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#Mafia!Bucky Barnes x reader
angrythingstarlight · 3 months
Note
Bucky’s accountant: “sir you’re spending a lot of money on mrs and miss barnes-“
Bucky: * glare* “are you saying they don’t deserve it?”
Bucky’s accountant: “n-never mind”
Bucky enjoys it when you spend his spend money. He's made it abundantly clear that he wants you to have a soft, luxurious life. He doesn't want you to have to worry about finances. He takes care of everything. That includes you. All you have to do is let him.
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Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader
CW: Little bit o' fluff, Little bit o' smut.
A/N: Unbeta'd drabble for the Bumblebee series.
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Your name is on all the accounts, the deeds, his businesses (the legitimate ones anyway) and of course, it’s embossed on his black card. He loved giving you that. And he laughed when you asked about a limit. There isn’t one. He told you to get whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted.
Bucky knew from the jump that you were going to have reservations. He’s been working you through them.
So you can imagine how he felt the day his accountant knocked on his office door to inform him of a suspicious charge.
Bucky sits in his chair, staring impassively at Gregory as he lists off the recent expenses he discovered while reconciling Bucky’s accounts this morning. “...and there’s a charge for almost ten thousand at a supply shop. Some art place in Manhattan. And there’s another one at a bookstore for nearly a grand. I can have these reported—”
Bucky runs a hand down his face, revealing the beginning of a grin. The rare sight of the mobster smiling throws Gregory off kilter, causing him to trail off in disbelief.
10k on your hobbies? That’s his girl.
“I approve. In fact, I approve of everything she buys.”
“Sir. I must say that this seems excessive.”
“It’s not.” That smile is gone as quickly as it appears, and Gregory shrinks back in his chair. “I told her to spend at least ten times that this month. All her purchases are approved. No matter what she buys. My wife gets whatever she wants. Do you understand?”
His voice leaves a chill in the air and this time, when he smiles, it sends a slither of fear up the portly man’s spine.
“Yes, yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He’s dismissed without a word, leaving Bucky to contemplate all the ways he’s going to reward you tonight.
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You crouch down, taking the small shopping bag off her shoulder and setting it next to the pile by the sofa. Straightening her light pink sleeve, you dust off the front of her dress. "Remember what we practiced."
Bee nods seriously. “I remembers Mommy.”
“When Papa asks what we bought today—”
“I say it’s our secrets,” she eagerly interrupts with a grin. “And then I run real fast.”
Bucky knocks on the open door. Once. Twice. “How’s my girls?”
“Hi, Papa!”
You glance over your shoulder to find him leaning against the doorframe, one leg crossed over the other, hand in his pocket, and a curious glint in his eyes. “Hello sweet Bee. You have fun today? What’d you get me?”
She opens her mouth before shutting it when you poke her in the belly. “Our secrets.”
“Our secrets Papa.” She repeats, shrugging both shoulders. “Can’t tells you.”
“Aw, but I don’t have any.”
You know that tone even if your innocent, adorable baby doesn’t. Bee’s eyes soften and you can see her starting to cave. You have to intervene now before she tells him ‘jus’ one cause he needs it’.
A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as you defiantly gaze into the stormy depths of his piercing blue eyes.
“Don’t fall that Bumblebee. He already knows too many. Remember? You’re going to run over to your office so he doesn’t get anymore of our secrets and you’ll get two cupcakes after dinner. Ready?”
Bee takes a deep breath, gauging the distance between her and Bucky. “Weady.”
“Go!” you encourage, her giggles filling the room as she takes off. “Run Bee!”
Bucky shifts, stepping into the middle of the doorway, his six-foot-something frame filling the space. Pride blooms in his chest when she fearlessly keeps running towards him, skirting around his long legs with a mumbled ‘scuse me Papa."
You smother a laugh when she lets out a spirited cheer over making it out the room. The joy coursing through you fades to a thready hum of anticipation.
She may have made her getaway but you're very much trapped.
He waits until her giggles fade down the hallway and the sounds of Bluey filter out of her office. Then he turns all his attention to you.
“How much did you spend?” Bucky leans back against the doorframe, his eyes darkening as they skate over the bags to your pretty face.
“Enough.”
“I doubt it,” he hums under his breath. He holds up two long fingers, beckoning you closer. The seemingly innocent gesture is down right obscene because you have first-hand knowledge what those fingers are capable of. “Now it’s your turn. Let’s see if you can get past me.”
You don’t.
He lets you take about three steps before he grabs you. Kicks the door shut. Bends you over the side of the couch, knees sinking into cushions, your head hovering over the edge, near the bags you refuse to let him open. Takes you apart with his finger and tongue before splitting you open on his cock.
Praises you sweetly for spending his money while fucking you like he was punishing you for not spending more.
Which you both know he is.
He makes you work for it, makes you promise to treat yourself as good as he treats you, leaves you so desperate and on edge that you agree to everything that comes out of his mouth.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
All those little pleas drive his hips faster and deeper until they meld into an incomprehensible keen.
By the time you get there, that peak is so sharp and blinding it nearly hurts, leaving you drowning in a sea of overwhelming pleasure, your eyes rolling back, vision blurring as his hips grind into you, his thumb rubbing a perfect, rough circle around your clit.
He can’t think of a more beautiful sound than the low, frantic sob tearing from your lips.
Bucky is almost satisfied. Almost. Still, he doesn’t quite believe you. He thinks you’re going to need a little more convincing.
It’s going to take a few more rigorous sessions to make you come around. See things from his perspective. Understand that while you might be able to take him, he’ll always come out on top. That he’ll ride you over and over until you relent and let him give you what you deserve.
And he’s more than willing to do whatever it takes to get you to spend more.
Bucky places a soft kiss on your tear-streaked face, his soft lips move to your ear while his hips start moving again.
“We’re just getting started, Malyshka.”
And I—
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straywords · 1 year
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Hey hey! Okay so, for the peachy sweet series, how about something like Bucky being sick, and he’s grumpy because he’s a big bad man and he has more important things to do that be bedridden. So his henchmen ask the reader to make him something to help him recover so she does like a soup and something spicy but he sends it back because he is ✨a grump✨ and stubborn. So she brings it up herself and it’s the first time she’s firm with him because a) why is he being a child and b) how dare he send her food back. And I don’t know where I’m going with this but would love something fluffy and soft pleaseeeee
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♡ Mob Boss! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader ♡
Peachy Sweet || Bucky
Oblivious reader, grumpy Bucky, just fluff tbh, sick clingy Bucky
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Your lips purse as you squint at the uneaten chicken soup Bucky sent back. Leo raises his hands apologetically when you glare from the bowl he just placed on the kitchen island to him.
A huff of annoyance drops from your lips. 
How dare he? You spent hours on this, picked fresh herbs from the garden this morning yourself. A family recipe your own grandma made for you whenever you were sick. Poured all your effort and fondness for Mr. Barnes - professional fondness of course - in this meal.
Squeezing your mouth tight, you fold your arms. You’re good at what you do. You know your flavors. That bowl should have returned empty. 
"What didn’t he like about it?" you inquire, your tone more heated than usual as your patience grows thin. 
Leo scratches the back of his neck. 
"He said it was…too spicy."
You scoff, "Too spicy…There’s barely any pepper in this." Coming to a decision, you pick up the wooden tray and head towards the kitchen’s exit. "I’ll show him spicy."
Concern scrunches Leo’s features as he impedes your path, a tense smile pulling his lips, "Hold on, chef…"
Squaring your shoulders, you give him a death stare. 
"Get out of my way, Leo," you snap.
"I just don’t think it’s a good idea. He’s been in a very foul mood since yesterday. Today was supposed to be the day we catch a rat and…"
Your eyes round in shock and fear as a shudder courses through you. You’re not the biggest fan of rodents. Was there an infestation you weren’t made aware of?
"A rat? There’s a rat in the house?" you gasp in horror.
Leo laughs awkwardly, looking like he just made a mistake. He heaves out a deep sigh and says, "Listen, I like you, so it’s best you leave him be."
You hum, nodding before announcing, "I’m going up there."
For a few minutes, Leo looms over you, scowling down at you as if trying to be intimidating. You hold his gaze, never flinching once. 
After a while, he gives up, shoulders slumping as he steps aside.
"...Fine," he yields. "I suppose if anyone can talk sense into him…"
Relieved, you sidle past him and start heading to the stairway. 
"Chef?" he calls, halting you in your tracks. 
"Yes?" you ask, already adopting a firmer stance in case he wanted to argue again.
But to your surprise, he tosses you a sheepish look and mumbles hopefully, "Are there any cupcakes leftover from yesterday?"
A smile twitches onto your lips. These men and their sweets. 
"Second shelf in the fridge from the top."
He disappears into the kitchen before you can even finish your sentence. 
Taking a deep breath, you stomp your way up the stairs. You are going to give Mr. Barnes a piece of your mind. 
Regardless of how rich or powerful he is, no one should waste food. And if he’s really as unwell as Leo says, he should take better care of himself. He needs to eat and get his strength back. 
Once you reach the door to his master’s suite, you find two imposing bodyguards flanking it. Some nervousness flutters through you at the sight of the scary-looking men clad in black, but they give you no grief, quietly making space for you to gently knock on the door. 
"Sir?" you call. 
You hear a cough and a groan. 
"Go away," Mr. Barnes’ deep voice ripples through the door, his frosty inflection plucking shivers from your spine. He sounds almost threatening. Still, you don’t let it deter you, giving a second, sharper knock.
His irritated exhale on the other side of the door reaches your ears. His voice deepens, icy and foreboding. "I said go away or I’ll slice your fucking thr-"
His words die abruptly as you burst inside the room with the tray in your hands. 
Bucky’s cobalt gaze widens, as if you were the last person he expected to find darkening his doorway. 
Quickly, a frown settles on his features again. 
"Doll," he chides, his timbre infinitely softer than before. "You shouldn’t be here."
You take a bashful step further inside, trying not to drop the tray as you get hit with the realization that Mr. Barnes is half-naked in his bed, his broad muscular chest exposed and the sheets hanging low around the sharp vee in his waist.
Clearing your throat, you flick your eyes upward. Best not to get caught leering at your hot boss.  
"There’s nowhere else I should be," you state without hesitation. 
Bucky studies you, sitting up against the headboard as you inch closer to him.
Your heart pinches once you get a better look at him. He’s paler than usual, his cheeks smudged red, and a thin sheet of sweat glistening over his skin. 
It’s worse than you thought. Mr. Barnes really needs to start taking his health more seriously. 
A worried crease blooms on your brow as you sit near him on the bed. 
You wrap your hand over his forehead. He closes his eyes as you do, a relieved sigh pealing off his pink lips. 
"You’re burning, sir," you note, concern dripping from your tone. You nudge the tray closer to him. "You need to eat if you’re gonna get better."
A dry cough bursts from his throat as an annoyed grumble leaves him. He looks ahead, frown accentuating, as he mutters, "I should be on my feet. This is weakness. My enemies…"
You sigh. Now he’s even delirious and talking nonsense. 
You cup his cheek and smile. 
"Enemies? Sir, you have nothing but people who mean you well in this house. Your staff just wants you to get better so you can resume your important work." The wrinkle on his forehead eases as his blue eyes land on you again. "So you need to eat. Don’t be a child."
To your utter shock, he gives a single nod.
"Okay."
Your brows rise to your hairline. You expected him to fight you, but you suppose even Mr. Barnes can be reasonable sometimes. 
You tilt your head hopefully. 
"Okay?"
He hums, a crooked smirk unfurling on his mouth. 
"Then feed it to me, doll."
This has you choke on your own breath. You blink as heat rises in your face. "F-Feed it t-to you, sir?"
The lopsided smile dancing on his lips grows. He leans over you and your thoughts liquefy as his musky scent invades your senses. 
"Yes, I’m too feeble to hold the spoon, so feed it to me please," he pleads huskily. 
You give a shaky nod, struggling not to drown in your boss’ entrancing ocean gaze. 
"Hm, okay," you croak. 
Tremulous fingers grab the spoon and bowl, scooping some of the soup and bringing it to his lips. 
Your heart skips a beat when his large hand wraps around your wrist. He gives a broad grin and takes a sip, humming low in his chest as he licks his lips slowly. 
His actions raise strange, warm tingles in your belly, which you swiftly discard. 
"Delicious," he praises, blue orbs sparkling. Pride billows inside you at that. You knew he’d like it. Why he had to be so difficult is anyone’s guess. Mr. Barnes is just that stubborn, you suppose.
As you keep your gaze down, Bucky’s fingers creep below your chin to force you to face him. A soft smile decorates his handsome features. "You need to look at me, doll…or you’re gonna spill it everywhere," he utters softly. 
Every spoonful you tip against his mouth is followed by a deep sound of appreciation that sends a rush of heat through you.
If you didn't know any better, you'd wager Mr. Barnes draws pleasure from your reactions.
But you quell the silly thought.
It's just the food. You're a good cook. Mr. Barnes unleashing these… enthusiastic sounds makes perfect sense. 
Once he's finished all the soup, an emotion akin to relief spreads through your chest. You're not sure how much longer you can be in Mr. Barnes' presence before passing out from how overwhelmed you are by his intense focus on you.  
"I should go get started on lunch-"
Your sentence trails off, your attempt to rise from the bed curtailed by his strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist. 
"No… stay," he throatily demands, pulling your back against his warm chest. 
"Sir…I don’t know if that’s appropriate," you quaver, your pulse rising as he tucks you into his embrace and nuzzles your neck.
His low rasp vibrates against your skin. 
"Hm, smell so good. Missed that. Soft and warm." A sharp exhale floats from your lips as his mouth grazes your shoulder. "Mine…"
He rubs his nose against you, his arms tightening around you when you try to leave again. "Wanna stay like this forever doll," he whispers, eyes fluttering shut. 
Amusement tugs your lips upward.
"That might be a bit inconvenient, for both you and me, sir."
"Don’t care." He shrugs, his bearded jaw tickling your skin when he nestles his head in the crook of your neck, pulling you tight against him. "Not gonna let anyone hurt you," he drowsily mutters.
Your brows knit.
"Hurt me? Why would anyone hurt me?" you chuckle. 
He tenses against you. "...Kill them all if I have too."
A sigh drops from your lips as you ease into his embrace.
"Must be the fever talking," you decide. 
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kittybeansbarnes · 9 months
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Off to the Races
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Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), rough sex?, hair pulling, spanking🤭, cum play?, cream pie, fingering, daddy kink and let me know if I forgot anything pls:)
Word count: 1582
A/n: literally just fuel by the desire to fuck him in this outfit like?😭 he’s giving summer mob daddy vibes. beta read by @soorwellystan 😌🫶🏻
Mob!buckyxFem!reader
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She stares at him from across the pool.
Breath catching when he walked out, looking like sin incarnate in his summer outfit. He sits in his chair watching her watch him, eyes burning into her from behind his glasses.
He takes an occasional sip of his drink, rings reflecting in the sun when his hand comes up.
Slowly she gets up making her way inside the pool. White bikini becoming see through. He inhales sharply at the visible outline of her nipples peeking through. Red manicured hands coming up to graze her breast, tempting him. Sun hitting her skin beautifully.
His pants getting tight at the sight of her wet, scantily clad body. He lifts his hand up, finger crooking, motioning her to come over to him.
She makes her way out of the pool, walking up to him, taking the glasses off his face and putting them on. He pulls her by her waist onto his lap, not minding that his clothes are getting wet. “What are you playing at, baby?”
“What do you mean buck?” She says innocently, taking the glasses off “I’m just taking a dip in the pool.”
“No, I don’t think so. I think you’re trying to get my attention. Coming out here in this little, see through bikini.” he pulls on her bikini strap snapping it against her skin making her gasp. ”I think you want me to look at you. Want me to get all hard so I can fuck you out here, in front of my men. Show them who's slut you are. Don’t you, little doll?”
She whimpers, biting her lips, nodding her head.
“Words baby, I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”
She leans in whispering in his ear, placing her hands on his chest “Show them I’m yours, daddy.”
Bucky growls, moving her to straddle his thighs. Kissing her fiercely, tongue slipping into her mouth, sliding against hers. He bites her bottom lip pulling it with his teeth and releasing it. Hard cock pressed into her folds through the flimsy fabric of her bikini. He grabs her hips, grinding her down on his erection. She moans softly “Fuck, more, please.”
Bucky chuckled darkly, “You want more, baby?”
“Yes, please.”
He sits up a little more, his hand cupping her mound rubbing her through her panties. “Fuck baby. Already fucking wet, aren’t you? Let’s see” he smirks up at her, moving her bikini bottom to the side. Slipping his fingers through her slick fold, groaning at how wet she is for him. “Fuck, all this for me baby? hmm? Such a good girl for me” He lifts his fingers to his mouth licking her arousal off them, moaning at her taste “Always taste so good.” he whispers.
“Oh fuck, Bucky, baby. I need more please” she whimpers out, grinding down on his erection.
“Yeah, baby? Tell me what more do you want? I’m already touching this pretty pussy.”
She whines, “I need your fingers. Please”
He wraps a hand around her neck, bringing her face close to his “Please what baby?”
“Please, daddy”
Bucky looks into her lust blown eyes “That's right baby. I’m your daddy, gotta make sure all these boys know it” He kisses her, tongue dominating hers. Lowering his hand to her pussy again collecting more of her arousal, slipping two fingers in making her cry out “Tight little pussy, squeezing my fingers. Need to stretch you out before you can take my cock.” he grunts out. He pulls down her bikini top freeing her breast. He takes one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud, biting down, and sucking making her gasp. Giving the same treatment to the other.
His fingers curl into her pussy, pressing against that stop that makes her body shake. Fucking her with them while his other hand joins, rubbing her clit side to side, making her moan loudly.
“You like this? Like me playing with your pussy?”
She nods “y-yes bucky, so fucking much” She grinds down on his hands, walls squeezing his fingers, cumming with a breathless moan.
“Good girl” he smiles smugly. “Now” he grabs her chin making her look at him “Be a good baby and do what I want. Get on your knees and suck my cock.”
She moans at his command, loving when he gets like this. She slips off his lap sinking to her knees. Hand rubbing his hard cock through his pants making him sigh “That's it baby. Take it out” Her hands come up to unbutton his pants pulling them down to reveal he isn’t wearing underwear making her swear as his hard cock springs out. She grips him, hand stroking up and down. His hips bucked against her hand, body instantly reacting to the pleasure she gives. Leaning forward to lick the pre-cum off his tip before taking the whole head in.
His hand comes down, slipping his fingering through her hair, gripping it tight. He stands up, making her choke on his cock. “You ready baby? Gonna fuck this pretty face until my cocks nice and wet” she hums around him, nodding as best as she can. Opening her mouth wider, breathing through her nose
He makes sure he’s got a good grip on her hair before he pulls back and fucks into her throat, balls slapping against her chin, “Fuck, I love fucking this pretty mouth” he moans out.
Spit drips down her chin, eyes tearing up; she can’t help but slip her hand down her panties touching herself.
Bucky stops noticing what she’s doing. He pulls her off of him, with a harsh tug of her hair “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he says angrily
I- buc-” she stutters
“Get up. Get up!!” he repeats when she just stares at him dumbly. Scrambling to her feet she stands up before she gets in even more trouble. He sits on the chair again laying her down on her stomach across his lap. Hand rubbing her ass before lifting it and bringing it down with a loud smack.
She cries out in pleasure and pain, making him smile “Fuck, I’m sorry!”
He slaps her ass again “No, you're not. You're only sorry I caught you touching what's mine.”
She moans when he does it again “You like this don't you, you slut? Like when I'm rough with you. Treating you like the slut you are.” He squeezes her ass hard when she doesn't answer “Answer when I’m talking to you! Are you already dumb from me finger fucking you?” he mocks
“Yes Bucky, I love it so much. Love being a slut, your slut”
“My fucking slut”
He slaps her ass until its red, hands rubbing over them to soothe her before slipping his fingers between her folds again “oh fuck bucky” she whines wiggling her ass “please, please” His fingers slip inside her fucking into her, hitting all the right spots “fuuuuck” she squeezes her eyes shut, pussy clenching down on his fingers. She feels the heat in her belly “don’t stop, don’t stop. Ple-” she squeaks out before cumming on his fingers
“That's it baby, cum. Look so fucking pretty.”
“Come up.” he scoots back, bringing her up to straddle his lap again. Cock tucked between her wet folds he brings his hips up to rub against her, his tip bumping against her clit, making them both sigh before he lines himself up and sits her down on his cock.
She moans at the stretch, burning just right.
“Fuck, little pussy was made for me baby”
“Move Bucky, please”
“Tell me whose pussy is this?”
