words. You knew he was well known and powerful, but not to this extent, “I… I can’t believe you.” You say after a few moments of putting your thoughts together and finding your voice, “You work for a mob?” You ask shaking your head, “I can’t be apart of this, James. I need to leave.” You say, scooting yourself off from sitting on the desk but Bucky trapped you with his hands on your waist.

“As much as I don’t want you apart of this either, you are now.” Bucky said down to you, a serious look taking over his features, “I wanted to keep my business separate from my life with you, but now you’re in it, sweetheart. If I let you go, you’ll be in danger and I can’t let that happen.”

You tired to wiggle your way out of his grasp but he didn’t move his hands from your hips, “So what? I’m your prisoner now?” You hiss out at him, anger flooding your veins.

“No.” Bucky said quickly, “I just need to keep you safe for now, take care of the problem.” He leans forward and places a soft kiss to your hairline, “I’ll never force you to do anything. If you want to leave after I take care of Rumlow, I’ll help you get away. But I hope you stay,” He said, looking down into your eyes once more, “Because I love you and I know you love me. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You’ll always be safe with me, I promise.”

You stared at him, your hands gripping onto the arms of his suite jacket tightly. Then you felt yourself crumble. You did love him, more than you thought you could love anybody but your heart hurt at the deceit. You couldn’t help but push yourself into his chest, feeling his arms wrap around you tightly. It made you feel safe and you started to sob into his black dress shirt.

Bucky leans his forehead down on your shoulder, rubbing his hands up and down your back in a soothing fashion, “I know, baby. I know.” He whispers to you, knowing this was a lot for you to take in. He was happy that you hadn’t tried to leave though, that would involve him having to make you stay and he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to do anything that put him in a bad light to you. Bucky slowly lifted you up into his arms effortlessly as you cried, your face still pressed to his chest. He carried you out of his office and to his bedroom, laying down on the bed with you still in his arms as he let you cry, “I do love you, Y/N.” He whispers to you as he rubs your back, “All I want is to make you happy.” He continued to whisper sweet things to you until you cried yourself to sleep with your face buried in his chest. He kept holding you through the night, not bothering to try and get up to change out of his suit. He just wanted to hold you because he didn’t know if after all this you would be his to hold again.

You didn’t put up a fight about staying at Bucky’s house the next morning. He even had Steve go and pick up things from your apartment to make the guest room more like home. You stayed in your guest room for days, processing your feelings and thoughts. Bucky was dangerous, but not to you. He had been nothing but sweet and kind to you and no matter how much you tried to convince yourself you could leave Bucky and start a new life without him, you didn’t want to. You wanted to be loved by him. You wanted to experience life with him. There was nobody else you could picture yourself with. You let out a deep breath and walk out of your room, quietly going down to Bucky’s office and knocking on the door softly until you heard him say, “Come in.”

Bucky was surprised to see you, but delighted. He had kept his distance, having one of his maids bring up food to you instead of himself. He knew you needed time to process everything and figure out what you wanted to do. The possibility that you were here to tell him you were going to leave him had echoed in his mind the past few days and it honest to god scared him. He needed you in his life, he didn’t know who he was without you anymore. He didn’t like who he was without you. He stood from his desk, crossing the room before leading you over to the couch and sitting beside you, “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asks.

You shrug, “As good as I can be, I guess.” You say honestly. You’d be lying if you said you were fine, that you weren’t having nightmares of Rumlow choking you with that awful smile on his lips, “I wanted to talk to you about… us.”

Bucky felt his insides twist with anxiety at your words and prepared himself for the worst, for the heartbreak that he was sure was coming. He didn’t say anything, just watched your face intently for any signs of what you were going to say. His men had already taken care of Rumlow, giving him a horrific beating before firing a couple bullets in him and dropping his body in the bay. He just didn’t know how to tell you that the problem had been taken care of.

“I’m scared, James.” You tell him as you picked at your fingernails, “Not of you, of your world. It terrifies me and I don’t know what to do.” You look up at him, watching him open his mouth to speak but your words came out quicker, “But I love you and I don’t think I can ever stop loving you.”

Bucky felt relief flood his body, the sickening turns of anxiety in his stomach untwisting and melting away. He grabbed onto your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, “Baby, I love you too and I’m so sorry about what happened to you.” His eyes lingered on the healing bruises on your neck for a moment before they flickered back up to your eyes.

“Can you really keep me safe?” You ask softly, “Keep something like this from happening again?”

Bucky nods immediately, “I promise.” His pulled your hand up to his chest, flattening your palm so that you could feel his heartbeat through his thin black shirt, “As long as my heart is beating I will always protect you and love you. You’re it for me, baby.”

You take a deep breath, looking at your hand on his chest before looking up to him from under your long eyelashes, “Okay.” You breath out, already melting under his warm gaze.

“Okay?” Bucky asks, moving his hand to cup your left cheek as he leans closer to you. He stopped just before his lips met yours, his eyes flickering up to yours as he awaits your answer.

“Okay.” You confirm before his lips met yours. They molded perfectly together, like you were made to kiss him and for him to kiss you. It was like a passionate dance as his tongue found his way passed your lips. It felt like a fire had been set aflame in your soul and as your hands slowly snaked up around his neck to loop behind and as he pulled you closer, you knew you were going to spend the rest of your life with James Buchanan Barnes.

_______________________________________________________________________

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Taglists are always open. Let me know if I missed you or if you’d like to be added (:

#mob!bucky #mob!buckybarnes #mob!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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bucksbabybug · 4 years ago

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OKAY

This is how I imagine mob!bucky. What do you guys think?

-Daisy <3

#bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky #mob!buckybarnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic

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buckyalpine · 2 years ago

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Satisfied

18+

Mob!Steve x reader x Bodyguard!Bucky

This can be read as a stand alone. What started off as a oneshot turned into a final three part piece with our beautiful menaces.

Craving

Just a Taste

Warnings: Cuckolding, Breeding kink, pregnancy kink, lactation kink, dom Steve, switch Bucky, Sub reader, so much dirty talking

“Ready to take our cocks baby?”

You were tossed onto the bed while your husband smirked, his best friend beside him with a matching expression, both men ready to utterly ruin you. You could feel your stomach clench, your pussy already making a mess on the sheets watching Steve starting to loosen his tie.

“You gonna be a good girl for us princess? Listen to everything we tell you to do, make us feel good?”

“Yes daddy”

Bucky’s hand went down to palm his aching length, squeezing it at the way you looked up at Steve with pretty doe eyes before your gaze flicked over to him, a whimper slipping past your lips when you watched Bucky rub his erection.

“Already needy for his cock, hm? Greedy little baby, all it took was one taste and you’re already whining for him to stuff you full?” Steve cupped your face, pulling you down for a fiery kiss, while his other hand worked at his belt and unzipping his pants. You chased more of his lips, your nipples pebbled, skin hot with anticipation, both men still fully clothed while you were bare.

Bucky’s cock strained against his pants, It was almost painful, hearing your soft whines and whimpers as Steve slipped his tongue into your mouth. He tried to squeeze his length to calm himself down but it was pointless, there was already a prominent wet patch on his pants from where the tip of his cock rested. He watched Steve’s hand come down to rub through your folds, spreading your slick around. Bucky groaned at the sight of your glistening cunt as you spread your legs further, rubbing your clit while Steve stuffed his fingers into your mouth letting you taste yourself.

There was only so much restraint Bucky had.

Your eyes grew wide at the deep moan you heard behind Steve to find Bucky with his cock out, his fist working at his length, eyes locked on you. He bit his lip, giving himself slow strokes from the base of his cock, twisting at the head. Steve continued his ministrations, going back to toying with your pussy while he pulled his own cock out.

“You see what you do to him baby, couldn’t even keep it in his pants” Steve smirked, watching Bucky stroke himself, the head of his length a silky mess. Your husband pulled away, causing you to whine at the loss of contact.

“Come here and get on your knees sweets” Both men towered over you as you sunk to the floor, looking up at them, their leaky thick cocks hanging above your face. You let your fingers dig into Steve’s thighs as you took his tip into your mouth, moaning at the taste of him, working your tongue in swirls. You took more of him till your nose was flush against the base, choking and gagging on his length.

“Look at her, fuck-she’s-oh God she’s perfect” Bucky was already a babbling mess, watching you slobber over your husband, stroking him while you fit as much as you could into your mouth. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty doll”

Steve grinned proudly, lightly thrusting into your mouth, Bucky’s broken moans making his cock harder combined with your gagging. As gorgeous as you were on your knees for him, his cock twitched at the thought of you putting on a show for him. He shoved his cock deep into your throat, savoring your soft mouth before giving your bodyguard a taste.

“Suck his cock babygirl” Steve cooed, gently tugging your hair, pulling you off him and guiding you to Bucky’s leaking tip. Bucky’s eyes grew wide as you greedily lapped him up, your hand teaching up to play with Steve’s balls while you wrapped your lips around your husbands best friend. “That’s it pretty girl, give him some nice sloppy head, you dreamed of this didn’t you? Sucking his dick, tasting his balls, my filthy little bitch” Steve pushed your head all the way down till you choked, tears streaming down your face. Your thighs were sticky with arousal, your hands now clinging around Bucky’s meaty thighs, nose against the dark hair at the base of his cock. Your husband guided your head up and down, while bringing his hand up to jerk his cock at how perfectly slutty you were.

“Suck it, tell her how much you love it Buck, how much you love my wife on her knees for you with your dick in her mouth. Tell my precious baby how that’s all she’s good for, cockhungry whore” Bucky’s hands replaced Steve’s, carding through your hair as he started to fuck your mouth, his hips already starting to stutter.

“Your mouth feels good, so-so fucking good baby, think-fuck, I-I think I’m gonna cum” Bucky’s jaw was slack, his balls throbbing. “C’mon, suck-suck my balls baby, get ‘em both in your mouth” You pulled off with a pop, laving at his warm sac, letting your tongue dip to the underside of his balls making him nearly sob in pleasure, “Oh fuck, that’s it, God they’re so fuckin’ full printsessa, suck’em baby, feel how much cum I have for you”

You whined while keeping your mouth full, letting your hands trail between your legs. play with yourself instead. Your eyes rolled back, fluttering closed as you rubbed yourself faster, letting Bucky fuck your mouth, his balls hitting your chin.