“It's yours bucky” she says hands running over his chest
He thrust up into her once and slaps her ass, making her collapse on his chest. He whispers in her ear “Whose fucking pussy is this? Scream it out so they can all hear who you belong to”
“oh, fuck. It's yours Bucky! This pussy is yours, I’m yours!”
He starts fucking up into her, feet planted on the chair to give him more power, gripping her hips tightly, moving her with him “Thats fucking right baby. I fucking own this pussy. I own you.” He growls “Fuck, I love you baby. All mine. All. Fucking. Mine.” saying each word with a thrust, cock twitching inside her.
“I love you, Bucky. Only you.” She moans
He fucks into her hard and fast. Thumb coming down to rub at her clit
“Yes, yes, yes. Ima cum Bucky please don't stop” she sobs
The sounds of skin slapping against skin and heavy breathing fill the open area. If his men couldn’t hear what they were doing before they definitely can now.
“Oh god” Bucky chokes out, feeling her walls gripping down on his cock “cum with me baby.”
With a couple more thrusts and flicks of her clit, his balls tighten and they both come with a loud moan. Bucky's cum fills her up, spilling out onto the pool chair.
He pulls out slowly, groaning at the sight of his cum drip out of her. He scoops it up bringing his fingers to her mouth smearing the mix of them over her lips and cheeks, marking her with his cum.
He hold her close to him kissing her head “I love you so much baby”
She lift her head kissing his lips “I love you too Bucky bear, forever”
“Hey, bucky?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I really love this outfit”
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dreamwritesimagines · 25 days
Text
The Eye of the Hurricane [10] - Family Dinner
A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️
Summary: Happy news can make a dinner so much better.
Word Count: 3800
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
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“I’m sorry, did you just say marriage?”
You sipped your coffee before shooting Becca and Sarah a grin, then popped a piece of your croissant in your mouth.
“Mm hm.”
“You’re getting married to-to my—” Becca stammered. “To my brother?”
“Yeah,” you said and looked around. “Do you guys think we should get mimosas?”
“What the fuck?!” Becca exclaimed. “Since when?”
“It’d better be this morning, Y/N,” Sarah said and you shrugged your shoulders.
“Technically around 48 hours ago.”
Becca gawked at you. “Y/N, I’m going to kill you.”
“Listen, I didn’t—” you waved your hands in the air. “I figured you’d want to hear it in person! It’s kind of a big deal, you know?”
“Jesus Christ…”
“Wait, start from the beginning,” Sarah said. “How did that happen?”
“I had a talk with my dad,” you said, biting inside your cheek. “He’s going to choose Ian.”
Sarah frowned while Becca pulled back slightly.
“He made up his mind?”
“Mm hm.”
“You’re sure you can’t convince him?”
You shook your head.
“No,” you said, your stomach doing a tense flip. “I thought I could but…he was very clear. He will not name me his heir, it’s going to be Ian.”
“That will mess everything up,” Becca said. “Including the truce, because—”
“Bucky won’t do business with him, neither will Sam or Steve,” you finished her sentence for her. “I told my father that but it didn’t even make him think twice.”
“Great,” Sarah muttered, and you shook your head.
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” you said. “I’m done waiting around for him to give me a chance. If he doesn’t want to give me power, I’ll take it for myself.”
“And that’s where Bucky enters the picture?”
“Exactly,” you said. “He will give me a way in, and once everything is in place I’ll take over.”
“Before Ian can?”
You nodded your head. “I’ll force my dad’s hand if I have to.”
“He’s not going to like it,” Becca sang in a teasing manner and you scoffed.
“It’s either that or we risk another war between the families,” you said. “To be honest with you, I don’t really care whether he likes it or not anymore. I’m the firstborn and it’s my right, he promised it to me all those years ago.”
“What happens when you take over though?” Sarah asked. “You and Bucky…?”
“We’ll get a divorce.”
Becca arched a brow and suppressed a smile. “Just like that?”
“Yeah, why not?” you said. “He doesn’t want to stay married to me a minute longer than it’s necessary, and I share the sentiment.”
Becca exchanged a knowing glance with Sarah, her smile widening before she turned to you.
“If you say so,” she muttered, taking a sip of her coffee and as if on cue, your phone started vibrating on the table. You checked the name on the screen, then answered it.
“Yeah?”
“Hi there, fiancée.”
You could already tell he was smiling from the tone of his voice and you rolled your eyes, then motioned at Becca and Sarah to give you a moment before getting up from your seat to walk out of the restaurant.
“What do you want?” you asked and he tsk tsked.
“Babe…”
“Don’t call me that.”
“My beautiful wife?”
“Don’t call me that either.”
“Mrs. Barnes?”
“There’s going to be another last name there as well, don’t forget about that one,” you said. “It’s hyphenated.”
“Yeah, for some reason…” he grumbled and you heaved a sigh.
“Is there a point to this conversation? Because if there isn’t, I’m going to hang up now.”
“Yeah,” he said. “There is actually. Before tonight’s dinner, I just figured you’d want to know that your father knows.”
Your eyes widened. “You told him about the engagement?”
“What? No!” he said quickly. “But he knows we’re together.”
“Except we’re not.”
“Well fine, he knows we’ve been spending time in the honeymoon suit.”
You leaned back to the wall and pinched the bridge of your nose before clearing your throat.
“He called you?”
“Not yet but my parents did.”
“That sounds like a fun conversation,” you said, smiling slightly. “What did they say?”
Bucky chuckled.
“My mom just asked how you were,” he said. “That’s her being subtle. And my dad told me to not fuck it up so, went as expected. Arthur didn’t call you?”
“He did, I just didn’t answer,” you said, pursing your lips together. “I don’t want to talk to him yet, so…”
“But are you going to be okay tonight?” he asked and you pulled your brows together.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Can I not ask about your wellbeing?”
“No,” your reply came way too fast. “That’s not on the prenup.”
“Jesus Christ…” he muttered and you checked your watch, then pushed yourself off the wall.
“So you’re going to the restaurant before me then?”
“Yeah, I think it’d be better if I got on your father’s good side before that conversation,” he said. “Considering I didn’t even give him a heads up—unless you want to go together?”
You scrunched up your nose. “Absolutely not,” you said. “Playing the dumbass in love will be even more difficult if I spend more than an hour with you.”
“I think you like spending time with me,” he said with a teasing tone and you scoffed.
“I’m hanging up now,” you said. “Don’t be late tonight.”
“Of course, wife.”
“Stop calling me that!” you snapped and hung up, then let out a breath.
“I can’t believe I’m marrying this asshole…” you murmured to yourself, then made your way back into the restaurant.
                                                 *
Tonight’s dinner was not going to be very easy to handle, you could already tell. Becca had always been too good at reading your mood, so as soon as you two stepped out of the car, she reached out to hold your hand, making you turn your head.
“It’ll be fine,” she said before you could even say anything and you licked your lips.
“It makes it official,” you muttered. “All of it.”
Becca paused for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders.
“What does it matter?” she asked. “If you’re going to get a divorce eventually…”
“Of course we will,” you said. “But it’s not just that, you know? Starting tonight, I’m going against everything my dad wants.”
Becca nodded her head.
“You are,” she said airily. “But if he didn’t want you to take over eventually, he shouldn’t have raised you as his heir to begin with. That shit is not a game, he can’t just change his mind.”
You pursed your lips together, keeping your eyes on the restaurant.
“People won’t be happy about it,” you muttered. “Me being an actual rival, or taking over.”
 “You’re the firstborn,” she reminded you. “It’s your right. And that’s what you want, so fuck what everyone else will think. You’re going to do amazing.”
You stole a look at him, fear churning your insides.
“You think so?” you rasped out, desperate to hear it out loud and Becca nodded fervently.
“I wouldn’t be here if I thought you couldn’t pull it off,” she said. “You’re going to be much better than your father. Trust me.”
You squeezed her hand. “Thanks Becca.”
“Keep in mind how helpful I am when you’re picking your bridesmaid gown colors,” she said, making you let out a laugh. “Friendly reminder, I don’t like lilac.”
“I know, I know…” you told her, throwing an arm over her shoulder to press a kiss on her cheek, then you both walked into the restaurant.
As usual, either your father or Bucky’s father had it closed down for the night so that you all could enjoy your dinner without any strangers around. The hostess greeted you and led you to your usual table which was already occupied by Bucky’s family and yours. Your father stood up as soon as he saw you and made his way to you.
“Good luck,” Becca muttered and smiled at him. “Hi Arthur!”
“Becca my dear, welcome!” your father said as she kissed his cheek.
“I’m starving already,” she said and went to sit down while your father turned to you.
“So?” he said. “You cannot pick up the phone, Y/N?”
You shrugged your shoulders. “I was busy.”
“Really?” he asked. “Too busy to send a text?”
You shrugged your shoulders again, pursing your lips together and he heaved a sigh.
“Sweetheart…” he said. “I don’t like this, you know that. I understand that we can have our disagreements but moving out of the house?”
“I didn’t move out of the house,” you said. “My stuff is still there.”
“But you’re not staying there?”
“I felt like a change of scenery.”
“Is that all?” he asked and you cleared your throat.
“Sort of.”
“Because what I’ve been hearing…” he said. “Not to mention, both you and Bucky planning this dinner?”
“I think we should wait for him to have this conversation—where is he anyway?” you asked, looking around the restaurant and your father frowned slightly.
“We thought you two were coming together.”
“He’s late?” you asked, nervousness shooting through you and your father waved a hand in the air.
“There’s a reason for that I’m sure,” he said. “Come on, sit down. We started already.”
“Great,” you muttered to yourself and followed him to the table and waved at Bucky’s parents Winnifred and George.
“Y/N, hello!” Winnifred stood up to hug you and you hugged her back before pulling back to wave at George.
“We were going to wait for you but you know how your father is,” Winnifred said and your father chuckled, gesturing surrender.
“I don’t mind,” you said, sitting down next to Becca as you nodded in Ian’s direction. “Ian.”
“Y/N.”
“So, what is this dinner about?” George asked and Winnifred shot him a look.
“George.”
“What? I’m curious. You would think this is a life-and-death situation the way Bucky talked about it.”
“I think we should uh…we should wait for him for that one,” you said and turned to the waiter who filled your glass.
“The chef is preparing your usual, ma'am."
“Thank you,” you said and sat up straighter while George smiled at Becca.
“Do you know what this is about?”
“Of course,” Becca said with a smile. “But I’m special.”
“Will this dinner take long?” Ian asked you, checking his phone. “I have plans for 10.”
“You’re welcome to leave,” you told him but before he could retort, Becca waved at someone by the entrance and you looked over your shoulder to see Bucky walk into the restaurant. You cleared your throat, then pushed your seat back.
“Excuse me for a moment,” you said and made your way to him.
“Charm, hey—”
“With me,” you said without even stopping and he turned around to follow you out of the restaurant, and you whirled around on your heels the moment you stepped outside, raising your brows at him.
“Are you serious right now?” you asked. “You were supposed to be here before me, that was the plan!”
“Okay, I know I’m late but in my defense—”
“No no, you said—”
“Job got in the way, I didn’t even get the chance to change,” he cut you off and raised his wrist so that you could see the sleeve of his white shirt. “I still have blood on my sleeve, look!”
“Do I look like your drycleaner from where you’re standing?” you snapped back in a whisper. “You said you’d come before me, and considering your relationships I’d say you’re used to that!”
He rolled his eyes. “To repeat, job got in the way.”
“You’re late to dinner because you were too busy punching someone and that’s a good excuse?”
“It was necessary!”
“It was necessary for it to be you punching that person, is that right?”
“Excuse me, lovebirds,” Becca’s voice reached you and you both turned to look at her as she leaned sideways to the entrance. “Have your fight later on, they’re getting restless.”
You ran a hand over your face.
“Alright,” you said. “So okay, when are we telling them?”
“My plate is already there and I’d rather if you did it right away,” Becca said, pointing back with her thumb. “They don’t look like they’ll stop asking what this dinner is about anytime soon.”
“You just don’t want mom to ask you about Leila,” Bucky told her and Becca shrugged her shoulders.
“I mean would it kill you to do something nice for me?” she asked, making him shake his head slightly. You bit back a smile and threw your shoulders back, trying to get rid of the tension in your body.
“Let’s get this over with,” you muttered more to yourself and made your way back to the table with Becca and Bucky following you.
“Good evening,” Bucky greeted everyone at the table with a smile. “Sorry I was late, it’s just…work.”
Becca went to sit down on her seat as you eyed your food, but stood beside Bucky, clenching and unclenching your fist just so that you could focus on something else other than the nervousness pulsing in your veins.
“Is everything alright?” Winnifred asked Bucky and he nodded his head.
“Oh yeah, two meetings clashed,” he lied, subtly rolling the sleeve of his shirt up. “There was a moment of chaos but it’s fixed.”
“So can we learn what this whole secrecy and emergency dinner is about now?” George said with a knowing smile and you stole a look at your father who looked almost impatient. Knowing them, every single person at the table except Becca thought Bucky and you were about to tell them you were dating, so you were sure that the news was going to be completely unexpected for all of them.
“Yeah,” you said, reminding yourself to smile as you leaned sideways to Bucky’s arm. “You can. Sorry about the secrecy, we just wanted it to be a surprise.”
Ian scoffed a small laugh.
“You staying in a hotel in his territory might have ruined that surprise,” he said and Bucky’s eyes narrowed but you elbowed him while your father gave Ian a warning glare, making him sit up straighter.
“So uh, it happened very recently,” you said, ignoring Ian. “And normally you would have heard beforehand.”
“For which I take full responsibility,” Bucky added with a smirk. “That’s on me.”
“I mean you know we’ve had this…strange dynamic for a while.”
“Ten years,” Becca muttered into her wine glass. “Not that anyone is counting.”
“But once we actually talked to each other, something happened,” you lied through your teeth, Bucky’s arm snaking around your waist as he nuzzled to the top of your head, making your heart skip a beat but you forced yourself to remember that it was all an act. Winnifred pressed a hand on her chest as if she was lost in her emotions while your father and George exchanged glances, both smiling slightly.
“And I hope that you’ll be happy for us,” you said and waited for a second, then cleared your throat. “Because we’re getting married.”
The impact of your words was immediate and very visible. Ian’s head shot up as Winnifred gasped in shock and your father’s eyes widened while George’s jaw dropped. Becca stifled a laugh, taking another sip of her wine as she leaned back in her seat.
“Married?!” Winnifred exclaimed as she jumped on her feet. “Oh thank God, this is the best news I could ever hope for!”
“Trust me mom, I was as surprised as you are,” Bucky said with a chuckle while Winnifred pulled you into a tight hug and your father tried to pull himself together.
“Married?” he repeated and you nodded when Winnifred pulled back to hug Bucky.
“Yeah.”
“That’s…uh—” your father stammered. “That’s wonderful news honey but you two have been dating for what? Two days?”
“Three days,” you said helpfully and Bucky hissed in a breath.
“I was going to get your permission, Arthur.”
“Why didn’t you?” your father asked him, looking him in the eye but Bucky didn’t look intimidated in the slightest.
“Oh come on Arthur, don’t be so traditional!” George said with a laugh. “They’re in love, and it’s not like they met three days ago. They’ve known each other their whole lives, I for one have been hoping for this to happen for almost ten years!”
“And we already know we want to spend the rest of our lives together.”
“Speaking of, where’s the ring?” Winnifred asked, making you and Bucky exchange glances before you turned to her.
Shit.
Of course he was supposed to have proposed with a ring.
“The ring!” you said. “Right, uh…Bucky?”
Bucky swallowed thickly and waved a hand in the air.
“The ring, that’s—that’s a funny story actually,” he said. “You see, we um—”
“My overly confident brother didn’t bother asking the best friend,” Becca cut him off airily, pointing at herself. “Surprise surprise; it was the wrong size. We went to the jewelers today to get it fixed, they said it’ll be ready within the week.”
Dear God, you loved Becca.
You subtly mouthed ‘thank you’ to her while George stood up to come closer to you.
“Congratulations son,” he said as he pulled him into a hug to slap him on the back. “You sure took your time. And Y/N, welcome to the family sweetheart.��
“Congratulations,” Ian said from where he was sitting and your father sighed, then stood up to hug you.
“We still need to talk about this,” he said. “But I’m very happy for you two.”
“Thanks dad,” you muttered as the waiters brought your food and you all sat down. You took your fork into your hand and George raised his glass.
“To happy couple!”
You and Bucky raised your glasses as well and your father took a sip of his drink, then leaned back in his seat.
“See, Y/N,” he said. “I know you’re still a bit angry at me but I told you. This right here will make you much happier than what we talked about earlier. That’s what matters.”
You arched a brow as Bucky turned to look at you better with a smirk and you stole a glance at him, a sly smile curling your lips as well.
Oh.
Of course your father naively believed that something as trivial as marriage could keep you from what you wanted. It was almost condescending at this point but you managed to hold back the retort, then clicked your tongue.
“Oh yeah,” you said, making Bucky chuckle. “I have a very clear idea of what’s actually important now, and I’ll make sure everyone else sees that as well.”
                                        *
When it was time to leave the restaurant, everyone was in a wonderful mood. Winnifred had so many ideas about the wedding, and as far as you could tell, your father had gotten over the annoyance of Bucky not having asked for his permission.
“So, are you coming home?” he asked you as George and Winnifred’s car drove off and you looked at Bucky who was talking to Becca by her car.
“Maybe later,” you said with a shake of your head. “Me and Bucky have things to talk about, so…”
Your father hummed.
“Alright,” he said. “What do you say we grab lunch tomorrow then?”
You thought for a moment, then shifted your weight.
“Sure, why not?”
“Good,” he said and hugged you. “You know I don’t like it when we fight.”
You pursed your lips together. “I know, I know...”
“I’ll see you tomorrow honey, please be careful,” he said and got in the car while Ian seemed to be in a deep discussion with Ryan. Ryan’s gaze found you over Ian’s shoulder and you offered him a small smile, then turned your head when you heard Becca say your name.
“Y/N are we meeting tomorrow?”
“Yeah after lunch,” you answered. “I’ve just promised my dad I’d have lunch with him, so…”
She nodded. “Okay, I’ll text you then?”
“Sounds great!” you said as she got into her car and the driver closed her door before getting into the driver’s seat. You looked into your purse, then let out a groan when you couldn’t find your phone.
“Great,” you muttered and made your way into the restaurant, the waiter stopping in his tracks the moment he saw you.
“Ma’am?”
“Hi again, I left my phone at the table,” you told him with a small laugh and he nodded.
“I’ll get it for you right away,” he said and went inside, then in a minute he was back with your phone. “Here.”
“Thank you so much,” you said. “Have a nice night!”
“You too ma’am,” he said and you left the restaurant again, then frowned as soon as you saw Ian talking to Bucky by his car while Ryan waited with Ian’s other bodyguards close by. You took a step towards them but neither of them seemed to notice you, and judging by the stern look in Bucky’s eyes, it wasn’t because they were having a fun conversation.
“…And that’s what she wants in case she didn’t tell you,” Ian said and Bucky narrowed his eyes at him.
“I know that.”
Ian shook his head slightly. “Don’t get me wrong, but—”
“Let me stop you right there Ian,” Bucky said, glaring daggers at him. “You’re not going to say anything that I might get wrong about the woman I love.”
Your stomach did a happy flip but you quickly frowned at yourself. It was just Bucky selling this whole idea that you were in love; it wasn’t as if you and he could ever fall in love or anything.
Even the thought of it was absolutely absurd.
You cleared your throat to announce you were there and they both turned to look at you.
“Hey babe,” Bucky said. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” you said without even sparing a glance at Ian as the driver opened the car door for you and you got in with Bucky following you suit. You massaged your temples, then leaned your head back when the driver started the car.
“You okay?” Bucky asked and you gritted your teeth, crossing your arms over your chest.
“The way my dad talks to me…” you muttered and Bucky scoffed a dry laugh.
“I know,” he said. “Trust me, I get it.”
“I don’t think you do,” you rasped out. “George never underestimated you or replaced you with another heir.”
That made him pause for a moment, a dark shadow crossing his eyes before he took a deep breath.
“No worries Charm,” he said. “He won’t get to underestimate you again once you get that crown.”
You felt a small smile curl your lips as you turned your gaze to the city lights outside, then heaved a sigh.
“Yeah,” you murmured. “I like the sound of that.”
Chapter 11
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holylulusworld · 4 months
Text
Fool me twice
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Summary: You meet the man of your dreams.
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, language, betrayal?, lies, implied smut, plot twist (kinda), secrets, the reader doesn't know Bucky is with the mafia
A/N: Inspired by a post I saw on social media about a spicy legend.
Maybe there will be more. I don't know yet.
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Five months earlier, …
Who would have thought that you’d meet the man of your dreams at McDonald’s after a drunken escapade with your best friend.
You yelled at one of the employees, demanding food. “I need a spicy legend!” 
“I’m right here, doll!” Someone yelled back, making you squeal. “Try me!”
“I want the same,” your friend slurred and jumped at the employee, peppering kisses all over the poor guy’s face. “Are you spicy too?” She purred and shamelessly wrapped her arms around his neck.
The poor employee tried to handle your friend while the guy strolled toward you. He flashed you an irresistible smile and captured your heart with his soft blue eyes.
“How about I invite you for coffee before you get a taste of my spiciness?” He offered and held out his hand. “You look like you need it.”
“I can’t leave my friend here,” you replied and pointed at your friend. “Oh, shit. Wait…” You gasped as your friend started to strip her shirt off. “Fuck, babe! You can’t do this here!”
Suddenly, sober you stopped your friend from stripping and apologized to the employee. 
“I wanna ride him! He looks ready to get eaten,” she whined and tried to get her hands on the guy, but you dragged her away. “Please.”
“No, [BFFs name], we gotta get you out of here!”
“Can I lend you a hand,” the stranger offered. His smile was charming, and you felt your cheeks heat up. But he was still a stranger. “I won’t bite, promised.”
“She likes it when a guy bites her!” Your best friend exclaimed loudly. “Bite her neck and she’ll come like a … uh… waterfall!” 
“That is enough [BFFs name]. We don’t know him.” You guided your friend out, ignoring that the cocky guy followed you outside.
“Hey, don’t just run off. Give me your number,” he softly said. “I know you just met me, but I’d like to invite you for coffee.”
You sighed deeply. He was a very handsome guy and seemed to be nice. The problem was you fell for nice guys in the past. In the end, they never were nice guys.
“No.”
“Give him your number, babe,” your friend slurred. “Here!” She threw her purse at him. “My code is 6666!” Your friend grinned. “Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. You can call her doll, though. Save her number and call her tomorrow.”
“I like your friend,” he chuckled as you slapped the back of your friend’s head. “Don’t hurt her. She means well.”
“I want her to get laid!” Your friend grinned at the stranger. “I hope you can dick a girl down like there is no tomorrow.”
“Oh, sweets. I will destroy her,” he replied, smirking darkly. “In a good way, of course…”
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Five months later you and the stranger you met are going steady.
He’s charming, irresistible, and yes, he loves to destroy you. Only in the best way possible - of course.
“Bucky, why not,” you whine and tug at his wrist. “I promised my mom we would meet up with her for lunch. You can’t cancel now.”
“Babe, I got an important meeting. I’m sorry, but I can’t cancel the appointment. I wanted to go with you, I swear.”
You sniff, and let Bucky wrap you in his arms. “Next time.”
“Next time.”
He kisses your hair and sighs deeply. It’s one of these days. On these days he’s still a caring boyfriend, but a little more distant. 
“I love you,” you whisper, and he kisses your temple. But he doesn’t say it back. Not today. Maybe tomorrow he’ll return it.
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“Doll, you gotta see this,” Bucky shows you a picture he took of you while you were sleeping. He smirks at you, making your heart flutter. “You looked so pretty, I had to take a picture.”
“I’m drooling.” You punch his arm. “It’s creepy taking pictures of me while sleeping.” 
“I love you and want to memorize every moment with you.”
Today is a better day. He smiles more and tells you he loves you. “I love you too. Maybe next time you can come with me and finally meet my mom. She’s nice, you know. I want her to see how happy you make me too.”
“Wait…you wanted me to meet your mom?” He furrows his brows. “Shit, did I forget a date? I’m sorry.”
“What? Bucky, did you forget that you told me last week you wouldn’t make it? You said something about an important meeting.”
“Oh, yeah!” He scratches the back of his head. “The meeting. Sorry, this week was hell. I forgot about it. Next time, I’ll be there. Promised, doll.”
“Okay,” you snuggle into his chest. “I hope you don’t take more pictures.”
“I can’t promise anything,” he chirps and pats your back. “I’m really sorry that I forgot about the date with your mom.”
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Bucky searches for his phone, and curses under his breath. “Babe, did you see my phone.”
“On the nightstand. I recharged it for you, baby,” you poke your head out from inside the bathroom. “Why don’t you join me in here?” You crook your finger and try to lure him in.
“Sorry, I’m late,” he dips his head to look at you. “I wish I had more time.” Bucky bites his lower lip. “If only I could…”
“You can always take a day off, baby,” you purr, and drop the towel covering your modesty. “If you want me to, I’ll call your boss and tell him you need more time for your girlfriend.”
He runs his hands over his thighs, considering you. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he drops the keys in his hands and cups your face. Bucky kisses you fiercely. He moans into your mouth. “I can’t resist you…”
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“Bucky? Baby? Oh my god,” you gasp watching your boyfriend limp inside the living room. He’s got a black eye, and his nose is bleeding. Blood soaked his white shirt, and his knuckles are split and bloody.
“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have seen me like this. I got into a fight and …” Bucky runs one hand down his face. “You should see the other guy.”
“How did you get into a fight at the office?” You carefully touch his face. “Bucky, tell me what happened. I don’t think you got into a fight over a stapler or paperwork. This looks like you tried to kill someone.”
You grab his hand and lift it. “I’m so sorry…” He sniffs. “I thought…back then it was…shit…you’ll hate me.” Bucky cups your face with both hands, wincing at the sting of his wounds.
“I don’t understand, Bucky. What is going on?” Your heart thunders in your chest. Something is off with Bucky tonight, and you fear it’s worse than split knuckles and a black eye. “Please. You’re scaring me.”
“He should’ve stayed with you. And protect you while I’m away,” he drops his gaze and sniffs again. “I didn’t want him to fall in love with you too.”
“BUCKY, I don’t understand a single thing. Did you lose your mind?” You look at Bucky with teary eyes. “This morning you were so happy, and we made love. Now you look like you got thrown under the bus. Please tell me what happened.”
“He wanted me to keep an eye on you for him.” You scream as Bucky’s spit image steps inside the room. He’s wearing the same suit he wore this morning. 
“No…no…” you chant and step away from Bucky. “This can’t be. No…I…no…” you shake your head. 
“He shouldn’t have fallen for you, or touched you,” Bucky reaches out for you but, you slap his hand away. “It was for your protection. Every time I couldn’t be here, with you, Nick kept you safe.”
“Kept me safe?” You angrily wipe a stray tear away. “Did keeping me safe include fucking me?”
“It was only this once,” Nick hastily says. “I found an excuse to not touch you…” He licks his lips. “This morning you broke my resolve, and we ended up…” Nick shakes his head. “I’m sorry…so sorry, babe. I never wanted you to find out this way.”
“I hate both of you,” you choke out. “And I never want to see any of you again…”
Double the trouble
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Tags in reblog.
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biteofcherry · 6 months
Note
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"Seriously?" Bucky glares at you.
His sunglasses are still on, but you recognize by the tone of his voice and how a muscle in his jaw twitches that he definitely is sending you one of his displeased glares.
"Oops?" You make an innocent face and shrug. "Well, you always said I'm a messy girl. Guess, you're right."
You've been stretching and wiggling on the towel, which you put down on the sunny roof terrace, trying to get Bucky's attention.
Bucky, who's been using the terrace as his temporary office, since his actual one was being remodeled. You knew that. He informed you that he will be there to work, just like he would do in an actual office. Which implied that he wasn't to be disturbed.
So you promised to be very quiet as you laid down to sunbathe. And quiet you were.
You didn't make a single sound as you got rid of your bikini top. Nor when you took off your bikini bottoms.
There was no noise as you ate quarters of orange, biting into the pulp and getting shiny juice all over your mouth.
Really, it was Bucky who made the first noise, when you squeezed a piece of fruit and the juice spurted all over your belly.
"Messy girl," Bucky slowly slides his sunglasses to the tip of his nose, "you better crawl here, to the shade. You need to cool off, before your overheated head comes up with an idea that gets you into even bigger trouble."
"Bigger trouble?" You feign surprise; your pulse rising in excitement.
"Bigger by each second that you're not on your hands and knees, making your way between my legs."
"But-"
"Fucking. Now."
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 6 months
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it’s practically like we’re down there with them
kinktober, day eight
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a/n: i'm sorry your honour, but gangster!bucky just does something to me
warnings: mob boss!bucky barnes x reader, smut, slight dubcon, established relationship, exhibitionism, possessiveness, thigh riding, penetrative sex, dirty talk
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023
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Your legs were trembling at this point. Pressed up against the ornate wallpaper with determined kisses dancing across your jugular, a teasing thigh was lodged between yours, nudging up against your centre through your dazzling gown in a way that made you float away on a cloud. 
“Bucky,” you softly tapped his suit-clad shoulders, “you’re gonna miss the party, your party, if we stay up here much longer.”
Pulling back ever so slightly to squint back at you with nothing short of mischief in his gaze, he countered, “who says I’m missing it?” your brows lightly knitted together as he then retracted his sturdy knee, snatching you with him as he took a few paces to towards the tall window directly to your left, “see,” he stood behind you, selfishly grinding the tent in his dress pants against your bottom as he gave you a good view of the festivities still buzzing in the courtyard below, “it’s practically like we’re down there with them.” 
Just as you were about to open your mouth to argue, count that it was not at all the same, you felt the gangster suddenly hike up your dress. 
“What are you-,” you whipped your head around to question, though your attempt didn’t get very far as you watched him swiftly yank down his zipper and with a hasty lick of extra lubrication to his fingertips, began to sink his length into your weeping cunt, “Bucky!” all of his previous teasing haven made the abrupt motion effortless as he had practically made you stain the silk billowing around you with all of your want. 
“Yes?” he mockingly whispered in your ear, hugging you close as he rocked deeper, “what’s wrong, doll?”
Glancing out at how clear the guests were from up here, being able to make out even the smallest of details, you whimpered, “people can see…”
“I know…” you heard him groan darkly, snapping into you in a way that made you thankful that he was holding you upright, “this way they know for sure who you belong to.”
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© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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Text
Echoes Of Revenge || Part 1
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Character: Bucky x Reader
Summary: Y/N, an analyst at Goldenlix Capital, discovers her promotion hopes crushed by favoritism. Seeking solace in a nightclub, she encounters her past tormentor, Bucky.
Warning: Betrayal, heartbreak, manipulation.
Part 2 : Shattered Echoes
Part 3: All The Lies
Part 4: Sweetest Dreams
Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi
Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 
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Y/N, an ambitious analyst at Goldenlix Capital, had consistently delivered profitable predictions for the hedge fund. 
Despite her hard work, the promotion she longed for slipped away when the CEO's nephew, Simon, secured the portfolio manager position.
Frustrated, Y/N sought solace at a nightclub with her colleagues. As Y/N immersed herself in the pulsating beats and vibrant atmosphere of the nightclub, she was unaware of the watchful eyes observing her every move. 
The rhythm of the music and the clinking of glasses provided a temporary escape from the frustrations at work.
Suddenly, a lavish display of expensive drinks arrived at her table, catching Y/N off guard. The waitress informed her that they were compliments of the house, leaving Y/N momentarily puzzled by the unexpected gesture.
Just as she wondered who might be behind this gesture, Bucky entered.
Bucky made his entrance with confidence, navigating through the crowd with a swagger that suggested a newfound maturity. 
Dressed in an impeccably tailored, expensive suit, he exuded a sense of self-assuredness. His arrival was accompanied by the subtle clink of cufflinks and the rich scent of a high-end cologne.
As he approached Y/N's table, Bucky flashed a charming smile, his eyes hinting at a mixture of mischief and sophistication. 
However, Y/N, ever focused and unswayed by external displays, remained unimpressed by his polished appearance. She eyed him skeptically, silently signaling that material possessions wouldn't alter her priorities or impressions.
With a smirk, he approached Y/N, confidently revealing, "I thought you could use a taste of the finer things tonight, Y/N. It's on me.”
There, she unexpectedly encountered Bucky, a college classmate with a history of teasing her. Now claiming to be the club's owner, Bucky attempted to flirt with her.
Unimpressed, Y/N looked down on his attempt to impress her. "Owning a nightclub doesn't change who you are, Bucky. I'm focused on my career," she retorted, dismissing his advances.
Undeterred, Bucky tried a different approach, acknowledging his past mistakes. "People change, Y/N. Maybe you should loosen up and enjoy the night," he suggested.
Maintaining her composure, Y/N replied, "I'll pass on the life lessons, Bucky. I have bigger goals than spending my time with someone who hasn't really grown up.”
Y/N's colleagues discreetly made their exit, leaving her alone with Bucky. He nodded appreciatively, acknowledging their departure, and sat beside her, pouring a drink into her glass.
"So, what's the problem? I never thought the nerd of my class would spend money on the expensive table," Bucky remarked teasingly.
Y/N scoffed, "This is expensive? I didn't realize."
Surprised by her nonchalant response, Bucky commented, "Where is the timid Y/N I know? She's gone.”
Y/N gulped her drink, contemplating his observation. "Money. Everything could change because of money," she admitted. 
Her past, rooted in a modest upbringing, had shaped her determination to succeed. Working hard to escape financial constraints, her dream was to become a fund manager.
She looked at Bucky with a hint of disdain. She doesn't appreciate people like him who lead careless lives just because they come from wealthy families.
Bucky noticed the scattered name cards of Y/N's colleagues on the table and picked one up. Reading it, he remarked, "Goldenlix Capital? You work there? That's impressive."
Y/N responded with a nonchalant "hmm."
Bucky, perceptive, ventured, "Let me guess, you didn't get the promotion?"
Surprised, Y/N asked, "How...?"
Bucky leaned back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I've seen many types of people come and go in this place," he said, revealing a hint of insight into the workings of the professional world they both navigated.
Bucky's casual revelation about his observations at Goldenlix Capital intrigued Y/N, prompting her to give him a scrutinizing look. As she contemplated his words, Bucky continued, "It's a tough world out there, especially when you're navigating corporate ladders."
Y/N, still guarded, responded, "You seem to have it all figured out."
Bucky chuckled, "Well, not everything, but I've learned a thing or two. Sometimes it's not just about hard work; it's about playing the game.”
Bucky leaned in, a glint of sincerity in his eyes, as he proposed, "Let me be your client."
Y/N, skeptical, questioned, "Why?"
Bucky shrugged a hint of nostalgia in his tone, "I don't know. Perhaps because of a nostalgic feeling. I want to help an old friend."
Y/N, maintaining her guard, retorted, "We were never friends. You always used me."
With a sly smile, Bucky countered, "Then, I'll use this as my apology letter."
The air between them carried tension, a mix of unresolved history and an unexpected proposal.
As Bucky got closer, the alluring scent of his elegant perfume enveloped Y/N. Their proximity seemed to amplify the tension, a subtle dance of conflicting emotions.
"I'm serious. Give me your name card," Bucky whispered, a soft murmur against the rhythmic beats of the music.
Y/N, somewhat reluctantly, handed over her name card. Bucky took it with a charming smile, his gaze lingering on hers. "Tomorrow your boss will go nuts," he predicted, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
With a final, lingering look, Bucky gracefully rose from his seat. "See you next time," he said, leaving Y/N in a state of contemplation, the lingering scent of his perfume and the enigmatic encounter resonating in the dimly lit ambiance of the nightclub.
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Excitement mixed with intrigue surged through Y/N as she stepped into the bustling office the next day. Her boss, Ivan,  beckoned her into his office with an animated expression, "Y/N, we've just landed a significant new client. The funds have been wired, and you're in charge."
Perusing the financial statement, Y/N's eyes widened at the substantial amount. "This is impressive, sir. I'll ensure it's handled with utmost precision," she assured.
Ivan leaned back in his chair, a shrewd smile on his lips. "Not just impressive, Y/N. Make it triple. We need to show our new client the prowess of Goldenlix Capital.”
Y/N nodded, her mind already racing with investment strategies. "I'll diversify the portfolio, perhaps allocate more in growth stocks, considering the current market trends. And we can leverage options to enhance returns without taking excessive risk," she suggested.
Ivan impressed with her immediate analysis, nodded in agreement. "Exactly, Y/N. Show them why you're the rising star here."
As she left his office, Y/N couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events—Bucky's proposition at the nightclub, the mysterious new client, and now the challenge to triple the investment. 
Now witnessing his portfolio's profits tripling under Y/N's adept guidance, Bucky couldn't help but be impressed. As rumors circulated about Y/N potentially becoming the next portfolio manager, her boss and colleagues acknowledged her exceptional skills.
One day, Bucky approached Y/N with a mixture of admiration and amusement. "I knew I could count on you, Y/N. Looks like you're not just the 'nerd' from our college days anymore."
Y/N, maintaining her professionalism, Y/N replied with a slight smirk, "Money talks, Bucky. It's all about making the right moves in the market."
Bucky, however, seemed persistent in keeping the conversation personal. "Or maybe it's about making the right moves in life," he teased, a suggestive glint in his eyes.
Y/N raised an eyebrow, unyielding. "Let's keep it professional, Bucky. This is business.”
As Y/N attempted to make a swift exit, Bucky intercepted her, his hand gently restraining her. Irritated, she shot him a sharp look, demanding, "What?!"
Bucky, undeterred, asserted, "I'll double my money."
Y/N, skeptical, retorted, "What for? You already have enough. You need to learn about limits."
With a wry smile, Bucky countered, "If I have to pay a high price just to have a date with you, then I will pay everything."
Rolling her eyes, Y/N dismissed his proposition, "Yeah, right."
Bucky leaned in, a teasing glint in his eyes. "My silly Y/N. Don't you know why I always played with you back then?”
Y/N, unamused, shot back, "You bullied me to get my attention. Are you in kindergarten?”
Y/N, after a moment of contemplation, finally relented, "Fine. One date. But no, I don't want your money. The stock market is not good this time. What if you get mad because you lose money?"
Bucky chuckled, his tone playful, "There's no way I'm going to be mad at you, silly.”
As Y/N and Bucky shared that one date, their connection deepened, weaving a thread of unexpected intimacy into their lives. 
The complexities of their relationship unfolded like a carefully scripted narrative, intertwining the professional and personal in a way that left Y/N simultaneously exhilarated and hesitant.
Her life, seemingly perfect after successfully handling Bucky's portfolio, took an unforeseen turn when her Ivan dropped a bombshell – he wanted to hand over Bucky, her biggest client, to his nephew, Simon. 
The news sent shockwaves through Y/N, her world suddenly tilted on its axis.
Y/N, with a mix of frustration and anxiety, found herself standing at Bucky's doorstep, the weight of her predicament evident in her eyes. Sensing her distress, Bucky welcomed her inside, "What happened, Y/N? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Taking a deep breath, Y/N explained the situation, "My boss wants to hand over your portfolio to his nephew. It's a complete mess, and I don't know what to do."
Bucky, leaning against the wall, studied her with a thoughtful gaze. "You came to me for help. Looks like our roles are reversing."
Y/N, a hint of vulnerability in her voice, admitted, "I never thought I'd need help, especially from someone like you.”
Bucky, his expression softening, replied, "We all need help sometimes. It doesn't make you weak.”
As Y/N faced the uncertain aftermath of seeking Bucky's help, she soon discovered that her most significant competitor, Simon, had mysteriously vanished from the office scene. 
The absence of the rival candidate created a void that only she could fill, paving the way for Y/N to enter the role of project manager uncontested.
The news rippled through the office, and Y/N found herself at the center of surprise and admiration. 
Colleagues congratulated her on the unexpected turn of events, and her boss, puzzled by his nephew's disappearance, acknowledged her as the natural choice for the project manager position.
Gratitude and curiosity again led Y/N to Bucky's door, a soft knock signaling her presence. As Bucky opened the door, a knowing smile played on his lips, "Come to thank me, Y/N?"
Y/N responded with a hint of appreciation in her eyes, "I can't deny that your mysterious touch might have played a role in my unexpected promotion. So, thank you."
Bucky, stepping closer, his gaze lingering, remarked, "I'm always here to help, especially when it comes to you.”
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Three months had passed, and Bucky, in the routine of his daily activities, eagerly anticipated seeing his girlfriend. The past week had kept Y/N busy as she jetted off to Dubai to meet with a new client.
However, on this particular day, as Bucky went about his usual tasks, his assistant interrupted, a hint of apprehension in their voice, "Sir, the police are here."
Bucky, initially thinking he had misheard, questioned, "Huh?"