“My poor needy baby, look at her, can’t ever keep her fucking hands to herself, playing with her tingly little button” Steve let out an amused laugh with a hint of a growl in his voice watching you rub your pussy while you sucked your bodyguard, your eyes closed, lost in how good he tasted. You drank every drop of precum, getting sloppy and messy, letting him practically grind his face on you whenever you sucked his balls. “You wanna be filled up with cock, don’t you baby”

You nodded, giving your husband pleading doe eyes; he nodded to Bucky, helping you onto your feet before tossing you over his shoulder and throwing you back onto the large bed. He sat against the headboard, dragging you like a rag doll to straddle his lap, pressing his length against your folds.

“Daddy, please” You rutted yourself on him, desperate for some type of relief, gasping when the tip of his cock pressed against your soaked cunt.

“Don’t be a brat, you’ll get all the cock you want” Steve spanked you ass, gripping your hips and sinking you down on his length, moaning with you as he buried himself to the hilt. Bucky couldn’t help himself, kneeling on the bed beside you both, jerking his cock while you started to move, riding your husband. You needed more, your pussy full but your mouth empty, greedily leaning over so you could take Bucky in your mouth, a pornographic moan escaping from his lips, catching him off guard.

“Oh-oh FUCK baby!”

“My pretty princess is such a fuckin’ whore” Steve moaned, throwing his head back while you continued to bounce on his cock while gagging and choking all over Bucky, pulling off his length with a pop just to get a taste of his balls again.

“You like those in your mouth, huh baby?”

“Tastes so good Daddy” You gathered the precum off Bucky’s cock, wetting you lips with his arousal before smashing your lips on Steve, letting him get a taste of what you making you so feral.

“Yeah? You like how he tastes baby? Didn’t realize you were such a cumslut baby, you love cum don’t you?” Steve snarled, thrusting up from underneath you while you let out choked moans, going back to slobbering all over Bucky. He wanted to cum so badly, fill you up but the fucked up part of his brain wouldn’t let him, only wanting to let go once you were utterly fucked out. He pushed you off his cock so you were lying down, beckoning for his best friend to have a turn instead.

“I wanna see how much of a slut you are baby. This is what you dreamed of, isn’t it princess? My best friend in our bed?” Steve sat against the headboard against the pillows, gripping the base of his length while Bucky crawled on top of you, his heavy cock bobbing between his legs. You whimpered, spreading your legs for him, his length streaking precum onto your tummy.

“What else did you need pretty baby, you want it fast or slow, you want me to fucking ruin this pussy or make love to you, hm?” Bucky slipped his thumb past your lips, groaning at the way you started to suck, desperate whines making him throb. “Tell us what you want sweets”

“I-I-

“You what, needy little baby, what does the little princess want” Bucky cooed, kissing up your neck nipping your jaw, his hand stroking your waist. “Spoilt babygirl, thinking of my cock”

You nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist while he groaned, teasing the tip around before slowly pushing himself in you. You moaned for him, digging your heels into his ass till he was all the way in your tummy. He started to rock his hips, grinding and rutting it cock deep in your pussy, a mix of lust and a tinge of envy coursing through his body.

“F-Fuck, you kept this little slut a secret” He groaned, thinking about all the times he thought you were too sweet, too precious, too innocent to even masturbate to. All the times he hated himself for thinking about his best friends pretty wife, the pretty angel he’d never get to touch, the pretty angel that was letting him now pump his load in her. “You gonna let us pump of full of cum baby?”

“Fill me up Bucky” You slurred out, too fucked out by the stretch of him to care about how needy and desperate you sounded. Steve cocked and eyebrow, watching you mark your bodyguard, dragging your nails across his back, nearly breaking the skin, digging your teeth into his neck. You were so feral for another man, so innocent to the outside world. Fuck he was so lucky.

“Look at you, moaning for another man in our bed baby, letting him fuck you raw, you feel his cum leaking in you sweets, you letting him make a mess in that tight little pussy?” Steve moaned out, stroking himself faster, watching Bucky pound your pussy, wrecking your body as if he owned it. “You want that baby, want my bestfriends cum in you baby? Say it you fuckin’ slut, say you want another man to cum in you”

“Want-I want his cum daddy!” You cried out while Bucky brought his knee up to fuck you deeper, thrusting into you till the headboard shook. He grunted, sweat beading at his forehead, keeping his face hidden against your neck, utterly lost in how badly he wanted to bust in your pussy.

“Steve-m’gonna cum-fuck-FUCK” Bucky started to pound you faster, fisting the sheets while his friend let out a breathless chuckle, his own orgasm crawling down his spine watching his wife get railed.

“She’s got you fucked huh? Her pussy makes you never wanna leave-shit”

“She’s so tight, how-fuck-how are you so tight baby, how the fuck are you taking my cock” Bucky pulled away from the crook of your neck, looking down at where you were both connected, nearly sobbing at the sight of his creamy cock sliding in and out of you, your cunt swallowing his length. “God, I wish you were mine, baby, I never wanna pull out, wanna be in this pussy every. Damn. Day” His hips slammed into you with each word, his balls growing heavier.

“Hear that princess, you like that?” Steve tucked some of the stray hair away from your face, your teary eyes gazing up at him. Your needy whiny whimpers just made it more difficult for either men to hold off much longer.

“Princess, can’t-I can’t hold it-m’gonna cum sweets, m’gonna fuckin’ bust in you”

“Want your cum James!” That was all he had to hear, thrusting and fucking you with abandon while Steve shoved his cock into your mouth, both men using you while you were a teary soaked mess.

“Oh fuuckk babygirl, you’re gonna get it baby, I promise, every fuckin’ drop till my balls are empty, m’gonna cum in you till I can drink your milk” Bucky smirked at the low growl he heard from Steve, fucking you harder, faster, both men going higher and higher. “Gonna get you so fuckin full of me, these tits are gonna be leaking for days baby, you’re gonna feed all of us, yeah?”

You nodded, letting out a muffled moan, feeling your husbands cock harden in your mouth. Bucky dipped his head down to latch onto your breast, sucking your nipple until it was sore and swollen.

“This is how you’re gonna feed us, huh princess, gonna feed us so fuckin’ good when you’re leaking with milk” Bucky moaned around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth while you mewled, squeezing his cock in your pussy. “Yeah, you gonna feed our baby, then feed your baby daddy? When daddy gets all hungry for mama’s sweet milk?”

“Gonna-fuck-gonna feed you James!”

Steve grinned, watching your eyes roll back at those words, he could tell you were so close, so fucking close. He tilted your face to meet his eyes, cooing at the way your clung onto Bucky.

“You gonna let him get you pregnant in our bed sweets? What about when you’re all swollen and round babygirl, all pretty and pregnant? You think he’s gonna take his eyes off you?” Steve smirked, knowing how protective Bucky was over you. “We’ll-we’ll be gentle sweets, don’t worry, he’s gonna take care of his little princess and her sensitive little button when you can’t reach over your belly”

“Mmmm,-hng- don’t-just shut the fuck up-” Bucky gritted, struggling not to cum, Steve’s words making him absolutely feral, picturing you pregnant.

“Don’t what, you don’t think she’ll look so pretty with that perfect belly all round, too swollen to even take care of herself”

“Oh god”

“Begging for someone to play with her down there when she’s all needy”

“Sh-shit”

“You think my slutty little wife won’t beg for your cock if I’m not home to take care of her? You know how needy and full she’s gonna get, she’s gonna feed us so good, Fuck-she’s such a whore, my fucking perfect little whore-oh SHITTT” Steve threw his head back, his hips lifting off the bed as he shot cum onto your face, painting your face with his cream.

“Steve-I-fuck, gonna fill her with my cum, theres-fuck baby theres so much, m’sorry, s’too much princess, m’gonna make sucha mess in your pussy, gonna ruin your fuckin’ sheets-Take-fuck-take it, I’M CUMMING IN HER, FUCKK”

“Cum in my wife, fucking cum in her, give my little slut all the cum he wants”

“I’M GONNA GET YOU PREGNANT BABY, TAKE ALL MY CUM” Bucky roared against your neck, his hand flying to the head board, letting it splinter under his grip as he stilled, his cock bursting with cum. You cried out with him as your own orgasm clenched around his cock making him shudder, everything around you a dull buzz, spots clouding your vision.

You felt like you were floating, too fucked out to register the warm cloth that grazed your skin or the cool lotion that was being rubbed onto your body. You only faintly felt the soft kisses that were peppered onto your body, whispers of what a good girl you were between praises of how much you were adored exchanged between Steve and Bucky.

You yawned, letting out a content sigh, feeling the warmth from your husband on one side, your bodyguard on the other, both men wrapping a protective arm around you.

“Rest up lil mama, you need it”

They didn’t see the little playful smile that curved on your lips at the feel of their still semi hard cocks; a nap would be a good idea before the rest of the night continued.

“Sleep well, babygirl”

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urdepressedslut · 2 years ago

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You’re Mine, Sunshine

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky gets picked by a very rich and respected man to be his daughter’s personal bodyguard. The Father warns him that it won’t be an easy job, that she is a brat and difficult to deal with. But what happens when Bucky meets you and you’re the complete opposite?

♡ Warnings: mentions of amputation, light angst, hints to violence, mentions of death, bucky being a grumpy man

Part 2

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!AU Bodyguard!AU

“Mr. Barnes, your résumé so far is quite impressive.” Pierce acknowledged with a slow nod.

Bucky of course had a trained eye, but the glares that were not so subtly sent his way by the big boss— were intimidating. He wasn’t scared, no. He simply respected this man’s power. Bucky knew better than to get on the bad side of someone like Pierce.

“Says here you’re an amputee?” Pierce asked so bluntly, and he noticed Bucky’s eyes squint slightly. “Sorry, if I’m overstepping but nothing will be overlooked.”

“It’s not a problem, sir.” Bucky assured him. “Yes, I lost my left arm during a mission way back.”

Pierce furrowed his brows.

“Mission? I take it you used to be an agent of some sort.” He assumed.

Bucky nodded.

“Hm, very good. Continue.” He waved him on.

“I had some surgical procedures— and now I have a prosthetic.”

Bucky lifted his left arm, rolling his sleeve slightly up to expose the metal to the boss. Pierce hummed impressively, taking in the intricate designs on the metal.