The police, standing with an air of authority, informed Bucky that he was accused of money laundering. Unfazed, Bucky dismissed the accusation with a roll of his eyes, stating, "Money laundering? I'm a legit businessman.”
The police countered, accusing him of using Goldenlix Capital for money laundering. Bucky scoffed, insisting the company was legitimate. 
The turning point came when his assistant displayed a live news report on their phone, revealing that Goldenlix Capital was now branded as a scam company.
Bucky, disbelief written on his face, uttered, "What?!" Realizing the severity of the situation, he urgently reached for his phone, attempting to call Y/N, only to face the frustration of her unanswered calls. 
As the news of Goldenlix Capital being labeled a scam investment company flooded every media outlet, Bucky was engulfed in chaos. Desperate for information about Y/N's whereabouts, he pressed the police, hoping for reassurance.
Bucky questioned, anxiety seeping into his voice, "Have you seen any news about Y/N?"
The police, maintaining an air of detachment, replied, “She went missing."
Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief, and he uttered a baffled "Huh?!" The absence of Y/N from the news coverage added another layer of mystery to an already bewildering situation. 
As he grappled with the unfolding events, uncertainty and concern for Y/N's safety overshadow the chaos surrounding Goldenlix Capital.
The unfolding chaos threatened his professional empire and the stability of the connection he had built with Y/N in the past few months.
Fury burned within Bucky as the realization sunk in – he hadn't merely lost money; he had been played. The anger surged through him, a relentless fire fueled by the betrayal he felt. Determination set in, transforming his frustration into a resolute mission.
His mind raced with questions about Y/N's motives, but the lack of information only intensified his desire to uncover the truth. 
Bucky, driven by a newfound resolve, vowed to track down Y/N and unravel the mystery behind her involvement, or lack thereof, in the scandal that had befallen Goldenlix Capital.
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As Y/N sat on the beach, watching the chaos unfold on her tablet, a sense of satisfaction washed over her. Finally, her carefully orchestrated plan to destroy Goldenlix Capital was playing out as intended.
The roots of her vendetta can be traced back 15 years when her family, once content in their middle-class life, had fallen victim to a deceitful investment scheme. 
Flashback Start
Introduced by a relative, Y/N's father had invested a small amount in Maxim Capital, enticed by the promise of a 7% monthly profit. The regular returns had built a false sense of trust.
However, driven by greed, Y/N's father had invested half of their savings into Maxim Capital. The deceptive scheme vanished six months later, leaving the company in ruins and wiping out a significant portion of Y/N's family's hard-earned money.
As Y/N's family crumbled into financial ruin after the Maxim Capital scam, her relative, who had introduced them to the fraudulent investment, callously shrugged off any responsibility. The repercussions were severe, forcing Y/N's father to take desperate measures.
Unable to secure a traditional loan due to his plummeted credit score, Y/N's father sought assistance from a loan shark. The borrowed sum might have been small, intended for crucial medicine for Y/N's ailing mother, but its interest was exorbitant.
The loan shark in question, Nicholas Barnes, was none other than Bucky's father.
Fueled by a burning anger and a thirst for revenge, Y/N channeled her emotions into her studies, delving deep into economics to comprehend the intricacies of investments. 
Her pursuit of knowledge became a double-edged sword, with academic excellence as a guise for a more sinister motive.
Even as she immersed herself in her studies, Y/N never lost sight of her plan for retribution. Every lesson about investments and financial strategies became a tool in her arsenal to orchestrate the downfall of those who had once exploited her family's vulnerabilities.
As Y/N navigated the complexities of her revenge plan, an unexpected twist unfolded in the form of Bucky. Fortune seemed to favor her, and she couldn't quite comprehend why the "Goddess of luck" appeared on her side. Bucky's growing interest in her became a peculiar element in her carefully crafted narrative.
While Y/N couldn't fathom the reasons behind Bucky's fascination, she saw it as a stroke of luck. 
Y/N, cleverly using her position at Goldenlix, exploited the opportunity to gather information about the victims of the investment scams discreetly. 
The guise of her role gave her access to crucial details, names, and backgrounds that would later become instrumental in executing her revenge.
In the case of Bucky, her intentions were more straightforward – to pilfer his wealth. The intricate dance of trust and vulnerability between them served as a cover for her ulterior motives. 
Y/N, driven by a desire for retribution, saw Bucky's financial downfall as a key component of her revenge plan.
Their shared history of friendship only fueled Y/N's determination to make Bucky understand the anguish of misplaced trust. 
Just as Nicholas had played with her father's trust, she intended to manipulate Bucky's emotions, leading him down a path of betrayal that mirrored her family's pain years ago.
Flashback End
As Y/N settled into her seat, her fingers danced across the keyboard with purpose. Each keystroke represented a meticulous calculation, determining the amount of money – with the accrued interest over 15 years – that Goldenlix Capital had pilfered from their unsuspecting victims.
With a determined click of the 'Send' button, Y/N initiated a digital cascade that would return the ill-gotten gains to those who had fallen prey to the investment scams.
Despite the years that had elapsed since their losses, she hoped this restitution would bring peace to the victims.
As Y/N gazed up at the sky, a quiet moment of reflection enveloped her. The weight of her actions, the meticulous plan for revenge, and the redemption she had sought for her family hung in the air. 
She hoped, somewhere beyond the vast expanse above, that her parents would be proud of her unconventional method of reclaiming their lost money.
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One year later, in the quiet embrace of a small town, a remarkable female teacher had become a beacon of inspiration at the local elementary school. 
Known for her exceptional skills in teaching mathematics, she cultivated a passion for numbers among her students. She led them to triumph at the Olympic level, earning gold medals for their achievements.
The echoes of her dedication resonated through the halls of the school, leaving an indelible mark on the young minds she nurtured. 
The once-sleepy town now boasted a newfound pride in its educational achievements, thanks to the remarkable teacher whose commitment and expertise had transformed the academic landscape.
The routine exchange of greetings became a familiar melody in the small town's elementary school. Every morning, as students hurried through the hallways, they would greet their beloved teacher with a cheerful, "Morning, Miss Y/N."
Y/N, now a beacon of knowledge and guidance for these young minds, responded with a warm smile, echoing, "Morning, don't run in the hallway."
"Okay."
The simple yet affectionate interactions spoke volumes about the transformation Y/N had undergone – from a seeker of revenge to a nurturing educator shaping the future
As Y/N reflected on the passing year, a bittersweet smile played on her lips. Justice had been served as the boss of Goldenlix, and Ivan faced the consequences, forced to part with his ill-gotten wealth to cover legal expenses.
However, when it came to Bucky, a twinge of regret and sadness lingered in her heart. The connection they had forged amidst the intricate dance of revenge carried a weight of impossibility. The revelation that he was the son of the loan shark, Nicholas Barnes, cast a shadow over what could have been.
Y/N, despite the passage of time, Y/N found herself haunted by a lingering fear that Bucky might seek revenge. The uncertainty gnawed at her, and she wished she could overcome the apprehension that one day, the consequences of her calculated actions might come knocking at her door.
As Y/N returned to her small home, an unsettling feeling crept over her. The once familiar space now emanated an unusual coldness. A sense of foreboding settled in, causing her to hesitate before stepping further into the house.
When she decided to leave, her hand reaching for the doorknob, she discovered a chilling truth – the door was locked outside. Panic set in as the realization dawned that she was trapped within her own home.
Fear gripped Y/N's heart as she grappled with the possibility that her past actions might be catching up to her. 
A chill ran down her spine as Y/N stood trapped in her own house when the front door creaked open. The atmosphere shifted as an unwelcome presence entered, and the smile that once held warmth now appeared cold and calculated.
Bucky, who had stepped into her sanctuary, greeted her with an unsettling calmness, "Hello, sweetie. You have some explaining to do.”
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Author Note:
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340 notes · View notes
aalyssah · 1 year
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Don’t Touch What’s Mine!
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Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader
Warnings: Angst/Fluff, Praise, Killing, Torture, Cursing, Yelling, Sexual Assault, Fluff, Aftercare, and more  Minors DNI 18+
Word Count: 1,413
Summary: A man tries to have his way with you not knowing you're married to a mafia man.
A/N: This is my first mob oneshot I hope you Enjoy!
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Y/n was just a normal 28 year old women that many feared. That is because she is married to the one and only James "Bucky" Barnes. He's not the leader of the mafia he IS the mafia.
Everyone knows not to mess with him, but god forbid anyone that does anything to his wife that means makes her sad, mad, or uncomfortable you won't wake up the next morning. Y/n found that out a week ago.
A Week Ago:
Y/n works as an interior designer that decorates houses. Everyone likes your ideas and that what makes you love your job.
You have seen a lot of beautiful houses, but nothing compares to you and Bucky's house but, the house you were focusing on was for a family of 3. Mom, Dad, and Daughter. You walked in and was greeted by a beautiful looking women maybe mid 30s and ya'll began to talk about what she was wanting in her house.
In the corner of your eye you can see a man staring at your ass, but you didn't say anything and continue talking to the wife. After you were done talking you went to a mini table to start planning.
The man walked up and said "Hey you look real pretty are you from around here" You looked up said "Sorry I'm taken but thanks" smiling at the thought of Bucky. "What's your name?" You ask wanting to know who he was. "Josh Miller" He said confidently. “Your turn.” He sung. "Y/n Barnes.”
He looked down and saw your ring and said, "Your married to someone with the last name Barnes? How about Miller. Y/n Miller, that has a ring to it, doesn't it?"
You were trying to be professional but he was talking about your husband so you kindly said "Yes I am and if that's a problem you can talk to him yourself" He was kinda shocked because he didn't expect sass out of you. "Feisty I like it"
You were disgusted and then remembered that the women's last name was also Miller.?"Aren't you married?" He leaned closer to you, so he was near your ear. "She doesn't have to know about it." He had a smirk on his face.
You were getting uncomfortable so you got up and went to the bathroom. You needed a moment to collect yourself. You've never been in a situation were men were preying on you because Bucky is protective, but now that he's not here you're on your own.
All of a sudden the door opened to the bathroom and came through the door was Josh. "You thought you could run and hide? I can do so much better than your husband, just admit it, you want me." You were backed up against the wall. He started tracing your body with his hands, staring with groping your breast and kissing your neck. You pushed him back. "No I don't. I'm happily married and my husband can do everything that you can and can't do!"
This must have pissed him off because you saw anger in his eyes. You didn't waste a second to kick him where the sun don't shine and ran out the bathroom to the front door. You ran down the street not caring about the looks people gave you. When you thought you were a good enough distance you called Bucky.
Bucky's POV
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As I was in a meeting I got a phone call from my lovely wife Y/n, I picked it up and answered. "Hey baby ho-" Before I could finish I got cut off. "B-Bucky there was a guy and he tried to do s-something please hurry, I'm s-scared!” I got up so fast and started walking to the car I noted how out of breath she sounded.
"Baby share your location now." I said in a stern yet soft voice. "Bucky" She whimpered. "He's coming"
Y/n POV
You was on the phone with Bucky when you got grabbed by Josh. "Stop running, you will be mine weather you like it or not!" All of a sudden you heard car tires screeching on the road and walked out was Bucky and his guards and he looked pissed.
"If you don't get your fucking hands off my wife I will make sure they're off your body!" Bucky said his voice laced with venom. Josh immediately let go scarred for his own safety. Bucky instantly pulled you in his arms as you started crying. He looked at his men. "Bring him home to the basement."
Bucky lead you to the car and held you all while whispering in your ear things like 'You did so good, darling without me.' and 'You're such a strong woman'. Bucky texted the maid’s telling them to get a warm bath ready and for them to cook your favorite food.
Once you got home you could see gaurds dragging Josh down to the basement. Bucky lead you upstairs to the bathroom slowly taking your clothes off. He saw the bruises on your neck and got even more angrier, but pushed it to the side when he heard "Bucky, please stay with me." Bucky looked back at you. He saw how desperate and scared you liked so he stripped and got in the bath, slowly washing you.
"B-Bucky I tried to stop him" You said shaking. He shushed you saying it's not you’re fault and that you don't have to worry about him anymore and got up grabbed a towel and took you to the bed
He grabbed one of his shirts and a pair of panties and dressed me.
After that he got dressed and put on my favorite show and went downstairs to get the food. He came back and feed me slowly waiting for you. He decided to wait till you went to sleep to go do his "business". He grabbed you pulled the covers up and cuddle you until you fell asleep knowing you’re safe and protected.
Bucky POV
Y/n fell asleep so I made my way down to the basement. There I saw a glorious site. (Not as good as a naked Y/n). The fucker that tried touching my wife tied to a chair with tables on the side filled with different weapons.
I slowly walked over and took off the cloth off his mouth and said "So you think you can touch my wife and get away with it!?" Josh then responded "I-I didn't touch her she's lying s-she's f-framing me!" I let out a chuckle "So your calling my wife a liar?!" | yelled.
All color drained from Josh face. "N-n-no sir she just mad that I'm m-married and have a d-daughter so she s-set me up." he said stuttering. Bucky took a moment to think "So your married....What will your wife and daughter think when your body is sitting on the porch of your house?"
“No p-please. She’s just mad that I'm m-married and have a d-daughter so she s-set me up." Josh said stuttering. Bucky took a moment to think "So your married....What will your wife and daughter think when your body is sitting on the porch of your house?"
"Please don't kill me promise it won't happen again." He plead. "Oh don't worry you're right it won't happen again." With that being said Bucky took the pliers and twisted his fingers one by one smiling satisfied as he heard the cracks and screams of the man.
His guards watched in terror thinking what if they were in that position. "SO YOU GONNA TELL ME WHY YOU THOUGHT TOUCHING MY WIFE, Y/N BARNES, WAS ACCEPTABLE!?" I yelled. I was beyond pissed. “I'm sorry I-..... thought she was-... s-single." He cried taking breaths. "Well it's a shame that your wife and daughter isn't going to have a husband and father in their life." Bucky said picking up brass knuckles.
Bucky punched him square in the nose hearing the crack and seeing blood coming on his face. He started punching Josh in the jaw, throat, legs everywhere he could to release the anger he felt for this man.
After he thought there was enough of that he asked his men to untie him and leave the room.
His men untied him and left. Bucky grabbed a bat and started swinging at him beating him to the the ground blood was spilling under his body and the bones cracking was just as deadly. He couldn't even scream anymore. "P-pl-" Before he could finish, Bucky pulled out his gun and shot him 5 times. "DON'T TOUCH WHAT'S MINE!" He yelled.
Satisfied Bucky went to the bathroom downstairs so he wouldn't wake up Y/n and showered, Change, and went to bed. He pulled you close with a smile on his face knowing your safe.
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soft-and-bitter · 1 year
Text
We Can Last Forever
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Mafia!Bucky x Ex!Reader
You turn to an old flame in a moment of desperation. Bucky takes full advantage of the situation to bargain for something he's wanted as soon as he set eyes on you.
Word Count: 1853
Warning(s): swearing, descriptions drug use and sexual situations
If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving some feedback, thanks! ❤
M A S T E R L I S T
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"Look who we have here," he murmured, smirking. There wasn't a trace of worry in his tone, nor on his handsome face. And for reasons you couldn't quite grasp, these facts only served to elevate your own stress, the urgency of the situation now clearer than ever.
Bucky was your last resort.
"Hi," you greeted. Despite the sheer brevity involved, even you could hear how unsure you sounded, but it was just as well; you were winging this after all, what with all your options up in flames. On the other hand, you also couldn't fuck this up either, because what else would you come up with if this didn't work out?
With a deep breath, you tried again. "Hi, Bucky. I'm sorry this is so last minute."
He tilted his head, the black turtleneck he wore accentuating the steep line of his jaw. "It wouldn't have been if you'd called ahead of time. Oh, wait," he said, lip curling, "you got rid of my number from your phone. How could I have ever forgotten?"
You looked away, both hands gripping your phone behind your purse. Rather than place it next to you on the plush sofa, you'd opted to set it on your lap. Maybe you saw it as a barrier, however meagre, just something other than the distance that separated you from Bucky. For protection? But it was you who had sought him out, not the other way around.
There was no stilling your frantic thoughts, all those contradictions and uncertainties colliding against each other to form some ugly kaleidoscope of confusion in your head. Several stories below, the club was at the height of its frenzy, the bass throbbing faintly against the walls of Bucky's office, a cursed soundtrack to score the situation you were in, with no promise it was ending anytime soon.
"I . . . it felt like the right thing to do at the time," you tried explaining, still clutching your phone tightly. "I wasn`t ready to deal with the truth."
He chuckled softly. "Yet here you are," he said, each word sliding past his lips in a slow drawl. "I guess there's no keeping me out of your life after all, despite that text of yours."
You turned your head to look back up at him again. Bucky was leaning against his expansive chrome and glass desk, long fingers curled around the edges. His jet-black suit was tailored within an inch of its life; one of his cufflinks winking at you playfully, as if amused by your discomfort and panic.
"You're right, I guess I can't."
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Well, it is what it is. Now tell me why you're here."
Here was your moment, your golden opportunity. You didn't shy away from the details. Why would you when everything you described was all part of his sordid world, the drugs and the money owed, the nefarious parties involved? And so you laid it all out before him like a spread made up of your family's suffering: stressed and overworked, David had gone back to an old habit his dirt bag of an uncle had first introduced him to more than a decade ago. One hit after another, then another, and now your brother—the smarter of the two, in your opinion, and certainly the more successful—was now in so much debt he'd brought up the possibility of selling your mom's home for cash.
Bucky didn't react when you told him how much you needed to borrow. That soothed your nerves somewhat; if he wasn't fazed by the amount, then maybe he'd be more willing to part with his money.
You hoped.
"We'll have the money back in your hands before you even get a chance to miss it," you assured with a smile you hoped was blinding enough for Bucky. "David just has to get through this hump, but once he does, everything will be fine."
Just for a moment you wondered whose worries you were really trying to assuage—Bucky's or yours? Because paying off David's dealer was one thing, but your brother had also promised to check into rehab asap. Yet even with his high-paying FAANG job in Silicon Valley, he had already blown through his savings, together with any credit he'd been approved for. To top it all off, the massive bonus he kept harping on about wouldn't get paid out until the end of the year. You yourself had funnelled whatever money you could spare to help his cause. Where the hell would the money come from until then?
Bucky sighed audibly, pulling you out of your thoughts. "You haven't exactly explained why I should help you in the first place," he said.
He wasn't wrong, you realized. And really, it was what you`d hoped to avoid all along. "Listen, I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but . . . I guess I thought we had something special going on between us. Special enough that I felt I could turn to you."
"You're right, I don't believe you," he confirmed, shaking his head. "Try harder, won't you?"
You stared up at him, a furrow between your brows. "It's the truth, Bucky. I was scared, okay? And let's face it: you knew I'd be, didn't you? Otherwise you would've told me from the start what the hell you really were."
He didn't respond to that right away. In the silence that ensued, with the club's bass pounding at the same speed as your heartbeat, you began to doubt yourself. Couldn't you have handled that with a little more finesse? What if Bucky was offended by your response that he decided he was going to turn you away?
When he finally spoke, it was with an edge of mockery and triumph in his voice. "Just so we're clear: you've come to ask a crime lord to help you when the very fact of me being one had you running off in the first place."
"I couldn't think of anyone else to go to."
Bucky scoffed. "I sure hope the irony's not lost on you."
The smile you offered him was sardonic at best. "Believe me, it's not."
Just when you were convinced that you'd screwed this up entirely, Bucky pushed himself off the edge of his desk and moved towards you, closing the distance. Neon blue strobe lights flashed through the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the club, casting otherworldly shadows across his face as he stalked nearer. You didn't turn your head to watch when he dropped into the sofa next to you, stretching his arms wide across the headrest. His fingers feathered against one of your shoulder blades.
From the corner of your eye you watched as he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, sighing once again. "If you want my help, you'll comply with whatever I set out for you," he said.
"Like what?"
You could feel his gaze on you. "For starters, I'd like a kiss."
"Are you serious? Now?"
"Now," he echoed.
"And that's it?"
He gave a light shrug. "The night's still young. We'll just have to see how things go."
"But why?"
"Why not?" he countered, fingers drumming against the headrest. "Besides, you're the one who thought there was something special between us. Let's see what's left."
For a moment, you hesitated. Bucky's request was simple, but that was where the uncertainty lay. There was something between the two of you, even now, even after you left him in the lurch, that it was enough for you to reach out to him. You were doubtful a kiss would prove that to him, though.
There had been so much more you'd done with him, after all.
"Well?"
You studied his face. His expression was still passive, but curiosity shone bright in his eyes. What choice did you have? David was counting on you now, his own fear and panic elevating your own. With a tilt of your head you leaned forward, eyes falling closed, as you caught Bucky's lips with yours.
Bucky didn't react at first, and you nearly stopped, too shy and uncertain to entertain the possibility of being unwanted, that this was just a cheap way for him to get back at you. But then his lips moved against yours, bold and intentional; when he coaxed your mouth opened and his tongue slid past your teeth, you realized.
He still wanted you.
Both your phone and your purse dropped somewhere below you as one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. Bucky drew you in deeper, his hold fierce, lips desperate and bruising, pulling you into a well of memories: his naked body against yours, mouth lingering on intimate spots that made you cry out in ecstasy, the sweet words he'd whispered in your ear while you came down from your high. Let me give you more. Let me give you everything. You just have to stay. Can you do that? For me?
His lips latched onto the side of your neck as you lost yourself further in his touch, fingers tangled in his dark hair, while his large hand fanned across your breast—
Your phone was like a grenade going off. You jerked back in panic, gasping for breath while the familiar melody on your device blared throughout the room. It was Bucky who got to it first.
"How fitting," he said, turning your phone around so you could see the screen. "It's your brother."
Heart hammering in your chest, you didn't move at first.
"Go ahead, answer it," he ordered, holding out your phone to you. "Tell David the money will be wired to his account in less than thirty and he's got you to thank for this."
His words were like a bucket of cold water flung at your face. With sudden clarity you remembered why you'd come here in the first place, and it wasn't to re-ignite things with an old flame. You needed Bucky's help, and, to your immense relief, he was giving it to you.
When you accepted your brother's call you cut straight to the chase, telling him of the lifeline Bucky was throwing his way. The only one, you emphasized, hanging up before he could profess any gratitude. David had work to do, but you'd done your part. Your mom would get to keep her house, just like she deserved to.
You looked at Bucky. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to my family."
He smirked at you, his hair now tousled thanks to your doing. "Don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. We're not quite done, are we?"
During the call one of his hands had crept along the inside of your thigh. It remained there, his hold entirely too tight and too hot, even through the fabric of your slacks. When Bucky spoke, you didn't miss the raw desire in his voice, the predatory anticipation that lingered on his smirk.
"We'll finally finish what we started, sweetheart. Just like we were always meant to."
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Jimin's "Like Crazy" had me in such a chokehold when I first listened to it that it inspired this whole damn story; it's the song I imagined blasting down in the club while Reader haggles with Bucky. Hope you guys enjoyed it!
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wntrs0ldier · 9 months
Text
An Offer · part 11
pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.), smut?
series masterlist
series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.
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“Hey, Y/N.” A soft whisper brushed your ear and wrapped itself around your waking mind. “Hey, hey…” A gentle touch slid across your cheek, pulling out of sleep the remnants of consciousness fighting for further rest. Your lungs involuntarily filled with a bigger load of air; you opened your eyes, and they immediately found Bucky sitting beside you. He gave you a tender smile, his thumb relentlessly stroking your cheek.
“What?” you asked without much thought. Bucky seemed calm, so you saw no reason to panic either. His touch, this time instead of helping you stay awake, was pushing you towards falling asleep again. Your eyelids drooped, and you had little control over it – it was entirely his fault.
“Hey, stay with me,” Bucky ordered right away, his voice still soft, as if, contrary to the words spoken, he didn't want to disturb you at all. 
“But it's so warm and comfortable here…” 
His hand, which until then had been resting on your face, slipped under the covers. It touched your thigh, and though your eyes remained closed, the rest of your body was awakened by an explosion; a memory of the previous night. Bucky's hand moved higher and turned unexpectedly, his fingers unceremoniously pinching your cheek. You moaned, more in surprise than pain, then looked at Bucky with innocent reproach – he'd used something against you that you definitely liked, and you knew he wouldn't do anything about it. He had aroused not only your mind, but especially your body, and would leave you aching and craving again. But there was also something on his face that might indicate a different turn of events; the same rawness that you had observed the first time he appeared in your house that day had returned. It was as if your innocence and exposure were driving him into some kind of wild, nevertheless controlled madness.
Bucky pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. He swallowed hard at the lust you had also raised in him, and took his hands away. He got up from the bed and it was only then that you noticed he had already his clothes on. “Get dressed,” he grunted. “We have to get back to New York.”
You sat up on the mattress and glanced at the window – it was still dark outside. You grabbed your phone; it was almost three in the morning. You returned your gaze to Bucky, giving him a questioning, confused look, but he paid no more attention to you, too busy gathering up his stuff. “...Is something wrong?” 
“Timothy called,” he replied, and when he did, you already knew you had lost him. You'd lost smiley, relaxed Bucky; when you got to Vegas, he'd come back to life amongst the warmth, sunshine and all the softness you had for each other. And then all it took was one, probably cold and spiteful phone call from his uncle to destroy it; to kill that side of him. 
“Alright…” You nodded slowly. “And he wanted you to come back?”
“He said he needs me. Got a job for me.” He threw his sweats and t-shirt on the bed. “Put this on. Please,” he urged, thereby letting you know that he didn't have time for the rest of your questions. And you weren't quite sure what you should actually feel, but you weren't hurt. You were probably prepared for this; for life alongside a gangster. Bucky was now your husband, and although you had married on your own terms, your society had established a pattern that was imprinted in the two of you as well - however good you intended to be to each other; however much Bucky wanted to make you his equal, he was your husband – a specific, meaningful figure in your world – so you had to follow him, do everything he demanded and expected of you. And you weren't going to fight back, because you trusted him. Maybe not entirely – you still needed time – but you kept believing in his whole “Maybe my heart is in the right place. Maybe I want to do some good.”
It wasn't hard to guess that time played a key role, but you were only confirmed in this belief by the fact that you were returning to New York by plane, sent by Timothy. You still didn't know what he wanted from Bucky, but the matter seemed serious if he was taking such measures. And probably for the first time you realized what your mother really meant when she repeated to you like a mantra: Never marry a gangster. 
Because you were worried. You were worried about your husband, and you weren't sure how to deal with that feeling. It was so... unexpected. Or rather, the fact that it involved Bucky; tied to you in this untrue, loveless marriage. It turned out that you had a softer heart than you thought.
When you landed, a car was waiting for you. The driver, on Bucky's instructions, took you to an address you didn't know – one of New York's apartment complexes. You felt more and more lost, because you had the impression that instead of receiving information that would help your mind to function undisturbed by stress, you knew far too little. You could have asked – you could have asked anything, but you didn't want to throw Bucky off balance. You could see he was irritated enough and was doing his best not to unload on you. You weren't going to make it difficult for him.
Still, there were questions you couldn't keep quiet about. “Where exactly are we..?” You furrowed, watching Bucky turn the keys in the lock. 
He opened the door and let you through. “At my place,” he answered, closing the wooden lid behind him. He put your luggage on the floor, because although this time you managed to declare to him that you could handle your bag, he turned a deaf ear to it.
“Right…” You looked around hesitantly. For some reason, you didn't think he had his own place; mostly you'd find him at his family house, moreover, he had never mentioned having his own place before. Admittedly, he didn't mention owning a casino either. He didn't actually talk about anything until it came to the surface by itself. 
“Look…” Bucky murmured, checking something on his phone. Shortly afterwards, he turned it off and lifted his gaze to you. “I gotta see my uncle. Can you wait here for me?”
“Sure.” You smiled slightly. Apart from the fact that you didn't really have anywhere else to go, you wanted to stay here; to get to know better the space that belonged to Bucky. 
And he managed the same pained rise of the corners of his mouth. He only nodded, and after a moment he left the apartment. You didn't resent him for this at all – you knew there were priorities in your world, besides, in reality you and Bucky didn't function as a typical married couple, but more like co-workers. So, in theory, you didn't need to know; it should have been enough for you that your deal has been working; that it has been protecting you and your father's business. However, you couldn't help but feel that in all this you were also looking out for Bucky's wellbeing. Or maybe you cared mostly about that. And some part of you wanted to know everything; including how he felt.
Despite your suspicion that caffeine would fuel your anxiety, you decided to make yourself a coffee. You hadn't slept a wink on the plane, and now you didn't feel like sleeping either; the tension accompanying you, while draining you additionally, didn't allow you to rest. 
When the boiling coffee machine announced it was finished, you wrapped your hands around the cup, slurped a sip of the hot drink, the smell of which had already spread throughout the kitchen, and went for your rounds. You didn't particularly care if your behavior entered the territory of being nosy; the place belonged to your husband; the same one who had left you alone in it. So you gave yourself every right to search any corner if you wished.
Just as with the car, the apartment reflected the owner in some way; once you crossed its door, every choice seemed perfectly understandable. First of all, dark colors that were pleasantly soothing to the senses – deep shades of gray on the walls; anthracite or graphite, sometimes black, like the tiles in the kitchen; solid wooden panels in a cool shade of chocolate on the floors; mainly black furniture, silver, gray or dark blue accessories. The spaces were brightened only by large windows looking out largely onto other, equally tall buildings.
You finished your coffee, glancing around the interior of the living room, and thoughts were racing through your head – unanswered questions to yourself about whether this was where you would be living from now on, mixed with concerns about Bucky; was he safe? He was supposed to be with his uncle, but you didn't trust Timothy. What did he want from Bucky? Is he going to contact you or will he do what Timothy asks him to do without a word of warning? How long is it going to take? Is it really something serious? Dangerous?
Never marry a gangster.
You shake your head, as if that's going to help you clear up the chaos; as if that shake was going to sort out the whole mess. Back in the kitchen, you put the cup in the dishwasher, then headed to the bathroom. 
You felt a little better, washing off the hours spent on the plane; as streams of warm water ran down your sore, tired body. You reached up to a stone shelf, and came across more bottles than you thought you would; in addition to shower gel and shampoo, you found a hair conditioner.
You wrapped yourself in a fresh towel found in one of the cabinets, then left the bathroom with the intention of finding something to put on. However, you didn't manage to get to your bag; the door to the apartment opened and Bucky burst in. You didn't know if he had noticed you; he didn't even look in your direction, just grabbed his baggage from the floor, and without stopping, went to the bedroom. At first you stood there speechless – Bucky's abruptness caught you off guard; you also weren't sure if he had ignored you on purpose. But maybe it was better that way; you preferred not to get in his way. Nevertheless, after a moment, you followed him. 
Bucky walked from the bed to the wardrobe and back again, repacking his bag.
“What are you doing?” you spoke, but your voice sounded so weak and quiet that you weren't even sure if those words had actually left your mouth. Especially as he still wasn't paying attention to you. “Bucky?” you asked a little more firmly, and he glanced at you over his shoulder. “What’s going on? What are you-”
“I have to leave.”
Your lungs suddenly ran out of air, your eyes widened.
“Timothy wants me to monitor business in Italy,” he answered, nervously shoving some folded clothes into his bag. “Somehow, strangely enough, he suddenly stopped trusting our men there.” He almost snorted. 
Your lips parted involuntarily as you stared at his back. You barely consciously moved from your spot and approached Bucky. “For how long?”
“Few weeks, few months. I don't know. When he'll be satisfied enough with my work.”
You sat on the edge of the bed and stuck your eyes into the floor. “And you can’t say no.”
Bucky pressed his lips together. “I still owe him a debt. Besides, debt or not, my uncle is the head of the Family. And I crossed the line by marrying you behind his back.”
Your gaze tentatively returned to him. “He's punishing you for it..?”
He said nothing at first. He zipped up the bag, and for a brief moment you had the feeling that he was about to slam it against one of the walls.
“He'll make me break every promise I made to you,” Bucky claimed. He looked at you with what you could call fear if you knew the reason for it. One thing you were sure of – the tearing pain in his eyes. He regretted something; probably the fact that he had dragged you into this. “But I need you, Y/N.” Having stood between your legs, he dropped to his knees, his hands on your hips. “I fucking need you on my side.”
“Jamie-” You instinctively tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear in a soothing gesture. “I am on your side.”
“I don't know when I'll be back,” he repeated. “What if you'll have enough time to hate me?” His mouth twitched in a sad smile.
“I won't hate you,” you protested. “It's not your fault that you have to go. Our world is just built that way. And I get it.”
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head with clear disappointment; towards himself and the whole situation. He shifted slightly, then rested his head against your stomach, snuggling into your body. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
You slid your fingers into his hair and brushed it tenderly. “It’s okay, Bucky. Really,” you whispered. He pulled back just enough to look at you. As your fingers rubbed his scalp with affection, his thumbs stroked your hips. “What if you’ll have enough time to find someone else?” you asked after a moment of silence.
“Y/N-” Bucky sighed with resignation.
“You know we are not with each other because of love,” you reminded, trying to talk some sense into him. “You want to be a good husband, and that's really great, but-” You gasped. “I don't want to get in your way. I don't want to stop you from finding what would really make you happy.”
Bucky's forehead furrowed, giving his face an offended expression. “So what? You're giving me permission to go there and cheat on you left and right?” His hands left your body and slipped on the mattress. 
“That's not what I said,” you objected right away. “And you told me practically the same thing. In your uncle’s garden.”
Bucky stared at you without even blinking. He chewed nervously on his bottom lip and shook his head, looking away for a moment. Shortly afterwards he gazed at you again. “Okay. Have it your way,” he replied. “You will be the first to know. But now I'm only yours. And you are mine as long as I am here.” He raised his hand to your cheek. Soon, however, he moved it to the back of your head to draw you closer; he pressed his lips to yours with a longing you already recognised; he kissed you for the first time since last night. And you weren't even taken aback; the gesture seemed so natural, so familiar and right.
Bucky rose from his knees, and as if by instinct you climbed onto the bed to make space for him. The mattress bent under his weight as he took the spot right in front of you. He laid another, this time a more tender kiss on your lips, then took off his sweatshirt; he didn't need to do that – the sudden desire was strong enough that you might as well satisfy it instantly, without unnecessary delay. But you were wearing only a towel, which was about to fall; Bucky craved to feel your naked skin against his own; to keep you company in total exposure.
You kissed him – slowly and sloppily – meanwhile reaching for his belt and managing to unbuckle it, wanting to assure him that you needed it too; that you were completely comfortable with the closeness he was initiating. 
Bucky pulled down his trousers and kicked them on the floor, and as his body pushed against yours, his lips traced a chaotic wet path on your neck. At one point, you even felt him grab a piece of your skin between his teeth; he sucked on it hard enough that you let out an involuntary whimper, and then irritated the sore spot with the tip of his tongue.
He sized you up with his eyes; your body stripped of its covering. You didn't feel as insecure as before – you weren't used to Bucky like that yet, but you were too absorbed in putting out your burning needs. “Fuck what I said earlier,” he rasped. “I'm not sharing you with anyone. And if that anyone happens, I'll fuck them out of your pretty little head.” He stretched his lips in a smirk, then leaned down and nuzzled your nose with his. “I can't get enough of you, baby,” he added, sinking into you without any warning. You both parted your lips; Bucky's breath stilled in his throat, and your back arched as you felt his whole cock inside you. 
His heated, heavy body brushed against yours; slowly at first, lazily even, so that he could watch your face, drinking in every little expression. And you looked at him – a little helplessly against the control he had over you, and with a hope, perhaps even a silent request, that he would be the one to fulfill this hunger he himself had aroused in you. And you knew; you could see it on his face, feel it in his every movement, that he had set himself just such a mission.
Soon his hips began pounding fast enough that your clashing, naked, sweaty bodies made that characteristic, heavenly sound – it filled the whole room, mixing with your moans and Bucky's panting. If at all possible, the combination was turning you on even more, intensifying the sensations his dick was giving you, sliding in and out in that rapid rhythm, his wet, hot lips wandering on your skin. You felt his hand suddenly clench on your hair, his teeth hooking lightly on the edge of your jaw; if he could, Bucky would absorb every bit of your body.
You didn't even know at what exact moment you wrapped your hand around Bucky's biceps; you realized this when you painfully dug your nails into it – painful for both of you, but also somehow releasing the sensations that had been building up inside you. They were piling up, and you weren't going to fight them this time either. As that seemingly familiar but actually new feeling exploded in the pit of your stomach, you tightly hugged Bucky and pulled him closer. You uncontrollably sank your teeth into his shoulder, and pure pleasure spread across his face.
With his head on your chest, Bucky was slowly climbing down from his high. You stroked his arm carefully with your knuckles, then brushed your fingertips over the mark of your teeth. 
“You’re a biter,” he murmured, feeling your touch in that spot. From the tone of his voice, you figured he was smiling while saying it. 
“Apparently,” you admitted with a little amusement. “How much time have you got?”
“Why? You want to get rid of me already?”
“I don't want to give Timothy any reason to punish us more than he already did.”
Bucky sighed heavily. He supported himself on his elbows, pulling his head away from your chest, and looked at you. You'd started the topic of Timothy again, and expected worry; that unsettling nervousness. Instead, Bucky stared at you with a gentle smile. “I wouldn't be myself if I didn't fuck with him at least a little,” he stated. “Besides…” He shrugged. “I'm saying goodbye to my wife, aren't I? And judging by his desire to have an heir, my uncle strongly respects family values.” He squinted, smiling insincerely.
You laughed, biting your bottom lip, then lifted your hands to his face. “And that's what you're going to tell him? That you were late because you were working on an heir?”
“Maybe,” Bucky said casually. Watching him with a tender grin, you stroked his cheeks with your thumbs, then carefully moved your finger down his nose; from bridge to tip. The expression on Bucky's face firmly softened – to some extent he even seemed surprised that someone had treated him with such gentleness. “Say it,” he whispered. 
“What?” This time, your thumb caressed his chin.
“That I'm yours. I need to hear it. I need to know that when I come back, I'll come back to you. To my girl.”
There was something painfully shattering about seeing him embraced by such helplessness, uncertainty about his own worth; about how you perceived him.
“I don't want to lose you,” he continued. “The thought of you, of you being there for me, is the only thing that will keep me sane, I-”
“It's okay. It's okay.” You smiled reassuringly, your hands returned to his cheeks. “You are mine, and I'm not going to look for anyone else, I promise. I'll wait for you as long as it takes, okay? I am not leaving you, Jamie.”
Bucky nodded. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips, immediately followed by another, much more filled with fear, insecurity, vulnerability. 
“I'll miss you,” you muttered into his mouth.
“And I will miss you. Very much.” He trailed his pecks down to your chin, your neck. One of his hands found its way between your thighs, parting them; without protest you spread your legs wider and he settled between them again. You felt his hardened cock rubbing against the inside of your thigh. You never imagined that you would affect someone so much, and knowing that you actually did put Bucky in a slightly different light; it created a new connection between you, based on intimacy and desire for each other. 
His length thrust into you again, and you whimpered as your eyes rolled back in your skull.
You got out of the car – a little sore and tired. Bucky grabbed his bag from the back seats, then reached for your hand, locking your fingers together. He didn't let it show, but you could sense that he was nervous.
A plane was already waiting on the large, empty lot; the property of the Barnes Family. Timothy was standing not far from the heavy machine, talking to the pilot; Steve was also there, but as soon as he spotted the two of you, he walked towards you.
“Y/N.” He nodded to you; you waved at him in response, plastering a slight smile on your face. 
To greet Steve, Bucky chose to drop his bag rather than let go of your hand. He put his free arm around Steve and patted him on the back. “Keep an eye on her, okay?”
“I will.”
Bucky released your hand, but only to move his arm down your back and pull you closer. You bumped against his body, resting your hands on his chest. “It'll be fine. Hmm?”
You wanted to believe it, but couldn't. That's why all you were able to do was smile sadly and press a tender kiss on his lips. Bucky rested his forehead against yours.
“I'll be waiting for you,” you said quietly, making him smile as well.
“I know.” He kissed your forehead, leaving his mouth there for a little longer than necessary. When he pulled away, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, then handed you the keys to the Mustang. “Here. Take care of it, alright?” 
“Alright,” you replied almost silently, lowering your gaze to the keys in your hand. As you lifted your eyes back to Bucky, you caught his stare. He looked at you with a soft smirk. You didn't say anything. Soon, however, he once again joined your lips.
“I gotta go.” He placed a kiss on the back of your hand, having brought it to his mouth, then pulled away and headed toward the plane. You pressed your trembling lips together, watching him. And again you felt that unpleasant coldness of being left alone.
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a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰
taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine @pattiemac1 @marvel-fandom23 @rabbitrabbit12321 @xsecretsirenx @heyyitsreign @xhollycowx @samfreakingwinchester @thrnlvr @samjuarezzz @loustan90 @kandis-mom @abaker74 @gabshouse @casa-boiardi @globetrotter28 @fand0mskullfa1ry @iateall-yourcookies @swordofawriter
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angrythingstarlight · 3 months
Note
How would Bucky react if Bee came home one day and had a bouquet of flowers that one of the PTA dads gave her for Malyshka? 👀
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Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumbleebee
Word Count: Drabble
A/N: Written on my phone, unbeta'd. Part of the bumblebee series.