“I can assure you that me having a prosthetic will not be an issue— my arm is made out of only the strongest metal. Bullet proof, in fact.” He added, hoping it would further impress the boss, proving just how perfect for the job he was.

It wasn’t his dream to be a bodyguard, actually it was quite a low in his career— if you asked him. He had fallen out of his previous steady job, due to some complications. He had the experience of being a bodyguard— just not for only one person. It would be a weird change for him, but he was willing to take on the challenge. Also, the pay was nice.

Pierce hummed again, the information that his prosthetic arm was bullet proof— only satisfying him more.

“Like I said, impressive Mr. Barnes. But this is an extremely important task. My only daughter, who must be protected at all costs.” Pierce trailed off, expression growing serious. “It’s been a hard adjustment since the passing of my wife, my daughter is all I have left.”

Bucky nodded in understanding, knowing what it was like to lose loved ones. In fact, that wound was still fresh on him.

“If I allow you to take on this role, you are to swear to yourself that you will do whatever it takes to keep her alive— no matter what.” Pierce spoke loudly, his voice orotund.

Bucky in the back of his mind thought about his choice of words. ‘If I allow you.’ Bucky respected this man, but he had to hold back the scoff that threatened to escape his lips at his statement.

“Do you think you’re ready for that?” Pierce challenged, and suddenly it wasn’t about his daughter at all. It was a man challenging another man, a task that he deemed impossible.

His metal hand behind his back whirred in annoyance. After all that fluffing his head up, complimenting his training. It was clear Pierce thought so little of him, and at that— it made Bucky wanna take the job even more. Just to prove him wrong.

“Yes sir.” Bucky promised, shaking Pierces hand in a firm— slightly aggressive shake.

Pierce smiled, dropping Bucky’s résumé on his desk. Getting himself comfortable, he sat on the edge of the front of the desk, crossing his arms.

“Now, let’s go through what is to be expected.” He started, Bucky nodded for him to continue. “You are to be with her at all times, except for when you sleep. You do sleep right?”

Bucky let the scoff escape this time, but it wasn’t as aggressive as he wanted it to be.

“I’ve got a metal arm, but I’m still human sir.”

Pierce chuckled to himself, and Bucky wanted to roll his eyes. This man thinks he’s so funny.

“Right. You must never let her leave your sight, if she wants to see her friends— you’ll be seeing them with her. Not that it’s going to be an issue, I don’t think she has many friends… or any.” The boss shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about his daughter.

Bucky nodded, taking everything in.

“You are going to be staying with her in the safe house… well— she thinks it’s just a house but the area is guarded with my men.” He shrugged again. “I’m a successful man and with that comes enemies, people who look for my weaknesses. You know that.”

Bucky gave a tight lipped smile, Pierce so far sounding like a father of the year.

“Now, about my daughter. Her name is (Y/n) (Y/L/n), and she is a handful.” Pierce stated frustratedly. “She’s rude, ungrateful, nasty— and just overall extremely difficult.”

Bucky furrowed his brows, rethinking his decision to be a bodyguard for this girl. Fucking lovely.

“You can now understand why I’m paying you the offered amount. It’s only fair to you, Mr. Barnes. Truthfully, I can’t deal with her anymore. I love her, and she’s my daughter but… It just doesn’t work out with me. I’m a busy man— I don’t have time for brats.” Pierce spat, straightening up and heading back around his desk.

Bucky had already been creating this mental image of you, so far you sounded like a witch. He was not at all ready to be dealing with you 24/7.

“Doesn’t sound like a problem boss, I’m happy to be protecting your daughter. Nobody will lay a hair on her head, I swear on my life.” Bucky promised again, bowing his head slightly.

“Oh I know. If anything happens to her and I find out you were slacking even by an inch… well you’re a smart man, I’m sure you can figure it out.” Pierce warned, and Bucky swallowed at the mere intimidation that laced his voice.

But he would not back down to this challenge, which is how he saw this— not a job.

“That will be all Mr. Barnes, (Y/n) is around here somewhere. Find her and take her home.” He told Bucky, putting on his glasses— focusing on his paperwork.

“Yes sir.”

Bucky nodded and turned to exit the room. He was so confused with the interaction. You’d think someone who hires a bodyguard for their daughter would know where their daughter is. The way he spoke about you was off putting. Bucky didn’t even know you, but it felt wrong to hear someone talk so little about you. What did he know anyway— apparently you were a monster.

He made his way through the building with a swift walk, needing to fulfill his duties and find you quickly. He was on the third floor, about to hit the button to the elevator when he saw a young lady. Despite him wanting to find you all on his own, he got her attention.

“Excuse me,” He waved to her with a fake smile, “Do you know where I can find (Y/n) (Y/L/n)?”

The lady smiled and took Bucky by surprise by laughing. His fake smile vanished immediately, his eyes squinting in a annoyed expression.

“That would be me!” You exclaimed with a warm smile.

Bucky’s eyes widened and he thought for a second he was being fucked with, but after you stayed smiling at him, being as patient as ever— he knew you weren’t joking.

“Uh right… Your dad is Pierce?” He asked hesitantly, keeping his guard up. Still thinking someone was messing with him— testing him.

You nodded slowly, giving him a curious expression. Your smile never wavering.

“Yes, and you are?” You asked so politely.

Bucky shouldn’t of been as shocked as he was but truthfully, he was expecting a demon spawn of a person. Red eyes, withered flowers left in your path, a literal storm cloud floating over you— but you looked so normal. So sweet and pretty. Your hair smelled so strongly of strawberry shampoo, he could catch the scent from his spot. Your voice was like honey, the sound soothing.

He was confused as to why your father thought so wrongly of you. He had too many questions.

He cleared his throat, straightening himself now that he believed you were who he was looking for.

“(Y/n), my name is Mr. Barnes— I’ve been hired as your personal bodyguard.” He informed you, watching the corners of your mouth falter slightly.

“Oh, did my Father hire you?” You asked politely.

“Yes ma’am.”

You nodded your head, attempting to keep a smile on your face. But you couldn’t help the distaste for being given a bodyguard. You knew it was only for the sole purpose, that your Father didn’t want to care for you anymore. He wanted nothing to do with you. That fact was enough to make your nose start to burn, but you held yourself together— not wanting to break down in front of this new guy.

Bucky watched you take in the information, the way you took a deep breath, almost controlling yourself before you spoke again.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Barnes. I’m sure we’re going to be great friends.” You told him.

Bucky shook his head, an annoyed expression etching his face.

“Ma’am, I think we should keep things professional. I have been hired as your bodyguard. Let me do my job, and you can continue with your day as usual. You won’t even know I’m here half the time.” He explained rather harshly.

You seemed taken aback, his words hurting you more than they should’ve. You were lonely, and you thought you’d be able to get a friend out of this situation. Even if he was being hired to hang around you. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side as he told you off. The burning felt stronger in your nose, and you took another deep breath.

Bucky only felt bad for a second, but he was quickly snapping back to reality. It was his life on the line to protect you, and if Bucky was anything— it was that he was good at doing his job. This was business, not playtime.

“I’m here to take you home. Are you ready?” He asked you.

You relaxed your quick beating heart, not even having time to speak with your Father. Not that he’d want to anyway. So much had changed since your Mother passed, you had yet to heal those wounds.

You nodded with a weaker smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. If Bucky had noticed your sudden mood change, he didn’t mention it— instead guiding you outside.

He opened the door to the car that was waiting outside for you, climbing in himself after you were settled.

He started driving to your place, with the help of the car telling him directions.

Meanwhile you gazed out the window, watching the buildings pass by. You forced yourself to keep a small smile on your face, hoping you’d convince yourself that the gesture was genuine if you did it long enough.

Bucky glanced back at you through the rear view mirror from time to time, watching you look out the window. He was still trying to come to terms with how polite you were, how completely opposite you were to your Fathers description.

On one hand it was a relief that he didn’t have to deal with the devil. On the other hand… he was anxious to see where this job would lead him.

A/N: I don’t know what is wrong with me, but suddenly I had this urge to write a bodyguard!bucky fic. let’s be honest, we are all slut’s for bodyguard!bucky 😭 I’m also a whore for the trope grumpy x sunshine 🥰🥴 let me know what you think— this is all word vomit.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #sebastian stan #buckybarnes #fluff #marvel imagines #light angst #oneshot #bodyguard bucky barnes #bodyguard au #mob au #grumpy x sunshine #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #beefy bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #mini series

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societyfolklore · 1 month ago

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Dangerous Notes – Part 3

Title: Dangerous Notes – Part 3

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Singer!Female Reader

Fic Summary: Reluctantly agreeing to fill in for her sick friend at a prestigious jazz club The Armoury. Thrust into a world of old-world glamour and unknown danger now that the club’s owner, Bucky Barnes, has set his sights on making you a permanent fixture on his stage—and in his life. Chapter Summary: After speaking with Kara, it’s off to rehearsal and Bucky calls in someone to do a little digging.

Word Count: 2.7K

Fic Warnings: // Explicit Content // Mature Themes.18+, Minors DNI,Dark Romance, Slow Burn, Possessive/Obsessive behaviour, Violence, Smut (eventually) Chapter Warnings: None…

A/N: Ok, moving forward this fic will be updated on Wed or Thurs.

The next morning arrived with the soft glow of sunlight streaming through your window, casting long shadows across the floor. You stirred slowly, your body feeling heavier than usual as the realization hit you—it was late morning, far later than you ever allowed yourself to sleep in. Normally, you would have been up hours ago, already halfway through your steady Saturday routine of coffee and errands. Last night, though, had been anything but routine. At the time you would typically be winding down, curled up with a book or preparing for bed, you’d been stepping onto The Armory’s stage. The echoes of applause, the sharp gaze of Bucky Barnes fixed on you, and the surrealness of it all came rushing back at once, making your heart flutter with an exhilarating mix of pride and disbelief. The smile that spread across your face was so wide, it made your cheeks ache.

“Holy shit, girl,” you muttered to yourself, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling. “You really did it.” A giggle escaped you, light and unrestrained, a sound you couldn’t remember making in years. It felt unfamiliar yet wonderful, as though some long-lost piece of you had resurfaced overnight. Bringing your hands to your face, you pressed your palms against your warm cheeks, trying to convince yourself it hadn’t all been a dream.