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Bucky carefully takes the flowers from Bumblebee's hands, his affable grin sliding off his face when he stands up, towering over you.
"Who gave you these?" His voice is deceptively calm, in stark dichotomy with the storm brewing in his keen blue eyes. His darkening gaze sends a shiver down your spine and it takes every ounce of your willpower to suppress your smile. This is probably not the best time to tease your mobster. Bucky knows the answer without even glancing at the card attached to the bouquet, he merely wants confirmation.
"Bucky," you stretch out his name, wrapping an arm around his neck, going on your tiptoes, you smooth the lines forming between his furrowed brows with a light touch. "I barely remember the guy. Chris something I think. It's not important."
"I remembers Mommy. Mr. Cole gave 'em to you and remembers how he—" Bee states a little too helpfully, squishing a stray lavender petal in her palm, blissfully unaware of what she started when she skipped in the house straight to Bucky to show him Cole's flowers."—he wanna touch your butts. You remembers?"
Don't laugh. Don't laugh.
"Thank you, Bumblebee." Bucky sees your lips twitch and a dark, menacing glint creeps over his bearded face. God, he's sexy when he gets like this. One day you'll figure out why that particular look makes your knees weak.
"You welcome, Papa," she sings out. Done with her part in this fiasco, she heads off to her playroom, leaving you alone with Bucky.
"Oh Cole. Right. That one. Yeah, they might be from him," you admit.
"Cole Turner. Farmer. Divorced father of two. Works upstate. Asthmatic." His gaze flicks to the flowers crumbling in his grasp. "Cheap."
Bucky knows all about the farmer, ever since the man first flirted with you. Bucky's been biding his time, content to let you handle him.
Until now.
If the way he's crushing the stems in his large tattooed hand or the way his heady gaze pins you in place wasn't enough to reveal how your mobster feels about another man giving you flowers, his accent slipping out as he lists off what he knows, says more than his words ever could.
Oh, he's furious.
And jealous.
It's not a bad look on him. You glance down and see the veins along the back of his hand, your eyes trailing up to his thick bicep barely contained by his tailored suit, and over to his face just in time to catch his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not bad at all.
Still, you can't let him hurt the asthmatic farmer even if Cole can't take a hint.
"James, whatever you're thinking, the answer is no." You clutch the sides of his jaw, making him look down at you. "I don't care about the flowers. Or what's his name. I love you." His expression doesn't change but you see his eyes soften. Pulling him down, your lips brush over his ear as you whisper. "I only want you. No one else. And if you agree to leave him alone, I'll show you how much you mean to me."
He knows that and he trusts you. He's not concerned about that. Bucky believes you're fucking irresistible and he can't blame other men for wanting you as badly as he does. Actually, he can and he will. Bucky drops the flowers and takes your face in his hands, his warm palms brush over your cheeks as he tilts your head back. "I'm going to need a lot of convincing Malyshka. It's going to take all night."
"Promise you're not going to do anything to him."
"I won't hurt him," Bucky offers with a casual shrug.
"Bucky."
"That's the best I can do. And Malyshka, you should be focused on how you're going to handle all the things I'm about to do to you." A smirk pulls at his lips and his unrelenting gaze skates over you in one smooth pass. His voice deepens, the sound vibrating over your skin as his lips find the side of your throat. "Remember what happened the last time you promised to make me feel better?"
Oh.
"I--"
"Don't worry, I'm about to remind you."
The following Monday.
You're dropping Bee off when you overhear Keaton talking to another mother. "We'll need someone to cover Cole's snacks for the rest of the year. I can't believe he up and left like that."
Your eyes widen as you subtly glance over your shoulder, listening carefully while taking Bee's little backpack off.
"What happened?"
Bucky what did you do? Without being too obvious, you take a step closer to the gossiping duo, their voices carrying over the sounds of the classroom.
"Apparently he just inherited a house in D.C. He told Kristen that it was left to him by some uncle but one of the conditions is he has to live there for ten years to keep it," "And get this, right after he finds out about the place, I'm talking two seconds after he hangs up with the lawyer, he gets an offer to take over some vendor that's a mile or two from his new place but they wanted him to start immediately. So he...." Her voice starts to fade as she strolls down the hallway.
No, he didn't. Laughter spills out, you slap your hand over your mouth to conceal the sound and wave goodbye to Bee. You spend the entire walk back to the car teetering between amusement and astonishment.
Bucky's waiting for you, leaning against the side of the car. A gorgeous, colorful bouquet of flowers in his hand. But it's the smug grin on his face that has your attention. He doesn't have an ounce of shame in him and you both know he'll do it again.
"You're ridiculous, you know that right?" You say, taking the flowers from his hand. That cocky grin of his widens as he opens the door for you. "And insane."
"Only when it comes to you."
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straywords · 1 year
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°•☆So tasteful☆•°
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♦️ Mob! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader ♦️
Your baked treats are suspiciously good and it attracts the mob boss’ attention.
CW: fluff, humor, obsession, meet cute, smitten Bucky, grumpy Bucky
Words: 750
A/N: I wasn’t very sure about writing this since I rarely write fluff but I still really liked this idea so here we go with this drabble.
Bucky Barnes masterlist || Peachy Sweet masterlist
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Bucky hates these meetings.
When he took over the organization, he didn't think there'd be so many pleasantries involved. 
While he knows some degree of diplomacy is required, he expected a lot less talking and a lot more killing. That at least, he can't mess up. It is second nature, after all. When the handle of a blade fills his palm, he truly feels home. 
But this… 
It makes the killer in him antsy, restless. What he'd trade for a good, old-fashioned hunt. A worthy chase. He misses it, the thrill that coursed through him whenever he cornered a target. The fear shining in their eyes, the realization there would be no tomorrow…
The prospect makes his blood sing. 
He listens intently to Danny’s report, twirling the glass of brown liquor in his hand. 
"We found out who the mole was." Bucky perks up, his attention fully drawn. Each of his men does the same, their faces tight. The sting of betrayal permeates the air, clogging the room even more than the lingering clouds of smoke. There’s been a rat in their ranks for too long. He's been feeding information to the FBI for weeks, ruining deliveries, delaying shipments. 
Bucky’s mouth twists in contempt as pictures are tossed on the low wooden table brimming with manila folders and half-empty glasses of alcohol.
He takes in the face of the traitor. 
Rumlow. He knows he should have erased every trace of the old organization, but the bastard did good work and never asked too many questions. Turns out it’s because he was too busy running his damn mouth.
"What should we do about it, boss?" Danny asks. 
"Bring him to me. I’ll deal with him myself," he replies without hesitation, emptying his glass to its dregs before clenching his jaw. 
But the unhinged train of Bucky’s murderous thoughts is halted when his gaze lifts to one of his henchman, Leo, humming loud enough for him to hear.
"What are you doing?"
The boy freezes. Dark crumbs line his mouth as he looks at his boss with wide eyes.
A nervous stutter spills from his mouth.
"Just…eating a brownie, sir."
Bucky squints at Leo, a deep scowl scrunching his features.
He slaps the brownie out of the boy’s hand who watches it fall to the floor with a dejected expression.
"Eating a brownie, huh? What do you think this is? The neighborhood bake sale?"
Another subtle moan rises to his left and Bucky’s gaze narrows to yet another one of his henchmen indulging in the sweet delights. 
His voice trembles as he points at the plate of brownies.
"They are really good, sir. You should try one."
"I should-" 
Bucky scoffs, disbelief fluttering through him as he notices how many of the brownies have already been eaten. 
"Whatever. I swear to god if you don’t s-"
The mobster’s irate rant is halted when a brownie is shoved into his mouth by a henchman. Bucky frowns at the audacity, ready to end the meeting and commit murder on the spot, but…then the taste melts on his tongue, sweet and subtle. Heavenly. The scowl on his face eases as anger dissipates. 
"Who baked these?"
"The new chef, sir."
His frown returns. 
"New chef? What happened to the old chef?"
"He was…disposed of when we realized he was lacing the food with poison."
"Disposed of?"
The henchman who spoke shifts awkwardly in his chair.
"You slit his throat, sir."
Bucky nods as slow remembrance sneaks inside his mind. He’s not sure how that memory escaped him. The man screamed a lot. It left quite an impression.
"Right, I forgot that."
The meeting resumes but Bucky’s mind is elsewhere. It’s not often he’s comforted by something as trivial as baked goods. This is uncanny; he needs to inquire more about this new chef.
Their intentions should be gauged anyway. Who knows? Maybe they too, will need their throat slit. 
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He’d never slit your throat. Bucky’s sure of that. 
When the mob boss entered the kitchen, his intentions were clear. Interrogate or intimidate, most likely both. But when he gets a glimpse of your angelic face, wrinkled in focus while you cover a cake in chocolate frosting, Bucky feels like he’s being stabbed right through the heart. Over and over again. He could have collapsed right here and then. 
And when you lift your head to smile at him - the most gorgeous smile he’s ever seen - Bucky knows he’s fucking lost. 
Instantly, he knows, he needs to have you, no matter what it takes.
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I do not have a taglist anymore. Follow and turn up notifs for my sideblog @straytales to know when I post something new.
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periprose · 11 months
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Therapy
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Bucky Barnes x Reader
Bucky Barnes is your newest patient at your clinic. As a therapist, you know all about having to maintain decency and professional respect with your patients, even when they seem unruly. But Bucky isn't just any ordinary man– he's the top earner of the Russian mafia down in Brighton Beach, and he's temperamental and not really down with therapy. He's only seeing you out of necessity, and the last thing you're expecting is other strange developments in your relationship.
Genre: Deeply inspired by Tony Soprano and Melfi's relationship on the Sopranos, Mafia!Bucky Barnes, not really pro mafia, doctor-patient to friends to lovers, lots of psychology and therapy talk throughout, fluff
Word Count: 8.5k
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Bucky waits as the secretary informs him that his therapist will be ready for him soon, and he’s sweating bullets, feeling like a child who’s been told to wait for a punishment from the school principal.
He has absolutely no idea what you’ll be like– he was just recommended a therapist by his physician, because apparently his blood pressure is unfortunately incredibly high for someone his age, and it’s going to become an issue later on if he doesn’t fix it now.
Of course, Bucky knows that stress comes with the job, so no wonder his blood pressure is so high. He can’t exactly be his gang’s boss if he’s having heart palpitations and needing to sit down every few moments when he should be intimidating his enemies and rivals. The Russian mafia requires him to be almost perfect at every instance, so they can keep their riches and luxuries growing. He’s one of their top earners, but this goddamn stress is starting to ruin things for him.
He’s come here under the guise that he’s out repairing his car, even telling his mother and his sister that, and his underlings aren’t going to argue with him regardless of what he says. It’s a good thing this office is in New York, so he didn’t have to travel to anywhere particularly suspicious.
 But Bucky still feels so strange, so unlike himself, feeling both wary and somewhat angry by this situation that he’s in, where the grey carpet and the equally dull pink-grey of the walls makes him feel like he’s trapped. Trapped in this skyscraper, when really he should be down at Sam’s bar, clinking his drink next to Steve’s and watching the sun set on Brighton Beach. 
And he would be, if it wasn’t for the constant, clenched fear in his heart, the pit in his stomach that never seems to go away despite his attempts to fill it with drinks and the women and other vices, and he feels a chill– he wonders if he will ever successfully remove himself from this lifestyle, or if he even wants to. Bucky sometimes believes that it’s more likely he’ll die here.
Bucky thinks for a moment that he should leave. Now, while he still can, because he thinks this appointment is probably pointless.
“Mr. Barnes?” You open your office door, and Bucky sighs and stands up. “Right this way.”
He notices you don’t exactly look how he envisioned. You have a no-nonsense appearance– none of that frilly new age bullshit he was expecting, no crystal bracelets or spiritual tattoos or extra piercings– you have a khaki blazer on and tidy slacks. Your hair is coiffed in a way that says respectable, but you also don’t have the time to try too hard with your looks. Your glasses make you look intelligent, but also scary in how you peer at him.
He follows you into your office– everything is in a cushy shade of brown, from the carpets to the sofa chairs, way up to the wood paneling and shelves surrounding your desk, and the framed certificates displaying your knowledge, and it's immediately more comforting than the outside room. Bucky wonders if that's by design.
He sits down on an armchair, and his fingers, out of their own accord, grip the armrests as if he’s dying. Hell, maybe he is. 
"I've done a little bit of reading on why you're here." You start murmuring over your patient files on your desk as you look for his particular one. "Matt Murdock, Jessica Jones… ah, there it is. James Buchanan Barnes." 
"...Bucky is fine." He clenches his jaw– no one has called him James in literal decades, and he's not going to let some fancy doctor like you start. Bucky barely wants to be here as it is.
"In this office, we have a level of professional respect that needs to be maintained." You correct him gently, not because he did anything wrong, but just as a careful reminder. "I will address you as Mr. Barnes. Is that okay?"
"Sure." Bucky feels tense, waiting for the hour to go by any faster than it currently is. You look at him– not in a way that makes him feel as if he's being sized up, because he'd definitely make a backhanded comment about that– but in a way that articulates some form of curiosity.
It's to Bucky's displeasure that he can't tell whether or not it's just simply the look of a therapist, or if you’re really, truly interested in him. He nods at you– you understand he wants you to get on with it.
“Okay. So you’re here because you’ve been having high blood pressure, and heart palpitations.” You scan over the note written by his physician– scrawled in a hasty cursive– and look back up at him. “You’re in good shape, and you’re a bit too young to be having age-related heart problems.”
“Nice observation, doc.” Bucky retorts, and you half-smile at that– your best patients have always been the snarky ones, and you figure it’s because they have that sense of humour that is sometimes needed for therapy. “Obviously I’m stressed the fuck out.”
“Stressed, Mr. Barnes?” You cross your arms, and sit down in front of him in your own armchair, starting the session legitimately. “And why do you think that it is?”
“I said it was obvious. Aren’t you a doctor? Shouldn’t you be smarter than this?” Bucky shakes his head, wondering why he has to delve into something so clear. “My jobs, doc. They take too much out of me these days– it’s a wonder I don’t just end it.”
You ignore the perceived slight against your intelligence. “Why can’t you end it, Mr. Barnes?”
“...There’s too many people counting on me.” Bucky sighs in exasperation. “My mother, she’s not gonna be able to fend for herself if I’m not bringing in the income– I’ve considered putting her in a home, but she thinks I’m trying to get rid of her– and my baby sister, Rebecca, she’s used to a certain, uh, lifestyle now. It’s not very fair of me to take that away from her.”
Bucky closes his eyes. “That’s not even counting the rest of my family.”
“Your family, or your ‘family?’” You mimic quotation marks, meaning his crime family, and Bucky swallows. “Mr. Barnes, I’d like to remind you. Don’t say anything that would require me to break the patient-doctor confidentiality agreement.”
Bucky takes this to mean that you know what he does for a living, and he’s not stupid– he was never going to get really into that, say anything that would really, truly implicate him, he knows all about the laws around snitching– he just thought to the rest of the world, his reputation wouldn't precede him quite as much.
“Okay. Should I start with where it all began, or just what’s on my mind?” Bucky wrinkles his forehead as he thinks, and you leave the floor open for him to begin wherever he likes.
/
Bucky starts with how his latest “room cleaning” (you assume he’s putting up a front as a janitor) went south, because there are certain stains that you can never get rid of.
“Usually, I’m quick on my feet– I know the rules and laws around disposing of “stains,” and I only have a limited amount of time before the smell starts getting worse and neighbours start asking questions.” Bucky illuminates for you, and you get the feeling stains don’t exactly just mean blood, maybe body disposal or something like that. 
“This time, though?” Bucky continues, and his voice gets raspy, as patients’ often do, when they start elaborating and getting to the difficult parts of their experiences. “Steve asked me what was wrong, why was I frozen in place, and I leaned against the wall, couldn’t say anything.”
“I was feeling that… y’know, that loud sort of thumping–” Bucky suddenly motions to his head, unable to look quite at you, instead feeling the sensation he was describing. “Like a heartbeat, but in my head?”
“Yes. I know what you mean.” You write this down as well. “Those are signs of your heart palpitations– most likely the pressure in your head was induced from a panic attack.”
“Right.” Bucky swallows the lump in his throat. “It was too loud to even keep my eyes open, Jesus– it was scary, I started yelling at Steve and then I… I turned over to the side, and puked.”
“So you’re struggling with maintaining your composure. Letting loose with anger, panic, other aggressive emotions.” You note, and Bucky raises his eyebrows. 
“Yeah, but it’s worse than that. That stuff can be… useful, in my line of work.” Bucky cracks a few of his knuckles. “I can’t exactly do my fucking work if I’m puking up shit, right?”
“Sure. But we’re here to focus on why. On what’s going on with your mental health.” You gently prod him to keep going. 
“My sister, Rebecca, she’s saying she’s gonna go audition for movies.” Bucky explains, with a sideways, sarcastic smirk that has you thinking this guy doesn’t look half bad. “Not adult movies, mind you, doc– I immediately thought that and tried to talk her out of– but real Hollywood productions, something that a New Money socialite like her could potentially get into, for real.”
“Tell me what the conversation was like.”
“Well, Rebecca’s been going to acting classes, and she told me that it was just a hobby. Just something all the other girls in Brighton were doing.” Bucky nonchalantly scratches his cheek, but his jaw clenches as he continues. “But she sat me down, and said ‘Buck, my teacher says I have a real good shot at making it. I know how you feel about this, but I can’t just sit and spend the rest of my life doing nothing.’ Listen, doc, she has a point– I’ve always felt a little bad that Rebecca just sits there, looking pretty. But I didn’t want her to go and do this, and–”
Bucky inhales. “I couldn’t speak to her. I felt dizzy, and I sat down, and I felt like I had to… I had to either run or fight this thing before it got too far.”
“Fight-or-flight.” You affirm, and you point at him with a well-groomed fingernail. “Hm. That sounds like the real issue.” 
Bucky frowns at that.
“Huh?”
“You’re not just afraid of losing your sister– you clearly have a fear of what the future entails. You’re exhibiting symptoms of PTSD.” You clarify, and Bucky shifts around in his seat, wanting more of an explanation. “You’re in a constant state of panic because you don’t know what life will bring you.”
That explanation rings through him, and he’s drawn to a silence. 
“But why now?” Bucky eventually mutters, staring down at the carpet again, this time focusing on a piece of lint that hadn’t been vacuumed. “Isn’t life always uncertain?”
“Well, PTSD is built up because of past trauma. Anything can really induce it again– something that’s triggered you appropriately, whether it be through similar emotions or similar events.” You think that over, and then nod. “It sounds as if you are experiencing a relapse in trauma… perhaps due to the nature of your work, or because the lack of control with Rebecca– possibly leading to a blown cover or her newfound independence– and most likely of all, it could be because you have not let go of those feelings and use them in response to many different situations. It’s not uncommon, Mr. Barnes, to become used to traumatic responses as ‘how it’s supposed to be.’ If it’s all you know, you won’t expect any different until it’s too late.”
Bucky realizes that that’s exactly how he felt when he was sitting in the waiting room. Like all of this was useless, an attempt to fix something that he felt was totally ordinary. If it wasn’t for the extremity of his recent reactions, he would’ve just kept going on like this. 
Something about this revelation pisses him off. 
“I believe we should try to focus on this and work through it.” You check the clock, and then smile professionally at him. “That’s all the time we have for today. Any parting questions, thoughts, ideas?”
Bucky is still silent. He is mulling over the fact that you’ve already seemed to figure him out, at least partially– he wanted more of a challenge, more of something to use against you so he could successfully call therapy a bunch of bullshit. He feels a sense of relief that the hour is over, but also annoyance over the fact that he wants to keep going.
“...Thanks, doc.” Bucky bids you goodbye, and you nod and walk him to the door. 
You feel the animosity in the air, but you know that’s not rare, especially considering who your patient is.
/
Mr. Barnes is terrifying when he glares at you.
His third session had started off with a story about a “coworker” he had to have a talking to, and when you pried just a bit deeper, wanting to know what exactly the coworker had done, he inhaled sharply, and stared you down with those blue-grey eyes. 
You don’t know how to respond to his silence, to his mob boss intimidation tactics. Bucky might be the most difficult patient you’ve had so far, and you do not want to push too far and hurt yourself in the process.
You maintain your poker face, needing to do so to maintain the safe space you have made not just for Bucky, but for yourself. If he ever came forward too quickly, attacked you– it would be the end of your relationship with him.
“Why did you stop speaking, Mr. Barnes?” You break the silence, and Bucky continues to stare you down. “I thought we were getting towards a–”
"You think I'm stupid, huh?" Bucky scoffs at you. "You want me to reveal everything about myself, right? This isn't enough to make me make a fool of myself. Doesn't matter if you keep offering me little platitudes, or if your office is nice and warm, or if you happen to be a very pretty, smart doctor lady. It's not gonna fucking work on me."
You look taken aback for just a moment, and then smile neatly at him. "Wonderful, Mr. Barnes. I think you're making significant progress."
"Really?" Bucky furrows his brows. "You're not gonna tell me I'm rejecting change, or some shit like that?"
"Funny you should mention one of the main pillars of therapy." You bite your lip as you think. “No, this is actually a part of it, is it not? You are formulating a response to the change, which means you are getting results, somewhere inside you. You don’t have to tell me what exactly it is, Mr. Barnes, it’s evident in the way you reject it.”
“God, how do I get you off my back then?”  Bucky sighs and then laughs a little. “Okay, fine, doc. I’m only trying this shit so I can do my work, get it? Don’t try to rehabilitate me.”
“Noted.” You pretend to write that down, but actually write three times three equals nine. Just a random sentence that looks like something important.
You won’t be upfront about this, because you don’t want to scare him away– but therapy is not some sort of quick fix. Rehabilitation will have to be apart of Bucky Barnes’ regime someday, at least as the end result of his therapy, or he’ll never have the mental strength he needs to move on.
Several of your clients have had to build up the right state of mind in order to then remove themselves from the situation. Bucky can’t be any different. 
“Alright. Sorry.” Bucky doesn’t usually apologize, ever, but something about how your eyes– normally so reserved in their emotions– became wide-eyed, slightly fearful of him, made him want to take a step back and stop. “Should I keep going?”
You’re taking a moment, because you want to know why he snapped like that. What exactly did you say? Should you avoid the phrase next time? How do you help Bucky and protect yourself? Is it worth delving deeply into his past, when you risk getting hurt by his tendencies?
Every therapist has this moment, you know that. Some of your colleagues have passed on patients to you when they felt that it was too much for them. And you have an inkling that Bucky is going to be the one to watch for you. 
You think that Bucky doesn’t like when you ask for specifics. Or that he’s getting frustrated that you’re getting to him, so he pushes back– but really, just like you said, if Bucky was truly not being changed by any of this, he wouldn’t be responding at all. You decide to be patient.
“You can keep going if you would like to.” You respond quietly, carefully, and Bucky nods and continues on with his story.
“So the guy– the coworker– he’s been harassing one of my other coworkers, right. And that little guy is pretty wet behind the ears, too young to really stand up for himself.” Bucky is shaking his head in quiet disappointment. “So the second he came too close– did too much that he shouldn’t have done– I ended it.”
“I see.”
“And it’s not that I didn’t want to do it– I did wanna end that particular situation, doc. It was just that the kid wasn’t doing enough to fight back, but after I did it, everything felt…” Bucky trails off, staring at the floor, his eyes beginning to water. “Different. Bad. All this shit I do is for a reason, and I usually… I like it. But the kid started wailing, crying, and for a second, I felt really shit about the whole thing. Like I shouldn’t have gone that far.”
You take a moment to write that down, that Bucky is beginning to feel some semblance of regret.
“But you know what’s crazy, doc? Even though I feel bad about it, I still want to do it. Doesn’t that sound insane?” Bucky swallows, and he looks at you, maybe for comfort, maybe for an explanation. “I can’t stop– I won’t stop. I just need to keep going and stop being such a pussy about it.”
“You’re focusing on the wrong aspect, Mr. Barnes.” You chime in, and he shakes his head, tapping at his arm rest. “Why did you feel bad? What about this younger man had you feeling, well, out of sorts?”
“I told you already, doc, he was screaming and crying and it was just– it was too much.” Bucky repeats, but he feels himself growing smaller, suddenly feeling tiny, just like when he was a young man starting out in this world. “I guess… maybe, just maybe it brought up some bad stuff inside me.”
“Yes, this is the problem. Being in these situations will take a toll on you– even if you still need to do them, Mr. Barnes– and so you’re beginning to feel the memories roll back in. It’s all a part of how you’ve been unintentionally triggering yourself the last few years, I’m guessing, because you can’t simply forget the bad times forever.” You point out to him, and he shuts his eyes.
“Yeah, so I’m a fucking psycho? There’s a whole bunch of things about myself that I don’t even know?” Bucky scoffs at himself, feeling very unmasculine and more like a baby. 
“Don’t tear yourself down that much.” You remark, not unkindly. “I myself have had many bad, sad, unspeakable times– people are more broken than you realize.”
“Yeah, really?” Bucky looks mystified. “What kinda trouble could a lady like you get into? You’re very clever, and you’re probably well-off… I’d figure you’d keep your nose outta bad shit.”
“It’s not that simple, is it?” You lean back in your chair, pick a loose thread off your blazer. “Sometimes bad shit picks you, Mr. Barnes. That’s why we should not blame ourselves for things outside of our control.”
“Hey, don’t leave me hanging.” Bucky shoots back suddenly, sitting more present and aware of you than he had before. “What happened to you, doc?”
“That’s not why we’re here, Mr. Barnes.”
“Oh, fuck you.” Bucky is half smiling, looking more roguish and understandably a little intrigued. “You’ve been hearing all about me, the least I deserve is some reciprocation.”
You blink. “Mr. Barnes, you’re paying me to be here for you. My advice is–”
“Alright, alright. Letting it go now.” Bucky raises his hands in a gesture meant to stop you from continuing. “Keep your secrets, it makes you more mysterious. More hot.”
You raise your eyebrows and then laugh. Just a little snort– and Bucky smiles.
“Okay, Mr. Barnes. We’ve got about seven minutes left, so I’ll tell you a little about myself.” You start, and Bucky raises his eyebrows.
“You’re that desperate to keep me from finding you attractive? What is this, patients and doctors aren’t allowed to–”
“They’re definitely not.” You silence him, but you can tell from his expression he likes the challenge. “Anyways. I’m thirty-three years old, I have two degrees, a PhD in psychology and a bachelor’s in social work– I did both at the same time– I’ve lived in New York my whole life, and my mother still believes that I haven’t done enough. Always going on about how I’m wasting my potential.”
“Jesus Christ.” Bucky pinches his forehead. “It’s always the smart girls like you who get way too much hate thrown at them. Even with two degrees, she’s like that? Want me to talk to her? Have a little one-on-one?”
“No, no.” You start laughing for real and then have to compose yourself, but Bucky has a different expression now, a sort of soft look in his eyes, and you find yourself turning a little warm. “I appreciate that, Mr. Barnes, but there’s no way I could let you do that.”
“Well, at least you considered it.” Bucky smiles and you feel a strange fit of passion inside you, that this guy who hardly knows you is willing to go that far. 
That perhaps, even as a shadowy, veiled observer, meant to impart advice and be relatively untouchable… you could be touched, too. 
You swallow, ignoring the thought that he’s rather handsome.
/
You’re out shopping for a new dress. It’s your sister-in-law’s birthday, and you know she wanted a bit of a fancy dinner for whatever reason. She’s turning 31, so there’s nothing special about it, but your brother, Viz, insisted that you go along with it.
“Wanda, Wanda, Wanda…” You mumble under your breath. She loves red, so you know you have to stay away from that colour. You’re leaning towards a navy-blue, simple dress with no details, just to be hidden in the background with.
“Hey, doc. Didn’t think I’d see you here.” Bucky suddenly ambushes you from the aisle, and you blink before refusing to make eye contact with him.
It’s fine that you’re his therapist, but in public? You worry about the perception on your work. Bucky is kind of infamous– sometimes your secretary will ask for gory details on what he does. You’ve never shared anything, but you also know that Bucky himself is relatively confidential about the whole thing.
“Hello, Mr. Barnes.” You utter quietly, and he tuts and grins at your expression. 
“Why do you look so scared?” He snorts, and with an overly familiar touch, his hand is on your shoulder.
You know you should be pushing him aside, so not to ruin the careful, purposefully respectful relationship between you two, but it’s also in public– Bucky has no reason to follow your rules here– and he’s not one to be trifled with.
“Not scared, just, uh, taken off guard.” You admit, and he laughs a little. “I’m just dress shopping.”
“I can see that.” Bucky gently pulls the dress you’re holding so he can look at it carefully. “That’s not you, I don’t think. The style is too frumpy– you look better in what you wear in the office.”
“Oh, really? So what is ‘me’, Mr. Barnes?” You wonder how long Bucky has been checking you out, supposedly enough that he knows your style. 
“Mmm… something like this?” He holds up a dress that just barely can be called one, black rhinestone straps being held together with skinny strips of fabric that would barely cover your breasts or ass, and you roll your eyes and put it back on the rack. “I’m kidding, just kidding. That’s more the local strippers’ vibe, I know.”
“You’re revealing a bit about your habits, huh.” You look at him pointedly. 
“Hey, blame the job. That’s where most dudes want to meet up.” Bucky scans through the rack and then picks up a much more you dress, something maroon, little embroidered flowers and filigree in the threadwork, and fitted enough that it would show off your body. Shorter than you would’ve liked, but you figure that’s Bucky’s gaze coming in.
“Wow.” You reach out for it, and Bucky gives you a smile that you’re sure has dazzled many, many women. 
“I’ll, uh, let you try that on. I’m heading to work, but I’ll see ya around, doc.” Bucky flashes a quick wave at you and heads on out, and you’re left feeling like you wanted more out of him.
/
The next session with Bucky, probably the ninth or tenth, he’s a lot more agreeable. A lot more open about what’s going on.
“My ma, you know, she’s getting into a bit of a hostile nature. I don’t know what spurred it on.” Bucky shakes his head and looks towards the ceiling. “She never used to get so upset over some of these things– last week she got upset because the wallpaper of her new sitting room was too dark or something– and I think she’s losing it. She’s losing control and doesn’t know what to do.”
“You’re right, Mr. Barnes. How does that affect you?” You lean in as you write this down. “How will you respond to that?”
“I think I get it, you know, doc? I feel like I can’t control everything all the time either.” Bucky begins a rhythm, showing his understanding of the situation. “She’s not wrong that it’s annoying when the little things don’t work out… sometimes it’s like all the small things are building up and then everything feels shit and you have to start screaming.”
“Good. Yes, exactly.” You nod your agreement, and Bucky nods and keeps going.
“I don’t know what I can do. Sometimes it feels like she’s got something, some undiagnosed illness, because even if I support her, she’s not always listening.” Bucky sounds despondent. “I say that she’s not at fault for what happens to her. That she’s not crazy, just in a bad place. But she tells me to fuck off, too, and I don’t… I can’t say I don’t deserve that, because I know I haven’t been the best son. I am the one of the things she can’t control, and even if there’s been some good, some helpful stuff… I still know she loathes me.”
“It’s difficult to come to terms with some of the negative things you may have done to her.” You feel more invested in Bucky’s story than you thought you would– you can see tears building up in his eyes. “But I commend you for doing your best, Mr. Barnes. I hope you can recognize this is a big milestone in your own personal development– even if it is difficult to rebuild your relationship with your mother, you are still there for her, and you can see what she needs. You must understand that your mother’s reaction to you is outside of your control. You can simply try your best to continue on with this knowledge and her, or move on past it– I believe you will make the right decision, though.”
Bucky sniffs a little, and wipes his eyes. “Thanks, doc. I’m glad we have these talks– you make me feel smarter.”
You half-smile at that. “I’m only showing you what you are already capable of, Mr. Barnes.”
He snickers a little. “My ma would like you.”
You feel a swell of pride and fondness that Bucky would say such a thing, even if you have no idea how true that it is, and you do your best to just keep that repressed. You can’t go on as his therapist if you’re starting to get too involved.
Bucky asks if he can pay you double for your services and you insist that he doesn’t need to do that. You feel as if you’ve gained more than just a well-paying client– you enjoy your sessions with him now.
/
Wanda’s birthday dinner is swanky, at some upper-class Italian place down by Brighton. Wanda is half-amused, half-irritated that you’re wearing such a lovely red-toned dress, but she says nothing of it.
Viz, your brother, is kind of weird around you. He seems to notice something about you.
“Anything different at work? Maybe a pay raise, something like that?” He asks out of curiosity at the dinner table, and you shake your head. “Ah, well. You just seem so smiley, sis.”
“Yeah. Just glowing, and at my birthday, too.” Wanda jokes, and you don’t have any answers.
You feel as if you know the reason why– and he shows up just as you’re thinking it.
Bucky is dressed in a nice blazer, dress pants, looking much more slick than he often does at your office. He comes in with most likely another member of his gang, and together they go sit in a corner booth.
You feel your face flush a deep red– he looks gorgeous, almost as if he could ditch being a mob boss and become an actor or a model instead. You can’t help but glance at him, hoping he’ll catch your eyes.  
Eventually, you get up to use the restroom. You stumble a little on your heels– and it’s that motion that causes Bucky to look up again. 
He’s taken aback– it’s you, but you look stunning, far more beautiful than he had ever seen you look during your sessions together, and that’s saying a lot because you were already incredibly distracting before, and a part of him is jealous and wonders why you’ve held yourself away from him like that. But Bucky is more rational now, and he knows that you haven’t done anything to make him attracted to you. He’s just like that.
He notices, with a bit of a possessive, satisfied flair, that you’re wearing the dress he picked. Bucky was right, it does suit you a lot, and he enjoys being able to make out your figure while having a bit of it left to his imagination. He sees the dip of your collar, where your cleavage is just beginning to come out, and bites his lip, hoping that he’d get to see more soon if he was so lucky.
You pass by his table, pulling your shawl a little tighter around you, and Bucky waves at you. You seem to blush– and he likes it a lot, likes being able to make the smart, always-one-step-ahead doctor flustered– and it’s like your roles have been switched, that you are now looking for his approval.
He gives it you readily. “You look great, doc. Love the hair– and the dress.”
“Ah… thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You beam warmly at him, and continue on your way to the washroom.
“Who the hell was that?” Steve asks, scratching his beard.
“Uh, right. That was my therapist.”
“That was your therapist?” Steve splutters, and Bucky shoves him a little. “Jesus, man. I need to get me one of those. She was hot.”
Bucky agrees with him, but still tells him to fuck off. He doesn’t want to share you. 
He motions to one of the waitresses, and tells her he’d like to pay for your table anonymously. When the bill arrives, many hours later, Wanda is incredibly confused on who would pay for her birthday dinner– she’s convinced it must be a secret birthday gift, and you only take credit for it because you don’t want to be found out like this.
You had no idea Bucky would do that for you.
/
A few weeks later, at another session, Bucky seems easily drawn to you. More than before.
“Rebecca’s getting ready. She gets a little too dolled up nowadays– but she knows no guy is going to talk shit with her now.” Bucky admits, and you wonder where this story is going. “She can tell I’m different, she keeps asking me what’s going on.”
“You’re very free to tell her what’s going on, Mr. Barnes.”
“Yes… but…” Bucky omits the fact that Rebecca seems certain he’s into a girl. She’s always had this weird uncanny ability to tell when Bucky’s got his eyes set on someone, whether it be some random girl at the bar, or someone like you– you’re one in a million for Bucky. 
Someone he really, truly likes. 
He clears his throat– he knows it’s inappropriate, it’s wrong, but he can’t help himself. You are too sweet, too lovable and kind and intelligent in ways that he’s not entirely familiar with, so it’s entirely too easy for him to simply give in and fall for you.  
He knows the boundaries you set. Respect, professional respect for the space that you’re in. It would be especially bad because of the nature of his work– he knows that even if he could protect you, you probably don’t want to be involved in that lifestyle.
“I don’t want to break your cover, doc. It’s best if I just tell her nothing about it for now.” Bucky concludes, and you shrug at that. “Anyways– I found out that she was going to go out with Steve, that ugly ass motherfucker that I still keep around for some reason, and I just yelled at her. I thought I was over it, but I’m not.”
“Have you considered that your sister is an adult who knows what she’s getting into?” You suggest. “She might not be the one to get hurt. Perhaps she wants the same thing he does– as you’ve said before, Steve is rather good at hooking up with women and running away afterwards.”
“Yeah, yeah. He’s terrible– he loves girls and doesn’t know how to deal with it, so he’s full of commitment issues.” Bucky waves Steve’s issues aside while you are impressed at how quickly he was able to suss that out. “Rebecca is gonna be the death of me. She can live her own life, I’m not concerned about that– it’s that I know she’s doing this shit to rile me up.”
“Ah, I see.” You hum over that. “You could simply pretend not to care– many people stop those kind of actions when they see it’s not having an effect.”
“That’s true.” Bucky still shudders. “Still, if they fuck up– both of them– I will spend the rest of my life hearing their arguments.”
“Why not try to find an alternative person for Rebecca to date, then?” You think for a moment. “Or maybe she could find an actor of some sort. I don’t believe she means for this to last in a long term way.”
“Okay, that could also be true.” Bucky admits, and his eyes find yours. “Maybe I’m just looking for the worst outcome.”
Bucky seems better and better with every session– in this case it seems like his personal problems have been rectified just halfway into it– and he still spends the rest of the hour talking to you.
“You still worried about your brother’s new kid?” Bucky asks, remembering how last time he left the session he heard you yelling into your cellphone about it.
“That was a private conversation, but, uh, yes.” You decide to answer him honestly. “Yes, I am worried. My brother can sometimes be very– unemotional, detached, and it’s bad for his first child to grow up in that environment.”
“Hey, at least the kid has you. Therapist aunt– I bet you’ll help out in some ways.” Bucky points at you, and you agree with that. “Talk to your brother more. He’ll listen if he sees that you’re serious.”
You know Bucky’s right, but you have to wonder when you started taking advice from him– it’s almost as if he’s giving you little mafia tidbits, like intimidating your brother by persisting at the conversation– and you actually don’t mind it.
“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You get up to bid him goodbye.
Bucky has an unreadable expression as he leaves, and he gently, but firmly, grasps your hand before going out the door, a grip that feels strangely intimate, and you’re left standing there with an urge for more, your mouth agape in a bit of shock. 
/
Bucky calls a week later sounding incredibly apologetic.
“I’m sorry, doc. I can’t make today’s session.” He sounds strangely heartbroken.
“Hey, that’s alright, Mr. Barnes. I’ll see what I can do in terms of refunding you.” You hope that’s all he called for. Recently there was something in the news about the Russian gangs of Brighton Beach having a kerfuffle with the cops– you can only assume that’s what Bucky’s gotten into, and you feel kind of guilty that you let yourself get so close to him.
“No, that’s alright. Keep the cash, I don’t mind that.” Bucky yells something incoherent, there are alarming gun-shot like sounds in the background, and then he comes back to the phone. “Listen, doc– I’m sorry, you can do without me as a patient. I don’t wanna risk anything with you, and if that means you gotta let me go, then do it.”
You are silent for a moment.
You’re hopeless, and you know it.
All it took was for Bucky to be the one who was genuinely concerned for you– for him to put you first when he’s surely in a dangerous situation right now– and you’re smiling like a damn fool, wishing that you could just let him go. You don’t want to.
You know you’re appealing to a dangerous man, but you don’t care.
“It’s okay, Mr. Barnes. Our sessions can continue.” You murmur, and Bucky laughs on the other side of the phone. 
“Alright, doc. I had a feeling you didn’t want to let go of our progress.” He states, and you wonder if he knows about your feelings for him.
He might just be thinking that you are entirely sophisticated about this whole thing. He doesn’t know that you’ve dreamed of him, silly domestic dreams where Bucky is the husband to your doting self, or ones where you tell him your fears and he listens, and vows to protect you, or extremely explicit dreams where he simply shuts you up with a kiss and spreads your legs. You do not know how to stop these– you feel that you have gained too much by liking him. It’s been a while since you’ve crushed on someone and felt that it could go somewhere.
At the very least, you do want to at least ensure his success as a patient of yours. You will get over this, it’s just that… you still have a sheepish smile even after Bucky has hung up the phone, and that’s not good.
You make a note not to go any further than this.
At your next session, Bucky is despondent, clearly not telling you something that bothers him. He spends most of the session rather upset and quiet.
“Doc, do you think I’m a good man?” He says it with not a hint of irony.
You fall quiet. You don’t know if a murderer will ever be considered a good man, and you don’t want to make that moral conclusion. You’re not a god.
“I don’t think that’s up to me, Mr. Barnes.” You start, and Bucky immediately pelts you with more questions.