With a newfound energy buzzing through you, you threw off the covers and padded across the apartment, nearly skipping to the kitchen. Your stomach’s insistent growl brought you fully back into the present, demanding attention. Tea and toast, you decided—quick, simple, and comforting. The kettle hissed softly as it began to boil, the toaster clicked to life, and you found yourself humming absentmindedly while you waited.

As the tea steeped, you changed out of your pajamas, opting for a comfortable outfit. Returning to the kitchen, you settled at the small table with your plate of toast, a steaming mug of tea, and your ever-present notebook and pen. The moment you sat down, your brain surged into overdrive, flooded with ideas and inspiration. You started jotting down notes for the rehearsal later, tiny tweaks to melodies and lyrics phrasing you wanted to test with the band. It hit you again—you had a rehearsal today. A real, honest-to-goodness rehearsal with professional musicians. The thought made your feet tap an excited rhythm against the floor beneath your chair. When was the last time you had felt this alive, this connected to something you loved? You couldn’t remember, but the feeling was so welcome, you didn’t want it to end.

The sharp buzz of your phone interrupted your reverie. Glancing at the screen, you weren’t surprised to see Kara’s name flashing. Guilt prickled at you as you picked up; you had meant to call her last night but hadn’t managed to—everything had been so overwhelming that you’d crashed almost the moment you walked through the door.

“Kara, I’m so sorry I didn’t call last night,” you said, your words tumbling out. “I was just so exhausted—I barely made it to bed.”

Kara’s voice, raspy with congestion, greeted you warmly. “..figured as much,” she said, a faint laugh escaping before she coughed. “Big night, huh? I didn’t expect you to be awake yet, honestly.”

“It was a lot,” you admitted, glancing down at the notes you’d been writing. “The crowd was great, but, Kara, you didn’t tell me how… intense it would be.”

“It’s The Ah-rmory,” she said, trying to clear her through as she talk “Of course, it’s intense." You felt a little silly for saying it now, Kara was right, what had you been expecting? "-But you handled it, right?”

“I think so,” you replied, hesitating. “But your boss—Bucky Barnes—he…” You trailed off, unsure how to describe the feeling of being scrutinized by those piercing blue eyes.

“Yeah, he’s… a lot,” Kara said, sounding suddenly sheepish. “But he keeps the place running like clockwork. You don't get any trouble there really. Just don’t take it personally. He’s always like that with new people.”

You frowned, leaning back in your chair. “I thought you said you’d cleared everything with him?”

“Well,” Kara started, her voice faltering slightly, “I sorta did. I cleared it with Pietro. I don’t really like talking to… well, bothering the big boss.”

“Kara!” you said, half-exasperated, half-laughing. “You made it sound like everything was squared away!”

“It is! Pietro knew you were coming, and he’s runs the band! I mean it's not like I could-" Kara started coughing like she was dying. Your own chest crunching up in sympathetic pain. "-Trust me, you’re fine,” she insisted, though the faint hesitance in her voice made you wonder. “Bucky’s just cautious. He’ll warm up once he sees how great you are. Just… stay professional, and it’ll be fine.”

You sighed but didn’t push further. Kara already sounded miserable, and you didn’t want to add to her stress. Plus keeping her on the phone was only making her voice worse. “All right. Just get some rest, okay? I’ll check in on you later.”

“Thanks,” she said softly, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. “And seriously, don’t worry. You’ve got this. It's not like he's going think your anyone important.”

As you ended the call, her cryptic reassurances lingered in your mind. Even as you prepared for the day ahead, excitement mingled with apprehension, twisting into a knot in your stomach. The events of last night had opened a door you weren’t sure you were ready to walk through, but you knew there was no turning back now.

###### Time seemed to fly, or maybe it was just because you’d slept in. By the time you had even thought about putting on a load of laundry, it was nearly time to leave for the rehearsal at three.

Remembering the doorman’s sharp reminder about staff protocols, you approached The Armory’s side entrance. The alley was dimly lit, lined with discarded crates and the faint scent of stale smoke. You paused when a flicker of movement caught your eye.

Pietro Maximoff stood nearby, leaning casually against the brick wall with a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His silver hair caught the weak light filtering through the alley, and he raised an eyebrow when he spotted you. A grin spread across his face, wide and teasing.

“Well, look who didn’t get scared off!” he exclaimed, flicking ash from his cigarette before taking another drag. He pushed off the wall and crossed the alley to greet you. “I wasn't sure if we should be expecting you, no one would blame you if you'd gone fleeing off into the night.”

You chuckled nervously, shifting the garment bag on your arm. “Not yet. Though I won’t lie, it was tempting.”

Pietro laughed, the sound warm and easy, as he motioned for you to head inside. “Don’t worry, it gets easier. The first night’s always the hardest, but you crushed it. The band was talking about you most of last night."

“Really?” you asked, surprised. “That’s… nice to hear.”

“Nice?” Pietro smirked, holding the door open for you to enter. “Try rare. These boys don't tend to like the stand ins too much..They'll be glad to know the Big Boss didn't scare you away."

The mention of Bucky sent a shiver down your spine. “Yeah, about that… Is he always so gggrrr?” You made a gesture with your hands like you were chocking something as you walked through the backstage part of the club. Pietro raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening. “He’s the boss. 'grr' comes with the territory, Songbird. But if he wasn’t impressed, trust me, you’d know. The fact that you’re still here means you’re doing something right.” Pietro flicked his cigarette butt into a nearby ashtray and motioned for you to follow him deeper in.

The club looked entirely different in the afternoon hours. The usual dim, moody lighting was replaced by the stark brightness of overhead house lights, illuminating every corner of the room. Without the sultry shadows, the cracks in the old wood floors and the slight wear on the velvet seats stood out more clearly. Bar staff moved about, cleaning and setting tables with military precision. The faint smell of disinfectant mingled with the usual aroma of aged whiskey and faint cigar smoke, giving the space a strangely subdued energy.

Pietro stepped around you to head towards the rest of the band, warming up, the sound of brass and guitar stums blending in a low, casual hum. "Boys, This is our new temporary Songbird, while our Kara is out sick." Pietro grinned as he began introducing you to the musicians. you just gave a small wave to the collective.

“Marcus and Rick on brass,” he said, nodding toward two both one tipped his hat to you. “Lewis and Ted—guitarist and bass,” he added, gesturing to two men sharing a quiet joke by the amplifiers. “And Leo on drums.” A wiry man with a quick smile gave you a friendly wave from behind his kit.

You smiled and nodded along, recognizing their names from Kara’s stories. It was strange putting faces to names, but it also felt grounding—like stepping into a world you’d only glimpsed through someone else’s lens.

Just as you were getting your bearings, Yelena strode in from the side, balancing a tray laden with drinks and a small spread of food. “All right, boys, fuel up,” she said, her Russian accent sharp but playful. She set the tray down on a side table and glanced at you, a teasing smile curling her lips. “And don’t worry, Songbird, I’ve got a a lemon tea with just a hit of whiskey ready for you again. It seemed to help last time.” Yelena smiled knowingly while putting the tray down on the small table nearby.

“Maybe later.” You laughed nervously, waving her off.

Yelena smirked, giving you a wink before turning back to the musicians. “Don’t break her, boys. We need her voice in one piece.”

The band chuckled, the atmosphere lightening as they began to settle in, tuning instruments and trading easy banter. Pietro caught your attention and motioned for you to join him near the piano. “Come on, Songbird. Let’s get you warmed up before the boys start going full throttle,” he said, patting the bench invitingly.

You slid into the seat next to him, letting the smooth wood of the bench ground you as Pietro began to play a few simple chords. He encouraged you to hum along, gently matching your pitch to his notes.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his playful grin never faltering. His easy confidence kept you from feeling self-conscious, and soon you were running through scales and vocal exercises. With each repetition, your voice grew steadier, your confidence following suit. You found yourself sinking into the warm familiarity of the routine, the tension in your shoulders slowly dissolving.

“Any others you like to do?” Pietro asked, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys. “Kara had a whole routine she went through. It’s a little dramatic, but I like dramatic.” He shot you a wink, his grin widening as he caught the way your cheeks flushed pink.

“Maybe,” you replied, laughing softly. Pietro was a flirt, but it was disarming in the best way—his charm putting you more at ease than you expected.

“All right, let’s push it a bit,” he said, shifting into a more complex melody. You followed his lead, your voice slipping into the notes as the music filled the space around you. It wasn’t long before you forgot about the others in the room, the piano and Pietro’s easy energy anchoring you in the moment.

######

Upstairs in his office, Bucky leaned back in his chair, the faint strains of rehearsal drifting through the floor. His fingers tapped a slow, almost irritated rhythm on the desk, the sound a quiet counterpoint to the melody seeping through the cracks. His sharp blue gaze rested on the map still splayed across the desk, though he wasn’t really seeing it. His thoughts were elsewhere, tangled up in a problem he couldn’t quite grasp. The voice—your voice—echoed in his head, a persistent sound he couldn’t seem to shake. No matter how much he tried to focus on the tasks demanding his attention, the melody of it returned, weaving through his mind with an unsettling persistence.

He let out a low, frustrated sigh, his jaw tightening as he pushed back in his chair. The upcoming expansion, the rival families encroaching on territory, the carefully laid plans that needed his undivided attention—these were the things that should have occupied his thoughts. Yet, every time he tried to center himself, your voice pulled him back. It wasn’t just that it was beautiful, though it undeniably was. It was the way it carried a depth he couldn’t ignore, like there was something underneath it calling to him, demanding his attention even when he didn’t want to give it.

For Bucky, that lack of control—over his focus, his thoughts—was intolerable. The realization only made his frustration flare hotter, a tension settling into his shoulders that refused to ease.

A knock at the door interrupted his spiral. Natasha Romanoff stepped inside, her sharp green eyes scanning the room before settling on him. She moved with her usual practiced precision, her every step calculated, and though Bucky’s tension didn’t ease entirely, her presence added a sense of grounding he appreciated.

“You called?” she asked, her tone cool and professional, though a flicker of curiosity danced in her gaze.

Bucky nodded, gesturing for her to sit. “I need you to look into someone,” he said, his voice low but firm, the edges of his words sharper than usual.

“The new singer?” Natasha arched an eyebrow, her expression flickering between amusement and intrigue. When Bucky didn’t respond immediately, her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “She already got under your skin?”

Bucky’s glare was sharp, though Natasha only shrugged it off. “Yelena might have mentioned earlier that you’d probably be calling,” she added lightly, crossing one leg over the other as she settled into the chair opposite him.

“Your sister needs to mind her damn business,” Bucky growled, his voice low and tinged with annoyance.

Natasha’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Not likely. So, what is it about the new girl that has you so... preoccupied?”

“She’s too-” Bucky started to talk but couldn't quiet make up his mind what about you exactly bothered him, if it was just timing and his own paranoid or what his instinct for sniffing out threats before they arouse telling him something was wrong. “-Kara vouched for her, but I want to know more. What kind of teacher agrees to work in a place like this? It doesn’t add up.”

Natasha leaned back, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You think she’s a plant?”

“I don’t think anything yet,” Bucky said, his tone edged with caution. “But I’m not taking chances. Not with everything happening right now.”

Natasha nodded slowly, already pulling out her phone and tapping at the screen. “I’ll dig. Shouldn’t take long,” she said, her tone measured.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Natasha’s gaze lingered on him, studying his expression with the practiced skill of someone who had spent years reading people.

“It’s not like you to let a stranger get to you,” she remarked lightly, though there was no judgment in her voice. “This one must really be something.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he didn’t respond, his eyes shifting back to the map on his desk. “Just let me know what you find,” he said finally, dismissing the comment with a wave of his hand.

As Natasha stood and left the room, Bucky’s attention shifted back to the faint melody drifting through the floorboards. It gnawed at him, an unrelenting presence that refused to fade. It wasn’t just the technical skill—though that was undeniable—but the way it seemed to carry an unspoken story, a vulnerability wrapped in strength. It left him restless, frustrated, and increasingly determined. Whatever it was about you, he needed to figure it out. And soon. But for right now he couldn't stay in his own damn building if your voice was going to make it too hard to think. Hitting a button on the phone on his desk Bucky rubbed his forehead. "Someone bring the car around. I need to go for a drive."

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lokiswifeduh · 9 months ago

Text

Don't leave me

Pairings- Mob!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary- The aftermath of the shootout was here. And Bucky has to come to terms with the results of the life he introduced you to, and what revenge he would ensue.

notes- this is a part two to Doll, please. I hope you guys enjoy the ending!! Please let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for reading loves!!

Warnings- angst, talk of guns, drugs, kidnapping, abuse, torture. major gore. sad Bucky, hurt reader, hurt/comfort, gunshot wounds, medical talk, revenge.

WC- 3k

catch up here (part one)

masterlist

"Doll, please."

I saw her look up at me with those doe eyes. Those big beautiful eyes painfully gazing into mine. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to turn her away from the bullets that were sure to fly our way, but I couldn't move my hands. In this moment I couldn't protect her.

I felt the sob rip from her throat. There were only ten seconds left.

"I vowed to stand by your side, Buck." She looked back to the ten guns pointed in mine and her direction. I could see a stray tear slip down her cheek as her hands shook, her nails digging into her palm as she tried her hardest to release my wrists from the painful wire digging into them.

Suddenly she dropped the knife, jumping into my lap. Her hands wrapped around my neck as her legs surrounded the back of the chair, encasing my upper body. "NO! Doll, please!!" I felt her hit the knife in my thigh with hers, but I ignored the pain focusing on what in the world she thought she was doing.

The men cocked their guns. But in that moment all I could think about was how to get her off of me. I needed her to run, to fight back to do something. Not to protect my body with hers. I couldn't let her.

"Doll!! Stop!! Get up!!" But my protests fell on deaf ears as she tucked my head into her chest, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck, not letting me move a muscle below her. She shook her head, my tears soaking her shirt, mixing with mine and her blood. "I won't let you die." She attempted to shout but at that moment her voice was the quietest I'd ever heard it.

I tried to whisper back when suddenly shots rang out through the warehouse. My head popped up, prepared to die with the love of my life. I wouldn't let her do it herself. I would not live without her. Not if I had a choice.

But in that split second, I realized the first bullets that went flying weren't from Rumlow's men, it was from Steve, Sam, and my men, shooting at the ones who threatened us.

"Doll, we're gonna be oka-" But my words were cut short as two bullets flew into her. She screamed. Her vocal cords grinding together in the most painful way I'd ever heard. I felt my heart rip in two as her body shook against mine, arching her back as if that would stop the pain.

But she kept her head down, arms shaking yet still holding onto me. I would have cut my hands off if I had the strength to rip through the restraints. A sob tore from my throat, "Don't do this to me."

She finally lifted her head, my beautiful wife looking at me with such care and tenderness. As if she hadn't just been shot twice, and wasn't using all of her strength to hold onto me for dear life.

A small drop of blood trickled down the side of her mouth as her teeth were painted red. "I love you, James Barnes." She cupped my face in her hands, tucking me back into her chest as her grip seemed to loosen, "Till forever and always."

The words we both said to each other on our wedding day. "Doll, please." Her hold on me finally failed as she fell, but thankfully into the arms of Steve, before her head would've slammed into the concrete.

My second in command looked at both of us. Tortured and bloody. I held in my tears as I looked at Sam, leading a pair of medics through the door.

"Rumlow will pay." The wire from my wrists was snapped in half thanks to Peter, a new, very terrified recruit. I shot down immediately onto my knees, holding her head in my hands as the paramedics loaded my wife onto the stretcher. "Don't leave me."

I made eye contact with Steve, "I will have him and that traitor's head."

_________________

You lay in the hospital bed, your whole body practically wrapped in soft white bandages.

You could feel the pressure of something on your thigh as you tried to open your eyes. It wasn't working. Why couldn't you just open them?!

Try something else, you thought.

You moved your hands, the feeling of someone else's palm in yours made your heart start to race. You could remember little parts over the last three days.

Bucky was kidnapped.

Steve was put in charge.

You were kidnapped.

Natasha was working with Rumlow.

The torture.

The pain.

Your husband's face as you used yourself as a human shield.

Being shot.

Suddenly you heard screaming and saw bright lights. A heart monitor was beeping louder and faster at each passing second.

Realizing the screaming was in fact your own, you started to breathe harder. You finally could open your eyes!

Your surroundings were blurry at first. There was a familiar figure in front of you. Sounds were muffled but began to come back into focus.

"Doll?! Sweetheart, you're okay."

You shook your head, looking around in panic before realizing you were in fact back at home, in your bed. Bucky beside you. Your husband, holding your face in his hands.

"B-Bucky?" Your voice was raspy and your throat felt like sandpaper, rubbing together from underuse.

Involuntarily you started to cough, holding a hand up to your throat which only caused more pain in your back to bloom. "Ah," You groaned, swallowing before resting your head back on the pillow.

You felt Bucky's hands leave your body, but only for a second as he held a straw to your lips. "It's just water doll. I need you to drink this for me." You nodded, feeling a pounding in your head as you sucked down the refreshing liquid. The coolness soothing your throat like rain in the desert.

"Good girl." Bucky gave you a soft smile, taking the straw away from your mouth as you finished the water.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you regained your vision, looking around.

Monitors, medical equipment, and an abundance of flowers and cards filled your and Bucky's bedroom. Light shone through the window as you squinted, shooting over to look at Bucky who just gazed down at you worryingly.

You looked him over, seeing the cuts and bruises that adorned his face. His lip was split in multiple places. His thigh was wrapped in gauze and his wrists were bandaged. Looking down, so were yours. Actually, it seemed your entire body was.

"Are yo-," You swallowed, "Are you okay?"

Bucky took a moment before letting out a laugh. "You're asking me if I'm okay, doll?" You nodded, confused.

"Sweetheart you're the one who's been unconscious for three weeks and has two bullet wounds."

You twisted your hips a little, feeling the agonizing, shooting pain of the very real bullet wounds. Groaning, you whispered, "So that definitely happened, good to know."

Bucky ran his hand down the side of your face, sitting in the chair that was placed beside your shared bed. "I'm the one who's supposed to protect you, doll." You gulped, "I- I couldn't let you die, James."

Bucky closed his eyes, laying his head down on your thigh as he gripped your hand in his. "I would've rather die than see you in this state, sweetheart."

You lifted your other hand, running it through his untamed hair. "Don't say that, Buck." But his head lifted, making you notice his bloodshot eyes and the way tears streamed down his face in harsh lines. "I won't live without you, doll." He shook his head, a tear dripping onto the hospital blanket "I would rather die a thousand times over and over in the same painful way than see you in such agony, my love."

You held back tears, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your breath. "I couldn't- no. I wouldn't let you die like that, Buck." You looked at him once again, "Not at the hands of Rumlow. Not because of me." "This wasn't because of you, doll-" "But it was!" You shouted, making you cough slightly, not used to using your voice for this long yet. "Rumlow took you because he wanted to hurt us- because he wanted me." You cupped Bucky's jaw in your hand, "Because I chose you." Bucky gulped, "I've never been so scared." You softly laughed, thinking of all the shootouts, drug deals, and interrogations Bucky went through on a day-to-day basis.

But he shook his head, hearing your chuckle. "Seeing him hurt you and torture you the way he did." Bucky's eyes went dark, "I've never wanted to hurt someone so bad just to ensure you made it out of there safely." You tried to speak up but Bucky kept going. "And look at you now. You're laying here, with two gunshot wounds, fingernails ripped apart, and a busted-up face."

Tilting your head, you looked at the mirror that stood in front of your and Bucky's bed; genuinely taking in your appearance. You in fact did have a busted-in face. Your lip was split. Your eyebrow was stitched as well as your nose. You had bruises covering every inch of your skin and your hair was in the worst shape you had ever seen.

Gulping, you looked away from the mirror, making Bucky take your chin in his hands, guiding you to look him in the eyes. "But you're still the prettiest doll I've ever seen." He moved, bringing his lips to yours in a soft yet long-awaited kiss. "My best girl."

It hurt to smile but you did, bringing your hand to his face, gently rubbing over the matching bruises that mirrored yours. "I love you, James."

"I love you, doll."

________________________

The next few days were agonizing.

You could finally stand up on the third day. But not without terrible pain shooting in every nerve ending of your body.

Bucky helped you with everything. From showering to cleaning your wounds. He was quite the nurse when it came to you.

But unfortunately about a week after you woke up, the violence hadn't ended. There were still some loose ends to tie up.