“But you think I’m morally repugnant, right? That’s something I read on the news the other day.” Bucky scoffs at himself. “I can’t believe I thought I was better than that.”
“You can be, if you want to be. I’m not saying it forgives your past transgressions, but–” You fix your vision on him. “You have to make the choice to be a good man before you can ask others if you are.”
“And you think I have that potential?”
“...Yes. I’m not just saying this as your therapist, Mr. Barnes.” You swallow and then answer him honestly. “I believe if you want to be a better man, you have it in you to do so. You want the truth, right?”
Bucky nods, and leans closer in.
“Being a good man, a good person, can not be synonymous with being apart of the mafia. I’m somewhat apologetic about this, but–” You wince at your own fears at his reaction. “Eventually you would have to leave, not just to be a better man, but to be a healed person, both mentally and physically.”
“...” Bucky stares you down for a bit. 
“Okay, doc. I hear you.” He leans back in his seat, and you let go of a breath you had no idea you were holding. “I’ll try to take your advice.”
You’re not sure how much faith you can have in him. Something about the way Bucky stares at you and leaves this time, it screams control issues again– perhaps this is the last time you’d ever see him. You brace yourself for a no-show next week, and a phone call cancelling his appointments.
It saddens you– you’ll miss him.
Unfortunately for you, Bucky shows up at your next session with a bouquet of flowers. Chrysanthemums- you’re very sure Bucky has done this because of the framed photo in your office of them. He’s being a little too thoughtful, and you’re worried.
“Mr. Barnes. You’re a little early.” You start off, and sit at your chair.
“I’ve paid for the hour, don’t worry.” He grins and then approaches you, looking at the floor, your face, and then back at your desk again. He’s clearly nervous.
“Go out with me, doc.” Bucky offers, and you shake your head, just out of principle.
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I just feel that you’re desperately searching for a way to fulfill–”
“Enough of the shrink talk! Jesus Christ.” Bucky scowls, and then fixes himself, standing upright as you back up a little. “Do you have any idea how I feel? How I think about you at every second? You’re fucking up my work, too–”
“That’s not really my fault–” You try, but Bucky shushes you, walking towards you and grasping your hands so quickly that you cannot help but look up at him again. His blue eyes are squinting, peering so desperately into your own, turning grey with how serious he is.
You’re mildly frightened, but you would be lying if you said you never saw the signs of his attraction before. How his gaze lingered on you for far too long, how he would occasionally comment on your beauty, how he would constantly compliment your intelligence… you at first thought that perhaps Mr. Barnes was bad at recognizing the difference between a woman who was into him, and a woman who simply had emotional intelligence. You could blame the way that society expects women to mother their partners for that.
But lately you had been feeling something new, something you didn’t suspect would happen. And there wasn’t anything wrong with that– therapy is a personal practice after all, you can’t blame yourself for your own feelings– but you never thought he would reciprocate so clearly, holding your hand like this. He always seemed enigmatic until now, and you wish you could change things.
Even worse, you could tell he was making progress– he was really trying to be more than what he thought of himself. He could be kind, sweet even, and it’s with some embarrassment and fondness that you find yourself looking forward to his appointments. Lately you’ve caught yourself smiling about him for no reason, even though you feel this relationship– a budding one between the two of you– could change things for the worse, and you don’t want that for him.
Bucky traces your knuckles with his thumb, and he leans in towards you, whispering very, very carefully. 
“I like you. I think you’re very special in a way that cannot be found in other people. I don’t want you to be scared of me… I just want you to know that I’m interested in you.” Bucky kisses your hand, and you are drawn to a silence, unable to figure out what to say.
“Mr. Barnes–” You start, and then stop yourself. “Bucky… I don’t want to be the reason why you didn’t get better.”
“But I am better, don’t you get it? God, for a doctor, you can really be dense.” Bucky snickers and then holds your hands closer. “I like you. I think you’re wonderful. Smart, beautiful, a real challenge. I think you’re why I’m better, and not just because of therapy– Jesus, that’s fucking cheesy but it’s true– sometimes I know I can’t keep being the White Wolf, the boss of this gang, because you make me think it over, and I want to do right by you and what you’ve taught me.”
“So you’re going to remove yourself from your gang?” You ask honestly, peering up into Bucky’s eyes to see if he’s telling the truth. He looks so solemn– so sure of himself.
“I already knew that I needed to, doc. I knew it when you said that I was hurting myself by being there. Of course there are some things that I like about it–” He cuts himself off, and presses his forehead to yours, grasping your cheeks. “The gang isn’t going to survive very long, anyways. Everyone knows it can only last so long, and a lot of them are moving on into the show business.”
“I didn’t think Hollywood was so transparent on their mafia connections.” You whisper, and Bucky snickers at your response.  “But what about your heart palpitations?”
“They’ve been reduced by a lot. I used your trauma response workshopping thing and it helped me.” Bucky takes on a funny little smile. “And I think the only thing fucking up my heart now is you. I used to have it figured out, you know? But I can’t continue another day being that guy. Let me take you out, please.”
Bucky’s final plea rings through you, and you can’t find it in you to reject him this time. He’s got you wrapped around his finger– and being so candid, so honest about how he felt, really every therapist’s dream– you search his eyes and it’s no surprise when Bucky leans in to kiss you. 
Your eyes are wide open as he does, in shock, because you’re not expecting him to do this, and he moves– his hands wrap around your waist and he inhales as his tongue sweeps against your own, and you kiss back before you can tell yourself not to. 
Bucky pulls back, breathing hard, and you feel yourself turn warm at his reaction. You watch as his face comes towards yours again– you have to pull away, too.
“What is it?” Bucky sounds a little wary.
“If we continue like this– I can’t be your therapist anymore. I can’t do both things, it would unethical and hard to separate.” You swallow, and then nod. “Promise me you won’t use me for therapy anymore, Bucky.”
“I… of course, doc. I would never expect both from you.” He sounds sorry about it, at least. “I’m not trying to use you– I really, really like you.”
He hums as he leans in for another kiss and this time you let yourself have at him– why not let yourself have a little fun, right, even if it’s in your place of work– and Bucky lifts you up easily, his mouth connecting to your jaw, and then neck, before setting you down at your desk. 
“I think I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.” He shares, and you look affronted.
“Are you telling me you weren’t focused?” You push his chest, but Bucky holds your hands back.
“Of course I was focused, I just had a different subject in mind.” Bucky brushes aside a piece of your hair. “You can’t tell me I’m the first man to have fallen for you like this– I have to think that in an enclosed space like this, most guys are checking out the pretty doctor.”
“Uh… well maybe there’s been others, but–” As you say this, Bucky’s eyes narrow a little and you remember that he is kind of the jealous type. “None of them have been as forward as you. None of them asked me out.”
“Good.” Bucky leans in and kisses you again, and you’re very glad your office door is shut and locked.
Bucky lifts you again, easily, his mouth connecting with yours and then to where your collarbone just peeks out of your top, and he sits you down on his lap on the armchair where he often states his opinions and thoughts on his life. Bucky seems to be admiring you– you can’t escape his gaze as he looks at you from side to side.
“If you’re not a mob boss anymore… all I ask is if you’re serious about this. About me?” You ask, so earnestly, that Bucky has to feel some crushing regret about how he never quite told you the truth.
“I never… I never did all that stuff with girls. It was a front, you know, it is a front for a lot of gang members. They gotta show that they’re desirable.” Bucky shakes his head. “But I was more focused on, uh… cleaning up ‘stains’, talking to ‘coworkers’, you feel me? I was addicted to that violent, electric feeling. Never again, though.”
“Okay. I trust you.” You’re not sure why you believe him so strongly, but you do, and even if every red flag in your therapist knowledge is currently being raised right now (trauma bonding, love bombing, manipulation, the list goes on and on)– you think he’s being honest. You do believe based on everything Bucky has told you previously, that he doesn’t mess around with girls, and he is trying to leave behind his lifestyle. You can even see it in his latest heart analysis results, as his physician showed you recently.
You’re so grateful that you helped him in this way. That you got him to reach his fullest potential. And a little evil, selfish part of you likes that he chose you, too, as he leans in and kisses you again.
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The Eye of the Hurricane [9] - Engagement
A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️
Summary: A marriage decision leads to an honest conversation about expectations.
Word Count: 2700
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
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For a couple of seconds, he gawked at you in complete silence before he managed to pull himself together.
“You—you’re saying yes?”
“I’m saying yes.”
“Seriously?”
“Please don’t ask me again because I have this feeling that I’ll change my mind if I think about it longer than a second,” you stated and he nodded fervently.
“Right,” he said. “Sure, I…wow. Okay, we’re—we’re getting married then.”
“Don’t say that either, I am not ready to hear it out loud,” you said with a sigh but before he could answer, a soft voice reached you both.
“Bucky?”
He closed his eyes shut for a moment as he scrunched up his face and you turned your head to look at the top of the stairs where a pretty girl in an oversized shirt –his shirt, if you had to guess— was leaning to the steel handrail.
“Hi,” she said. “Um, who are you?”
“His fiancée,” you stated, trying your hardest to ignore the pang of jealousy in your stomach and her eyes widened.
“Oh I didn’t—I didn’t know—”
“Neither did I when I woke up today,” you said with a click of your tongue. “Can you leave us please?”
“Sure!” she said as she rushed back to what you could only assume was the bedroom and Bucky shot you an apologetic look.
“Charm I’m sorry, if I knew…”
You walked past him, looking around the huge living room. Even you had to admit it looked incredibly beautiful and sleek, and the clear view of the city that you could see from the floor-to-ceiling windows was absolutely breathtaking. It was exactly what you would come up with if someone asked you what Bucky's apartment would look like; luxurious yet dark.
It didn’t mean you would tell him that though.
“I’m not moving in here by the way, this place is a dump,” you forced yourself to say, “If I wanted industrial interior, I’d buy myself a factory.”
“Right, sure—”
“That could be a fun project though,” you muttered more to yourself as the girl appeared at the top of the stairs again, and rushed downstairs, grabbing her coat off the rack.
“Sorry again,” she said without looking you in the eye and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a deep sigh.
“None of this will be happening from now on by the way,” Bucky said in a haste and you rolled your eyes, then turned around to look at him.
“I don’t care about you enough to have that conversation with you,” you said. “I don’t give a fuck who you fuck, but you’re not going to make me look like an idiot in front of other people so when it inevitably happens, you’ll keep it a secret.”
“You don’t have to worry about that at all,” he said, his voice firm and you crossed your arms.
“So then,” you said. “I feel like we should both talk about the conditions before taking it to the families and the lawyers and everything.”
“I’m good with your conditions,” he said and you shot him a glare.
“You don’t even know my conditions.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
You kept your eyes on him, a slight frown pulling your brows together before you took a deep breath and took off your coat to throw it over the couch.
“Either way, I think we should talk about it,” you insisted and leaned on your hip. “So do you have actual booze in here or are you going to pull out a homemade barrel or something?”
He smiled slightly.
“Take a seat sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll bring the wine.”
“And put a shirt on!” you said as you made your way to the table, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat. “This is a business deal, honestly. There has to be a dress code.”
                                            *
When Bucky came to the table, he did in fact have his shirt on and he was carrying a bottle of wine with two glasses. He filled one and handed it to you, then filled his own and sat down. You took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the taste and lowered your glass, leaning back.
“Alright,” he said. “Tell me your conditions.”
You swirled the wine in your glass, deep in thought.
“Well first of all, we need to have a time table,” you said. “I don’t want to stay married to you for the rest of my life, and I’m pretty sure you share the sentiment.”
A small smile twitched the corners of his lips but he didn’t comment on it.
“But we can’t get a divorce as soon as I take over because that will lead to a lot of questions and I won’t have the time for distractions, the taking over process is chaotic enough,” you said. “I can’t be making any mistakes, especially considering I already have a rival.”
“Calling Ian a rival makes him sound more important than he actually is,” Bucky commented. “But I agree. We already know some of the families can disagree with this idea.”
“Stark?” you asked and he nodded.
“At least,” he said. “We have Steve and Sam’s support, my family and your family of course, but the rest…”
“You think Romanoff would disagree?”
Bucky thought for a moment.
“Probably, but I can talk to Nat I think,” he said. “She’d hear me out.”
“Barton?”  
“Barton is not going to do anything Nat disagrees with,” he said. “If we have Nat, we have Clint.”
“So that leaves us Stark,” you said, pursing your lips. “Who talks to him, you or me?”
He shot you an apologetic look.
“I mean we may try to sell it as love but at the end of the day, everyone will think about the business side of things,” he said. “It could be better if your father talked to him actually. He already dislikes me enough, and we’re changing the power balance in the city by doing this.”
“Alright,” you said. “My dad could do that.”
“Next?”
“I want your word that I will be included in everything,” you said. “None of the bullshit the earlier generation pulled. I will be in every meeting and I will be included in every single decision.”
He nodded. “Yeah, figured as much.”
“I mean it Bucky,” you said, looking him in the eye. “We will be equals completely.”
“We will be,” he assured you. “I swear on my honor.”
“And I’m not changing my surname.”
He threw his head back. “Charm…”
“Out of question.”
“Charm if I’m going to get you into those meetings, you need to have my surname,” he insisted. “You know the rules. We need to give them an actual reason if you can’t be there as an heir.”
You thought for a moment and cleared your throat.
“Hyphenated it is,” you said. “I’ll keep mine and add yours.”
“It’d be better if—”
“I can’t take over my father’s territory if my last name is Barnes,” you pointed out. “I’ll use both, it’s fine.”
Bucky thought for a moment, then licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders.
“Fine,” he grumbled even though his tone signaled it was anything but fine. You sipped your wine, leaning back.
“Goes without saying that we won’t have any children in the meantime so should we even talk about it?”
“I think we should,” Bucky said, a small smile curling his lips. “Just in case.”
“Just in case?” you repeated and he rolled his eyes.
“It’ll be on the prenup just like everything else,” he reminded you. “And our families will see those prenups, so it’d be better if we covered it beforehand.”
You huffed out and waved a dismissive hand.
“Fine,” you said. “The usual, right? The first born is the heir…”
“The second born is the spare, yeah,” Bucky said. “Although, if you’re keeping your surname…”
“Our children would as well,” you finished his sentence for him and let out a dry laugh. “So then, is the firstborn yours or mine?”
“Maybe it’ll be twins,” he joked and you shook your head.
“We’ll say that the firstborn rules both until the second born is ready, and then divide my territory and yours accordingly,” you said and Bucky raised his brows.
“But until then, both territories?” he asked. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person.”
“That person doesn’t exist and will not exist,” you reminded him. “It’s just gonna be a hypothetical article in the prenup, that’s it.”
“And if we want a divorce—”
“When we have a divorce,” you corrected him and Bucky hummed.
“Any specific reque—”
“The weekend house,” you cut him off and he let out a small laugh.
“How long have you had your eye on it?”
“Oh, so long,” you said with a grin. “It’s really pretty.”
Bucky held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “It’s yours then."
“I mean I know I can’t just get it without giving something in return so how about you? What do you want in the divorce?”
“Nothing.”
You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.
“You want nothing?” you asked him. “Bullshit. Say your price.”
“I don’t need anything.”
“You’re going to get me in the business and help me take over and you want nothing?” you insisted. “No fucking way. What is your game here?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Why are you doing this then?” you asked with a frown. “Seriously. What’s in it for you?”
“My reasons are my own.”
“Bucky…”
“But I do have one request now that you mention it,” he said and you nodded your head.
“Yeah tell me. What is it?”
“Throughout the time we stay married,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “No sleeping with other people.”
“…I’m not going to sleep with you,” you managed to say after a pause and he shrugged his shoulders.
“We’re going into war with an outsider while pushing you to the top,” he said. “Any kind of issue in our marriage, including a whisper of a rumor could work against that. We need to present a united front to all the other families and our people. Can’t fight a war on that many fronts, you know that.”
As much as you hated to admit, as it turned out, Bucky was actually smart when it came to how things worked in business. You nibbled on your lip, trying to put your thoughts in order before sticking your nose in the air.
“That’s a two-way street,” you told him. “If I’m behaving like the perfect wife, you’re going to behave like the perfect husband.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Bucky, I’m serious,” you said, looking him in the eye. “Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your mistresses.”
“Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your boyfriends,” he replied and you took a deep breath, then downed your wine and stretched out your hand.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” you said and he chuckled, then reached out to take your hand into his, sending a pleasant warmth from your hand to your whole body.
“Likewise,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s make you the queen, princess.”
                                              *
 You and Bucky decided to tell your family about your decision that weekend at their favorite restaurant. It would at least give you some time to get your story straight and you figured it would play into the lie; that you and Bucky had something for each other all along and once you got together you didn’t want to lose any time to get married.
Of course your closest friends were going to know about it, it would be impossible to keep it from Becca, Sarah, Steve and Sam because they’d had the first row to every single fight whenever you were within each other’s sight not to mention heard about how much you two disliked each other for years now.
But as far as anyone else was concerned, it was the happy ending to a decade long crush on both parts.
That night, you decided to stay in a hotel until the weekend. Not only did you not want to talk to Ian or your father, but it would also work in your favor; it was Bucky’s favorite hotel, it was in his territory and he would make sure to stay with you in the honeymoon suit every night until the weekend so you were pretty sure the rumors would reach your families way before you told them.
Your bodyguards were still on your father’s payroll after all.
You sipped your champagne, your feet propped up on the small coffee table across from the couch you were sitting on, the fluffy bathrobe wrapped tight around your body as you changed the channel on the TV but the knock on the door made you turn your head. Heaving a sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and went to the door, then put a bright smile on your face and swung open the door.
“Finally!” you exclaimed, then gasped at the huge bouquet of roses Bucky was holding. “Oh my God!”
“Hi beautiful,” Bucky said with a smirk and you stole a look at both your father’s and Bucky’s men in the hallway, then turned to him.
“You shouldn’t have!” you giggled as you grabbed his arm to pull him into the suit, and closed the door behind him.
“Flowers are a nice touch,” you commented, the lovesick smile disappearing from your lips even if your heart did a happy flip and Bucky winked at you.
“I’m glad you like them,” he said as you took them from him, then walked to the open kitchen to pour water into the empty wine decanter before putting the flowers into it.
He leaned back to the kitchen island. “Did you talk to Becca yet?”
“Tomorrow,” you said. “I slept the whole day away today, barely did anything. Must be the stress after yesterday.”  
“Is she serious with that girl by the way?” Bucky asked you. “Leila?”
“I’m not going to tell you anything about Becca.”
He tilted his head. “You and I are going to get married—”
“And she’s my best friend so she’s still above you on my loyalty list,” you pointed out. “Marriage is one thing, friendship is another.”
“Should I at least threaten the girl so that she doesn’t break her heart?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes.
“No, Leila is a sweetheart,” you said as you walked past him, then threw yourself on the couch to grab the remote. He followed you and rested his hands on the back of the couch you were sitting on, the closeness of his body making your stomach do a pleasant flip for some reason.
“So what are we watching?”
“We are not watching anything,” you said, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m watching The Bachelor.”
He let out a groan. “Seriously?”
“There’s another TV upstairs, go watch whatever you want to watch there,” you said, grabbing your champagne glass again and tilted your head back so that you could look at him, and Bucky shot you a mischievous grin.
“Marriage requires quality time together, Charm.”
“Who told you that lie?” you asked, turning your glances to the TV and he chuckled.
“Steve sent me an article about it today when I told him the news.”
“Not Sam?”
“No, Sam sent me the address of a great psychiatrist,” he said. “For couples therapy and marriage counseling.”   
“That’s much more useful than an article,” you pointed out and he squeezed at your shoulder making your heart skip a beat.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said as he walked to the hanging stairs and someone knocked on the door, making you frown and look at Bucky over your shoulder.
“Room service,” Bucky answered before you could ask. “I already know your favorite so I ordered for both of us.”
“How do you know my favorite?”  
“I pay attention,” he said as he started climbing the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t open the door yet though, will you? Wouldn’t want my men to think I last five minutes.”
“I’m sure that would be an improvement for you,” you said with a scoff and he tsk tsked.
“If you want to see just how wrong you are, all you gotta do is ask nicely princess.”
“That will never happen!” you called out and slipped a little on the couch when you heard him close the bathroom door, then heaved a sigh.  
“Great,” you muttered to yourself as the water started running. “My honeymoon should be so much fun.”
Chapter 10
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barnesboo1967 · 4 months
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We, as a socity, need more famous bucky barnes, cowboy bucky barnes, and mafia bucky barnes. Some with smut, some with angst, and some with fluff
Trust me guys I know what is best.
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