Slowly walking down the stairs and into one of the main rooms, everyone's attention went to your hobbling frame. "Doll?" Bucky sped over, Steve immediately pulling up a chair so you could take a seat.

As you sat down you noticed a large bruise on Steve's jaw. You knew Bucky would eventually be mad at him for not properly making sure you stayed out of the mess and violence of it all. But you were hoping it would've been a stern lecture, not a punch.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Bucky whispered. The room stayed completely silent as Steve, Sam, and the rest of Bucky's men kept their backs turned, giving you two some privacy.

"I know you're planning to retaliate against, Rumlow."

Bucky nodded, taking your face in his hands as you fidgeted with the string of your sweatpants. Well, Bucky's sweatpants.

"I don't want you involved again, doll." He glanced back at Steve for a moment, "Not after what happened."

You shook your head, "I need him to pay for this, Buck." Your body shook with anger, "I want his fucking blood." Bucky was slightly startled, never seeing this much hatred in your eyes. You were always his sweet wife. You made the men cookies, and you organized charity events for the homeless shelter down the street.

Sure, you knew how to use a gun and fight if you had to. But seeing this much agonizing resentment on your face, scared him. But he knew you wouldn't let it go. He sure as hell wasn't.

So he let you know the plan, and what was going down.

______________

"Steve? We good?" Bucky touched the earpiece, hearing an affirmative. The mob had infiltrated Rumlow's mansion only one week later, killing every single man who stood in their way. Shoot on site. Was your husband's order as you and he waited to enter the mansion, making sure only Rumlow and Natasha were left.

Two of Bucky's men opened the doors to the mansion. The sight of the place made you cringe slightly. Soldiers were dead on the ground everywhere. Blood painted the floors and staircases like a stain.

"Top floor, back left bedroom."

You heard Steve's voice echo through the earpiece as you and Bucky made your way up.

His hand never left the small of your back, making sure you were covered at all angles with men following behind and in front of you, rifles pinned for every aspect of an attack.

"You alright, doll?" Bucky whispered, his hand on the door that would lead you to Rumlow. You nodded, ignoring the dull pain in your back. "I need this to be over with." Your husband kissed the crown of your head, nodding to his men as they busted down the door, guns held high.

But the sight in front of you made you smile.

Rumlow was beaten down, cowering in the corner of the room as Natasha stood in the corner, you could see the fear in her eyes. The same fear she caused you as she ripped your fingernails to pieces.

"Brock Rumlow," Bucky spoke in a deep voice, pulling on a pair of black gloves, before handing you a matching pair.

You slipped them on, hand placed on the knife that was strapped onto your thigh, just above the black jeans you had on.

Steve and Sam patted Bucky on the back, looking toward you with respect. "Have fun, you two." The blonde spoke, before exiting and closing the doors behind them.

"P-please, Barnes." Rumlow pleaded, "Have mercy."

Bucky was about to laugh before Natasha beat him to it. "Oh, please. You two really think he was the mastermind behind all this?" You looked over at the redhead in the corner, your former friend.

"If he's not, does that mean you are?" Your voice carried through the room, a newfound confidence making you raise your head high.

Natasha grinned, "And here I thought you never would've survived." You tilted your head, "Two bullet shots and I'm walking four weeks later." You pulled the gun from your other holster, "I can't say the same for you after this." You pointed it right at her forehead.

"Come here," Bucky moved forward, knowing you had Natasha pinned with the intent to shoot; dragging Rumlow up as two of his men held him on his knees.

"Nat, please. Do something." Rumlow begged, making you let out a laugh under your breath. "Do you think she's really in the position to?" You saw her move forward slightly, making you cock your gun, "One more step and I blow your fucking brains all over these white sheets."

Bucky grinned, loving this color on you.

"You really thought you could take my girl from me?" Your husband kneels in front of Brock, pulling out a knife from his belt. "What did you call her after breaking her nose? Oh, that's right, a 'lovely specimen."

Bucky's smirk dropped, nodding at the two men holding Brock down as they forced his mouth open. Brock shouted and yelled as Bucky gripped the end of his tongue, pulling it from his mouth and slicing it clean off from the base with his knife.

Brock wailed and cried as another soldier brought over a jar filled with a yellow liquid, opening the top so Bucky could drop the tongue in. He closed the lid, holding it up high as he watched Brock's mouth fill with blood. "What a lovely specimen."

"You two are fucking sick." Natasha, sneered, making you grip the knife from your own holster, throwing it and landing it right in her hand that was held in the air. She screamed, falling to the ground and back up until her back hit the wall.

You kneeled down, gun still pointed in her face, "Talk again and next time your tongue will join his in the jar." Your former friend gulped, nodding as you smirked.

Bucky gripped the front of Brock's shirt, making his back touch Bucky's chest as he held a knife to his throat. "Anything you wanna say before I kill you in front of your girlfriend, Rumlow?"

You laughed, slightly, making Bucky huff in humor. "Oh, that's right. You can't" He whispered the last part before slicing a clean and deep cut across his neck, blood pouring out as he collapsed to the ground, whimpering and sputtering in pain as he bled out, his eyes on you in fear as he eventually stopped moving.

Natasha looked back at you, still clutching her bleeding hand into her chest. You kneeled down, "Why, Natasha?" She shook with terror, hardly being able to force the words out. "Why did he have to pick you?!"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "What?" Natasha scoffed, looking over at your husband, then back to you.

"Before you came along I thought he could love me. But then you showed up, taking all Bucky's attention. I never stood a fucking chance." You laughed, sighing before standing and walking over to Bucky, placing a hand on the back of his head before smashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. He groaned, biting your lip and making you moan into his mouth.

You chuckled, still holding the back of his head in your hand. You lifted your arm, perfect aim.

"No, Natasha. You never stood a fucking chance." One, two, then three shots rang out through the room as you planted two bullets in Natasha's head, and one in the chest.

Dropping the gun, you saw her body slump to the ground. Dead.

Bucky turned you away from the scene, bringing your face into his hands as both of you had unshed tears in your eyes. "It's over, doll."

You nodded, holding onto his hands as they held your face. "Can we go home, Buck?" He nodded, bringing your face into his chest as he walked you back through the house and into the car. "We're going home, doll. I'm never leaving you."

End

__________________

part one (read first)

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year ago

Text

The Lady - 1

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments. Thank you for your continued encouragement!

In the heart of the military training ground, you, a seasoned Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) technician, stand poised amidst a group of nervous soldiers. Among them is Private Jameson, a newcomer with trembling hands and apprehensive eyes. With unwavering composure, you take charge, your voice steady as you address the group.

"Today, we're covering the basics of bomb disposal," you begin, your tone reassuring yet firm. Turning to Private Jameson, you offer a patient smile.

"You, Private. What's your name?" Despite his nervousness, Private Jameson responds, and you guide him with a calming presence, instilling confidence as you impart your expertise.

"Jameson, take a deep breath," you instruct softly but firmly. "Remember, focus is key. You've got this." Private Jameson nods, his eyes locked on your reassuring gaze.

As he examines the device, you watch attentively, offering guidance with each movement. When he finishes, you nod approvingly. "Well done, Private. Now, let's move on."

As Private Jameson continues under your guidance, the other soldiers watch with admiration. They've seen you in action before, witnessed your dedication to the mission and your willingness to put yourself in harm's way for the greater good.

"Ma'am, what if the situation calls for immediate action?" Private Reynolds interjects, reflecting the group's curiosity.

You acknowledge the gravity of the question. "In a real-world scenario, there may not be time for thorough examination," you explain calmly. "Trust your instincts and make split-second decisions."

Private Jameson glances at you, newfound respect shining in his eyes. "But you always seem so calm under pressure, ma'am," he remarks admiringly.

You smile humbly, reflecting on the countless moments of uncertainty you've faced. "It's not about being fearless, Private," you reply earnestly. "It's about pushing through fear for those counting on you."

Your words hang in the air, a silent reminder of the sacrifices made by soldiers like you every day. With renewed determination, Private Jameson nods, his resolve strengthened by your example.

As the door of the training facility echoed with a sharp knock, you exchanged a puzzled glance with your comrades. The abrupt interruption stirred a sense of unease within you, a foreboding whisper of uncertainty.

"A lawyer wants to see you," the soldier at the door announced, his voice tinged with urgency.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. "Me?" you repeated, your mind racing to grasp the sudden turn of events. "Hmm, he sounds British," you mused aloud, your instincts sharpened by years of training.

With measured steps, you followed your comrade through the maze of corridors until you reached the visitor's area. There, standing before you, was a figure from your past, a familiar face veiled in the somber cloak of time.

"Miss," the lawyer greeted you with a solemn nod, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him, the memories flooding back like an unstoppable tide. It had been fifteen years since you last saw him, a lifetime of distance and estrangement separating you.

"I assumed something bad happened?" you ventured cautiously, your tone laced with concern and apprehension.

The lawyer, Cedric, nodded gravely, his expression betraying the gravity of the news he bore.

You and Cedric found a quiet place to talk. "Something's wrong?" you inquired, noting the somber expression on Cedric's face as he adjusted his glasses.

Cedric remained silent momentarily, his gaze fixed on the ground before meeting your eyes. "Duke Rupert died two days ago," he finally uttered, his voice laden with gravity.

Your heart clenched at the news. Duke Rupert was your stepfather, and the thought of his passing filled you with a mix of sorrow and apprehension.

Cedric continued, his words weighed down by the weight of the news. "On his will, he wrote that he wants all the family to gather. I came here as soon as I could. And you could attend the funeral too. He probably wants it too."

You nodded, absorbing the information with a heavy heart. The sudden loss of Duke Rupert had thrown your world into disarray, and the prospect of gathering with the family only added to the uncertainty swirling within you.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, determined to face whatever lay ahead with strength

You nodded in response to Cedric's words, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "I'll gather my things," you said quietly, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

As you packed your belongings into your bag, Private Jameson approached you, his curiosity evident in his voice. "So, it turns out you're a noble," he remarked, his tone tinged with surprise.

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head in response. "I'm not. It was my step-dad. There's no noble blood in me," you explained, a hint of self-deprecation in your voice.

Jameson furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. "We've been working together for years, but you never mentioned anything about this," he observed, his tone filled with genuine interest.

You zipped up your bag, pausing momentarily before meeting Jameson's gaze. "It's just family stuff. Nothing interesting," you replied cryptically, a hint of sadness flickering in your eyes before you turned away, ready to face the uncertain future that lay ahead.

After a grueling 12-hour flight, you finally arrived back in the UK. As the car pulled up to Evergreen Abbey, your childhood home, a rush of nostalgia washed over you. The manor stood proudly, its historical façade unchanged by the passing years.

Stepping out of the car, you took a moment to absorb the familiar sight before you. The memories of your upbringing flooded back, filling you with a sense of belonging despite the years of absence.

As you entered the manor, you were greeted by the sight of a middle-aged woman wearing a classic black dress adorned with a string of pearls. Her youthful aura belied the years that had passed since you last saw her. It was your mother, Susan.

"You're back," she exclaimed, opening her arms wide to envelop you in a warm embrace. The familiar scent of her perfume brought tears to your eyes as you returned her hug, feeling a sense of comfort and homecoming wash over you.

You nodded as Susan spoke, absorbing the news of Duke Rupert's accident with a heavy heart. The realization that your stepfather had passed away hit you like a wave, stirring emotions you had long buried.

"I'm so sorry. What happened?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern as you reached out to grasp Susan's hand for support.

Susan sighed her expression a mixture of sadness and frustration. "That silly old man's, I told him not to ride a horse, but he insisted and he fell," she explained, her tone tinged with regret. "Rupert always well-prepared, but I don't know why he really insisted on riding a horse that day."

Before you could respond, the sound of another voice broke through the somber atmosphere. "Thank God you're here," the voice exclaimed, drawing your attention. You turned to see your stepbrother, Charles, standing before you.

But your breath caught in your throat when you saw him wearing priestly attire. "Charles?" you uttered in disbelief, your eyes widening in surprise.

Charles opened his arms and enveloped you in a warm hug, his presence comforting despite the unexpected change in his appearance. "I'm glad you're here," he said, his handshake firm and sincere as he greeted you.

You were speechless, your mind struggling to process the transformation before you. There was a warmth in Charles's eyes, a genuine kindness that seemed to radiate from within him. He was different from the last time you saw him, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight of him in his new role.

"Are you wearing a cassock?" you finally managed to ask, your voice filled with curiosity as you glanced at Charles's attire.

Susan gently pinched your arm, her expression amused yet reproachful. "Silly girl, this is why you should reply to my letters, phone calls, and emails," she chided gently. "Charles has become a priest."

"I know you will find it hard to believe. But I went through a miracle that made me fully believed in God." As Charles spoke of his newfound faith, you struggled to reconcile this revelation with the memory of Charlie, who once hurled harsh words at you.

Then you heard a familiar voice, cutting through the tension like a knife. "You're here."

It was Charlotte, Charles's twin sister. Her gaze bore into you with the same disdain it always had, unchanged after all these years.

Charlotte was never one to hide her feelings about you. From the moment your mother brought you into their lives, she had seen you as nothing more than an unwanted burden.

Your mother's marriage to the Duke had brought you into a world of privilege and resentment. While your stepfather had become a father figure you'd never had, it came at the cost of your relationship with your own mother. Susan was desperate to fit into her new role as Duchess, and you were often left feeling like an outsider in your own home.

The Duke's children, Charles and Charlotte, had quickly formed a bond with your mother, leaving you feeling like an intruder in your own family. They resented you for stealing their father's attention, and the tension between you had only grown over the years.

Living at Evergreen Abbey had always felt like walking on eggshells. That's why, as soon as you came of age, you left for the United States and joined the army, seeking refuge from the suffocating atmosphere of the manor.

Charlotte's cold gaze was a painful reminder of the resentment that had always simmered beneath the surface. "Let's get this over with, please," she said, her words dripping with disdain.

"What does it mean?" you asked, scanning the room for answers but finding only silence and the weight of years of unresolved conflict hanging heavy in the air.

You couldn't believe your eyes as Charles stood before you, now a priest leading your stepfather's funeral. Rupert's passing seemed surreal, and as they closed the casket, you had a chance to see his face one last time.

His face looked different, smiling unnaturally due to the glue used to preserve it. It starkly contrasted the smile you remembered, and you regretted not seeing Rupert one last time before this moment. Placing a red rose near his casket, you whispered, "I'm going to miss you."

During the burial, your gaze wandered, and you noticed a little boy standing near your mother.

But someone standing alone amidst the gathering of family and guests caught your attention. Who is he?

After the burial concluded, the house filled with guests offering condolences. The strange man also disappeared. Susan and Charles gracefully accepted their sympathies, while Charlotte's whereabouts only God knows.

Amidst the crowd, you heard a gentle voice call your name. "Y/N?"

Turning around, you saw Eddie standing there. "Eddie? How are you?" You greeted him with a side hug, grateful for the familiarity in the midst of the somber occasion.

Eddie hugged you back, offering his condolences as you shared a moment of solace amid the chaos of the gathering.

Eddie's inquiry about your military service brought back memories, including a long-kept secret: you used to have a crush on him. It was partly why you joined the army, sharing a dream of serving alongside him. "Yeah," you answered, still groggy from the day's emotions.

"What about you? Did you join the army too?"

Eddie chuckled. "I did, but I left to pursue a business."

You nodded, finding it fitting for him. "You're looking more like a duke these days."

Taking a sip of water, Eddie revealed a surprising truth. "I am. I became a duke after my father passed."

Your shock was evident. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Eddie's chuckle held a hint of understanding. "Yeah, after you left, you sort of cut contacts with everyone."

You hesitated, recalling the mention of a will by Cedric. "What about your family tradition? Isn't your older brother supposed to be the duke?"

Eddie's expression shifted slightly. "It changed after my father's will."

Your unease grew as thoughts of Rupert's will resurfaced. Eddie noticed your worry and reached out, touching your hand. "Hey, if you need me, just call me."

Grateful for his support, you managed a small smile. "Thanks, Eddie."

########

As everyone sat waiting for the lawyer, a new presence entered the room. A little boy, perhaps around 10 years old, joined the gathering, taking a seat beside Charlotte. He stole occasional glances in your direction, his curiosity evident in his wide-eyed gaze.

Unable to contain your surprise, you turned to Charlotte and asked, "You have a child?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes in response, her annoyance palpable, while Charles chuckled softly at the exchange.

Feeling a familiar pinch on your arm, you turned to see Susan giving you a reproachful look. "This is why you should've answered my calls. He's your brother," she scolded gently.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "Huh?!" you exclaimed, your mind struggling to comprehend the revelation as you glanced back at the little boy sitting beside Charlotte, a newfound sense of connection dawning within you. Now his face and future look similar to yours.

You found yourself at a loss for words, grappling with the sudden revelation of a long-lost sibling. The realization that you had cut off all contact when you joined the army weighed heavily on your conscience, leaving you with a profound sense of regret for the years of missed connections and lost opportunities.

Running a hand through your face, you let out a weary sigh, the weight of the past 15 years bearing down on you like a heavy burden. "Will there be another surprise?" you wondered aloud, the question hanging in the air as you braced yourself for whatever other unexpected twists fate had in store for you.

A few minutes later, Cedric, the lawyer, strode into the room with purpose, placing his briefcase on the table before retrieving the file. With a solemn expression, he began to read aloud the contents of Duke Rupert's will.

"Everyone will get a share of his insurance and investments," Cedric announced, his voice measured and professional. "Except Y/N."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of resignation at the news, having expected as much given the strained dynamics within the family. Glancing around the room, you noted the acceptance in your mother's and the twins' expressions, as if they had anticipated this outcome.

But then, Cedric's next words shattered the calm facade that had settled over the room. "For the Evergreen Abbey Manor and the title, I hereby give it to Y/N L/N," he continued, his voice resolute.

Your shock was palpable, the expletive escaping your lips before you could stop it.

'HUH?!'

"What the fuck?" you exclaimed, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events as the weight of Duke Rupert's decision settled heavily upon you.

As Charles let out a disbelieving "Hoo," and Charlotte expressed her relief with a curt "Great, not my problem anymore," the tension in the room seemed to escalate.

'Wait. The twins aren't angry?'

Your mother reached out, gently squeezing your hand and offering a reassuring look, her silent support a comforting anchor amidst the chaos unfolding around you.

"Why do I feel like I'm carrying a bomb in my hand?" you muttered, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a heavy burden.

Cedric adjusted his glasses, his expression grave as he spoke. "When you became the Lady of this house... Your grace, pardon me that I have to tell you this," he began carefully. "The former Duke had debts, and he was involved in what we might call 'creative' work."

"You mean drugs, gambling, and the like?" you interjected, your voice laced with disbelief.

Susan shot you a warning glance, her lips forming a silent reprimand. "You shouldn't say that word in front of your brother," she whispered, her tone urgent.

Turning to her younger son, she leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not drugs, but weed," she clarified softly.

"Oh, wow. Now I feel relieved," you replied sarcastically, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you as you struggled to come to terms with the unexpected revelations about Duke Rupert's illicit activities.

You ran a hand through your hair in frustration, the enormity of the situation sinking in. "How much is the debt?" you asked, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"8 million pounds," Cedricbreplied solemnly, his tone grave.

Charles made the sign of the cross a gesture of disbelief. "Oh Lord," he murmured under his breath.

"And he wants me to repay the debt when I never took a single cent?" you exclaimed, incredulity coloring your words as you struggled to comprehend the injustice of it all.

"Was he high when he wrote the will? Why me?!!"

Sighing heavily, you turned your gaze towards the imposing manor, its grandeur now overshadowed by the weight of Duke Rupert's debts. "Can I just sell this manor?" you wondered aloud, desperation creeping into your voice.

"It will take months or years, Your Grace. And the debt has to be paid by the end of this month," Cedric explained, punctuated by a sense of urgency.

But before you could act on your impulse, Susan's voice cut through the air, her tone laced with urgency and apprehension. "You can't sell the manor," she interjected, her gaze pleading with you to reconsider.

Confusion flickered in your eyes as you turned to face her, a mix of frustration and resignation bubbling up inside you. "Why not?" you demanded, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Susan's response was swift, her words carrying the weight of years of pent-up frustration and resentment. "If you sell the manor, I would lose my title as a duchess," she explained, her voice quavering with emotion.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, stirring up memories of the strained relationship that had defined your interactions with Susan over the years. Her obsession with upholding the image of a perfect duchess had driven a wedge between you, leaving your relationship fraught with tension and resentment.

As you stood there, grappling with the weight of Duke Rupert's debts and the expectations thrust upon you by your title, you couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness creeping in.

You let out another sigh, resigned to the reality of the situation. "I need a drink," you muttered, the thought of seeking solace in the most potent alcohol near the lake seeming like the only reprieve from the turmoil raging inside you.

As you sat by the lake's tranquil waters, the weight of the situation bearing down on you, regret began to seep into your thoughts like a creeping mist.

Coming back here had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of Duke Rupert's debts and the burden they placed upon you, you couldn't help but wonder if it had been a mistake.

Taking a sip of your whiskey, you allowed the warmth of the liquid to wash over you, momentarily easing the turmoil in your mind. But even the soothing embrace of alcohol couldn't dispel the unease gnawing at your insides.

Lost in your thoughts, you were startled when a small figure approached, breaking the silence that had settled over the lakeside. You glanced up to see your little stepbrother, Hugo, standing before you with a tentative expression on his face.

"Uh, hi. Hello. I'm your older sister," you greeted awkwardly, the words feeling foreign on your tongue.

Hugo returned your greeting with a shy smile. "Hi, step-bro. Hugo. Ten years old," he introduced himself, his voice soft and uncertain.

An awkward silence hung between you, the gap between your worlds feeling vast and insurmountable. Sensing the tension, you made an effort to bridge the divide.

"You want to walk?" you offered, gesturing towards the path that wound its way around the edge of the lake.

Hugo hesitated for a moment before nodding hesitantly. "Hmm...," he murmured, his eyes brightening with a hint of curiosity as he took a tentative step forward, ready to embark on this uncertain journey with you.

As you and Hugo began to playfully throw stones into the lake, the tension between you gradually dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie born from the simple joy of shared activity.

"So, Hugo, do you know what's happening at the household?" you asked, choosing your words carefully. You had learned in the military that children often possessed an innate honesty that could shed light on complex situations.

Hugo paused in his stone-throwing, considering your question for a moment before responding. "Walls have ears, and the workers always gossip," he replied cryptically, his voice tinged with wisdom beyond his years.

Impressed by his insight, you couldn't help but smile. "Wow," you remarked, genuinely impressed by Hugo's observation. "Do you want to share?" you prompted, curious to hear his perspective on the goings-on within the household.

As Hugo shared his insights, you listened intently, surprised by the depth of understanding hidden behind his youthful facade.

"Charlie doesn't want to take the house because of the debt, and he wants to become a pope," Hugo explained matter-of-factly, his words carrying a weight of resignation.

You responded with a puzzled "Huh?"

"And Charlotte doesn't care since she's going to marry a prince. She doesn't want anything related to Dad's 'creative work.' It will ruin her image."

"Her image? She's marrying a prince?" you interjected, your incredulity evident in your tone.

Hugo regarded you with a knowing look. "You're really ignorant, huh?" he remarked bluntly, his words stinging with a hint of playful teasing.

Feeling a pang of embarrassment at being corrected by a child, you cleared your throat awkwardly. "Hey..." you started, but Hugo continued without missing a beat.

"Sis Charlotte has quite millions of followers on social media," he elaborated, his voice tinged with a hint of admiration. "If her name is connected to weed and family debt—"

"It will ruin her image, and she'll have to pay the penalty," you finished, the implications sinking in as you processed Hugo's words. "Wait, how old are you again?" you asked, feeling a mix of surprise and amusement at the maturity of his observations.

Hugo raised both hands, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Ten," he replied, the innocence of his youth juxtaposed against the weight of the knowledge he carried.

You chuckled softly, taking another sip of your whiskey as you observed Hugo with newfound respect. Children were indeed frighteningly perceptive these days, and you made a mental note to tread carefully around him in the future.

You looked at the lake and sighed again. No wonder Charlie felt relieved upon seeing you. He wouldn't have to worry about these things. If his past caught up with him while pursuing his path to becoming a pope, it would ruin everything for him.

As for Charlotte, nothing ever seems to be enough for her. If her future in-laws from the royal family were to find out about this business, they would likely cancel her marriage.

So it's obvious they were relieved when Rupert chose you as the heir.

As both of you made your way back home, your senses went on high alert as you spotted a black Range Rover parked near the entrance. The sight of the familiar car sent a chill down your spine, and you felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

He's the man who watched Rupert's funeral from afar.

"Hugo, go inside," you instructed quietly, your voice tinged with urgency as you gestured for him to retreat to the safety of the house.

The man who emerged from the car was none other than the same individual you had seen at the funeral. James Barnes, or "Bucky" as he preferred to be called, approached you with a confident stride, his demeanor exuding an air of authority.

"Sorry to disturb your afternoon walk," Bucky began, his voice smooth and polite. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm James Barnes, but you could call me Bucky."

You nodded in acknowledgment, your guard instinctively rising as you braced yourself for whatever news he had come to deliver. "How can I help you, Mr. Barnes?" you inquired, your tone guarded yet polite.

"It's difficult for me to say while you're still grieving," Bucky admitted, his expression sympathetic. "But the former duke owed money to us."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "You see, Mr. Barnes, I just got here two days ago after 15 years," you explained wearily, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at your revelation, his interest piqued. "Yeah, Rupert mentioned it a couple of times," he remarked casually.

"Did he?" you muttered under your breath, feeling a surge of annoyance at Duke Rupert's apparent penchant for gossip.

"Let's continue this at the office," you suggested tersely, eager to put some distance between yourself and the unsettling presence of James Barnes.

As you stepped into Rupert's office for the first time, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, mingling with the lingering scent of his cigar and the familiar musk that seemed to permeate the room. It was a scent you had grown accustomed to over the years, a reminder of the man who had once occupied this space.

Pouring another whiskey for yourself and a glass for Bucky, you couldn't help but feel a pang of melancholy as you reflected on the memories associated with this room. Duke Rupert's presence seemed to linger in every corner, his larger-than-life persona casting a shadow over the space.

Bucky took a moment to savor the whiskey, his expression one of appreciation. "Your step-dad always did have a good collection of alcohol," he remarked, a hint of nostalgia coloring his words as he raised his glass in a silent toast.

You nodded in agreement, acknowledging the truth in his words. Despite the complexities of his character, Duke Rupert had always taken pride in his impressive selection of drinks, a testament to his refined taste and penchant for the finer things in life.

Taking a sip of your drink, you cleared your throat, breaking the heavy silence in the air. "Do you have business with my step-dad?" you asked, your tone cautious as you eyed Bucky across the desk.

Bucky's admission hung heavy in the air as he spoke, his words carrying a weight of responsibility and obligation.

"I lent him my money and I protected him," he explained, his tone tinged with a sense of duty.

"Why? His weed business didn't work out?" you asked, curiosity piqued by the revelation.

Bucky shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "It was successful. But he had a change of heart and wanted out. And his boss didn't like it. That's where I came in," he elaborated, his expression grave.

"Eight million pounds. Is all because of you?" you queried, the enormity of the debt now beginning to make sense.

Bucky tilted his head, his gaze meeting yours with a solemn intensity. "The price of the damage I got for protecting your step-dad. I gained more enemies," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

Setting down your whiskey glass, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Despite the tangled web of intrigue and deceit surrounding Duke Rupert, at least his involvement in the weed business was not the cause of his debts.

You let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Options seemed limited, and each path forward appeared fraught with challenges and uncertainties.

Glancing at the bank statements and stock reports spread out on the desk before you, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Duke Rupert's financial situation was far from ideal, and the prospect of producing eight million pounds seemed increasingly daunting.

Your mother's reluctance to sell the manor only added to the complexity of the situation. Despite the financial burden it represented, the estate held sentimental value for her, serving as a tangible connection to Duke Rupert and the life they had built together.

The twins' indifference to the predicament only further highlighted the sense of isolation you felt in confronting this dilemma alone. But then your thoughts turned to Hugo, the youngest member of the family, and the realization dawned on you that the manor held a special significance for him as well.

Selling off the artwork and alcohol collection was a possibility, but the process would take time, and the prospect of navigating the complexities of the open market and taxation only added to the uncertainty.

With few options left to consider, you knew that your best course of action was to confront the man himself. Despite your reservations, you couldn't ignore the fact that Bucky held the key to unraveling the mystery of Duke Rupert's debts.

As the desire to return to the U.S. gnawed at you, a sense of urgency washed over you, driving you to seek resolution as quickly as possible. But with time ticking away and the weight of responsibility bearing on your shoulders, you knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and sacrifices.

You sighed heavily, the weight of the situation settling upon your shoulders. "What options do I have?

Bucky's smile was almost too slick, his finger pointing at you like a loaded gun. "I really like your attitude, Your Grace. Straight to the point," he remarked, his voice smooth as silk.

As he unbuttoned his suit and slid his hands into his pocket pants, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a dark cloud. "I'm also intrigued by your career as an expert in bombs," he continued, his words sending a chill down your spine.

A knot of unease tightened in your stomach as you braced yourself for what was to come. "Go on," you replied tersely, the tension crackling in the air between you.

With a calculated gesture, Bucky brought his hands together, the glint of gold rings catching the light and adding an air of menace to his demeanor. "I will make the debt of 8 million pounds disappear. If you help me," he declared, his tone dripping with promise.

Your heart skipped a beat at the audacity of his offer, the implications of his words sinking in like a lead weight. "What do you want?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering with uncertainty before he finally spoke. "I've got more competition after I helped Rupert. Thinking about it gives me headaches. That's where you come in," he explained cryptically, his words laden with hidden meaning.

Raising an eyebrow, you regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The silence stretched between you, thick with tension, until Bucky finally broke it with a chilling revelation. "I want you to create an explosion. To get rid of them," he stated bluntly, his eyes boring into yours with unwavering intensity.

"Fuck!"

Cursing under your breath, you cast a wary glance at the painting of Rupert hanging on the wall. His eyes seemed to bore into you, judging your every move. As an army EOD technician, the thought of making a bomb for a criminal to pay off a debt filled you with a sense of dread.

Regret gnawed at you like a festering wound as you grappled with the weight of the decision before you. Coming back home had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of the situation, you couldn't help but wish you had never returned.

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